Page 14 of Johny B

My mom brought me up single-handedly after my father was incarcerated before I’d even left the womb. After sitting on death row for 1481 days, he’d been executed by electrocution. I was four. I never met the man; in fact, I wasn’t even aware of his existence until I was eight years old. Even then, he was just a name on a piece of paper. A violent murderer whose inability to control his outburst of pure violence.

I can honestly say, having only one parent posed no detriment to my younger years because my mom cared and loved me in abundance. I was such a happy kid with days full of fun and laughter. My mom had been my hero. Then suddenly, she was gone.

She never made it known she was constantly in pain, fighting cancer that was eating her up from the inside out. Not once did she go to see a doctor that I knew of, but I was young. A couple of times, I’d noticed something wasn’t quite right, but she’d brush it off as nothing.

Aged eight, I’d come home to find her collapsed on the floor. Three days later, she died in Orlando Regional hospital. With no record of any family, I became a ward of the state.

There weren’t many couples willing to take on a sulky, unresponsive adolescent boy, so I spent most of my years ina state-run orphanage, and with that came the physical and mental abuse, and constant bullying from the older boys. At first, it consisted of the occasional comment, then along came the shoves because I wouldn’t be part of the practical jokes they played on the staff.

Over time it escalated, yet even though, in my mind’s eye, I would fight back, I never did. I’d curl up in a ball and take the kicks, the punches. Once they’d stopped, I’d slope off somewhere where I could lick my wounds, away from the prying eyes of everyone. It had been constant, but I’d taken every blow, knowing that if I had complained to staff, it would have made my life ten times worse, so I took it. At least, until it all went too far.

His name was Ian James, and at the age of sixteen, he was as big and strong as a fully grown man. When it came to the hierarchy amongst the boys, he was the top dog. Nobody questioned his orders that no one was to follow him when he cornered me in the bathroom that day. He had made sure that he had no witnesses to what he was about do to me. Sick bastard.

Turns out, Ian showed me attention for many reasons. How does the saying go? You always hurt the one you love. This wasn’t love. More like I made him hard. He used his power to force himself on me, to abuse me in a way that, to me, was sickening. I won’t go into details, but as soon as he’d pinned me against the wall, my face against the cold, dirt-ingrained tiles, his hand cupping my clothed cock, I’d lost it.

When one of the wardens found him hanging behind one of the stall doors, his own belt wrapped around his throat, they’d quickly determined it was suicide. Even that was hushed up. The case quickly closed and the true evidence overlooked. The last thing they wanted was the press to get hold of the story, as that would have opened a huge can of worms as to what could only be classed as the lack of government money and care within the system.

To this day, I can still recall how the rage consumed me. How I’d overpowered him, adrenaline pumping through my veins as I’d wrapped my hands around his throat. The sound of his last breath and how it felt when his windpipe crushed under my powerful fingers. Which made me think that maybe genetics could be behind the hidden demon within me that, once awake, is hard to contain.

So, it had happened again, and if it hadn’t been for Scarlett calling my name, clearing the mist of mayhem that had saturated my brain, I’d have killed this man with my bare fists, right there and then. Not that I’d have regretted ending him, much like Ian James. In my eyes, he deserved it. But I would have regretted doing it in front of Scarlett, and her seeing my darkness up close.

I intended to finish what I’d started, make it a long, drawn out and very painful process, but when Smoke and Stone turned up, I knew that I’d no longer have the pleasure of torturing the fucker. I’m knew that honor would now be Smoke’s.

Before I knew it, I was outside being pushed towards my ride, a clear warning to follow them to the Young Outlaws clubhouse. I wasn’t given the option to check on Scarlett or even to say goodbye. It was clear that my stay at Velvet Reds was over.

The one thing I did get to take with me though, that one thing swarmed my mind, and lingered on my skin, was the mind-blowing, sweet memory of Scarlett’s kiss.

Chapter

Eleven

Scarlett

It’s been three days since Smoke, Stone and Rush removed my attacker, gagged and hogtied, from my house. JB was removed, too. I guess that after recent events, Smoke reconsidered and decided that the Young Outlaws club house was a more sensible place for JB to be holed-up.

Sensible, my ass. Smoke just doesn’t want JB anywhere near me.

I fucking hate it. I miss him more than I ever thought possible. That kiss. His touch. The way he’d beat the crap out of the fucker who would have raped me if he hadn’t intervened.

He saved me from a whole fucked up heap of torment and pain.

While they deal with matters of violence, Smoke has placed three of his guys at Velvet’s to reassure me I’m safe.

Once that man was out of my house, I took an exceptionally long, hot bath. With an ache in my heart and a crushing fear of what could have been, I cried a lot of tears. When the tears were all cried out, I scrubbed away the remnants of that dirtyasshole’s touch from my skin. In my head, I put those thoughts in a tightly locked box, sealed and chained, never to be opened, and replaced them with the memory of JB’s intoxicating kiss.

Even now, when my thoughts turn to JB, I find my fingertips brushing against my lips, recalling his touch, his delicious taste and the fire that he awakened in my soul.

Rush was due an arse kicking from Smoke for his slip up. Harsh? I totally agree, but that’s the way of the MC. You fuck up, you pay the consequences. Although, I’m pretty sure that my dad will reduce the severity of the punishment.

I’m not sure what JB will face. When it comes down to it, he did go against Smoke’s strict instructions to stay away from me.

God only knows where that’s going to go.

I’ve not been back down into Velvet’s yet.

Although the visible scars on my wrists, chest and thigh can easily be covered, it’s the emotional ones that are holding me back. I’m aware that I need to get past it, and I will. Just a few more days. In the meantime, Harmony is taking care of business for me.

The steam from my freshly brewed coffee hits my cheeks as I take my first hot sip, but I drop the cup to the work surface when I hear the rumble of a motorcycle. It’s not Smoke, unless he’s using one of his MC brother’s rides. With my fingers, I push open a gap between the blinds to see Stone pulling up outside, but he has someone right behind him.

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