章 7: Caught Red Handed (Lola)
(Lola)
In my sleepy state, I had half-forgotten where I was—the familiar smell of smoke, mist filling the air around me. I blink several times, taking in the piles of discarded clothes and car parts scattered around the floor. The walls were covered with posters ranging from a Ford Mustang to heavy metal bands. On the wall opposite the bed was a calendar of a topless woman, her body draped over a Harly Davison, dated more than ten years old.
Sam’s room at the Clubhouse hadn’t changed a day since I left. It was almost like the last five years hadn’t happened. I look toward Sam’s side of the bed; the side closes to the door. But only empty space greeted me, cold to the touch. I frown; my brother never got out of bed before midday.
I must have been sleeping longer than I thought. Groaning, I pull myself out of bed, ignoring the pain throbbing behind my eyes thanks to the whisky I had consumed last night.
It wasn’t anything a few pain pills couldn’t fix, and I needed water, lots and lots of water.
I stalk toward the bathroom on bare feet, not thinking to knock before throwing the door open. A mistake I realised as I beheld the powerful male body that stood before me, water droplets still clinging to Sam’s abs, a towel slung over his broad tattooed shoulders. The only one he had bothered with, apparently.
My eyes sink lower to the cock dangling between his toned thighs. My mouth drops open, a gasp falling from my lips before I can stop it. I had no words to describe the beast I beheld. Huge didn’t even begin to cover it, and worst of all, he wasn’t even hard. I almost felt cheated that the one man I would never sleep with had been blessed so spectacularly. It was just another fuck you from the gods.
“Need something, Babe?” Sam asked, smirking at me.
His words made me realise I had been gawking at his manhood for longer than a few lust filled seconds. I close my mouth, snapping my attention back up to meet his pine-green eyes. My cheeks burned with embarrassment, yet Sam didn’t even bother to cover himself. Prick.
I charge out of the bathroom without saying another word, slamming the door shut behind me. Not stopping till I was across the room and launching myself onto his bed, cursing colourfully into the pillow. As I tried to forget the image of my brother monster cock, but it was dam near impossible, especially when the pillow still held his intoxicating scent.
After a few more moments, I hear his footsteps approaching the door and force myself to sit up and look casual, as If I hadn’t been daydreaming about my brother thick cock, but there wasn’t much I could do to hide the heat still burning in my cheeks rosy.
The door opened again with a click, Sam appearing in the doorway, an all-male smile tugging at his lips. I pull my eyes up to his face, forcing them to stay there. Thankfully his bottom half was now covered…barely. The towel wrapped low enough on his hips to reveal the well-defined V lines marking his abdomen.
His pine-green eyes were dark and holding an intensity I couldn’t quite understand. Gods, he was sexy. He’s your brother; I inwardly scald myself.
“Most people lock the bathroom door when they have guests,” I advise, my voice surprisingly steady.
“I’ll remember that for next time,” Sam offered, reaching up to lean on the doorframe. The move made his biceps flex and drew my attention to the artwork covering his muscular arms. The right an intricate design of clockwork and cogs, which make him look almost mechanical in design. While the left reveals a shadowy curvy figure, lost in the forest under a full moon, being hunted by a pack of hungry wolves.
“Well… If you are...done with the bathroom, I could use a shower,” I stumble in an attempt to change the subject.
“I hope you don’t mind smelling like me; I don’t have any girly shit,” Sam replied, remaining in the doorway.
“It will work,” I nod, glancing between him and the door, not daring to move any closer. Sam seemed to note my hesitation and smirked. Bastard.
“How’s the head?” He asks, biting on his lip piercing. I couldn’t help but track the movement, causing heat the flare low in my belly.
“Nothing I can’t handle,” I remark, my voice shaking slightly. Sam’s lips twitch up, his eyes trailing up and down my body. Despite the shorts and T-shirt, I felt utterly naked under that gaze.
“I have no doubt you can,” Sam teased, his tone suggesting he wasn’t talking about the hangover anymore. I suck in a deep, cooling breath to clear my head. “I’m going to be in the workshop all day. Do I need to handcuff you to the truck? Or can I trust you’ll stay out of trouble?” Sam proposed, swiftly changing the subject. I snort.
“You don’t own handcuffs,” I counter, rolling my eyes at him. Then, as if to prove how serious his threat was, Sam stalked over to the bedside table—pulling out a pair of silver handcuffs and tossing them at me. By the look of the lock, they were not your standard bedroom kind either. There was no safety latch; the only way those bad boys were coming off was with a key or a heavy-duty metal grinder. Knowing Sam, I was more likely to find the tool than the key.
“Or we could just use cable ties? Like last time,” Sam taunted.
“As tempting as that offer is, I think I’ll stick to staying out of trouble. I’d rather not endure babysitting you all day,” I reason, leaning back against the headboard in an attempt to create more space between us.
