Thrash (15 page)

“Tactically, it’s sound,” Aidan told me. “Play to what Bones expects to see, what his men expect to see, and you’ll be as good as a ghost. Better yet, you can come and go without more than a frisking.”

Thrash’s knuckles crackled loudly, and we all knew exactly what he thought of that.

Aidan knocked the table with his knuckles and kept to business. “You’re perfect for this, Nora. You’re his girl, but you work for us. He works for us. He just won’t be able to show it. He won’t be able to talk about it. So don’t –”

“I get it,” I snapped, angry and irritated. “Pretends he’s Bones’ man. Forget the rest till I bring you his information. Fine. How do I do this without getting caught. They’ll kill him if I get caught.”

I blinked as I said it, realizing I hadn’t even thought about what they’d do to me. The truth was, I didn’t really want to think about it.

I wasn’t the only one who noticed my priorities, either. Thrash was watching me from across the room, and Layla looked suddenly teary.

Thrash said nothing.

“Bones knows Layla. If Emma is up for it, she can meet you at a safe location.”

For some reason, when he said ‘safe location’ I thought of hiding in the girl’s bathroom in high school. It hadn’t saved me from the girls’ viciousness, but it had kept a few of the creepier guys away.

The look on Emma’s face made it clear she was on board for this, but she hadn’t been warned beforehand. Thrash wasn’t the only one who was going to get an earful tonight.

We all had a stake in it, too. And we needed to understand what was happening. We needed a say in the final decision. How else could we truly support it?

I was amazed the guys were making the effort. It made me respect them more. Because they were doing something hard, something half the world said they didn’t have to do. They were keeping us involved because it would make all of us stronger – strong enough to face any challenge.

“Do you have any idea where Bones is?” I asked, nervous but trying to be smart anyway. These were tactically-minded men. They knew this guy. I was hoping they could give me a clue how to keep our heads on our shoulders long enough to do the job right and get out of there.

Wrath shook his head. “Only ideas. Enough to know you’ll probably be living in a collective. But Thrash here is valuable to Bones. He’ll probably have his own place.”

Thrash looked suddenly nervous. “You can stay with me if you’re comfortable with that. It’s just for your protection. I’ll probably be spending a lot of time at Bones’ hangout. You know?”

I shook my head, as if to cast aside the issue of shared rooms. That was the least of my worries. “Why didn’t you tell me this earlier? I want to do whatever I can to help you, but it would have been nice to have had time to think about it.”

Thrash paused and looked at me. “I wanted to make sure you knew what was involved before I asked for your help. It’s a big commitment.”

“Yes,” I said quietly. “It is.” The way I said it, everyone in the room knew I was angry. This wasn’t a game to me. It wasn’t a little thing to blow off. It was something that required a lot of thought and consideration.

Thrash was a smart man. He knew there would be more pressure on me in this meeting than there would have been if he had told me about it in private. He had put me on the spot like this on purpose. And I did not appreciate it.

My words came out a whisper but they hit him like an anvil. His face withdrew, and the muscles tightened and pinched.

He spoke stiffly. “No matter what decision you make, I’ll respect it. But I’d like you involved. I need you.” He hesitated.

The other two men looked away, as though that could give us a moment of privacy.

“I trust you. And I believe you can do this.” He was slow and measured in his words. I was starting to recognize that he was like me: he paced himself when he as nervous. His reaction seemed natural, as if he had taught himself to do it. My tendency was the result of training and punishment.

Smile. Nod. Be a lady. Make things happen. Never let them see you doing anything. Your husband is master of your marriage, but you are the mistress of your household. He cannot take that away unless you let him.

Archaic and soulless as they were, those had been the rules. And they had been lies.

I could have a degree if I wanted it. I could own businesses, stock, my own island if I could attain them – but I’d have to be a wife first.

Pick a useful man with the right background. Make sure the power balance suits both parties.

The goal was to produce an heir or two, then get back to my own pursuits.

