Kid: Cerberus MC Book 2 (22 page)

Memory or not, he chose her last night.

I hear them begin to argue again as I walk back to my room, defeated. I close the door softly and fall into my bed. For the first time since being in state care, I actually contemplate whether or not working through their extended assisted living program. At least this way, they’d help me get an apartment. I could live on my own, and they’d even help me get into college. I’ll wait a few days until my birthday though. The last thing I need is them flexing their State-backed muscles and insisting I go to another foster home in the interim.

I hear the door open and close, but I keep my head buried under my covers. Maybe if I pretend to be asleep the interloper will just leave me alone.

No such luck.

“I brought you some breakfast,” Emmalyn says softly.

I hear her place a plate on my bedside table; then the bed dips as she sits on the edge.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks after a long silence.

“What’s there to talk about?” I ask angling my head out of the covers so she can hear me.

I look up at her and see the sadness in her eyes. For the first time since he walked in last night, I consider her feelings too. He doesn’t remember her either. She’s lost a friend as well.

“He’ll remember us,” she says with more confidence than I can see in her eyes.

“For your sake I hope he remembers you.”

“He’ll remember you too,” she offers.

I sit up on the bed, placing my back against the headboard. “What does it matter? The damage is already done.”

“I know the shit that went down last night hurts, but he doesn’t even realize what he’s done.” I watch as she wrings her hands in her lap.

I glare at her. Is she condoning what he did? Surely she can’t be okay with it. I take a deep breath. I know she’s pissed, if what I just heard in the kitchen is any indication.

“I can’t be around him, Em. I can’t watch him take another girl to his room. Hell, next time he may double up with both Snapper and Gypsy.” I swipe angrily at the tears rolling down my cheek.

“What happens if he remembers? He’s not going to be okay with what he’s done.”

“I don’t know. I honestly don’t think I can move past this,” I admit. It makes me feel weak, unable to take an outside look at all the circumstances.

“You love him,” she says softly.

I laugh humorlessly at her words. “Pretty childish, huh? The teenager falls in love with the biker.”

She places her hand over mine. “There’s nothing childish about love, Khloe.”

I straighten and take a long look at her. Changing the subject I say, “There are only a few more days until my birthday. I think I’m going to leave, find my own way.”

Em shakes her head back and forth almost violently. “I don’t think running is the best answer. Believe me, I did it several times with Diego, and it never really works the way you want it to. We lost so much time together because of it.”

“I’m not leaving as an attempt to get him to chase me,” I whisper. “I’m leaving because I can’t stay here, feeling the way I do about him, knowing what he’s done. This is just my life, Em. The people I care for don’t stick around. I’m just trying to save myself a little bit of heartache.”

I moan and reach up and hold my head as I roll over in bed. My fingers gingerly scan over the staples in my hairline. This is like all of the hangover with none of the fun. I crawl out of bed and head straight to the jeans I discarded last night. Grabbing the bottle of pills the hospital gave me for headaches, I pop one in my mouth.

I take another shower even though I had one right before bed last night. I don’t quite feel normal yet, and figure a shower may wash some of the unease away. I dread heading out to the kitchen to grab something to eat. I feel like I’ll be under a microscope; everyone watching me to see what the hell I’ll do next. I’m not a circus monkey and sure as shit I’m in no mood to perform for anyone.

The visions of the auburn-haired girl that hit me when I was balls deep in Snapper last night crept into my dreams as well. I make a plan to get to know her better; somehow make my dreams a reality. Surely, by the end of the weekend, she’ll be in my bed. Depending on how long she’s been here, it may have already happened. I hate that I may have had that beauty underneath me, and I can’t remember it. That would be a shame. The only bright side is possibly experiencing what I’m certain is a glorious pussy for the first time, again.

A knock at the door has me zipping my jeans and tugging a t-shirt over my head quickly.

Opening the door, I see Shadow standing on the other side.

“Hey, man. What’s up?” I ask walking back across the room to grab socks and my boots.

“I know you don’t remember, but you created a huge shit storm last night,” he says with anger.

“My mistake,” I say taken aback by his tone. “Believe me, if I’d known she was the Prez’s girl I would have never had my hands on her ass.”

“That’s only part of your fuck up, Kid.” He’s standing just inside the door with his arms crossed over his chest.

I shake my head in confusion. “What? Did you want Snapper last night? I don’t mind sharing. She loves that shit. You should’ve come in and joined the fun.” I chuckle. “I mean you would’ve had to hurry because I didn’t last for shit last night. Probably the damn meds they pumped me full of last night.”

He runs a rough hand over his face and sighs loudly. “You want to know why you blew it so fast last night, asshole? It’s because you haven’t laid a fucking finger on one of the girls in weeks.”

I roll my eyes at him. Yeah, right. I never go days without fucking, much less weeks.

“You know the other girl from last night? Khloe?”

“Is that her name?” I ask lacing up my boots.

He nods.

“What about her?”

“You guys have sort of a thing.” He answers.

“Like we fuck a lot?”

He looks like he wants to strangle me. “She’s seventeen, Kid.”

“What the fuck is a seventeen-year-old doing in this fucking clubhouse? Who thought for a second bringing her here and letting her spread her god damned legs was a good idea?” I’m pissed. We don’t allow kids in the clubhouse. The only time they’ve ever been is for BBQ’s and such.

