16. Myla
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
This guy thinks he’s real slick, and I guess he is because it works, and I back off. I can’t and won’t tell anyone about my nighttime activities. At least not until I’m done.
Dropping his hands, I walk away. “You’re an asshole.”
As I strip the sheets in my room, I hear the dryer door open and shut from the hallway. When I first walked into the kitchen and saw he hadn’t left, I didn’t notice the scars. All I saw was a drop-dead gorgeous man in his underwear. His shoulders are broad, and his hips are narrow, but he’s not bulky like Lucky. I’m a small person, both in stature and size, and I have no desire to appear even tinier by standing next to a giant man. I don’t know how Tinleigh isn’t crushed by Lucky each time they have sex.
Judge’s muscles are long and lean, from his calves to his forearms. He’s not overly hairy, just a smattering of chest hair between his pecs and a small patch of hair under his belly button that leads down to what I know is the best cock I’ve ever had, and his ass is perfectly round. If he put on a pair of dorky glasses, he’d be exactly my type.
Once I finished taking in the whole package, I started to notice the details, like the small rat’s nest on the back of his head from sleeping and the scars. Fuck me, the scars. The only thing I can compare it to is something like what a burn victim looks like. Every inch of his back has some degree of mutilation, leaving the skin lumpy and grotesque.
The anguish I initially felt soon turned to rage as Judge told me his truth. You have to be a sick and twisted son-of-a-bitch to do what that priest did, and knowing that the repercussions of the abuse have continued long after the bastard’s death is heartbreaking. Had he still been alive, his name would’ve gone to the top of my list.
“You know, the reason I stayed the night was to talk about what happened with you.”
My eyes shoot to the doorway where a now fully dressed Judge stands with his arms stretched above his head, gripping the top of the doorframe. Fuck me. Why does he have to be so goddamn sexy? He’s like catnip for my pussy. The second I see him, she gets all jumpy and excited, ready to play.
Thank God the alarm on my phone sounds, forcing my attention elsewhere and reminding me I have places to be. “You only have yourself to thank for that distraction, and I don’t have time to continue this conversation.”
“Where are you going?”
“Out.” I grab a pair of socks from a dresser drawer and shove my feet inside them.
“Okay. I can come back later.”
“Just drop it, Judge. I had a bad night. Women get emotional sometimes after sex, especially when you give them multiple, spine-curling orgasms.” I pat his chest as I walk past him. “Good job, by the way. Stellar performance.”
“That’s not what that was,” he says, though if I’m not mistaken, his chest is a little puffed up from the compliment as he follows me to the living room, his boots in hand.
“I had a moment, but I’m fine now.” I push my feet into my leather boots and lace them up.
“Seriously, where are you going?”
“The clubhouse. I have a brunch date with my sister.”
“That’s good. She misses you.”
“It was made under duress. She threatened to come here if I didn’t meet her, and it’s easier for me to leave there than getting her out of my apartment.”
“Whatever the reason, I’m glad.” He looks up as he crouches to lace up his own boots, and I respond with a tight-lipped smile that he returns, except mine is fake as shit, and his is real. “I’m headed that way too.”
“Guess I’ll see you there then.” I grab my backup leather coat, since the one from last night is a little crusty, and leave him standing in my living room.
I should clean up the bloody clothes before I go—it’s an unnecessary risk leaving them lying around—but I can’t miss this brunch. I wasn’t kidding when I said Tinleigh threatened to come here, and there’s not a chance in hell I want that happening.
Climbing on my bike, I take off out of the complex, and it’s not long before another bike pulls up alongside me. Without glancing over, I know it’s Judge. Of course it is, and fuck me, he’s even sexier on a bike. I can’t seem to shake the guy, though once I take the exit to the desolate road that leads to the clubhouse, I try. Accelerating, I leave him in my dust.
My heart rate climbs along with my speed as I race down the road, surprised when he catches up. It’s a very un-Judge-like thing to do, but it’s good to see him letting loose. The ache between my legs certainly reminds me of how he let loose on my pussy last night.
If there is a God, he or she or they are mocking me by delivering the perfect specimen of a man who can fuck me cross-eyed while I’m in the middle of an existential crisis.
