Page 42

Rachel

A few days passed, which were quiet and uneventful. Just how I liked it.

We spent more time with Bee – she was feeling better every day and was beginning to regain the smile we all loved so much. The initial shock of being hurt had worn off, and now that she was under the full control of pain medication, she even managed a smile at our arrival.

We took her everything we thought she would love – her favourite teddy that had been thoroughly washed to remove the smell of smoke. Some colouring books and pens, her iPad, some of her books, and some of her favourite pyjamas and snacks.

We also told her the good news that I was now an official old lady, and her scream solidified what I had slowly been learning.

In the biker world, this commitment was more important than marriage.

It didn’t matter that there wasn’t a white dress and a big fancy ceremony.

This was the ultimate way to show you were serious about your partner, and Bee couldn’t have been happier had we told her that we were getting married, and she was going to be the flower girl.

Whenever we left, there was always someone there ready to take over from us.

She was never left on her own, but we never stayed for long.

The reasoning was that if anyone wanted to find us, they’d assume Dante and I hadn’t left Bee’s side, which would make an attack easier.

As much as it pained us to leave Bee, it made much more sense to rotate the visits, so that we weren’t easily found, and Bee did not become a sitting target.

Not that it made any difference to her. She loved the club, and every member here, and as far as she was concerned, she was surrounded by aunties and uncles who would love and protect her until their final breath.

Dante had managed to get his guys to cover up the fire, so no report was made to the police, and there had been no more activity from the Rough Riders.

Macbeth’s body was dumped outside their clubhouse in the middle of the night, just as Crash wanted.

He had relented slightly and allowed Big Mama to build a small memorial garden in the park so she could visit when she wanted.

She had tried to argue with him that Macbeth deserved to have a memorial garden with the rest of the graves, but he had silenced her with just a look and taken her to their bedroom.

She came back an hour later; her face marked with dry tear tracks and a heavy set to her shoulders.

It made me curious as to what their relationship dynamics actually were, but Dante told me it was none of my business, and to leave well enough alone.

It had been nearly a week since Dante had escaped his attempted murder, and every day I spoke to him about the danger of the club, and how things were eerily quiet, but he told me I was being paranoid.

They had made their move, and it was up to the Rough Riders to play their hand.

As far as he was concerned, the worst of it was behind us, and they were sensible enough to realise they could not win a war against the Devil’s Disciples.

I wasn’t convinced and thought they were planning something big.

Sometimes this led to one of our famous arguments, which resulted in Dante either sleeping on the sofa or storming out.

Other times, it ended with him talking to me, trying to soothe my anxiety.

Bee was due to be released from the hospital in a few days, and I could not shake the sickness that plagued me every day.

Dante told me I was letting my fears get the best of me.

I told him he was a fucking idiot, and my fear was founded by fact.

It had only been this morning that I told him he was a deluded cunt for easing the lockdown restrictions on the club.

He had called me an interfering bitch, which resulted in me slapping him.

He had bent my hand so far back I thought it was going to snap.

When he didn’t get the yelp of pain he was looking for, he had shoved me away from him and told me I was toxic for him.

I told him the club mentality was toxic for anyone, and he had walked away from me .

“Ready?” Dante asked, leaning against the doorway, watching me closely, pulling me out of my thoughts.

I gave him a nasty glance, not forgetting our earlier argument. “For food? Always. For dinner with your mother? Never. She hates me, and I’m not exactly fond of her, either. Can’t we order a takeout and have an early night?”

“You can’t avoid her forever,” Dante said, pushing himself off the doorframe and coming towards me.

“Can’t I? Why do you even have to live with her, anyway? Aren’t you a bit old to be living with your mother?”

He snatched my jaw in his hand and squeezed my cheeks, preventing me from talking. “First of all; she lives with me . Second of all, you look very pretty tonight. Third, shut the fuck up,” he planted a quick kiss on my lips and let me go again.

“Fine,” I snapped, standing up and stomping down on his foot. “Grab me like that again, and next time I’ll break your toes.”

He just laughed. “Rachel… I’ve had heavier pints dropped on my foot and—”

His words were cut off as I stomped on his foot again, this time grinding my toes into his bones. “You were saying?” I asked with a pleasant smile.

