Rough & Rugged (Notorious Devils Book 3) (31 page)

“Set it up,” Fury grins.

I flip him off before I pull my phone out of my back pocket and do just that. Hattie’ll do it. She’ll do whatever I want her to. One of my favorite things about her. She’s shy and she’s unsure, but with a little urging from me, she’ll at least try it, whatever it is that I want her to.

“Dirty,” Dragon says as his greeting.

“Need some ink done,” I mutter.

“What now?”

“On my woman,” I say. The phone goes silent.

“Seriously?” he practically chokes.

“Yup.”

“Tomorrow, noon, I got some time. You got any ideas?” he asks. I can tell he’s shocked as shit at my request.

“No girlie shit,” I mumble.

“But she’s a bitch, right?” he laughs.

“Yes, you asshole.”

“I’ll come up with a couple ideas tonight,” he says through his laughter. I press
end
and shove my phone in my pocket.

“Nothing girlie?” Sniper asks, raising an eyebrow.

“You guys want girlie flowers and shit on your women, that’s cool, but that ain’t me,” I say.

“But Hattie’s girlie. It’s her body,” Fury points out.

“My name’s on it, then it ain’t hers.”

Kentlee and I straighten out the new comforter before we go about adding the pillows and little touches around the bedroom. Today I’m thankful, and extremely lucky, that both Kentlee and Brentlee have helped me outfit this new house. We went shopping and bought kitchen items, along with dishes, cookware and bakeware. Then we went to another store and outfitted both of the bathrooms and the bedroom linens.

Johnny, Fury, and Sniper helped unload the headboard we found, along with a sofa, a love seat, and a small kitchen table with chairs. The second bedroom is empty, but I don’t care. Johnny had a television set up and installed the day after we moved in, so that was one less thing on my list.

Everything in this house is new, and it’s nicer than I had in my apartment, and apparently nicer than anything Johnny’s ever had in his life. I wouldn’t mind buying used items and maybe re-painting them, but Johnny was insistent that everything that came through the front door of this house was going to be brand new. I didn’t want to fight about it. It’s his money and it’s what makes him happy.

“It really does look so different from when I lived here,” Kentlee says as she straightens the lamp on the nightstand next to the bed.

“I am in love with these colors. I hope Johnny doesn’t hate them,” I say, chewing on my bottom lip as I look at the comforter.

The comforter itself isn’t the problem. It’s a deep, rich, navy blue, but it has gathers and tucks, feminizing it. The throw pillows are bright yellow, light grey, and white—not manly in the slightest. It’s a big feminine bed, and now that it’s all set up, I’m afraid that Johnny’s going to
hate
it.

“It’s adorable. He’ll be fine. They don’t really care as long as the sheets are soft and your naked between them. And those sheets are soft as hell, so you’re good,” Kentlee says with a grin as she gathers her purse.

“We gotta go pick up the kids from Tammy. I’m sure that Bear is enlightening her on the different styles and brands of motorcycles, and she’s probably about two seconds from pulling her hair out,” Kentlee laughs.

She explained to me earlier that her nine-year-old, Bear, is obsessed with anything and everything motorcycle. He knows it all, and it’s the only topic of conversation that he’ll engage in at this point.

Apparently, Fury’s father said that he was the same way at that age. I asked her when it should be over with, and she cringed and said that Fury is still obsessed with them, he just doesn’t talk about it as much as he did when he was little.

Once the house is completely empty, I hear the front door open and close. I walk into the living room and see Johnny standing there. He’s looking around, but not for me. His eyes are scanning the room, stopping on every little detail that I’ve added. He gave me more cash than I’ve ever held in my hand in my entire life, but it went fast. Everything we bought was at a good price, but we needed an entire house full of things. We started from scratch.

“The guest room is completely empty. I wanted to try and get all the kitchen stuff we needed and a place to sit, and a place to eat,” I explain nervously as I twist my fingers together. I don’t know what he’s thinking and it’s killing me.

“C’mere,” he murmurs.

Hesitantly, I walk over to him. When I’m within arm’s reach, he wraps his hand around my waist and pulls me closer. I feel his breath fan over my face. He smells like beer, cigarettes, oil, leather, and all of it combined means that he smells exactly like the man I’ve come to love.
My Johnny
. He’s a scent I could never tire of, and one I’m quite fond of these days.

“You made me a home, Hattie,” he murmurs as his nose skims mine, a move I’ve come to love from him.

“I’m trying,” I whisper as I close my eyes and feel him surround me.

“You’ve succeeded, princess. You make me so fuckin’ happy,” he mutters as his lips touch mine in a brief kiss.

“Do you have to go to the club tonight?” I ask breathlessly as I press my body closer to his.

I want him, but I always want him. I feel like all we do is have sex, but for whatever reason, it’s never enough. I always—
always
want more. If he could be inside of me all day, every day, then I would be the happiest person on earth.

“I do. I’m sorry. We’re going to have a meeting, then do some scheduling for next week. I can’t get out of it, but I’ll be home when I can.”

