Where Souls Spoil (45 page)

And fuck that.

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” I snap. From behind me, chairs scrape against the concrete floor and footsteps close in. Dawn’s eyes dart over my shoulders before they fall on me again. She jerks her chin up and smirks.

“You know what they say—can’t make a wife out of a whore,” she says and licks her lips. Looking me up and down she chuckles. “Like mother, like daughter, huh?”

Chapter 21

Shoving her chair
out of my way, I close the distance between us. Dawn is an inch or two shorter than me, but she’s curvier in all the right places. My chest heaves in anger, and my body is so fucking tense I think I could throw my fist through the brick wall behind her head. We may not know each other very well, but it’s no secret that my mom was a club slut who never could settle down, and it was fucking cheap of Dawn to bring my mother into this. And today of all days? She can’t know, but the damage is done and it doesn’t matter.

“Shit. I’ll go get Duke,” one of the prospects says from behind me. I purse my lips as adrenaline rushes through my veins and psyches me up for this shit. It’s been a long time since I’ve been in a fight with somebody aside from Duke. I’m seriously overdue.

“Keep talking, bitch,” I say. She looks to her left and smiles then nods her head. She’s dumber than she looks if she thinks this shit is going to be cool with the club.

“I can see why you like him, though. He’s hot and knows how to use his dick,” she says. “What have you done to him? The guy was desperate for a good fuck. Apparently he hasn’t had that in a while.” I take another step forward, and we’re standing chest to chest, both of us knowing that there’s no going back from this moment. The shit she’s saying about Duke kills me, but I can’t show her that. I can’t show any of them how much it hurts to hear her say that he was with her that night.

The Old Ladies have all been through this, and, in their own ways, they’ve had to claim their spot beside their man. It might not always be this public, but it almost always goes down like this. Old Ladies have to be tough, and if I want this—and I do—I’m going to have to suck it up and be strong for my man and our kid.

He may come in really late at times, but he’s been in my bed every night he can be. She could be lying, but some of the brothers are in the room. The vibe always changes when they walk in. It’s like a cloud of testosterone blankets everything in the confined space. I don’t think she’d lie in front of them. While they tolerate a lot of shit, flat-out lying about this kind of crap isn’t something they’re very fond of.

“He practically begged me to suck his dick,” she says. “Glad I did, too. He tasted sweet as ever. Would have fucked his brains out, but he had to go. Some pathetic bitch can’t even pay her light bill without his help.”

Without thinking about it, I reach up and wrap my hand around her throat and shove her backward, which throws her into the brick wall behind her. Her hands wrap around my wrist, trying to pull me off. She gives it as much force as she can, her eyes grow wide, and she gasps for air. But she went too fucking far, and every bit of rational thought has left me. I don’t know how she knows about the electric bill being past due, but her mention of it makes me feel like total shit. Worse than anything else she’s said.

Leaning in, I squeeze her throat and say, “You wanna talk shit, baby? Let’s talk shit. First of all, I don’t give a fuck that you sucked his dick, because he’s in my bed and he’s licking my pussy. He is mine. So again, fuck you. And I hope when he came, he did it in your mouth, and you swallowed—because that is the last time you will lay a finger on him.”

Strong hands wrap around my upper arms, gently guiding me backward, but I fight it off and lean in to her ear. Duke keeps his hands on my upper arms, but stops pulling. Very gently, he gives me a squeeze as a show of support. The scent of Duke’s soap wafts up my nose and has me on an emotional cliff. My body jerks in desperation to be left alone. He can’t be here, not now.

“Third, I guess you don’t know who I am,” I whisper into her ear, hoping he can’t hear. “I’m the bitch who has his baby, and that’s something you’ll never have.” I remove my hand from her throat and step back. I run right into Duke and have to swat him away. The last thing I want is him touching me right now. Dawn’s face is a purple-red as she strains to suck in as much air as she can. She bends forward and places her hands on her knees and continues to wheeze.

