The Four Stages of Loving Dutch Owen

by Debra Kayn

  She caught the sob before it broke free. Out of all her worries, she could never imagine Dutch with anyone else. She imagined him exactly like he was the last time she saw him when he broke her heart.

  She wanted to believe he was mean and angry because he hurt as much as her that they had to stay apart. But she'd been wrong.

  He'd sent her away. Not for her to be free, but so he could move on with his life after he got out of prison.

  "I feel awful. I shouldn't have told you," said Alyssa.

  "No." She cleared her throat. "I asked you to."

  "I know, but—"

  "It's not you." She put her head down on the couch. "I'm just... empty. I should go to bed."

  "Are you going to be okay?"

  "Yeah." She closed her eyes. "Eventually."

  "Call me tomorrow?"

  "I will."

  "Okay. Call if you need me sooner."

  "Mm-hm." She swallowed. "Bye."

  She disconnected the call and dropped the phone to the floor. Curling into herself, she stayed on the couch.

  Dutch had really left her. He wasn't coming back.

  There was only one thing left for her to do.

  Chapter 24

  DUTCH WALKED INTO THE pool hall to meet with Falcon. Already in a bad mood, he wanted to finish business now and go back to Marla Marie's house and wait for her to arrive home.

  He'd gone straight to her place upon arriving in town. Purposely seeking her out first thing when he rode into Moses Lake before it got too late, knowing she probably had to work tomorrow morning.

  "Dutch." Rubble approached him. "Good to see you, man."

  "It's been a while." He clasped the offered hand. "Falcon around?"

  Rubble looked around. "Not yet. Do you want something while you wait?"

  "Nah, I'm good." He took a pack of smokes out of his vest. "I'll hang around until he gets here."

  "Yell if you change your mind." Rubble punched Dutch's shoulder. "We'll get you hooked up."

  "Thanks, brother." He wandered over to the far corner, spotting Mike and Clyde, two longstanding WAKOM members.

  It took a few seconds for Mike to see him standing back from the table, and when his MC brother recognized him, he whooped and came straight to him, crushing him in a bear hug, slapping his back. "You dirty motherfucker. Are you out or on the lamb?"

  "Sons of a bitches opened the gate for me." He chest bumped Mike off him. "I see nothing has changed for you. You're still losing your money, pretending you can shoot a straight game of pool."

  Mike laughed. "Yeah, I still can't play worth shit. Malcolm cleans me out weekly. The asshole."

  Clyde and Buck came over to welcome him back. He bullshitted with them while biding his time, waiting for Falcon. Newly patched members loitered in the building, and the unfamiliar faces drilled in the fact that he'd missed out on five years of changes within the chapters.

  "Hey, babe, bring my brother a beer," shouted Mike, motioning across the room.

  "I'm good, man." He hadn't planned on drinking.

  "Hell, you'll be better with a drink." Mike laughed.

  As soon as the meeting was over, he wanted to go back to Marla Marie's house and see her. To do that, he needed to be cold-stone sober.

  "Are you back on the road?" Clyde leaned against the pool table. The game, now forgotten.

  "For as long as they'll let me. I missed it." He stepped over and put his cigarette out in an ashtray on a nearby table. "Nothing beats the blur of the asphalt underneath me."

  "Better than sex." Mike grinned.

  Buck slapped Mike's back. "That's what the women you fuck say, too. You're doing it wrong, man."

  The tinkle of glass shattering brought Mike to attention. Dutch followed his MC brother's gaze and went rock hard.

  Marla Marie stood empty-handed, staring at him. He stopped breathing. She was here.

  His body pulsed—it was the only sign that he was alive.

  The connection they shared sparked over the eight feet separating them. His body leaned forward, but he couldn't move, afraid he imagined her here.

  Fuck, she was more beautiful than ever.

  He would've known her anywhere. Those blue eyes, staring up at him, were everything to him.

  He soaked her in. There were little changes over the last two years that he failed to pinpoint.

  Always tiny, her body had changed. A slight curve at her hips and her breasts were rounder, but maybe that's because she had on a pair of cutoffs and a tank top, leaving nothing to the imagination.

  But that was Marla Marie. He knew what she felt like underneath his hands. Without hearing her talk, he knew what she sounded like. All the soft sighs and quick breathing, they were planted deep inside of him.

  All the color drained from her face. Broken glass surrounded her on the floor.

  He jerked his gaze back to her eyes. The prettiest eyes now held a million secrets and a lifetime of pain. He'd missed out on nineteen months and six days of her life, and he couldn't get that back.

  Her mouth opened. His chest squeezed tighter than a vise as she sagged in front of him before catching herself.

  He stepped forward, needing to touch her. Like a deer, she spooked and fled. He couldn't let her get away. He had to talk to her. She needed to understand.

  "Dutch," bellowed Falcon.

  His gaze snapped to the president. Irritated at the interruption, he needed to go to Marla Marie.

  Falcon motioned his hand in the air. "Come with me."

  He hesitated. Marla Marie needed him more than the club. He needed her more than WACOM.

  "Now." Falcon glanced toward the back of the pool hall. "She'll be okay until we're finished."