His voice rumbles, deep and rugged, filling the room around me. I wrap my hand around the side of his neck and look up into his dark eyes.

“I’ll be waiting for you,” I whisper.

Johnny nods and brushes his lips over mine one more time before he disengages from me and leaves.

I watch him walk out of the door, locking it behind him before the tears well up in my eyes. It’s my first night alone in this house, and also my first night alone since Johnny saved me. I didn’t want to tell him, for fear he would think of me as being childish and immature, but I’m anxious.

I’m scared, I’m nervous, and I don’t want to be here all alone. I wanted to beg him to take me to the clubhouse. I would have stayed out of the way and not bothered anybody. But I didn’t want to seem like a burden, so I didn’t say anything.

In this moment, I’m now regretting it.

I turn on the television to drown out the silence and I decide to bake. I love to bake, and since everything that’s happened over the past few weeks, I haven’t had the opportunity. I gather the ingredients for my absolute favorite chocolate cake recipe and I begin.

I make all of my desserts from scratch, and I have most of my recipes memorized, especially this one. The rest are in a notebook, one of the only items that wasn’t clothes that I remembered to take from my apartment.

I smile as I start to whisk together the batter. It isn’t one that you’d want to lick the spoon after you mix it together; it’s watery and a little bitter, but once it’s baked and slathered with my homemade chocolate buttercream icing, it’s rich and decadent and absolutely perfect.

That’s how I spend my evening, until the early hours of the morning.
Baking
.
Wishing
Johnny were home.
Wondering
where exactly he is and when he’ll be home.

At three in the morning, after my cake has baked, cooled, and been frosted, I decide to pour myself into bed. Johnny won’t be home anytime soon, and it makes my stomach twist and turn. I know where he is, but I don’t know what he’s doing, and I fear whatever he’s doing, it isn’t good and it’s with another woman… or two.

I wish that I trusted him and that I was confident enough in myself to know that he only wants me, but I’m not there.
Not yet, at least
. It’s going to take time, I think—especially since he’s said he enjoys other women. While I satisfy him
now
, that may not always be the case.

The doubt is there, it will always be there, and the minutes that tick by, they water that doubt, they feed it and it flourishes.

I hate it.

T
he clubhouse is buzzing.
Patch-in parties
. They’re my absolute favorite part of being in this club. Today we’re patching in a prospect named
Bug
. He got his road name because on his first ride, he swallowed a bug and freaked the fuck out like a bitch baby.

It was the funniest shit I think I’d ever seen. I laughed so damn hard, tears came out of my eyes. Tonight though, he’ll no longer be a prospect. Tonight, he’ll become a full-fledged member of the
Notorious Devils,
and he’ll reap the benefits of that as well—all the pussy, green, and booze he can handle.

“We’re headed to the
Devils Club
, who’s in?” Vault yells over the loud music.

Cheers erupt all over the room and I can’t help but smile. The fuckin’
Devils Club
. It used to be one of my favorite places on earth. A few years ago, Fury got the best idea I think the man’s ever had. He leased a building downtown and turned it into a titty bar.

Our club owns the building now, and Sniper manages the club and the girls. It turns a pretty profit, but the perks outweigh the cash. Those bitches love to fuck, and they love to put on a show, making patch-in parties fucking legendary.

I raise my hand only to have both Fury and Sniper clear their throats next to me.

“What about Hattie?” Sniper asks, furrowing his brow.

“What about her?” I ask, taking a pull from my beer.

“Don’t you want to go home to your Old Lady?” Fury grunts.

I think about his words and then I think about him and Sniper. I haven’t seen them at a party without their women at their side in years.

Is that what having an Old Lady means?

Does it mean that I can’t hang with my boys anymore? I can’t go to a titty bar when I want?

I know she don’t want me fuckin’ other girls, but I didn’t think that claiming her was going to be the end of my freedom.

“Why? She knows I’m with my boys,” I shrug, finishing off my bottle.

“She’s a real sweet kid, Dirty,” Fury says. He doesn’t bother to elaborate.

I don’t know what he’s getting at, and I can’t ask him. A minute later, he and Sniper are up and walking out of the clubhouse.

“That was their subtle way of advising you to go home to your woman,” Torch mutters from behind me.

“Why, though? What the fuck’s it matter if I want to party and see some girls dance?” I ask, pulling a cigarette out of my pocket and placing it between my lips.

“I’m the last fucking person to give you relationship advice. But I’ll give you some anyway. Bitches say they’re cool with you hangin’ with the boys, they might even claim it’s okay if you see some girls dance, but they really aren’t
ever
okay with it. What they want is for you to choose them. Choose them over partying all night and watching some hot chicks grind on stage. They want to feel like they’re important and that they matter,” he says before he takes a shot.

“Hattie’s important, or she wouldn’t be in my bed right now,” I point out.

“Yeah, but she’s in that bed alone right now,” he says. Then he walks away from me.