Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
WHIP
Iwake before Violet does, her sleeping form curled against my chest like she belongs there.
The soft morning light filters through the blinds, casting golden stripes across her naked body.
As I look at her, I notice the bruise on her cheek has darkened overnight.
It's now a purple-blue stain on her otherwise flawless skin.
My blood boils at the sight of it.
I'm careful as I slip out of bed, tucking the sheets around her before pulling on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. I check my phone—five missed calls from my secretary and a text that reads:
Court appearance at 11. Don't forget.
Shit. It's already 8:30, and I need to get back to my apartment to shower and change. I send a quick reply confirming I'll be there, then turn back to look at Violet.
Last night was unexpected, but fuck if it wasn't everything I've been fantasizing about for years. The way she responded to me, so naturally submissive, following my commands without question... it was like she was made for me.
But she's also vulnerable right now. Running from an abusive piece of shit, staying in my clubhouse because she's terrified he'll follow her to my sister's place.
I need to handle this right.
I grab a clean t-shirt from my dresser and leave it folded on the bed for her, scribbling a quick note:
Had to go to court. Stay here. You're safe. I'll be back by 2. —S
With one last look at her, I slip out of the room, careful to close the door quietly behind me.
Downstairs, Cruel is already at the bar, sipping black coffee and scrolling through his phone. His real name is Miguel, but no one's called him that since he earned his road name after what he did to the guy who tried to rape his sister.
"Morning, brother," he greets without looking up. "Rough night?"
"You could say that." I pour myself a cup of coffee, downing half of it in one go.
"Heard you brought a woman in." Now Cruel looks up, his dark eyes assessing me. "Max says she had a busted face."
"My sister's best friend," I explain, leaning against the bar. "Her… well now ex-boyfriend hit her when she went to get her stuff after catching him cheating."
Cruel's expression darkens. He's always had a particular hatred for men who abuse women. "And she's upstairs in your bed."
It's not a question, but I nod anyway. "Nothing happened."
He raises an eyebrow.
"Not everything," I clarify. "I took care of her, that's all."
"Uh-huh." Cruel sets his phone down. "And now what?"
"Now I've got court at 11, and I need a favor." I lower my voice even though we're alone. "Need you to keep an eye on her today. Make sure she stays here, make sure she feels safe."
"You think the boyfriend's gonna come looking?"
"I know he is," I say grimly. "Threatened her right to her face."
Cruel's eyes narrow, and I know he's thinking the same thing I am—this fucker needs to be taught a lesson.
"I'll handle him," I add before Cruel can suggest anything. "Just need to figure out how to do it without getting disbarred."
"Must be nice having to worry about shit like that," comes a new voice, and we both turn to see Viper sauntering in, unshaven and smelling like he spent the night in a whiskey barrel.
"Some of us have actual jobs," I say, keeping my tone light, even though the man drives me up a wall. Viper's been a pain in my ass since he took over as VP, always pushing for riskier runs, more dangerous shit that could bring heat down on all of us.
"Yeah, yeah, you and your fancy law degree." Viper sneers, helping himself to the coffee. "Shouldn't you be wearing a suit or something? Defending some scumbag?"
"I prosecuted before I went defense, Viper. Remember that." I finish my coffee and set the mug down with more force than necessary. "Where's your old lady? Haven't seen her around lately."
A flash of something—guilt or maybe anger—crosses Viper's face before he masks it. "Tiffany's staying with her sister for a while. Woman troubles."
Cruel catches my eye, and I know we're thinking the same thing. This isn't the first time Tiffany's disappeared after a fight with Viper.
"Right," I say, pushing off from the bar. "Cruel, you good with what I asked?"
"Got you, brother," Cruel nods. "I'll take care of everything. And if the boyfriend shows his face..." He trails off, cracking his knuckles meaningfully.
I clap him on the shoulder. "Just keep her safe. I'll handle the rest when I get back."
"What, your sister's friend staying here now?" Viper asks, interest suddenly piqued. "She that Latina cutie Max was talking about?"
"She's under the club's protection," I say firmly, meeting Viper's gaze head-on. "And she's mine. Understand?"
Viper holds my stare for a beat too long before nodding. "Crystal clear, brother."
"Good." I grab my keys from the hook by the door. "I'll be back after court. Keep your phones on."
