Undeniable

CHAPTER SEVEN:

Aside from Cox and Ripper and Mick - who'd hadn’t returned- I met Blue, ZZ, Chip, Bucket, Worm, Freebird, Hawk, Bucket, Marsh, Danny D. and Danny L., Tramp, Dimebag, Tap, Dirty and Jase. And those were just the names I remembered.

Out of everyone I met, I liked Cox, ZZ and Freebird the most. ZZ was an eighteen year old novitiate who, like me, had been born into the life. He also reminded me of Frankie with his chocolate brown eyes and shoulder length brown hair he kept in a ponytail mid skull. He was tall and lean with an overall innocence that I knew would soon be wiped right out of him.

Figuring out how Freebird got his name wasn't hard. Long gray and black hair hung greasy and stringy halfway down his back. He was balding on top but he hid it well using Brett Michael's bandana balding solution. His gray beard was braided in one long braid that reached his chest and he still wore bell bottom jeans that had been patched over so many times I wasn't sure if any of the original denim remained. His arms were covered in tattoos; peace signs, ying and yang, and words like freedom, peace and the open road. Kinda hypocritical for a biker belonging to the Hell's Horsemen MC but whatever, he told dirty jokes and made me laugh.

The clubhouse whores weren't half as bad as the ones constantly camped out at the Demon's NYC MC, half of which were actual whores. That's not saying these girls didn't have their problems. The biggest being they desperately wanted to become an old lady and early on had made the mistake of sleeping with half the club. Now they were stuck. No biker was going to put a woman on the back of his bike who's slept with half his brothers.

My least favorite was a bleached blonde named Miranda. She was twenty five, a high school dropout and a mom of two, father's unknown. When I asked her where her kids were, what she did with them while she was here - which apparently was all the time- she told me her mother had custody. This disgusted me. I had no love for deadbeat moms.

I asked Deuce if he'd been with her and he gave me a cocked eyebrow, lazy eyed look.

Then he'd said, "Babe," in such a way that made me feel like I'd just asked the most ridiculous question ever asked.

I’d stormed off and he’d burst out laughing. Next thing I knew he was tossing me up over his shoulder and taking me back to bed.

As for the rest of the regulars, they varied in ages and sizes same as the biker's they catered to. Some were young, other's middle aged. Some were thin and shapeless others plump with a little too many curves in all the wrong places. Most were average women who wore too much makeup and not enough clothing. All of them were pathetic.

All except Dorothy, a petite redhead with lots of adorable freckles. She was twenty four and married with a seven year old daughter. Her husband was a scumbag truck driver who was gone three weeks out of every month. She would wake up in the morning, drive her daughter to school then come straight to the club. Aside from participating in her exclusive relationship with Jase - who wasn't exclusive to her and was married to boot - she was paid to clean the club, make breakfast and lunch for the brothers and do their laundry before she left for the day. Jase was there every day she was, they would spend an hour or two in his room, he would leave and she'd get back to work. Around three, she'd leave to pick up her daughter and wouldn't return until the next morning. Every now and then, she would drop her daughter off at her sisters on a Friday or Saturday so she and Jase could spend the night together. All this I knew because she had made lunch for Kami and I and we'd spent the afternoon talking.

At twenty five, Jase was a fairly gorgeous man in the Marine reserves with a high and tight haircut and a kick ass body. The club whores flocked to him like flies to shit and Dorothy - pretty but in a girl next-door sort of way - knew this and simply accepted it. She was prime old lady material. She was a good woman who obviously loved him, who put up with his shit and had no problem with having to put up with more. Only she would never be his old lady because Jase already had one.

I wasn't sure how to feel about Jase knowing what I knew. From what I saw, he treated her well enough. I'd watched him slip money in her wallet when she wasn't looking and most important he didn't carouse in front of her, but still…

He was married to a girl he'd knocked up in high school (information also gleaned from Dorothy) and while I can understand that he's unhappy with his situation he should have rectified it before he involved himself in someone else's life.

But this was typical. And I was used to it. I was also used to keeping my opinions to myself.

"Earth to Eva," Dorothy said in a singsong voice while waving her tiny hand in front of my face.

I jerked my head up and she started laughing.

"Did you hear anything I just said?"

"No," I said honestly. "I was lost inside my head."

