Chapter 28: Wolf.e: Chapter 27

A gentle hand on my face, and a soft touch with a warm calloused thumb wakes me from my nightmare. The nightmare I quickly remember is real. My eyes flutter open, I shoot up in bed and suck in a breath. I’m not used to the man Gabriel is yet. Especially like this. He’s close, watching me intently. Every part of him is brooding. And at the moment, he’s filthy dirty, which makes him even more intimidating.

“How long have you been there?” I croak.

“A while,” he answers, standing and moving to the Keurig on the desk. He places a cup under it.

I watch him. He looks so out of place performing such a simple, normal task that I’m not sure what to do with it. Guess murderers need their coffee too.

“Your phone hasn’t stopped. Layla and Evan,” Gabriel says as the cup fills and the scent of coffee fills the air.

I reach over to my phone. Ten calls from Lay this morning.

One text from Evan that’s readable on my lock screen.

I feel my face contort. My life with Evan seems so far away now.

Surreal.

I message Layla so she doesn’t send out a manhunt and ask myself if she truly knows the life these men live. The life her husband lives.

“What are you going to do with me now?” I ask openly, setting my phone down.

Gabriel looks me over as he adds cream to the cup of coffee, no sugar, then makes his way to me holding it out. I take it from him and my eyes meet his.

“When I said I know it all, I know it all,” he says.

I can’t decide if I’m creeped out by this or turned on.

“Then you already know who Evan is.”

“Yes.”

Gabriel leans against the wooden hutch as he starts to brew his own coffee. I let my eyes trail over the flexed muscle and veins of his sculpted arms.

He shrugs. “I wanted to see if you were still hung up on him. If he’s going to be a problem. Figured I could tell by how you looked when I said his name.”

“And could you?” I sip my coffee.

“Yes,” he says simply.

Even though I don’t love Evan anymore, I don’t want him involved with this in any way. “That part of my life is long over. I think he just texted me to check in on me.”

I wait as Gabriel studies me.

“You didn’t answer me… about what you’re going to do with me,” I say, growing more self-conscious by the moment as I sit here in just a t-shirt with his heady stare on me. My nipples harden when this man simply looks at me, for God’s sake. My body is a lost cause.

“Because I don’t know what I’m going to do with you yet,” he answers honestly.

“Does Layla know?” I ask. “What you all… do?”

His eyes narrow, and he turns to remove his coffee. He adds nothing. Of course he doesn’t. This man screams I take my coffee black.

“You don’t know what we do just because you witnessed one night,” he retorts.

“I think I have a pretty good idea,” I say, in a more snappy tone than I intend.

“You have no idea,” he says.

I don’t argue, only because the way Gabriel says it tells me maybe I don’t.

“There are two ways members deal with their ol’ ladies, or in your case a woman under protection.”

“Captivity,” I correct.

He shrugs. “Semantics.”

I watch as Gabriel wraps his perfect lips around the rim of his paper cup as he sips. “Most of them either tell them everything or they tell them nothing.”

“So Layla doesn’t know much,” I whisper, looking down at my cup.

Gabriel nods, confirming.

“Would he tell her if she wanted to know?” I ask, genuinely curious.

“Depends. Every man handles their ol’ ladies’ knowledge differently. He may not want her to know, or she may not be able to handle it.”

“I would want to know all of it. I would never tolerate that,” I say matter-of-factly, sounding very much like my mother. I internally cringe. “Hypothetically, of course,” I add.

Gabriel smirks and I soften. I don’t have a clue as to why this dirty, bloodied version of him is doing it for me, but here we are.

I take a big sip of my coffee and smooth my hair. It’s wavy and knotted from letting it air dry while I cried myself to sleep last night.

“Will I go home?” I ask, feeling weak and at his mercy. I hate it.

Gabriel swallows a big gulp of his coffee, probably the whole cup.

“I can’t trust you yet.” He looks me over as he says it but it’s no answer as to my fate.

I finish what is in my cup.

“Go meet your friend.” He points to my toiletries and clothing under a mirror that hangs on the wall. “I’m going to take a shower. I have club business and then I’ll be at breakfast with you”—he grabs fresh clothes from his bag as he speaks—“and clean up that glass. Don’t do that again, losing your temper won’t serve you.”

