Chapter Eight
Bella
I brace one hand against the cool tiles, letting the cold water rain down over me.
Droplets race along my skin, gathering at my feet before spiralling towards the drain, disappearing one by one.
The chill soaks into my bones, cooling the fire still raging beneath my skin.
Being near Clay ignited something I thought Liam had destroyed the day he packed my bags and kicked me out of our marital home.
I truly believed I’d never feel a connection with anyone ever again.
When Clay woke last night, something inside me broke.
He thrashed beneath the quilt, his screams tearing through the room, bouncing off the walls like echoes of old wounds.
I recognised it instantly—the helplessness, the breathless panic.
Someone like me knows a nightmare that doesn’t just visit but lives with you.
This wasn’t the first time Clay had faced that darkness.
He was used to it, and that hurt more than the scream itself.
He relaxed almost instantly with my touch, and in that moment of calm, wrapped against his body, that I knew I was doomed. He makes me feel safe and protected, and with that comes the strength to fight . . . fight for my children. Get them home where they belong, wherever that might be.
I lift my face to the flow of the water, closing my eyes and inhaling deeply.
I can’t rush into this. I’ve been broken too many times, and I know I need to find myself before I can give him my all.
It has to be the right decision for us both .
. . I’ve already made far too many rash decisions.
That’s what led me to Clay in the first place, being on that bridge, not thinking straight.
If Clay tears me apart like Liam did, I’ll never survive.
There’s a knock on the bathroom door pulling me from my internal conflict.
“You okay in there?” he calls. His husky voice is not doing anything to stem the pull I currently have for him.
“Yeah, won’t be long.”
I pick up the shower gel, squirting a little into the palm of my hand. I lather it up, the masculine scent filling my nostrils. With the undertone of bourbon and spice, it makes my insides feel warm. This is him, his scent. Clay in a bottle.
I make quick work of washing before using a two-in-one shampoo that he has sitting on his bathroom shelf collecting dust, he clearly doesn’t use it. I know my hair won’t thank me for the lack of conditioner and I make a mental note to collect some toiletries.
I leave the en-suite with a towel wrapped around me, patting my hair dry, to find Clay standing in the bedroom. He quickly turns away, and I smile at his chivalry.
“Erm . . .” He stutters, and I’m sure it’s one of the only times I’ve seen him so unsure. “I went to get a bag of your clothes whilst you were showering.”
“I wasn’t that long, was I?” I ask, my tone teasing as I walk over to the duffle bag on the bed.
“Well, there isn’t any breakfast left.”
“No bother, I’m not hungry,” I unzip the bag and inwardly cringe thinking about Clay going through my drawers. “Clay?”
“Yeah?”
“Not that I’m not grateful or anything, but how did you get into my place?”
“I took your keys,” he says, almost like it was obvious.
“You should have said, I would have gone to get them,” I reply, rummaging through the bag for some underwear. “Actually, I would’ve preferred to go. My place is a disaster.”
He shrugs. “I’ve seen worse. Have you forgotten where you’re staying?” He laughs as I look around his room, taking in how neat it is. Everything is crisp, regimented almost, and even the sheets are lined up to perfection.
I arch a brow. “I very much doubt that.” I shimmy into a pair of black leggings, then grab a bra.
“Anyway, as Mumma Bear has finished breakfast, I thought we would go and grab something together?” he offers, still looking at the wall.
“Mumma Bear?”
“Drifter’s mum,” he explains, like I should know who Drifter is.
“I’m still none the wiser,” I point out, giggling as I pull a black fitted t-shirt over my head. “You can turn around now.”
“I’ll introduce you to everyone today,” he says, turning back around. His eyes scan my body from head to toe, and I blush with embarrassment, going back to searching through the bag to distract me from the heat of his gaze.
I’m not even sure I can manage to eat after everything that’s happened. “Actually, can we skip breakfast?”
“You need to eat something, beaut.”
I see my hairbrush and grab it, turning to the full-length mirror hanging on the back of his bedroom door. I’m doing everything I can to avoid his intense stare.
“I will. It’s just the last twenty-four hours have been .
. . well, it’s been a lot.” I drag the brush through my matted hair, realising I’m already paying for the lack of conditioner.
I watch in the mirror as he sits on the end of the bed, drinking me in.
His phone rings, and he pulls it out of his pocket.
I secretly thank whoever it is for the reprieve.
“Drifter,” he answers, pushing to his feet, before placing his hand over the speaker. “I’ll take this outside. Why don’t you go down to the kitchen and grab a cuppa?” he whispers before exiting the room.
