Tattered on My Sleeve (Lost Kings MC 4)

“I got the smaller laptop, so it’s easier for you to carry around, but it’s got all the upgrades.”

More shock. She hadn’t noticed the laptop. I’m a little giddy about this whole thing. I’ve never had anyone I cared enough about to buy presents for. This is fucking fun.

“It’s in the backpack,” I direct.

She pulls it out and flicks her eyes at me. “Wyatt. Too much.”

“Nope.”

She glances back at the massive display monitor that came with the desktop set up. “This is just like the one they have at the art school.”

I know because I called and asked them what their exact set-up was. I’m not ready to reveal that yet, so I just nod.

Her eyes gloss over with unshed tears.

“Uh, I didn’t know what graphic design program you wanted, so I’ll leave that to you.” I pull out a Visa from my back pocket and hand it to her.

“What’s…” Her voice trails off when she sees her name on the card. Questioning honey eyes meet mine. “I want you to be able to order what you need without worrying about it.”

“I can’t—”

I cut her off with a sharp shake of my head. “You my girl?”

“Yes, but—”

“No. No buts. You’re my girl and I want to do this for you. You want to pay the monthly bill for the program fees, that’s fine, the rest of it though… gifts, and it would really hurt my feelings if you turned them down.” Yeah, I’m not above a little guilt to get my way.

“Thank you.”

“One last thing.” Reaching under the bed, I pull out the last gift. “It’s not the fanciest out there, but it’s a professional one. It’ll get you started.”

“Fuck, Wyatt.” Tears are running down her cheeks, and I reach up to brush them away.

“I hope those are happy tears, Angel Face.”

“Yeah,” she sighs.

She takes the bag and looks inside. “Those lenses can be used even if you decide to upgrade in the future.” I have no clue about cameras and didn’t have much time to figure it out, so basically once I decided on the camera, I picked out one of everything I thought she could use. She looks up and grins. “Jeez, I’ll have to take a class just to learn how to use all this stuff.”

I love seeing her smile like that. “Good, you must be so bored sitting around with my invalid ass all the time.”

She walks over to the desk and sets the bag on top, carefully pushing it away from the edge, then returns to me. “I never get bored of you.”

I cock my head at her. “Really?”

“Well, not yet anyway,” she teases, running her fingers over my head.

Wrapping my arms around her waist, I tug her down to me. “Did I surprise you?”

“You have no idea.”

“You like?”

Tears shimmer in her eyes again. “Yes. I can’t even… Yes, Wyatt. I like everything. Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome, babe. You’re really talented, I know you’ll do well.”

She sniffles and rolls out of my arms to stare at the ceiling. “You have no idea what that means to me. I felt so freaking stupid sharing that with you.”

Rolling over and propping my head on my elbow, I reach out and trace my finger over her cheek, until she looks at me. “Why?”

“I don’t know. It seems silly. Insignificant.”

“It’s not silly if it makes you happy and you enjoy it. Nothing about you is insignificant.”

Wrath believing in me enough to figure out what I needed and going to the trouble of buying everything for me?

I have no words to explain how grateful I am. For his generosity, yes. But also for his faith in me.

It’s mean, but I can’t help teasing him a little. “So does that fancy camera mean you’re going to be my cover model?”

His eyes go round with surprise, but then his sensual mouth curves into a smile. “Maybe. We’ll see if I ever get this cast off.”

That was not the answer I expected at all. “You mean it?”

“We’ll see,” he says again with a teasing laugh. He picks up a chunk of my hair and runs it through his hand. “I really like this.”

“Thank you.”

As if he suddenly remembered something, he sits up, grabs my shopping bag and hands it to me. “Show me what’s in the bag.”

I reach in to take the garments out but his hand over mine stops me.

“No. Show me.” He raises an eyebrow so I get his meaning.

Heat shoots straight through me. My nipples perk up, my clit throbs.

“Okay,” I whisper.

