Havoc (Los Desperados MC) (10 page)

He took two steps and was in the room and he looked at me as he closed the door behind him. I didn’t know what to say or do. I was frozen in place. I wanted to run to him and hug him and hit him all at the same time. I was a mess of emotions: happiness, anger, frustration, and I kept jumping from emotion to emotion with no control. He was unarmed; both of his guns were gone. I wondered if he had done that to make me feel safer. But I did feel safe with him, even when he was armed to the teeth. I couldn’t help but check him for injuries, but other than a blood-stained bandage roughly wrapped around his right bicep, he looked unhurt. But he was covered in grit and sweat and blood. He looked like some prehistoric warrior fresh from battle and I couldn’t help but feel small in comparison. But still I felt drawn to him. I wanted to go to him and I had to stop myself from walking towards him and wrapping my arms around him.

“We won,” he said, his voice was clipped and short and his eyes were boring into mine.

I wished I could read his mind and know what he was thinking. His expression was unreadable. I wanted to ask him a million questions, but I didn’t know where to start. I still didn’t know what side I was on; I still couldn’t force myself to make that decision.

“I didn’t kill him,” Julian repeated, his voice low and my heart skipped a beat as I stared into his dark eyes. “I knocked him out, but he was still breathing when I came to get you.” There was a hint of anger in his voice and I wanted him to be angry. He was calm and emotionless and I wanted to cry and scream and kiss him all at the same time. But what was he feeling, what did he want? I had no idea. What was I to him? Was I a project, a hook-up, a potential employee, or was I something more?

“You should have let me go!” I screamed at him. “Look what happened, how many Bandits died today because of you!” I could easily see all those bodies from the fight. What would happen to them? Had they already been moved, had the funeral home been called? I realized I wouldn’t be able to go to their funeral or their wake. They were my brothers and I wouldn’t be there to ride in their honor guard. They had died in a rescue attempt for someone who might not have wanted to be rescued; I owed them a debt I could never hope to repay.

“And what about my people?” Julian demanded, taking a step towards me. “How many Los Desperados have died because of The Bandits. You’ve been killing us for years and now that we’re getting ours, you can’t stand it and you're attacking us. You’re threatened by us.”

“You stole from us,” I said, refusing to back down. “You stole from us for years. You were raiding our rides and now you’re surprised they attacked you. They weren’t going to take that lying down forever. You kidnapped me, chained me to your radiator, and trapped me here and now you’re paying the price. What did you think would happen? How many times did I warn you that they would come for me? Did you think I was bluffing?”

“The Bandits have always thought they were better than us. But now they’re realizing our strength and power and they decided to sneak attack us in the morning like cowards. Who attacks enemy territory in the middle of the morning when there are children and women around?”

“They didn’t know you were having a meeting. They probably thought the place would be empty and they could just come in and grab me. If you had let me go the other day none of this would have ever happened.”

I didn’t understand how Julian couldn’t see my side of it. Los Desperados had been thieves and they had made a lot of enemies. Now their greatest enemy, The Bandits, was coming for vengeance. Stealing me with the goods had been the tipping point. If Julian had let me go then that might have been the end of things. The Bandits could have shrugged and chalked it up to the cost of doing business. But they had kidnapped a member of the gang, the lead driver. The Bandits could never let something like that slide; they would have to attack and retaliate or they would lose all of their credibility. This wasn’t a real victory. The Bandits would be back and stronger than ever.

“What was I supposed to do? Just let you run off with my bike? How could I ever show my face at the club after that?”

I hadn’t thought of that, but it was true. If Julian had lost his bike to a female prisoner of a rival gang, he would have lost all of his standing in Los Desperados.

“You shouldn’t have attacked Paul,” I said. My voice was barely over a whisper. I didn’t want to cry in front of him. I wanted to stay angry and not get sad. “You should have let him take me; that would have ended this. They would have left and fewer people would have been hurt.”

“Paul, so that’s his name. Is he your boyfriend, your husband?” he asked and the mask on his face cracked and I saw the emotion that was boiling underneath. I could see him struggling to stay in control and it tore at my heart that I had caused all this pain.

“He’s my...” I stopped, not knowing what to say. “He’s my ex-boyfriend. He brought me into The Bandits. He saved me when I was young and lost and he came back here to save me again and you almost killed him for it.”

“I saw a man picking you up and taking you out. What was I supposed to do? I didn’t know who it was or what they intended for you.”

