There was a corridor beside the bar area that extended to several other large rooms, and I could see Scorpions flowing in and out of these rooms looking dishevelled and barely zipped up at the pants. You didn’t have to be of above average intelligence to know what went on inside them.

Prez, who I immediately learned was not of the faithful type, gripped a woman that went walking by around the arm. He brought her roughly to his chest and said something into her ear I couldn’t hear. The girl, who couldn’t have been older than eighteen, widened her eyes in fear and nodded quickly at him. Still gripping her arm, he steered her down the corridor and into a room.

Remy leaned into my side. “Find a table up there and I’ll get us something to drink.”

He walked off to the bar and I squeezed past a throng of people. I climbed the few steps and, when I reached the top, wanted nothing more than to turn back around. Women were crowded around a few men in the very back, pressing themselves provocatively against them. My stomach turned in nausea, and I was glad as hell there was a free table at the front.

I took a seat and stared down at my knotted fingers for all of three seconds before my eyes brushed the entire room again. I wanted to throw my hands up in the air, scream all kinds of insults, and shake every damn person here! This was just overboard. And to think I’d felt the clubhouse parties were rowdy – this was something altogether different.

So this is what the Scorpions do, I glumly thought. This is the kind of shit I dodged. Thank fuck.

I could never, ever have participated in any of this. It wasn’t the objectification of every women here that made me queasy, it was their easy submission to every man that walked by.

Ugh. Why, Remy? Why did you bring me here?

I scanned the bar in search of him. To my horror, he wasn’t there. He’d just told me to wait so he could grab us some drinks.

Trembling, I stood up and continued to search for him. He wouldn’t. No, no, not Remy. He wouldn’t be in one of those rooms. There was only one reason he would be. Oh, fuck. He wouldn’t be stupid enough to bring me here and then abandon me to root some chick. You’re thinking the worst of him, chill the fuck out. Well, it was hard to chill the fuck out when he’d been sex deprived for how many damn months now?

I recoiled from abrupt hands touching me. I searched for a Jackal and relief swept me when I saw Logan locking arms around a woman’s waist, dancing with her.

“Where’s Remy?” I breathlessly asked after weaving through countless bodies.

Logan looked around non-committedly, his lower half more concerned with the woman rubbing against it. “Dunno. Did you try the bar?”

I gave him an annoyed look. “Of course I tried the bar, you dumbass.”

More hands touched me. “Fuck off!” I screamed, shoving them away.

“Better watch out,” grinned Logan, green eyes gleaming at the men around us. “This is Remy’s girl. Don’t wanna be touchin’ that, alright?”

Instantly those hands vanished. Well, glad to know there were perks to being “Remy’s girl.”

I tried the bar next, just to be certain, but there was nothing. Anger surfaced in me. He fucking wouldn’t. Oh, even if he didn’t, I would have some choice words for his random abandonment of me in seedy-sex-central. This was just so un-fucking-like him! He was always protective of me. He wouldn’t have gone pussy hunting.

He wasn’t like that.

He wasn’t!

Fritz hooted from my peripheral. I looked at the two women dangling off of him and suppressed a shudder. The man’s hygiene was questionable. His hair was greasy, his beard uneven, and his nails were black from oil and dirt. He practically lived in the entertainment room on the couch – had a big stain on it in the shape of his ass as proof – where he smoked and drank whiskey all day long, mouthing people off and dribbling on and on about starting a war with the Scorpions. You couldn’t pay me a million dollars to touch him and yet these women were taking him on for… for free.

I should have gone back to my table and patiently waited for him. I should have, but dammit I couldn’t. So used to being fucked over by those I least expected, I wanted to make sure I could eliminate him from that fear. If there was one thing I knew, it was that people were capable of anything, and some of them were damn good liars.

My heart thumped wildly as I ploughed down the corridor. It was like Prom all over again, except I was ready – and almost certain – to walk in on Remy doing the unthinkable. I was long desensitized by sex after opening three doors and being greeted with images I would have to burn my brain to forget. I was especially sickened to find Prez buried in the legs of a woman who, much to my dismay, wasn’t even the eighteen year old he’d taken. I pitied Dayna.

