Clubwhore (Devil's Renegade MC #1)(24)

In this moment, my relationship with my mother is clear. For endless Sundays, I’ve come here, waited on her, cleaned for her, given her money and allowed her to use me as her personal slave. She doesn’t want to be my mother. She doesn’t want to do mother-daughter shit with me most classify as normal. And she sure as hell doesn’t want to play Scrabble. Why did I think this time would be different?

The only thing that’s different about this Sunday is me. I realize it doesn’t matter how I mop her floors, how I wash her clothes or how many endless pots of coffee I make—it will never make her love me more. If she even loves me at all…

I want to leave. I want to turn around and walk out. But I can’t. It’s just not in me—this girl who, caged beast or not, needs her family in her life. So I don’t mop with the cleaner that leaves a waxy film on the floor. I don’t use bleach either, because my brother doesn’t like the way it smells. I use the pine-scented cleaner, and make sure to do a better job this time than I ever have.

****



“Don’t you owe Mama some more money?” Craig asks, glaring down at me. He’s standing so close, I can hear him breathe.

“I don’t owe Mama anything. I give her two hundred a week. Just like I did last week, and every other week I’ve been here.”

“You didn’t give me any money last week,” my mother interjects, eyeing me suspiciously but not giving my brother a second glance. As I suspected, Craig took the money for himself and claimed I didn’t give her anything.

“I gave the money to Craig—”

“You’re a lyin’ bitch too, Delilah. You didn’t give me shit!”

I hold my hands up in defense. “You’re right. I didn’t.” I level him with a look—feeling awfully brave for someone who is fighting a losing battle. “You took it from me.”

White light flashes in my eyes, and I stumble back. My hand flies out in search of something to steady myself. I end up falling on the couch. The pain hurts so much more when my mind doesn’t crave it.

“Stop!” I scream, holding my hands up in front of my face. Panic simmers in my veins. For the first time in years, I’m afraid of my brother. “I’ll give you everything I have!”

“Damn right you will.” Fisting my hair in his hand, he pulls me from the couch and drags me to the kitchen where my duffel sits by the door. He releases me with a shove and I fall hard on my knees. I have to blink a few times to uncloud my vision before I can manage to open the zipper.

I can hear my mother’s shrill voice through the fog in my head. She’s still pleading her case that she never received the money. Craig is telling her I never showed up last week. I’m just fighting like hell to give them what they want so I can leave. Had it really never occurred to me until now that he could actually hurt me to the point of it being life threatening?

“Here.” I hold up the money in my hand. Snatching it from my fingers, Craig flips the bills and counts them out loud. Five hundred dollars—all I have on me. I don’t know where I’ll get gas money to get home, but it doesn’t matter. I’ll worry about that later.

Getting to my feet, I’m nearly out the door when it’s pushed shut and Craig leans down to growl in my ear. “We need to talk.” My blood chills. Pushing me toward Mama’s room, he keeps a firm grip on my shoulder so I can’t break away.

“Mama owes a thousand dollars to Gary,” he says, his tone even and cold.

“Who?”

“Gary. The guy she borrowed the money from last week.” I start shaking my head, already knowing where this is going.

“No, Craig. I won’t. And I don’t have that kind of money!” I’m pleading, begging him not to make me do what I think he’s trying to make me do.

Closing the distance, he pokes his finger into my forehead as he glares down at me. “Gary don’t fuck around, Delilah. You’re gonna give that man his money or something else.”

“I am not fucking him. Mama wouldn’t allow it, and you know it. That’s why you won’t say it in front of her.”

“You think she gives two shits about how you pay the debt?” The humor and truth in Craig’s words hurt, even though the reality should be clear to me by now. “She just don’t want everybody knowin’ you’re a whore.”

“I am not a whore.”

“Well, you are today.” Pushing the duffel from my shoulder, he starts to pull my hoodie over my head. I fight back, but he quickly wrestles me to the floor and removes it. I’m left in nothing but my sports bra and sweats.

