Undeniable

CHAPTER EIGHT:

Groaning, Frankie collapsed on top of me.

"Off," I demanded, pushing at him. "I can't breathe."

He lifted his head, grinning. "Like you where you are babe. Fuckin' naked and underneath me."

Frankie was insatiable. I almost wished he would start whoring around at the club and give me break.

"Frankie! I can't breathe! Get off!"

Grunting, he pushed himself up a few inches. "I'm tryin’ babe but you're not lettin’ me back in."

"Ahhh!" I yelled, shoving him as hard as I could. Which wasn't very hard but I did manage to shove him off to the side so I was able to roll away.

Frankie rolled too, reaching for me. I jumped backwards and slapped his hands away. Glaring at him, I headed into the bathroom to dress.

“Remind me why we had to sleep at the club?” I asked, stepping into my underwear then slipping my jersey cotton sheath dress over my head.

“Got a meetin’ this mornin’.”

I pulled my hair up and turned on the faucet. Scooping water in my hands, I started washing my face. “So, why did I have to stay at the club?”

“Can’t sleep without you babe.”

Grabbing Frankie’s toothbrush, I loaded it with toothpaste and shoved it in my mouth.

“What’s the meeting about?” I mumbled around the toothbrush.

“Bunch of MCs havin’ trouble with Angelo Buonarroti. Seems the douchebag put out a coupla bids for the same jobs. Things got messy, brother's got buried. Need to get this shit straightened out. Maybe Buonarroti needs to go to ground. We’ll see.”

I spit, rinsed the toothbrush and put it back in its holder. Then I grabbed my makeup bag and set to work making myself look presentable.

“Gonna go have breakfast with Kami while you’re working.”

“At her place?”

I leaned forward, dotting some cover up underneath my eyes. “Probably.”

“Don’t like that fucker she married,” Frankie muttered.

I grinned. “Who does?”

Chase Henderson was a high paid lawyer for a predominant law firm who had made partner by the age of twenty five. We’d all gone to prep school together but he’d gone off to Harvard whereas Kami and I had stayed in Manhattan to attend NYU. Their parents had arranged their marriage a long time ago. It was ridiculously old school but it wasn’t unheard of in their circle. There were many wealthy, political families that still practiced arranged marriages.

Chase was extraordinarily good looking in an All-American Calvin Klein underwear model kind of way. Never once had I seen him not clean-shaven and without one of many designer outfits on. He never had a single gelled hair out of place and always wore a pissed off, haughty expression. There was nothing simple or comfortable about him. He reminded me of a house that was too expensive, too new, too clean, too perfect, to feel comfortable in.

Kami despised him.

She had been cheating on him with her personal trainer since they had gotten home from their honeymoon. He cheated on her with a variety of women, none of whom lasted longer than a few weeks, if that.

It was ridiculous.

“Don’t like the way he looks at you babe.”

I snorted. “Frankie, you don’t like anyone looking at me. Period. You didn't like my college professor's looking at me when I raised my hand. Remember Professor Reynolds? Daddy had to pay him off big time for the beating you gave him. Besides, Chase thinks I’m biker trash.”

“Bitch, get a fuckin’ clue!” Frankie yelled. “Asshole looks at you like he’s fuckin’ starvin’ and you’re a goddamn steak!”

Letting my hair down, I rolled my eyes. Men. Always hungry.

“Don’t you have a meeting to get to?”

“Waitin’ for your sweet ass so I can walk you out.”

I shook my head and smiled at him.

Frankie was a great looking man. Long brown hair, a scruffy beard, a body made for sex, covered in tattoos and sexy scars. He was good in bed, too. A good combination of attentive and demanding and he didn’t stray. This I knew because wherever I was, at home, at the clubhouse, in the supermarket, in the shower, Frankie was there too. Or somewhere nearby. Or on his way there. Or skyping me. Or tracking me through my cell phone with his cellphone.

