Chapter 8 Creature
W hen Blair said Mateo Ruiz was coming after her, I nearly lost my shit. Ever since I found her bloody and beaten outside Toxic Tonic, a protective, possessive need had risen within me, and I wanted to hunt down Mateo and any other asshole who ever tried to hurt her.
I didn’t hesitate to call Maddog, fill him in about Mateo Ruiz, and insist that I bring Blair to the clubhouse.
Luckily, my new pres hated bullies as much as I did.
The same could be said for Manic, who overheard the situation when Maddog put the call on speaker.
He insisted on driving the van to the hospital to pick us up.
Now, bracing myself against the door as I held a sleeping, vulnerable, injured woman in my arms, I clenched my jaw and hoped that every bump in the road didn’t cause further pain or injury.
I never clutched a woman this close for anything other than sex. It fucked with my head when her warm breath fanned across my neck. Soft lips touched my throat with every exhalation of her lungs.
And her scent. Fuck. Sweet, slightly floral, and a hint of citrus. Clean. Fresh. Innocent. She wasn’t a club girl or any of the member-seeking gold-diggers who wanted security and a guy with a patch. To them, it didn’t matter who they fucked to obtain what they wanted.
Used-up pussy stopped being my style long ago.
That was half the reason why I became a nomad.
No charter to dictate my every move. No “come home now” or “where have you been” from an ol’ lady who wanted to dictate every fucking thing I did.
I had the freedom to choose, and the wind in my hair, my knees in the breeze, and life was fucking good.
But that seemed like a distant, forgotten dream now.
Blair’s curves fit against my body like they were designed for it.
Soft, silky hair draped over my arm. Sun-kissed radiant skin so smooth to the touch that I couldn’t resist trailing my fingers over her bare arm.
And that fucking ass of hers. Juicy. Bubbly.
Enough jiggle to drag my gaze from anything else in the vicinity when I saw it.
I had the sudden urge to grip the apples of those cheeks and squeeze them.
Fuck me. I was falling hard and fast for her, which didn’t make any sense. I didn’t do relationships. Or, I should say relation-shits because that was all I had in the past.
But Blair? She could actually be the one—ol’ lady material—permanent. She’d already proved she was fierce and loyal. How many friends would take a beating for one another like that instead of running away? She stood up for someone she cared about, faced danger, and didn’t back down.
Goddamn. That was sexy.
I needed to know more about this woman. She wasn’t going anywhere until I figured this shit out with her missing friend. Maybe in the process, I could get to know her better.
There was shit I needed to know to be able to protect her. Details that could save her life. She might not like my intrusion and questions, but they were necessary. She’d see how fucking stubborn I could be with people I cared about.
Blair had suddenly landed on that tiny list.
Manic glanced my way. “How did you meet her?”
I guess he didn’t hear that part of the conversation when I was on the phone with Maddog. “Toxic Tonic. Found her outside the building. Someone beat the shit out of her and left her there. She couldn’t even fucking stand on her own,” I growled.
“Fuck. Who the fuck hurt her?”
“Mateo Ruiz.”
He whistled. “You’re not gonna like this guy. He’s got a bad rep.”
“I hated him as soon as he touched her. Don’t give a fuck about anything else.”
“Yeah, I hear you. I fucking hate pricks like him. Cocky assholes with tiny dicks and inflated egos.”
“As soon as she’s better, I’m going after him.”
Manic cut his gaze in my direction. “Shit. You better not go alone.”
He didn’t try to talk me out of it. Good. “I won’t if you’re coming with me.”
“I need to get Bianca settled first. She wanted to help get the clubhouse cleaned and sorted. Lark invited her.” He shook his head. “I don’t like them being there with all the construction. It’s not safe. Too many variables.”
“And people we don’t know.”
“Exactly.”
We vetted who we could, but we had to hire out help for things we couldn’t do, like electrical work. None of us had that expertise.
At this point, we needed more members to provide security and help with the remodel. If it came down to it, I would protect Blair first. The thought unnerved me. The only person I put before the club was my old man. He was first, followed by my Marine brothers and the club.
At least now I could say they fell into the same category now.
Blair didn’t wake up when we parked the van and arrived at the clubhouse.
I held onto her as I stepped out, careful not to jostle her too much.
She mumbled something I couldn’t understand, and her breathing evened out again.
She slept deeply, and I knew she needed it.
I had to get her inside and to a warm, comfortable bed.
There was only one option—my room.
If I didn’t have access to her twenty-four seven, I knew I’d flip my shit. Placing her under my protection meant she was mine to keep safe. I took that literally. No one was touching her, seeing, or disturbing her without my permission. They could all fuck off if they wanted to challenge me on it.
If she decided something else, then I’d back off, but not without her voicing it.
When Blair said she was in danger, and the asshole who beat her was coming back to finish the job, I didn’t hesitate to find Phyllis.
She helped me without asking for too many details, processing Blair’s discharge and promptly leading us out of the hospital.
She even promised to check on Blair and her injuries until she recovered. That woman was a blessing.
Who knew we would become friends after the way we met?
Two smokin’ hot brunettes talked and laughed as they dusted and cleaned the kitchen.
They spotted me as I walked by the door.
Normally, I would have checked them out, but since meeting Blair, my dick only seemed to swell when she was near.
