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Maybe I’ll never know the truth for why I have to protect her. It’s not like looking out for women hasn’t been a well-known part of my personality for a long time. The guys probably just think I’m constantly fucking the girls in the club, but there are times where I’ll see how drained one of the girls is and let her recover at my apartment. I don’t give a shit if the guys think we’re having a four-day long fuckfest. Everyone needs a break and those girls never get one.
“Who else will be looking for you?” I ask. “Your dad? Any brothers or sisters? How about your friends?”
Her face twists with discomfort before she shakes her head. “My dad died a long time ago. My little brother died three years ago. I don’t have any friends since my ex-boyfriend dumped me and my sister and I aren’t close, which is insane when you think about it since we’re twins.”
My eyes widen at her words. So much loss and emotion behind those words and yet…
“Did you say twins?”
She looks at me, her blue eyes sparkling, and rolls her eyes. “Yeah, there’s two of me, but one of us would be much more your club’s scene. Tattoos, piercings, way too much makeup, and colorful hair. Last time I saw Gillian, her hair was hot pink. We’re polar opposites. We went in different directions when our dad died. Where I took care of our family and helped out wherever I could, my sister was doing drugs, drinking, partying, and had an endless revolving door of boyfriends. I didn’t do drugs, I didn’t drink until I turned twenty-one, I never partied, and I’ve only ever had one boyfriend and that relationship lasted seven years.”
Usually, it’s a huge turn off when a woman says she’s never taken drugs. I can be highly judgmental, but not nearly as much as a person who’s never done drugs before. I don’t mind people who choose to stay clean and sober, but don’t fuck with my good mood by talking down about my methods of relaxation.
It’s not a turn off this time though. It peaks my interest even further. Maybe I’m a horny bastard who has gone too long without getting my dick wet, but I fucking want her something fierce. I want to shove my cock so deep inside her cunt, she can barely form a word. I want her legs wrapped around me and her pussy quivering from my pierced dick. I want to rock her world for days on end. I want her to scream so many lines of profanities that she blushes for weeks after I’ve thoroughly fucked her.
But, I’m not used to her type. I know how to move forward when it comes to sex-crazed groupies and closet freaks. I have no idea how to deal with the girl next door, generic good girls like Laura.
It’s so much easier when I don’t give a shit.
“Can I ask you something?” Her voice is so small I have to turn off the radio to hear her.
“You can ask. It doesn’t mean I’ll have the answers you’re looking for.” I slow the truck down as we make it to the long driveway leading to the clubhouse. It’s an old farmhouse that’s been in the Davenport family for generations.
“What’s going to happen to me?” Her question chills me to the bone.
I thought it was common knowledge what happens to women who get pulled into this shitty life. Does no one on the outside actually know? My mom has always compared the life as club property to prostitution, which isn’t too far off.
“Do you really want to know?”
“Is it that bad, Xander?” Her voice emulates fear.
She should be scared. I wouldn’t wish the life of club property on my nemesis.
“It’s worse. The best advice I can offer is to do whatever anyone tells you to do. If you don’t, they’ll make you do it anyway and hurt you for fighting them on it.” I want to cut out my own tongue for the desensitized word vomit I spew. Sure, it’s the truth, but she’s already freaked out enough as it is.
The Black Stallions MC is worse off than any other club I’ve encounter with DennisfuckingDavenport running it. He lets everything and anything happen as long as no one openly disrespects him. Hell, I’ve seen him brush off that his second, Brute, murdered one of the mouses because she didn’t satisfy him enough. I was the only one who dared challenge Brute because the whole thing was fucked up and his blood was the first I ever got on my hands.
The pigs took care of the rest.
Isis didn’t deserve to die like that. Is something similar going to happen to Laura?
I open my mouth to apologize for my crass words, but instead, something else entirely comes out. “Just keep your head down and don’t make waves. Davina will help you anyway she can.” I climb out of the truck before rubbing my temple.
Sometimes I wish I was a bit more like my father, someone who doesn’t give a shit about people, an unfeeling demon. Emotions are pesky and make this miserable existence a million times harder.
Laura gets out of the truck, her arms around her midsection, but her face gives nothing away. Her expression exhibits strength and a stone cold exterior. She has a mask on to hide everything beyond her eyes, which I’ve gotta say is the smartest thing I’ve ever seen a woman do right before she walks through those doors.
Show no weakness and they’ll have nothing to exploit.
“Come on,” I say before nodding to the front door.
Her eyes snap down to the picnic table near the front door and her expression pales. She sees the blood that’s stained the wood a deep red with a few black streaks. I can only imagine how frightening it can be seeing it for the first time, especially for someone as sheltered as Laura seems to be.
With my palm pressed against the small of her back, I lead her into the lion’s den where dozens of the other patched members stare at her like she’s a fucking buffet they want to sample, but they won’t come near her as long as I’m by her side. Her mask wavers slightly, but she keeps her head up as I hurry her to the kitchen where I know my mother will be.
Well, I hope she will. If not, that could mean she’s being put through what Laura will be soon.
I cringe inwardly. What the fuck is my life? The average person in San Jose doesn’t have to worry about their mother being brutalized by men they work with and not be able to do anything about it.