If men could give birth to their own children, they’d have all the power. Don’t give up the one vital tool you have that they want. Do whatever it takes. There’s surgery to patch you up afterwards.

Not every mother in my circle of friends had put the priorities in that order, but mine had.

I had shuddered, wondering what my mother had dealt with on her climb to the top of her little roost. She’d certainly had all her ducks in a row, and she had made sure to drill them into my brain, as well.

When the children were born, I’d have been expected to pick the right nanny. Get them into the proper schools. Make sure everything went just right so that my husband didn’t have to get involved in household matters.

Everyone acted like the men made those rules. They didn’t. The women did. That was the way they protected their little corner of power. By projecting a strict set of rules on every woman who so much as stepped foot past the gates, and derailing her in every way possible if she failed to play the game perfectly.

To play the game you either had to have been raised for it or meticulously trained for it, and the reigning hens would be able to tell the difference no matter what mask you wore.

It was a life I had been ill-suited for. And yet, here, among these people – men and women I respected – I found I was more like my mother wanted me to be than I had realized.

I didn’t like that.

I looked around at them all, and I knew I had to make a decision.

“I’ll do it,” I said. “But if it gets ugly, you have to leave.”

“Agreed.” He nodded and pulled me into him.

I cringed, unhappy and uncomfortable. “No. No, I’m upset with you. I’ll do what you need me to do, but I need some space to deal with this.”

I glared at him.

He looked at me a long moment, his entire soul frozen in his eyes for the room to see. Then he shut it all away, got down to business, did what he had to do.

“We’re gonna have to do this soon,” he addressed the others. “Bones is getting stronger and we’ve only got so much time to exploit this offer.”

That was when it really hit me. People were going to die, and one of them really could end up being me.

What had I just agreed to?

18

All I could think about was the way her face fell when I asked her to get involved.

I knew that look. I’d seen it on my mother’s face often enough when Desiree and I were children. Nora thought I was using her.

That was the last thing I wanted to do. She was becoming so much to me. Everything.

I already knew I cared about her. I’d known that from the moment she showed up at the clubhouse. She’d blushed all the way down her throat, those gorgeous eyes lighting up when she saw me, and I’d prayed that look really was for me and me alone. That she recognized me.

I’d never lied to myself about her, either. I was willing to go the distance, earn her trust and keep it.

So when I said I wanted her involved, what I meant was that I needed her.

I’d been very open about it with the guys too. I wasn’t playing any games. I was flat-out trying to bring Nora into the fold. To let her prove her worth.

I never wanted to hurt Nora. I wanted her to know where she stood with me at every moment. Wanted to let her know how important she was to me. Because she was.

Instead, I’d miscalculated. I’d been afraid that if I asked her in private, she’d fall apart. Walk away. It would have been harder. I could face down a bullet, and risk decapitation on a bike without a blink. But the thought of losing Nora scared the shit out of me.

When Layla led Nora from the bedroom we were using for church meetings I couldn’t help but feel like I’d betrayed her. The anger and hurt in her eyes shook me to the very core.

Fuck, I was such an asshole. Duty or not, I was asking her to put herself in danger. To watch me put myself in harm’s way. And neither was an easy thing to ask anyone. Maybe it was too much. Maybe I should have found another way. But I couldn’t back down now. The club needed me.

I was the only one capable of doing this.

And the club always came first.

“You were right. She’s loyal,” Aidan admitted as soon as we were alone. “Bit of a cold fish when she’s pissed, but she isn’t stupid. I’m impressed.”

She was loyal, yes, but at what cost?

I twitched away from Wrath, wanting to get out of here. I needed to make sure that we were okay. Our relationship was so fragile, but she was strong. I knew she was. That was why I trusted her. She was smart and gorgeous and interesting, but it was the steel under that velvet exterior that had told me we might just get along.

Now I just needed to make sure that we could be strong together.

Once the women were gone, I cleared my throat.

