Текст книги "Chelsea "

Автор книги: Addison Jane

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My feet hit the pavement hard, the tension in my body making its way out via my feet. I forced my legs to move, pounding them over and over again onto the sidewalk, pushing myself forward.

The upbeat electronica song played loudly in my ears and allowed me to keep a perfect pace, the music driving me, not allowing me to slow down. My legs burned and my chest heaved, but I pushed through.

It was only pain.

Pain could be overcome. Pain could be conquered.

I needed to run.

Ever since I was young, running had been what I’d known. I run to escape and when I needed space, I found delight in it. The only thing at that point and time that I needed to worry about was forcing one foot in front of the other and pushing my body forward. Always forward. I never looked back.

My mother’s voice echoed in my head.

“Don’t stop running. No matter what. Never stop. Don’t stop running.”

“But Mommy...” I sniffed, clutching at her dress as she lifted me up and placed me through the window. There were raised voices in another room, one of which I recognized as my fathers. A gunshot rang out loudly from what sounded like the kitchen.

“Run Chelsea, run.”

I took one last look at my mom, her eyes pleaded with me to move. I closed my eyes tightly, squeezing out the last tears and turned away. I took off toward the woods behind our house, passing into the cover just as I heard the second shot echo through the dark night.

I didn’t stop running.

 

I never stopped running.

I don’t remember much about my life before that night. Sometimes I wish I had more memories—memories of a family that loved me, memories of two parents who were willing to give me the world. I figured it was my mind’s way of protecting itself, blocking out the good so it wouldn’t make me weak so I couldn’t think about what I could have had. Too bad it hadn’t been able to protect me from the years of my life that followed.

Images of my parents flashed through my eyes, closely followed by the faces of the numerous foster parents that came after.

Alcohol, drugs, guns, death.

Just run them out, I told myself.

I wanted to numb everything. The only thing I wanted to feel was my heart beating and my muscles burning.

I caught sight of the clubhouse up ahead and picked up the pace even more. My lungs screeched for air and the muscles in my body all screamed at me to stop as I sprinted toward the compound’s front gates. The song in my headphones was quickly forgotten, the only beat now was the thump, thump, thump, of my tennis shoes against the concrete sidewalk and the erratic thrumming of my heart as it pounded against my chest.

I hit the wire fence with a clang and clutched at it, my fingers looping through the wide diamond-shaped spaces. For at least a minute, I stayed like that. Clinging onto the massive fence for dear life as my legs slowly began to get feeling back in them.

“You all right, Chel?”

I blinked through the sweat that was now stinging my eyes to find Ham had stepped out of the gates and was staring at me like I’d lost my mind.

“Fine … just … catching … breath …” I managed to squeak out. He screwed up his nose as his eyes scanned me, but finally nodded and stepped back to his guard duties.

Ham was a sweet guy, older than the other two prospects at twenty-three, a late bloomer you might say. His full name was Hamlet. The patch members have been having a field day with that one since he joined. I guess his parents were both English majors with a weird love for Shakespeare—he also had a sister called Ophelia and a brother called Romeo. He grinned and bore it though and so far he seemed like a good guy.

I felt my heart finally slowing down and air began to flow more freely into my lungs. I pushed to my feet, my legs shaking and slipped through the small gap in the gate where Ham was standing watch with another prospect, Neil. It was just enough space to get a body through but not a car or even bike for that matter. I lifted my hand just to say hi and carried on to the clubhouse.

I climbed onto the deck and pushed through the bi-folding doors to the side of the main room. I frowned at the bottles that were scattered around from last night’s party. I wish these guys would learn to pick up after themselves occasionally. As much as I loved it there, sometimes it was more like a frat house full of teens as opposed to a clubhouse full of grown men.

I huffed, forcing my mind to ignore it for now and checked the time on my watch. I was on breakfast this morning. It was just after six and a lot of the men were early risers, even with the amount of alcohol they consume some nights.

I shot to my room and had a two minute shower, just enough to wash away the sweat that clung to my body and threw on a pair of track pants that sat low on my hips and a crop top that showed my stomach. With summer basically gone and autumn showing its face, the weather was in that weird maybe hot, maybe cold phase. Slightly annoying when you were picking out what to wear for the day. I figured it was easier to grab a sweatshirt and tie it around my waist because if I was cold, than wear shorts and have to go back to my room and put some warm pants on.

