by Hope Stone
Damn. She had a body that was built for sin.
My eyes greedily drank her in. Her dark hair was damp, as if she’d just finished showering, and that thought caused a mental image to appear that had my body coming to life. Suddenly, this mystery woman turned to look my way, as if she felt my eyes running over her. Bright green orbs stared at me, surrounded by dark eyelashes. She had high cheekbones and a button nose, but it was her mouth that drew my attention, with its perfect Cupid’s bow lips. I’d never felt such an instant attraction to a woman before. Every part of my body hardened just from looking at her.
She was watching me too, seemingly unable to tear her eyes away from my heated stare. The woman was still walking down the sidewalk, but I had distracted her. Her foot caught on a raised section of the sidewalk, making her stumble forward. It happened so quickly, and before I could even react, she had gone down on the concrete, barely throwing her hand out in time.
“Shit,” I muttered. Bringing my bike over to the curb, I brought down the kickstand and hopped off, hurrying to her. She was already getting back to her feet by the time I reached her, looking down at her scraped palm with a frown and reddening cheeks. “Are you okay?” I asked, stopping beside her. I reached out to place a hand on her back, but she flinched, so I pulled my hand back.
“Uh… yeah,” she said, shrugging as if it was no big deal.
“Are you hurt?”
“Well, my pride is a little bruised, but other than that, I’ll be fine.” She gave me a weak smile, a blush still coloring her cheeks. I smirked. It looked like my girl was a tough one.
Wait a minute. My girl? Where did that thought come from? I didn’t even know this woman’s name.
“What about your hand?” I asked even as she fisted it and brought it to her side, clearly trying to hide the wound from my view.
“I’ve had worse.”
I didn’t like that at all. Her matter-of-fact tone made it seem like her words didn’t matter, but they sure as hell did to me. I wasn’t even sure why.
“I’m Trainer,” I said, sticking out my hand for her to shake. It occurred to me that some women might be intimidated by a biker guy approaching them on the street, especially one that looked like me. I was big. Not just muscular, but broad and tall. But this woman didn’t look scared.
In fact, now that I was closer to her, I could see that she was a fighter. I wasn’t sure exactly how I could tell, maybe it was something in her eyes or the way she held herself, but I had the distinct impression that I was looking at a warrior right now.
“Erica,” she said, taking my hand with her uninjured one and giving it a surprisingly firm shake.
“Hey, Trainer.” I turned and saw that Swole had just walked out of the gym, shrugging on her jacket with the patch sewed into the back. “You coming to the meeting?”
Swole’s eyes went back and forth between me and Erica, lingering on our hands, which were still clasped together. I quickly let go, immediately missing her warmth.
What was going on with me? I felt almost frazzled around this woman, which was so out of character for me.
“Yeah. Sure,” I replied. “See ya around.” I nodded to Erica, who was still looking at me like I was somehow fascinating.
“Right. Nice to meet you,” she said. Then, turning to Swole, she said, “And I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Swole walked to the curb, waiting for the traffic to thin out so she could cross, while I mounted my bike once again, driving it across the street to the bar. I was damn close to being late for the meeting, but for once, I didn’t care. My mind was too preoccupied with a brunette. I couldn’t resist looking back across the street once I’d parked in The Blue Dog’s parking lot, but she was already gone.
Erica
Don’t even think about it.
I had to repeat this to myself three times as I watched Trainer throw a thick leg over his motorcycle and ride it to the bar across the street. I couldn’t let myself get involved with a man right now. Maybe not ever again.
Hadn’t I learned my lesson? Men were trouble.
And this man? The leather-bound mountain of a man that looked just a little too wild with his curly black hair and full, matching beard? There was no way hooking up with him would be a good idea.
Yet I didn’t get any feelings of menace from him. I could barely register anything other than the desire flooding my body. I hadn’t felt this attracted to a man in years, if ever. Maybe it was that wild quality that I knew should keep me away. Maybe it was the muscles that I could tell he had, even under his leather jacket. Maybe it was the concern in his eyes when he hopped off the bike to make sure I was okay.
It didn’t matter. I needed to focus on building a life for my son and keeping both of us safe. I didn’t need a sexy distraction.
Besides, it probably wasn’t a mutual attraction. Mortification slammed into me as I recalled my tumble onto the sidewalk. I’d gotten too distracted ogling Trainer and humiliated myself. He must have thought I was such an idiot…
With that thought in mind, I turned away from The Blue Dog and made my way down the sidewalk. Getting into my car, I checked the time on my cheap burner phone. I had ten minutes before I had to pick Dominic up from the babysitter.
I hated being away from him, especially now that we were in hiding from Jeff, but after I’d met with Swole on Friday, I had known that I had no choice. To my delight, I got the job teaching yoga classes at the fitness studio.
When I showed up asking about an application that afternoon, Swole had been standing at the front counter. She had introduced herself to me as Susie Holt, and I almost laughed. She did not look like a Susie. When she asked that I call her by her nickname, Swole, I quickly agreed. Somehow, that name suited her much better.
