Page 5

Chapter Five

After a couple of days of travel and over fifteen-hundred-miles we’ve reached our destination.

KOAMC Arkansas is a far cry from Big Daddy’s mansion back in Anarchy.

Nestled between the trees on a winding country road on gated property sits a white three-story farmhouse with a wraparound porch that serves as the clubhouse and where I’ll be staying for the unforeseeable future.

The second Woods cuts his bike off, there’s a gorgeous coppery redheaded woman strutting off the porch and toward us looking like she’s ready to fight.

Maybe she knows about us and is coming to kick my ass.

Fists clenched, wearing an angry scowl, she marches up to Woods while I remove my helmet.

The woman who I presume is his wife takes one look at me, curling her top lip before she jumps into his arms, wrapping hers around his neck as she covers his face in kisses, marking her territory.

He kisses her back, and I can’t help but feel a pang of jealousy slicing through me. Heat burns across the back of my neck as my cheeks redden at the scene. His rough tattooed hand curves to her cheek as he deepens the kiss.

It’s indecent and sexy. He looks at her like I imagined Thad looked at me. With love and lust. It’s how Woods looked at me the other night when he fucked me.

Does he even care that he’s hurt me?

Judging by the way he’s looking at her, probably not.

All my life I’ve starved for attention.

Today is no different.

This is what it feels like to be the other woman.

Shitty.

Guilty.

Used.

Thrown to the side.

“Welcome home, handsome.”

“Thanks, baby.”

If I was a terrible person, I’d tell her how he called me that when he came inside me.

I smile to myself, imagining the look on his face when I out him to her for being a cheating prick as I stare at my shoes. A pair of black leather boots that belong to Big Daddy’s niece, Lucie. Another reminder that I have nothing of my own. Not a home. Not my clothes. Not a man.

Scratch that. I don’t need a man.

But I thought I wanted one.

That maybe despite the bad that maybe Woods would be my silver lining like Big Daddy has been for Gwynee.

I’ve always been a daydreamer.

One day I’ll find my happy.

I don’t regret escaping Thad, but I’m an outsider. I don’t exactly belong here and judging by the look Wood’s wife shot my way, I’m not welcome.

Not that I can blame her. Does she know? Did he tell her? Is that why he was arguing with someone over the phone?

“Come on.” Low grabs my hand and tugs me toward the house and away from Woods and his wife. “I’ll give you the tour.”

I glance back at Woods as his sister urges me on, talking fifty miles a second.

His dark eyes bore into me as he squeezes his wife’s ass.

My heart seizes in my chest. I don’t know if I’m envious, but seeing them together shouldn’t make me feel as though I’ve lost something I never had to begin with.

I break our connection first, attempting to focus on what Low is telling me, reminding myself I said it would be as though we never happened.

“The house was built in the 1920s. It’s been in our family since they settled in the area,” she prattles on going over the history of the property and how it became the clubhouse in the 90s when their Uncle Hoss was the President.

She points him out. The older guy sitting at the opposite end of the porch smoking a pipe.

The entrance of the house is wallpapered with old newspaper clips. Articles written about motorcycle clubs. Ads for motorcycle parts. Past the entryway is a bar in what I’m assuming was once the living and dining rooms. Off to the left is a hallway that goes to a bathroom and other unmarked rooms.

Low leads me up a set of stairs to the second floor.

“Up here is where some of the guys and club girls stay. You’re probably on the third floor. I’ll warn you now that it’s hotter than two rats fucking in a wool sock up there. I’ll have one of the prospects get you a window unit, so you don’t sweat to damn death.”

“Do you live here?”

“No. I stay with my Grannie Maggie about five miles back toward town on Wicker Road. My brother would tan my hide if I tried to have a room here. He doesn’t live here either, but he does have a room.

Him and Faye converted the barn into a house a few years ago.

We own over three hundred acres. Some of the club members have trailers and cabins here, while others prefer to live off the compound.

There’s a kitchen downstairs that is well stocked, so help yourself to whatever.

I’ll swing by tomorrow and take you into town for some new clothes and anything else you need.

For now, you can get something from the closet. ”

She opens a door, and it’s literally a huge walk-in closet filled with clothes and other household items.

