Chapter Six
Bella
Jodie answers the phone on the first ring, and I laugh. “Oh my god, Jodie,” I cry, the hysterics taking over again.
“I heard you laughing,” she says dramatically. “I know that laugh anywhere. You were with him when I called!” She laughs too, “Bitch, tell me you at least got a taste.”
“Nope, but you should’ve seen his face when you rang him. I think he was genuinely scared you’d eat him alive.”
“I know what I’d like to eat.”
“Pure filth, Jodie,” I reply, amused. “I’m sorry. I should have told you I was meeting him for coffee.”
“Oh god, don’t be daft,” she answers. “I could see he had his sights set on you from the very first time he walked through the doors.”
“Nah, there’s nothing in it.”
“For fuck’s sake, Bella, at least find out how filthy he is in the sack.
” I shake my head, even though she can’t see me.
“I can hear you shaking that judgmental head of yours at me,” she chuckles, and I can almost imagine her giving me daggers.
I wish I was more carefree like her, but everyone in my life only wanted to control me.
“I’m serious, you need to let loose and live a little,” she continues. “You come into work every day with the weight of the world on your shoulders. We see it. We don’t want to pry, but we see you and you need to find someone to speak to or else it will consume you.”
I’ve never heard Jodie speak so seriously the entire time I’ve known her, and to know she’s seen through my bravado, makes me feel warm inside. “Thank you,” I almost whisper.
“Hey, whatever, I don’t do soppy. Go get fucking laid and we might see you smile in the mornings.” All thoughtfulness is gone as quickly as it came, and she’s back to being her vulgar self. “But seriously, if you don’t, tell him I’m coming. I won’t have you waste a perfectly gorgeous man.”
“Bye, Jodie, see you tomorrow.” I shake my head, hanging up the call. It feels good to be normal today, it makes me realise how much I’ve been drowning in my own bubble of chaos.
I fire off a quick text to Clay to thank him for today and place my phone on the side.
Opening the kitchen cupboard, I grab a glass and opt for the chilled wine that’s sitting in the fridge.
I sit on my bed, grab the remote and scroll through the standard channels I have. I couldn’t afford any subscriptions, so I’m stuck with the usual crap that’s on the television.
My phone vibrates on the side, and I consider leaving it, but the thought of hearing from Clay again has me smiling from ear to ear.
The number isn’t saved in my phone, which is odd. This is a new number, and there are literally a handful of people who have it, all of which are saved contacts.
Unknown: Stay away from my fucking children. This is the only warning I’m giving you before I notify the courts.
My hands tremble as I stare at the message from Liam.
Trust him to spoil a perfectly good day.
It’s almost like he’s tuned into me, reading when I’m happy.
And then he sticks the boot in some more to remind me of my place.
I take a breath, frustration pouring from me.
I haven’t done anything wrong. I haven’t broken any rules.
Yet the threat of him informing the courts has me sick to my stomach. I type out a reply.
Me: They’re our children, Liam. Maybe you should give your fucking stuck-up princess the memo that she shouldn’t be bringing them around my place of work or turning up to where I am.
But before sending it, I delete it.
I can’t get into an argument with him. He’ll just use it against me.
But I’m sick of being intimidated and made out to be the one with the issues.
He’s the married man that had an affair, he’s the one that threw our entire relationship away like it was nothing.
Yet I seem to be the one suffering the consequences.
I slam my phone on the side, angry that I can’t even reply without making this worse for myself. They’re my children. Lizzy is right, I needed to fight for them. I can’t let him win when he’s playing so unfairly. And I certainly can’t walk away without trying. For their sakes.
I barely slept last night. The puffy bags under my eyes are impossible to miss and no amount of make-up can disguise the evidence today.
Locking my door, I head out of the building, only to find Liam waiting by the entrance.
My stomach drops.
I spin on my heel, ready to retreat inside, but his hand shoots out, fingers clamping around my arm. His grip tightens when I try to pull free.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” His voice drips with venom.