He grabbed under my armpits and hauled me off his foot, lifting me up off the floor, leaving my legs dangling as he brought me to his eye level.

“Cute,” he murmured, before he took my lips in a searing kiss.

Just as I was beginning to melt into him, he bit down hard, locking his jaw so I couldn’t escape.

I kicked at him, but he bit down even harder, grinding his jaw so his teeth scraped across my lips like my toes had done to his feet only seconds earlier.

He pulled back, taking my lip with him, until he finally released it, making it slap against my face.

“Do that again, and next time, it’ll be your pussy lips. Get ready, Rachel,” he laughed, slapping me on my ass as he headed out the door, leaving me to deal with the blood that was now seeping from my swollen mouth.

“Asshole,” I hissed under my breath. I grabbed his pillow and pressed it against my face to stem the blood and then put it back on his side of the bed, patting it with a satisfied smile as I thought of his reaction later on .

Oh, how domesticated. He has a side on your bed, my inner voice mocked me.

I ignored it as I went downstairs, joining Dante and his parents in the front room.

“Do you like the attention you get when you’re late, Rachel?” Kitty snapped at me when I entered the room.

“Kitty…” Crash warned as he headed into the kitchen.

“Oh, it’s okay. You just have your claws out today, don’t you, kitty cat?”

“Fuck off, Rachel.”

Don’t cross this battle line with me, Kitty.

I didn’t respond as I crossed the room and sat down next to Dante. “Oh… I just had a thought,” I said innocently. “Why are we still eating in here? There’s a perfectly good dining room only a few steps away.”

Mama’s breath sucked in sharply.

“Oh, shit, sorry!” My eyes went wide, faking unawareness. “But let me ask you this, Mama. Do you like the attention you get when you pretend you gave a shit about your son?”

“You fucking—”

“I trust we’re all getting along nicely?” Crash asked as he came out of the kitchen carrying plates of food.

Mama glared at me, but she didn’t respond. I leant back on the sofa, crossing one leg over the other and swung my foot, smirking back at her.

“Perfectly,” I smiled up at Crash, earning myself a big grin from him. Mama glared even harder as I shot her a wink when Crash looked away from me.

“So easy,” I mouthed the words at her.

“We thought we’d just have wraps tonight, Rachel. Is that good with you? Everything is here. You can just help yourself to whatever you want and make your own.”

“Heavenly,” I breathed, my stomach growling at all the different plates of food on the tray he brought in.

Dante was the first to reach for a plate, handing me an empty tortilla before grabbing one for himself and piling it with chicken and coleslaw.

Mama cleared her throat awkwardly as she reached for the peppers, popping a couple on her wrap.

“Here, let me,” Dante offered as I filled my tortilla and struggled to wrap it. He showed me a technique for getting a tight fold, and then winked at me, making my thighs clench before he went back to his own food.

I rested my arm on my knee, still gently swinging my foot as I took a bite of my food, chewing slowly as silence descended upon the room.

“Oh, Crash, I’ve been meaning to thank you,” I said.

“Me? What for?”

“That cream you gave me for my arms is amazing. I had the best night's sleep last night.”

He puffed his chest with pride.

All men are the fucking same. Compliment them, and they’re strutting around like fancy little peacocks.

“You’re welcome. It’s what we use in the tattoo studio.”

“Well, kudos to you. You’re a godsend as far as I’m concerned.”

I didn’t think it was possible, but his smile widened even further.

I looked back at Kitty and mouthed once more, “so fucking easy.”

She narrowed her eyes at me, shooting such a venomous glare, I could practically hear her hateful thoughts.

What’s the matter, Kitty? Do you see how easy it is for me to manipulate your old man and get him on my side?

“Eat, Rachel,” Dante muttered in my ear, giving my knee a quick squeeze.

I picked up the wrap he had made for me, and took a huge bite, letting out a loud “mmm,” for Crash’s ego.

And then the silence fell back over the room. The food suddenly became dry as all hell, the tension so thick it was almost tangible.

Crash looked at me, and I gave him a tight smile. He looked at Mama, who was shooting glances at her foot and the closed dining-room door. He then looked at Dante, who was too oblivious to the awkward tension as he chewed on his wrap and scrolled his phone, replying to text messages.