Then it happened.

By the fourth door, all air escaped me. I froze and blinked hard to make sure this was real. To make sure I wasn’t in some sick and twisted nightmare.

Just one girl. One very beautiful girl was kissing him and then making her way down below the waist as he sat with his eyes shut and face upwards. His mouth was slightly opened and his tongue lapped his bottom lip as the woman began undoing his belt.

Jaxon.

Had someone stabbed me? Because I sure as fuck felt like it. I couldn’t even look away, and that was all I wanted to do. Just look away, close the door and move on. Walk away, walk away… My feet were rooted, unwilling to budge, an invisible pull forcing me to watch on.

As if sensing me, he opened his eyes and looked right at me. The second our eyes met, my binds were cut. It took me hardly a second to turn around and run. I slammed into chests, squeezed through people, shoved women out of my way, and then harsh hands grabbed at my shoulders. Dazedly, I looked up at a face I would have gladly scratched the eyes out of.

Finley held my shoulders painfully. “You okay there? You look like you’ve seen something you didn’t like.” The wicked look in his eye told me he knew exactly what I’d seen.

“Let go of me,” I demanded.

“Why? Isn’t this what you wanted to be part of?”

“Let go of me!” I repeated harsher this time.

He did and I turned away and ran again, feeling prickles down my spine at his laughter behind me. I didn’t stop moving until I was outside the bar and standing in the parking lot.

I was floating, staring disbelievingly all around me, waiting for my nightmare to end. My vision blurred and I nearly fell over right there on the spot. Shock tumbled through my body and it felt like an electric current burning my senses and had me staring at the busy street in fascination. I remember thinking, I just want to die.

How could I have been so stupid?! How could I have hoped to entertain the thought that he was still holding on to me somehow? That he couldn’t just move on, not after everything he’d said to me all those months ago? While I’d felt guilty kissing Remy every damn time, he was out fucking women.

“I want you to check the footage again because that shit isn’t makin’ sense.” The familiar voice pulled me away from my thoughts. I turned to it and found Remy standing beside his bike, talking on his phone.

No woman around. No lust in his eyes. My ever patient, faithful Remy.

And I fucking hated him.

I stormed in his direction. When he saw me, he hung up the phone immediately, confused at my anger as I gripped his vest in both my hands.

“You left me in there!” I screamed, tears flowing down my face. “You left me without a fucking word!” And it was your fault I walked in on him. Your fault I had to find you and found him instead!

“Calm down, calm down,” he repeated, softly grabbing at my fisted hands. “I didn’t mean to leave you. I got a call while I was waitin’ on drinks, Birdy. Went out here to take care of shit–”

“You should have told me!” I interrupted icily.

“I didn’t think I’d take long.”

“There’s no excuse, Remy! You left me in that orgy infested gutter!”

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” He apologized again and brought me into his chest, stroking my back as he laid kisses on my head. I sobbed into his chest, feeling as though he knew what was wrong, as if he was trying to make it all better.

I fully sank into him. His arms were what kept me upright, and he held me to him for a time that seemed to stretch on and on. My tears slowed and my breathing evened out. Lost in the feel of his relaxing sway with my cheek against his chest, I finally opened my eyes. My heart tightened at what I saw.

Jaxon was standing beside the entrance door, still as the night, watching me. I saw his chest expand as our eyes locked.

No.

I would not torture myself like this. He ruined me. I closed my eyes, ridding him away, wanting nothing to do with him. After a few minutes passed, I opened them again.

He was gone.

Twelve

He followed her fixed gaze to the entrance. There was no one there.

“How about we go home?” he whispered in her ear. He felt her nod against his chest.

On the ride back his mind had split into two. One side was trying to digest the news he’d swallowed seconds before Sara’s meltdown. It can’t be possible. There’s no fucking way…

The other side of him was trying to deal with Sara’s anger fit. Fuck, the girl was strong. Despite the turn of events, he had to focus on her tonight. She was evidently rattled, and judging by the tightness in her grip around his torso, she needed him.

