Tease: A Kings of Korruption MC Novel (13 page)

I storm out of the clubhouse, angrier than I’ve ever been in my entire life.
 
It’s hard to storm anywhere when you’re blind and your dog walks like a wounded turtle, but I made it work.
 
Reaching into my purse, I pull out my phone and call the taxi company to send me another ride.
 
Unsure of my surroundings, I lean back against the brick wall and wait.

“Uh oh.”
 
My head whips up.
 
It’s the guy who let me in.
 
“Doesn’t look like that went so well.”

I grit my teeth.
 
“It didn’t.
 
That man is impossible.
 
He’s also an asshole.”

The man laughs softly before placing a cold bottle in my hand.
 
“Beer.
 
It’s not opened yet.
 
I wanted you to know it was safe.”
 
I smile as I take it, tears threatening to fall.
 
“He
is
impossible.
 
And he
is
an asshole.”
 
Damn right!
 
“But he’s also a good guy.”

I scowl at him, earning myself another laugh.
 
The truth is, I
know
he’s a good guy.
 
It was the good guy part of him that helped me when Dex got hurt and helped me again when I got drunk and cut my foot.
 
It was the good guy part of him that slept on my couch and made me breakfast.
 
But all those good guy actions don’t mean he’s a totally nice guy.
 
“More like an asshole with good guy tendencies.”

The man laughs long and hard, obviously enjoying my pain.
 
“I like you.
 
The name’s Mouse.”
 
I wrinkle my nose at that, wondering why he has such a stupid name.
 
I know his real name isn’t Mouse, but why would he introduce himself that way?
 
Shaking my head, I accept that I’ll probably never figure it out.

Sticking out my hand, I wait for him to take it.
 
He grasps it gently, giving it a single pump before letting go.
 
“Laynie.”

“Laynie.
 
Pretty name.”
 
I just smile.
 
“Like I was saying, Tease is a good guy.
 
I should know.
 
We’re buddies.
 
He would never admit that, but we are.
 
That guy has had my back every single fucking time I needed it and never once complained.
 
I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for him.”
 
He chuckles softly.
 
“I get myself in a lot of …
situations
.”

I smile.
 
I like this Mouse character.
 
He seems so genuine and somewhat innocent compared to the other guys.
 
I can tell he looks up to Travis.
 
I just hope that Travis appreciates the friend he has in him.

“Well, Mouse, he may be there for you, but he’s pretty much always a dick to me, and I’m not taking that shit from him.
 
He’s acting like a child.”

“I don’t blame you there.”
 
He sighs, and I hear Dexter’s collar jingle as Mouse pets him.
 
“Tease has had a shit life.”
 
I freeze, waiting for him to continue.
 
“I don’t know much about it … anything, really.
 
But I do know it was shit.
 
He don’t talk much, and he mostly keeps to himself.
 
I think it’s hard for him to be around people.
 
I also think you just need to be patient with him.”

Deep down I know he’s right.
 
I thought the same thing myself last night before everything went all to hell.
 
At the same time, though, that’s a lot of effort to put into someone that can’t seem to stand to be around you.

Just as I open my mouth to answer, the front door bangs open and then closed again, and I hear footsteps approaching us on the gravel parking lot.

“Beat it, Mouse.”
 
Travis.

Mouse’s voice is amused when he replies, “See ya, Laynie.”

Shaking my head at Travis’s rudeness, I lift my hand and wave.
 
“See ya, Mouse.
 
And thanks for the beer.”

I hear him start to say something, but it’s cut off by a grunt from Travis, and then I hear his footsteps as he walks away.

I glare in the direction I think he is.
 
“Don’t worry.
 
I’m just waiting for my taxi, and I’ll be gone.”

He sighs.
 
“Laynie – I … can we just talk for a minute?”
 
He sounds defeated.

Turning to face him, I just nod, waiting to see if the hope I am suddenly feeling is going to come back and bite me in the ass.

I HAVE NO CLUE what to say to her.
 
I asked her if we could talk and now she’s waiting for me to fucking say something – anything – and all I can do is stare at her sad green eyes, pissed that I was the one to make them sad in the first fucking place.

Taking a deep breath, I go for it.
 
“I’m sorry.”
 
Her head tilts to the side, but she stays silent.
 
She’s not going to make this easy on me.
 
Blowing out a breath, I stab my fingers roughly through my hair.

She continues to stand there, eyes pointed slightly to the left of me, face blank.
 
I sigh heavily.
 
“I was pissed.
 
