Little Jack

by Atlas, Lilly

  “You told me Mrs. B was your husband’s cranky mother, and you refused to be called anything but Marjorie.”

  “That’s right, dear.” She folded her veiny hands on top of her desk. “What is that amazing smell?”

  “Oh, I almost forgot,” Holly said with a laugh. “Brought you guys a little pick-me-up to get you through the afternoon.” She set the bakery box on the desk in front of Marjorie.

  Those warm brown eyes narrowed at the same time they sparkled. “Don’t you mean you brought something to put this entire office in a sugar coma so crimes can be committed all over town?”

  Holly mock gasped. “Marjorie,” she said, pressing a hand to her heart. “How could you even think I’d have any motive other than to bring the fine officers of Townsend happiness?” She threw in a wink.

  It was Marjorie’s turn to laugh and Holly found it was a wonderful sound full of happiness.

  “Well, whatever your plan, I thank you on behalf of the department for the sugar and calories.”

  “You’re very welcome,” Holly said with a small curtsey.

  “I’m guessing you aren’t just here to sugar me up?”

  “My dad asked me to stop by this afternoon. Something he wants to run by me, apparently. He in?”

  “He’s here, dear. I haven’t actually seen him since I returned from lunch. He might have someone in his office, but he always lets me know if he shouldn’t be disturbed and he hasn’t said anything yet, so feel free to poke your head in and see what he’s up to.”

  “Thank you, Marjorie. I appreciate it.”

  “My pleasure, dear.”

  Holly wandered down the long corridor to the door at the end of the hallway. Her father hadn’t claimed the prior sheriff’s office close to the entrance but chose one much farther away for reasons she didn’t comprehend.

  When she reached the closed almond-colored door with her father’s name placard, she knocked twice.

  “Enter,” came a terse reply that had Holly rolling her eyes.

  She opened the door. “Really, Dad? Could you sound any less invitin—? Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were in a meeting.” Seated in the chair opposite her father’s desk was a tiny woman with curly blonde hair and a friendly smile.

  “No, it’s totally fine,” the woman said as she waved Holly in. “This is nothing personal or private. Interrupt away.”

  Holly looked to her dad, who just shrugged. “Fine by me,” he said.

  “Well, if neither of you cares, I’ll sit and hang until you’re done,” Holly said, indicating the empty seat next to the woman.

  “Absolutely. I won’t be more than a few minutes. I’m Shell, by the way.” She held out a hand with short, unpolished, but neatly shaped nails.

  “Holly.” She shook the offered hand and gave the woman a quick once over. By the smooth skin and youthful appearance, Holly guessed them to be within a few years of each other in age. Shell wore denim cutoffs and a fitted olive-green T-shirt. No jewelry or makeup even seemed to be present.

  Low maintenance.

  Holly’s kinda girl.

  “So what is it that I can help you with, Miss Ward?” Holly’s father broke in, his voice flat.

  Holly frowned. What was with him today?

  Shell either didn’t notice or didn’t care. “Shell, please,” she said with a sweet smile. “I’m here to talk to you about a fundraiser I’m organizing. It’s something my group has been running annually for the past five years or so, and Sheriff Coleman has always lent us deputies to manage crowds, direct traffic, and such. I wanted to see if we could count on you to continue that tradition this year?”

  Holly’s lips twitched. Shell was good. She knew just how to demand what she wanted while making it sound like an innocent request.

  “And what kind of event is this?” Her father asked, folding his arms on his desk.

  Shell smiled. “It’s a motorcycle poker run to raise money for an anti-bullying campaign.”

  Uh-oh.

  “It’s been a very well attended event for the past year. Bikers come from all over to participate, and we’ve raised quite a bit of money in recent years. Last year my ol’ man was able to donate about ten thousand dollars to the local children’s hospital.” She said that last part with a note of pride in her voice. “We choose a different organization each year, but they typically support children or women.”

