by Tess Oliver
Clint twisted back. “Oh, come on, hot stuff, I was only kidding. Come take our order and I promise to keep my dirty thoughts in my head.”
Some customers were scrunching down in their seats trying to ignore them and others were calling for their checks and doggie bags. Frank, the owner, came across the floor to talk to Clint. He lowered his voice, and the three smirked rudely up at him. Frank was a thin, older man with slightly hunched shoulders, who looked rightfully intimidated by these customers.
“How bad does it have to get before he gives the cops a call?” I asked.
Ben took a convenient bite of steak, obviously trying to avoid an answer. Patience was my thing. I waited. He swallowed and took a swig of beer.
“We try not to call them unless it’s really necessary— you know the whole crying wolf thing. If they drive over here for nothing, it takes them a little longer the next time.”
“So, they are basically worthless.”
“In a sense.” He quickly took another bite to put an end to the conversation.
I was relieved to see Frank take their order. Minutes later, Esme walked back out on the floor with a stack of napkins. She delivered them to a table near the window. As she walked back, Clint reached his hand out as if he was planning to grab her. I dropped my fork, and it clanged on the plate drawing some attention my way. Clint lowered his arm and sat back, pleased that he’d gotten a reaction out of me.
Even though Ben was focused on his steak, he hadn’t missed any of it. “Seems to me, Clint has taken a much bigger interest in you than in Esme. He’s just stupid enough to think he can take someone like you on. Or maybe he’s just trying to prove something to that big scary looking friend of his.”
I sat back and drank some beer. Keeping my cool had been my signature talent in the club, but at the moment, I was losing grip on that skill. It was a combination of hating this guy, Clint, and being nuts about Esme. I was being over protective and possessive and everything else that went with falling hard for someone. And while I couldn’t control that, I could control my temper and my urge to throw a fist at Clint. Maybe.
“Aren’t you going to finish that steak?” Ben asked.
“Yeah, I’m working on it.” I picked up my knife and fork. The steak was great, but the restaurant ambience was ruining the meal completely.
A few minutes later, Esme came into the room with a tray. Frank had taken the order but had left her with the task of delivering food. Her mouth was pulled tight as she lowered the plates in front of them. The last plate was set in front of Clint. He nodded a thank you, and it seemed that was the end of it. But when Esme turned to leave, Clint’s hand came up and slid under her skirt. Esme gasped and dropped the tray. His buddies broke out in laughter.
Ben looked at me with wide eyes.
“Sorry, Ben, I tried.” My chair scraped the floor as I stood.
Clint’s cold scowl shot my way and then I caught a spark of fear in his eyes as I walked toward him.
Esme turned and saw me. “I’m all right,” she said quickly, but it didn’t matter now. I had a switch, and once it was turned on not much could turn it off. And Clint had turned it the fuck on.
Clint’s eyes rounded as he scooted his chair back, but I didn’t give him time to get to his feet. I grabbed the hood of his sweatshirt. He fell sideways with his chair. It followed him for a few feet as I dragged him across the floor like a sack of potatoes. He reached up and grabbed at my arm, but I held him firmly. His big pal and brother followed as I kicked open the door of the restaurant and pulled him outside. Several people strolling by stepped back in shock as I tossed him out onto the walkway. His face was red with rage as he got to his feet and lunged at me. I grabbed him and threw him to the ground.
“Cash,” Esme cried out.
I swung around. The big man threw his fist at me. It hit me squarely on the jaw and made my head ring, but the sight of his gleaming switchblade coming at my throat cleared my head fast. A crowd had gathered along the pier and front of the restaurant. Ben’s worried face stuck out among the onlookers.
My arm intercepted the hand wielding the blade. My fingers seized his forearm, and I wrenched it around at an odd angle, causing him to drop the knife. I kicked it out of reach and continued to twist his arm. He flailed his free arm at me but missed. I yanked up on the arm I held. The sound of his shoulder popping sent a shocked gasp around the spectators.
