by Nicole Fox
And the sex wasn’t too bad, she thought, a sly smile forming on her face. Wait, who am I kidding—it was fucking amazing.
As she continued to drink her water, her eyes settled on the man sleeping on the couch. He was shirtless, but still wearing his pants. And right above his waist, on the left side of the small of his back, was a jagged line. Daphne moved closer and saw that it was a long scar formed over a ragged wound. Her eyes hung on the scar, the thing striking her with the same familiarity that she’d felt the night before.
Where the hell have I seen a scar like that before? she wondered.
Saving a little bit of water in her glass, she walked quietly into the bathroom and searched around for a bottle of pain reliever. Finding one, she dumped out a couple of blue pills and tossed them back. But as soon as she swallowed them, it hit her—Xander had a scar like that.
Daphne set down her glass so hard on the bathroom sink that she worried for a moment that it might break. She rushed into the living room and stopped a few feet away from the man. Kneeling down, she inspected the scar carefully. Sure enough, it was the same scar as Xander’s.
Is this some kind of coincidence? she wondered. Or …
She turned towards the rest of the apartment. In the clear light of day, she could now see that the place was filled with many of the same photos, decorations, and knick-knacks that Xander owned when they dated. She darted around the living room, picking up one thing or another, realizing that she’d seen so many of these things before.
Impossible, she thought. There’s no way I was so drunk last night that I’d hook up with Xander and not even recognize him. There’s just no way.
But before she could think the matter over too much more, the man on the couch shifted as he slept, rolling over to face her, his eyes still shut.
Daphne gasped as she finally was able to lay eyes on the man in clear lighting. Just as she had when she’d inspected the scar, Daphne moved in close, squinting her eyes as she looked the man over.
Holy fuck, she thought. It’s him. It’s really him.
She realized just why she hadn’t been able to recognize him—the thick beard on his face, along with the long hair on top of his head, covered up nearly all of his features. And he was buffer than he’d ever been; Daphne guessed that he’d put on at least thirty pounds of muscle since she’d seen him last. Daphne remembered giving him shit every now and then about being a little scrawny, his slim frame and shaved head making him look more like a skinhead punk than a tough biker. But now, as she regarded him on the couch, she saw that he’d grown into the man he was. Beefy, hairy, and goddamned gorgeous, he was the man that she’d always thought he might one day be.
Then, reality dawned on her. As fascinated as she was by the father of her son lying right there, looking almost like someone else entirely, she remembered with perfect clarity the reason why she’d left him.
And she knew she needed to get out, right now, before he woke up.
Daphne looked down at her body, realizing that she wasn’t wearing anything more than her skirt. She spotted her bra on the other side of the room and quickly put it on. But when she found her panties, she grunted in frustration when she realized that they were ripped beyond wear. She tossed them aside.
These were my sexiest fucking pair, she thought, stomping her bare foot on the floor. Thirty dollars, right down the drain.
She didn’t waste any more time getting out of there. She put on the rest of her clothes, gathered her things, and rushed out of the front door, taking one last look at the still-sleeping Xander before shutting it quietly behind her.
Soon, she was back out onto the street. Pulling her phone out of her pocket, she called up an Uber and sighed with relief when she saw that it was only a few minutes away. After a little time spent tapping her foot in impatience, the white sedan finally pulled up to the sidewalk. Daphne hurried into it, relief washing over her as she realized she was home free.
But as the car pulled down the road, Daphne couldn’t help but turn to look at the apartment disappearing into the distance, a strange longing in her heart.
Chapter Nine
Xander
The sound of the front door of his apartment being firmly shut brought Xander out of his heavy sleep.
Ah, fuck, he thought, placing his hand on his forehead. My goddamn head.
He heaved himself up to a sitting position and looked around his apartment. Within seconds, the events of the previous evening flashed into his mind. Then, once he remembered that he’d brought Daphne back to his apartment, he looked around for any sign that she was still there. He walked to the bedroom, then the bathroom, and once he returned to the living room and noticed that her clothes, purse, and phone were gone, he realized that she’d taken off in a hurry; the door shutting was certainly her getting out of there as fast as she could.
He considered chasing after her, but knew that there’d have been no point—she’d undoubtedly figured out by now who he was, and if that realization was enough to cause her to take off without a word, then following her like a lost little puppy wasn’t going to do a damn bit of good.
Xander walked over to the window and looked out. Sure enough, standing on the sidewalk a little down the road, was Daphne. Even from where he stood he could see that her hair was disheveled, and she looked as though she dressed in a hurry. A little smile formed on his mouth; he couldn’t help but find the whole situation very amusing.
