Chapter 6

Chapter

Six

DIGG

Francesca Holt is a woman deeply tied to her routines. I find I appreciate a person who prefers to keep an orderly and consistent life. I anticipated that showing up this morning would shake up things, and she might feel some sort of way about it. I even expected she might throw a bit of a fit about finding a stranger cooking breakfast in her kitchen. Hyram had assured me his sister is a rational, calm, female, but her response to me was anything but sensible.

The moment she realized her brother had sent me, it was as if a light switch had flipped, and she went from scared to obedient. I'd already decided to keep her. Made that decision on day two when I'd realized I was using every excuse I could come up with to justify delaying my return to the club. I love my brothers. Ghost Born MC is my family. The found family we'd created from the hell of our pasts, all of us coming from households with parents incarcerated and absent from our lives. Ghosts in our fucked-up childhoods had led us all to wind up in the same state-run group home.

When Jax got sent to prison, it frayed the fabric of our bonds, sending everyone in different directions. With Shaw and Kameron enlisted in the military and gone, Cameron disappeared to college and a life that I knew nothing about, and Jax in prison, that left only Ace and me in town. Swinging a hammer and hauling construction materials seemed like all I was qualified for, having barely scraped by with a high school diploma, awarded more to ensure I got the fuck out of the public school system than due to any actual knowledge on my part.

I'd been a couple towns away, working day labor with a roofing company, when Shaw found me and told me it was time to come home. Unlike Cameron, who I still think hates us all on some days, I'm happy to be part of a family again. As fucked up as we definitely are. Family being family, I know they'll be pissed at me for going rogue, but I figure they'll get over it when they find out everything I learned.

Francesca's soft little snore-snuffles break the silence. Another anomaly in the routine. Over the past few days, orgasms have seemed to wind Frankie's motor and amp her up. I had counted on the energy boost to carry her through the next few hours. She'll need it to deal with the shitstorm we'll weather once I bring her back with me.

I wish I could spare her the drama. We're all strangers to her, and after the violence she's gone through with that bastard Mark, I don't want my brothers to scare her. I'd don't expect to escape today without taking at least a couple punches. Only time will tell how Francesca handles seeing the rough relationship my brothers and I share.

Hopefully, when she meets the girls and Grey, she'll see that, no matter how much we might pound on each other, none of my brothers would ever lay a hand on a woman. Well, mentally, I revise that thought. Jax lays hands on Blakely every chance they get, but those two are kinky as fuck. Blakely loves pain, and Jax needs to dole it out. So I guess I really want Francesca to see none of us would ever harm someone weaker than we are.

Personally, I can't imagine ever wanting to see a woman who belongs to me in pain. Not that it's stopped me from listening to the sounds of Jax and Blakely battle-fucking at every opportunity they can find. I may not have ever been with a woman, but I've been listening to their sex sounds since I was way too young for that shit. And the sounds Blakely makes when my brother's laying pipe make it very, very obvious she likes what he's dishing out.

Thinking of Jax with Blakely actually gives me a lot of hope for my ability to figure out what Francesca needs, so I can give it to her. We all have our damage, but when Jax got out of prison, he was more animal than man. It killed me inside to watch him pay sex workers, night after night, to let him vent his sadistic aggression on them. Every night, when he came home, cumdrunk and relaxed from the sex he'd paid for, it was impossible not to spiral back to the nights I hid in the closet of whatever shitty hotel room we were calling home for the week, while my mother earned her money letting men do the exact same thing to her.

Sometimes, I think Jax finding Blakely and realizing he deserved more than paying for sex saved me as much as it saved him. I'm unsure I could have accepted his coping methods much longer, brotherhood or not. Still, my damage and fucked up views about sex seem to match his more closely than any of my other brothers. We just cope with our trauma in different ways. Jax can't get enough, and I choose not to get any.

Of all my brothers, Jax is the one who might understand what's going on with me the most. Probably, he'll also be the most pissed at me for putting myself in that concrete box for all these months. Jax would die before going back behind bars, and I offered myself up to it. Still, he's the one I pull up on the burner phone I picked up when I was released.

I'm sprung. Will be home in a couple hours. Church when I get there?

Dots blink and disappear as he responds, but nearly a half hour goes by before I get a response. I use the time to throw as much of Frankie's stuff into a couple duffel bags I'll be able to sling over each shoulder while she rides behind me on the bike. She's got a car, but we'll be leaving it here for several reasons. First, it's too easy for that shitbag Mark to track her with it. Second, from here on out, where she goes, I go. And after months in a concrete cage at the mercy of the Department of Corrections, I'm not too keen on locking myself into an unwieldy metal cage.

Fuck you, motherfucker. I'm going to kick your ass. Get the fuck to the clubhouse. Now.

Well, that sure wasn't a long message for how long he seemed to be working on it. I swallow a sigh at the battle I know is ahead of me. Until now, I've done my best to ignore Francesca's sweet sleepy snores from under the thin blanket on her bed while she naps. But now, it's time to go. We've already been here later than I wanted. Every additional minute we're here is time we risk being seen together by her ex.

The lazy fuck seems to sleep in or be busy every morning, but I've caught him sniffing around her apartment during the day while she's at work. I need to get her dressed and out of here before he shows up and figures out he can find her by following me.

"Cuteness, it's time to go. I packed for you, so you could sleep. But unless you want me to get you dressed, you need to wake up and do it yourself." I'm quiet in hopes of not scaring her for a second time in one day.

Her eyes blink sleepily up at me, no fear in them, and a drowsy smile sends surprised lust bolting through me. For twenty-eight years, I've walked this earth without succumbing to the urge to fuck. It was a good run, I guess. Over now. I need this woman beneath me, as soon as I can convince her to be there. Or over me. Fuck, I'm not picky.

It's time this virgin feels what it's like to do more than listen. Time this virgin gets to fuck.