  Rage filled him at the idea that Falcon knew what was good for Marla Marie. She belonged to him.

  The men in the pool hall went back to their games, clearing his path. He strode toward Falcon, following him out the front door. What he had to do needed no witnesses.

  As soon as the door shut, he rounded on Falcon. "What the fuck have you done to her?"

  Falcon held up his hand. "Cool off."

  "This has nothing to do with the club. That's my woman." He fisted his hands. "I'm one second away from killing you."

  "You wouldn't get the chance." Falcon calmly leaned against the wall of the building. "At least ten brothers are watching us right now."

  His spine stiffened. Nothing would stop him from going after anyone who has harmed Marla Marie.

  "Just so you know, nobody has touched her." Falcon pulled out a pack of cigarettes and offered him a smoke.

  Ignoring the offer, he fumed. "She's working here?"

  "For the last six months or so."

  He stepped away and came back. "You knew who she belonged to."

  "Not right away. I remember her as a child. She's a woman now." Falcon's gaze softened. "When I found out, I let those know who she belonged to, so they could keep an eye on her."

  That was the problem. He didn't want anyone looking, touching, involving themselves with her.

  "Is she okay?" He hated asking, but he couldn't process that she was here, under WAKOM protection.

  "Depends on the day." Falcon crossed his arms, holding the cigarette between his lips. "She puts on a brave face, but one mention of your name or the club, and I can see the light go out in her, and reality hits."

  Yeah, that was his Marla Marie. She was the bravest person he knew. All the men who'd killed and lived through hell had nothing on his girl.

  "I need to find her," he said.

  "She's around." Falcon stepped toward him. "Rubble went after her."

  He'd failed. His plan was never to come here and surprise Marla Marie in front of everyone. He wanted to talk to her at the house. Alone, where he could help her understand why he'd sent her away from him.

  "I imagine you want to get out of here." Falcon lifted his chin. "Let's take this upstairs and finish business first."

  He followed Falcon into the pool
hall, looking for Marla Marie every step of the way. Not seeing her only made him more anxious to find her.

  He hadn't felt as powerless since he was locked up in prison.

  Sequestered into one of the bedrooms upstairs, he remained standing, ready to get what he came here to do done for the club.

  "Allman will be here on Thursday with the roll. He's transporting seven and a half bricks," he said.

  Falcon cocked his head. "That's a quarter more. How long do we have to clean it all?"

  "Woody needs it done in two weeks, and then the transport will be ready to take to the Spokane Chapter."

  Falcon whistled. "That's a lot of dough."

  That wasn't his problem. He'd delivered the information and done what he came here to do. The rest would be up to the individual presidents to make sure their men got the job done.

  There were a lot of men wearing the WAKOM patch. The members needed cash to support their families. Laundering dirty money took time but kept the club afloat. None of them would turn down the extra change in their pockets.

  Falcon jotted down the dates on a piece of paper and shoved it in his pocket. "While you were locked up in prison, the route to here had problems."

  "I heard."

  "Good." Falcon stepped toward the door. "What day are you due in Spokane?

  "When I get there."

  Some information wasn't shared with the individual chapters. Woody was the president of the mother club and set the rules. Because Dutch was in charge of keeping in contact with each chapter, he was the only one trusted with the information.

  Everyone knew he held all the information. It made his job more dangerous. Having three chapters, there was always a risk. One group could get the idea to cheat another or work with another motorcycle club.

  The information he carried would be divided into three, with each chapter getting only the information required to do the job.

  It made Dutch the most loyal person in WAKOM and yet the member with the most to lose.

  That title came at a price, and he'd paid numerous times throughout his life.

  He wouldn't allow Marla Marie to be something he loses.

  In the hallway, Falcon stopped. "Marla will be behind the building. I don't think she'll leave because she's supposed to work tonight. Why don't you take her home? Rubble can handle the place for one night."

  He dipped his chin in thanks and strode past Falcon.

  On the main floor, he ignored the others as he went out the back door. His balls throbbed at the sight of Marla Marie sitting on the picnic table, gazing out at the field with her back to him.

  Over the years, she'd gone through four stages of loving him.

  First, a shy, non-talking child, desperate for love, that clung to him with a strength that rivaled any man in WAKOM. As soon as he had her settled, she'd stepped into being a rebellious teenager who wouldn't let anyone tell her how to live her life. He was right there for when she graduated to the third stage and blossomed into a curious, sexually charged young woman that refused to let him push her away. Then, during the worst part of his life, he sat in prison and watched Marla Marie become a loving, devoted woman who belonged to him.

  As he stepped forward, he went back in time, careful not to make any fast movements or scare her into fleeing.

  Prepared for the stages Marla Marie would go through, again, as she rediscovered her love for him, he was prepared to fight for her for the rest of his life.

  Because there was no way in hell, he was going to lose her.

  Chapter 25

  MARLA KNEW DUTCH HAD followed her when the back door of the pool hall closed. She shuddered, sensing him near, looking at her.

  There was never a time when she couldn't feel him when he got close to her.

  Some people went a lifetime, searching for love, needing validation of their feelings, wanting to hear someone tell them they were loved.

