Chapter 8 #2
“I can fight my own battles. I didn’t need your help.”
“Yeah. Alright. I’m done with this shit.”
He took a step toward her, lowered his shoulder until it lined up with her hips, grabbed her behind her legs, and hoisted her off the floor.
“Son of a bitch!” she cried, folding over his back.
“Hey,” he grumbled, smacking her ass as he carried her through the bar. “Show some respect for the dead.”
“Twister, if you don’t put me down?—”
“Careful, baby. You’re makin’ a scene.”
He heard her huff as he passed through the door leading to the back hallway. As soon as they were out of sight, she pounded her little fists against his back.
“I’m not kidding!”
“You see me laughin’?” he replied, headed for the rear exit.
He stepped outside, his long strides carrying them both to the clubhouse, and she continued to make a fuss, kicking her legs as she wiggled about.
“Phoenix,” he warned, locking down her ankles with his other arm. “ Stop .”
“Put me down. Now.”
“Fat chance.”
In spite of her struggle, he made it to the clubhouse doors in no time. She was still making a racket when he carried her inside, but he paid her no mind. He wanted answers, and he wasn’t backing down until he got them.
The clubhouse wasn’t empty—rarely was—but he didn’t look to see who was around. He cut through the main lounge, headed for the hallway, lined with the doors which led to the Stallions’ private rooms. His was at the end, through the second to last door on the right.
As soon as he they crossed the threshold, he slammed the door closed with his foot, flicked on the overhead light, then grabbed hold of the back of one of her thighs and pulled.
She snaked over his shoulder, putting them chest to chest, and he locked her in his arms before he took her to the bed and fell back on it.
Thinking she had the upper hand being on top, she began to squirm.
He readjusted and tightened his arms around her then gave her a shake.
“Hey—would you calm the fuck down?”
She stilled, but the inferno that burned in those green irises still blazed.
“Let me go,” she demanded through clenched teeth.
“Was it him?” Twister asked instead.
He felt her muscles tense as she frowned at him. “What?”
“Was it him ?”
She jerked in his hold, but she didn’t get far, her arms trapped beneath his.
“Let me go.”
“Answer me. Was it him?”
“No,” she spat.
His eyes danced around her face, trying to spot the lie.
“Don’t bullshit me, baby—I saw the look on your face when you locked in on him.”
Her frown deepened, and he heard the hitch of her breath as she tried to suck air through her nose.
“Let me go,” she repeated, her voice strained as she tried to talk around whatever emotion she was trying to mask.
“ Was it him? ”
“I already said it wasn’t. Now, let me go.”
He shook his head slowly as he watched her eyes fill with tears. Speaking in a low, calm voice he pressed, “Sparky, I’m not lettin’ you go until you talk to me. Tell me what I need to know. Was. It. Him? ”
“No!” she seethed as her first tear fell.
“But he’s the reason I refuse to touch myself.
Ever . Because for five years, whenever that motherfucker got the urge, he came and sat at the edge of my bed and jerked himself off while he watched me touch myself.
And the only reason I did it was because he threatened to do it himself if I didn’t. ”
She was trembling now; and even as her tears fell, he could feel her fight—he could feel her holding back.
“Fuck,” he breathed.
She shook her head, sending more tears into his beard as she bit, “He’s not the biggest demon I’ve fought. Don’t feel sorry—” Her breath caught on a hiccup before she finished, “— don’t feel sorry for me.”
Phoenix barely got the words out before a sob erupted from her throat.
Finally, Twister loosened his hold around her, but he didn’t let her go. As she dropped her head, burying her face beneath his chin, he reached up and held the back of her neck, keeping her close.
He turned, until his lips were grazing her temple, and whispered against her skin, “I don’t feel sorry for you, baby—but I sure as fuck admire you.”
“Why won’t you just let me be?” she wept.
“Thought you were somethin’ else before. Now I know, without a shadow of a doubt, there’s a woman underneath all that bravado who isn’t even close to a waste of my time.”
When she didn’t argue, he knew better than to think she’d opened that door—but it was a cracked window, and he planned on climbing through it.
“Let me help. Tell me what you need. What do they want? Why are they here?”
“Twister—”
“Baby, you don’t need to carry this all by yourself. Not anymore. Let me help.”
She freed a shuttered sigh, and her muscles began to relax, her body melting further into his.
He nodded, pressing a kiss against her temple before he muttered, “That’a girl.”
I couldn’t say how long I laid there, folded in his arms as I sobbed.
