Little Jack

by Atlas, Lilly

  Most likely Higgins would end up that way, but for now, that info was need-to-know. And Holly did not need to know it. What Higgins had coming was independent of the shit with the club. It was fucking personal.

  “But?” He played with her hair, something that nearly made her purr every time.

  “No but, not really. I just wish there was a way to break through to my father and get him to see your club isn’t what he thinks. He’s blinded by his hatred and living in the past.” Holly sighed. “I worry he’s going to cross a line he can’t come back from.”

  The sheriff had been dancing on that line for weeks. At this point, with the number of Handlers who’d been pulled over for bullshit, the quantity of ridiculous searches of the clubhouse and places of business, the club had a straight-up claim for harassment. Most likely that was the route Copper would play, but he’d try to pin most of it on Schwartz and Higgins to keep Holly’s father out of the fire. Best case scenario, the club’s attorney could scare the sheriff straight with a hard lesson in the detriment of police harassment by making an example of two of the deputies.

  “I just keep wondering if he’s going to authorize one of his deputies to hurt one of you guys or something, and it’s making me sick.” Holly placed a hand over her stomach.

  “Babe, you think there’s one of us who couldn’t take on any of those deputies?” Maybe a little levity would haul her out of the black hole she’d tumbled down.

  “Imagine something like what happened to Thunder. Someone gets arrested on bullshit charges. What do they do? They make you lie face down and they cuff you.”

  “Sugar…”

  “Do you know how vulnerable you are then? What if one of the deputies gets frustrated because their tactics aren’t getting them anywhere?”

  “Holly…”

  “What if it’s Maverick, and he runs that smart mouth of his and makes a deputy so angry that they flip out. What if—”

  “Holly!” LJ yelled as he grabbed her shoulders and gave a gentle shake.

  “Oh, my God.” She covered her face with her hands. “I’m spiraling.”

  “Yeah,” he said with a laugh. “You are.”

  “I don’t want any of you guys to get h-hurt.” Her breath hitched as she choked on a sob. “I’m sorry. I’m a mess.”

  Engulfing her in his arms, he held her tight to his chest. “Sugar, you’re the most perfect mess I’ve ever met.”

  That finally got a small huff of laughter.

  “None of us are going to get hurt. The men working for your father aren’t stupid enough to risk jail time or losing their badges. Harassment is a hard claim to prove. All this shit they’re pulling is child’s play, and we can handle it. I promise you we’ll all be okay.”

  “He’s my dad,” she said in the most defeated voice he’d ever heard. “I’ve already lost a sister.” The words seemed like an apology for not cutting the man out of her life.

  “I get it, babe. I really do. He’s your blood. No one’s gonna ask you to ax him from your life. I know it’s a fucking mess right now, but we’ll figure it out.”

  “We?”

  Shit. He sucked. Was he so bad at this relationship thing she didn’t even know he had her back? “Yeah, sugar, we.”

  “I like that.”

  So did he.

  Too fucking much.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  “I’M DEAD SERIOUS, Holly. That motherfucker lays one hand on you, he so much as brushes a piece of lint off your shoulder, and I’ll feed him his nuts before he has a chance to say biker cock. Jesus, I can’t believe I’m allowing this.”

  Holly chuckled and rolled her eyes as she took the exit from the highway directed by her GPS. “I’m sorry,” she said into the hands-free phone system as she coasted to a red stoplight. “Can’t believe you’re allowing this? And why the hell would Rick ever say biker cock?” The light turned green, and she hit the gas to drive the last few miles to Rick Schwartz’s house.

  “You know what I mean, sugar.” LJ’s voice turned to a whispered growl. Poker night at the clubhouse didn’t allow for much privacy. “I don’t like this. I don’t trust him, and I don’t like this. I wish you’d let me put a prospect on you tonight.”

  Holly had been floored when she won that argument. She’d thought for sure LJ would have had someone tailing her whether she wanted it or not, but he’d respected her wishes and skipped the chaperone if she promised to check in every half-hour. “I know you don’t. Believe me, you’ve made it clear. But my mom called in tears, LJ. She was devastated she had to back out on this concert. It’s all she’s talked about for the past month. She sprained her ankle, what was I supposed to do?”

