8. Eight
Eight
Vic
I need to finish my ledger and supply order, but here I am, watching Rosie dance around the kitchen through one of the many cameras inside my house. I should mention their presence to her. It’s the right thing to do, but a part of me relishes in the sight of her dancing freely, unaware of my knowledge. Something I’m sure would stop as soon as she found out. I could say the cameras were solely for her safety, but it would be a lie.
My nerves were at an all-time high as I handed her the letter, and the only thing that brought me comfort was her expression. She was as white as a ghost once she saw it before ripping it from my hand and holding it to her chest.
The letter is the closest I’ll ever get to her. Being in her head will have to suffice, because I’ll never be in her heart or even in her pants.
If she knew it was me who’d been writing to her for years, she’d probably kill me in my sleep, not that I’ve given her the chance. I haven’t used my bedroom next to hers since she’s moved in. I’ve been too scared that I would wake up next to her.
I’ve gotten too close at one point already, and it could have spelled the end of my friendship with her brother.
Six Months Ago – Devils and Angels Night
I watch her from across the overpopulated, smoke-riddled room.
Trust fund college idiots downing shot after shot like it’s holy water. Assuming it will somehow cleanse them of all their sins and transgressions tonight.
The scent of regrets, weed, and overpriced perfume fills the air. If these are what we have to look forward to for our future world leaders, we’re fucked.
But I’m not here for them.
I’m here for her.
The girl I have written to for years.
She knows me better than anyone, and I can’t get her or her last letter out of my mind. She pleaded with me to meet her, which I’ve refused in the past, but this was different. Her letter dripped with depression and loneliness, something I’ve been familiar with my whole life.
Child with dead parents who cared more about their next fix than their kid, check. Foster kid with abandonment issues and an empty fucking stomach, check. Runaway teen with anger issues and a need for violence and adrenaline, check.
Now, I’m the twenty-one-year-old who just paid twenty dollars for entrance to a frat party with a stupid fucking devil mask on as I watch the angel that I can’t get out of my head. She said she’d be at this party if I wanted to meet her.
I never replied. I wasn’t sure if I was going to attend until earlier today. I searched high and low for a devil mask and finally found one after five stores.
Her bright smile lights up the otherwise dismal kitchen. I watch as she talks animatedly to a girl from her art classes that I may or may not have followed her to multiple times.
Her head tilts back as she laughs again, showcasing her delicate neck that would look so much better with my hands wrapped around it.
Her angel costume is modest compared to all the other girls wearing lingerie, but she stands out. The fact that she’s so covered up makes her that much more alluring and sexy.
I look around to see if anyone else is gazing at her as I have been since she’s entered the stuffy mansion. All I see is carbon copy after carbon copy of arrogant, rich frat boy jocks. These guys go for the easy target. They want the kind who falls into their lap with no work. No finesse or skill. They want instant gratification, or they move on to their next unfortunate target. One that will put out and be disheartened when the guy inevitably moves on, maybe even shedding a tear or two.
The difference between these college wastes and me is that I’m a man. One who grew up without the silver spoon shoved down his throat. One who practically died at the neglect of his parents, then went to prison and knows how the real world works and can survive it. Not someone who will join Daddy’s firm or corporation and run it when Daddy retires early to spend time with his sidepiece on a yacht. Then run it into the ground because they have no idea how it really works.
I kick off the wall when I see her friend pulling her toward another room. I stroll behind them with a warm beer in my hand that I don’t plan on drinking. A passerby in another poorly planned devil costume stops them, his eyes raking over Rosie and landing on her breasts for a moment longer than necessary. His arm shoots out in what she’s assuming is a friendly gesture of him squeezing her shoulder as his thumb runs across her exposed skin. The red cup snaps under my grip from the pressure of my fist. The warm amber liquid runs down my fingers as I watch the moment unfold.
What has me continuing to watch while staying rooted in place is how she shrugs his touch off. She shows her disinterest and effectively dismisses him before grabbing her friend’s hand and towing her away.
My lip curls into a grin as I watch the Lucifer wannabe sulk as he walks away. The fucker’s lucky I won’t be chopping off his hand for his idiocy of touching her.
I place the mangled cup on a marble table and follow them to a large sitting room. They pushed the furniture against the walls to make room for a makeshift dance floor. A DJ sits to the far right. The music blares in my ears.
When I got out a year ago, the world felt loud, a sensory overload.
I used to be drawn to and thrived in the chaos and commotion of loud and crazy gatherings. But now I find solace in the peace and stillness. However, I prioritize her needs over my own comfort.
She’s everything .
She begins to sway her hips to the beat. I was only planning to watch her tonight, as I’ve been doing routinely since getting out, but I can’t. I won’t. My feet take me over to where she is instantly.
