SCOOTER
Helena is pissed.
Really pissed.
She didn't sleep the whole night, worried about Cristy, or should I say Michelle, only to come to the conclusion that the blonde stayed with Gunner.
With no warning whatsoever.
She could at least text or call that she wouldn't be back, so my girl wouldn't have to worry about her. It's a simple courtesy, a basic acknowledgment of the person who's putting herself in danger to keep you safe.
Helena roughly packs a bag, while I just quietly watch her, knowing that she's too angry to talk. She just shoves whatever she finds into the bag then zips it up before throwing it by the door and coming to me. I pull her onto my lap and wrap my arms around her.
I stroke her back under my shirt she's wearing and after few moments her body finally relaxes. The tension bleeds out of her muscles slowly, unwinding under my touch.
Helena wraps her arms around my waist, nuzzling her face into my chest, heaving a deep sigh. She's really stressed about Michelle's situation, especially after witnessing her get attacked by those bastards in San Francisco.
What Michelle doesn't know, though, is that Helena got hurt protecting her. One of the guys cut her with his knife. I had to watch her stitch up her thigh before she wrapped it up. My hands had shaken, holding the needle for her, watching her work on herself like she was fixing a torn jacket instead of her own flesh.
I know about Michelle's situation, but I wish she would take Helena's help more seriously. My girl is putting herself in danger by getting involved in that, only for the blonde girl to ignore her worries. It's frustrating to see people take my woman for granted. I hate it. She's the most amazing person I have ever met, but her efforts are repeatedly unappreciated.
Helena doesn't need constant reassurance from people. She's not built that way, doesn't fish for compliments or validation. But I still make sure to remind her how amazing she is every chance I get. Someone needs to see her, really see her.
"Will you drive? I've been drinking yesterday."
Helena speaks after a while, her voice muffled against my chest.
"Sure. What about Michelle's car?"
"I don't care. It's Gunner's job to drop her off."
She grumbles, getting off my lap and heading to the door. I stop her before she can leave, engulfing her in my arms and kissing her neck. Her skin is warm, smells like the soap we share.
"Shh, kitten. If you want I can drop the bag off myself. You don't need to come."
I soothe, caressing her waist.
"Yes, I do. Goldie has to realize she's not alone in this anymore, that she has me to help and that she can't ignore me like this, especially after what happened."
Uh oh. Cristy's about to get an earful.
"Then let's go. She should be up soon."
I say, glancing at my Gucci watch, which I got from Helena for my birthday, only to see it's already 8 am. The drive to Gunner's club will take about an hour, so we'll be there around 9. Hopefully Michelle or Gunner will be awake, so we can just drop off the bag and come back.
Helena and I are supposed to go to dinner with my parents tonight, but I want her to take a nap before we leave. She needs some rest after staying up all night, pacing the house like a caged animal.
I grab the hastily packed bag and lead Helena to my car, only stopping to let her lock the door. My Audi sits gleaming in the morning light, black paint reflecting the sky.
The drive is mostly silent, the sound of Asking Alexandria filling the car. Helena plays with my hand, namely my couple rings, staring out the window blankly. The matching silver bands we got in Berkeley, simple but meaningful. A promise without words.
I pull her hand to my mouth and leave a kiss on her knuckles before putting our hands back in her lap. She takes my hand and presses a small kiss to the back of it, making me grin and take her hand again. We keep kissing each other's hands for a while, until Helena finally bursts out laughing.
"You're impossible."
She chuckles, shaking her head in amusement.
"You're the one who doesn't give up. Just let me win for once."
I playfully whine, getting a cute snort from her in response.
"I always let you win. I can't even count how many times you got your way with me."
"As if. I always have to use my charm with you to win."
I huff. Okay, that's a lie. We always come to a compromise easily, no matter what it is. We had some fights over the year, but we always made up quickly. We don't have problems with communication. And it's not like we can stay mad at each other for long when we live together and go to bed together every night.
Not that we fight all that much. Usually it's about some mundane stuff, like who's in charge of the laundry or about coming late from practice without notice. I'm actually on Berkeley's football team, the Golden Bears, so I train a lot.
Thank God I didn't decide to join a fraternity or I would have even less time on my hands. Helena also decided not to join any sorority. She has enough on her shoulders with the fights and studies.
Speaking of studies, we're taking the same course and I love it. We're both studying business administration, so we can take over our fathers' companies. I literally laughed when I realized that even our future jobs would match.