Not just a pretty face, right?

The club girls took turns with the daily chores. It worked for us and it meant that with everything spread evenly, we still had most of the day free.

Breakfast for me was easy, the men needed different options because of preferences and because some occasionally took on strict workout diets to keep their bodies in optimum shape. It wasn’t a requirement of the club to have a killer body and be good looking, even though you’d think so by looking at them. It was, however, expected that they at least looked after themselves.

I quickly set to work—baking, frying, mixing, pouring. Eggs, bacon, hash browns, sausage, cereal, toast, and coffee—these men needed coffee.

They filled the large dining room steadily. There was a buffet-like table for them to pick up their food and then a collection of tables and chairs scattered around, with the kitchen just through two large swinging doors. Because of the old hotel setup, it was perfect. I assumed this was where hotel guests came for continental breakfasts and maybe even lunch and dinners.

I picked at a plate of food as I watched members and club girls come and go. A lot of the boys thanked me with a kiss on the head, they may be tough bikers, but even they know not to bite the hand that feeds you. I popped a piece of bacon in my mouth just as Optimus walked through the doors with his arm firmly around Lou Lou—another club girl.

I almost choked. They both looked my way, but at least she had the decency to throw me an ‘I’m sorry’ glance. I didn’t blame her. We weren’t to say no to the men unless we felt unsafe or had good reason, but I’m sure she wasn’t exactly disappointed. Optimus was sexy, strong, and knew his way around the bedroom.

While I’ve been with my fair share of the men, there’s one who has slowly begun demanding my time a lot more than the others. Our great president himself.

Optimus is serious and stern and runs his club like he rides his Harley—hard and with purpose. He’s a fair leader, but the brothers know not to fuck around with him because he can be deadly. The Optimus I saw behind closed doors was my favorite. He could be charming and sweet and funny.

And oh when he smiles, Jesus!

Unfortunately, something or someone had broken him and he held me at arm’s length, just close enough to touch my heart but far enough away to not let me see what’s in his.

I felt a pat on my back as I coughed around the small piece of bacon and watched them collect their food.

“You shouldn’t let it bother you.” I smiled and looked up at Leo. He’d recently had a haircut and his bushy mane was now very short and buzzed to his head like he was heading into the army. I had to say, I loved it.

“I’m fine.” I pushed my cheeks wide with the forced smile and held my arms out for the wiggling two-year-old he held. Harmony and I had helped raise Leo’s little girl Macy when his wife died giving birth. I still tried to help out when I could but Leo’s sister-in-law now took her a lot of the time during the day, so I didn’t get as much time with her as I used to. She was still wearing her pajamas and rubbing at her eyes, but she held her arms out toward me. Leo laughed as I took her and she snuggled her face into my neck, sucking her thumb into her mouth.

“Baby, you can come to my bed anytime. Prez is a brooding asshole who doesn’t know what he’s got when it’s right in front of him.” Leo smirked.

Leo was all kinds of sexy and good in bed. Not good, great. But since Optimus began taking over most of my time, a lot of the other men stopped.

Since Harmony and Kit left last week, things have been different. Optimus has been avoiding me. I could feel it and with him showing up this morning with his arm around Lou Lou, his intentions were clear.

I placed Macy on the ground and watched as she quickly waddled off to the nearest brother who didn’t hesitate to hoist her onto his lap. These sexy, strong, scary men had a soft spot—their kids. Not all of them lived at the clubhouse and some even had jobs outside the club. A few had children—some even a couple grandkids—at home. Family played a huge part in the club life.

I turned back to Leo. “Your bed free tonight?” I chewed my lip. Leo’s eyes widened slightly like he hadn’t expected me to take him up on his offer, but excitement soon shone in them. He reached out and hooked his finger into the waistband of my pants, pulling my hips toward him.

He brushed his lips against my neck and I sighed, enjoying the soft touch. “Macy goes to her aunt’s in an hour. Meet me in my room.” His voice was harsh and stern, leaving no room for arguments and that was exactly how I loved it. My stomach fluttered. Not quite in the same way it did when the words came from Optimus, but still more than enough to drench my panties where I stood.

“Yes, sir.”

