Merrick: Harlequins MC (34 page)

CHAPTER
FIVE

Cassie was still lying in bed, reflecting on the things she'd done with Damon – and smiling about it. Remembering what they'd done in that very bed, not an hour before, made her body tingle. Her skin felt like it was on fire as she recalled the touch of his hands, his mouth, and his tongue all over her body – especially in some of her most sensitive spots.

For looking like such a gruff, rugged man, Damon was surprisingly gentle with her. To look at him, you would think he would be the type to tear a woman's panties off, bend her over the nearest piece of furniture, and have his way with her. But Damon wasn't like that. At least not completely. He was a little bit rough – but just enough. Never too much. For the most part, he was soft. Sweet. He took care to make sure her needs were met and that she was satisfied. It wasn't tender lovemaking by any stretch of the imagination, but he was a little gentler than Cassie would have imagined he'd be.

Damon liked to position this as a mutually beneficial business partnership where they were both getting something out of the arrangement, but Cassie was relatively certain there was something deeper at work inside of him. Maybe inside of both of them. She was as certain as she had been about anything that this wasn't just a fuck for services rendered kind of a deal for Damon.

“Cassie!”

She recognized Andy's voice the moment she heard it and it froze the blood in her veins. She sat up in bed and looked around the room, irrationally terrified that he had somehow gotten into the clubhouse. Andy could be horrifyingly determined sometimes and she wouldn't put it past him to break into the clubhouse of a gang of bikers. But a quick look around the darkened room showed her she was alone.

“Cassie! Answer me now, you fucking whore!”

Her body trembling and heart thundering, she got out of bed and pulled a t-shirt off the floor, slipping it over her head. She realized Andy's voice was coming from outside. The window had been left open – while she was having sex with Damon. Knowing that anybody who wandered by could – and probably did – hear them having sex was mortifying. She felt her face grow hot as the color rushed into her cheeks.

She crossed over to the window and leaned out. On the other side of the high, thick wall that enclosed the Dragons' compound, stood Andy in a patch of tall weeds.

“Get out of here, Andy.”

“You're coming home with me,” he called. “Get your shit and get your ass down here. Now.”

She shook her head. “I'm not going anywhere with you, Andy. We're done. Now get out of here before they see you.”

“You think I'm afraid of them?” he laughed. “Give me a break. I came to get what's mine. You belong to me. Now get your ass down here. Don't make me come in there and drag you out, Cassie.”

Cassie looked around, fearful she was going to be heard by the club. And as much as she hated him, the last thing she wanted to see was Andy being beaten senseless – or worse – by Damon and his friends. Antagonizing a biker gang wasn't exactly conducive to good health.

“Andy, you need to go. You need to get out of here,” she called. “I'm not going anywhere with you. Never again. So do yourself a favor and leave as fast as you can.”

“This is your last warning, Cassie,” he called. “Either you get your ass out here right this moment or I'm coming in there and dragging you out by the hair.”

A light, so bright it was nearly blinding, illuminated the side of the fence Andy was on. He winced at the sudden intrusion of light and held his hand up to shield his eyes.

“The lady said she doesn't want to go anywhere with you,” Damon said. “I suggest you head on out of here.”

Cassie's heart was racing. The exact scene she'd been hoping to avoid was now playing out before her very eyes. Damon sauntered out on the other side of the wall, stopping about ten yards from where Andy stood. Cassie could tell by the way he was swaying on his feet that he was a little bit drunk. It was subtle and she prayed Andy didn't catch it simply because it would embolden him to think he had an advantage over a man who was six inches taller and fifty pounds of pure muscle heavier than he was.

“That’s my wife you're holding hostage in there – ”

“We're not holding anybody hostage,” Damon said. “Cassie is here on her own free will and can leave any time she chooses to. But I am getting the distinct impression that she doesn't want to go anywhere with you.”

“Oh, is that so?” Andy barked.

“Yeah, that is so,” Damon replied calmly. “I can tell because she said she didn't want to go anywhere with you. That was sort of a tip off.”

