Chelsea (The Club Girl Diaries Book 2) (3 page)

I hadn’t dressed up much, it was rather pointless when you knew that you were just going to be taking everything back off again. I’d thrown on a sexy denim mini with tears in the fabric and an emerald green halter that made my breasts looking freaking amazing. I also threw on a pair of heels just for fun. They were my favorite and cost a shit load to boot—cowboy style ankle boots with a few small chains and studs. They went perfectly with my denim mini and made my legs look fantastic. I checked myself in the mirror.

I’d do me.

My body was excited by the thought of getting Leo into bed, even if my heart was holding back a little bit. I pulled my hair to the side and ran my fingers through it.

I, like most little girls out there, had a love for fairy tales. I lost my parents when I was only young, barely six, and since then I’d moved from foster home to foster home, never spending too long in the same place. Not all the homes I’d been placed into were all that bad. But the shitty ones really had outweighed the even slightly pleasant ones. There were drugs, there was drinking, there was abuse.

What saved me from turning to drugs or alcohol or just deciding to give up altogether?
I ran.

I loved to run. I felt free, I felt like nothing else mattered but placing one foot in front of the other, slicing through the air, feeling my body burn.

Running as a form of exercise had always been a part of me. I think it was burned into my genes. My mom was a cross country runner at school and my dad was a running back for his high school football team.

I remember how competitive they got.

I giggled, watching from the porch as my mom taunted my dad.

“Come on, David! I’ve got three laps on you, just give up!” she yelled, laughing as if she could continue running all night. Something I knew she would do if that’s what it took to prove she was better.

“Never!” my father spluttered. I saw the moment the idea crossed his thoughts and he veered off from the usual marked out course and shot across the center to the opposite side where my unsuspecting mother was.

He held his finger to his mouth with a smile, gesturing for me not to give away what he was about to do. I covered my mouth with my hand, but the giggles were unstoppable. Mom looked up at me curiously, but it was already too late, my dad had swept her off her feet, hooking his arms under her knees, the other around her back.

She screamed, but it fast turned to laughter. “Put me down you dirty cheat! Chelsea! You were watching. I won!”

My dad placed her on the ground and started to tickle her sides. I laughed alongside my mother as I shot off the porch and down the stairs, my little legs carrying me quickly across the backyard. The grass felt fantastic between my toes and the light spring breeze delightful against my skin.

I dove on top of them, all of us crashing to the ground, a chorus of tinkling laughter filling the warm air.

I had to smile, even as tears burned at my eyes. My parents were always playing these little games, and no matter who won or how competitive it got, their love for each other was so strong that it never mattered.

Running had been their passion, and now it was mine. The difference was that the feeling of freedom I got from running soon moved into other parts of my life. I started using it to escape the vile and downtrodden homes that I was placed in, and even some of the good ones. Running away became the norm. My foster families would soon get sick of it and demand I was moved somewhere else. Then as soon as something bad happened I’d repeat the process.

Losing my parents had been traumatic. It had crushed me. But I would never say it ruined my life. Yes, I’d come from a pretty shitty background and been dealt a bad hand. But I’d made the most of it, and in the end as far as I was concerned I’d come out on top.

I was kind of like Cinderella.

I eyed myself one more time in the mirror, head to toe and back again. A small smirk appeared as I took in my reflection.

Like Cinderella, but with better shoes.

I left my room and headed upstairs. Leo was the Sergeant at Arms so he had a pretty large room upstairs next to the other club officers. Normal club members had much smaller rooms and shared bathrooms. I knocked on the door and waited but heard nothing. I’d given him just over an hour, enough to get Macy off and back to his room. I frowned and knocked again.

“He’s not there.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, the voice alone sent tingles through my body, but I knew once my eyes set sight on him that I’d crumble.

“And how would you know he’s not there?” I asked, not bothering to turn around.

“Because I sent him to X-Rated to check on some stuff for me.”

I felt him move up behind me, his body so big it dwarfed my small frame. I swallowed tightly. “It’s 9:00 a.m., there isn’t anyone at X-Rated.”

His warm breath hit the back of my neck and two strong arms caged me against the wall. “I know.”

Desire warmed my belly but before it could take over, anger reared its ugly face. “Then if you don’t mind, I have school work to do.” I spat sharply.

A small growl rumbled in my ear. “You weren’t too busy for him.”

