Chapter Seven
TRAVIS
O h, shit. My head is swimming, the room, spinning. I could chalk up our binge to the fact my mate returned from the other side of the actual globe, but he and I both know that aint the reason why we’re both sitting here. Dead to the fucking world. My heart’s racing like the clappers. Not because of the bottle of Vodka swimming like a river through my bloodstream, but because that damn woman won’t get out of my head.
I need a bigger distraction. Take my mind off of her.
“Feel better?”
I sluggishly roll my head to look at Dean and pout, unable to tell if I do or not.
He has a blonde sat on his lap, her butt cheeks popping out of the bottom of her tight shorts. Black shorts with fish net tights. Jesus Christ. Send me some fucking help. I’ve never remembered what a woman wore before. I’m disappointed in myself, and mildly fucking suspicious that the universe is trying to do everything in its power to not let me forget her.
Mollie hasn’t even been around one month and I have a knot in my gut telling me I don’t ever want her to leave.
Can I stand to be close to her? No. I immediately want to rip her head from her neck. But when I’m not next to her, does she plague my thoughts and leave me itching to be closer to her, even if we’re arguing?
The way those chocolate eyes turned round and stared at me when I was rubbing her foot? Do I want to see that look on her face every day?
Fuck.
I’m fucked.
“Look at the fucking state of you both.” Rocco’s voice chimes in my ear. “ Bunch of bitches.”
“Hey,” Dean falters, slapping the girl’s arse making her shift on his lap as he attempts to sit straighter. “We’re catching up.”
Rocco lifts an eyebrow. “Catching up?” He sighs raking a hand through his bristly beard. “You did nothing that I asked you to do today, did you?”
Dean shows his teeth awkwardly, his face scrunched. Shit. What had Rocco asked him to do? He didn’t mention anything. He simply brought me here and got me drunk. Made sure we forgot our shitty existences. “No, but I will do it all tomorrow. You have my word.” He hiccups as his eyes start to close, and I see Rocco shake his head.
He kicks my foot, making me look up. “Oi, Tweedledumb.”
I flinch and my head rolls, a little fucking offended. “Why am I Tweedledumb?” I slur, trying to hold my hand steady as I point to myself.
Dean slaps my arm with the back of his hand. “Because I’m Tweedle Dean. ”
My eyes shut on their own accord. I’m embarrassed for him.
“Fucking hell. Muppets,” Rocco comments, before he turns and walks away to the bar. He gestures over his shoulder towards us, and a few of the older boys give us a look, rolling their eyes.
I look at Dean.
He looks at me.
And we both start laughing uncontrollably.
My laugh is guttural, rumbling from the lowest depths of my lungs. It feels good, actually. “Promise me you’ll never give up your day job.”
He reaches forward, grabbing his near empty glass, looking disappointed when he throws his head back and only a dribble falls into his mouth. “I’ve got another one.” He slaps me to get my attention as if I wasn’t already listening.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, here we go.”
“What do you call a lesbian dinosaur?”
I could tell him I know the answer, but I get the feeling that will only ruin his night. “I don’t know,” I say sarcastically, my eyes already closing, waiting for the awful line. “What do you call a lesbian dinosaur?” I peek a look at him.
Dean’s lips pull before he delivers his punchline. “A lickolotofpus.”
I snigger before another round of laughter unexpectedly tumbles out of me. It’s clear I’ve drunk way too much to have found that funny. I need to lie the fuck down before I pass out.
The girl on Dean’s lap stands and leaves where he’s paying her no attention.
“Was it something I said?” he muses.
We both catch each other’s eye, starting us off again, before we eventually settle, slumping back into the sofa we’re sitting on. “Fuck my life,” I say.
I see Dean’s face drop.
“Sorry, mate. You’ve had it worse than me.”
He shrugs. “It is what it is.”
I close my eyes. “It is what it is,” I parrot. Neither of us will open up. It’s not how we’re wired. Actions speak way fucking louder than any words. And what Dean did for me tonight is screaming at me. He took my mind off a situation he knows fuck all about, just to make sure I feel better.
And I do. But what will make this night even better, is if I can find Tanya. Distract myself a little bit more.
Before I can muster the energy to open my eyes, I hear a zipper being lowered. My prayers being answered. She found me. Good. Only, when I pat my hand haphazardly across my jeans, there’s no head between my legs. No woman between my thighs about to choke on my cock and relieve some of my tension. Peeking an eye open, I look down, confused, then turn to look at Dean.
“Uh,” he stammers, the blonde is back and on her knees before him. She licks her glossy lips, making light work of getting into Dean’s boxers, cupping him and tightening her grip on his cock.
