Unbeautifully (13 page)

And fucking without a condom. Fuck him, it felt so damn good, wasn’t anything he’d ever done before or been able to do with the dirty bitches who hung around the club. But with Danny he wasn’t worried; the girl was clean, an idiot with half a brain would know that, and she was on the pill. Which apparently was some big, bad secret that only she and Eva knew about and after telling him, made him promise not to spill the beans to Deuce or Cage.

Yeah. Right. That was the first thing that had gone through his head.
Tell the brother and father of the bitch I’m fucking that she’s secretly on birth control.

Sure… Maybe if he had a death wish.

Rolling off her he fell onto his back beside her. “Jesus,” he muttered, staring up at the ceiling. “That was—”

“Awesome?” she suggested.

He glanced over at her and smirked.

“It is always like this?” She sighed happily, smiling at him. “So…so…sexalicious?”

He almost laughed but a wave of realization knocked him straight on his metaphorical ass. No. It wasn’t always like this. It wasn’t ever like this.

Sex had never been this goddamn good before.

“Because the other guy I—”

“No,” he growled, frowning at her. The last thing he wanted to think about was some asshat up inside what was his. “It ain’t ever like this.”

Her smile widened. “Then we got lucky,” she whispered.

Ripper stared at her, feeling all kinds of weird shit happening inside of him, shit that was going down a whole lot faster than it should be, shit that should be scaring the ever-loving crap out of him.

But it wasn’t.

“Yeah, baby,” he whispered back, pulling her into the crook of his arm. “We sure as fuck did.”

“So, can we go to your house?” she asked, kissing her way up his chest.

Threading his fingers through a handful of her hair, he closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of her mouth on him. His house? His house, or rather his one-bedroom cabin in the middle of the mountains, was his sanctuary. Where he went when he couldn’t take one more second of the bullshit always surrounding the club, the constant noise, people always coming and going.

Cupping the back of her head, he kissed her hard. “We’ll talk about it later,” he muttered against her mouth as he debated on whether he wanted to fuck her doggy first and then have her ride him, or make her ride him first and then flip her onto her knees. “Got more important things to do right now and not a whole lot of time.”

Uncomfortable, Deuce shifted irritably in one of the two high-back wooden chairs Preacher had in his office.

With his hands steepled in front of him, his elbows propped on top of his monstrous, archaic, wooden desk, Preacher nodded gravely. “I agree. Big Jay’s gotta go. I’ve ’bout had it with his fuckin’ games and now this shit, hittin’ the Horsemen up when I’ve been payin’ them more than enough just to let our boys cross the fuckin’ street in their territory.”

Deuce stared at him, his head not really into the conversation but instead wondering how his boys would feel about him handing them over to Preacher and consolidating both clubs. Preacher was a strong leader; he took good care of his boys and their families. He would do the same for the Horsemen.

He could leave then. Take to the road knowing Eva, his kids, and his club would all be looked after.

“I’ll kill you,” Preacher growled and his head jerked up.

“What?”

“I said, I’ll fuckin’ kill you if you hurt either of them girls of mine.”

What the fuck? How the fuck?
Was the guy a fucking psychic?

“What the fuck are you talkin’ about?”

“You think I don’t know what a man looks like when he’s thinkin’ ’bout runnin’? Seen it a hundred different times on a hundred different men. Life starts takin’ its toll, they’ve seen too much shit, done too much shit, and suddenly they’re drownin’ their bullshit in booze and pussy, and their marriages are fallin’ apart, and they’re hittin’ the bottle even harder, and then they’re dippin’ into shit they shouldn’t. All they wanna do is get on their bike and hit the road, start over, or find a quiet place to curl up and die.”

Deuce didn’t say anything. He didn’t have anything to say. Preacher was dead-on and he was too goddamned tired of everything to argue with the man.

“You think I didn’t wanna run?” Preacher shook his head. “You think I wanted to raise a little girl without her mama in a club full of assholes? And after I found out what Frankie had been doin’ to my baby, right under my nose? But what fuckin’ choice did I have? The day I put this patch on…”

Preacher slapped his hand over his “Prez” patch on his cut.

“The day
you
put that patch on was the day you handed over your life. You ain’t just the prez, Deuce, you ain’t just runnin’ a club, leadin’ those boys. It ain’t just a responsibility.

