CHAPTER 8
ADDYSON
I was not paying attention last night when Mayhem, I mean Briggs, led me to his room. To be honest, I just followed the big dangerous biker without a second thought. There wasn’t a lot of thinking as I allowed myself to break in his arms either.
Let’s not even think about how I allowed him to undress me and then slide his own shirt, direct from his body, on me. I’ve never had a man look at me the way he did. It was more than hunger or even want. It was a need that ran deeper than I wanted to think about last night.
Now, with morning light peeking in through the curtains and the bed empty next to me, I’m not sure what to think.
I’m glad I was able to take a shower, with all my stuff, and put on my clothing, including underwear.
I don’t think I would be able to handle being on the run without something that is mine.
It’s silly to find comfort in skin care, but here we are.
I’m feeling a little better after getting off the phone with Tallulah and Jensen. They told me to go and grab some breakfast and that they would start preparing for me to come to New Orleans.
My gut is telling me Mayhem won’t react well to such a plan. With Wagner being an unknown, hiding feels like the smart, and only, thing to do. I see no reason to run headlong into danger. I’m not a fan of horror movies, thanks, too much screaming.
Now that my best friend and the brother I never asked for know I’m safe, I can admit just how hungry I am. It could be my imagination, but I swear I smell bacon.
“You’re not a prisoner,” I mumble to myself from the doorway of Mayhem’s room. I’m gnawing on my lip as I stare down the hall. “Go and find the man who snuck out of bed this morning.”
That gets my feet moving. I’m not exactly sure what I expected, but waking up alone was not it. The worst part? I slept better than I had in days. Not a single nightmare touched me. I didn’t hear his voice whispering in my ear.
I feel like I can think again. Exhaustion is no fucking joke.
When I freeze, the sound of men talking with a few female notes coming from the doorway ahead of me and to the right, I realize I’ve actually tiptoed down the hallway. I must look fucking ridiculous.
I run my fingers through my hair before pulling it up into a messy bun with sharp, angry movements. I can’t help it. I’m frustrated as hell.
When I pad into the kitchen in slippers because an overnight bag isn’t complete without slippers when you don’t know where you’ll be walking, all conversation halts.
Right. Okay.
This is fine and not at all awkward.
Upon my initial sweep of the room, I don’t see a single person I recognize. Of course, that could be because everyone blurs together. Because I’m awesome, I wave awkwardly.
“Good morning,” I chirp the words and fight the desire to run back to Mayhem’s room. “I’m Addyson.”
Embarrassment heats my face. Just when I’m about to turn away and slip right back through the same door I came through, Mayhem—ahem, Briggs—is there. His large hand finds the small of my back and his touch grounds me.
“Good morning, Tempest,” his voice has a softness to it that makes me want to wrap my arms around him and never let him go. It’s silly, but true. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you woke up. I was hoping you’d sleep a little longer and I’d be back with a plate for you by then.”
I clear my throat, unable to stop myself from glancing around. Everyone is listening to our conversation, and no one is pretending not to.
Great. They’re also nosey.
Perfect.
I shouldn’t be surprised. My brothers are some of the nosiest people I’ve ever met. As much as they loved making fun of me when I was a teenager about gossiping with Tallulah, they have spent a lot of time trying to uncover things about my life.
The only good thing about them being overprotective was that if a guy was going to get scared away by my brothers, then he wasn’t ever going to be the guy for me. Briggs is solid as he stands at my side.
“Let me say it again,” his voice carries through the room, and everyone’s eyes are on him, “this is Addyson.”
I notice the redhead from last night sulking in a corner. The death glare she’s sending me is pretty clear, but I’m not worried about her.
If Mayhem was doing more than showering me with pretty words last night, he won’t touch her. If he does, I’m done. It’s just that simple as far as I’m concerned.
“She’s here for our protection,” his words feel unfinished, but what he’s said isn’t technically wrong.
It just feels that way.
“You will treat Addyson with respect. You will keep your hands off her.”
Men in leather grunt and nod as they study me. “You good with a few introductions?”
I glance around before looking up into Briggs’s crystal blue eyes. “Will there be food involved?”
One side of his mouth tips up in a sinful smirk. “Of course.”
I relax against his side, letting him take more of my weight. “Then I’m good. I haven’t had much of an appetite.”
He nods as his jaw ticks and his eyes flash with anger. I don’t think he’s angry at me though. If I were Geoffrey Wagner, I’d be a little concerned. The dirty cop probably won’t be though; he’s gotten away with doing whatever he wants without consequences for a while.
Briggs leads me over to a table and when we get closer, I do recognize Rampage and Anchor even though last night was kind of a blur. Hell, the last three days have been a blur. I’ll be perfectly happy to get off this rollercoaster.
Anytime now would be great.
Rampage grins at me from ear to ear and I’m a little worried he’s going to drop to his knees again. His voice is bold and carries, “Good morning, Addy. How did you sleep?”
“Good,” I tell him even though it does little to convey the depth of how well I ended up sleeping. “Thank you.”
The look Briggs gives Rampage should have that smile dropping from his face. It doesn’t. If anything, it grows wider. I might be more curious about the whole thing if I wasn’t starving.
When Mayhem guides me to a chair at the head of the table, everyone sucks in a breath. I glance up at the man, but he looks like a proud fucking peacock with his chest puffed up. My stomach grumbles and I’m so grateful that my appetite returned that I just can’t find it in me to be embarrassed.
Mayhem points around the table with each name he fires off, “You met Rampage and Anchor last night.” I nod and smile softly. “I want to feed you, so this is going to be quick, Tempest.”