I hadn’t dressed up much, it was rather pointless when you knew that you were just going to be taking everything back off again. I’d thrown on a sexy denim mini with tears in the fabric and an emerald green halter that made my breasts looking freaking amazing. I also threw on a pair of heels just for fun. They were my favorite and cost a shit load to boot—cowboy style ankle boots with a few small chains and studs. They went perfectly with my denim mini and made my legs look fantastic. I checked myself in the mirror.

I’d do me.

My body was excited by the thought of getting Leo into bed, even if my heart was holding back a little bit. I pulled my hair to the side and ran my fingers through it.

I, like most little girls out there, had a love for fairy tales. I lost my parents when I was only young, barely six, and since then I’d moved from foster home to foster home, never spending too long in the same place. Not all the homes I’d been placed into were all that bad. But the shitty ones really had outweighed the even slightly pleasant ones. There were drugs, there was drinking, there was abuse.

What saved me from turning to drugs or alcohol or just deciding to give up altogether? I ran.

I loved to run. I felt free, I felt like nothing else mattered but placing one foot in front of the other, slicing through the air, feeling my body burn.

Running as a form of exercise had always been a part of me. I think it was burned into my genes. My mom was a cross country runner at school and my dad was a running back for his high school football team.

I remember how competitive they got.

I giggled, watching from the porch as my mom taunted my dad.

“Come on, David! I’ve got three laps on you, just give up!” she yelled, laughing as if she could continue running all night. Something I knew she would do if that’s what it took to prove she was better.

“Never!” my father spluttered. I saw the moment the idea crossed his thoughts and he veered off from the usual marked out course and shot across the center to the opposite side where my unsuspecting mother was.

He held his finger to his mouth with a smile, gesturing for me not to give away what he was about to do. I covered my mouth with my hand, but the giggles were unstoppable. Mom looked up at me curiously, but it was already too late, my dad had swept her off her feet, hooking his arms under her knees, the other around her back.

She screamed, but it fast turned to laughter. “Put me down you dirty cheat! Chelsea! You were watching. I won!”

My dad placed her on the ground and started to tickle her sides. I laughed alongside my mother as I shot off the porch and down the stairs, my little legs carrying me quickly across the backyard. The grass felt fantastic between my toes and the light spring breeze delightful against my skin.

I dove on top of them, all of us crashing to the ground, a chorus of tinkling laughter filling the warm air.

 

I had to smile, even as tears burned at my eyes. My parents were always playing these little games, and no matter who won or how competitive it got, their love for each other was so strong that it never mattered.

Running had been their passion, and now it was mine. The difference was that the feeling of freedom I got from running soon moved into other parts of my life. I started using it to escape the vile and downtrodden homes that I was placed in, and even some of the good ones. Running away became the norm. My foster families would soon get sick of it and demand I was moved somewhere else. Then as soon as something bad happened I’d repeat the process.

Losing my parents had been traumatic. It had crushed me. But I would never say it ruined my life. Yes, I’d come from a pretty shitty background and been dealt a bad hand. But I’d made the most of it, and in the end as far as I was concerned I’d come out on top.

I was kind of like Cinderella.

I eyed myself one more time in the mirror, head to toe and back again. A small smirk appeared as I took in my reflection.

Like Cinderella, but with better shoes.

I left my room and headed upstairs. Leo was the Sergeant at Arms so he had a pretty large room upstairs next to the other club officers. Normal club members had much smaller rooms and shared bathrooms. I knocked on the door and waited but heard nothing. I’d given him just over an hour, enough to get Macy off and back to his room. I frowned and knocked again.

“He’s not there.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, the voice alone sent tingles through my body, but I knew once my eyes set sight on him that I’d crumble.

“And how would you know he’s not there?” I asked, not bothering to turn around.

“Because I sent him to X-Rated to check on some stuff for me.”

I felt him move up behind me, his body so big it dwarfed my small frame. I swallowed tightly. “It’s 9:00 a.m., there isn’t anyone at X-Rated.”

His warm breath hit the back of my neck and two strong arms caged me against the wall. “I know.”

Desire warmed my belly but before it could take over, anger reared its ugly face. “Then if you don’t mind, I have school work to do.” I spat sharply.

A small growl rumbled in my ear. “You weren’t too busy for him.”