I spun quickly, finally meeting him eye-to-eye. Optimus could be intimidating, hell who was I kidding, he could be scary as all hell. But I also knew he wouldn’t hurt me, at least not physically.

“Jealousy doesn’t look good on you, Optimus.”

A fist punctured the wall next to my head and I let out a sharp squeal as I covered my head. After a moment, I moved my arm and risked a look at the angry, sexy biker standing over me. Angry was an understatement. I could basically see the steam shooting out his ears. He had only his cut on over his naked torso. His arms bulged as he clenched his fists and leaned in closer.

“Don’t push my buttons, Chelsea. You won’t like the outcome.” His voice was tight and definitive, but I’d had enough. I ducked under his arm and stepped away.

I glared at him. “What’s that saying about having cake and eating it too?” I backed away toward the stairs, my heels tapping loudly on the wooden floors of the hallway and breaking the harsh silence. His face softened as he let me go, and an emotion that I could only describe as pain flashed across his face.

I pulled my cell phone from my pocket as I fled down the stairs. It rang and rang.

“Hey girl,” Rose chirped just as I was about to give up on her. Typically I’d ring Harmony but her and Kit had her mom, Helen staying with them for the weekend and I knew Harm had been missing her like crazy.

And really, this shit isn’t anything new. Optimus and I had been playing this stupid game for far too long. Ever since I’d walked into this club, he’s held my time. At first he didn’t care that I’d see the other men too, but eventually he started getting angry if he’d find out I was with them. I didn’t mind, I was with Optimus almost every night unless he was away on a run. I barely ever spent time in my own room.

At first I loved it because he was so quiet and mysterious. He demanded so much from me, his power and authority took me to an edge of enjoyment sexually that I’d never experienced before. He also had a body like a fucking Greek God.

Once we’d begun to spend more time together, I learned there was more to him than I originally thought. He was sarcastic, he made me laugh and his smile—it lit up the room. And smart, God he was so smart. The man knew numbers like no one else. He was like a walking, talking, calculator.

I knew he didn’t let many people close. His brothers looked up to him and he was loyal to them without a fault. But not many others got to see the side of him that his family did.

Harmony and I wore him down. I don’t think he’d ever expected the two of us to walk through the clubhouse doors. Where club whores are usually seen as power hungry bitches, who’d push their own mother off a cliff to be called an Old Lady. We were fierce, we were independent, and while we followed the rules well, we didn’t take shit from no one. And that’s exactly what I was about to remind him of.

“So, are you still up for going out tonight?” I asked Rose as I marched into my room and started searching through my drawers for a killer outfit to wear.

“Wait, really?” she chirped. “You mean you’re blowing off those sexy hunks of men for me?”

I giggled. “Honey, I can blow them off anytime. You and me are heading out!”

“Thank goodness. I need this bad.” She sighed quietly, almost as if she wasn’t talking to me.

I frowned. “Are you all right?”

She cleared her throat. “Yeah, I’m great! Just a little stressed.”

“Well then, let’s get started. Text me your address, I’m coming over.”

I watched her walk out the door, backpack slung over her shoulder and heels clomping on the asphalt outside. Friday night was usually a big night at the club.

Where the fuck would she be going?

“Prospect,”
I yelled to no one in particular, but there should be at least one bloody prospect within earshot.

“Yeah, Prez?” Ham walked toward me promptly. The kid was turning out to be useful. He managed to be able to keep a watch of Chel without her noticing and with the shit storm coming, that was essential.

“You watch Chelsea. I’m not sure where she’s off to, but you watch her like a hawk. Any sign of trouble you ring me right away.”

“Yes, sir!” He ran off quickly without question. Yup, the kid would fit in good when he finished his time.

“You called, Prez?” another prospect asked, strolling in casually.

“Too slow, asshole. Go clean the fucking toilets.”

“Um … don’t the club girls usually clean?” he asked, staring at me blankly.

“Then put a fucking skirt on, maybe one of the boys will fuck you later. Just fucking do it!” I growled, cracking my knuckles as he scurried past me.

He paused at the hallway door. “You were joking about the skirt … right?”

I clenched my fists and stomped toward him.

“Never mind! I get it!” He took off running.

Fucking idiot.
Was this the future of my club? God help us all.