I look at the faces of the other men around the table along with one woman who has the same blue eyes as Briggs. Meeting his parents right now would be the cherry on top of this awkward and strange sundae. It’s not like I can stop this train now. I’m on it until the last stop.
When I nod, he points with every name and position he says. “Reaper; Secretary. Cash; Treasurer. Doc; medic. Road Rage; Road Captain.” Then he points to an older gentleman whose jawline looks familiar. “Battle is the former president and my father. His Old Lady and my mom, Tonya.”
The smile on my face feels wobbly as I make eye contact with Battle and Tonya. “It’s nice to meet all of you.” The words come out a lot steadier than I was expecting.
“Ripper and Duckie are out doing the President’s bidding,” Rampage leans toward me from his seat across the table, the plate of food in front of him completely forgotten. I eye it, more than a little jealous because it looks delicious.
I nod absently as Briggs kisses my temple. “I’ll grab you a plate.” When I smile up at him, his blue eyes sparkle with something far sweeter than attraction. Whatever it is feels too big for first thing in the morning. He prompts me, “Coffee?”
“Yes, please,” my manners are still strong, even here. “And I really like more sugar and flavoring in my coffee than coffee.”
“Me too,” Tonya pipes up as the men around the table grimace.
When I look over at her, she winks at me before she watches her son with unbridled curiosity. Even she looks surprised at the way he’s treating me. I’m not sure what it means yet, but it’s interesting.
Briggs chuckles before giving my shoulder a squeeze and sauntering over to the kitchen side of the room. I watch him go for a moment, but it’s not really my fault. The way the man fills out a pair of jeans should be illegal. Honestly.
It’s simply not fair.
And it’s incredibly distracting.
I can feel Sin’s eyes boring into me from across the room, but I don’t bother looking her way. If she wants a reaction from me, she’s going to be missing out.
I’m not going to fight for a man, not even Briggs.
Why would I? If a man wants to be with me then he’s not going to put his time and effort into someone else too.
Sure, time and effort isn’t exactly required when it’s a club angel involved, but Tallulah already told me about how unlikely it is for an angel to be claimed and wear a property cut.
And anyway, she’s not the only person looking at me. No, most people are taking me in. I guess I can’t blame them considering I’m the new girl around here. That doesn’t mean I’m comfortable with it.
My eyes dart around the table, but no one is looking at me with hostility. No, only Sin is doing that but she’s not close enough to matter. Not right now. I look around the room and realize there are more club members to meet.
“I’m not going to remember everyone’s name,” I mutter the words, not intending to say my fear out loud. Apparently, the stress of the last few days has fucked with my ability to keep my internal thoughts to myself.
Hopefully, the problem won’t persist.
“Don’t worry about it,” Tonya tells me. “No one is going to hold it against you, and you get a little help since brothers have their names on their cut there for you to read.”
My shoulders slump and I nod while giving her a small smile. “That’s true. I didn’t even think of that,” I admit. My sigh is heavy as I confess, “I really shouldn’t be meeting people before I have my coffee.”
A mug and a plate land on the table in front of me. When I look up, Briggs is looking down at me with soft eyes and a small smile. “I’m not sure that you can call it coffee, but here it is.”
I arch an eyebrow at him, the challenge clear in my expression.
I don’t look away from him as I bring the mug up to my lips and take a sip.
My eyes close without me meaning to as I moan softly.
“It’s perfect.” When I open my eyes, he looks damn proud of himself.
I tease him, “If this whole president of a motorcycle club gig doesn’t work out, you should consider becoming a barista. ”
Briggs chuckles as he sits down next me, scooting his chair as close to me as he can get. “I have no problem having a side hustle as your barista,” he rumbles, his eyes flashing with lust as he looks me over.
“Personal barista is an unpaid position,” I fire back at him.
He grins and sits back in his chair like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Maybe he doesn’t. “That’s fine, I think the perks will be enough of a reason to take the job.”
I make a humming sound before glancing around the table. Everyone’s eyes are wide as they look between the two of us like we’re the most entertaining thing since vaudeville. The bacon on my plate is calling to me along with the fluffy eggs.
Clearly these people aren’t used to seeing their president act this way. That sounds like their problem and nothing I need to get involved with. As I tuck into my food, I look around again.
I’m surprised with how clean everything is. I noticed last night, but was a little too high on adrenaline and fear to take it in. I have no doubt that Tonya is behind the cleanliness. The groan I let out when I eat my first bite of egg borders on indecent.
Briggs grumbles something under his breath while shifting in his seat.
I shoot him a strange look but then go right back to eating.
I hope I don’t lose my appetite again; it was awful.
Maybe my body knows I’m safe now. It’s a feeling Briggs gives me effortlessly, but I’m not ready to examine all the reasons why that is.
Not now, maybe not ever.
Between bites I mutter, “I don’t think I’ve ever been surrounded by this much leather at one time. It’s very distracting.”
Tonya grins and Battle snorts out a laugh while I try not to read more into the situation, seeing as I’ve already met Briggs’s parents, than I should. It would have been strange if he hadn’t introduced me since we’re all sitting around a table together.
Briggs eyes me before looking toward his mom and asking, “Where’s Arch?”
Her lips thin while rolling her eyes. “He’s doing what most almost 18-year-old boys are doing right now—sleeping because he stayed up late playing video games or whatever it was he was doing.” Her face scrunches up and she shakes her head, “I don’t need to know if he was doing anything else, okay?”
I can’t help but chuckle and when our gazes lock, her smile widens and she winks. As the conversation flows around me and I finish up my breakfast, a sense of belonging wraps around me. When Briggs’s hand finds my knee and gives a squeeze, it shouldn’t feel so damn good.
But it does and I never want the feeling to fade.
Fuck. I’m in trouble here.