There were a few finer points of the plan that had to stay in this room. I needed Rage’s go-ahead. And I needed Wrath’s input. We were a team.

I was dreading not having these men at my back, but there was shit to do and Bones to see. We had to get everything in order and quickly.

19

“You okay?” Emma leaned over the bar. The smell of lime and mint wafted from the high ball glass beside her. She always looked like she knew something that no one else did, and she was very pleased about it. Like a real life Cheshire cat.

Except I wasn’t in Wonderland.

“I don’t know,” I admitted as I took a seat.

“Wanna drink?” she asked.

I nodded.

“Layla’s first.”

I looked over at Layla, caught between shock and confusion. “But you’re –”

I shut up, but she smiled tiredly at me. She was carrying as heavy of a weight as I was and it showed on her face.

“No alcohol.” She fished a metal freezer cube out of her waiting glass and rolled it in her palm. “It’s cathartic to pretend at least.”

I propped myself up on the counter and asked for a glass of chardonnay. “If you have any?”

Emma glanced back at the cooler. “Believe it or not, I think we do.”

Layla’s held up her hand, laying claim to that. “I bought it before I realized I was pregnant, and no one else in here drinks
wine
. It’s all beer and boozing it up.” She scrunched her nose, but grinned as Emma pushed her a cranberry punch.

“Do you mind?” I asked.

“Go for it! It’s not like I’m going to get into it any time soon.”

“Thanks.”

Layla looked me over and the humor faded a little. “You look like you need it.”

“Aidan told me what’s going on,” Emma admitted, uncorking the bottle of chard. “I’m surprised you’re still here.”

“Well, I love him.”

“She means she didn’t think you’d last this long.”

Emma shrugged. “I’m glad I was wrong. You’re a keeper.”

“Thanks?” I said as I looked at her, not sure how to take that.

She pushed me a stemless glass, re-corked the bottle, and took a sip of her own drink. “Look,” she said matter-of-factly. “If it was me and this was my first week with the club, I’d be pissed. The men ask a lot of us and they don’t even fucking realize it.” She leaned on the bar and looked at me. “You’re taking it better than I did.”

I wasn’t sure I would call how I felt “better” in any sense of the word. I was pretty sure I was in shock. I hadn’t expected Thrash to do this to me. Emma was right, I should be angry. And I might be, underneath it all. But I also wanted Thrash. The way he looked at me, the way his body felt against mine, it was all so important to me. Just thinking about him made me feel giddy, but now I felt scared, too.

What was I going to do?

“It isn’t always like this with the club, Nora,” Layla finally said, reaching across the bar for the mixer.

Emma snatched it away. “My job.”

Layla stuck her tongue out. “More for the pregnant lady.”

Emma made her another.

I took a sip of my wine and looked around. The place had cleared out. We were the only ones in the room.

“Where is everyone?” I asked, quietly.

“On rounds,” Layla said. “Doing patrols. Whatever Cullen could think of to get them out of here. He wanted to make sure we had the place to ourselves tonight to discuss this.”

Yeah, let the women talk it out. I put my head on my hands, propped up on my elbows, and fought the urge to cry. I loved Thrash but I couldn’t imagine talking about his plan would make me feel any better.

But there were other things to say. “I thought the club shared everything,” I pointed out quietly. “Do the rules only apply to us? Are their principles only important when it suits them?”

Emma’s jaw dropped a little, more out of shocked delight than anything.

Layla just shook her head. “They try to keep it straight, but to be honest, Cullen isn’t sure if he can trust everyone. They let us know what is going on because they know we’re dedicated. But we stay here and keep quiet for a reason. If we talk about it outside of the club, someone could overheard it. And the prospects aren’t in on the planning for a reason. They don’t want anyone snitching. This is too important, so it’s the veterans only.”

That made sense.

“Yeah, but what about the older guys? The ones who have been with the club forever?”