While my father is in real estate, Tyson is in construction. They both said that once Helena and I are ready, we'll take over the businesses. We had a long talk about how to reconcile both, since they're in different towns.
We have this idea that once we take over, we will merge the companies and go into renovating and reselling estates. Helena is also taking an architecture course in a private academy, already preparing for the future. She's always three steps ahead, planning, strategizing, building the life she wants instead of waiting for it to happen.
And if our plan doesn't work, my coach said I could try my hand in the NFL, so I have a backup. With that I would be able to support Helena even if she decides to not work after we get married.
Of course, our parents were surprised that we're already planning our future that far ahead. Because, I quote, "We don't know what life has in store for us." But we don't really care. We just know we love each other and that we want a life together.
Simple as that.
-----
I park the car in front of the compound before getting out and taking the bag from the backseat. The Iron Brotherhood's territory looks different in the morning light. Less menacing, more industrial. The garage across the street has its bay doors open, revealing bikes in various states of repair.
We walk inside, hand in hand, getting nods in greeting from Knife and Wrench as they work in the garage. Knife is wiping down chrome, while Wrench has his hands deep in an engine. They're good guys, solid brothers. The kind who show up when called, no questions asked.
Unfortunately, neither Cristy nor Gunner are at the bar. There are only a few bikers around, including three prospects and the club girls cleaning the place. The main room smells like stale beer and bleach, an interesting combination that somehow works.
"Hey guys. What are you doing here so early?"
The prospect behind the bar greets with a smile. He's always really polite and kind to my girl and I get a feeling he might actually like her. Not in a disrespectful way, more like admiration from a distance.
"Hey. Can you make me a coffee? I'm waiting for Gunner."
Helena requests, getting a nod from him in response as he starts the coffee machine. The sound fills the quiet space, familiar and comforting.
"You want something to drink?"
The prospect turns to me. I shake my head, setting the bag on the stool next to me and sitting down. Helena gets on my lap without me even asking. That's how used she is to sitting with me, how natural it's become. I wrap my arms around her waist, anchoring her to me.
"Two sugars and creamer, right?"
The prospect asks. Helena just nods in confirmation, glancing around. The kid's got a good memory. Details matter in this world.
Guess we'll be waiting for Gunner and Michelle to get here.
I study the compound while we wait. The main room is large, open. Pool tables in one corner, booths lining the walls, the bar running the length of one side. Photos on the walls show the history of the Iron Brotherhood, decades of brothers in leather and chrome. Some of those men are gone now, but their legacy remains.
This is Gunner's kingdom. The place he's built from loyalty and blood and hard decisions. I respect that. Respect him. He's done right by Helena, treated her like family when she needed it most.
After over an hour, the people in question finally arrive. Michelle is in a huge shirt, I'm guessing it's Gunner's, and shorts. Gunner is beside her, holding her hand with a silly grin on his face. The man looks younger somehow, lighter. Like he's shed a weight he's been carrying.
At least their night was good.
Helena openly glares in their direction and once the blonde catches her expression, she pales. The color drains from Michelle's face so fast I'm surprised she doesn't pass out.
You should be scared, girl. You should be.
I feel Helena's body go rigid in my lap. Her muscles coil tight, ready to spring. This is Helena in fight mode, the version of her that most people never see. The one that beat a woman to death with her bare hands. The one that broke three men's bones in an alley in San Francisco to protect her friend.
I tighten my arms around her waist, not to restrain her but to ground her. To remind her I'm here.
"Helena."
Michelle's voice is small, scared. Good. She should understand the gravity of what she's done. Of making Helena worry all night, of dismissing the sacrifices Helena has made.
Gunner's grin fades as he takes in the scene. His eyes meet mine over the girls' heads, a silent question. I give him a slight shake of my head. This is between them. We're just here to make sure it doesn't get out of hand.
The prospect behind the bar suddenly finds something very interesting to clean at the far end. The other brothers in the room make themselves scarce. They know better than to get between women with unfinished business.
Helena slides off my lap slowly, deliberately. Every movement controlled, precise. She's not going to explode. That's not her style. She's going to make her point crystal clear, and Michelle is going to listen.
I stay seated but ready. Just in case. Not that I think Helena would hurt her friend, but emotions are running high and exhaustion makes people do stupid things.
The tension in the room is thick enough to choke on. This is going to be interesting.