Defiance (21 page)

Chapter Twenty-Three

Silas’s nose was broken. Caspar cracked a fist against his friend’s cheekbone, old anger spilling out when he’d promised himself he’d remain in control.

Where Tru came into play, he seemed to have none.

Shots rang out overhead. Lance stood, pistol in hand, Jeb behind him. Silas pushed away from him and they both rolled and got up.

“I’m telling you, Silas—you ever lay a hand on Tru, I’ll fucking kill you,” Caspar told him.

Silas wiped blood from his nose. “Can’t believe you’re letting Tru come between us.”

“She was never the one between us.” He spit blood in the dirt and turned to face Lance.

“This can’t go on, boy. We hand Tru over, it’s done,” Lance told Caspar. “She’s ripping all of us apart. She’s nothing but trouble for Defiance. Hugh would feel the same.”

“Sure he would. But I’m not Hugh and Tru’s mine. Understand? Mine. And she’s not goin’ anywhere.”

“She’s goin’ somewhere. Roan’s got her.”

Caspar looked past Lance, said, “Sure about that?”

Lance froze and turned in time to see Bishop carrying Roan over his shoulder. He dumped the big body at Lance’s feet. “Can’t say the pleasure was mine—Mathias got to have the fun this time.”

Lance held his gun to Bishop, who stared him down calmly. “I make the rules, son.”

“I’m not your goddamned son.”

“Bishop, back,” Caspar warned, knew that Bishop wouldn’t hesitate to take Lance on. And that’s not the way this was going down.

Bishop nodded. “Tru’s comin’ this way. Roan told her what happened to Aimee—no holdin’ her back.”

“I’ll deal with her,” Caspar said.

“We’re having church tonight. Takin’ a vote,” Lance said.

“We’ve got a fuckin’ rapist. Can’t spare anyone so we can sit at a table. That shit’s waiting,” Caspar told him as a small crowd began to gather.

Tru came toward him, Mathias right next to her, hanging onto her arm, weapon drawn. She caught sight of the crowd gathering but ignored everyone, tried to get to Caspar.

Lance grabbed her arm and before Mathias could react, Tru swung herself around violently. It surprised Lance and he let go, saying, “You’re causing all kinds of problems, Tru. Nearly got your friend killed.”

She blanched.

“And that one’s got to stop thinking with his dick and give you back to the Kill Devils.”

Caspar came forward as Tru found her voice. “You leave Caspar alone. Especially tonight. You leave him to find out who did this Aimee, because he’ll make them pay.”

“You don’t tell me what the hell to do, girl.” Lance took a step toward her and then a step back when Caspar growled, low and long enough to make everyone still. He held his hands up and said, “You’re ruining Defiance.”

She started to raise her arm with the weapon and Mathias was quick to put a stronghold on her wrist so she couldn’t move it. Caspar couldn’t be sure if Lance caught the action or not, but hell.

“Baby, stop. Stop.” At his command, Tru’s arm relaxed completely and she let Mathias slide the gun out of her grip. She turned to him. “I’ve got to see her.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea right now.”

She put a fist to her mouth. “Please,” she muttered through it. “I have to. She’d do it for me.”

Caspar saw Lance talking with Jeb. He looked behind him and saw the majority of the crowd there. He swallowed hard, emotions rising from everywhere and he led Tru into the infirmary. Held her for an hour, until the doctors got Aimee through the last of the surgery.

“Only for a minute,” the female doctor named Lisbeth told Tru. “She’s not awake yet, which is good. The longer she can rest, the faster she’ll heal.”

“Is she...will she be okay?”

Lisbeth tilted her head, her eyes clouded with emotions. “There’s no brain damage. Broken bones. And she won’t be able to have kids. But she’ll heal, physically.” Lisbeth focused on Caspar. “I can’t get Hammer to leave her side.”

“Wouldn’t waste time trying,” was Caspar’s response before he led Tru into Aimee’s room.

She went right to the bed, touched her friend’s face gently, holding back a sob.

Hammer sat stone-faced in the corner. Rebel had been ordered to take away his weapons earlier, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t packing.