“Mate, do you have to?”
“I’m not doing anything.”
Blondie pushes up, rearranging her bra. She kisses Dean, and I know I’m moments away from witnessing him getting sucked off right before my eyes.
My prayers are actually answered when Tanya walks past and sees me unattended. She flicks her head to her friend. “Feeling left out?”
I nod and force myself to stand. Stretching my back, I then swing my arm over Tanya’s small shoulders for support.
“Where are you going?” Dean manages to ask, trying in vain not to give me his sex eye, as Blondie starts working her way south .
“I’m off to lick a lot of puss.” I give him a wink before he stands and, rightly so, stops everyone from watching him blow his load in public.
I turn, my eyes heavy, but smile down at Tanya.
“What’s it this time?” she asks, knowing full well that the state I’m in isn’t actually that far from normal for me anymore.
“Nothing,” I lie, opening the door to the bedroom. I walk in and slump down on the bed, allowing myself to flop back with a thud.
Steady hands start undoing my belt, and I lift my hips just enough for Tanya to free my dick. It’s hard. As standard. She smiles around me before taking me to the back of her throat.
I choke on a cough, lifting my weary head to look down at her.
When she looks up, her sultry eyes study mine.
But they’re not the chocolate ones I want to see.
The ones I need.
Tanya flees the room without looking back at me. I don’t blame her. In all the times I’ve woken up after a night in this room, never have I left a woman unsatisfied. Then again, never have I seen another woman’s face when I tried to fuck them.
Sure, it could have been the alcohol that made my dick so flaccid when I needed him, but I know it wasn’t. It’s never happened before, so I just know it was… My phone pings from my jeans on the floor by the bed. Thirty seconds later, it’s vibrating. The constant zipping noise is too much for my heavy head. It’s clouded. Aching. Dull.
Ignoring it, I close my eyes shut tight, rolling to my front. My dick feels heavy, the release I needed, still not found. I wince, rolling back, and my phone starts up again. Fuck. Blindly I reach for it, knowing it can only be one person. “Hello?” My voice cracks as I answer Mick.
“Where are you?”
I grunt, letting him know I’m not going to make it. Peeking one eye open to check the time on my phone, I’m already a few hours late. “I’m in no fit state to be working today,” I say, feeling a wave of nausea roll over me. I swallow, keeping it down.
“Well, I need you. Mollie’s foot isn’t broken, but she isn’t allowed to walk on it for a few days. I need you here.”
Damn it. Going there means seeing her. Seeing her means we’ll end up arguing.
Another wave hits, and I know I don’t stand a chance in keeping this one down. “Be there soon,” I grumble, throwing back the covers, stumbling to the toilet, only just managing to get the vomit in the pan. Never again.
Once I’m able, I shower and dress, then make my way to the farm. No sign of Dean before I left. He must have gone home rather than crash at the clubhouse. Pulling up, I dock my bike and go to find Mick. Stupidly, I check the house first, only to find Mollie sitting at the table with Janette.
They both look up when I walk in. “Rough night?” my aunt asks, looking me up and down.
Mollie refuses to look at me, taking a sip from her mug.
“Went exactly as planned,” I say, hoping they buy my lie.
Janette rolls her eyes. “I can expect the next poor soul knocking at our door within the next few days then?”
No. Tanya doesn’t get attached. Doubt I’ll be seeing her any time soon, anyway. Not after my performance last night.
Mollie chances a look at me. Can she sense my doubt?
“Treat ‘em mean, keep ‘em keen. That’s the saying, right?” God, I’m a cunt.
Janette scoffs this time. “You’ll never have a family of your own if you hurt women like that?”
I flash a look at Mollie whose head is still down. “I don’t want a fucking family,” I spit, turning away, hot heat swimming in my veins. “And what if a woman hurts me first?” Snapping like a raging child, I shake my head, pissed off with myself.
The way Janette chokes on her drink makes me double take; my hand raised to the door handle for my escape. “That’ll be the day,” she says hushed. The fact that I can feel Mollie’s eyes now burning into my head, fucks me off.
Somehow, I keep my mouth shut and walk out the door, giving it an obvious slam as I go.
A family of my own? Never going to happen.
I find Mick with Blackjack out in the field. He doesn’t say anything, but we both know his unspoken words speak louder. The longer he stays quiet, the more annoyed I get. We may work well together and manage to get most the jobs done, but frustration and angst are oozing out of me by the time I’m about to leave.
Dusting off my hands, I take a look to the house wondering whether I should go up there and tell them I’m never coming back. The way my insides churn with a need to escape here, burns intensely. This place—apart from the club—is all I know.
