Lesson-Fucking-Learned-Because-The-Bitch-Tore-My-Heart-Out T-shirt.
Blowing out the drag I pulled in, I shut an impenetrable gate over that instinct and tell it to find some other fucking idiot to do its bidding.
But the attraction’s still there. On simmer.
For some reason, this alley cat, with her fiery mane of hair and cinnamon-dotted skin have an effect on me.
Looking back up at her face, I find her biting her lip. She’s also checking me out. Yeah, babe, I’m not harsh on the eyes, am I? Girls love the tattoos. Love the cut. Love guys that look like they’ll treat them like shit and can fuck them into oblivion.
But I definitely don’t want this girl looking at me like she wants to be in my bed.
My cock twitches as if her hand and not only her eyes are passing over me. It pisses me off . . . my body stirring to life. Rising for her. This girl who reminds me of all that I’ve lost and how far I’ve fallen.
I stamp out my cigarette in the ashtray on my desk and decide I need to do everything in my power to get this chick as far as fuck away from me as humanly possible. I need her out of my office. Out of my club. Fuck. Out of this city preferably.
And it looks like I’m going to have to go toe to toe with a friend to do it.
“What’s this? A fuckin’ tabby cat, D? We’re not takin’ in strays today, brother.”
The girl cringes. Pain and fear flash over her features. But she quickly masks it and tries not to show how my insults affect her. I follow the line of her shoulders down and see her tiny fists curled, and then I notice slash marks, scars over her wrists.
Great . . . she’s fucking suicidal. Of course she is. Why would I expect any different?
Whatever reason she’s hitting the drugs is probably why she’s attempted to take her own life. She’s merely looking for her next fix and thinks a bunch of bikers will have plenty of drugs she can score. Well, she’s in for a rude-fucking-awakening.
It’s my job to protect the club. And this club doesn’t need any more trouble than it already has.
“What you lookin’ for, Doll , your next fix? Think we got the goods here? That it?” I shake my head, and add, “You ain’t gonna find that shit here. Just turn your ass around and keep on walkin’.”
Drugs ruin lives. Weaken clubs and member loyalty. You can’t be loyal to anyone, a brother, the code, or the club when all you give a shit about is getting high.
It’s the reason I joined this club and not any other. We don’t allow hardcore drugs into the clubhouse. Yes, we revel in chaos. Always have. We run weed, guns, and launder money, which is our main source of green. But we don’t bring trouble, chaos home. Not to the clubhouse. Not to our families. Not if we can help it.
Dozer spits out some shit about me being an asshole and her being a friend of Lil’s, and that he’s already told her she can stay.
My blood fucking boils. Of course he did. He wants authority but no damn responsibilities.
“Not your fuckin’ call, brother. It’s mine. Ain’t no fuckin’ way that”—I point at her—“is welcome here.” I will not relive my past. I do not want one reminder of it whatsoever.
Goose, who’s standing behind D, mutters, “Fuck. Here we go.”
“That’s where you wanna go with this?” Dozer snaps.
“I’m just statin’ a fact. You fuckin’ lost the right to have a say in who fuckin’ stays and who goes when you cut your patch off and left me to deal with this shitstorm alone.”
“Fuck you.”
“Get her the fuck out, D. I said no outsiders. I meant it. We already got enough of our share of shit to deal with right now. I don’t want anybody but brothers and clubpieces in the clubhouse. She could be a snitch. GBs are breathing down our necks. I can only hold them off so long before they take action. I wouldn’t put it past them to send a piece of pussy to be their eyes and ears.”
I pick up my pencil and turn back to my work, because if I don’t, I can
Blowing out the drag I pulled in, I shut an impenetrable gate over that instinct and tell it to find some other fucking idiot to do its bidding.
But the attraction’s still there. On simmer.
For some reason, this alley cat, with her fiery mane of hair and cinnamon-dotted skin have an effect on me.
Looking back up at her face, I find her biting her lip. She’s also checking me out. Yeah, babe, I’m not harsh on the eyes, am I? Girls love the tattoos. Love the cut. Love guys that look like they’ll treat them like shit and can fuck them into oblivion.
But I definitely don’t want this girl looking at me like she wants to be in my bed.
My cock twitches as if her hand and not only her eyes are passing over me. It pisses me off . . . my body stirring to life. Rising for her. This girl who reminds me of all that I’ve lost and how far I’ve fallen.
I stamp out my cigarette in the ashtray on my desk and decide I need to do everything in my power to get this chick as far as fuck away from me as humanly possible. I need her out of my office. Out of my club. Fuck. Out of this city preferably.
And it looks like I’m going to have to go toe to toe with a friend to do it.
“What’s this? A fuckin’ tabby cat, D? We’re not takin’ in strays today, brother.”
The girl cringes. Pain and fear flash over her features. But she quickly masks it and tries not to show how my insults affect her. I follow the line of her shoulders down and see her tiny fists curled, and then I notice slash marks, scars over her wrists.
Great . . . she’s fucking suicidal. Of course she is. Why would I expect any different?
Whatever reason she’s hitting the drugs is probably why she’s attempted to take her own life. She’s merely looking for her next fix and thinks a bunch of bikers will have plenty of drugs she can score. Well, she’s in for a rude-fucking-awakening.
It’s my job to protect the club. And this club doesn’t need any more trouble than it already has.
“What you lookin’ for, Doll , your next fix? Think we got the goods here? That it?” I shake my head, and add, “You ain’t gonna find that shit here. Just turn your ass around and keep on walkin’.”
Drugs ruin lives. Weaken clubs and member loyalty. You can’t be loyal to anyone, a brother, the code, or the club when all you give a shit about is getting high.
It’s the reason I joined this club and not any other. We don’t allow hardcore drugs into the clubhouse. Yes, we revel in chaos. Always have. We run weed, guns, and launder money, which is our main source of green. But we don’t bring trouble, chaos home. Not to the clubhouse. Not to our families. Not if we can help it.
Dozer spits out some shit about me being an asshole and her being a friend of Lil’s, and that he’s already told her she can stay.
My blood fucking boils. Of course he did. He wants authority but no damn responsibilities.
“Not your fuckin’ call, brother. It’s mine. Ain’t no fuckin’ way that”—I point at her—“is welcome here.” I will not relive my past. I do not want one reminder of it whatsoever.
Goose, who’s standing behind D, mutters, “Fuck. Here we go.”
“That’s where you wanna go with this?” Dozer snaps.
“I’m just statin’ a fact. You fuckin’ lost the right to have a say in who fuckin’ stays and who goes when you cut your patch off and left me to deal with this shitstorm alone.”
“Fuck you.”
“Get her the fuck out, D. I said no outsiders. I meant it. We already got enough of our share of shit to deal with right now. I don’t want anybody but brothers and clubpieces in the clubhouse. She could be a snitch. GBs are breathing down our necks. I can only hold them off so long before they take action. I wouldn’t put it past them to send a piece of pussy to be their eyes and ears.”
I pick up my pencil and turn back to my work, because if I don’t, I can
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