Shadow & Soul (10 page)

The intercom whined and went live. “Guys!” Jesse said into the room. “Bibi brought lunch—from The Bunkhouse!” The Bunkhouse was the best steakhouse in town. Usually, they sent a Prospect out at lunch for fast food.

“Awesome!” P.B. crowed and set down his tools. Trick just rolled his eyes and kept working. He was a vegetarian or a vegan or one of those plant-eater types.

Then Bibi’s voice came over the ‘com. “We brought you a big salad, Trick. And Tuck’s lookin’ for you, Deme. We’re settin’ up in the Hall.”

All the mechanics were grinning when they came through from the shop to the clubhouse. Bibi had set up a family-style meal, pushing some of the small tables together. Cliff was walking around the table, his tail wagging, his nose in the air, smelling steak.

A meal like this in the middle of the day was unusual, especially with half the club out, but Hoosier was in the Hall, too, and he didn’t seem concerned.

“Any word on the job today, Prez?” Demon asked, picking Tucker up and hugging him.

“Yeah. They’re whole and clear, on their way back. Stirred up some sh—trouble, just like they wanted. We’ll see where it goes. I want to bring this sh—thing to a head.”

Bibi came over to Demon and Tucker. “Show your pa what you learned today, Tuck.”

Demon smiled at his boy. “You got something new, buddy?”

Tucker nodded, then dropped his head to his father’s shoulder.

“Don’t be shy, Tuckster. Tell your pa.” Bibi grabbed his foot and gave it a shake.

Lifting his head and looking at Demon with serious eyes, Tucker said, “Lub you, Pa.”

“Holy shit,” Demon whispered. Tucker had never said those words before.

“Shit,” Tucker agreed solemnly.

Laughing, Demon hugged his son. “I love you, too, Motor Man. I love you so much.”

“Lub you.”

His face felt hot, but not in the way it usually did. He held his son close and felt good and right. He felt strong. He looked down at Bibi.

“Thanks for last night.”

“No worries, baby. You needed some time alone, and you know I’ve got Tuck.”

“Thanks.”

“Did it help?”

“Yeah. I’m gonna talk to her tonight. I think I can be cool about it now.”

Bibi went a little pale. “Deme, that’s not gonna work. She’s not there.”

Just like that, everything good Demon had been feeling withered away and left acid and bile in its place. “What? Where is she?”

“She went home—”

Before she could finish, Demon yelled “FUCK!” and Tucker flinched and began to cry. Grasping the last threads of control he could, he handed his son to Bibi and stormed toward the dorm before he lost any more of his shit in front of his kid.

Before he could get to the hallway, Bibi’s hand was on his arm. He spun and yanked his arm away. Bibi—without Tucker—jumped back, flinching, and then Hoosier was between them. “You take a breath right now, boy. You get yourself under control.”

“FUCK! FUCK!” His mind rioted. She’d left! She was gone! She’d shown up just to fuck him up and then was gone. Fuck!

Hoosier, though smaller than Demon, didn’t hesitate. He grabbed him by the kutte and shoved him toward his office. Vaguely, Demon heard Cliff barking in the Hall.

All Demon could think about was getting those hands off him. He fought back, punching his President in the face, knocking him down.

Then the hallway was full of men, yanking Demon back. He fought hard, trying to get free, thinking only about getting away. Away. Back on his feet, Hoosier punched him in the gut twice while P.B. and Trick held him, and that knocked the wind and the fire out of him.

In front of his kid, he’d pulled that shit. He could hear him still crying.

“Sit him on my couch. Christ on a crutch.”

When Demon was on the couch and alone in the office with Hoosier and Bibi, Hoosier pulled up his desk chair. Bibi stayed near the door.

“I’m sorry. I wouldn’t’ve…I don’t think…I’m sorry.”

Bibi answered. “It’s okay, baby. I know. But you didn’t let me finish. She only went to pack herself a bag and get some things settled at home. She’ll be back tomorrow.”