  Her father didn’t so much as crack a smile. Whatever came next, it wasn’t going to be pleasant. “Um, Dad,” Holly broke in. Who the hell knew what she’d say when he acknowledged her, but she had to diffuse the sudden tension somehow.

  But he never so much as glanced in her direction. Voice hard as steel, he leveled a gaze on Shell that had Holly’s gut clenching. “And who might your ol’ man be?” The words sounded like he couldn’t stand the feel of them on his tongue.

  With all the confidence of someone who wasn’t facing a pissed off sheriff, Shell looked Holly’s father straight in the eye. “My ol’ man is Copper, the president of the Hell’s Handlers Motorcycle Club.”

  For about three seconds, the room fell so silent, Holly could almost hear the Cliff bar she’d scarfed for lunch digesting in her stomach. Then her father chuckled. The annoying sound morphed into full-on laughter before long.

  A hot flush of shame washed over Holly. Oh, how she wished she’d returned to the lobby to wait until her father was free. Beside her, Shell sat, calm as she’d been the entire time though her eyes weren’t quite as soft as before. The blue had darkened with irritation.

  “Man, that’s some funny shit,” her father said as his laughter died down. “Bikers raising money for an anti-bullying campaign. No, Miss Ward, this office will not be participating in that farce. Nor will we have anything to do with the motorcycle club unless it involves locking the members behind bars for as many days as I can possibly manage. But you can bet your ass my officers will be there writing citations if one of you so much as crosses the speed limit or tosses a bottle on the ground.”

  Shell gasped. Her eyes were so wide, they looked like they’d been drawn by a cartoonist.

  “Dad…” Holly started.

  “Will that be all, Miss Ward?”

  With a sigh, Shell stood, shoulders straight and head held high. “I guess so. Thank you for your time.” She nodded at Holly before walking to the door.

  “Miss Ward,” Holly’s dad called out as her hand landed on the doorknob.

  “Yes?” She turned halfway.

  “Sheriff Coleman may have looked the other way, hell, he may have colluded with the criminals you associate with, but he’s no longer in this office. I am. And I’m not so easily swayed from the law I swore to uphold. You seem like a nice kid. I’d hate to see you caught up in the inevitable fallout when my office dismantles the club. It’s not too late to walk away, but it will be soon.”

  “Dad, Jesus,” Holly muttered. She stared at his stern face like she’d never seen him before. He’d basically just threatened the woman who came asking for help to raise money for a fantastic cause. Holly would be lying if she said living with a man who hated bikers above all hadn’t colored her opinion of them. Over the years, she’d grown to distrust her memory of the afternoon a biker president helped her out of a hot spot. Especially after irrefutable evidence came to light. She’d been wrong. Dead wrong. Curly, the MC president of her hometown club, was in fact the man who killed her sister and he now spent the rest of his days behind bars.

  Despite the evidence and conviction, something about the whole outcome of her sister’s investigation never sat right with Holly. But then, she’d been twelve, naïve, and basing her entire opinion on one encounter with a man. Since the trial, she’d formed her own fear of the biker world, letting her father’s opinion sour her view of an entire subculture. It’d been easier that way. Easier to deal with the devastation of Joy’s death if she had someone to blame. Easier to live with her father if she bought into his hatred rather than fight against it. Easier to giv
e in to the parents who’d lost so much and demanded Holly’s safety at all times.

  Easier not to form her own opinions, rock the boat, or risk hurting people who’d already been hurt so badly.

  But today’s behavior? This blatant prejudice based solely on who someone associated with twisted Holly’s gut in knots.

  With her hand still on the door, Shell turned and looked Doug straight in the eye. “I’m not a kid, Sheriff. I’m a fully-grown adult. In fact, I have a kid. And I’ve been through things that would turn the rest of your hair gray.”

  Holly bit her lip to keep from smirking as her father’s eyes narrowed.

  “You’re new around here and clearly have a false idea of who and what the Handlers are, so I’ll do you a favor and clue you in. Those men do more for this town than anyone else. They keep the citizens far safer than this office ever has.” She stepped forward and held her hand out, crossing her wrists in front of her. “If you’d like to carry through on that threat, you might as well do it now because there isn’t anything in the world that will make me walk away from my family.”