“That’s bullshit. You knew it was The Bandits and you knew they had come for me. You knew exactly what you were doing. I was escaping, I was leaving you, and you took me back.” My voice was high-pitched and fast as I tried to keep it together. I didn’t want to dissolve into a mess of tears. But the adrenaline from the fight was wearing off and that always came with a let down.

“I didn’t know he was you ex. If I had, he might not have lived through it,” Julian said, his voice going to a dangerous place. “But like I said: I only knocked him out and The Bandits took him with them when they left.”

“Was he all right? Was he awake?” I asked. I could see the hurt in Julian's eyes when I asked about Paul. But he was in front of me and I could see that he was all right. Paul was miles away and I had no idea if he was alive or dead or seriously hurt. There was some part of me that still felt the need to take care of him.

“I couldn’t tell,” he said. He was staring at me like he hadn’t seen me in months, he was staring at me with a naked want that scared me and excited me all at the same time. “I wasn’t worried about him, I was only worried about you.”

“You should have let me go.” I said, tears forming in my eyes. “We never should have met. If we hadn’t, none of this would have happened.”

“No,” he said, and something slipped through the mask he had been wearing. He looked mad, furious even as he spoke to me in a deadly calm whisper. “We were destined to meet. You belong here with me; you know it as well as I do. You’re just too scared to leave The Bandits. Why are you fighting this so hard? I know you want to be here with me.”

“You don’t know anything!” I didn’t know what else to say. Wasn’t he right, wasn’t there some part of me that agreed with him? He was so close to me; we were only inches apart and he was telling me I was his and no matter what he would never let me go. I wanted that more than anything. I wanted him to sweep me up in his arms and take me upstairs and throw me down on his bed. But there was still all this chaos down here. Chaos and destruction from this passion we had between us. Whatever we had it was like a poison drifting out into the world and causing pain and hurt. I needed to be strong and stay away from him.  Everything that had happened was because of yesterday. He had come to me while I was in the shower and I had welcomed him. If I had turned him away yesterday, would he have let me go today? Had that moment of weakness caused all of this? It looked like it and no matter how much I wanted to, I couldn’t let it happen again.

“You don’t have to be scared, Daniela. I would always protect you. I would never let anyone hurt you.” He brought his hand to my waist and let it rest there and I couldn’t help but lean into him.

I knew I shouldn’t, but I couldn’t stop myself. I felt so safe in his strong arms.  He wrapped his arm around me and pulled me closer to him and I closed my eyes as I brought my lips to his.

We had barely touched when the door open and Marco peered into the room. Embarrassed I pulled myself away from Julian, but his arm held my hip and I could only back away so far. I didn’t know what Marco would think of this. Would he be angry or threatened by the connection Julian and I had?

“Anytime you feel like joining us, we’ll be out here.” Marco said in a calm and even voice. But there was a knowing look in his eyes and I wondered if this was what he had planned all along. With one last nod Marco backed out of the room leaving the door open a crack and I could hear the sound of Los Desperados putting their clubhouse back in order.

I untangled myself from Julian and looked away from him. It was still too hard to be with him, still too confusing.

Julian walked out of the stairwell and I followed him. I was nervous about the members of Los Desperados and what they would think of me. Would they blame me for all of this destruction and death? But when I came out into the clubhouse they all nodded at me as I passed and I felt like I was one of them. We felt like comrades in arm, as if we had recently been in battle together. Hadn’t we, though? I had suffered in the attack as much as they had. My head was still pounding and my ears were still ringing and there was still blood on my neck.

Again I was impressed with Los Desperados. They weren’t sulking or screaming empty threats; they were working. In just a few minutes they had put plywood over the giant hole in the wall and several of them were finishing up the job of screwing the wood into place. As I watched an ungainly, but effective, wall was erected and the clubhouse was at least partially secure.

“Listen up,” a voice called out and all heads, including mine turned towards where Marco stood. He was standing next to an overturned table, his hand resting on the scratched and burned surface as he looked thoughtfully into the crowd around him.

I was, again, impressed with Marco’s demeanor. It had only taken him two words and an entire club full of bikers had gone silent; I knew from experience that was no easy feat.

“We were attacked today by desperate and hungry Bandits,” Marco said. “But we showed them our strength, showed them we are not so easily beaten and it was The Bandits who had to run away in fear. We are stronger than them and they know it now.”

Cheers erupted around the room and I couldn’t help but feel something. It was like my heart was swelling and their victory was my victory.

