Shelter (Red Rebels MC Book 5) Page 5

  As he drove he lit a cigarette. Fuck, Christ this was such a mess. He’d seen it coming, noticed the way Jolene was pulling back from the club after Mickey’s death. He hadn’t spoken a word of it to anyone. He just tried to subtly let Jolene know he was around if she needed a talk.

  On top of this raging concern he was also fucking pissed. What the hell was she thinking, getting picked up at a bar? She was still Mickey’s old lady. She was also still a soft target for someone to get at the club.

  And where the fuck was Tims? The new patch had been told to watch Jolene’s house day and night. Was she sneaking out just to find trouble?

  He’d deal with Tims later. First, Jolene and her Romeo.

  Dog’s lot was empty except for a pickup with Nevada plates. Okay, so the guy wasn’t local. That was maybe part of the issue. He wouldn’t recognize Jolene as being off limits. The neon sign over the doors was off, and the sodium lamps were also dark by now. When he tried the door, however, it opened.

  Knuckles moved past the never-used coat check area across from a bank of pay phones, then he was in the bar itself, opposite the stage across a huge dance floor. Tables to the right, bar to the left, bathrooms behind. The place was lit up like closing time and a new waitress was mopping the floor, her eyes looking suspiciously to the door as he walked in. Then she sniffed and pointed across the floor to the tables.

  It was still a bit dimmer in this part of the bar, but it wasn’t hard to find the people he was looking for. They were kinda dancing. Sort of. Mostly tongue wrestling and groping.

  The rage that coiled in his chest was strange. He was far more pissed with Jolene than this guy. It was like watching his friend’s wife cheat, even though that was totally illogical.

  “Okay, guy,” Knuckles drawled, tapping the dude’s shoulder. “Her ride’s here. You can let her up for air now.”

  Disentangling his face from Jolene, the guy spun, ready to be pissed, and Knuckles was, in turn, ready for that too. He wasn’t huge, but he had a few inches on this particular asshole. He used it to step close and stare the guy down.

  “Fuck off,” the guy said anyway, and that’s when Knuckles realized this prick wasn’t even drunk.

  Jolene certainly was, though. At the loss of the guy holding her, she slumped sideways, hitting the ground and taking a table with her. The chairs had been piled up top and they fell around her. As she put her arms up by slow reflex she was laughing.

  This piece of shit was moving in on a woman too drunk to say yes or no. Knuckles evaluated how much he didn’t like this guy.

  He was shorter, a bit older, with a beer gut that barely stayed put inside the denim shirt he had on. He wore cowboy boots that matched his belt, had a few rings on, thinning hair up top, and he thought he was pretty tough.

  “I said, fuck off,” the guy repeated, poking Knuckles in the chest.

  Since the guy wasn’t from around here, Knuckles was somewhat okay writing him off as stupid and letting him go on his way. Until he’d realized the guy was taking advantage of someone. Now there was a lesson required, and luckily the guy was sober enough to remember it.

  “That’s my girl on the floor,” Knuckles lied, stepping back and shrugging out of his hoodie. “She’s a drunk mess, about two minutes away from passing out. Was that the plan? Wait for her to be unconscious?”

  “Fuck you. She said she didn’t have a man.”

  “Well that’s weird, because here I am.” Knuckles tossed his hoodie onto the upended leg of a chair, then held his arms out.

  The guy let his denim coat hit the floor, then he came at Knuckles with a roundhouse swing that made Knuckles wonder at the actual sobriety. Not that he cared.

  “Knuckles, stop.” Jolene was getting to her feet, but he had to concentrate on the dance partner he already had.

  It became obvious the guy was a barroom brawler. He likely won fights with sucker punches. But Knuckles had always been quicker than anyone else he got in the ring with. A few avoided jabs and the guy was panting and getting really agitated.

  “Knuckles, don’t!”

  Fuck this. He had to get Jolene out of here. He stepped into the asshole’s arm span and put him down with one uppercut. Then he pulled his hoodie on, letting his guard down. Which was stupid.

  “You fuckin’ ash-ole!”

