Underworld Champions (The MC Outlaw Series) (8 page)

His eyes darken aggressively as his demeanour stiffens
, and he stands up before climbing onto the bike and starting it up. He doesn’t even yell out to me to hold on. He just roars off so I’m scrambling to grab hold of him.

His body is stiff the whole way
home, and I know that I’ve hurt him. And I don’t know why I did it. My emotions are just so mixed up right now. I just need time. I need to think.

Pulling up in front of my parent
’s house, he still doesn’t speak to me. I get off his bike, feeling horrible about everything that happened today as I move to remove my helmet, planning on apologising and explaining that I need time. But he doesn’t wait. He just roars off down the street, leaving me standing there, with a helmet still on my head.

“Oh Sunshine. You are definitely my most favourite possession,” Liam murmurs into my ear, as he moves inside me. He’s high on cocaine, and has been banging me for hours.

I
whimper. Every orifice has been used to burning point. I want this to stop.

“It’s ok my sweet,” he whispers, stroking my hair lovingly. “Open your mouth. I’ll make you feel better.”

He shows me a small white pill and then pushes it past my lips. I swallow. I don’t care what it is. If I’m lucky, it will kill me.

But it doesn’t, instead, a warmth spreads over my body. It feels wonderful, and I don’t hurt anymore. Everything is bliss. Everything is happiness.

“You are so sweet. So beautiful. You are mine, sunshine. Don’t forget that. She gave you to me. In return, I’ll forget her debt and keep her high. You are mine.”

I close my eyes as he moves down my body and sucks hard on my clit.
Even through the chemically induced euphoria, a tear rolls out of my eye.

I want to die.

“Mor
ning,” Carla nods, when I emerge from my room, wrapped in a cotton dressing gown. “Are you feelin’ any better today?” I’ve pretended to be too sick to work all week. I’m obviously hiding out from Cole. But I can’t do that forever. I have to go back there and face him sometime.

“Yeah. I’m feeling better.”

She sets the mug of coffee she just made on the counter of the kitchen in front of me, and then starts preparing another one, adding a mug when Prez walks out and flops down on the couch.

“Listen, I was wondering. Would it be ok if I went into town today? Maybe I could buy some clothes that fit me properly. The shoes are fine. But all the clothes are a bit big.”

“You don’t want to come to the club today? Everyone’s been askin’ after you.” Carla asks.

“Maybe later. Has um… Cole been asking for me
?”

“He’s been too fuckin’ busy workin’ to be askin’ questions,
” Prez says from behind me on the couch. I turn around to look at Carla, who gives me a small shake of her head.

“Does Monique still hate my guts?”

“Probably. You did crack her ribs,” Carla points out. “You gonna tell us why you were fightin’ her yet?”

“She didn’t say?”

“Not a word.”

“Then it doesn’t matter. It was just a misunderstanding anyway.
Listen, can I catch a bus, or call a cab or something?”

I can’t help but feel a huge amount of disappointment at the fact that Cole hasn’t asked after me. I mean, after what happened. You’d think he’d wonder…
. Hell, who am I kidding? I don’t even know what really happened with Cole. All I know is that I’m hellishly attracted to him. He’s the first man I’ve ever had sex with that wasn’t for some sort of payment. And I liked it – loved it even. But when it was over, all these feelings swirled inside my chest and caused me to panic. In the end, it just felt so wrong. So scary.

“You see
m to be getting along with Cole,” Carla says, as if she knew I was thinking about him. “We can get him to take you if you want?”

“No,” I say a little too quickly. “I just want to go on my own.”

“Anythin’ I should know about? Is somethin’ goin’ on between you two?” Prez asks.

“
Nothing important.”

He looks at me like he doesn’t believe me
, and when I glance back to Carla, she’s giving me the same look. “Get dressed. I’ll take you in, and you can call your dad to pick you up when you’re done,” she says.

“I can make my own way.”

“Don’t fuckin’ argue. Just do what you’re told. Go and get dressed,” Prez growls.

I
get ready quickly so Carla can give me a ride into town, stopping to let me off in front of a motorcycle store.

