Chapter 9

9

Natalie

“I don’t want to go home, Sissy.” Cooper pouts in the back seat, and I sigh.

It's 8 PM, and Henry is home from work and expecting him. If I had my way, I’d allow him to stay, but apparently, the step-monster will be home at nine.

“I know, bud, but you’ll be staying over tomorrow night, alright? I’ll pick you up from school and cook lasagna,” I promise.

He smirks his boyish smirk and asks, “Will I actually get to eat it this time, though?”

I scrunch my nose at him before sticking my tongue out, making him laugh.

I may have dropped the pan the last time I cooked it, and I had to order takeout with money I couldn’t afford to spend.

I turn down my father’s street and notice him standing by the road, and silently groan.

Great….

Each time I drop Cooper off, he’s gotten closer to the road, clearly hoping I’d speak to him, but each time, I haven’t.

I mean, what’s there to say?

Too much water has gone under the bridge. He put his wife before his own child, and allowed her to treat me like crap.

Forgiveness just isn’t in me.

He and Christy have both mapped out my life. Relationships, future kids—I don’t see it as an option, even though I know I deserve them. Besides, the one person I do want doesn’t want me back, so….

Shaking my head, I pull up next to Henry, who opens the door for Cooper.

“Hey, son, did you have a good time with your big sister?” he asks Cooper, who nods before leaning forward and kissing my cheek.

“Love you, Sissy,” he says, and I smile with a reply, “Love you too, bud. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He nods and climbs out, Henry rubbing his hand in Cooper’s scruffy hair before he runs into the house.

“Can we talk, Nat?” Henry asks.

I huff. “I don’t mean to sound bitchy or bratty, but why? There’s nothing to speak about, is there?”

He sighs and shuts the door, and I put my car in drive, but before I can pull away, he opens my door, and I look his way with irritation.

He smiles sadly, “I failed you; I know I did. I listened to Christy instead of seeing what she was putting you through, and I can’t express how sorry I am for that. I know that doesn’t change anything, I-I just….”

I squeeze the steering wheel. "You had a baby dropped on your doorstep, literally. I get it….”

He nods once. “I did, and I was scared. I’d just gotten married, and she made it clear she didn’t want kids yet. I never should have taken my bitterness about your birth mother out on you, Natalie.”

I look out the windshield, and remark, “You didn’t want me. Christy certainly didn’t want me, and neither did Billy.” I chuckle humorlessly and admit, “I found her, you know.”

“You did?” he questions in shock.

I nod once. “She’s married and lives in New Jersey in a big house with her three kids.”

I look at him to see him wince. “I’m so sorry, Nat….”

I just shrug. “I’m unwanted, unlovable. I know it sounds like I’m having a pity party for one, but it's true. Cooper is my only constant now.”

“Nat,” Henry rasps with such emotion my eyes tear up.

I clear my throat and whisper, “I need to get going. I have work in the morning." I look away, not willing to feel bad for him.

He doesn’t say anything for a few minutes before I feel him move. I feel his lips on my head, and my heart breaks because I’m sure this is the first time my father has shown affection toward me.

“I do love you, Nat. You’re my little girl, and I’m sorry I encouraged you to think otherwise…. Enjoy your night tomorrow with your brother,” he says before he shuts the door, and on autopilot, I drive away from the curb, my tears falling.

Deep down, I’m still that little girl, wishing her father would be there for her, while the adult me wants to drive and never stop, running away from all her heartaches.

It doesn’t take long before I’m pulling up in front of my house, and I sigh, wishing my brother was still here.

He fills part of that void, part of the emptiness in my life, giving me purpose.

The baby.

Henry.

Christy.

Piston….

Cooper takes all the pain away with his boyish smiles and giggles.

Trying to control the urge to sob, I climb out of my car and shut the door before someone grabs my arm, twisting me, and then slams my back against the car door.

My eyes connect with the cold, dark green ones, and anger fills me, and I sneer, “You really have a habit of trying to scare women in the dark by their cars, don’t you, creeper!”

The man growls and places a knife to my neck, and my blood runs cold as he snaps, “Watch that fucking mouth of yours, bitch, or I’ll cut your throat.”

I try, I really do try to keep my mouth shut, but I spent all my life keeping my mouth shut, and I’m fed up with the men in my life treating me like crap.

With all my might, I shove the man hard in the chest. He stumbles in shock, not expecting it, causing him to cut my neck a little, making it sting, but I ignore it, determined to face my attacker.

He growls again, taking a menacing step toward me, and rumbles, “You really shouldn’t have fucking done that!”

I roll my eyes and ask, “Why, because you’ll slit my throat?” He narrows his eyes, and I take a determined step forward, trying to be brave when really, I’m shaking like a fricking leaf. “I told you last time, Piston cannot stand me. He hates me, actually. I don’t go to the clubhouse, and I’m not welcome in the home he built; you shoving me last time, causing me to lose my baby, made sure of that!”

He freezes at my words, and I act instantly. I bring my knee up and ram it hard between his legs, making him grunt and cough before falling to the ground, holding himself.

I snap, “Stay the hell away from me; otherwise, I’ll use your own knife on you next time!”

I take advantage of his injury and quickly get in my car, locking the door before his hand goes to the handle.

He bangs on the window as I put my car in reverse and slam on the gas, the tires squealing.

I look in the rearview mirror to ensure he’s not following, only to see him hopping on one foot and holding his other. I snort.

I ran over his foot. Priceless.

My heart races as I drive up to the gates of the clubhouse.