“That’ll do. Take your pants off, and get in the bed. I’ll call him over and distract Mama while he comes in.”

“Are you out of your fucking mind? I am not doing this!” I yell. His hand comes down hard over my mouth, silencing me.

“Delilah, I swear I’ll kill you.” The fear in his eyes sends a series of light bulbs flashing in my head. When he moves his hand, I speak with as much malice as I can muster.

“You owe him money. Not Mama.” His eyes drop, giving him away. “Get. Off. Of. Me.”

Surprisingly, he stands. “Fuck you, little sister. I’ll remember this shit.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” I bite out.

He walks out, slamming first the bedroom door, and then the front door as he leaves the trailer. I pull the hoodie back over my head, proud of myself for putting my foot down. He’s a sick bastard.

The sound of a car cranking has me rushing toward the window. I find him leaving in my car just as the blinds are raised. Banging on the window, I scream at him, but he can’t hear me.

I’m pissed at him. Pissed at myself for letting him get his hands on my keys, and pissed at Mama for giving birth to such an idiot. Problem is, I’m not sure if the idiot is him or me.



****



“Delilah?” The worry in Bryce’s voice has me wishing I’d have called anyone but him. Well…technically I did. He’s just the only one who answered. The other bitches I consider “friends” sent me to voicemail.

“Hey, you busy?” Please say yes. Please say yes.

“What’s wrong?”

“I asked if you were busy.”

“And I asked what’s wrong. I won’t ask again.” Fucking man…

“I’m—” The sound of gravel crunching has me opening the blinds again, but it’s only the neighbor.

“Dammit, Delilah…”

“I need a ride,” I blurt, wishing I could endure this hell a little longer, and keep my pride. But I’ve been here all day. It’s nearly ten at night, and Craig still hasn’t showed.

“Where are you?” I can hear him already walking, and my heart comes to life for the first time today.

“Baton Rouge.” His footsteps cease.

“What?”

I swallow hard. “I’m in Baton Rouge. My car got…stolen.” It’s not a complete lie.

“I feel like you’re not telling me something.”

“I’m telling you my car was taken. I’m asking you if you can get me a ride. It’s simple. Yes or no.” My nerves are shot. My anxiety is at an all-time high. And this sadness I’m suddenly overwhelmed by is worse than all that combined.

“Give me the address and I’ll have someone there within the hour.”

“Thank you,” I breathe. I give him the address and hang up—avoiding any further questions. He calls me back twice, but I text him that my battery is about dead. He answers with a simple “okay.”

I tell Mama bye, and leave with my empty duffel slung over my shoulder. I’d given Bryce the address to the convenience store about a half mile from the trailer park. I didn’t need him knowing where my mother lived. I’d done a good job of keeping my family and my job separated, I wasn’t about to combine the two worlds now.





The smell of coffee wafts into my nostrils when I open the door to the store. My mouth waters at the scent, and my anger intensifies when I realize I don’t even have a dollar to buy a single cup. Scanning the room, I find several booths in the back next to the deli and take a seat. The bitter January cold has me pulling my hoodie tighter around me despite the warmth of the building.

I’ve been here all of ten minutes when a man I don’t recognize, wearing a familiar cut of a Devil’s Renegades’ support club, approaches. His tall, tattooed body is slim, but muscular. He appears to be in his mid-twenties, despite the dark, scruffy beard that covers his jaw. Even though his face is hard, and his body donned in thick leather, his eyes are soft, warm pools of brown that make me feel safe. Tears threaten to fall for some reason, but I force them back.

“Delilah?” he asks, his voice surprisingly deep. I nod. “I’m Malfuctional Secretary York. DRSA Bryce wants you to come with me. ”

“Are you taking me home?” Home…

“I’m just following orders, ma’am.”

“What the hell does that mean?” I ask, wondering why in the hell he can’t give me a yes or no answer.

“It means I’ll be taking you where Bryce told me to take you. Would you like something before we leave?” On their own accord, my eyes sweep to the row of coffee machines behind him. The corner of his lip turns up and he nods, his face softening.