Andy gave him a predatory grin. “Yeah, well, she's my wife. She belongs to me and – ”

“Belongs to you?” Damon interrupted. “Like you own her like you'd own a dog? Or a rug?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

Cassie could see Andy's face growing red and she could see the familiar set to his body that told her he was on the verge of erupting into violence. She wanted to call out, wanted to warn Damon, but she feared distracting him and getting him hurt anyway.

“I think you need to get out of here,” Damon said. “Cassie isn't going anywhere with you.”

Damon looked at the pudgy, pasty man standing in front of him. It was taking all of his self-control to keep himself standing where he was instead of closing the distance between them and throttling the man. But with each syllable that piece of shit uttered, Damon found his resolve was weakening, that he was getting dangerously close to beating the man to a pulp.

“I'm not going anywhere,” Andy seethed. “Not without my wife. Now are you going to bring her down and hand her over? Or am I going to need to go in there and get her myself?”

Damon laughed. “You can try to go in there yourself,” he said. “But you do that, I guarantee you're not coming back out again. Not in one piece, anyway.”

“You think I'm afraid of you?” Andy snapped.

“Yeah, actually I do,” Damon said. “In fact, I know you are. I can see it in your eyes. You're terrified. And I'm pretty damn sure that if I yelled 'boo' really loud right now you'd piss your pants.”

“Yeah whatever,” he said. “You have no idea what I'm capable of.”

Damon actually laughed out loud in the man's face. Despite Andy's protestations to the contrary, though, Damon could see he fear in the man's eyes. He knew that Andy, despite all of his bravado and swagger, was flat out terrified. But even more than that, he could see he was terrified of looking weak in front of Cassie. His power and control over her was based on his ability to act tough. To threaten – and sometimes carry out – violence against her. If he backed down and showed himself to be the weak, ineffectual, cowardly piece of shit Damon knew he was, his hold over Cassie would be loosened.

“Yeah,” Damon said. “It's much easier for you to pick on women. Children. Especially when nobody's around to put your ass in check, isn't it?”

“You don't know what you're talking about.”

“I know more than you think, you pathetic piece of shit.”

“Just leave, Andy,” Cassie called from the window. “I'm not going anywhere with you. Just leave before you get yourself hurt!”

Andy gave her a look that promised nothing but pain and misery if he got his hands on her again. He bent down, picked up a beer bottle that had been lying in the weeds and fired it straight at the window. Cassie squealed and ducked back inside, but it was off target, shattering loudly against the wall a few feet from the window.

“Hey!” Damon screamed. “You need to take her advice and get the hell out of here before you get yourself hurt.” Damon was itching to give this man a beating. He was overcome with the urge to wrap his hands around the little asshole's throat and squeeze the life out of him. He took a deep breath, trying to keep in mind that doing that would lead to a whole lot of questions and scrutiny on the club. And that was the last thing they needed at the moment. “I'm going to tell you one more time,” Damon hissed. “Leave now and forget you ever knew Cassie. She's not yours anymore. And you certainly aren't going to beat on her ever again.”

“How about this?” Andy started. “How about I call the police, huh? How about I report a kidnapping and tell the cops you're holding my wife hostage in there? I'd be willing to bet if the cops came strolling through your little compound here they'd find a whole lot things you dirt bags don't want found. Am I right?”

Damon laughed. “You're not gonna call the cops.”

“No? And why wouldn't I?”

“Because then you'd have to answer a whole bunch of questions about the beatings you give your wife – excuse me – ex-wife,” Damon said. “And I got a hunch the cops would be a lot more interested in locking up a woman beater than looking for trouble with my club here. See, we got a little bit of an understanding with local law enforcement.”

Andy looked at him and Damon could see the uncertainty and fear in his eyes. Damon set his feet and pulled a large knife from the sheath on his belt, making a show of it to be certain Andy saw it.

“Or,” Damon said, “I could just make you disappear right here and right now. Given that you're a lowlife piece of shit, I doubt anybody's gonna be lookin' for you too hard.”

Andy licked his lips nervously but said, “This isn't over.”