I can’t keep this to myself anymore; I need Piston’s help. The man knows where I live now, which means Cooper is at risk.

The prospect, Cam, lets me in with a wave and a wink. I smile tightly and drive through, pulling up near Piston’s bike. I swallow hard, scared.

I should have just told the truth two years ago; I never should have tried to protect him. After all, he’s a big boy and didn’t even want an old lady or a wife.

I climb out of my car with my heart in my throat, and walk toward the front door.

This is the second time I’ve been here; the first, I lied and said I wasn’t pregnant, and now I’m about to admit I lied again.

Awesome.

With sweaty palms, I open the door carefully and walk in, the music is loud, the base vibrating through me. I stop at the top of the four steps by the door, allowing my eyes to adjust to the dim lighting in the room.

I look around to see some brothers are, holy shit, they’re having threesomes out in the open, really?

A woman is on all fours, a brother underneath her thrusting up while another one screws her from behind; his hands, though, are gripping the other brother’s ass, not the woman’s.

Alright, to each to their own and all that….

I blink, then blink again when I see another brother being sucked off near the bar while, to my left, two women are grinding on each other naked, twisting each other’s nipples and moaning, while a brother….

Pain slams into my chest, recognizing the back of the brother, who’s watching the two women get each other off.

He has a beer in one hand, and his head is tilted while he squeezes his member through his jeans, and my tears fall.

It’s not physically cheating, but he it’s still cheating, he’s still getting hard for someone who isn’t his wife, he is still engaging in a sexual activity with someone who isn’t his wife.

Does he really hate me this much after five years?

We never went to other people in the three years we were together; we were basically exclusive but not in a relationship. He laughed and smiled all the time. He held me when I was sad and helped me forget my past, yet here he is…cheating.

More tears fall at his betrayal—I’ve done nothing wrong in this whole fucked-up mess. I quickly wipe them away and turn, leaving.

Maybe I should pack my stuff, leave town, give him his cut back, and start somewhere new.

As I get through the door, I bump into what feels like a wall, knocking the air out of me, and I fall on my ass with a grunt.

Laughter rings out, and I look up, locking my eyes with Steal’s deep gray eyes.

He grins, his eyes sparkling with laughter before he bends down and offers me a hand, which I accept.

Damn man is made of Steel, though that’s not how he got his name, considering his is spelled S-t-e-a-l.

Something about stealing his dad's bike when he was fourteen, and crashing it into the club gate.

Shaking his head, he asks, “Where’s the fire, sweetheart?”

I freeze, the image of what I’ve just walked in on hitting me, and my eyes sting. Steal sighs, probably understanding what I just saw.

I give him a shrug before kissing his cheek, and then walking toward my car.

Just as I get near Piston’s bike, Steal speaks up, and I look his way. “You never come to the club, so you’ve obviously come here for a reason, Natalie.”

I shake my head. “It doesn’t matter.”

He sighs. “It does matter. I recognize that look in your eyes, sweetheart. I’ve seen it once before. You’re about to run, but my question is why?” I look down, not wanting to admit it, and he pleads, “Speak to me, sweetheart. Tell me what’s going on, please.”

I bite my bottom lip, my tears falling again as I look at him and compromise, “You can’t tell Piston….”

He winces, but I raise a brow to show him I’m serious. He groans but nods, puts his hands behind his back, and confirms. “Alright, I promise. Just talk to me, please….”

I swallow, my eyes going to the door then back to Steal, whose eyes are soft…until I state, “A man threatened me outside of my old apartment two and a half years ago, slammed me into my car door a few times….” Steal’s eyes harden, a scowl on his handsome face. I clear my throat. “He heard I was Piston’s old lady, and wanted me to get all the information I could on the club, and I made it perfectly clear Piston didn’t care for me, that I was just an inconvenience to him.” Steal flinches at my words but doesn’t deny them and I admit, “And I didn’t seen him again until tonight. He told me he was going to slit my throat if I didn’t get all the security codes he needs to gain access to the club.” I tilt my head and show him my neck, and Steal growls loudly.

“Did you recognize him?” he asks, deadly.

I clear my throat and semi admit, “He was wearing a Killer’s jacket, but I don’t know his name.”

I don’t tell him that he looks like an older version of Acid and Piston, not wanting to hurt them, even if Piston did just tear my heart out in there.

Steal nods. “I’ll personally see to it, sweetheart, but maybe you should stay here for a few days….”

I snort and take a step back and growl, “And watch the man I fell in love with, the man who hates me, get off watching other women? No thanks. He may not be physically cheating, but we both know he is getting something from them he doesn’t want from me.”

Steal opens his mouth, but I shake my head and take another step back. However, I freeze when I bump into something hard, and a large crash echoes behind me.

I wince as Steal's eyes widen in shock, and slowly, very slowly, I turn, only to curse very loudly.

“Oh fuck, shit, crap, no. Piston is going to kill me!”

Steal bursts out in laughter while I look at my husband’s bike, which I’ve never ridden, lying on its side, though I have marked it once before, but not to this extent.

I glare at Steal, but he puts his hand up before bending, gasping for breath. I roll my eyes, stating, "And that is my cue. I need to go and bolt my door, maybe even change my name and get plastic surgery….”

Steal’s laugh gets louder as I run over to my car, quickly climbing in and starting her up before squealing out of the clubhouse parking lot.

Cam’s eyes are wide in shock as he lets me out, his head turning to my husband’s bike, and I pick up speed.

Welp, if Piston didn’t hate me before, he definitely will now.