“Get some leathers would you
? We just got you back and we don’t need you gettin' ripped to pieces if you come off a bike.” She presses a wad of cash into my hand, as well as a mobile phone. “And call me or your dad when you’re through. Don’t take too long or I’m gonna send a search party for you. Ok?”

“Ok. Although, I’m not too sure how much trouble I
can get into. There’s not much around here.”

I stand just outside the car
with my hands in my back pockets after shoving the phone and cash inside and look around the small town. There’s a few specialty shops, a bunch of bars, and a tiny shopping centre that houses only one large chain store – Target.

“You’d be surprised what goes on in small towns. Call,”
she reminds me, as I shut the door and she speeds off, her V8 motor cutting through the quiet of the town like a chainsaw.

I turn around and eye the motorcycle
shop. I'm not really sure that I want leathers. I’ll die of heat exhaustion. Deciding to leave the purchase ‘til last, I head over to Target. What I need most is underwear. I only have the pair I arrived in, so I’m getting kind of desperate.

Feeling blissfully alone, I take my time, moving around the shop and collecting a few items. When I reach the underwear section, I pause, looking at the sexy lace numbers hanging
from the racks. Visions of Cole between my legs, and pushing inside me fill my mind and cause my pussy to ache at the memory.

My hand reaches out to touch them, but I stop myself, heading instead for the simple black microfiber ones that hang in neat rows in the aisles behind. I grab a few bras, all simple, nothing
lacy, and head for the checkout. 

All up, I’ve purchased
the underwear, two pairs of jeans, a few T-shirts, some extra hair ties and a proper hair brush. Not bad for a girl who isn’t used to shopping.

As I pay, I feel a smile pull at my lips. It’s nice having money (ev
en if it did come from Prez).

Enjoying my freedom,
I stop off at a coffee shop and grab a bottle of Coke before I sit on the plastic seats outside, pulling out the phone my father gave me to use.

I flick through it, wondering whose it is. I open a few apps, but nothing has a login entered. Not even Facebook.

“Hmm, maybe bikers don’t use Facebook,” I ponder out loud to myself. But I do. I made an account on the library computers. It was the only way I could see what other kids in my school were doing. As long as I didn’t actually interact with their statuses, they didn’t seem to care that I was there. It was my only link to a normal life. Through their photos and conversations, I learned what I was missing, and I couldn’t stop watching.

I log in, and scroll through my newsfeed, stopping to look at a few photos and read about the mundane things that piss people off.

I’m just about to shut it off when I notice that I have messages. Thirteen of them. I tap the screen, wondering who it is, but dreading finding out. I’m pretty sure they’ll be from him.

The first message reads -

Madeline, my sunshine. Where are you? I just found out about your mother, and you aren’t answering your phone. You know where I am. I miss your sweet sugar. Liam.

I read on.

Where are you? I was trying to be nice. I was trying to let you come to me on your own. Don’t forget that I own you Sunshine. You belong to me. Don’t make me come and find you.

They become progressively more insulting as I read down, calling me every name under the sun as his anger becomes more and more obvious. Until the final one reads –

I will hunt you down Madeline. And when I find you, you’d better already be dead. No one runs from me. NO ONE.

FUCK OFF!
I type back. Feeling empowered until I notice the geotag under my message, telling him exactly where I am. My ears start buzzing from the sick feeling that’s taking over my body. Suddenly, I want to go back to the clubhouse. I want to be locked behind those gates.

I log out, and shut down Facebook, then open the call list. There’s only a few numbers in there, and one of them says
‘Mum’ and another says ‘Dad’. Tears burn the back of my eyes. I’m shaken from the awful messages, but at the same time touched. This is actually my phone, and I think they want me calling them ‘mum’ and ‘dad’. I haven’t been calling them anything really. And the few occaisions I’ve had to, I used their names – although that felt wrong, so I’ve avoided naming them.

Jesus, my life is a mess. There’
s just too much that I’m not in control of, and I want control. I want to be the master of my own destiny.