Caspar didn’t blame him, would help Hammer shoot the fuckers who did this. But the last thing they needed was Hammer going out alone on a suicide mission.

He put his hands on Tru’s shoulders.

“You think Kian’s responsible?” she asked, without tearing her eyes from Aimee.

“Kian, yes. You, no.”

She bit her bottom lip and he knew, no matter how many times he told her that, the guilt would eat at her. Still, she said, “You have to kill him. Promise me that.”

“I’ll promise you.” Hammer’s voice came out, a graveled assurance. His eyes shone with vengeance.

“Good,” she told him. She fixed the blanket, which had slipped down, and then pulled it down a little instead, to expose Aimee’s beaten breasts and stomach.

“Don’t, baby,” he told her and he noted that Hammer growled at seeing the damage.

“Okay,” she told him, but signed,
Look at the skull.

He stared down at the bruise and noted, for the first time, that many of the little ones were in the shape of a skull. He pulled the blanket up and steered her out of the room, out of the infirmary, which was thankfully deserted.

“You saw,” she said. “That’s not Kian.”

“You know that for sure?”

“He never wore a ring like that.”

“Tru—”

“Fiona had the same bruises on her, in the shape of a skull. Unless she’s seeing Kian behind our backs, which I don’t think she would...” She didn’t say Lance’s name out loud. Didn’t have to. It was the first name he’d thought of when he saw those bruises.

He stared at her. “Plenty of men wear those rings. I have one.”

“I know,” she said. “But I never considered you.”

* * *

“Tru!”

Luna was yelling for her, running toward her through the compound. She was all alone, or it seemed that way until she tripped and fell, and then Rebel was there, picking Luna up like she weighed nothing. Cradling her when she started to cry.

He carried her toward Tru, setting her down. She collapsed again in a semi-puddle on the ground and this time, Tru went down with her, hugging her.

“She’s going to be fine,” she said fiercely, needed to believe that anyone could endure that much and still be okay.

“Tru, she was so happy. What the hell is wrong with this place?” Luna asked, her voice half dead.

“It’s not just this place, Luna. It’s not.”

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” Luna asked. “I’ve got to get out of here.”

She looked up at Rebel, who stared at Luna with a hard look.

“You can’t leave, Luna.”

“Why? Good enough for you but not anyone else?” Luna bit out.

“It’s dangerous,” Tru said and immediately regretted it as Luna’s face crumpled.

“Right. Like this is so perfect.”

“She’s alive.”

“How’s she ever going to get past that?” Luna whispered. “You tell me, Tru. How’s she ever going to get past something like this?”

The gunshots rang through the air seconds later—this time, they weren’t from Lance breaking up a fight. Rebel grabbed Luna and Tru went for the infirmary.

“No—the tubes,” Caspar told her.

“I want to stay with Aimee,” Tru protested but he grabbed her roughly, shoved her back against Mathias.

“We’re at war,” he told her hoarsely. “So get in the goddamned tube and stay down there until I tell you to come out.”

She opened her mouth, closed it. Then she went, Mathias covering her until she climbed down the hatch. This time, Mathias stayed outside, locking her in. She watched through the security cameras as all the spotlights were turned on, facing outward, to blind the hell out of whoever was firing on the compound.

She stood there, squeezing her hands together so hard it hurt. She hated feeling so helpless, hated everything about this. But this was her life. This was what she’d come back to, what she’d chosen.

Caspar clattered inside and slammed the door behind him. He strode across the floor toward her, definitively, predatorily and there wasn’t any escaping him.

She prepared to tell him to get the hell away from her, to fend him off, to scream, yell, throw a temper tantrum. Instead, she managed, “I hate this.”

“I know.”

“I hate this. And I’m responsible for it.”

“No, I’m responsible for it, babe. I killed Paddy, made our bed.”

“Should’ve been me, not Aimee.”

“Don’t you fucking say that.” He was so angry, zero to sixty in seconds. “Don’t you fucking say that, Tru—shouldn’t have been her or you. Shouldn’t be dragging our women into this shit. They need to fight like men.”

