Unholy: The Unholys MC (11 page)

I ran to him without even thinking about it, and threw my arms desperately around his middle. I clung to him. Slowly, his arms came around to hold me back. He stroked at my long hair, whispering into my ear, “You’re okay, baby. Everything’s okay now. I’ll protect you. I promise.”

I believed him.

After that, things went quickly between us. We were inseparable. He kissed me in the halls, he pressed me against walls and in stairwells, and sat me on balconies so that he could settle between my legs and kiss me. His hands found their way down my pants and he made me feel things that I’d never felt before. He brought me to climax before I even really knew what he was doing and when I came down, eyes glassy, I knew I wanted so much more for him.

When I let him have me, all of me, I knew I was getting myself in deep with him.

I remembered picking that day when my parents were gone. I remembered telling him to go upstairs and to wait for me, that I would be right back. And I remembered going back into that room wearing nothing at all, my long hair brushed down so that it hung loosely down my back, my breasts exposed and my pussy shaved.

Johnny hadn’t seen it coming and for long moments just stared at me with dark, passionate eyes. I knew he’d been with other women, but I’d never had anyone before and I was nervous. When I stood there too long, starting to cover myself because I was nervous and he was just staring at me, he dove into action.

He came over to me and jerked my hands away from my body, telling me, “Don’t cover yourself up, baby. Don’t you dare hide from me.”

And he kissed me. It was hard and needy, a testament to just how much he wanted me. By the time we broke for air, I was already melting in his arms, my body shaking as need pooled in my belly.

He did everything right, starting with his tongue between my legs to get my comfortable, to get me a little crazy, so that by the time he came back up and placed his cock between my legs, there wasn’t any room left for nervousness.

He slid into my slowly, and I didn’t even remember the pinch of pain when he sheathed himself inside of me. Then we made love, because this was my first time and he wanted me to know that it could be gentle, if that’s what I wanted. But then we finished and not long after that, we did it again and it wasn’t gentle. We fucked, because he couldn’t contain himself and I didn’t want him to.

I screamed his name god knew how many times that day and by the time he was leaving, I was sore and hazy and giddy with lust and something that would quickly grow into love.

In ten years, the sex hadn’t changed. It was just as exciting and maddening as it had always been, driving us both to the brink of madness because it was too damn good to let go of. I trusted Johnny with everything that was me, but sex wasn’t enough to hold us together anymore.

I owed Johnny everything, but I’d given him ten years of my life and I was starting to think that I was entitled to the rest of my years.

I loved him still, there was no question, but it was a fragile love, and as the days passed I worried more and more that it was a breaking love.

Chapter Twelve

Johnny

There are rules in a biker’s club. Most of those have to do with biker code—you have to have a motorcycle, you have to have a jacket, and you have to go through initiation—a means of keeping everyone on the same page, and loyal. But there are other things, too. One of them happens to be that I’m not supposed to go anywhere without Specter, or at least a lieutenant. Specter acted as my right hand and my body guard because he’d forever been the most loyal of the Unholys. As their leader, I needed a certain level of protection beyond the regular members.

Most of the time, I thought it was unnecessary. These days, I thought it was unavoidable.

But I was sitting on my bike now, reaching for my helmet and getting ready for a ride. Still no Specter. I’d given him a call, but he hadn’t picked up. I didn’t bother with a message; by the time he got back to me, the moment would have passed. I’d checked out his house and a couple of the places he liked to frequent, but couldn’t seem to find him. And as a rule, I wasn’t supposed to go for a ride alone, but I wasn’t willing to wait anymore.

What was the point? I needed the ride now to clear my head and get a grip on some things. A ride would do that, it always had before.

So I shoved the helmet down over my head, my eyes catching sight of the words scratched on the inside by the Reverend’s own hand.

There is always a way to do the right thing.

They were sentimental words for me, as the helmet was the last thing I’d ever been given by the Reverend, but on the whole, they were a bit odd. For a man who spent so much of his time on the wrong end of the law, what would he care about doing the right thing?

Of course, I knew a little more about the Reverend than most and understood that he belonged to an older sort of biker’s club. The kind that held old time values and lived by rules, a code of honor that most fucking cops couldn’t live by. A lot of the younger guys, the newer ones, didn’t get his attitude. They thought it was even archaic, but the Reverend believed that men had a duty to be
men
. Real men. The kind that lived by honor, whatever side of the law they lived on.

I pushed thoughts of the words and the Reverend aside. Revving up my bike, I tore out of the parking lot and headed away from the house I shared with Charlotte. She was still at work and my mind briefly thought about heading that way to talk to her, to try again after the disaster that was this morning, but I quickly discarded the idea. Better to give her a little more time to cool down, I thought.