I spun quickly, finally meeting him eye-to-eye. Optimus could be intimidating, hell who was I kidding, he could be scary as all hell. But I also knew he wouldn’t hurt me, at least not physically.

“Jealousy doesn’t look good on you, Optimus.”

A fist punctured the wall next to my head and I let out a sharp squeal as I covered my head. After a moment, I moved my arm and risked a look at the angry, sexy biker standing over me. Angry was an understatement. I could basically see the steam shooting out his ears. He had only his cut on over his naked torso. His arms bulged as he clenched his fists and leaned in closer.

“Don’t push my buttons, Chelsea. You won’t like the outcome.” His voice was tight and definitive, but I’d had enough. I ducked under his arm and stepped away.

I glared at him. “What’s that saying about having cake and eating it too?” I backed away toward the stairs, my heels tapping loudly on the wooden floors of the hallway and breaking the harsh silence. His face softened as he let me go, and an emotion that I could only describe as pain flashed across his face.

I pulled my cell phone from my pocket as I fled down the stairs. It rang and rang.

“Hey girl,” Rose chirped just as I was about to give up on her. Typically I’d ring Harmony but her and Kit had her mom, Helen staying with them for the weekend and I knew Harm had been missing her like crazy.

And really, this shit isn’t anything new. Optimus and I had been playing this stupid game for far too long. Ever since I’d walked into this club, he’s held my time. At first he didn’t care that I’d see the other men too, but eventually he started getting angry if he’d find out I was with them. I didn’t mind, I was with Optimus almost every night unless he was away on a run. I barely ever spent time in my own room.

At first I loved it because he was so quiet and mysterious. He demanded so much from me, his power and authority took me to an edge of enjoyment sexually that I’d never experienced before. He also had a body like a fucking Greek God.

Once we’d begun to spend more time together, I learned there was more to him than I originally thought. He was sarcastic, he made me laugh and his smile—it lit up the room. And smart, God he was so smart. The man knew numbers like no one else. He was like a walking, talking, calculator.

I knew he didn’t let many people close. His brothers looked up to him and he was loyal to them without a fault. But not many others got to see the side of him that his family did.

Harmony and I wore him down. I don’t think he’d ever expected the two of us to walk through the clubhouse doors. Where club whores are usually seen as power hungry bitches, who’d push their own mother off a cliff to be called an Old Lady. We were fierce, we were independent, and while we followed the rules well, we didn’t take shit from no one. And that’s exactly what I was about to remind him of.

“So, are you still up for going out tonight?” I asked Rose as I marched into my room and started searching through my drawers for a killer outfit to wear.

“Wait, really?” she chirped. “You mean you’re blowing off those sexy hunks of men for me?”

I giggled. “Honey, I can blow them off anytime. You and me are heading out!”

“Thank goodness. I need this bad.” She sighed quietly, almost as if she wasn’t talking to me.

I frowned. “Are you all right?”

She cleared her throat. “Yeah, I’m great! Just a little stressed.”

“Well then, let’s get started. Text me your address, I’m coming over.”

I watched her walk out the door, backpack slung over her shoulder and heels clomping on the asphalt outside. Friday night was usually a big night at the club.

Where the fuck would she be going?

“Prospect,” I yelled to no one in particular, but there should be at least one bloody prospect within earshot.

“Yeah, Prez?” Ham walked toward me promptly. The kid was turning out to be useful. He managed to be able to keep a watch of Chel without her noticing and with the shit storm coming, that was essential.

“You watch Chelsea. I’m not sure where she’s off to, but you watch her like a hawk. Any sign of trouble you ring me right away.”

“Yes, sir!” He ran off quickly without question. Yup, the kid would fit in good when he finished his time.

“You called, Prez?” another prospect asked, strolling in casually.

“Too slow, asshole. Go clean the fucking toilets.”

“Um … don’t the club girls usually clean?” he asked, staring at me blankly.

“Then put a fucking skirt on, maybe one of the boys will fuck you later. Just fucking do it!” I growled, cracking my knuckles as he scurried past me.

He paused at the hallway door. “You were joking about the skirt … right?”

I clenched my fists and stomped toward him.

“Never mind! I get it!” He took off running.

Fucking idiot. Was this the future of my club? God help us all.