I hadn’t been prepared. In fact, I’d been so un prepared, when Twister demanded the truth, it poured out of me as if my body was rejecting it. My throat burned, like my admission left behind an acidic residue.
I’d never told anyone before.
Not when it started, right after I turned fourteen.
Not when it ended, when I thought I’d found my escape at nineteen.
Except, seeing his face—standing in front of him again after all this time—it caught me off guard. I wasn’t prepared.
I wasn’t prepared .
Georgia had been calling repeatedly for days, but I never imagined they’d actually walk in to the bar. Now, even the thought of either of them stepping foot into my home had me unraveling as I lay on top of Twister.
I needed to get a grip.
Fuck , but I needed to get a grip.
I willed myself to pull in a deep breath.
I barely swallowed it, my chest still congested with a tumult of emotions I could barely contain.
Pressing my eyes closed as tight as I could, I tried again.
The air went down a little easier, so I did it again and again until I finally stopped crying.
All the while, Twister held onto me, massaging my nape with one hand, repetitively grazing the exposed skin at the small of my back with his other.
No one had ever held me like this before. As I began to gather myself, I realized it was far too intimate for my liking. When I stiffened, I knew he felt it.
“I got you, sparky. You’re safe.”
“I’d like to sit up,” I sniffled.
He immediately grazed his hands over my backside, reaching between my thighs in order to spread my legs open on either side of his.
He then sat up, taking me with him. In an attempt to gather myself, I quickly reached up and wiped at my cheeks.
Twister took me by surprise when he cupped a hand around the back of my head, holding me still as he reached for the hem of his shirt and used it to dry my upper lip.
My eyes shot up to meet his, and for a moment, we stared at each other. The way he looked at me—it made me feel things I knew I shouldn’t. One confession, and he thought he knew me, but he didn’t. Not even close.
I shifted, hoping to move out of his lap, but he locked his arms around me, keeping me there.
My eyes meeting his once more, I murmured, “You can let me go now.”
“Phoenix, I’ve got your snot on my shirt. You’re not goin’ anywhere. Tell me what I need to know.”
“Look, I appreciate what you’re tryin’ to do here, but I won’t ask?—”
“Baby, I’m the one who’s askin’—and I’ll tell you right now, I don’t have anywhere to be. We could play this game all night, or you could just tell me what I need to know.”
This time, as we stared at one another, I saw something else. There was something about him I recognized. I already knew he was the relentless type, but there was a stubbornness about him I knew all too well.
It lived in me, too.
Though, that wasn’t the only reason why I gave in.
Even the thought of being in the same room with Tommy again made my stomach pitch and roll. After more than a decade, he was rounder in the face and softer around the middle, but that made him even more repulsive, not less. Unfortunately, age had been otherwise kind to the perv.
It was obvious, by the way he spoke to me, his small prick was still fueling his god complex.
And yet, I hadn’t outed him.
I couldn’t do it. Not in the bar. Not in my safe place.
I wasn’t fucking prepared.
Now, I knew it was reckless—but I wanted to give it to Twister. I wanted to be free of it.
More than that, he was asking for it.
“They lost their house,” I began to explain. “I don’t know how deep their money problems go, but it must be bad for them to show up here. Georgia only calls when she wants something. Until this afternoon, I hadn’t seen them in fifteen years. Needless to say, we’re not close.”
“This was a hell of a lot more than a phone call.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve been ignoring her for more than a week. Guess she got tired of that.”
“Georgia. Not mom.”
He phrased it as a statement, not a question. Even still, I nodded in the affirmative.
“And him? You don’t look related.”
“We’re not. Georgia had me at sixteen. Whoever knocked her up didn’t stick around long enough for me to remember what he looked like. She married Tommy when I was six.”
I watched as he let this information sink in.
Tommy had known me since I was a child.
Sick son-of-a-bitch.
“I take it you want them gone.”
I nodded, frowning as I added, “I don’t want them in my house. I don’t want them anywhere near me.”
“Understood. Brothers and I will handle it.”
I believed him, and it was as liberating as it was foreign. I wasn’t sure what to say or how I felt. People didn’t usually go out of their way to help me. Not like this. I knew the Stallions to be good men, but they were the kind to mind their own business.
Apparently, this one seemed to want to mind mine, too.
“I, uh—I have to go back to work.”
He didn’t move to let me go but studied me a moment before he asked, “You sure you’re okay?”
