by C. L. Riley
“Absolutely, and great boundaries by the way. Most people don’t think to set up perimeters before talking.”
The way she compliments and encourages me has erased most of my apprehension. It’s now or never.
I start with my parents’ Christmas car accident and work my way through the years, from my aunt and uncle, to Brain Matters and Dr. Martin, and finishing with everything Rowdy, including what I think is a perverse desire for kinky sexual practices.
Glancing up at the wall clock, I’m shocked to see an hour has passed. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry. I never expected to take so long. Are you even awake?” Either Olympia honored my request for silence, or she passed out at some point during my extended dialogue.
“Um, not sure how you can think for one second I’d fall asleep. Seriously, you had me totally invested at the one minute mark. Are you ready for some feedback?”
Am I?
I’ve taken things this far. I might as well follow through to the end. “Please, say something. Anything.” I hate how insecure I sound, but I’ve invited criticism and judgement from someone I look up to.
“Well, for starters, you are brave, courageous, inspirational, and a miracle. I am so proud of you for sharing your story. I’m honored you chose me to listen, and I can’t tell you how thrilled I am you and Rowdy found each other.”
“Thank you. Wow. Today is the first time I’ve ever shared my entire history, earlier with Rowdy and now with you. It was actually your story and experiences that inspired me to open up. I’ve wanted a pair of those damn butterfly wings for the longest!” I let out a nervous giggle. I can’t help it. Today has been life changing. The freedom I felt following my afternoon sob session has been magnified a million times over.
I’m about to say so when I realize she hasn’t addressed my queries about sex. Those questions were probably TMI, even for Olympia. I wait in silence, uncertain how to proceed.
“Did I lose you?” she asks. “There’s more I’d like to say, if you’re up for it.”
“I’m here and definitely up. So lay it on me.”
She laughs softly. “We have a lot more in common than our pasts. The things you said about pleasure and pain, I can relate. I’m the same way. I think I’ve always been. I thought I was strange too, but Boone showed me there are plenty of men and women, just like us, who enjoy unconventional, sexual experiences. We even belong to a sex club for people into BDSM.”
“You mean like Fifty Shades BDSM?”
“No, I mean like us. Don’t get me wrong. I have mad respect for what Fifty Shades did and continues to do. It opened a door many women viewed as too taboo to walk through, and it prompted women to learn more about non-traditional relationships. But the lifestyle is so much bigger and diverse than portrayed in that series. The only limits are the ones you create with your partner.
“So don’t be afraid to accept this part of you. Once I quit feeling embarrassed and ashamed over my preferences, everything changed for the better. I believe it will be the same for you.”
With Olympia’s candid explanation, another weight has lifted, and I’m about to say so when shadowy figure moves across the front window. The clear skies and resulting moonlight leave no doubt the shape belongs to a bulky man.
“Shit!” I hiss.
“What? What’s wrong?”
“Someone’s outside.”
“Get Rowdy and stay on the phone. I’ll be right back.”
Before I can get to my feet, Rowdy is in the living room. “Babe, what’s going on? Who are you talking to?”
I can’t speak. Instead I glance toward the window.
Rowdy disappears for half a second and returns, gun in hand. He tilts his head to the left, indicating I should go to the kitchen. I move as quickly as my legs will carry me, keeping the phone pressed to my ear.
Olympia’s returning voice shocks me, and I almost drop the cell. “Trina, it’s okay. I think I know what’s going on. Boone and Rowdy have your property under surveillance. Boone just called to check in with them. TJ, one of the guys, was making a round of the house. I’m sure that’s who you saw, but they’re confirming.”
“Uh. Okay.” I let out a sigh, suddenly exhausted.
“Is Rowdy with you?”
“He’s talking to someone by the door. I’m going to go. Can I call you tomorrow?”
Olympia’s laughter makes me smile in spite of any potential prowlers or unidentified personal protectors.
“Did you just ask me for permission to call? For real? We’re sisters now. Forget friends, we’ve moved galaxies beyond friendship. You have a new family, Trina. Welcome home.”
Home.
The old saying “home is where the heart is” makes sense for the first time.
My heart is home to stay.
Dr. Martin
“What hap-p-ened?” Cheryl stutters as she shakes her head, fighting off chemically induced cobwebs, compliments of one of my cocktails.
I can’t decide whether to alarm her further or play friend and ally for a while longer.
“This is a nice place.” She makes a half-hearted attempt to rise from the plush sofa but quickly changes her mind, too wobbly to continue. “Is it yours?”
“It is one of my residences. As for what happened, what do you think happened?”
I’m behind the full-service bar, pouring myself a scotch, watching her intently, searching for signs of fear.
Her eyelids droop, and she once again shakes her head, struggling to stay awake and remember. “We went to the police station?”
“You tell me.” I raise my glass in a mock toast. “Did we?”
For the first time, frustration and a hint of fear make an appearance. “Why are we here? I want to go to my hotel.”
I stalk across the room, stopping to stand over her and throwing off my most intimidating vibe.
She shrinks back and clutches a nearby pillow.
