Chapter 10
Chapter
Ten
Scarlett
A ll the weight is removed from my body; I roll onto my back. Bringing up my legs, I push against the carpeted floor to get away while watching what plays out before me.
I can see the muscles ripple under the sweat-soaked T-shirt that’s stuck to JB’s back as he kneels and rains punch after punch onto the now sprawled-out body of the drunk. Blood flies, and more punches are thrown. JB shows no sign of stopping, even though there’s a lack of movement from his victim.
“JB,” I shout out, but he’s ruthless, like an animal, continuing to beat the crap out of him. “Please!” I scream louder.
JB stills. His muscular arms, flecked with blood, fall to his side. His head drops to his chest, his shoulders rise and fall in rhythm with his rapid breaths, as he takes a moment to calm himself and regain some clarity. With a glance over his shoulder, our eyes meet, his brow is clenched with concern.
The door flies open, and Rush falls into the room, looking dazed. Blood coats his mouth and chin. His nose is clearly broken, a bleeding cut across his forehead.
JB stands up, blocking Rush’s view of me, giving me a chance to pull my tattered blouse across my chest. With one hand, he pulls his soaked T-shirt over his head, and throws it across my lap, giving me back a modicum of decency.
“Where the hell were you?” JB growls as Rush takes in the beaten and bloodied body of the drunk sprawled out on the floor and my obvious state of distress. “Fuck, if I hadn’t cut my run short and come back... Fuck, I hate to think.”
“Shit, I…” Rush stutters, shaking his head as if his brain is still foggy. “I’d got him outside, but when I turned my back on him, he jumped me, copped a lucky punch to the side of my head. I must have gone down hard because the next thing I knew, I was coming around on the floor outside. I think the fucker broke my nose.” He leans to the side to look around JB. “I’m so fucking sorry, Scarlett. JB,”—his hand grasps a clump of his hair and he tugs on it, frustrated — “what can I do?”
“Take him down the back stairs into the kitchen,” JB barks at Rush. “If he comes around, knock him the fuck out. Bind him to a chair; make sure he can’t go anywhere. I’m not done with him yet, not by any means.”
Rush acknowledges JB’s orders and pulls the asshole up and over his shoulder. The way Rush lifts him with ease makes me realize it was pure luck rather than judgement that his dude got the better of Rush. Not so lucky for Rush or me, though.
Once Rush has left the room and disappeared down the hallway, JB comes to kneel before me. My eyes follow his as he looks down at his wet, blood-splattered T-shirt in my lap, then I raise my gaze to him.
“Shit, sorry. Let me get you something else.”
“No, it’s fine. Just untie me will you,” I whimper, shrugging so he can see that my arms are tied behind me.
He pulls a pocket knife out and flicks open the blade before moving behind me and within seconds he’s sliced through the leather belt and my arms are free. With a groan, I bring my arms forward. A deep ache burns through my shoulders from them being forced back into the unnatural position.
Still crouched behind me, JB reaches around to where my hands lie in my lap and gently lifts one. His palm against mine, his thumb caresses the back of my hand, careful not to touch the red bleeding welts from where the leather has cut through the skin. His breathing is heavy, and I can almost feel the heat of his anger as it starts to mount again.
“I’m going to fucking kill him.” His voice is as sharp as a knife, and twice as lethal. He goes to pull away from me, but I capture his hand.
“All in good time, but first can you help me up?” My head is telling me to stop being a baby and get my ass up off the floor, but my body is exhausted from trying to fight, and I doubt I’ll be able to get to my feet unaided, however much that goes against the grain.
“Fuck, Scarlett, of course.” He takes a few steps towards the couch and snatches the blanket that’s laid across the back. He shakes it out before he lays it over the top of the bloody T-shirt, handing me the corners. “Wrap it around you when I bring you up.”
I nod, understanding his thinking.
“You ready?” he asks, his hands resting above my waist.
“Yeah,” I respond, moving my legs to the right position so I can push up with what little energy I have left.
As he lifts me, I pull the blanket closer to my body. Once I’m on my feet, he moves his hands from my waist to my shoulders, giving me the chance to wrap the blanket around my torso, tucking in the corner to hold it in place. When my legs start to give way, his arms wrap fully around me, holding me close to his chest.
I look up into his stormy eyes. The usual piercing blue color darkens with a mix of rage and concern.
“Did he…” The words don’t need to fall from his lips: I know exactly what he wants to know. I can’t look at him as shame and realization hit me like a freight train.
The crazy that just happened.
The horrors that were about to happen.
Don’t get me wrong, there’s no doubt that this will scar me for some time to come, but if he’d gone further, stripped me of all that is mine without my willingness to give, I might never have been able to wake up from this nightmare of a day.
Tears flood my eyes, dripping from my lashes, soaking the edge of the blanket that sits across my chest.
“Scarlett,” JB whispers as he places his forefinger under my chin, pulling my gaze back to his.