Her eyes are closed as she dances, but she must sense me because her eyes open when I’m a few feet from her. She blinks and wets her lips before she tilts her head up to gaze at me. I’m far taller than most of the guys here.
She takes in my red and black devil mask that conceals my identity with curiosity.
Does she know it’s me?
She gives me a small nervous smile before continuing to dance. Her back turns, and I take that as my invitation. My front presses into her back. The mask obstructs my nostrils, but her scent still passes the barrier. A sweet and flowery scent envelops me, tempting me into devouring her right here, right now. But I don’t. I just keep her close.
No one will get near my sunshine now that I’m with her.
I groan at how her ass grinds against my cock. It gets even harder as I wrap my arm around her midsection, just under her breasts that sway as she dances. Their weight feels like heaven against my arm.
Her hand wraps around the back of my neck, and her nails stroke the skin there, making me close my eyes. A shock wave of goose bumps takes residence all over my skin. It’s driving me insane in the best way possible. I savor the moment of her against me.
This is the boldest and best move I’ve made yet, and I don’t regret one fucking moment.
We continue to dance as a slower song comes on. I’m enjoying the change of pace and how it feels like she’s practically giving me a lap dance while we’re both standing. My arm around her midsection drops lower as I pull her flush against me.
I don’t want this moment to end, but I have to tell her it’s me.
I can’t wait.
I bend my neck to her ear when someone pokes me in the back, ruining the moment. I turn around, ready to slit the intruder’s throat.
“She’s off-limits, bro. Get your fucking hands off her before I break them and you can’t ride again.”
My spine straightens at his choice of words.
Did he see me arrive, or does he know who I am?
I look over at a face I’ve looked at for years. But not the one I’m affiliated with. Not the one I trust with my life. No, her other brother, who’s clearly pissed at my hands wrapped around his little sister.
I should be going anyway before I do something more fucking idiotic than what I’m currently doing.
I gaze down at Rosie, who’s gone still in my arms as she looks at her brother with a mix of shock and embarrassment at her compromising position.
My hand that’s wrapped around her waist squeezes her to me one last time as I savor the feeling of her being so close. I slowly pull away and leave, knowing she’ll be safe with him. I might hate the guy, but at least I can count on that.
I can’t help but shake my head when I think about tonight. I’m a stupid motherfucker for coming out here and getting way too close. If Gage had found me with her, he would have killed me.
She is everything to me, but I can’t lose Gage after everything he and I have been through. She could meet me and hate me. Then leave me just as Mom did. I can’t have that. Gage’s friendship is safer. Friendships are always safer than something romantic.
This will be my last time following her. This will be my last time watching her. And this will be the last time wishing she was mine. I won’t be writing her back. I can’t.
I hear a knock, and Axl comes in wearing a huge grin. “You ready to head to the bar? The guys said there’s fresh meat tonight.”
The guys are idiots. “Yeah, I’m almost set.”
I tilt my head toward the trash bags. “You mind taking these out for me while I get changed?”
“Where’s your little apprentice to help with this bitch work?” he asks, referring to his little brother Samuel.
“I let him out early for good behavior, which is a lot more than I can say for your ass. Hickeys are trashy as fuck, by the way,” I say, pointing at his neck.
“They’re only considered trashy if you can see them.”
I raise my eyebrow at him. “Take out the trash, you trashy motherfucker.” Ax laughs as I shut down my laptop for the night.
“Hey, they’re fading. I’m taking your girl’s advice, anyway.”
“I don’t have a girl.”
“Yeah, okay. It seems like it with the way I see you lookin’ at her when you think no one’s paying attention. I was tempted to rub one out with all the tension in the gym between you two this morning.”
Even though I know he’s fucking with me, the thought of him touching himself while thinking about Rosie pisses me off. “What’s with all the chatter tonight? I thought you wanted to head to the bar?”
Axl rolls his eyes as he hefts the trash bag over his shoulder and walks out the door. I busy myself with changing out of my ink-covered jeans into a pair of fresh ones before going out to the front.
Axl comes back in as I’m turning the lights off and getting my things together. “Let’s do this,” he says, rubbing his hands together.
“You going to behave tonight or nah?” I ask as I lock the door and walk to my bike, right next to his.
I rarely get the chance to ride with him anymore, as my parole officer constantly reminds me of my club affiliation ban if I want to stay out of prison. But tonight, I don’t give a fuck.
I’m wound too fucking tight, and I need this moment of freedom provided by the road.
“Fuck no,” he says as he hops on and starts his bike.
Instead of sticking to the main road, we opt to take a long detour through the hills. With only the moon and the faint glow of our bikes’ light guiding the way, it makes me feel free. This has always brought me the most peace and put me at ease.