“You can’t go after Lance, right?” she asked, but he didn’t say anything. “The MC’s always talking about protecting what’s theirs. An eye for an eye. But if their leader’s responsible, then it’s just club business, right?”

“I hate this,” she repeated, shoving him, her anger coming hot and fast. When he did nothing, she shoved him, again and again and again until he picked her up and put her on the bed. His body covered her and she pummeled him with her fists, fighting with everything she had.

But she wasn’t fighting him. He had to know that, because he bent to kiss her, even as she continued fighting. But he knew her...her limits. Knew when her no meant no.

Knew in this case, none of this meant no. It meant a lot of other things, but not no. She spread her legs for him. As he tore at her clothes, she tore at his as well, wanting to get to him, get closer. Get him inside of her.

His fingers found her sex, brushed her. It was odd to want him so much after what had happened and she told him so.

“Need to feel this,” he told her. “Need to know you’re here. Alive. Safe.”

She simply needed to feel. The lack of gentleness worked in favor of this instead of against it. There wasn’t any seduction. This was just real and raw between them, her trusting him enough to give her exactly what she needed.

His hands—his mouth—were everywhere—nipples, stomach, between her legs. He was touching and licking. He wasn’t giving her a chance to breathe, or to climax. She cried out, frustrated when he’d pull his tongue away from her sex, or take his fingers off her nipples but it was all about her total surrender to him. And she did.

His lips were was hot against her skin and she shivered in response. She clutched at his hair, his shoulders. Scratched him, bit him, all in an effort to get him closer rather than push him away.

She knew by now he wasn’t going anywhere.

In his room, in the dark, in the safety of the underground world they’d created, he made sure he made her his.

The numbness wore off by degrees as he touched her, the anger fading away, until he made her soar.

Afterward, he told her, “Don’t want you shying from me. Looking at me like that. Rape’s not about sex, baby. It’s about power, and with me, you know you’ve got power.”

“Do I?”

“Yeah.”

“Then maybe you’ll listen to me. I don’t know what can change here, Caspar. I know you’ve got a lot of men behind you. But the MC...after tonight...”

“You have no faith in me,” he told her.

“You can’t change
everything
, Caspar.”

“You’re right. Some of the shit’s in place to protect the women. Because that’s what the fuck we do, all we can do, hear? We can’t do our jobs if we’re worried about you runnin’ around, fuckin’ things up, gettin’ in trouble. Gettin’ in the way. Doesn’t mean you can’t have a say, Tru. But men have to handle their shit differently. Stop tryin’ to take that from me.”

She blinked. Had never thought about that.

“You can’t change me. Never could. Maybe I don’t want to change. Maybe you don’t really want me to change, either. Want me to order you the fuck around, in and out of bed. Just want to know if I respect you or not. What do you think, Tru? Think I don’t?” he challenged. “You walk around here, wantin’ change. But you ran. And you’re wantin’ to run again instead of helping with that change. You want change, sometimes you gotta be the one who forces it. You can’t be the woman I thought you were, door’s open for you.”

“I thought you said you wouldn’t let me run anymore?”

He shrugged. “Gettin’ tired of bein’ the only one fightin’ for us. Gettin’ tired of you wantin’ to give up on us every time something goes bad.”

“Tonight was really bad,” she whispered.

“Yeah, it was. S’when I need you most. Guess you don’t realize that.”

She hadn’t. “I didn’t say I wanted to leave without you, Cas.”

He shook his head. “What you want, baby?”

She blurted out, “I want it all,” before she could stop herself.

He reeled back a little, like she’d physically slapped him, but before she could tell him that of course, he was the biggest part of that all, he walked away, telling her over his shoulder, “Better start figuring out what
all
is.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

Tru went to the diner, Rebel trailing her. He must have been as tired of being her babysitter as she was of having one, but he never complained.

Obviously, she complained too much.

Thankfully, it was quiet—lunch rush was long gone and she squeezed into a corner booth and glanced around. No Trixie, no men, other than Rebel. Just the staff, a group of girls who looked no older than middle school. And a woman it took her a second to recognize.