  When her father’s handcuffs remained hooked to his belt, Shell turned and strode from the room head held high. Holly had the insane urge to applaud. As the door closed behind Shell, Holly whipped her head around. “Dad! What the hell was that?”

  Her father speared her with his cop look as she and her siblings used to call it. It was the no-nonsense, don’t mess with me glare he claimed to use during interrogations. Fortunately for her, the look lost its power somewhere after her eighteenth year. “Police business, Holly. Stay out of it.”

  She scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Seriously? You just performed that police business right in front of me, and now I’m supposed to butt out? Dad? She was a sweet woman asking you to help direct traffic for an incredible cause and you acted like a total jerk.”

  Her father slammed his closed fists down on the top of his desk, making his coffee mug and Holly jump. “No!” he yelled. “I acted like a sheriff telling a criminal I’m not going to jump in their pocket like the last man in my position did.”

  “Do you really think she’s a criminal?”

  “I think she associates with a group of outlaw bikers I’m making it my mission to disband. Before the year is out, every one of those bikers will be held accountable for their actions. Now, I tried to give her a chance to see reason, but if she won’t, I can’t take responsibility for what happens to her.”

  The strength it took to clench her teeth and avoid spitting out angry words had Holly’s jaw aching. How, even after all these years, was it possible for her father to be so blind in his hatred? As Shell said, he didn’t know a damn thing about the Hell’s Handlers. All he had was a festering hatred over a decade in the making. And now he had tunnel vision and a mission to destroy any man who wore leather and so much as glanced at a Harley. Nothing about his behavior was professional. All her father saw in every biker was the man who killed his child.

  And that’s what kept Holly from speaking her true mind again and again. It’s what had her eventually believing his rhetoric that all bikers were murderers and rapists. But seeing his behavior today, she had to wonder if she’d made a mistake in never challenging his opinion.

  As traumatizing as it had been to lose her sister, losing a child had to be worse. No matter how she disagreed with her parent’s handling of the situation, she couldn’t fully condemn them because she knew they’d suffered and continued to suffer every day since her sister went missing.

  “Look, Dad, I’m here because you wanted to talk to me about something.”

  “Oh, yes!” He smiled, seeming to shake himself out of his disgust. “I have someone I want you to meet.” Still grinning, he pulled out his phone and tapped what she assumed was a quick text.

  “Uh, okay. Who am I meeting?”

  There was a rap at the door.

  “Come on in, Richard,” her dad called out.

  Once again, the door opened, and this time a man she guessed was in his early thirties strode in. He was fairly tall with light brown hair, styled so perfectly it looked like it’d stay in shape through a hurricane. His trim body was clothed in the tan sheriff’s deputy uniform issued by the town.

  “Holly, this is Deputy Richard Schwartz. Deputy, this is who I was telling you about, my daughter, Holly.”

  “Well, Doug, she certainly is as pretty as you described. Hello there.” He held out a hand for her.

  Oh, Jesus. A set-up? Really? Holly cast a side-eyed glance at her father before holding her hand out. The sheriff was positively beaming which pretty much guaranteed Holly wanted nothing to do with this guy. Her idea of a suitable date and her father’s were worlds apart.

  “It’s uh, nice to meet you.” She slipped her hand into Richard’s larger one. Immediately, he closed his palm and held her tight. For the first time since the deputy stepped in the room, she shifted her focus to his face. Deep blue eyes bore into hers and a grin that could only be described as smug tilted his lips.

  “I’ve heard a lot about you. Been looking forward to this moment for the past few weeks.”

  This moment? They were having a moment? And why had he heard of her but not the other way around?

  “Guess what?” he said, still holding her hand as he slid into the seat Shell had vacated.

  Holly cleared her throat. “What?”

  “We are going out tomorrow night.”

  She blinked? Did the man just order her on a date? Arrogant asshole. “I’m sorry?” she said.

