Page 13 of Tattered on My Sleeve (Lost Kings MC 4)

  “I’ve always been your friend.” Okay, maybe not entirely true. But I’ve always loved her. Except how would she know that from my shitty behavior?

  “You know what I mean.”

  “No, I don’t. What we did yesterday was anything but friendly,” I sneer.

  She flushes bright pink. “Yeah, it was a good time.”

  A good time? A good fucking time? I pause. She’s trying to piss me off. Push me away. Why?

  Trying a softer approach, I tuck a few strands of hair behind her ear, “Trinity, I thought we could—”

  She cuts me off. “Wrath, whatever’s going on in your head, just stop. Neither one of us is capable of it right now.”

  What. The. Fuck?

  How fucking dare she tell me what I’m capable of? I’ve tortured myself. Agonized over this woman for eight fucking years. Just when does she think we’ll be capable?

  “How much more time would you like, Trinity? It’s been eight goddamn years.”

  She’s got no answer for me. Before I do something stupid, again, I walk away.

  I jog upstairs to grab my phone and text the guy who arranges the fights. There’s no way I’m gonna be able to contain this rage. He can’t get one scheduled right away, but he promises me something big.

  I’m going to need it.

  The tears I’d been holding on to all morning finally let loose as I’m folding laundry, of all things.

  Yesterday with Wrath? Un-fucking-believably amazing. Yet also a complete mindfuck that threw me into the past with a painful thump. Admitting how much I trusted him cut me deep.

  Telling him I only wanted to be friends this morning?

  Bleeding-out-on-the-floor painful.

  I let him believe I thought he was the problem. When deep down, I know it’s me. I’m too fucked up. Too damaged to ever be anything more than I am now. A club whore.

  Maybe no one calls me that here. But we all know that’s what I am. Wrath’s kidding himself if he thinks he can change that.

  A few more of those thoughts and I’m sobbing into the clean towels. Warm, fresh-scented terrycloth soaking up my tears.

  “Trinity, what’s wrong?” Rock’s voice behind me startles me out of my sobfest.

  Straightening up and willing away the tears, I turn and face the only man—besides my father—who’s protected me without expecting a damn thing in return.

  I can’t burden him with my emotional meltdown. “Nothing. I’m good.”

  Concern etches his face. His shrewd eyes take me in, lingering on my neck. “Did someone hurt you?”

  Fuck. I forgot the hickeys Wrath left all over me. Jackass.

  Sniffling the last of my tears away, I shake my head. “No. I’m fine.”

  “Trinity. Talk to me.” He reaches out and gently takes the towel out of my hands and sets it on the washer. After a second, he pulls me into his arms.

  The floodgates open. In between all the tears, I’m fucking mortified. I hate crying or showing vulnerability in front of anyone. A long time ago, I learned showing weakness gives people a weapon to use against you.

  Although, if I had to cry in front of anyone, at least it’s Rock. He won’t make fun or take advantage of me.

  “Wrath hates me,” I mumble against his shirt.

  Rock’s body stiffens for a moment. Then he rubs my back. “Honey, ever since I’ve known him, he’s carried a fuckload of rage inside. Got nothing to do with you.”

  “I don’t know what he wants from me.”

  Rock sighs. “He cares about you. Always has.”

  A hiccup jumps out of me.

  “You care about him?”

  “Yes,” I answer miserably.

  “You love him?”

  A fresh river of tears flows down my cheeks. “I don’t know how.”

  “Honey, did you ever talk to him? Tell him about your past?”

  “No. He was so angry with me and kept trying to push me out of the club. I never tried.”

  Above me, Rock curses. “I’m sorry, Trinity. I was in a shitty place myself back then, and didn’t realize how serious he was about you. I should have done things differently.”

  His words scald. “You would have kicked me out?”

  “No. Of course not. I would have locked you two in a fucking room and made you sort your shit out, though.”

  I can’t help laughing at the image that pops into my head.

  “That’s better.”

  I risk a glance up at him. “Is Hope here with you?”

