"I'm with the Insurgents MC. We're doing this piddly ass job as a favor to a longtime friend." His gaze roamed over her body. She's still so beautiful even though she's lost a lot of weight. He didn't remember the dark circles under her eyes. "How can you be a part of this jerk's lifestyle?"
She shrugged. "It's nice not being in control. I like being submissive and he loves being dominant, so it works for us." She laughed nervously before looking out the door for the umpteenth time.
"That wasn't who you were when I knew you."
"That was a long time ago. I don't think either of us knew who we were, Roche."
"I'm not Roche anymore. I'm Rock."
She smiled faintly. "And I'm no longer Clotille. I'm Pet." They stared at each other for a few seconds, and then she cleared her throat. "Are you married?"
"No."
"Girlfriend?"
"Nah."
"I can't believe a handsome, rugged man like you isn't taken."
"Don't wanna be."
"Don't you get lonely?"
"I said I wasn't taken, not that I'm living like a monk. I got plenty of women. No worries there."
She skimmed her eyes over his body. "I bet you do. You grew up to be quite a good-looking man."
"Merci."
She smiled, a touch of red kissing her cheeks. "I can't believe you're here. It's so good to see you again," she said in a low voice.
"Let's go for lunch and catch up," he said, his gaze lingering on her full lips.
"I don't think I like you asking my pet out." Frederick's voice was sharp and steely.
Clotille's hand flew to her mouth and she trembled.
"I don't give a damn what you like," Rock gritted, his six-foot-one frame looming over the other man.
Frederick ignored him and stared hard at Clotille. "Why were you talking to him without my permission?"
"I'm sorry," she mumbled.
"You're sorry, what?"
"I'm sorry, Sir."
"You disobeyed me, didn't you?"
"Yes, I disobeyed you, Sir."
Before he could continue, Rock cut in. "Don't blame her. I'm the one who came in bugging her. She told me to leave and not talk to her. I kept pushing it."
"And she kept talking to you. My point exactly," Frederick said matter-of-factly. He glared at Rock. "If you think for one minute that I'm going to let you paw and soil my pet, you're dumber than you look."
"You better fuckin' watch your mouth ‘cause I won't think twice ‘bout beating the shit outta you. I don't give a fuck if you own the goddamned world. You show respect or your prick friends will be scraping you off your white marble floors."
Frederick looked at Clotille. "Get upstairs. Now!"
"She's not going anywhere. We're not done talking." He saw Clotille blanch, her lips quivering.
"I don't want any of you bikers in the house. Just stay outside."
"Fuck you. Come with me," Rock said to her.
She looked at Frederick. He smiled. "Pet, you have permission to speak."
"I can't. I'm with Frederick."
Frederick looked at him smugly and Rock clenched his fists, willing himself to keep his temper in check. If she wants this fucked-up life, she can have it. I'm sick of this shit. How the hell is Clotille even here? Who gives a fuck? First thing when I get back, I'm telling Banger to assign another brother to this bullshit job.
She went behind Frederick, her hand on his shoulder. He laughed. "I think my pet has spoken. Just because you're younger and ride a motorcycle you think all the women want you. I can give my pet more than you ever could."
Rock looked one last time at the woman he'd loved since he was eleven years old. Even though her hand was firm on the asshole's shoulder, a solitary tear spilled from her eye, leaving a wet trace down her face. As he watched it, he could feel her heart breaking.
Rock marched out of the room and went up to Jax and Chas. "He wants us outside only." The three guys left the house, and Rock went over to his bike and got on. His cams screamed to life and he ignored the baffled faces of his brothers as he sped away from Clotille.
Chapter Seven
The wind slashed at Rock's face and body as he rode furiously back to Pinewood Springs. The last person he ever thought he'd see again was Clotille, and she turned out to be the woman who had been pricking at his mind for the past five weeks. She's living as a slave for some rich man's amusement. What the fuck, Clotille? He didn't buy it for one minute that she wanted to be part of that asshole's lifestyle. Hell, he knew her, plus he saw it in her eyes and heard it in her voice that she was lying. She was with Frederick Blair for a reason.