As I turn around, I find most of the club standing in the room. Nobody is saying a word, not even Mary, who has a small smile on her face. They’re all so silent that it’s unnerving. I just want somebody to hoot or laugh, or even to get pissed. Maybe Barbara could cry or something. But they don’t.

I walk away, and the farther I get, the further it sinks in that I just totally flipped out on that chick. She’s a stupid, mouthy whore who has no business copping an attitude like she does, but that shit was intense in a way I never want to feel again. Before I realize it, I’ve walked into the hallway that leads to Duke’s room. I blink at the walls on either side of me that are covered in framed photos of the club during various decades. Boots stomping against concrete sound behind me, growing louder with every passing second. I suck in a gasp, bringing myself back round to what’s going on, and I dart the rest of the way down the hall and into Duke’s room. I’m closing the door behind me when Duke shoves it open and strides in. He shuts it behind himself and leans against it.

“That bitch is gone,” he says. The last thing I want to hear is his voice in this moment. I can hear it as clearly in my head as if it just happened—he’s lying on the couch, and there she is fucking riding him. In my brain he’s telling her to get with the program. He sounds so distant and cruel—not at all how he sounds when he’s with me. But still, there he is. He’s fucking her, and I can’t unsee it no matter how much I want to. The images morph into something different—something I haven’t seen, but now will always feel as though I did. Dawn crawls down his body and takes him into her mouth. Closing my eyes, I place my hands over my face and force myself to focus on my breathing. The image continues to slice into my brain and heart. My stomach churns, and if the imagined visual of Dawn with her mouth around Duke’s dick doesn’t wane soon, I think I’m going to be sick.

He walks forward, invading my space. And he’s all soap and leather and sweat with a hint of maple syrup and some Jagermeister. His hands wrap around my wrists. My right wrist throbs under his touch. I’ll have to look and see how bruised up it is later. I fight against his hands as they pull mine away from my face, but it’s a losing battle. Dipping his head, he gets in my face and holds me close.

“Talk to me,” he demands.

“Don’t touch me,” I say and struggle to free myself. He’s just so much stronger than I am. I don’t even know why I bother. Moving closer, his beard brushes against my cheek. The soft tickle is an unwelcome reminder of how much time we’ve spent together the last several weeks, and how familiar he has become. How permanent he is in my life now. Every bit of him—his touch, his smell, his movements—is something I have come to expect when I see him and crave when he’s absent. And that image that won’t go away gives me a good idea of what he does when he’s not with me. Dawn was right about one thing—you can’t make a wife out of a whore. I don’t know why I let myself get to this place where I thought there was an “us” and I started to rely on his presence.

“Stop!” I scream and twist in his embrace. The word comes out so strangled it sounds as if it’s physically painful to say. And I say it again and again until my words rise into frenzied screams. Duke takes a step back, letting me go. The relief I expect to come at the loss of his touch never does. When I open my eyes and stare him down, I see the confusion on his face plain as day. And everything feels like it’s fucking spinning.

“Did you fuck her?” I ask even though I already know the answer.

“Not lately,” he says. Despite how much I’ve been fighting this—us—it helps soothe my fragile heart that he’s answering me. Some guys won’t own up to their shit to their Old Ladies, not that we’re at that level yet anyway.

“Did she suck your dick?” I demand.

“Yeah,” he says. I can feel the panic and sorrow engulfing me as he gets closer. I press myself against the long table behind me to keep him at bay. Pressing his body into mine, he uses his hands to keep my face pointed at his—tipped up with my neck craned back so far it’s uncomfortable.

“You fucking bastard,” I say. My words are the only weapon I have left, and fuck him if he thinks he’s going to take that away from me, too. “You do not get your dick sucked by some whore and then crawl into my bed and expect that shit to be okay.”

“Calm the fuck down, Nicole. It was back before we became something,” he says. His chest practically rumbles with every word he speaks.