Satisfied with her reaction, I step away and drop into the sole recliner, stretching my legs before nudging my shoes off. She continues to watch warily as I down my drink.
The warmth spreads through my stomach and spirals outward into my limbs. Enjoying the sensations, I flash a friendly smile meant to confuse her even more.
She will be hard pressed to label me friend or foe.
For now, I need her alive, which means playtime will require modifications, making me a temporary friend of sorts.
“My hotel?” she persists, her confidence returning. “Can you drive me?”
“I’m afraid your hotel is off limits. You became highly intoxicated during dinner, after first offending a few of Seattle’s finest.” Of course she did neither of those things, but I revel in her increasing agitation.
“But—”
“Shush. You will stay with me tonight. We’ll talk in the morning.”
I’m on my feet, hand extended, before she can protest. She accepts my assistance, and I help her up.
Unsteady, she sways against me, and I take the opportunity to explore her lithe body over her clothing. She squirms, attempting to dislodge my groping hands.
“Now, now, is that any way to treat your host?”
“Get your hands off me,” she whispers harshly. “I’ll call a cab.”
Bored with our exchange, I give her a shove and backhand her with enough force to send her sailing. She collides first with one of my Tiffany lamps and then lands with a solid thump. The lamp teeters before ending up on the floor beside her.
“Oh dear, look what you’ve done,” I scold, not really angry. “Let’s get you to bed. We can continue this tomorrow. Until then, I can promise one thing. Once I’m done with you, I’ll find your friend. When she discovers you’re with me, she will come running to the rescue.”
Surprised by her silence, I turn on another light. “Fuck. I didn’t mean to knock you unconscious.” Her face has gone slack and her eyes are closed; a trickle of crimson trails from her nose over her lips, but her breathing is steady.
&n
bsp; I am tired all of a sudden. Perhaps a night of rest will do us both good. Once I get her in bed, I’ll restrain her and treat her wound.
Tomorrow will arrive soon enough, giving us plenty of time to play.
Rowdy
Trina is tucked against me, sleeping peacefully, and I’m struggling without success to find my way back to dreamland.
The bedside clock read 3:12am when I was yanked awake, only to find my ol’ lady gone and her side of the bed cold. Fear, like nothing I’ve ever experienced, formed an instant vice-like grip around my heart, squeezing tightly.
I allowed the resulting adrenaline to fuel me and charged from my bedroom straight to the living room, where I found Trina on the phone.
First I was relieved and then alarmed all over again.
Who the hell is she talking to at this hour? Is she trying to leave? Those were the questions responsible for changing my fear for her safety into a very different type of fear. The strange, secondary fear was altogether unfamiliar and far more uncomfortable.
Just the idea of something or someone, stealing Trina away, propelled me into a state of panic. Panic worse than the day I’d expected to find Olympia dead in Ringo’s beach house.
Call me pussy-whipped, hooked, in love...whatever. I really don’t give a fuck.
Trina Templeton burrowed her way into my heart. Any attempt to remove her now would splinter my soul into pieces.
Unsure how to react to my shocking new insights, it took me longer than it should have before I realized she was no longer talking. And then I looked closer, my own insecurities immediately forgotten.
Trina stood frozen with the phone pressed to her ear, her gaze darting from me to the front window.
It didn’t take but another few seconds to determine what was going on.
She’d finally spotted our security detail.
We dealt with that situation, and once I introduced her to Boone’s men, she let me lead her back to bed, where she finally explained she’d been talking to Olympia and would fill me in tomorrow.
A kiss. A cuddle. Bam. She was out for the count, leaving me still uneasy with my cock rock hard—a crazy combination.
What I need is to fuck Trina or kill someone...preferably two someones, as soon as possible.
I don’t want to wake her, so sex is off the menu—for now.
To distract myself from her tempting body I disregard the time and text Demon, insisting he call me once he’s up for the day.
Being a good friend and an even better soldier, he messages me right back to make certain I can wait that long. I want to say no, but in truth, I need time to unravel my knotted up thoughts. I tell him to be ready for some dirty work and leave it at that.
So, here I am, still unravelling, and not just thoughts.
I. Am. Unraveling.
The first woman I’ve ever truly loved is in danger.
There are two, sick sonofabitches out there somewhere. They shouldn’t be breathing. It is up to me to ensure their future breaths are limited.
Trina shifts against me with a soft sigh, drawing my attention to her face. She looks so serene. I’m actually a little envious, but the feeling quickly evaporates and is replaced by relief.
The woman I love has been through so much. She deserves a good night sleep. I like to think I’m the reason she’s enjoying one. Yet even with her breathing steadily and sleeping against my side, there is no way I’ll be joining her anytime soon. Not with everything I need to accomplish jockeying for position on my growing list of unpleasant tasks.
At least the top tasks are easy to identify.
I just need to figure out which asshole to kill first—hotshot doctor or perverted uncle with a preference for princesses. Too bad I can’t find a way to take them out together.
Leaning over, I press my lips to Trina’s hair, breathing in the fruity fragrance. She smells like innocence and seduction wrapped up in one delicious package I’m desperate to unwrap all over again, but she needs her rest, and I need to work off the rage rippling just beneath my cool exterior.
