The Diary of Bink Cummings: Vol 3 (MC Chronicles #3) (24 page)

Pivoting so my back is pressed into the corner of the couch, I hike my left leg up to rest on the cushions and get comfortable. Scoping the room I watch the party play out in full swing. Viper’s now tongue wrestling with that blonde at the bar. Tripper, Dallas, Axel, Bulk, and my daddy are all playing some card game, which involves lots of ‘fuck you asshole’s’ and grunting. Three whores are idling standing close to the table, drinks in hand, watching them play. Gypsy and Mickey are standing beside each other, shoulders touching, drinking beers, while they watch Gunz and White Boy shoot pool. Niki is sitting on a chair close by, and between shots Gunz strolls over to openly fondle her, which from this angle she seems to be thoroughly enjoying. I predict that after that game is done he’ll be carting her away to bang her brains out. Knowing Gunz he might bring along another one of the whores to have some fun. I know Niki likes women too. I can’t say for sure, but I think she and Dixie had a mild affair at one point. A few years back there wasn’t a weekend that went by that I didn’t see them eating each other’s pussies out and letting the brothers watch. If I also recall, Gunz would be one of the men who’d fuck them both while they did. Gunz has zero barriers when it comes to sex, I know that much.

Jezebel, stumbling back to her chair with a fresh jack and coke, yanks me from reliving my explicit past. Not that any of that past has really bothered me. It doesn’t. It’s something you just get used to, so it’s not as shocking for me as it is for some people. Although there are those rare occasions that still have me going
‘what the fuck!?’

“Did Brew make it the way you wanted?” I point to Jez’s drink.

“Brew is the best fuckin’ bartender,” Jez clarifies enthusiastically with an over the top swing of her arms which makes her drink slosh over the edge of the glass onto her hand. She scowls at the mess, brings her hand to her mouth, and licks off the liquid.

“There,” she mutters, finished cleaning herself like a puppy.

Placing her glass back to her lips and tipping her head back, she takes a hefty drink. I’m guessing her drink is more Coke than Jack at this point. Brew’s always been good about not wanting the women to get overly sloshed, so he weakens their drinks as the night goes on. It’s a known tip that when you’re plastered most drinks taste the same, tamed down or not. So she’ll never even know the difference. At least I hope not, for his sake.

I stop paying attention to Jez when the room’s mood suddenly changes, and the atmosphere shifts. I can feel it, although my fellow sisters seem oblivious.

I scan over the expanse of the common room. Simultaneously every single one of the brothers phones go off. One by one they check them, and they look at each other with concern. Gypsy and Mickey, along with Gunz and White Boy, start heading toward the exit. The brothers at the table put their cards and drinks downs.

“Something’s up,” I announce, keenly watching each brother silently get up and head to the entrance.

Why in the hell are they so calm and quiet?

Viper detaches from the slutty blonde, and instead of joining his brothers at the entrance, he saunters towards me. This isn’t good.

Viper stops next to me and glances down, lips red and swollen from making out with the whore. “I need you to come with me,” he offers me his hand.

I don’t accept it.

Instead, I sit straight up and cross my arms over my chest.

“What’s this all about?” I demand, locking eyes with him.

“I just need you to come with me.” He opens and closes his hand that’s extended to me.

I shake my head.

“Nope, not until I know what’s going on,” I snap, glaring at him.

“Look, they’re going outside,” Jezebel blurts, pointing to the exit. I turn my head and watch as the brothers file outside. Something’s up.

Slapping Viper’s hand away, I use the arm of the couch to hoist my fat ass up and stand. He doesn’t seem to want to take my ‘no’ seriously when he places a hand on my shoulder, acting like he’s about to restrain me.

That shit ain’t gonna fly.

I grab his wrist and squeeze, digging my nails in. He seems unaffected.

“If you don’t remove this fucking thing from my shoulder, then I’m gonna tear it off,” I state crudely. Apparently not wanting to cause a scene, he silently drops his hand to his side, shoving it into his jeans pocket and eyes me with apprehension.