The man stumbled sideways in pain and then his fist came around like a torpedo. He landed an effective one to my gut, and I doubled over as the air rushed out of me.
During my brief struggle to regain my wind, Clint had grabbed Esme. He held her in front of him now with his hand wrapped around her throat.
My ribs ached as I straightened. Clint’s brother didn’t seem interested in jumping into the fray. But the other guy wasn’t done, and I was pissed as hell now. Rage and pain blurred my thoughts, and all I could think was that I was going to kill Clint. Some people scurried back inside to the safety of the restaurant. Others stood nearby as if they were watching a movie or a play unfold in front of them.
Clint’s buddy came at me. My fist cracked bone as it made contact. Blood spurted from his face. He dropped to his knees like a felled giant, and my foot shot forward. He flew back and landed like a beached whale on the dock. I wasn’t in the village anymore. I was back with Bedlam fighting off rival members. I was back in survival mode. ‘Get them before they get you’ was the club motto in a fight, and I was better at it than most.
I spun around to Clint. Esme looked terrified, and her captor looked pretty damn scared too. I held out my hands in surrender. “Let her go, and I’ll let you walk away from here,” I said.
His laughed bordered on hysterical. “I’ve got her neck in my hand, and you’re the one bargaining?” Another scared laugh. “I could snap her in two.”
Esme’s face was tear-streaked and pale as she clutched at his arm trying to free herself. From the corner of my eye, I caught a movement. It was Ben wielding a mop. “You let go of that girl right now.” Ben swung the mop at the back of Clint’s head. In his attempt to fend off the mop handle, he released Esme. She stumbled forward, and some of the onlookers caught her and pulled her behind them. Clint grabbed the mop handle, and he jammed it hard toward Ben, knocking him off his feet.
Before Clint could run, I snatched the front of his shirt and punched him. His head snapped back, but I still held him and I punched him again. I was holding him up by his shirt as my fist hit him again. Everything around us blurred. It was just me and the asshole who’d had his hand around Esme’s neck, the sonavabitch who’d pushed Ben to the ground. My knuckles were numb and my hand hurt like hell, but I pounded him again. I was no longer meeting bone. It was mush. His nose was mush. Blood poured from his nostrils. Some of it trickled into his mouth. He coughed and choked on it as he collapsed to his knees. I had passed into that state of this feels fucking good. I wanted to kill this asshole. It was a feeling I knew too well and had despised. But I couldn’t fight it. The instinct was there. I yanked him to his feet and drew my hand back again.
“Cash,” Esme’s soft, wavering voice floated through the darkness that swarmed my head. If it had been anyone else’s, I wouldn’t have heard it. My fist stopped inches from the face, the bloodied, pulp of a face in front of me. Clint could barely open his eyes, and his nose was completely smashed. The rest of him was too covered in blood to see.
“Stop, please.” Esme’s faint plea felt like a knife in my side. What the fuck had I done?
I looked back. Her face was white as smooth marble. Ben was on his feet. His expression mirrored Esme’s. The other faces, too. They were as terrified of me as they’d been of the guys I’d just clobbered.
“Shit.” I released Clint, and Jacob rushed to his side as he dropped to the ground. I ran back toward the street.
“Cash,” Esme called, but I ignored her. She’d just seen the real Cash. And just like Clint and his friend, the real Cash had no busin
ess being in this town.
Chapter 13
Esme
The night before had been so horrid, I woke up trying to convince myself it had never happened. But it had. The shocking scene outside the restaurant had pretty much ended the dinner hour. Clint and the other guy had stumbled away with Jacob’s assistance. I’d walked by Ben’s house on the way home. It was dark, and Cash’s bike wasn’t in the driveway. My house had been dark too. No one was home. So Twister and I had curled up on my bed and I’d cried myself to sleep.
