Bleed Me (Haunted Roads Book 3) Read online

  That had me cracking a smile and walking past her. “Nah. I’m good.” If any female was going to be able to handle me, it was her.

  Inside, only daylight slipping through the open door lit the room until she flicked on some lights hanging from the ceiling. Free weights and benches took up part of the wide-open space. There were no mirrors, like in some gyms. This was far more barn-like, rustic, with concrete slab for flooring and some rusty folding chairs. A few shelves with folded white towels were the only sign of ‘bunnies’ having been there. This was clearly a place for bikers only.

  In the far left-hand corner, there was a ragged boxing ring. To the right were a few hanging red boxing bags. In the middle of the two was a hallway that led into what looked like a huge locker room, light green tile on the flooring, from what I could see.

  Justice was headed to the bags, so I followed. From some shelving along the wall, she grabbed a roll of white gauze and tape. “Take off your shirt.”

  My face scrunched. “Why?”

  Smirking her red lips. “Paranoid much?” She held up the tape. “This is for your hands.” She lifted her chin, gesturing to my body. “Trying to save your clean shirt.”

  The thought of taking off my shirt had me thinking of Delilah. Had I been fully naked when I—

  “Prospect.”

  I blinked. “Yeah?”

  “We got another problem?”

  “Honestly? Not a clue.”

  Her grey eyes were like looking through fancy windows on a church. The kind of windows that had designs of color and deep meanings. Those eyes made me want to go to church and be caressed with scripture for the very first time in my life.

  Long dark eyelashes pointed down as she concentrated on the gauze in her hands while walking toward me. “Have you ever heard of a nervous dog?”

  I swallowed as she got closer. I was truly afraid that I would turn into the part of me that even had Diesel edgy. “No.”

  When the tips of her biker boots touched the tips of my sneakers, I glanced down to see her shoes were clean. Mine were with drips of blood. My own.

  She took hold of my right hand and examined it. “Damn. What did you already punch?”

  “A mirror.”

  “Can you use it?”

  Was I really going to puss out in front of a female biker who outranked me? “I’m good. Hook me up.”

  She had my hand float between us. “Watch and learn.” She started wrapping my wrist first. Then between my thumb and first finger, only to wrap the gauze around my wrist again. I noticed a scar on her right palm as she talked. “There are ‘nervous’ and dangerous dogs and there are ‘confident’ and dangerous dogs.” She continued to repeat the gauze process, now with my other fingers, while giving instructions, “Make a fist… Good… Relax it.” Then she would wrap more. For being on the tougher side of a female, her own hands were surprisingly soft. “Can you tell me the difference between the two dogs?”

  “Not really.”

  Those eyelashes opened up to let me see the glass eyes they sheltered. “One trusts his owner. The other doesn’t.”

  My head tilted. Yes, I wanted to be a smartass with a comeback, but something told me if I did, I would miss her valuable meaning. So, I waited for more.

  She wedged the gauze under her arm so she could maneuver the tape next. “The dog with trust is a very formidable guard. The one with no trust bites everyone who may or may not be a threat. He can’t differentiate between danger and no risk.”

  I thought of my personalities and wondered if they had the same problem.

  When Justice was done with my right hand, she put my left hand between us and started wrapping. “A nervous dog means a nervous owner or no owner at all.” She shrugged. “One and the same, in my opinion.”

  Was I my own owner? Were my personalities a sign of me not owning myself?

  Those incredible eyes looked up to me again. “I am owned by a club. As are you.” She squinted. “Can you trust your owner?”

  I instantly remembered Daytona, when Diesel threatened Art with his “powerful dogs,” meaning his men. They had stared at Art, knowing exactly who they belonged to. Their President.

  My spine stiffened, not in fear of being owned, but in an awareness that I belonged somewhere. It was like my spinal cord became more confident with the much-needed leadership I couldn’t offer myself at the time.

  The hand holding the tape tapped my chest. “And there it is.” She backed away. “So, trust in the club. Trust in me.” She set down the gauze and tape on a nearby table. She made it clear her hands were free to protect herself. “Now, take off your shirt.”

