He offered me money like I was a whore he spent the night with. Suffice it to say, it wasn’t a highlight of my life. Made worse by the fact that he should have made my skin crawl, but he just made it heat. There’s something about the big bad wolf that makes good girls fantasize about being bad.
I’m human.
Our paths don’t cross often, but what I have seen of him, he hasn’t changed much. He’s still the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. Whiskey-colored eyes that leave you hypnotized when he pins his stare on you. A full beard covers half his face now, leaving just thick lips showing. He’s tall and broad and a member of the Royal Bastards MC. I’ve treated many of their members over the years working in the emergency room—gunshot wounds, stabbings, broken bones. It’s part of the reason I haven’t gone over there to complain to him about the parties. I dread having to see him. I don’t want confrontation. I’m short and easily a third of his body weight—okay, half—but I know they can be ruthless, and I don’t want any hassle and be forced to move. The Royal Bastards have significant influence around here, and they don’t abide by the law.
Once inside my house, the noise is more tolerable. I check the windows are locked and follow a tapping sound to the kitchen. My heart rate quickens, making my pulse jump in my neck, my stomach dropping as the sound gets louder.
What the hell is that? If someone is in here…
Letting out an exaggerated breath, I laugh at myself when I see the outside screen door smacking against the house. Paranoid much?
Locking it in place, I switch on the TV and stick the news channel on just as a breaking story flashes along the bottom of the screen.
Breaking News
Curfew to be implemented for all Commack residents from nine p.m. tomorrow night as storm Alexa looms amid a chase for Little Rock serial killer terrorizing the city.
I startle when something suddenly brushes against my shoulder, my heart rate spiking. “Crap.” I laugh, feeling stupid when I see it’s my cat. “Damn, Hulk. You scared the shit out of me.” I pull him into my arms and snuggle his face against mine. Jumping from my arms, he winds his body around my ankles in welcome. “You want some dinner?” I coo.
The fridge is pitiful. I desperately need to go to the grocery store, especially before we’re locked in for the storm.
Sighing, I scrape the leftover tuna into Hulk’s bowl and call to order a pizza, allowing myself a little indulgence after having to pronounce another victim of the Little Rock serial killer dead tonight. Images of her tortured body will live within me for the rest of my life. It’s terrifying living alone when you know someone out there is capable of inflicting such harm on women.
Checking my watch to see if I have time for a quick shower before it arrives, I strip out of my scrubs, stuff them straight in the wash, and take a hot shower. I’m just combing my hair out when I see the delivery guy outside the house and some of the neighbor’s guests surrounding him like a horde of the walking dead would attack fresh meat.
He doesn’t even dismount his bike before my neighbor approaches the crowd and they disperse like rats being flushed from the sewer—including my dinner driving away. What the hell?
Pulling open my door, I storm out. “Hey, that was my delivery!” I boom with more gusto than I would if it wasn’t over food, the thoughts I had of not confronting him dissipating. I’m starving and tired.
“Nice PJs.” One of his girlfriends snorts while running her gaze up my body. She’s holding her stupidly little dog that may as well be a cat. She lets that thing pee up the side of my house so often, the paint’s discolored.
I narrow my eyes on her. “Nice scrap of material you’re calling a dress.”
Her face screws up, making her look like she’s tasted something sour. “You going to let her talk to me like that?” she pouts up at Grim, and my stomach knots. Crap, all my fears of getting on his bad side and I go and insult his girlfriend.
“Get the fuck inside now and clear everyone out!” he barks down at her, his tone deep and full of authority, making my sides tighten.
“But…”
“Don’t fucking test me, Ruby,” he warns her, and my skin prickles with goosebumps. She huffs, but obeys his command.
His eyes land on me, and I wilt a little under the intensity. When he doesn’t say anything, I fidget, folding my arms and biting the inside of my cheek. “You scared away my dinner,” I state.