She smiled. “You are observant. Crow and Mick are aware there’s something going on, but they know enough to stay out of it.” Layla finished her cranberry cocktail and there was a note of irritation as her nails drummed against her glass. “Look, I don’t like this shit any more than you do. I hate it, but it’s a fact of life. And Cullen is right. You didn’t see what Bones did to this place, what he did to those men. He killed my brother, Nora. And he’ll kill the rest of us, too. He deserves this.”

“Who are you trying to convince?” I asked. “I don’t mean to be rude, but you guys work so hard to be honest. So when something isn’t right…”

“No, no, it was a good question.” Her back went straight and her mouth thinned to a line. “I think you know the answer to that.”

At least we were on the same page.

“Screw this shit. We need more to drink..” Emma stood up and reached down behind the bar. “Shit sucks, but boys blow each other up. We worry about them and try not to go crazy. But that doesn’t mean we have to do it sober.”

“Uhmmm.” I eyed Layla.

Emma fished out a plastic container with a “I was saving this for later, buuuut –?”

“Ohhhh, gimme gimme!” Layla crooned, wiggled her fingers for the cake.

Emma topped off my glass and we both drank a little faster than we should have. Of the three of us, Layla looked the happiest. But then, the baby-noms probably had something to do with that. And the cake was chocolate mousse with cream cheese icing and caramel.

I would have traded her, but I was getting a decent buzz off the wine.

When Emma went scrounging for more mint, Layla nudged me gently. “Emma always does know how to get right to the heart of the issue.” We both giggled.

“Whatever. We needed some tension relief, I found some.” Emma sounded so bitter. It was strange. She seemed so lively whenever her man was around, but there was anger now, and under it very real fear.

“How long have you and Wrath been together?” I asked, watching helplessly as she refilled my glass. I had to put my hand over the top. I was becoming worried she planned on serving me the entire bottle. I liked the buzz, and my body was tingling, but I really didn’t think getting completely trashed and ill would make my night any better.

“Almost four months now,” she said, eyeing the lime in her high ball.

Emma loved her man, but she still struggled with his calling. I wondered if I would still hurt that bad in a few months. Would he still be here in a few months? The only way Thrash would leave was in a coffin to be buried six feet under.

The thought took my breath away, and I fingered my glass and took a long sip. Even as I did, it occurred to me that I better watch it.

My mother had drunk when she was stressed. I didn’t think it was awful. She had usually held it together well, but there had been a lot of extra pours in there, and they had never made her feel better.

I could see myself doing the same if I didn’t figure out a better way to handle the stress. Well, if I ever had any extra money for it, anyhow.

Worries about the future didn’t stop me from enjoying my wine in the moment though. By the time the men started to trickle in again, Layla was sleepy and sugar-content from her chocolate delectable. Emma’s face had made its way from a scowl, to a scrunched up sourness, and on to tears. By the time she saw Wrath, she just circled the bar and buried herself in his arms. The tension in his face eased as he hugged her close.

As for me? I was holding myself very carefully on my stool, my feet planted precisely on the wooden rail so that I wouldn’t topple off. I was exceptionally tipsy and trying very hard to keep it to myself.

When I felt Thrash’s hands on my shoulders, my body got a little confused. I felt as though I was in a hot tub, with warm water pouring over my bare back and breasts.

I was just sitting there, stiff as a little china doll, enjoying a near-orgasm at his touch.

“You all right?” he murmured in my ear.

I nodded, feeling hot and lazy. Whenever I was around him, I felt… It was almost funny. Most guys had ruined my fun. They never cared what I wanted, so it was hard to care about what they wanted. It was always, “Let’s get to this.” And that always killed my interest.

But with Thrash, the thrill didn’t fizzle out. I’d been nervous about messing around with Thrash.

And just like with bike, when I dared to try it, I found inside myself a calm center with a wicked imagination. I didn’t just want to ride the bike; I wanted to drive it. I didn’t just want to obey; I had gotten such a thrill from taking control, making him wait. By the time he had taken the reins, it had just made sense. His commands had gotten me so hot and bothered, and his eyes, watching me...