Loud commotion outside draws my attention, and the next thing I know I’m striding, alright, I’m wobbling as fast as I can to the front of the clubhouse as Viper commands me to stop. Jez and Candy Cane seem to be yelling something at him, but I don’t pay a lick of attention as I make my way to the clubhouse doors. I try to push one open only to have it blocked by Gunz.

“Go to your room,” he demands through the glass, pointing straight at me with one of the most serious expressions I’ve ever seen. I try to glance around him to catch a glimpse of anything, but all I see is a sea of Sacred Sinners cuts. I can hear the sound of a motorcycle that’s partly drowned out by the loud rock music inside.

“Big’s out there, isn’t he?” I yell.

Gunz doesn’t reply, as he continues to stare me down.

“Gunz!” I scream at him. “Gunz let me out!” I slap my palms to the door, shooting pain up my arms. I ignore the pain. Gunz shakes his head, lips tight, refusing to let me outside.

Fine! Fuck him! If he wants to play this way, I’m going out the back door.

“Fine!” I slap the doors once more for good measure and flip him off.

Pivoting on my heel, I turn to see Viper and Jez in a heated argument of sorts, so I take my time and waddle to the kitchen. Pushing the swinging door open, I go inside. Once nobody can see me, I pick up my pace and fast waddle with my hands on my lower back, ignoring all the pain that’s flowing through my body, and exit the opposite side of the kitchen into the hall. Not wasting a second, I head straight up the hall and push open the back door. Nobody’s manning the back entrance. Thank God.

Not caring what I might see or hear or what Gunz might do to me when he finds out I’m not listening to his orders, I skate to the side of the clubhouse in nothing but a pair of fuzzy socks and black pajamas. Trying to remain quiet, I take small steps and stick to the shadows so nobody catches me. Once I’m to the corner where all the commotion is coming from, I peek to see the entire brotherhood crowded around Big on his motorcycle. It’s still running.

Knowing that no one is going to be expecting me to come this way, I crouch the best I can and slowly waddle my way along the rows of bikes. I try to stay close enough to the ground so the bikes will hide my presence. They’re too caught up talking to Big and carrying on that I slip in unnoticed. Even though I know right now I look like a fat, wobbly, unsteady, weirdo creeping up on a group of edgy bikers. Not my finest moment.

“What do ya think you’re doin’?” A voice booms behind me as I draw closer. I look over my shoulder as I crouch and rest one hand on the bike next to me for support.

“I’m gonna go see Big,” I grumble lowly to Gunz who is shaking his head at me, severely frowning. Guess he doesn’t find this particular endeavor of mine to be amusing.

“When I said—” he starts, only I put his ass on ignore and use the bike to help me stand, and with one last glance over my shoulder I set off at a dead pregnant-woman sprint towards Big. Once I hit the group of brothers, I shove Runner out of my way, as Gunz yells at me from behind. I don’t listen to him. I keep going, out of breath, my hair a mess, sweat clinging to my temples, with my body sore as fuck. I don’t give a shit. I push my final brother to the side to see Big straddling his bike, head down, hands on his face, and fingers threaded through the front of his hair. He’s covered in blood. Holy fuck, and I don’t mean just a little bit of blood. His arms are smeared with it. His jeans are splattered. His hands are caked too.

Stopping close to his bike, my eyes widen and I gasp, my hands flying to my mouth. The brothers all take a step back giving us space.

“What in God’s name happened?!” I screech and take another step forward.

Big doesn’t move. Doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t even acknowledge me.

“Big?” I mutter thickly.

Something’s wrong. He’s covered in blood, and he’s not speaking. What in the hell happened?

Biting my lip, I take another tentative step forward and reach out to lay my hand on his upper thigh. Behind his hands, he growls ferociously, like a hell beast.

“Big?” I ignore his growl and rub lightly along his thigh, trying to draw his attention. “You alright?” I speak softly. Big grumbles something unintelligible under his breath.

Swallowing hard and pulling up my big girl panties, I move closer, so my belly brushes his leg. Keeping my hand on his thigh, I use the other and wrap my fingers around his blood speckled forearm to try and pry his hand from his face. His skin is cool to the touch and smells like sweat, stagnate blood, leather, and the outdoors. It’s not the best smell, but it’s him smelling that way and that’s all that matters.

