Page 21

21

“ H ey, calm down,” Jols offers soothingly, her hands held up as she steps closer, but I take a step back and shake my head, getting ready to run.

I can’t believe he told her. Why would he do that? Am I gossip to him?

Oh my god, I asked him to kiss me!

I have to go.

There aren’t many men around right now. I could probably get away easily enough.

I take another step back, my eyes scanning the space.

“He only told me because he knew that I might be able to help.” Jols continues, but her words only fuel my anger.

“Help?” I snap, shooting her the glare I can’t contain. “How the hell can you help? How the hell can anyone help?!”

I watch as Jols visibly becomes uncomfortable, her eyes dropping, her confidence slipping, and her feet shuffling.

“I guess he thought because I’ve been through something similar that perhaps I could relate, and it might help you not feel so alone in your suffering.” She shrugs, her pained expression meeting mine again. “He never meant any harm. He just wants to help you.”

Burning pricks at my eyes as they begin to flood with tears, and as the hot droplets burst over, I bat at them, quickly looking around the courtyard to see if anyone is watching, but it’s still quiet.

Did she really just admit that she’s been through something similar to me?

The thought makes me queasy. How can people do such heinous things?

As I study her through my tears, I can see it. The way her shoulders have rolled forward a little, closing herself off. The way her fists are opening and closing like she’s struggling for control.

She’s telling the truth.

“You… That happened to you?” I ask, feeling like a bitch for jumping down her throat.

“Yes.” She nods, having to clear her throat before speaking again. “It’s not something I talk about, and it’s something I’ve worked hard to overcome, but I see what he sees in you, Ab—Charity,” she corrects herself. “I’d like to help if that’s something you’d be open to.”

My lip quivers as I stare at this beautiful woman before me, her eyes so blue that I swear she must be a mermaid born in the prettiest of tropical waters. Her dark brown hair is simple, long, straightish with a slight wave, and although she has some tattoos—one on her hand, and a couple on her arms—and wears leather pants and a simple white singlet while spending her days with the roughest of men, and sassiest of women, she seems so… decent.

Just like Ringo.

“Are you Ringo’s sister?” I blurt, and her brows shoot up.

“No.” She laughs. “Why? Do we look alike?”

“No.” I shake my head, smiling and willing away my tears. “But you seem alike. In morals and personality.”

She nods in understanding. “Ringo took me under his wing. He is like a big brother to me, but we definitely aren’t related. If it weren’t for him, JD, Murf, Stocky and Trunk, I don’t think I would have ever gotten through the aftermath of what happened.”

I nod. “They seem… nice.”

Jols throws her head back, laughing. “I wouldn’t use nice to describe them.” She shrugs. “But decent, they are.”

“I’m confused. I didn’t think they allowed women to be members in the club.”

She nods. “They don’t. I’m not a member.”

“Oh. Are you a Doxy?” I ask, confused, knowing she doesn’t seem like one of the women who aim to please the men of this club, and she scoffs.

“Fuck no. I ain’t spreading my legs for the likes of these fuckers.”

I giggle, and she grins. “Let’s grab some breakfast and I’ll fill you in.”

Jols smiles warmly at me, and I realise then that she kind of reminds me of Lexi. Just older. And with darker hair .

As Jols starts walking again, I briefly glance at the end of the courtyard to the mouth of the driveway where I know the manned entrance is. I probably wouldn’t make it far by foot, but maybe by car.

I glance at the doorway that leads down to the parking garage and frown. There was a truck, some vans, and a heap of motorcycles, but I didn’t see any cars down there when we came here the other night.

Not that it means there aren’t any. I was tucked down on the floor between Ringo’s legs, so I couldn’t see out the window, and when he escorted me inside, I was surrounded by his men and Jols, ordered to keep my head down.

“You coming?” Jols calls, shaking me out of my thoughts.

“Yeah.” I nod, spinning to follow her, even as I glance back over my shoulder in the direction of the entrance.

Ringo says I’m not a prisoner, so that means I can just leave when I want to, right? After the lockdown, I can just walk out.

After grabbing some breaky, I nibble on a piece of toast, not feeling much like eating as Jols eyes me, and I know she wants to ask me about what I divulged to Ringo last night.

