Tuck's Wrath (6 page)

“I don’t know what the hell’s going on, and I don’t want to know, but the fact you’re not wearing your cut worries me, Tuck.”

He smiled at the woman that wasn’t much older than he was, but was like a mother to all of them. She looked after them, put them in line when they needed it, and she was loved and protected by them all. “It’s all good.” He didn’t know that, but he wasn’t going to lay this negative shit down on her. It was his fault alone he was in it, and no one else should have to feel sorry for him. He chucked her under the chin with a finger and turned to leave.

“Take care of her, Tuck,” Tatum said, and he didn’t need to ask what she meant.

He looked over his shoulder at her and just stared at Tatum for a moment. He nodded once, turned forward again, and left the club, possibly for good.

Chapter Seven

The sound of a motorcycle pulling onto the gravel driveway had Jana slowly waking. She pushed herself up, realizing she must have fallen asleep on the couch shortly after Tuck left earlier in the day. Looking out the living room window, she watched as the sun was starting to set over the horizon, and slowly rose from the couch.

She made her way closer, pushed down a section of the blinds, and saw Tuck park his massive Harley beside the only other vehicle in the driveway, which was an older model truck. He cut the engine, and for a second all he did was sit there, his head downcast, and his hands fisted tightly on the handlebars. Even from the distance she saw his white knuckles.

Should she go out there, maybe ask if everything was okay? It wasn’t lost on her that he didn’t wear his cut, and that he’d left to have that meeting with the club. Had they kicked him out? She didn’t know how club business worked, or the dynamics of it all, but she did know that what he’d done was supposedly really bad, at least that’s what he said.

Jana moved back when he dismounted from the bike and started toward the house. She went back to the couch, sat down, and waited for him, because she had no clue what else to do. Jana could have gone into the bedroom, but the truth was she wanted to talk to him, to make sure he was okay.

When he came inside she turned to face him, and saw he held a small paper bag in his hands. He must have gotten it from one of his saddlebags. Tuck stood and looked at her, held the bag out, then went over to the chipped and faded Formica counter. She reached out and turned the living room light on, and a muted yellow glow filled the small room. The kitchen was still dark, and his back was to her now. He was so big, so imposing and muscular that if she didn’t know what a protector he was she would have feared him right now.

“I got you some medicine and clean bandages and shit to help fix you up.”

He definitely sounded different, but his thoughtfulness had her heart racing. Jana walked closer to him until she could see all the items he was taking out of the paper bag. He set out gauze, peroxide, ointment, and a few other first aid items. Then he grabbed a pay per use cell phone, a minutes card, and set those beside the other items.

“This is all for me?” The cell was what really caught her eye. He didn’t have a landline, and the only phone he’d had he’d left with her. She’d been able to call Braden before he’d left, and despite the fact she told him to take the phone in case something happened, he’d insisted she hang on to it for emergencies.

“I wanted you to have a phone, and I need mine in case you need me and I’m not here.” He turned and faced her, and she tilted her head back to look in his face. In the time she’d been working at the club she’d seen a change in him physically. He was still so muscular, just as powerful and strong as when she’d first seen him, but he’d let his facial hair grow out, now sported a trimmed beard, and his hair was longer now, too.

But his body was a masterpiece. He had tattoos that covered his arms, starting at his wrists and snaking all the way up to disappear beneath his t-shirt. But she saw parts of tattoos move out from under the collar of his shirt, and a part of her, the part that was afraid of her life and what happened, and the part that wasn’t hurting, wished she could be with this man.

“You can leave whenever you want, Jana. I know you know that. I’ll always make sure you’re safe, even after you leave, and while you’re here I want to make sure you are comfortable and well cared for.”

If she hadn’t already been falling for this man she would have right then and there. He stared at her with his dark, hard eyes, but she saw his soul reflected back, knew that this man, deep down inside, had a life and a light he wanted to share.

He set up her cell. “This isn’t just for getting a hold of me, but to call Bobbie and Braden.” He handed her the phone, and when she took it their fingers brushed together. Sparks of electricity slammed into her, and she felt her entire body start to tingle. She stared at him with what she knew were wide eyes, could see the same kind of feeling inside of him as well, and forced herself to take a step back and just breathe.