  “No, I stopped by to catch up on a few things. Why? Would you feel better talking to her about this instead of me?”

  I’m startled by the offer. “Oh, no. She already probably thinks I’m trash. I couldn’t—”

  His hold on me tightens even as the hard lines of his face soften. “Hey. I don’t ever want to hear you say that about yourself again. I know for a fact she likes you very much.”

  Something about that makes me happy. I don’t have many girlfriends in my life. Club girls don’t really count, as they all see me as competition. “I’m sorry. I know you have more important things to deal with.”

  Rock pins me with one of his serious stares. “Trinity, you are important to me. If you need something, I want you to tell me. Always.”

  “Okay.”

  “Why don’t you finish this later? Guys need towels, they can walk their lazy asses down here and grab them. Go for a walk outside and clear your head.”

  It’s a perfect suggestion. Rock knows me well. I can happily get lost walking through the trails on the property for hours sometimes. Rock and Wrath have always insisted I take a pistol with me in case I run into trespassers or a bear. I grab one I’m familiar with out of the safe. As I’m locking it up and grabbing a jacket, Z and Wrath come in the front door.

  “Hey, mama,” Z greets me with a peck on the cheek. Wrath’s nostrils flare. Any jealousy he’s feeling is pointless. Z and I haven’t been more than friends in a long time. The only thing we do these days is bitch to each other about our shitty love lives. He keeps moving past me and walks into the office, closing the door behind him.

  Wrath lifts his chin at me. “Where you going?”

  I’m still so fucking messed up I can’t meet his eyes. I’ll lose it if he sees that I’ve been crying over him. Over us.

  “Just for a walk. Don’t worry. I’m armed,” I say, trying to lighten the gloom around us.

  That brings a smirk to his lips. “Good.” His gaze darts to the closed office door. “I gotta take care of something, but if you can hang on a couple minutes, I’ll go with you.”

  “That’s okay. I want to be alone.”

  His jaw ticks, but he doesn’t ask again.

  I’m still fuming from Trinity’s rejection—actually, make that two rejections; she wouldn’t even take a damn walk with me—when we sit down to church this week. I finally got my fight scheduled earlier in the day and drop it on the club right before we finish.

  “Gonna be a fuck ton of money if we play it right. Three fights. I go last. Kid they want me up against is coming from professional MMA.”

  “No shit,” Z says.

  Smug grin firmly in place, I agree with my brother. “Yup. Fucker won’t have any idea how to fight dirty. Piece of cake.”

  Teller stares down at the notes he brought to the meeting. “We could use an influx of cash.” He glances at Rock. “How much is the club comfortable parting with?”

  “Fuck you,” I growl. How dare he suggest I might not win?

  Rock holds out his hand. “Simmer the fuck down. It’s Teller’s job to be risk averse with our money. Nothing against you.”

  Teller nods. “Sorry, brother.”

  Everyone approves the rather large amount Rock suggests, and we break. Guys stream out into the clubhouse.

  Rock motions me to sit back down. Before I do that, I walk over and swing the door shut. Judging by the grim look he’s wearing, I have a feeling he’s going to want privacy for whatever he’s a

bout to unload on me.

  “This fight have anything to do with why I found Trinity crying in the laundry room yesterday? Did you hurt her?”

  Shocked because I had no idea, I bristle at Rock sticking his nose in my business. Especially where Trinity is concerned. “Leave it alone, prez.”

  His eyes turn violent. “No, you don’t listen. I told you to leave her—”

  “She said yes.”

  Rock slams his fist into the table. “Motherfucker, she’ll always say yes.”

  “Good, that’s what she’s here for, isn’t it?” I shoot back.

  “You’re such an asshole.”

  I’ve been holding this back for years, and the words explode out of me as I jump out of my chair and get in his face. “You fucking knew how I felt about her.”

  Rock has never been intimidated by anyone in his life. He gets right back in my face. “You’re lucky I got so much love for you, brother, or I’d knock your fucking head off your shoulders.”

  I sneer back at him. “Love to see you try, brother.” A little calmer, I add, “You knew I didn’t want her up here as club ass. Yet you chose her over me.”

