Chapter 7
Cruz
The clubhouse used to be an old flour factory.
I’m not sure when the guys converted it or bought it.
I could have asked for dates and details, but it didn’t seem important months ago, when I first considered prospecting with the club and got my brief history lesson as I was shown around and picked out a room for myself.
That was day one. Day two was already taken up with me redesigning the club’s gym—as Tyrant and Raiden asked me to do, sketching out a workable space, and making a list of new equipment.
I’d found myself in Hart on the way to somewhere else.
Patti, who owns Patterson’s diner on the edge of town, told me that first night when I stopped in for a late burger because I was exhausted after riding for too many hours, that Hart was like the ‘Hotel California’ of the Pacific Northwest because so many people checked in, but never checked out.
Rather than that being ominous, she explained to me that many people over the years passed through, searching for something, even they didn’t know they were looking for and found it in the small town.
She suggested that if I was doing the same, without any particular destination in mind, I might find a home over at the clubhouse.
She gave me directions, eyed me up, and told me that if I was in the market for some found family, I’d be a good fit.
I expected the clubhouse to be full of drugs, violent men, loose women, and enough booze to fill up a small lake.
I didn’t find any of that. Granted, it was a Wednesday night, but even on weekends, the clubhouse doesn’t get all that rowdy, especially not anymore, when a lot of the guys have families or at least old ladies.
I can tell that as soon as the three of us walk through the compound where Liam parked his shitty old car, Sloane is already bracing herself.
Inside, she finds the same thing I found seven months ago. Exposed brick walls, original hardwood floors, open ductwork in the ceilings, impressive beams, and a whole lot of history and character.
History from the building.
Character from the people.
Liam sets his hand protectively on Sloane’s shoulder, but it might be more to keep her moving through the back hallway in a forward direction, than in actual comfort.
I spent most of the night staring at the door, doing battle with myself, too focused on certain things, and not enough on others.
I have my orders, but they’re not all that clear, and I could use answers as badly as Sloane could.
I wasn’t sure if she’d go for the idea, but I texted Tyrant and Wizard anyway, to ask them what they thought.
As I thought, they were fine if I brought Sloane to the clubhouse.
Honestly, if I hadn’t, I think they might have been more confused.
Her whole life has been shaken. Of course she wants to find her center and set it back to rights.
Wizard’s office is near the back of the clubhouse. As we approach, Sloane’s eyes are burning bright. Even under the not so great fluorescent lighting, they’re so vibrant and deep, and… pretty.
His room is filled with screens. Big ones, mounted to the walls, smaller ones on the other side, screens lining the desks side by side, monitors, tablets, and phones all over the place.
At the center of it all, is the club’s tech genius. Wizard is a nice guy, though he hides away in his room a lot of the time. He taught Dravin and Maverick about the club’s security, as the whole thing grew and expanded, and they’re both in here with him. I guess Wizard took my text seriously.
All three men wear big smiles. Maverick extends a hand, then Dravin follows, and eventually Wizard. Sloane shakes all three, then glances at Liam and over at me.
“You have questions,” Wizard says, getting right into it. “So do we. Lots. I thought it might be best if we sat down and explained what we’re doing and then try and answer everything for you that we can.”
Sloane’s head tilts, tracking left and right, then up and down, as she takes everything in. A little gasp escapes her lips, and she points to a big monitor with the screen split into six boxes. “Oh my god. Is that… is that my shop? And… my apartment?”
“Yeah, Mom, we installed all those cameras yesterday. You can watch the café and everything while we’re talking.” Liam slips an arm around Sloane’s shoulders and gives her a bracing hug.
Liam might be young, but he’s always struck me as more contemplative than a lot of kids his age, even if he can be louder with the guys if he wants to be.
I didn’t understand how deeply his relationship with his mom ran until I saw them together.
The fact that he’s completely unafraid of anyone making fun of him for it, says a lot about him, but also a lot about this place. Family comes first. Always.
“I guess my first question is—uh, why now? Why not months ago?”
“We’re doing the best we can to figure that part out too.
That’s why it’s so important to try and hack into these guys’ communications, to see what they’re currently talking about, and what they might know, if anything.
” Wizard’s eyes flick to me. “Cruz staying with you both is just a precaution, but that’s what we do here.
We don’t just find out about a potential threat and shrug it off.
We take it seriously. Why now, is only because we only just learned about it. ”
Liam flushes red, but nods. “That’s right.” He glances over his shoulder at me right as I run my hand along the scruff on my jaw. “Are you going to grab a shower and meet us back here?”
It’s a kind offer. I brought a duffel bag yesterday but didn’t have a chance to suggest that I invade Sloane’s bathroom.
That felt far too intimate, and I also didn’t want to take my eyes off the screens I had on my phone, or off the door.
It might seem extreme, but I guess that’s just me.
I’m conditioned for tough jobs and the worst possible outcome. Maybe I need to learn to relax.
Now that Sloane and Liam are in good hands and Wizard can explain to both of them what he’s doing, I can duck out for twenty minutes of privacy.
I nod to confirm. Sloane turns too, and her eyes lock with mine.
They’re so, so green. So bright. A totally different shade than most. They’re not like grass, trees, moss, or gems. They’re a hue entirely their own.
I admire the way she squares her shoulders and stands up straight, determined to find the strength to get through this.
Her strength isn’t just a show for Liam because she’s used to having to be strong.
She’s tough. Smart. Beautiful. Remarkable.
I leave the room and head down the hallway before my dick joins in the conversation.
It noticed Sloane in a big way last night, speaking up loud and clear.
It’s been a struggle to keep my mind occupied and not replay all the positions Sloane pretzeled herself into last night and how she looked doing it in those tight, defining pants.
Fuck.
I can barely breathe by the time I make it down the long back hallway.
It’s lined with doors, each one leading to a room.
Most guys have kept their rooms, though many of them have houses outside the clubhouse.
I don’t, and even though I’m just a prospect, I was given one of the few remaining rooms with a small bathroom attached.
It’s a bigger space, and came furnished with a bed, nightstand, dresser, and a bookcase.
Rather than looking like a prison cell or maybe a college dorm room, it was more like a hotel room when I moved in, tasteful but impersonal.
I’ve left it that way because it was better decorating than anything I could ever hope to put together, and it seemed that someone cared enough to try and make the place look homey.
I slam the code into the keypad and burst through the door. I shut it, my heart beating too fast. There’s no getting myself under control. I can’t remember the last time I was this hard, or a time when I ever wanted to do something about it as badly as I do now.
Do I need a shower and a shave? Yes, but I also need to rub one out and get myself back in line.
People look at soldiers and they think that they have no feelings, especially after the shit goes down, but the truth is, there’s a lot of feeling going on in there.
They try to lock it away, compartmentalize it, and some might even be good at that, but most aren’t, and it gets messy.
Locking shit away destroys a man. I never wanted to be that.
I let myself feel everything, reconcile what I could, and move on.
That was all up in my head, though. I’m used to ignoring my body, disciplining it, depriving it, but this roaring need? It’s almost borderline unhinged.
I don’t like it.
Not one bit.
Even as I strip and get in the shower, I know that what I’m going to do is wrong.
Sloane is a job. She’s Liam’s mom and one day, we’re going to be club brothers.
I shouldn’t be beating off to thoughts of her in tight yoga pants, that little strip of skin that showed on her belly when she got into the handstand, or of her beautiful eyes and that rare, soft smile of hers.
I shouldn’t be thinking about the way she felt when she slammed into my arms as I caught her.
The heat of her skin, her soft curves, the wiry strength in her body, or her sleek muscles that are so different than mine.
I can’t teach her anything about self-defense with a hard-on from hell, so it’s either do this and never think about it again or call off not starting to train her.
I can’t do that. It wouldn’t be right. She needs to know how to protect herself.
If I have my way, I’ll also take her to Bullet’s range and teach her how to shoot.
I get the shower going and step under the lukewarm spray. It’s a small stall with a curtain instead of a glass door because the room is way too small for that. I yank the black fabric across the opening and immediately get my hand over my cock.
It’s an ugly dick. I mean, I’m not sure cocks are pretty, but right now, mine looks aggressively painful. Feels that way too. It’s practically purple at the tip, leaking strands of precum everywhere.
I hiss as I wrap my fist around the base of myself.
My mind immediately shifts gears, going from horny as fuck to illicit pretty damn quick.
Instead of seeing Sloane in those tight yoga pants, I imagine her pulling back the shower curtain, standing there in her jeans and bright funky sweater that she had on this morning.
I don’t undress her in my head. I imagine her watching me, naked, soaking wet, stroking my cock for her.
I imagine how her face would change, how those lovely eyes would light up with desire, and how her plush lips would part to allow quick breaths through.
I think about the red flush that might stain her cheeks and neck.
How she’d rub her thighs together and how her breasts would rise and fall with every sharp inhale.
Would she give commands, or would she just watch?
No, I’m the silent one. I can almost hear her voice, ordering me to stroke myself. Harder. Faster. To touch my balls. To brush my thumb over my swollen head and press into the slit.
Jesus Fuck. My body is a machine, but right now, it’s a machine out of my control.
I haven’t got out of my head since I first set eyes on Sloane. I’ve heard things about her, from Liam. Plenty, actually, but I was entirely unprepared for… God. I have no idea how to define it. I don’t know what’s going on.
I doubt that this is going to accomplish anything other than to tone things down a little. Hopefully that will be enough to let my brain take over my body again.
There’s nothing about this that I want to get over with.
No release has ever consumed me like this.
I’m scattered and frayed. I’m burning and fevered.
I can’t stop thinking about Sloane’s lips and how it would be to taste them.
All I know is that I’d like to be able to focus, get my shit together, and not freak Sloane out with a boner while we’re sparring on the mats.
My cock kicks in my hand and my brain short circuits.
I concentrate on long, hard strokes, circling my tip at the end, and brushing my thumb over the slit.
I press down hard, sending sensation careening through my body.
I slam my hand against the wall and lean into the pleasure, stroking harder and harder until I come in a rush.
White jets paint the wall in front of me as my cock kicks, over and over again.
I come so hard that my vision blanks out, and I’m glad I have a hand out to steady myself.
“Okay.” The word rasps out of me, mostly because my lungs are completely empty and it’s hard to suck in another breath. I don’t know who I’m talking to. My dick, or me?
My brain continues the little pep-talk for me, so I don’t have to do it out loud.
Get your shit together. This happens exactly once. Sloane is off-limits. Thoughts of her are off-limits. She’s a big, hard no. You’re in control of your emotions and your feelings, and that includes your cock. Stick to what you’re good at, and you won’t have a problem.
I don’t know about that. I just jizzed all over the wall like a fucking cannon going off, and I’m still buzzing under my skin. I think that’s a pretty big fucking problem.