  She didn’t move or speak. Just waited.

  Trust… My fingers felt restrained under the wrapping, but I liked the sensation. I felt as if I had more control with the limitation, if that makes any sense at all. Whether the wrap or Justice gave me that security, I wasn’t sure at the time, but I removed my t-shirt; a metaphor for a huge step in my recovery.

  Those eyes raked across my chest and stomach. “You look like you’ve been in a car wreck.”

  Since I had, I said nothing as I tossed the shirt aside.

  She circled me, examining and thinking out loud. “James is not supposed to talk of his past. Hmmm… but Justice is curious.” Facing me again, she said, “I like the challenge of a puzzle.” When I said nothing, she turned her back to me and walked closer to a hanging bag. “Part of my job as Road Captain is to know who I’m having on the road.” She circled the bag. “My brother knows this well. Hence, why he is testing your identity.”

  "My identity… Wait. Your brother?”

  “Yep. The only other fucker with grey eyes in Stallions.”

  Grey eyes? Fucking President.

  Her red-lipped smirk said she knew I had caught on. “Since we’re preppin’ a bike for you, I needed to know who I’m responsible for. He won’t tell me shit, except your name: James Gunn Dalton.” She pushed the bag to make it swing. “Whoever came up with your identity did a damn good job. Can’t lie, but I found some discrepancies.”

  My body jolted, but I didn’t say shit.

  “Don’t worry. I only found them because I take my rank with so much pride it’s dangerous. I worked hard to earn my spot in the club and don’t need some dick tellin’ me I got it due to who my brother is.”

  I respected that.

  “Thank you.”

  My brows bunched. “I didn’t say anything.”

  “Oh, but you did. So, thank you.” She dipped her chin.

  That is when I learned Justice can read a man from a mile away. “Why does your brother use you to test an identity?”

  “To protect his dogs.”

  In my mind, I pictured the wall behind the Barn bar where the howling wolves were. “Wolves.”

  She touched the tip of her little pointed nose then didn’t make a sound, but tilted her head back to silently howl, smiling as if celebrating that I’d been paying attention. Facing me again, she kept smiling. “You’re not the only dog with secrets.” She stopped the swinging bag. “James Gunn Dalton, meet your new best friend.”

  I stared at her.

  She winked. “Not me. The bag.”

  I didn’t stop staring at her as I approached the bag. “Thank you.”

  Justice did a sharp inhale, then settled. Grinning in wondrous amazement, she asked, “Who the fuck ARE you, James?”

  Now, it was me who was smirking. “I guess it‘ll take more research for you to find out.”

  She dipped her chin. “Challenge accepted.”

  Justice showed me a few combinations while explaining, “As you trust the club, trust the bag. It can handle your frustrations and even rage when needed.” She stopped and pulled a cell from the inside of her black leather Stallions MC vest. “Give it a go. I gotta book some rooms.” She walked away.

  Listening to her on the phone, “Hey, Mildred… Yes, ma’am, I gotta few boys rollin’ through. Got four rooms open?...” I started practici
ng on the bag. It was awkward at first, right hand and ribs were tender, but eventually, I found a little rhythm.

  After then talking to someone named Meatball on the phone, Justice eventually came back to me. “We’ll work more on technique, but for now, you need to shower.” She grabbed a little pair of scissors to cut the gauze and tape off me. She eyed the new blood, then me. “Reopened those wounds, Giver.”

  “Giver?”

  She cut off the material. “Your road name. Diesel voted Pitbull.” That made her chuckle. “Definitely hotter than Giver.”

  More to myself than Justice, I asked, “What the hell does Art mean by that name?”

  She huffed. “I guess that’s something you need to figure out, but you’ve already given me your trust, so I’d say the bastard’s on to something.”

  I lifted an inquisitive brow. “Bastard? Do I hear resentment?”

