Twenty Five

Twenty-Five

Ana

T ossing my head back, I stare into the mirror and run my hands through my newly-dyed hair. I look different, with black hair. And that’s exactly what I’d needed, to look different. To leave behind the woman I’d once been, because she can’t handle this shit. She doesn’t want to. This new me, though, she can try. Maybe she’ll be better at it.

Heading back into the bedroom, I look at the clothes I bought yesterday, on a trip into town with Freja. I couldn’t go alone, they still won’t let me. I’m hoping that’ll change, I just need to give them more reasons to trust me. That’s what Cady said. I think she might be right.

I pick up the faux-leather black pants, remembering how cool they’d felt against my skin when I’d tried them on in the store. Freja had said they’d suited me, and I’d agreed with her. They cling to me, so tight they show every curve, although, those curves are less prominent these days. Freja also told me I need to eat more, which I probably do. I’m thinner than I’d like to be, but for a time food hadn’t been all that important. A lot of my priorities are changing now.

I sit down on the bed, smiling as I look at the high-heeled, knee-high boots that I would never have worn before. The old me, she’d always been more of a T-shirt and sneakers kind of girl. The black lace cami-top lying next to me on the bed, she wouldn’t have worn that, either. But, teamed with the pants and the boots, it’s something the new me would definitely wear. Coming out of my comfort zone is a necessity. I can’t think like I used to, it doesn’t work, doesn’t help, it isn’t an option, not anymore.

Standing up, I wriggle into the figure-hugging pants, slip on the top, and pull on the boots. I run a brush through my newly-dyed hair and check my makeup. Gone is the minimal mascara and a touch of pink lip gloss, now it’s all smoky black shadow, liquid eye-liner and pale lips. I look different. Feel different. Job done.

“Are you off to the clubhouse?” Freja asks as I come into the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge.

I nod. “Is that okay?”

She looks at me as she wipes her hands on a tea towel. “You suit it, the darker hair.”

She’s not in the least bit surprised by my new look, she doesn’t question or judge and I love that about her. She lets me be me, whoever that is right now. I still need to find out for sure. “Thank you.”

“I’ll just go call the clubhouse. Get someone to come pick you up.”

I lean back against the wall and sigh quietly, but I can’t fight this. I tried, and it didn’t work. I just have to hope that the more reasons I give them to trust me, the more freedom they’ll let me have.

“Jep’s on his way,” Freja says, coming over to me and tucking my hair behind my ear. She’s done her best to be a mom figure for me, but nobody will ever be that. Nobody could ever replace my mama. “You look beautiful. So you be careful, okay? These men, they’re not all bad, but they need watching.”

“I can look after myself.”

Freja smiles. “I know you can. But you’ve been through a lot.”

I look out of the window, hoping Jep won’t be too long. “Can I go visit her? My mama?” I turn my head to look back at Freja. “Can I go visit her grave?”

It’s the first time I’ve wanted to do that. Before, it all felt too raw. It was too soon. Too painful. But now, I think it would give me strength, to go to her. Talk to her.

“Of course you can.” Freja throws me another kind smile. “You sure you’re ready to do that now?”

“I’m ready.”

I’m facing up to a lot of things I refused to face up to before, because I need to do that. Burying my head in the sand, or just assuming I can do something because I want to do it, that wasn’t working.

I hear a bike pull up outside and I grab my jacket and head for the door. “I’ll be back later.”

“Be careful, Ana!” Freja shouts after me.

Jep throws me a helmet and I pull it on and climb onto the bike, holding onto the grabrail behind me as we pull away and speed off toward the clubhouse. It’s a short journey, less than ten minutes, and it isn’t until we pull up inside the compound, and I climb off the bike and take off the helmet, that Jep notices I look different.

“You done something to your hair?” he asks, frowning slightly.

“What do you think?” I smile, laying the helmet down on the bike seat. “Thanks for the lift.”

I head into the clubhouse, ignoring the looks I’m getting, but secretly I’m pleased. My new look is making an impact.

It’s quite quiet inside, just a few of the guys hanging out: a handful of club girls. But I know Joel is here, I saw his bike outside. Maybe he’s in a meeting with Skip or something.

“Woah!” Kit whistles when he catches sight of me. “Where did you come from?”

I can’t help smiling, because the attention, it’s nice. I used to hate it, when I didn’t want to be around these men: when I didn’t trust them. Things are changing, though. And some of those things, I can’t control them.

“I fancied a change. A new start and all that.”

“Suits you, but, man, you look so fucking different!”

“Back the fuck off, Kit.”

I spin around to see Joel standing there, in the clubhouse doorway, his eyes fixed firmly on Kit. And he keeps them on Kit until he’s backed away, only then does he finally shift his gaze to me.

“You okay?” he asks, and his expression doesn’t flicker. He doesn’t acknowledge my new look. Doesn’t let it show that he’s noticed anything different about me.

“Of course I’m okay. We were only talking.”

“You need to be careful. You can’t always trust this lot.”

“And I can trust you, can I?”

