Defiance (15 page)

“Have to take it to a vote.”

“Yes, the bastard against the president of the club.”

“Table’s vote would be close, yeah?”

“Not close enough. People aren’t happy you’re forgetting your place. Maybe you need some reminding.”

“That a threat? Your old man can’t do the job anymore so he sends pussy to do it for him? Doesn’t let me hold much faith in him.”

Trixie’s eyes shot fire.

“Get the fuck out, woman,” he told her, his voice low. “Get out or I’ll throw you. Know I will.”

Trixie cut her glare to Tru. Muttered something about making a big mistake.

“Lance made the mistake when he touched what’s mine.”

The chill in Caspar’s voice made Trixie still. And since this could be Tru, with Lance talking about throwing her out, she didn’t smirk when Trixie turned and left the house. Cas was right. This came down to one thing. This was about the men.

It had to be. “I was hoping you’d come to see me.”

Caspar turned to her then, walked forward with his hands on her shoulders so he was backing her up against the wall. He put his hands out on either side of her, trapping her. “Think you’re freaking. About everything. So I made some decisions.”

“Okay.”

“Not lettin’ you run anymore. Decided that tonight. I let you, you ran. You came back. I was lucky. Not countin’ on luck anymore. You need me to hold you down, I can do that with one arm. And I will. The rest, that’s up to you.”

She opened her mouth to agree but her throat tightened.
Not lettin’ you run anymore.

“You want change? How you gonna do that with Defiance in your rearview?” He shifted, stroked her swollen cheek lightly. “Gotta let me fight battles. Gotta be smart, baby.”

“Smart meaning
good
, right?”

His lips twitched in that trying hard not to laugh at her way. “You, good? Definitely not wantin’ you good. But this place, it’s part of me. Gotta keep order. Gotta listen to me so I can.”

“What about listening to me?”

“Some things never gonna change. Men’s natures won’t—not all gonna be faithful. Part of that’s the MC, part of it’s the men themselves.”

“That’s the real world too. So is men hitting women, but we can’t let it be normal. I think most of the guys around here don’t like it.”

“Hear ya. Agree. Not the way I operate.”

“I saw bruises on Fiona and then Rebel was all over her like...”

“Like he was keeping her away from the person who’s beating her? Yeah, that. That shit’s a secret. Just because you get yourself back here doesn’t mean everyone has to share their shit with you. Not yet.” He put his hand back on the wall, leaned in, like he was sharing a secret of his own. “Don’t keep shit from me. Tell me. Let me deal with it. In me to protect. Don’t take that away.”

“I can do that.”

“You say that now, baby...” He shook his head.

“I’m trying.”

“Know that. But you gotta let me do my shit.”

“Is everything okay?”

“No. Lot to figure out. You’re safe here.”

“You’re not staying?”

“No. Have’ta meet with some people.”

“Are
we
okay?”

“Told you, not lettin’ you run. A part of you resents bein’ owned. But a part of you wants it.”

“That’s not...”

The protest died in her throat when his hand dipped between her legs.

“Which part you gonna let win, pretty baby?”

She was too wet to lie to him. Wouldn’t have wanted to anyway. “I’m going to let you win.”

“Yeah. Good choice hear?” he murmured as his fingers spread her. She grabbed at his shoulders.

“Thought you said you had to go somewhere?” she teased.

“Maybe you’d try to keep me from goin’ instead?” he asked hopefully.

“Little old me?” She played with the hem of her T-shirt as an idea formed in her mind. She put her hands on his chest and walked. He backed up until his knees hit the back of a chair. She gave him a final push back and he only sat because he was letting her win this one. She was under no illusions about that. But this was heady, being this close to the fantasy she’d been bringing herself to orgasm with since she’d been fifteen.

The look in his eyes told her that he’d been thinking about it too.

“I can still see you, Cas...watching me. Daring me.” She skimmed her T-shirt off as she spoke but she didn’t drop it. She trailed it along his chest and his cut, and then began to circle him. She stopped behind him, but he didn’t glance over his shoulder, remained facing forward as he asked, “Whatcha doin’ back there?”