Rock rounded the corner along the pass so low to the ground his shin was inches from the asphalt. As he pulled up, he remembered Isa telling him that Clotille's father had gambled away all their money and they'd lost everything, but now her mother was living in a big house in a ritzy neighborhood. A wry smile cracked his face; he'd just figured out where the money came from to allow her mother to live in luxury.
He couldn't believe Clotille had ended up in such a situation. Shit! If she needs money, I can help her out. He yelled and the wind swallowed up his cuss words. Rock had money from the sale of his mother's land, and he hadn't wanted to touch a penny of it. He hadn't even wanted to sell the land in the first place. He thought of it as blood money, so he'd placed it in an investment account which had been growing steadily for years. The club also gave a generous stipend to all the members thanks to their dispensaries and various businesses in Pinewood Springs.
He hung a sharp right down the small dirt road leading to the clubhouse. Pulling up, he jumped off his bike and walked inside, the familiar scents of beer and weed welcoming him home. Before he reached the bar, Bruiser said, "Banger wants to see you in his office."
Rock stiffened. Had Frederick contacted Liam already? The whiny pussy. Rock rapped on the office door and entered when Banger's voice boomed out. A scowling president greeted him as he walked into the room then sank into a chair in front of the desk.
"Why the fuck did you leave your post? And what the fuck were you thinking by hitting on a client's wife? Shit, don't you have enough pussy in the club and town?"
Rock's eyes widened for a second when he heard "wife," but then his complacent expression returned. "It turns out I know her from back in the day. We're both Cajuns from the same parish."
"So what the fuck does that have to do with you hitting on her and leaving your post?"
Rock stared defiantly at Banger's piercing gaze. "I wasn't hitting on her. And I don't like the sonofabitch who owns the house. We don't get along, so I thought it was best that I leave before I beat the shit outta him."
For several seconds Banger and Rock engaged in a stare down, neither one giving an inch until the president slowly shook his head. "Fuck, man. You may have blown the whole thing with Liam. You know how it is-it's all about the money. There's no way Liam is giving this fucker up for us, and we need him to get info on the Demon Riders. You shouldn't have lost your head."
"Yeah, well, I did. I don't like the way he's treating her. She's like a goddamned slave." Rock crossed his arms and jutted his jaw out.
"Yeah, I know all about the dinner party from the last time you were up there. Some of the guys told me about it. It sounds to me that's what they're into. It might not be for everyone but it seems like they fucking like it. It's not for you to decide what's right or wrong for her. You need to back the fuck off. This isn't just about you and some pussy; it's about the Insurgents. The club has a job and its reputation, and I can't have one of the brothers fucking things up because he has the hots for someone else's wife."
Rock just glared.
"I'll call Liam and smooth this out. The guy doesn't want you near his place so-"
"That suits me just fine ‘cause I have no fuckin' intention of going back there." Rock stood up. "We done here?" He wanted to take a hot shower, drink some brandy, and maybe fuck Lola and Rosie. The last thing he wanted to do was think about Clotille and how beautiful she looked. He wanted to leave that far behind.
"We're done." Banger looked at his computer screen, his action dismissing Rock. He left and climbed the stairs to his room, the shock of seeing his old flame still reverberating through him.
After his shower, he poured himself a brandy and sipped it slowly. Clotille's eyes had always captivated him, but at that moment they haunted him. He sighed. She saved her family by selling herself to the guy. Are they really married or is Frederick using "wife" lightly? He wouldn't put it past Frederick to be saying that on purpose to piss him off. Why the hell do I care? We haven't had anything since we were teenagers. Then he remembered how she'd gone back and married Luc a few months after Rock was incarcerated. That had hurt more than anything. He'd acted like it didn't, especially to Isa, but inside he'd been shattered. He'd needed her-his mother had been killed by his father, for fuck's sake-but she'd left him when the going got tough. She fuckin' bailed on me.