Page 6 of Blue-Eyed Jacks
Tears blurred my vision.There were many ways I could answer, but the worst event stood out.I’d never stuttered in my life, but the word didn’t want to come out cleanly.“T-t-train.”
“Oh shit.We don’t do that here.Chin up.”She wiped my eyes and swept my unruly hair away from my face.“You blotch when you cry.I bet you bruise easy, too, don’t ‘cha?”
I pulled the long sleeve on my right arm up.The black-blue-and-yellow marks where Shock deliberately hurt me hadn’t faded, and the injury was over a week old.“Ten days ago he tried to break my arm.”
Her jaw went to the side as she tried to contain her anger.She tugged down the sleeve and held my chin.“I can’t guarantee anything, but I’ll try.Lea, swear Poppy to secrecy.Not even her dad gets this.Poppy?”
The girl nodded.Her eyes were a little too wise for her years.
“Now.Don’t make a liar out of me.Go out there, play by the rules, and I’ll see what I can do from here.”
There was nothing she could do.The hierarchy was simple.Men made the rules, enforced the rules, and dealt out punishment if you forgot or fought back.I smoothed my expression and braced for the worst as I exited through the door to the main room.
The building was one of those metal barns, but the inside had been altered to suit the club’s needs.It had a second level, side rooms or offices, and a large bar at one end of the open section.Metal poles held up the roof framing, and mis-matched furniture littered the space, creating little groupings of use.There was a pool “room” with a dart “room” mirroring it, and between them, round wire spools laid flat to be used as tables for beer drinking.Couches ran along the side where the hookers already paired off with men.
I walked through the crowd to the middle where Shock sat in one of the few overstuffed recliners.Next to him sat a grizzled man with the name “Toro” embroidered above a president patch on his vest.They were deep in discussion.A small barrel sat between the chairs.On it was a bottle of Jack Daniels and two shotglasses, along with a plastic cup of beer.Shock had a matching cup in his hand.I halted just outside of arm’s reach and waited.
As I did, I noticed Toro’s bodyguard.All clubs had one officer with the sole job of protecting the president.They gave that person the rank of Sergeant at Arms.Skilletsville’s answer to BamBam wasn’t ugly.In fact, he was one of the better-looking men in the room.I dipped my eyes so no one would catch me looking.His name patch read, “Jackson.”I wondered how he got such a normal-sounding nickname.
Shock interrupted my thoughts.“About fucking time you showed up.Toro, this is my wife.Ain’t she the palest bitch you’ve ever seen?Babe, lift your shirt and show him your pink tits.”
I couldn’t.The lace body suit would have to be unsnapped, and I’d be damned if I did that here.Instead, I tugged as much fabric away from my shoulder to show exactly zero of my boob and only a bit of my shoulder.It was enough to also display the hickeys that asshole marked me up with this morning.
“I said tits,bitch.”
“Shock, are you hearing of any action on your west side?The Legion are giving our boys south of here some shit.”
“Fuck those bastards.”
I wasn’t trying to listen, but wondered if he meant the Destroyers’ allies or enemies.With Shock, it went both ways.
Toro leaned in to talk shop.I stood, shaking with fear, and trying to keep as silent and as still as possible so Shock would forget I existed.
No such luck.He motioned to his feet and pointed a finger at the floor.His not-so-subtle signal I needed to park my ass on top of one of his boots and fawn over him like a slave.
I sat but did no fawning.And I avoided touching him, opting for leaning against the chair instead.
He kicked me in the thigh, then planted his boot between my crisscrossed legs, dragging me closer and pinching me between the chair and the floor each time he leaned forward to make a point with Toro.I tried to edge my leg out from under the chair to avoid the worst of the pain.
The cold concrete floor was sticky and filthy.It smelled like stale beer, and the air held the distinctively pungent odor of weed.I had eaten little,was wearing too many clothes for the closeness of the party and the weight of Shock’s warm leg against me, and a sickly sweat broke out over my skin.More than my extremities trembled as I fought the urge to puke.It would serve Shock right to vomit on his shoes.
Maybe then I’d have just one night of peace?
Chapter 3
Jackson
Shock’s current flavor of the month looked like she was going to pass out.Her pale skin flushed an unhealthy pink.Her hands blotched white and deeper pink as she braced them in clenched fists against the floor, as if she was holding the world in place by sheer will alone.Her strawberry gold hair cascaded over her face with glinting rose-colored strands that twisted into tight spirals, but overall, it flew every direction.
I knew women of every shape, size, color, and creed.I hadn’t seen her face, but could fill in the blanks.She’d have blue eyes, I was almost certain.Maybe, if she was one of the rare types of Irish-Celtic strains influenced by unique genetics, they’d be clear green.She had freckles, golden to brown.They dotted her skin in tiny little flecks of color.As a whole, she wouldn’t hold a candle to someone like Pinner’s Polynesian beauty queen, Hilea.But in her form, she was still perfection in a misty isle fairy-touched way.
And she was scared to death or in withdrawal.There was no mistaking the tremors rocking her entire body.She was going to puke.It was only a matter of time.In my active monitoring of the room, I noted that.All while I listened in on Shock and Toro’s conversation, keeping another ear on the tenor of the room.I was new to my role of Sergeant at Arms, and responsible for thekicking of anyone’s ass who threatened my president.I intended not to screw this up.Therefore, I was hyper-vigilant tonight.
Which was a natural fit for me.I’d learned early to fight dirty and hard, while keeping one eye open for the next threat.While I wasn’t a monster in size, I made up for it in sheer will and attention to detail.I knew pain, knew how to wield it decisively and quickly.And I didn’t let stupid shit distract me.
So why the fuck did it matter if some whacked-out chick puked onShock’s shoes?
It shouldn’t.