There’s a sign on the wall that reads ‘Take what you need. Leave what you don’t.’

“Now, let’s figure out what room Faye has you in.”

If she knew I’d fucked her husband, I’d be out on my ass.

I follow her up another set of stairs. The music from downstairs fades away with every step I take.

“This is the bathroom and sorry to say you will have to share it with the prospects who live up here. Foolish, Rizz, and Swift.” She waves a hand in front of her face as though she’s clearing flies away.

A guy who looks to be in his early twenties exits one of the rooms buck ass naked. All he is wearing is a grin. I try not to gawk at him, but he’s not making it easy to look away.

“Foolish, this is Jessika. She’s a friend of the club and staying here a while. Don’t mistake her for a hangaround,” she warns.

“Nice to meet you, beautiful.” He grabs my hand and kisses my knuckles as Low snorts.

“Knock it off. And put some fucking pants on. Not everyone wants to see your dick.” She rolls her eyes as he flashes his dimples at me. “He’s a total player. Steer clear.”

“The last thing I need in my life is another man complicating it,” I assure her and remind myself. I’ve already gotten into enough trouble. The last thing I need is another man to break my heart.

A dark-haired girl exits the room he just left, adjusting the straps of her dress.

“See what I mean,” Low tells me with a shake of her head. “Do you know which room is open?”

“End of the hall,” Foolish calls over his shoulder as he pulls his jeans on. Without sparing us another glance, he hits the stairs, followed by his friend.

“You’ll see a lot of that, and it’s best if you pretend not to know anyone’s business. Get me?”

“I get you.”

“Good. I don’t know what my brother plans to do with you, but I’m sure once you’re settled, he’ll put you to work at one of the club’s businesses. They own several. What did you do in Anarchy?”

“I was a florist.” Oh shit. I didn’t call work. Melanie is probably freaking out. There’s so many things I didn’t even think about. To be fair, I was in survival mode.

Low opens the door to the room at the end of the hall. A wave of heat hits me square in the face. I hope she has one of the guys get that window unit sooner rather than later. I’m going to melt.

“Cool. Well, I’ll leave you to it. If I don’t go check in with my Gran soon, she will threaten me with her wooden spoon.” She laughs.

“Do you know if there’s a phone I can use?”

“No phones. No internet. Not until we know you’re safe.”

I nod, and Low shoots me a smile before leaving me on my own.

I enter the small room and take a look around.

It’s basic and bare. Cream-colored walls with floral wallpaper as a border around the top.

There’s a single chest of drawers against the wall.

No TV. A full-size white iron bed with a forest green comforter that matches the greenery of the wallpaper that takes up the center of the room.

There’s a rocking chair by the window. No closet.

Not that I intend to stay here long enough to need the use of a closet.

I need a plan. One that gets me out on my own and off Thad’s radar.

The bed squeaks and the mattress dips as I sit on the edge.

I forgot to ask where the towels are for the shower.

Maybe they keep them in the bathroom or in that closet on the second floor.

I’ve never been able to just sit and do nothing.

I go over to the window to check out the view. A huge cypress tree rests at the edge of the backyard. There are some picnic tables and what looks like a horseshoe pit and corn hole boards.

My stomach grumbles, reminding me it’s been a while since we had lunch. Before heading downstairs to the kitchen, I check out the bathroom situation. Oh, hell no. I immediately close the door. I’m not entering that room unless I’m dressed in a full rubber suit and have a gallon of disinfectant.

I might throw up at the amount of pubic hair there was on the toilet bowl that looks like it has never been cleaned. So much for having an appetite. Maybe I’ll check out the second-floor bathroom and that community closet.

Most of the clothes are skimpy at best. Not that I have a problem showing some skin.

Walking around a biker clubhouse appearing as though I’m ready to start gyrating on a pole or charging men by the hour to visit my room may not be practical or wise.

I don’t know these men and they don’t know me.

All I have is the assurance of Big Daddy that they won’t harm me.

Not only that, but that they will protect me.

Big Daddy is not only the president of the Anarchy, California chapter of the Kings of Anarchy MC, but he presides over every charter that wears his patch on their cut across the nation. Everyone answers to someone, and Big Daddy is the final boss. You don’t cross him and live to tell about it.

That I know for certain.