We reach the bar sooner than I’d like and park our bikes next to the other brothers’ bikes. It’s already packed. Rock music blares, and the smell of beer and smoke permeates the air.
In the bar, my gaze wanders until it rests upon them, clad in black leather kuttes, comfortably seated in the large dimly illuminated booth on the left side. Their infectious laughter mingles with the melodic clinking of glasses.
I make my way over there first, with Axl at my side.
Trey, Marcus, and Julian are in a discussion about who the fuck knows what when we slide into the booth. The three twentysomethings lead the club. Trey took his pop’s place as the president, Julian as the vice president, and Marcus as the sergeant at arms.
They don’t miss a beat, arguing about dibs on some unfortunate piece of ass. I shake my head. Good fucking luck to her. I might have specific tastes regarding the shit I like, but these three will ruin someone. They all like to share and shit. Definitely not my style, but I’ve kept no one long enough to care.
My thoughts drift as I listen to them bicker. I try to tune them out as per usual until someone comes up to the table and starts grabbing glasses.
That’s when the scent hits me, a floral-fruity smell. The signature scent of my obsession.
I inhale deeply and let the scent wash over me. I can’t get her out of my fucking mind. I need a drink.
The sweetest voice I’ve ever heard graces my ears. Smooth and sweet but with a raspy tone when she’s nervous. But that’s not the voice I get directed toward me. I get the irritated voice.
My head snaps up as soon as Rosie asks the table if they’d like her to get anything else.
I slowly look her up and down. My blood is fucking boiling. So much for the calming ride here.
She’s in the outfit from the fitting room that I told her not to get. It shows every curve of her delicate, flawless tanned flesh and makes me want to bend her over and spank the living shit out of her.
She looks delicious, and I hate that everyone gets to see it.
How the hell did she even get a job here, and how did I not know about it? The club owns the bar.
She doesn’t know anyone in town, and there’s no way she’s been sneaking here. I’m always here.
I look around the bar and spot Jess talking to Char. Bingo. Jess must be helping her, even after I told her the very short version of the situation. What a little traitor. And I grew up with her, for shit’s sake.
I look over at Ax, who has a smile on his face like he knows shit’s about to go down between me and Rosie with her blindsiding the fuck out of me.
I sidetrack him by nodding in Jess’s direction as she now talks to some guy in khakis and a polo. Ax gets up right away without a word. Payback’s a bitch, Jess.
Rosie looks around the table until she spots me, then pauses. Her eyes go wide in shock before shifting her gaze and looking back at the guys. She didn’t expect to see me here, which pisses me off even more. How long did she think she could hide working here from me?
“Oh, there’s something you can get me, beautiful. What are your plans after work?” Trey asks with a bright-ass smile as he leans in closer to her.
“Just going home,” Rosie says as she looks at me. Smart girl.
“How about you have another drink with us?”
“Two’s my limit. Is there anything else?”
She’s been drinking? I peer into her eyes, which are a glassy green with a hint of red .
She won’t be working here after tonight.
“We’ll just have another round of beers,” I mutter abruptly before she’s able to answer.
This is who they’re talking about. The fresh meat. Rosie. My Rosie. Over my dead fucking body.
The guys and I have been friends for fifteen years, but there’s no way in hell I’d let any of them touch her. The thought makes my heart beat faster and my fists clench.
She isn’t under my skin. She’s in my veins. The very blood that pumps through my heart.
“Of course. Coming right up,” she says and scurries away.
My gaze fixes on her ass; her leather skirt creeps up with each stride she takes. My hands form fists as I look around to see if anyone else is noting the way she looks the way I am. There are a few, and it doesn’t help the smiles she gives each customer. Those smiles aren’t meant for them.
What am I going to do with her?
“Bro, what was that about? We’re trying to ease her into coming home with us tonight. Not scare her away,” Trey says while narrowing his nearly colorless eyes at me. They give him a sinister appearance, accompanied by tattoos—mostly intricate sacred geometry pieces courtesy of me—covering his shaved head and the rest of his body. Rosie would never go for someone like him. “She’ll be perfect. She’s a little innocent, but I’m sure—”
“Dibs,” I say for the first and last time.
Since we’ve been kids, they’ve always called dibs on girls they wanted, and whoever said it first got the girl, making the other guys back off. The competition was fierce since we live in such a small town, and the options have always been limited. Now, it’s apparently my turn .
“Nah, bro, we saw her first. Also, what the fuck? You’ve never dibsed a chick before,” Julian says, looking shocked before blowing a kiss to someone walking by. Now, he is someone she might go for. Julian has that easygoing smile, fuck-boy hairstyle, and diamond earrings you could probably see from space. I don’t like the thought of them together.
I shrug. “Now I have.”
