Chapter 7
Phil

I swear that fuckin'twitching nose is gonna destroy me.

She'd fallen asleep in my arms, her soft breath fanning my neck. For the first time in my life, I got a goose bump. A goddamn fucking goose bump.
Pulling in the tiny bitch tighter, I exhaled, my eyes shut tight in agony. I was so fucking hard, painfully hard.
She was so damn beautiful I couldn't believe she was actually real. I'd always wondered what she'd look like older—filled out, hair down, eyes bright—but the reality was mind-blowing.

Having her in my arms was the best thing I'd ever felt, and when that nose of hers twitched like Samantha the witch, blood pumped into my cock and thoughts of being inside her drove me frigging insane.
Fuck. I didn't even know her name. Rolling my head back against the wall, I groaned.
Pull yourself together, Phil. You're the Prez of a gun-trading MC and you're acting like a damn bitch pussy.
The bitch moaned in her sleep and nuzzled closer to my chest, her small hand moving to grip my cut, her leg bending slightly to lie over mine.
I couldn't deal with it. If she moved one more inch, I was gonna lose my restraint and fuck her into the mattress.

Scooping her too-thin frame in my arms, I pulled back the black sheets and settled her underneath, smoothing her hair from her face, watching as her full lips tilted into a peaceful smile.
Fuck me, she was beyond beautiful. Even at thirteen, I thought that shit true, but now she was way more than a goddamned ten.
Leaving my room, turning the lock, I headed to the lounge and over to the bar. Only a few brothers were left, most gone home or to their bedrooms with their bitches for the night. Charlie clearly split too.
Good. Didn't want questions flying my way. Had no answers to give her anyhow.
Walking behind the bar, I poured myself a large bourbon, PJ and Jack sitting around a table, watching my every move. Tyler ran across the room and jumped behind the bar.

"Fuck, Prez, I'll get that." I waved him away with my hand, but the brother took his place as bartender, one of his prospect duties. I took a seat beside Jack and PJ, meeting their eyes. "Prez," PJ greeted.
Frowning at the fuckers, I saw them shift in their seats—they'd been talking.

"Out with it" I said.
PJ rubbed his hand over his mouth.
"Phil, man. What the fuck's up with the bitch?" Edging forward, I met his gaze head on, my eyes twitching in annoyance.
"I'm not ripping on her. What I mean is that she's clueless, naïve. She didn't even know what a fucking biker was or even a motherfuckin' bike! She doesn't speak, looked at the brothers like she was staring at the face of evil. Turns up outta nowhere, bleeding out. We don't know where she's from or if someone wants her back. She could be trouble. In case you hadn't noticed, we're over-occupied with that shit right now. Don't need no more." PJ shook his head at me, like he didn't even recognize the man next to him.
The man who'd been his best friend for years.

"Feds are watching our ass twenty-four-seven. We walk out with a timid, bruised bitch… They'll be on us and no fucker will believe the truth about her. I mean, fuck! We got the Chechen run tomorrow. We're going to be on the road weeks reclaiming our turf. Don't need this now."
Downing my bourbon in one, I savored the smooth, peaty taste. I let the alcohol numb my throat. Slowly opening my eyes, I dropped my glass to the table and buried my hands in my hair. It'd been one… long… Fuckin'… Day.
"Where's she now?" Jack asked as he tightened his black Hangmen bandana around his head.
"Do you need me to check on her?" Shaking my head, I inhaled and said, "Sleeping."
Jack nodded. I swear the fucker looked disappointed. Then he skittered his eyes around the room before they landed back on me.
He looked like a man who wanted to say something.
"Look, Phil. When I was younger and my folks died, I was left alone. Wandered for years, scared shitless at first, then hardened up pretty damn quick. Life on the road, y'know? This club was my second chance."
"What are you sayin', brother?" PJ asked as he placed a hand on Jack's shoulder.

"Just that she may be scared shitless now, but she might come around at some point. I was brought up in a strict religious household. Never told anyone here that before. Never felt the need. That's not my life anymore, fucking far from it. Anyhow, when my folks died, I had to relearn life all over again. Lost my faith, my church, my support network. Lost my way for a while. I found my family here again with the Hangmen."

"You think she's a Bible nut?" I asked. It made some serious fucking sense.
He shrugged.
"Not sure exactly. Maybe? Just saying that was my path. But she ran from something; that's for damn sure. She turned up confused, mute, bleeding. She had tattooed scripture on her wrist about the end of days. She needs protecting by the look of things. She's obviously been sheltered. She don't know shit about life, like she's been locked up in solitary for twenty years." Leaning back, I stared at the brown-stained ceiling. I sighed and rubbed my head.
"What if I didn't come on the run? You take the lead and I stay with the bitch, get to the bottom of her deal?" I said and looked at PJ.