“It’s
you
, brother; your club, your boys are you. You start bleedin’ and they’re all gonna bleed with you. The club comes first, you know it, I know it, every man who gets patched in knows it. Don’t matter how bad shit gets with your old lady, your girls on the side, your fuckin’ kids, you gotta keep goin’. Those boys of yours and their families,
they are your family too
. They ain’t just respectin’ you or lookin’ up to you, they’re countin’ on you to do right by them. You know this shit, Deuce, the club always—”

“Comes first,” he growled, interrupting Preacher. “I fuckin’ know.”

“Yeah, you know it, but preachin’ it ain’t livin’ it. Time to get back to livin’ it.”

Fuck. As much as he hated Preacher, mainly because the fucker had shot him twice, he couldn’t dispute a single word the man had said.

“Don’t get me wrong, I don’t like you any more than I liked you when I first saw you pawin’ at my underage daughter,” Preacher growled. “But for some fuckin’ reason she loves you, meanin’ I’m keepin’ my mouth shut.”

Deuce narrowed his eyes. “You call this keepin’ your mouth shut?”

Preacher shrugged. “I’m keepin’ my finger off the trigger, ain’t I?”

Jesus Christ, if Eva ever decided she hated her old man, he was going to be first in line to put this asshole in the ground. He might do it anyway, tell Eva he had no clue what happened to Preacher and for all he knew, aliens from outer space had kidnapped the slick bastard.

“You know,” Preacher continued, “me and your old man go way back. Knew him when I was just a kid. Knew your mother too, had a goddamned crush on her…and those fuckin’ dimples of hers—”

“Is there a point to this fuckin’ bullshit?” he spat. The last thing he wanted to hear about was Preacher’s crush on the mother he’d never gotten to meet.

“Yeah, asshole, and I was gettin’ to it. Woulda gotten to it by now if you woulda kept your fuckin’ mouth shut.”

The two of them glared at each other until Preacher gave first, shaking his head and sighing.

“My point is, Reaper didn’t give a fuck about the club, didn’t give a fuck about your mother, or your brother’s mother, or any of you. All he gave a fuck about was himself and what the club or what his bitches could do for him. He wanted power and money, he used the club to get it, he wanted kids to pass the gavel to, and he used those little girls to get ’em. But when it came down to it, he ain’t never gave a fuck. And Deuce, that ain’t you. I know you got love for your boys and your family and that’s why you’re thinkin’ runnin’ is what’s best for ’em all, but I’m tellin’ you it ain’t. You leave and those boys are gonna fall apart. As for those kids you’ll be leavin’ behind, you tell me how it felt growin’ up with an old man who didn’t want ya? All you had was your little brother and when you lost Cas, then what the fuck did you have?”

Fucking shit, thinking about his old man, his mother, and his dead little brother was making it hard to breathe. Deuce rubbed the heel of his palm over his chest in a large circle.

“You had the club,” Preacher said. “And you took the mess your old man left behind and you turned that shit into a brotherhood. You tossed out the garbage, you had your boys pull their shit together, and then you started pulling in more strays then any MC I’ve ever known. Done my homework on all your boys; I know Dirty and Hawk were starvin’ on street corners before you found ’em. Know Cox was stealin’ cars for his next meal, and Ripper, seventeen, no family, didn’t know jack shit about bikes, and what’d you do? Brought them all home with you and gave ’em all a family. You leave them, you’ll be rippin’ out the rug from underneath them all and your kids won’t even have the club to fall back on. Nobody will have nothin’.”

With his arms folded across his chest, Deuce gave Preacher a half-lidded glare. “I really fuckin’ hate you,” he growled.

His knowing eyes trained on him, Preacher pulled a smoke out from behind his ear and lit it.

“Deuce,” he said, exhaling. “The feelin’s mutual. Now, I’m gonna tell you what I tell all my boys when they’re actin’ like fools. Go grab a bottle and a bitch and fuck all that poisonous bullshit outta your system. Then you go home to my daughter and my grandbaby and your kids and your boys, and you fix whatever the fuck is broken. And if you don’t, I’m gonna come collect my girls, maybe grab Kami away from that dirty fuckin’ spic she married while I’m at it, but as for the rest of ’em, brother, that’s your problem.”

