He pushed her there with her making a lot of noise, especially when she took the fall.
Joker didn’t make noise, not even when he planted himself to the root and shot hard.
And that was the only time he gave her something, but he did it because he couldn’t stop it. Bending his neck to rest his forehead on her shoulder as the release of coming followed on the heels of the release of beating the shit out of someone.
He rushed his recovery, pulled out, yanked her skirt down, and growled, “Get gone.”
She turned to him, wanting more.
They always wanted more.
“Jo—”
“Gone.”
She took in his face, his tone, nodded, and rushed away.
Leaving the spent condom in the alley, not doubting for a minute it joined others of its kind, Joker went to his bike. Then he rode to the Compound.
It wasn’t a surprise when he went in that Rush was sitting at the bar, Shy behind it. He’d seen their bikes outside before he walked in.
Unlike Joker, Rush had his own place, didn’t stay at the Compound often, usually only after a party. Shy had a sweet crib with Tab, and Shy just had Tab, so unless Tabby was with him, he never took a bed in the Compound.
He also knew Tack had set them on him. Both had seen him fight, neither of them came often, but they were there that night for a different reason.
They were in the Compound right then for that same reason.
Shy took the bottle of tequila that was in front of him, poured a shot, and sent the glass skidding down the bar toward Joker. Joker nabbed it, shot it, and even if he didn’t want to, moved to his brothers.
He liked them both. But he wasn’t in the mood.
When Chaos took him on as a recruit and he found out that Rush was a recruit with him—and remembered the guy, knowing he was Tack’s son, Rush being the kid Joker used to watch with his father at the garage—he didn’t think he’d like him.
Joker knew it was jealousy, but he didn’t care. The guy had everything worth anything all his life, and Joker had none of that shit.
It didn’t take long for him to learn to like him. Rush was solid. He was smart. He was loyal to his brothers. He loved his sister and had the balls to show how much. Same with his dad, even if they butted heads. Same with his stepmom and half-brothers. He could be funny. He was honest, spoke his mind, was an alert, aware, prepared partner when they were on patrol, and he was an excellent wingman when they were out and Joker was in the mood for a fuck that didn’t happen against the wall of an alley.
Shy was one of Tack’s lieutenants. He’d been a full member longer than Joker or Rush. He was a lot like Tack, which was a lot like Rush. Loved his Club, loved his brothers, loved his woman, and not in that order. Tabitha Allen Cage came first for her husband Parker “Shy” Cage. The road to full member included eating a lot of shit from the brothers, cleaning up puke and other crap that was even more vile, stocking shelves in the store, proving loyalty and smarts on patrol, and learning Chaos history.
Shy hooking up with the one and only Chaos princess was not popular. You could fuck whatever pussy you wanted, as much as you wanted, take any old lady you wanted, treat her like you wanted, it was your business.
But you didn’t do that to family.
Shy wasn’t just fucking her, though, and the rock resting against the band she had on her finger proved it. It got to the point where it was almost her or his brothers. He made it clear if it got to that point, he picked her.
It was a surprise decision. But it being Tabby, the brothers made it clear it was the right one.
Joker made it to them, leaned into the bar, and put his shot glass down.
Shy filled it up.
“Thanks, brother. Won two large on you tonight,” Rush muttered.
Shy jerked up his chin. “And I added to my stash for Tab’s next set of earrings.”
Joker said nothing. He just shot the tequila.
It felt good his brothers bet on him, but then again, they’d be stupid not to. He’d been on the underground circuit a long time, well before Chaos. Had a stash of cash in a safe in his room in the Compound that he’d been adding to for years, all earned fighting.
He never lost.
He was a natural talent. He’d had years of learning how to take abuse and remain standing. He also could read an opponent. And he had a lot of incentive to beat the shit out of anyone who raised their fists his way.
“Boz, Hound, and Speck took care of that attorney,” Shy told him.
Tack, as always, sent the right ones. Hound was a lunatic. Boz wasn’t far behind. But Speck would keep their shit straight.