I glance up at him, then down at his hand clamped around my arm, his grip like a vice. Words fail me.
“Did you get my message?” he growls, tightening his hold with every word.
I nod, and it’s all I can manage as the lump in my throat feels the size of a golf ball. I try to swallow it down, but it’s useless. I’m frozen in fear.
“And are you not going to fucking answer me?”
My bottom lip trembles as I fight back tears.
“What, are we fucking mute now? You think it’s okay to stalk my kids and my fiancée, but can’t find your voice to answer me?”
I yank at my arm, desperate to break free, but his strength overpowers mine.
Fiancée.
The word hits like a punch to the gut. She’s replaced me completely. Soon she’ll be their stepmum and there’s nothing I can do about it.
“I . . . I . . . erm . . . no,” I stutter, not quite sure what I’m answering.
He pushes my arm away roughly, and I lose my balance, bashing into the concrete bollard by the entrance. He grabs my face, pinching my chin between his thumb and finger, my eyes widen, and my handbag slides down my arm, falling to the floor.
“Stay. The. Fuck. Away!” he shouts, his spittle landing on my face. “Do I make myself fucking clear?”
“Yes,” I murmur, fear ripping through my body.
“I can’t fucking hear you,” he growls.
“Yes,” I say a little louder, and he releases my face.
He runs down the steps and gets into his car, slamming the driver’s door. I stare after him in disbelief. He’s always had a temper, but he’s never laid his hands on me before. The wheel spins before he pulls away. But I’m frozen to the spot as I watch his car drive off into the distance.
I drop down onto the steps, grabbing my bag. I take a few steadying breaths, dipping my hand in to get my phone. My finger hovers over Clay’s number for a brief minute before I think better of it.
I glance at the time, realising I’m running late for work. Now more than ever, I need that job, because after that performance, there’s no way I can leave my kids with them. She’s out to set me up, and he’s falling for it. I won’t let that dirty slapper get custody of my children.
Clay
Yesterday with Bella was incredible, and I find myself pulling up outside the coffee shop so I can check in on her. We were so at ease together and she ignited something within me that I haven’t felt for years. It wasn’t just the need to save her, she made me feel alive.
As I enter the coffee shop, the little bell rings above the door and Jodie looks up. She offers me a strained smile, maybe the embarrassment of yesterday’s call is catching up with her. She wipes down the side with a rag before placing it in her apron.
“How’s it going, Mister tall, dark and handsome?
Changed your mind?” she asks. Okay, maybe she’s not.
Bella turns around to see who she’s talking to, and I smile widely until I notice she’s been crying, and my smile drops away.
She turns away back to the coffee machine, but it’s too late.
I’ve seen her puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks. I need to get to her.
I march round to the serving hatch that separates the counter and the customers, needing to get to her before she shuts me out. Jodie places her hand on the top of the hatch as I go to lift it.
“Erm . . . you may be fit as fuck, mate, but I can’t let you behind the counter.
” I smirk, as if this five-foot-nothing blonde could stop me.
I arch a brow and my jaw clenches. She visibly swallows, and I realise I must look every inch of the intimidating biker that I mean to be.
I don’t like being told no. “Sorry, but it’s more than my job’s worth," she whispers.
Bella sniffles and runs into the staff room, away from the commotion.
“Listen, Jodie, is it?” She nods but still doesn’t remove her hand from the hatch. She’s got some balls. “I appreciate it’s your job, but I don’t give a shit about that right now. Belle needs me.”
She frowns. “It’s Bella. Fucking hell, mate, if you wanna get in her knickers, at least get her name right.”
I growl in irritation, running my hands through my hair. The door swings open, and a bloke stands behind her, his hands placed firmly on his hips.
“Who do you think you are, coming in here and upsetting my staff?”
Jodie turns, placing her hand on his chest. That’s right, calm your pit bull down before I put him on his arse.
“He didn’t do anything, Marco,” she says softly.
“Bella burst into the staff room beside herself,” he snaps, staring me down.