With a sob, I watch as his eyes flick over my face trying to read the extent of my pain. “You saved me.”
His thumb comes to my cheek sweeping away some of the wetness before he brings it to his mouth and sucks in my tears. He pulls me into him, my head coming to rest on his naked chest. His hand gently holding the back of my neck, his thumb a featherlight stroke against the skin. “And I would do it again in a heartbeat.”
Even though I’m enjoying the warmth and safety of his arms, I pull back, just enough so I’m able to tilt my head back and look up to him. Pushing up onto my toes, I place my lips on his, no pressure, a brush.
His body stiffens, his hands gripping hold of my shoulders. At first, I think he’s going to push me away, which confuses me. The memory of his relentless flirting instantly comes to mind, and I wonder why he’s not responding to my forwardness. Then it dawns on me that with all that has just transpired, my advances towards him are a bit crass, the timing totally wrong.
But along with his hesitation, regretting my actions are quickly dispersed. Hooking his arm around me, he pulls me in close. His hand threads into my hair pulling me into him, deepening the kiss.
And oh, my fucking god, can he kiss.
His tongue slips between my lips, teasing my own with a sweeping touch. He tastes so good, so good that I want more. I tug at the back of his head keeping him exactly where I need him, making sure he can’t pull away as I suck on his bottom lip.
He growls out when the blanket falls from between us, my blouse wide open, leaving us skin on skin, the heat between us explosive.
“Scarlett, I want you so bad, but….”
The door from Velvet’s flies open, and once again, chaos reigns.
“Get the fuck off her,” Smoke’s voice bellows across the room. JB is dragged away from me, leaving me exposed, not just to Smoke but also his VP, Stone, who is standing behind him.
Quickly I grab the blanket from the floor where it has fallen and cover myself.
Smoke has JB by the throat. A matte, black Glock is held to the side of his head.
“Smoke, stop,” I scream at him, but his focus is fixed on JB.
“I fucking warned you, you piece of shit.” Smoke’s top lip curls back, baring his teeth as he snarls like a rabid dog up close into JB’s face. “You motherfucker. I knew I couldn’t trust you.”
“Smoke,” I shout again trying to get his attention, but he’s blinkered by his anger.
“I’ve changed my mind,” he spits into his face. “Cutting off your dick is too good for you.” Smoke's finger curls tighter around the trigger of the gun, his elbow raises, and he pushes the nozzle firmly against his temple.
“Hey, Brother,” Stone intervenes, trying to calm shit down. “Take a breath, think about this for a minute.” Stone places a hand on Smoke’s shoulder.
“Stay out of this,” Smoke seethes, violently shrugging off Stone’s hold. “I’m going to end this pretty boy, motherfucker.”
“Dad,” I scream at the top of my voice. “Dad. Stop.” I call him by the name I rarely use twice to make sure it registers with him, but it’s unnecessary because his head flings in my direction immediately at the first mention.
Smoke, aka Dad, is not the only one staring at me with raised brows, mouth slack in pure shock. Of course, JB had no idea, so that’s no surprise, but Stone? He’s not only an MC brother but he and Smoke have always been so close, like brothers in blood, too. I thought at least he would have been privy to our secret.
JB looks at me, his mouth moving but for a few moments no sound breaches his lips until he eventually blusters. “Smoke… Your dad?”
I nod quickly before taking a few steps towards both him and Smoke.
I place my hand over Smoke’s hand as he holds the Glock to JB’s head. “Drop the gun, Dad. JB’s done nothing wrong. I was the one who made the move.”
“Don’t cover for him, Scarlett.” Smoke continues to hold the gun firmly to JB’s head. “Your clothes, the marks on your neck, the blood on your face.”
“Shit.” I swipe my forearm across my mouth and cheeks. I’d forgot that I had bitten into the drunk’s hand. How revolting. I had kissed JB with that creep’s blood on my face. It’s kinda wrong but I can’t help but think despite the state of me, JB had still kissed me back.
“He was making a noise, so I knocked him the fuck out again,” Rush barks as he walks into the room from the hallway, “That shit felt good, too…” He stalls when he takes in the arrival of his club brothers. “Prez. How did you know? I was just about to call you.” He spots the gun held to JB’s head and the fact that I’m still looking dishevelled, and barely covered. “Woah, wait up. This…” He waves his hand between JB and where I stand. “This has nothing to do with JB. If anyone should have a gun to his head, it’s me. I fucked up. Not JB. He’s the one who stopped the motherfucker who was hurting Scarlett.”
My eyes flick between them all, the tension mounting, unsure as to what my dad is going to do next.
“Can someone tell me what the fuck is going on here?” Smoke eventually bellows out.
“I’ll tell you everything, but first, will you please put the fucking gun away?” I plead. He drops his arm back down to his side and releases his hold on JB, but it’s clear that Smoke is still raging.
