23. Butch
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
BUTCH
A s I speed upstairs, I formulate my apology to Candy, reciting it under my breath.
“Baby, I’m an idiot. I said things I knew were untrue to protect you when I should’ve talked with you privately about my disappointment.”
Hopefully, those two sentences will be enough to make her give me the time of day. I’ll apologize further if I get that lucky.
Once I’ve reached our suite, I fling the door open. “Sweetness, I’m sorry.”
I’m five feet into the room when I realize she’s not in here. “Candy?”
My feet carry me toward the bedroom area of the suite. She’s not here either.
I check the bathroom next. Empty.
My throat constricts as I check the last place she may hide—the walk-in closet. Eager to see her, I swing the door harder than necessary, hitting the inside wall of the closet. But she’s not inside.
Fuck. This isn’t looking good. I pull out my phone. As a safety precaution, club members’ cells are tracked by our tech department— MC women, too. Not that I would do it without Candy’s permission first.
It’s tempting, but I’m already in the dog house. Do I need another reason to anger her further?
Instead, I ring her.
A buzz sounds from across the room. Following the noise, I come to a stop at the nightstand. Candy’s cell vibrates across the wood top.
Dammit. She must have left it here when she had her counseling session with Brandon. Tracking her location isn’t an option, even if I was desperate.
She can’t be far. There are only so many places she can be in the compound. Leaving the grounds isn’t an option without tech being alerted of the gates moving. We don’t let the women leave the property without a crew member or two accompanying them for protection. When you’re a member of an MC, you can never be overprotective of your woman.
Publicly claimed or not, the crew knows she’s mine to watch over—I go where she goes. One of the brothers would’ve notified me had she tried to leave. Her leaving unnoticed is highly unlikely, not with how tight security is in headquarters.
Pausing, I contemplate where my woman has tucked herself away. Perhaps she went to her old hiding place?
I hurry out of the suite and take the back staircase to the main level, where the storage closet is located.
“Candy?” I ask, opening the door into the dark storage area.
No Candy.
My pulse quickens, worried about where my woman may have gone. And what’s more alarming is, Candy is hiding from me.
Cursing myself for being an ill-tempered jerk, I sweep the main level, coming up empty. The basement level proves fruitless as well.
Heading back upstairs, I’m pounding on the suite door of Candy’s old room.
Red opens the door, her brown eyes blown wide with shock. “What the heck, Butch? ”
“Is Candy in there?” I husk, lifting my chin at the room behind her.
Red’s coppery brows pull together. “No. I thought she stayed with you last night?”
Sonofabitch.
“She did, but she’s MIA at the moment. Any idea where she may have gone?”
She shrugs her slender shoulders, shaking her head. “No clue. Candy goes where she wants.”
No shit. My woman has always done what she wants.
Red’s eyes brighten as she recalls something. She snaps her fingers. “Oh. The girls are meeting at Jo’s around noon for lunch. Maybe Candy went early to help set up?”
Plausible.
“Thanks, Red,” I say in a rush, turning on my heels to head down the hall.
Red calls out behind me. “I’m heading over there now. Do you want me to tell her you’re looking for her?”
“No worries. I’ll find her.”
The only thing stopping me from accompanying Red is my desire to avoid having this conversation in front of a bunch of women. Candy is enough to contend with without the other ladies joining in.
As Red leaves for the lunch gathering, I yank my cell from my cut. Maybe I can convince Candy to talk to me after her girl time with the MC ladies.
Impatient, I dial Jo.
“Hi, Butch,” Jo sing-songs when she answers. Pots and pans rattle in the background in what I’m assuming is Jo working in her kitchen. Or it could be her rascal twins getting into the cupboards again.
“Sorry to bother you, Jo. I know you’re busy getting lunch ready for the ladies. Is Candy there? I need to speak with her.”
“Nope. Not yet. Did you try calling her?”
Flustered, I run a hand over my cropped hair. “I did. Unfortunately, she left her cell in our room. ”
There’s a long pause on the other end of the line before Jo asks in an amused tone, “ Our room ? As in, you and Candy moved in together?”
I’ve always wanted Candy in my space. But hearing Jo referring to Candy and me living together hits home on a profound level.
As soon as possible, I need to arrange for Candy to move into my space permanently. It’s a conversation I don’t want to put off any longer. If she’s in my space, she’ll see how good we are together, right?
And if she’s comfortable living together, she’ll probably be happy being married to one another. Makes perfect sense to me.
“That’s the plan.”
“Wow,” Jo gushes. “That’s awesome, Butch. Such a big step.”
Oh, we’re taking steps alright.
First, we got married in a drunken haze. Second, we slept together for the first time. Third, we agreed to be child-free. And fourth, we’re moving in together.
Yeah, we take BIG steps.
“Thanks, Jo. Sorry to cut this short, but I got a woman to track down.”
“No problem.” And then she disconnects.
