by Tillie Cole
Styx’s face hardened. He pulled me to stand beside him, one arm gripping me tightly, and I winced as pain pulsed in my calf. His fingers moved quickly.
“Off-limits. Y’all get that now? She’s under my protection and is none of your fuckin’ business. Any one of you goes near her and I’ll kill y’all. That’s a fuckin’ iron-clad promise,” Ky translated.
I flinched at his violent words, his aggressive tone. The men in the room frowned and watched me with assessing narrowed eyes, then gaped at Styx in shock.
“Who is she, Styx? How do you know her?” That same feminine voice from before cut through the grumblings of the men. The brown-haired woman confronted Styx, her wary eyes assessing the mood of the crowd.
Styx blocked her from getting closer with his hand and curtly shook his head. That hard, severe look was back on his face.
“Styx—” she whispered brokenly.
Stepping forward, Styx’s hands moved fast. The woman obviously understood the strange hand gestures Styx made. Her eyes filled with tears and she turned and hurried away.
Styx took my hand in his and walked toward the corridor, Ky shouting, “Beauty!” as Styx pointed to somebody with his free hand.
With a glance back, I noticed the men and women remained standing as if frozen in place. They watched us go, staring in questioning fascination. The brown-haired woman watched too from the back of the room, a haunted, devastated look on her face. Her tears now streamed down her cheeks.
We entered the bedroom where I had previously woken up. Styx guided me to the bed, pushing on my shoulders to sit me down. The pretty blonde walked in through the door after us. Styx turned his attention to her, saying something with his hands.
“They’re in Tank’s room. I’ll go get them. I’ll leave them outside your door,” the blonde answered in response. She turned and left the room.
We were alone.
Styx moved the black chair opposite the bed, then sat down and stared at me. His large hazel eyes checked every inch of me and, in response, my body began to tremble. He did not say a word, but those hazel irises never once left mine. Weirdly, the silence in the room seemed deafening.
Searching for a distraction from his intense gaze, I turned my head to admire the large picture dominating his wall. The picture was of a large, two-wheeled machine. I smiled and realization dawned. It must be a motorbike.
Standing up, I walked to the picture, running my fingers over the shape of its frame. Casting a glimpse back to Styx, I saw he was still watching me, his large frame now leaning forward intently, elbows on his knees. With a smile, I pointed to the picture and he walked over to stand beside me. With a nod of his head, he signaled that he knew what I was asking.
Giving him a small smile, I went back to sit on the edge of the bed, suddenly feeling very tired. Styx followed my every move. Prophet David taught us that desiring material goods was a sin, but I liked the expression on Styx’s face when he looked at the picture of the motorbike. It seemed to make him happy.
Rubbing at my sore eyes, feeling drained, feeling empty, I knew I would have to face recent events soon. I would not be able to block them out forever.
Styx moved to the chair, sitting before me yet again, as though he could sense my dismay. He tilted his head in question, asking silently what was wrong.
I had managed to evade my reality long enough. Part of me could almost pretend it was just a horrible nightmare, more so as I sat in this strange darkened room with Styx. However, flashes of Bella, motionless, lying broken on the floor of that cell, stabbed relentlessly at my conscience, piercing emotional walls. I shook my head profusely, trying to rid my mind’s eye of those horrific scenes.
Severe punishments were common amongst my people, a necessity to prevent others from falling from the path of righteousness. But Bella was my sister, she could not love Gabriel, and that was her downfall, plain and simple. I would rather live in eternal damnation here on the outside than marry the man who sanctioned the relentless abuse of my true flesh and blood.
Awkwardly, Styx moved toward me. He gently ran his thumbs over my cheeks, wiping away the wetness. It took me a moment to realize I was crying. Emotions were forbidden in the commune, but I could not stop the tears. My chest tightened and I gripped his wrists, needing his support. Silent involuntary cries ripped from my chest and I let the pain take hold. I really cried for the first time in my life.
Styx moved beside me and an arm circled my shoulders, which made me jump. I glanced up at Styx’s rugged face: those hazel eyes, big soft lips, rough cheeks marked by a few small scars. His tongue licked at the silver ring through his bottom lip and a large set of dimples set on his cheeks. Those dark, soft delves made him seem less… severe, more human.