Despite that, he comes to stand in front of me, his hand cupping my chin, and raises my gaze to meet his.
“Fuck, Scarlett, are you okay?”
I give him a weak smile. “I will be, but I suggest you get that motherfucker downstairs out of my house before I take that gun of yours and shoot the bastard myself.”
Johny B
The blood-curdling scream hit me as soon as I’d opened the door to let myself in. Gut instinct told me it was Scarlett instantly, and despite every inch of my body aching from the punishing run I’d just taken, I sprinted towards the stairs, oblivious to the burn in my muscles.
What I saw as I burst through the door both sickened and triggered a rage in me that was relentless. Immediately, I captured the fuckers’ arm in my fist, then pulled the asshole off her, slamming him back down on to the floor. My anger raged with every punishing punch to the dirty bastard’s face. My mind going back to my childhood years, and the bullying I’d endured but never had the guts to retaliate. Until that fateful day when I’d lost it.
They say that we are a product of our childhood, but although that’s partly true, I don’t think it’s the only catalyst behind my uncontrollable rage.
My mom brought me up single-handedly after my father was incarcerated before I’d even left the womb. After sitting on death row for 1481 days, he’d been executed by electrocution. I was four. I never met the man; in fact, I wasn’t even aware of his existence until I was eight years old. Even then, he was just a name on a piece of paper. A violent murderer whose inability to control his outburst of pure violence.
I can honestly say, having only one parent posed no detriment to my younger years because my mom cared and loved me in abundance. I was such a happy kid with days full of fun and laughter. My mom had been my hero. Then suddenly, she was gone.
She never made it known she was constantly in pain, fighting cancer that was eating her up from the inside out. Not once did she go to see a doctor that I knew of, but I was young. A couple of times, I’d noticed something wasn’t quite right, but she’d brush it off as nothing.
Aged eight, I’d come home to find her collapsed on the floor. Three days later, she died in Orlando Regional hospital. With no record of any family, I became a ward of the state.
There weren’t many couples willing to take on a sulky, unresponsive adolescent boy, so I spent most of my years in a state-run orphanage, and with that came the physical and mental abuse, and constant bullying from the older boys. At first, it consisted of the occasional comment, then along came the shoves because I wouldn’t be part of the practical jokes they played on the staff.
Over time it escalated, yet even though, in my mind’s eye, I would fight back, I never did. I’d curl up in a ball and take the kicks, the punches. Once they’d stopped, I’d slope off somewhere where I could lick my wounds, away from the prying eyes of everyone. It had been constant, but I’d taken every blow, knowing that if I had complained to staff, it would have made my life ten times worse, so I took it. At least, until it all went too far.
His name was Ian James, and at the age of sixteen, he was as big and strong as a fully grown man. When it came to the hierarchy amongst the boys, he was the top dog. Nobody questioned his orders that no one was to follow him when he cornered me in the bathroom that day. He had made sure that he had no witnesses to what he was about do to me. Sick bastard.
Turns out, Ian showed me attention for many reasons. How does the saying go? You always hurt the one you love. This wasn’t love. More like I made him hard. He used his power to force himself on me, to abuse me in a way that, to me, was sickening. I won’t go into details, but as soon as he’d pinned me against the wall, my face against the cold, dirt-ingrained tiles, his hand cupping my clothed cock, I’d lost it.
When one of the wardens found him hanging behind one of the stall doors, his own belt wrapped around his throat, they’d quickly determined it was suicide. Even that was hushed up. The case quickly closed and the true evidence overlooked. The last thing they wanted was the press to get hold of the story, as that would have opened a huge can of worms as to what could only be classed as the lack of government money and care within the system.
To this day, I can still recall how the rage consumed me. How I’d overpowered him, adrenaline pumping through my veins as I’d wrapped my hands around his throat. The sound of his last breath and how it felt when his windpipe crushed under my powerful fingers. Which made me think that maybe genetics could be behind the hidden demon within me that, once awake, is hard to contain.
So, it had happened again, and if it hadn’t been for Scarlett calling my name, clearing the mist of mayhem that had saturated my brain, I’d have killed this man with my bare fists, right there and then. Not that I’d have regretted ending him, much like Ian James. In my eyes, he deserved it. But I would have regretted doing it in front of Scarlett, and her seeing my darkness up close.
I intended to finish what I’d started, make it a long, drawn out and very painful process, but when Smoke and Stone turned up, I knew that I’d no longer have the pleasure of torturing the fucker. I’m knew that honor would now be Smoke’s.
Before I knew it, I was outside being pushed towards my ride, a clear warning to follow them to the Young Outlaws clubhouse. I wasn’t given the option to check on Scarlett or even to say goodbye. It was clear that my stay at Velvet Reds was over.
The one thing I did get to take with me though, that one thing swarmed my mind, and lingered on my skin, was the mind-blowing, sweet memory of Scarlett’s kiss.