Who the fuck was April?

Chapter 19

Farrah

“I’ve got a bathroom in here, so you won’t have to share,” Cody told me, dropping my bag just inside the door of his room. “It’s not huge, but at least we won’t be crowded into the main room.”

“How’d you score a room?” I asked, looking around at the bare walls and the plain black comforter on his bed. I’d seen the number of men in the main room, and the number of doorways in the long hallway off the back of the club. That shit didn’t add up.

“Some of the brothers don’t keep a room here,” he said with a shrug. “That’s why they’re all camping out on the floor. If I didn’t have an old lady, I would have been expected to give up the room, but since I do . . .”

“Wait, what?” I turned to look at him in horror.

“What?”

“You’re talking about me?”

“Oh, fuck me. Are we really getting into this now?” he asked in irritation. “Of course I’m talking about you. When the fuck would I have time for someone else, and why the fuck would you be in this room if you weren’t mine?”

I spluttered, trying to find the words to blast him. He was irritated? Fuck that! He was the one who’d promised we weren’t putting labels on shit! We were as good as married in the club’s eyes, and I’d had no fucking idea.

“Who’s April?” I asked stonily, not willing to give an inch.

“The bitch that cleans the fucking club. You’re being an idiot.”

“Fucking fantastic, Cody,” I mumbled, yanking my suitcase farther into the room. Once I’d opened it up and found the makeup case I was looking for, I met his eyes. “You can go.”

“Why are you being such a bitch?” he asked, reaching behind him to lock the door. Good, at least when I beat the hell out of him, no one could come in to save his ass.

“You said no labels!”

“I told you that you didn’t have to label it. I never said shit about claiming you at the club,” he growled back.

“Semantics!” I argued, my voice even. I didn’t want everyone to hear us fighting, but my tone was scathing. “Echo never—”

He tackled me onto the bed midsentence, knocking the makeup case across the room. I found myself glaring at his face as he straddled my belly and captured my hands above my head.

“Echo was a fucking pussy,” he said with a sneer, so close I could feel his breath on my face.

“Shut up! You didn’t know him!”

“I’ll say whatever the fuck I want.” He punctuated his vow by squeezing my wrists. “He didn’t take care of you.”

“Yes, he—”

“No. He didn’t.”

“Let me talk!” I screeched, bucking my hips in an unsuccessful attempt to move him.

“No. I’m talking now,” he said menacingly. “I watched you lose your shit when he died, and I didn’t say shit because I knew you couldn’t handle it.”

“Fuck you!”

“But we’re going to get a few things straight, right now. Echo was a fucking pussy who didn’t take care of you. He didn’t say shit when you were fucking wasting away. He didn’t do shit about your parents fucking beating on you and making your life miserable. He was too concerned with his own ass to make sure that yours was safe. He didn’t deserve your tears. The guy deserves to be dead.”

“No, he doesn’t.” I sobbed, barely able to catch my breath as his words pummeled me. He was relentless, pushing and poking at every memory I had of the first man I’d thought loved me. I slammed my eyes shut and fought the memory of the day I’d locked myself in my bedroom, calling Echo over and over until Gator had finally broken through the door, my phone and any chance of escape lost.

“Don’t,” I cried out. “He was good to me. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Listen to me.” He shook me gently. “Look at me!”

I opened my eyes to meet his, and my stomach dropped.

“I am in love with you,” he said. “There is not one thing I wouldn’t do for you. I’d kill for you. I’d die for you. No hesitation, no question. Do not ever compare me to Echo again. That man is dead, and he isn’t worth the dirt he’s buried under. Do you understand me?”

“He wasn’t—”

“He wasn’t anything, Farrah. He didn’t claim you because he wasn’t worth shit. You were my old lady from the night you pulled into town. I claimed you, even knowing you would be pissed. You know why?”

I sniffled, my breath hiccupping in my throat. Tears were still rolling down the sides of my face, and I hated him for making me cry in front of him. “No.”

“Because I would do anything to keep you safe.” He leaned down, pressing my hands into the bed, and kissed me hard. “Even if you hate me for it.”

His tongue pushed into my mouth, and he let go of my wrists to grip my head. I slapped at his chest even as I kissed him back, my emotions too strong to contain. I wanted him and loved him and hated him as I fought against his words. I was so afraid that what he was saying was the truth.

Our fight turned to desperation as I tore off his cut and the T-shirt underneath, scratching his back with my nails. He yanked my shirt over my head, and instead of unsnapping my bra, pulled out a knife from his jeans and flicked it up from between my breasts, cutting the bra in half.