Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Isabelle
Laying on my couch, I curl into a ball letting the tears spill down my cheeks. I don’t know what came over me in the past two days, but I can’t help crying. It all comes down to the fact that my life is spiraling out of control.
Two days I spent at the clubhouse feeling a sense of vulnerability because of Hellhound. I don’t understand why but being in his room had me thinking craziness. My life is already a mess of lunacy because of all the shit going down in it—add in what happened recently, it’s become more so.
When Hellhound left me in his room, he didn’t come back like he said he would. Well, I don’t think he did. Though it’s his room, he could’ve come in there while I’d been asleep and didn’t wake me. I know he didn’t get in the bed next to me, however.
Ugh, shit, tears roll down my cheeks thinking about Hellhound.
In the past months, he’s come around me more and more but kept his distance at the same time.
Now I’m confused all over again. Mainly because he put me in his room and then left.
I want to think something of it. I do, only I heard the P&Ps talking this morning when I went to get a cup of coffee from the kitchen.
I squeeze my eyes shut, remembering it.
“I cannot believe Hellhound is letting that skanky bitch stay in his room,” Chops says, stopping me from entering the kitchen.
She’s one of the girls that Ivy explained to me a while back as one of the P&Ps, otherwise known as Pussy Pockets.
Evidently, that’s what the members of the club call the clubwhores—women who want to do nothing but fuck the brothers and party.
“You can’t believe it. Oh please, I was starting to think he was gay since he refused me,” another one of the women, I think her names Poppers, snaps. “I mean, I offer him something, and he throws me to the side.”
“At least I’ve gotten to have his cock.”
I shudder thinking about that. I didn’t wait around to hear the rest because I turned on my heels and rushed away from there and hid in Hellhound’s room.
It took a lot out of me to do it, but I begged and pleaded with Angel to let me come home.
He didn’t want to at first. In the end, he gave in to me when I started crying, saying I needed to be in my space.
He brought me home and left but only after declaring Smoky was staying at the clubhouse.
I started to argue. Only he wouldn’t listen.
This is because I know he digs my cat. Smoky has all but made himself at home at the clubhouse, and I didn’t have the heart to take him away from there just yet.
I’ll bring him home soon after I figure out what I’m going to do next.
Maybe I should run away—take what money I do have still and rush off on a plane. I could go to Mexico and find a job in a cantina or, better yet, fly to Florida and get a job as a bartender. They get a lot of tourists throughout the year. I’d never be low on tips.
Someone knocks on the door intruding on my thoughts and pulls me out of my head.
I press a hand into the couch and shove against the cushion to sit up, my eyes on the door.
It could be a number of people on the other side of it, and none of them is anyone I want to see right now. Especially Hellhound.
Standing, I reach up and run my fingers through my loose hair while I look down at my clothes, making sure I look okay.
Dressed in a pair of yoga leggings with a bright purple band at my waist, I paired it with a grey tank top.
I don’t have to look at my hair to know it’s a mess—it’s always a mess, in my opinion.
Sometimes I wonder if I’m even related to my parents because of the fact that I don’t look anything like them.
Where I have dark reddish blonde hair, they have brown.
My eyes are bluish-green, and theirs are hazel.
The only reason I know I’m related to them is the fact that my mom’s blood type is the same as mine.
Granted, it’s not a DNA test. I like to think of that as something.
Of course, I could be an idiot to think that.
I shake my head, not even worrying about going down that train of thought, and rush for the door sucking in a breath in preparation. I barely get the door unlocked before it’s shoved open, and Dexter comes barging in.
My heart leaps in fear at the sight of him. “Dex-Dexter, wh-what are y-you doing h-here?” I stutter, staring up at him with wide eyes as I back away from him.
Dexter slams the door shut, that malicious grin of his securely in place.
“Where you been, Isa?” The simple question comes out in mocking concern from his deep baritone voice.
With one look in his eyes, I know he’s not drunk or high.
“Ain’t seen you in weeks now, baby. You had me concerned.
Thought I was gonna have to whack your folks for the debt they owe. ”
I swallow nervously and back up further, hitting the wall behind me right next to the hallway leading to my room. “I-I was in the hospital,” I say fearfully.
“Yeah?” Dexter smirks, closing in on me. “Doesn’t change shit between you and me. I fuckin’ own you, and yet you seem to think you can do whatever the fuck you want. Go where you want. Fuck who you want. Hide from me. You also fuckin’ know the consequences of not doing what you’re told.”
