Chapter 39
Slade
It’s been two days, and Bane has made it his mission to give me as many orgasms as possible.
Not that I’m complaining, because, holy hell, am I making up for lost orgasm time, and my sex drive is in wicked overdrive.
Bane tried to convince me to spend the night with him in his bedroom, but I’ve resisted.
It felt too real. Which I know is stupid.
Because Bane has been staying with me in my bed, and I’ve been waking up beside him, reaching for him in the middle of the night because I woke up needy and horny, or for him wrapping around me to banish my dream demons.
But sleeping with him in his room feels like a bigger step.
“Watch that spark, kid,” Badger warns, and I curse.
I’m welding a reinforcement onto the swingarm for Breaker’s bike, and a rag fell out of the pocket of my hoodie. I stomp out the spark before it can light the cloth on fire.
Pushing up the face shield of the welding helmet, I wipe the sweat off my forehead with the back of my hand. Jez has finished changing the oil on his bike and quickly glances away when we make eye contact. He’s been like this for the past two days.
“What’s your issue?” I ask him, a bite of anger in my tone. That’s something that’s progressed, too—I’m able to feel emotions a bit more intensely without spiraling without Bane.
Jez wets his lips, looking nervous. “Nothing. Why do you ask?”
“Cuz you’ve been staring at her like a grade-A creeper, that’s why,” Badger barks.
“I have not.” Jez’s eyes swing to me, almost in panic. “I haven’t, Slade.”
I toss a sideways glare at Badger. “Badger is just an old grouch because I have to have a shadow in here, and you’re in his domain.”
Badger straightens with an indignant look. “I told Bane I’m more than capable of protecting you.”
“And I told Bane having someone glued to my ass is overkill and annoying as hell,” I grouch. “He listens to no one.”
Except Ash, but he’s just as adamant. I know they’re concerned that I’m going to try to run. Working in the shop with Badger, having access to cars—especially now that they know about my car heist involvement—makes them extra cautious.
“Your welding work is good, kid.” Badger leans closer to study my work and takes the welding torch from me. “You’ll be working at Havoc Iron Customs in no time.”
“That would be wicked cool.” Jez grins.
“Slade working with me here is just as wicked cool,” Badgers snaps at Jez.
“I don’t plan on sticking around long enough to make a career in either shop.”
Badger’s face falls. “I thought you might change your mind.”
“Why?” I ignore the guilt that rises. “There’s nothing here for me, Badge.”
“Your brothers. Me.”
“Bane,” Jez adds.
I know Bane’s attention—entirely devoted to me when he’s around and not doing MC business—hasn’t been missed by anyone here.
I narrow my eyes at Jez. “Are you trying to piss me off?”
Before I can say anything else, Liam walks in, looking freshly showered and like a clean-cut boy from next door. Minus, of course, the tattoos and the leather cut.
“Hey,” he greets me and Badger, then turns to Jez. “You’re free to go.”
“For fuck’s sakes,” I snap and toss the welding helmet on the workbench. “I don’t need an escort, or a guard, or a—”
“VP’s orders,” Liam chirps happily.
Jez looks between us, pats Liam’s back, and mutters what suspiciously sounds like ‘Good luck’ before he leaves.
I turn my anger onto Liam. “Well, I have words for your VP.”
“He sends his apologies that he won’t make your dinner date.”
The leader of the Santoro mafia had died due to some health problems, and Bane and the rest of the Council had gone to pay their respects to the family today. But Bane’s being late isn’t what causes my face to flush with more anger. “It’s not a dinner date.”
Liam holds up his hands. “Don’t shoot the messenger.”
I take a deep breath to calm myself down and catch Badger smiling at me. “What?”
He rubs the side of his face. “I like that Bane has been able to work wonders with you, kid.”
“I’m not a wild horse that needs to be broken in.”
“No.” His expression turns more serious. “But I can’t tell you how good it is to see that fire in you again. You’re the one doing the hard work, don’t get me wrong. But whatever Bane’s doing to help… Well, I’m grateful for it.”
Orgasms. That’s how Bane is helping me. With lots and lots of orgasms.
But I know it’s not just feeling lust that has been helping to retrain my fucked-up head.
“We good for the day?” I ask, needing to get away from the look on Badger’s face. He never used to be a warm and cuddly guy, and it’s creeping me out. “I’ll clean up and then go.”
“Go, I’ve got this.” He waves me off. “You get that Prospect out of my shop and hair.”
“Aw, c’mon, Badge.” Liam hooks his thumbs in his jeans. “You know I’m your favorite.” Then he offers his elbow to me, like he’s some gentleman aristocrat.
“Not a fucking chance, Prospect.”
Liam holds a hand over his heart in mock hurt. “Slade, you slay me.”
I side-eye him as we walk out of the shop and toward the clubhouse. “How much to get you to let me walk alone to the clubhouse and my room, like a normal human being?”
“Oh, Slade-ma-babe,” he drawls. “There’s not enough money in the world to convince me to do that because I like my balls attached to my body instead of cut off with a dull, rusty blade and crushed under Bane’s boot.”
“That’s a oddly specific analogy.”
“No analogy; Bane’s words for verbatim.”
“Unhinged psychopath,” I mutter as I see Jez up ahead, speaking to Beatrice and her bitch-bunny posse. They all look my way, and Jez frowns, then he walks away.
“Liam, hold up,” Badger calls from behind us. “I need you to take something to Rider.”
I sigh and stop, just wanting out of my hot, sticky clothes and a shower. I purposefully don’t turn around to walk back to the shop with Liam.
He tugs on my elbow, but I hold my ground. “You’ll be less than a hundred feet away from me. I’m staying here.”
“Slade.”
“Or I can just walk back to the clubhouse by myself.”