“I’m not a child,” I tell him with more attitude than warranted and self-admittedly like a petulant child. I look down and see his foot covered in white gauze.

“Then don’t act like one,” he says. “Chris is outside. He’ll walk you down to the main building,” he adds.

“Am I not safe because of what I saw last night?” I ask, just before Gabriel steps through the bathroom door, but he stops in his tracks. He turns and makes his way back to me, climbing onto the bed and grabbing both my thighs. My breath hitches as he pulls me down under him and hovers over me. He smells like campfire and leather mixed with whatever his aftershave or cologne is.

It’s enough to make me crumble.

“You’re not safe because you’re mine, not because of what you saw,” he says.

My pulse accelerates with his words and proximity. Of course Gabriel notices. He focuses on the flutter in my neck and then looks back up at me in question.

“What scares you? When I say that you’re mine or that you aren’t safe?” he asks in a low voice.

“Both.” I gulp. “I’m not sure what scares me more. Being with you or being away from you,” I answer honestly.

Gabriel’s eyes move down to my lips. His Adam’s apple bobs and tension lines the scruff of his jaw. He leans down, and his lips brush mine.

Just a single second of his soft kiss breathes life into every cell in my body. I’m alive and singing as he lingers for one more moment, then backs away. It takes me yet another to open my eyes.

“Good,” is all Gabriel says before lifting himself off me and heading toward the shower. The lock of the door behind him says everything loud and clear. I am his to see, to use, to mold, however he wants.

But he’s not mine.

I breathe in deeply and lay back on the bed. I can’t even tell Layla what this is. She doesn’t know what this club is capable of. She doesn’t even know the man she married, or maybe she does but turns a blind eye?

I can’t trust you yet. Gabriel’s words repeat in my head.

I have a feeling I’m not done fighting this man yet, because there’s not a chance in hell I’ll be living in a motorcycle clubhouse. Gabriel might as well put a bullet in my head now if he thinks that’s going to happen.

“There you are!” Layla winks, her massive diamond glints on her left hand. She’s at a table in the main dining hall of the resort with the girls. This place is full. Club members are everywhere, milling about and talking. Some are piling food onto their plates from the buffet.

I head over and get myself some food, but nothing seems all that appetizing. I get juice and coffee. Ax wanders up to the table at the same time I do, we both sit on opposite sides. His eggs and bacon take up all the real estate on his plate.

“Morning, new girl,” he says like nothing happened last night. “Forgot salt and pepper, wifey.” He kisses Layla on the head and heads back to the buffet for it.

“Sleep well?” Layla asks in a low voice.

“We did not have sex,” I say to her automatically.

All four girls look up.

“Two nights and no sex?” Chantal asks. “What are you doing then?”

“I don’t know. Arguing mostly,” I answer honestly, swirling my juice in my glass.

I lean into Layla. “Can I talk to you without you asking any questions?” I whisper. She must see the look in my eyes because her expression grows serious instantly.

Layla nods and stands. “Sure, let’s go to the ladies’ room.”

As we start to walk, I see the shape of Gabriel come through the door to the dining hall but I disappear behind the bathroom door before his eyes lock with mine.

“You’re scaring me, Brin. Are you okay?” she asks the moment we get behind the safety of the door.

I break. It’s unstoppable. The tears start to come. She pulls me in close and hugs me tight.

“What happened? Did he hurt you? I’ll fucking kill him if he did.”

“No.” Not really, anyway… not that I didn’t enjoy.

“Then what?”

I sniff. “I can’t say. I just need a hug, I think.”

“Brin. Did you see something that scared you?”

“You don’t know, Lay? What they… do? You really don’t?” I ask, knowing I’m going to be in trouble for even bringing it up.

She smiles and swipes my hair off my forehead.

“I know plenty, babe. But there’s a difference between wanting to know or asking what the club does, and just knowing. You can’t be the wife of an HOH member and be delusional. Of course I’ve seen and heard some things. I know you might not believe me now, but these guys are better than whatever you saw or heard.”

I scoff. “Is it normal that they keep someone who sees something?” I ask

“What?” she asks with a laugh like this is funny.

“He says he’s keeping me because of it,” I blurt out, dead serious.

“What? What do you mean by keeping you?”

I half laugh, half cry. “Stay with him or die.”

She pushes back from me and looks me in the eye. “Wolfe told you he’s keeping you?”