I reached back and squeezed his arm. I had to hold on tight to turn myself around on the stool. The best part of it all? I had gotten to see what he had under his belt without necessarily having to accept it. And what I had tasted and seen was perfect. Just perfect.

“How much have you had?” he chuckled, eyeing my funny bulb of a glass and the pink warmth in my cheeks.

I smiled blissfully, enjoying the feel of his muscles against my fingers and palms. When he kissed I blushed all the way down my throat.

Rage went behind the bar and snagged a beer for himself and Thrash.

“You sure about that, don’t want what the girls are having?” Emma asked, a slight slur in her voice.

“No, we have to drive your skunked up asses home.” Wrath kissed her neck, and she giggled and smacked his arm.

“Hell yeah, you do,” she said. She hooked her finger into his vest and tugged him close enough to kiss his cheek. And somehow, she managed to make a playground gesture into something deeply, deeply suggestive.

Rage and Layla were gentler, taking comfort from one another. They seemed so relaxed, their love flowing deeper than the raw desire of the newly in love. Layla’s satisfied smile told me that, pregnant or no, they had kept the heat in their relationship. That was no small thing. It made me happy to see her so well off. It gave me hope that maybe my own love might grow that strong.

Rage wrapped his hands around her protectively, pressing her back against his chest as he rested his hands on her small, protruding belly.

I tried to freeze the image of them in my head. I was drunkenly toying with the idea of painting them like this, maybe as a thank you, when Thrash squeezed my hand.

“Hmm?” I murmured peaceably. I was supposed to be mad at him, but all I felt was warm and fuzzy and little naughty.

His head was still on business, though. “We need to get your stuff from the collective and get you settled in the apartment.” I could see him clench his teeth, his jawline hardening. A part of me wanted to reach over to him and pull him to me, leaving a trail of kisses down that gorgeous caramel throat. But I wasn’t quite that daring.

“Already?” I asked, my eyes trying to focus.

“We want to move on this soon. I have to meet with Bones tonight.” He reached out and picked me up off the barstool. I felt like I was floating in his arms.

My face must have looked dreamy, because he took a long look at me and his seriousness melted into humor. “Emma worked her magic, I see. We’ll take my truck. I don’t want you falling off the back of the bike.” Thrash chuckled as I snuggled into him. “Can’t say that I am hating this.”

He led me out the door of the clubhouse, his arm wrapped securely around me, “Why don’t I just take you to the apartment now and we can get your stuff tomorrow? I don’t want you falling asleep on me.”

“Okay,” I replied, pretty sure I knew what I was agreeing to. If it involved his clothes coming off again, I was all for going to ‘the apartment.’

I crawled into his truck. The smell of vinyl, his cologne, and motor oil mixed to create a pleasant musk. It was comforting. I leaned into him and breathed deeply. He pulled me closer.

“I thought you were mad at me?” he asked.

“I am,” I cooed, fingering the stiches of his cut. “That doesn’t mean I don’t like you.”

“I see.”

I saw him fighting a smile.

“Do you have to do this?” I asked, paying close attention to each of the stitches. “Is it really the only way to protect the club?”

He sighed and was quiet for a minute. He tapped his thumb against the wheel and said, very steadily, “Yes, Nora. I really believe it’s the only way to protect the club. Are you going to help me or do we need to talk?”

It was a little surprising he was willing to talk about it. Most guys wouldn’t want to. They’d just say “We’re doing this,” and I’d be expected to swallow it or whine until he got horny again.

Some girls were great at using men’s ornery ways to their advantage.

I wasn’t.

I did better with someone like Thrash. Someone who would try to listen to me, even if he didn’t like what I was saying.

The fact that he waited for me to nod made me want to just say yes. I wanted to follow him anywhere, help him with anything. But I stopped to think about it. To make sure. I didn’t want to make a promise I couldn’t keep.