Taking a glass that Daphne had left on the bathroom sink, Xander filled it with water from the tap. Popping a half-dozen or so aspirin in his mouth, he drank nearly the entire glass to wash the pills down. Stepping back into the living room, his eyes landed on a bottle of whiskey on the kitchen counter. Part of him was enticed by the thought of a little hair of the dog, but he knew that the partying of last night was going to have to be a one-night thing for now; he had too much work to do with the task with which Grayson had entrusted him.
Xander slipped his thumbs into his waistband and prepared to get stripped down for a shower, but before he did, the roar of a motorcycle engine cut through the still morning air. He ran over to the window once again, his eyes narrowing at what he saw.
Down the road, he spotted a white car that was likely the cab that Daphne had called. And tearing down the road, zipping past Xander’s apartment, was a blood-red and chrome motorcycle driven by a man with a puke-green helmet. Xander would’ve recognized that ride anywhere—it was Scar, one of the remaining members of the Devil’s Spawn.
His heart began to pound as he watched the bike cruise down the road and make the same turn that Daphne’s cab had. Pulling on the nearest T-shirt and jumping into his boots, Xander grabbed his keys and rushed down to his bike as fast as he could. Once on it, he gunned the engine and tore out of his parking spot. He made the turn and when he did, he spotted Scar far off down the road. He sped up, cutting the distance between him and Scar until he was no more than fifty feet away.
But Scar looked over his shoulder, the beady eyes deep-set in his ugly mug landing right on Xander. Daphne’s car was still far off in the distance, and Xander watched it make a left turn onto the highway. Scar, realizing that his tail had been compromised, pulled a hard right onto a side street. Xander banked hard to follow him, nearly toppling his bike in the process. Scar sped up, his engine screaming like a swarm of angry bees. Xander did his best to stay close behind, but upon approaching a railroad track with the blaring red lights indicating an oncoming train, Scar sped across just in time to get under the lowering black-and-white bars. Xander came to a stop at the tracks, cursing loudly as he realized he’d lost the tail.
Soon, he was back at his apartment. Blood pumped through his veins and anger began to take hold of him when he realized just what this all meant. Not only were the Spawn still active; they hadn’t wasted any time in meddling with Xander.
Not even a day since we wrecked them, thought Xander, and they’re already fucking with us again.
Xander grabbed
his phone off of the kitchen counter and called Grayson. He paced back and forth as the phone rang, anger rushing through his body.
“Talk to me,” came the cool, calm voice of Grayson from the other end.
“We got a problem.”
“Then spill it.”
Xander spoke quickly, giving Grayson all the details of what had happened last night and this morning— omitting the racier information.
“You’re sure it was Scar?” asked Grayson.
“Absolutely fucking positive,” said Xander, his vision almost white with rage.
Silence came from the other line as Grayson thought the matter over.
“Then we’re going to have to move our timetable up,” said Grayson. “Come to HQ now.”
“Got it,” said Xander.
“And if you saw Scar, it’s because he wanted to be seen. He wanted to make sure you knew that they know where you’re staying. So grab a bag full of essential shit; you might not be going back there for a while.”
“Understood,” said Xander.
“See you in a few.”
Then the line went dead.
Xander did as Grayson said, grabbing a bag big enough to hold a few changes of clothes and other necessities. Once he was ready to go, he took one last look at his apartment, the night with Daphne flashing through his thoughts one last time. Soon, he was back on his bike. After about a half hour of full-tilt driving, he was back at HQ. He strode purposefully through the main area, giving quick nods to the Shadow Hunters who were there nursing their hangovers at the bar with tall glasses of beer.
“Get in here,” said Grayson after Xander rapped on the door.
“Anyone else know about this?” asked Xander as he slid into one of the chairs across from Grayson.
Xander looked over his boss, noting that he didn’t appear to have even the slightest trace of a hangover. Grayson was as calm and cool as ever, his mouth a flat line and his eyes narrowed in concentration. His boss had always struck Xander as a strange fit for the job of running an MC. Xander knew he loved to ride, but Grayson was such a cool, calculating man that Xander almost had an easier time picturing him wearing a sharp business suit and standing at the head of a conference room table in some high-rise office tower somewhere. But Xander was glad to have a cool hand on the wheel like Grayson’s.
“Just you and the VPs,” said Grayson. “And we’re going to keep it that way. Any of those boys out there find out that we got Spawn running around starting shit, then they’re likely to take matters into their own hands.”
Xander nodded, agreeing with the wisdom of Grayson’s words.
“Then tell me what to do,” said Xander, his voice eager.
Grayson narrowed his eyes further, looking over Xander in the way that only Grayson could, as though he were able to see right through him.
“There’s something you’re not telling me,” said Grayson. “Out with it.”
“I told you that I picked up some girl last night,” said Xander. “But I didn’t tell you who it was. The girl was a woman I dated years back. We had a … serious thing.”