Three years ago I had come home from Montana and was met with insanity the likes of which I'd never seen before. The club was in an uproar, first because I'd gone missing, second because Frankie had completely flipped his shit and was beating on anyone who got near him, beating himself with the butt of his gun, bashing his head and fists into walls until they bled, screaming, swearing and cursing me to hell.

Ignoring my father's temper tantrum and responsibility speech I went straight to Frankie’s room and found him curled up in a corner covered in blood.

"Shit," I muttered, getting to my knees beside him.

"Frankie," I whispered. "Baby, look at me."

He moved fast. His hands shot out and gripped both my forearms. Dragging me down to the floor, he rolled over top of me. Blood encrusted eyelids blinked down at me.

"Eva," He croaked. "Where the fuck have you been?"

"I just needed some breathing room baby, I'm sorry I left you."

He cupped my cheeks, ran his fingers through my hair, then down to my shoulders and up and down my arms. Before I knew it, his hands were all over me, pulling the top of my sundress down, baring my breasts. He took one in his hand and the other in his mouth.

“Fuck,” I breathed. “Frankie, no…”

“Not waitin’ anymore, babe,” He muttered around my breast. Lifting his hips, he pulled the hem of my dress up.

I tried to push him off me. “I’m not going to leave you again!” I promised. “We don’t need to do this!”

Frankie dug his fingers in between my knees and wrenched my legs open. His hips surged forward forcing them to stay open and he yanked on his belt. I started to panic.

"Please!" I cried. "Please don't do this!"

"No baby," He growled, "I’m not gonna fuckin’ let you say no to me anymore. You get me? You’re not fuckin’ runnin’ from me anymore. Told you a long time ago you were mine and its ‘bout time you got that shit through your thick fuckin’ skull.”

This was all said while he was opening his belt and unzipping his jeans. Now he was yanking my underwear to one side and I could feel him trying to enter me.

"Wait!" I cried, shoving at his chest. "Don't!"

"Fuck," He muttered. He spit in his palm then rubbed his hand over me, wetting me, then he was back, pushing inside.

“Frankie!” I screamed, trying to wiggle backwards to prevent him from fully seating himself.

“STOP!”

His hand slapped down over my mouth; I kept screaming but the sound was muffled and hoarse and no one heard but Frankie and me.

“Been waitin’ too fuckin’ long for this,” He groaned, pushing harder, his heavy chest crumpling my attempts at moving him. “You’re not fuckin’ stoppin’ me anymore. You're never fuckin' stoppin' me again.”

He thrust. Hard. And found purchase. I stilled, tears in my eyes, staring up at him. Frankie had just forced himself on me, inside of me. My Frankie. It was surreal, confusing, like a dream or a movie you remember from a long time ago.

“Lock your ankles around my back,” He rasped. Dazed, I did as he asked. He released my mouth to grip my backside and pump harder. Numb, I listened to his skin slapping against mine, his heavy breathing, my head knocking against the wall.

"How the fuck could you leave me?" He rasped. "I can't fuckin' sleep without you, haven't fuckin' slept in days. You fuckin' did that to me, bitch. You fuckin' let that happen."

I had. I'd known he was going to freak and I'd left him anyway. I should have realized this was going to happen, that he would completely lose it and need to bind me to him in a way he thought was permanent. God, this was all my fault.

"I'm sorry," I whispered brokenly. "God Frankie, I'm so sorry. It won't happen again, I promise."

"No shit," He hissed. “You won’t fuckin’ like what happens if you do…Eva… Fuck baby…I’m gonna come…Fuck…"

His hips pistoned into me, slamming my head harder into the wall. "I’m coming baby, I’m fuckin’ coming…”

I stared up at the ceiling. I wasn't on birth control. I would need to get the morning after pill. I blinked. Did all of our bedroom ceilings look like that? I wasn't sure. I made a mental note to check.

"Fuckin' love you, Eva," Frankie breathed.

