Gin's Longing Page 6

  “One of the guys let it slip we had a guest. So, I didn't stop until I got all the details.” She has a big, genuine smile on her pretty face, only enhancing how beautiful she is. I can't remember the last time I felt beautiful. With a full-time job and then my daughter being born, I didn't seem to find the time to care about my appearance. Leggings and baggy shirts with no makeup for me, and forget showering every day. Which is why my dirty blonde hair was normally in a ponytail.

  “Well, I truly appreciate you bringing me food. I didn't realize how hungry I was,” I say with a smile, placing the plate on my lap. Taking the fork, I dig in.

  “I’m Ari, by the way. My bestie, Kimi, is married to the VP, Jake. The club kind of adopted me.” She smiles, “I heard your name is Grace?” I confirm with a nod. “I also have a few things for you. Stuff like clothes and shampoo. I figured Gin wouldn't have thought about those things. He is a little preoccupied at the moment.” This piques my interest.

  “Oh?” I say.

  “He and Sage rode out to follow up on a lead. I guess the info you gave them helped a lot.” Before she can go any further with her information spilling, the door smacks into the side of the wall with force.

  “Girl, I did not tell you all that shit so you could come over here and spill your guts.” Reek’s voice rolls into the room along with him. Instantly, Ari’s sweet demeanor morphs into one of annoyance.

  “Sorry, Puerto Rico, didn't know she was a prisoner and couldn't eat a decent meal.” The sarcasm falls from her mouth as she starts for the door, no doubt glaring at Reek the whole way there.

  “She ain't no damn prisoner.” Reek shoots me an apologetic look, then starts toward where Ari went. She steps out of the room, but is back seconds later carrying a plastic shopping bag.

  “Here are the clothes and stuff. My room is a couple doors down if you need anything,” she says, but before she can get out the door, Reek speaks up once again.

  “That ain't your damn room,” he shouts out to her retreating form. “Damn woman,” he grumbles as he backs out of the door, leaving it open behind him when he exits. I can still hear them talking, and though it’s more muffled, I can make out the words being said aren’t friendly ones.

  Finishing off the offered food, I place the empty plate on the small side table next to the bed and get up as slowly as possible. My ribs smart at the action, but I push past the pain, the need for a shower taking priority. I don't even remember the last time I had a shower. I know it was before Roger took Tanya, and I don't even want to think about how long I was laying on the floor before I finally made myself move.

  Gingerly, I pull myself from the bed and grab the bag Ari left for me. Inside, I find two small bottles of shampoo and conditioner, a toothbrush and toothpaste, and two changes of clothes. A couple plain gray t-shirts with black sleeves and two pairs of brightly colored leggings, ranging from pink to blue with a tie-dye effect. They’re cute.

  I make my way to the small attached bathroom and shut the door behind me. The bathroom is surprisingly clean and has a stack of fluffy white towels on a shelf above the toilet. I find this to be strange since the person who lives in this room obviously doesn't know how to work a washing machine.

  Carefully, I reach past the shower curtain and flick on the water, letting it steam up the room while I slowly unwrap the binding from my bruised ribs. Placing it down on the porcelain sink, I get a chance to see myself in the mirror before the fog of the steam takes it over completely. I'm thin. Thinner than normal, and with the bruising along my ribs, I look like I’ve been subjected to a prison camp or something. My dull, lifeless hair hangs limply to my shoulders. I can't stand to look any longer. I'm not me anymore. Somewhere between giving birth and getting a divorce, I lost myself.

  Ten

  Gin

  If the prick who helped knock around Grace got his Hell’s Riders tat covered, it would have been for a sizable price, and there’s only one person who comes to mind. Someone who gets their colors covered has been ejected from the club or is on the run. This fucker has hit both counts. Aidan, our go-to tattoo artist’s competition, is just the guy I’m looking for when I push open the door. The fucker is sitting pretty behind his front desk, but not for long. His face goes white as a sheet as I stomp toward him. Before he can even think of moving, I reach over the desk and grab ahold of his t-shirt. In one hard pull, the skinny meth-head looking bastard’s legs are laying across the desk with his face brought to mine and the rest of his body suspended in the air. “Where is he?” I growl in his face.

