The North Star

by Wendy Cole

  I made it much earlier than usual, and because of this, I found a much different Zeke when I arrived. His hair was a mess around his shoulders and his face was a mask of early morning annoyance. A floral mug looked funny in his massive hand as he sat in his station, reading a newspaper and sipping as if each one scalded his tongue.

  When I stepped through the door, his eyes met mine.

  “You’re early,” he grunted. It wasn’t an angry sound. It was more like a caveman who wouldn’t evolve until he’d had a few more hours to incubate.

  “I wanted to talk to you.”

  His brows lifted as his eyes did, and he took a much more interested look at my face. “Everything alright?”

  He sat the cup down.

  I smiled. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he actually gave a shit. It was a rare occurrence to find someone who did. Most people just looked out for themselves, and rightly so. It was smart. It was what I did. But having him look at me as if I were his kid here to tell him I’d scraped my knee, it felt…nice. Warm. If I was over a decade younger, I’d have clung to it and prayed to never let go. I could only hope it was genuine.

  “I sleep under the bridge by Main,” I said. There was no point in beating around it. “I plan to save my money and get a place, but it might take me a while. I was hoping…”

  “You’ve been sleeping outside?” His jaw clenched and lips thinned. “This whole time…”

  He shook his head, dropped the paper, then stood so abruptly, the stool almost fell backwards. His eyes ran over me, reminding me of another set, sharp and keen. They landed on my bandaged hand. “And you’re hurt.”

  “It’s nothing.” I waved it off. I’d expected him to help, not get pissed off.

  “You’re staying here. I’ll find a spot.” His eyes darted to the back wall as he seemed to think. “Wait. The old timer. Him, too? I thought he was your relative. I assumed you two were staying at the shelter across town.”

  “He can’t. He’s been banned.” I left it at that and let him think that was the reason I didn’t. It was better that way. If he knew how serious my danger was, something told me he’d be far less hospitable.

  “Bring him…”

  I cut him off. “He already said no. He won’t come.”

  Zeke nodded, his face solemn. “Alright. Well, I’ll figure it all out.”

  He stepped around, draped an arm over my shoulder, and led me back out the door.

  “Where are we going?” I asked when he turned to lock up behind us.

  “Shop doesn’t open for a couple more hours. You look like hell, girl.” He turned and grinned. “I’m taking you out for breakfast. You like pancakes?”

  And just like that, I won. Karma lost. She’d thrown a man, more tempting than any other, and I’d dodged it in exchange for the jolly man before me.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Zeke fed me like it was my last meal then set me to work with a belly almost too full to function. All day I kept myself busy: cleaning stations, grabbing materials, and helping consult any clients that came in looking for work. I loved it. The busy work occupied my mind from everything. The only thing that could have made it better would have been actually tattooing, but with a botched hand and no license, that still couldn’t happen for a while.

  It was a dream job for more reasons than I’d anticipated: the environment, the clients, Scarlet and Boe, Charlene, and of course, Zeke. They were a family, and not once had I felt out of place. They included me in all of it. It was easy―too easy. Something was going to happen. I knew it like I knew the ink on my skin. It was too perfect. At any moment, karma would rein her ugly head and throw a pile of shit to darken it.

  Zeke walked up to me just as I was finishing up cleaning Scarlet’s area. “I was thinking about giving you a proper welcome.”

  I grinned. “I don’t know what more you could possibly do. I can assure you; I’ve never felt more welcome in my life.”

  My thoughts drifted to the club, and how it’d been in the beginning, but I quickly shook them away. That hadn’t been real.

  Maybe this wasn’t either.

  Zeke clasped my shoulder. “Tomorrow’s Sunday. Shop’s closed. What do you say we have a get together tonight? Grill up the rest of those steaks and have some drinks.” He smiled as his brows lifted. “You up for it?”

  “Sure.” It wasn’t even a question. He’d done so much for me, more than anyone ever had in my life, and I barely knew the man. If he’d asked me to stand on my head and sing the national anthem, I’d have god-blessed-America until my nose bled.