We sit quietly for a few minutes at the table closest to the room that looks like it used to be a dining room for the hotel guests. It’s set up like a bar now, from what I can see. I guess they use it more when the weather isn’t so great since they seem to be doing all their drinking activities out in the middle of what used to be a central carpark in the middle of the buildings.

“I was twenty when it happened,” Jols says quietly, snagging my attention as she plays with the crumbs on her paper plate. “A guy I grew up with had joined the Red Eights. Do you know what that is?” Her blue gaze darts up to meet mine, and I shake my head. “It’s a street gang in the city. One of the many.” She shakes her head. “My mate, Kyle, got mixed up with them, and I could see him slipping away from reality, using too much.”

“Using? That’s drugs, right?” I ask, hating how dumb I sound, but when she nods, her eyes don’t portray thoughts of how na?ve I am. Just pain from her memories.

“I stupidly thought I could stop him. Change his mind and get him to come back to the burbs with me.”

“Burbs?” I ask, still hating that I don’t seem to know much of anything.

“Suburbs.” She offers me a warm smile. “We lived in the Eastern suburbs of Melbourne, and it was normal for teens and young adults to want to venture to the city more as we got older, but Kyle stopped coming home, and I could see how distressed his mum was over it. And well…” she shrugs, “I missed him too.”

Jols shifts in her chair, clearing her throat, and I can tell she’s struggling with her emotions, so I keep quiet, waiting to see if she’ll tell me more.

Not that it matters if she doesn’t. That’s her prerogative, but a part of me aches to know if someone will truly be able to understand.

“I walked into the dingy club at the wrong time, because as soon as G-Wack saw me trying to convince Kyle to leave, he chose me for his new initiates.”

“What is G-Wack?” I ask, shifting forward in my seat.

“G-Wack was the Red Eights gang leader.”

“His name is G-Wack? Who the hell came up with that?” I scoff, and Jols smirks, her shoulders relaxing a little.

“He did. Named himself because his real name, Theo Anderson, just didn’t seem threatening enough. ”

I giggle, “Neither does G-Wack.”

We both laugh at that, the act making me feel temporarily light. Free.

“Long story short,” Jols continues as she eyes me. “There were ten initiates who spent the next nine hours using my body non-stop, after drugging me and tying me down so I couldn’t fight back.”

My lip wobbles and the little food I ate threatens to come up as her words sink in.

Ten of them.

Nine hours.

Drugged and tied.

There’s no further warning, my stomach rolling as I heave, quickly leaping up from the chair just in time to reach the dying bushes to the side. Tears pour from my eyes in hot rivers, and a gentle hand rubs over my back as my body controls me, purging the vileness from within.

“How long has she been like this?”

The deep baritone of Ringo’s voice meets my ears, and it’s like a blanket of warmth and safety floats over me.

“Just now. I was sharing my past,” Jols admits, and Ringo curses, his fingers brushing some of my escaped hair off my dewy forehead.

“Angel,” he rasps, close by, and I suck in a deep breath as the forceful waves subside. “What can I do?”

“T-tell me you k-killed him.”

My words cause him to drop his hand from my hair, and I wipe my mouth as I straighten and turn to face him and Jols.

“Who?” he asks.

“G-Wack. Tell me you killed him. ”

Ringo’s brows hitch, but my eyes find Jols, who is grinning.

“Not only did Ringo kill him, but he made him suffer for days.”

I nod, forcing a half smile at Jols before glancing at Ringo. “Good. People like that deserve to die.”

Ringo smirks. “That they do, Angel.”

The way he stares at me, his dark stormy eyes somehow looking like they soften as he takes me in, does something to me.

I know I’m only young. I know I’m na?ve. And I know we are complete opposites, but there’s something about the way he looks at me that makes me feel… like I’m more.

Of course, it could be just the desperate part of me wanting someone to at least like me a little. Just enough to want to fight for me. And yes, I know he’s been doing that, but it’s only because Lexi asked him to. If it weren’t for her, he’d never have come across me, let alone gotten involved with me.

It’s at that moment that some of the men start stumbling from different rooms, followed by the Doxies too, so any conversation about Red Eights and the attack Jols survived ends quickly.