Careful not to wake her, I slide out of bed and head for my personal gym, and it’s not the yoga mats I’m looking for. I have a very specific piece of equipment in mind.
The punching bag is about to get a serious pummelling.
.
Rowdy
I peel off the hand wraps and attempt to shake off the gnawing cramp in my left wrist. The bag continues to swing like a pendulum, halfway to hypnotizing me.
If it was a man, he’d be on his ass, unconscious...or worse.
I’m tempted to give my favorite apparatus a final fist to the middle but refrain. My bad hand is starting to protest the damage I inflicted, so instead of doing more harm, I massage the spot just below my palm that hurts the most and imagine the lecture Trina will give me for my reckless workout.
My phone vibrates. I suspect it’s Demon. He’s an early riser and is no doubt curious about my middle of the night text.
With my better hand, I towel off the sweat from my face while reaching for my phone with the other. “What’s up?”
In response to my casual greeting, Demon grumps something about me waking him up and leaving him hanging. I let him have his moment to grumble before I get down to the business at hand―finding and disposing of two psycho fuckers that need a date with the devil’s pitchfork, right along with Ringo and Pyro. I also press for the report I’ve been waiting on. The report his family hasn’t delivered.
“What do you mean they won’t give it up? I paid for the information.” The fury I released moments ago is quickly rising back to the surface. “What kind of investigation?” I demand, not understanding why his family feels the need to keep the details of their research, into my ol’ lady, for themselves. It makes no sense.
I have to practically bite my tongue and force myself to listen as Demon explains what he knows, which isn’t much.
Amid Demon’s half-hearted, excuse attempts, I’m able to salvage a few scraps of information that sour my mood even more.
It appears a person his family is interested in has ties to Trina. They assured Demon the intel would be available soon. For me it isn’t soon enough.
Even Demon admits the whole situation is strange. Yet as satisfying as it is to know he agrees for once, it’s not enough to solve the problem. And the problem keeps multiplying into more problems, because not only is Trina a serial killer’s obsession, but she’s also got the Russian mob looking her direction.
It’s definitely time for another sit down with Boone and his guys. I need to increase our security.
Hanging up with Demon, I’m besieged by the craziest thought. I want to marry Trina―today.
In spite of the imminent danger and any future bloodshed, I feel compelled to make our relationship official.
I’ve never been a huge advocate for marriage; in fact, I was the exact opposite, at least until a few hours ago, when I handed my heart to my nurse and admitted it had been completely and utterly claimed by her alone.
Since my revelation and Trina’s questions about being my ol’ lady or girlfriend, I get calling her my queen isn’t good enough. I want to call her my wife, and I want us to be connected in a way people outside the biker community know she belongs with me.
Maybe a trip to Vegas, where wedding bells ring twenty-four-seven, is in order, not to mention, leaving danger behind for a few days would be an added bonus to our nuptials. Acting on my impulse for vengeance might become too tempting if I stay.
Demon will be busy searching for all things Dr. Martin and Uncle-Freak-Show related. And I’ll make sure Boone’s tech guy is looking for a way to corner Dr. Martin too. At the moment, Trina’s former boss is the most active threat.
As much as I want to, charging up to Seattle without a solid game plan would be foolish, suicidal even. The doctor has managed to avoid detection by sticking to a meticulous plan of his own. We know nothing about the private security or any other connections he may have at his d
isposal. Those things need to be accounted for and remedied first if we expect success.
Bringing him down means no mistakes, so I’ll let the guys collect what we need first and destroy him the right way, at the right time.
Feeling slightly better with a plan taking shape, I make a quick call to Boone and Olympia, inviting them to join me and Trina for a short trip to Sin City.
After some major cajoling and the offer to pay their airfare and hotel costs, I convince Boone his men can handle things here for a few days without him.
Olympia is on board with my plan immediately, thrilled to be a part of what I hope is my first and only wedding day. Boone’s hesitation has far more to do with his fear of flying, something Olympia accidently blurted out, than any security issues.
With the trip scheduled and the details handled, I finally step into the shower attached to the workout room. I lean forward, palms against the tiles, letting my arms absorb my weight while my head falls forward. The hot water pounds against my shoulders, working away at the tension as it rolls down my back.
After a few long minutes in the same position, I fumble for the soap. Before I get my fingers around it, the glass door slides open. A cold blast and Trina’s delicious scent invade my bubble of warmth. I forget the frigid air when the door clicks shuts and gentle hands trail downward, finger tips tracing my coiled muscles, eventually finding their home on my hips.
“Sorry if I woke you, babe,” I say without turning, surprised Trina sought me out. It’s a fight to keep my voice steady with her warm breath so close to my skin. And of course my cock has taken notice of her gentle touch, eager to reciprocate.
Her response to my glaring arousal is to press her naked body against my back and take the soap I was reaching for.
Curious to what she has in mind, I once again position my hands against the wall and wait. I don’t have to wait long to discover her intentions. First a Jacuzzi bath and now shower sex. I have no complaints when it comes water sports.
After she finishes whatever she’s up to, I’ll return the favor. Our flight isn’t until 2:30.