Chapter 14
CHAPTER
FOURTEEN
KING
Piston and Gnaw stand beside me. I called them to do this with me because I knew that Piston would be my voice of reason and Gnaw would be ready to fuck shit up when need be.
I see the brother’s truck in the driveway and wonder what the fuck these assholes thought they were going to accomplish by doing what they did.
“I’m going to ask you just once,” Piston begins. Turning my head, I look over at him, but he’s still got his attention focused on the shitty shack of a house. “This girl the one?”
“If she isn’t, you gonna talk me out of it?”
He shrugs his shoulder, slowly turning his head, his eyes finding mine, and then a smile creeps up on his lips. He looks fucking crazy when he does this shit, but what I know from this expression is that I’m going to like what he has to say next.
“No, if she’s not the one, then I’m going to suggest just scaring them.”
“And if she is?”
“Then I thought we’d make a bit more of an impact.”
Fuck. Yes.
I think about his words. Just the two. The one. Is Shawn that? I don’t know her that well yet. She’s young as fuck. She’s gorgeous. Her body is heaven. Being inside of her feels like a whole experience.
I know she’s not just some fuck.
She’s so much more than that.
I’ve already put her on the back of my bike. I already promised to protect her, and it wasn’t something I even thought about. It was instinct. Natural. She is just plain fucking mine. I clear my throat and shift my eyes to the house for a beat, then back to him.
“She’s mine. Claimin’ her as my old lady right here and now.”
“Then let’s make a fuckin’ impact,” Piston states.
“Fuck yes,” Gnaw growls.
The three of us make our way toward the front door, no fucks given, not trying to hide.
It doesn’t matter, not in this hood anyway.
If this were somewhere else, it might, but here, every single surrounding house knows exactly who we are by the patches on our cuts, and they know to look the other way.
Gnaw doesn’t even knock. He turns the doorknob and pushes it open. I take a step forward, Piston and Gnaw both at my back as they follow behind me and we step into the house. I now understand why Shawn had an aversion to my messy room at the clubhouse.
This place is fucking trashed.
There are food containers and trash everywhere, but there are also clothes and just piles of stuff. Fuck me. I’ll never tell Shawn that I want to live in a mess again. Because this is fucking ridiculous. Although not as ridiculous as the two assholes in the living room.
The mother is sitting in a chair, staring straight ahead at the television. I don’t know what’s on, but it doesn’t matter. She doesn’t even turn to look at us. But the brother. He’s sitting on the couch, his eyes finding mine and widening.
He’s with it enough to recognize me, and that causes my lips to curve up into a huge grin.
As soon as it registers not only that I’m standing in front of him but also that I’m smiling, he jumps to his feet.
This causes the mother to shake out of her stupor and turn to face me herself.
Though she doesn’t stand from her recliner. She can’t be bothered.
Taking her in, I study her, trying to see any part of Shawn in her features, but they aren’t there. I don’t know if it’s because I know the woman standing in front of me is an abusive bitch or what, but Shawn looks nothing like her.
“So you decided to come here and harass me?” the brother growls.
My lips twitch into a smirk. I take a step forward, though just one. Stopping in front of him, I tilt my chin down slightly to look into his eyes, my smile not fading because he’s fucking ridiculous. But I decide to respond for shits and giggles.
“I’m here because you decided to moan like a little bitch to your mommy that you couldn’t hang out, get high, and fuck my whores. So then your mommy took it upon herself to trash my woman’s bakery and fuck with her profits because Shawn wouldn’t give her drug money. Am I missing anything?”
He presses his lips together, his cheeks turning bright red as he stares at me. He’s spitting mad, and that only makes me laugh. I don’t give a fuck if he’s pissed at me. He did this shit on his goddamn own.
Whatever happens to him is something that he basically fucking asked for at this point.
The bitch of a mother, too. I’m more than happy to mete out their fucking punishments or whatever the fuck you want to call it.
I’m ready to get this show on the road, and I know that Gnaw is, too, because he grunts and takes a step forward.
