Chapter 6
Ella
Present day
Sitting on my bed with my phone to my lips, I berate myself for even thinking of making that call. Why I thought there was a chance he’d answer the second more civilly this morning than he did the call last night, I don’t know, but contacting him had been out of sheer desperation. Whichever way I looked at it, and heaven help me, I’ve tried, there is no one else I can approach for help. After what I put myself through for the club, I thought they’d be willing to come to my aid. But Slick won’t even give me a chance to explain. Oh God, it’s been four months since I’d seen him. I hadn’t realised that he’d hate me so much. Tears prick in my eyes.
His anger shouldn’t bother me. I shouldn’t care what he thought about me leaving without a word. And the sound of his voice, and as enraged as it was, shouldn’t be causing me to regret the chance I never had. Throwing the phone down, I slap the palm of my hand to my forehead. Why does his rejection hurt so much? And why did his cruel words and abrupt dismissal make me want to cry? I’ve got to be stronger than this. I’d done the right thing. The only thing I could have done.
Plumping the pillows up behind me, I lean back my head. Slick. No, I don’t regret leaving him. I couldn’t have stayed. If he thinks I’m contacting him to rekindle our non-relationship he’s oh so very wrong. Four months and nothing has changed. I’m stuck in a prison of my only making, as powerless to move on as able to turn back time and never set foot in the Rock Demons’ club.
Angrily I swipe at my eyes, knowing my tears are wasted. Contacting Slick had been a last resort but he isn’t even willing to listen, let alone help. It’s clear he wouldn’t even give me the time of day.
“You fuckin’ in there, Els?” The yelling is accompanied by a banging on my bedroom door.
Shit! Quickly dragging an oversized tee over my head and pulling up some jogging bottoms, I go and cautiously open the door to find Bart, my housemate, Tilly’s good-for-nothing layabout boyfriend. His eyes rake over me, and a smirk comes to his face mottled from excessive drinking. What she sees in him I’ll never know, but for the past month he’s been sharing our space. I can only hope that it won’t be for much longer. Surely she’ll get tired of him soon. I’ve taken to keeping to my room while he’s around.
“Whatcha want, Bart?” I ask wearily, pulling my shirt around me and folding my arms over my chest.
Accompanied by a leer that tells me he’s being deadly serious, he asks, “A blow job?” As I go to slam my door shut he throws out his hand, stopping it in its tracks. “You’re a tight-ass bitch, ain’tcha?” He shakes his head, but the flare in his eyes suggests he might not be far off forcing me.
Compelling myself to stay calm when inside I’m close to losing it, I swallow rapidly to moisten my dry mouth and make my offer again. “What do you want? And sex is not in the cards.”
“More’s the fuckin’ pity.” But at least he takes his hand away, leaving me in control of the door once again.
It’s not much of a plus, there’s no lock on my side. Where the fuck do you go, Tilly, to find these men? Is there some kind of losers’ store somewhere? It’s not the first stray she’s brought home. Though Bart’s possibly the least house-trained, and that’s saying a lot.
“Tilly’s fuckin’ out. I want breakfast.” Yes, she would be out. She’s got a job as a barista. She works to support his lazy ass. Biting my tongue to stop myself from telling him to go get it himself, I satisfy myself with rolling my eyes. Luckily, he’s chosen that moment to look away, and I’m glad that he did. Tilly’s been wearing extra makeup lately and it’s not hard to understand why. But this is the first time he’s so blatantly asked me for sex, though I’d seen it coming. She and I are going to have a serious chat when she gets in from work—when he’s taken her earnings and gone out drinking again.
“I’ll come get you something.” He scares me; it’s easier to give in. “Just give me a moment to wash.”
“I’m fuckin’ hungry now.” Christ! He sounds like a petulant child.
Shaking my head, fearing what he might do if I delay, I step out of the safety of my room, noticing he doesn’t move out of the way, which means I have to slide my body up against his, his foul body odour sticking to me like glue. Walking across the lounge that’s even more disgusting than normal, I go into the small kitchen. The sink is full of dirty dishes and pans. Someone has had a midnight snack and hasn’t bothered to wash up. It could have been either him or Tilly, they’re both disgusting wasters. Quickly I wash and rinse plates, putting them on the drainer to dry. Next, I bend down and open the fridge.