Grayson nodded, taking in the information. And Xander couldn’t help but feel stupid, as though he were bringing his personal life into his work like some high schooler.
“Minor fucking detail,” said Grayson sardonically. “This complicates things. If they know that this chick means something to you, then they’re gonna try to use that against you. This girl might not be safe.”
Anger and frustration boiled within Xander. He wished more than anything that Scar was right there in front of him so he could rip him apart limb from limb for threatening Daphne.
“I’ll put a couple of boys on her for tonight,” said Grayson. “Nothing intrusive—just to make sure she doesn’t get into any trouble.”
“It’s my responsibility,” said Xander. “I brought her into this shit.”
“Don’t worry,” said Grayson, holding up his palm, “you’ll have more than enough opportunities to sort this shit out. For now, I’m gonna put you up in one of my places in town. You’re gonna post there for a while, and you and I are going to be in close contact. Once you’re settled in, we can start figuring out a plan to squash the rest of these fucking insects, starting with Scar.”
Xander nodded slowly. As much as he wanted to track down Scar right then and there, he knew to trust Grayson’s instincts.
Grayson pulled open a desk drawer and pulled out a jangling set of keys. With a casual toss, he threw them onto the desk. Xander reached over and picked them up.
“That’s for your new place,” Grayson said. “You’ll be posted up there for a while, so get comfortable. And do your best to not attract any attention.”
“Will do,” said Xander.
“Now get out of here,” said Grayson. “I’ll be in touch with more details.”
Xander nodded, stuffed the keys into his pocket, and took off.
Chapter Ten
Daphne
Daphne noticed the bike as soon as her Uber approached the highway. She watched it out of the corner of her eye as they drove, something about the blood-red motorcycle settling uneasily in her stomach. At first, she thought she might just be letting her paranoia get the best of her, but she was so furious with herself for getting involved with Xander again that she was on high alert. After all, the whole reason why she’d left Xander was to protect their child from his dangerous and violent lifestyle.
She looked again once the Uber pulled onto the highway, sighing with relief when she saw that the bike was gone.
I’m just frazzled, she thought. And this hangover isn’t exactly making me think anymore clearly.
About a half hour later, she was back home and at Amy’s door.
“There’s my man!” she said as Jack ran up to her and threw his little arms around her legs.
“Good night out?” asked Amy, a sly smile on her lips.
“Too good,” said Daphne, her face reddening a little.
“Say no more,” said Amy, holding up her hand. “No judgments here; if us single moms can’t get out and blow off some steam every once in a while, well, let’s just say it’s not pretty.”
“Thank you so much again,” said Daphne, running her hand through Jack’s hair. “You have fun, little man?”
“Uh huh!” he said, his big blue eyes widening with excitement. “We played video games and ate pizza and …”
He went into more detail about his evening, and Daphne said her goodbyes to Amy as he did.
“You ever need me to watch Jason,” said Daphne, “just let me know.”
“Oh, I’ll definitely take you up on that,” said Amy. “You’re not the only mom who needs to have a glass or five of wine every now and then.”
Daphne chuckled at the joke and gave Amy a hug goodbye while Jack bid Jason a goodbye of his own. Once back at the apartment, Daphne chugged another glass of water along with another pair of aspirin in an attempt to keep her headache at bay.
“What’s wrong, Mommy?” asked Jack. “Are you sick?”
“I’m a special kind of grown-up sick,” said Daphne as she smoothed down Jack’s hair. “A special kind of sick that grown-ups get when they don’t make good decisions.”
“You shouldn’t do that, then,” said Jack.
“You’re telling me, kiddo,” said Daphne.
She glanced at her phone and saw that it was still early in the day. Today was her day off, and she planned to use it to catch up on odds and ends around the house, along with getting errands taken care of. Walking into the living room, she watched Jack plop in front of the TV and turn on the kids’ show that he was currently obsessed with, which was some program about farm animals who solved mysteries.
“You hungry, kiddo?” she asked.
“No, I had breakfast with Jason,” he said, his big blue eyes fixed on the TV. “We had pancakes.”
“Mmm, sounds pretty good to me,” Daphne said, her stomach growling.
“They were.
They had bananas mushed up in them.”
“Lucky you,” she said, mussing his hair playfully as she walked by him on her way into the kitchen.
Once there, she made herself a quick meal of sliced fruit and toast, eating it at the small table by the window that looked out over the street of the apartment complex. Daphne allowed herself to relax, happy that the headache that she’d worried might put on her the couch all day was finally beginning to fade.
But as she stared off into the distance, something caught her eye. She squinted, making sure that it was, in fact, what she thought it was. She bolted out of her seat and pressed her hands against the glass as she leaned forward.