I wiped my tears away and wrapped my arms around his neck. “I love you too, baby,” I whispered, holding him tight, rubbing his back, murmuring apologies.

It wasn’t a lie. I did love Frankie. With all my heart. But it was the wrong kind of love. I loved him like a best friend or a big brother, and not at all like a lover. But he'd forced his way into the lover category and there was nothing I could do; he needed me, he wasn’t going to let me go, so I gave him what he needed and tried to make the best of it.

That was three years ago.

Three years of being on the back of Frankie's bike and in Frankie's bed - which was actually mine. My room at the clubhouse was bigger and better.

"Who do you love, babe?”

I finished brushing my hair and walked out of the bathroom. "You," I said.

"Fuck yeah you do."

Frankie finished dressing and sat down on the bed to pull his boots on. He looked me over and frowned. “Lot of leg you’re showin’ babe.”

I snorted. "Hardly."

Suddenly Frankie was on his feet unbuckling his belt and reaching for me.

“Jesus!” I screamed, scrambling away from him. “Focus you horny bastard! You have a meeting! I have a breakfast date!”

He had my belly pressed up against the wall in two seconds flat. His tongue shot across my neck.

“Don’t care babe. You can’t fuckin’ walk around half naked and expect me to keep my hands off.”

“You don’t play fair,” I whispered.

“When it comes to you Eva, I don’t fuckin’ play at all.”

It was nearly an hour before Frankie decided it was time to go to his meeting and even then, he did this reluctantly.

☼☼☼

Deuce frowned at Preacher. “Don’t know whatcha talkin’ ‘bout old man. I got no connections with Angelo Buonarroti. His old man, yeah. Coupla of his cousins too, but not him. If you lost your deal with them it ain’t on me.”

“You’re full of it,” Preacher growled. “My boys seen yours on the fuckin’ docks.”

“Can’t help it if my boys in Queens got business on the side. They got families to take care of.”

Preacher’s dark eyes narrowed and cut to his right where Dog, One Eyed Joe and Tiny sat. Next to Joe were his boys, Mick, Cox and Jase. He was seated at the end of the table directly across from Preacher. Next to him, on the other side of the table was Kickass Charlie, President of the MC, Notorious, and two of his boys. Shit was tense. Not one brother in this room wanted to be here. He and Preacher for their own personal reasons involving sixteen-year-old Eva and a gun and Charlie because Frankie had buried his old man a few years back. It was one of the crazy fuck's few caps that had been on the grid. Charlie's old man had been a tried and true dirty bastard.

Yeah, shit was real tense. Even without Frankie in attendance.

The meeting room door burst open with a loud bang. Startled, several brothers shot out of their chairs, pulling their pieces.

Frankie sauntered in, grinning. He was zipping up his jeans, buckling his belt and completely oblivious to the firearms pointed at his head.

"Sorry I'm late," He said to no one in particular and slid into his chair at Preacher's left.

Preacher glared at him. "Where the fuck you been?

Frankie started to open his mouth when an empty coffee cup sailed across the table hitting him in the chest.

One Eyed Joe scowled at Preacher. "He’s walkin’ in here grinnin’ like a dirty dog, zippin’ up his pants and you’re askin’ him where he was! You know where he was, you fuckin’ idiot and you know what he was doin' and who he was doin’ it with cuz that’s all the two of them ever do! Spankin’ each other, day and night, not carin' that we all gotta hear it! And you're gonna ask him stupid questions bout' where he's been knowin’ he’s gonna start talkin’ ‘bout fuckin’ my niece! And I just can’t fuckin’ stomach that shit. He says one more word about hot pussy or titty fuckin' in relation to my girl I’m puttin’ him back in the hospital!”

Frankie grinned.

His stomach dropped.

Preacher sighed. "You tryin' to say I should keep my own baby from the club? Not sure I could handle not seein' her all the time."

Dog gasped. An honest to god gasp. Like a little fucking girl. "Nobody's keepin' Eva from the club!"