“I need to help the Doxies with brunch,” Jols says, dragging her gaze to the hungover men, slowly staggering closer to where we are.

She’s not a Doxy, but she helps around here, and I guess I should be too since I’m eating their food and using their water.

“I’ll come and help.” I offer Jols a smile when her eyes dart back to me.

“That would be great.” She beams, and I wonder if perhaps I’ve made myself a friend.

“You sure, Angel? You’re a guest. You don’t have to.” Ringo steps forward, stroking back more of my hair .

I grin. It’s like he can’t help but touch me.

Of course, I’m likely wrong, but I’m going to let myself think that since it makes me feel warm and fuzzy on the inside.

“I’m sure.” I nod, leaning into his big palm when he cups the side of my face. “I want to help.”

“Of course you do.” Ringo smirks, leaning closer and pressing a whiskery kiss to my forehead.

I notice Jols grinning from ear-to-ear as she watches us, and behind her some Doxies stare at us for a little too long.

Do they have the same opinion as Wendy? Do they think I won’t last?

I decide I don’t care, and follow Jols where we spend the morning helping the Doxies prepare brunch for the club members.

Using my hands and keeping busy is good, and even though I was sick just before, I feel like I have more energy than I’ve had in weeks. Plus, the mundane activity helps me to not think about last night’s or this morning’s discussions.

Ringo watches me most of the morning. Each time I glance over at him as he chats with the President, or his mate JD, his eyes remain locked on my every move.

When one of the younger members challenges anyone that will say yes to a bottle flip competition, Ringo mouths, "come here" , much like he did the night before when his hand was wrapped around his… um… dick.

Immediately my cheeks heat, remembering the look in his eyes and how hard he was. I thought I’d be more terrified of seeing his…

For Christ’s sake, Abbey. Even in your own head, you have trouble thinking the word .

Dick. IT’S A DICK!

Ugh.

Dammit. Focus.

Where was I?

Oh yeah, I thought I’d be more terrified of seeing his dick , not to mention all the other dicks that were out. For the briefest of moments, I wanted to go to him so badly. I wanted to have the courage, just like the Doxies, to stand before him, and touch it.

I wonder what he would have done if I had.

The two of us are playing a part, after all. Did he want me to go to him because people may have been watching? Or did he just want me to go to him simply because he wanted me near?

It unsettles me a little how much I want it to be the latter.

Do I really want his interest?

Do I really want to feel his hardness and see what happens when I wrap my hand around it and—

Ringo, still watching me as I stare at him, raises a brow and mouths again.

“Come here, Angel.”

Oh.

Angel.

Why does he call me that?

“Because Angel is just for me.”

He said that to me when I asked if Angel could be my name instead of Charity. His reason left more questions than I began with, because it kind of felt like he meant it as an endearment, and not simply a name, and well, despite him being scary as hell, I liked the thought that perhaps the term, Angel, meant more to him.

Which is why I’m pathetic.

We don’t even know each other and the first hint of someone showing an interest and I’m practically drooling. It’s probably why Daniel thought I was a sure bet in the beginning.

Needing that prick’s name out of my head, I slowly start to walk across the courtyard, making my way to him as I pass the big burly man that cornered me the night I left Ringo’s room to find him.

I duck my head, not wanting to look at him, yet always on alert, my eyes darting back to the man just in case he pounces.

To my surprise, his eyes meet mine and he gives me a warm smile, if that’s what you can call it under all the bushy hair covering his jaw and upper lip. He gives me a nod, kind of like people give as they pass each other on the walking track around the pond in Fox Pines.

I don’t smile back. I can’t. He terrified me the other night, and I don’t trust him one bit. But he doesn’t call me out on it, and I continue towards Ringo, finally reaching him where he still watches.

“What were you thinking about over there?” He gestures his head back towards where I’d been standing, and I shrug, not wanting to reveal my inner thoughts. “You know, I’ve noticed something about you, Angel.” He reaches out, gently gripping my wrist and tugging me closer, guiding me to sit on his lap.

“What have you noticed?” I ask quietly, feeling my entire body flush with heat as I settle on his lap.