Before I know it, Dexter’s hand is wrapping around my throat and squeezing tightly. My lips part, trying to breathe through my mouth, but he’s cutting all air off. Tears well in my eyes as I pry at his hand, trying to get him to let me go.
“You gotten in with that fuckin’ club in town . . . decided to become a whore for them. Give them that body that belongs to me, huh?” Dexter spits, narrowing his gaze and cocking his head marginally to the side.
I know whenever he does this to brace for something more—something horrible.
Why can’t my life be simple?
All I’ve ever wanted was to simply be left alone in peace.
My vision blurs, and I become lightheaded. I fear he’ll finally kill me as I’ve prayed for several times since the first time he raped me years ago. However, that’s not the case. Instead, Dexter steps back and uses his hand at my throat to sling me to the floor.
I roll to my side and curl into a ball, anticipating what’s next to come.
I suck in a breath and cough, trying to catch my breath.
My throat is throbbing, and I’m sure the bruises that were fading from what Sutton’s stepbrother left on me are now going to be replaced with worse ones.
It takes everything in me to keep from crying as Dexter flips me onto my back and straddles me.
“You’re gonna learn, Isabelle, and you’re gonna do it once and for all. You fuckin’ belong to me bitch, and I’m not letting you get away with giving others what belongs to me,” he snarls, pulling his fist back, ready to punch me.
I brace myself for the hit, but it never comes.
“What the fuck?” Dexter yells. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”
I breathe a sigh of relief, but it’s only for a brief moment as I realize what is happening. Through blurry eyes, I try to focus on the fact that Hellhound is standing with his hand around Dexter’s throat, holding his hand
Oh my God! What is Hellhound doing here? Why did he come here?
Hellhound makes a gruff growling sound and slams Dexter hard against the wall. “Doesn’t matter who the fuck I am,” he snarls.
I scamper to my feet, keeping my gaze locked on Hellhound.
From just the side view of him, he scares the hell out of me.
The fury rolling off him is suffocating at best. This is the man who earned his name in the club, not the one I’ve seen on the occasions, which can be nice.
Granted, he’s the same person regardless. Just right now, he’s pissed.
“Let go of me,” Dexter gasps, fighting against Hellhound’s hold, but he’s not doing a good job of escaping. Hellhound isn’t budging.
Bonus for Hellhound, he’s also got a good amount of weight over Dexter. I’m sure it’s all muscle too.
“Hellhound,” I croak, clearing my throat and wincing. He whips his head in my direction, shooting me a look with anger filling his gaze. Hellhound looks me over for a split second and turns his focus back to Dexter.
“Come near her again, and you’ll get a bullet between your eyes.” Without waiting for a response, Hellhound moves, dragging Dexter to the door, and throws him out into the breezeway before slamming the door.
From the way his chest is rising and falling, I wait nervously, not sure if I should say anything.
Hellhound doesn’t look at me, nor does he speak.
Instead, he shoves a hand in his pocket and pulls his phone out.
He swipes his finger along the screen before lifting it up to his ear.
A few seconds later, he finally opens his mouth as he slowly brings his gaze to mine.
“Tombstone, send a few brothers over to Isabelle’s apartment.
She’s officially moving out of this shithole and into the clubhouse. ”
Um, what?
My eyes widen, and I watch Hellhound closely as he waits for a second more and grunts something incoherent, then pulls the phone away from his ear. He slides it back in his pocket and stalks in my direction.
I open my mouth to say something, but Hellhound doesn’t give me the chance to speak. He curls an arm around me, the other he uses to reach up and tangle his fingers in my hair as he brings his lips down on mine.
I part my lips on a gasp, and Hellhound takes the opening to thrust his tongue in, claiming me while pulling me closer. I close my eyes and clutch at his shirt. Hellhound ends the kiss just as quickly as he started it.
My eyes flutter open to find his gaze locked on me, examining me as I get my bearings.
When I do, he shocks me again when he tightens his hand in my hair, holding my attention so I don’t try and pull away.
“You fucked up, Bells, and it’s time we fuckin’ talk about this bullshit, but first, you pack your shit.” The way his eyes flare and nostrils seem to fume, I wonder if, at any moment if he’ll breathe fire.
As much as I’d like nothing more than to say something to him, I realize it’s not the time for it.
But I reserve the right to go off on him later after we get back to the clubhouse.
Hellhound did just keep me from being hurt once again, though that doesn’t mean I’m going to let him off the hook for making decisions for me.
No matter how grateful I am for him saving me this time around.