He trusts you.

That revelation made her bolder.

She caught his wrists, lightly, and she tied them together, behind his back. It was a light binding, one he could easily slip free from. But that was the point. He could. For her, he didn’t.

When she got back in front of him, his smile was...God, it was dirty. It was the way he’d looked at her the night he’d awakened that rush of feelings inside of her.

And now, she was able to do something about it. With him.

Slowly, she got down on her knees between his splayed thighs. Reached forward and unbuttoned his cargo pants. His cock was thick and hard and beautiful, not encumbered by briefs or boxers.

He smirked. She flicked the silver ring in his cock lightly and his breath came out in a danger hiss.

Don’t start somethin’ you’re not ready to finish.

She was ready.

* * *

It wasn’t public, but Caspar didn’t need it to be. Not when it was this damned perfect, when Tru was on her knees for him.

He’d never wanted anything but public sex because he didn’t have to deal with the aftermath. In public, he was expected to finish and walk away. Even the women he was with expected it.

Tru would expect more—had already. And he’d never minded giving that to her. The fact that she’d waited for him, defended him...maybe holding her here wouldn’t be a struggle.

Now, she took his cock into her mouth. The hot wetness made him nearly shoot right there. He fisted his hands, wanting to reach around, put his hands in her hair and hold her. But he didn’t, let her move at her rhythm. His hips rocked up, and her eyes never left his.

She wasn’t practiced, but she wanted it. That made it the best head he’d ever gotten. Her tongue lazed over him, her hand stroked him in tandem and she grew bolder as she went along. Especially when he called out her name.

She actually stopped and smiled.

He didn’t last nearly as long as he’d wanted to. His vision went hazy when he came, his entire body tensing. Had to stop his body from jackknifing.

She pushed back on her heels and looked up at him. “You’re still hard.”

He freed his hands, stood and grabbed for her. “Because we’re not done.”

An hour later, she lay panting on the bed, an arm over her eyes. She’d come three times, after he’d made a point of planting himself between her legs with his mouth.

“The things you do with your tongue are probably illegal,” she informed him.

“Most things I do are.”

He crawled up her body between her spread legs. He entered her, then caught her hips and held them still and helpless as he took her. She was mesmerized by his expression as he drove inside of her—maybe he didn’t know his eyes softened, or that he watched her like he was afraid this might not be real when he made love to her, no matter how fast or hard he played during sex.

And this time was fast and hard, because he’d been holding back. And despite the fact that she’d thought she couldn’t possibly come again, one of his thumbs pressed against the tight bundle of nerves was the only added stimulation she needed to climax again.

She lay there, her face flushed, her eyes heavy lidded with the look of a woman who was completely satiated.

He dropped her hips, planted his hands on either sides of her shoulders. “You know what the biggest difference between the MC and the outside world? Out there, women think they want a wild man, and then they try to domesticate him. Make him their house cat. In here, you know not to bother. Never gonna civilize me, babe. Shouldn’t want to. Civilized men can’t make you come like that.”

She pointed a finger at him and nodded. “Yeah, that.”

He laughed, pulled up next to her on the pillow, wrapping his body around hers.

“What did I keep you from?” she asked sleepily.

“A fight. But Hammer’ll understand.”

“A fight?” She shook her head. “But you already fought.”

“That was personal. The other fighting I do...that’s for money.”

“You fight for money?”

“I train fighters too. Hammer and Rebel and Cool Joe have a good following,” he told her. “There’s a place about two hours from here that hosts the fights. Cash only. No weapons.”

“You like to fight.”

“I like to fight. But I don’t like fighting angry people.” He paused. “Went into the Navy knowin’ how to fight. They taught me how to box. Taught me how to win.”

“Were there times you didn’t win?” she asked, her face serious.

“More than you know, babe. But don’t you worry—those days? They’re long fuckin’ gone.”