Safely hidden in the bathroom, I take my time getting ready. Just like I did in the store, I can’t get one of the hooks. I almost sob in frustration. This is why I don’t bother dressing up or wearing sexy things.

Opening the door a crack, I poke my head out. “I need help.” This is mortifying.

Wrath’s face breaks into a smile and he beckons me closer.

“Close your eyes.”

Of course he has to roll his eyes before closing them. Then he sticks his hands in the air, opening and closing like a blind boob-grabber.

As I approach, I grasp his hands and pull them down to my leg. “Hook that for me.”

“I need to open my eyes to see what I’m working with.”

“Fine.”

He keeps silent while he slides the hook into place. “This is so embarrassing. I needed Hope to help me with it—”

“You two were trying these things on together?”

“Well, no. I just—”

“Stop. Please.” He holds up his hand and pushes me back. “Let me see you.”

I don’t realize it, but I’m standing there staring at my feet.

“Trin, look at me.”

Slowly, I raise my eyes to meet his stare.

“Turn.”

My throat’s suddenly so dry. His fingertips graze my thigh as I turn for him. Despite my growing nervousness, that gentle touch is enough to ignite my body.

“You’re so pretty, Trinity.”

His rough hands slide down my bare back, over my hips, then sneak under the filmy fabric of the garter skirt.

“What made you get this?”

“I—I…” I don’t know how to put it into words. “I never do stuff…wear stuff like this for you, so…” I trail off.

Behind me he’s silent, setting off my nerves. I take a step and Wrath’s hand circles around my wrist.

“Where you going?” His voice, low and heavy with desire tips me from embarrassed to aching with need.

His arm hooks around my waist, pulling me into his lap. My body trembles as he kisses my shoulder, up my neck and then sucks at the tender flesh below my ear. “Every time I look at you, I can’t get over how beautiful you are. But I like this too.”

“Thank you.”

“You were thinking of me?”

“The whole time.”

“You my girl?”

I don’t even have to think about it. “Yes.”

He drags me backward and to the side, until I’m flat on the bed staring up at him. “I love when you say it without hesitating.”

“I like saying it,” I whisper.

And I mean it.

“You awake?”

The contented mmmmm sound from her throat totally makes me want to thump my chest with both fists.

The gifts weren’t my way of getting laid. Got no complaints there. Knowing I was on her mind while she was buying that sexy, barely-there outfit to tease me with was my gift.

After we wore each other out, she brought me a pitcher of ice water, then stripped down and crawled into bed. I’m tired of having her wait on me. Can’t wait for this cast to come off, so I can finally take care of her. And while I definitely enjoy playing bucking bronco for her, I’ve got a long list of other positions I want to fuck her in.

Her head’s resting on my chest. My arm’s wrapped around her, my thumb stroking her hip. It’s nice and from

now on I want things to always be this way for us. “Babe, I’m sorry it took us so long to get here,” I murmur not really expecting her to hear me or answer.

Her head pops up and she focuses her sweet, honey eyes on me. “What do you mean? Why are you apologizing?”

I can’t quite explain. I’m trying hard to work past our history, but the angry toddler in charge of my brain still thinks some of our problems are her fault. Saying that will be the equivalent of dropping a bomb in our nice, cozy nest, so I shove that thought away. “I just wish things had been different.”

“You wish I’d never been part of the club, don’t you?”

Shit, is that really a secret? “Well, you know that.”

“Wyatt, if I thought for a second you were serious back then, I would have done whatever you asked. But we hadn’t known each other long enough. If things didn’t work out between us, I’d have been tossed out with no protection. I couldn’t risk that. I had bad shit going on I needed to hide from.”

I know this. She doesn’t know I know this. This is the most she’s told me about her past yet. It makes me want to push for more. I need to hear all of it from her, because she trusts me. Besides, there’s one last thing I don’t understand, no matter how hard I try. As gently as possible, I have to ask.

