Vanessa #3
“Shut the fuck up, Barrett,” Braxton says, finally releasing me from his penetrating gaze.
He turns to Sylvie and says, “I know you did your homework, Sylvie. That’s never in question.
” Then he turns his stare back to me. It’s not the flirtatious one he had when I met him all those years ago.
That one stayed at the forefront of my mind for far longer than I’m willing to admit.
That stare was usually the catalyst for reaching in my bedside drawer to grab a toy that could offer relief.
This one looks as though he’s trying to put together the pieces of a puzzle that just got dumped in his lap.
“Where’s the asshole who did this to you? ”
“Probably at his friend’s house, snorting the money I gave him up his nose.” That’s not a lie either. Though the man in question isn’t who Braxton thinks it is.
“Sylvie said you’ve been living at a motel. Any chance he could have followed you or that someone told him where you were?”
I shake my head. “No, I didn’t tell anyone I was here. Just that I left town.”
Braxton blows out a breath and works his jaw back and forth as though he’s chewing on his next words.
“Alright, then. Let’s go back to the motel.
Barrett knows the guy at the front desk.
We’ll get your payment squared away, then you’ll come back to the clubhouse.
Sylvie said if you don’t work, you can’t pay for the motel, so you’ll stay at the clubhouse while you’re recovering.
Then we’ll see about getting you into something more permanent. ”
“I can’t ask you to do that,” I tell him, even though that’s exactly what Russ was hoping would happen. But if I don’t put up at least an illusion of not being a hundred percent on board with the idea, it could look suspicious.
“You’re not asking, sweetheart. You won’t be the first dancer to spend some time at the clubhouse,” Braxton says.
It’s the sweetheart that makes my insides turn to mush. When he called me that years ago, it had the same effect as it does now, and that’s a serious problem. I have no clue what to say, so I simply nod.
Yes, this is what Russ wanted. Yes, it’s in my family’s best interest for me to stay at the clubhouse. It’s the best possible scenario for what I was sent here to do. But fuck, I feel like shit about it. Even more so now that I actually know one of the men I’m here to spy on.
But there’s no getting around this. Not when my sister’s and mom’s safety are on the line.
I tried to refuse when Russ first told me about this plan—but then he brought up throwing us out on the street.
Then he told me what he would force my mom to do on those streets if she wanted to keep me and my sister safe.
Remembering the evil gleam in his eyes when he threatened me, my chest constricts painfully.
So, though I hate myself a little bit more for agreeing to go with them, I have no other choice. Attraction be damned.
“We’re on our bikes, so I’ll follow you in your car. Are you okay to drive?” Braxton asks with concern.
“Nothing a little wine and some painkillers won’t fix.”
“We have both at the clubhouse,” Braxton says.
“Really? A group of bikers doesn’t exactly scream wine snobs,” I say.
“Oh, we’re not,” Barrett says with a laugh. “But our old ladies love that shit.”
Is the man I’ve been fantasizing about for the last five years one of the bikers who settled down?
I look Braxton in the eye. “What kind of wine does your old lady like?”
Barrett howls with laughter. “Please, like this guy is ever going to get wifed up. No one would be able to deal with his broody ass.”
Broody is not how I would have described Braxton all those years ago, though tequila and orgasms may have clouded my judgment.
“We should probably get out of here. Let Sylvie get back to work and get you something for your pain,” Braxton tells me, ignoring his brother’s comment.
“Keep me posted, Van,” Sylvie says. “When you’re healed up, the job will be waiting, okay?”
I blow out a shaky breath. “Thanks, Sylvie.”
She nods. “I’ll call you in a couple days to see how you’re feeling.”
Braxton opens the door, and I head out of her office with Barrett following behind me.
“You can take off, brother. I’m going to follow Vanessa to the motel and grab her stuff, then head back to the clubhouse.”
“You need me to grab anything and drop it off?” Barrett asks him.
“No, we have everything we need.”
“Alright. See you later.” Barrett turns to me. “It was nice meeting you, Vanessa. Wish it was under different circumstances.”
He has no idea how different I wish these circumstances were.
I liked Braxton when we first met, and if my life wasn’t the absolute shit show it was five years ago—or now, for that matter—I wouldn’t have run away from the man standing next to me.
He’s so close…too close. I can smell the leather of his cut and his dark, woodsy scent.
If things were different back then, I might have given him my number. Maybe met up with him again.
But that’s not the way it played out, and after I’m through here, I can guaran-damn-tee he won’t want to have anything to do with me.