Page 51 of Beautifully Wounded

“We don’t do visitors here, Angel. Crime world, remember?”

“How could I forget,” I scoff, and this time he rolls his eyes.

“Look. None of this was planned. I got a last-minute call, was asked to take you and keep you with me. To protect you. I did that without the permission of my club President, and not only that, but I also involved other club members. Then, as if that wasn’t bad enough, I brought you here secretly. If I had told Smitty about you, he could have ordered you away, and that I not help you. Or he could have ordered you to be something else within the club. Declaring you as mine is the only way to keep you from being used as something you’re not.”

I take a moment to consider his words. They sound genuine enough, I guess, considering I hardly know this man, but they still leave me confused.

“What could your President order me to do if I wasn’t yours?”

My words are timid. Too soft for the world we are in, but fear over the answer has its claws in me, digging in, reminding me I’m still not safe.

“It doesn’t matter.” He waves a dismissive hand, and I stomp my foot, annoyed at being treated like a child.

“It does matter. Tell me!” I yell, and this time, even though his brows are hitched, he looks amused.

“Fair enough. I’ll tell you, but then this fucking conversation is over.”

“Fine,” I snap, crossing my arms over my chest, exhaustion tugging at me.

“There are four reasons why females are in our space here at the Western. The women here are either old ladies, Doxy girls, mice, or pass arounds.” Ringo steps backwards out of the doorway and gestures his head as he starts walking, so I follow behind, and sit on the end of the bed when he points at it, giving me a silent order.

“A pass around is someone that comes into the club as a brief visitor. Sometimes just for a night or a week or two. Sometimes a little longer. They never last much more than that.”

“Why are they called a pass around?” I ask, watching as he drags the chair I’d placed in front of the window earlier, over to me before he straddles it backwards, resting his thick corded arms painted in intricate tattoos on the top of the chair, watching me.

“They are used as fuck toys, Angel. Passed around between the men. They are usually up for anything. Many have it in their head they are here to find a member that will claim them, but the fact they are used for nothing but sex and a good time turns any members off wanting to keep them. Others are happy to be pass arounds, riding on the coattails of the free food and a place to crash until they are kicked to the curb.”

I can feel the way my face drops. I can’t do anything to stop it. Being a pass around sounds awful. I don’t know why anyone would choose to do that.

I swallow thickly before clearing my throat, hating the way Ringo is studying me so closely.

“You can see how I didn’t want that fate for you, right?”

I nod at his words, my eyes dropping to my lap and my fiddling fingers.

“Eyes up, Angel.”

In an instant, my gaze is locked back on his, and I want to slap myself.

Why do I do that? Why do his simple demands have me obeying so quickly?

“A mouse is different. Usually someone younger, much like yourself that needs shelter. They are usually claimed by a member and their wife or old lady to live with them in exchange for domestic duties. Help with cooking, cleaning, looking after children.”

My brows shoot up. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”

“I guess not, except for the fact I would lose control of watching over you, and once you are in, Angel. You are in. You don’t just get to leave the household you’re placed in. And you’ll likely end up being a Doxy girl in the end. Since keeping you hidden istemporary, making you a mouse would be a bad idea. There’s no walking away when you’re ready to return to your life.”

“Oh.”

“And as for the Doxies, well, given where this chair was, I’d say you have a good idea what the Doxy girls do.”

My cheeks flush at being caught spying.

“What’s the difference between the Doxy girls and the pass arounds?”

“Doxy girls aren’t members of the MC, but they live within our walls. They cook for us. Clean for us. Shop for us. And, if they feel inclined, they give us access to their bodies for pleasure.”

I don’t miss the way he uses the word us. So that means he has sex with the Doxy girls too. Probably the one that was on the table when I found him earlier. She was pretty. A little older than some of the other women, but she looked at Ringo like she wanted to devour him. Maybe he’d already had sex with her before I found them.

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