He reaches out and tugs on my Hello Kitty pajama top. It was a gift from my mother. She still thinks I’m a kid and they’re comfy, so…
“Cute,” he grunts before walking away, leaving me standing there like an idiot.
He’s so freaking weird.
I stare in the direction my delivery guy drove and groan. “Perfect. I’ll just starve.”
Slamming my front door behind me, I throw myself on the couch. The thudding from the party music shuts off, making me sigh in relief. I close my eyes, willing the hunger pangs to stop so I can get some sleep.
I wake with a jolt, my mind racing to catch up with my ears.
Bang.
Bang.
Bang.
Someone’s at my door. I jump to my feet and go peek through the peephole. A young guy is standing there holding a pizza box.
Opening the door, my eyes go to Grim standing just below the porch steps. My heart still hasn’t calmed from the fright of being woken up. I know I must look like crap and shouldn’t care, but deep down, burrowed in my lady parts, I do.
“Give her the pizza.” His low growl cuts off the delivery guy before he can even open his mouth. The boy’s face turns as pale as the moon. He timidly offers me the pizza box, which I take with an apologetic smile.
My heart kicks against my ribcage. Grim just stands there staring at me like I’m on display at an amusement park. He’s wearing his cut over a band tee and leather-riding pants that taper off into black kick-shitter boots. His messy hair from wearing his helmet lays haphazardly over his forehead and brows. Those penetrating eyes bore into me, making me squirm.
The delivery guy takes off like the soles of his shoes are on fire. Poor kid.
“Thanks,” I say. Opening the box, I grimaced. Pineapple? Gross.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” I shrug.
“Don’t lie. It doesn’t suit you.” What the hell does that mean?
“I don’t like pineapple on pizza. It’s disgusting.” Damn, I’m being rude. “It’s fine. Thanks for making an effort.”
When he just grunts at me, I wave a hand awkwardly and back away inside. It’s then I realize his bike wasn’t here when I got home earlier, but is now parked at the curb. In fact, there are never bikes here when these parties are happening. Surely he would invite his brothers.
“Close the door, Monroe,” he orders, bringing me from my musing. As much as I hate him telling me what to do, my name on his lips sends warmth flooding straight to my core. He does remember me. I want to tell him I’m not one of his girlfriends and he can’t tell me what to do, but instead, I narrow my gaze on him before shutting my door and sighing against it.
I look one last time through the peephole, a nervous fluttering buzzing through my bloodstream. He’s still watching the closed door.
What the hell is happening? And why does just being in his presence make me feel so…alive?
Chapter Three
Jameson…
Grey clouds loom above, threatening what’s to come later today. I grab the paper a kid on a bike throws at the house every morning. I need to tell him the old man doesn’t live here anymore and to stop delivering, but he’s up too fucking early to catch. I see movement in my peripheral, drawing my attention next door.
Fuck, I want her so fucking bad, but if I pursue her, I’m not sure either of us will make it out alive. When she gets all feisty on me, I know she could be the type of woman who’ll start a fire just to watch it burn, and I’m the type of bastard who’ll hand her the match and fan the flames to give her what
she wants.
I’ve never had a woman consume my head and body the way she has. It’s ridiculous, but fuck, it is what it is.
I want to get fucking lost in her scent and make her mine. She’s way outta my league, and nothing like my brothers’ ol’ ladies, but fuck if that doesn’t make her all the more appealing. I like the timid portrayal she puts on, but I love the way she ignites when those perfectly placed feathers get ruffled. The real Monroe slips to the surface.
I track her with my eyes as she marches back and forth over her lawn, picking up empty bottles from Ruby’s little get together last night. The fucking brat didn’t expect me home to ruin her fun. Makes me wonder how often she’s been having these gatherings. Maybe she’s the reason Monroe gives me evil glares whenever she sees me. Little does Monroe know, it just makes my cock want in her more. I want to ravish her tight little body, have her quiver beneath my heat.