By the time we pull into the lot, we’re neck-and-neck but I’ve taken a slight lead, and I’m grinning in earnest. Feeling the slight bit of happiness doesn’t hit me hard now like it did last night. I wasn’t lying when I told Judge I was emotional from the orgasms, but it was also the adrenaline dump from the kill and the realization that I might be healing without even knowing or trying. It’s the Judge effect. He did it to Tinleigh too, though his methods with her were more conventional and didn’t involve orgasms.
“Beat ya,” I say, taking my helmet off.
“I let you win.” When his matte black dome comes off, I notice his hair is free of the tie that usually keeps it in a ponytail at the base of his neck. Fuck me twice because he’s even sexier with his hair loose.
“Whatever you have to tell yourself,” I snark.
He flashes me a goddamn wink before strolling off to the side yard. “I’ll see you later, Myla.”
“Asshole,” I mutter.
“Sister!” Tinleigh shouts from the entrance to the clubhouse, and I make my way over to her.
“Hey, Tinny,” I say, pulling her in for a hug.
“How are you?”
“I’m good.”
She pulls away, holding me at arm’s distance and gasps. “What happened?”
I knew my makeup job wasn’t good enough to hide the bruising, and there’s no good way to disguise a split lip, so I already have a story lined up. “Got into a catfight at a bar last night.”
She narrows her eyes, trying to decide if I’m lying. That whole twin telepathy is real, but we haven’t spent much time together in the last few years, so the tie between us is weak.
“It’s not like you to fight.”
“Some bitch thought I was eyeing her man. When I told her I’d never go for a dude-bro who’s so ugly, even his hairline is running away from him, she got pissed for a whole new reason. Honestly, I thought I was just stating facts, not insulting him. She didn’t agree and threw hands.”
Her hand shoots up to cover her mouth. “Oh my god.”
I shrug. “No big deal. They got kicked out, and the bar comped my drinks.”
“Who did you go to the bar with?”
“No one. I just needed to get out of my apartment and thought I’d go out for some bar food and a beer.”
She hums and links her arm with mine, leading me into the clubhouse. “Was that Judge pulling in with you?”
“Not with me. We just so happened to get here at the same time.”
She hums again, not believing me but thankfully not pressing the issue. I didn’t think about how arriving together would look. That was an oversight, and unless I want my sister planning a double date with her and Lucky, I need to be more careful.
The clubhouse looks the same as ever. The two-story vaulted ceiling with exposed pipes and a cement floor that’s painted to look like marble make the space feel palatial. When you see the bar with a raw metal SOE emblem attached to the front, the copper patina bar top, and row upon row of blue-collar liquor, it feels more like what it is. To the left of the bar is a game room with pool tables and other drinking games, a small stage with a stripper pole in the center, and a huge ass TV as a backdrop. For the most part, everything is in one large room, but since I lived on the compound for a time, I know there’s also an industrial kitchen behind the bar, a room that’s off-limits to anyone except ranking members, and communal bathrooms and a couple bedrooms used for storage.
If I keep walking straight, it’ll lead me out the backdoor, where tiny cabins belonging to ranking members are scattered amongst the pine trees. Some have been remodeled and look almost new, while others look like Mother Nature is trying to reclaim them. Judge’s and Riot’s cabins fall into the latter category. I know they have the money to make them nice because Lucky has eluded to how well the club does, but for whatever reason, neither of them has done anything.
“Sugar made us a whole spread, and I told the guys they couldn’t eat until you got here,” Tinleigh says, and sure as shit, there are platters of eggs, bacon, potatoes, and sausage, but also lunch-type foods like sandwiches and pasta salad.
I finally notice the antsy bikers watching and waiting. I see Mustang and his boyfriend, Jenson, first, Mustang with a cup of coffee and Jenson with what looks like a mimosa. Lucky and Dutch are playing pool, but I use that term lightly because they both look ready to jump at the food once Tinleigh says the word. Tigger, the ginger prospect, is behind the bar, while Bones, who Tinleigh has coined Biker Jesus, is on the opposite side, rolling a fat joint. Then there’s Golden and his adorable little boy, Tyson, who are at a table next to Mustang and Jenson playing a board game.
“I’ll be sure to thank her,” I say, accepting a plate. I’m not hungry, but if I don’t eat, Tinleigh will worry, and if she’s worried, she’ll hover.
It’s funny. I never knew how much she mothered me until recently. I always thought that being twins and all, we were in this life together. I found out after we ran away from home and came to Reno that she was trading my safety for constant abuse from our boss at the strip club. That eventually led to her making commitments to him in order to get me away from the Thirst Trap and, more importantly, him.