  “I don’t know who you are talking about, man,” he squeals out. Sage’s gun cocks beside me.

  “Not a good idea, pal. We’re just having a chat. Don't get your friend here killed,” Sage says to one of the other tattoo artists

  “Don't do nothing, Franky,” Aidan says, his eyes straining toward his worker before coming back to me.

  “You going to tell me what I want to hear or am I going to have to persuade you, Aidan?” I give him the question, and for extra emphasis, I take my gun from under my vest and point it right under his chin.

  “I…I...”

  “You…you what?” I say, mimicking his stuttering.

  “He came in maybe five months ago. Had it covered. Paid in cash,” he admits.

  “Any more of ‘em? Maybe a blond Justin Bieber on steroids looking motherfucker?” I growl.

  “N-N-N-No. Just him. I swear.”

  “He say anything?” The fucker shakes his head, so I shake him, pressing the barrel farther into his chin, making him cry out even louder. “Use your words, asshole.”

  “No. He only came in, had it covered, and left. He said nothing, I swear,” Aidan blubbers out.

  “If I find out you’re lying, my gun ain’t goin’ to be the only thing I slam into your skull,” I say before I let his shirt go and slam the butt of my pistol against his temple, letting him drop to the floor. “Let's go,” I grumble to Sage, not even sparing a glance at the other fucker in the shop before I walk outside to my bike.

  “You think the guy is telling the truth?” Sage asks as we both straddle our bikes and strap on our helmets.

  “Nope. Not even a little bit,” I say without hesitation. I know damn well the fucker is lying, and I intend to sit on him until he slips up. “You see that ATM across the street?” I give a slight nod in the general direction. “I’ll have Reek tap in, see what he can find. You head on back, brother. Need to make a quick stop before I go back.” He nods in response, and we both start up our machines, driving down the street before splitting off. As Sage rides back to the clubhouse, I take my detour and steer my bike toward Rider’s Wear, the clothing store Rock’s old lady, Buggs, runs.

  The door dings, alerting my arrival, and three heads turn my way, none of which I’m surprised to find. Buggs, Kimi, and Ellie. “Gin? What brings you here?” Buggs asks as she starts my way. Since the place opened, I haven't stepped foot through the doors, not even to help set it up. Most of the brothers stop by every now and then to pick up something they ordered, be it for them or their old ladies or girlfriends. I got neither and only wear basic shit. Gray t-shirt and jeans are more my style.

  “Need some girl shit.” I nod toward Kimi. “About the same size as her friend. Maybe a little taller,” I say as I look over the wall of shelving with rows upon rows of shoes. Shoes of all kinds. Some look like they could be used as torture devices they are so tall. I have no idea what size Grace wears, but I grab a pair of bright green sandal things that say size 8-9, hoping that will do. Taking the shoes, I toss them onto the checkout counter and chance a glance to the girls. They are busy doing what I asked. “Hey, Ells,” I say, getting Ellie’s attention. I start flipping through my wallet to pull out a couple bills. “Can you head over to the shop across the street and grab some feminine shit. Toiletries and stuff.” I hand the bills over when she gets closer.

  “I can do that. Any requests?” she asks with a raised eyebrow. I know she wants to ask a million
questions, as Ellie normally would, but doesn't. I shake my head in response and she scampers out the door. That’s when the sound of a baby catches my attention. When I walked in, I didn't notice Kimi had a little one strapped to her.

  “How’s the kid doin’?” I ask.

  “She’s great. Getting bigger every day. Just rolled over yesterday. Scared the hell out of Jake. She was on the couch.” She chuckles. “I told him it was going to happen soon and to watch out for it.”

  “Mace did the same to Rocky. Poor guy wanted to wrap our son in bubble wrap.” Buggs chuckles. It makes my chest hurt listening to them talk about the kids. I sure as fuck wasn’t the hands-on dad my kids deserved. I vowed I was going to do better, do right by my and Brit’s baby. Didn't get that chance, though.

