Bad Reputation(Rewriting)

The Clubhouse

The wind tore through Milla's hair, inky strands danced behind her and merged with the city. She tightened her hold on Jett's leather jacket, fingers curling and arms tensing as she pressed her cheek onto the patch covering his back. His body shook with laughter whenever a yelp left her lips on the bends of the road.

She squeezed her eyes shut fighting the tears that built up and threatened to run down her cheeks. The roaring motorbike did nothing to distract her from the offer Luke dealt her moments ago.

Jett tapped her thigh signalling their arrival, the chainlink gate of the Deimos Riders compound rolled open. The sunlight hit the row of glossy motorbike tanks, the warmth spreading through Milla's chest as she welcomed the familiar place. She dug her fingers into Jett's shoulders as he kicked the stand down on the bike and cut the motor. Her fingers traced down his back, nails catching on the flaming skull patch decorating the leather.

Milla pushed away from Jett and climbed off the back of his bike. She tugged the hem of her worn jumper down and twisted it in her grasp. A rough hand glided over her cheek, thumb hooking under her chin to tilt her head up. She closed her eyes and leant into his touch, savouring the small moment.

"I got you," Jett whispered against her lips.

She opened her eyes, his hands slipping from her face. "Well didn't seem like it for the past two weeks." Milla stormed into the centre of the gravelled compound, her body angled to the exit gate but she rocked back on her heels, second-guessing whether to leave or not. The fire spread through her chest, a flicker of spite from her mother and the notion of never being good enough echoed in her mind.

"Fuck." His whispered breath hit the back of her neck.

Biting her tongue, Milla turned back to Jett. His fingers raked through his hair, pulling at the end of the knots. He dropped his hands by his side and stayed in his spot, shabby boots glued to the ground. "You know what," she said pausing as she stepped towards him taking the lapels of his jacket in her fists. "I can look after myself. If this is just some hook up for you to feel better about yourself or charity work I don't want it."

Milla's eyes narrowed as he leant her forwards, a twitch in her neck flexed as she fought to remain still. The space between them tense, but Jett softened it with a kiss, his lips upon hers. "How many times," he said in between kisses, "do I have to tell you, that I got you." He breathed and rested his forehead against hers.

"I don't want unfulfilled words." She released a trembling breath and walked further into the compound, the rolling gate closing in the distance behind her. The clubhouse connected to a garage, Twitch waved his oil splotched rag at her, a smile stretching his lips.

Jett slung his arm over her shoulder as the patched in members turned around to greet them, wolf whistles teasing him. The silver signet ring on his middle finger matched the clubs flaming skull, a band to join him with the other initiated men and for them to see him as a brother in arms. He absentmindedly spun the ring around his finger with his thumb. Steel remained on the wooden picnic table he leant on, his brows furrowed deep in thought.

"Did you miss me Steel?" Milla asked gaining his attention, his cold blue eyes darting to her. His face unchanging like stone and he grunted in response, but she shrugged it off, he wasn't much of a talker anyway. Jett tugged her away with his arm hooked over her shoulder and guided her into the main bar, the dim room oddly filling her with warmth.

Soft rock hummed from the jukebox in the corner, the older members gathered around their usual roundtable, playing cards in their hands and money crumpled up on top. Milla's gaze swept over the room, her eyes landing on the lump swivelling around on the stool and raising his beer bottle to her. Phoenix, his blonde shaved hair and tanned skin matched the firey nickname he used.

"Welcome home Smalls." Steels short, clipped tone made Milla flinch. She never could get used to his serious voice, even if he meant well, he came across as a stern parent warning her off. He brushed past her and joined Phoenix at the bar, his arm reaching over to get a beer from the tap to fill up a glass.

Milla's breath caught in the back of her throat at the mention of home. She'd been in many homes to know that they were just bricks and water without a family.

Jett's arm tensed and pulled her closer to him mumbling curse words under his breath, burning gaze locked on his older brother Steel. "Come on," Jett said escaping her hold to walk down the corridor to his room.

She followed in silence, the framed pictures of mugshots stealing her attention each time she walked through. Jett's photo was her favourite, his hair knotted and covered in dirt, a smirk playing on his lips as he posed for the picture. Blood trailed from his nose all way down to his neck, the red staining his off-white shirt. She always made a joke of wanting a copy to keep with her.

Jett's hand tangled in her silky hair and massaged the back of her neck with his thumb. "Milla." He slipped his other hand around her waist and picked her up.

"Oh, it's Milla now is it?" She giggled as he kicked his bedroom door open carried her in.

He threw her on the bed, glancing at her quickly with a smirk on his face. Milla rose from the mattress as he closed the door, her stomach tightening at his slow walk to her. She couldn't wait any longer and grabbed the lapels of his jacket, crashing her lips to his.

"I fucking missed you," he breathed out between her stolen kisses.

Her hands hooked underneath his jacket and she slipped it off his arms, trailing her fingers down his bare arms. He snatched the leather from her hands and threw it on the sofa, his lips pressing against the side of her neck as she tried to undo his belt buckle.

Jett caught her hands in his, "slow down darling." He lifted the hem of her faded jumper and rolled it back to take it off.

"Three weeks," she said as she watched him pull his t-shirt over his head. Her lips trailed down from his chest to his stomach, the first kiss making him tense.

Before she could go back to his buckle, he pushed her lightly onto the bed and loosened his belt, kicking his jeans off. Milla pushed herself up to lean on her elbows, her teeth sinking into her lower lip. Her eyes roamed his body checking for any injuries, the knife scar on his shoulder fading to a light pink.

She giggled as Jett hovered over her and fiddled with the button of her jeans, a frown settling on his forehead as he tried to pull them down.

"Fuck those jeans are tight! Might as well paint 'em on," he mumbled peeling them off slowly.

"They make my but look good," she pouted when he glanced up at her. He crouched down in front of her and pulled her legs towards him. She sat forwards leaning her forehead against his, slinging her arms around his neck.

She curled the back of his hair around her finger and brushed her nose against the side of his neck.

The door burst open, smacking against the chest of drawers and she clung to Jett to hide behind him. "Why does no fucker knock in this place?" Jett yelled looking over his shoulder at an amused Rampage 'Ram'.

"As much as I'd love for the coppers to see you rabbits at it, Gov told me to round everyone up," Ram said pushing his sunglasses over his head to rest them in his messy hair. He turned his back to them and leant against the door frame to wait for them to get dressed.

"Dare I ask what we've done now?" Jett asked, his gaze falling on Milla who was still wriggling into her tight jeans.

Ram shifted on the spot, eyes darting from the corridor and Jett. "Fuck knows, but the cops are swooping down the hallway now." He rushed out his sentence and stepped out the room with his hands in the air at the policemen's orders.

Strapped out police swarmed into the room followed by a suited man. "Out," he spat.

Milla followed after Jett, trying to keep as close as she could to him but she was taken aside by the suited man chewing loudly on gum. The man's hand dug into her arm, his minty breath fanning on her face as he separated them. Jett lunged back to grab him but was punched in the jaw and told to keep moving.

"Don't fucking touch her!" He shouted, still trying to escape the three cops who attempted to restrain him. His body slammed against the wall, the glass of the pictures frames smashing and falling to the floor.

"No!" Milla screamed as they extended their batons and swung them.