Page 9 of Dangerously Deceptive

“That’s a long time ago. What about now? I know that when I walk in that room, I am in for a world of pain. What will you do? Are you going to sit there and just watch, too afraid to say anything? Or, will you join in and do exactly as you're told, just like a good little soldier? We both know there’s no way you will stand up and refuse to let anything happen to me, so no point even putting that out there as a fucking option. So which are you going to be, Jay?” I ask, using my childhood nickname for him in an effort to pull on his heartstrings, if he has any left.

I’m not sure if it’s the name or the words, but they look like they have an effect on him, he jolts as though he has been electrocuted and pulls his body back so he is no longer crowding me. He looks like a lost little puppy that I have just kicked, but I still can’t bring myself to feel sorry for him. We both know which man he’s going to be in that room, and it isn’t my Jay.

“It’s not as easy as that, Shay. Please…” His voice trails off, but his eyes continue to plead with me. What’s the point? He is the one who needs to take action, not me. He is asking for absolution for a crime before he commits it, and he sure as fuck isn’t getting it from me.

“We better not keep them waiting any longer,” I say reluctantly, but I push past him, trying to keep my voice strong. I won’t show fear in front of anyone.

As I start walking away, he lets me push past him this time. Now it’s clear that I am the one leading him, and as I try to subtly cast a glance back, his face appears forlorn and my heart aches for the boy they broke.

As soon as I push through the door to the bar, and we hear the commotion, Jamieson snaps into action, quickly becoming Whiskey. His body language changes, his back snaps into place and he grabs hold of my wrist once again. He isn’t holding as tight this time, but then again I’m not fighting him anymore. We both have our roles to play, and so we get on with it.

The smell from the bar assaults my nose instantly. It is a mixture of booze, mould, pot, and body odour. It’s a smell that is so ingrained in my memory I doubt I will ever be able to forget it. It’s an offensive odour that seems to cling to you the minute you enter, and as the bass of the music vibrates through my body, it feels as though the Reapers are invading every cell of my body.

Jamieson slams the door closed, and that seems to get everyone's attention. I look around the room and it’s your typical Saturday night. The men are all beyond drunk, with Sweetbutts and Old Ladies scattered around in various stages of undress. In fact, Sniper, one of the patched Church members, is actually fucking a woman on the pool table. It’s a girl I haven’t seen before, she only looks to be about my age. Fuck, I wish I had been here to tell her to run away while she had the chance. But now they’ve got their claws into her, there is no escape.

I don’t need to look around to know where my father will be, he sits in the same place every time he enters the bar. It's a big, comfy sofa that is pressed against the furthest wall. So, no matter what, he is always facing the exit. Nobody will ever be able to catch him by surprise. There’s a reason my dad has been Reaper President for so long, he isn’t stupid.

As my eyes fall on him, his head is leaned back and his arms are open wide as he lounges on the sofa. I think his eyes are closed, and it doesn’t take me long to realise why. There’s a woman on her knees, bobbing up and down on his cock. She’s got bright blue hair, which I would most definitely remember, so she must be new too. I continue glancing around the room until I find my mother. She is sitting on Uncle Patch’s knee, wearing the smallest cami vest she could probably find, her nipples painfully obvious beneath the white material. She’s wearing short, denim hot pants, and Uncle Patch’s hand is splayed across her exposed stomach as he nibbles on her neck.

Despite Mum being married to Dad, that doesn't guarantee exclusivity. It’s all down to Dad. If he gives permission, then Patch will be allowed to fuck Mum, even if she doesn’t want to. That’s how it works for women in the MC. The Sweetbutts belong to anyone, and the Old Ladies belong to their husbands, but they can be rented out. Like they are nothing more than products to be sold.

I can see the way Mum is watching the new girl's bright blue hair bob up and down, the jealousy etched all over her face. But don’t make the mistake of thinking it’s because of her love for my dad. I mean, there is no denying that they are in love, in their own way, but that isn’t what motivates Mum. She loves power. Being married to the President makes her the head of the Old Ladies, and the Sweetbutts. It’s the highest role a woman can hold in the MC, and it’s a role I’m told she coveted since the moment she walked onto the compound. And whilst the little blue-haired girl will never be able to dethrone her, if my dad takes a mistress, they will have powers that could challenge Mum’s, and there is no way she will allow that.

As soon as she sees me her face twists into the sadistic smile I have come to recognise usually leads to bad things. She pushes away from Uncle Patch as though he meant nothing to her, which is true. He isn’t actually my real uncle in any way, but as I was growing up, he is one of the members who helped raise me. He works in the garage, and from an early age he taught me to tinker with bikes and cars, he helped give me some of the confidence and independence my family are now working so hard to take from me. But, as my boobs grew, Patch changed. He stopped seeing me as the little girl he helped to raise, and he saw me as a woman, which to a man with MC blood flowing through his veins, that automatically means I’m a piece of meat. I absolutely hate still having to call him Uncle, but he makes me pay every time I forget. I don’t know how all of these loving people from my childhood became such assholes once I grew up.