I nod, swiping a tear from my face.

All the humor leaves Layla’s eyes, and she looks down in concentration, like she’s running things through her mind.

“I don’t want to know what you saw,” she says, her eyes returning to mine. “I don’t want you to tell me what it was, I’d rather not know. But can you tell me on a scale of one to ten how bad it was?”

“Twenty-five,”

“Fuck,” Layla hisses. “Wolfe doesn’t keep people for… anything,” she whispers, probably trying to make sense of it all.

“Lucky me. I’m an experiment. I get to live at the clubhouse with my captor.”

“Listen to me, Brin,” Layla pleads. “Whatever you saw, I can’t imagine. But you have to do what he says. You have to go along with him for now. This is… very out of character for Wolfe… and if I had to wager a guess, he’s trying to keep from hurting you because you’re my friend. He does have a heart in there somewhere. That has to be it.”

“I don’t believe you,” I scoff.

The bathroom door swings open, Layla and I both straighten as two women come in. Layla knows them and they start to talk.

I take the time to fix myself up as they chatter. I wash my hands and smooth my hair.

“I might be his first of the weekend,” a pretty brunette says. I watch her over my shoulder. “I haven’t seen anyone in that lap. In fact, I’ve barely seen him at all.” Her voice is husky and she seems older than me by a few years.

“Good luck. He doesn’t believe in repeat offenders,” another brunette, shorter with wild curly hair says as she applies her lipstick.

“The weekend is almost over,” Layla says to them. “He is a man, you guys, he’s not just a dick, Jesus. And besides, the guys have had a lot of work this weekend,” she adds, looking at me.

I instantly know these women are talking about Gabriel and for some reason I don’t like it. I wonder why a man with such a reputation for sex with women, anywhere and anytime, hasn’t tried to have sex with me. He’s had plenty of chances.

I pull my own gloss out of my purse.

“There are utility closets around. I’m going to go see if I can get lost in one with him before we leave,” the older brunette says.

“You’re so bad!” Her friend laughs.

I don’t wait to hear the end of this conversation, I push past them and head back out to the dining hall, accidentally brushing into one of them on my way by—the taller one with the long straight hair.

“Excuse you, bitch,” she says to me.

I turn back over my shoulder. “Sorry,” I say as she laughs.

“Don’t do it again, little Sandra Dee,” she calls out.

I hold back tears as I move through the bathroom hallway and back into the dining room. I’m so out of my element with these people. Sandra Dee? From Grease? Is that how they all see me? Like a little goody-type girl with the bow in her hair?

When I reach the main room, Gabriel is at my table. He’s clean now. No remnants of last night linger. He wears black jeans and a white t-shirt under his cut with his standard motorcycle boots on his feet. His still wet and wavy hair is tucked behind his ears.

I look around and wonder if he’s been with every single woman in this room.

Everyone but me. The voice in my head reminds me.

I make my way to the table and notice he’s right beside my spot, eating from a heaping plate. Another plate is in my setting with steaming eggs, bacon, fruit and toast. His clean scent consumes me before I even sit.

“Eat,” he says as I take my place.

I can feel the eyes of the table on me as I sit and push away his offering.

“I’m good,” I say in response.

Kai and Chantel’s mouths actually fall open.

How dare I?

I look over at Gabriel just as he pops a thick piece of bacon between his perfect straight white teeth, biting into it, his eyes meet mine.

“Don’t make me tell you twice,” he says so low that no one else can hear as he pushes my plate back in front of me.

I decide to pick my battles, reminding myself that the only power I have here is the power of my choice, and the fruit does look good. I pick up a melon ball with my fork and look right at him, bringing it to my lips, I part them and place the ball halfway in, wrapping my lips around it slowly.

“Mmm.” I make a moaning sound. “So good,” I say.

Someone—Kai, I think—drops a fork, and I see that storm start to churn in Gabriel’s slate eyes.

I chew and keep my eyes on him as I slide the fork out of my mouth, way more slowly than warranted.

“There you are.” The husky voice from the bathroom sounds.

I get a better look at her. She’s no older than thirty. Her hair is thick and she smells like fruity perfume. She wears a cropped white t-shirt and a high-waisted skirt. A short one, but you can still see the sliver of skin at her navel. An inked snake that peeks out of her sleeve must travel her whole body because it’s visible at her waist and pokes out from beneath her skirt. The table is back to full chatter now.