“Damn, Vic, never thought I’d see the day,” Marcus mutters as he takes another pull from his beer. He won’t argue with me claiming her because, frankly, he doesn’t give a fuck. Where Trey and Julian are demented social butterflies, he’s stoic and unapproachable. His imposing, well over six-foot frame, wild shoulder-length hair and beard, and face adorned with tattoos contribute to his ‘stay the fuck away’ demeanor.
Trey looks over at me. “Why her?”
“She’s off-limits.”
“How can you say that when you’ve just seen her?”
“She lives with him,” Ax supplies as he scoots back into the booth.
“She’s your girl?” Trey asks.
“No.”
“Long-lost family?”
“No.”
“Then what’s the deal?”
Ax stays silent. I told him not to tell anyone who she was. It’s safer that way even though I trust the guys with my life.
Ax personally knows Gage and realizes how big of a mistake it would be to touch her. I’m not sure the guys would be as worried, and I’m apparently an idiot who knows and is still tempted to touch the fire that is Rosie .
“She’s just mine. Dibs.”
“Fine, hands off...” Trey mutters as he looks over at Ax, who’s still watching Jess sitting at the bar.
Ax and Trey had a falling out when we were younger–around the time I got popped–over something similar to this, and their friendship still hasn’t recovered. It even put a strain on the MC with how much they were at each other’s throats. Now they ignore each other and only communicate when necessary. Needless to say, we all take it seriously now.
Rosie returns with the drinks while the guys sulk and just offer a thanks. No more comments from the three stooges.
I let her walk away, knowing it won’t be the last time I see her tonight.
“Shit. We gotta go. See you guys later,” Trey, Marcus, and Julian all vacate the booth. Probably found a poor soul to corrupt for the night.
“So, you finally did it.”
“Did what?”
“Staked your claim,” Ax says with a huge grin.
“It was just a statement. No one is going to touch her,” I say with a shrug before taking a healthy drink of my beer to extinguish the flame raging inside me when I think about her with another guy.
“Yeah, I’m sure. Looks like your statement didn’t get the message,” he says with a head nod toward one of the other tables with a couple of guys.
I turn and find Rosie with some fucker’s hand around her waist. Her body is rigid, and she’s clearly uncomfortable.
I hear Axl curse under his breath as I shove him out of the booth. I waste no time getting right behind the fucker who thinks it’s acceptable to touch what’s mine .
Tapping on his shoulder, he turns, releasing Rosie. I don’t even think before I knock his ass out. He hits the floor with a nice thump of his head, and all hell breaks loose.
His friends rush me, and I feel like I’m in my element. Bring it. I know Axl won’t be far behind covering me, so I’m not worried.
This is another statement I must make. No one will place a finger on her ever again.
The other guy is no match. He runs around the table, charging me. What he doesn’t know is I’ve been fighting all my life. Both trained and untrained. He runs right into me, but I expected it, so I grab hold and twist, driving him right into the ground, knocking his breath right out of him. He might also have a broken arm from the crack I just heard. I bend down since he’s still conscious, unlike his handsy-ass friend.
“This is our town and our bar. Find yourself somewhere new, or I’ll bury you.”
Thirty years ago, the club found its beginnings on this very soil, and this bar served as its original clubhouse until the club made enough revenue to find a more secluded and protected plot of land. The townies know not to fuck with us, especially in here, so these idiots must be from out of town.
Both guys grab an arm each while struggling to lift their friend, whose head lolls to the side as he’s still in a daze from me knocking him out.
I turn and see Rosie, who looks stunned and as white as a ghost. I take a step toward her when I get intercepted by someone I don’t want to be on the bad side of.
“You boys done, or do I need to hose you down to cool you off?” I glance down, and my gaze softens. Charlotte, Trey’s dad’s old lady and one of the few women I trust. Char’s been a mother figure to me since I was a kid.
“Sorry, Char,” I say, watching as she shakes her head, causing her short jet-black hair to sway against her neck before she walks away. I’ll be hearing about this one later.
I head back to the table where Ax is sitting to grab my phone. I’m ready to go, and Rosie will be, too, once I find her.
“So that was fun. I like this new Vic. He hasn’t been out to play in a long-ass time,” he says with a grin.
This is my ugly side, and I like to keep it locked up tight. I’ve channeled my rage into other parts of my life, like working out and sparring with the guys, which won’t get me locked up again.
Freedom means more to me than chaos and destruction. Tonight was a slip, but I don’t regret it.
Not when it comes to her.
“Don’t get used to it. It was a—”
“Statement,” Ax supplies with a laugh. “Dude, you’re fuckin’ screwed, and if you don’t see it, you’re an idiot.”
“And you’re a dick. You know that.”
“I do,” he says, looking like the title makes him happy.
I take a swig of my beer and ignore him while I look around for Rosie.