“You know where to find us,” Damon shrugged.

As Andy walked away, moving out of the floodlights and melting into the darkness of the night, Damon looked up at Cassie whose face was pale as fresh snow. He gave her a small nod and heaved a sigh of relief to himself as he walked back into the compound.

CHAPTER
SIX

“Something smells pretty good.”

Carl walked into the club's kitchen and took a seat at the table. He watched Cassie working away, preparing a meal. He had to admit, Damon had good taste. With long coppery red hair, skin that looked soft to the touch and was the color of porcelain, Cassie was a good-looking girl.
Good-looking woman
, he corrected himself. She had curves where a woman should. She wasn't like these girls running around who were so intent on being rail thin that they looked like skeletons. Cassie had a great body and Carl could see why his second in command liked snuggling up to it.

“Thanks,” Cassie said. “I had Damon run me by the market earlier. I thought the guys who were here might like a nice home cooked meal for a change.”

“That's really nice of you,” Carl said. “Most of the guys seem to live on burgers and beer.”

Cassie laughed. “I can tell by the number of wrappers and greasy bags in the trash can.” She went to the refrigerator, grabbed a bottle of beer and set it down in front of Carl.

He nodded to her, popped the top and took a long swallow. “So, what is it you're making over there?” Carl asked her.

“Meatloaf,” she replied. “My mother's recipe.”

Carl nodded. “I can't remember the last time I had meatloaf. Been years.”

“Well, you will love my mom's meatloaf, then.”

Cassie looked at Carl and sized him up a bit. He was older, that was for sure. He'd obviously lived the outlaw biker lifestyle for a long, long time and had the weatherworn look and scars to prove it. But there was a calming presence about him despite his hardened look. He had an edge about him for sure, but he was also a lot mellower than Damon. He didn't seem as ready to launch into a fit of rage and violence. She felt comfortable in his presence. Safe. Not that she didn't feel safe around Damon, she most certainly did. But there was an almost paternal air about Carl. It was just different.

“You know,” Cassie started, “I'm pretty handy around the house. I cook. I clean. I keep a nice home.”

Carl laughed. “This is hardly a home.”

“Maybe not in the traditional sense of the word,” Cassie countered, “but some of your guys are always here. The place is never empty.”

He looked at her as he took another pull from his bottle of beer. “No, somebody always needs a place to crash. Somebody's old lady ran 'em out or they just need to get away for a couple of days. That's what the clubhouse is for.”

“Which sort of makes it like a home.”

He shrugged. “I suppose that's right. So what point are you drivin' at?”

Cassie gave him a sheepish grin. “I just think maybe we can work out an arrangement of sorts?”

“An arrangement?”

“Yeah, maybe?” Cassie's voice faltered and she was suddenly afraid that she was overstepping her bounds. But she was in a desperate situation, so she decided that she was in for a penny, in for a pound. Taking a deep breath, she plunged forward. “I was just kind of thinking maybe you could let me stay here – for a little while – and in exchange, I could make sure the place was clean and I could cook for whoever happened to be staying over. Just for a little while. Just until I got my situation under control and figured out.”

Carl considered the girl and what she was proposing. On the one hand, having a woman's touch around the place might not be such a bad idea. Might be nice to have a home cooked meal every night instead of whatever greasy, barely palatable garbage he could pick up. Carl didn't have a wife or kids – hell, he didn't even have a dog – and he ended up staying at the club most nights anyway. Having some company who could carry on a decent conversation might not be a bad thing.

On the other hand, he didn't know this girl. Didn't know who she was, where she came from – didn't know the first thing about her. And, worst of all, he didn't know if he could trust her. Oh, he didn't think she was the type who would run to the police and snitch them out if she happened to stumble upon the shipment of weed he was bringing in, but Carl wasn't the sort of man to take chances. He was usually good at reading people and he didn't get any sort of bad vibe from Cassie, but that wasn't the same thing as knowing and trusting her. Damon vouched for her but Carl knew that when it came to the girl, his head wasn't one hundred percent screwed on straight. And then there was the problem of her ex-husband and the trouble he could create for the Dragons.