As I once more fixed my eyes on this big, silent man, so different from the boy I met, I crumbled. I gave in. This was everything I had been taught was wrong, but I could not help but cherish his touch. His strong arms encased me, warming me, comforting me, letting me feel safe. I held on tightly to his leather vest—he smelled of leather, soap, and smoke, and something else, something really… good. I had never ever been held like this before, never soothed. The only type of affection I had ever received was on those days. Even then, touching like this was strictly prohibited.
Styx guided my head to the crook of his neck and only then did I set my sobs free.
I cried for a long time before I gave in to exhaustion and drifted off to sleep, still unsure if I was being lured into a den of evil. But I felt completely and utterly safe in the strong arms of the only boy I had ever kissed…
Chapter Seven
Styx
I swear that fuckin’ twitching nose is gonna destroy me.
She’d fallen asleep in my arms, her soft breath fanning my neck. For the first time in my life, I got a goose bump.
A goddamn fuckin’ goose bump.
Pulling in the tiny bitch tighter, I exhaled, my eyes shut tight in agony. I was so fuckin’ hard, painfully hard. She was so damn beautiful I couldn’t believe she was actually real. I’d always wondered what she’d look like older—filled out, hair down, eyes bright—but the reality was mind-blowing. Having her in my arms was the best thing I’d ever felt, and when that nose of hers twitched like Samantha the fuckin’ witch, blood pumped into my cock and thoughts of being inside her drove me friggin’ insane. Fuck. I didn’t even know her name.
Rolling my head back against the wall, I groaned. Pull yourself together, Styx. You’re the Prez of a fuckin’ gun-trading MC and you’re acting like a damn bitch pussy.
The bitch moaned in her sleep and nuzzled closer to my chest, her small hand moving to grip my cut, her leg bending slightly to lie over mine. I couldn’t deal with it. If she moved one more inch, I was gonna lose my restraint and fuck her into the mattress.
Scooping her too-thin frame in my arms, I pulled back the black sheets and settled her underneath, smoothing her hair from her face, watching as her full lips tilted into a peaceful smile.
Fuck me, she was beyond beautiful. Even at eleven, I thought that shit true, but now she was way more than a goddamned ten.
Leaving my room, turning the lock, I headed to the lounge and over to the bar. Only a few brothers were left, most gone home or to their bedrooms with their bitches for the night. Lois’d clearly split too. Good. Didn’t want no questions flying my way. Had no answers to give her anyhow.
Walking behind the bar, I poured myself a large bourbon, Ky and Rider sitting around a table, watching my every move. Pit ran across the room and jumped behind the bar. “Fuck, Prez, I’ll get that.” I waved him away with my hand, but the brother took his place as bartender, one of his prospect duties.
I took a seat beside Rider and Ky, meeting their eyes.
“Prez,” Ky greeted.
Frowning at the fuckers, I saw them shift in their seats—they’d been talking.
Out with it, I signed.
Ky rubbed his hand over his mouth. “Styx, man. What the fuc
k’s up with the bitch?”
Edging forward, I met his gaze head on, my eyes twitching in annoyance.
“I’m not ripping on her. What I mean is that she’s clueless, naïve. She didn’t even know what a fuckin’ biker was or even a motherfuckin’ bike! She don’t speak, looked at the brothers like she was staring at the face of evil. Turns up outta nowhere, bleeding out. We don’t know where she’s from or if someone wants her back. She could be trouble. In case you hadn’t noticed, we’re over-occupied with that shit right now. Don’t need no more.”
Ky shook his head at me, like he didn’t even recognize the man next to him. The man who’d been his best friend for fuckin’ years. “Feds are watching our ass twenty-four-seven. We walk out with a timid, bruised bitch… they’ll be on us and no fucker will believe the truth ’bout her. I mean, fuck! We got the Chechen run tomorrow. We’re gonna be on the road weeks reclaiming our turf. Don’t need this now.”
Downing my bourbon in one, I savored the smooth, peaty taste. I let the alcohol numb my throat. Slowly opening my eyes, I dropped my glass to the table and buried my hands in my hair. It’d been one… long… fuckin’… day.