"She's always lost inside her head," Kami announced.

I cut my eyes at her. "Speaking of head… Where are Cox and Ripper?"

It was lunchtime and I hadn't seen either of them since they'd dragged Kami off again last night.

"Sleeping me off," She stated proudly. Both Dorothy and I burst out laughing.

"Speaking of which," She continued, popping her last bite of ham sandwich into her mouth. "I should go wake them up." She slipped off the barstool and sauntered through the kitchen looking graceful and beautiful despite her lack of sleep and vigorous exercise.

"Hey Deuce," She purred.

I spun around. Deuce was standing in the doorway, arms above his head, his hands grasping the top of the doorframe causing his muscles to bulge and his black tee shirt to ride up, revealing a fabulous abdomen. He was also covered in grease. Head to toe.

Kami was looking up at him like he was a hot fudge sundae.

"Go easy on my boy’s woman; they got shit to do today."

He moved aside to let her pass and slipped into the stool she had just vacated.

"You’re gonna kill me babe."

I took a sip of my coffee. "What?"

"That fuckin’ dress babe. Killin’ me."

I glanced down at my strapless sundress. It was dark green, virtually shapeless soft cotton that hung just slightly above mid thigh. It was simple, comfortable and very me. And not at all sexy, not compared to the clothing women like Kami wore.

"Um…seriously? It's like a big green bag."

He narrowed his eyes. "No babe, it's not."

Jase chose that moment to barrel into the kitchen. He crossed the room and literally swept Dorothy off her feet and into a passionate embrace like the ones you see in the movies.

"Missed you baby," He groaned into her mouth.

She giggled. "You saw me yesterday."

With her legs wrapped around his waist and her arms around his neck, he strode back through the kitchen.

“Eva!” Dorothy yelled, “Are you going to be here for the barbeque?”

"Twenty four hours,” Jase growled. “Babe, it's been twenty four horrible fuckin' hours and you're talkin' 'bout barbeques. This is me time and you need to focus. You gotta let me get you your own place, you gotta leave that man, so I can see you whenever the fuck I want and you'll be fuckin' focused. On me. You gotta let me take care of-

The doors closed behind them leaving Deuce and I alone.

“Speakin’ of the barbeque, how long you stayin’ babe?”

My gaze slid back to Deuce. I couldn’t tell by his expression if he wanted me to stay or not.

“Babe?”

“Um…”

Laughing, he reached out and pulled me into his lap. His hands wrapped around my middle and he buried his face in my neck.

“How long you got?” He murmured.

“All summer,” I whispered.

“Then you're stayin' at my cabin.”

Oh god. He wanted me to stay all summer. At his cabin.

“The clubhouse is fine with me,” I whispered, reeling from this new development.

“No babe. I know you’re used to it but I don’t want you seein’ all the fucked up shit the boys are always doin’.”

"It doesn't bother me."

He snorted. "Me fuckin' Miranda bothers you."

"Not if it's in the past tense." I narrowed my eyes. "It is in the past tense, right?"

He snorted. "You’re here; it's in the past tense."

Huh. I wasn't sure I liked that answer.

"Okay," I said slowly, "Then it doesn't bother me."

"Babe. Old ladies don't hang at the club. And they sure as shit don't sleep here. You know that."

What?

What!

I twisted around in his lap so we were face to face. "What did you just call me?"

His eyebrows drew together. "Babe?"

"No!" I yelled. "You called me an old lady! I am not an old lady; I'm a Demon! I was born and raised in the life and I'm not going to be locked up in some cabin in the middle of nowhere waiting for you to hang out with me!”

"You done?" He asked evenly.

"Are you going to let me hang out here?"

"No."

I scrambled off his lap. "No?" I whispered.

"Yeah babe. No. You're goin’ to my place and I'll be there with you when I'm not here."

I gaped at him. “You won’t let me stay here but you’ll let Kami?”

His expression hardened. “Kami’s a fuckin’ whore," He said flatly. "Locked in a room with two of my boys right now.”

"Fuck. You." I spat. "If I wanted to be treated like this I'd be in a Demon’s bed not yours!"

In the blink of an eye, Deuce was off the stool, gripping my shoulders.