  She never had to ask because she had always known Dutch loved her.

  He could send her away, never see her again, and the distance would never sever the bond they had between them.

  Except, when he'd forced her away, it was no different than him leaving and never coming back.

  "You look good, Marla Marie," said Dutch.

  She stared at the tall, green grass swaying in the breeze. There was nothing to say to him.

  He'd forced her out of his life for almost two years. Every day became more painful than the last without him.

  She'd lived a colorless life without him, only going through the motions. Nothing brought her excitement or made her hope for tomorrow.

  Tingles rolled down her spine, preparing for him. He rounded the picnic table and sat beside her, leaning against the edge of the table. Far enough away, his body never touched hers, but his warmth spread, encompassing the side of her.

  "I swung by the house. You weren't there, so I came here to deal with business." He stretched his legs out in front of him. "I wasn't expecting to see you here."

  Her eyes blurred, but she refused to blink and take her out of the bubble she'd created. If she pretended he was back in prison, and she only imagined hearing his voice, she'd stay stronger. She wouldn't allow him to break her again.

  "You're not going to talk to me, huh?"

  She pressed her lips together. The urge to ask him why he was here almost impossible to stop.

  "That's okay." He leaned forward. "I remember another time when you refused to talk."

  Seeing him in her peripheral vision was the hardest thing she'd had to do. Her body ached at the painful hold she had on herself not to turn and fall into his arms.

  "Falcon's giving you the night off. He knows there are things I need to talk to you about. Go ahead and grab your stuff, and I'll take you home," he said.

  She used that as an excuse to walk away from him. Rushing into the building, she ducked into the small room where she kept her purse and turned in a circle, seeing if he followed her. When she declared herself alone, she sucked in vast amounts of air.

  "Shit." She grabbed her head, panicked.

  Dutch came back. He was here. What was she doing?

  He would follow her home. She couldn't take having him around.

  She bent at the waist, feeling as if she would vomit. God, she wanted him.

  Every single day, she missed him.

  Even though they were broken up, having him here with her gave her a rush as if she belonged to him. She belonged to this world. Where she deserved to be happy and loved.

  Before she fell apart, she grabbed her purse and found her keys. Maybe he expected her to leave out the back door, but she'd parked in the front.

  What if he'd come to explain why he doesn't want her? What if he came to kick her completely away from everything WAKOM?

  Nervous panic trilled through her. Maybe, she could get home and lock the door before he realized she'd left. She didn't want to hear what he had to say.

  She wouldn't allow him to hurt her more.

  In the main room, Rubble reached out and grabbed her arm, stopping her from leaving. "You okay?"

  She nodded, knowing if she opened her mouth, she'd cry.

  "Go home, honey. Take care of you and come back tomorrow."

  She left the pool hall and rushed to her car, sliding into the driver's seat. It took three times to get the key into the ignition because her hands trembled.

  She couldn't tell what time it was or how many hours she'd worked. The sun was still out. Dutch had all night if he wanted to talk.

  Speak of the devil.

  Dutch walked out of the building and to his Harley. His long stride caused an ache between her legs.

  There were many fantasies wrapped around him. Things she never got to do with him because he sat in a prison cell.

  A raspy moan escaped her chest. She had to stop thinking like that.

  Alyssa had mentioned Dutch hanging out with the women in the club.

  While she'd pandered away her days and nights alone, ob
sessed with him, he'd tried everything possible to forget her.

  Or, maybe he hadn't had to try at all.

  She put the car in Reverse and backed out of the parking lot. Driving out of town, she refused to look in her rear-view mirror. She knew he was there. The roar of his bike penetrated her car.

  Once she arrived home, she ran to the house. Inside, she locked herself behind the barrier and backed away from the door. What other option had Dutch given her?

  He told her to go. He set her free.

  He couldn't come back and invade her space. How was she supposed to handle him being around, only to lose him again?

  The doorknob rattled, then stopped. She bit into her lower lip, holding her breath, knowing Dutch wasn't the type of man to let a piece of wood stop him.

  The door swung open. Dutch stepped inside, holding up a key.

  She swallowed. Of course, he would have an extra key to the house.

  She should've changed the locks.

  But if she'd done that, he wouldn't have been able to get inside if he came back.

  He looked around the room before landing his gaze on her. "I could use something to eat."

  "You should've stayed at the pool hall," she said, breaking her silence.

  He strode forward. She backed away from him, bumping into the wall.

  Her pussy quivered in awareness. He lowered his head, putting his lips to her ear. "It's not food I'm hungry for."

  Her back slid against the wall, and her eyelids failed her, closing when his tongue pulled her earlobe into his mouth.

  He picked her up and carried her into the bedroom. As soon as she hit the mattress, she got a burst of energy and scooted to the edge of the bed, intent on leaving the room.

  He pushed her back down on the mattress. She exhaled harshly. "You can't walk in here and—"

  "You want to see what happens every time I think about you." He unlatched his belt, undid his fly, and pulled out his cock.

  She stared at the angry hardness in his hand, paralyzed to move. There were times while she was growing up that she'd had the chance to see men naked, but none of them had been Dutch.

  "What are you doing?" she whispered.