Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
DEUCE
I pull into The End parking lot and spy one light on the second floor.
After the last time, I’m not expecting a warm welcome, but this shit has to get done.
Actually, I could’ve told Ace to come here and warn her while I headed to the apartment to lie down.
Me being here has little to do with precaution and everything to do with me wanting to see her again.
I bang on the shitty door until I hear movement on the other side.
“Who’s there?” her unmistakable rasp shoots right to my gut, then lower.
“Deuce,” I wheeze. “I gotta talk to you.”
“What part of ‘I don’t want to see you again’ didn’t you understand?”
“Don’t fuck around. It’s important.”
“Then you can tell me through the door. Or better yet, send me a text.”
I heave out a sigh. “Just open the fuckin’ door,” I shout, and my head throbs harder. I lean my hand against the doorjamb, and my head dips from the sheer pain of holding it up.
The door whips open, and I slowly raise my head.
“Holy shit, what the fuck happened to you?”
“Had a run-in with a friend of yours.”
When she steps away from the door, I move past her and head straight for the bar. Thankfully, the Blanton’s is still where we left it with the same amount of booze. I guess she doesn’t like to drink alone.
I pop the cork, flip over a glass and splash in a healthy amount of the smoky liquid. I cautiously bring it to my bruised lips, gulp it down, then refill it.
“You and I don’t have any mutual friends.” She follows me to the bar.
“Sure we do—Viper.” I spit his name out exactly how I feel.
“He’s no friend of mine.” She retrieves her own glass and fills it.
“Not what he said. His exact words were that you belong to him and the Dogs.”
“Ha, that’s a laugh. I don’t belong to anybody.”
“Yeah, well, he also threatened me and then you.”
“So, this is you—what?” She waves her hand between us. “Putting me in more danger.”
“If you’re connected to the Dogs, you’re already in danger.”
She rounds the bar and reaches up to my face. “Viper did this?”
“Viper, his enforcer and his lame-ass VP.”
She slowly nods. “Bullet.”
“You do know all the players.” I swig back more bourbon. “Which tells me you are part of the Dogs.”
“Not anymore.”
“Nah, once you’re in, you’re in.”
“Women aren’t members.”
“No shit, but the same rules apply. In some cases, they’re harder on the women ‘cause a lot of secrets are shared when a guy is shooting his load.” I oughta know. Exactly how I lost my clubhouse five years ago.
“None of that applies to me anymore.”
“As long as Viper’s alive and breathing, he’ll think you still belong to him and the Dogs.”
“I wasn’t with Viper and am not with him now.”
That throws me off. It was Viper who was pressuring her the other day about selling to him, and why else would he use her as leverage in a threat earlier?
“Does he know that? ‘Cause he ain’t the type to give up easy.”
“I was never with Viper.” She lowers her gaze and shakes her head. “Geez, give me some credit.”
“So why was he here the other day? Why would he warn me against you if you ain’t his property?”
“Shit, how I hate that term. Property! Just like your Harley and your clubhouse. Only your motorcycle gets more respect.”
“I didn’t make the rules, babe.”
“No, but I’m sure you follow them to the letter just like Viper and the rest of them. Women are only a step above a prospect, and that’s only ‘cause we can take your dick.”
“Don’t put the Kings with the Dogs, and don’t fuckin’ put my name in the same sentence as Viper.”
She gives me a once-over. “Looks the same to me.”
“Ahhh, c’mon, I’m much prettier.” I try to grin, but it hurts too fuckin’ much. “Maybe not tonight, but you get the idea.”
“If it wears a cut, drinks Jack Daniels, and rides a Harley . . .”
“One big difference. I don’t own people. I take responsibility for them.”
She shifts, and her robe separates just enough to get an eyeful of her cleavage, and yeah, my dick also notices her tits outlined in the sheer material of her tank top. Beat to shit, can barely stand or see straight, yet she’s got my cock ready and willing.
She angles my chin toward the light. “You really should let me clean out some of those cuts.”
As much as I’d like to have her soft hands on me, my main objective is to warn her about Viper, and I did that. Lame excuse to see her again, but I don’t need Viper showing up for round two, especially when I’m in no shape to defend myself or her.
“I’m gonna head out ‘cause I’m no good to either one of us like this.” I motion to my face. “But I’ll be back tomorrow, and then we’re gonna figure shit out.”
I did what I came to do, thinking seeing her would be enough. Get her out of my system and move the hell on.
“Like what?”
“You’re gonna tell me your connection to the Dogs, then we’re gonna decide how to fix this dump up.”
“I told you I’m not selling.”
