Fantasy shit

Hazel stood there staring at the locked door like an idiot. The gunshot still rang in her ears. One shot. Sharp. Then more yelling, more bikes revving up like the whole place was about to explode.

“Shit, shit, shit,” she whispered, pacing in a tight circle. Her hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

She ran to the desk and yanked the drawers open. Papers, a half-empty pack of cigarettes, a knife. She grabbed the knife and held it tight. It felt stupid in her hand. What was she gonna do, stab a whole motorcycle club?

Outside, the shouting got louder. Male voices. Angry. She couldn’t make out the words but it didn’t sound good. Then another engine roared and slowly everything got quieter. Too quiet.

Hazel pressed her ear to the door again. Nothing.

She thought about opening it. Just cracking it a little. But Jax’s words kept playing in her head: Don’t open it for anybody but me.

“Fuck him,” she muttered. Still, she didn’t touch the lock.

Minutes dragged by. Ten. Maybe fifteen. She sat on the edge of the bed, knife across her lap, then stood up again. Her tank top was sticking to her back from sweat. The pizza she’d forced down earlier sat like a rock in her stomach.

The lock clicked.

Hazel jumped up, knife raised. The door swung open and Jax stepped in. He looked pissed. There was blood on the side of his neck, not much, but fresh. He shut the door hard behind him and locked it.

“Put the knife down before you hurt yourself,” he said.

“Is that your blood?” she asked, voice higher than she wanted.

“Some of it.” He pulled his shirt off over his head and tossed it in the corner. There was a fresh cut across his shoulder, not too deep. “Sit.”

She didn’t sit. “What the hell happened out there? I heard a gunshot. They said my name. Why do they know my name, Jax?”

He walked into the small bathroom and turned on the sink. Water ran. “Because word travels fast when the president of the Iron Sons grabs a girl off the street. Especially when that girl works on bikes in a town both clubs move through.”

Hazel followed him to the doorway. “So this is my fault now?”

“Didn’t say that.” He wet a towel and pressed it to his shoulder, wincing a little. “Vipers got a rat somewhere. Or somebody saw us. Doesn’t matter. They wanted to test me. See if I’d hand you over easy.”

She swallowed. “And what did you tell them?”

Jax looked at her in the mirror. His eyes were cold. “Told them you’re mine. Sixty days. After that they can fuck off and die. Then their prospect got mouthy. So I put a bullet in his leg.”

Hazel’s stomach flipped. She leaned against the doorframe. “You shot somebody. Over me.”

“Over respect.” He turned around. “Club shit. You’re in it now whether you like it or not.”

She stared at the blood on his neck. “This is insane. I fix cars, Jax. I don’t do… whatever this is. People getting shot. Rival clubs. I want out.”

“Too late for that.” He stepped closer. The bathroom felt way too small. “You hear that quiet out there? That’s because they’re waiting to see what I do with you. If I look weak, they come harder next time. And next time they might not stop at one prospect.”

Hazel’s back hit the wall. She still had the knife but it felt useless now. “So what? You gonna parade me around like some trophy?”

Jax took the knife from her hand easy. He set it on the sink. “Something like that. But first you gotta stop looking like you’re about to bolt.”

“I am about to bolt.”

He let out a short laugh, almost surprised. “You got balls, I’ll give you that. Most girls would be crying right now.”

“I’m saving my tears for when you actually kill somebody in front of me.” She shoved at his chest but he didn’t move. “This isn’t what I wanted. None of this.”

“Yeah?” He braced one hand on the wall beside her head. “You sure? Because three nights ago you were telling your friend you’d let me do anything for sixty days.”

“That was talk!” Her voice cracked. “Dirty talk. Fantasy shit. I didn’t mean— I didn’t think—”

“You didn’t think I’d actually do it.” He nodded slow. “Most people don’t.”

Hazel looked away. Her chest was tight. “Lena’s gonna call the cops. She’s probably already looking for me.”

“Lena’s being handled.”

Her head snapped back. “What does that mean?”

“Means one of my guys is making sure she doesn’t do anything stupid. She’s safe. For now.”

Hazel’s eyes stung. She blinked hard. “Don’t hurt her. Please. She’s got nothing to do with this.”

“Then don’t make this harder than it has to be.” Jax’s voice got quieter. “Take a shower. Wash the grease off. Then we’re going out there so they can see you’re not some hostage they can use against me.”

“I’m not doing that.”

“You are.” He reached over and turned the shower on. Water hissed against the tiles. “Take your clothes off or I’ll do it for you. Your choice.”

She glared at him for a long second. Then, because she was tired and scared and didn’t see a way out right then, she pulled her tank top over her head. Jeans next. Bra. Panties. She left them in a pile and stepped under the hot water without looking at him.

