Chapitre 6: Little Sister, Big Problem (Sam)
(Sam)
I sent Ace to keep an eye on my sister while I caught up on a few jobs in the workshop. Although many of the guys put in numerous hours at the shop, I had become the primary mechanical, thanks to my tinkering skills that vastly outmatched their own.
Working on cars and bikes with a cold beer and heavy metal blasting through the speakers; gave me a sense of purpose and belonging that I had never felt elsewhere in the Club. The business was more or less legit, not including the stolen cars and parts we occasionally stumbled upon. But I was smart enough to keep those things out of the books.
By the time I had finished my work for the evening, hands coated in grease and oil, it was well past nine-thirty. Ace hadn’t bothered to give me an update on Lola’s movement, so I had assumed she had kept herself out of trouble. Oh, how wrong I was.
I walk into the Clubhouse and immediately stop dead in my tracks. Not only was my sister standing atop the pool table drunk, with a bottle of whisky clasped in her tiny hands. She was also dancing like a goddam stripper in front of everybody.
Lola’s olive-green eyes met mine from across the room, her cherry red lips curving upwards in a wicked grin. Then she was moving again. Twirling around, her hand’s raised above her head as she dropped down low, then up again. Lola’s body was radiating sexual confidence as she flowed with the music. It was hard to look away, hard to remember that the sensual woman in front of me was my sister.
Ace curse him to hell, had his hands intertwined with Lola’s. Too busy smiling up at her to notice my presents, like she was a fucking birthday cake, and he wanted to lick every slice.
He wasn’t the only one; my sister held the attention of every dam man in the room, their eyes glazed with desire. I clench my fist, ready to knock the lot of them out. I didn’t give a dam if she was old enough to fuck. I wouldn’t let any of one of these basters touch her; she was still MY sister. And I was not particularly eager to share what was mine.
I stalk over to the pool table. Ace wisely found somewhere else to be before I punched his teeth out.
“Get down. Now” I command, not bothering to hide the anger in my tone. Lola turns toward me, the smile on her cherry lips never faltering.
“But I’m having fun! Don’t be such a party pooper,” She pouts, offering me the bottle of whisky. I snatch the bottle from her, taking several large mouthfuls before slamming it down.
“Come on,” I order, holding out my hand for Lola so that I could help her down. She shakes her head, her black curls swaying with the movement.
“No, I’m going to stay,” She decides as if she had any goddam choice in the matter. I don’t bother asking again. Instead, reaching out with both hands, I grab hold of her hips, Lola’s hands instinctively bracing themselves on my shoulders as I pull her off the table and back onto her feet.
It was hard not to note every curve and angle of her body, the way she fit perfectly against mine, the sweet scent of her filling my nose. I force myself to pull away to look at anything but her.
Lola sighs through her nose as if I was the one dancing on the table and had embarrassed her. I raise a brow at her, waiting for the tantrum, only it didn’t come. Instead, she just turned on her heels and stalked out the Clubhouse, head held high. Where the hell was she going now? I groan and follow after her. I should have had more to drink.
I found Lola a moment later sat astride my bike; her arse stuck out as she leaned forward to clutch the handlebars. She’d chosen my bike, not Aces. Knowing she had picked mine sent a jolt of male satisfaction through me that I quickly pushed down. She’s your little sister; I remind myself. I Pull out my packet of smokes in an attempt to distract myself, lighting up before I casually stroll over.
“Why do you hate me?” Lola asks without up. I didn’t think she wanted an answer but, despite herself, she needed one all the same.
I blew out a cloud of smoke, moving to stand in front of my bike, hands braced on either side of the handlebars, forcing her to look at me. “I don’t hate you; why would you think that?” I frown, not at all sure where this was coming from. Only moments ago, she had been smiling and laughing, yet now she looked like she was fighting back the tears. I had done that.
“You always expect the worst of me, and we fight about everything. It’s like you can’t bear to be around me,” Lola sniffles, looking up at me through lowered lashers silver lining her big green orbs.
“You’re my sister; we are supposed to fight,” I chuckle softly. Lola looks away from me again, picking at the dirt under her red painted nails. As if my answer had not been enough, she needed the truth. I sigh. “Everything I did was to keep you safe and to give you a better life. I won’t apologise for that. If I hurt your feeling or at all made you feel unwanted, it was only so you wouldn’t have any reason to return,” I tell her, firmly, but not crawly. I could endure Lola’s absence and hatred. But I couldn’t stand by while she was beaten and abused by our father… or me.
Lola swiftly dismounted my bike, her eyes hard and head held high. A familiar look of hate passing over her delicate features. She goes to walk away from me again but seems to think better of it, stopping to point a long sharp nail in my direction.
“You did not save me, Sam; you left me alone and unprotected. The damage you caused was worse than any I endured at his hand,” Lola assaulted, her words hitting me like acid. I flinch, involuntary taking a step backwards, her word struck worse than any physical blow. Before I could respond, Lola was stalking away again back inside the Clubhouse.
I didn’t follow her this time; she needed space even if I didn’t want to give it to her.
With a sigh, I relit my cigarette and smoked it down to the roach before lighting another. I didn’t know how much time had passed when I finally dragging my arse inside, but much to my relief Lola wasn’t in the bar.