It doesn't take me long as I rush over to the courthouse. I want to get things buttoned up and finished as quickly as I can today. The idea of Violet in the clubhouse with Viper bothers me, but at least Cruel is there to watch over her.
None of us are idiots. We all know Viper throws Tiffany around, and were working on how to vote him out, but we have to turn to the rest of the brothers who could flip their vote. So, Viper needs to fuck up, and he needs to do it in a very bad way.
The courtroom is packed, but I barely notice the crowd as I make my closing arguments.
I'm defending a nineteen-year-old kid charged with armed robbery, facing a minimum of fifteen years if convicted.
The DA's case hinges on a single eyewitness identification, and I've spent the last hour poking holes in it.
"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury," I conclude, "the prosecution has failed to meet their burden of proof beyond a reasonable doubt.
They've presented no physical evidence connecting my client to this crime, no fingerprints, no DNA, no stolen goods recovered from his possession.
All they have is a witness who claims to have seen my client for less than thirty seconds, at night, from a distance of over fifty feet.
That's not enough to send a young man to prison for fifteen years.
That's not enough to destroy a life. I ask you to return the only verdict supported by the evidence: not guilty. "
I return to my seat beside my client, who whispers a nervous "Thank you" as I sit down. The judge instructs the jury, and they file out to deliberate. My phone vibrates in my pocket as soon as we're dismissed.
Cruel:
She's awake. Asking about you.
I step into the hallway to call him.
"How is she?" I ask as soon as he picks up.
"Good." I can hear the smile in Cruel's voice. "She ate breakfast, took some more painkillers for her face. She's been asking about club stuff."
"What kind of club stuff?"
"How we operate, who does what. Basic shit. She's curious, not scared."
That's a relief. I was worried she might wake up and regret everything, be freaked out by where she is and what happened between us.
"I should be done here soon," I tell him. "Keep her occupied till I get back."
"Will do. Oh, and brother?"
"Yeah?"
"I like her. She's got fire."
I find myself smiling. "Yeah, she does."
After hanging up, I lean against the wall, trying to sort through the emotions coursing through me. Last night with Violet felt right in a way nothing has in a long time. The way she submitted to me, so natural, so perfect... it's like she was what I've been waiting for.
But bringing her into my world comes with a lot of risks. The club isn't just a bunch of guys who ride motorcycles—we're into shit that could put her in danger. Hell, all of our loved ones in danger. And I've got enemies, both from my legal work and club business.
Then there's the matter of her ex. Derek. Even thinking his name makes my jaw clench. He put his hands on what's mine, marked her beautiful face with his filth. I can't fucking stand that, and he wont get away with it.
My phone rings again—it's my secretary.
"Jury's back," she tells me. "That was fast."
"On my way," I say, straightening my tie as I head back to the courtroom.
By the time I pull into the clubhouse parking lot, it's almost three.
The case took longer than expected—the jury came back with questions, the judge took his sweet time answering them, and then when they finally delivered the verdict—not guilty, thankfully—I had to deal with the kid's ecstatic family and a pissed-off DA.
I'm antsy to get back to Violet, to see for myself that she's okay. To continue what we started last night.
The main room of the cluh is empty except for Amsterdam behind the bar, cleaning glasses.
"Where is everyone?" I ask, tossing my keys onto the counter.
"Cruel took your girl for a ride," Amsterdam says with a grin. "Said she was getting antsy cooped up in here."
My stomach drops. "A ride? Where?"
Amsterdam shrugs. "Dunno. Said they'd be back by four."
I check my watch—it's 3:15. Not long to wait, but still, the thought of Violet out there, potentially exposed to her ex, has me on edge.
"Relax, brother," Amsterdam says, noting my tension. "Cruel's got her. No safer place she could be than with that crazy motherfucker."
He's right. Cruel's the most capable fighter in the club, which is saying something. If Derek shows his face, he'll regret it.
"Fine," I murmur, loosening my tie. "I'm gonna shower and change. Let me know as soon as they're back."
Upstairs, I pause outside my door before entering, half expecting to find evidence of Violet having gone through my things. Instead, the room is just as I left it, except the bed is made and my t-shirt is folded neatly on top of the pillow she used.
I strip out of my suit and step into the shower, letting the hot water wash away the tension of the day. As I stand under the spray, my mind drifts back to last night—Violet's soft moans, the way she kept her hands above her head when I told her to, how wet she was for me...