Chapter Six
TRAVIS
T wo whole weeks have passed since Mollie left the clubhouse. Two whole weeks of seeing her dark, chocolate eyes every time I close mine. It’s doing my fucking head in. It’s Monday morning, and it’s taken everything out of me to ignore my uncle’s phone calls the way that I have. Eventually, after what felt like the millionth call, I gave in and answered, promising him I’d be there today. Aunt Janette’s hands have been playing up. There’s only so much he and Mollie can do on their own.
Fucking Mollie . Why’d she have to come here? Why’d she have to drop into my life when everything was fine and fucking dandy without her. There’s a connection I feel with her, one that’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. But every time I think about her or see her face, I’m instantly bombarded with more than just a desire to fuck her. I want to own that girl, make her mine and have my way with her. For the most part, I want to see if I can break her. Up until now, there’s never been a challenge getting a woman into my bed. Up until now, I’ve never wanted someone in my bed as much as I do her.
Fuck. I can hear how I sound and I don’t fucking like it.
Seeing her leave with that pompous prick only served to seal what I was trying to deny from the moment I laid my eyes on her. I want—no, I need to have her. Unfortunately for me, I’d rather swallow my desire for her until I’m choking on it before I admit how I feel. I’ll make sure she breaks first. Once I know she feels the same way, then we can move past whatever the fuck is brewing between us.
She acts like she hates me, and I’ve given her no signs of liking her back. Except maybe from letting her see what she’s missing out on .
Do I regret taking Sophie’s virginity in the manor that I did? Abso-fucking-lutley. Did I know she was a virgin? Nope. That girl hasn’t left me alone since that night.
I knew better than to dip my dick where I did, though. Why didn’t I stop myself? I let my head be clouded by her . Not only that, but Mollie works for my fucking uncle, which I need her to keep doing if I want to get away from working there. I push her away and I’m back to square one. She stays, and… and I don’t know what that means for me in all honesty.
Grabbing my keys off the side, I close the bedroom door shut behind me.
Dean’s sat by the bar. He gives me a look.
“Bit early to start drinking,” I tell him.
“It’s still 5pm in my head.” He throws his head back, swallowing the remnants of his pint.
“Body clock still fucked?”
“Clearly,” he says. “Anyway, what’s your excuse? Why aren’t you at work already?”
I slap him on the back, moving to walk past him. “Heading there now.”
He stands.
“What you doing?” My eyes scrunch at him.
“I’ll come with you,” he tells me. “Haven’t seen your old man since I’ve been back.”
“He’s not my old man,” I fire back at him, grinding my teeth.
With a sigh, Dean grabs his helmet off the bar top. “No, but just like Uncle Ronnie isn’t my dad, he sure as shit carried the load where my parents and even Rocco, couldn’t.”
“Speak of the devil.”
“What’d you say?” Rocco strides towards where we’re standing.
“Nothing,” Dean says, taking him in an embrace. It’s nice to see Rocco smiling again. Man’s made of iron, but Dean means a lot to him, and that speaks fucking volumes. He hasn’t got anyone else.
“What time you both back here?”
“Won’t be long. A couple of hours, tops?” Dean says.
Rocco nods his head. “And you?” he asks me.
“Fuck knows, Prez. Mick’s got the new girl working. I might be needed there all day.”
Dean scoffs .
“Something in your fucking throat? Here, let me clear it for you.” I step to him, my hands trained on his neck.
He bats my hands away, laughing.
“What’s he talking about?” Rocco asks, his voice stern.
“Fucking, nothing. That’s what.”
With a cough, Dean drops the stupid smirk smearing across his newly tanned skin. “Yeah, nothing. Private joke.”
“Well, I need you back here later. And there’s this weekend. Not sure how that’s going to pan out. Will need both of you on top form. If we can pull it off with just the two of you, the better that will be for everyone.”
Dean and I exchange a look. We hadn’t forgotten. How could we. But we had planned on buying a new van for the painting and decorating business we’re going to start. It’s something we spoke about before he left when he was thirteen. I had no reason to give it another thought while he was in Australia, but after what happened to his aunt, he’s home for good now, and it’s time to make it happen.
