Chapter 5

5

I looked up from the table I was cleaning when Whitney barged into the clubhouse, the door slamming roughly against the wall, announcing her presence. I heard one of the other club girls mutter a profanity as she disappeared into the kitchen.

I didn’t blame her. Whitney was a bitch, but I had tables to clean.

The club didn’t pay me to sit on my ass.

“Elijah!” she yelled, making me cringe. God, her voice was loud and screechy.

I watched as the chapel doors swung open. Elijah stormed out. I winced for her . One, you didn’t barge into the clubhouse if you weren’t a patched member. You walked in with respect, and you kept your fucking head down, even if you were married to one of the members. Two, you sure as fuck didn’t shout for one of the members like you’d lost your goddamn mind.

The only time you did was if it was a fucking emergency.

“Someone better be dead,” Elijah growled at her as he stormed in her direction.

She threw a bag at his feet. His clothes from yesterday spilled out of it. “Why do your clothes smell like some bitch’s cheap perfume?!”

Excuse me ? My perfume was not cheap.

He gripped her arm so tightly I saw tears spring to her eyes. He yanked her close to him, making her trip over the clothes at his feet. I cast my eyes to the table, not wanting to be caught staring and receive the same kind of lashing. Staring at an altercation between Elijah and Whitney was almost just as bad as being in her position.

“My patience with you has disappeared,” he snarled down at her. “Your mom raised you to be a fucking good old lady, and that’s what the fuck you need to be, you hear me? You keep your fucking nose where it goddamn belongs. You wash my clothes without fucking complaint. And you sure as fuck don’t barge into my goddamn clubhouse like you run shit around here, you hear me?”

She meekly nodded her head. The fight died out of her. He shoved her away from him, and she caught herself on one of the tables. Her lips trembled as a tear slid down her cheek.

I wanted to shake my head. I didn’t even feel sorry for her. I mean, yeah, it sucked she got cheated on. I felt bad for that shit, but she knew better. When you signed up to be one of these men’s old lady, you signed up to turn a blind eye to the shit they did with club women.

Our lives sucked, but yet, our men took good care of us. And I knew if a woman took care of her man well enough, in turn, his dick would only go in one body: his old lady’s.

That meant you kept your head down. You did as you were told. You sure as fuck didn’t come into your old man’s clubhouse, yelling like you owned the fucking place.

“I suggest you settle the fuck down,” Elijah growled at her. “And since you want to fucking barge in here, acting like a goddamn child, you can help the women clean up from the party last night. You know where the fucking kitchen and cleaning supplies are.”

With that, he turned on his heel and stormed back into the chapel, not casting me a glance. Thank God for that. He was in a bad fucking mood now, and I didn’t feel like dealing with a pissed-off biker.

I watched out of the corner of my eye as Whitney picked up the clothes, sniffling as she did so. She carried them upstairs, and I assumed she was taking them to the prez’s room and to probably clean herself up before facing the other women.

“Something interesting on my face?” she sneered at me, suddenly turning to glare at me.

I held my hands up in a surrendering gesture, the cleaning cloth held in my right hand. “No ma’am,” I quickly uttered, turning away from her.

“Probably one of the skanky bitches he slept with,” she muttered as she walked up the stairs.

I glowered at her back. No wonder he fucking slept around. If I had a dick, I wouldn’t want to stick it in her sour pussy either.

Fucking cunt .

I focused back on what I was doing, but when I felt someone’s stare on me, I looked up, catching Elijah’s gaze. His eyes ran over me, and he licked his lips, an appreciative glint in his eyes.

Dear God, help me.