by Debra Kayn
Glad to leave the bright lights of the city behind, he entered Interstate 90 and headed east. It wasn't long, and he'd made it through Coeur d'Alene, Idaho, left civilization behind and entered the mountains.
The fresh, spring air filled his nostrils, and he opened up the throttle. The weight of hearing Callie was partying with the Tarkio Motorcycle Club kept him focused on getting to Missoula.
She was a beautiful woman. It wouldn't take long for one of the bikers to see something special in her, the way he had.
He'd left her believing he was doing the right thing. Remembering his headspace after his dad had died, and then his mom, he'd been right where she was in the grieving process. Lost. Confused. Hating the injustices of life.
Because he was a man, he'd done what felt good at the time. He'd partied, and he'd taken every woman that offered herself to him. When he'd pulled his head out of his ass, he'd moved on and got another job.
He sped up, turning on his headlight as the sun dipped past the mountain range in his side-view mirror. He never thought Callie could go through the same self-spiraling hole.
If he found out any of those assholes took advantage of her, he'd kill every single one of them who'd touched her.
Chapter 24
Kent
RODDY STOOD OUTSIDE the Tarkio MC clubhouse, sharing a pint with Paco. Kent parked to the side of the door, away from the other motorcycles lining the building clear out to the street.
He flexed his hands before getting off the Harley. It'd been a long ride.
The nights in the mountains still hovered close to freezing, and snow dotted the sides of the road, depending on how much sun hit the area. He ignored the discomfort on the ride and had kept rolling forward toward Callie.
Standing, he shook his legs, loosening up his muscles. Now that he was here, he'd calmed down. Whatever help Callie needed, he'd be the one to help.
"Good to see you again, man." Paco walked over to him. "Curley mentioned you were heading this way, but I thought you'd roll in tomorrow. How was the ride?"
Skipping the question, Kent said, "Where's Callie?"
"She's..." Paco swung his arm off to the side. "Inside having fun. Go and grab yourself a cold one. Knock the dust off."
"Yeah, I'll do that." He walked to the door, stepped inside, and looked around.
Having been at the clubhouse before, he knew the layout in the dim light. It was a one-story building in the shape of an L. The entrance opened to a spacious room filled with furniture, tables, and a make-shift bar constructed out of plywood. There were bedrooms in the back, along with a kitchen and a couple bathrooms. The only area he hadn't been in was the meeting room.
His head pounded. There were at least a hundred people crowded into the room.
Half-dressed women draped over every available surface. Men gathered around, eyeing and toying with the favors offered to them.
His hearing still muffled from the ride, the music blaring over the loud voices only added to his struggle to find Callie. He strode through the room, bumping shoulders with others.
Frustrated because it shouldn't be that hard to spot icy-blonde hair in a sea of dark-haired people, he shoved his way to the back of the room.
"Calder!"
He stopped, caught sight of Curley, and made his way toward the side of the room. The moment he arrived, he leaned in and said, "Where is she?"
Curley whispered to the woman beside him and took his arm off her, letting her walk away. Then, he met Kent's gaze and lifted his chin.
He turned and looked out on the floor. It took him longer to find her because she was hidden behind the biker talking to her. He craned his neck, caught her smiling at the other man, and tensed.
Stalking across the floor, he shoved people out of his way and stepped between her and the Tarkio member.
"Man, you better step away," said the biker.
"Fuck off and find someone else." He grabbed Callie's upper arm and pulled her away.
"Wh...?" Callie stumbled beside him. "Who?"
He ignored her mumblings and pushed out the front door, away from the people, the noise. Turning her to face him, he gazed up and down her body to make sure she was okay.
Callie's mouth opened and shut numerous times, and she blinked rapidly. "Kent?"
"Nice of you to recognize me," he said.
"You're really here?" She planted her hands on his chest, but her body weaved side to side, trying to gain her balance. "I thought I'd never see you again."
He caught her other arm and held her steady in front of him. That's when he noticed the way her eyes remained unfocused even though she was looking straight at him.
"What the hell have you been doing?" He stroked her hair out of her eyes.
Gut punched, he remembered the excitement, the passion, the energy swirling around her the night she'd finally let loose and egged her ex-husband's truck. He'd walked away from her that night as if he'd gotten his first taste of the real Callie, and his addiction to her dug its sharp claws into his heart.
How many other men inside the clubhouse were standing in the same position he was, half in love, fantasizing about being with a woman who had no understanding of how sexy she was? How many other men wanted to be the one to show her?
Callie crumbled, diving for his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, keeping her on her feet. A fire brought him back to her.
She was going to set him on fire.
"I lost everything," she mumbled against the front of his jacket.
"I know." He rubbed her back, happy to hold her. "Fuck, I missed you, honey."
She raised her head and frowned. "You left me."
"I needed to go." He kissed her forehead. "But I'm back."
She pushed against him. "Why?"
"I want to help—"
"No." She stepped away from him, almost stumbling. "You can't just invade my life and then leave again. You're just listening to the rumors. Everyone listens to Josh."