I stand back and watch as the door shuts, the mirror wobbling slightly as it closes.
I release a long breath. “What are you even doing here, Bella?” I whisper-hiss to myself.
Taking a seat on the bed, opening the bag again to find my toothbrush.
That’s when I notice that he’s packed my romance novel that was sitting on my bedside table, I smile to myself.
It was like he knew what I needed before I even knew myself.
I sit outside on the patio, hugging my coffee and gently blowing it, as the sun warms my skin. I watch as the motorcycles come and go from the compound, the rumble of the engines rattling through my chest.
“Hey, Bella,” Lizzy greets as she takes a seat next to me sheepishly. I nod in greeting and continue blowing on my coffee.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I knew Clay. I didn’t want you to think I was only interested in your friendship because of him.”
“But that’s the only reason you stopped by, right?” I ask, staring straight ahead.
“Well . . . yeah, initially. But now, I consider you a friend. I knew the second you crouched down to my unruly toddler, that we would be friends. Besides, I want to help you get your babies back. You’re a great mum,” she says, her tone pleading.
“So, do I call you Lizzy or Red?” I ask, smiling. How can I be mad when she’s trying to help? That’s all they’re all trying to do. If it wasn’t for Clay coming to my rescue in the first place, I wouldn’t even be here. And she’s right, we’ve really hit it off.
She sighs, relieved. “Thank you. Everyone here calls me Red. It was the nickname Rock gave me, and it just kinda stuck.”
There’s a wolf-whistle from across the courtyard, and Red rolls her eyes. “What can we do for you, Slayer?” she asks, her tone bored.
“I know what you could do for me,” he says suggestively with a wink. Red grins, shaking her head.
“Have you got a fucking death wish?”
“You know me, I like to live life on the edge. How about you, doll?” he asks, turning his attention to me.
“I wouldn’t, Slayer,” Red warns.
I take a long drag of my coffee as he places his arm around my shoulder. “Don’t let this ol’ lady put you off the pussy puller.” A laugh escapes me, and I snort before choking on my coffee. “If you choke like that on coffee, imagine what you’d be like sucking my cock,” he says, wiggling his brows.
“Slayer!” Clay’s voice booms from the doorway, and even Slayer flinches at the force of it.
“What?” Slayer throws his hands up. “VP, I’m just giving the new girl an introduction to the Slay Master.”
Clay doesn’t slow—he storms across the veranda.
“Shit,” Slayer mutters under his breath. “He looks positively pissed.”
Red laughs. “I did warn you.”
Clay stops beside me, his jaw tight and his eyes locked on Slayer before he finally looks at me. “You okay?” he asks, his hand settling on my shoulder, gentle, in contrast to the rage rolling off him.
I glance up and nod, offering a small smile. “I’m fine.”
“She’s off limits,” he says in Slayer’s direction.
He scoffs. “Nah, you know the rules, VP. You gotta claim her.”
“I ain’t gotta do shit. You’re a prospect, and if you don’t wanna be polishing my fucking wheels for the next six months, you’ll do as you're told,” he snaps.
Slayer gets to his feet, his eyes narrowed in annoyance. “Tosser,” he grumbles under his breath as he stalks away.
“Two weeks on gate duty for you, arsehole,” Clay shouts after him. “Sure you’re okay, beaut?”
“Yeah, positive. He just caught me off guard.”
“Fucking kid’s a pain in the arse, but he’s harmless,” Clay says, watching as Slayer flips him the bird.
“Unless you’re a club whore.” Red chuckles, and my mouth drops open. “I’ll explain everything,” she adds.
Clay
Belle has been sitting up in my room for most of the day. Red gave her the lowdown on how the club works and introduced her to everyone. She looked completely overwhelmed and needed some time on her own.
I knock on the door before cracking it open slightly to find her asleep on the bed with her book open on her chest.
I carefully lower to the space beside her, marvelling at how peaceful she looks right now.
I remove the book from her chest and place it on the bedside table.
She stirs, her eyes flickering open. And then she jumps in fright, clutching her chest. She relaxes slightly when she realises it’s me.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I just wanted to check on you, make sure you’re okay. ”
She rests back against the headboard. “Sorry, I was reading. I must’ve lost track of time.”
“The book can’t be that good if you’re falling asleep to it.”
“Don’t be mistaken. This is about the fourth time I’ve read it.” She smiles as she yawns, running her hands over her tired face.