  “Uh, say no when she told you she’d given her ticket to Dicky?”

  Holly sighed. They’d had this exact same conversation six times in the ten hours since her mom called hysterical and heartbroken.

  “Look, my dad—”

  “Almost jizzed himself over the idea of you going on another date with that fuckwad?”

  Holly wrinkled her nose as she made a left. “Um, could you maybe not use the word jizz in a sentence with my dad?” she said into the car’s Bluetooth.

  The line grew silent.

  “Anyway, my dad actually got on the phone because she was crying so hard. It was the first time he’s spoken more than two words to me in weeks. He told me himself how crushed my mom was she couldn’t go with me. How she was supposed to have two daughters to spend time with, but one was stolen from her. How she wants us to be close and she’s so devastated that she hurt herself. I just…”

  I can’t say no to them.

  “I’m trying to build a new kind of relationship with them. Maybe this is the first step toward a more normal parent-child bond.”

  “I’m gonna say something you don’t want to hear.”

  “Yikes, that doesn’t sound good.” Holly scanned the house numbers for seven-six-two-nine… There it was. After parking along the curb, she killed the engine but remained seated. “What is it?”

  “Has it crossed your mind they might have planned this all along?”

  “Ha! You mean she pretended to sprain her ankle, and getting me to go out with Rick is all part of some master matchmaking scheme?”

  LJ didn’t say anything.

  “LJ, come on,” she said, but the words tasted bitter. She opened her mouth again to tell him there was no way, but the argument died on her tongue. “Shit.” Her shoulders sagged. Had she been hoodwinked so easily? Would her parents have played her that way? Or was LJ turning into a conspiracy theorist?

  “I’ll come back. I’ll make an excuse and go join the ladies for girls’ night.” She grabbed the key which was still in the ignition. Just as she went to turn the car on again, LJ’s heavy exhale came through the line.

  “Stay,” he grumbled. “You’re there. You’ve been so excited about that goddammed concert.”

  She really had been. And she was there… Maybe Rick would even spill some beans about the department’s plan for the MC.

  “He won’t touch me, LJ. I have less interest in him than Jazz has about being one of Screw’s conquests.”

  Finally, LJ laughed. Over the past month, Screw had dialed up the attempts to nail Jazz, and she’d pushed back just as hard.

  “I know, sugar, and I trust you. But if that fucker so much as breathes too close to you—”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah, the ripping of nuts and the biker cock thing. I got it.” She paused for a second. “I really am sorry, LJ. Please try to have fun tonight. It’s killing me that you’re so upset over this. Would it help if I told you I want him to be my date about as much as you want him to be my date?”

  He grunted. “It would help if you told me you’d drop to your knees and suck my dick the moment you walk through the door.”

  “Done,” Holly said with a grin, though LJ couldn’t see it through the car’s Bluetooth. Men were easy. Promises of sexual favors forgave a world of sin.

  “
Babe,” he said, tone full of a warning that had her shivering in response. Yeah, he wasn’t the only one that’d be getting off once she got home. For the life of her, she’d never imagined a scenario where she had no desire to go to a Carrie Underwood concert. The country star had been Holly’s favorite singer for years. But that bitch better sing fast because this obligation could not be over fast enough.

  “I have to go. I’m here,” she said then winced at the silence from his end.

  “All right,” he finally said. “Sugar?” This time she heard the sincerity in his voice.

  “Yeah?”

  “I really don’t want him to touch you.”

  “Neither do I, LJ. Promise it won’t happen, okay? I already have a man. And he’s more than enough man for me. In fact, there’s probably enough of him for two women.”

  “No shit?” All of a sudden, he sounded like a kid on Christmas. “You looking to invite a friend to bed with us?”

  “Goodbye, LJ,” she said with an exaggerated sigh and a roll of her eyes.

  His laugh was the only response she heard before disconnecting the call.