“Oh, really?”

“I’m sick of the fucking drama,” he snaps. He and I haven’t had drama in a while, so I assume he’s talking about with the club, but I react as if he’s making it personal anyway.

“If you’re sick of me, then leave!” I say. My words come out not as the angry shout I’d like, but as a defeated plea. I shouldn’t let that stupid bitch get to me this bad. This day is just screwing my world up.

“I’m not going to prove you right that I’m just fucking around. Newsflash, Nicole—you’re whacked in the fucking head, and you’re a crazy ass bitch. I don’t just fuck around with this level of crazy, babe. It’s too much goddamn work. So start tellin’ me what’s got you acting so fucked up today.”

“You’re my man,” I whisper, trying to work up the nerve to tell him what’s sent me over the deep end. “I’m your woman.”

His mouth descends on mine. When our lips touch, it’s like a thousand lit candles have tipped over and onto my skin. Jolts of desperation and desire pour through me. In a flash, I’ve reached up and I’m clawing at his shoulders. His hands reposition themselves and hoist me up onto the table.

A loud knock sounds on the door as it flies open. Wyatt stands in the doorway and smirks, telling Duke they’ve got Church. Setting me back down on my feet, Duke strides out without even looking back.

Chapter 22

When Church is
over, Duke comes to his room and collects me. I hem and haw about telling him about the test on the way out, and he gets frustrated, not understanding why I’m stalling. I say, “We still need to talk.” But he isn’t up for hearing it. Something’s got him charged up, and he’s like a snake all coiled and ready to strike. So instead of blurting it out or demanding that he listen, I climb onto the back of his bike and don’t say another word until we’re back at the house.

As we move toward the front door, Duke’s cell rings. He stops in place and gives my ass a pat, saying, “Go on in, baby. I gotta take this. It’s Grady.”

My nerves are so shot, and I’m so on edge that I just nod and go on inside. The lights in the house are already on, telling me that Jeremy is home. I haven’t seen too much of him lately, but the times I have, it’s been better. He’s picked up after himself more, and he’s not been as mouthy. We still have our moments, but Duke’s presence in his life seems to be creating a turn-around for my brother.

“Hey,” Jeremy calls over the television. It sounds like he’s playing one of his video games that has him as a mercenary fighting evil in a foreign land. He got me to play once and spent the entire time explaining the game to me to a point that it sucked the fun right out of the experience. The sound from the TV stops, and he strides up to me. There’s an awkward look on his face, like he’s trying to work something out in his brain. Finally, he just asks, “You pregnant?”

The wind practically gets knocked right out of me. My face flushes, and I’m having trouble making sense of the question. Not because I don’t know what he’s talking about—obviously I do—but because he knows. The test. I left the test in the hall bathroom without even thinking about it. Duke was in such a rush, and I couldn’t sit in there all day, and the window is way too high up for me to have crawled through in order to run away

“He know?” Jeremy asks. I shake my head.

“Don’t say a word to him,” I warn. “I need to tell him in my own time.” Jeremy nods.

“Whatever. Love you, Sis. But you don’t want him knowing, you shouldn’t have left it in the bathroom.”

“‘Don’t want him knowing’ what?” Duke says from the open doorway. His deep voice slams into my heart in a way that makes it near impossible to keep upright. This is bad. This is so very bad. Not even my mouthy-ass brother says a thing. I turn around and face Duke. My eyes are wide and I shake my head. I keep trying to get the word “nothing” to come out of my mouth, but it won’t. This isn’t nothing. This is everything.

“What did you leave in the bathroom, Nicole?” he asks. His eyes survey mine for an answer. “I’m giving you the benefit of explaining before I find out for myself.”