"I'm not—"
"You listened." She tapped her head, slurring her words. "That's why you left. Now you're listening to him again. Just go. Leave me alone."
She grabbed for the handle. He planted his hand on the door, stopping her.
"I'm not listening to anyone but you, Callie."
She shook the knob and groaned. "I want to go back inside and dance."
"I'll take you."
"I don't want to go with you. You'll just leave me." Her body leaned against him.
He held her up. She was past drunk.
Opening the door, he led her inside. She walked away from him, joining a group of women. He stayed back, observing her.
Callie was too far gone. She probably wouldn't remember the argument in the morning or understand why she was angry at him.
Unable to help her, he stayed in the room to watch over her. The time apart from her seemed like years.
Curley approached him and placed a beer can in his hand. He opened the tab and drank half the contents.
"How long has she been like this?" he asked without taking his gaze off her.
"Drunk?" Curley lifted his own drink. "Every night since the fire."
"She knows the women?" he said.
There was a familiarity between them. Callie was comfortable among the females, something he hadn't seen before. Usually, she distanced herself from everyone, even those she'd known her whole life.
He had a feeling the others took her for face value because they too had their own stories to tell. That's why they hung out at the clubhouse around the bikers where they weren't judged and treated differently.
"If it helps, she has her own reasons for why she's trying to numb the pain." Curley pulled a nearby chair over and put his boot on the seat, leaning his elbow against his upturned knee.
"What?"
Curley's mouth hardened. "That's for her to share with you, my friend."
Feeling like an outsider in Callie's life, he finished his beer and crushed the can in his hand.
He wouldn't ask Curley to watch over her again. His regrets ran deep. He should never have left her.
"While she has herself a good time, why don't we go talk privately." Curley slapped his hand on Kent's back. He tensed. Understanding that a payment was due, he followed the Tarkio biker down the hallway.
At first, he thought he was being led to the meeting room, but Curley continued to the end of the hall and pushed through the door to the back of the building. Outside, Kent took out a cigarette and lit the end. He'd need the calm to hear Curley out.
"I know your head is full of Callie right now, but Tarkio has a problem." Curley widened his stance. "Are you open to listening?"
He nodded and blew smoke out his mouth. "Talk."
"About six months ago, a woman started coming to the open parties at the clubhouse. She was invited by Patrick, one of the members. He met her at the bar, and nobody gave her much thought." Curley shrugged. "We always watch newcomers, even the females, to see if they fit in or they act suspicious."
"Okay." He assumed the reasons were private.
For how comfortable he'd grown around the members of Tarkio, he couldn't tell what kind of business they dabbled in amongst the members. For all he knew, they could be running an underground drug ring or dealing with stolen possessions.
"The only thing that's stood out was her friendship with Callie." Curley looked out at the fence. "She gets along with the men. Like tonight, she'll slip into one of the bedrooms with one or two members and have a good time. But, she—her name is Linda—appears to try too hard to stick close to Callie, to become her friend."
"Maybe Callie knows her. She's lived in Missoula her whole life."
Curley shook his head. "Callie hasn't picked up on anything. She barely acknowledges Linda. When I threw the woman's name into a conversation, Callie had to be reminded of who I was talking about."
"So, what's the problem?"
"Roddy spotted Linda leaving the building Josh Hill uses for his swingers club," said Curley.
To Kent, there was no difference between coming to the clubhouse with the intent to fuck with one or more of the bikers and visiting an establishment set up to swap partners. Though he was concerned about how Callie's ex-husband was involved.
"I can see you understand our concern." Curley lit a cigarette.
"You should've called me." He gritted his teeth. "I asked you to let me know if there were any problems."
"She wasn't sighted with Hill until the day before the fire. We were cautious. There's nothing that points to Callie being involved...yet."
"Bullshit." He flicked his smoke to the ground. "Her ex-husband will do anything to hurt her, and he'd use another woman to do the job."
"You don't know."
"It's not too farfetched to believe Hill continues to spread rumors about Callie to keep the focus off his own activities."
"He's full of himself. But, there has to be more to it. From what I've heard, they've been divorced for four years. Fear of Callie discovering the swingers' club could keep Hill on Callie's back, making sure she's alienated from everyone," said Curley.
"And, if he feels too threatened because Callie's socializing with Tarkio?" He looked at Curley. "What's he capable of?"
Curley whistled softly. "He could've burned her out, not only to alienate her but to destroy her. The way the fire started at the gas station and spread across gravel; it doesn't take an expert to know the fire would need help to spread."
"Son of a bitch," he muttered. "What has the fire department said about the cause?"
"Not much. It was a gas station. An explosion. They'll probably never know and never look into the cause."
He ran his hand over his face and straightened his beard. He'd come back just in time. All hell was breaking loose.
"Before you go after blood, Tarkio needs to get information on what is happening inside the building of the swingers' club."
He fisted his hands. "Tarkio better work fast. I don't want Hill around Callie. If that means I have to take him out, I will."
