Chapter Twenty-Seven
S he was on his bed. In his room. How the fuck had she gotten through the locked door?
Naked as the day she was born, presenting herself with legs wide open, breasts cupped in her hands, Amelia grinned at him, her eyes hooded.
“Welcome home, baby,” she purred. “I’m so glad you finally came to your senses, sending Toke for me.” She pouted, her filler-pumped lips puffing up even more. “You could have just called me; I would have been here in a heartbeat. But, now that I’m here, what do you say I make you feel good?”
Stunned. Shocked. Disgusted. Fucking livid , Trouble turned around, slammed the door shut to keep other eyes from seeing her and getting the wrong fucking idea, then he pulled his cell from his pocket, texting Saint, because Trouble wanted to know why his door wasn’t locked, and he wanted the man to come up and escort Amelia to a guest room once their conversation was over.
That done, he shoved his cell back into his pocket, leaned back against the door to remain as far from the crazy as fuck woman as possible, and crossed his arms. He’d be damned if he let himself get anywhere near Amelia, especially now that he had so much more to lose than ever before.
If Liz hears about this…. Fuck. He already had an uphill battle with that woman regarding Amelia, and he was finally making headway in getting her to open up a little to him. If she found out that Amelia was in his room, naked, and begging him to fuck her, Liz would reinforce her walls so fast, his head would spin. It wouldn’t matter that Trouble didn’t touch her, and was cutting all personal ties, Liz would see it as just another complication in their already complicated “situationship”—as Fae would say.
“Trouble, baby, what’re you doing way over there?” Amelia cooed, closing her legs and sitting up. She patted the bed beside her, inviting him into his own fucking bed. He grit his teeth, knowing that flaying her alive wouldn’t do a fucking thing but make the situation worse. His earlier conversation with Odin came to mind. Amelia was in his bed, pulling her shit, because she felt entitled to him—because he let her think she was.
Fucking fuck!
Combing his fingers through his hair, he heaved a sigh. Making sure his gaze remained over her collarbone, he pinned Amelia with a look that conveyed both remorse and don’t-fuck-with-me.
“Look, Amelia….” What the fuck was he supposed to say?
What would Fae say? Fae was sweet, thoughtful, and far less acerbic and fuck-shit-up than Tessa or even Skathi.
“I sent Toke for you because you went behind my back and got in Liz’s face. More than that, you put poison in your mouth about my little girl, and I can’t have that.”
Not reading the room, Amelia’s pout deepened, her eyelash extensions flapping in an attempt to look guileless—like he’d fucking believe she was some kind of ingenue or some shit. The woman was about as innocent as a whore in…well, anywhere. Unfortunately, Amelia was a club girl, under the club’s protection, so he couldn’t just kick her to the curb. Besides, she was still a piece of ass the single brothers could have if they wanted, especially now that he wasn’t taking up her time. Wolf, especially, had enjoyed Amelia’s “time” before Trouble had enlisted her services—albeit unknowingly—to put up pits with spikes between him and Liz.
And how well did that work out for you? He mentally cursed, damning his lack of foresight and general “clueless male syndrome.” Apparently, spending time with Fae and Tessa had filled his mind with all sorts of new words about the male “condition.”
“I didn’t mean to say anything about your beautiful daughter, Trouble,” Amelia cooed. The way she said that, made the hairs on Trouble’s arms stand on end. “She looks so much like her daddy, I already find myself falling in love with her.”
And how the hell had that happened? He knew for a fact Erika hadn’t been anywhere near Amelia or the clubhouse, so Amelia’s play at being enraptured by his kid was weird as fuck. But he’d let her play her game because he had other things to deal with.
Fighting the urge to wrap his hands around her neck, he explained, “But you said something, after I told you to leave Liz and Erika alone. Not only that, you got in Liz’s face, Amelia, and that shit isn’t going to work for me.”
Amelia’s expression warped, from pouting to thin-lipped glare. “Why does it matter if I got in her face? She’s just some fat bitch who tried to trap you for your patch. I don’t understand why you’re letting her come around and dig herself into the club like that. Besides, she’s getting in between us, baby. I miss you, and I know you miss me.” Speechless at her fucking audacity, he watched as Amelia crawled down the bed all cat like, and licked her lips. “Get rid of her, baby. You don’t need her, you have me. She’s the past, I’m your future—I’m basically your ol’ lady already, Trouble.”
