Page 19 of Stripping Keys (Devil’s Riot MC Tennessee #6)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

KEYS

“What’s with the strange look on your face?” I ask, watching Marla closely as we eat the pizza I ordered. It’s not the cardboard type you get from the franchise places. No, it was real pizza from a local joint in town. They’ve got some of the best I’ve ever eaten in my life.

“What look?” Marla asks and takes another bite of her slice. Cheese stretches from her mouth to the slice she pulls away. Pinching the cheese, she throws her head back and allows the rest of it to fall into her mouth before straightening and smiling at me. “I love pizza.”

“I can tell.,” I grin. My cock even took notice of the way she’s with pizza.

When it comes to food, Marla doesn’t hide behind anything when it comes to eating. I’d seen it a lot the past few days, and I like that a lot about her.

Marla smiles and shakes her head as she chews.

“You’ve had a strange look since you talked with Storm and Meadow. Everything okay? I saw Marley go in there as well.”

Marla clears her throat and loses the smile, though the shimmering in her eyes stays. “She asked me if we could be friends. Said we suck at siblings.”

“And?” I didn’t know if that was even possible, but it would be good for them to be able to get along.

“I agreed we sucked as siblings and that we could try and be friends,” she answers and takes a moment to eat another bite before she continues. “She’s pregnant.”

“Yeah?” I hadn’t heard the news. Griz and Marley must be keeping it quiet for the time being.

“Yeah, I told her I’d be a better aunt than I was a sister.”

“You’ll be a great aunt,” I tell her, knowing it’ll be true. Just as I know that . . .

Hold that thought right there. No way am I going down that road. No way am I having kids. She’s protected, on birth control. I won’t get her knocked up.

“Do you ever think of having kids?” Marla’s question throws me for a loop.

Getting up, I shake my head. “No.” I throw my trash away in the can next to my desk and head for the door. “I’ll be back. I’m not gonna lock the door, but stay in here.”

I don’t know why that question flips me out as it does. Maybe it’s because it came as I was also thinking . . .

Fuck.

I can’t think about this shit.

I won’t.

It brings up too many memories that I refuse to think about.

Needing to clear my head, I stalk down the hallway, out of the clubhouse, and out into the night. I straddle my bike, start her up, kick the stand up, and hit the throttle. The gate barely opens for me before I’m passing through, turning out of the club property onto the road.

Revving the throttle harder, I fly down the road, my mind swirling with the thoughts I was trying to shove out of my head. Why can’t I get the image of her pregnant out of my head? I know she’s not, but the potential idea of it fucks with my head.

I swore a long time ago, I’d never have kids. Is that something she would want? It’s not something I think I could give her. I don’t have anything against kids in general, but with my past, I don’t . . .

Fuck.

Swerving between traffic, I take a turn, then another, heading for the roads leading toward the highway. Not sure where I’m heading, I’m just letting the road take me for now. Let it guide me where it’s taking me.

Time passes, and with it, the thoughts still linger. I can’t stop thinking about it. About her. She’s back at the clubhouse, probably wondering what the hell happened, and why I left the way I did.

I already admitted to myself that she was it for me. I knew that, but that’s it. I refuse to live a repeat of my past as a future.

Speeding down the roads, hours pass before I finally slow down, realizing where I allowed myself to be led.

Fuck.

I haven’t been back here in years. More memories flood into my head, none of them good.

Staring up at the now run-down building, I can’t believe that it used to be where I lived. At the time, it had been kept up. Plants were planted in the beds in front and along the walkway.

Parking my bike, I make my way up the deserted walk. It’s almost like I’m being blindly led up the porch and through the haphazardly lying door.

Inside, you could see the furniture was still there, but instead of in the shape I last remember it being, it was dirt-covered and musty-smelling.

Memories assail me, leaving me to their devices.

As I walked, I could hear the sounds of the voices of those who visited the establishment when it was open—my mother’s voice among them.

I take care to watch my step as I walk up the stairs leading to the rooms up there.

The one at the far end, the door was closed, but opening it, it looked the same yet different from the last time I’d been inside.

Bars were on the inside, nothing to distort the view from outside.

It kept me from escaping her. It was the room she kept me prisoner.

There were toys still in the corner. Dust and cobwebs were everywhere.