"First," He growled. "Don't run your fuckin' mouth at me. Ever. Second, ain't no way I'm lettin' you hang here so stop fuckin' askin'. Third bitch, you throw shit 'bout bein' in someone else’s bed at me again an I'm puttin' you on plane back to New York so you can climb right the fuck in someone else’s bed and you can fuckin' stay there."

Staring up at him, watching the lines around his eyes tightening, his nostrils flaring, his lips pressing together in a thin white line, hearing the raw anger in his voice, made my stomach drop. This wasn't the Deuce I knew glaring down at me; this was Deuce, bad ass biker, cold blooded killer, furious with me. Me.

What had I done?

My lip began to tremble and I bit down on it.

"You feel me, Eva?"

I nodded.

"Say it," He growled.

Sheesh. My own father, even when mad at me, had never spoken to me like this.

"I feel you," I whispered.

He shoved me towards the doors. "Go to my fuckin' room if you're gonna cry. Last thing I need is weepin' females in my fuckin' club."

My tears spilled over as I pushed blindly through the swinging doors and down the back hallway, past the hall of bedrooms, to the very end, Deuce's suite. Digging through my backpack, I pulled out my credit card and called the airlines. I was going home.

☼☼☼

Deuce ran his hands through his air. Fuck, she pissed him off.

She had called herself a Demon! What the fuck was Preacher thinking raising her inside the club? The entire fucking circuit knew Eva Fox. Why the fuck had Preacher done that shit?

Christ. He would not rearrange his whole fucking life for some bitch just because he had some fucked up obsession with her.

"Hey you."

He turned and found Miranda pushing through the kitchen doors.

"You want somethin' to eat baby? I was gonna make myself a salad."

"Yeah," He said roughly, "I want somethin' to fuckin' eat.”

Miranda was his bitch. He didn't share her. He'd given her a room at the club so he had access to her when he wanted it. Eva’s arrival had him considering sending her to the apartment he paid for.

He was seriously reconsidering that now.

Gripping Miranda's tiny waist, he swung her up on the counter in front of him and pushed down the straps of her tank top revealing the double d's he bought a few years back.

"You done with that little girl?" She purred.

"Shut up," He muttered and took her mouth in his.

☼☼☼

After booking a flight home for tomorrow afternoon, I dried my eyes and set out to find Kami. I found her in Cox's bedroom in a seriously compromising position with Cox and Ripper that I was pretty sure would be giving me nightmares for the rest of my life. I told her I would talk to her later and slammed the door. Then I headed towards the front of the warehouse to tell Deuce I was leaving. He wasn't in the main room or his office which left the kitchen or the bathrooms. I checked the kitchen first.

Miranda's back was facing me but I could see Deuce just fine.

I was not going to cry. Nope. Just because he wasn't the man I'd thought he was didn't mean I was going to cry. It was my own fault, putting him on some kind of pedestal when in reality he was just another biker, who lies, cheats, and steals and who can't resist slutty club ass.

He looked up and saw me standing in the doorway. If he was surprised to see me, or felt any sort of guilt at all, he didn't show it. For this I was grateful. My threatening tears were replaced by anger; anger that allowed me to meet him stare for stare.

I was still standing there, staring, when the gate alarm went off.

ZZ came flying down the hallway past me. “RAID!” He bellowed. Several more brothers's followed him, looking panicked. Cox and Ripper were next, shirtless and pulling on jeans as they ran.

I moved out of the way of the stampede and into the kitchen. Miranda had since jumped off Deuce and was pulling up her tank top. Deuce walked by without even looking at me.

Miranda and I caught eyes. "Eva," She said softly. "I'm gonna tell you this because you're a sweet girl. Deuce is not a one-woman man. He never will be. You'd do well to find yourself a nice guy who will worship all that beautiful you've got goin' on, not just once in a while but all the time."

She was being sincere; she even looked apologetic.

I shrugged. "It's really not a big deal. I was on summer vacation and wanted to have some fun without my daddy and brother breathing down my neck, you know?"

Lie. Biggest lie I had ever told. But that last thing I wanted was a club whore feeling sorry for me. She bought it and took off down the hallway to hide in her bedroom. I was still standing there staring at nothing when Deuce walked back in.

“ATF’s outside, we got ‘bout two minutes before they blow the gate,” He said. "Figured Preacher might have used you before, yeah?

"Yes," I said.

He handed me a ring full of keys. "Those are for the doors. Code to the gate is 009673.”

