I told Trent everything I knew about Night Soul. The conversations, people they hurt, women they slept with, any guns I saw, and anything that I could possibly think of. I never thought being in their clubhouse would actually come back to help me. The more I spoke, the more it seemed to ease the tension with my pretense and Back Down Devil MC.
The biggest problem was the tension between me and Trent.
Trev wanted us to stay in his apartment until he gave orders otherwise. The place started to feel like it was a paper bag because we always seemed to be on top of each other. Each time I saw him, my body felt woozy and warm. I knew he couldn’t have been comfortable sleeping on the couch. A few times I snuck out of the room and crept down the hallway to find him sitting on the couch, gun on his lap. One time he was standing at the window, gun in his hand.
He was full on protecting me. Not just saying it.
When I showered, I thought of Trent with me. It was so dumb because getting too close to him was too risky for both of us. Yet just being near him kept the temptation growing and growing. Like the one thing I couldn’t have and I wanted it more than anything in the world. Plus, I was a woman. I had needs. I had wants. Trent’s eyes unlocked fantasies that were in the back of my mind. Now there in the front of my mind and I was desperate for him to do something.
I had witnessed the monster a couple times that first week with him. The way he fought, defended his club’s honor, not to mention his sheer size and muscular strength was just so impressive. Another MC came for a drinking party and they all started to bet on fights. They were all friends yet they all fought each other. Trent got into a man made circle and knocked a guy out with four punches. Violence never turned me on before… but Trent being violent did.
I woke up one morning and sat up in his bed. The smell of his musky, tough guy scent was gone and replaced by my shampoo. I wore nothing but a long t-shirt, not even a bra.
It felt wrong to admit how well I had been sleeping. If I was being held captive and was going to end up dead, at least my days leading up to it were comfortable.
The door opened and in came Trent. He was in his leather cut, as big and strong as ever. “Morning, darling.”
“Trent.”
I hated that he called me darling all the time. He probably called everyone that but when he did it to me it did wild stuff inside me.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this to a woman,” he said, “but I need you to put on some pants.”
I smirked. “Why?”
“Trev is here. Meeting time.”
He then shut the door.
That didn’t make me feel any better at all.
I scrambled out of the bed, instantly sobering up from my drunk feelings of wanting Trent to take me right in his bed.
I got dressed and went to the kitchen to find Trent standing with a coffee mug in his hand. Trev sat at the table, his massive hand wrapped around a coffee mug.
Behind him, at the door, was Cash. I learned fast that he was wild and really gross… but in some strange way, sweet.
“Hey, beautiful,” Cash said and winked.
“Cash,” Trent said.
“What? Isn’t she beautiful?”
Trent looked at me. He didn’t reply.
“Sit down,” Trev said. “Want some coffee?”
“Yeah,” I said.
Trent poured me coffee and then finished it up just how I liked it. It made me blush. I couldn’t remember the last time someone made me coffee. And he made it perfect. That meant he was watching me, right?
I sipped the coffee and stared at Trev.
“You’ve been honest so far,” Trev said. “But now the club has reached out to us. They must have tucked their tails and hidden but now they’re pissed.”
“Okay,” I said.
“I want to know about any conversations that had to do with guns,” Trev said.
“I told Trent everything. They said you owed them guns.”
“I’m going to show you some pictures, okay?”
“Sure.”
“Does this guy look familiar?”
I stared at the picture of a guy in a tweed flat cap. He wasn’t looking at the camera, telling me he didn’t know his picture had been taken.
“No,” I said.
“Are you sure?” Trev asked.
“Positive.”
“Anyone ever come to the clubhouse with an Irish accent?”
“Not that I could remember,” I said. “I wasn’t in the clubhouse long.” I glanced at Trent. “I never meant to end up inside there. When the outside work stopped, I helped at the bar for some cash tips, you know?”
“And your outside job was what?”
“Please say sucking dick,” Cash chimed in. “I have a pocket full of money, beautiful.”
“I’m going to pour hot coffee down your throat to get you to shut up,” Trent said.
His nostrils flared.