Chapter Fifteen

The next afternoon, Aimee and Luna showed up at Tru’s door with lunch and a smuggled bottle of Jack Daniels. Aimee also had cigarettes and she gave a little shake as she walked past Mathias to come inside.

Mathias laughed silently and threw Aimee a lighter.

Tru really liked Mathias. She liked Bishop as well. She didn’t know much about them, except they were military. Military was typically invited to stay at the compound, and more often than not, they ended up patching in one way or another.

But their connection to Caspar wasn’t typical. He never let anyone in that quickly, never really let them in at all. But Mathias and Bishop had already fought, for Caspar. For her.

“New guys seem...promising,” Aimee said with a lift of her brows when Mathias closed the door behind them.

He was dark haired, dark eyes, was Caspar’s height, which was around six foot three. Bishop was taller by a couple of inches. Lankier. Blond, though not as blond as Caspar.

“Extremely capable,” Luna murmured.

“You two.” Tru shook a finger at them.

“Us?” Aimee said. “What about you?”

“Me?”

“She’s glowing,” Aimee said to Luna.

“Look at the bedhead. And the bite on her neck,” Luna added. “Guess you and Caspar kissed and made up?”

“Mmmhmmm.” She hugged her arms around herself, collapsed into the pillows on the bed and Aimee and Luna snickered wickedly.

As they ate and drank and caught up on the other gossip from the night before—the-who-hooked-up-with-who conversations that were inevitable—talk turned to where Tru had been for three-plus years.

She tucked her legs under her, flicked ashes from her cigarette and watched the end burn. “I went to the shore. I wanted to get far enough away from this place,” she admitted.

“Your dad looked. Lance too. And they questioned us like we were the Taliban,” Aimee told her now.

“We wouldn’t have given you up,” Luna said. “We were just scared for you.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I was going to call, but I knew you guys would get in trouble if my dad found out,” she explained.

“That took balls to leave, Tru. We always knew you had them. But you surprised a lot of people around here. What did you do? And don’t leave anything out.” Luna held the cigarette gracefully—she’d always been able to make things that weren’t sexy seem that way. She was tall—lithe. Her hair was the color of honey and hung in a straight, thick sheet down her back. Her eyes were curved up slightly, giving her an exotic quality. Dark eyes, fringed with darker lashes.

“It’s not all that exciting. I got a job waitressing during the day,” she said. “I finished my GED and took a couple of courses at the local community college. And, at night, I started apprenticing with a tattoo artist. A woman named Louise.”

Louise owned the shop three doors down from the coffee shop in Jersey. She had an armful of tattoos, a big mouth and an even bigger heart, it turned out, and yeah, of course Tru had been drawn to her.

She’d discovered that Louise started tattooing when she was thirteen, was mostly self-taught. An artist. And when Tru showed her some sketches, Louise encouraged her to hang around the shop and intern.

Tru spent every night and day off there. She’d browsed through catalogues for college after Louise made her take the test for her GED.

After Tru did her first tattoo, she was emboldened.

A woman who had as many tattoos as a man and owned her own business was in charge of herself...a powerful role model. Tru wondered why Trixie hadn’t chosen this route, because she knew Trixie could tattoo, had watched her do a few in secret when she’d been younger.

In Defiance, girls got tattoos all the time. Tru had always liked the early traditions of first ink being when you found your man. She hadn’t realized she’d refused to ink her own body because she’d been waiting for Caspar, not until Louise called her on it.

“
You left someone behind
,”
Louise said.

“
He left me
,”
she corrected.

“
Maybe he’s waiting to see if you’ll follow.
”

Aimee stared at her when Tru shared that part, her expression unreadable. Luna was practically bouncing at the fact that a woman owned her own tattoo shop.

“That’s so cool,” she said. “You could do tattoos around here! I’ll be your first victim.”

“Like they’d ever let a woman own a shop. We can’t even work anywhere but the damned diner, unless we do it on the sly,” Aimee said with a roll of her eyes.