We will get it off the ground, regardless of what’s happening with the club. Legal money coming in is just fucking sensible.
“See you later.”
Dean and I nod in unison before Rocco walks away, seemingly happy with our response.
We make it outside and mount our bikes. Rocco bought Dean his one whilst he was in Oz. Says it wasn’t much, but I know he spent a fucking fortune on it.
Side by side, we ride to Mick’s farm, managing to dock our bikes away from all the shit and mud lying on the ground. We walk around the barn and head to where we hear a commotion.
“Hold her steady,” Mick shouts at Mollie, as she desperately tries to hold one of the horses still. “Woah girl, easy, easy,” he soothes.
Blackjack is at least twenty hands and about to have a foal. Bloody thing scares the shit out of even me, and I’m fucking tall.
“Need a hand?”
Mick looks up when Dean asks, and I see Mollie’s eyes look to him before they find mine. She gives me no more than a second of contact before she goes back to trying to steady Blackjack.
“Is it that obvious?” Mick replies sarcastically, pushing the horse’s rear end away from him.
“Nice to see you too, Mick,” Dean says to him, stepping closer to help.
I keep my distance from Blackjack and the brunette who’s refusing to look at me.
“Fetch me the syringe,” Mick instructs.
I look around, realising he’s talking to me. With a quick-step, I get to his box, opening it up and finding what he’s looking for. I walk to Mick, holding it out for him.
“You’ll have to do it, boy.”
The three of them struggle, and I tentatively take a step closer, not fancying having my foot broken today.
“Hurry up!” Dean shouts.
Mollie reaches up to smooth Blackjack’s head, running her hand in long, soft strokes over her nose.
Blackjack settles just long enough for me to inject her in her neck. I make it quick, removing the syringe as quickly as I put it in. Poor thing looks heavy. Her foal must be ready to arrive any day now.
We all sigh with relief, but it’s short lived.
Blackjack raises her front hooves off the ground, rearing back.
Mollie pulls on the reins, but it’s no use. Before she can move out the way, Blackjack jerks herself forward, and Mollie smacks the ground, landing on her arse in front of us all. With a loud cry, Blackjack’s hoof lands on her foot, the sound of it being crushed, unmistakeable.
I move first, bending down to help her, not wanting her to get squashed.
Mick and Dean manage to push Blackjack back.
Mollie swats my hand away, rolling to her side quickly before she stands. Her cheeks are now flushed red and she dusts her hands against her sides, embarrassed.
“Are you okay?” I ask her.
“I’m fine,” she snaps at me.
I try not to bite. “Your foot. Let me check it for you.”
“No. I’m fine. It’ll be fine.” She turns, and as if trying to convince herself, she takes a step, placing her weight on it. She manages one second before she cripples, hitting the deck once again.
“Fuck’s sake,” I grunt under my breath.
Dean appears as I scoop her up in my arms .
“You okay?” he asks her.
I feel her stiffen in my hold and her head turns away from me. “I’m fine,” she replies to him. Her weight isn’t heavy, but she does nothing to help me. She looks more pained by the fact that I’m holding her.
“What’s your problem?” I say.
“Put me down.”
Dean doesn’t move, but I sense his awkwardness.
“I’m trying to help you.”
She huffs.
And like a fucking idiot, I drop her to her feet.
She winces instantly. “Ouch, fuck!”
“Travis!” Dean scolds.
“What? It’s what she wanted.”
“You’re a prick,” she says under her breath, hobbling.
I look at Dean, and he nods his head towards her with wide eyes.
I mouth at him to fuck off before Mollie falls to the ground again.
My head snaps her way. “Right, that’s enough.” I come up behind her, taking her in my arms, carrying her like she’s my bride, back to the house.
Not once does she look at me as my feet bang against the hard ground. Ungrateful shit. Every step I take, my frustration with her rises like an inferno. We exchange no words as I plonk her on the sofa, her hair hitting her face as she drops with a yelp.
Deep down, I know I should have laid her down gently and should probably tend to her foot. I just can’t see past the red haze blocking my vision.