  Jolene jumped on his back, arms coming around his upper body.

  “Jolene!”

  “Why can’t y’all just leave me the fuck alone?”

  He wasn’t even thrown off balance, but she repositioned one arm around his chest and was hitting at his head with the other. Without thinking, he turned and slammed his back to the wall.

  “Oww! Fuck!”

  She let go, and when he stepped away she dropped, hitting the floor like a pile of laundry. Even though she was crying, he knew she wasn’t hurt. Drunks didn’t get hurt. He got on his knees in front of her and helped her sit up against the wall.

  “Jolene?”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Jolene, listen to me.”

  “Fuck you!”

  He sighed, rubbing at his forehead. She was too far gone to talk to. Nothing would absorb. So, he stood, stooped to pick her up, and threw her over his shoulder. She went limply, then started kicking and hitting his back.

  The motion had pulled his ribs, but whatever. He wasn’t making any more of a scene in front of people who had no business knowing what was up with the hellcat on his shoulder.

  “Fuck you!” she was shrieking, her pathetically weak blows like punctuation. At Tiny’s truck he tossed her in the passenger side but in the back of the extended cab, then engaged the child lock before shutting the door. Of course, she tried to pull it open. When she couldn’t, she went really ape shit, kicking at the window. He pulled the door open and grabbed her legs, pulling off one shoe then the other, and shut the door again.

  “Asshole!”

  He got in the driver’s seat, expecting another attack but it didn’t come. He started the truck and waited, but all he could hear was quiet crying. When the moaning started, he figured she’d gotten over the anger and was currently on “sad.” Sad was fine, he could handle that until he got her...

  Where, exactly?

  He didn’t want to leave her at the house she’d shared with Mickey, and certainly not alone. Taking her to the clubhouse would only bring questions. He had to take her to his place. There was no spare bed, but he’d take the couch.

  By the time he’d pulled into his driveway, she was breathing heavily, which told him she’d passed out. Thank Christ. He carried her, on his shoulder again, to the front door and let himself in. The door locked behind them, Knuckles crossed the dark living room and then padded down up the stairs and down the hallway to his bedroom. He was sure the sheets were still clean. He’d only slept in them once, and he never brought women here.

  The main light was still on, so he carefully eased Jolene into the bed, removing her socks, then covered her with the blankets. He set the lamp back in its rightful place, then left her in the dark room. He pulled an old sleeping bag from the hall closet and made up a bed on the sofa.

  He didn’t think he’d get to sleep with all the light coming in front the street lights in front of the house, but eventually he did doze off.

  -oOo-

  “Neenie,” he moaned with a laugh, pushing at the hands that were pulling on his belt. “I was sleeping.”

  There was no answer, but when his cock was free of his jeans, all he worried about was the feel of her hot mouth, sucking him deep. A groan came from low in his gut. Her tongue ran up the underside, and that’s when he had to frown.

  “Did you take out the tongue ring?” he asked, then groaned again as she swallowed all the way to the back of her throat. “Fuck, babe. You’ve been practicing.”

  His hands went to the back of her head, wanting to pull on her long hair. But it wasn’t loose. It was coiled up and pinned, he could feel the metal.

  His eyes flew open, and he recogn
ized the ceiling of the living room. A car drove by, the headlights sending a sharp shaft of light over the popcorn. Then he looked down.

  “Fuck, oh fuck.”

  He pushed at the brunette straddling his legs, and she tumbled off the couch. He thought he was going to be sick.

  “What the hell, Jolene?” he shouted, stuffing himself back into his jeans.

  From the floor, she looked up at him, blinking rapidly. “What?” She was still totally pinned.

  He reached for his phone and checked the time. Four in the morning. “Go back to bed, Jolene.”

  “What? You liked that.”

  Jesus. Jesus. “You need to go back to sleep.” He reached down, grabbed her arm, and pulled her to her feet, dragging her down the hall. “Go to bed. Sleep this shit off. Honest to God, you pull shit like that again I’m knocking sense into you no matter who you were married to.”

  He slammed the door. No way was he tucking her in.