Once inside the clubhouse, he followed her to the kitchen where she grabbed a block of chocolate and demolished it in under a minute. Her mind was far away, and her eyes were dimmer than usual.

“You wanna watch a movie?” he asked her. Surely that mind-numbing love story with the man’s conditioned hair blowing in the wind on the fucking front cover of the DVD would cheer her up.

“Okay,” her little voice answered.

Once inside the bedroom, he popped the movie in and brought her close to his chest. She wrapped herself around him like a pretzel, burying her head into his chest as they watched on. Thank fuck he had some beer to drink down – it numbed his senses during the two long, long hours of melodramatic bullshit.

She’d fallen asleep before the movie ended. He laid her down on the bed, stroked the hair away from her face and traced his finger lovingly down her cheek. Fuck, he thought she was beautiful. He got up and threw the covers over her. Then he went downstairs and to the surveillance room where he made an important call.

“I wanna see the tape tomorrow, Frank,” he demanded. “I need to know if that shit is true.”

Once he hung up, he paced the clubhouse for hours, drinking beer after beer. His fingers twitched unsteadily – the raw need to smoke at this kind of stressful situation arose in him. He fought against it. He hadn’t had a cigarette in three fucking years and lived through far more worse news than this.

Well… kinda. This was pretty fucking bad.

The need for a distraction continued to rise until he was a bundle of nerves. Fuck this shit. Fuck that shit. Fuck all the shit in the world. Fuck it ten times, twenty times, upside down, right side fucking up. Fuck it ALL!

He stopped and leaned into the nearest wall, resting his head against it.

If it’s true? If what’s on that tape is true… What then? What fucking then? For once, Remy didn’t know.

The sound of giggles erupted from the entrance way. Logan stumbled in with two girls. The man was so drunk he didn’t even make it ten steps. He collapsed into the couch – the same fucking couch Fritz practically lived on, fucking yuck – and the girls fell into him. More giggles and then the sounds of wet kisses and the zip of his jeans.

Remy shut his eyes tightly. He was so used to this shit, had always seen it in passing, but fuck, tonight it gnawed at him something awful. He hadn’t been inside a woman since… since… Oh, fuck, he couldn’t even remember. It’d been months. Lust formed at the pit of him as he entertained the notion of finally getting fucked. At the snap of his fingers he could have those two women right then and there, legs spread, pussies out. Perks of being VP – he was higher up the food chain to Logan.

The sounds hardened him instantly. Now that would be the perfect distraction. Just a word, one little demand and they would be–

He turned around and rushed up the stairs. No.Fucking.Way.

He wouldn’t be like his sick fuck of a father. He wouldn’t do that to Sara. She was all he wanted, not those two cent fake ass skanks begging for a root they didn’t even care for all in the hopes of getting their drug fix later on in the night.

He needed her. Needed her so fucking badly, he was shaking. He burst into the room and climbed into the bed. Throwing the covers off, he turned her on her back and rested over her. She began to rouse awake when he needily began kissing her. Startled, she opened her eyes and moved away from his face.

“Are you okay?” she asked cautiously.

“No,” he answered before he took her lips again. He pushed deeply into her mouth, tasting her tongue against his. Fuck, she was a breath of fresh air. She was so perfect.

Unable to hold back, his hands roamed every inch of her, gripping her every soft curve like it was air to his lungs. He’d cornered her like a prey, peeling her pants roughly off of her, reacting purely on his own self-gratification.

“Remy,” she breathlessly said, pulling her face away from his. “You’ve been drinking…”

He trailed his tongue down her neck and sucked her fiercely the way she liked. Her lower body couldn’t resist what it wanted. She tried so fucking hard not to rub herself against him. He pushed her shirt up but she snatched it quickly from him, not wanting to take it off. He wouldn’t relent. He tore her underwear off in under a second, and she immediately seized.