I wasn’t sure of anything other than the fact that it was Saturday.
The lineup of bands that night guaranteed a crowd, and behind the bar was exactly where I wanted to be.
I needed the distraction. I needed the noise to drown out the devil within, taunting me with the threat of unlocking doors and setting free memories I didn’t have any interest in revisiting.
“I’m fine,” I told him. “Other than the fact that you don’t seem to want to let me go.”
Smirking, he replied, “I’ll let you go. Didn’t you hear? I’ve got riff raff to deal with—but there’s somethin’ I gotta do, first.”
He hesitated for a split second, and then his mouth was against mine.
I parted my lips in a startled gasp, but I didn’t pull away.
For reasons that felt obvious, this kiss felt like the right thing to do.
He’d earned my gratitude.
Only, the moment his tongue found mine, it wasn’t gratitude I felt.
It was far more dangerous than that.
Twister tilted his head as he grabbed hold of the back of mine, positioning himself to kiss me deeper.
It was as if he’d struck a match, igniting a desire that burned in the pit of my belly.
I knew I shouldn’t, but I couldn’t help it.
I reached up and buried my fingers in his hair, holding on as I leaned in closer and indulged in him.
He groaned, and I swear I could taste it.
It was salty-sweet, and I wanted more.
We went at each other with a hunger so raw, I could feel my lips beginning to swell—but I didn’t want to stop. Fuck —I didn’t want to stop, and every part of my body knew it.
When my phone began to ring from my back pocket, we both felt it vibrate, and we broke apart with a start, as if neither of us had meant to get so lost.
While my phone continued to ring, we sat unmoving, both of us trying to catch our breath as my green eyes stared into his brown ones.
Finally, having recovered faster than me, Twister plucked my phone from my back pocket and held it between us.
The call dropped into my voicemail before I could reach for the device, but not before we saw who was calling.
Georgia.
“Guess that’s my cue.” Twister smacked one last kiss against my lips then tapped the side of my thigh.
I didn’t need further prompting. I grabbed my phone, maneuvered my way off of his lap, and we both rose to take our leave.
“Just got two questions for you, baby.”
I reached up and tightened my ponytail, still trying to gather myself as I replied, “Um, okay.”
“Where are they comin’ from? What state?”
“Colorado. South of Denver, in the Springs.”
“Copy that.”
“And the second?” I asked when he didn’t continue speaking right away.
He took a step toward me, bent a finger, and traced it along my jaw before nudging my head back.
“How honest you want me to be about what you look like right now.”
I flinched. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Don’t blame you for cryin’, sparky—don’t regret how it all played out, either. And while I appreciate the way you kiss like a ragin’ storm, I know better than to think you won’t kick my ass if I don’t tell you, you look like you’ve been caught in the rain.”
I jerked my chin away from his touch, irritated by how embarrassed I suddenly felt. Though, I couldn’t say I was exactly surprised. I didn’t own waterproof mascara. Crying in public wasn’t a concern I usually had.
Regardless of the fact that he’d already seen the wreckage, I turned my back on Twister as I pulled up the camera app on my phone.
With the lens facing me, I did my best to wipe away the mess of my smudged makeup.
It wasn’t perfect—and I didn’t carry back-ups in my purse—but I’d survive.
The lighting in the bar was shit, anyway.
Satisfied, I pocketed my phone, spun on my heel and forced a fake smile up at Twister. “Better?”
He grinned, the expression completely and utterly genuine. “You’re askin’ the wrong person. You looked good enough to eat thirty seconds ago as much as you do now.”
I rolled my eyes. “Do me a favor, don’t kiss my ass,” I insisted, headed toward the door.
My hand was on the knob when he shot back, “Noted. Can’t promise I won’t bite, though.”
There was a twinge of excitement in my belly at his words and all they implied.
As I glanced back at him from over my shoulder, I tried my damnedest not to show it—but when I wrenched the door open and began to make my way toward the exit, I heard his quiet chuckle, and I knew the bastard could tell.
I was halfway down the hall when he called out, “Hey, sparky?”
“Quit callin’ me that,” I insisted, halting once more.
“Why? You keep answerin’ to it.”
He had a point. I really needed to work on that.
“Your out-of-town problem,” he went on to say. “Consider it handled.”
Truth be told, I wasn’t quite sure what it meant to hand my problem over to the Stallions. Not exactly. But I knew one thing for certain—I didn’t really care.
I dipped my chin in a nod, then continued my journey back to the bar.