“Okay,” Kami breathed, looking wildly around the room at nothing in particular.  “I'm going to get changed and then we are going straight to the club.”

“Uh, Kami…”

"What?"

"Did you not hear what I just said to you?"

"You said Cox was here."

I backhanded her bicep.  "Bitch!  I said Deuce and Cox were here!"

"Who's Deuce?"  Chase asked, taking a sip of whiskey.

"None of your business!" Kami snapped.  "Oh my god Evie, what did you do?"

"Nothing!" I cried, doing a face plant into my palms.  "What was I supposed to do?  Frankie was right there!  You know, my crazy, over protective, homicidal, boyfriend Frankie?  I had a silent freak-out and left!  Now I’m having a loud freak-out because Frankie isn't here!"

"I don’t like that guy," Chase muttered.

"Go away," Kami hissed.

Ignoring her, he sat down on the foot of her bed.  Kami gaped at him.

"Seriously Chase, don't you have anything better to do?"

He took another sip of whiskey.  "Nope.  It's Saturday morning.  What the fuck should I be doing?"

"Your eighteen year old assistant?"  I said, helpfully.

Kami started laughing.

Chase, clearly not bothered by this, shook his head.  "She got clingy.  Fired her."

Kami snorted. "She's eighteen Chase, what did you expect?"

"To have some fucking sense and realize it wasn't going anywhere," He muttered.  "It wasn't as if she could have forgotten I was married, not with the five million pictures of you, that you annoyingly wallpapered my office with.  Pictures she saw up close and personal when I was bending her over my desk."

"Gross!" Kami cried out.  "You should have at least moved the pictures!"

"Nah," He said.  "I like to look at you while I'm fucking other women."

"Hmm," Kami said thoughtfully.  "I don't like to look at you ever."

"Ahh," He replied.  "So that's why you always have a pillow over your face when I'm fucking you."

"Pretty much," She said cheerfully.

"You guys are so weird," I informed them.

"You'd be weird too if your dad forced you to marry a douchebag."

Chase raised his glass in the air.  "Cheers to that," He murmured.

Kami rolled to her side and brushed my hair out of my face.  "Let's go shopping," She said softly.  "Retail therapy.  It's on Chase."

I giggled.  "Not exactly hurting for cash, Kam."

"My cash is legally earned," Chase stated.  "Not a drop of blood on it."

I glared at him.  "You're a lawyer Chase.  There's blood all over you."

"Kinky Eva," He murmured silkily.  "I like it."

I wrinkled up my nose.  "Maybe you should have a cup of coffee."

He raised an eyebrow.  "If I accept my drinking problem and turn to god does that mean you'll finally accept my offer and become my mistress?"

This was exactly why Frankie hated Chase.

“God Chase, you’re so pathetic.  Eva would never fuck you.  Hell, the only reason I fuck you is because I have to."

"Eva will fuck me eventually," Chase said lazily.  "Everyone has their price; I just haven't found hers yet."

Any normal person would have found this insulting, but this was Chase and I was used to it.  So I decided to give him a taste of his own medicine.

"Chase," I purred.  "You wanna know why you’ll never get this?”  I swept my hand down the length of my body.

“Do tell,” Chase said, staring at my chest.

“Because baby, I'm wild pussy and wild pussy can't be bought.  Wild pussy doesn't like having pretty things thrown at it and being expected to do the samba on someone's cock in return.  Wild pussy doesn't do deals. Wild pussy lives free and for itself and takes it however it likes it; on a bed, on a couch, on the hood of a car, in a bathroom stall or up against a wall in an alleyway and it laughs the entire time. I've known you for a while now Chase.   I know you've never had wild pussy and I know you never will.  Wild pussy doesn't fuck uptight cock.  And it sure as hell doesn't like silk boxers."

Chase's mouth fell open.

Kami’s high-pitched laughter echoed throughout the large room.

"Time to go shopping," She said in a singsong voice.

“Pick me up some cotton boxers while you’re out,” Chase muttered.

“Pick them up yourself!”

“Can’t.  I’m going to be jerking off all day to the beautiful imagery of Eva's pussy that she has so graciously provided me with.”

☼☼☼

Courtesy of Chase, Kami and I spent the entire day shopping, Kami because she can shop for weeks without tiring, me because I wanted to be nowhere near the club.

Around eleven and after a few drinks at a neighborhood bar Kami's driver took us to the clubhouse.  Three Harley's with Montana plates were still parked out front and Kami was beside herself with excitement.

I was beside myself with anxiety.