I pulled my phone from my pocket. Sugar and Harlyn were due in tomorrow morning. Sugar had text messaged to say they were packed and ready and that Harlyn couldn’t wait to see me. I was dying to see her too. I only got a week or two once a year to spend time with her, but we tried to connect through phone calls and Skype as often as possible.

Mine and Sugar’s relationship was tough to explain. We got together young. She wasn’t a club kid. Quite the opposite actually. Her parents were wealthy, country club going, golf playing, Mercedes Benz driving, assholes. I was her ride on the wild side, and she was my touch of goodness that every bad boy craved to corrupt.

She was preppy, with long auburn hair and all the latest fashion. Her body was slim, maybe too much now I think about it, but at the time it had driven me crazy. What we didn’t expect was for more to come of a simple little fling. Sugar wasn’t complicated. She wasn’t one of those girls who used their good looks and money to get them places, even though she had plenty of both. She was kind and sweet and a little reserved.

At that time, I thought that was what I wanted. I thought I needed someone who’d let me lead and be a soft touch to come home to at night. I thought I wanted a woman who wore dresses and makeup and was the complete epitome of feminine. I thought I was in love and I was prepared to do whatever it took to keep her and to make her happy. What I wasn’t prepared for were the consequences that came along with that very decision.

We’d been at one of the local bars/pool clubs that were owned by the club called
Sharp Shooters.
Once a month we tried to go in just after closing and have a chat to the managers, to make sure everything was running smoothly. We chose to be silent owners in a lot of our businesses, simply for that fact that some people still saw us as worthless thugs and would not support anything we had a hand in. It was more lucrative for us to stay on the sidelines.

During the meeting Sugar had called, and like the pussy whipped bastard I was, I jumped.

My father told me it was fine, that I could go. But the fact was that we were in the middle of an on and off turf war with another club—Hell’s Highway MC—and I was about to leave my father and also my club president completely alone.

It wasn’t until later that night while I was tucked up with my woman, thinking I fucking had it all after seeing that little positive sign on a pregnancy test, that I learnt about the two men from the rival club that had walked into
Sharp Shooters
and shot my father and the bar manager dead, moments after I’d left. They’d been watching—waiting for a moment of weakness. And I’d handed it to them because I put my need to be with my woman first before my duty as a brother and a fucking son.

I’d gained one life and lost another, both on the same night and there was no way in hell I was going to risk having one more person I loved stolen away from me. So I sent Sugar away—alone and pregnant with my little girl.

Eventually, I had my revenge on the club who’d taken my father, and despite my stupid choices the Brothers by Blood still voted me in as their next President, believing that it was in my blood. I took the patch with pride, knowing that I’d do everything in my power to run the club just like my dad had—with strength, hard work, and respect.

Sugar saw things differently. She saw the club as dangerous and deadly. With my baby now growing in her belly, she refused to come home, raving about how now that I was president, me and my family were more of a target and that people would come after us.

I didn’t argue.

I figured she was right.

I never chased her, I never told anyone but my brothers about her, and I made very short visits to my daughter.

We’d had lockdowns before, but never had we had threats aimed directly at the women of the club. I wasn’t sure if Target had or hadn’t informed his family about Sugar and Harlyn. Blizzard was my only brother who ever came to visit them with us, and even then I was very careful about who saw me. And when it came to phone calls, they were always done from burner phones that I threw out afterward and were virtually untraceable. I covered my ass, but if for some reason I’d missed something and Target’s family went looking for them, I knew there was a possibility I’d never see them again.

Moving them here and confining them to the clubhouse was the only option.

Chelsea was different. I had no doubt that Target had told them just how much Chelsea meant to me. The only way to take the heat off her now was if I could convince them that she didn’t mean as much to me as they thought, and they would leave her alone. It was either very smart or downright stupid. But unfortunately, I couldn’t have it both ways.

If I wanted to prove that she wasn’t important to me, I had to push her away, and right now I was risking watching her walk out that door when she got sick of my shit. But if I claimed her and made her mine like I’d wanted to do for a long time now, it would put a definite target on her back and the pain of thinking she could be killed and be gone forever was too much to bear.

It was all messing with my head. But as usual, I had to suck it up and be the president my men and their families expected me to be. I had to make sure they were all protected and safe. They were relying on me and I was not going to let them down.

I would never let my club down again.