Sicko(65)

“Mmm,” I say, running my finger over my upper lip. “Maybe.”





Being with Royce always felt right, but I’m not na?ve to think that I could be the one to capture him in any way other than between my legs, and aside from that, knowing that I haven’t heard from James has instilled enough fear to make me distracted. He would have contacted me by now. He’s planning something, and I know that I need to tell Royce about him and everything I know before he finds out through someone else—namely James. It could help him in some way, but my fear drowns out my logic. I can’t seem to shake it off. The rejection, denial. What if he doesn’t believe me, and I look like a nutcase? What if James manipulates everything and has me sent to a nuthouse. Honestly, I wouldn’t put it past him.

We pull up to the clubhouse and this time it looks different. There are a couple kids running around, and women dressed in a way that they weren’t the night I came here—both times. I clutch the duffel bag I packed up from my dorm, filled with anything I need to last me a week like Royce had apparently instructed via Slim and Fluffy.

“Jade, follow us,” Fluffy demands, opening the car door. Fluffy is a big boy, but the smooth skin he wears on his face tells me he can’t be any older than early twenties.

“Fluff, she’s here, we don’t have to order her where to go. Mission is done, she’s safe and back on home soil.”

Fluffy punches him in the arm. “She isn’t like the rest of them.”

Slim glares at him from the passenger seat. Slim is the opposite to Fluffy. He’s skinny, runty, and has purple rings permanently circled around his eyes. They seem like good friends, even though they remind me of Ren and Stimpy. “Obviously.”

I roll my eyes, yanking my duffel bag over my shoulder and kicking the door closed, leaving them to argue in the car. Idiots.

Pulling out my phone while making my way to the house, I hit dial on Sloane. I feel bad that I haven’t texted her since everything started hitting off with Royce. She doesn’t answer, which probably only means that she’s in the middle of a lecture. There’s no joke that I’m either going to have to put my head down in my studies, or sit college out for the rest of the year before I fall too far behind.

My fingers fly over my keys as I type out a message.

Me: Sorry I haven’t texted. I’m okay with Royce. Call when you’re free. X

Pushing my phone back into my pocket, I hear Silver before I see her. She comes bouncing out the front door, wearing her hair out in wild locks. Her blue eyes crash into mine. “You’re here, good! Lockdowns are the best!”

“Really?” I say, not quite believing her. I can’t think of anything worse than being stuck in a house full of bikers for days on end.

Silver nods her head. “Yup! Come on, we can put your bag up in Sicko’s room. You get to meet Kara and Boujee!”

We make our way through the main room and when we pass the kitchen area, I feel a hundred eyes on me. Turning around, I find Royce instantly.

He continues to glare at Lion, his jaw tense. Panic and paranoia settle within me, unmoving. I need to tell him. Not right now. Silver takes my hand and drags me toward the stairs.

“Just FYI, the girl that Sicko fucks around with is here,” she announces as I follow her through Royce’s bedroom door. “She’s not exactly a club girl because she’s technically family to one of the brothers, but I thought you should know.”

“Bea?” I roll my eyes at the mention of Bea. I just didn’t realize she was essentially family.

“Yup!” Silver says, turning to face me. “She’s Karli’s little sister, who is Justice’s old lady.”

“Old lady?” I ask, confused while putting my bag down onto the floor. I’m not familiar with terminology within an MC, and never watched an episode of Sons of Anarchy or Mayans either. My TV watching goes about as far as tragic cooking shows.

Silver tucks her unruly hair behind her ear, guiding me toward the bedroom. “Think of a wife, and then multiply that by one hundred. There can be multiple wives, but there will only ever be one old lady.” It makes sense in a way that doesn’t make sense. “Speaking of, Bea was adamant that she was going to be that person for Sicko. Not sure why or how she would think that considering he’s been nothing but a cunt to her in the past.” Silver takes a seat on the large double bed, bouncing softly on it as if testing the springs. “The only time Sicko is tolerant of her is when he‘s drinking, and even then it’s slim. And aside from that,” Silver says, leaning back on one elbow. “She’s not the only one he fucks with.” Her mouth stretches wide. “Oops. Sorry, I can shut up. You probably don’t want to hear this.”

I wave her off, pulling my leather jacket out of my bag. I was in a rush for time this morning so I threw on some black skinny jeans and a white Dolce & Gabbana crop. “No, this is nothing new for me. Royce has always had an appetite for pussy.”

Silver’s mouth twitches, just as I shove my arms through the tight sockets of my leather. She burst out laughing, kicking off her shoes and curling her legs beneath her ass to sit on her feet. “I can’t even imagine Sicko without all the tattoos and badass reputation.”

“Oh,” I murmur, pulling out a chair that’s tucked beneath an old desk. “He had a reputation back then, but it was, I don’t know.” I look around the room, taking in the empty photograph frames and old whiskey bottles. There’s a large bed, a desk and a dresser, and a small boombox. If this is where Royce stays, he doesn’t stay here often. “He was just different.”