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Reluctantly, I do as he says, climbing on and wrapping my arms around his toned stomach.
Then I hold on tightly as he kicks off and leaves the guys behind us in a cloud of gritty road dust, the barren scenery whizzing past my eyes in a speedy blur. He takes me through town, turning off down a side road. I assume it belongs to a steelwork company, or at least it did before they abandoned the site. Jason, or Havoc as he asked me to call him, stops outside some rusty gates and then drags them to one side. It’s ominous as fuck. There’s nothing but overgrown weeds and long grass as far as the eye can see. But then I hear a loud bark, and a huge black Rottweiler comes bounding over to us and darts out through the open gate. Jason stoops down to stroke him, and the dog rolls onto his back to let Jason tickle his belly. The rumble of bikes fills the air as the guys ride past us and leave us standing here beside the open gate.
“Hey there, Dude,” Jason greets the dog, rubbing his smooth, short fur and scratching behind his ears. “Did you miss me? I brought someone here to meet you.” He turns to me and jerks his head toward the dog. “Bodie and I rescued him when he was just a pup. Didn’t have a single tooth in his head. Reckoned he must’ve been around four weeks old. He was inside a mailbag by the river. Someone tried to toss him in but missed. Sick fucker. It was a stroke of luck we found him – heard him whimpering, and looked inside the bag, and there he was. We hand-reared him, taking turns feeding him every few hours. Fuckin’ slept at my side for weeks until he learned to settle alone. He takes up most of my bed; I’m lucky if he’ll give me an inch of room.”
I flash a wicked grin. “Oh yeah?” I walk over to the dog to pet him, surprised he lets me. He’s so friendly, licking out at my hand as I pet him. “Not much of a guard dog, huh? More of a cock block, am I right?” I say, hearing Jason snort in agreement.
“You’re honored he’s letting you do that,” Jason tells me. “The last stranger who tried to pet him, Dude almost took his hand clean off. He must be able to smell Bodie on you.”
Jason and I exchange a fond smile at the mention of Bodie’s name. It’s a tender moment, and my heart clenches a little, the pain bringing a lump to my throat. Not wanting to get all teary-eyed, I sniff and deflect the conversation.
“Wait, what? You named the dog Dude?” I ask, scrunching my face, thinking maybedudewas a cute term of endearment. “Couldn’t you think of an actual name? It’s almost worse than calling him Dog. I thought with him being a biker’s dog, you’d pick a cool name like Fang or Butch.”
“Dude is his name, and he likes it.” Jason stands, dusts off his hand, and then pushes his bike through the gates. He whistles and jerks his head as a sign to follow him, and I assume he means the dog until his eyes flick to me and he mutters, “Don’t just stand there scratchin’ your peach, move it.”
Dude groans and turns to follow his master.Is this what it’s come to? I’m Jason’s property, and he’s now my master.As much as I dislike being whistled at like a dog, I follow Jason down the winding dirt track, which leads to the riverside, just like Jason said. And lo and behold, there’s an abandoned factory that nature is trying to claw back with a vengeance. Leafy vines coil around the iron railings and poke through some of the broken windows like nature is swallowing it whole. Either the glass has been tinted, or someone spray painted it black. It looks kind of foreboding. I cast a critical eye over it, thinking it could be the perfect setting for a horror movie. Jason pushes his bike inside, and the dog bounds in after him, leaving me out here with nothing but the sound of the wind rustling through the tall grass. I hear female laughter from inside the dilapidated factory, which reassures me. Bodie said the guys all have girlfriends. I’m a little nervous about running into Ivy, the girl he used to gush about. Bodie was crazy about her and even asked our mom if he could have our grandmother’s old engagement ring because he planned to propose. My chest tightens as I revisit the memory.
Jason points to a woman’s bra dangling from the handlebars of Tex’s bike. “That’s nothing,” he attempts to reassure me. “You’ll probably see all kinds of things you’ll wish you could unsee, but it’s all part of club life as you’re about to find out.”
From the frantic sex noises coming from somewhere inside, I’d say someone was having a quickie. I try not to look so embarrassed as I walk through the hall and into the communal living space, seeing Tex’s jeans around his ankles, and his bare ass banging against his girlfriend as she clings to him like a monkey. Everyone else is ignoring it, so I do too. There’s no way I could ever do anything remotely like that in front of other people. I’m not a prude. I’m just private. Not like I’ll get much privacy in this open-plan space. It’s industrial and echoey. There’s a metal staircase leading to an upper level that overlooks the communal area, and on the ground floor, right at the back, I notice they’ve done a good job at installing a kitchen. It’s made up of stainless-steel worktops, cupboards with sliding doors, a commercial-sized fridge, and one of those chef’s stoves you’d find in a restaurant. I grimace with disgust as Rooster lights his cigarette on the hob, then flicks ash in the sink. That’s just gross. I might be a grease monkey, but at least I’m housetrained.