  His smile widened.

  “You hear that?” he bellowed out to everyone in the room. “Party night! I expect you all to hang out and show Jessie here how we unwind.”

  “Oh, I’ve been waiting for this,” Boe said, tone a tad too smooth for my liking.

  I narrowed my eyes at him then looked away as Scarlet punched the air in a move more sarcastic than excited.

  “Oh, good. I’ve been wanting to introduce you to my kids,” Charlene added. She heaved a sigh, smiled her warm, motherly smile, and I couldn’t help but feel that same warmth fill my chest. “They don’t come around as much anymore. They’ve gone feral.”

  “They got older, sniffles,” Zeke said.

  I bit back a smile as Charlene’s face warmed to a shade of pink, and she tried and failed to glare at him.

  Zeke’s grin back at her was wolfish.

  “About your living situation…” He turned back to me; tone more cautious. “I’ve been thinking on it all day, and the best solution is to put you out in the RV. There’s a set of bunks out there that no one is using…”

  “With Sasquatch?”

  Zeke’s mouth clamped shut, lips thinned, and he immediately cast an accusing gaze over his shoulder at Scarlet.

  She didn’t seem to notice; not with her sudden keen interest in the floor.

  He shook his head. “My nephew lives in it. He likes to keep to himself. You most likely won’t even notice him there.”

  I thought over the proposition. It was better than the bridge, and if what Zeke said was true, then I had no doubt I’d manage. Sharing a space with one person felt like nothing compared to the mass of strangers I’d been sleeping mere feet from for weeks. Hell, I’d managed prison, and when you got shacked up in a cell block with three other women, privacy was a thing of the past.

  I tilted my head and shrugged. “As long as he doesn’t mind. I mean, I don’t want to piss nobody off.”

  I remembered what Scarlet had said about him roaring whoever dared enter his little fortress right out of it.

  “You let me deal with that.” He draped an arm across my shoulder and led the way.

  He wanted to do it now?

  When we exited the back, the motorhome seemed much more ominous than it had before. I didn’t want any trouble, and considering it always seemed to find me, approaching the one place I’d been warned to steer clear of felt an awful lot like looking for it.

  Zeke opened the door without a moment’s hesitation, and I followed him up the three steps that led inside.

  “Wait here a minute,” he said, his voice low. He took off down the length, and I focused my attention on my surroundings.

  A driver and passenger seat were swiveled in to act as chairs, and a leather booth with a fold-down tabletop backed into a kitchen counter. There was a mini fridge, a microwave, a camper stove, and a small trash can filled to the brim with empty liquor bottles.

  “Wake up, boy. I’m moving someone in here with you.”

  My eyes snapped to the hallway at the sound of Zeke’s voice. A groan echoed in reply like a bear being risen from hibernation.

  I held my breath and cast a longing look to the door. I didn’t want to do this.

  But one thing was for sure. It was warm as hell and as close as I could get to my new job. It would only be temporary. I’d get a place. I was making money. Surely, I could last a little while.

  A deep murmur
too low to distinguish came in response. Whatever it was the man had said, Zeke didn’t like it.

  “I don’t see how it can bother you. You’re unconscious half the time, gone the rest.”

  Another murmur, louder but still too low to hear.

  They were both quiet for a long moment before Zeke started,

  “Boy…” It was a warning, spoken too calmly for the amount of menace behind it. “You either get up and make this girl feel welcome,” his tone lifted with each word, “or I’m going to yank you out of that bed, drag you outside, and knock the manners back into you!”

  I took a step back.

  “Fine! You want her to feel welcome?”

  No. I knew that voice. It was impossible not to recognize it. Deep and smooth and, in that moment, furious.

  I’d just started to turn for the door when he barreled out of the back room and caught sight of me.

  He froze, so suddenly Zeke almost crashed into his back. I couldn’t move either, not with those intense eyes locking me in place. He was shirtless, wearing nothing more than a pair of jeans hung dangerously low on his hips, and for a moment, my brain melted inside my skull. He was glorious: golden and defined, entirely too fucking perfect.

