That fucking redhead, in all of her amateur dick-sucking glory, was a way to take back control of the situation that had sent me spiraling the day Molly showed up with her friend. Candi would’ve enthusiastically joined us had I asked her. I might have even convinced her to put her talented tongue to work on pleasing Cherry while my dick tested the limits of her throat.
Doing so, however, would’ve made the situation about us.
Us was the whole fucking problem to begin with.
Us is what I never wanted.
Yet, us is exactly what I crave.
It’s what got my dick hard in the first place.
It’s what made me come down Cherry’s throat while Candi stared at us with resignation so heartbreaking I felt the tremors from across the room.
I pour shampoo on the top of my head, keeping my eyes open while I rinse. Blaming the sting on the soap is a much more palatable explanation than the truth.
The truth doesn’t help anyone. It doesn’t set you free and make everything okay. At least my truth won’t. My truth is what nightmares are made of. What parents warn their teenage daughters about, and pray their sons don’t get involved in. My truth is swirling crimson around the drain. My truth is that what happened tonight has happened before and will happen again. The truth is, I don’t regret a single fucking minute of it.
You make a mistake, you die.
Each and every person who signs on to work with Ravens Ruin MC knows the rules. It’s the one thing my father insisted on, one of the very few rules we’ve kept in place since I took the reins. He wanted the men he killed to know exactly why they were dying, why they were bleeding at his feet. He wanted them to know they chose wrong, that they chose betrayal.
And I can’t change that.
I won’t.
Not for a beautiful, brown-haired girl who would never fucking understand the brutality I enjoy.
Keeping this part of my life a secret is a requirement. It’s essential to club life for every man who wears the patch. Building anything pure with Candi would require disclosure of what happens behind closed doors and in the basement. Confessing those sins will only make her leave.
Pissed doesn’t even begin to describe my mood when I climb out of the shower and towel off. My disposition doesn’t change as I dress, tugging my jeans over my hips like the fabric personally wronged me somehow. The only light at the end of the dark tunnel I’m perpetually traveling down is the small bar connected to the motel we’re boarded up in. Liquor, the burn of alcohol, and the empty escape I’ll feel later bring me comfort as I step outside and let my eyes rake over my men.
Chatter halts and every eye in the group meets mine. Some of the guys that have been with me for a while give me a quick nod. TJ’s familiar devious smile stretches across his face. Ronan, the newest patched member of Ravens Ruin, beams at me with something akin to hero worship. Briar is going to have to keep a close eye on him if he’s still looking at me like that after what he witnessed tonight.
“Gang’s all here,” TJ snaps. “Let’s go find some pussy.”
Excited, Chains leads our group toward the door of the bar.
Thankfully, only a handful of people are inside as we make our way to a back corner. Chains and TJ can’t hide the disappointment on their faces when they realize that there are six guys, not counting Briar, in our group and only three women, one of which is already passed out with her head on the bar top.
“What can I get you, boys?” The waitress makes her way over to us before we are even settled. Her eyes scrape over us, our cuts, and tattoos. Her gaze lingers on the PRESIDENT patch on my cut for a long moment before she looks up to meet my eyes.
“Whiskey,” I grunt. “Two fingers.”
“Surely a big guy like you can handle three fingers.” She winks. “I know I can.”
“Nice,” Chains says with a smile.
I ignore all of them as they place their order, and I pay her no attention when she returns with twice as much of her tits showing than when she first walked up.
Giving up on me, she tries her luck with Briar, only moving on when she realizes he’s not buying what she’s selling.
She settles on Chains, holding his hand and guiding him toward the ‘Employees Only’ door within twenty minutes of us sitting down.
“Patch whore,” TJ grumbles as he watches them disappear.
“Not all hope is lost for you,” Briar says with a chuckle, pointing in the direction of the woman at the bar.
Waking up from her nap, she lifts her head and smiles over at our group. TJ doesn’t bat an eyelash when we realize that her dentures are still on the bar top. Our laughter follows him across the bar.