They’d make their point though. It was just that Speck would keep it from being messy.
He put the glass down and Shy again filled it.
He didn’t lift it before Shy started talking.
“Think you get what went down today, Cherry, Lanie, and Elvira took your girl firm into the fold.”
Not his girl.
Carissa Teodoro would never be his girl.
Joker stayed silent but looked into Shy’s eyes.
“Shit like that, girl like that, they’re mother henning all over the place,” Shy went on.
Not a surprise. He wasn’t sure he got why Elvira, who worked for a man called Hawk, a man who was undoubtedly a badass, but his business was nebulous, was so tight with the Club. Hawk was tight with Tack. There was a reason and Joker had learned that history too. But Elvira lingering… he had no clue. She wasn’t their people, and by that he didn’t mean black, he meant biker.
But she fit. She was hilarious.
And she didn’t take shit or let any of her sisters take it either.
Tyra and Lanie were more quiet about it, but they were the same.
Joker said nothing, just threw back the shot.
“What I’m sayin’ is,” Shy’s voice dipped quiet when Joker’s hand dropped. “She’s in the fold, brother, and shit gets around. Shit like, you fuck another fighter groupie in an alley, that could get to her, and your girl…” He shook his head. “That’d damage her.”
Joker finally spoke.
“She’s not my girl.”
Shy’s brows shot together. “The woman brought you pie.”
She did, and he wanted to taste it. Not since Mrs. Heely looked after him did he have that. Not until the old ladies at Chaos threw barbeques and the boys did their hog roasts and anyone found any reason to party, which happened often, and people would bring good food they made to eat.
He wanted to taste the goodness Carissa could put in a pie. There probably was a lot. So much that pie could win awards.
But by then, that pie lying around, he figured his brothers had decimated it.
Joker stopped thinking about the pie and changed the subject, asking Shy, “You sure you wanna be the person to tell me who I can fuck?”
“You can fuck biker skank, fighter groupie, mix ’em up, I don’t give a shit,” Shy replied. “I’m just sayin’, you take the path that leads to her, you wanna keep butterflies in your bed after you get them there, the days of empty pussy are done. I figure you know that, seein’ what Tack has with Cherry, Hop with Lanie, me with Tab. I’m just sayin’.”
Joker grabbed the bottle himself and poured another shot.
After he took it, he again looked to Shy. “Not lookin’ to put butterflies in my bed. But even if I was, she’s not like that, so I wouldn’t get her there.”
“Dress was cheap, brother, same with the shoes. But it was all she had. She put ’em on, did up her face, her hair, and trotted her ass into a den of bikers to bring you a pie. You want butterflies, at this point, you gotta crook your finger. You wanna keep ’em, you gotta be smart.”
“You don’t know Carissa,” Joker told him.
“I know no bitch makes pie for a man she doesn’t have in her sights,” Shy returned.
“Again, you don’t know Carissa,” Joker fired back. “She’s a good girl. I did her a goo
d turn. She’s not the type to let that stand without payback. That’s it.”
“She the type to trick herself out before she does it?” Rush entered the conversation. “I didn’t see her, bro, but word flies. She coulda gone to Tessa’s Bakery and got you some cupcakes. But she made you a pie and tricked herself out to deliver it.”
“Jesus, fuck, who gives a shit about the pie?” Joker bit off.
“You should,” Shy said quietly. Before Joker could return, Shy went on, “You’re settled. You’ve got your patch. You do your thing. You got your brothers’ backs. But it’s not lost on anyone, man, that you are here and you still aren’t. You give what you need to give to your brothers to keep you here and that’s it. You want this family, same’s we all do.” He flipped out a hand. “You earned your place in it. We know it means something to you. But outside what you need to give, you don’t give back jack.”
Joker didn’t like that shit.
“You got a problem with me havin’ my patch?” he asked low.