  Beautiful grey eyes rolled as she turned away. “You hear a ‘past’.” She tossed my wrappings in the trash and headed to the bathroom. I didn’t hesitate and followed her into the locker room. Her cell still in hand, she pointed to a tall hamper in a corner. “Dirty clothes in there. The bunnies will get your washed clothes back to you.” Dialing, she thumbed to all the showers to her left. “Scrub your ass, Prospect. I’m telling Saph to bring you more clothes.”

  I was learning more names with Justice than any of the men. “Saph?”

  Her head tilted. “Your bunny? Sapphire.”

  “Oh.” I turned from Justice to kick off my shoes. “We haven’t officially met.”

  “What? She was instructed to take care of you.”

  Unbuttoning my jeans, I faced her. “She is. Just… I was in the shower when we talked.”

  Annoyed, she popped out a hip. “She better have been in that shower as you ‘spoke’.”

  I winced. “Damn. You, too?”

  “What?”

  “Why do I have to fuck her?”

  “That’s her job.”

  “Do you hear yourself?”

  “Do you? Fuck your bunny, Giver.”

  “You fuck her. I’m good.” I stripped off my jeans and headed toward a showerhead.

  “Hey!” She marched in after me. “What’s your hang-up with sex?”

  “What makes you think I have one?” I turned the shower nozzle on. “Because I refuse to fuck a stranger?”

  Blinking, she stuttered, “Uh, well… yes.”

  The water heated quickly. I stepped under it and sighed relief. It was washing away the alcohol the boxing bag made me sweat out. “Do you fuck strangers?”

  “I have.”

  I turned under the water. “I call bullshit.”

  “Why?”

  “Control is how you survive.”

  She fell back a step. “How the hell does a young man like you know anything about that?”

  “A lot can happen to someone in a short amount of years.” Water dripped from my chin as I stood there, motionless. Young man… “How old am I, Justice?”

  The way she answered, I knew she knew the age on the internet was a lie. “Twenty-five.”

  Shower water fell from my eyes knowing they were sad again. “Oh, yeah. That’s right. Twenty-five.”

  “Shit,” she sighed, probably realizing that age was way off. “Your smarts had me believing it.” She examined my chest again. “Are you even done growing?”

  It was a complicated dance for us to communicate. She already felt like a comrade of sorts, but I couldn’t be honest with her. The only saving grace was she understood my deceit.

  “Giver, after we have a meeting and I explain what I’ve found, Prez may fill us in with more details. Maybe then you won’t feel so muzzled—” Her head snapped to the left to see down the locker room hallway. She scowled. “You were supposed to text me when at the door.”

  “Oh. Sorry. I—” Sapphire stopped.

  I was finally meeting my ‘bunny’ face to face, and I was naked as a newborn baby. Huge blue—almost turquoise—eyes raced down my body.

  This whole time, I had been having a conversation, while naked, with Justice, and felt like I was talking to a buddy—who happened to be smokin’ hot—but I was still very relaxed with her presence.

  Sapphire? I suddenly felt like I was on display, and I wasn’t in the mood. “Fuck,” I mumbled as I turned to face the spraying water. “What’s with you and me and showers?”

  At my reaction, she sounded sad. “I guess we can’t seem to get a good start. Sorry.”

  I peered over my shoulder. “No sweat. All good.”

  She attempted a smile, but it was weak as she handed Justice some items. “I, uh, bought him some new boots, too.”

  Holding the items, Justice pointed to the floor. “Throw those in the pit, would ya?”

  “Hey!” I barked. “Those are mine.”

  Justice laughed. “They are screaming bad Ju-Ju and need to be burned.”

  My jaw dislocated. “Please tell me you don’t believe in that shit.”

  She pulled a silver chain out from under her shirt. Hanging from it was a crystal. “For protection.” Then she told Saph, “To the flames they go.”

  Her giggle was cute. “Will do, Captain.” Shyly, she smiled and gave a little wave. “Hope everything fits okay.”

  Feeling quite awkward, I said, “Thanks, for, uh, everything.” I didn’t want her to think I meant I expected sex, so quickly added, “That you’ve done. Not what, you, uh, don’t need to do.”

  With her free hand, Justice slammed it to her forehead.