I nodded. “009673,” I repeated.

He stared at me.

“Go,” I said. “Do what you need to do, I'll stall them.”

☼☼☼

Outside the gate stood white-collar special agents wearing bulletproof vests over their button downs. Behind them SWAT was pouring out of several large paddy wagons dressed in military issued boots and BDU's. They too wore bulletproof vests but unlike the agents, they had glocks strapped to their thighs and assault rifles slung over their shoulders.

“ATF,” An older, seasoned agent greeted me. “You mind opening the gate.”

I smiled. “What’s this about?”

Another agent, young, clean cut and good looking, waved a piece of paper around angrily. “Warrant,” He barked. "Open the fucking gate!"

“Can I see that?” I asked sweetly.

He shoved the piece of paper through the gate and I scanned it quickly. It was a search and seizure, dated correctly and signed by a judge. In order and legit.

I handed it back but took my time punching in wrong code after wrong code after wrong code until a good fifteen minutes had passed by and the agents were getting angry with me.

As soon as the electricity running through the gates was disarmed they clicked open and the tarmac flooded with SWAT headed straight for the club.

“Front doors locked!”

"Side doors locked!"

I rolled my eyes. Of course they were locked. I wasn’t stupid.

"Get the ram!"

“Wait!” I yelled. “Don’t break it down! I have the keys!”

The younger, good-looking agent turned to glare at me. “Get over here!” He barked.

I hurried to the door and the good-looking agent leaned down over me. “Open it,” He hissed.

I tried the first key and it didn’t work and truth be told I didn’t know which one would. Deuce hadn’t told me.

By the third key, I had two agents screaming at me. By the sixth key, the good looking agent grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked me roughly aside.

“Give me the keys,” He growled and snatched them from my shaking hands.

When the doors were open, I was shoved aside as the crowd poured in. Aside from ATF no one else was in the front of the warehouse. I took shelter in a corner near the bar and watched the room being torn apart. Leather couches were sliced open, televisions were smashed, cupboard doors were ripped off their hinges. Crashes and the sounds of wood splintering and plastic cracking came from inside Deuce's office and the kitchen.

There was so much activity going on around me that I didn't see the good looking agent until he was standing right in front of me, breathing hard, his face red with rage. “Where are they?” He bellowed, sending spittle flying in my face.

Wiping off my cheek, I shook my head. “I don’t know,” I whispered, because really, I didn’t know.

He grabbed my arm and shook me hard. “Where. Are. They.”

Tears burned in my eyes. The Horsemen must not have any feds on their payroll or this wouldn't be happening.

"Please," I begged. "I really don't know."

Pain exploded throughout my face. My mouth flooded with blood. His punch had landed on the left side of my jaw the force of which had me stumbling backwards into the wall. He closed the distance between us and I turned my head into the wall, bracing myself for another punch. His fist barreled into my stomach and my lungs exploded. I doubled over clutching my mid section, gagging and gasping for air.

“GOT EM!” A voice boomed. "Trap door! Basement!"

The brothers were led single file into the room, their hands zip tied behind their backs. Individually they were shoved up against the far wall.

Deuce was directly in the middle of the lineup nonchalantly scanning the room full of people. He came to me, lying on my side, holding my stomach, trying to breathe and he went ramrod straight, his eyes blazing with fury. More tears flooded my eyes and the room went blurry.

I recognized the good looking agent's voice.

“I have witnesses placing your L.A. boys meeting with Curtis’s boys in Vegas. I know for a fact you’re distributing for them, I also know you haven’t moved it yet. So let’s make this easy. You tell me where the fuck you stashed the weapons and you blow in Curtis and I'll go easy on you.”

"No fuckin’ clue whatcha talkin’ ‘bout."

I thought that sounded like Cox but I couldn't be sure.

"Really?" The agent sneered. "AK-forty seven rifles, AK-forty seven pistols, FN five point seven millimeter pistols and point fifty caliber rifles, twenty five hundred in all, all from fucking Curtis, isn't ringing any fucking bells?"

"Nope." That was Deuce.

"How about the twenty thousand grams of cocaine, a thousand grams of crack and a pound of methamphetamine? All intercepted yesterday. Got your handiwork written all over it, West."

