Page 9 of Bad for You

Chapter Three

Jesse

A week later

I curled my fingers into a tight fist, my knuckles bleeding and split, and spat at my brother’s feet. He stared up at me, battered and bloody, his hatred for me shining bright.

The feeling was mutual.

“This is done, you hear me?” I tore his Ramblers cut from his hands, and shoved a sobbing Sofia behind me. I glanced at her, at the bruises on her face, her arms, some faded, some new, and kicked the prick in the ribs one more time.

Maybe I should feel bad, feel anything after beating the shit out of my own brother, for taking everything from him. But I didn’t. Seeing Sofia had cured me of any sentiment towards Trip.

We were blood, but we’d parted ways a long time ago, right about the time he’d become a carbon copy of our abusive father.

He was nothing. He didn’t exist to me anymore.

Rooster, a club brother from Albert, had joined me a few days ago. He’d been sent to help me clean up the mess Trip had made. He’d spilled his guts without much encouragement, given us the names of the traitors to save his own skin. Not the old man though. He was protecting that fucker, even now.

I stood back as Rooster torched Trip’s bike, then I crouched down beside him, got in his face. “I ever see you again, anyone in the club sees you again, you come anywhere near Sofia…and you’re dead,” I bit out.

I gave Rooster a chin lift, tossed Trip’s cut on the blaze, then took my sister-in-law’s hand and led her away from the warehouse parking lot. We both got on my bike, and tore off.

I wanted her away from Trip. Away from all of it.

I found an old barn a few miles out of town that I could stash my bike behind and was far enough from the farmhouse that we shouldn’t be woken in the night by some pissed-off, gun-wielding farmer.

As much as I wanted to get Soph as far away from here as I could, she was exhausted and it wasn’t safe for her to ride.

She shuffled in after me, trembling. I pulled the blanket out of my pack and wrapped it around her. She immediately curled up on a pile of hay on the ground and squeezed her eyes closed.

Trip had broken her. Just like the old man had broken my mom.

“Okay, Soph?”

She nodded.

We both knew she wasn’t. But I didn’t push.

I needed to get her back to Albert, to the club where they could keep her safe until I finished what needed to be done. Clear out the rest of the trash. Then I’d take her home to Black Stone.

Away from any memories of Trip.

A short time later, I was lying on a pile of hay as well, staring out one of the grimy windows.

They reminded me of the ones we’d had in the basement when I was a kid. I ran my hand over my shaved head, my mouth going dry.

How many times had I’d crawled down there battered and bleeding, hiding from the old man after he’d beaten the shit out of me. Lying there in the dark listening, unable to move, unable to do anything as he turned his anger on my mom.

I reached for my phone, telling myself that I needed to send an update to Stones, my president, but it was bullshit. I wanted, no needed, to talk to Lila.

I started typing and couldn’t stop.

Jesse: Christ, I miss you. Wish you were with me. I’d pull you in close, those gorgeous fucking curves against me, your ass in my hands. I’d just hold you like that, breathe you in. Love the way you smell, Bambi. Fucked up the last time I had you in my bed. If I had the chance again, I’d make you feel so good. I’m a bastard ’cause I want all that sweetness you got, all that beauty back on me. I want inside you so bad I can barely breathe. I want to make you laugh. Fuck, I just want to talk to you.

My finger hovered over the send button. I stared at the message I’d just typed and growled. What the hell are you thinking? Idiot. I smashed my thumb down on the delete arrow wiping the screen clear.

Jesse: Hope you’re happy, baby.