  I laughed. “Shut up!”

  She shook her head as if I was a sorry motherfucker, then told Saph, “And you. The gym is off-limits. You’ve been warned.”

  Sapphire’s eyes widened. “Oh gosh. I’m sorry—”

  I tried, “It’s okay—”

  Justice’s head swiveled to look at me with an expression that had my dumbass shutting the fuck up. Then it swiveled back to the bunny who had yet to skedaddle. Which she promptly did.

  As soon as we were alone again, I said, “Sorry.”

  “Do you want to be washing bikes for the rest of your life?”

  “No, ma’am. It’s just, I, uh, have a soft spot for lost souls, I think.”

  “Hmmm… And the mystery of James continues.” She ignored her vibrating cell phone. “You gonna let her take care of you?”

  “I, uh… I’ve only had one person dote on me before.” Delilah… “It felt right. Make sense? She—Anyways. With Saph, it don’t feel right.”

  “Think of it as her just doing her job.”

  I leaned forward and rested my forearms on the wall, then my forehead to my bent arms so that the water could hit my back. “Is it mine to fuck her?”

  After a pause, she quietly replied, “No, but it will be judged if you don’t.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Most ‘men’ don’t deny free pussy.”

  “Just because I’m not giving her cash hardly means it’s free.”

  With my clothes, boots, and towel in her crossed arms, Justice slowly walked backward to lean her back against the wall. “No hang-up, eh? Some would say a young man not taking all that is offered ain’t right in the head.”

  A demented chuckle escaped me as I grabbed a fresh bar of soap. “That’s just it, something isn’t.” Staring at her, I lathered up the bar and started scrubbing. “Wasn’t that knowledge in your research?”

  “What exactly do you think is wrong with your noggin’?”

  “Ain’t got answers to that loaded question but would love to know.”

  “That sounds like… a lot of pressure.”

  I rinsed off then walked to a shelf with folded towels. “The drowning kind.”

  After I dried off, she handed me a new pair of jeans. “Thank you for trusting me.”

  Slipping on the jeans, I thought about what I was or was not allowed to say. Zipping up my pants, I kept it simple, yet full of truth. “Thank you for seeing the young man in front of you and not t
he part of me running from his tragic past.”

  With my new biker boots fitting perfectly, we turned off the lights and left the gym behind. Seeing it was already night time, I realized I had somehow lost a whole day, yet none of my memories. Nor would I lose any from this incredible night, as it was when I was officially given my cut. I was now a true Prospect of the Steel Stallions MC. Even after death, no one could have the power to take that memory from me.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  6 months later…

  Some people have the choice of whether or not to be evil. My choice was ripped away. I’m now vile to the core, and that makes me dangerous to all who love me. Only others as threatening as myself have the strength and guts to be by my side as despicable memories began to surface.

  “Hold the Prospect down!” yelled Dagger.

  In my club bedroom, I was on the ground, face first, foaming at the mouth, lost in memories that were so horrific it felt as if my mind were on fire. And the screams—the female screams—both in my present life and past, were blending together, creating a madness that glued itself to my spirit.

  Was I ever to be the same? Or was this who I truly had been all along—who I had become after travesties too overpowering to survive without being damaged and disturbed, had altered my life.

  Little green eyes were waiting for me in a once distant memory. One I had been running from. Little eyes begged me to come back to her—be daring enough to reenter the unforgivable circumstances she and I were forced to live. I believe she knew it was the only way to find answers to my present condition…

  The little girl, five years old, huddled in the corner, covering her eyes like I told her to. Lying on my stomach in bed, I watched as her tiny shoulders shook through each of her sobs. Little bare toes curled over each other as if she was trying to become even smaller than she already was. I wished I could hide, too, but the man on top of me wouldn’t let me—

  “I think he’s about to seize!” yelled my President, Lynx, yanking me from the memory. “I need something in his mouth!”

  The only light in my dark room was from the hallway, through my open door. Stallion members were all around me, as one of the closest friends I had made at the club, Saint, came running into the room, asking, “What triggered him?”