“I also brought your bag that you’d dropped at the club…”

There was a moment of pause, and she didn’t want to think about why she’d dropped it.

“Thank you.” She assumed her cell was gone, that maybe William’s men had taken that since it had been in her pocket at the time of her abduction. It was just a pay-per-use one anyway, and the fact Tuck was thoughtful even for these little things had her chest tightening.

He cleared his throat and nodded. “Come on, let me clean and dress those wounds.” He clenched his teeth, and his anger slammed into her like a force of a thousand men charging forward. It was enough to have her heart racing and her breath stalling.

He led them back over to the couch, sat down, and when she was beside him and turned to face him he started with the gauze on her cuts. He poured peroxide on the little squares of material, and the scent of that antiseptic slammed into her nose. But Jana was trying to focus on other things besides the scent of Tuck. It was hard though. He smelled of oil, clean sweat, and there was hint of something spicy, almost as if he wore cologne. But she knew a man like Tuck didn’t wear things like that, didn’t give a shit about what he smelled like or even looked like.

For the next few minutes they stayed silent. She watched him as he worked on her, his focus on her face, but not making eye contact. Was he feeling this electricity and connection as well? Surely it wasn’t one way, because even in her current state she had this intense need to just be with him in every way. It was intense, maybe not logical after what happened to her, or maybe, just maybe, it was the most rational thing she’d ever decided on doing with a man?

“What are you thinking about?” he asked in this deep, but soft voice. He looked at her eyes, held her gaze for a moment with his own, then turned back to running the peroxide soaked cloth over her cuts.

He moved down with the gauze, got the marks on her neck, on her upper chest where the shirt gaped open, and froze for a moment. She could see the way his breathing changed, the way he swallowed, and wondered what
he
was thinking of.

“I’m not thinking about anything.” And she wasn’t, not really, at least not things she’d want to share with him for fear it would make things uncomfortable. Jana wasn’t about to make a fool out of herself, and right now she needed to focus on getting better so she could be with her son. She cried every time she got off the phone with him, and over the last day she’d cried a lot.

“I don’t believe you, but I’m okay with you not wanting to tell me,” he said and offered her a smile. That one gesture changed his entire expression. He looked softer, if that was even possible.

“What are
you
thinking about?” she said to him this time, not sure if she really wanted to know, but wanting him to talk to her regardless.

He didn’t respond right away, just took a few minutes to cover some of the deeper cuts with the ointment. The cut on her arm, which was especially deep from William’s belt buckle breaking her skin, was what he focused on now. His touch was gentle, soft, and it was like he wanted to make sure what he was doing was done with precision and thought. When he had a fresh piece of gauze covering the wound and a strip of medical tape keeping it in place, he moved an inch back on the couch and stared at her.

“I’m thinking how I’d like to find the motherfucker that did this to you, bring him back to life, and kill him all over again. Slowly.” The violence and menace in his voice had a cold chill moving through her. “I’m thinking that I’d like to chain him up in a basement, beat him with the belt he used to hurt you with, and not stop until he was pissing and shitting himself, begging me to stop. But I wouldn’t, Jana. I wouldn’t stop.” His voice got so cold, so scary at that moment.

She clenched her hands into fists on her lap, licked her lips slowly, and knew that although this man tended to her,
saved
her life, he was dangerous on every level.

“I swear to fucking God, Jana.” He leaned forward, his voice lowering even deeper. “I will never let anyone hurt you or Braden, never let anyone make you two feel fear ever again.” He took her hand in his, and the sudden movement had a small sound of surprise escaping her.

Her heart was beating so fast and hard that she actually placed her free hand over her chest, thinking it would help calm the frantic speed. “Tuck…” She said his name softly, not knowing why, or what she’d say after that, but the word had just tumbled out of her.

He exhaled roughly, let go of her hand, and stood. “I’m sorry, Jana. I’m just an angry man in general, and when someone hurts a person I care about…” He looked at her again.

She had shifted on the couch so she could see him, and hearing him say he cared about her, even if it may only be on a non-sexual level, had warmth filling her and erasing the pain momentarily.

“Listen, you should go lie down. I’ll take the couch—”

“I can take the couch. This is your place, Tuck.”