  He sat back on his makeshift bed, running both hands through his hair. Thank Christ he opened his eyes when he had. Even now his cock was deflated, almost like it was sheepish to have been involved at all.

  Fuck. Fuck. He had no idea what to do with that. Jolene was in a downward spiral, that much was certain. Knuckles knew Jolene and Mickey were still ridiculously hot for each other, even after being together for so many years. Mickey never gave in to the run rule, never had to. He had a woman at home ready to let other women in their bed just to keep him interested and satisfied. And she was hot. Jesus, Jolene was fucking gorgeous with that cute rockabilly chick style, bright eyes, pale but perfect skin, and her body...

  Okay, so he’d noticed his brother’s wife. Of course he had. She was hot as hell and totally in love with her husband. Head over heels. Come to think of it, that might have been one of her most attractive features. Mickey and Jolene totally did it for each other and always would. They went at it like rabbits, always.

  So where did that leave Jolene, now that she was widow? She was still a woman. She still, apparently, had needs. But shit. No one in this town was going to touch her for fear of losing body parts, all because the man she’d lost had been a Red Rebel.

  His head was pounding. It was too early—or late—for deep thinking. He settled himself back in bed, but there was no real sleep. He watched the room lighten, heard the world waking up around the house as cars drove past and voices of the neighborhood all geared up for the day. His mind wouldn’t let him relax.

  At eight he got up and started breakfast. The only meal he could cook: scrambled eggs and bacon. That was the only food in the house, actually. That and coffee. He got the good shit brewing first and beat a few eggs in a bowl with a fork. By the time everything was done there was still no movement from the bedroom.

  He knocked softly but there was no reply. Cracking the door, he stuck his head in. She was sprawled across the bed, on top of the covers in her shirt and a pair of panties.

  “Fuck,” he mumbled, pulling the door closed again. He didn’t need to see her cute ass and creamy white legs. Not right now.

  He knocked louder again. “Jolene!” he shouted. “If you’re up for it, I got breakfast ready.”

  Then he went back to the kitchen and took his spot at the table. In silence, he began eating, hearing the world waking up outside. Cars, kids. Dogs barking.

  The bedroom door squeaked when it opened, and he waited, watching the kitchen entry. Jolene appeared, fully clothed except for bare feet, rubbing her eyes and pushing the black shit around her eyes all over her face. “Knuckles?” she mumbled, throat sounding hoarse.

  “Eat something. This is plenty greasy. And there’s coffee, too.” He got up to pour some for her, and she crossed the worn Lino to the table and sat down under the window that looked out into the back yard. She leaned against the wall with a deep sigh, hand on her forehead.

  She jumped when he set the cup down, but then she grabbed it and drank deep.

  “You okay?” he asked, taking his place again. When she didn’t answer, he served up a plate of bacon and eggs and pushed it at her. “I’m serious. Eat something. Soak up that shit in your stomach.”

  Still not meeting his eyes she put the coffee down and picked up a fork. She took small mouthfuls and he nearly felt sorry for her.

  Nearly. Not quite all the way.

  This wasn’t the time and place for a lecture, though. She could still be a bit blitzed for all he knew. But he had to get her back to her place as soon as possible.

  As he was putting his dishes in the washer with the frying pan and spatula she finally spoke.

  “Thank you...for taking care of me.”

  He turned, wiping his hands on a towel, and leaned on the countertop. “So…can you tell me what was going on last night?”

  Eyes on the wall next to him, she shook her head and grabbed the coffee again.

  “Okay,” he muttered, tossing the towel on the counter. “I need to tell the club about this.”

  “No!”

  “Fuck, Jolene. Mickey got killed by an enemy. You know that, right?”

  She shrunk down in on herself, staring into the mug clutched in both hands. “I was pretty sure it wasn’t a robbery,” she eventually said.

  “You’re his old lady. You’re affiliated with us. You out there, getting drunk and hooking up with strangers? That’s gonna get you killed.”

  She took a sip of coffee.

  He could have hit her. Shook her. Something. But his hands stayed clenched on the counter edge. “It kills me that you’re this lonely, Jolene. But please, please be smarter than this. Okay?”

