“That’s right, take the white man’s side over your own flesh and blood. Fucking disgusting, Evonne,” her father yelled. Drops of spit flew from his mouth.
Rocky spun around and decked the pretty boy who went down like a pile of bricks. “Don’t you ever disrespect what’s mine again!” Rocky barked. “What the fuck is wrong with you, treating your child like this?” He shook his head. “If you ever decide to get your head on straight and apologize, you know her phone number.”
Her father rushed forward.
“You want to get knocked on your ass too, old man? ‘Cause, I have no problem laying you out,” Rocky said.
“Get the fuck out of my house and don’t come back,” her father said.
“Not a problem, trust me.” Rocky paused to look at Evonne’s horrified mother and shook his head. She should’ve been the first one up and defending her only daughter. Say what you wanted about the M.C. but you didn’t fuck with them or their family. He strode to the door and walked out with Evonne at his side. Too angry to speak, he placed a hand on the small of her back and guided her to his motorcycle. Her shoulders shook and her broken sobs carved at his heart like a jagged knife. “They aren’t worth the upset.” He massaged her neck, pulling out their helmets.
“D-didn’t want you to see me like that.” She hiccupped.
“Hey, I’m not mad at you, mama…okay? This shit ain’t on you; it’s on them.” He jerked his head toward the door.
“When I’m there I can’t—it goes against everything drilled in my head to rail against them. Look where my rebellion landed me the last time, ya know?” Her voice shook. “It makes me fucking sick to my stomach.”
“It’s always been like that?” He tilted his head.
“Long as I can remember. I used to fight it, then I got ground down under the wheels of monotony and after the accident…” She shook her head. “I just—I didn’t have it in me anymore. It was like I proved them right and they never let me forget it.”
“Some people can’t stand to see a free soul. So they lock it in a cage. Never again, you hear me?” he asked.
She peered up at him. “Until you get sick of it too.”
Rocky could see the abyss of fear in her eyes. “I ain’t leaving you. You’re the only one I ever wanted to keep.” He placed her helmet on her head, strapped her in and did the same for himself, starting up the bike and pulling away from the place that must’ve been like hell to grow up in.
Chapter Eight
Shame ran through her veins, chilling her from the inside out. Her family had a way of ruining everything she wanted for herself. They would fatally wound her, then leave her bleeding and raw on the floor until she returned, crawled back into the box they made for her to lick her injuries. Only then could she feel like she was worth something. It became a
vicious sick cycle, yet it was all she knew. She’d hidden it well, buried the truth, so she wouldn’t have to face it head-on.
The accident had been a turning point, but the family discord went so much deeper than that. Her father had never been a fan of his daughter. Her mother had always been cowed into silence and Paul—well, he could do no wrong. Bitterness mingled with anger and embarrassment. By the time Rocky and Evonne reached the club, she felt ready to blow. All that progress dashed by the mere presence of her father and smug-as-shit brother. It felt like starting over again—from the bottom.
She’d done so well, allowing herself to live on her own terms, rediscovering who she was and what she wanted. They pulled into the compound and the gate shut behind them, a reassuring rattle of metal that made her feel safe. They made their world small and protected it with everything they had.
Rocky brought the bike to a halt and she removed her helmet, wary of his response. He’d seen her at her lowest. Just looking him in the eyes took a Herculean effort.
Rocky gripped her chin and forced her to meet his gaze. “Don’t let them fuck us.”
She nodded.
“No, I want to hear you say it. What they have going on has shit to do with us¸” Rocky said.
“I-I know. I won’t let them fuck us,” she whispered.
“We’re going to have a good time tonight, mama. No worries about anything. Yeah?” he said.
She nodded, grateful to have him in control.
He smoothed her hair down the side of her face and kissed her forehead. “Damn, girl, you’ve got me ready to murder motherfuckers. I don’t know if that’s a good or a bad thing.”
“Me either,” she whispered.
He chuckled and they walked into the clubhouse. The place seemed slow but there were little spurts of happenings going on in small clusters. She scanned the area and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Fancy. There were plenty of biker bunnies, but Fancy she could tolerate. Selective about who she slept with, funny and chill, she didn’t rub the old ladies and girlfriends the wrong way. A feat in itself, considering they all knew what sometimes went on.
“Hey man, can I have a word?” A blond prospect with a wiry build and hazel eyes stood close to them.