  Zeke studied the pair of us, his nephew especially, with a look of utter confusion on his face.

  “She can stay.”

  “I can’t stay.”

  We spoke in unison, and Zeke’s eyes narrowed on the back of his nephew’s head. “Do you know this girl?”

  The stranger nodded. “She’s been living under the bridge by Paul’s place.”

  My thoughts whipped around inside my head as if a twister was tearing the place apart.

  Karma. You, fucking bitch. I knew it was too good to be true. I knew she’d never let me win. I’d dodged him at the fork in the road, so she threw him in the damn middle.

  He turned to look at Zeke. “What’s her name?”

  Zeke studied the younger man’s face, eyes just as sharp and probing, and I couldn’t believe I hadn’t noticed it before. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know these two were related. Both massive. Both hairy. Both seemingly larger than life.

  Whatever Zeke found in his nephew’s face made his lips curve into a smile unlike any I’d seen from him before.

  “Bard, this is Jessie.” He looked at me. “Jessie, this is my nephew, Bard. As you can see, he has no problem with you staying here.”

  “Jessie,” Bard said, as if testing the name on his tongue, and the sound of it sent an unwanted shiver across my skin.

  I ground my teeth. Of course, he didn’t have a problem with me staying here. He probably already had a place all picked out for me to sit, and I would have bet money it wasn’t on a chair.

  Fuck this shit. Karma didn’t get to do this to me. I crossed my arms and focused on Zeke. “You said there’s bunks?”

  He motioned to his left, and I stepped forward to get a view. Bard didn’t attempt to move, not even an inch. With a clenched jaw, I shoved my way past him, and once his big ass was finally out of the way, I could make out the built-in beds. They sunk into the wall, just large enough for one person which was okay because that was all there would ever be in it.

  “Where does he sleep?” My tone was harsh, unreasonably so given what Zeke was doing for me, but I was too pissed off to be polite.

  He grinned as if on some secret joke I had no clue about. “There’s a full bed in the back room. I’m sure he’ll be out of your way.”

  I highly fucking doubt it. “Sounds good.”

  Zeke ruffled my hair like he’d done my first day. “Why don’t you get settled? Take a nap, rest up, and I’ll give you a holler when the party’s starting.” When he turned to Bard, his eyes danced. “It gets pretty crazy around here on a party night, and I’ve got a feeling this one is going to be interesting.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  A sleepless night and a bottle of tequila put me to sleep before Bard could even think about speaking to me. But when I opened my eyes again, there was nothing but pitch black surrounding me.

  “What are you doing, Jessie?” his voice rang out from the darkness.

  I froze on the thin mattress, ears poised for sound and blinking rapidly in an attempt to force my eyes to adjust. Each breath I managed was shallow and made inaudible by the sound of my pounding heart.

  This was it. He found me.

  “Did you really think you could run?” Drake asked, his voice deadly. “Did you forget the last time?”

  The memory of that day came flashing to the forefront of my mind. My screams, his firm grip, the bite of the whip. The pain of the impact resurfaced as if it’d never left, and a whimper slipped past my lips. I felt the flesh split, the burn, and the warm, sticky blood running down my back.

  “Of course, you remember. Then tell me, Jessie, why are you so fucking stupid?!” The words seemed to explode with a force that shook the bed.

  I collapsed in on myself―my only defense against him. Be smaller, be a harder target, protect your face. It was the same position I took up as a child when a rough foster family took me in, or at the group homes when the bigger girls would come after me.

  But none of it compared to Drake. His blows hurt the worst. His punches cut the deepest, because with him, it was someone I’d once trusted. With him, it was someone I’d loved.

  He’d kill me, but it wasn’t the thought of dying that bothered me. I’d welcome death by the time he was done. Drake enjoyed the pain. He lived for the torture. His eyes would go wild with an unnatural lust, and he’d relish it, just like he had before, over and over until I blacked out. I couldn’t do it. Not again.

  My muscles tightened. “Kill me!” I screamed. “Just let me die!”

