Page 39 of Asking for Trouble
Aaron: Speakin’ of askin’ for somethin’, meet me.
God, I wanted to see him again.
The brief sight of him outside the back door had been too terrifying to process properly. I could still feel the rough textureof his calloused hand against mine through the screen door, the jagged edges of wire digging into my skin when he broke through the partition to reach for me.
It was such a little gesture, but it made my throat ache because I thought Aaron might not let anything get between us if I’d let him come for me. That he might really take on all the horrors of my reality to get to me again.
He’d seemed more than willing to go on a suicide mission through the house after seeing the bruises on my face.
But it was so much more complicated than wanting each other.
Whatever connection we’d forged, he didn’t know me, not really.
More than that, he didn’t know how cruel and ruthless Rooster, Hazard, and this lot could be.
Just last night, they’d returned home from a ride with a man in the back of a grey van. I could hear them torturing him in the barn through my open bedroom window late into the night.
When I woke up at dawn and looked outside, Jerky was sagging under the weight of a canvas-wrapped body slung over his shoulder.
I wanted to help Aaron and his club, but asking Aaron to get involved with me in secret, giving him leeway to insert himself in my life in a dangerous way, was not the way to do it.
So…
Blue: No. This is all we can have, and even then…we should keep our distance. I’m not joking around. Talking to me is dangerous.
Aaron: Your husband wouldn’t like it? Good. I don’t give a fuck.
Blue: Hazard is still in Calgary for now. But Rooster would kill you for touching me, and the rest of them would too, just to follow his orders.
Aaron: Some things are worth dyin’ for, Blue.
Blue: Yeah, trust me, I’m not one of them.
I put the phone back in my hiding place after triple-checking it was on silent.
Not a moment too soon either because the door crashed open without ceremony, and Rooster was there, chewing tobacco and staring at me as if he couldn’t understand why I was still in my pajamas at seven in the morning.
“You’re lookin’ good enough to start workin’,” he declared finally.
“Okay,” I agreed, too quickly because I’d been waiting for the go-ahead. Rooster didn’t like me out in public after a beating because people were ‘nosy cunts who ask too many damn questions.’
I’d already looked up nearby salons, and I still had a copy of my résumé saved in my inbox.
“Want you workin’ at Eugene’s Bar out off the Sea to Sky beyond Entrance,” he grunted, moving to my little closet to check out my clothes.
He’d moved me in the moment I could get out of bed without groaning. He could probably keep better track of me when I was surrounded by the eyes of the club instead of just his own.
“I’m a certified cosmetologist now. I can make good money working in a salon,” I said, trying to keep my tone light so it didn’t seem like I was arguing with him.
He snorted, gaze skirting over me like I was discarded trash. It made me shiver and hug my arms over my heavy, braless breasts. “What the fuck is that? Some kind’a beautician?”
“Yeah, kinda. I can do hair, makeup, and nails really well. I want to get into giving facials too––” I was cut off by fabric hitting me in the face as Rooster threw something at me.
“No. Eugene’s is a well-known biker bar and outlaw hotspot in the area. We could use a girl like you keepin’ her ears open there. We got a sponsor willin’ to back our takeover of The Fallen, but they want it done quick.”
“Who?” I asked before I curbed my curiosity.
Rooster was on me in a second, thick hand wrapped around my throat, squeezing so hard the pressure ached behind my eyes and my voice box felt crushed. His eyes, the same shade of blue as mine but bloodshot and filled with malice, were an inch from mine as he sneered into my face.