Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Legs
I sit on my sofa in my underwear, eating cereal, going over the rest of my day for the fiftieth time after I somehow managed to make it home in a daze.
I stare at Del, resisting the urge to rub the tattoo on my wrist. She recognized the mark, I know she did, so I’m not sure lying is an option right now.
Fuck, this is not how I thought this day would turn out.
Part of me wants to lift my head, tell her to mind her business, and stroll out with my pride intact.
The other part knows I need to swallow that pride down and lay myself bare.
At this point, I have nothing to lose. Something tells me she’d be able to find out the truth anyway.
“I used to live with an MC.” I hedge.
She leans back, her intense eyes laser-focused on mine. “Used to, huh?” Her voice has a bite of sarcasm, so I sigh and tell her the truth.
“I left a little over six weeks ago. I’ve been thinking of leaving for a while, but something–– or someone––always held me back. Then something happened that forced my hand, and here we are.”
“You’re not an old lady.” It’s a statement, not a question. Old ladies don’t get these kinds of tattoos, they get “property of” ones.
Who is this damn woman?
“No. I was a club girl. Have been most of my life, though not for the same club.”
She frowns, leaning forward. “Tell me, Hazel, if a member of Raven Souls came in here and asked you to go back, would you?”
“I didn’t tell you the MC was called Raven Souls,” I tell her softly, making her freeze and swallow, but I answer her anyway. “No, I wouldn’t go back. Nothing’s changed”.
I pause. “Actually, that’s not true. I’ve changed. I’m not the same kid I was when I got dragged into this life.”
“Kid?” Her voice softens.
Dammit. Here goes. “I was fourteen when my mom died. She made arrangements for me to become a club girl.”
Her mouth drops open, a look of horror crossing her face. I feel tears prick the back of my eyes. I don’t share this part. I mostly try to pretend it happened to someone else, but the things a fourteen-year-old me was forced to endure to survive were things I’d not wish on my worst enemy.
“Shit. How? No, don’t answer that. I know how these bastards work.”
“I don’t think many of them knew my real age. Rock made me tell everyone I was eighteen.” I dip my head in shame, knowing now what I didn’t realize at the time. Every time I opened my legs for one of them, I made them an accessory to a crime they had no idea they were committing.
“Rock?” She squints, and I see a lightbulb go off above her head. “Chaos Demons? He used to be their president back when I—” she cuts off whatever she was going to say with a shake of his head.
“Okay, shit, I didn’t expect this.” She glares at the ceiling as if it has all the answers before focusing on me again. “I’ve gotta ask how your hand was forced and how likely they are to come looking for you. I have a no bikers policy here.”
I jolt at that, surprised. But her knowledge about MCs and the players tells me she has had run-ins with them, and they didn’t go well.
“I had a—I don’t even know what to call it. It wasn’t a relationship because club girls and bikers don’t get happily ever afters, you know, but there was something there between us from the start. It was as if he knew he couldn’t have me, but he didn’t want anyone else to have me either.”
She snorts. “Fucking figures. Chauvinistic assholes, the lot of them. An MC is a man’s world. They are the be-all and end-all. Women are only permitted entrance if they have a use, and once that’s gone, so is she.”
“Yeah, I’m familiar with that part. Don’t get me wrong. It wasn’t all him. I knew the score. I knew he’d never give me anything but his dick, but it was enough.”
“Until it wasn’t,” she finishes for me.
“I love the guys, and I have a few female friends there, too. It’s a family like I always wanted. I think that’s why I stayed so long. Outside those gates, I’m all alone, and it’s kind of terrifying, to be honest.”
“I get that. You won’t always be scared, though.”
I offer her a weak smile, hoping that’s true. At the moment, I’m jumping at shadows.
“So, the straw that broke the camel’s back?”
I frown, unsure of what she means.
“You said your hand was forced.”
“Oh.” I press my hand to my stomach, my tears falling for sure then. I don’t need to say it out loud. She knows.
“You’re pregnant?”
I nod rapidly. “I’m a hard worker, though. I’m strong and fit, and I’ll find a sitter or something. I just…I really need someone to take a chance on me.”
“And the baby’s father?”
“Doesn’t know. I mean, everyone knows I’m pregnant now, but I’m a club girl, and the father has no idea it’s his. And he won’t.”
“Hazel…” she warns. “This kinda shit will get you killed.”