  Holly stared at Schwartz’s house. This thing with LJ had progressed to a place she absolutely loved, except for one giant elephant that walked into the room every damn night. The fact that LJ still hadn’t spent an entire night with her. She hadn’t pushed it, slightly nervous about bringing it up because she sensed his reasoning was more than the typical commitment-phobic guy nonsense. What frustrated her more than the lack of sleeping next to him was the fact he didn’t seem comfortable even talking about it with her. That was a hard pill to swallow.

  “All right,” she said to no one. “Get out of your head, and let’s get this over with.”

  Holly trudged up the driveway to the front stoop of Rick’s surprisingly charming ranch-style house. With a brick façade and navy blue shutters around four front windows, the place had a cozy vibe to it. After a fortifying breath, Holly knocked on the blue door that matched the shutters.

  “’S open! Come on in,” came the muffled reply.

  Holly pressed down on the lever, pushed the door open, and stepped into the foyer of Rick’s house. First impression: the man needed to watch some HGTV. Bare white walls greeted her, no rug or mat on the worn linoleum floor, and a few unopened twelve-packs of beer stacked halfway down the hall. “Rick?”

  “Yeah, babe, in the kitchen. Come straight to the end of the hall.”

  Holly winced at the endearment. When LJ called her babe, her insides turned to jelly. When the guys in the MC did it? She took it in stride. Actually, she liked it. It was sisterly in some way, which made no sense, but she rolled with it.

  With Rick? Not so much. Seemed somehow…sleazy.

  She walked down the sparse hallway until she entered the quintessential stereotype of a man’s kitchen. Open pizza box on the black countertop. Empty beer bottles lined up near the trash can. A pristine oven that didn’t look like it’d ever been used. A neon Blue Moon beer sign was the only decoration she’d seen so far. The monstrosity hung above an unvarnished round wood table with two chairs.

  “Damn, woman, you sure can rock a pair of tight jeans.”

  Holly turned her head to the left and found Rick leaning against his small kitchen island. His eyes shone, and the tip of his nose practically glowed red. A beer bottle dangled from one hand with another six empties near the box of half-eaten pizza on the counter.

  “Oh, uh, thanks.” Was he on his seventh beer? No way. It was six on a Saturday evening, and he’d planned to be the driver to Knoxville.

  He took an unsteady step away from the island and toward her. “Too bad you’re giving all that away to a piece of trash.”

  At once, Holly’s blood ran cold. He was drunk off his ass.

  “Rick,” she said with a shake of her head. “Can we please not do this? I came as a favor to my parents. I understand how awkward this is, but we’re here, and we have the tickets, so let’s just try to make a fun evening of it. Huh? I’ll drive.”

  “Giving it to a fucking biker,” he continued as though she hadn’t spoken. “I don’t get it.” As he talked, he gestured with his hands, spilling a stream of beer onto his linoleum floor. The mess went completely unnoticed by him. “Just don’t get it.”

  Could this get any more uncomfortable? “So, uh, how long have you lived here?”

  Please accept the change of subject.

  “Heard a rumor that Little Jack has a monster cock. That what you’re looking for? A giant cock?”

  What the hell? “You did not just ask me that. You know what, Rick, I know I made a promise to my father, but I don’t think I can go through with this. I’m gonna head out.”

  She spun on her heel and started for the door at a rapid clip. Halfway to salvation, a hand clamped down on her wrist and yanked her back. She slammed into his chest, hard. Her momentum nearly toppled the wobbly man, and on instinct, she reached out to steady him.

  Somehow, they ended up in reversed positions, with him now blocking her path to the door.

  Shit.

  “He thinks he’s so fucking tough. They all do. Think they’re untouchable. Well, they have no idea what’s coming for them. No idea how your father is going to burn their club to the ground.”

  Holly’s belly ached like her stomach acids were burning a hole straight through every layer of the organ. Now, when LJ asked, she’d have to tell him Rick touched her. That thought almost made her more nauseated than thinking of her father’s scheme to take down the motorcycle club.