I’m a fuckin’ monster, Laynie, and when you touched my face, you
knew
.
 
You fuckin’
knew
.”
 
I watch as her brow creases with confusion, but she still says nothing.
 
“You and me, we don’t fit.
 
You’re fuckin’ gorgeous, and I ….”
 
Fuck
.

She stands up straighter.
 
“You what?”

Fuck.
 
I hate this.
 
I don’t talk about this shit.
 
I don’t talk about anything.
 
Anger and frustration pump through my veins, my fists clenching tightly.
 
“That fucking scar you felt?
 
It’s fucked up my whole face.”
 
I’m yelling at her, but I can’t help it.
 
I don’t want to tell her this, but she has to know.
 
“It’s disgusting.”

She nods.
 
“I felt that.”
 
I look away, suddenly ashamed and not sure if I want to hear what she says next.
 
“And I don’t care if it’s ugly or not.
 
I gasped because I was surprised.
 
Not to mention, devastated for you.”
 
I narrow my eyes and open my mouth to tell her to go fuck herself.
 
That I don’t need her fucking pity, but she cuts me off.
 
“That scar is old.
 
It’s smooth and barely noticeable to the touch, but I can tell it’s an old scar.
 
Which tells
me
you got it when you were young.”

Surprised, I watch her face, looking for any sign of her emotions.
 
Skeptical, I sneer at her.
 
“You got all that from touching my fuckin’ face?”

She smiles slightly and nods.
 
“When you lose your sight, you become pretty accustomed to using your other senses.”
 
She reaches out, hand searching for my face.
 
I grab her wrist, holding it tightly between us, but she presses on.
 
“How did you get that scar, Travis?”

My anger starts to fade, and my heart pounds an unsteady rhythm in my chest.
 
I can’t fucking tell her this.
 
Can I?
 
I’ve never told anyone about my fucked-up past.
 
I stare into her eyes, seeing them filled with compassion and sincerity, and I start to crumble.
 
Those eyes may not work the way they’re supposed to, but fuck me, I can see every one of her emotions when I look into them.

Swallowing hard, I guide her hand slowly and gently place it against my stubbled cheek.
 
Wariness causes my guts to roll.
 
She smiles softly, and her thumb moves, gently running up and down the long scar that has ruined my life.
 
Emotions wage war inside me.
 
I want to recoil, rip her hand away from my face, and scream at her for making me feel these things.
 
At the same time, the tenderness of her caress makes my defenses slowly dissolve.
 

“This scar doesn’t define you, Travis,” she whispers

Fuck
.
 
I avert my eyes, unable to look at her for a moment, trying to gather my feelings and speak a coherent fucking sentence.
 
“
I
know that.
 
But not everyone does.”
 
She purses her lips, not happy with my response.
 
“My whole fuckin’ life has been one huge fight.”

Tears swim in her eyes, threatening to slip over the edge.
 
“My step-father gave me this fuckin’ scar.
 
My mother fuckin’ watched him do it.
 
That same night, he killed my fuckin’ dog.
 
The son-of-a-bitch ruined my life in a drunken rage, and my mother stayed.
 
She
stayed,
Laynie.
 
I kept waiting for her to leave him, but she didn’t.
 
So I ran.”

A single tear slips down her cheek, but her voice is even when she whispers, “How old were you?”

“Nine,” I grind the word out, not wanting her pity, but suddenly desperate for her understanding.
 
I want her to know why I’ve become who I am.

Her hand slides from my cheek and down my shoulder and arm until she reaches my hand.
 
“Did they find you?”

Staring at our linked hands, I scoff.
 
“They never looked.”
 
I take a deep breath and force myself to continue.
 
I need to tell her the rest so she’ll finally fucking understand.
 

“I lived on the streets for a few days before the fuckin’ cops found me.
 
They tracked down my mom, and she told them she couldn’t handle me anymore.
 
Fuckers had me put into foster care, who then sent me to live in a goddamned group home.
 
The little bastards that lived there beat the shit out of me every fuckin’ day.
 
I was just a scrawny kid with a fucked-up face.
 
Easiest fuckin’ target they ever had.
 
When I was sixteen, I finally snapped and beat the shit out of one of
them
.
 
I spent the next two years in juvie.”

She smiles sadly.
 
“Wow.”

“So, I know this scar doesn’t fuckin’ define me, but it
has
defined how people treat me.
 
I’ve had to keep to myself out of fuckin’ necessity.
 
People never fail to fuck me over.”

She tilts her head to the side a little.
 
“What about the Kings?”