He shook his head before she finished. “No. I want you to be comfortable, and you need the bed more than I do. Besides, the couch is lumpy as hell.” He went into the kitchen and grabbed a new bottle of whiskey he pulled out of the paper bag. Clearly vodka hadn’t been enough for him. “Unless you want to watch me get shitfaced, Jana, you might want to go to the room.”

The way he spoke told Jana he wasn’t in a good place right now. She should just leave him alone, give him the space he obviously needed, but she couldn’t help herself from at least trying to comfort him. She stood, walked toward him, but when she saw him tense, she knew he was aware she came closer, and Jana told herself now wasn’t the time or the place.

“Tuck…”

“Please, Jana.” He looked at her with this hard, yet unreadable expression. “I’m not in a good place right now, and don’t want you subjected to this toxic shit inside of me.”

Her heart was breaking for him.

“You don’t deserve to be around me when I’m like this.”

What in the hell had happened with his club? It had to have been bad.

“Getting drunk is all I know how to handle what I feel right now.” He said it in almost a pleading voice.

“Okay, Tuck,” she said softly, and turned and left to go down the hallway, away from him and to give him his solitude right now. Right before she went into the room she turned and looked over her shoulder, saw him watching her, and wished that things had been so different. She wished things with William had never happened, and wished that she and Tuck had been put together for very different reasons. Jana wished that being with Tuck didn’t mean he had to tend to the wounds her ex had given her. God, life was really cruel sometimes, for everyone.

Chapter Eight

Pierce had to be some masochistic asshole, especially when he knew being with the woman he wanted probably wasn’t going to happen. He walked into The Crystal Cavern, the tittie bar that he’d become obsessed with ever since he’d seen that stripper shake her shit on stage. Damn, even now just thinking about it got his dick harder than rock.

He adjusted himself, paid the cover charge to even get into the place, and found a table in the corner that was shrouded with shadows. The room was smoky, the blue lights making everything seem a little less realistic. He leaned back in the padded chair, placed an order for a stiff drink when one of the scantily clad waitresses came by, and stared at the stage, waiting for the one stripper he’d driven out here to see make an appearance.

Although this place was known for having strippers that were all about giving a little action on the side for some extra cash, the one woman that he wanted to stick his dick in wasn’t for sale, apparently in not that way at least. He’d chosen this corner table because it was still close enough to the stage that if he wanted to he could lean in and smell that pussy of hers. Fuck, he bet she smelled all sweet and candy-like. His cock jerked again, and he reached down and adjusted his dick behind his fly to relieve the pressure.

He might be called an obsessed asshole, or even a stalker because he only came up here anymore to see one woman, but Pierce didn’t care. He’d come here every damn time she worked if it meant he got to see those big, perfect tits of hers.

Pierce didn’t need to buy pussy that was for damn sure. The sweet-butts back at the clubhouse were all fine, willing to spread their thighs at the snap of a finger, but Pierce couldn’t find any kind of satisfaction with them anymore, not since he’d seen this stripper that first time. He figured he was just hard-up for her, needed her for some damn reason like a fiend needed a fix, and he wasn’t going to deny himself.

He wanted something different, some foreign pussy that knew how to squeeze a man’s dick until it felt like it would fall off. Yeah, that’s what he wanted, what he’d jerked off to more than once since he’d seen her licking that whipped cream off of her fingers.

Shit, he was about to come in his pants just from the thought.

A few of the strippers walked by and offered him a VIP lap dance, and even a little extra in one of the backrooms, but his girl was going to be up, going to shake those ass and tits he’s been needy for.

Pierce didn’t like skinny bitches, didn’t like the bones that stuck out from their hips and didn’t like being able to see their ribs. What he liked was a nice, thicker woman, one with more meat to grab onto, curves that he could get lost in.

The lights flashed on stage once, letting everyone know that the next show was about to start. Oh yeah, there she was, walking out in killer “fuck me” stilettos, wearing nothing but this tiny red G-string and bikini top that barely covered her nipples. She had this hourglass figure that had his heart racing and palms sweating. Damn, what was it about her? Her dark hair was up, but the lights were focused on her body below the neck, her face shrouded by the shadows.