“I got a problem with a brother I like, a brother I respect, a brother I see reachin’ for somethin’, he gets the dregs, and he’s good with that,” Shy answered. “You haven’t told me, which is part of the problem, but my guess is, whatever family you had sucked. I get that. My parents were murdered, lost the family I liked, got stuck in one I hated. So I found one that worked for me. You found one that worked for you. Time for you to go all in, Joke. And time for you to stop accepting the dregs, reach for what you deserve, and take hold of butterflies.”
Joker turned to Rush. “Does it hit you,” he glanced to Shy, “either a’ you, that this shit is whacked?”
“What shit?” Rush asked.
“This chat,” Joker answered tersely. “I’m not feelin’ it. It’s none of your fuckin’ business, and I’m not good with you makin’ it your business.”
“Then that tells us you’ve never had anyone around that gives a shit enough to make your business theirs so they can do their bit to lead you to happy,” Rush retorted.
Joker clenched his teeth.
“Just to lay it all out,” Rush kept at him. “You can tell yourself, brother, that you don’t wanna catch butterflies, and that might work for you. That might stop you from takin’ a shot at gettin’ what you want. I hope like fuck it doesn’t. That’s up to you. This chat is part about us doin’ what’s right by you and doin’ what we can to open your eyes. You wanna keep ’em closed, your call. But in the meantime, while the Club wades in to Carissa Teodoro’s problems, you keep your shit sharp. You were actin’ like a caged lion today, Joker, ready to go for the throat of anyone that got in your way. She didn’t ask for it, but the Club’s all in because they know what you’re denying. She’s something to you. Since she’s something to you and you’re family, she’s family. So, while the brothers and the old ladies sort her shit, you got one job. Not fuckin’ that up.”
“No one asked the Club to wade in,” Joker pointed out.
“You did, by puttin’ her name in at the garage and tellin’ the boys to give her VIP on a fuckin’ twenty-year-old Toyota Tercel,” Shy stated. “You can deny that too, but I wouldn’t waste the effort. We saw her. We saw you. We know.”
Joker had had enough.
“We done?” he asked.
“I hope you’re not, but I’m guessin’ we are,” Shy answered.
Joker grabbed the bottle, didn’t bother pouring, but threw back a long slug.
He slammed it down on the bar, and without looking at either of them, prowled to the back hall.
He went to his room, turned on the light, and put that conversation out of his head.
He might have thought about it. He might have considered butterflies.
But he didn’t.
Because she didn’t remember him.
He thought she did, out on I-25 when he first got close, recognized her, and she peered up at him with those big brown eyes. He thought there was something there.
Then there wasn’t.
It happened again after he was done with her tire. He was sure she recognized him.
Then she didn’t.
In fact, when he first approached her, she looked like she didn’t know whether to scream or run away.
It was low to pretend he didn’t remember her name that day. He saw her hurt. Fuck, he felt it. And he wouldn’t do that kinda shit again.
But that was as far as he’d go.
Her life was fucked and that sucked. Her kid was cute. Unlike her, he didn’t mind bikers, and he looked like her, which was good since her asshole ex was an asshole and that shit was written all over him. Joker was not going to stop the Club from taking her back. Seemed she needed good people in her life, and it was about time she had them. She’d never been good with that, a sworn member of the bitch girls without having the number one quality needed for that crew, being a bitch.
But she’d get her shit sorted. If she was looking to get laid, she’d find that too. With her bigger tits and sweet round ass, all that fucking hair, those eyes, she was the one who just had to crook her finger.
And when she was ready to find a man who wanted butterflies in his bed and wanted to keep them there, she’d find that too. Not a problem.
It just wasn’t going to be him.
If she’d given him a smile and said his name, anytime it hit her while he was changing her tire that she remembered him, maybe.
But that was also doubtful.
He couldn’t deny it sucked, she didn’t recognize him. He couldn’t deny that took a bite out of him. But he wasn’t surprised.
Carson Steele was gone. The only place that name existed was on his license. He was Joker. He knew since he’d last seen her that he’d grown taller. He knew he’d put on more muscle. He didn’t shave and hadn’t cut his hair in years so that wasn’t the same either. And he’d seen a lot, done a lot, fucked a lot, fought a lot since then. He was not the kid she knew.