“Yeah?” he said dryly. “And while I’m drinkin’ and fuckin’, what the fuck are you gonna be doin’ ’bout Big Jay?”

Preacher took another drag off his smoke and shook his head. “I’m postin’ the hit tonight. You don’t gotta do a damn thing.”

• • •

With her sleeping toddler straddling her hip, Eva attempted navigating through the front of the club toward the back hall, wanting to leave behind the din of several ongoing conversations, the children crying or complaining, men laughing, women giggling. After five days, the constant noise was painfully bouncing around inside her skull, making her head ache for peace and quiet, and making her stomach churn with constant anxiety.

She’d never before minded lockdowns. In New York, she’d usually spent them in her bedroom, listening to music with Frankie or later, when they were older…

Her eyes started to burn and her grip tightened on Ivy.

Frankie.

Turning away from everyone, she closed her eyes…

Leaning back against the outside of the Demons’ brownstone, tall and broad, his thickly muscled, heavily tattooed arms folded over his chest, stretching the material of his black T-shirt, his long brown hair pulled tightly back, his head cocked to one side, his dark hungry eyes focused on her, a smile playing on his lips.

“
Baby,” he said in a low, harsh voice as he crooked two fingers. “Come here.”

A cry bubbled up from her aching heart and lodged painfully in her throat. She covered her mouth with her hand, stifling the loud release of air.

No. She wasn’t going to think about Frankie. That chapter of her life was over. She’d made sure of that when she’d put a knife through his throat. There hadn’t been any other option. Frankie had been too far gone, causing too much pain to everyone he came into contact with; he’d been a walking time bomb.

Somehow Eva had managed to overcome the crippling guilt that killing him had caused. She’d pulled herself out of her pain, and taken control of her life again.

It was Deuce that was refusing to let it go.

Frankie had done the worst thing he could possibly do to a man like Deuce; a man who would have taken any sort of physical punishment Frankie could have meted out, preferred it actually. But Frankie had known that and instead had rendered Deuce immobile, forced him to watch the woman he loved being fucked by another man, then to take her, leaving him wondering if he was ever going to see her alive again.

To a man like Deuce, what Frankie had done was a punishment far worse than death.

It was also something a man like Deuce wasn’t going to forget.

She’d tried…

And tried…

But she couldn’t do it anymore. When it came to Deuce, it felt as if she’d been running in circles her entire life.

It wasn’t just her anymore; she couldn’t afford to be selfish, to do as she pleased, to let the man in her life do as he pleased. To keep waiting on something that might never happen. She had a daughter who deserved the very best life Eva could give her.

She was leaving.

The decision had been made the night Deuce had left for New York. She was going home, back to her father and the Demons, back to what she’d thought she’d left behind for good in exchange for a life of happiness with the man she loved. She hadn’t told anyone yet, hadn’t had a chance to. The very next night the club had gone on lockdown and now she was stuck here.

“Do you want me to take her for a while?”

Dorothy appeared beside her and held her arms out. Grateful, Eva smiled as she passed Ivy, who blinked sleepily as she was shifted between them but settled instantly back to sleep on Dorothy’s shoulder.

“I need something to keep my mind off Jase and Chrissy,” Dorothy whispered, rubbing small circles on Ivy’s back. “She’s out there talking about their upcoming anniversary—”

Eva stopped listening. Dorothy was a broken record when it came to Jase. Constantly upset yet still holding out hope that Jase would someday leave his wife, when it was clear to everyone except Dorothy that he never ever would.

Lost to her own thoughts, she watched as Ripper came through the swinging kitchen doors and hooked a left toward them. She braced herself for his usual death glare.

“Yo,” he said, passing by her and a still chattering Dorothy.

Her eyes widened in surprise. It wasn’t friendly but…it wasn’t horrible either.

Was he finally ready to forgive her for being married to the man who’d hurt him? She hoped so. It devastated her seeing his scars, what Frankie had so callously done to him.

My god, how had she not realized what her own husband had been capable of until it was too late?

Eva shook her head, still trying to clear Frankie from her thoughts, when the kitchen doors swung open again and Danny walked out, headed in the opposite direction.

“Hey you,” she called out and Danny spun around, a startled look on her face.