“I thought you said this place was decent?” I comment, scrutinizing their living standards.
Jason drags his fingers through his hair, looking slightly embarrassed. I can tell by the shocked look in his eyes that he didn’t expect to walk into a bombsite.
“Sorry about this, Peaches,” Jason mutters, thrown off his stride for a moment. He drags his tongue over his bottom lip, then whistles loud enough to rattle our ears. “Hey! Is this a fucking pigsty or a clubhouse? Clean up your shit by the time I come back downstairs or else you’ll be sleeping outside under the stars. Don’t think I’m kidding. There’s already one ass on my hitlist.” He takes my hand and leads me upstairs.
I look down from the railings and see three women scurrying around, throwing all their takeout cartons in the trash. The guys are helping, but there’s a fourth woman, a long-haired brunette who catches my eye. She doesn’t get up from the ratty sofa. Our eyes meet briefly as she looks at me, her hand resting reflexively on her prominent baby bump. My words get snagged in my throat, recognizing her from the photo on Bodie’s workstation. That’s Ivy. His girlfriend – his pregnant girlfriend. Oh my god.
Jason unlocks the first door we reach. “In here,” he says, his tone gruff. “Before we do anything else, we should talk.”
ChapterFive
Jason brings me inside what I assume is his bedroom, turns on a lamp, then opens the window to let some fresh air in. It’s too late for him to hide the fact that he smokes weed. He kicks the makeshift ashtray beneath the armchair in the corner of the room to conceal it from view, but it’s pointless because I hear the rusty tin can scrape across the wood. I’ll be the first to admit I’m not the tidiest person in the world. My disorganized workstation is proof of that. But when I get up in the morning, I bother to make the damn bed.
“I didn’t know you were such a slob,” I remark, looking around at all the laundry dumped in the corner, with T-shirts and jeans incongruously strewn all over the chair. “How can you tell which is clean or dirty? Do you just sniff it?”
Jason grins sheepishly as I call him out. “I wasn’t expecting company. You’ve just caught me on a bad day.”
“Is that so?” I drag my eyes around the room. “Your mom will throw a bitch fit if she sees where you’re living.”
It’s true. Liv Knight runs the beauty salon in town. She’s immaculate, which is probably why Sheriff Dan can’t help himself. He keeps sniffing around like a dog, marking his territory around the middle-aged spinster. Jason’s family home is only a few streets away from where I live. He moved from the dumpy side of town after his mom scraped enough cash together to save for a downpayment on a house. Liv has never been married; hence the reason Jason carries her maiden name. No one knows who his father is. Liv would never say. But one thing’s for sure, he doesn’t look anything like Sheriff Dan. It’s funny, when I mention his mom, it makes Jason’s eyebrows almost fly off his face.
“Hey, leave her out of this,” Jason mutters, then dumps the pile of clothes back onto the chair. “Unless you want me to call your parents to tell them about the stunt you pulled tonight.” He eyes me doubtfully.
I roll my eyes, then puff out a breath. “Well, if you think I’m spending my time cleaning up after you, you’ve got another thing coming.”
“I don’t expect you to, Peaches.” Jason steps on the back of his heel to remove his boot, then perches on the armchair to pull off the other one. They both land on the floor with a thump. “Just pick up after yourself. We don’t invade each other’s personal space unless we’re invited. But as for the clubhouse.” He nods his head at the door, hinting at the communal space downstairs. “It’s a team effort to keep it clean. Nobody rides for free. We all contribute toward the beers and smokes. The girls shop for groceries and take care of the laundry. Not just because they’re women, but because they say we’re no good at that shit. I’ll introduce you properly in a bit. They’ll all be dying to meet you."
“Ah, so that’s why your laundry pile resembles Mount Everest, because no one can come into your room without permission.” I quirk my lips as I look around. “You know, maybe you should practice what you preach.” I shrug. “Lead by example instead of just barking orders at people. If they see you living like a bum, they’ll follow suit.”
Jason goes to speak but clamps his mouth shut, unable to disagree. He rubs his elbow, his expression darkening.
“I haven’t been in a good place since, you know.” He breaks eye contact, dropping his gaze. “You of all people should know.”
“Yeah, I miss Bodie so much it physically hurts me to think about him.” I stare straight at Jason, noticing the way his eyes keep darting my way. “But the way I see it is I could spend my whole life wallowing in my room, barely existing, or I can get off my ass and find the fucker who shot him.”
Jason drives his hands through his hair and turns away from me. “I told you; I’m handling it.”