He huffs under his breath, which sounds like ‘Brat,’ then he orders, “Don’t move.”
I salute him. Using my middle finger.
He runs back to the shop, and I eye Beatrice, who has hate sneered across her face. And who is walking toward me.
“Cunt,” I greet her.
She glares and crosses her arms. “You know I can’t say anything to you, so why are you being such a witch to me?”
“Sorry, my apologies. What do you want, bitch?” I bite back my smile because taunting her makes me feel better.
She reaches for her phone in the back pocket of her barely-there shorts, and her eyes flick over my shoulder.
“Destiny, what are you doing?” Liam demands, sounding like he’s moving closer.
“Nothing,” she says immediately, then looks at me. “Cherry wanted you to know your special food order arrived.”
“My special food order?” I have no clue what she’s talking about.
“Yeah,” she says crossly. “Bane put in an order for all the things you seem to like.”
“There’s candy?” I perk up. Bane has been withholding candy from me, wanting me to cave and basically move into his bedroom, promising me that he’ll lavish me with candy and orgasms.
Beatrice looks at me with disgust. “Yeah. Candy.”
Then she spins on her high heels and struts away like she’s a model on the catwalk.
“What did Destiny want?” Liam asks, walking beside me.
“There’s candy.” That’s all I say, because to me, that’s explanation enough.
“What do you want to do tonight?” Liam asks as we near the clubhouse, and he steers me to the side door instead of going through the bar area.
“Candy. Shower. Then a drink at the bar.”
He stumbles slightly as he whips his head to look at me. “You never go to the bar.”
“Am I not allowed? Did Bane’s threat extend to that as well?”
“No. That’s not it. I’m just surprised, is all.”
We enter the clubhouse, and I head straight for the commercial kitchen.
Cherry is busy with three Bunnies who are on shift tonight making supper, and I head straight for the pantry.
Opening the door, I walk in and hit the motherload.
I grab whatever I can carry—licorice, Rolos, and multiple packages of Swedish Fish.
Liam steps back as I come out, nearly barreling him over. “Ah, what about supper?”
“This is supper.”
He laughs, shaking his head. When we reach my room, I’ve already finished more than half the pack of Rolos and a whole pack of Swedish Fish.
My sweet tooth is fierce; possibly because Bane has been holding the good stuff hostage.
But I also do a quick calculation and realize my cycle is going to start soon.
The thought of asking Bane to get me tampons…
How about, hells to the no? I’ll hit Cherry up; she’ll be stocked with feminine hygiene products here.
Loaded with my stash, which I’m definitely going to hide from Bane, I enter my room. But only after Liam checks to make sure the boogeyman isn’t lurking under the bed.
“Fucking overkill,” I grumble, but let him do it without argument because I don’t think Bane was actually joking about his warning to Liam.
After I get the all-clear, Liam leaves the bedroom to wait in the hallway. Then I stuff my face, shower, dress, and hide whatever candy I have left, which isn’t much. And my stomach is gurgling and protesting all the simple sugars.
I could just lie on my bed and regret my life’s choices, but now that I told Liam I want to go to the bar, that’s really what I want to do. I’m tired of living on the fringes here.
Not that I want to immerse myself back in MC life, I quickly tell myself.
Not questioning it further, I get dressed and shove my feet into my boots, then exit my room.
Liam pockets his phone and offers me his elbow again. “May I assist you to the barroom, milady?”
A smile tugs the corners of my mouth. “You’re a dickhead.”
I pointedly ignore his arm, and we walk to the bar. At the bottom of the stairs, he pauses. “You sure? It can get pretty wild in there.”
“I grew up around here, remember?”
When we walk into the bar area, it’s not too busy; around twenty members and four Bunnies, and luckily, none of them include Beatrice or her posse.
The men in attendance look at me in surprise, but all keep their looks respectful. Tats gets up from his table with a smile.
“Well, look at this.” He walks up to me, his long, lean legs eating up the distance. “Welcome, baby Kowal. Did you come to talk about what tattoo I’m going to give you?”
“I don’t think Bane would approve,” Liam says, and my head whips to him.
“Bane is not my keeper, or my father.”
Just my daddy.
The unwelcome thought sends a zing straight to my pussy.
Tats is looking at me curiously, rubbing the Havoc Guardians’ logo that he has tattooed on the front of his throat. “I’m not too sure about that, Liam.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I demand, because I suspect he knows something that concerns me.
There’s a hierarchy here—the Prez and Council at the top, Prospects at the bottom, and the patched-in members fall somewhere in between.
Where they land depends on time served, roles within the club, and acts of loyalty or service.
It’s almost like the military, minus the medals. Tats is high up in the pecking order.
He doesn’t get to answer, if in fact he was even going to answer, because Jaarl comes out from behind the bar and ruffles my hair.
“God.” I pull my head away, even though my heart clenches at the childhood memory of him always doing that. “Can you not?”
After Jaarl pushes me to sit me on a stool at the bar, he walks back around to the other side. “Damn, it’s good to see you have that spitfire snark again.”
I ignore that and study the bottles lining the back wall.
“You’re not drinking,” he warns.
“Because a criminal MC is so concerned about such things.” I hike my brow at him. “Plus, I’m twenty-one now.”
“You are not. You’re not twenty-one for another two weeks.”
“Well, according to my fake ID, I turned twenty-one almost a year ago. Now I’d like a Jack and Coke.”
His eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Jack?”
“What? You thought I’d request a daiquiri?”
Even though I’m not quite legal to drink, he pours me one—albeit, a weak one. “No. It’s just Jack is what Bane drinks.”
“And probably two-thirds of the other members here.”
He rests his elbows on the bar. His smile is…happy, that’s the only way to describe it. “Now, tell me, baby sis, where did you get a fake ID?”