For a big man he moves quietly. I don’t know he’s behind me until I feel the swat to my ass. Trying not to flinch, feeling like bugs are moving over my skin, I summon up strength from somewhere and snarl, “Do that again and you can get your own fucking breakfast.”
“Smart-assed bitch,” he throws back. But his stomach must be ruling his cock, at least for the moment, as thankfully I feel him move away.
I take out eggs and bacon and get them started, and throw on some waffles to heat. My hand unsteady with the threat of his presence, I’ve certainly got no appetite myself. As fast as I can, I make him a plate, grab a coffee for myself, and take myself back to my room.
Eyeing my phone, I decide there’s no point calling and getting a third rejection. Slick calling me a bitch twice so far today followed by my altercation with Bart has been more than enough. But Slick and his club should listen to me—for what I did for them, and at the high to myself. A debt to repay that no one knows the true extent of. Except for me, that is.
Sitting back on the bed I put my head in my hands, remembering back to the night it all started. That evening when Jill had turned up at my door, the tall handsome biker accompanying her.
After she’d left, Slick had stayed late into the evening, explaining what they’d wanted me to do. A simple job on the face of it, and he’d reeled me in with promises of what was to be my future. Pointed looks around my all too humble and messy abode, countered with descriptions of their compound in the foothills of the Coronado Forest, the clean air they breathe rather than the smog of the city. And he described the men, and the demands they make on the girls. He might not have known, but had he offered to give me a demonstration I’d have agreed to anything he wanted right there on the spot.
I remember only too well the carrot he dangled in front of me, his deep voice drifting over me as he described a perfect life living with the bikers. They’d meet all my needs. Sure, he admitted, they could be rough, but to my gullible self the thought summoned up only thrills and excitement, and did nothing to turn me off. To be with a man who knew exactly what he was doing? Not to fumble with a partner who hadn’t a clue how to pleasure a woman. They prided themselves on not leaving a woman wanting, he’d said. And I knew then I wanted to experience that. And those heated looks he was giving me? They’d blown me away. I forgot about the other men. All I could think of what Slick doing just what he’d described.
That evening was the last time I found anything about sex to be exciting, or even arousing. Icy cold water had washed away my naïve dreams when I was introduced to the reality of biker loving in the Rock Demons’ club. An experience from which I haven’t even begun to recover, and suspect that I never will.
“Hey, bitch!” Bart’s voice comes loud and clear through the thin door.
When will he realise I’ve got a name? Grabbing a tissue from the side of my bed I mop up my tears I hadn’t realised were falling and blew my nose in a very unladylike fashion. Then I go to see what he wants. Surely he can’t want feeding again? Glancing at my phone I see that might be the case, I’ve wasted hours reliving the past.
“What, Bart?” I call out, leaning on the wood on this side, unwilling to face him again.
“You’ve got a fuckin’ visitor. What d’ya think I am, your fuckin’ servant or summin’? Come out and fuckin’ see him.”
Huh? Him? I’m not expecting anyone. My brow furrows as I think who it could be. I don’t mix with men nowadays—only my boss, and I can’t think of a reason he’d visiting. But I won’t find out hiding in my bedroom. Blissfully unaware and unconcerned what was about to confront me, I step out into the sitting room to be met with the man I’d just wasted most of the day thinking about. Slick.
Oh. My. God. Why is he here? My first reaction is fear. We hadn’t parted on good terms. Actually, we hadn’t parted on any terms at all, I’d just walked out. Given his response to my phone calls today, he’s the last man I expect to see. Is he angry that I’d contacted him? Had I so enraged him that he’d come to challenge me in person? To tell me never to contact him again? I begin to tremble as I risk a glance at him, only to find he’s not looking at me. No, he’s looking at the man who’s come to stand by my side, and who’s just placed a very possessive arm over my shoulder, making me freeze.
“Just tell your fuckin’ friend to go.” What? What the hell has it got to do with Bart?
I try to shrug off Tilly’s boyfriend’s touch, his fingers grip into me causing me to break out in a sweat.
Now Slick looks at me, one side of his mouth turned up. Then he looks to the man by my side who’s choosing this moment to put his free hand down his pants and scratch at his balls. Slick shakes his head. “You’re with this now? Christ woman.” He looks disgusted.
Bart might be stupid, but he knows when he’s being insulted. He steps forward, dragging me with him. “Yeah, she’s mine. So fuck off, fella.” Then it’s almost as though a lightbulb turns on. “Unless you want to pay? She’s a good fuck.”