Sunlight shone through the tattered kitchen curtains. Dad was at the table with a bowl of cereal. It seemed I’d found that rare sober moment I’d been looking for. I grabbed a bowl for cereal and pulled up a chair across from him. He peered up to slide the box toward me, and for just a split second, in the rays of light streaming into the kitchen, he reminded me of the man who would play hide and seek and take me on boat rides around the cove. He’d aged way more than he should have in the last ten years. A hard life, bad habits and not giving a damn about his health had robbed him of his natural good looks. My parents had been a head-turning couple at one time, and I remembered beaming with pride as they walked into parent night with me.
I poured the cereal, but my stomach felt sick and my head throbbed.
“Your boy did a number on Clint last night. He’s dangerous. You need to stay away from him from now on.” He plunged a bite of cereal into his mouth.
I stared at him across the table. “Are you fucking kidding me? Just out of the blue you decide to drag out your dad hat and hand out a parental order?”
I startled as his fist pounded the table and milk splashed up and out of his bowl.
“You still live in this house, Esme, and I want you to stay away from him.”
“I won’t be here much longer, Dad.” I’d said it a hundred times, and yet, he always reacted like it was the first time he’d heard of my plans to move out. “And Clint deserved it.”
“No one deserves to be beat like that.”
“He put his hand up my skirt while I was waiting his table!” I had planned to keep my cool, but that plan went south fast. “Don’t you remember what happened three years ago, Daddy? Clint nearly raped me.” Tears streamed down my face. “I can’t believe you guys are hanging out with him. And who is that awful man they’re with? He looks like a murderer. Seton looks like shit. He’s not acting like himself at all. I’ve never seen Seton scared, Dad. Never. Clint deserved everything he got last night.” I broke down in sobs. It seemed there were two things that could still break through the hard, cold shell my dad had erected, tears and calling him Daddy. He got up and pulled me into his arms.
I cried even harder. My tears wet his shirt.
“Shh, Esme, it’ll be all right. Things have gone a little awry, but it’ll be over soon and then Clint and his friends will be on their way.”
I peered up at him. “What’s in the box?”
“What box?”
“The one in the garage.” His confusion disappeared, and his expression hardened.
He lowered his arms. “You don’t need to know everything, and stay the hell out of the garage.” And just like that he changed from comforting dad to angry stranger. “Don’t worry about us. Just worry about that biker. He’s not right for you.”
Frustration had helped stop the flow of tears. “I won’t worry about you. And you don’t need to worry about me.”
I left the kitchen. I slammed the front door shut behind me as I stepped out onto the porch. I pulled my sweatshirt hood up and shoved my mass of hair under it. My fingers were numb from cold so I stuck my hands deep in my pockets and headed down the street. I had no real place to go, but I needed badly to get away from the house. In fact, getting away from the whole damn town was sounding pretty good too.
It was a long walk to the cove, but it seemed like a good destination on this crappy morning. The holiday displays just looked like cluttered messes during the day, and somehow today, they just seemed silly. It was a town that lived in a fantasy world where the only bad things were people getting sick or a heavy rainstorm coasting inland. Last night’s fight had left people a little shocked and sickened. But it seemed most people were glad Cash had been there to stop Clint and his friends. Only I knew Cash hadn’t seen it that way.
The breeze shooting up from the shore carried tangy moisture. I hunched my shoulders up around my ears. The curvy highway that would eventually lead to the lighthouse and then the cove was in sight.
A bike motor rumbled behind me. At first I was so steeped in my own misery, I ignored it. It was Cash. He raced along the road with no helmet and only a thin t-shirt and jeans. He didn’t see me until he was just yards away. I stood still and stared at him as he passed by. He rode a good hundred feet and then he slowed and turned back. He circled around and stopped several feet in front of me.
I ran to him. The air around the bike and around the man was warm. Cash didn’t look at me or say a word. I threw my leg over the seat and wrapped my arms around his hard stomach. I pressed my cheek against his back.