“Yeah, I know.” Luna drew her legs up to her chest. “If they did, I’d be allowed to work in the garage instead of tinkering with some old junk here and there.”

Luna had been into fixing cars and motorcycles for as long as Tru could remember. Luna’s dad had been a mechanic and had proudly taught his daughter the trade. But Luna’s working in the garage was frowned upon—women just didn’t do that kind of thing around here.

Then again, she wasn’t sure if Luna ever actually tried or if she’d just assumed she’d be shot down if she offered to rebuild an engine.

“Maybe we should stop asking what if and just do it,” she suggested and her friends stared at her like she’d sprouted three heads.

“Hello, have you met the Defiance men? All macho, all the time? This is the place where women are supposed to pretend they’re not capable of more than cooking and sex,” Aimee said.

“And fighting,” Luna reminded her. “They like that too.”

“I want to go to medical school,” Aimee admitted. “Of course, when there’s actually a college that’s close by and open.”

Luna started giggling and Tru joined her, then got serious. “You could work with the doctors in the clinic—learn from them. If we’ve never asked, how do we know we’ll be shot down?”

“You first, then,” Aimee challenged her. “You go into the tattoo shop and get yourself a job.”

“Maybe I will,” Tru said softly.

“She’s totally serious,” Luna said. “You’ve got balls, Tru, I’ll give you that.”

“If I’d known...” Aimee murmured and then stopped.

“What?” Luna asked.

“It’s nothing.”

“You’ve been hiding something all day,” Luna accused and Aimee blushed deeply. “What the hell, girl—spill it.”

She jumped across the bed, nearly spilling the bootleg bottle of Jack Daniels. Aimee grabbed for it, took a big swig and then said, “Hammer and I...it’s time.”

“Time?” Tru pressed. “As in...”

“I’m officially going to be his old lady. We already had the private ceremony.” Aimee stood, a little unsteady, and pulled her jeans down to reveal the Defiance skull on her hip. It was smaller than the men’s version, a light grayscale that marked her as Defiance. An H below it marked her similarly as Hammer’s. “He did it. Two nights ago. And God, I love him. I really do. I’m not making the same mistakes my mother did.”

“You don’t think your parents married for love?” Tru asked.

“I think things were different,” Aimee admitted.

Tru had always assumed that Aimee’s and Luna’s home lives were much different than hers had been, but they’d never really discussed it. She guessed now they’d all avoided it for a reason. “Yeah, different,” she echoed.

“Can’t lie to your friends, Tru.” Aimee’s expression softened a little. “I know things were tough for you at home, but you were always good at hiding it.”

Tru took a drink from the bottle and then lay back against the pillows. If things were different, she’d suggest sneaking out to one of the bars in town, the way they used to, go dancing on the tables, flirt outrageously and then sneak back home.

When she said this, Aimee said, “You realize that Caspar always knew we’d snuck out, right? Hammer and Rebel too.”

“No way,” Tru said.

“They’d follow us to make sure we didn’t get into trouble,” Luna informed her. “We always had bodyguards.”

“But not Silas,” she said quietly.

“Would you have cared?” Aimee asked and Tru shook her head.

Caspar followed her. Checked up on her.

It’s not like you would’ve done anything about it back then.

He’d always been one of the bigger guys, but not a bull in a china shop like Roan. He also wasn’t as impulsive as Silas, who was always disrupting things.

Caspar was a quieter disruption. A smoldering volcano, an explosion, waiting to happen.

The teachers went out of their way to give him a wide berth. Maybe it was the scar, but she noticed they went out of their way not to interact with him.

It made her angry. Granted, they didn’t spend a lot of time with any of the Defiance kids, but Caspar was an island unto himself.

But as Silas started circling her, she became more aware that Caspar wasn’t anything like what people said. She could see right through him, and maybe he knew that. Maybe that was why he avoided her. She wondered if he saw through her in much the same way. Because she knew how she was perceived, and it was far different than the person she really was.