  Still no reply.

  “If you don’t talk to me, then I’m talking to Jayce. I’ll lock you up in the clubhouse, I swear to Christ.”

  “I hate being alone,” she finally said.

  “Then come to the clubhouse. Hang out with Gertie and Rose.”

  She laughed. “They’re busy with kids,” she said, bitterly.

  Knuckles sighed. “I don’t know what to do here. I don’t know what’s going to help you, what to do for you. But we care about you, Jo. We do.”

  “Take me home,” she said softly, setting the mug down. “I want to be alone. I want to sleep in my own bed.”

  He hung his head, chin on his chest. He’d never know that kind of loss, but he couldn’t insist that she do anything about it. He had no right.

  “Okay,” he said, crossing the room and taking her dishes away. “I’ll take you home.”

  Chapter Six

  “You got your things, honey?” Danielle asked as she rapped on Annie’s open door.

  Her daughter smiled up at her, then went back to fastening the buckles of her backpack. “Yep! All ready!”

  She had to smile back. This was the only kid in the world excited to be coming along while her mother vacuumed, emptied trash cans, and cleaned bathrooms.

  She locked the front door behind them, since Grace was still sleeping the death sleep of the teenager. Annie ran right for “her” side of the Escape, backseat passenger side. Danielle checked that the door was locked behind them before heading down the front stoop for the driveway.

  “Knuckles!”

  Annie’s shout brought Danielle’s head up, and she had to smile as her neighbor leaned over the short white fence and fist bumped with her daughter, a big grin on his face. “Curly, good morning!”

  “I’m going with my mom to Bakersfield today!”

  His eyebrows went up. “Really? Wow. That is exciting.”

  “She’s cleaning, but I’m bringing my books.”

  “Cleaning?” He had frowned at that, then looked up when he saw Danielle standing on the other side of the Escape. “Good morning!” he greeted her, hand going up.

  “Hey,” she returned with a smile, then noticed a woman moving along the other side of his truck to climb in the passenger seat. She didn’t look at them or say hi, but in that short glimpse Danielle saw she was beautiful. Snow white skin with appropriate dark hair, and h
er bare arms showed plenty of colorful tattoos.

  In that split-second Danielle felt exactly like the dumpy mother of two she was. Looking at her neighbor, noticing yet again that he was handsome, she chided herself for comparing herself to the woman waiting in his truck. Of course, that was the kind of woman that would be at his house at nine on a Saturday morning. They looked good together. She could only imagine what they were like alone—

  Okay, that was too creepy to dwell on.

  “Annie, we gotta get moving, honey.”

  “Okay! Bye Knuckles!”

  “See you later, Curly!” He ruffled her hair as he said it, and Annie giggled then climbed into the Escape. “Bye,” he said to Danielle, hand up, smile still at full wattage. It was a really, really good smile.

  “Yeah, bye,” she said awkwardly, opening the driver’s door. He made her nervous, and she was old enough to know that it wasn’t because he was a biker and looked like he might have “done time.”

  Distractions, bad distractions. All those thoughts.

  Danielle could ignore him as she backed out of her spot and headed off in the general direction of Bakersfield. She could hear her daughter in the backseat, already digging into her bag.

  “Whatcha doing first?” Danielle asked, knowing that pack was full of activities to keep her entertained for the day.

  “Coloring. It only takes twenty minutes to get there.”

  She grinned up into the rear-view mirror. “Yeah, it does.”

  While her daughter worked on her coloring book Danielle ran over in her head the process of quitting these cleaning jobs. Two weeks’ notice was, of course, only polite. Many of these places wouldn’t wait around before getting someone else, but she’d still make the offer. She didn’t want to leave anyone in the lurch, especially since they were all fine with her bringing her daughter along.

  For the most part, she worked for small offices that were located in strip malls, almost like temporary locations while they waited for their “big break.” Day to day these places would clean up their own smaller messes, but on weekends she came in and vacuumed, cleaned the washrooms and any other bigger jobs they might ask for, such as shining the storefront window and whatnot.