I needed a fucking drink, claimed my usual stool, the barmaid instantly plopping a bottle of whisky before me. No glass. I grunt a short thanks before pressing it to my lips. Callum large frame dropping into the stool beside mine a moment later. He didn’t say anything, just looked at me in the way he often did.
“Spit it out,” I snarl, glaring at him.
Callum was only older than me by a year yet held wisdom and calmness beyond his years. His body was heavier, and a long dark beard framed his face.
“You shouldn’t be so hard on her,” Callum remarked, glancing toward the stairs as if he could see all the way to where our sister was hopefully sleeping.
“If you haven’t got anything worthwhile to say, brother, I’d appreciate it if you leave me to my drink,” I dismiss, pressing the bottle to my lips again.
“I always have something to say, not that you’d listen,” Callum snorted, taking a swing from his bottle of beer.
“I’m not in the mood for a lecture,” I advise, propping my head on a fist.
“Then I wouldn’t give you one. But If you want, I could help. Sissy is lonely and-“
“And she is my responsibility. We agreed” I cut Callum off, my words a little sharper than I had intended. I knew he was only trying to help, to do what was best for Lola. But I couldn’t help but feel it was a personal attack. Callum sighs, downing the remains of his beer.
“She is a full-grown woman now; she can make her own mistakes. You don’t always have to be the bad guy Ghost,” Callum suggests, giving me a long look. I didn’t bother to reply. I knew Callum was right; he always was. But I wasn’t sure I learned how to turn off that part of myself.
After Callum left, I sat at the bar for a few more hours, contemplating my next move. But came up empty. Drunk, I stagger back up to my room. Pausing on the threshold as I take in Lola sleeping body, her arms wrapped around one of my pillows. Her hair fanned out around her, and her face soft with sleep. Beautiful. She had always been so goddam beautiful.
I pulled my eyes away from my sister and managed to kick off my shoes without falling over. I tug my shirt over my head, then remove my jeans, leaving my clothes wherever they fell, before making myself comfortable as I can on the sofa. It didn’t take long for sleep to claim me.
I was pulled awake by an odd sound coming from the darkness. Instantly my hand when for the gun, I kept strapped to the underside of the sofa. Within a second, the gun was cocked and ready, adrenalin pumping through my veins. I scan the shadows, searching for an intruder, but there was none—only the sound of Lola panicked breathing. I lower the gun, strapping it back in place.
Getting to my feet again, I note Lola had kicked the bedding off her and was curled up into a ball in the centre of the bed. The sight tugging at something inside my chest I didn’t quite understand. Lola trembled, a slight whine falling from her lips.
I had no idea Lola suffered from nightmares, despite having shared a room with her on countless occasions. She had never mentioned it, and I’d never asked. Unsure what else to do, I go over to the bed and gently place my hand on the small of her back.
“Lola,” I whisper, forcing myself to keep my voice soft. No response. I start to make soothing circles down her back. “Low,” I try again. But still, there was no reply. She had stopped trembling at least, but her body was still tense. She had swapped her jeans for tiny tight shorts that did nothing to hide her soft creamy legs or the lacy garter tattoo popping out the top of her thigh. She’s your sister, I remind myself, dragging my eyes away.
“Sweetheart, you are having a nightmare,” I whisper, a little louder, brushing the hair from her face. Slowly Lola’s eyes flutter open. Her sleepy gaze turning to me.
“You didn’t come to bed,” She mumbles, her voice thick with sleep. I chuckle slightly at her sleepy, confused state.
“I was on the sofa,” I tell her, distracting myself by gathering up the bedding she had tossed to the floor before tossing it over her.
“You never sleep on the sofa,” Lola points out, blinking a few times.
“Well, you took the bed,” I counter.
“That’s never stopped you before,” Lola whispers, brushing her delicate fingers up the length of my arm. The touch making sparks ignite over my skin.
“You are older now; it’s not really appropriate anymore,” I admit. In reality, Lola had been too old five years ago too. But after the incident with Dean, I had needed to keep her close for my own sanity. I’d lied about her bedroom; it had been empty for years. Yet even now, I hated the idea of her sleeping in there alone. The real reason I had not jumped into bed with her tonight was, in all honesty, I didn’t trust myself anymore.
I go to turn away, but Lola’s hand wraps around my arm, tugging playfully.
“Stay with me,” She pleaded, fluttering her eyelashes at me. I open my mouth to object, but she cuts me off. “I sleep better when I’m with you.” I should have said no and insisted that I sleep on the sofa, especially since my dick was already semi-hard just thinking about sleeping beside her. But I saw the terror behind those big green eyes; she was generally scared to sleep alone right now.
“Only for tonight,” I propose, crawling into bed beside her. Despite my best efforts to stay away from Lola, she had other ideas and was soon snuggled into my chest. Her soft, lushes curves pressed up against me—the sweet alluring scent of her filling my nose.
I curse myself inwardly for wanting her. Thankfully Lola was lying in such a way that she couldn’t feel how hard I had become. Sleeping was going to be an effort.
Cadeaux
-- Cadeau
reçu État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone