SINdicate: A BT Urruela FanFiction Novel: Cerberus MC Book 1.5 (24 page)

I walk up and clasp him on the shoulder. “Kaleb,” I whisper trying to get his attention. “She’s asking for you, man.”

He turns so quickly toward me he nearly loses his footing. I look past him and wince as a clearly deceased woman comes into view.

“What?” he asks with a slight shake of his head.

“Josie, man,” I tell him gently pulling him from the doorway and down the narrow hall. “Keep your shit together in there, Kaleb. She’s been through hell and looks it,” I warn him. “But you have to keep it together, man.” He nods as he makes his way into the crowded kitchen.

At the sight of her curled up on a filthy blanket just outside of the door he gasps, both in relief and torment from seeing her like this. I keep my hand on his back until he crouches down beside her.

“Kaleb,” I hear her whisper.

“I’m here, Josie,” he returns leaning in to kiss her forehead.

Short of her never being abducted in the first place, this is the best outcome anyone could’ve ever asked for.

I’m trying to be as quiet as I can, but I can’t keep the hiss from slipping past my lips as I wrap the thick, elastic bandage around my ribs. I should probably go to the hospital, but I know there’s nothing they can do about ribs even if they’re broken and not just severely bruised. They don’t hurt as bad as they did last time, and I know it would only mean more trouble for me if I alerted anyone to my injuries.

Using makeup too dark for my complexion, I apply liberal amounts around my eyes and my left cheek. I get better at this part each time I upset my husband. I wish I could figure out a way to keep from making him angry, and I wouldn’t have had to watch YouTube videos on how to cover bruises and the proper way to breathe with broken ribs. It’s a very sad day when society has such problems that necessitate videos for abused women. It makes me wonder what women did decades ago when they didn’t have the wonderful internet to help them.

I do my best to cover the gash on my swollen lip with lipstick and think about what caused this latest episode.

“Care to explain this?” Bobby asks holding up a small envelope.

I’m very familiar with the tattered container. My heart immediately begins to pound in my chest as my steps falter. I just got out of the shower, and the only protection I have from what I’m certain is going to be a horrible beating is the thin towel I have wrapped around my body.

My eyes cut to his and back to the evidence in his hands. That envelope contains every penny I’ve been able to hide from him the last two years that I’ve been working at Drifter’s. It’s not as much as one would think considering I’ve been stockpiling for what seems like forever.

“Explain!” he shouts waving the five hundred and twenty-three dollars in front of me.

“I’m saving for your birthday,” I respond quickly and cringe when I realize my mistake.

“My birthday was last month you stupid bitch!” He pockets the money, seething with anger.

His first strike is a closed fist to my mouth.

I inch myself closer to the mirror to inspect the shield I have to use more often than not. I’d been saving that money to finally leave him for good. He’s alienated me from my entire family. Well, I only have a few cousins left. My parents have been gone for years, and I’m an only child.

I have no one; he’s made sure of that. At only twenty-four years old, I’m a shell of the person I used to be. I’ve been in this situation so long I don’t remember the last time I woke up feeling safe or without worry of being hurt before the sun set again.

I met Robert Mikaelson at a party my junior year in high school. He spent the next couple of years alienating me from my friends and family. By the time I graduated high school, he’d moved me out of Utah away from my cousins and the aunt who took me in after my parents died. I haven’t spoken to them since. Six years we’ve been in Colorado; six years he’s been all that I know. It’s exactly the way he wants it.

***

Like he always does after an incident at the house, Bobby is sitting in the corner of the bar watching my every move. His mood seems better now than it does most nights, and I know that’s because he’s drinking away the five hundred dollars I’d been saving. I’ll never see a penny of it.

I guess I should count my lucky stars that he didn’t hurt me as bad as he could. It’s certainly not the worst punishment he’s doled out over the years. I don’t even want to think about the time he did actually break my ribs. That pain was beyond excruciating. I know his excitement over having a wad of cash to spend played a large part in the lesser sanction.

I keep the fake smile on my face as I make my rounds in the bar, filling drink orders and delivering them. I quickly dash away thoughts of starting my nest egg back up, but the insidious thought keeps filling my head. I know I have to leave. I know eventually he’ll kick me in just the right spot, and I’ll never be the same again, or I’ll end up dead.

I’ve been hopeless for so long that the possibility seems more like a fairy-tale than a feasible outcome. Praying he dies in a car accident hasn’t worked no matter how many times I’ve begged God to take him away. I went to the police once. Once. That was all it took for me to realize that the fat guy working the front desk had no desire to help me. That cry for help landed me in the hospital for three days under the guise of falling down the stairs at the apartment complex. The doctors didn’t believe me but were too busy to dig any deeper. Thank God they didn’t, or I’d be dead right now.

Dead. Doesn’t seem like such a bad thing as I walk around barely able to take a deep breath with the pain I feel on the right side of my body. Steel toe boots, I’ve discovered, are no match for bones.

I can’t hide the genuine smile on my face when the bikers walk through the front door and make their way to the back corner table. There are four men rather than the usual three. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t hoping the three guys would show up tonight. Well, two of them anyways; the third guy is kind of a creep, but the other two are super sweet and easy on the eyes.

I work my tables quickly so I can make my way to them. I’m certain their order will be the same as it’s been the last couple of weeks, but I go to them to verify since they have an addition to the group this evening.

I stop short when I get close to the table. Shadow and Kid, as they introduced themselves a few weeks ago, are very good looking guys. The man with them tonight? I don’t know that I’ve ever seen such a beautiful creature before. Tattoos cover both arms from the wrists, disappearing under the sleeves of his t-shirt. His baseball hat does nothing to hide his soulful brown eyes and perfectly pouty lips, lips that are turned up in a knowing smirk as I make my way to their table.

I steel my expression immediately. He has bad boy written all over him. I cut my eyes to the table where Bobby is sitting. Thankfully his face is turned up watching something on the huge TV on the wall. I pray these guys behave tonight. This is the first time they, along with my husband, have been here together. They haven’t been inappropriate by normal standards, but Bobby’s standards aren’t normal. He’s a wuss when it comes to confronting other men, so any perceived transgression will be taken out on me, of that I’m certain.

“Hey guys,” I say with a smile as I near the table. “What can I get for you tonight?”

Although the smiling stranger remains silent, I can feel his scrutinizing gaze on my face. I cut my eyes to him. Biggest mistake I could’ve ever made. Once my eyes meet his, I’m locked in place, and I can’t look away. It’s as if I’m entranced and it’s up to him to give me permission to break my gaze.

“Don’t worry, honey,” I hear one of the guys say breaking the trance. I look over and see that it’s the creepy one who spoke. “All of the ladies react that way when they see Prez.” Creepy guy slaps the tattooed bad boy on the back.

Prez? My eyes cut to the patch over his heart on his worn leather vest. PRESIDENT.

I blush at being called out for my apparent appreciation of the leader of their group.

“Enough, Wrench,” the president chides. “Hey, darlin’,” he says with a mischievous smirk that makes my stomach flutter.

“Coors?” I ask hoping for a quick escape. Anything to get away from this man and the mouth that my eyes can’t seem to tear themselves away from.

“Please,” the president says drawing my attention back to his pouty lips.

I clear my throat, spin around, and leave the table. What the hell is wrong with me? I give Bobby a quick glance; thankfully his eyes are still glued to the TV. Not once have I ever even thought about cheating on Bobby, and I’m not thinking about it now, but there is just something about that man that has me… interested. I would never cheat. It’s not a moral issue for me at this point but rather a means of survival. Bobby would put the last nail in my coffin if he even suspected the thoughts I just had over that stranger’s mouth.

I give my head a slight shake and head to the bar to fill their drink order. I have a bad feeling about tonight, and my gut instinct is usually right on track.

A celebration. That’s what’s going to happen tonight.

Josie has been found. She’s not in the greatest of health, but the doctors say she’ll make a full recovery. My cousin doesn’t have to suffer the loss of the woman he loves. Today’s a great day; one I didn’t think could get any better. That was until I walked into Drifter’s Bar. The guys have been talking about the hot waitress for weeks now. I’m here to have a few beers, but a scenic view in the form of a good looking woman is always a plus.

We make our way to the back corner of the bar; the best strategic location to keep an eye on the entire situation. Diligence, even in a social setting, is what keeps a man safe. They don’t even have to point her out; I could’ve picked her out of a lineup of a hundred good-looking women. Good-looking? The phrase doesn’t even do her justice. She’s gorgeous. I’d say perfect when looking at her long, blonde hair and full breasts, but she seems a little sad when I look into her dark, blue eyes.

I follow her with my eyes as she takes orders and delivers drinks in the fifteen minutes that it takes her to make her way to our table. I can’t help but smirk when she stops cold the first time her eyes land on me. Yeah, yeah, sweetheart. It’s just a pretty face.

She seems to gain control of herself again and walks to the table with a smile I can tell she’s having a hard time keeping under control.

“Hey, guys. What can I get for you tonight?” The voice of an angel if I’ve ever heard one.

I watch her, taking in every inch of her face. I notice it all. The cut on her lip. The heavy makeup she’s using as an attempt to hide something. Closer inspection tells me she’s not just the sadness I saw in her eyes; she’s broken. A tortured soul. My fucking Kryptonite.

I nearly lose my breath when she turns her eyes and focuses her attention on me. If my mom could see me now. A big, badass biker, former Marine getting lost in the blue eyes of a woman in a bar.

On the periphery of consciousness, I hear Wrench say something idiotic beside me; then feel him slap me on the back. The action snaps me back into the present. “Enough, Wrench,” I mumble to the fellow biker. The one who never keeps his fucking mouth shut. “Hey, darlin’.” I drawl at the siren standing in front of me.

Her cheeks flush, and I notice the incremental shift of her feet.

“Coors?” Her voice is more of a squeak this time.

She’s clearly affected by me as well. Something that for once makes me smile. I’m no stranger to women; they flock to me wherever I go. I’m not a narcissistic asshole who thinks he’s God’s gift to women; it’s just a fact. Women find me attractive. It has its benefits. Most are looking for a good time, a story to tell their friends later about how they hooked up with the president of an MC. I generally keep my extracurricular activities closer to home, in a setting I’m more easily able to control, but every once in a while I find something that’s hard to turn down. It seems tonight is one of those nights.