That knowledge left me feeling stupid and naive. I shouldn’t have been surprised, though. Our parents always blamed Tinleigh for any trouble we got into. Even after she’d been abused by a church leader, they didn’t do anything about it until he got to me. I’m sure those experiences ingrained in her a sense of responsibility for me.
“I’ve nearly completed my program,” Tinleigh says, placing some bacon on her plate.
“That’s amazing. Do you like it?”
“I love it. I wasn’t sure what I’d do once I graduated, but I think I want to start my own business doing hair and makeup for special events and weddings. Lucky said he’d help me get started.”
I scoop up some eggs, purposely choosing items I can push around my plate so it looks like I’m eating. “Of course he will. That man would do anything for you.”
Tinleigh’s eyes soften as she smiles. “He really will.”
Tigger places two flutes of mimosas on the bar, and we snag them before taking a seat at the table with Jenson and Mustang.
“Hey, guys.” I smile at the couple, and it’s a real one. There are certain things I can rely on each of the Sons for, and I can count on Jenson and Mustang to make me laugh.
Jenson appraises me. “Look who’s gone emo.”
“You know I like to bring the drama.” I shoot him a smoldering look.
“At least now I can tell you two apart.” Mustang stands and, with a knuckle under his chin, tips Jenson’s head up to look at him. “Want some food, baby?”
“I’ll just eat off your plate.” He places his hands on Mustang’s thighs.
“I fuckin’ hate it when you do that.”
“Do what?” Jenson’s teasing tone and sly grin say he knows exactly what.
“You say you’re not hungry, so I don’t get you shit, then you eat at least half my food.” His hand slides around to cradle the back of Jenson’s head.
“If I eat off your plate, the calories don’t count.”
Tinleigh points her fork at Mustang. “That’s true. It’s girl math.”
“I’ll just put double what I want on my plate,” Mustang grumbles as he walks away.
“You two make me sick,” I say, moving food around my plate.
“Because we’re happy and in love?” Jenson singsongs.
“It’s a virus that’s spreading like wildfire around here.” I eye my sister.
“Hey,” someone says from behind me. I know that voice well, and the sound of it alone has goosebumps popping up on my arms. Judge spins the seat next to me around and straddles it, but I don’t look at him, too worried someone might catch on to how familiar we’ve become with each other. “What are we talking about?”
“The disease called love,” I mutter around the flute of cheap champagne and orange juice.
Tinleigh waves me off. “What about you, Judge? Anyone special in your life?”
“Actually, there is.”
My stomach sinks, and I hope like hell he’s not thinking about making some declaration. Tinleigh and Judge are close, so I know it would please her to no end if Judge and I got together, but we aren’t. We’re fucking, and something tells me Tinleigh wouldn’t be happy about that. Though I’m not sure if she’d be more concerned about Judge or me.
“Are you joking? Who?” Tinleigh’s eyes go wide with excitement.
“God.” He points above. “The only relationship I need.”
I roll my eyes. “Lame.”
“As fulfilling as that relationship must be, you can’t fuck the Lord,” Jenson says, and I spit my mimosa all over the table.
“Damn it, Jenson. Warn a girl before you say shit like that.” Thankfully, I’d only taken a sip, so it’s easy to blot the mess with a napkin.
“Am I going to hell for saying that, Judge?” Jenson asks.
Judge stands and places a hand on the back of my chair. It’s a casual move no one would think anything of, but my face flames red, certain everyone can see tell that twelve hours ago, Judge was giving me a yoni massage.
“I’m happy with where my life is at right now, but who knows? If there’s someone out there for me, I trust we’ll find each other when the time is right.” His hand runs along the back of the chair, barely skimming my shoulders. His touch sends a shiver down my spine as my body remembers all the delicious things his long, lithe fingers can do.
“Amen,” Jenson says in a teasing tone, but Judge doesn’t take offense. When he says his spirituality is personal, he means it. He doesn’t push anything on anyone and truly believes in free agency. I admire that about him, considering I grew up in a religion that constantly pressured us to share our testimony with non-believers.
He raps his knuckles on the table twice before walking away. Even with only a view of his back, I can tell he’s showered since I saw him last. His hair is wet and combed back, doing a cute little flip at the ends. His worn leather cut ends right at his hips, so I get a good view of his backside. Things start to heat up in my panties when a fresh memory pops up of how his ass looks naked, all round and muscular.