“Just, nothing. Stop, okay?” I say as quickly as I can. I throw my hands up in the air and move to block his way down the hall. His muscles tense as he shoves me out of the way and stomps down the hall to the bathroom. I can hear his feet pacing the room for a minute before he stops. The metal wastebasket scrapes against the tile floor, and still he’s silent. I cast a glance at Jeremy, who’s stone faced and unmoving. His large frame folds in on itself and for a moment, he’s just a kid again. He’s my little brother who’s in trouble because he broke one of mom’s stupid QVC dolls.

Duke’s heavy footfalls sound in the bathroom, and he appears in the hall. In his right hand is the offending pregnancy test. The expression on his face is almost unreadable in its anger. I back up into the wall that separates the living room and kitchen.

“This nothing?” he asks with a bite to his tone. “This what you don’t want me to know about?”

I shake my head from side to side, almost in disbelief that this is happening. All day I’ve been so worried about telling him and how he’d react. All day I’ve thought it over and tried to make sense of having a baby. I’ve been searching for some sign that I can do this and I won’t fuck it up. But I’ve found nothing.

“No,” I say. It doesn’t come out pissed off and powerful like I intend. It’s a whisper, followed by a violent panic that overcomes me. He’s angrier than I expect. For the first time since I’ve known him, I’m honestly afraid of him.

“Didn’t want me to know, huh?” He asks, closing the distance between us. Less than a foot away now and the cloud of testosterone he always carries with him washes over me. “Knew you were hiding something, babe. I knew there was something you weren’t telling me—something you didn’t want me finding out about. This it?”

“I didn’t,” I begin, but he cocks an eyebrow up and leans in closer. His eyes are cold and unwavering. “Know how… to say it...”

“Jesus Christ,” he growls. “You tellin’ me the kid ain’t mine?” He pulls back a second and then slams his fist into the wall beside me. I close my eyes shut and tense up. It’s been a long time since I slept with anybody but him, so no. That’s not even a possibility. A single tear slides down my cheek. Duke growls and throws his hand into the wall again. Mistaking my reaction for confirmation, he brings a hand up to my chin and tilts my face so I’m forced to look at him. “Tell me you been fuckin’ around on me.”

“Fuck you,” I snap and shove him off of me. It does no good. He moves in and covers my body with his own. He’s got me sandwiched uncomfortably between his hard chest and the wall behind me. “I haven’t been with anybody else in months!” I use my arms to try to push him back, but he doesn’t allow it.

“Then why don’t you want me to know?” he says. His voice is gravelly as he lowers his head and rests it on top of my own.

“Because,” I begin, “I might not want this. I might not be able to do this.” I scrunch my eyes shut to stop myself from crying. The idea of not having this baby after I’ve spent the entire day thinking about it makes me want to barf. If it wasn’t Duke’s, I don’t think I’d keep it. But it is his, and this is us. But if he doesn’t want the baby?

“Might not want it? Like an abortion?” he says and pulls back. “You thinkin’ about killing our baby?” Though his voice has lowered, the anger wafts off of him in powerful waves. I go to respond, but he doesn’t give me a chance. “Not gonna happen, Nicole.”

He places his large hand on my stomach and lets his thumb make circles there. The action is so gentle and soft that I almost miss the words he’s saying. “This is my baby. You don’t want it? Fine. You can split once it’s born. But until then? I don’t give a fuck if I have to lock your ass in the clubhouse under twenty four-seven supervision until then. You don’t get to take that away from me.”

“I was scared,” I admit. Despite his threat, there’s relief in knowing that he wants this. As fucked as it is, I find solace in knowing he cares about this baby enough to go through me to make sure it’s okay. Knowing my mother and how well I’ve done with Jeremy, I need that comfort. I need to know that this kid has somebody on its side.

“Truth time,” he says and takes a step back. “This all you’re hiding?” I take a deep breath and look him in the eye. Over his shoulder is Jeremy, whose shoulders are tight. His eyes are locked on Duke. He looks so pissed off that I worry he and Duke are going to fight any moment. For all the times my brother is a shithead, I know he loves me.