“Shame. I was starting to think you liked being around me,” Sam shrugs, placing the handcuffs back in the draw before moving over to a chest of draws in search of clothes.
“Please, the only thing I like about you, brother. Is your taste in music and wheels,” I object. I could have sworn I saw Sam flinch at my words, yet his reply spoke otherwise.
“Funny, I could have sworn I heard Ace saying a similar thing about you.” It was a low blow, one I had more than deserved.
But it didn’t stop his words from hitting their mark. Despite the weight, gain Ace had been my girlhood crush since I was twelve. But guys like him never fell for girls like me.
They preferred girls that would bend to their will. A girl too blind to care that her man fucked around or simply too dumb to notice.
On the other hand, I was too outspoken, headstrong and outright unpredictable. No, most men could not handle the amount of crazy I dished out, let alone want to.
I didn’t speak another word to my brother before storming into the bathroom and slamming the door shut behind me—the lock firmly in place.
By the time I emerged from the shower Sam, had thankfully disappeared. I stalk over to my bag, Sam’s words still echoing in my head. I decided on a kick-arse outfit to make me feel better; knee-high socks, short shorts and an off-the-shoulder long-sleeved top. I paint on my usual winged eyeliner and burgundy lipstick before heading down to the kitchen in search of breakfast.
Once, the kitchen had been my sanctuary in the Club. Cooking for the guys had given me a sense of belonging and purpose in our own little dysfunctional family. The room would be filled with the smell of fresh bread, and there would be three hot meals a day plus loads of treats. Almost a lifetime ago now.
Apparently, nobody had learned to cook in my absence. There was only beer leftover take out, ready meals, and more beer in the fridge. Or clean, judging by the stacks of plates and dirt coating every available surface.
Tying my hair up in a messy bun, I get to work. At least now, I had something to do with my day.
Callum hunted me down late afternoon, carrying a box of pastries and hot chocolate from my favourite bakery. We spent over an hour catching up while I devoured my body weight in baked goods.
Callum had gotten married to a beautiful woman named Stacy, who worked for the Club as an accountant. I’d scalding him for not inviting me to their wedding or even telling me he was seeing someone. But Callum swiftly explained that they had gotten married as a spare of the moment thing with only a handful of witnesses. They were also expecting their first child, a girl, due in three more weeks.
I’d told him about my life in the big city, leaving out a few minor details, including my primary source of income and my love life.
“Oh, Cal, before you go. Do you know where the keys are for the pickup? I wanna head to the supermarket before it gets too late,” I inquire, catching him before he could lock himself back in the office.
“There in the workshop, I think, that or Sam has them,” Callum guesses, scratching his beard.
“Thanks!” I beam, already walking away.
“Get Sam to give you the money for it,” He calls after me.
“Will do!” I shout back. I walk to the end of the hallway and push open the door to the garage. Blinking several times as my eyes adjust to the dim lighting.
“Hey, Bro, do you have the keys to the….Oooh,” I let my words trail off, my cheeks instantly heating. For the second time in a handful of hours, I had caught my brother in a compromising position. Only this time, Sam was standing before the bonnet of a car, a girl I didn’t recognise spread before him. Her legs around his waist, her knickers were lying at their feet.
I turn away, embarrassed and something like rage flickering inside me. Hypocrite! So it was okay for him to whore around but not me?
“Sam!” The girl gasps.
Wow, was he seriously screwing her in the workshop for anyone to see!?! So classy. I scrunch up my nose in distaste, not wanting to see or hear anything else.
“Lola, wait!” Sam called after me, but I was already gone. Somehow I knew he would follow me. Yet after what I had just witnessed, I didn’t think I could look my brother in the eye for a long while. So when I heard his footsteps trailing after me, I ran.
Five Years earlier…
It had been two weeks since Sam had held a knife to Ace's throat. Yet, they acted like nothing had changed between them. I only knew I hadn't made the whole thing up as I'd gotten sick with a cold, and Ace now went out of his way to avoid me. I didn't blame him.
Yet I couldn't stop thinking about the strange way Sam had reacted. One minute; he was dragging me by the ankles and shoving me in an icy shower. The next, he was acting like a psychopath. I didn't know if he was trying to protecting me, following club orders or trying to sell me to Ace as a whore.
The worse part was he'd not sort me out since. Granted, I'd done everything in my power to stay off Sam's radar. But he hadn't so much as stolen my cereal or put a slug in my shoe. I was starting to get jumpy, just waiting for the next attack to hit. But it never came. If daddy had found out what happened and punish Sam, there was no evidence. Not a limp or a hair out of place on his head. Besides, Sam would have retaliated by taking it out on me.
"You need something?" Sam asked with bored disinterest, taking another bite of his cereal. I frown; it was probably the nicest thing he had ever said to me. I glance at the others seated at Sam's table, none of which seemed remotely interested in our conversation. Even Ace was staring into his bowl as if it held the answers to the universe. Strange. "What?" Sam questioned, pointing his spoon at me.