There’s another room on this level where Candy may have gone. I’m about to knock on Ebony’s door when Atlas’s previous question pops into my mind. Prez asking if Candy is mine irked me earlier and continues to upset me.
Is Candy mine?
In my head she is.
I mean, yeah, I’m married to her, and I told her I wanted her while we were in a sex-driven craze. But have I done anything to demonstrate my feelings?
Actions speak louder than words, and I need to act quickly before I lose her.
My eyes drift down the hall to the room I left. I have a profound urge to return to Red and Candy’s suite.
Doing an about-face, I stride the few doors down the hall .
Without thinking, I open the door to Candy’s old room. Red has left, and all that remains are her things mixed with Candy’s belongings—belongings that no longer belong in this space.
My feet carry me to the walk-in closet. I flip the switch and find one side with Candy’s things, and the other with Red’s.
The word boundaries rolls around in my head as I raise the sleeve of one of Candy’s sweaters to my nose, breathing in her lingering bubble gum fragrance.
It’s too late for establishing boundaries. She fucked me, let me eat the cream between her legs, and slept in my arms. More importantly, the woman is my wife, making her my woman in name and law.
Pissed at me or not, she’s mine.
Mine to love. Mine to hold. Mine to keep.
And it’s about time I drive that point home to Candy.
She can hide from me for the moment. But when the day ends—after we’ve aired our grievances—she’ll be resting in our bed, in our room, with me lying beside her. No more of this her space, my space bullshit.
Ripping hangers from the bar, I fill my arms with her belongings and transport them across the hall to the closet in our room.
I’m overstepping big time. She’ll rage, and I’ll let her.
As long as she’s in my space, sharing it with me, I’ll take her lashings.
Hell, I’m kind of looking forward to seeing how she’ll take it out on me. My cock looks forward to it.
Ignoring my stiffening dick, I continue to move loads of clothes from Candy’s old room into ours. I’m on my third trek back to our suite when I run into Tank and Ziggy in the hallway.
“Butch?” Ziggy asks, with a raised eyebrow. “What are you doing?”
Not stopping, I muscle my way through them. “You’re smart, Zig. Figure it out.”
The two of them follow me as I place the load of Candy’s clothes opposite mine in our closet .
“Uuuh,” Tank muses aloud, scratching his big head. “It looks like you’re moving your woman in, right?”
Dick that I am, I pat his chest as I pass him out of the closet. “Gold star, Marine. I’m sure I can find some crayons around here for you to chew on as a reward for your clever observation.”
“I like crayons,” Tank says, smiling proudly like a schoolboy before his face morphs into a scowl. “Wait a second. Are you poking fun at me?”
“No time to explain it to you, Crayola boy. As you can see, I’m busy.”
My best friend is not as amused with my antics. Ziggy follows me, hot on my heels. “Butch, you’ve got to be shitting me. Moving Candy into your room without her knowledge won’t do you any favors.”
“Whoa!” Tank chuckles. “She doesn’t know? Talk about taking control of the situation. I like it.”
He glances down the hall at Ebony’s door, his expression one of longing. “I’d do it, too, if I didn’t fear Eb cutting off my cock in my sleep.”
“My cock is already Candy’s to do with as she wishes.” I grab another armful of clothes, retreating from the room. “And I expect she will.”
“Then why do it?”
“Because she’s mine,” I declare heatedly. “She belongs in my space with me.”
Ziggy gets in front of me, blocking my path. “Bro, I get you’re pissed with her going over your head. Rightly so. However, you seem to be a little skull-fucked at the moment. Let me break it down for you. This isn’t the way to handle an argument with your partner. You can’t be making final decisions regarding your living arrangements without including Candy’s preferences.”
“I beg to differ. I think this is the perfect time to push forward. She’s already mad at me. Might as well do all the things that’ll piss her off in one blow. Gets all the unpleasant shit out of the way.”
My best friend gives me a pointed look. “Bro, she’s not the type to roll over and take it.”
Ain’t that the truth?
“I’ll take whatever punishment comes my way,” I say, with a smirk. “Enough with the pep talk. Either get out of my way, or I’ll force you to move.”
Ziggy barks out a mocking laugh, waving his hand at me. “How? Your arms are full.”
He thinks he can call my bluff. Too bad for him. I’m not bullshitting. Nothing and nobody is going to derail my decision.
I look at Tank and motion with my chin at Ziggy. “Move him.”
Our giant brother looks between the two of us before shrugging his shoulders. He hoists Ziggy under his armpits, above his head.
“What the fuck?!” Ziggy shrieks, with his feet dangling in the air like a squirmy kid. Ziggy is as big as me, but we all look puny compared to Tank.
Tank places him back on his feet on the opposite side of the hallway, clearing my path.
“Stay,” Tank orders in a stern voice, like he’s speaking to one of Atlas and Jo’s Cane Corsos—Hades or Runt.
“The hell I will. I’m not a dog, asshole.”