He pauses for a second, a slight frown forming. “Yes, you can trust me. You know you can.”

I move a little closer, my eyes locked on his. “We fucked, Joel. And neither of us seems to be choosing to acknowledge that. We’ve barely spoken one word to each other since.”

“That kind of language doesn’t suit you, Ana.”

“You don’t know me. For some reason everyone seems to think I’m this weak woman who can’t look after herself: who’s scared of this shit, but I’m not. I ran my own business. I had a fucking life, Joel…”

“Jesus, Ana…” He turns his head: rakes a hand through his hair.

“You didn’t regret what happened between us–”

“Not here.” His eyes burn into mine, his face serious. “I’ve got things to do.”

What the hell was that?

I watch him walk away, down the corridor that leads to Skip’s office; the chapel; the rooms these men sleep in if need be. And I lean back against the wall, raise my gaze to the ceiling, and close my eyes. That didn’t go quite how I’d planned it. But that’s the way my life is now. And I’m beginning to realize there isn’t a lot I can do about that.

Joel

“What the fuck…?” Skip throws himself back in his seat. “Ana’s fucking dad ?”

“I don’t know for sure. I’m just trying to piece shit together.”

“Jesus… Do you think she has any idea?”

“I don’t think she has a clue. She hasn’t seen him since she was five years old, I doubt she’d even know what he looks like.”

“Shit!”

“Might explain a lot, though. He could be blaming us for Sofia’s death: could be helping the Hawks plan some kind of retribution…”

Skip gets up, kicking his chair back. “Then we need to hit first. And fast.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“I don’t give a fuck what you think, Joel. We hit first.”

“It’s not like you to be reckless, Skip.”

“Yeah, well, a lot’s fucking changed.” He drags a hand through his hair as he paces the floor. “We end this shit before it becomes something it doesn’t need to be, and then I’m getting out of here.” He stops pacing and looks at me. “I’m passing the baton onto you, Joel.”

“Come on, Skip. You can’t make those kind of decisions–”

“We talked about this, remember?”

“Years ago, for Christ’s sake! And I never really thought you’d ever leave this life.”

“I never thought I would, either. But Sofia changed all of that.”

“Sofia isn’t here anymore. She’s gone.”

When he looks at me this time, his eyes are dark. Hard. Cold. “I know she’s fucking gone. That’s why I want those fuckers hit, and if Renard gets caught in the crossfire, I’m not gonna lose sleep over that… Why the fuck does he care what happened to Sofia, anyway? He walked out on them, left them with all that fucking debt, it was his fucking fault she’s dead, not mine. Not this club’s. The fucking Hawks were the bastards who shot her: who almost raped his daughter, so why the fuck is he targeting us?”

“I don’t know. But he must have his reasons. Look, we don’t even know if he is Ana’s father, it could all just be coincidence.”

“I’ll get Rik onto it. See what else he can find out.”

“Okay… Skip, can I ask you something?”

He looks at me. “Yeah. What?”

“If you’re really serious, about leaving this life behind…” I stop talking as I try to think of a way to word this question. “Do you honestly think of Ana like a daughter?”

He narrows his eyes slightly. “She’s all I have left of Sofia. She’s family, and I don’t mean club family, she’s my family.” He leans back against the huge oval table in the center of the chapel, crossing his arms, one ankle crossed over the other. “I know how you feel about her, Joel. I’m not blind. And that lot out there, I know every one of their fucking dicks stands to attention when she’s around, but you…” His gaze holds mine, and I can’t read his expression. “She’s my family, Joel. When I go, she comes with me. I want to give her a better life, the kind of life Sofia would’ve wanted for her. All this giving her a shop and getting Cady to help her, it’s nothing but a stop gap, something to keep her occupied while I finish whatever shit I need to get done here. While I get justice for her mama. I’m going nowhere until I’ve had payback.”

“What about Renard? What if he is her father?”

“I don’t give a shit. I don’t fucking care. She’s coming with me.”

Hearing him say those words, with so much conviction, it’s difficult to ignore, and it fucking hurts.

“And if she doesn’t want to go with you?”

“She wants to see the back of this place as much as I do.”

“You think?”

His eyes narrow, the darkness deepening, and I’m all too aware I’m pushing him, but all of a sudden this shit means something to me. She means something to me.

“Back off, Joel.”

“Back off ?”

“From Ana. I don’t want her getting close to any of you fuckers, that isn’t what Sofia wanted for her, so I’m trusting you to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

I can’t stop the laugh from escaping, “Are you fucking kidding me? I’m back on babysitting duties?”

He comes over, stands right in front of me, his eyes now black as coal. “Do as you’re fucking told. You hear me?” He turns around. Walks over to the window. “Get out of here.”

Anger’s rising, but I push it down. Fighting Skip won’t help anything, but he’s fucking deluded if he thinks I’m running Ana’s life for her.

“One more thing, Joel.”

I stop in the doorway, and I look at him. Right at him.

“Don’t touch her again.”

Like I said. Fucking deluded…