  “So, who are we shopping for?” Kimi asks, breaking me out of my guilt trip.

  “Friend,” is all I give.

  “A friend, huh? Okay.” She gives me a smile and nods at something Buggs holds up for her to see. I don't catch what she shows Kimi, but I’m guessing I’ll be paying for it. Probably in more ways than one if it involves these two women.

  I pace around the place trying to occupy myself as they get all the things requested bagged up. Ellie walks back in carrying two bags and I pay for the two bags of clothes the girls rounded up. I ain't going to be fitting all that shit in my saddlebags. Fuck, my helmet barely fits. Helmet. Shit, I need to grab one of those. “One of you headed to the club sometime?” I ask, getting a nod from Kimi.

  “Yeah. I need to pick up Finn from preschool, then I’ll be going,” she says, referring to her oldest kid. Fucking preschool already? Shit. “I can bring the bags. Anything else you need?” she asks with a smile.

  “Helmet.” When she says she’ll grab one, I drop down another bill on the countertop and walk out the door, eager to get away. I used to be fun lovin’ Gin. Always ready with the joke and punchline. Not so much anymore.

  * * *

  When I get back to the clubhouse, I make my way immediately for the bar, in much need of a drink. Taking the offered glass of amber liquid, I toss it back, barely noticing the burn in my throat anymore. I have an even bigger burn I’m more preoccupied with at the moment, and when I go up to my room, I know I’ll find her in my bed. Why did I take her to my room? I should have taken her to one of the guest rooms. But no, I didn't fucking do that, did I? Put her right in my room like that’s where she belongs. Fucking hell. “G, Pres said to let you know we got church in ten,” Ringer calls out as he walks through the bar from the double doors leading outside. I give a chin lift in response and tell the prospect behind the bar to reload my glass. I take that shot down and decide to get off my ass and go check on my house guest before I need to get my ass to church.

  Opening the door, the smell of something like oranges mixed with…watermelon hits me. The fuck? Glancing around the room, I don't see her anywhere, but what I do see is the bathroom door open a crack and the humidity of the shower rolling into the room.

  I take a couple steps toward the bathroom but stop myself. I can't fucking go in there. What the hell will I say? Hey there, girl who’s eighteen years younger than me, need any help? Hell.

  I'm about to walk back out of the room when a sigh, then a moan catches my attention. And it’s not a moan of pleasure. Before I know it, I’m pushing open the door to find her standing in a pair of bright pants and no shirt trying to rewrap her ribs with the elastic bandage. I try to avert my eyes, but they go right there anyway. Right to those perfectly shaped tits pebbling under my gaze. We both stand there for a moment too long before we turn from one another—me turning my back to avert my eyes like I should have in the first place, and her to cover up her breasts. “Sorry. Heard you in here, thought you could use some help. Should’a knocked first.”

  “It’s fine. I, ah...I do need help, actually. I can't get the bandage wrapped again. It just hurts too much.” Her voice makes me turn around to see she’s still palming her breasts. “Can you wrap it?” she asks, nodding toward the bandage that fell to the floor.

  “Yep. Sure can, babe,” I say coolly. Picking up the stretchy piece of material, I start going about my task.

  Sweet. Fucking. Torture.

  Eleven

  Grace

  His arm brushing along my hands covering my still erect nipples sends a tingling down my spine that pools in my belly. I can’t help but want more, much like when I met him. Only now, with him so close and smelling just like I remembered, it’s intensified. He looks the same, but also different. He seems to be more put together, but still has that heavy weight that always seems to be around his neck. His beard has a few wayward strands out of place, and before I can think better of it, my hand reaches out to smooth it down. Then I catch myself thinking about what it would be like to have that very beard brushing across my skin.

  His throat clearing snaps me out of my dirty thoughts, and I immediately chock it up to my lack of a sex life. I can’t even remember the last time Roger and I slept together. Things were great between us, but when I look at Gin, I get the feeling being with him would be way different.

  “Need to get goin’, babe. Got church to get to.” His voice is gruff, like he’s trying to get out of this room as soon as possible.