She’d be a filthy bitch in the sack. When she lets loose, she’s a spitfire, and that will be twice fold when she’s horny for my cock. She’s an angel to the outside world, but when those walls come down, she’s the type of angel who asks you to choke her out with her own halo.
Fuck, my dick is getting happy at the fucking thought.
I adjust my hardening cock, knowing I’m going to have to rub one out before I do anything else today. “Ruby,” I call out into the house from the porch. A few seconds later, she stomps out to where I’m standing, her face pinched, arms folded. She’s nineteen, but acts like a fourteen-year-old. Sometimes I wonder if it’s worth putting up with her shit. She’s exhausting.
“What?” she huffs, still pissed I broke up her little party. The brat has been taking my hospitality for granted, and as much as I love her and would do anything for her, I can’t let her disrespect Monroe or me the way she has. Neither of us deserves that shit. I’m not looking to be a saint in the neighborhood, but I don’t want people to think just because I wear a patch I’m bad news for the community either. I moved here to put some stability in Ruby’s life, give her somewhere real, a home. And this is the thanks I get?
“I want you to go down and help Monroe clean your mess up.” Her mouth pops open, her face screwing up.
“It’s windy as all hell out here. What’s the point in cleaning if the wind will carry it away for us?” She rolls her eyes, infuriating me. I don’t have to say more. She can tell by my silence how pissed I am. “Fine. Whatever.” She sulks, stomping down the steps.
Monroe looks up from her trash collection, narrowing her eyes on me. She’s wary as Ruby approaches her. “I’ve been told to help you,” Ruby drones out, a healthy dosing of Bitch 101 in her tone.
“How about you finish cleaning up your mess and I make it to work on time? I wasted my time messing with this garbage and now I don’t have time to make it to the store before curfew,” she fires back.
Mmmm, there’s that backbone I fucking love about the little doctor.
“It’s not my mess or my fault you can’t shop, lady,” Ruby scoffs.
I fucking hate that she missed her chance to get food. She won’t be able to go after her shift now that they’ve put a curfew in place. Speaking of no time, there’s a storm brewing, and I need to board up these windows.
“Your boyfriend’s mess then.” Monroe gestures to me. “Whatever, doesn’t change the fact that the mess is all over my yard.”
Boyfriend? What the fuck, does she think I’d date a kid?
“Look, lady, no need to be snippy, I’m offering to help, and gross, he’s not my boyfriend.” Ruby folds her arms, spitting out attitude for days.
Monroe’s eyes sharply cut to me and she swallows. Is that a blush creeping up her neck and over her cheeks? Yeah, she thinks about fucking me too.
Picking up the box of trash, Monroe crosses the lawn and comes to the porch steps where I’m standing. I’m dying to grab this woman, take her inside, and ravish that body until she can’t walk or think. She does something to me I can’t explain. No woman’s had this effect on me before. When I met her at the hospital, I vowed I would forget about her, that implanting myself into her life wouldn’t be good for her. But when I needed a house, I just happened to be looking at a place a few houses down. When I saw her drive past and stop here, it was fucking fate. I decided to make the guy who lived here an offer he couldn’t refuse. When my little Monroe saw me for the first time, she didn’t even acknowledge me, and it only made me want her more.
“Here.” She shoves the box on the step below me. “Here’s the mess I once again have been left to pick up after your little shindig.”
“You look pissed,” I observe, relishing the emotions flashing over her face. Damn, those eyes are something else.
“Yeah, I’m angry. Look at the mess those assholes left all over my lawn. I can handle the beer bottles, but the cigarette butts stomped into my grass is just over the line. I don’t want to be a no-fun Debbie, but I’m tired of working twelve-hour weekend shifts to come home and fight off a mob for my dinner and clean up after…let’s face it, Grim, ‘children’ the next day.” She turns on her heel to leave, but I step over her box and reach for her arm, preventing her departure.
“Do I even have to be here still?” Ruby asks, making her presence known.