Holy crap. That was going to come straight out of Deuce's pocket. I didn't know the Horsemen's finances but that would hurt anyone.

"You got any proof of that?"

Several heartbeats passed. "We will," Came the biting reply.

"Good fuckin' luck with that asshole." Definitely ZZ. This was followed by a large whoosh of air and familiar gagging and coughing. ZZ had just gotten slammed in the gut.

“Where's Davis's team?" An unknown voice bellowed.

"Still searching," Was the answer.

"Tell me someone found something!”

“Aside from a few females hiding in bedrooms, the place is clean. The assholes have permits for all the weapons found. There’s nothing here. Not a god damn thing. Not even a dime bag of weed.”

If I wasn't in so much pain I would have laughed. Who called weed, weed? Too funny.

"You run I.D.'s on the girls?"

"All of ‘em except the one on the floor over there. But check this shit, one of them is the daughter of a Senator and the heir to the Carlson Food fortune."

I swallowed. They were talking about Kami. If her parents found out about this… Things would not be good for her.

A pair of dress shoes stopped in front of my face and the toe of one poked me in the leg. "Name?" A man's voice demanded.

"Eva…Fox," I croaked.

The man's legs bent. His pudgy, blotchy red face came into my field of vision. "Eva Fox?" He repeated slowly. "Who's your father?"

This was either going to go very bad for me or very good. I didn't know which so I when I answered it was a very timid and terrified sounding, "Damon Fox."

"Shit," He muttered. His arm slipped around my back and under my armpit and then I was being lifted and settled onto a barstool. Still clutching my stomach, feeling like at any moment I was going puke, I slumped forward and put my forehead on the counter.

"Who the fuck beat the shit out of Damon Fox's kid?" Pudgy faced demanded.

The entire place had gone silent.

"I did." I recognized the good-looking agent's voice. "She was playing us, stalling."

"You fucking moron!" Someone else yelled.

Okay, so it was going good. Either they were on my father's payroll or they were scared shitless of him.

A gentle hand came down on my shoulder. "Ms. Fox?"

I turned my head slightly. Pudgy face bent his head to mine.

"I've written down the name of the asshole who hit you on the back of my card. You give it to Preacher, you tell him what he did. And I'd appreciate it if you'd tell him that no one else touched you."

Definitely on his payroll. Probably getting a hefty percentage of the sales from the weapons they were supposed to be confiscating. Probably sending half the weapons they did confiscate straight to my father for redistribution.

"Okay," I whispered, knowing I wasn't going to tell my father anything. Me disappearing only to show back up beaten by the ATF…

That would not go over well. For me or the ATF.

The hand patted my back. "Okay," he whispered. He slid his card across the bar and walked away.

☼☼☼

Deuce carried Eva down the hall to his bedroom. Kicking the door shut behind them he laid her out on his bed and stared at the growing bruise on the side of her face. Since she'd told him her old man didn't have clue where she was, he knew she wasn't going to tell him what happened. That meant it was up to him to take out the agent. Which was fine with him. This fucking girl had just taken a beating for him and his club.

“I'm okay,” She whispered. “He punched like a girl.”

Fuck him. She was perfect. Perfect old lady material. Perfect heart shaped face, big gray eyes, smooth skin and fuck me lips. Perfect tits, long legs, and a flat stomach. Perfect curves to run his hands over, long hair to grab hold of.

And he'd gotten angry, let his temper get the better of him and completely fucked everything up.

Sighing, he sat down on the bed beside her. "Bout earlier," He started. "I-

"Don't," She whispered. "I get it. I was stupid for expecting anything from you. I'm leaving tomorrow anyway."

His chest went tight. He’d been too hard on her. He had a horrible temper, couldn't think straight when he was angry. Add Eva Fox to the mix and his brain was just a big lump of idiot.

"No babe. You're not leavin."

There. Now she wasn't leaving.

Fire flashed in her eyes. "Yeah, Deuce, I am. You made it clear that I couldn't hang at the club, that you didn't want me around your boys and I refuse to be locked in some cabin for an entire summer. Besides, Kami and I had planned on going to Hawaii after this."

She was lying. He could see it in her eyes.

"Babe, calm down. You can come to the club with me when I don't have to work."

