Page 70 of Jerry's Passion (Insurgents MC Romance)
Jerry nodded. As he walked past his brothers, they shook their heads, some muttering what an asshole he was to fuck the prez’s daughter. Pushing open the large door, he entered the bright sunlight, the hot rays burning but not able to warm him. He’d lost his brotherhood and his woman, but it was the heartbreak of losing Kylie forever that crushed him; it felt like cement drying in his chest. He pulled his Harley onto the open road, and for the first time since he’d started riding, the peace and sense of freedom he always experienced eluded him.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
After Jerry patchedhis face and cleaned up, he sat on his balcony smoking a joint, ignoring the fifth call from Wanda he’d received in the past thirty minutes. He punched his thighs as frustration coursed through him. How the fuck had he allowed himself to make such a mess of things? He’d betrayed his president and broken Kylie’s heart.
Wanda’s right, I’m no good. Fuck!
Over the years, his mother had made it a point to tell Jerry he was a loser and a no-good brat, and when he was taken from her and placed with foster families, they continued the litany of what a piece of shit he was. And after all these years, he had to agree with them. He was the only one in the club who disrespected the prez, and the only one who’d fucked his daughter. Before Axe and Jax hooked up with their old ladies, they used to check Kylie out plenty once she hit eighteen, and Rags, Rock, and half a dozen other brothers always ran their eyes over her rack and ass whenever she’d come to the clubhouse. But they kept their distance, knowing not to go near her and insult the president.
Not Jerry, though. Nope, Jerry was just plain no good.
He stubbed out his roach and shoved his vibrating phone in his pocket. Wanda fucking got on his nerves, and he wasn’t in the mood for her. Earlier that day, he’d told her he’d be around in the early evening, so why the hell did she have to keep calling him? He made his way to the pharmacy to pick up her meds. She was so goddamned addicted to the painkillers; he couldn’t believe her doctor continued to prescribe them as frequently as he did.
When he walked into the trailer, Wanda was in her recliner watching TV, holding a Scotch in one hand and a cigarette in the other while the oxygen tubes in her nose made audible puffs of air every few seconds. It was fucking classic. Jerry went directly to the medicine chest in the bathroom and placed her medication on the glass shelf.
“Can you bring me one of them pills?” Wanda yelled over the TV.
“Haven’t you heard booze and pills don’t mix?”
“It’s for later. I have trouble getting outta this damn recliner, so I want it near me in case the pain gets to be too much.”
Shaking one pill in his hand, he walked over and set it down on the plastic TV tray that was always next to her. On it, she had the remote, a few tabloids, her reading glasses, a pill box, a pack of menthol cigarettes, a flask, and several empty glasses. He flopped onto the small couch.
“What the hell happened to you? Did you get in a fight?”
“Something like that. Where’s Kelsey?”
“She’s got a new boyfriend who has some bucks. She’s with him most nights.”
“Does he live in the trailer park?”
“No. He lives somewhere in town.”
“Where did she meet him?”
“Not sure.”
“What’s his name?”
“I don’t know.”
“Fuck, Wanda. Don’t you think you should know what your eighteen-year-old daughter is up to? Do you know anything about this guy?”
“I know he comes over here and is nice to me. A helluva lot nicer than you are. And he gives your sister and me money without a fuckin’ attitude.”
“Whatever.” Jerryreallywasn’t in the mood. They both sat watching the television, his mind on Kylie as always. He wondered if Banger had gone home and confronted her. They should’ve been dealing with this together, but there he sat in a broken-down trailer with Wanda, who was killing herself with booze and cigarettes, and Kylie was all alone.Fuck!
The screen door squeaked open and he turned his head just as Kelsey came inside. She wore a short spandex skirt and barely-there tube top, and she teetered on four-inch heels as she walked past him. She definitely looked like one of the party girls who hung out at the club on the weekends.
“Why the hell are you dressed like a slut?”
“Why the hell do you think you can ask me that?”
Ignoring her question, he said, “You can’t be going out like that. Where’ve you been?”
“Out with my boyfriend. And it’s none of your business how I dress. He likes the way I look.”
She wobbled to the kitchen, and that’s when he saw all the angry red marks across her upper thighs. “What the fuck are those marks on your legs?”