We found them in the clubs spacious living room with several of my Demon boys and their girls.  Mick had a whore on his lap and Cox was in the middle of heated debate with my cousin Trey.  No Deuce.  I didn't know whether to be relieved or upset.

The second we entered the room Cox locked on Kami.

“Babe,” He groaned.  “You up and left me in the middle of the fuckin’ night.  Haven’t slept good since.”

Kami grinned.   “You need me to tire you out?”

Cox bolted across the room, scooped her up over his shoulder and headed for the stairwell.

“Christ,” Mick muttered.

"Second floor," I called after them.  "Empty beds!"

"Frankie?"  I asked a Demon named Split.

He grinned.  "Passed out cold a while ago.  Took three of us to lug him upstairs."

I gave Split a kiss on the cheek, waved to Trey and turned to go.

I was halfway to the stairwell when a large hand came down on my shoulder.  I quickly shrugged out of Mick's grasp.  "Don't ever touch me," I said evenly.

His eyebrows shot to his hairline.  “Didn’t mean nothin’ by it, darlin’.  Just wanted to apologize for how shit went down last time we crossed paths.  Deuce is my Prez and my brother and I got love for him, you feel me?”

“I feel you,” I snapped.  “But none of that changes how you treated me when you didn't know shit about me!  So keep in mind you're in my club, these are my boys and if you fuck with anyone, I will bury you myself.”

He stared down at me.  "You've gotten harder babe, fire's burnin' brighter, life's takin' its toll on you, ain't it?"

I blinked and it was Deuce's face I saw.

You’re a good kid, darlin’.  A good, sweet kid.   Promise me you’ll stay that way, yeah?  No matter what you see, no matter what sort of fucked up shit happens to you.  Don’t let this life turn you bitter.

I wasn't hard, was I?  I definitely wasn't bitter.  Right?  Why did I suddenly feel like crying?

"Whatever Mick.  Just stay out of my way and don't fuck with my club."

He smiled.  "I feel you babe.  You got love for the club, I get that and I admire that in an old lady.  Been hearing bout' how fuckin' awesome you are all day. "

I glared at him.  “I am not an old lady.”

“You in Frankie’s bed?”

“Nope,” I shot back.  “Frankie’s in my bed.”

Turning on my heel, I left him to stew on that.

After dumping my purchases in my room and divesting Frankie of his boots and jeans, I made my way downstairs.    Yawning, I pushed open the door to the kitchen and felt around for the light.  It switched on.

Rubbing my eyes with the heels of my palms, I trudged to the fridge, grabbed a bottle of purple Gatorade and turned to go.

I dropped the Gatorade.

There was Deuce, leaning back against the opposite wall -mere inches from the light switch- with his pants around his ankles and his hands full of badly bleached blonde biker babe hair.  The space of three years closed and I was back in Deuce's kitchen watching Miranda bounce in his lap.

“What the fuck,” I whispered hoarsely.

The girl jerked her head up; Deuce shoved her back and laughed bitterly.

“What the fuck? You sneak out of my bed in the middle of the fuckin’ night and hop straight into Frankie’s and have the fuckin' nerve to ask me, what the fuck!”

The girl jerked again and again he pushed her back.  "Bitch, you stop suckin' one more time and I'm gonna slap you," He threatened.

I gaped at him.  "You're a pig," I choked out.

"Yeah."

"No really, you're a sick pig."

"Yeah, darlin', I know."

Furious, disgusted, feeling oddly betrayed and heart broken, and a whole bunch of other emotions I couldn’t pinpoint because my mind was spinning wildly, trying to comprehend and deal with what I’d just walked in on and couldn’t, I ran for the door.  Deuce's hand shot out and hooked around my forearm, his grip as tight as a vice.

Tears burned in my eyes.  “Let me go!”

"No."

"This is sick," I whispered.

“Yeah babe,” He whispered back.  "I just don't give a fuck.”

He yanked me sideways and I tripped over the girl's feet.  Deuce pulled me forward and I fell into his chest, right on top of the girl.

My stomach was pushed against the girl's head and I was straddling her back.  Back and forth, I went with her as she continued sucking him off.

Our lips were nearly touching; Deuce was breathing hard, his hot breath smelling strongly of rum.  Actually, his entire self smelled like rum.  Like he had taken a bath in it.

"I'll scream," I hissed.

"Go ahead," He shot back. "I really don't give a fuck."

God, he really didn't.  His beautiful eyes looked empty.  But I wouldn't resort to screaming.  Screaming would result in Deuce dead.  And I loved him far too much to be the bearer of that blow.