I huff out a laugh. “Like I said, they know I’m pregnant, but nobody has stepped up and asked me if it this baby could be his. I think they’re glad I’m gone. Out of sight, out of mind.”
She stares at me for so long that I begin to fidget. She wipes a hand over her face. “Fuck it. When can you start?”
My mouth drops open in shock. “Are you serious?”
“I’m fucking insane is what I am, but I’ve been where you are. Well not exactly where you are, but close enough. I survived in the beginning, thanks to the kindness of others. Seems fitting, I pay it forward.”
I burst into tears as sheer relief washes over me. I didn’t realize just how worried and panicked I’d been feeling. My shoulders shake, and my chest heaves under the onslaught of my tears, but I can’t seem to stop—stupid pregnancy hormones.
I jump when I feel a set of arms wrap around me. It’s been so fucking long since I had a good hug that it sets me off again. She doesn’t complain. She just holds me as I cry it all out of my system.
When I’m finally out of tears, I pull back and look at Del with an apology on my lips, but she just scowls at me. “Don’t say you’re fucking sorry. Sounds to me like it was a long time coming.”
I jolt when the music starts blaring from next door, snapping me out of my thoughts.
I still can’t believe I got a job. I look around my sparsely decorated apartment and smile.
Things will be better now. I might never be rich or have a house in the hills, but none of that matters anyway.
I press my hands to my stomach and feel okay.
Good, even. I might not be bouncing on the walls, but I’m heading in the right direction.
I’m going to give this kid every ounce of love I have.
So much they’ll never doubt it. I’ll always fight in their corner and protect them with everything I have.
They’ll never question their worth because they’ll know that, every single day, they are the best thing to ever happen to me.
The music cuts out, and silence falls like an anvil.
I head to the kitchen to wash my bowl. I pause—was that thunder?
I put the bowl in the sink and walk over to the window, peering out into the darkening sky.
It’s gray and overcast like it’s been all day, but the rain’s held off so far.
I stand still and listen, waiting to hear anything else or see a flash of lightning. But something else catches my eye.
I look down toward the edge of the lot and see a bike parked under one of the trees. I can’t see the rider, but I’d know that bike anywhere.
“Midas,” I whisper.
Instead of excitement, all I feel is anger and hurt—so much freaking hurt that I have to rub my chest to ease the pain.
I walk to the door and look out through the peephole.
I can’t see anyone out there, but that doesn’t mean no one is.
I flip the deadbolts into place and make sure the chain’s on before backing away.
“I’m not doing this anymore,” I say to myself more than anyone.
Not knowing what else to do, I walk back over to the window and stare outside. His bike’s still there, but there’s no sign of him. I bet he’s nosing around somewhere because the man has to control every damn thing. Ugh. The more I think about it, the angrier I get.
He didn’t want me, dammit. He threw me away.
He doesn’t get to waltz back into my life now.
Fuck that and fuck him. I yank the blinds shut, shutting him out, and head into the bathroom.
I brush my teeth, braid my hair so I don’t wake up with it in a tangled mess, and crawl into bed.
I start work tomorrow, so I need a good night’s sleep.
But after spending an hour tossing and turning, I know that’s not gonna to happen.
After another hour passes, I crawl out of bed and grab a glass of water. I stand in the middle of the room, willing myself to go back to bed and stop letting this man take up space in my head. But I know I won’t. I can’t.
Instead, I slowly walk over to the window and peek through the blinds. I blink, shocked to find his bike still there, and this time, someone’s sitting on it. What the hell is he still doing here at… I glance down at my watch and frown. One a.m.
I’m half tempted to march down there and tell him to leave.
But Midas will do whatever he wants, consequences be damned.
I fight the urge to call Havoc to come get him but decide against it.
It’s late, and he’s not doing anything other than being a creeper.
Anyway, knowing my luck, he’d be gone before anyone got here, and they’d think I was crazy or something.
I shut him out once more, drinking the water until it’s gone before heading back to bed. I tuck my hands under my cheek and let myself cry. I’m surprised I have any tears left after yesterday, but then Midas always had that effect on me.
Eventually, I must cry myself to sleep, because the next thing I know, I’m jolt awake—what feels like only minutes later—by death metal blasting next door. Rolling over, I curse when I see it’s six a.m. I don’t have to be up for another hour, and yet here I am.