"No fuckin' way!" Tiny bellowed. "She keeps my old lady off my back and does my laundry!"

"Damn straight!" Joe's fist came down on the table. "That's our girl! We didn't have Eva here who would keep the books straight? Who would cook us fuckin’ breakfast? If anyone’s gonna go it’s gonna be Frankie!"

Frankie was still grinning. "Can't kick me out. Your baby girl loves me. Case you haven't noticed that's her room I'm sleepin' in upstairs."

He blew out a breath. He hadn't wanted to come to New York, he really hadn't wanted to meet with Preacher or Charlie, he especially hadn't wanted to meet them at the Demon's MC and he fervently hadn't wanted to lay eyes on Frankie.

And now that he knew Eva was giving it up to him…he wanted to blow holes into the skulls of every asshole in the room.

And that wasn't even the worst of it. These men, her father, her uncles, three hundred pound, sweat drenched Tiny, all of them looked horrified at the thought of Eva being kept out of the club like their old ladies were. Not caring that she was well aware of the debauchery that went on, probably having seen most of in, helped hide it and cleaned up after it.

She even had her own room. Her own room. At a fucking MC. What. The. Fuck.

His mistake slammed into him like a fucking freight train. He had thought her bratty and obstinate when she'd only been reacting to him wanting to push her away from what she'd always known. She hadn’t been running from him, she’d been running from the cage he’d wanted to lock her in.

"Ya think you can save the fuckin' drama for later?" Charlie asked. "Maybe we can get back to fuckin' business?"

Frankie turned his head and gave Charlie a crazy eyed, vicious smile. "Sure thing Chuck," He said pleasantly. "I fuckin' loved doin' business with your old man, gonna love doin' it with you too."

Charlie's nostrils flared but he wisely kept his mouth shut. The whole circuit knew Frankie was bad news, trigger happy and more than willing to throw down at the drop of a hat.

"Alright," Preacher growled. "If were not playin' each other then it's the fuckin' Buonarroti family that's playin' us. Someone needs to pay Sal a visit, ask him if he knows what his fuckin' kid is up to. You get the sense that he does-

The door burst open and again guns were drawn as Eva tore through room. Frankie slid down his chair and disappeared under the table.

"I see you!" She screamed. "Get out from under there and give me my purse and my chucks! I was supposed to meet Kami a half an hour ago!"

Cox sat up straight in his chair. "Kami? Where’s Kami?"

"Don't know what you're talkin' 'bout babe," Came the muffled, laughing reply from under the table.

"Oh, christ," Preacher muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"DADDY!"

"Busy Eva baby," He sighed. "Can we do this later?"

"NO!"

Fucking hell. She was beautiful. Hair, dark and long falling in soft waves over her shoulders and past her breasts. She was wearing makeup, more than he'd ever seen her wear, it looked good, made her appear polished, but he didn't like it. He couldn't see the freckles on her nose or the natural pink of her cheeks. Her dress was thin cotton, off the shoulder and shapeless, showing off a lot of leg, giving her a casual and sexy appearance. She looked hot as fuck, but he liked her better in baggy jeans hanging low on her hips and tiny tee shirts that showed her belly. His gaze traveled to her neck, to the gold chain still on it and his old man's tag that he knew was hanging in between her breasts underneath her dress.

She was so mad, so focused on Frankie that she hadn't even noticed him. He was staring at her, boring holes through her head and still nothing.

"Frankie, tell Eva where her shit is ‘fore I kick the fuckin' shit outta you!"

Preacher's body jerked and a shout came from under the table. Frankie crawled out, holding his side, and glaring at Preacher.

"Franklin Salvatore Deluva," Eva snapped. "I am waiting."

Jumping to his feet Frankie pulled a cell phone out of his back pocket and tossed it to her. She caught it one handed.

"Where's the rest?" She demanded, not quite as angry as she'd been a moment ago.

