Vicious Cycle

“Good night, Miss Evans.”

“Are you never going to call me Alexandra?”

“Maybe … just not right now,” he replied with a crooked smile.

When the antique cuckoo clock in the corner of the pawnshop struck three, I pushed myself out of my chair and tossed aside the Playboy I’d been eyeing. Thanks to Willow’s school hours and Case’s insistence, I now had a new routine. Every day at three, I would stand outside the pawnshop. As I had a cigarette, I waited for Alexandra to arrive. I could count on her arriving just about the time I had lit up and taken a few drags.

I usually got treated to an eyeful of her legs, since she always wore skirts and dresses to work. A cloud of her sweet-smelling perfume would hit my nostrils as I escorted her into the clubhouse to a waiting Willow. I’d spend the next two hours shuffling around the clubhouse, keeping an eye on the door to the “classroom” that Mama Beth had insisted the boys and I construct.

Three days into this new schedule found me propped up on a barstool, bored as hell and frustrated as hell since Cheyenne had been eye-fucking me all afternoon. Finally, I gave up and escaped to the bathroom to pour some cold water on my half-mast dick. After all, there was no way I could sneak away for a quickie with Cheyenne when I was supposed to be keeping an eye on Alex.

When I returned, Willow stood at the bar, flashing a paper at Cheyenne, who gave her a look of disinterest. In Cheyenne’s world, if you didn’t have a dick or a cut, you weren’t much use to her. At the sight of me, she did manage to give Willow a beaming smile. For some reason, it made me angry that she couldn’t give my kid any welcome attention when I wasn’t in the room.

“Look, Deacon. Look what I made on my test!” Willow cried, dancing around me. I opened my mouth to say something, but she continued rattling on. “Miss Alex said this is some of the work that first graders are doing, and I’m really smart to be able to do it already.”

“Yeah, that’s great. Good job,” I said. My words fell a little short of the foreign feeling of pride that swelled in my chest. Sure, I’d done okay when I was in school, but nothing like Willow. She was gonna be something.

Willow threw her arms around my waist¸ squeezing me tight. I couldn’t help stiffening at her touch. She may have been with me for four months now, but I still couldn’t get used to her expressions of affection. I didn’t know what my fucking problem was. Both Rev and Bishop reacted easily to Willow’s hugs and kisses. But here I was, her own flesh and blood, and I still felt emotionally detached from her. I was beginning to wonder if I would always feel this way.

Breaking the hug, she said, “Im’a gonna go show Grandma.”

“Yeah, you do that. Get her to put it on the fridge or some shit.”

Willow bounded out of the main hall and out the back door. She waved the paper at Archer as he walked her out of the compound to the house. Even within the confines of our compound, I wasn’t taking any chances with her safety.

Peering around the room, I questioned, “Where’s Alex?”

“Bishop asked her to go back to his room,” Cheyenne replied.

“You’re shitting me.”

When she glanced up at me, a catlike smile curved Cheyenne’s lips. “Why would I lie about something like that?”

“I meant why would she do that?”

Cheyenne shrugged. “Maybe she thinks he’s hot. Wouldn’t be the first girl to drop her panties for Bishop.”

I staggered back in shock. Alex was alone in a room with Bishop. A girl like her should never, ever be alone with a biker, least of all Bishop. That motherfucker had totally disregarded what I had said about leaving her alone. My fists clenched at my sides. I was going to kick his ass.

Without another word to Cheyenne, I stomped down the hall. The door to Bishop’s room was closed tight. I knew the right thing would be to knock, but for some reason, I didn’t give a fuck about the right thing.

“Oh, Bishop, that’s so good,” came Alex’s muffled praise.

Rage uncoiled within me, spreading through my body. Alex refused Rev and acted like she was too good for me, but she was spreading her legs for my manwhore of a brother.

I braced my hands on the doorframe and lifted my leg back, kicking the door with all the strength in me, causing it to fly open. As it banged against the wall, I stalked inside. Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw. Instead of Alex and Bishop naked and fucking, they were sitting on the edge of his bed. With a pencil in his hand, Bishop balanced a workbook on his lap. I couldn’t get a good look at the workbook, but I could only imagine it was some kind of sex manual.

“What the fuck is going on here?” I demanded.

For the first time I could ever remember, Bishop blushed. The tough-ass motherfucker seriously turned the color of an overripe tomato.

Alex rose to her feet, giving me a glare that could curl paint off a wall. “I’m not sure that is any of your business.”

“This is my clubhouse and my brother. Everything that goes on in my club is my business.”

Cocking her head at me, Alex motioned to my cut. “I thought you were just the sergeant at arms.”

I barked a laugh. “Just the sergeant at arms? Lady, you don’t know shit about my office or what this patch means.”

“I would hardly think it was your right to know everything. That sounds like the job of the president.”

Staring past Alex, I eyed Bishop. “Quit stalling and answer my question, brother.”

Alex went to sit back down beside Bishop. “You don’t owe him an explanation. What happens between you and me is private.”

“Miss Evans, you are seriously pissing me off, and if you know what’s good for you, you will shut the fuck up and stay out of this!” I growled.

“Okay, okay,” Bishop said, as he threw up his hands in defeat, sending the workbook fluttering to the floor. Before he could pick it up, I beat him to it.

Gazing down at the cover, I read aloud, “Mastering the GED Exam.” I cut my eyes back to him. “This isn’t a sex manual.”

Bishop’s embarrassment turned over to humor. “A sex manual?”

I shrugged. “What else would you be doing with her back here but fucking?”

Alex sucked in a harsh breath. “Certainly not that,” she snapped.

“You don’t know my brother’s persuasive ability, not to mention his”—I paused to scratch my chin—“infatuation with you.”