What's Your Poison

11. Daddy Issues

Jade

Do you think I'm a monster now?

Mission was leaning on the bar, his knuckles white. Tunnel vision meant he totally missed the gaping look Dixie gave him. The silence drew out, and Dixie closed her mouth with an audible click, sliding off the stool and skirting away.

"I'll talk to you later." She promised.

I tamped down the desire to ask her to stay. To be my buffer between the rough, handsome biker in front of me. He'd never scared me before. Even though I recognized his superior strength and the imbalance of power.

"Because you killed your mother?" I asked bluntly.

"It was an accident." He winced. "But I wanted her dead. I won't lie about that. I know I said some shit to you at the hospital. If you hadn't told Iron I might still be drowning in that secret, I always thought there was something twisted up in me, something dangerous. There have been people in my ear, messing with my head and making me believe I would get sent to jail."

He was still, like he expected me to reel back in horror at any second. Did he not know what world he was living in? I had met men who would strangle a man and sit down for a beer five minutes later with a smile. Men who relished in dolling out pain, who reveled in it. Their faces haunted my dreams.

"I don't think you're a monster." I replied, mirroring his stance. I gripped the sink behind the bar and stared at the man who had wormed his way inside my heart. His dark eyes smoldered, the leather of his cut creaking as he leaned closer.

"Can we go somewhere and talk?" His voice was low and silky. It instantly sent my back up.

"I'm working." I replied, pulling the towel resting on my shoulder off with more force than necessary. There was no one in the bar, the counters were shining and the fridges were full. I could easily leave and talk to Mission. But he didn't deserve another minute of my time.

"I need to explain why I said those hurtful words, wildcat. There was a reason—" he pressed, and I cut him off with a snarl.

"Don't call me that." I warned, my throat burning. I'd loved the nickname, scoring him with red marks whenever I could. I'd marked him thinking it meant something, a claim. I thought he'd interpreted it that way. He'd egg me on, groaning enthusiastically. When they faded, he'd give me a sly smile, ask his wildcat for her claws.

Cut me up wildcat, give me your worst.

Hurt twisted my stomach, that I'd thought he had held me in his heart. But it was just his cock.

"Jade. Five minutes. Let me say my piece." His jaw ticked.

I spread my arms around the empty bar.

"You've got words for me now, do you? Go on, it won't change anything." I sneered.

He sighed, launching into an explanation. The blackmail and how his sister had threatened to spill his secrets. How he'd always considered himself a monster, and he didn't want me to view him the same way. He thought the club would cut him loose.

"I didn't want to hurt you, but when she turned up, I lost myself. I reacted. I fucked up. But I never stopped wanting you, craving what we had."

With the skill of a woman practiced at gluing my heart back together, I took a shuddering breath. Collected all the shards of my beat up heart and willed them together with the only thing I could truly depend on. Myself. Because nothing he said really mattered.

My stomach turned at the thought of Mission, young and green, abused and used. He'd been too scared to tell me the truth. Didn't think I would accept him if I found out. He cared about me too much. The excuses battered at me, threatened my cracked and scarred insides.

The way he was staring at me with banked heat that I knew would flare at any positive sign I gave.

I could smile. I could open my arms and I knew he would lift me up over his shoulder. He'd be inside me in five minutes flat. He'd make sure I finished. But was that how low my standards were?

So I lied.

"I'm sorry for what you went through, truly. But you hurt me. And whatever we were? It's gone. Trampled. Done. I don't want the drama. Let's just call a truce. Put it all behind us."

Mission's teeth ground against each other. He sucked in a rattling inhale.

"I'm not done. I don't want to put you anywhere but underneath me, wildcat."

"I said don't call me that." My patience snapping. I was unmoved. He wanted my body. Warm and compliant. Well, I wasn't a good little girl to fall in line.

"What can I do?" He rasped, his fingers tapping on the bar in agitation. "To get you to forgive me?"

"You can't do shit, Mission. Some things can't be fixed once they're broken." Like trust and hearts. The cracks always existed, easy to break again. It had happened to me often enough. He hadn't been the first person to break my heart. I knew he wouldn't be the last. But I learned long ago never to give a second chance. He'd hit me right where it hurt. Judging me for being a club girl and I wouldn't ever be able to believe there wasn't a shade of truth in what he'd said.

Club girls don't become old ladies, they're pussy, nothing more.

People see the low cut clothes, the salacious display of skin and think there isn't anything more than that. But every single club girl at Sleepless Knights was her own person, with dreams and hopes. Just because they lay on their back, and enjoyed it, didn't make them any less of a person.

It had taken me a long time to realize that, and the epiphanies didn't come until I had the courage to run from Savage Sons. I was better at putting on a front than most. I could paint on a smile with bright red lipstick. Pretend I was confident, without a care in the world.

But underneath all that, there was a wound that refused to heal. It was the most stereotypical trauma to carry around.

Daddy Issues.

It made me want to sneer and weep in the same breath. I kept looking at these burly bikers, for someone who might look after me. Someone who might desire my body enough to keep me. Because there wasn't much else I had to offer besides that.

I thought I'd found it in Mission. Stupid, foolish girl.

Now he stood in front of me, after months of ignoring or drunkenly begging me. His secrets were unburdened, but mine were still heavy.

"Please Jade, we were fucking perfect together. Nobody knows you like I do."

He tried again, cursing as Bat and Greenie strolled in with wide grins. He looked at me with wild eyes, like he was determined to fight for me in front of his brothers. I put a hand on the bar and leaned over, whispering before they got close enough to hear me.

"You don't know shit about me, Brye. You don't even know my real name."