As if he knows I’m about to explode, Mick appears around the corner, his body held as tight as mine feels. He gazes at me, and I just know he’s about to pop. “I think we’re done,” he says, not as angrily as I was expecting.
“Right,” I say, turning to look at him. I throw the rag in my hand to the floor, grateful to be getting out of here. “Do you need me here tomorrow?” I ask out of courtesy more than anything.
He laughs, and I immediately know it’s fake. “I said, we’re done,” he repeats himself.
Oh? I drop my head, a meek smile drawing on my face as I think. “Wondered when you were finally going to say something.” I don’t mean to sound like I’m goading him, but this day has been brewing for some time now.
His face twists. “And that’s why I need you gone.”
My forehead wrinkles in confusion. “What?”
He huffs under his breath, taking a step closer to me, making me stand a little straighter. “You need grounding—”
My laughs cuts him off. “Like a child?”
“Don’t be fucking smart, boy. You need to grow the fuck up. Take some responsibility for once in your life.”
I shake my head side to side, looking to the floor. If only he knew the things I’m responsible for with the club. “And do what? Be like you?”
Mick lifts his farmer’s cap an inch off his head, scratching his hair before he puts it back down, my insult landing a bit too low, even for me. Lord knows I’d rather be like Mick than my actual father. “No. I want you to want more.”
My eyes snap up.
“I love your aunt. But she can’t help me anymore. Once Mollie’s foot is healed, she can take over here.” When I frown, he continues. “She’s hungry for the work. She’ll manage.”
“And what will you do?” Because I am pretty sure Mollie won’t last five minutes on her own here. Healed foot or not .
His hands go to his hips. “I’m going to take a step back for a bit. Look after Janette.”
“You can’t step back without me being here.”
He stares at me, looking pissed off as his hand runs through his five o’clock shadow. Fuck, he really does look tired. I hadn’t noticed until now. “You’re hardly ever here, so what fucking difference will it make?” I don’t answer. “I don’t have a choice. Once I know she’s okay, I’ll be able to help Mollie again. Until then, your aunt is my priority.”
I can’t nod in understanding because I don’t understand what that must feel like; to give something up for someone else. I haven’t allowed myself to think about anyone else. Never had the need to.
Selfish? Maybe. But it runs in my blood. To protect yourself. I haven’t been able to stay here—my home—because I know me leaving will be devastating for them.
And more lately, I haven’t wanted to face Mollie.
Two things I am definitely not, are useless and emotionless. I may not show it, but the way my heart pounded the other day tells me the fucking thing is still in there. I don’t want to see Mick lose this place, and I one-hundred-percent will not leave my aunt working when she can’t. But my future doesn’t lie here.
Mick turns, worry washing over his flushed face. “Be straight with me?” His question is more like a plea.
I nod in silent acceptance, taking a breath, unclenching my jaw.
“Mollie,” he simply says.
It’s short lived. I cross my arms, my teeth locking together again. “What about her?” My muscles tighten another inch as well.
“Don’t go there with her. I need her to stay.”
I almost don’t want to challenge his ridiculous claim. Shame for him that I will. “Are you suggesting I’ll do something?”
He laughs, which I wasn’t expecting. “I wasn’t. I was asking you to be respectful. Don’t drive away the best employee I’ve had of late.”
Ouch. But warranted. “She means nothing to me. In fact, all she does is serve to piss me off whenever she gets the opportunity.”
There’s a smile that breaks on his softening face. “How did it go taking her to the clubhouse? Poor thing’s been quiet ever since.”
She has? My ears prick up. My eyes widen .
Mick sees, his own widening above that fucking smile he’s still wearing. “Right.”
“Right, what?” I’m not in the mood to try to work out what the fuck he’s getting at, even though I know. The night I took her to the clubhouse was a disaster. I told Mollie I’d fuck her if she missed potting the ball. Which she could have, easily. But she didn’t. “Spit it the fuck out, old man.”
He lifts one foot, starting to walk away. “The way I see it, boy. You’re not hanging around the farm. We get that, have come to accept it.” They have? “But we like having you around here. Seems someone else does too.” He must see my confusion. “I’ve never seen someone work so hard as she has in the past two weeks. The only common denominator here, is you.”
“Bullshit,” I throw at him.
Cocking a brow, he continues his journey away from me. “Believe what you want. But I need her here. Don’t fuck this up for me.”
Don’t fuck this up?