Storming to the kitchen, I yank open the freezer door and grab a bag of peas, slamming it shut behind me as I return to her.
Her hair’s no longer whipped across her cheek as I find her leant forward, gingerly trying to remove her boot, her foot perched on the edge of the sofa. She turns her back to me when she sees me come back into the room.
I stand and watch, listening to the meek whimpers that escape her. I know what she’s doing. She’s trying to hide the agony she’s clearly in. Trying desperately not to need my help.
With an over-the-top roll of my eyes, I’m unable to listen to her struggle anymore. “Stop,” I tell her, moving to sit on the sofa by her feet. I lift both of her legs, placing them across mine .
“I’m fine,” Mollie hisses, as I overpower her, untying her laces before I slowly remove her boot against her will.
Her chocolate eyes narrow at me.
“Stop looking at me like that. I’m trying to help you.”
She huffs, crossing her arms, and I’m instantly defensive.
“Why do you have to be such hard work?” I ask rhetorically, snapping at her, pretty sure she won’t answer… that is until I hear her take a huge intake of breath.
I ready myself for her wrath.
“How about the fact that instead of showing up and fucking being here for your uncle when he needed you, you’ve been doing fuck knows what, with God knows who!”
Wow. A small part of me backs up, knowing she’s right. I should have been here when Mick first called me. Truth is, I didn’t want to see the face staring back at me now. It was easier to ignore her rather than show myself. “You know nothing about me and why I haven’t shown up here lately.”
“I know enough. You’re a selfish, big-headed, useless excuse of a man.”
I swear, my fucking jaw would drop if it weren’t for the fact my teeth are locked together. That’s the second time she’s called me that.
She shows her teeth when she winces, trying to move.
“Hold still.” I place the bag of peas over her clearly swollen foot. Pulling down one edge of her sock, I can see blue mixed with purple already starting to taint her smooth skin.
“How bad is it?” she asks tentatively, still in agony.
Removing the peas, I slowly peel off her sock. Given the nature of the work she’s chosen to take on, I’d expected her feet to be battered and unattractive. Instead, I find five painted toenails and skin as smooth as a baby’s. I carefully run my hand over the arch of her foot before placing the peas back down on the bruises. “Hard to say. I’m pretty useless when it comes to determining whether a foot is broken or not.”
I see Mollie recoil a fraction, but she remains quiet.
The door creaks open, and Mick and Dean appear, clearly a little flustered.
“Everything alright?” Dean asks.
“I think it’s broken,” I tell him, looking up at Mick.
“Shit,” Mick mutters. “I’ll grab your things then drive you to the hospital.”
I feel Mollie stiffen under the gentle hold I have on her. “No, Mick, I’m good—” she tries to move on a cry, “—ahh!”
“You’re not fucking good ,” I snap.
Dean looks at me, but I don’t return it.
Mick leaves the room, and I hear Janette coming down the stairs. “What’s going on?” she asks, stepping closer to us. I notice her hands are holding her cardigan around her, but her fingers don’t curl all the way into her palm. She must be in pain today.
“Mollie’s foot’s broken,” Dean says.
My aunt double takes, taking in the sight of my pal before her. “Oh, honey.” She steps closer, double taking again when she registers it’s him. “Christ, Dean, is that you?”
Dean smiles. “Yeah, it’s me. Good to see you again.”
Janette opens her arms, and Dean hesitates before he steps forward, allowing my aunt to embrace him. “We missed you,” she says lovingly, before coming to check Mollie.
“Missed you guys too.”
Janette smiles, tilting her head back. We’ve both grown in the years he’s been away; most people have to look up to talk to us now. “This you back for good, now?” Her question is tender.
Dean’s lips pinch into a straight line. There’s no way he’s going to back to Oz. Not now. The club needs building up, here. Rocco’s done a good job of holding the fort after we lost an entire southern charter, but with Dean soon to be stepping up as his vice president, we might actually stand a fucking chance of out numbering the Sodom Saviours MC one day. Every last one of those cunts deserves to die a slow death. The way they destroyed Dean’s family… Hell will freeze over before that grudge ever gets settled.
