Chapter 6

6

Piston – One Month Later

“Hey, Piston,” a sultry voice whispers in my ear, a slender arm gliding slowly over my shoulders from where I’m leaning on the bar, and I silently groan.

All I want is a drink in peace while I contemplate whether to meet with Natalie tonight or just say fuck it and use my hand in the shower instead.

I have my back to everyone, my head partially down, which means don’t fucking disturb me. Now, why can’t this bitch take the fucking hint?

I gulp my beer, trying to calm the anger that I always fucking feel lately, and ask, “Why are you at the clubhouse annoying me, Katie, and not at the bar?”

She breathes in my ear, making me cringe before she gently bites my earlobe, causing a disgusted shiver to run through me. I move away quickly, making her stumble. She quickly grabs the bar before falling on her ass, gasping in shock.

I glare hard at her, but she ignores it. Her eyes look over my tank underneath my cut, and fury runs through my veins. This bitch is getting too fucking comfortable around us brothers for my liking, and none of us have even fucking touched her.

It’s club law not to fuck the employees unless they are clubwhores, but they don’t even act this way.

Katie grins, biting her bottom lip, trying to run her long, red nails down my bare arm despite my trying to move away from her, and puts a lustful rasp to her voice as she whispers, “I quit last week. I no longer work at the bar, Piston; I own my own interior design business now, baby, which means you and I….”

Her voice trails off when I laugh darkly, cutting into her failed seduction.

She seriously thought just because she no longer works for the club that I’d fuck her, when I haven’t touched another girl other than Natalie in five fucking years?

What a stupid fucking idiot.

Unfortunately for me and my fucked-up past, my mind, body, and fucking soul belong to one woman and one woman only. I’m just not willing to show her.

“Ever fucking defy me again, brat, and I’ll kill you, do you hear me, huh?” my father shouts as his right fist hits my eye, then my stomach, and I grunt, coughing, and I land on my knees.

I was seven when he put me in hospital, all because I refused to hit my mother with an iron bar. She was passed out from whatever drugs she’d taken, and his dinner was late.

When I woke up in the hospital, Acid told me Mom was in the room next to mine. Dad nearly killed her, hitting her with the iron bar over and over again, and the only reason we didn’t end up in foster care was because our lovely father came up with a story of us getting robbed, and he ran into the house to find us unconscious.

Mom died not long after that of an overdose.

I have my father’s blood running through my veins, and I refused to settle down; worried I’d be like him, only for Natalie to fucking trap me.

It didn’t stop my feelings, though, did it?

I lift my left hand in front of Katie’s face, showing her my wedding ring, and I remind her, “I’m married, Katie.”

She pouts. “Only on paper because she trapped you.”

I raise a brow. “And? She’s still my wife, and I won’t cheat on her, so why don’t you turn around and fuck off so I can finish my drink.”

She opens her mouth, but before she can try to pointlessly persuade me to take her to my room, a heavy hand lands on my shoulder.

“I didn’t realize someone hired you to decorate their home on club land, Katie,” Canine says, and I sigh.

Fucking great; there’s goes my peace and quiet.

“I-I uh, haven’t…” she stutters, and I snort as he cuts her off, “Then I suggest you leave club property. The doors only open to outsiders on party nights, which you are well aware of. You no longer work for us, so your extras are gone.”

Her face reddens, but he ignores it and looks at me with a raised brow, and I raise my hands up in my defense. “I was just having a beer when she approached me from behind two minutes ago.”

Katie growls just as a prospect grabs her arm and drags her away, but I ignore her as Canine narrows his eyes, watching me for a moment. He nods once and reminds me, “Alright, fine. Tonight’s family night, Piston.”

I groan, dropping my head a little. I managed to miss last month’s because I volunteered to go on the club run to Texas, swapping transport vans with the Devil’s van, which was full of ammo, and catching up with Sniper, their Road Captain. I also missed those few hours I’d usually spend with Natalie.

I just needed a fucking break from everyone trying to tell me their thoughts on my marriage, and a break from looking into my wife’s eyes without feeling betrayed and hurt that she did this to us, that she forced me into something I’ve always been dead set against.

Fuck, we both knew we were falling, but we continued doing what we were doing because we both knew it couldn’t go any further, but she made sure it did.

A small part of me, the fucking smallest, is happy to have her tied to me, but the rational part knows my father’s blood runs through me, and that I’m a potential danger to her.

“Alright,” I sigh. “I’ll meet you at Gran's; I’m sure she’ll want some yard work done before dinner anyway,” I say in defeat.

Finding out we had a blood uncle was a shock, but the fact our grandmother was still kicking killed; years we missed with her….

Fucking Dad!

I stand, grabbing my keys, when he clears his throat, and I frown. He gives me a sheepish look, and I brace myself, but his words still knock me for loop.

“Hol and Gran want Natalie there as well,” he admits, and I grit my teeth.

Two years and I’ve managed to keep her away from family night, to keep her from affiliating herself with club life, from my family. Two fucking years….

“Eli,” he tries, but I shake my head, glaring his way.

I snap, "She trapped me!”

He winces. “Or you think she did. Three years you two were together. Why would she wait to trap you until just before you ended things?”

It’s the same question I always get—hell, it’s the same question I always ask myself—but I'm not willing to find out the truth because I don’t plan on staying married to her anyway.

I growl, “Not you, too,” feeling so very fucking alone.

He winces at my hurt and says, “I’m sorry, kid.”