“She’s my kid. I’ll do whatever the fuck I want. Anyway, how old are you? You a fuckin’ pervert?” the mother asks.
Letting out a laugh, I shake my head a couple of times. “I’m old enough to know you’re a strung-out piece of shit and your son here is the same. She’s the only good thing to ever come from between your legs.”
The bitch’s eyes widen as if she can’t believe I’ve just said what I have. The brother starts to charge me, but he’s slow, sluggish. His movements don’t really do much at all. If he were anyone else, it would be comical.
Before he can even take two steps toward us, Gnaw pushes his arm forward, his palm flat against his chest, and I watch as the wind is completely knocked out of him. He lands flat on his ass, gasping for air.
The bitch starts charging at me with her fingers flexed in claw position, ready to scratch my eyes out.
She’s also slow as fuck. I wrap my fingers around the front of her throat and squeeze.
I flex my fingers so hard that her knees instantly buckle, and she goes limp in my hand, but her eyes stay open and fixated on me.
“Do you think that I don’t know you wrapped your fingers around her throat? Do you think that I didn’t see the marks? You’re nothing but a jealous old hag. You’ll be lucky if you live after tonight,” I hiss.
She reaches for my arm, but I can’t stand to feel any part of her touch me, so I release my hand and watch her drop to the floor next to her piece-of-shit son. Neither of them moves, their eyes focused on me, flicking between me, Piston, and Gnaw, then back to me.
“If I see you, either of you, ever again, if I even hear your name whispered in the fucking wind, I’ll kill you. If you ever, ever contact Shawn again in any way whatsoever, I’ll kill you. Am I clear?”
“Fuck you,” the brother cries out, spittle flying from his mouth as he does.
Shaking my head, I crouch down in front of him. Instead of touching him, I tilt my head to the side, fighting the urge to beat the absolute shit out of him. But only barely. Then I clear my throat before I speak.
“It’s me who does the fucking,” I say on a laugh. “You mess with who I fuck, I’ll make sure you’re fucked really goddamn good.” Then I reach out and slap the fucker across the face like the bitch he is.
Moments later, we leave the shithole of a house and climb into the truck. Piston starts the engine, but he doesn’t shift it into Reverse. I suck in a deep breath before I turn to him.
He’s staring straight ahead at the house, still unmoving. “Should I have killed them?” I ask.
“They’re a liability, but at the same time, they’re just junkies. Pretty sure they both pissed their pants.”
I’m pretty sure they did, too.
“I don’t think they’re going to show their faces anywhere near you, the club, or Shawn,” Gnaw says with a laugh. “Where to now?”
“My own mom and stepdad. I don’t know where they are exactly, but I’m assuming they haven’t left their own shithole.”
“Pineville, Texas. Home of the shitholes,” Piston says, reversing the truck.
“That’s about the long and short of it,” I mutter as I shift my attention toward the passenger window of the truck.
Piston drives straight toward my parents’ place.
It’s been about two decades since I’ve been in their home, but I’m good and fired the fuck up.
They owe the club some money, and they owe me a hell of a lot more than that, although I know I’ll probably never get either from them.
I just want them to sweat, and I’m going to try to get my club their dues.
SHAWN
I’m not his mother.
I’m not his mother.
I’m not his mother.
I repeat those words over and over to myself as I clean his room… like his damn mother. I’m not sure how long it takes me, but when I’m finished, I’ve broken a sweat and have stripped the bed down to the mattress, mattress pad and all.
I’m actually surprised that he even had a mattress pad.
I’ve got the sheets in my arms, ready for the washing machine…
if I knew where the washing machine was located.
If I had a car, I would probably forgo the whole washing process of these sheets and just go buy a whole new set. Or maybe leave altogether.
I open the bedroom door, the sheets piled in my arms. Looking around, from left to right, for anyone loitering in the hallway who could help me.
But I’m alone. I can hear the low thrum of the rock music playing in the bar, and there are voices there, but I don’t want to walk out there with dirty sheets in my hands.
