Page 10 of Hodge
“No. It’s a question.”
“Then yeah, I think I could.” Kemah stands to her feet and paces for a second before looking back at me.
“I’m glad you’re feeling better.”
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“You stayed, Kemah. You stayed.”
Chapter 6
Kemah
That was … awkward as fuck. I don’t know what the hell he was thinking or why he’d say the things he said to me. I’m not sure why I followed his orders either. Something deep down inside of me liked it. I actually fucking liked it.
I shake my head as I sit on the couch and read my book. Jake isn’t here, at least not yet, but that doesn’t bother me. I’m happy when he isn’t here. I like it better that way. I don’t have to deal with his shit or listen to his voice. I don’t have to take the abuse or anything else he throws my way.
Closing my book, I pull out my phone and search for Soulless Bastards MC to see what I can find.
“A violent biker gang,” I read out loud as the page loads. “Soulless Bastards are one of the most notorious biker gangs around these days. From small petty crimes to the kind that haunt your dreams, these men have done it all.”
I nearly roll my eyes because I highly doubt that they did everything this article claims. No one can be that bad and stay out of prison, right? I keep reading about all the things they are supposedly into, and the more I read, the more I think I should stay away from that man. Hell, I didn’t even think to ask him his name.
The next article actually provides an address to their clubhouse, and a part of me wants to go over there and see exactly what it’s all about, but the sensible part of me doesn’t need any more trouble. I have enough with Jake.
I sit back on the couch and sigh, wondering what he’s up to. It’s been three days since I last saw him, and when I went to the hospital yesterday, they said he’d been released and sent home. I was happy for him. I was glad he was okay and nothing major was wrong with him, but I’m still curious.
I shove off the couch and head into my bedroom to change. Not that it matters what I look like, I always look disgusting. I run the brush through my hair before looking into the mirror at myself. My hair hangs around my shoulders with slight waves as my brown eyes stare back at me.
This is stupid. That’s what I keep telling myself as I grab my keys and walk out of the room. In the deepest part of me, I know I shouldn’t do this, but what difference does it make? Either way. Jake will be pissed when he gets home. I suppose it’s better I’m not here when that happens.
I find my way to the car and climb in, before putting the address in my phone. I take a deep breath and follow the GPS directions, and when I pull up, I’m not sure what to think. There are cars everywhere, and bikes line the streets. I find a spot to park and then climb out of my car. I adjust my shirt, pulling it down over my belly, before checking myself in the window's reflection. With adeep breath, I turn and walk toward the club. No one pays me much attention as I walk up and step inside. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but I don’t know that this was it.
People are drinking, music is blasting through the speakers, and some women are barely dressed, but nothing seems to be illegal, as the articles said.
I continue into the room when a drink is thrust into my hand. I bring it to my lips but think better of it. I lower the glass and set it on the table next to me as I glance around. That’s when greeneyes lock with mine. My lips part, the air rushing from my lungs as a smile curls his lips. The man next to him looks over and then catches my gaze. My mouth snaps shut, and the reality of what I’m doing hits me hard.
I immediately spin around and head for the door, but I don’t make it that far. A hand grips my wrist, and I’m forced to stop moving. My head lowers, and my stomach cramps when he steps around in front of me. I’m staring down at his boots when his hand comes to my chin, lifting it so I’m forced to look at him.
“We should drink,” he says, not asking me why I’m here or anything. I shake my head, but he nods.
“I shouldn’t be here.”
“Why shouldn’t you be?”
“I … I just shouldn’t,” I tell him. I watch him lick his lips before stepping in closer to me.
“I owe you, Kemah.”
“You don’t owe me anything.”
“I do. I owe you. You stayed with me, Kemah.”
“I was being nice. That doesn’t mean I need a repayment.”
“I think you do. I think you deserve more than repayment,” he says.