That should have been good news, but Demon frowned. Tomorrow? How could she get all that done in a day? Why hadn’t she had a bag in the first place? It didn’t make sense. He didn’t know where she lived, but it had to be far away. Out of his reach. She’d had Dante—she’d driven. So…“Where’s ‘home’?”

Bibi didn’t answer right away, so he looked at Hoosier. “Where does she live?”

“You keep a lid on, Deme. I’m not fuckin’ around here.”

Words like that only made him more agitated. They expected him to be pissed. “
Where
?”

“Venice Beach,” Bibi said.

For a few seconds, Demon’s mind went blank, full of white noise. She was in L.A.? All this time, she’d been fifty miles away? He’d imagined her in New York or London or the fucking Yukon. Mars, maybe. Far away, out of his reach. But she’d been in his back yard. She’d known where he was. She’d been
close
. And she hadn’t sought him out. Even though her father was gone.

“You knew where she was. All this time?”

Bibi took a couple of steps closer. “She’s only been close again for a year and a half or so.”

“But she knew where
I
was.”

“Yeah, she did.”

“She doesn’t want to know me.”

“She’s scared, Deme. Just like you.”

“
Like
me, or
of
me?”

Hoosier answered that. “Stop it, boy. I’m sick to shit of this drama. You’re not some kind of wild animal. Did you ever hurt her?” Demon opened his mouth to say that yes, getting near her at all had hurt her, but Hoosier waved his hand abruptly. “I’m not talking about all the painful love bullshit. Did your hands hurt her body? Ever? Did you ever lose control around her?”

Not in the way Hoosier was asking, but yes. Every time he was with her, he lost control around her. Demon looked down at his hands in his lap and remembered when there’d been just no more control to be had.

memory

When a new member got his patch, his brothers set out to get him as drunk as they possibly could. Demon was a lightweight, relatively speaking, so they hadn’t had to work very hard.

He didn’t really like being drunk
. It made him feel like everything around him was out of time, like it was a parallel universe where everything was almost but not quite right, and time was just slightly out of sync. It confused him; he didn’t totally understand what people were saying or doing.

Like the way his brothers had all been laughing when a couple of girls pulled him out of his pants and started taking turns blowing him in the Hall. Was that a joke? At his expense? He didn’t like being laughed at. And he sure as fuck didn’t like everybody watching that shit. Some guys didn’t mind getting off in the middle of everything, but Demon didn’t like to see it, and he damn sure didn’t like to do it.

Which was why he’d been thrown out of his own patch party, he guessed. Or, at least, told to ‘go outside and cool the fuck off.’

He was just as glad. That had sucked. He’d never had a party in his honor before, and he’d hated it, everybody paying attention to him, fucking with him, like they were trying to make him lose control. Well, mission accomplished.

So, feeling unsteady but capable of walking, he went past the picnic benches, through the lot, and right out of the compound. He didn’t know where he was going, but he went anyway.

He’d walked for a while, deep inside his head, trying to quiet the chaos that too much whiskey had only made louder, when a horn honked on the street at his side. He jumped and stopped, preparing to tell the asshole driver to shove his horn up his ass and to offer to help that happen.

But he was looking at Dante.

Faith leaned over and rolled down the passenger window. “What’re you doing?”

“Walking.”

“To my house?”

“What?”

She pointed up ahead. “This is my street. You’re walking to my house. At twelve-thirty at night. If you’re looking for my dad, he’s at your party.”

“What?” He didn’t feel as drunk as he had when he’d left the clubhouse, but nothing was making sense yet.

She pulled to the curb and parked. Standing on the sidewalk, confused as hell, Demon watched her get out and walk up to him. “Are you okay? Did you walk all this way?”

“All what way?”

“I live about seven miles from the clubhouse. Seven miles through not the best parts of town. You know that. Did you walk from there?”

“I guess.” She obviously thought that was important, but he didn’t know why. So he changed the subject. “How’s Sly?”