“You didn’t have to make yourself available to the club.”

Bombs away.

She scrambles into a sitting position and since she’s still gloriously naked, I can’t help dropping my gaze to her tits. Fuck me, they’re perfect.

“Wyatt!” she snaps. “Rock told me it was my choice. But I don’t think I really believed him at the time. And I wanted to make that decision myself not have it forced on me later. I knew how MCs treated their women.”

“How did you have all that knowledge at twenty-one?”

“I already told you—”

“No, you never really have. Your dad, yeah. But he died when you were little.”

“I can’t talk about this.” She moves to climb over me, but I catch her hand.

“Please, Trinity. I want to understand you. I want to know everything about you.”

Something sad passes over her face. I’m pushing her too much. After a second of hesitation though, she settles down beside me and lets out a deep breath.

“Ask.”

Shit, she’s giving me the green light. I gotta take a sec and organize my questions before she changes her mind.

“Tell me about your dad.”

A faint smile ghosts over her lips. “He was great, even though he wasn’t around a lot. Club business, you know. His tattoo parlor kept him busy too. But when he was home, he was good to me. I always felt safe and loved.”

Considering Rock told me he met Trin’s Dad once, and he was a scary-ass motherfucker, it’s interesting to hear her version.

“It’s weird, because I can’t really picture what he looked like anymore without that damn green prison jumpsuit. I cried for days when he went away. Everyone kept saying it would be three to five years, that he’d be out in a year and a half to two years. And that made me happy, because I thought he’d be out by my tenth birthday.”

“Why ten?”

She lets out a soft snort. “My dad promised me he’d take me to get my ears pierced for my tenth birthday. He swore he’d be on his best behavior so he’d get out in time to take me.”

“I’m sure he tried, honey.”

She nods and focuses her gaze on the bedroom door. “He did at first. I think he meant to keep his promise. But the club kept asking him to ‘take care of things’ inside. In return, they promised to take care of me and my mom.” Her mouth twists on those words and I understand why. The club did fuck-all to protect her.

“How did you know this? You were just a kid.”

The corners of her mouth turn down. “My mother couldn’t be without a man for a fucking day. The day my dad went in, she started trying to snare the president, Tyler Cross.” She spits his name out like a swig of spoiled milk.

I hate doing this to her.

“I spent a lot of time at the clubhouse while she was busy servicing the members. Back then, they had thirty patch holders. Because I was little, they’d stick me in the corner and forget about me. As long as I had some books with me, one place was as good as any another. Besides, without the threat of my father coming home at any minute, my mother had no incentive to take care of me. I had to fend for myself if I wanted to eat and get myself to school. At least there was always food at the clubhouse and I could walk to school from there.”

“That’s awful.”

Her shoulders lift, like it never occurred to her things should have been different. “It got worse. She started seeing Tyler seriously. He’d come to our trailer after I went to bed. One night, I must have woken up and walked in on them.” She stops and stares down at her hands. Even though I know what’s coming, I hold my breath. “She started tying me to my bed after that. I’d cry every night and beg her not to, but…”

“Tyler didn’t think that was weird?”

She glances up at me as if she never thought of that. “I don’t know.”

“Go on,” I urge her gently.

“Maybe a week before my tenth birthday, we were told that, not only was my dad not getting released, but he’d had another fifteen years added. I was devastated. My mom would only take me to see him once a month. I cried so hard at that visit, she made me leave early.” She swipes at her damp cheeks and I feel like fucking shit for making her do this. But I wait to see if she wants to continue.

“That was the last time I saw him. There was a fire. Our trailer burned down. The smoke woke me up. Of course, tied to my bed, I couldn’t get out, so I screamed and screamed. This huge guy I’d never seen before rushed into my room. I wasn’t sure what scared me more—him or the fire. He hacked through the ropes but on the way out, my pajama top caught fire.” She points at her hip. “That’s how my side got burned. He carried me away from the trailer and left me in the grass.”