I didn’t feel that surge of lust or attraction that would get my cock throbbing in the past. These women did nothing for me.
But that was also because they were already happily taken by Maddog and Manic.
“Oh, no,” Lark gasped.
Bianca rushed out after Lark. “Is she okay?”
“No,” I growled, already beginning to hate that question. If I did, Blair probably felt the same way. “I need water. I’m taking her up to my room.”
“I’ll fix a tray with soup, hot tea, and a couple of water bottles.”
“Thanks,” I answered over my shoulder as I headed toward the stairs.
The old elevator didn’t work correctly, and I wasn’t risking Blair’s safety by riding in it. Besides, she wasn’t heavy, so it wasn’t much of a burden to carry her.
The awesome thing about remodeling an old casino?
We had four floors and nearly fifty rooms. When the demolition finished, there would be fewer rooms and more space since Maddog decided to open it up and create a massive chapel, multiple recreation rooms, and a central bar on the first floor.
This casino was rumored to be nearly as old as the Golden Gate, with roots as one of the pioneer casinos in Las Vegas after Prohibition.
Maddog designated the third floor as the private rooms for the club members. Since the president took an apartment on the top floor as his right, that left Manic and me to choose whatever we wanted before the others arrived. Only Skeletor, the V.P., would get a room on the top floor with Maddog.
I had chosen a room on the corner of the building with a balcony overlooking the mountains instead of the Strip. City lights still shimmered below, but the stars and moon felt close enough to reach out and touch them. I bet Blair would think it was pretty.
The first rooms in the hotel to be cleaned, laundered, and prepped were the ones we stayed in, so my room smelled fresh with a lemony scent, and the wood was all polished to a clear shine.
I didn’t hesitate to lower Blair onto my bed, turn down the blanket, and cover her. She sighed softly in her sleep and rolled onto her side. Her small hand rested on the pillow beside her head as I watched her sleep.
Creepy? Maybe. I didn’t care.
You want her. I want her.
Great. So now he wanted to fucking talk?
She’s ours.
Yeah, we already established that.
We need to protect her.
I knew that. I’d have to deal with Mateo soon.
He needs to die.
In the past, those violent, dark, murderous thoughts had scared me.
I knew what I was capable of, or at least what my other personality was capable of doing.
His bloodlust and need for carnage had freaked me out after I killed the man who murdered my mother.
The hit on our family had backfired when the rival of my father’s motorcycle club went after him.
At the time, he was the V.P. I had been thirteen.
My eyes closed, and I could still feel the warmth leaving my mother’s skin, the fading light in her eyes, and the grip on my hand that loosened as she struggled to breathe.
Four shots had struck her heart in quick succession, throwing her body across the dining room to crash into the table where I had eaten every meal since my birth.
It broke beneath her weight with the impact, shattering into wooden splinters that dug into my knees as I fell beside her.
That was when the second personality, Drake, had risen. He took control so fast that all I remembered were the screams and the blood. I didn’t know what my hands did or what I said. I blinked. . .and I stood over the intruder’s bloody, battered body and stared at the butcher knife in my hand.
He’d been stabbed almost twenty times, his chest and torso a mangled mess of fluid and viscera.
Blood bubbled from his lips before his chest rose and fell one final time.
I didn’t feel remorse or guilt as I watched his soul leave his body.
When the shell remained, I kicked it, hating him for stealing my mother away from us.
My father was never the same after that. He stepped down as V.P. and retired from the club.
Before that day, his entire life revolved around his duties as V.P.
, his Harley, his wife and ol’ lady, and fatherhood, in that order.
Afterward, only fatherhood seemed to matter.
Even his bike took a backseat when the diagnosis came through, and the reality of muscular dystrophy entered into our lives.
I hated those memories, hated it more when they surfaced, and I couldn’t hold them back.
Pushing them from my mind, I pulled a chair close to the bed, watching over Blair. Sure, I could have left a note or asked Lark or Bianca to stay with her. But Drake, that stubborn fucker, wouldn’t allow it. He fought me hard enough that I gave in.
Funny, but he’d been silent in recent years.
When I was on active duty, he thrived on the violence and chaos of battle, even when it was only simulated.
I gained a reputation as a bloodthirsty, vicious killer overseas.
They called me Creature for a reason. First, for becoming a monster when I made my first kill, taking the life of the man who murdered my mother in cold blood.
Second, for being the most ruthless cadet in boot camp.
Third, for my actions during active duty.
I saved more lives than I took, which got noticed, too.
They wanted me to reenlist a second time, but I couldn’t do that to my father.
I came home to help care for him, and that was where I had been for the last few years, rarely visiting Maddog in Las Vegas.
He stayed in another stint after me, though, so he hadn’t been a Marine veteran for long.
So you understand. Mateo has to die.
The voice in my head didn’t belong to me alone. I knew after my ride into the desert that something had shifted. I felt a presence. A shadow of a monster that seemed to merge with Drake. They were part of me, yet still a separate entity.
Strange.
Blair’s arm flopped to the side as she rolled onto her back. I gently lifted her wrist, frowning when I noticed the raised, puffy scar. I didn’t see it before now. The hospital wristband concealed it. My thumb brushed over her skin, wondering what happened to make her want to take her own life.
My heart ached for her as I sucked in a breath. This changed everything.