“I know what you told me, but it looks like you need me and the Kings as much as I need you. I mean we need you—I mean your building.” Shit, when did I forget how to fuckin’ talk?
She stares at me but doesn’t say anything. For the first time since I met her, she doesn’t fire back some bitchy, hard-ass comment, so I take it as a win.
I gulp down the rest of the bourbon, lay my glass on the bar and spin toward the door. I take four steps, and the room tilts like somebody shoved me hard. I stumble, then brace myself against the bar.
“Are you all right?” Sammie ducks under my arm to support me.
I suck in a few breaths to steady myself, and my chest rattles. “Those assholes must’ve cracked a rib.”
“There’s no way you can ride.” She anchors my arm around her shoulder. “I can’t believe you were even able to get here in this condition.”
“Hey, I’m the prez of the Kings of Anarchy.” I smirk at her. “I can do anything.”
“Not tonight, you can’t.” She angles me away from the bar, heading toward the back of the room.
“Where we goin’?”
“Upstairs to my bedroom.”
“Any other time, that would sound like a damn good fuckin’ idea, but . . .”
“So you can lie down.” She dramatically rolls her eyes. “And I can take a look at the damage.”
“You a nurse or something?”
“Not technically, but over the years, I’ve seen and taken care of my fair share of stab wounds, broken bones, and once even a bullet wound.”
“Now I’m really interested and impressed.”
SAMMIE
I anchor his huge, muscled arm around my shoulder, then wrap my other arm around his waist. Every part of this man is like a coiled spring. Tight and firm without an ounce of unwanted flesh.
I guide him to the stairs, grab onto the banister, and we slowly make our way up the steep staircase. So steep and narrow, we are shoulder to shoulder and hip to hip. At five-feet-six, I’ve never considered myself short, but this man towers over me. Even the steps creak under his size.
His breathing is labored, and when we get to the landing, I stop and let him regroup. He shudders in a breath, leaning on me and the wall.
“You should probably get your chest x-rayed tomorrow just to make sure the rib didn’t puncture the lung.”
“It didn’t.”
“And how would you know?”
He pushes off the wall, and I guide him down the short hall to my room. “‘Cause I punctured a lung a few years ago, and believe me, this ain’t that.”
“I’m sure that’s a very interesting story.”
“Kinda like sucking air out of a straw.”
I push the door open, and we enter my little space. “Right now, we should concentrate on getting you comfortable.”
He pauses inside the door. “Much different than downstairs.”
I look at the small, tidy apartment through his eyes and see lived-in but clean furniture, an area rug, a compact galley kitchen with a counter and two stools. “This was the first space I fixed up, and since I had to live here, I made sure it was dust- and dirt-free.”
“I get it. Can’t stand fuckin’ dirt and clutter either.”
“Ahhhh, something we have in common.” I ease him onto the ancient couch, then straighten. “I’ll be right back.”
I head for the bathroom, and he calls out, “You got any booze up here?”
“No, and anyway, you might have a concussion, so you probably shouldn’t have even had what you drank downstairs.”
I return with my trusty first-aid kit and pop it open.
“Shit, I think you could perform surgery with all the shit you got in there.”
“I believe in being prepared.” I rip open an antiseptic wipe. “This might sting.”
He remains quiet watching me, and when I press against and wipe the open cut on his cheekbone, he doesn’t even flinch. Impressive.
I use a few more wipes, then open a Super Skin package, extract a Band-Aid and apply it to his cheekbone. I clean the other minor cuts, and his eyes never leave mine.
“You’re pretty good at this.”
“Like I said, lots of practice.”
“Must’ve come in handy when you were hanging with the Dogs, which makes me think. If you’re tied to the Dogs, how come you want to help me?”
“I wouldn’t say I actually hung with them.” I heave out a sigh. “More like working with them, or for them.”
He raises his brows. “In one of their Philly strip clubs?”
“No.” I snap the first-aid kit closed. “You should probably drink something.”
“That’s what I said, but—”
“I’m talking about water to stay hydrated.”
“Oh.” He frowns like a little kid. That is if a little kid is over six feet of hard, bad-ass muscle.
I retrieve a bottle of water for both of us and return to the living area, sitting in an overstuffed chair across from him on the couch. I make sure my monitor is tucked under my other foot.
He looks around for the first time. “This is nice.”
“I’ve made the best with what I had.” I motion to the furniture. “After my mother and father split up, he lived here and ran The End. Believe it or not, it was a decent place before he got arrested and they shut it down.”
“So, your father did leave you this place.”
I nod. “Yup, my great inheritance, but at least I have a roof over my head. Plenty aren’t that lucky.”