Jax stayed in the doorway watching. Not hiding it.

“You gonna stand there the whole time?” she asked, voice flat.

“Yep.”

She washed fast, angry, scrubbing her arms like she could wash the whole night off. The water ran gray at first from the shop dirt. When she turned the shower off, Jax handed her a towel. Clean, at least.

“Dry off. There’s clothes on the bed.”

She wrapped the towel tight and walked past him. On the bed were a black t-shirt and a pair of his sweatpants. Way too big. She dropped the towel and got dressed quick, rolling the waistband a few times so they didn’t fall off.

Jax had put on a clean shirt. The cut on his shoulder was bleeding through a little.

“Come here,” he said.

She went. He pulled her close by the hips and looked down at her.

“Out there, you don’t talk unless I tell you to. You stay by my side. You act like you belong to me. Understand?”

Hazel nodded once, jaw tight.

“Say it.”

“I understand.”

He studied her face. “You’re shaking.”

“I’m cold.”

“Bullshit.” But he didn’t push it. Instead he grabbed a leather vest off the chair and put it over her shoulders. It smelled like him—leather, smoke, and something darker. On the back it said PROPERTY OF REAPER in big white letters.

Hazel looked down at it. “You’re really doing this.”

“Damn right.”

He took her hand and pulled her out of the room before she could argue more. The hallway was dim. They passed a couple guys who nodded at Jax but stared at her hard. One of them smirked.

Outside in the main room it was louder. Music playing low. Maybe twenty people. Guys in cuts, a few women who didn’t look friendly. All eyes turned when they walked in.

A big bald guy with a beard stepped up. Vice President patch, she guessed. “They left. But they’re pissed, Reaper. Said this ain’t over. Mentioned the girl again.”

Jax kept his grip on her hand. “Let ‘em be pissed. Hazel’s off limits.”

One of the women—a blonde with heavy makeup—laughed from the bar. “She doesn’t even look like she wants to be here, Pres. You sure she’s not gonna run to the cops first chance she gets?”

Hazel felt her face heat up. She opened her mouth but Jax squeezed her hand hard.

“She’s good,” Jax said, voice loud enough for everybody. “Aren’t you, baby?”

Hazel forced a nod. “Yeah.”

The blonde rolled her eyes. “Cute.”

Jax pulled Hazel over to a couch in the corner and sat, dragging her down onto his lap. She stiffened but didn’t fight. His arm went around her waist, heavy.

A younger guy—prospect maybe—brought over two beers. Jax took one and handed her the other.

“Drink.”

She sipped it. It tasted like shit but she kept sipping.

People slowly went back to their own business but she could feel them watching. Whispering.

After a few minutes Jax leaned in close to her ear. “You’re doing good.”

“Feels like I’m in a zoo,” she muttered.

“You are.” He rubbed his thumb along her side under the vest. “But you’re my zoo animal.”

She hated how that made her stomach flip. Not all bad.

They sat like that for maybe twenty minutes. Jax talked quietly with the bald VP about shipments and territory. Hazel tried to listen but her mind kept drifting to Lena, to her apartment, to the shop that was probably still unlocked because she never made it home.

Then the front door banged open.

A guy stumbled in, face bloody, breathing hard. Prospect patch. “Reaper! They hit Rusty’s Auto Shop. Set fire to it. Lena’s car was parked out back. She’s gone, man. Vipers took her.”

Hazel shot up off Jax’s lap so fast she almost fell.

“No. No, you said she was safe!” She turned on Jax, voice breaking. “You said she was being handled!”

The whole room went dead quiet again.

Jax stood up slow. His face didn’t change much but his eyes got scary.

Hazel grabbed his shirt with both fists. “You lied to me. They have my best friend because of you. Because of this stupid fucking game you’re playing with me.”

She shoved him. He didn’t move.

“Jax, please.” Her voice cracked for real this time. Tears were coming whether she wanted them or not. “I’ll do whatever you want. Just get her back. Please.”

He looked down at her for a long second. Then he cupped her face with one hand, thumb wiping a tear off her cheek.

“Careful what you promise, baby.”

He turned to the room. “Church. Now. We ride in thirty.”

Guys started moving. Jax looked back at Hazel.

“You stay right here. Locked down. And when I get back…” He leaned in so only she could hear. “We’re finishing what we started earlier. No more playing around.”

He kissed her hard, quick, and walked off with his men.

Hazel stood there in the middle of the room, wearing his vest, tasting blood and beer on her lips, while the blonde from earlier smirked at her from the bar.

Outside, bikes started roaring to life.

And somewhere out there, Lena was in trouble because Hazel had run her mouth three nights ago.