Cocking her head, she grinned. “He’s good. I’m not trying to keep him inside anymore. He hates my folks. He’s happier having the run of the neighborhood, I think. He comes in and sleeps with me almost every night, though.”

“Lucky cat.”

Faith gave him a surprised look. She stepped up to him and put her hands on his chest. That felt fucking awesome, even through his kutte, and he put his hands over hers. That felt even better.

“Do you want a ride back to the clubhouse?”

No, he absolutely did not want to go back to the clubhouse and get laughed at again. Or looked at weird. Or yelled at for breaking a table. He didn’t even have his patch sewn on yet, and he was already in trouble. Fuck.

“No.”

“What do you want to do, then?”

He knew exactly what he wanted to do. More than a year, he’d wanted her. He tried to stay away, but she kept showing up in front of him, talking to him, being beautiful and sweet. Since her birthday, he’d managed to keep from being alone with her. But every time he saw her, he wanted her. It was getting harder, not easier.

He was tired of fighting it all the time. So he kissed her. As soon as he did, he knew his fight was lost.

She kissed him back, moving her tongue with his, curling her fists around his kutte. He knew he wouldn’t stop this time. There was too much in his head, too much whiskey still in his snoot, too much needing to feel okay. The part of him that knew he should stop was almost inaudible.

Almost. He pulled back. “You have to stop me,” he murmured on her lips. “I can’t stop. You have to do it.”

“I don’t want to stop. I want to be with you. I want it so bad.” She looped her arms around his neck, and he lifted her off the ground, clutching her close. They stood like that on the sidewalk, kissing deeply, Demon thinking of nothing at all anymore except his need, feeling her body touching his all the way to her feet. She felt right there. She fit with him.

She pulled back from their kiss and looked at him, panting, her lips glistening and her eyes sparkling in the streetlights. “We need to go someplace. Will you ride if I drive?”

He nodded and covered her mouth with his again.

~oOo~

Faith didn’t drive far, just about ten minutes, to an empty parking lot on a bluff overlooking the coast. They didn’t talk on the way; Demon looked out the passenger window and watched the passing lights, trying to think and make a right choice, but knowing full well that that boat had sailed. He wasn’t really drunk anymore. He was just tired of fighting his nature.

She killed the engine and leaned toward him immediately, shifting on the bench seat so that she was on her knees at his side. She took his face in her hands, the way he did when he kissed her. When she bent her head to his, he flinched back a fraction of an inch.

“Stop me. Please stop me.”

“No,” she whispered. “I don’t want to stop. I think I’m in love with you.”

Demon didn’t know how that could be true, but he didn’t care. Hearing this girl say those words sent a surge of powerful need through his blood, his muscles. He was done running. Taking over the kiss, demanding that it be more, he grabbed her, pulling her onto him. Then he rolled and laid her out on the seat and covered her with his body. Her legs came up and circled his hips, and he could feel her heat grinding against his, heedless of the layers of denim between them.

Groaning, feeling desperate and frantic, and fearful, too, he pushed her sweater up, and her bra, and covered her beautiful breast with his hand. She cried out an encouragement, a plea, and her own hands moved between them and worked the buckle on his belt.

He didn’t stop. He couldn’t.

~oOo~

You asshole. You bastard. On the seat of her car. In a parking lot. It was her first time, you piece of shit.

The thoughts and their loathing besieged him while his body still shook with the aftershocks of his finish, while she was staring up at him, her eyes wide and wet, her hands on his shoulders, digging into the hoodie he still wore.

He sat back in a rush and felt the cooling, wet stick of semen on his belly. He looked at her, still lying on her back, her legs splayed, one bare and the other still in her jeans, and saw the wet on her belly, too, glimmering in the parking lot lights. He’d come all over her. Because he hadn’t been able to control himself enough to put a condom on. He’d barely been able to pull out. Jesus. Aw, Jesus hell.