"Nothing," I mumble, averting my gaze.
"You were starting," Sam pointed out.
"Sorry," I shrug, getting to my feet, ready to leap out the closest window.
"Whatever," Sam grumbles, rolling his eyes before returning to his bowl. I blink; what the hell. Even on my birthday, he was never this forgiving, and daddy was nowhere in sight. Confused, I grab my bowl and empty glass to take to the kitchen.
I filled the sink with hot soapy water and began my usual morning ritual of cleaning up after the Club's breakfast. Still wondering what the hell was going on with my brother. I had only been cleaning for a few minutes when a warm body suddenly pressed up behind me, the familiar smell of motor oil and smoke filling my nose. I freeze.
The man snickers, his breath caressing the shell of my ear and sending a shiver down my spine. Reaching out with one tattoed hand, he grips the sink, fingers grazing my hip as he does. The space between our bodies shrinking till I could feel the barrel of his gun digging into my backside. Something deep in my stomach reacting to his closeness making it feel like a bees hive had swarmed inside of me.
I didn't need to turn around to know it was Sam; I would know him even if I was dead.
With his other hand, Sam drops his dirty bowl and glass into the sink, splashing me. I try to jump back, only Sam's body keeping me pinned in place. The water-absorbing into my white t-shirt, making it see-through. Great.
"Do you have something to say, Lola?" Sam whispers, resting his head in the crook of my neck.
"No," I breathe, shaking my head slightly. Sam grins into my hair, dipping a callused finger into a pot of used ketchup. I grimace, locking my lips shut as Sam lifts that finger toward my face.
"Open."
I shake my head, tears falling down my cheeks. He shrugs, spreading the ketchup into my wet T-shirt, before dipping it again and lifts it to my lips. "Be a good little girl and do as your told, hu?" He suggests. I stay silent this time. When it's obvious, I won't open my mouth. Sam spreads the ketchup onto my lips and tear-stained cheeks.
I spit it out, gagging. I hated ketchup at the best of times, and Sam knew that. Worse, this was someones used pot, and there were bits of food in it. Gross.
Red hot rage took over my body, and for the first time in my life, I fought back. I grab the empty glass filled with dirty dishwater and throw the whole thing over Sam stupid head. We were close enough that it soaked me too, but I barely noticed. Too shooked to do much more than gape at him.
Sam steps back from me, dirty water dripping down his face. The look in his eyes promising an early grave, snapping me out of my trance. I bolt.
I got only halfway up the stairs before Sam was upon me, hauling me upside down over his shoulder. I scream, kicking and punching at him. Yet nobody came to my rescue, apparently unconcerned by a females cry for help.
I catch Sam in the jaw with my bare feet; he curses colourfully and retaliates by pinches the skin of my thigh as he carries me out the backdoor. I try again biting down hard into the flesh of his hip.
But Sam only grunts, his pace never faltering. Panic fills me as I realise exactly where he is heading—the barn house.
"Put me down, Sam, Now!!" I screech, kicking out wildly.
"Why would I do that?" Sam asks, a smile creeping into his voice.
"I can't miss another day of school; Seriously, I have a test today!" I declare, trying to reason with him.
"Bullshit," Sam dismisses.
"I'm not lying!" Sam ignores me this time, kicking the door open to the barn house. I clutch onto his T-shirt for dear life, my vision blurring with fresh tears.
The smell hits me first, strong enough to make me gag. It's what I imagine hell smells like; blood and other bodily fluids.
The floor was no more than straw, and there was no windows, the only light a flickering electric lantern that barely lit up a fraction of the space. There were several chairs dotted around the place, ropes and a crate of deadly looking tools. Even I could tell this place was haunted by death.
Sam tossed me onto a pile of hay, losing his t-shirt in the process. I throw it at his head in an attempt to distract him as I jump to my feet, sprinting for the door. I lose my footing and tumble to the ground, arse over tit. Landing next to a dark stain on the ground that looked a lot like blood. I scream, scrambling to my feet.
Sam only snorts, catches me around the waist before I could make a break for it again and pulling me to his shirtless chest. His tattoed skin warm under my touch.
"You should know better than to run from me," Sam remarks roughly, pushing my hair out of my face.
"Why can't you love me," I sob. Hating myself for showing how much it hurt when all I had ever wanted was sam's approval, to be his friend.
he didn't answer, but something in his face softens slightly. Then, in a blink of an eye, it was gone, almost as if I had dreamed it.
"Stay here until you learn to obey me," Sam orders. I don't fight him this time as he pushed me onto one of the chairs. I didn't dare to look at it closely.
Sam leaves me without a backward glance, the door clicking locked behind him. Cold and alone, I allow myself to cry.
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