I didn’t have a destination in mind, thanks to my reluctance to fight again with Charlotte. Until I had more information about what was going on, there was no point. I’d blurted out that part about the Reverend, desperate to keep her with me, and now I couldn’t take that back. I had the feeling that the next time we spoke, she’d demand more information. She’d demand to know the truth.

I couldn’t give her that. Not yet. Not until I understood more of what it meant.

So I just drove. I went through downtown, but didn’t appreciate getting stuck in traffic. At the first opportunity, I turned off down the back way. The speed limit was fifty-five here, ten miles per hour higher than the main roads because so few people went back this way. It meant that the roads would be clear and I could open her up a little bit without having to get onto the freeway.

I knew the area a little bit, but I was coming to the very edge of Unholy territory—which was becoming Berserker territory thanks to our deal. The area was less familiar to me, though I knew it well enough to be confident that I wouldn’t get lost.

I wasn’t really paying attention. Where I was or where I was going didn’t matter too much to me, so long as I got the freedom of riding through the city like this. It cleared my head, allowed me to think about what was going on in my life—the Berserkers, the man last night, Stitches, Specter, and of course, Charlotte.

My mind was elsewhere when I saw them, to the point where I barely even realized who I was seeing. I didn’t know their names, since I had no reason to be on friendly or personal terms with them, but I recognized the emblem on their backs. They pulled out in front of me, unaware that I was several blocks behind them, but I could see the gold and red threads laced along their backs in what looked like fire spreading out from a center point. Berserkers.

I should have let them just keep on going. What did they matter to me? But something in my gut told me that this was an opportunity. With everything that was going on with the Berserkers and their leader, I couldn’t afford to miss a prime opportunity to learn something real.
Evidence,
I thought, though I wasn’t even sure now what kind of evidence I was looking for. What did any of this have to do with anything?

Probably nothing. When it came right down to it, there was a real chance that Stitches had legitimately offered up that man last night as a peace offering. Which meant that I should just shut up and say thank you.

But I couldn’t. Things were progressing too quickly, in unforeseen ways, and it was time that I started making some proactive moves.

So when I saw the two riders turn left up ahead, I followed. When they made a right after that, I did the same. I mimicked every move they made, every turn and stop and pause. We headed out of town, no longer in either Unholy or Berserker territory. We traveled the old highway which was all but empty thanks to the larger, improved one that most of the traffic took. When the two men finally pulled off, I did the same and gave them a little head start.

They pulled in up ahead to an old, abandoned train station. I quickly turned before that station, finding a place to park, and hid my bike behind an old billboard so that they wouldn’t see me. From there, I peeked around it and watched as the two men headed towards what might have been an old depot or something.

I knew I didn’t have a lot of time if I wanted to see what they were doing, so I gave it several seconds, then dove for the building. I kept my body low, hoping that the high weeds that were growing everywhere would provide me some kind of cover at least and that they wouldn’t be looking for me anyway.

It took several of the longest moments of my life to get to the side of the building, but I did and paused. I waited several seconds, holding my breath, to see if there was any commotion. I heard nothing except a door opening. They hadn’t noticed me, I decided, though it did nothing to slow the pounding of my heart.

Taking a deep breath, I went around the corner to find some kind of window I might be able to look through. I did, but it was grimy. I could still see through it though and I hoped that the dirt covering it would mask me further.

When I looked through the window, I saw the two bikers as expected. What I had
not
been expecting was who they were meeting. I only saw him from the back and I tried to convince myself that it wasn’t him, but even then I knew it. He had broad shoulders and a shiny, shaved head. He wore a leather jacket just as the other two had, but his emblem was different. On the back in white and gray threads was a tombstone. It was made to look old and cracked, but it was unmistakable, as was the writing across it.
Unholy
.

He was one of mine, but even then I didn’t want to admit to myself who it was. It wasn’t until he turned as he spoke to the other two that I got a good enough look at his face to be sure. Unquestionably sure. The man they were meeting wasn’t just an Unholy. He was my right hand.

They were meeting Specter.

Chapter Thirteen

Charlotte

After Specter’s visit, I was visibly shaken. I spent several hours trying to finish work that would normally take me maybe two. And that was assuming that I was busy and kept getting interrupted, but other than Specter no one came to see me. I was so freaked out by everything that was going on that I couldn’t focus well enough to do my job quickly. I hoped desperately that I at the very least managed to do it correctly, but even that seemed like a long shot today.

I was just finishing up the paper work, gathering it up to file away for safe keeping, when the phone rang. The sound startled me so badly that I jumped and scattered the papers across the floor. I groaned once I realized that it was only the phone and I would now have to clean all of that up all over again. And reorganize it.

This was not something that made me happy.

Sighing, I shook my head and held up my hands. I’d get back to the papers in a minute. Instead, I went back to my desk and reached for the phone. I hesitated for a fraction of a second, for one wild moment worried that it might be Specter calling me. I quickly decided that was ridiculous  and grabbed the phone.

“Hello?”

“Charlotte! Hey, I’ve been calling your cell all day, what the hell?”

I released a sigh of relief at the sound of Emma’s voice. She was a sweet, bubbly girl and one of the few old ladies I actually considered my friend. Most of them were too old, like my mother’s age, and those who were closer to me I felt as though I had nothing in common with them. But Emma was different. She was a sweetheart and it was hard to not get along with her.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” I told her, realizing that my phone was likely still sitting on the kitchen counter after I’d had it this morning. “I left the damn thing at home today. There’ll probably be a hundred messages on it by the time I get to it.”

Emma laughed. “Well, don’t fret, only half of them are from me!”

I smiled, shaking my head a little. “How many of them will be angry, I wonder?”

I could hear the smile in her voice as she answered, “Only the last seven, I think.”

Holding the phone to my ear, I knelt down beside my desk and began gathering up the papers. I’d definitely have to reorganize them, there was no helping that, but hopefully they wouldn’t be too out of sync. “So what’s going on?”

“I was calling to see if you wanted to come over. I was thinking we could do, like, a brunch thing or something. Which sounds way too English, but I didn’t know what else to call it.”

“Hanging out?” I suggested teasingly.

“You say tomato…” Emma trailed off, letting me finish the old adage on my own. “Anyway, come on over for my tomato and we’ll have some coffee, because I don’t do tea.”

I looked at the mess of papers, then sighed. “Okay. Be there.” I was exhausted; the damn papers could wait.

***

Emma lived in a neighborhood that consisted mainly of mobile homes. Some of them were nicer, while others looked like there wasn’t much to save them except for a swift fire that might destroy all evidence of their existence. I’d been here several times and had had friends who lived out here on and off since high school.

The trailer in front of me was a single wide with a bedroom at either end, along with what could either be a tiny guest room or what amounted to closet space. Emma used it for her jewelry business, which was mostly run on one of those kitschy online sites that catered to eclectic people.

I walked up to the porch that was attached as an afterthought—there were chairs outside along with a little coffee table so that the occupants could smoke in relative comfort outside—and went to the front door. I pulled back the screen door and knocked twice. I waited for just a couple of minutes before Emma came to the door, opening it to reveal her bright and smiling face.

“Charlotte! Damnit, where have you been! I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever!”

She quickly ushered me in just as the coffee pot pinged to say that it had finished brewing. “Take a seat anywhere,” she told me, heading to the kitchen which was attached to the living room. “You want cream?”

I shook my head. “Thanks, but just some milk is fine.

She made us both a cup quickly as I took a seat on the couch in the living room. There was a coffee table in front of me with several magazines—high fashion stuff, I thought—laid out on top of it.

Emma handed me one of the cups and took a seat on the matching chair that was adjacent to the couch.

“How’ve things been?” I asked her absently, flipping through some of the magazines. Most were those women’s magazines that told you how to lose weight and what a man liked in bed. Worthless things, I thought, given that I knew
exactly
what my man wanted in bed and the weight loss thing was more a matter of will than anything else. There were, however, a couple of magazines that were jewelry centric, probably research for her business.

Emma nodded, beaming. “Great. I can’t tell you how excited I am for everything that’s been happening lately!”

“With the business?” I guessed, but clearly that wasn’t what she was talking about. She laughed at me a little and waved me off.

“No, silly, I mean with the whole initiation thing!”

I froze. Initiation, of course, how could I have forgotten? After all the
other
excitement last night—and I wasn’t talking about the sex—I’d all but put Worm and his painful initiation out of my mind. Maybe I’d just been dying to forget all along, because I was sick and tired of all of the violence, but there had been so much last night that I probably would have regardless.

Emma and Worm had been dating for nearly two years now, and lived together in this trailer. I thought maybe it was a little bit of a weird match—though admittedly, I’d been the one to introduce them—since Emma was very stylish and interested in fashion forward things, while Worm was…well, Worm. He was a big, heavyset man with quickly thinning hair and a somewhat grotesque appearance. He sweated easily and his face constantly looked splotchy. Seeing him standing next to Emma was almost comical.

She wasn’t a supermodel. Emma was short—maybe five three or five four in height—and was a little round in the middle. She wasn’t overly fat or anything, but she was pudgy and had noticeable curves in both her hips and her breasts. The effect was charming on her with her long dark hair and her perfectly done make up, though I wasn’t sure how it would have worked for most women.

When I’d first introduced them at a party—Emma as a friend and Worm as an acquaintance since he’d come in to the Heaven & Hell shop a time or two—I didn’t think much of it. Chemistry was a tricky thing and it usually didn’t happen how it did with them. As I recalled, Worm had spilled his drink down Emma’s favorite shirt and I’d had to drive her home completely wasted and bawling about how she loved that shirt. But then he’d sent her flowers every day as an apology until she finally talked to him. After that, they somehow found that they just clicked.

It happened like that sometimes, I guessed, but if I’d known that Worm would turn around one day and join the Unholys, I never would have introduced the two of them. Hindsight was always twenty-twenty, right?

“Have you…seen Worm?” I asked her hesitantly, remembering how beaten and broken he’d looked last night.

Emma shook her head, but she didn’t seem concerned. “No, he said that he would be crashing with some of the guys as part of post initiation bonding or something. It sucks,” she told me with a sigh, but her eyes still sparkled with excitement. “I really wanted to see him and ask how it went, but he called me at least. I’m so happy he made it!”

For a moment, I just stared at her. I wasn’t really sure what to say about this whole thing because a big part of me felt like she just didn’t understand what the hell she was talking about. Did she have any idea how rough a shape Worm was in? Did she realize how badly things were going lately? Did she understand that Worm would ride his bike right on the edge of the law constantly and that every once in a while he’d swerve the wrong way over it?

I decided she couldn’t understand any of that. Not yet. But she would. Guilt gnawed at me. How could I have gotten her into all of this?

“It’s good that you’re supporting him,” I finally said, because I wasn’t sure what else to say. “That’s a sign of a healthy relationship.”

She grinned hugely at me. “Well, we are definitely that! And things will only get better now that he’s an Unholy. I mean, now we can talk about the club stuff and you won’t have to worry about crossing lines or anything.”

That was true. It was difficult sometimes to have friends outside of the club, because there would always be things that you couldn’t talk to them about. Most of it wasn’t that big of a deal. The bad stuff that I really wasn’t supposed to talk about was easy to avoid because I really didn’t
want
to talk about it. But still, it would be nice to not have to watch what I said inn front of Emma.

“Yeah, there is that,” I commented, flipping closed one magazine and opening another. This one was all about bikinis and finding the right one for your body type. I didn’t imagine that it was very helpful given that all the models looked to be the same size. “You’re not worried?”

Emma shook her head immediately. “Are you kidding? Of course not! I love that he’s a biker now. You know, a
real
one. It’s so sexy, don’t you think?”

I
did
think that, but lately I was thinking that it wasn’t worth it. I didn’t mention this to Emma, however. I didn’t think it was a good idea to encourage her romanticized idea of the biker lifestyle.

“I mean, I’ve always dreamed of being the sexy chick riding on the back of some hot motorcycle, arms around the middle of my main man, a badass on wheels,” she gushed, not even really talking to me at this point, but rather floating off somewhere in her own head.

I felt like pointing out that Worm was hardly the leading man type for her fantasy, but I knew how much she adored him. I didn’t know him that well, though we’d interacted on occasion and ultimately he approached
me
first when he asked about the Unholys and joining the club. Right away I redirected him to Johnny. Partially because Johnny really was the man to see about joining since he led the Unholys, but mostly because I knew that if presented with the opportunity, I would tell him not to waste his life on something like this.

Looking back now, I thought maybe I should have.

“I’m really happy for you,” I told her, even as I felt guilt swirl around in my belly, nipping and gnawing at me.

Emma beamed at me proudly and nodded her chin in my direction. “What about you? What’s happening with you and Johnny?” Her eyes twinkled with mischief as though awaiting a good juicy piece of gossip or some other sort of verbal treat. I realized it was because I hadn’t really spoken to Emma lately. Not since Dad died. Sure, she’d gone to the funeral to support me and we’d had a few phone conversations, but it wasn’t until Worm started working towards becoming a member that our conversations became frequent again.

It meant she didn’t know that things were rocky between me and Johnny right now. Still, I didn’t want her to know that—maybe I was feeling embarrassed; maybe I just wasn’t sure yet what it all meant—so I forced a smile and nodded. “They’re good. I mean, he’s always been good like
that
,” I told her, blushing as I thought of the way he’d pounded into me last night, desperate and needy.

Emma laughed at me. “You lucky gal! Johnny’s such a catch!”

She wasn’t the only one who thought so, but she was the only one who would tell me without lacing the statement with menace or warning. It was because Emma ultimately didn’t want Johnny. She was firmly attached to Worm and thought that there seemed to be a lot of drama with Johnny that she didn’t necessarily want to deal with. It made me want to tell her that Worm was about to get some drama of his own, but I bit my tongue. I liked Emma and I liked that she could be candid about Johnny without making me worry over whether or not she was trying to take him from me.