I tap on the word ‘Dad’, and hold the phone to my ear, waiting for it to connect.

“Yep,” he says as an answer.

“I’m ready.”

“Did you get the leathers like your mother asked?”

“Not yet, I’ll do that while I wait.”

“Be wearing them.”

He disconnects, and I smile at his brash tone
. I’m beginning to like Prez, and it makes me so sad that I missed out on him all my life.

I head over to the bike shop and push through the door. A bell rings over my
head, and the greying assistant behind the counter looks up at me. “You’re Prez and Carla’s daughter right?”

“Um, yeah.”

“Come with me.” He takes me around the store and hands me a jacket and chaps to go over my jeans.

“Seriously? Can’t I just wear the straight pants?”

“If you want,” he says. “But you won’t be able to get them off at the end of the day from all the sweatin’.”

I scrunch my nose up at the idea of sweating all day in a pair of leather pants and accept the chaps before going into the change room to try everything on.

I’ve got to admit, that I love the smell and feel of the leather, and I feel a little badass (but more like a wannabe) when I see myself in the mirror. I hear the door ring as I’m finishing up.

“She’s almost out,” the shop assistant says. I h
urry to gather my bags. Prez must be here.

“How much?” I hear as
I step into view. It’s not my father. It’s Cole.

My heart jumps in my chest, and I have this great urge to run over to him and wrap my arms around his neck. But I
don’t. I just stand there, holding my bags as I watch him count out money.

“What are you doing? I have money. I can pay.”

“Baby, it’s all the same. We’re family.” He looks me up and down, his gaze lingering at my feet. “Throw in some boots too,” he says to the assistant.

He brings me over a pair that are chunky, black and have a cool buckle on the side. Yeah, they’ll add to the badass
look for sure.

Cole hands over some more money and then collects all of my things from beside me as I pull on the boots. “Let’s go.”

“Why did you come to get me?” I ask as he stuffs my purchases into the bags that hang on either side of his bike. I wonder what they’re called. Are they saddle bags like with horses?

“Prez sent me.” He picks up the spare helmet and hands it to me, not really looking as he gets on the bike and waits.

“Are you pissed at me?”

“That depends. Are you still a fuckin’ psycho?”

“Fuck you, Cole. I’ll fuckin’ walk.” I take the helmet off and throw it onto the ground, then turn and stomp away, pulling down the zip of my stupid leather jacket and throwing that down on the ground too.

I break into a run. Heading
for the park lands I can see up ahead. There’s a sign that says there’s picnic grounds and bushwalking tracks inside. I just keep running, my boots crunch along the gravel footpath as I run straight past an elderly man walking his dog. The dog barks. I keep going.

Eventually, I run out of steam and stop on a patch of thick green grass
that leads down to a creek bed, to catch my breath. As I lean forward and brace myself on my knees, taking in a deep lungful of air, I’m sideswiped.

My feet lift off the ground as Cole tackles me. He fucking tackles me to the ground
. We go tumbling down the hill toward the creek bed, rocks and sticks sticking into me painfully as we slide, before finally coming to a stop at the water’s edge.

“What the fuck?! I stopped. You didn’t have to fucking tackle me!”
I yell, pushing at him because I want him to get off me.

Pushing up on his arms, he holds himself over me, looking at me intently with those fucking eyes of his. My breathing increases as I register his look. It’s a look that says I’m about to get fucked.

“Stop runnin’ away from me. Stop fightin’ me. This isn’t wrong,” he growls as he drops his mouth toward mine, taking me roughly with his lips. My hands that were against his chest are now pushing his cut off his shoulders and pulling his shirt over his head as I respond with equal fervour, kissing him with everything I have in me. “God baby, I need to be deep inside you. I fuckin’ need your tight pussy squeezin’ around my cock. I need you now.”

His hands work to unbutton my
jeans, pulling them down just enough so that he has access. Reaching down, he undoes his jeans, freeing his cock. I feel the slick wet tip of his arousal as he slides his cock up the inside of my thigh, while he slips his fingers between my folds, groaning when he feels how soaked I am.