But the woman wasn’t having the same problem. She lifted her hand and waved, mouthed, “
Good to see you
,
Tru.
”

Tru saw the tattoo of angel wings on the woman’s forearm and before she knew what she was doing exactly, she was walking over to Kat Jones’s table.

Kat Jones was her mom’s age. She didn’t know if her mom had ever had an issue with the woman who seemed to have slept with just about every man in the club from a certain generation. But she did remember seeing the woman with the blonde hair—big and teased and probably sexier than any of the women in Defiance wanted to admit.

Kat had tattoos running down both arms. This immediately made Tru think of Louise and a wave of melancholy hit her before she’d prepared for it.

“Sorry. Probably should’ve just stayed at my own table,” Tru said, her voice thick with tears. “So embarrassing.”

“Doll, what the hell just happened?” Kat asked, grabbing for some tissues. “Jesus Christ, don’t you come here and cry and shit. Caspar’s crew’ll think I was fucking with you.”

She shook her head. “No, I’m all right. Sorry. I just...like your tattoos.”

“Tattoos make you cry?”

“Sometimes, yes.”

Kat stared at her, lips pressed together. Then she lit a cigarette, the smoke swirling around her face. “You’re a lot like Alice.”

“Is that a good thing?” Because she knew there were people, Trixie especially, who wouldn’t say that in a complimentary way at all.

But Kat nodded. “I didn’t know her well. I wasn’t exactly the most trusted woman, and I certainly wasn’t allowed into the inner circle.”

She wanted to ask Kat why, the same way she’d wanted to ask Fiona. But sometimes, things just were what they were. She’d been sheltered for only a very short period of time about all things MC, as she’d tried to explain to Louise. And even though Louise seemed to understand biker culture, she hadn’t lived it, which made it hard for her to fully understand, especially when Tru told her what Big Hugh did for the club.

“
When you learned about what your father did for a living
,
what happened?
”

“
A
lot of people are Enforcer types in the military.
The club was based on those ideals:
freedom and protection.
”

“
Sounds like you’re defending it
,”
Louise said.
“
Amazing what a little space from something can do.
”

“I was visiting your friend Aimee.” Kat frowned a little. “Some of the girls I know have a support group. She told me to fuck off, but I take that as a good sign. That one, she’s a fighter.”

“Yeah.”

“Are you?”

Tru met her gaze. “I thought I was.”

“Not easy, loving these men. And I’ve loved a lot of them. Gave my heart where I shouldn’t, no matter how hard I tried not to. Thing is, baby, the men in here aren’t the biggest problem. It’s what’s out there.” She waved her cigarette in the air, smoke billowing around her. “It’s what’s out there, and it’s because of us.”

“Because we can’t fight.”

“Because we can be used against these men. Get it? We’re their biggest downfall. Gotta accept that. Work within it. Because if we distract them too much, we’re all goddamned dead.”

She’d never heard it put so bluntly, or more clearly. “I’m driving him crazy.”

“What we’re put on this earth to do.”

“Sometimes I wonder if it would’ve been better for him if I hadn’t come back.”

“But you did. Everyone who tries to leave always comes back when they get into trouble, you know? Because the MC men know how to get things done. Might not always be pretty, might skate the edge of legal or fall right into the pond whole hog, but some us are so damned attracted to that, there’s no going back.”

You want change
,
sometimes you gotta be the one who forces it.
“He told me the door’s open.”

Kat shrugged. “So close it, baby.”

* * *

After leaving the diner, Tru was traded from Rebel to Mathias. They walked through the compound, heading back to the guesthouse when she caught sight of the cabin where the club’s tattooing was done.

“Is that still run by Luc?” she asked.

Mathias nodded.

“I want to go in.”

Why?

“I want to work there.”

And I thought I was certifiable.

“I want to be independent. And you and Caspar and Bishop let me tattoo you.”

Baby steps
,
sweetheart.

“Fuck baby steps,” she muttered as she pushed her way into the shop, Mathias right on her tail.

Luc was cleaning one of the tables. He looked between her and Mathias, asked Mathias, “You lookin’ for a job?”

Mathias shook his head and pointed to her. Luc laughed and continued cleaning.