“You brought her here!” he roars in frustration. “And as far as I know, she’s not fucked anyone. If she has, it would’ve been you.”

I shake my head in disbelief. “I’d never put my hands on anyone under eighteen,” I sneer.

“That may be the case, Kid, but you were pretty infatuated with that girl before you left. The shit you pulled last night; bringing Snapper back here to fuck, could very easily end up being the worst mistake you’ve ever made in your life.”

“Impossible,” I mutter more to myself. “I’d never get wrapped in one piece of pussy. So there’s no chance I’d be hard up for a girl I didn’t even touch.”

“Believe me, brother,” he says tossing a cell phone in my direction. I catch it deftly. “You were.”

“Another thing,” he says before leaving the room. “Emmalyn… Kincaid’s girl… you guys were thick as thieves. You took care of her, guarded her more times than I can count. He trusted her with you, and you blew that shit out of the water last night as well.”

I sigh as he closes the door with a heavy thud. I need some distance from this place. I lose a couple of months’ worth of memories and in a matter of twelve hours I’ve practically ruined whatever the hell kind of life I’d built in that time period.

I grab my bike keys and head down the hall. A flash of auburn hair grabs my attention as it disappears into what I presume is her room. The door closes, and I hear the lock click into place before I can reach it. I want to talk to her. I feel as if I do, I may remember more of the missing chunk of my life, but she clearly doesn’t want to be bothered.

I make my way out to the main room which is thankfully empty. I’m halted by Shadow on the front porch. He’s on the phone but holds up a finger telling me to give him a few minutes. I’d like to flip him the bird, straddle my bike, and head out, but he’s the VP and that shit won’t be tolerated.

I walk down the steps to give him a little bit of privacy. I kick my boots at the dirt for several minutes before he joins me.

“Where you headed?” He asks noticing the keys in my hand.

“For a ride. No specific location in mind.”

“You just going to ignore the doctor’s orders?”

“I’m fine, Shadow.”

“Doc said no riding, no driving when taking those pills. You take one this morning?”

“What the fuck else can I do,
dad
? I sure as hell don’t want to be stuck in the clubhouse all damn day.” I narrow my eyes at him.

“Kincaid and I are heading back to Vegas to finish up this job. We don’t need to worry about you possibly being roadkill because you’re out on your bike hopped up on fucking painkillers either.” I can tell he’s still pissed about last night, but I know he also cares.

“Fuck,” I say pocketing my keys and walking off toward the garage.

“Come find me in an hour or so,” he yells at my back. “Kincaid wants to talk to you before we head out.”

I raise my hand over my head in acknowledgment just before I step into the empty garage. Motorcycles in various states of repair, and several SUV’s we use on occasion line one of the walls. I sit down at the table in the corner, resisting the urge to reach into the fridge for a beer I know is always stocked. That was another way the doctor has ruined my damn life. No mixing alcohol with the pain meds. I think from now on I’ll take
Tylenol
or some shit so I can drink and ride, not at the same time of course, but being stuck is pretty shitty.

I pull out my cell phone and search for Khloe’s name. Shadow isn’t one to joke about such serious shit, so I know what he said about her has to have some truth to it, even though it feels alien to me. I don’t see her name, but I continue to scroll through my contacts, finding one labeled ‘Sweet Girl.”

I open the messages and scroll to the very top. I spend the next forty-five minutes reading through what I’m assuming is my interaction with Khloe. She’s funny and sweet, and oddly I can tell through the numerous messages that we’ve sent back and forth, that I cared for her.

I’m pissed at no one in particular. That’s a lie. I want to go to Vegas and gut the men who were involved in my injury. I still don’t know all the details. Shadow and Kincaid aren’t one-hundred percent clear either. All they really know is that someone who works at the shitty hotel we were staying at called an ambulance when she found me unconscious on the floor. They haven’t made contact with this BT guy yet, so they can only go by what the people at the hospital told them.

Reading our texts is like an out of body experience. I can tell by our easy banter that we got along great. I can even tell I sent these messages by the style, I know is mine. The disconnect is still there, though. I can’t remember a damn thing, and I get the feeling already in my gut that when I do, I’m going to feel like the biggest asshole in the world.

I head back inside to meet with Kincaid, prepared to have my ass beat for putting my hands on his girl. I find both him and Shadow in the meeting room going over what looks like schematics for a large building.

“What’s that?” I ask angling my head toward the blueprints.

“Floor plans for The Golden Dragon,” Kincaid answers.

“I want to go back with you guys.” I throw it out there even though I know what the response will be. Shadow looks at me like I’m an idiot who just asked to join a beauty pageant or some shit. “I don’t want to be here.”

“You got all your memories back?” Kincaid asks.

I narrow my eyes at him. Stupid question; he already knows the answer.

“You’d be a liability, Kid. Can’t happen. I need you here.” The Prez has spoken.

I collapse on one of the chairs and wait for the reaming I know I’m going to get.

“We should be back in a couple of days,” Shadow says. “Think you can behave for that long?”

Kincaid looks at me with a cocked eyebrow. “You better keep your hands off my girl,” he says with complete seriousness.

I nod because it’s a moot point. I would never have touched her in the first place had I known who she was.

I’m planning to make myself as scarce as possible, at least until my memories come back, and I know the full effect of what I’ve done.