“Where’s she now?” Rider asked as he tightened his black Hangmen bandana ’round his head. “Do you need me to check on her?”
Shaking my head, I inhaled and signed out, Sleeping.
Rider nodded. I swear the fucker looked disappointed. Then he skittered his eyes around the room before they landed back on me. He looked like a man who wanted to say something.
“Look, Styx. When I was younger and my folks died, I was left alone. Wandered for years, scared shitless at first, then hardened up pretty damn quick. Life on the road, y’know? This club was my second chance.”
“What you sayin’, brother?” Ky asked as he placed a hand on Rider’s shoulder.
“Just that she may be scared shitless now, but she might come ’round at some point. I was brought up in a strict religious household. Never told anyone here that before. Never felt the need. That’s not my life anymore, fuckin’ far from it. Anyhow, when my folks died, I had to relearn life all over again. Lost my faith, my church, my support network. Lost my way for a while. I found my family here again with the Hangmen.”
You think she’s a Bible nut? I signed. It made some serious fuckin’ sense.
He shrugged. “Not sure exactly. Maybe? Just saying that was my path. But she ran from something; that’s for damn sure. She turned up confused, mute, bleeding. She had tattooed scripture on her wrist ’bout the end of days. She needs protecting by the look of things. She’s obviously been sheltered. She don’t know shit about life, like she’s been locked up in solitary for twenty years.”
Leaning back, I stared at the brown-stained ceiling. I sighed and rubbed my head. What if I didn’t come on the run? You take the lead and I stay with the bitch, get to the bottom of her deal? I signed and looked at Ky.
He laughed and shook his head in disbelief. “You’re kidding me, right? Fuck that! Don’t even think it, Styx. You gotta be there. You’re the fuckin’ Prez! Chechen’s are expecting you to be there. Club first.”
Fuck! If I ever see the bastard Russians again I’ll fuckin’ slit their throats. I’ll be gone nearly a fuckin’ month, had to go. Needed someone I could trust. Someone who’ll watch out for her while I’m gone, then sort through this shit when I get back.
Clearing my throat, I glanced to Rider and exhaled. He paled.
You take responsibility for her. Don’t come on the run to the Chechen deal. Stay here with her. You protect her until I get back.
I watched him swallow, then shake his head. “Prez, I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
Not asking you, brother. It’s a fuckin’ order. Need someone I trust watching over her while I’m gone. Someone who ain’t gonna fuck her while she sleeps.
His face twitched in nerves. “I… I’m not good with bitches, Styx. Never know how to talk to ’em. I’m not the right guy…” He trailed off apologetically.
That’s exactly why you’re the right brother for this job. While she’s here, you watch out for her, fix her leg. I don’t know, teach her shit, rules and such. Hell, what about fuckin’ life? You know the brothers will chase her tail if she isn’t owned. Can’t keep her here with no protection. Last thing we want is a fuckin’ rape. She’s already been through enough shit.
“Prez…” He rubbed his hands down his face. I had no idea why the fucker never pulled pussy. Never smoked, didn’t drink. Thought for a while he may’ve preferred cock, but I saw him watching the club sluts, fuckin’ ’em with his eyes. Just never touched them. His business. We all wrestle with our own demons. Just so happens that attitude helped me with Jane Doe.
You’re doing it! No questions. Right? I signed aggressively; making things real fuckin’ clear.
Rider frowned and began shuffling in his seat. “Right,” he agreed.
Ky leaped from his stool, face stern. He fetched the Patrón from behind the bar, slamming three shot glasses on the table and poured, not meeting my eyes.
“Just putting this out there, Styx. That girl is from a different world, whatever the fuck that is. Doubting whether she can be in this type of family, this kinda world. We both know you’re in for life. You’ll never leave.”
Point made. Leave it, I signed, losing my patience with both my VP and Rider fuckin’ squirming on his chair.
Ky didn’t.
“Just saying you need all your focus on this damn deal with the Chechens. We lose this deal and we’re fucked. Focus on life on the road. We got bigger issues than caring for some religious pilgrim nutcase right now. Like the club’s a goddamn charity. I mean, what the hell? How’d you get to her age and have no fuckin’ clue about life? She could be big trouble. She acted like a kid tonight, man. A fuckin’ Kindergartner. You want pussy, you got Lois to suck your cock. Stick with that shit.”