“Well, well…look who has graced us with her presence, Mack,” my mum shouts across the room, throwing a hard stare at Kelsie who is behind the bar. She quickly turns the music off, which earns her a small smile from my mum. Once the music stops, that's just enough to grab Dad’s attention.

He pushes the new girl to the floor, while she collapses into a heap on the ground. For the first time, I can finally see her face, and the poor girl looks a mess. She has mascara streaming down her face, mixed in with her tears. Her false eyelashes have come off and one looks like a caterpillar stuck to her cheek. Her beautiful hair is all over the place, looking like a bird's nest as it’s so matted up. There's lipstick smudged all over her face and spit dripping onto her chest. The girl looks awful, yet nobody gives her a second glance. All eyes are flitting between me and the Pres. Thankfully, while I was checking on Blue, he put his cock away!

“Shayla, how lovely of you to join us. Would you like a drink?” he asks, his face looking perfectly serene, but I’m not stupid enough to fall for this trick…again. He needs better moves. I stay still and keep silent, which seems to piss him off even more, as the vein on his head starts to pulse.

“Answer your President, bitch,” shouts my mother, reminding me that this isn’t just a father telling off his daughter. This is a leader punishing the lowest-ranking member of his team for insubordination. No family loyalty will play a part here.

“No, thank you, Dad. I would prefer to go and get some sleep,” I reply.

Only seconds later, completely out of the blue, the back of a hand slaps me around the face, knocking me off balance and sending me stumbling into Jamieson, who thankfully catches me. Bane, the Sergeant-at-Arms, has a mean fucking backhand. The sting in my cheek aches all the way down to my neck from the jolting motion, but I don’t cry out. I don’t even raise my hand to cup my cheek, I simply allow myself a few seconds to let the black spots in my vision dissipate while I'm leaning on Jay, before I stand back upright.

Note to self—no more smart mouth. That fucking hurt.

“Come on, Princess. You and I both know that isn’t going to happen. You broke a lot of rules tonight, and therefore you will need to be punished. Now, tell me what exactly you need to be punished for.” That gleam in his eyes tells me he knows whatever I said wasn’t going to be right. He is testing me, and just waiting for me to get it wrong.

“I stayed out past curfew without permission, I drank alcohol excessively without permission, and I talked back, showing my disobedience.” My words are stilted and I sound almost bored.

CRACK!

Bane smacks me around the opposite cheek this time. Obviously, he didn’t like my tone either. Tingles, and not the good kind, spread across my face, and I can feel a headache starting to form. My brain feels truly bashed around, like it has been rattling around inside my skull. I’m starting to regret the alcohol because it’s beginning to churn around in my stomach, threatening to make a reappearance. I might be able to hold in the screams of pain, but vomit is something else entirely.

Taking a few deep breaths, I try to not only stabilise myself but get control of the nausea. My mum and dad both have a matching glisten in their eyes, like they are enjoying watching me suffer. Their parenting skills really do know no bounds.

“Well…that’s not quite all of it, is it?” Dad asks, making a big dramatic arm gesture as he announces his words loud, making sure to play up to the entire room.

“Erm, I don’t know what else…” I trail off, looking around for any kind of clue, not that I find anything. There are two types of people in this room. The first are the ones that are cut from the same cloth as my mum and dad, they have a glint in their eye as they watch the action unfold, loving the danger and the drama. Why else would they be associated with a one-percent club? If you aren’t looking for danger, find a nice little MC that just does runs for fun, and use it more as a social club. As a one-percent club, everyone knows the Reapers deal in all things illegal.

The other type of people who I’m surrounded by are those maybe similar to myself. They find themselves in the middle of all this chaos, but something is keeping them here. It might be fear, alliance, or even a promise, but they can’t leave. These people are few and far between, but you can see by the way they subtly try to look away that they don’t like whatever is being done to me. Too bad these are the people I fucking hate the most.

The best examples are both Jamieson and Honey. At some point in my life, earlier for Jamieson and later for Honey, they both told me repeatedly how important I am to them. They both told me they loved and cared for me, and that I was their best friend. Yet, here they stand. Both of them with their eyes averted, pretending like this entire shitshow isn’t happening. But it is, and even by standing on the sidelines and doing fuck all, they are still playing a part. I know it’s probably fear that’s keeping them here, but both of them could have made the choice and asked for permission to leave. It would have been so easy, yet they stand here complicit in my dad’s actions, ruining the last bit of friendship we ever had.

“What about the fact that you were in a hotel room with a boy, you filthy slut. Did we give permission for you to get that dirty cunt of yours fixed?” Mum snarls as the fire spreads across my father’s mouth.

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