  “Yeah. Of course. Thank you.” When he turns to leave, I realize I need help with something else. “Gin?” He pauses, his back still turned to me. “Could you please help me with the shirt?” His back tenses, then his shoulders slump in defeat before he turns back around. I try my hardest not to look down, but my eyes betray me, going straight toward the rather large bulge in his jeans. My eyes fly around the room, trying to look anywhere else, but I can’t help it, and they go back there again.

  “I don’t control what he does,” Gin says lightly, like he’s inwardly laughing about his sizeable erection. “Where’s the shirt?” he asks, picking it up when I nod toward the gray t-shirt Ari left for me. “I had a couple of the old ladies grab you some stuff in town. It should be here soon. Couldn’t bring it on my bike,” he says while he helps me pull my arms through the sleeves.

  “Did you get any answers?” I ask, and it makes him tense.

  “Not yet. But we will. We’ll find that little one of yours, babe,” he tells me as the hem of the shirt falls past my waist. “Get some rest. I’ll be back later,” he says, and is out the door.

  I leave my hair hanging down and go back to the bedroom. I wish I could pick up the room for him as a thank you. Maybe tomorrow after a good night’s rest and a couple painkillers.

  A soft knock on the door sounds, then it opens, revealing Ari with a big smile on her face. She isn’t alone, though. Another woman, maybe around the same age as me, comes walking in with a baby on her hip and what looks to be a four-year-old by her side. The little boy has longish, slightly curly hair, and, like the men walking around here, he’s wearing a small vest that says Finn on it. “Hey, Grace. This is Kimi and her little ones, Finn and Ella,” Ari says, placing a few plastic bags on the floor next to the tall chest of drawers. I didn’t even notice them in her hands. “This is the stuff Gin got you.”

  “Yeah, the guy had us searching the store to find things for some mystery girl.” Kimi giggles. “So, you must tell. I haven’t seen Gin with a woman in years.”

  “We aren’t together,” I blurt out, maybe a little too fast. “I just...um...I needed some help. From him. My ex. He kidnapped my little girl and...” my breath hitches, and I can’t go any further with my story, but I don’t need to.

  “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry,” Kimi says, coming closer to the bed.

  “You definitely came to the right place. The Riders will find her for you and take care of that ex while they’re at it.” I catch the scowl Kimi gives Ari before she starts talking again.

  “Gin will find her. Don’t worry.” This woman, who I don’t even know, gives me comfort. I didn’t have much for friends after I graduated high school. Denise and I kept in touch at first, then sort of drifted
apart. I met Roger and gained a best friend turned husband.

  “Thank you,” I tell her with a smile, then her little boy comes bounding up to the bed, landing on it with a humph, jarring my ribs with the movement. I wince at the pain, but I don’t think the two women notice. I’m not even sure they know about my physical state.

  “Finn. You can’t just jump up onto someone’s bed,” Kimi scolds.

  “Oh, it's fine,” I whisper. “Hey, little guy. You know I have a daughter about your age,” I say to him with a smile.

  “Are you Gin’s old lady?” the little boy asks, and I laugh.

  “Oh no, sweetie. He is just an old friend helping me out. He was best friends with my daddy,” I explain.

  “My daddy is a Rider too.” His proud smile beams up at me from where he’s now standing on the floor.

  “You’re Fuzz’s daughter?” Kimi asks, her eyes wide. When I confirm with a nod, she continues. “He and my mom were good friends. He helped her through a pretty difficult time in her life. If you want, I’m sure she would love to talk to you about him. From my understanding, you never met him.”

  “No, I never did.” I smile.

  “I never knew mine either. Welcome to the club. No membership fee or dress code,” Ari says, breaking the solemn moment and making us laugh instead.

  “Jeez, Ar.” Kimi rolls her eyes at her, something she probably does more than once a day. “Well, we came to drop off the clothes and to tell you to come down for supper. The girls are whipping up something good I’m sure. Smells good, anyway.” Kimi shrugs, repositioning the baby girl onto the opposite hip. “Gosh, this girl is getting heavy.” I smile, remembering Tanya in those years. My little girl. God, I miss her.