But bottom line, Joker only did empty pussy, and he didn’t foresee a day that was going to change. There was no denying what Tack had with Cherry, Hop with Lanie, Shy with Tabby was good. That was as clear as it could get. They got what they needed in their beds and their lives, and they didn’t fuck around in letting their women know they appreciated it.
But Joker was not Tack, Hop, or Shy. No matter he turned his back on the name given him, he was Jefferson Steele’s son.
And he always would be.
He took Shy and Rush’s point that he didn’t give back to his brothers, and they were right. That shit had to change. This was solid. It was good. It was real. It was his. He’d gone for it. He’d earned it. Finally, he had a family, one he wanted.
And maybe it was time to let back in other good things in his life.
But he was giving Carissa Teodoro the only thing he could give her.
And that was the only thing she’d get from Joker.
He moved into the room, shrugging off his cut. He was tossing it to the end of the bed when he saw someone had put Carissa’s pie on the nightstand. Shoved the change, army knives, condom wrappers, and empty beer bottles out of the way and laid it there, fully intact, plastic wrap still on.
Like he couldn’t stop himself, he walked right to it, tore back the wrap and dug his fingers in at the side. A huge piece covering his curved fingers broke off in his hand.
He lifted it and shoved as much as he could get in his mouth.
And went still.
Every punch he’d landed. Every kick. Every time a man went down at his feet. Every time he’d sunk his cock into tight wet. The moment Kane Allen told him he was a Chaos recruit. The day they handed him his patch.
None of it tasted as good on his tongue as that pie.
Fuck.
He sat down on the edge of his bed and ate the rest from his hand, licking his fingers.
Then he dug in and ate more.
When he was full and a third of the pie was gone, he smoothed the wrap back over it, went to the bathroom, took a sho
wer and washed sweat and blood from his skin, the residue of used condom and empty pussy from his cock.
When he was done, he wandered back to the room, turned out the light, fell into bed, and slept with his stomach full of Carissa Teodoro’s chocolate pecan goodness.
And when he woke up, he had the rest for breakfast.
CHAPTER FIVE
I Had This
Carissa
I SAT AT my kitchen bar looking with tired, puffy eyes at the items I’d laid on it.
My eyes were puffy because Tyra and Lanie had come over with dinner last night to join Elvira and me and they’d stayed awhile. They’d been sweet and supportive in a genuine way that I regrettably had little experience with, which was also why I didn’t quite trust it.
Still, I’d given it to them. Everything.
Althea dying.
Aaron asking me out in high school, and since he was rich, cute, and a good football player, my acceptance, catapulting me into the popular kids, a place where I’d never really felt comfortable, but I’d stayed.
Mom dying.
The gossip that said Aaron had had sex with my supposed best friend Marley when we were juniors, doing this because I wouldn’t put out. But he’d stuck with me for some reason, even though I didn’t put out until the day before he took off to Massachusetts to go to college.
I also shared I ignored that gossip.
And I told them that, when he was still in the dorms his freshman year and I’d gone to visit, I’d overheard his friends snickering about a girl named Katie and how they had a plan to keep her away from Aaron while I visited.
I shared that I ignored that as well.
I also told them about Aaron saying he couldn’t live without me our first summer back, so against my father’s wishes, I quit UC, moved to Cambridge, got a job at The Gap and an apartment with four other girls. I tried to get into a school out there, but between struggling to pay rent and Aaron, I didn’t succeed.
I further told them about the time when Aaron was in graduate school and he broke up with me for three months and dated a fellow student.
I then shared that he’d come back on bended knee, ring and everything, and we’d gotten married in a huge wedding that Aaron’s mother decreed we must have that my father paid for but clearly didn’t enjoy. And this was not because he was giving away his little girl but because he wasn’t a big fan of who he was giving her to. Then I’d gone back to my job, now manager of The Gap, while Aaron finished law school.