“Clean up the fucking mess,” I growl over at her before turning my attention back to Monroe. “What did you call me?” She stares at the hand I have on her arm. I release her and hold up my hands in surrender. Frowning, her cheeks turn pink, and her eyes widen like I’ve caught her doing something wrong.
“Oh, erm…Grim.” She looks down at her shoes and shrugs.
“Grim?”
“Sorry, it’s rude of me. It’s a nickname I gave you because you always look mad and unhappy.” She grimaces.
Well…shit.
“I just beg you, please, if you have to have parties every weekend, keep them inside your house and be a little more considerate of your neighbors.”
“You know my name.”
Her tongue flicks out over her bottom lip, making me hold in a groan.
“I do.” She nods. “Again, I’m sorry. I have nicknames for all my neighbors.” She points across the street. “Santa. He leaves his decorations up all year round. And Hershey, because she always smells like chocolate.”
“I’m not unhappy,” I say, pissed she just sees me as her neighbor. I want her to see me as more than that. I want to be much fucking more than that.
“I also said mad.” She scrunches her nose, and fuck if it isn’t cute.
“Maybe I’m mad a little.” I smirk, and her eyes drop to my lips as she inhales.
“Get a room.” Ruby rolls her eyes, barging past us into the house.
“I…um, have to go.”
“Say my name, Monroe,” I call out as she turns to leave. “Monroe?” I call again when she doesn’t stop. “Say my name.”
“You can’t tell me what to do, Grim,” she says over her shoulder, making my blood roar a straight path to my dick.
“You’ll be saying it, Monroe, mark my fucking words.” She’ll be screaming it.
Chapter Four
Melanie Monroe…
I pay the cab driver and climb out, hating that my car is in the shop and it costs twenty bucks to get to and from work.
Rain batters the pavement, and I run up the pathway to my house, getting drenched from head to toe. The wind sends the rain sideways, whipping it against my skin like shards of glass.
My mouth pops open when I see a couple bags of groceries on the porch. What is this?
Opening the door, I get inside, finding a note in one of the bags.
Now you can eat.
Love, Jameson/Grim.
Call me if there’s ever another party: 8071919292
It’s then I realize the boards covering my windows. Did he do that too? I stare at the number, a fluttering of butterflies taking flight inside me.
Stop it! You don’t like him.
I type his name into my phone a
nd bite my lip as I put his nickname GRIM. I know I should send a thank you for the groceries, but his girl springs to my mind and I click my phone closed. If the girl he called Ruby isn’t his girlfriend, maybe the other one who visits during the week isn’t either, but I don’t know for sure and can’t have some crazy girl on my porch tearing me a new one for texting her boyfriend…even if he has been occupying my thoughts all damn day.
Why did he have to be friendly? I was quite comfortable hating him from over here. There’s no way I could ever start something with him. He’s a big bad biker. Gorgeous? Yes. Like stupid handsome, movie star, make-you-drool rough and ready to bend you over the couch…stop! I berate myself as I move to the mirror to see a tired-looking plain Jane. My eyes are pretty, but I don’t make an effort to look attractive. No way he would be interested in me. The girl who brought him in to the hospital was all short skirts, high heels, red lips, poufy hair.
Nothing like me. When I’m not in scrubs, I’m in jeans and a tee.
Hulk meows from the kitchen table, reminding me he’s here. “Looks like we’re in for a rough night, pal,” I tell him as the wind and rain batters the house. I empty the groceries into the fridge, leaving out the makings for an omelet for me and a can of tuna for him. My stomach growls in appreciation. The guy did good, milk, eggs, bacon, cheese. “Maybe Grim’s not such a bad neighbor, after all.”
The noise from the storm keeps me awake. It sounds like people are outside trying to get in, and the thoughts of the serial killer on the loose makes every creak and groan from the house feel like danger.
Images of his victim brought into our hospital barely alive races through my mind. She died almost as soon as she got there, her throat cut with wire from strangulation. Raped and tortured for god knows how many days.
LOVE IN LOCKDOWN: A Charity Anthology Page 19