“You lost, hon?” a syrupy-sweet voice with a twang calls out from my left.
Smiling, I shift my attention to her, but that smile dies almost instantly at the sight of her. She’s practically naked, wearing what I would maybe call a bikini top, but possibly one that is made for a toddler because the little triangles only cover her areolas… barely.
Her bottoms are slightly larger. They’re a pair of denim shorts that are cut almost like panties. I’ve never seen shorts cut quite that way before, and I have to wonder if she did them herself or bought them that way. And where the hell does someone buy something like that?
On her feet are five-inch heels. I’ve never seen anything like her in all my life. Her blonde hair is teased to the heavens, and her makeup is so heavy that I wonder if she actually washes it off at night or if she just applies more and it’s in layers.
“I’m looking for a washing machine,” I murmur.
She smiles, her teeth bright white, almost florescent, shimmering in the light. I can’t help but just stare at her after I’ve announced my need for the washing machine. She tilts her head to the side, then purses her bright-red lips together.
“Come on this way. We have a storage room with two washers and two dryers. It also has TP, paper towels, cleaning supplies, stuff like that. I’m taking it you’re new here, so you’re on cleaning duties until you’ve been vetted and stuff,” she says, her eyes shifting up and down my entire body.
She shrugs a shoulder, then turns her back to me and begins to walk down the hallway.
I follow behind her, unsure of everything she’s just rambled.
I don’t understand why I would be vetted for anything and why she’s saying I’m new here and have cleaning duties.
Then I wonder if she’s one of the guys’ girlfriends and maybe this is some kind of test that they put us all through?
Leaving us their nasty bedrooms to make somewhat livable.
But when she steps to the side and I take in her clothes again, I think that maybe she isn’t a girlfriend. Maybe she’s someone else, and that causes my heart to race. I’m not sure how I know, but I know that she is not a girlfriend. She’s more than that. She’s different.
I slip past her and into the room. She follows me, moving around the space as she points out where everything is. Then, I shove the mattress protector in the washing machine and add soap. She watches me, clearing her throat.
“I’m going to go out on a limb and say that you are not a clubwhore,” she murmurs.
Closing the lid slowly, I start the machine. As if I’m wading through molasses. As if everything is happening in slow motion. I turn around to face her. She has her brow arched, her arms crossed over her chest, and a smile painted on her red lips.
“My name’s Poison.”
Well. I don’t like anything about that. Not a single fucking part of it.
“No,” I whisper. “I am not… that.”
I can’t even say the word. Words are nothing but words until you give them value, but at the same time, I’m used to my mother saying nasty things to me, so I don’t even like to think them, let alone say them like that.
“Clubwhore,” she says as she pushes off the wall. “You’re not. I see that now. But just be aware that we’re here and you’re going to have to get used to us.”
“I’m not sure what I’m supposed to get used to?” I ask on a whisper.
Her tongue peeks out and slides across her perfectly painted red bottom lip, then she smirks again. She is enjoying this wholly.
“Me, us, women who are here for the sole purpose of fucking and sucking the men of the Dark Horse MC. I won’t talk to you again, not if you’re claimed, but know that your man will come to me when he needs something you can’t or won’t provide, and I’ll be more than happy to fulfill that.
I’ve already done it about a million times. And I’ll do it a million more.”
“You’re telling me this because?” I ask.
She moves toward the door, but she doesn’t turn her back to me, not yet, at least. Her eyes find mine. They search my own, and then she lets out a soft laugh. “I just think that you should be aware. This is the world you’re in, babe. It’s a hard fuckin’ pill to swallow.”
Poison turns and saunters out of the room, her hips swaying exaggeratedly with each step she takes until she turns the corner and disappears.
I don’t move.
I’m not sure I can.
I’m not quite sure what happened here, but it seems as though I’ve just been told by that woman that she intends to sleep with Elvis, and she doesn’t care that I exist. In fact, I’m just supposed to accept it?
Wow.
I think not.