Beretta (MC#1)

Chapter 12- Her

I hate him. Or at least I think I do.

I mean it's been weeks here at the Reaper's Disciples den and that man avoids social interaction like the plague, especially interaction that includes me. I talk to Diesel; he'll turn the other way. I'm at the bar he'll walk away. Often times I feel his searing gaze at the back of my head. And I'm always aware where he is.

That's how my days are spent here at the clubhouse. Sparring with Psycho, drinking and poker with the men, once I even caught one of the big, bad bikers baking in the kitchen from this cookbook- Tank is an amazing cook, he just needs to be patient enough to let the stuff cook properly. And thinking about Blaze.

He could be in the corner getting a blowjob by a stripper from one of Lighter's clubs and I'd know exactly where he is in the gigantic clubhouse. I tell myself it's an assassin's instinct to always know where potential danger lurks, but I know deep in my heart it's more than just awareness.

It's a wanting for the quiet, lonely Vice President of the Reaper's Disciples. It's this urge to not let him succumb to that very darkness my Father succumbed to. My father who I saw sit in a corner, avoid interaction, never talk much- even to his own daughter.

And only Lord knows how much I loathed him for it. How much I, a motherless girl, loathed my own father for not being that light in my childhood. He'd visit me often, never one to backdown from responsibilities. But he'd never be with me in the moment. He could be sitting right next to me and seem invisible. I hated him too.

Now that I understand the reality of his world, I (maybe) understand that lack of affection. The lack of affection that had played a huge role in who I was today. No, not an assassin- but a survivor.

And so, I see something broken in him which I desperately want to fix. But that man is hellbent on humiliating, enraging and estranging me.

"Coffee?", I asked, hopeful of having a few minutes alone with him in the evening as everyone was elsewhere.

"No", he said going through what looked like cargo improvement reports, not even looking up at me. He was drafting a warning plea for the sister chapters of the club a 'code red', when I left the steaming mug on his worktable.

Later, I saw a prospect wiping coffee and a broken cup from the floor and I felt bad for adding to his chores.

"Come on, we're having a truth or dare session", I told him, just as he was about to enter his room in the lonely corner of the clubhouse.

"No, get lost, Rose", he said waving me off. And he wasn't even drunk to be able to justify that.

"Blaze, Blaze, come we're going for a ride around town", I pestered pathetically, as he kept on walking ignoring me.

"Rose, if you want biker dick go to Maddog or Tank or even Hound. Stop begging me with silly excuses", he barked, and I saw Raven choke back a laugh at the dismissal, while others had less difficulty concealing it.

Blaze just looked at Raven with this small smile, love shining in his eyes as he marched down the hallway leaving me standing in the middle of the bar. Red tinged my cheeks, and I felt so very tragic at that very second.

I wanted to help. I just wanted to help. I wasn't trying to make him fall in love with me. Lord knows that would be disastrous, there's no room in my life for love.

Later that night, Blaze did come down from his tower. Maybe he felt bad, maybe he didn't. I couldn't tell from where I was playing poker with a couple of members. Needless to say, my pockets were a bit heavier that night as I stumbled to my room, drunk out of my brains, kissing the hell out of one of the prospects.