“Why would you want to stay here?” Carl asked.

Cassie leaned against the counter and took a sip from the bottle of beer she'd been nursing. “I don't have a whole lot of options, to be perfectly honest. I don't have a lot of friends left – thanks to my ex. I don't really have any place to go. And, besides, I kind of like it here. I feel safe.”

Carl laughed. “Safe? I think that might be the first time I've ever heard somebody say the feel safe hanging out with a bunch of greasy old bikers.”

Cassie shrugged. “My experience so far is that this bunch of greasy old bikers has treated me with kindness, compassion, and respect,” she said. “You've gone out of your way to protect me. Which is a hell of a lot more than I can say for my husband, the supposedly mild mannered accountant – the man who beat me and threatened to kill me on more than one occasion.”

Carl gave her a soft smile. “Yeah, Damon told me about that. And I'm sorry you had to go through that. But that explains why Damon is so protective of you.”

Cassie cocked her head. “What do you mean?”

The older man drained the last of his beer and set the bottle down on the table softly. Cassie replaced it with a fresh one and tossed the empty into the garbage can.

“I shouldn't be talking out of school like this,” Carl began. “But Damon grew up watching his mama get beat like you. And when he was five, he watched his dad kill his mother. Shot her dead.”

“Oh my God, that's awful,” she said softly.

“As long as I've known him – which is a while now – his hatred of abusers borders on the homicidal.”

Cassie gave him a rueful grin. “Yeah, I was sort of picking up on that.

Carl took a long drink of his beer and let the moment of silence between them drag out a bit longer. He had conflicting thoughts about the girl. She seemed nice. She seemed sincere. And she seemed genuine. But did the pros outweigh the cons?

“Can I ask you a question?” Carl asked.

“Of course. Ask me anything.”

“I know you say you want to stay here,” he said. “But did you feel you were brought here against your will? Originally, I mean.”

Cassie looked at him and smiled. “Are you asking if I thought I was kidnapped?”

“Well, yeah,” Carl said. “In a manner of speaking.”

“Not in the least,” Cassie replied. “I was in a bad spot. I'd run away, didn't have two nickels to rub together to get any food, and Andy was trying to track me down. Damon found me in a stairwell outside the truck stop bawling my eyes out and scared out of my mind. He gave me food. He gave me shelter. He was a little gruff, sure, but he was also very kind and very compassionate. He didn't have to do anything. He could have left me there. Pretended he never saw me. But he didn't. No, I came here very willingly. ”

Carl nodded. “Good. That's good,” he said. “Ask you something else? Something a little more personal?”

Cassie nodded. “Of course.”

“And you don't feel that you were forced or coerced into having sex with him?”

A rueful grin touched her lips. “I'll be honest, at first, I was a little put off and scared. But Damon didn't force himself on me, no. He let me come to the decision I came to on my own. And I made it. I was more than willing.”

“So even though you were jammed up and in a bad spot,” Carl pressed. “You didn't feel forced to sleep with him?”

“Not in the least,” Cassie said and gave him a laugh. “Besides, he's a pretty good lookin' man with an edge to him in case you haven't noticed. Why wouldn't I be into it? And besides, he's sweet – in his own way.”

Carl returned her smile and nodded. “Okay, good enough. I just had to ask.”

“I understand.”

“About the other thing – your proposal,” he said. “I'm gonna have to think on that for a bit.”

“Fair enough. Thanks for considering it. I know it's an unusual offer.”

“That it is,” he replied. “So when's dinner?”

“Just a few more minutes.”

“Can't wait. I'm starving and that smells amazing.”

Damon stood in the hallway outside the kitchen listening to the exchange. He hadn't heard the entire conversation, but he'd heard enough. He knew she'd planned on asking about staying on in the clubhouse – she'd asked him, but he told her to ask Carl because it wasn't his decision to make. But he found himself hoping Carl agreed to it.

And as he listened to Cassie talking – about him, specifically – Damon found himself smiling in spite of himself.