“He just left you? Where the fuck was your mother?”

“I’m not sure. I woke up in the hospital. They kept me there for weeks. There was talk that my mother might not get me back, and I was so fucking happy. I wanted to go into foster care. But the hospital let me go home with her after all.”

“Where?”

“To Tyler’s house.”

“Really? She managed that?”

“Yeah.” She shrugs. “It wasn’t bad. He was actually nice to me when I first got there. Always buying me stuff and taking me out on his bike. I thought he was pretty cool.”

She pulls at her bottom lip with her teeth. All of a sudden, she glances down and seems to remember she’s naked. “I can’t talk about this like this.” She crawls to the end of the bed and leans over, giving me a filthily spectacular view that I can’t even admire because I’m so torn up. Plucking my shirt from the floor, she slides it on, then backs up against the wall out of my reach.

“Are you sure you want to hear this?” she asks.

“I want to hear whatever you’re comfortable telling me. I wish you weren’t so far away though.”

She shifts a little farther up the bed. At least now I can reach out and rub the top of her foot. She takes the ends of my shirt and tucks her knees up under it, then wraps her arms around her legs.

A nervous smile flickers over her face. “I developed early. By the time my mother got around to getting me a bra, I was already a C cup.” She glances at me, I think to see if I’m going to make some crude comment. When I don’t say anything, she continues. “I fucking hated it. All of a sudden, I got attention from boys and men. I was twelve and grown men would say these disgusting things to me. By then, my mother almost never took me to the clubhouse, but she also started disappearing for long stretches, leaving me alone with Tyler.”

She glances up again.

“I’m right here, Trin.”

“He’d take me out for shopping trips. Buy me whatever

I wanted. He’d also pick out these revealing outfits and make me try them on for him. At the time, I thought it was awesome. His attention made me feel pretty instead of scarred. Like the girls at the club that I always admired.”

My fists are balling up the sheet as she talks. For a second she focuses on my hands. I reach out and try to touch her foot again, but she jerks it away.

“Please. Don’t touch me while I’m telling you this.”

I raise my hand in surrender and put it back in my lap.

“You can guess what happened, right? You don’t need me to say it. By fourteen he made me his ‘girlfriend.’ He was very open about it. He’d bring me to the clubhouse and perch me on his lap like a trophy. We’d make out in front of everyone. I thought I was hot shit. The president’s girl.”

Unfortunately this doesn’t surprise me. Run across plenty of MCs that operate this way over the years.

“People knew how old you were?”

“It wasn’t a secret. No one was going to tell Tyler to stop. The other girls hated me. It was awful, because the only friend I had was him.”

“Where the fuck’s your mom?”

She blinks at my sharp tone. “Shacked up with the Devil Demons.”

“You’re kidding?”

“No. She brought me there a few times when I was little. I didn’t understand until later how odd that was.” Odd’s an understatement. If she was married to an officer in the Saints and fucking around with their enemy, the Demons, behind his back? That’s some serious, fucked-upedness in our world.

She pauses, fiddles with the hem of my shirt. “So, from fourteen to sixteen I was in Tyler’s bed, on the back of his bike, and thinking I was untouchable. He told me all the time how much he loved me and how he was going to make me his ol’ lady when I turned eighteen.”

And another piece of the Trinity puzzle falls into place. Why she can’t say I love you and why the thought of us together publicly freaks her the fuck out.

She sighs and glances around the room. “Somehow, I kept going to school. Tyler was fine with it because he didn’t want me to be like all the other ‘dumb bitches’ who hung out at his club, and it got me out of his hair during the day.”

She pauses and I open my mouth to tell her she can stop, but then she continues. “The club planned a sweet sixteen party for me. Cool, right? I thought the girls had finally accepted me a little bit. I got ready for that motherfucking party for hours. Tyler brought me, walked me in holding my hand. I trusted him.”