The spotlight slid up and covered her big, round, and juicy looking ass, one that had a nice red string right between the cheeks. Her hair was a little longer than it had been the first time he’d come to the strip club. Even though her hair was up he could tell. But he didn’t care if she had a shaved head. The woman was hot as hell. Her flared hips and thighs, which were meant to grip a male around the waist while he fucked her good and hard, had him curling his hands around the edge of the table.

“Here ya go,” the waitress said and set his whiskey and Coke on the table. Pierce focused on the stage.

His stripper turned around, her eyes closed, her lips lush and painted red. He zeroed in on her big, full tits again, at the way they were barely restrained by her red top. She started moving back and forth, and the sight of the way she swayed her hips transfixed him, made his mouth salivate, and the images of the filthy fucking things he wanted to do to her pop in his head. Her flesh jiggled, bounced up and down as she shook it all on stage. Damn, he didn’t want any of these other bastards watching all that glorious golden flesh moving around.

His dick punched forward even harder, with so much force he nearly pulled his cock out and stroked himself right then and there just to relieve the pressure. Goddamn, she was a sight to look at, a woman that knew how to make a man crawl on his knees just to get closer. Pierce ran a hand over his mouth and breathed out.

The dance went on for a few more minutes, and when the song ended and she had all her dollar bills, he watched her leave the stage Pierce couldn’t help himself. He stood, walked over to where the stairs to the stage were, and although there was a bouncer guarding it, he called out for her, needing to get her under him for the night.

“Come home with me,” he called out, feeling like a douche on so many levels for doing it this way, but obviously not caring enough not to do it.

She stopped and turned around. When she got a look at him and scanned her gaze down the length of his chest, her eyes widened. Was she staring at his cut? Maybe she was saying “hell no” because she knew he was in a club? Or maybe she saw the massive hard-on he sported? Surely she’d seen a hell of a lot of them working at this joint.

“Come on, baby.” He braced a hand on the wall, trying to see her over the massive body of the man in front of him. Hell, Pierce was a big guy, but he was cut and ripped with muscle. This fucker was all bulging belly and a face that looked like it had never seen anything funny. He probably had fifty pounds of thickness on Pierce that had nothing to do with muscle mass.

“No thanks,” she said over her shoulder, and turned to leave.

His cock jerked at her denial, but when she was really walking away he grew annoyed. “You shake your shit up there like you want to get fucked, and now you’re saying no?” He was being an asshole, but she was denying him, and Pierce wasn’t used to that shit.

She stopped and turned around, but the shadows concealed her face, almost as if she wore a mask. He could make out her eyes, knew they were narrowed, and saw the shape of her nose and lips, but unless he wanted to push through this bouncer he wasn’t going to see anymore. And when she’d been on the strange the lights had been stationed on her lower body, amplifying her assets. But then her eyes widened, and she stepped further back into the shadows, and held the robe she wore tighter to her body. “Go to hell, you pompous asshole,” she said on a slightly shaky breath. “I’m sure you have plenty of pussy at that club you’re at, or maybe you need to learn how to respect women, even if they do strip.” With that she flipped him off, turned her back toward him, and disappeared behind one of the doors.

“Beat it before she embarrasses your ass even more,” the big bouncer said.

Pierce gritted his teeth, felt anger that she turned him down, but also couldn’t blame her. He didn’t have to say that shit, and now here he was with a raging boner, and the woman he wanted to stick his dick in had told him to screw off.

“Well shit,” he said under his breath.

The bouncer snorted. “Man, if you’re trying to go for Lil then you better just get used to jerking off now.”

He narrowed his eyes at the fucker.

“She only strips. You bug her again and she’ll likely cut your dick and balls off.”

Pierce narrowed his eyes at the other man. Although all he wanted to do was tear through this guy and go to that woman, maybe kiss her so she couldn’t even breathe, making her see that being with him wouldn’t be the worst thing to happen, he took a step back. No, he’d back off for right now. He wouldn’t let it go, though, because even though he did want the woman named Lil—which he had to assume wasn’t her real name—he’d give her this space. But he’d show her that letting him into her bed, fucking her good and hard, so she couldn’t even walk straight the next day, would help them both out.

Yeah, he was being a cocky asshole, but the truth was no one denied Pierce, not until they at least got to know him better. He snorted at that thought, and turned to leave the strip club. But yeah, he really wanted her, and that need was at this obsessive level. He wouldn’t give up that easily.