“What’s wrong?” I soothe, gently pulling his thick forearm. He allows me to peel his left hand from his face.

Oh dear god! My throat seizes and tears instantly spring to my eyes. My stomach tightens at the sight and I have to bite my tongue not to cry out. His face! My Big’s face has been mauled! Lots of cuts that look like claw marks are jaggedly running down his cheek. They’ve scabbed over with chunky smatterings of blood. They’re fresh, no more than a day or so old.

Big keeps his eyes downcast, aloof. It is like he’s not even here. It’s like he’s somewhere else entirely. Some place far, far away as his eyes stare blankly at the tank of his bike. His arm goes slack in my grasp, and I lay it in his lap so I can reach for his haunted, desolate face. This man sitting here on this bike is not my Big. This is not the asshole I know and love. This man is broken. This man has been torn apart and is only a portion of the man that left me a little over a week ago.

Moving to his other hand, I peel it from his face, and he doesn’t fight it. I set his hand in his lap and cup his jaw with both of my hands, holding his weighted head so it doesn’t fall forward. Inspecting his other cheek, it’s marred with similar claw marks, only they appear to be superficial in this light.
Thank fuck.

“Big, honey, what’s wrong?” For god’s sake, I am trying to reach out to him but he’s not even in there. What the hell happened? Why won’t he talk to me? What did I do? What did he do? Why is he just sitting there dead on the bike? His breathing is normal, which is good I suppose. His eyes are blank. Lifeless. It’s like his soul has already left, and all I have is this shell of a man to love. I’ll take it, if that’s all he’s going to give me, to give us. I’ll take it, even if I hate it.

Where is my asshole control freak? Why isn’t he hugging me? Why isn’t he even speaking?

Swallowing hard, tears I can’t control roll freely down my cheeks. I do nothing to stop them as I watch my empty man through blurry vision. Someone turns off the bike, and the world around me fazes out. All I can do is focus on him. His face, the lost look in his eyes, the way his body remains eerily still.

I need to fix him. I have to make him okay. He would do it for me.

A warm hand lands on my shoulder. “Baby Doll, let’s get him inside and clean him up.” It’s Gunz who’s trying to help. Of course Gunz is. Gunz is always there to fix everything. But I don’t think he is going to be able to fix this.

As each second passes, my heart cracks a little more watching Big fade away. Feeling like he’s lost to me forever. I don’t know why I feel this way but I do. It’s like a sixth sense that I can feel rotting in the pit of my stomach as it tumbles with great uncertainty. Something feels very off about all of this. The hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention, somehow cementing my heightened level of trepidation.

Gunz reaches around me and detaches my hands from Big. I let him. He wraps me in his arms, my back to his front, his lips pressing kisses to the back of my head. Being held in the comfort of his arms does nothing to lessen my internal ache. I feel like I’m dying inside right along with Big. Where he goes, I’ll follow. We are in this together to the bitter end. I just hope he realizes that.

Standing to the wayside, I watch in slow agonizing motion as brothers surround Big and physically remove him from his bike. It’s no easy task, as they have to hold on to the bike while others lift him. Once they’ve finished, he stands on his own next to his bike but doesn’t talk, doesn’t move, his shoulders slump, chin drops to his chest, and his eyes remain downcast.

Tripper and Dallas, along with my daddy, help guide Big to the clubhouse. His feet shuffle lifelessly each step of the way.

“What happened?” I whisper to Gunz, watching the man I love disappear through the clubhouse doors, taking my bleeding heart with him.

“I don’t know. We all got texts that said
I represent all the sins you never had the courage to commit,
” Gunz explains, his beard scratching the side of my neck.

“What does that mean?” I ask.

“Gypsy said it’s a quote from Oscar Wilde.”

Of course Gypsy said it was. He would be the first to know that. But what does it mean?

“Do you understand the quote?” I mutter.

Moving his hands down to rub my belly in circles, Gunz replies, “No, but if I had to guess, it’s not good.”