He laughed and shook his head in disbelief.
"You're kidding me, right? Fuck that! Don't even think it, Phil. You have to be there. You're the fucking Prez! Chechen's are expecting you to be there. Club first." Fuck! If I ever see the bastard Russians again I'll fucking slit their throats. I'll be gone nearly a month, had to go. Needed someone I could trust. Someone who'll watch out for her while I'm gone, then sort through this shit when I get back. Clearing my throat, I glanced to Rider and exhaled.
He paled.
"You take responsibility for her. Don't come on the run to the Chechen deal. Stay here with her. You protect her until I get back." I watched him swallow, then shake his head.
"Prez, I'm not sure that's a good idea."
"Not asking you, brother. It's a fucking order. I need someone I trust watching over her while I'm gone. Someone who isn't gonna fuck her while she sleeps."
His face twitched in nerves. "I…I'm not good with bitches, Phil. Never know how to talk to 'them. I'm not the right guy…" He trailed off apologetically.
"That's exactly why you're the right brother for this job. While she's here, you watch out for her, fix her leg. I don't know, teach her shit, rules and such. Hell, what about life? You know the brothers will chase her tail if she isn't owned. Can't keep her here with no protection. Last thing we want is a fucking rape. She's already been through enough shit."

"Prez…" He rubbed his hands down his face. I had no idea why the fucker never pulled pussy. Never smoked, didn't drink. Thought for a while he may've preferred cock, but I saw him watching the club sluts, fucking them with his eyes.
Just never touched them. His business. We all wrestle with our own demons. Just so happens that attitude helped me with Jane Doe.
"You're doing it! No questions. Right?" I said aggressively; making things real fucking clear.
Jack frowned and began shuffling in his seat. "Right," He agreed.

PJ leaped from his stool, face stern. He fetched the Patrón from behind the bar, slamming three shot glasses on the table and poured, not meeting my eyes.
"Just putting this out there, Phil. That girl is from a different world, whatever the fuck that is. Doubting whether she can be in this type of family, this kinda world. We both know you're in for life. You'll never leave." "

Point made. Leave it." I was losing my patience with both my VP and Jack fuckin'squirming on his chair. PJ didn't.
"Just saying you need all your focus on this damn deal with the Chechens. We lose this deal and we're fucked. Focus on life on the road. We got bigger issues than caring for some religious pilgrim nutcase right now. Like the club's a goddamn charity. I mean, what the hell? How'd you get to her age and have no fucking clue about life? She could be big trouble. She acted like a kid tonight, man. A fucking Kindergartner. You want pussy, you got Charlie to suck your cock. Stick with that shit."

Jack tossed back his tequila and stood awkwardly.
"Going to crash." I quickly signaled to Tyler behind the bar to get the fuck out to. As soon as I heard the door slam shut, I turned back to PJ and let the aggression being kept on hold fly loose. "You and I are brothers, best friends, loyal 'til the fucking end, but you quit this shit now. I'm not liking where it's heading." I stood up, towering over him, but the stubborn motherfucker never broke eye contact. He laughed without humor.
"So what? Gonna make her your old lady now? Or your new club slut? Charlie out, new Amish bitch in? That how it's gonna be? She's going to be sucking on that cock daily too? She going to have your back when you're shot or when you fuck a whore just because you fucking feel like it? Never happening. She won't deal with club life. Cut…and…run… Don't sacrifice the club for a piece of pussy."
Fisting his cut, I slammed him down against the table, empty glasses shattering on the wood floor. "You better shut your fucking mouth! Don't forget who you're talking to!"

Pushing me back, he spat, "Right." PJ straightened his cut and, giving me the finger, walked to the door, then suddenly stopped, hands clenched as he looked back over his shoulder.

"You act different around her, man. I'm saying your girl in there will fuck… You… Up…You're obsessed with the bitch, losing your damn mind if you think she belongs here. Christ, let's be honest. You lost your damn sanity age thirteen when you met her and never let this fucked-up goddess-worship thing go. I'm your best fucking friend, not just your damn VP. I remember how meeting her changed you all those years ago. She's not going to be the perfect angel you fantasized about, Phil—she's flawed and majorly fucked up by the looks of things. You're putting her on an unattainable pedestal for you. Don't be a selfish prick and put her before the club, your brothers. She won't deal with what you do, things you do, things you gotta do for the club. Let her go. Club first, remember. Nothing else comes close. I'm watching out for you, brother. I'll always have your back no matter what."

With that, he turned and left the compound, leaving me alone in the deserted bar, my messed-up thoughts my only company.
Fuck!
 I slammed back another tequila, then another, and on the fifth, I smashed an empty bottle against the wall. I knew my VP was right. She's probably best out of this fucked-up life… But I wanted her gone about as much as I wanted to leave the club. I'd just found her again, but it was too fucking late. I'd found her too goddamn late. Hades has already pulled me into Hell.
She didn't deserve to go down with me. She deserved a clean man—that so isn't fucking me.

Sitting back down at the table, I scanned the empty room, staring at the pictures that had the bitch so scared so many hours ago. I tried to imagine seeing them with innocent eyes—eyes that had only seen good, eyes that didn't belong following the example of the underworld's dark lord. Some sick feeling wound tight in my gut, and I knew I'm not getting any sleep tonight. My head was far too busy. I needed my smokes, a tall bottle of Beam, and my music.