“The clubhouse needs a lot of work and we will have men working twenty-four hours a day to fix the damage from The Bandits’ pathetic attack. In the meantime we’ll meet at Paddy’s and celebrate our victory!” Marco called out and everyone cheered and I couldn't help but smile with them. “And plan our revenge,” he said and the crowd cheered even louder.

Julian turned and he saw my smile and his eyes looked at me searching for something. I knew what he wanted, but I was mad and happy all at the same time and I knew I was in no position to make any life changing decisions.

“You coming?” He asked me and the answer was yes.

I was instilled with their sense of victory. I could feel that passion that came with winning, with being the best. It was pumping through my veins and I couldn't help but enjoy it. Los Desperados had won. They had bested The Bandits and I had been with them, so what did that make me? I didn’t know, but I had to stop myself from cheering and pumping my fist with everyone else.

“You coming with us to celebrate?” he asked again. 

“Can I take a shower first?” I asked, gesturing to filthy clothes. I wanted a shower, but I needed a moment to myself to figure out what I was going to do. The Bandits had lost and they might give me up for good. I needed to figure out which side I was on.

“Yeah, go ahead. Door’s unlocked,” he nodded towards the door to the stairwell and I gave him a confused smile as I walked to the door and headed up the stairs. I glanced behind me and saw Julian grab a drill and help the other men as they worked on patching up the remaining holes in the wall. He was handy, too, another point for Julian.

His being great was really the problem. This would all be so much easier if he hadn’t been so perfect for me. But he was smart, confident, sexy, and great in bed. He was the man I had been looking for my entire life. I thought Paul was the one and it was only after seven crazy years that I had finally ended things with him. But Julian was perfect in all the ways Paul wasn’t. Julian wasn’t threatened by my skill as a driver, he wasn’t mean or cruel, he was gentle with me, and I respected him. 

I willingly walked towards the door that just minutes ago I had been dragged to. The passion with Julian was too much. One moment I hated him and the next I wanted him. I was annoyed by him and in awe of him and I needed to do something about it. I wanted to stay with Los Desperados until I was desperate to be back with The Bandits. I was being pulled in every direction and I couldn’t figure out which was the right way to go.

I walked up the stairs and opened the door to the apartment. I stood on the threshold amazed that he would let me be here alone. I could grab a knife, or search for a gun, and then what? Did I really think I could kill Julian? No, I had moved past that. I wasn’t sure what I felt about him, but I didn’t want to hurt him, that much I was sure of.

I stepped into the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror. I was covered in dust from the explosion and there was a bruise on the side of my forehead. I was still shaking a little and I tried to force my hands to be still. I stripped off Julian’s bloodstained clothes and put them in a pile on the floor. Stepping into the hot shower, I let out a shaky breath. I washed the grit from my hair and scrubbed away the blood from my neck and ears. Turning around to rinse off my back, I felt a stab of pain. There was a cut on the lower left side of my back, an open wound. In all the chaos I hadn’t even noticed it, but it stung as the hot water rinsed it out.

I had just stepped out of the shower and wrapped myself in a fluffy white towel when there was three short knocks on the door.

“Come in,” I said quietly tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

Julian opened the door and stepped inside. He left the door open and the steam fled as the room quickly cooled down. “How are you?” he asked, caressing my arm. “Are you hurt?”

“My ears,” I said, “and I think something happened to my back,” he nodded and turned to the sink where he washed and dried his hands.

“Let me see,” he said quietly and I turned around and slowly lowered my robe.

I had the strongest urge to cover myself up. I was still shaking from the fight and my nerves were on edge. Without my robe I felt as naked and exposed as I was. The cool air was touching parts of my body that were almost always covered and I tried to suppress a shiver. Julian put his hand on my hip and leaned over and kissed my neck and I felt my muscles relax bit by bit. There was something about the way he touched me that made me feel safe. I could let all of my guards down with him and it was wonderful. .

He kissed my neck one more time and then pulled back and put his hand gently on the cut.  “It’s not too deep, but I think I should put a bandage on it for today. Maybe tonight we can take it off before you go to sleep so it can get some air.” I nodded and he pulled a bottle of alcohol out of the medicine cabinet along with a box of sterile bandages and tape. “This is going to sting,” he said.

I winced in preparation and then bit back a scream as the alcohol sank into my cut. Julian gave me his hand and I squeezed it as I waited for the pain to pass.

