Mia

Chapter Fifteen

Thomas

Mia fixes her hair for the fifth time in our bathroom mirror. She's beautiful. Her pitch black hair falling down in puffy curls around her shoulder. The dress I picked out for her fits perfectly coming down just above her knees.

"You look good, Sweet Cheeks." I reassure her. Giving her a close lipped smile, I lean down and place a kiss onto her lips. The watermelon flavored lip gloss stings my lips. "What in the fuck is that?" I question licking my lips. My lips feel like I've just rubbed a chili pepper all over them.

She laughs at my reaction to the lip gloss. "It's a lip plumper, it's supposed to do that." She smiles.

"You don't need that. Your lips are already juicy." Reaching down against her, I peck her lips once more, taking her bottom lip into my mouth sucking off the spicy watermelon flavored lip glosses. To keep from fucking her little bloody pussy again I have to pull away. "I'm about to head out in a second. Rose will be here to get you in about ten minutes." I tell her while looking down at my watch.

"Okay." She sighs, reapplying her lip gloss. Don't get me wrong, I understand why she doesn't want to go to the funeral, she probably has more reasons than the one she's given me for not wanting to come, but I need her there. She is mine now, I need everyone to see that she is mine. From today on no one will have an excuse to think otherwise, they will see it with their own eyes who Mia belongs to.

"Behave." I warn her before giving her another kiss. She gives me a small nod.

Before walking out of the door leading to my garage I put on my cut and boots. Once I'm in the garage I hop on my Indian and let the doors up.

It takes me five minutes to get to the club where I see everyone is already outside ready to go. All of our patched members scattered around the yard of the clubhouse. There are about fifteen of us in our chapter in all excluding the prospects. Phil, Billy, and Ray walk up to me.

Phil is chief intelligence officer, smartest man I've ever met. He's been doing runs since I was six. My father once told me a story about Phil being a semester away from becoming a foot doctor and fucking it up by attacking a professor who'd given him a grade he didn't deserve. The professor had it out for Phil something about a biker fucking his ex wife once. That was the first time I'd heard anything about Philip being violent or mean even.

Billy and I grew up together. He's a mean mother fucker who likes to mind his own business. He's like a brother to me once we all moved up he became road captain, he stepped up as sergeant at arms to fill in for Tim while he's locked up.

Ray is another old bastard, he was originally a nomad now he's secretary and treasurer. The old members call him black beard because his wife was gossiping to the other old ladies about how he dyes his beard and hair to make himself look younger.

I line my bike up beside Trever's. Ray's the first to speak up.  "Pres everyone is accounted for, including the prospects, we're ready whenever you are." He informs me. His prescription glasses are pushed all the way up his nose, basically pressed against his eye lashes. He's a short man a few inches taller than Mia.

"Thank you, where's Trever?" I ask, while scanning the pavement yard. He's the only one missing.

Ray looks around while scratching his finger length dyed black hair. "Uh, he's inside." He gulps.

There's no telling what my psychotic ass brother is up to. We're all a little off, but Trever is more concerning than the rest of us. "Shit," I curse getting up from my bike and snatching off my helmet. The door of the clubhouse slams against the wall when I open it. When I step inside it looks completely empty, the floors are swept clean by the smell of tobacco and beer is still heavy in the air, everything is still and in place waiting to be fucked up all over again after the funeral.

I don't let the calm atmosphere of the first floor fool me. All the way down the hall past my office to the right is a set of stairs, I take them down into the cellar. The now vacant cellar was once used during prohibition to make and smuggle illegal hooch that my ancestors sold to make a living. Now it's utilized for other things. Halfway down the wooden stairs the smell of blood and urine becomes apparent. Once I'm down the stairs I see my brother there. He's concentrated in one of his hazes.

His back is turned to be. He has on a white t-shirt and khaki pants. His cut is hanging to the side on the rack beside clean plastic aprons, that we keep so things don't get too messy.

"Trever." I call out to him. I'm a few feet away from him and the man he has tied to the metal chair.  My brother doesn't even flinch when I call his name. He's so far into his trance he can't even hear me. That's the difference between him and us. Trever gets stuck deep into the pain he inflicts onto others.

Carefully I step closer to my brother and his guest getting a good look at the man. He's white, very heavy set around four hundred pounds by the look of him, his fat peaking through the side of the metal chair. His face is mangled , his nose and ears cut off, right eye swollen shut and his left one missing. He is also missing fingers and his tongue.

Trever's been at it for a couple of days from the look of him he's been cutting pieces off and stitching them back on. Usually they're bad men who hurt women and children for fun. Other times they're just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"Trever." I shout at him a bit louder. He freezes for a second knowing he's caught.

"Thomas." He blinks hard once before looking at his watch. "Shit I'm sorry, I got caught up." He sits his tools down and snatches off his gloves.

"I told you only once a month. This is your third fucking one!" I antagonize him. "This shit is getting out of hand. I can't keep watching you all the time."

He nods like he's actually listening to what I am saying while shrugging his cut back on. "I understand brother. I'm trying." He gives me the same shit he always does.

Too frustrated to keep arguing with him I start walking up the stairs. My brother and his shit will have to wait until later. We have a funeral to attend, and I have an ol' lady to see.

It's hard not always being able to reach out and grab her when I want to.

Stepping out of the clubhouse I open up a carton of cigarettes and place one into my mouth, I light the end of it and take a small puff.