Swole invited me into her office for an interview on the spot, even with Dominic tagging along. Of course, a seven-year-old boy wasn’t going to sit by quietly while adults talked, especially not after consuming all the sugar in a banana split. I was nervous about his presence tanking the interview, but Swole shocked me by pulling a box of Legos out of the bottom drawer of her desk and inviting Dominic to scoot his chair closer to the edge of her desk and play with them. When I sent her a questioning look, she showed me a picture on her desk of herself with another woman and a little boy that couldn’t be older than five. Apparently, her wife worked at the fitness center too, and their son often spent time there after school.
Just like that, I relaxed. Swole might be the most muscular woman I’d ever seen - hell, she was built bigger than most men I knew - and I sensed that she was not a woman to be trifled with, but hearing the affection in her voice when she spoke about her son made me feel like we had some common ground.
Still, I knew it was a long shot when we started talking about the position. I had to admit that I had never taught yoga before, but I was quick to assure her that I was no novice. I had been doing yoga for years, ever since I had started to get back into shape when Dominic was born.
Swole seemed completely on board, despite my inexperience, until I confessed that I needed to be paid in cash, with no paper trail. She had paused and stared at me for a long time through narrowed eyes. I felt like I was under a microscope and had to force myself not to squirm. She must have seen something revealing in my expression, because hers softened, and she told me that we could work something out.
I could hardly believe my luck and spent the whole weekend researching tips and techniques for teaching yoga. The toughest thing was finding a babysitter for Dominic. Jeff had kept us isolated as well as he could for so long that I wasn’t used to being away from my son for any length of time. Add in the looming threat of Jeff somehow hunting us down, and I was a nervous wreck about dropping him off with a sitter.
But I understood that this was a part of life as a single mother.
So I turned to social media. Finding a mom group in the area, I asked for recommendations. That was how I found a former elementary school teacher named Jennife
r that had an in-home daycare. The other three children she babysat were around Dominic’s age, and all of their mothers sang her praises. I just hoped that Dominic made friends with the others. He needed a few friends. We both did.
Starting the car, I merged into traffic. The babysitter’s house was on the opposite side of La Playa, but it was worth the drive to know that Dominic was in good hands. I gripped the steering wheel, and a stinging sensation in my left hand reminded me that I had a scrape to tend to when we got home. I hadn’t been lying to Trainer when I said that I’d had worse. There were still bruises on my ribs that ached worse than this flesh wound. Jeff’s obsession with appearances meant that he was always careful when he took his anger out on me. The last thing he wanted was for anyone to see the bruises. It would tarnish his reputation. My face was off-limits. Usually my arms too. But parts of my body that were always covered by clothes were free game.
Bastard.
I tried to force those thoughts to the back of my mind as I neared the babysitter’s house. I needed to wear my poker face for Dominic.
When I rang the doorbell of Jennifer’s house, the thundering sound of running feet could be heard on the other side of the door.
“Don’t answer the door, guys. Only adults can do that.” Jennifer’s patient voice could be heard clearly.
“But it’s my dad,” a young girl’s voice replied.
“Huh-uh,” a boy replied. “It’s my mom.”
I didn’t hear Dominic’s voice, but I hoped that he was there with the other kids.
“Why don’t you let me open it, and we’ll see?” Jennifer suggested.
When she pulled open the door, I was met with four eager faces staring up at me, practically buzzing with excitement.
“Ha!” Dominic cried out triumphantly. “It’s mine.”
The kids all jostled each other playfully, and I felt a stinging at the back of my eyes. I had never seen him like this. So carefree and playful. It was like he’d always repressed a part of himself before now, and he was starting to open himself up and be a kid for the first time. We had been in La Playa less than a week, and the kid was blossoming.
“How was he?” I asked Jennifer, glad that my voice didn’t betray how choked up I felt. I stepped inside, closing the door behind myself. The kids were thoroughly distracted by their chattering, not paying any attention to the two of us.
“A little shy at first,” Jennifer said, watching the kids as we talked. “But, as you can see, he started coming out of his shell after a while.”
I could see that. I just hoped that he remembered our story. Even telling other children the truth about us could put us in danger.
We left Jennifer’s house shortly after that, driving to our new home. I passed three motorcycles on the way, making me think of Trainer. I’d never been on a bike before, and the idea of being on the back of his Harley, with our bodies pressed tightly together, made a warm pool in my belly.
So much for not thinking about it.
“So how did you like Jennifer’s?” I asked Dominic, who had been quietly sitting in his booster seat, playing with an old Gameboy that had been mine when I was a child. I’d come across it when I was preparing to leave Jeff and gave it to Dominic to give him something to do on the long drive here.
“It was fun,” he said. I glanced in the rearview mirror and saw that he wasn’t even looking up from the game system in his hand. Well, I guessed that I couldn’t exactly expect to compete with the game for his full attention.
“And you liked the other kids? What did you guys talk about?”
Now he paused the game and looked up at me, probably hearing the concern in my voice. “I remembered everything you told me,” he assured me, sounding so much like an adult that I immediately wanted to end the conversation. But I couldn’t.
“Our name? Where we’re from? Who your dad is?”
“Yeah. I told you.”
“Okay, I believe you.”
I had no choice. I couldn’t be with him twenty-four hours a day.