The bike vibrated beneath us as he pulled out onto the road. The cold wind made my eyes blur, but it zapped the weariness from my head. He turned the bike onto the quiet two lane highway that ran along the coastline. The hood flew off and my wild mass of hair billowed around my shoulders and face. The rush of seeing the road pass beneath us and the ocean slide by next to us was exhilarating. It was easy to understand the appeal of riding a motorcycle.
Cash had been silent and his hands gripped the handlebars tightly as we cruised along at a good pace. His one hand was swollen and red. I pressed against his back and closed my eyes. He was warmth and protection, not danger and trouble like my dad had insisted.
Cash pulled up to the small turnout overlooking the cove. He turned off the motor and we climbed off the bike. Without a word, he started the hike down to the cove. I followed. A large cluster of seagulls sat huddled together on the cold sand, waiting for the sun to warm the air and water. The morning chill seemed determined to stick around. We got down to the sand, and he headed toward the water. I had to take giant steps to keep up with him.
I finally reached up and took hold of his hand. “Cash, it’s all right.”
He stopped and shook his head. “No, it’s not.” Black lashes shaded his eyes. I stepped in front of him. His chin had a long cut on it and there was a black bruise under his eye. He finally looked up at me. There was no self-pity in his face, just a blank, hard expression. He’d already convinced himself that this quest for a new life, a life away from his sketchy, dangerous past was a ridiculous idea. “I’m not right for this town.”
I reached up and lightly touched his bruise. “Good. If you were, I wouldn’t find you so damn intriguing. But it doesn’t matter if you’re not right for this town because this town is right for you. If the guys hadn’t come back—” I shook my head. That was a mute point. They had come, but they weren’t part of Tucker’s Village. “You need a place like this right now. You need someone like me right now.”
He took hold of my hand. “Is that so?”
“Yes. And I know Ben is thrilled to have you helping him.”
He released my hand. “The looks on everybody’s faces last night…And they had every right to look that way. That was the real me, Esme. I’ve killed men with these hands. Fighting and staying alive, that’s been my life. It’s all I know. Trouble and bad shit stick to me like melted gum on a shoe. Crap like last night is all I’ve ever known. Once I got hold of Clint, I couldn’t stop. It felt normal. It felt natural for me to be beating the hell out of him.”
“You might have gone a little overboard, but you were doing it for all the right reasons. Clint deserved it.”
He gazed out at the ocean and didn’t look the slightest bit convinced. “If you hadn’t called my name, if you hadn’t pleaded with me to stop, I might have killed him, right there in front of everyone. I might have killed him.”
“Then I guess
it’s good I was there. After you left, and Jacob helped Clint stumble away, I heard several people, including Ben, say thank goodness Cash was here. They were shocked, of course. We’re talking about a town where neighbors arguing about a sprinkler spraying a car is a big deal. What did Ben say to you after you got home?”
“I went out on my bike last night. He was asleep before I got back and I left without seeing him this morning. I couldn’t face him yet.”
The seagulls had lifted onto spindly legs and were trudging toward us to see if we’d brought food. Several sensed our lack of it immediately and took off for the water. Other more patient and persistent birds decided to wait it out nearby in case we were hiding potato chips in our pockets.
“Take the day off with me,” I said. “I told Frank last night that I was skipping my shift this evening. He understood completely. I haven’t had a whole day off in awhile.”
His enthusiasm didn’t seem to mirror mine.
I pressed my body against his. “Let’s forget about yesterday and the all the yucky crap. As far as I’m concerned, I was hitchhiking on the road and the hottest biker on the planet just pulled over his Harley to give me a ride.”
His arms went around me. “Hmm, this might be going in the just what I need direction.”
“Farther up the highway there is this little motel that is right in between the next two towns. It’s always booked in summer because it’s not as expensive as the places in town. In the winter, it’s practically a ghost town. We could spend the rest of the day there, alone.”
“Just me and my wild little hitchhiker?”
“Yep. Are you interested?”
He peered down at me. Some of the darkness had gone from his face. “I’m way past interested.”