Leaving me alone, I stand still, a confused ball of fury. My fists ball, then instinctively, I follow him. I’m hot on his heels when I see her. From the corner of my eye, I fucking see her. Not resting her foot. She’s working in the barn, almost thirty feet off the ground on top of a pile of hay bales. What the fuck is she doing?
I look back at Mick who’s moving further away from me. I’m momentarily torn.
Turning my head, she’s now hunched over, moving a bale around, unaware I’m watching her. My body’s riddled with something other than anger. I try my fucking hardest to bury the need to go over there and reprimand her for being so reckless. She falls from that height; she won’t be able to work for months. And that’s no fucking good for any of us.
When I turn to look at Mick, he’s gone. Fuck. I let out a deflated breath. My head is running wild all of a sudden. When I look up to the heavens, no answers appear. I shut my eyes, wondering what’s the more that Mick wants me to have. A woman? A family? Is there some unwritten rule somewhere that says by a certain age you should have achieved certain milestones in your life? Sounds too conventional to me. And way too fucking convenient. My more lies with the Rippers. I’ve always known that. Is it that hard for other people to accept that sometimes people are content with what they’ve got ?
Frustrated, I reach the bottom of the pile of bales and instinctively look up. I’m no longer able to see her. Damn. Means I’ll have to climb up there. I’ve avoided running into her like a coward for fourteen days. Now, here I am, physically about to haul myself up to her.
Rolling back the sleeves of my shirt, I listen for where she might be.
She’s humming.
Beginning my climb, I follow the dulcet tones until I find her, my heart skipping when I do. I suppress a smile, watching her with a pitchfork in her hand. Her head is lowered, but she can’t hear anything because of the headphones that are in her ears. There’s a hammering beat pulsating in the air. How the fuck can she think with screaming in her ears? I like heavy music, but that’s just fucking noise.
I step up onto the last bale, towering over her from behind. Her tattoo pops out, and I see black words swirled across her skin above an image of a flower. It makes me swallow. Everything inside me turns to mush seeing it.
Catching me off guard with a deathly howl, Mollie spins, forcing me to step back to avoid the fucking pitchfork being aimed at me. I miss the edge of the bale. Motherfucker. Unable to right myself, I slip—just like my thoughts, and tumble like a sack of shit to the bottom of the pile.
Mollie leans over the edge, ripping her headphones out as I manage to stop my eyes from spinning, catching her gaze. She looks stunned. Shocked. Scared. But mostly, she just looks amused, her hair hanging down either side of her face. I don’t miss the twitch in her darkened eyes as she peers down at me on the ground.
Flustered and angered, pieces of straw dangle from my hat, and I try to swat them away, refusing to drop my hold on her face. That fucking face. If she so much as fucking grins, I’ll—my body tightens, smoke bellowing from my ears. The little bitch . Scrambling to my feet, I go after her.
Her face hollows as comprehension dawns.
That’s right, Baby Doll. I’m coming for you.
She doesn’t move quickly, then I remember her fucking foot. Shit. I really shouldn’t be chasing after her. When she laughs excitedly, any concern I may have had evaporates to dust, knowing she’s enjoying this.
When I reach where I’m expecting her to be, I freeze. She isn’t there. I turn to my right, waiting. Listening.
Then a rustle comes from behind me. “Hands where I can see them.” Is she joking with me?
I turn slowly, and the sight of her face dropping, makes me feel significantly better. I must look murderous. Good. I fucking feel it. I’m angry. Not just with her, but with myself too.
Mollie looks over her shoulder, contemplating her escape. There isn’t one.
“Don’t move. Last fucking thing I need is you falling to your death.”
She blinks. “Like you?” she chides under her breath mockingly.
Childish. “You’re walking a pretty thin fucking line, Baby Doll.” I take a step toward her, and the woman inches back. “I said, don’t move.” Can she not see how close to the edge she is?
“Fuck off.” Mollie goes to take a step away from the edge, but pauses when she looks at me. She frowns dubiously. “Like you care what happens to me.”
I scoff like a complete arsehole, furiously limiting the already small space between us. I don’t have fucking time for this. “You’re none of my concern.”
Unexpectedly, a silence drops as quickly as her face does. It screams so loudly; my ears start ringing. “Liar.”
I balk, shocked, all too aware she’s right. Seeing a crimson haze of annoyance, I open my mouth before thinking. “You think I care about you, Baby Doll?” I say like a dick. Without realising, I’ve taken another step closer to her, my face now dangerously close to hers. Mollie holds my frantic stare. Challenging.
I shouldn’t be getting closer to her. I should be ignoring her, let her carry on with her work here and make myself gone. Damn my fucking feet. And damn the blinding pain now burning in my chest.