When we pulled up in front of the duplex, I got my first glimpse of my neighbor. In the days that we had been living here, I had heard the neighbors plenty, mostly shouting matches between a man and woman or a child screaming in the way that toddlers do when throwing a fit, but I hadn’t actually caught sight of a person.
The woman was sitting in a lawn chair on her half of the front porch, smoking a cigarette. Her hair was in a messy bun, and she was wearing bright pink pajama pants and a large hooded sweatshirt. She eyed us curiously as I helped Dominic out of the car. It came as no surprise when she spoke to me as we climbed the porch steps.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“Go on inside,” I told Dominic, handing him the house key. I didn’t want to be stuck up, but I didn’t like the look of this woman. She had an almost predatory look in her eye that I didn’t trust. I would do the neighborly thing and talk to her, but I didn’t want Dominic to be a part of it. “I’m Erica. Erica Mills.”
I was holding my gym bag in one hand and my burner phone in the other, which were good excuses not to offer to shake her hand without seeming rude.
“Erica, huh?” she said, taking a long drag off her cigarette. “You don’t look like an Erica.”
I wasn’t sure how to respond to that, but it made a sliver of unease trail down my spine because it wasn’t my real name.
“I’m Talia,” she said, rising from her chair. As she moved closer to me, so that only the half-wall dividing the porch separated us, a cloud of smoke drifted toward me, and I couldn’t suppress a cough. “Was that your little boy?”
“Yeah.” Of course it was. “That’s Dominic.”
“I’ve seen you guys coming and going. No man, though. His dad a deadbeat?”
I was surprised to hear that she’d seen us. Was she watching us through her windows?
“I’m a widow,” I said, following the story I’d made up and not elaborating.
“Damn, girl. That sucks. Even though I sometimes wish my old man would bite the big one.” She laughed like she’d told me a hilarious joke. My dislike grew.
I studied Talia. She might be around my age of twenty-seven, but it was hard to tell. She was rough around the edges, with dark circles under her eyes and dull brown eyes. She was thin, almost too thin, and her skin seemed loose, the way it would if she’d lost weight very quickly. I knew it was shitty to make assumptions, but I couldn’t help thinking that she looked like she used some kind of heavy drugs. She was definitely not a healthy person.
“You live here with your husband?” I asked, wondering if that was the person I’d heard her arguing with nearly every evening.
“Nah.” She shook her head and dropped her cigarette butt onto her side of the porch, where it joined at least a dozen others. “We ain’t married, but he’s my kid’s dad. So I guess I’m stuck with him.”
She didn’t actually sound sad about that. It was more like she was telling a joke. She clearly had no idea what it was like to really be stuck with a man. It wasn’t amusing in the least.
But I knew that she had no knowledge of my personal situation.
“What’s your story?” Talia asked. “Why did you come to La Playa?”
I was spared having to answer as we were both distracted by the roar of a motorcycle’s engine as it rounded the corner. How many people around here are bikers?
Talia stepped away from me, a smile stretching across her face. The man on the bike came up onto the sidewalk, parking it on the walkway leading to their side of the porch. When he dismounted, his back was to me for a brief moment, and I saw that the patch on the back of his jacket was different than the one I had spotted on Swole’s and Trainer’s jackets. This one had a skull with a bullet between its teeth and the words Las Balas. It looked… sinister. I wasn’t sure what else I expected from a motorcycle club emblem, but for some reason, the sight of it made a shiver go down my spine.
I stood there awkwardly, watching as T
alia met the man at the porch steps, jumping into his arms and wrapping her legs around his waist. They kissed, and I decided it was a good time to take my leave. I was no prude and was harboring some dirty thoughts about a hunky biker myself, but watching my neighbors share this intimate moment was not my idea of a good time. And leaving gave me an easy out of the conversation.
I went into the house and started cooking dinner for Dominic, determining that it would be best to avoid the neighbors as much as possible. I wasn’t sure how easy that would be in a shared duplex, but I was going to try. Something in my gut told me that they were the kind of trouble I didn’t need.
Trainer
Rock music was blaring in the garage as I put the Triumph up on the center stand. It was a new purchase and didn’t require a ton of work, but I still thought that I could fix it up a bit and sell it for a profit. First things first, the thing was overdue for an oil change. Removing the drain plug, I let the old oil leak out into the drain pan while I sipped on my bottle of beer. It always took a while to make sure all the old shit was completely out, but I didn’t mind. It was worth taking my time and doing it right.
Once the oil had finished draining, I replaced the filter with a new one and added fresh oil. Letting the bike run for a few minutes so that the oil could work through the system, I washed my hands in the old utility sink in the corner of the garage.
Ortega’s Auto used to be owned by our old president, Padre, but since his death, ownership had transferred to his brother. Since he had enough on his plate with The Blue Dog, Padre had allowed Ryder to pretty much take over running the auto shop. It worked out well that way since Ryder had been working at the shop for years.
I wasn’t an employee of Ortega’s Auto, but Ryder let me use the shop to fix up my bikes, as long as I bought my own parts and tools. I didn’t have a garage at the apartment complex, so it was a lifesaver.