What the absolute fuck? Scrubbing his hand down his face, he stepped away from the door and stared down at her. For a moment, something like fear flashed in her eyes, before it was replaced with a calculated, sly look he didn’t like one fucking bit.
“Let’s get this straight, because I’m tired of saying this, you and I are over. We are nothing. I fucked you; I used you like the clubwhore you are. I never actually promised you anything, but I do apologize; I’m sorry if I lead you to believe you were in the runnin’ for my property patch. That shit’s on me, so I take responsibility for it, but that’s as far as it goes. I’m not the man who’s gonna let you string him along, tryin’ to guilt him into givin’ you chance after chance.” He pointed at her, making her eyes narrow. “This is your last chance, Amelia. You are not my ol’ lady; you will never be my ol’ lady—the only woman who would ever wear my patch is Liz. She earned that privilege before she ever got pregnant, so you spreadin’ shit about her trapping me for my patch is bullshit, and needs to stop right fucking now.” He growled at Amelia’s eyeroll, but he continued, knowing his time was short, and he needed to deal with this quick and sharp, like a razor blade to the neck. “For the bullshit you pulled in the med room, for the shit you said, for continuing to spew your bullshit and hate for an ol’ lady, and for comin’ uninvited into my personal space, you are banned from all club properties for the next month. That means any property owned by Savage Raiders MC is off-limits to you; the clubhouse, the bar, the strip club, the pot shop, the garage, and the tattoo studio—”
Amelia gasped and nearly fell off the bed.
“Trouble! You don’t mean that!” she shrieked, making him wince.
“I do mean that. You seem to forget your place, Amelia; I’m the VP, I gave an order, you didn’t fall in line, and now you reap the consequences. There are concrete rules in this club about the way clubwhores and ol’ ladies interact. You are a clubwhore, despite your ideas, which means you respect the ol’ ladies as you would a brother. Liz is as good as my ol’ lady, she’s the duchess of this club as the VP’s woman, and she deserves that respect. You keep flappin’ your mouth about her, we’re gonna have more problems than you can deal with because you can’t use your pussy to dig your way out of a shallow grave.”
Her face leached of all color, her eyes wide and filled with terror, Amelia shook her head.
“I-I don’t believe you, Trouble,” she rasped, her voice shaking, but getting stronger. “I know you love me.” He fisted his hands at that; he only ever loved Liz. “That bitch is using her kid to get to you, I know it. Once she’s gone, you and me, we’ll be together, and Erika will be the perfect addition to our family.”
Holeeey shit, she’s out of her fucking mind! Were there tips in Fae’s romance novels about this shit? He’d have to risk looking like an idiot and ask, since there wasn’t a brother in the club who’d know the first thing about dealing with a crazy woman. Then again…Fang did have that issue with one of his former Bees…. But, nah, he wouldn’t ask that fucker a damn thing; he’d gloat like an asshole about it.
“Again, keep Liz out of your mouth—and don’t even think about Erika. She has nothing to do with you, and never will. Don’t make me take this a step further and make good on that promise of a hole in the desert,” he warned her, his patience at an end.
Thankfully, that was the moment a knock sounded at the door. Pinning Amelia with a glare, he reached behind and opened the door, letting Saint inside.
Without taking his eyes off Amelia, he ordered, “Make sure she gets dressed, then escort her to a guest room. She can stay the night, but then I want her gone in the morning. Spread the word, she’s banned from Raider’s properties for thirty days—no fucking exceptions.”
“Right,” Saint replied. Trouble finally turned to him, taking in the brother who’d become bedrock in the club in record time. “And make sure you get with Hawk,” he said, reminding Saint about the other thing he texted. At Saint’s nod, Trouble slipped past him and through the door.
Ignoring Amelia’s shrieks and Saint’s deep, “give no shits” responses, Trouble headed out.
He had a night with his girls, and he didn’t want to miss it. He just hoped that the shit Amelia pulled wouldn’t get back to Liz.
A man could hope, right?
Before he even reached the bottom of the stairs, he could see a group of women waiting for him, their gazes filled with devilry and resoluteness.
Well, it looked like he was headed into the ol’ lady gauntlet.
Liz stared down at the picture on her phone, cursed at the burning behind her eyes, and then swallowed down the ball of bile forming in her throat.
“Fucking bitch,” she sneered, biting back the growl clawing up from her chest. “And fuck him , too.”