  “Yeah, honey, I told Richard you were new in town and didn’t have any plans tomorrow night. He jumped right in and offered to take you to dinner. Isn’t that great?”

  Uh, no?

  She actually did have plans tomorrow night. She planned to work on a few new recipes before her meeting with the owner of the diner LJ had recommended. Showing up to an interview of sorts with a box of deliciousness was never a bad idea. And she wanted some new and exciting creations to offer.

  But one look at her father’s hopeful gaze and Holly fell into a pattern over a decade in the making. The one where she couldn’t say no to her parents because she couldn’t bear to bring them any further sadness or heartache than they’d already suffered.

  “Sure is. What time were you thinking, Richard?”

  He flashed her a conceited victory smile she wanted to smack off his face. But that meant she’d have to touch him and had no desire to do so. Though the ass still had a firm grip on her hand. In fact, he was now stroking a thumb over her wrist.

  What was this guy’s deal?

  “I’m working until seven-thirty. How about I pick you up at eight?”

  No way, no how did she want to be stuck in a car with this guy at the end of the night, dependent on him to return her home without demanding a kiss or worse. Granted, she might be overreacting to the situation, but the whole thing felt like a slimy set-up she wanted no part of. Hell, the moment she walked out the door, her dad and Deputy Richard would probably high-five and share a glass of scotch to celebrate a plan well executed.

  “How about you get my number from my dad and text me the address of where to meet you. That’ll save you some time.”

  For the first time since he walked in the room, some of the wind seemed to leech out of Richard’s sails. “I don’t know…”

  “Please?” She asked with a smile. “I’m trying to learn my way around town, and I find it helpful to drive everywhere.”

  Lame.

  “Well, I guess I can approve of that.”

  Seriously?

  God, now she was going to have to let down her father’s subordinate at the end of the night. Nothing awkward about that.

  “Great.” Holly stood, tugging her hand out of Richard’s grasp. “Then I’m going to head out. Lots to do this afternoon. Nice to meet you, Richard.”

  As he went to reach for her hand again, she stuck it in her pocket and backed toward the door. “Bye, Dad.”

  �
��Bye, Holly.”

  Before either man could comment further, Holly slipped out of the room.

  Not for the first time in the few days since she’d moved to Townsend, she wondered if she’d made a mistake. The grip her parents had on her life was clearly unhealthy, and it was time to start setting some boundaries.

  But how was she supposed to tell the two people who already lost one daughter that the remaining one didn’t need them nearly as much as they wished she did?

  CHAPTER FIVE

  LJ STEPPED OUT of his apartment into the cooling evening air at the same moment Holly emerged from her place. Also in that instant, his cock filled to rock hard because…holy hell, the woman was on a mission to make all men in a ten-mile radius hard as stone tonight.

  “Oh, hey,” she said. Those blue eyes lit, and a smile appeared on her shiny red lips. Red like someone had glossed a fuckin’ apple. They looked delicious as fuck. “Fancy meeting you here.”

  “Christ woman, you look like sex on legs.”

  The most adorable blush tinged her cheeks, nearly matching them to those lips, and her hands worked at smoothing imaginary wrinkles on her fitted black dress. Her outfit was simple, no flaunting of cleavage, no sparkles or other shit he’d seen women wear around the clubhouse, but it hugged her curves.

  Hugged. Her. Curves.

  Enough said.

  The woman was bam, bam, bam hour-glass perfection.

  And that rack was sent straight from heaven.

  Or maybe had been gifted to her from hell. A little trick of the devil to torture the poor, slobbering, Y-chromosomes of the world. The dress might not have been revealing, but it was snug enough to inspire some off-the-charts erotic fantasies of peeling it from her delectable body inch by luscious inch.

  “Thank you,” she squeaked.

  LJ stared, raking his gaze over her again and again. He couldn’t stop eye-fucking her from every angle possible. Only when his perusal reached her face, did he notice she was watching him with a raised eyebrow and a tilted head. “Shit, sorry, did you say something?”