I shake my head, and he pats my shoulder. “Go grab your wife, yeah? Because I can guarantee, if you show up without her, there will be hell to pay, and you know it.”

I nod, knowing he’s right. Aunt Holly tried hitting me with her stick when she heard I got married and she wasn’t invited.

Silently cursing, I turn and head to the front door.

I’ve tried to keep contact with Natalie low, but it’s hard because I realized this past month that Steal was right. I am butt hurt over her trapping me because I fucking fell for her.

She owns me, yet she betrayed me.

Shaking my head, I climb on my bike and start her up, taking a deep breath.

Three years to go, then we’ll both be set free. She’ll get a big lump sum, and then we’ll go our separate ways.

To try and move on….

It only takes me a few minutes to arrive at the apartment complex, but I frown when I don’t see her car.

It's four in the afternoon, and she doesn’t work Thursdays, so where in the fuck is she?

With questions running through my head about where the fuck my wife is and, more importantly, with who, I walk toward the ground floor apartment, unlocking it, only to pause at the sight before me.

It’s neat. Too fucking neat.

Normally, when I come here, I don’t take notice, Natalie my only focus, my cock leading my way, but right now, everything is fucking pristine, like how I bought it kind of pristine.

With a heavy feeling settling in my gut, I storm to the kitchen and open the cupboards, slamming each one when I find it empty. No not just empty, fucking bare!

What the actual fuck?

I turn and head down the hallway, ignoring the living area that’s clearly not been lived in, and open the bedroom door.

The bed is made like normal, but there’s nothing personal, no pictures on the nightstand or her jewelry on the vanity near the large window, no fucking cat toys or Bluebell's bed in the corner.

And no fucking perfume smell or the scent of candles she likes.

I spent fucking hours in Natalie’s old apartment, and it always smelt like honey and vanilla.

I storm over to her walk-in closet and start cursing a fucking storm.

“Empty, it’s fucking empty!” I slam the door shut and check the bathroom, and I curse again. “Where in the fuck are you staying, Diamond!”

I feel my pulse racing, panic hitting as I slam the closet door, leave the room, and go into the living area, looking around. Again, no pictures, no fluffy throw that she likes, or her slippers underneath the coffee table. No magazines or books on the shelves, all fucking empty.

Motherfucker.

I turn and thunder out of her apartment, slamming the door as I go. I grab my phone, ready to call my wife and find out what the fuck is going on when I hear a car.

I look up and see Natalie’s Ford park next to my bike. I grit my teeth as she climbs out in jeans and a—fuck me, is she wearing a blouse?

Why in the fuck would she wear a blouse?

She looks up when she hears me walking toward her but frowns and asks, “Who pissed in your Cheerios? You have a face like thunder.”

My lips twitch, but I clear my throat to hide it.

Damn women. Fuck, I missed her. Her hair is down, curled around her shoulders, and her makeup is light.

She looks fucking beautiful, and it hurts even more so that she did this to us, trapped us in an unwanted marriage…one that I’m starting to realize would have happened one way or another.

Tilting my head at her, I demand, “Where have you been staying, Natalie? That fucking apartment is bare of any of your things!”

Her beautiful midnight eyes darken, looking nearly black, before she snaps, “That’s none of your business." She walks past me and continues, “Now, are we doing this or not?”

I chew the inside of my cheek, hoping I don’t snap her fucking head off at treating our sex life like a fucking chore when we both know we’d be fucking like rabbits if things weren’t this way.

I snap, “No we’re not,” causing her to stop and look at me with a raised brow, a little hurt in her dark blue eyes, and I instantly see it. She thinks I don’t want her when that couldn’t further from the truth.

I sigh and say softly, “Gran and Aunt Holly would like you to join us for the family dinner.”

She freezes for a moment, waiting for me to tell her I was only joking, but her eyes widen when she realizes I’m not.

I raise a brow at her, knowing she won’t defy my aunt. I wait her out, which doesn’t take long.

Growling, she stomps past me, mumbling, “Great, just flipping great. So instead of not getting an orgasm and being left unsatisfied, I’ve now got to sit around a table, acting all lovie fricking dovie for a few hours with a husband who is an ass, and can’t pleasure his wife and remember where to find her clit once a fricking month.

I snort but cough to hide it, rubbing my hand over my mouth to hide my grin.

Okay, so I may have been punishing her with the no orgasm thing for forcing me into this marriage, for forcing herself into my heart, even if it was unintentional…. Maybe I need to change that so she doesn’t bite my dick the next time she sucks it.

My cock twitches at the thought of her pretty red lips around me, and I whisper, “Down boy,” as Natalie continues to mumble under her breath.

She grips her car door handle but yanks it too hard, causing the door to fling open and connect with her shoulder, and I wince, knowing that it is going to bruise.

“Still fucking clumsy as ever,” I sigh as she lifts her hand and snaps, “Shut up!”

I smirk as she glares my way before climbing into her car, slamming the door for good measure but she winces, indicating it hit her again, and I shake my head, chuckling.

Fucking woman. See, this is why she wormed her way into my heart; she’s fucking adorable.

With a silent groan at the thought of the next few hours of torture, I climb onto my bike and start her up. I give Nat a nod, and she drives off, and I follow while trying to will my cock to soften.

It’s what she always does to me, and sometimes I wish I were the forgiving type, that I was the type to be in a healthy relationship, but I’m just not.

She’s better off without me, and I’m better off without a woman that manipulates me.

I just have to convince my heart of that.