"Chuck's are in the freezer babe," Frankie said, grinning.

"You put her chuck's in the freezer? With our food?" Dog asked.

"Yup."

"Huh."

Eva started tapping her bare foot. "Purse Frankie, where's my purse?"

"Purse?" Joe snorted. "Dontcha mean that fuckin' potato sack you could fit a family of midgets in?"

Preacher, Dog, Joe, Tiny and Frankie all burst out laughing.

Pissed off, Eva spun around, ready to march out of the room. Her eyes found his and she froze in mid spin and lost her footing. He shot out of his seat but Cox was closer and grabbed her waist, hoisting her up from mid fall and what would have been a nasty spill.

“Hey Foxy,” Cox whispered, grinning. She blinked up at him.

He helped her straighten up and she quickly stepped away, glancing warily back at Frankie.

Frankie’s face was bright red, his hands were clenched into fists, and his veins were bulging out of his neck and impressive muscles. He looked like the madman everyone thought he was.

Preacher rolled his eyes. “Frankie, he was just helpin' her. You bury your bullshit right fuckin’ now.”

He didn't. His crazy eyes stayed focused on Cox. Cox, who has never backed down from a challenge in his life, held Frankie's stare and didn't back down.

"FRANKLIN!" Preacher roared.

Pouting like a five year old, Frankie sat down hard in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest.

Swallowing hard and avoiding any eye contact with him, Eva turned back to Frankie. "Purse baby," She said softly. "I need it."

Some of the crazy faded from Frankie's eyes and he smiled at her. "Microwave babe."

Tiny guffawed loudly and Preacher shook his head.

"Sorry I interrupted," She said, turning to Preacher. "Love you daddy, love you Uncle Joe, love you Uncle Dog and love you too, Tiny, with extra sugar."

Every single one of those men went liquid. She wasn’t just another biker brat she was the biker brat. The glue that held these men together. Eva Fox was the princess of The Silver Demon's MC.

Even Charlie looked affected. Girl was sweet and bright. She blinded every man in the room.

"Love you baby," She whispered to Frankie.

His heart seized.

“Fuck yeah baby,” He whispered back. “Always.”

Preacher looked back and forth between them and smiled proudly.

Since he was pretty sure he was five seconds from pulling his piece, he excused himself.

☼☼☼

"Is Mrs. Henderson expecting you?"

I glared at the snotty woman. "Yes.”

“You’re not on her list for the day, Ms. Fox, and I’m afraid I can’t let you up. The Henderson’s do not like being disturbed on the weekends.”

I slammed my fists down on the desk. “CALL HER!”

Scowling, the woman turned away and dialed Kami's apartment. Or rather, her two story sky rise penthouse with a bird’s eye view of Manhattan.

"Mrs. Henderson, I have a Ms. Fox here to-

The woman's jaw went slack and I knew Kami was laying into her. I could hear her screaming through the phone from where I stood.

The woman hung up. "Go on up," She said crisply, avoiding eye contact.

“Thanks,” I sneered.

I burst into Kami's cathedral foyer complete with Romanesque pillars, shoved passed a bewildered Chase -who was surprisingly wearing flannel pajamas- and ran through a series of white rooms, furnished with either white or gray furniture and colorless abstract art that didn't resemble anything I'd ever seen before in my life except maybe an ink stain after a pen explodes, and burst into Kami's bedroom.

She was lying in her king sized canopy princess bed in a pale pink teddy and a pale pink silk robe, her long blonde hair fanned out around her head, flipping through a fashion magazine.

"Kami!" I screamed, throwing myself at her. “Kill me!”

“Oh god, Evie, what’s the matter baby? Is Frankie acting crazy again?”

“No,” I whispered, rolling off her and onto her bed. “Well, yes…when isn’t Frankie acting crazy?”

“I don’t like that guy,” Chase muttered, appearing in the doorway holding a decanter of whiskey and two glasses.