  “Are you serious right now? Do you have any idea what kind of people were after her?”

  What? “No! Because no one told me a fucking thing.”

  “It wasn’t my story to tell.” He points at my abandoned chair. “Sit the fuck down.”

  I yank my chair out so hard it bounces off the wall, leaving a dent in the plaster. Rock pulls the chair next to me around and leans on the back of it. “She told you she grew up around an MC, right?”

  “Yeah, anyone can tell within five minutes of meeting her.”

  “Her father was a member of the Silver Saints.”

  Fuck. Anyone who knew about the Silver Saints knew there was nothing saintly about that crew. A bad feeling crawled over my skin. Whatever he was going to tell me would be horrible.

  “Her father—Ryan “Bishop” Hurst—was one scary fuck. Grinder took me out there once when I was a prospect.” He raises an eyebrow at me. “Bishop was their sergeant-at-arms.” I’m not sure what to do with that information, so I nod for Rock to continue. “Shortly after I met him, he got put away on some bullshit charge. Should have been a three year stint at the most. His ‘brothers’ kept asking him to do so many ‘favors’ on the inside, he had years added to his sentence.”

  That’s not an uncommon scenario in our world. “Fuck.”

  “Yeah. Trinity was eight when her dad went away. Her mother started earning her keep with the Saints on her back the day Bishop went inside.” I don’t bother asking how Rock knows this. Motherfucker has an uncanny way of collecting information when he wants to. “When Trinity’s ten, someone burns down their trailer. Incidentally, this is right around the time her dad carried out his first ‘favor.’”

  “Payback?”

  “Probably, or the mother trying to get insurance money. Her mom’s not all there. She… Fuck, after the dad went away, her mom started tying Trinity to her bed at night so she didn’t accidentally see something she shouldn’t.”

  “Jesus Christ.”

  “So the fire starts. She can’t get out ‘cause she’s tied to her fucking bed. Someone, I’m assuming the assholes who started the fire, hear her screaming and get her out. I don’t think torching a kid was on their agenda.”

  “Where the fuck was her mother?”

  “Oh, she made it out fine. ‘Forgot’ about Trin.”

  “Cunt.” I may be crude, but that’s a word I reserve for special occasions. Women who leave their little girls tied to beds are most definitely cunts.

  “Yeah. So the Saints’ president takes them in. I’m sure you can guess why. Her dad gets shanked not long after. She’s got no protection at all. She’s club property.”

  I shake my head, knowing what he’s going to say next.

  “They turned her out at sixteen.”

  All my life, I’ve lived with a fuckload of rage inside. It’s how I got the name Wrath. It’s why I indulge in underground fighting. To unleash all that anger I carry with me. But knowing exactly what those words mean, I realize I’d underestimated myself. Because every bit of fury I’d ever experienced up until today was a slight flicker of irritation compared to what races through me hearing the woman I love—

  “They rape her?” I choke out.

  Rock’s eyes close and then open. “I don’t think that’s how she sees it. She went along with things so they didn’t hurt her even worse. I think she has it in her head she’s at fault somehow? But we both know she wasn’t in any way able to consent to that shit.”

  “How many?” I whisper hoarsely, staring at my best friend.

  Rock tilts his head and gives me a sad look. I see it in his face. They made her pull a train. The entire club would have gone at her. At six-motherfucking-teen. She was a kid, for fuck’s sake. The same age Teller’s mouthy little sister is now.

  Christ, the daily beatings I took from my drunken father seem like a trip to Disneyland compared to Trinity’s childhood.

  “Let me finish. You understand what an MC like Silver Saints is going to do to a beautiful sixteen-year-old girl with no one to protect her?”

  I nod because I’m too sick to speak. I’ve seen adult women pull that shit, and it ain’t pretty. And I’ve been in some fucked-up shit myself. Half those fucked-up things were with the man right in front of me. But never someone unwilling or a kid—just, no.