The musty smell was foul just as it was throughout the entire building.

Moving away from the room, I step toward the one next to it.

Opening the door wasn’t hard. The number attached to the front of it was hanging misshapenly, barely hanging on. In the middle of the room was the bed I laid in more than I laid in my own.

From the time I could remember until I ran, this was the room my mother used to sell me. She used my body to serve her purposes. I wasn’t the only one she did this for. There were others, but she managed to keep the establishment running for those she worked for.

Only when it came to selling me, it was different. She did it to pay for her drugs. I was what she used to keep herself the way she wanted. It didn’t matter who, man or woman, she gave me to them.

From an early age, I learned what sex was. I didn’t know what they wanted me to do at first, not until I was taught.

My mother would give me pills that would make me compliant and allow the client to have their fun. Sometimes she’d give me something to make it so I wanted to fuck all the time. It didn’t matter who it was, all I cared about was fucking.

I learned in this room what BDSM was. How to pleasure a woman and a man both. Nothing was off limits.

Looking away, I shook my head, wondering just how I ever escaped this life. If my mother had found me, would I have been dragged back into this life?

If it hadn’t been for the club, I don’t know where I’d be.

Nines’s dad had been the one to find me walking along the side of the road in the middle of the night.

I was seventeen. He’d been on his way back to the clubhouse.

Don’t know why he ever did it, but he’d stopped that night and talked to me about where I was going.

I didn’t have anywhere else to go. He said I could come to the clubhouse until I figured it out.

I didn’t take him up on the ride, but two days later, I found myself at the clubhouse.

He told me where it was. Gave me the directions and I followed them.

Took me a while to get used to being around them all without having my guard up.

Took me about six months to learn that I was good at computers.

Taught myself everything I knew, and when I prospected, I knew exactly what I wanted to do to contribute to the club.

To the club, I wasn’t what my mother forced me to be. I was no longer forced to have sex with anyone. I became the man I am. The club gave me a safe place to land, to strip away the horrific past and become someone else. Someone with worth.

I love being a member of the club. I love what I do for them. There’s never a dull moment in the club. Not with the ol’ ladies’ antics.

Not with the kids that are coming into my brothers’ lives. Storm and Blow have the triplets. Chelsea and Lucky just had Sterling. Now, Meadow and Nines were expecting, along with Marley and Griz. The club was filling up with the next generation.

The image of Marla carrying my kid pops into my head once again. I knew she wasn’t pregnant, but the thought of it, fuck . . . I don’t know.

With the way my childhood was, I don’t know if I could do it. I want her. I want to be able to give her the world, but could I give her a kid? I know I would never do anything to a child of mine. I knew that deep down. Regardless, it doesn’t change the fear that it could end up happening.

My phone vibrates in my pocket. Sighing, I pull it out to find a text from Blow. Opening it to see what he needs.

Blow: Where the fuck are you?

I don’t want to tell him, but if I don’t, he’ll question me even more.

Me: Out. Had to think about shit.

I couldn’t tell him where I was exactly. Not without him asking a hell of a lot of questions.

A moment later, my phone rings. Sighing, I answer it. “Yeah?”

“Where the fuck are you, Keys?” Blow demands.

“Had to go for a ride to clear my head,” I answer.

“Where?”

“Why does it matter where?”

“Because shit’s gone down and you’re out there with your ass swinging and no brother to have your back.”

Straightening, I glance around my surroundings, seeing nothing but the dust caking the room. “What do you mean shit’s gone down?”

“They made a move, Keys. Now, where the fuck are you?”

Gritting my teeth, I squeezed my eyes shut and gave him his answer. “I’m at the place I grew up.”

Blow is silent for a moment before he responds. “Right, we’ll come to you.” He hangs up before he can get the address. It wouldn’t be hard for him to do. He knows the program I have to track our locations. He could’ve used it to begin with. Instead, he calls me to ask me.

Now, he’s on his way here. How the fuck do I explain this shit to him? To any of them? They’ll have questions, I’m sure of it. I don’t talk about my past. I never have.

I’ll have to come up with some bullshit to explain away this place.

Moving through the room, though, I stop in front of one of the dressers and open the top drawer. Inside it, all the toys were still there. Id hated them. Hated when they were used on me. When I had to use them on one of the clients.

Fuck.