  “Rick, I need to leave, and I think you need to stop drinking and lie down for a bit.” Would he even remember this encounter in the morning? Would he wake wondering what the fuck happened and curious over the fact he couldn’t recall a single moment of the concert?

  “Sure, LJ’s big,” Rick went on, with a laugh. He tried to take a step closer to her but ended up listing too far to the right and careening into the wall. “He’s a big motherfucker, but I bet he can’t fight for shit. Bet I could fucking take him.”

  Take him where? What was going on? Holly could barely follow this conversation. Before she had the chance to respond, Rick jumped and somehow managed to land in a fighter’s stance without falling flat on his face. “I could so fucking take him.”

  She’d landed herself in a scene straight out of a kung-fu movie.

  Rick bounced on the balls of his feet then quickly air-punched through some kind of boxing combination. He had large hands and meaty fists. With each bounce, he inched closer to Holly until one fist whizzed by, way too close to her head. “Jesus, Rick. Watch where you’re swinging those things! You almost took me out.”

  With a laugh, he continued to fight an invisible opponent with all the coordination of a jellyfish. After a few more punches, he lunged forward as he threw a jab with his left. His damn fist came within an inch of her nose. So close, Holly had to jerk back to avoid a bloody nose. “Rick, seriously!” she said, practically yelling this time. Something had to snap him out of his drunken biker hatred.

  “I’d lay him out flat, Holly. Mark my word, that biker won’t stand a chance against me.”

  “Rick!” she shouted. Another fist aiming for an invisible LJ came flying toward her face. Holly tried to dodge it, but Rick’s aim and depth perception had been shot to shit a few beers ago. His fist connected with the tender cheekbone just below her right eye with the force of a Mack truck.

  “Oh, ow!” Holly cried as pain made her face feel like it had exploded into a thousand pieces.

  “Fuck!” Rick said. He lurched toward her and Holly wasn’t able to stop him since she’d doubled over, cradling her throbbing face.

  “Don’t touch me,” she screamed as he tried to lift her upper body. She wrenched away only to whack the back of her head against the wall. Fuck this night sucked a big one.

  “I didn’t mean it,” Rick said, suddenly seeming almost sober. “Let me take a look.”

  “No!” She scurried past him, te
ars streaming down the right side of her face. Shit, the entire thing felt like it was growing by the second. “Please just stay right there.” Sounded like she had a mouthful of cotton balls.

  Finally, Rick respected her wishes and remained in his hallway, with his hands dangling at his sides and a stricken expression.

  Holly tried to run, but each step jolted a shot of agony through her swollen cheek. Instead, she power-walked out the door, down the driveway, and to her car. She practically dove into the driver’s seat then closed the door. Now she had to make the thirty-minute trip back to her house with one eye near swollen shut.

  Then she had to face LJ.

  The thought of it had her opening her door and vomiting onto the asphalt. Or maybe that was the pain, so intense she could barely think. Somehow, she had to find a way to drive, because there was no way in hell, she planned to remain parked outside Rick’s house for more time than absolutely necessary

  Holly closed her one functional eye and leaned back into her seat. After counting to twenty and breathing in and out as slow as possible, she reached up and unfolded the visor mirror.

  “Oh shit,” she breathed. Gruesome was too kind a word to describe the morbid state of her face. The swelling was epic. Her right eye was already rimmed with a deep, dark purple circle and puffed up like a bubble gum bubble. Purple bruising also mottled her jaw. It looked like she’d taken a massive beating instead of just one hard punch.

  Her face needed ice. Unfortunately, it had to wait until she made it home because stopping somewhere wasn’t an option. Not with that face. LJ would be occupied with poker for the next few hours. Maybe she could shoot him a text claiming a stomachache. If she made it to bed before he returned home, she had a chance of postponing his impending detonation until tomorrow.

  Took three tries, but Holly managed to get the keys in the ignition. Two seconds after the engine turned over, her gas light lit like Rudolph’s nose.

  “No,” she whined. “No, no, no, no, no. This cannot be happening.” Her little old Jetta had scary few miles between the empty light igniting and running out of gas. She’d never make it home without filling her tank.