  He rumbled a laugh. “What’s the fun in that?”

  Large hands gripped my shoulders, pushed me to my back, and shook hard enough to rattle my bones.

  I screamed.

  “Wake up!”

  My eyes flew open, and Bard’s face loomed just above mine. It was his hands holding me still.

  “Jesus Christ,” he breathed, his probing eyes more intense than ever. They cut like surgical tools, ready to extract whatever cancer had taken over me.

  I broke away from him, rolled off the bed, and made a beeline for the bathroom. My muscles gave the minute the door slammed into place behind me, and I barely managed to grab the sink for support.

  In the mirror, red puffy eyes stared back at me. Something I refused to do in wakefulness always took me in my dreams. I’d cried.

  A soft knock made me flinch.

  “Are you alright?”

  Never.

  “I’ll be out in a minute.” I kept my voice as emotionless as I could. He’d seen enough.

  “Everyone is out back. Zeke is cooking.” A long pause. “I’ll make you a drink.”

  His footsteps echoed away, and I heaved a heavy sigh.

  “Time to go hang out with your new family,” I whispered to my reflection, my voice bitter.

  She didn’t look excited.

  I wasn’t getting any younger as I stood there stupidly staring into a sink. Music already filtered through the walls.

  A grim smile curved my lips. Playing was Creedence Clearwater Revival’s Lookin’ Out My Backdoor. That was Uncle Fred’s favorite song. He played it anytime we had a party night around the club.

  Uncle Fred was Drake’s Uncle, and one of the few people I actually missed. He was around since the club started before Drake’s father died. Apparently, things had been different then. The Onyx Eagles lived by a stricter code of conduct in those days; the days before Drake’s sadistic nature tarnished everything.

  He looked out for me as much as he could. I grew to love him how I would if he was my own Uncle. But Fred couldn’t protect me, not really. If he stepped too far out of line, it would mean his death. I would never even think of asking him to do that.

  I shoved myself away from the sink and finally quit hiding.

&nbs
p; Bard stood by the kitchen counter, and the minute I approached him, he held out a glass. I took it and eyed him over the rim. He’d mercifully put a shirt on, and I was more than grateful that he’d yet to push or ask questions about what he’d witnessed.

  “Thank you.” I passed him the empty glass. “And…I’m sorry about that. I…”

  “You’re sorry?” He stared down at me, his brows furrowed.

  I took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “Can we just not talk about it? Can you pretend you didn’t see that?”

  His jaw clenched, but after a long pause, he gave a stiff nod.

  “Good.” I heaved a sigh, and my chest eased. “Now, some ground rules.”

  His eyebrows lifted, and despite the darkness, I made out one very obvious twitch to his lip. “Rules? You’re giving me rules…in my house?”

  “No, not rules for your house which has wheels by the way. Don’t act like you don’t know that.” I huffed and crossed my arms. “Rules about me. My house.” I motioned to myself in one long, dramatic wave. “Don’t touch my shit.”

  He chuckled, and once again, a full-blown arsenal of perfectly white teeth hit hard enough to almost knock me backwards.

  “You act as if I’ve touched you before. Have I done anything to you? Shown any disrespect in all the times you’ve been shit-faced within reach?”

  He had a point, but I’d never admit it.

  “No, but you say some shit sometimes I don’t like. Don’t do it again. No sweet talk.”

  “You think I’m sweet?”

  “No.” I rolled my eyes. “I think you’re…” The sentence hung as every ending that came to mind wasn’t helpful.

  His smile softened. “I promise to be a complete asshole to you from now on.”

  I shot him a flat look, but it was entirely too damn hard to keep the act up. He was too charming. I liked it better when he didn’t speak. My shoulders squared. “Good.”

  Someone tapped on the front door.

  “Jessie,” Boe sang. “You’re missing your own party,” he continued in the same sing-song voice.

  I rolled my eyes over my shoulder then fought back a smile when I caught sight of Bard’s reaction. His gaze narrowed on the door, and the way his brow was all scrunched up made him look like a confused dog.