“Got a few minutes to sneak away?” she asks Gabriel.

I don’t look up. I look anywhere else. If he’s going to go off with her like she’s so sure he will, I don’t want him to know I care in the slightest. I take another bite of melon and wait with bated breath for his answer. Layla sits down beside me with her own plate, having been removed from her previous spot by Gabriel.

“Why don’t you ask Brinley how she feels about that?” Gabriel says smugly to the woman.

She angles her head over her shoulder and looks at me. Humiliation and anger bubbles up in me. I might snap.

“Sure, Sandra.” She winks. I want to smack her. “You can come too. Don’t bore me to tears,” she says with a grin.

Wow. These women.

Fuck him and fuck her. I’ve had enough of people thinking they can walk all over me. I scoff with a bit of a laugh. “He can’t be that good,” I say to her.

“Excuse me?” she says, turning to face me fully like she might hit me.

I just pop another piece of melon in and smile and chew. I’ve never felt so free. Some small compartment of my brain tells me Gabriel won’t let this woman hurt me, so right now I just feel strong enough to mess with them both.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” I speak to her like she’s a child. “Did I stutter? Let me speak more slowly for you. His dick”—I nod to Gabriel—“is it magic?” I cock my head to the side and someone snickers. I should probably stop but I don’t. “Because you were just calling me a bitch not five minutes ago in the ladies’ room but now you want to make out with me?” I ask.

The table goes dead silent.

“Brin,” Lay says, squeezing my thigh beside me.

“Cassidy, is it?” Gabriel says to her, keeping his eyes firmly planted on me.

“Chelsea,” she corrects him,

“I didn’t mean Brinley would come with us, I meant…” He turns his face up to hers and she melts beneath his gaze. I roll my eyes. “Ask her how she feels about me taking you into the closest bathroom and fucking you until you scream,” Gabriel says, his eyes turning to firmly lock on mine.

“Have at it.” I shrug back, calling his bluff. I look up at Chelsea “I’m not his keeper,” I add.

Out of the corner of my eye, I swear I see Gabriel smirk.

“Am I missing something here?” Chelsea asks. I take a big sip of my juice and look back up at her.

“Nope.” I pop my lips. “He’s all yours, honey. Just might want to wrap that shit up, never know where it’s been.”

“Who the fuck do you think—” she starts, but Gabriel reaches out and grabs her arm. Hard. She stops talking immediately.

“Yeah, I’m gonna… go. I just wanted to see if you were up for a good time. I don’t want to be in the middle of whatever this is,” Chelsea says, gesturing between us.

“Good idea, Cassidy,” Gabriel says without looking at her. “I wouldn’t have fucked you anyway.”

Chelsea takes off muttering something no one can understand about me, and Gabriel looks away from my eyes and goes back to eating as if nothing happened. I watch Chelsea go and try my best not to be happy that Gabriel turned her down. He doesn’t say a word, only continues eating in silence, but I saw it, a sort of pride in his eyes when I stood up for myself.

That wasn’t all Gabriel wanted. I know he was trying to make me admit my want, trying to make me submit to him like every other woman in here. Well, I won’t, he’s the one who wanted a wicked girl.

“What has gotten into you?” Layla asks, her eyes wide in surprise.

“I have no idea,” I whisper honestly.

My short answer? Gabriel Wolfe makes me crazy. He makes me lose control in every way possible.

I ignore him while I eat but Gabriel stands up to leave part way through breakfast with Ax, Flipp, and Robby. He doesn’t tell me where he’s going, or when I’ll see him again. He only gives me my marching orders with a squeeze to my shoulder. Ride home with Layla and the girls, and then start packing my things. I have no choice but to go with them in Chantel’s SUV.

The whole way home I wonder when he’ll come for me next. Layla complains that her honeymoon to California is being postponed because Sean ‘has to work.’ I don’t say much. I just want to get home, have a hot shower, lock all my doors, and bury myself in bed.

I shoot up in my seat when we round the corner of Spruce because my house is a flurry of activity. Two vans are parked in front, and I instantly worry that a pipe burst or something until we get closer. There are stacks of cedar wood laying on my front lawn, a dumpster in my driveway and there must be ten men in various places, pulling down my old rotting porch.