He walked inside, leaving Curley outside alone. Right now, he needed to sober Callie up.
Chapter 25
Callie
CALLIE ROLLED OVER in bed and moaned. Not that her stomach and head hurt—they did. But the events of last night came rushing to the forefront as soon as she woke up.
She was handling everything life threw at her since the fire. Every morning she went job hunting. She helped out at the clubhouse so as not to be a burden.
She'd opened a post office box and contacted the state to get another copy of her birth certificate and social security card. The bank had ordered her another box of checks. Everything was lined up for when she got a job and could rent an apartment.
Though she was making progress on getting her life back in order, she was starting with the bare minimum. The majority of the time, she hadn't a clue what she was doing or was supposed to do.
If she dwelled on everything she'd lost, she quickly became overwhelmed. Most of all, she lost every single picture of her dad. She had no baby pictures of herself. There was no proof of her life.
Then, last night, she'd hallucinated. She imagined Kent showed up at the clubhouse, looking so good. It was real enough; she swore she woke up in the middle of the night and heard his voice. Pain on top of pain attacked her heart, wishing Kent was really here.
She would never drink again.
No more parties.
No more feeling sorry for herself.
Her mental health was at risk. She needed to get a job and keep her mind busy.
Clenching her teeth, she heaved herself into a sitting position and waited for the room to stop spinning and her stomach to settle. It was Sunday. No, Saturday. There would be some places open and doing business. She'd shower and then drive downtown to ask every place that was open if they were hiring.
She pried her eyelids apart, swung her legs over the bed, and goosebumps broke out over her body. Unlike the mornings before when she woke up fully clothed, someone had stripped her down to her panties and underwear.
That was the final straw. She needed to straighten out her life.
She raised her head, stared at the sight in front of her, and gasped. Kent sat in the chair beside the closed door.
"Morning," he said.
She grabbed the blanket and held the material against the front of her body. Gawking at him, she wondered if someone had slipped her drugs last night.
Kent couldn't possibly be here. She'd imagined him.
He sat there with his arms crossed over his chest, his ankles crossed. She squeezed her eyes shut, counted to three, and opened them again.
Kent was still there.
His head cocked. "Are you okay?"
Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. "Y-you're really here?"
His brows lowered. "I rode in last night."
"Oh, God. I feel like I'm losing my mind." She pressed her hand to her head. "I thought I dreamed about you being here."
"Nope."
"Where are my clothes?" As soon as she asked, she panicked, hugging the blanket tighter. "Did we...?"
His gaze softened. "Honey, if we had sex, you'd remember."
She flushed. There were times she wished they'd had sex before he'd left Missoula. At least that way she wouldn't spend all her time thinking about him. Yet in all her fantasies about him, she never once believed he'd come back here.
So much had happened. She had no time to reconnect with him. It was imperative to go job hunting early, and she needed to get ready.
"I need to get up, shower, and get dressed. Can you...step out for a minute?"
He dragged his feet toward him and stood without any argument. When the door softly closed behind him, she flung the blanket off and found the dirty clothes she wore last night. The bathroom was down the hallway, and she couldn't walk from here to there without dressing.
Picking out one of her outfits that were clean—she only had two, and both cam
e from Dawn, one of her new friends, she peeked out the door and found Kent standing in the hallway. She stepped out, ducked her head, and hurried toward the bathroom.
Once inside, she locked the door and hurried and showered. Luckily, Tarkio Motorcycle Club had an open policy about using soap, shampoo, and towels. One day, she'd pay them back for their kindness and help. Without them, she'd be homeless.
Drying her hair the best she could with the towel, she finger-combed the strands until they were all separated. Usually, she used a curling iron on her bangs to make them bigger and stay back, along with some hairspray, but none of her supplies survived the fire.
She wanted to hold off on using any money in the bank account as long as possible because it was all she had.
As it was, she could use the money in her savings account to rent a place, but would only have enough for three, maybe four, months of rent and expenses if she failed at finding a job. She'd rather acquire a job, then go out and rent an apartment, knowing a paycheck would soon be coming.
Male voices came through the door. Knowing others would need to use the bathroom, she gathered her dirty clothes and dropped the two towels she'd used in the hamper in the corner of the room. She needed to remember to ask Curley when a good time to wash her clothes would be.
She stepped out into the hallway. Razor talked with Kent, and she slipped by them and went into her room. Her shirt was already damp from her hair but would dry by the time she arrived downtown.
Looking around for her shoes, she found them on the floor at the end of the bed. She shivered, acknowledging Kent had undressed her last night. Embarrassment overheated her body, and she stuck out her lower lip and blew the hair out of her face.
It would've been awful if she had sex with Kent while drunk. He was the only person in her life who believed the stories about her weren't true. If she would've acted on her attraction toward him, he could've come to think that she behaved that way with every man she met, which was far from the truth.
The door opened and closed. She whirled around.
"I didn't mean to startle you," said Kent.
"I'm just jumping." She glanced at him, wondering if he could see what she'd been thinking.