She and Si spent time together and getting out of her house more often became her top priority. Trixie practically adopted her and Tru’s mom became more and more distant.

As her fate with Silas became clearer, she realized how much she was taking on. To be the MC princess, the second female in command, as it were, and that wasn’t an easy job. But there were many who’d want that position, envied the track she was on.

Her mother didn’t, couldn’t handle being on that track in the first place, which was where so many of the fights between her mother and father happened. Her mother, Alice, was soft and warm and kind. She hadn’t been prepared for the lifestyle but she’d loved Big Hugh enough to try.

Once in, never out. There were whispers that Abel’s wife left the club completely after he died. Some rumors say that she ran, others said she’d been run out. Either way, she was someone Trixie never talked about, but Tru’s mom did, and often.

“You would’ve loved her,” Alice said. “Susan was a good friend. I didn’t want her to leave.”

By the time Tru was old enough to notice, Alice had retreated into drinking and avoiding Hugh. Bruises appeared on a regular basis, although Tru knew they’d probably always been there, just well hidden.

And still, no one did a thing.

Including you.
Instead, Tru sank deeper into herself, her books. By the time she got to the fight at fifteen, she was ready to break out of her shell. Ready to change her normal.

“I remember your mom used to bake the best cookies,” Aimee said now. “Chocolate chip, and somehow they were always just waiting for us after school, all warm and fresh and perfect.”

Tru had forgotten that. Had nearly forgotten her history here. The cookies had been perfect but they’d been covering up an awful truth—her mother’s unhappiness. Those perfect cookies had mocked Tru for a long time.

One of the last conversations she’d had with her mother involved Caspar. It had been after Tru had watched him fight, when she’d started skipping school and partying, being the fun girlfriend that Silas had always wanted her to be. The life of the party.

She’d been jealous of Caspar’s freedom. She’d wanted that, wanted him.

“
You’re playing a dangerous game
,
honey.
That boy’s headed for trouble.
More so than the rest of them.
”

Her mother had been tipsy
,
but not full-on drunk.
Not yet—she reserved that for the times Hugh wasn’t on the road.
But Hugh had been gone for two days and Alice was mellowing out a little.

“
I’ m not playing games
,”
Tru had insisted.

“
You don’t think I wanted the same things you do?
I
wanted a dangerous man and I got one.
Careful what you wish for
,
baby.
You get it and then
...”

She’d taken Tru’s chin in her palm and said
, “
Don’t do it
,
baby.
Get out when you can.
Make your momma proud.
”

“
Suppose I want that?
”
she’d asked.

“
Caspar’s dangerous.
He’s got demons
,
Tru.
”

“
He’s not like Hugh.
”

“
If you feel that way
,
then you help him through those demons.
Once you do that
,
he won’t have eyes for anyone else.
He’s that kind of man.
”

He was that kind of man. And she refused to waste any more time. “Luna, have you ever tried to let Rebel know how you feel?”

Luna reddened. “I’m not his type, Tru. Because
everyone’s
his type.”

“Come clean, girlfriend—who’d
you
date?” Aimee asked and then held a hand out. “Wait, don’t tell me. Some clean-cut preppy guy.”

“College preppy guy,” Luna interjected.

“What makes you think that?” Tru asked.

“Because if you were going to leave Defiance, you’d try to ditch the whole long-haired bad boy thing too. Which is ridiculous, because long-haired bad boys are the only ones who know what they’re doing in bed.”

She thought about Silas and almost said,
some of them
, but refrained. Because if she had to compare, Silas had been better than preppy college freshman named Doug, whom she’d dated for a little while after she turned seventeen in an attempt at a very normal life. “I had to try,” she said finally and Luna hooted with laughter.

“And now you’re back, where you’re supposed to be. With Caspar,” Luna said.

“Things are different. I know they don’t seem it to you, but...it’s going to be us soon, not our parents’ generation running things here,” Aimee said.

“I think it’s all going to work out, Tru,” Luna said seriously and Aimee nodded. “It has to. You’re back. We’re all together again.”