He has on his usual long-sleeve black button-down that’s rolled up to his elbows, exposing his forearms, and even those are sexy as sin. The underside is soft and hairless, with a prominent vein running down the center. I swallow hard as another memory flashes through my mind of how they felt under my palms as I held on for dear life while he pounded into me.
“Do you guys see Mustang?” Jenson asks, snapping out of my trance.
“He’s over by the pool table talking to Lucky.” Tinleigh gestures in that direction, and as if they heard their names, both look over to check in with their partners. It’s disturbing, really. Tinleigh and Jenson are grown-ass adults; they don’t need guardians.
Jenson leans over the table, one brow quirked as he gestures for us to lean in. “I need some advice. Mustang and I are going to Vegas in a couple weeks for a work conference, and I want to ask him to get married while we’re there. The only thing is, we’ve never talked about it, so I don’t know if it’s something he wants, or if the institution of marriage is too traditional for him.”
“You mean you’re proposing?” I ask.
“No, I want to get married. Neither one of us really likes being the center of attention, so I can’t picture having some big event.”
“I think he’ll do it because you want it, but wouldn’t he want his brothers there?”
Jenson shakes his head. “If I put him in a serious situation like a huge wedding, he’d probably do something stupid to lighten the mood, like fart or tell a bad joke. I figured if we got married in Vegas, it’d be light-hearted and fun enough to keep him entertained and stop him from ruining it. Plus, with my dad passing last month, my mom isn’t ready to start celebrating, so I don’t know. I think a Vegas wedding with just the two of us would be romantic.”
“That’s actually smart. I don’t even want to know what Lucky will do when we get married,” Tinleigh says.
I narrow my eyes on her. “Is that something you guys are thinking about?”
She smiles so big all her teeth show as she digs into her jeans pocket and produces a ring. “This is partly why I wanted to see you. Lucky asked me to marry him, and of course, I said yes.” Her face screws up. “Actually, he didn’t ask. He just shoved the ring on my finger and said since he can’t find a doctor who’ll sew us together, and even though the law is just a social construct, it’s the only other way he can think of to bind me to him. Well, besides knocking me up. But I’m not ready to be a mom yet, so yeah. We’re getting married! Can you even believe it?”
My upper lip curls. “He needs help.”
“That’s so sweet,” Jenson coos.
“Right?” She holds her hand out in the center of the table to show off a platinum ring with a gleaming purple solitary stone. “It’s a two-carat violet sapphire.”
Jenson gasps. “It’s stunning!”
“I’m just lucky he couldn’t find a jeweler who’d carve this beautiful stone into a purple dildo.” She wiggles her fingers, admiring the way it sparkles, as if what she just said was normal, and I guess it is for them. Them. She and I used to be a “them”—a packaged pair—but I’ve been replaced by a man with genital piercings. It would be funny if it wasn’t true. She has someone else to be a “them” with now, and I’m well and truly alone.
The urge to cry hits me like a ton of bricks, and I can hardly hold it in. Fucking hell, I should be happy for her. A normal sister would tackle her in a hug and congratulate her, but I’m not normal, not anymore. But unlike the former, normal version of me, I can lie. “I’m so happy for you, sis.”
“You don’t look it. Are you okay?” She places the back of her hand on my forehead. I should’ve known she’d see through the fib. We might not be on the same level lately, but we’re still twins.
“Actually, I’m feeling a little sick. I’ll have to take a rain check on the rest of brunch.” I stand and pick up my plate, wishing I didn’t have to walk through the crowd to clean up after myself. The need to let out a sob grows stronger by the second, constricting my throat painfully.
“Don’t worry about that. I got it. Just go home and rest.” She takes my plate. “And call me later.”
I blink away the tears threatening to spill out. “Thank you, and I will.”
“Bye, Myla. It was good catching up,” Jenson says with a wave.
“You—” A hiccup stops me from finishing my sentence, and thankfully, they think it’s because I’m going to puke, not break apart into a million pieces because I’ve never felt more alone.
“Go, go!” Tinleigh waves me off, looking concerned.
I dash out the door, grateful the first tear waits until I reach fresh air to fall. Brushing it away, I speedwalk over to my bike and cringe when I hear Judge calling after me. I swear to whatever power is out there that if this man doesn’t leave me the hell alone, I’ll put his name on my list just so I don’t have to deal with him anymore.