She snorted then winced in pain. "Sorry, babe. I've already made up my mind. You pretty much sealed the deal when you decided I had to share you. My daddy's going to be angry enough when I return; I'm pretty sure bringing back an STD as a souvenir would result in me being locked up in a nunnery."

Fucking shit. She was running her mouth again and he was getting pissed.

"Woman, if you think I’m gonna let you walk outta here, you’re fuckin’ crazy. You showed up outta nowhere cuz you fuckin' wanted me, so you fuckin' got me, and I'm gonna tell you straight up that a few fuckin' days of you hasn't been enough. So you reel that fuckin' attitude in cuz you're fuckin' stayin'!"

Her face wiped clean, no expression whatsoever. "Get the fuck away from me," She said evenly. “Now.”

He curled his hands into fists. “Eva,” He growled. “Stop it.”

She rolled to her side, facing away from him.

Stiffly, he got off the bed and stalked to the door. He shot one last look at her. She was staring off to the side at nothing.

☼☼☼

I woke up in darkness as the bed dipped and Deuce slid in beside me. Instead of curling up next to me he stayed on the opposite side of the bed. I couldn't let it end like this. Not with him. My stomach was sore but nothing like my face and nothing I couldn't handle so I rolled over and crawled on top of him.

"Hey," I whispered.

His arms wrapped around me. “You still mad, darlin’?”

Instead of answering, I kissed him. When I pulled away, we were both breathing heavy.

I rubbed my lips across his and whispered, "You want it hard or you want it slow?"

"Babe," He said thickly. "I want it fuckin' slow."

So I gave it to him slow.

☼☼☼

He woke up alone.

Deuce rolled over and hit air. He patted around for a moment looking for Eva and came up empty. He clicked on his bedside lamp. No Eva. No IPod on his nightstand. No chucks by the door. No backpack on the floor. His stomach clenched.

Pulling on a pair of jeans he headed straight for Cox's room and kicked open the door. Ripper was snoring loudly, his long body draped over an armchair. Cox, lying belly down in bed, jerked his head up.

“Prez?”

He scanned the room. No Kami.

The vice around his chest went painfully tight.

“Where’s your fuckin’ bitch?”

Cox looked right then left. “Shit,” He muttered. “I thought I heard something earlier. Figured she was fuckin’ Ripper again. Fuckin’ hell. I was gonna ask her to marry me.”

“You’re already married shithead. This ain’t fuckin’ Utah.” He slammed the door shut and took off down the hall.

He found Blue sitting alone at the bar in the dark. Seventy-two years old, two pack a day smoker and a raging alcoholic, yet healthy as a twenty year old.

"Eva?” He asked.

Blue swallowed down a shot of Petron. "Gone."

His chest went so fucking tight he had to slap his palm over his heart and rub before he could breathe again.

"When?”

Blue poured then threw back another shot. "'Bout two hours ago."

Fuck.

FUCK.

"Sorry Prez, I woulda woken you up, told you what she was doin', but she was cryin' her fuckin' eyes out. Hysterical. Beggin' me to open the gate. Beggin’ me not to wake you up. Can't deal with hysterical women myself. Makes me want to drink."

"Right," He said numbly.

"Left you this." Blue held out his hand.

He took the small folded piece of paper and opened it.

Deuce,

I'm sorry.

I shouldn't have come and imposed on your life.

<3 Eva.

P.S. Take care of yourself.

"Prez?"

"What?"

"She's a good girl," Blue said. "Sweet too. Knows her way round a club, took two fuckin’ fists for it. Fuckin' adores you too, woulda thought you were the King of fuckin' England way she looks at you, and she's good to the boys, not givin' ‘em shit 'bout the girls, bringin' them beers, talkin' and jokin' with ‘em, makin' friends with Jase's piece a ass. Didn't much like Miranda…"

Blue tossed back another shot and chuckled.

"But I don't much blame her. I were you I woulda done everything I coulda to keep a girl like that in my bed.”

What else could he have done short of tying her to the bed or drugging her.

"Yeah," He muttered, "Too late now."

His hand fisted around the note, crushing it.

“Pour me one of those,” He muttered, taking a seat beside Blue.

Fuck Eva Fox and her perfect face and her perfect tits. He had a life to get back to.

So he got back to it.

For three long years he lived his fucking life.

His miserable fucking life.

And then he saw her again.

And miserable got a fuck of a lot worse.