He held the decanter up in offering.

"Yes please," I whispered.

I gulped it down quickly and held out my glass for a refill that I drank just as quickly. The burn of the whiskey subsided and soothing warmth spread in my stomach. I took a deep breath.

“I walked into daddy’s office this morning and I was yelling at Frankie and then I saw Deuce and I tripped and Cox caught me and-

“COX!” Kami screamed, sitting up straight. “Cox is here?”

“Who’s Cox?” Chase asked.

“None of your business,” Kami snapped. “Oh my god Evie, did he ask about me?”

“Um…” I glanced at up at Chase. I knew he was aware of Kami's affairs, just as she was of his, but they didn't talk about them, at least not to each other and I wasn't sure how Chase would feel having to hear about it.

He shrugged. “Go right ahead Eva. I don’t give a shit who she fucks.”

“Okay,” Kami breathed, looking wildly around the room at nothing in particular. “I'm going to get changed and then we are going straight to the club.”

“Uh, Kami…”

"What?"

"Did you not hear what I just said to you?"

"You said Cox was here."

I backhanded her bicep. "Bitch! I said Deuce and Cox were here!"

"Who's Deuce?" Chase asked, taking a sip of whiskey.

"None of your business!" Kami snapped. "Oh my god Evie, what did you do?"

"Nothing!" I cried, doing a face plant into my palms. "What was I supposed to do? Frankie was right there! You know, my crazy, over protective, homicidal, boyfriend Frankie? I had a silent freak-out and left! Now I’m having a loud freak-out because Frankie isn't here!"

"I don’t like that guy," Chase muttered.

"Go away," Kami hissed.

Ignoring her, he sat down on the foot of her bed. Kami gaped at him.

"Seriously Chase, don't you have anything better to do?"

He took another sip of whiskey. "Nope. It's Saturday morning. What the fuck should I be doing?"

"Your eighteen year old assistant?" I said, helpfully.

Kami started laughing.

Chase, clearly not bothered by this, shook his head. "She got clingy. Fired her."

Kami snorted. "She's eighteen Chase, what did you expect?"

"To have some fucking sense and realize it wasn't going anywhere," He muttered. "It wasn't as if she could have forgotten I was married, not with the five million pictures of you, that you annoyingly wallpapered my office with. Pictures she saw up close and personal when I was bending her over my desk."

"Gross!" Kami cried out. "You should have at least moved the pictures!"

"Nah," He said. "I like to look at you while I'm fucking other women."

"Hmm," Kami said thoughtfully. "I don't like to look at you ever."

"Ahh," He replied. "So that's why you always have a pillow over your face when I'm fucking you."

"Pretty much," She said cheerfully.

"You guys are so weird," I informed them.

"You'd be weird too if your dad forced you to marry a douchebag."

Chase raised his glass in the air. "Cheers to that," He murmured.

Kami rolled to her side and brushed my hair out of my face. "Let's go shopping," She said softly. "Retail therapy. It's on Chase."

I giggled. "Not exactly hurting for cash, Kam."

"My cash is legally earned," Chase stated. "Not a drop of blood on it."

I glared at him. "You're a lawyer Chase. There's blood all over you."

"Kinky Eva," He murmured silkily. "I like it."

I wrinkled up my nose. "Maybe you should have a cup of coffee."

He raised an eyebrow. "If I accept my drinking problem and turn to god does that mean you'll finally accept my offer and become my mistress?"

This was exactly why Frankie hated Chase.

“God Chase, you’re so pathetic. Eva would never fuck you. Hell, the only reason I fuck you is because I have to."

"Eva will fuck me eventually," Chase said lazily. "Everyone has their price; I just haven't found hers yet."

Any normal person would have found this insulting, but this was Chase and I was used to it. So I decided to give him a taste of his own medicine.

"Chase," I purred. "You wanna know why you’ll never get this?” I swept my hand down the length of my body.