“Um, yeah,” Dean starts. I can tell he’s not comfortable having this conversation. He shifts on his feet, looking down. “Might take some time to find my feet again, but you know.” He shrugs.
Janette’s shoulders slump and her face turns down, sympathetically. “With time, you’ll find your place.”
I shake my head a little. His place? His place is here. With me. The club. Sure, he’ll miss his cousin, Jack, but the scars run too deep. This is where he belongs. And this is where he’ll stay.
I realise as I rack my brain watching my aunt and Dean catch up, my thumb has started slow, absentminded strokes across the arch of Mollie’s foot. I suddenly look down in shock, hoping to fuck she hasn’t cottoned on to what I’m doing.
Her wide eyes tell me she has. But she doesn’t tell me to stop? I frown. “Yes, yes the prodigal son returns. Can we get her moved into Mick’s truck now?” I’m suddenly edgy, a slight sweat prickling at the back of my neck. Fuck’s sake.
When the door opens, my body relaxes seeing Mick with Mollie’s hoodie in his hand, her phone in the other. “Come on,” he instructs to all of us.
We all simultaneously start moving to get Mollie off the sofa.
“Here.” Mick gently tosses Mollie her hoodie.
“Thank you.” She starts scrunching the opening, looping it over her head, slipping it on.
It’s only when we stand, my hands guiding her to her good foot, do I notice the logo on the hoodie. “You played polo? Shouldn’t that mean you’re good with horses?” I crack a small smile in an attempt to make a joke.
Mollie hops on one foot, my hand still holding her as her other hand tugs at the end of the white hoodie, pulling it down to cover her arse. It’s huge.
Wait.
It’s too huge. “It’s not mine. It’s Henry’s.”
Henry? Right. He must have been the posh prick she let drive her away from me two weeks ago. I feel murderous all of a sudden. I can see his face. The way he frowned and shook his head at me as Mollie ducked into his car to escape the rain. The cunt. I should have forced her to get out and stay with me. Then what? My face drops and my hand involuntarily starts to tighten its grip on her. Why? Why the fuck am I feeling like this. Because she’s wearing another man’s clothes that aren’t yours. Fuck my fucking life. Literally, never has a rage as fierce as the one starting to churn inside me been felt over a woman. I have no clue where this is all coming from. What I do know is that I need to get as far as a-fucking-way from her as possible.
Two weeks was Hell not seeing her. I’m man enough to admit that to myself. The pussy and the alcohol lessened the way my chest tightened whenever I thought about her, but to feel this , like I do right now after only seeing her for less than one hour. It’s not healthy. It can’t be right.
“Travis,” Mollie says, looking at my hand on her. The same hand that was gently stroking her soft skin only moments ago. No. Fuck this.
I let go of her, refusing to give her any eye contact. “Get her out of here. ”
Everyone either frowns or appears to have lost their fucking tongues. No one dares to say a word. Probably due to the fact that my own are still lingering like a putrid smell above them. Yeah, I heard how I spat them out, but what the fuck else am I supposed to do? Pretend that I’m okay with this? Actually, that’s exactly what I’ll do. “I’ve got somewhere I need to be.”
Mick and Dean exchange a look which I don’t miss as I stride out of the house. Fuck, fuck, fuck . My head is like a dreidel, spinning like it’s about to fall off the fucking edge of the table.
“Trav!”
I don’t stop as Dean catches up with me. “Don’t fucking ask.”
He stops and looks at me. “Wasn’t going to.”
I frown, but good, because I’ve managed to go this long without talking about my feelings. Not a chance in fucking Hell I’m starting now.
“Fancy writing this day off the good old way?”
Now we’re talking . “Fucking right I do.” I give Dean a nod just as Mick and Janette walk out with Mollie under their arms. A pang of guilt strikes me seeing my aunt struggling. My hand holding my helmet lowers a fraction. Then I see the she devil look up, and my blood turns to molten lava. “Let’s go.”
We mount our bikes and ride off before Mick and the woman I’m pretty sure I’d enjoy killing with my bare hands, leave.
The same woman stirring things inside me that even the devil himself would have nightmares about.