While Tank plays interference, I drop off my woman’s things before returning for more of her stuff. Ziggy and Tank continue to rumble in the hallway as I empty her closet of the last of her belongings and place them in mine.
Ziggy must have juked Tank out as he reappears at my side, panting like he’s out of breath. “Dude, you need to come back from your trip down Delusional Lane. Candy is going to lose her shit once she sees you’ve invaded her space and meshed it with yours without her consent.”
“I’ll handle it,” I say defiantly, continuing to load my arms with her things.
Ziggy grabs fistfuls of his blond curly hair. “I’m trying to help you, Butch!”
“Then fucking help me,” I snap at him, motioning with my empty hand to the room. “Grab her stuff and move it. Enough of the lecturing. I know what hot water I’m going to be in, and I don’t care.”
“Bro! Snap out of it.”
My best friend means well, but I’ve heard enough. I say the one thing to shut him up or any other brother who challenges my actions.
“She’s my old lady. Her place is with me.”
Like I suspect, Ziggy is stunned, his mouth dropping open.
Yeah, I said it. Made my claim out loud for anyone in earshot to hear.
Tank nods appreciatively, moving into the bedroom. He waves a finger at the two dressers. “Which one is hers?”
“The one near the window.”
Needing no other prompting, Tank removes a drawer from her dresser and passes it to Ziggy.
“But—” Ziggy protests.
Tank shakes his head. “No buts. Biker code—she’s his property.”
“More like I’m hers,” I mutter under my breath, collecting her favorite blanket from the back of the couch.
The three of us work quickly, hauling her things across the hall to our shared space.
During the move, Punk walks by the old suite and immediately backpedals, stopping in the doorway. His face stretches into a wide grin as he takes in the chaos we’ve created.
“Oooo,” he sniggers, rubbing his hands together like some cartoon villain. “This fight is going to be epic. I’m putting everything on Candy for the win.”
Tank snorts. “Dude has got a death wish. Not our place to reason. He’s claimed her. End of discussion.”
Punk looks at me, his smile growing wider. “No shit? Congratulations, my man.” His smile falls, his expression somber. “Or should I be giving you my condolences? Seeing as you’re a dead man walking.” He breaks out into a fit of giggles at his own joke, like the annoying pain- in-the-ass he is.
I roll my eyes, taking his ribbing. Punk’s not exactly wrong. There will be a blowout. Though I’m hoping the make-up sex will be worth the war.
Ziggy shakes his head at me disapprovingly, muttering, “You’re in so much trouble.”
His opinion means squat. This is happening—approval or not.
As we clear the room of Candy’s belongings, we move on to the bigger pieces. We’re in the middle of maneuvering her dresser into the hallway when we run into a bit of trouble. It’s a doublewide, heavy piece of solid oak furniture. Even with the drawers removed, it weighs a shit-ton. It’ll look nice among my furnishings, blending us together perfectly, as long as we can haul the beast to its new spot.
“Pivot. Pivot. Pivot!” Punk directs, acting like the foreman of our motley crew.
Ziggy drops his end of the dresser in an angry huff. “Shut up. Shut up. SHUT UP!”
Tank and I are laughing at Ziggy’s Friends’ reference when a little feminine gasp catches us off guard.
The four of us snap to attention, looking down the hall where the sound came from.
Red stands at one end, covering her mouth with her hand in shocked disbelief.
“Um.” I swallow the thick ball of dread in my throat. The danger heading my way has suddenly become very real.
No turning back now.
“Hi, friend .” My voice comes out higher than normal for my ragged vocal cords. I clear my throat, steadying my nerves before trusting myself to speak again. “You’re back early.”
Red drops her hand from her mouth, bewildered. “I forgot my phone. Reaper doesn’t like me going anywhere without it.”
“Completely agree with him.” I nod, attempting to be nonchalant as I lean against Candy’s dresser—the dresser I’m stealing from her old roommate’s bedroom.
Nothing out of the ordinary to see here .
Red looks between all of us, the dresser, and the open doors between our suites. She shakes her head at me, sympathy in her sad eyes. “Shoot, Butch. I really liked you.”
Liked? As in past tense?
Am I that screwed?
For a fleeting second, I consider telling the guys to retreat, returning Candy’s things to her old space. I quickly dismiss the notion. This is what I want. She and I are meant to be—I’m moving things along.
The leggy redhead must see the determination in my expression. She releases a resigning sigh. “You’re good for her. But you know she’s going to tan your hide, right?”
“That’s what I told him,” Ziggy pipes in, throwing me under the bus.
“Traitor,” I mumble at my best friend.
With a shake of my head, I turn my attention away from Ziggy and lock eyes with Tank. He motions for me to move out of his way.
“Go, bro!” He grunts, lifting the heavy dresser up by himself. “Time to hustle.”
As Red hurries off to go tattle on me to Candy, I race back into her old suite in search of anything I may have overlooked. I’ve got about five minutes max before my angry goddess comes and wails on my ass—literally.