She’d been in the kitchen, finishing up the meal she’d decided on a whim to make for Trouble as sort of a peace offering. When they’d been together, he’d always asked her to make her cheesy sausage and zucchini lasagna. At first, she’d made it with the zucchini in it because she couldn’t afford more than a pound of the pork sausage, and she needed to add something to sauce to fill out the layers. Eventually, she kept the veggie in because it tasted good. Trouble had devoured the meal whenever she’d made it, and now…well, she wanted to do something nice for him.
Why? Well…she had to find some way to admit that she was grateful to him for all he’d done for her and Erika…and all he’d proven he wanted to do in the future. Already, Erika was a vibrating mass of excitement for their trip to the aquarium on Saturday, and not just because of the trip itself, but also because she was eager to spend time with her dad. She’d been to SeaQuest before on a school trip, but she wanted her dad to take her.
But now….
Liz blinked back the angry tears, hating that she couldn’t erase the image of that woman in Trouble’s bed from her mind. The image of a naked Amelia laying on a comforter that looked an awful lot like the one on Trouble’s bed in his room at home. She was naked, smirking up at the camera, and the text that came with the pic didn’t help the feeling of slithering disappointment and hurt that came over her.
Unknown: He’s mine tonight. Don’t wait up.
It didn’t take a genius to realize that the woman was in Trouble’s bed at the clubhouse, and if what she texted was true, the meal Liz had spent time making, the effort she’d gone through to show Trouble she appreciated all he’d done was going to go to waste.
She’d lost her appetite, and Erika had eaten earlier with Fae, who’d picked her up from school.
Swallowing the bitter pill, she blinked away the threatening tears, dropped her phone on the counter, and stared at the bowl of salad she’d spent time chopping and mixing, the bread she’d crafted from scratch, and the potholders waiting for her to take the lasagna out of the oven when the timer went off in ten minutes.
So much for opening up herself to the possibilities—fuck her better self for even considering being friends with him. After their conversations, his words that morning, and spending the day going over and over what was said, she’d foolishly thought she could lower her defenses, just enough to show him she didn’t hate him, that she wanted him to be a part of her and Erika’s lives, that she was willing to set the past aside and move forward.
But that picture…. He’d said he hadn’t been with Amelia since Liz’s attack, but…how could she trust him? According to him, despite his theatrics in the bar office, he’d never cheated on her; if he wasn’t a liar about himself and other women, could she believe what her eyes were saying, or did she give him the benefit of the doubt?
Groaning, she started to put the salad away, but another ping on her phone made her stop, her heart pounding. Was it another picture, this time of a naked Amelia and a naked Trouble?
Trouble: Dealing with some shit at the CH. I’ll be there in ten. I want time with my girls.
My girls….
She didn’t know whether to smile, sneer, or snap—the man had her head spinning, and Amelia wasn’t helping matters. One thing was for certain: Liz wasn’t the type of woman who took things at face value anymore. She’d believed what Trouble had wanted her to believe, and Erika had missed out on a life with her father—both Liz and Trouble were to blame for that. This time around, though, she knew Amelia was pulling shit because she was a woman scorned…but there was still that nagging voice in the back of her head telling Liz to keep her heart safe, because trusting Trouble again was dangerous.
Ten minutes later, the lasagna was on the counter cooling, and Liz was watching the door like a lame-o, waiting for Trouble to walk through it. Erika had come through the kitchen wanting a snack, and Liz had told her she could have some lasagna once her dad got home. Now, the girl was watching Ladybug and Cat Noir on the TV, and Liz was trying not to think about naked Amelia and the “shit” Trouble was dealing with at the clubhouse.
She’s just stirring up problems, trying to hurt you. And it fucking worked—ugh!
Pinching her eyes closed, she pressed her fingers to her temples to calm her racing thoughts. And it was in that moment that she heard the front door open and Trouble step through, his big feet in those biker boots making a familiar sound.
There was a moment of tense silence, then, “Shit,” he cursed under his breath.
She dropped her hands, opened her eyes, and met two green ones that spoke volumes.
“How ‘bout we have dinner…then we’ll talk about whatever put that look on your face.”
Her gaze flicking to Erika, who was so absorbed in her show she hadn’t heard her dad come home. She didn’t want to talk about Amelia’s bullshit with Erika in the room, so she’d wait.
Nodding, she said, “Alright, you two, let’s eat.”
She just hoped she could stomach the pasta…and the conversation she’d have afterward.