I pulled my phone from my pocket. Sugar and Harlyn were due in tomorrow morning. Sugar had text messaged to say they were packed and ready and that Harlyn couldn’t wait to see me. I was dying to see her too. I only got a week or two once a year to spend time with her, but we tried to connect through phone calls and Skype as often as possible.

Mine and Sugar’s relationship was tough to explain. We got together young. She wasn’t a club kid. Quite the opposite actually. Her parents were wealthy, country club going, golf playing, Mercedes Benz driving, assholes. I was her ride on the wild side, and she was my touch of goodness that every bad boy craved to corrupt.

She was preppy, with long auburn hair and all the latest fashion. Her body was slim, maybe too much now I think about it, but at the time it had driven me crazy. What we didn’t expect was for more to come of a simple little fling. Sugar wasn’t complicated. She wasn’t one of those girls who used their good looks and money to get them places, even though she had plenty of both. She was kind and sweet and a little reserved.

At that time, I thought that was what I wanted. I thought I needed someone who’d let me lead and be a soft touch to come home to at night. I thought I wanted a woman who wore dresses and makeup and was the complete epitome of feminine. I thought I was in love and I was prepared to do whatever it took to keep her and to make her happy. What I wasn’t prepared for were the consequences that came along with that very decision.

We’d been at one of the local bars/pool clubs that were owned by the club called Sharp Shooters. Once a month we tried to go in just after closing and have a chat to the managers, to make sure everything was running smoothly. We chose to be silent owners in a lot of our businesses, simply for that fact that some people still saw us as worthless thugs and would not support anything we had a hand in. It was more lucrative for us to stay on the sidelines.

During the meeting Sugar had called, and like the pussy whipped bastard I was, I jumped.

My father told me it was fine, that I could go. But the fact was that we were in the middle of an on and off turf war with another club—Hell’s Highway MC—and I was about to leave my father and also my club president completely alone.

It wasn’t until later that night while I was tucked up with my woman, thinking I fucking had it all after seeing that little positive sign on a pregnancy test, that I learnt about the two men from the rival club that had walked into Sharp Shooters and shot my father and the bar manager dead, moments after I’d left. They’d been watching—waiting for a moment of weakness. And I’d handed it to them because I put my need to be with my woman first before my duty as a brother and a fucking son.

I’d gained one life and lost another, both on the same night and there was no way in hell I was going to risk having one more person I loved stolen away from me. So I sent Sugar away—alone and pregnant with my little girl.

Eventually, I had my revenge on the club who’d taken my father, and despite my stupid choices the Brothers by Blood still voted me in as their next President, believing that it was in my blood. I took the patch with pride, knowing that I’d do everything in my power to run the club just like my dad had—with strength, hard work, and respect.

Sugar saw things differently. She saw the club as dangerous and deadly. With my baby now growing in her belly, she refused to come home, raving about how now that I was president, me and my family were more of a target and that people would come after us.

I didn’t argue.

I figured she was right.

I never chased her, I never told anyone but my brothers about her, and I made very short visits to my daughter.

We’d had lockdowns before, but never had we had threats aimed directly at the women of the club. I wasn’t sure if Target had or hadn’t informed his family about Sugar and Harlyn. Blizzard was my only brother who ever came to visit them with us, and even then I was very careful about who saw me. And when it came to phone calls, they were always done from burner phones that I threw out afterward and were virtually untraceable. I covered my ass, but if for some reason I’d missed something and Target’s family went looking for them, I knew there was a possibility I’d never see them again.

Moving them here and confining them to the clubhouse was the only option.

Chelsea was different. I had no doubt that Target had told them just how much Chelsea meant to me. The only way to take the heat off her now was if I could convince them that she didn’t mean as much to me as they thought, and they would leave her alone. It was either very smart or downright stupid. But unfortunately, I couldn’t have it both ways.

If I wanted to prove that she wasn’t important to me, I had to push her away, and right now I was risking watching her walk out that door when she got sick of my shit. But if I claimed her and made her mine like I’d wanted to do for a long time now, it would put a definite target on her back and the pain of thinking she could be killed and be gone forever was too much to bear.

It was all messing with my head. But as usual, I had to suck it up and be the president my men and their families expected me to be. I had to make sure they were all protected and safe. They were relying on me and I was not going to let them down.

I would never let my club down again.