“Do tell,” Chase said, staring at my chest.

“Because baby, I'm wild pussy and wild pussy can't be bought. Wild pussy doesn't like having pretty things thrown at it and being expected to do the samba on someone's cock in return. Wild pussy doesn't do deals. Wild pussy lives free and for itself and takes it however it likes it; on a bed, on a couch, on the hood of a car, in a bathroom stall or up against a wall in an alleyway and it laughs the entire time. I've known you for a while now Chase. I know you've never had wild pussy and I know you never will. Wild pussy doesn't fuck uptight cock. And it sure as hell doesn't like silk boxers."

Chase's mouth fell open.

Kami’s high-pitched laughter echoed throughout the large room.

"Time to go shopping," She said in a singsong voice.

“Pick me up some cotton boxers while you’re out,” Chase muttered.

“Pick them up yourself!”

“Can’t. I’m going to be jerking off all day to the beautiful imagery of Eva's pussy that she has so graciously provided me with.”

☼☼☼

Courtesy of Chase, Kami and I spent the entire day shopping, Kami because she can shop for weeks without tiring, me because I wanted to be nowhere near the club.

Around eleven and after a few drinks at a neighborhood bar Kami's driver took us to the clubhouse. Three Harley's with Montana plates were still parked out front and Kami was beside herself with excitement.

I was beside myself with anxiety.

We found them in the clubs spacious living room with several of my Demon boys and their girls. Mick had a whore on his lap and Cox was in the middle of heated debate with my cousin Trey. No Deuce. I didn't know whether to be relieved or upset.

The second we entered the room Cox locked on Kami.

“Babe,” He groaned. “You up and left me in the middle of the fuckin’ night. Haven’t slept good since.”

Kami grinned. “You need me to tire you out?”

Cox bolted across the room, scooped her up over his shoulder and headed for the stairwell.

“Christ,” Mick muttered.

"Second floor," I called after them. "Empty beds!"

"Frankie?" I asked a Demon named Split.

He grinned. "Passed out cold a while ago. Took three of us to lug him upstairs."

I gave Split a kiss on the cheek, waved to Trey and turned to go.

I was halfway to the stairwell when a large hand came down on my shoulder. I quickly shrugged out of Mick's grasp. "Don't ever touch me," I said evenly.

His eyebrows shot to his hairline. “Didn’t mean nothin’ by it, darlin’. Just wanted to apologize for how shit went down last time we crossed paths. Deuce is my Prez and my brother and I got love for him, you feel me?”

“I feel you,” I snapped. “But none of that changes how you treated me when you didn't know shit about me! So keep in mind you're in my club, these are my boys and if you fuck with anyone, I will bury you myself.”

He stared down at me. "You've gotten harder babe, fire's burnin' brighter, life's takin' its toll on you, ain't it?"

I blinked and it was Deuce's face I saw.

You’re a good kid, darlin’. A good, sweet kid. Promise me you’ll stay that way, yeah? No matter what you see, no matter what sort of fucked up shit happens to you. Don’t let this life turn you bitter.

I wasn't hard, was I? I definitely wasn't bitter. Right? Why did I suddenly feel like crying?

"Whatever Mick. Just stay out of my way and don't fuck with my club."

He smiled. "I feel you babe. You got love for the club, I get that and I admire that in an old lady. Been hearing bout' how fuckin' awesome you are all day. "

I glared at him. “I am not an old lady.”

“You in Frankie’s bed?”

“Nope,” I shot back. “Frankie’s in my bed.”

Turning on my heel, I left him to stew on that.

After dumping my purchases in my room and divesting Frankie of his boots and jeans, I made my way downstairs. Yawning, I pushed open the door to the kitchen and felt around for the light. It switched on.

Rubbing my eyes with the heels of my palms, I trudged to the fridge, grabbed a bottle of purple Gatorade and turned to go.

I dropped the Gatorade.