“She came in distraught this morning, Marco. She’s even more miserable than usual.”
“So, what’s all the commotion here then?” He towers over Jodie, glaring down at her, waiting for an answer.
“He wanted to come behind to check on her, but I wouldn’t let him.”
He eyes me for a second before nodding once and lifting the hatch.
“I warn you, though—” he begins, and I turn to look at him, arching a brow. “Yeah,” he laughs uncomfortably, “never mind.”
“What he means is, she’s fragile. Don’t break her any more, else we’ll break your balls.” He glares at her, his mouth hanging open, but Jodie just shrugs and turns around to continue cleaning.
I push open the staff door to find Belle curled in a ball on the sofa. Her arms are tightly clenched around her knees, and as I step closer, she looks up.
“All you ever seem to do, is see me cry.” She sniffles, wiping away angrily at her tears.
I take a seat beside her, pulling her into my side. “Nah, we had a lovely day yesterday.” I run my hand along her arm as she leans into my kutte. She nods. “So, what went wrong?” I ask.
“He showed up at my house,” she says, sniffling.
“Who?” I have an idea, but I need her to tell me. I need her to open up and trust that I have her back.
“He was so mad, he grabbed me,” she sobs harder. I stiffen, the hairs on the back of my neck standing up. I gently turn her to face me. “Bella, who the fuck grabbed you?”
She sobs uncontrollably, her hair sticks to her tear-stained face. I move a strand behind her ear.
“Look at me.” She raises her head, taking a breath. “Who grabbed you?”
“My ex,” she whispers. “Liam.”
“Did he hurt you?”
She shakes her head. “He grabbed my arm to stop me running back inside. He’s never been violent before, but I’ve never seen him so angry.
He grabbed hold of my face, forcing me to look him in the eye.
” She looks away trying to compose herself.
I feel the anger bubbling in the pit of my stomach and clench my teeth, not trusting myself to speak because in this moment, I want to teach the prick a lesson.
“He accused me of stalking his woman and my kids,” she cries, the pain clearly evident in her voice.
“My fucking children.”
I lift her chin with my thumb, lifting her gaze to me. “You’re coming with me.”
She shakes her head and runs her hands over her face, trying to dry her tears. “I’ll be okay.” She smiles, but it’s forced. There is no way she’s going back home on her own. He already tried to lay a hand on her. The fucker will lose his hands.
“It’s not a request, Belle,” I say more sternly.
“He won’t do anything,” she argues, but it’s not with the same conviction as before.
“We aren’t taking that chance. I’ll be back after your shift to collect you. You do not leave here without me.”
“You’re overreacting.”
I slide my hands along her jaw, cupping her face.
“No man should ever lay a finger on you. You’re lucky all I’m doing is taking you to the clubhouse. The fucker is lucky I’m not rocking up and breaking his fucking fingers.”
“Please don’t,” she whispers. “It’ll make it worse.”
“Then you’ll listen and come back to the clubhouse.” I stand from the sofa, and she nods, giving in to my request.
“I’ll collect you at seven.” I go to walk out of the staff room but glance back over my shoulder.
“Belle?” She looks up from the floor. “I’ll fix this.”
That fucker laid a hand on her. It isn’t enough that he’s broken and destroyed the woman. Now, he feels the need to intimidate her. He doesn’t realise who he’s crossed, but he soon will.
I throw my leg over the bike and dial Drifter’s number. He answers on the second ring.
“Pres?”
“All okay, Clay?”
“The woman I’ve been helping needs a place to stay. I’ll be bringing her back later.”
“Shouldn’t this be discussed first? You’re my VP, and I respect you, but we can’t just be taking in strays with all the heat on the club at the minute.”
“Pres, she’s good. I’ll take complete responsibility for her.”
He sighs, and I can imagine him pacing his office. He knows I wouldn’t ask if I thought she would put the club in danger.
“If she’s a copper, I’m going to have your balls.”
“Nah, she’s clean, I promise.”
“She stays in your room.” It’s all he says before he disconnects the call.