She was noticing her sticky belly and looking for something to wipe up with. He yanked his hoodie over his head and handed it to her. It was February and cold for L.A., but his t-shirt would have to do. He deserved to be cold.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. God,
God
, I’m sorry.” He opened the door and got the fuck out of the car, leaving his kutte behind, not even bothering to put his stupid dick away.

“Michael! Michael, please! Please!”

At the plaintive sound of her voice, he pulled up short. What—he was going to top off the worst thing he’d ever done by leaving her alone, covered in his scum? Fuck, he was worthless. Despairing, he raked his hands through his hair and over his face. He could smell her on his fingers. The image that scent evoked made him hurt with need and guilt.

He closed his jeans. Before he could open the door and get back in, though, she was out and running around Dante. She was crying and furious, and his face felt so fucking hot. Look how he’d hurt her. He couldn’t see that, deal with that, so he dropped his eyes and stared at the gravel.

“You’re ruining it! You jerk! You pussy! Don’t ruin this! Fuck! Fuck you! Fuck!” She shoved at him, sobbing. When he didn’t react, she shoved at him again.

Then she just grabbed hold of his t-shirt and shook it.

Not knowing what else to do, and feeling like a wart on the ass of a maggot, he put his arms around her and pulled her close. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it, any of it. I’m sorry.”

“Stop it! Shut up!” she cried, her face wetting his chest. “Don’t be sorry. I told you. It ruins everything.”

He
was
sorry, but he was making it worse by saying so. He thought of something he could say. “I’m sorry for making you cry.”

She was quiet for a moment, settling down. “Okay. You can be sorry for that.”

That made him smile, and he kissed the top of her head. “What we did was okay?”

Her face moved softly on his chest as she nodded. “I liked it a lot. It was even better than I thought it would be.”

“I didn’t hurt you?”

“Uh-uh.” She leaned back. “I just feel a little…stretched, maybe?”

The relief he felt to know that he hadn’t hurt her weakened his knees. But it didn’t mean that what they’d done was right. He’d had his patch a matter of hours, and he’d just fucked the club SAA’s underage daughter. He’d taken her virginity, in fact. There would be a huge price for that. There should be.

“I should get you home.”

She grinned and shook her head. “I drove, remember? We go when I say so. Right now, I want to sit on the car and watch the ocean.” Her eyes narrowed. “Please don’t puss out.”

He nodded, and they went and sat on the hood of her car. Demon put his arm around her and held her close. It felt good to take care of her, to keep her warm, to tuck her small body next to his as if he could keep her safe.

“Can I ask you something, Michael?” She didn’t look at him, just stared out at the black night and water below.

“Yeah.” He watched her profile.

“Why do you run?”

“What?”

“You kiss me like you do. You look at me sometimes like I’m dipped in chocolate. You gave me a cat. We just did what we did, and I felt like you liked it. Like you like
me
.”

“I did. I do.” More than that, he thought. But he didn’t say it.

“Then why do you run?”

“You’re just a kid.” It was the best reason he had.

She scoffed. “Please. Maybe—
maybe
—that was true when we met. But now I’m seventeen and almost seven months. Connor boinked my friend Bethany a couple of weeks ago, and she turned eighteen last month. Nobody had palpitations about that. Does some magical fairy come to girls’ houses on their eighteenth birthday and make their twats ripe or something?”

Appalled and charmed by her take on the matter, Demon laughed. But his humor didn’t last long. “Your father…he’ll—”

“I know, I know.” She heaved a big sigh. “God, my life
sucks
.”

That pissed him off, and he took his arm from her shoulders. The life she had—what he would have given to have had even a piece of a life like that. She was surrounded by people who loved her. The way everybody in the clubhouse doted on her—and God, the way Blue loved her and she loved him? Sometimes, he’d watch them, Faith smiling at her father, her father teasing her gently, calling her kitty cat, and his stomach would cramp. Was it envy he felt? No. There was hostility in envy that Demon didn’t feel toward Faith.