Rider tossed back his tequila and stood awkwardly. “Going to crash.”
I quickly signaled to Pit behind the bar to get the fuck out to.
As soon as I heard the door slam shut, I turned back to Ky and let the aggression being kept on hold fly loose. “Y-you and me are b-b-brothers, best f-friends, loyal ’t-t-til the fuckin’ end, but you quit this shit now. I-I-I’m not l-liking wh-where it’s h-headed.” I stood up, towering over him, but the stubborn motherfucker never broke eye contact.
He laughed without humor. “So what? Gonna make her your old lady now? Or your new club slut? Lois out, new Amish bitch in? That how it’s gonna be? She gonna be sucking on that cock daily too? She gonna have your back when you’re shot or when you fuck a whore just because you fuckin’’ feel like it? Never happening. She won’t deal with club life. Cut… and… run… Don’t sacrifice the club for a piece of pussy.”
Fisting his cut, I slammed him down against the table, empty glasses shattering on the wood floor. “Y-you better sh-shut your f-f-f…” I gritted my teeth and managed to push out, “F-fuckin’ mouth! Don’t f-forget who you’re t-talking to!”
Pushing me back, he spat, “Right.” Ky straightened his cut and, giving me the finger, walked to the door, then suddenly stopped, hands clenched as he looked back over his shoulder. “You act different around her, man. I’m saying your girl in there will fuck… you… up… You’re obsessed with the bitch, losing your damn mind if you think she belongs here. Christ, let’s be honest. You lost your damn sanity age eleven when you met her and never let this fucked-up goddess-worship thing go. I’m your best fuckin’ friend, not just your damn VP. I remember how meeting her changed you all those years ago. She’s not gonna be the perfect angel you fantasized about, Styx—she’s flawed and majorly fucked up by the looks of things. You’re puttin’ her on an unattainable pedestal for you. Don’t be a fuckin’ selfish prick and put her before the club, your brothers.
“She won’t deal with what you do, things you do, things you gotta do for the club. Let her go. Club first, remember. Nothing else comes close. I’m fucki
n’ watching out for you, brother. I’ll always have your back no matter what.”
With that, he turned and left the compound, leaving me alone in the deserted bar, my messed-up thoughts my only company.
Fuck!
I slammed back another tequila, then another, and on the fifth, I smashed an empty bottle against the wall. I knew my VP was right. She’s probably best outta this fucked-up life… but I wanted her gone ’bout as much as I wanted a shittin’ hole in the head. I’d just found her again, but it was too fuckin’ late. I’d found her too goddamn late. Hades’d already pulled me into Hell. She didn’t deserve to go down with me. She deserved a clean man—that so ain’t fuckin’ me.
Sitting back down at the table, I scanned the empty room, staring at the pictures that had the bitch so scared so many hours ago. I tried to imagine seeing them with innocent eyes—eyes that had only seen good, eyes that didn’t belong following the example of the underworld’s dark lord.
Some sick feeling wound tight in my gut, and I knew I’d not be getting any sleep tonight. My head was far too busy.
I needed my smokes, a tall bottle of Beam, and my music.
Chapter Eight
Styx
I picked up my first guitar at six, my old man telling me the only things I’d need in life were my Harley, the love of an old lady, and my Fender. The code I’ve lived by all my life. Had my Harley, MC brothers, had money, had my guitar—didn’t have an old lady, and Lois weren’t ever gonna be it. Twenty-six, bagged lots a’ sluts, no old lady prospects, but a constant pair of wolf eyes constantly haunted my dreams since the age of eleven.
Talking always came hard to me, but singing and playing… fuckin’ natural as breathing, and no problems pushing out the words. I’d never felt more comfortable than when I had my guitar in hand, the lyrics flowing out my loose throat like the fuckin’ wind.
I strummed at the strings of my Fender acoustic, growing more and more pissed at my situation. Switching seamlessly from Cash to Waits—needing the comfort of dark and painful melodies—I took a pull of my smoke, dropping it in the ashtray, feet propped up on the table, when an old song spilled from my lips.