There was Deuce, leaning back against the opposite wall -mere inches from the light switch- with his pants around his ankles and his hands full of badly bleached blonde biker babe hair. The space of three years closed and I was back in Deuce's kitchen watching Miranda bounce in his lap.

“What the fuck,” I whispered hoarsely.

The girl jerked her head up; Deuce shoved her back and laughed bitterly.

“What the fuck? You sneak out of my bed in the middle of the fuckin’ night and hop straight into Frankie’s and have the fuckin' nerve to ask me, what the fuck!”

The girl jerked again and again he pushed her back. "Bitch, you stop suckin' one more time and I'm gonna slap you," He threatened.

I gaped at him. "You're a pig," I choked out.

"Yeah."

"No really, you're a sick pig."

"Yeah, darlin', I know."

Furious, disgusted, feeling oddly betrayed and heart broken, and a whole bunch of other emotions I couldn’t pinpoint because my mind was spinning wildly, trying to comprehend and deal with what I’d just walked in on and couldn’t, I ran for the door. Deuce's hand shot out and hooked around my forearm, his grip as tight as a vice.

Tears burned in my eyes. “Let me go!”

"No."

"This is sick," I whispered.

“Yeah babe,” He whispered back. "I just don't give a fuck.”

He yanked me sideways and I tripped over the girl's feet. Deuce pulled me forward and I fell into his chest, right on top of the girl.

My stomach was pushed against the girl's head and I was straddling her back. Back and forth, I went with her as she continued sucking him off.

Our lips were nearly touching; Deuce was breathing hard, his hot breath smelling strongly of rum. Actually, his entire self smelled like rum. Like he had taken a bath in it.

"I'll scream," I hissed.

"Go ahead," He shot back. "I really don't give a fuck."

God, he really didn't. His beautiful eyes looked empty. But I wouldn't resort to screaming. Screaming would result in Deuce dead. And I loved him far too much to be the bearer of that blow.

"Just let me go," I whispered. "You're shitfaced!"

"Yeah. Your fault babe. Want you so bad I fuckin' ache.”

Oh god. Pain and regret so violent gripped my insides and my knees buckled under the onslaught. Deuce caught me under my arms and hauled me back up.

He pressed his mouth against mine and breathed into it. “One fuckin' kiss, baby,” He whispered.

I choked on a sob. “Deuce,” I whispered through my tears. “Please don’t do this. This is really, really, fucked up.”

“That's the thing darlin', I've always been really, really fucked up. For some fuckin' reason you weren't seein' it. But you get it now, so shut the fuck up and lemme fuckin’ kiss you and pretend that hot mouth around my cock is your sweet pussy.”

“Deuce, please…"

"Yeah," He breathed into my mouth, "Keep beggin'."

"Fuck you," I whispered.

"No babe," He gritted out. He released me and his hands shot into my hair, gripping handfuls. "Fuck you."

He shoved his tongue in my mouth and tightened his grip on my hair to keep me in place. He came moments later, groaning, and I burst into tears.

"Please, please," I begged, "Please let me go.”

His nostrils flared. “Let you go?” He hissed. “Let you fuckin’ go?”

He pushed me backwards and I tripped over the girl's legs and landed hard on my backside. Deuce shoved the girl away from him and hiked up his jeans. He glared down at me.

“Been tryin’ to let you go, been tryin' for fuckin' years,” He said roughly. “Haven’t figured out how yet.”

Speechless, I watched him stalk out of the kitchen.

The girl, who I had just realized was Lynn, my Uncle Joe’s favorite girl, wiped the back of her hand across her mouth and looked over at me. “Bikers, Eva,” She huffed. “Fuckin’ crazy.”

“Don’t say anything to Joe,” I whispered.

“No worries, baby.”

I heard the telltale sounds of Harley pipes growling loudly then fading off into the distance. I wondered if this was the last I would ever see of Deuce. For five years, I wondered.

Then one summer night I didn’t have to wonder anymore.