“What?” Rage gives me the strength to pull out of his grip. “What the fuck are you talking about…” My hand goes to my cheek where he’s just backhanded me.
As I stand dazed, with a growl Slick comes forward, pushing Bart away and delivering a punch of his own. Bart screams like a woman and his hand covers his mouth. For good measure, Slick’s fist hits Bart in his stomach, then turns him around, holding him by his collar with one arm twisted up his back.
He snarls into Bart’s ear, “You never hit a woman. Never mind if she’s yours or not.”
“I’m not his!” I spit out. “He’s with Tilly, my housemate. I don’t want him here at all. And I’ve never fucked him. Never mind what that asshole says.”
Slick’s eyes open as my words sink in. “You want I take out the trash?”
Best suggestion I’ve heard all day. I nod slowly. Yes I do, Bart’s been getting far too handsy for me today. “Please Slick. And I don’t want him coming back.” A belated reaction has me visibly shaking. I’d known Bart had been getting worse, but this morning he’s shown signs he might go so far as to rape me.
The biker pulls Bart’s arm harder up against his back, and I hear a bone snap. The sound makes me wince. “You’re leavin’ now, and you’re never fuckin’ returnin’.”
Bart’s crying like a baby, but Slick is still not letting him loose. “But my stuff…”
“Yer girlfriend can bring it to ya. But yer not crossin’ this doorway again. Got it? If yer do I’ll find ya and there won’t be an unbroken bone in your fuckin’ body.”
“I got it man, I hear ya. Just let me go.” His words are almost indistinguishable through his blubbering.
“Just to let ya know, Ella here is under the protection of the Satan’s Devils. It won’t only be me. All my brothers will be watchin’ out for ya.” With that, Slick marches him to the door, opens it with the hand not holding Bart’s clearly broken arm, and tosses him out on his ass. Slamming the door behind him he comes back in, brushing his hands briskly, one against the other as if removing all trace of dirt. He moves across to me and turns my head so he can examine my injured cheek. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, and seems to choke back what he wants to say.
Instead he settles for, “Well I’ve sorted your problem. I know his type. He’s a fuckin’ coward who hits women. But now he knows you’ve got us to knock back. He’ll leave you alone.” He lets his hand drop from my face and then turns his back on me. “Right, now I’ve helped ya, I’ll get gone now. See ya… Well, goodbye Ella.”
I’m stunned. He’s going to leave? As his hand touches the door handle my legs are prompted into action. Running across the room, I commit the cardinal sin of putting my hand on his cut and trying to hold him back. He turns around, arms swinging, then manages to stop them in mid-air.
“What the fuck, Ella?”
“I didn’t call you here for that.” I wave my hand toward the front door. “That was nothing. I could have handled that fucker myself.” I couldn’t really, but that’s beside the point. “I’ve got a real problem I need fucking help with.” Then it dawns on me what he said. “You told me I got Satan’s Devils protection. Well now I want some of that.”
He’s trembling as though he’s trying to suppress his anger, his fists clenching and unclenching. Clear signs he hasn’t forgiven me yet, and probable indications that he never will.
Even though I know it would be best if he was completely out of my life, I can’t let him walk away. Not when I need all the help I can get, and I don’t know where to turn except to him and his club.
His breath leaves him on a long sigh, and with one arm outstretched holding the top of the doorframe, his brow resting on his forearm in a gesture strangely reminiscent of the night we’d first met, he asks in a more reasonable tone, “What the fuck have you got yourself into, Ella?”
Now I’ve got him here and I’ve got his full attention. Still reeling from Bart’s possessive actions and the violent way Slick dealt with him, my hands are unsteady and it’s difficult to get my thoughts together. That Slick had acted so viciously shouldn’t have surprised me. It’s what I’ve come to expect from bikers. It’s safe to say my blinkers have been well and truly removed. I’d been such a fool to believe the things that Jill had told me, and to think it would be a dream to live with them. They are all brutish thugs. And that includes the one standing in front of me. I need to be very careful how to proceed, and not make him any angrier than he already is.
“Spit it fuckin’ out, Ella. I ain’t got all fuckin’ day.”
Knowing he’s getting impatient makes my heart beat faster and my palms sweat. Please don’t get a panic attack now. “Would you like a coffee?” I make the offer hoping I might be able to escape his presence for a moment.
“No, I don’t want a fuckin’ drink. I want you to fuckin’ talk to me.”