“Don’t forget to breathe,” he said and I nodded and hissed in a breath trying not to cry out. Eventually the stinging pain subsided and he placed the sterile gauze on the wound and taped it closed. When he was done, he kissed me on the shoulder blade and pulled me back against him.

I leaned into him and I closed my eyes and focused on the feeling of his strong arms around me. He felt so warm and solid that it was tempting to fall asleep standing up and leaning against him.

But he was still a mess. I forced myself to stand up straight and turned around to look at him. He was filthy and sweaty and smelled like gunpowder and sawdust. He was covered in tiny scars and bruises.

“Sit down,” I said pushing gently on his shoulder. He sat on the closed toilet seat and I reached over and looked at the blood-encrusted bandage on his arm. Gently I began to pull it off him, unwrapping layers and layers of bloody cloth. The wound was deep and still bleeding a bit. I took a hand towel from the rack and soaked it in hot water and then gently ran the towel over his wound.

“Ow,” he hissed as the hot water covered his open wound.

“Oh, you’re fine, you big baby,” I teased before leaning down and kissing him on his shoulder. I held the towel under his wound and then gently dribbled the alcohol over it. He hissed out in pain, louder than I had. I smiled and shook my head; men weren’t nearly as good as women when it came to pain. Finally, when the wound was dry, I wrapped his arm up tightly and closed it with the tape. There were small cuts and bruises on his arms and I swabbed them with alcohol and then all that was left was his face. There were two shallow cuts, one below his left eye and the other on his forehead.

When he was sitting down I was a little taller than he was and it was a strange reversal for me to be the one looking down instead of up. I reached down to swab his cut, but he stopped my hand with a light gesture and leaned in and kissed me. His hand wrapped gently around my waist, avoiding the places I had been hurt. He pulled me to him and our kiss deepened and I slipped my tongue into his mouth.

Finally I had to pull away from him. “You’re hurt,” I reminded him and I swabbed his two cuts and kissed him again when he winced. “All done,” I said.

“You’re a very good nurse,” he said to me and his hand reached up under his robe and he caressed my cheek.

“You’re filthy and need a shower,” I said, taking his hand off me.

Reluctantly he stood and began to undress. “I wish you had waited for me,” he said.

I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him lightly. “Next time,” I whispered.

I walked out of the bathroom and he gave me a squeeze on the ass as I passed. I couldn’t help but smile as I left. In the kitchen I found a glass of water and took two aspirin. I pulled my clean clothes out of the dryer and dressed quickly.

I was alone in Julian’s apartment for the first time. Again I felt like a kid with her hand in the cookie jar, waiting for someone to jump out and tell me I had been caught. But, as long as I didn’t open and drawers or doors, I wasn’t technically being nosy. So I made my way over to the bookshelf to see what he had. There were back issues of Popular Mechanics and motorcycle repair guides. Below those were old Steven King paperbacks and I smiled at his dog-eared copies of Cujo and The Stand. On a shelf below that were boos by Carlos Castaneda and Louis L'amour.

There were pictures hanging on the wall. One showed a pretty-looking Latina woman standing in front of a large white house on a bright green lawn. She had a huge smile on her face and was pointing to the “Sold” sign underneath the realtor’s for sale sign. I wondered if she was Julian’s mother. Even through the picture I could see she was a happy person; she looked kind.

There was a picture of David, Rick, and Julian all looking much younger, their faces unlined and smiling in matching leather jackets. They couldn’t have been older than sixteen in the photo. Julian, already a head taller than the other two, had the beginnings of a mustache and they were each making a tough pose and standing in front of dirt bikes.

“Are you going through my stuff?” Julian asked as he came out of the bathroom. He was running a towel through his thick hair; another towel was wrapped low around his waist.

“I’m just looking at your pictures, tough guy,” I said, pointing to the youthful picture on the wall.

“That’s right. I was always the tough biker you see in front of you,” he walked towards me and I ran my hands up his firm chest and around his neck and he pulled me to him for a deep kiss. He was still warm from the shower and smelled like soap and after we kissed I leaned against his chest and his hands rubbed my back. “We can’t stay here tonight,” Julian said. “The clubhouse isn’t secure.”

“All right,” I said, “But it’s still early. What about Paddy’s? Isn’t that where all the other Los Desperados will be?”

“You want to go to Paddy’s?” he asked incredulously.

“Yeah, I could go for a drink,” I said giving him a crooked grin.