Free Chasing Claire (Hells Saints Motorcycle Club) by Paula Marinaro

Brother? And what exactly is it that you think you got a right to know? What the hell is wrong with you, man? You don’t push Prosper’s own out here in the hallway, giving every degenerate in this clubhouse a free pass to eye-fuck her. I thought she was yours? And even if she ain’t that anymore, you have got to respect that shit for what it was,” Jules growled right back at him.
    Reno moved in on him, and tried to reach around to grab back at me. Jules placed himself solidly in front of me.
    “Reno, you stupid sonofabitch. Take a minute before this takes you somewhere you sure as shit do not want to go. Last time, I am telling you. Right now it’s between you and her. One more minute of this bullshit, and it’s going to be between you and me. Let it fucking go. Conversation for another time, Brother.”
    Reno faced off with Jules, but he didn’t move toward me again.
    “Fuck you,
Brother
. You’d do the same thing. Bitch spent her whole life ink-free. I come back to my brothers, to my club, and find my girl is bearing someone else’s mark? You tellin’ me that if the situation was reversed and it was Glory sporting that ink that you’d be down with that? Bullshit you would. Conversation is gonna happen right fucking now if I have to go through you to have it. And that’s the last fucking time I am telling
you
.”
    Did he just call me a bitch? His girl? Someone else’s mark? Just another prime example of why my relationship with Reno was so confusing, infuriating and . . . basically messed up.
    The last thing I wanted, the very last thing I needed, was these two apes fighting over this. Over me. A short time ago I was havingone of the nicest, most uncomplicated and peaceful nights that I had had in a very long time and now this. How did this happen? Typical. So typical.
    I had started this and I had to end it.
    “It’s no one’s mark, Reno. Stop this. No one has marked me.” I put my hand on the arm that was barring my way out. His bicep knotted and tensed.
    Reno didn’t move. Not one bit.
    Jules sighed deeply and ran his hand through his hair.
    “It’s a tree, man,” he surprised me by answering. “Her sister’s got one too.”
    “What kind of a fucking tree?” Reno eyed him with suspicion.
    A movement caught my eye through the doorway to Reno’s room. Apparently Cherry was done with her text messages and had gotten tired of the wait. When I glanced her way, she had already gotten halfway across the room. She was naked except for a candy-apple-red thong, two nipple rings shaped like fire, and a pair of six-inch ruby-sequined stilettos.
    I had no intention of sticking around for a closer look.
    “Willow.” I turned my attention back to him and answered quickly.
    “What are you talking about, Claire?” Reno’s eyes moved up from the intricately inked tattoo on my stomach.
    “It’s a willow tree,” I said. “In honor of the baby. Tree of life. Baby Willow . . . get it? Willow. Tree.”
    My heart clattered against my rib cage, and blood pounded in my ears. I felt dizzy and light-headed. I needed to get out of there.
    Enough.
    As he stood in front of me, looking big and bad and barring me from the only way out, I could see it. I watched Reno’s face as he fought through the haze of the booze and the reefer and the anger to make sense out of what I was telling him.
    Having no other choice, I crossed my arms, willed my heart to stop racing, and waited for the light of understanding to dawn behind his bloodshot eyes.
    One . . . two . . . three . . . and there it was.
    “Shit.” Reno looked at me.
    Humph.
    “Claire, baby, I’m . . .” He frowned.
    Reno lifted his hand to touch my face, but I pulled away so fast my head slammed against the wall.
    I felt so dirty and crazy and unsteady.
    The lights were suddenly too bright, the riot of color they cast against the wall was making me sick.
    I needed out.
    Now.
    From the corner of my eye, I saw Jules grab the quickly approaching