We are so close now, his scent wrapping around me, a mixture of spice and wood, and our faces are mere inches apart. I’m entrapped by his eyes, so dark, yet hypnotising as he stares back, making me feel… seen.

“Well, it seems that your creamy skin, right here,” he reaches up, his fingers grazing over the side of my face and into my hair before his thumb brushes over the apple of my cheek, “goes bright red quite a lot. Just like it is right now.”

My lips part as I suck in some air, having forgotten how to breathe for a moment there, but the action steals his gaze from mine, to drop to my lips, and holy hell, my heart flips inside my chest.

What is happening right now? Does he want to kiss me again?

It’s the ruse, Abbey. The role he’s playing to keep you safe.

“And your cheeks were flushed moments ago when you stood over the other side of the yard. So, what I want to know is, what were you thinking about then?”

I shake my head just a fraction, his hand still cupping the side of my head, his thumb still brushing back and forth over my cheek. My very flushed cheek.

“I… I don’t remember.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, you do. You just don’t want to say.”

His hand drops away, and I instantly miss it.

There’s no way I’m telling him what I was thinking about, which is certainly something out-of-place given everything that is happening.

I’m here because he kidnapped me from my abusive situation. A situation that also involved a fiancé that likes to rape me. How on earth can I be thinking about this man who I hardly know, and his… dick?

Ugh, I’ve been nothing but a horndog lately.

Could it be from being around people that have open sex so freely, or is it just him?

Maybe it’s from the kiss we shared. It was a kiss I asked for in a moment of desperation, and even though he said he’d love to kiss me, he could have said that to be polite.

Are motorcycle club members normally so nice?

Ugh.

“Brunch is ready!” Casey calls, and hoots follow from all the hungry men.

I go to get off Ringo’s lap to get us a plate of food, but his large hand resting on my thigh grips it, giving it a squeeze.

“Stay right where you are.”

A shiver runs up my spine at the gravel in his tone and the way he breathes the words against my ear.

Heck. Why does his warm breath feel so damn good?

Stop it, Abbey. He doesn’t actually like you like that.

“Aren’t you hungry?” I ask quietly, remaining as still as I can since his lips are still pressed to my ear, lingering, and I can still feel the heat of his breath.

“I’m famished,” he rasps, squeezing me tighter, and I can’t help it. My lids flutter closed, and I melt into him even more.

“Here’s your food, Ringo.”

The sweet female voice jolts me from my daze, seeming to have the same effect on Ringo, and I look up to see one of the younger Doxies standing before us, holding out two plates.

“Thanks, Nessy. Pop them on the table.” Ringo gestures to the white plastic table to our right.

She smiles timidly and nods, placing the plates down before scurrying away, and I glance at what she brought us .

One plate has an array of cooked barbeque meat items, while the other plate has grilled vegetables.

“Let’s get some food back into your body,” he mutters, reaching over to the plate and using the fork to stab into a piece of grilled zucchini.

Oh, my… is he going to feed me?

When he holds the fork out, hovering close to my lips, and I don’t make a move, his deep voice rumbles close to my ear again. “Open those pretty lips, Angel.”

What the…

I shake my head, my gaze darting around the yard to see a few of the big scary bikers looking on, while some of the Doxies pretend not to be looking, but sneak glances every now and then.

“Open. Now,” he demands, and just like the other times he’s demanded me, my body obeys even though I try to stop it, and my lips part for him to slip the vegetable in.

The moment the flavour hits my tongue, I’m done for.

My lids flutter closed, and I think I even moan as I start chewing.

“Fuck, that’s hot.”

My eyes snap open at his whispered words, but he pretends not to care about my sudden stiff posture, and he feeds me a grilled piece of carrot this time.

He doesn’t even have to ask. My lips part immediately, ready for more, and as I chew the carrot, dread settles in my stomach.

Why do I do that? Why does he demand things, and even when I’m not sure I want to comply, I still do ?

The thought makes it hard to swallow the carrot, and before I know it, I’m quickly slipping off his lap, scooping up the plate of grilled veggies, and dashing off to hide in his room.

As I go to close the door behind me and shut the courtyard out, a large hand slaps against the timber, pushing it open to reveal Ringo, his expression now a glare as he once again follows me in.