  “She got away at eighteen and worked her way here. You and I both know crews like the Saints don’t enjoy losing property, especially property that can go to the cops and spill secrets. She grew up in that clubhouse, hearing and seeing all sorts of shit. Their president wanted her back—bad.”

  “They put a bounty on her.”

  “Yes—a big one. I don’t think she understood the risk she was taking working the Blue Fox, even if it wasn’t Saint’s territory.”

  “Shit.”

  Rock nods sympathetically. “Yeah. While you were on that run, one of them spotted her in the bar. He threatened her—told her he was taking her back to that hellhole. She knew what was in store for her if she went back. She was terrified. She called and asked for my help.” He pins me with a hard stare. “I couldn’t let her get hurt. We needed someone to take care of the clubhouse. I offered her the job and our protection. Nothing more. She’s the one who made herself available to the club, not me.”

  Fuck. “Why?”

  “You lay claim on her?”

  “No. But I told her I’d take care of her.”

  Rock looks at me in his special Are you stupid? way.

  “Where is this sick fuck—”

  Anger twists his face and his hands curl into the back of the chair he’s leaning against. “Shut up,” he spits out. “For once in your fucking life where she’s concerned, listen to me. Are you going to step the fuck up and own her ass or not? ‘Cause if not, stop wasting my fucking time reliving this shit.” He shakes his head, then pins me with another glare. “I’ll never forget the look on her face when she told me this story.”

  “If she’ll let me, but Rock, you gotta know it’s hard to forget she’s been with some of my brothers.” What the fuck? Why did I even say that? That’s been my go-to excuse for why I’m a dick to her for so long, now the words fucking fly out all on their own.

  “If that’s all you’re worried about after what I just told you, then you don’t fucking deserve her, you asshole.”

  He waits for me to say something, but I shake my head. He’s right.

  “Trin has watched more girls go down on you over the years than I don’t know what, so you’ll just have to shut the fuck up about who she’s been with. ‘Cause it must have hurt her every time.”

  Every time I did it, I did it to piss her off because she fucking hurt me. Holy fuck. We’re so goddamn dysfunctional and twisted. I don’t know if I can ever fix us.

  But I want to try.

  “Tell me the rest.”

  He shrugs in his dickish manner he’s perfected over the years. “What’s to tell?”

  I grit my teeth, because I know the fucker’s going to make me work for every scrap of information.

  After a brief staring contest, he finally continues. “That charter of the Silver Saints no longer exists. I put Tyler in the ground to cancel that fucking bounty and then slowly helped Stump’s crew dismantle them. She and I haven’t spoken about it since the day I told her the bounty was done and she was property of Lost Kings, free and clear.”

  “Why didn’t I know? Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve wanted a piece of that.”

  “You were gone all the time, sorting shit out for the club. The club wouldn’t have survived without you.”

  Yeah, and I know Rock was back here cleaning up the mess our last president and VP left. And apparently working side-by-side with Stump. Doesn’t matter, I’m still fuckin’ pissed.

  “When you were here,” he continues, “you two were too busy going to war and trying to see who could hurt who the most. I didn’t think you gave a fuck.”

  “That’s fucking bullshit and you know it.”

  “I thought I was protecting her. She’d been through enough.” His shoulders lift in a careless shrug, and the urge to knock him the fuck out returns. “You gonna cry about it or move forward?”

  “Fuck you.”

  This time Rock stares me down and I can see the misery on his face. “I’ve never seen that girl cry once in eight years. Not even when she told me this horrible story.”

  “You should have told me.”

  He doesn’t react to my raised voice at all. “Can I finish?” he asks with a solemn expression. I know damn well Rock takes responsibility for everything bad that happens to any of us. I’m just so fucking furious and he’s the most convenient place to direct my anger.

  I nod for him to continue.

  “Yesterday I found her crying, so whatever you did—”

  “I didn’t do anything, we—”

  He shakes his head, cutting me off. “I don’t want details. I didn’t realize she never told you, until yesterday.”

  “So that’s why you’re finally coming clean, eight years later?”

  “I was trying to protect her the best way I knew how.”