“No,” I say. Better now than later on. “Darren Jennings offered to help my dad. It was stupid. I’m sorry.” I clench my fists at my sides and refuse to crumple under the weight of his stare. “But I changed my mind. I asked him to stop.”

“Club business, Nicole. Club-fucking-business. What were you thinking?” he asks and then goes off the rails, screaming and shouting about keeping my mouth shut and silence and how to be an Old Lady. He reminds me that I have no right interfering with that shit, and he throws his fist into the wall one more time—this time closer to my head.

“Shut it down. Call him and shut it the fuck down!”

“Back off, you’re scaring the shit out of her,” Jeremy screams and shoves Duke away from me. My stomach drops in fear for Jeremy’s safety, but my body won’t respond. My legs wobble, and I slide to the floor as the two wrestle toward the door.

With wide eyes and a panicked expression, Duke holds Jeremy’s neck on both sides. He’s not squeezing, but his grip is tight, as evidenced by the white of his knuckles. Duke stares into Jeremy’s neck with his back to the open front door and says on a plea, “I gotta get out of this house.”

Duke leaves, and Jeremy quickly slams the door shut then locks it behind him. With a few strides, he’s kneeled down beside me, but the closer he gets the less I can handle it.

“Please go,” I whisper. “I need… some time alone.” He waits a moment before standing and walking to his room.

I give myself a while before I summon the courage to call Darren. With the calmest voice I can manage, I ask him to come by the house to return the file I gave him last week that contains all of my dad’s legal paperwork. He knows something’s up, because he asks me repeatedly what’s wrong in that pretend kind voice he uses in public.

When he arrives at the house, my eyes are red, but dry. He wants to know why I don’t want his help anymore, and he’s inviting himself into the living room.

“I’ve done a lot of work on this,” he says with a sigh. I try to keep my distance, but wherever I move in the living room, he follows and stays within reach. If everything with Duke wasn’t fucking me up so bad right now, I might see it coming. But I don’t.

“Why the change of heart?” he asks.

“The club’s handling it,” I say. “I have to trust them.”

“You didn’t want the club’s help before. What’s changed?”

So much has changed. Duke being here and us working on being less fucked up together, and now making our own family? It’s more like what
hasn’t
changed. But Darren doesn’t deserve all of that. He barely deserves what I’m giving him now.

“I’m with Duke now,” I say. It’s the simplest answer, and even though I don’t want to invite him into this part of my life, I need this to be as quick as possible. Jeremy’s just in the other room, but it feels like he’s a million miles away.

Darren’s entire mood changes. He goes from thoughtful and annoyed to red-faced angry in a matter of moments. Then, just like always before, a sinister smile appears on his face, and I already know what’s coming.

He reaches out and grabs my arm tight and shoves me against the wall behind me. Bending down and in my face he hisses, “I had hope for you once. But it’s too late now. You’re nothing but a filthy whore.”

“Stop it,” I say as loudly as I can, hopeful that Jeremy can hear me. I open my mouth to yell for Jeremy when Darren raises his arm in the air, but the blow comes too soon. Right across my mouth, and a throbbing sensation erupts in my jaw and cheek. Darren grabs a hold of my hair and pulls my head back so I have to look up at him. “You’ll just fuck anybody, won’t you? You gonna fuck me?”

His free hand works at the fly of his jeans, causing me to freak out. I start to scream and fight him off, but the hand he places over my mouth silences me and pulls my body down the wall. “Actually, I think I’m gonna let you suck my dick. Just remember what happens if you bite.”

Shoved down to my knees, I push myself against the wall and keep my head turned to the side with my eyes clenched shut. Darren frees himself from his pants and grips his dick in his hand. Through the paralyzing fear of what he’s trying to do, I find the courage to fight back. Years ago, I didn’t fight back like I should have when he forced himself on me, because he convinced me that I deserved it. But now? Now I have something more important to fight for.

My baby.