“I’m serious, Luc. I apprenticed for a year. I want to keep learning.”

“Gotta do that shit someplace else. Women don’t tattoo. Not here.”

She wanted to say that, in the world outside of Defiance, women did everything. But that world was gone, it might never come back. “Scared of a woman who tattoos?” she asked. Mathias watched her intently and Luc left, all pissed off.

Mathias came over to her.
Be smart.
Start with the women.

“The women around here don’t trust me.”

Mathias studied her. Sighed. Then made a
wait here
motion before leaving her alone in the shop.

She glanced around the walls—they were lined with photographs of all the tattoos done in Defiance over the years, starting with some of the earliest. Those pictures were yellowed and curled. She ran a fingertip over the brittle paper, looking at the Sailor Jerry-type that was once popular and was making a semi-comeback.

Louise had loved those.

As she walked the shop, one tattoo in particular caught her eye. She almost didn’t move closer to it but she couldn’t help herself.

She’d learned to draw the Defiance skull at an early age. Had practiced constantly. Big Hugh had been so proud of her that he’d had one of the skulls she’d drawn tattooed onto his forearm.

She’d been seven. And she was in the picture with him—he was holding her in his lap and holding up his arm with the new tattoo toward the camera.

She couldn’t reconcile that father to the one who’d tried to hurt her and her mother. Was it Defiance that got to him, or something deeper?

The bells that dangled above the shop’s door jangled. Mathias came back in, followed by Luna. Luna, who’d been in near isolation since Aimee’s attack.

Now, Tru hugged her tight and Luna hugged her back. “Missed you.”

“Yeah, well, I couldn’t pass up an offer to be tattooed by Defiance’s very first female tattoo artist,” Luna told her, wiping tears from her eyes after she pulled back.

“Too bad Luc’s not hiring me,” she said.

You’re hired.
Helps that you’re sleeping with the Enforcer
, Mathias signed.

“You went to Caspar?” she asked and he nodded. “I can’t believe you did that.”

Thought you wanted to tattoo.
So shut up and get to work.

She hrmphed him, and then she turned to Luna. “Get on the table, chicky, and let’s get you inked up.”

An hour later, Luna’s tattoo was complete, a beautiful rose on her shoulder.

“Very biker chick of me,” Luna said, her voice approving.

Tru had to agree. “Think Aimee will let me do one for her?”

“I’ll bet she will,” Luna said quietly.

“She’s going to be okay, Luna.”

“I know. I’m just not sure if I’m going to be.”

She couldn’t deny Luna her feelings. Instead, she hugged her again and then she and Mathias walked her back to her place. After Luna went inside, she asked Mathias, “Where’s Caspar now?”

He shrugged, like he knew but wasn’t supposed to tell her.

“I need to see him.”

Not sure he wants the same thing.

Those words cut her. They were meant to—Mathias was far from stupid. “Please.”

He stared at her like he was going to say no, but something made him relent. He motioned for her to follow him, and together, they wound around the compound in the dark. She stuck tight to his side and his weapon was drawn, his body shielding her from anyone who passed them.

Finally, he stopped outside one of the many locked doors of the warehouse. He knocked and seconds later, the heavy door swung open. Bishop was on the other side, shirtless. Sweating.

He stared between her and Mathias, who signed something she couldn’t see. Bishop snorted in reply and turned back to what he’d been doing.

It took her a few seconds to get her bearings. She hung back, taking in the large room where some of the younger Defiance members, ranging in ages from what looked to be ten to fourteen, stood watching Caspar and Rebel and Bishop.

Caspar’s body shone with sweat. He’d been hitting the big bag that hung from the ceiling, alternately stopping to let two preteen girls mimic his movements.

He’s teaching them.
Showing them how to defend themselves.
Letting them learn how to fight
—for Defiance, but maybe more importantly, for themselves.

This wasn’t violence for violence’s sake. This was controlled. Careful. Purposeful.

She stood there for nearly an hour, watching him. He knew she was there, but he didn’t look at her. Not once.

It would’ve been easy for her to go up to him. Ask forgiveness. Again. But she’d never taken the easy way out of anything. And she still had some decisions to make.