A virgin. I should have known. No one at that party last night who’s a regular came in with their v-card—except for Tory Walsh. Hell, even though I was an outsider, I managed to lose mine to a skank at the bar when I turned sixteen. That’s just the way of the club. The longer you have it, the more of a unicorn you become. And no one wants to touch the unicorn. Clay Walsh had apparently done a fine job of keeping his girl untouched and untouchable.
Tory doesn’t smile or look reassured at what I say. In fact, something about her face looks even more disappointed than when she thought we had fucked. I try to lighten the mood with, “I could prove that you’re still a virgin, but I doubt you want to do that here and now.”
She sniffles back a small cry as she says, “I’ll take a pass at that.”
“For now,” I quickly reply. She looks up at me with a coy smile, as I over-exaggerate a wink.
Tory looks back down at the blanket covering her before asking, “So, if we didn’t do anything, why am I undressed? I don’t remember many things from last night, but I remember you taking off my shoes.”
It’s a good question—one that I am not really jazzed about answering. After she blacked out in my bed, her thick, warm body wrapped around me, I had a moment of self-doubt. Here was this girl, this beautiful, powerful girl, who clearly wanted me. Her body was practically begging for it just seconds ago, and being with her would be an extra little bit of revenge towards the Walsh family for screwing me over on the promotion. But she was also dead drunk.
It would have only taken me seconds to rip down her tight little jeans and have my way with her. I could have easily torn at her shirt and nuzzled those perky little breasts of hers without anyone knowing. They were practically calling me all night as I slept beside her, an arm draped protectively around the curve of her waist.
But I resisted. Instead, the moment she passed out, I placed her underneath the covers, making sure her head was on the softest pillow I could find. I then got up and checked my phone for any sign that Clay Walsh was looking for his little girl. Besides a few condolences from my loyal Knights who knew what had (or rather had not) happened at the party, there was nothing. No missing person call, no texts from the boss, no frantic messages asking me for my location. It looked like I was in the clear.
All I had to do for the rest of the evening was just resist sleeping with her while she was under. A few hours passed, as I dozed a bit on the couch, watching old infomercials I’d seen a billion times. But her tossing and turning in the bed kept waking me. And then when I eventually managed to get some shuteye, a bigger worry of her dying from alcohol poisoning in my own bed managed to keep me up and bring me back to the problem at hand.
As Tory slept, I hesitantly removed the blanket from around her and slowly unbuttoned and removed her jeans so she could be more comfortable sleeping. It solved the issue of her tossing and turning, but then I noticed she was sweating. From my experience dealing with men who did a little too much a little too quickly, I knew that wasn’t a good sign. She was going to become dehydrated fast if I didn’t act. And the only solution I could think was pulling off her top and sponging her off with a towel from my kitchen.
Her body cooled quickly under the rag, as the damp cloth left trail marks up and down her hands, her shoulders, her neck, her chest, and the space between her plump thighs. I carefully worked the rest of the night while I tried my best not to wake her. However, my hands moving slowly up and down the line of her body was agony to me. I wanted her more than ever, so I let myself do one simple thing…I lay down next to her.
I admit sleeping next to a half-naked chick wasn’t easy. Just the smell of her sent a raging urge through my body, turning it electric. When she rolled over towards me with her head on my chest and a leg hitched over my hip, I was practically going nuts with wanting. Every small move she made, the inhale of her chest that set her breasts higher into my view, the hand rolling down from my pecs to my hips… it was torture of the worst kind. I had to count the seconds just to get any sleep.
But when she asks why she’s shirtless and pantless, I give her the only reply I can think of on the fly. “You got sick. I didn’t want to leave you there like that. But I washed your outfit while you were sleeping. I’m no expert at laundry, but I do know a thing or two about puking from drinking too much.”
I watch, as Tory nods at me, and I can see her trying to make sense of everything that I am saying. Part of her doesn't want to believe me, and I give her credit for that. But the other side of her is letting go of all those walls she’s built up.
With her face transforming, I hand her back the pills and seltzer. Tory takes a sip of the drink and pops her dry lips. Her eyes close with a hint of relief as she swallows. She then takes the pills and tosses them into her mouth dramatically.
When she’s through, she pulls the blanket off of her and grabs at the shirt on the floor. The pants are second, but she has a harder time with them. She looks at me shyly, as I turn and face the opposite wall. I can hear her struggled to yank those jeans up over that ass of hers, and I admit to taking a little peek in the mirror next to the bed. Inside, I’m kicking myself for not taking advantage of that body when I had a chance.
After a moment of sitting in silence, both of us unsure what to say or do next, I say what needs to be said, “We have to get going. Your daddy is probably looking for you.”
The very mention of her father sends her back in a tailspin. Her hands twist into one another, as her face turns bright red. I want to ask her what the big deal is, or why her brother treated her like she was some escaped prisoner last night, but I know better. This isn’t my place to get involved, and after last night, I’ve already done enough.
And that’s when she drops the bomb on me: “How about you come to lunch at my family’s house?”
Chapter 6: Get-togethers
“Woah! Are you nuts, lady! Do you know who your father is?” Anton runs his hands through that dark, auburn hair, as he looks at me in total disbelief. “I have to ask again, Tory. Are you out of your mind?”
I am. I am totally out of my mind. But when you wake up in bed next to someone you just met a few hours ago and you can’t remember anything past him pinning you to the sheets, you get to be a little out of it the next morning. I don’t know whether to trust this guy or to just run to the hills. But every part of my heart is telling me that he didn’t do what I think he did. He’s just not that kind of guy.
So that’s why I ask him to lunch. Part of it is to cover my ass. If we can come up with a story about where I am and how I met Anton, my father might be lenient. But if I walk in there without a background story in place, both Anton and I are dead. If I think the beatings my mama gets when she messes with my dad are bad, I am in for one far worse.
I stand up and walk towards the living room where Anton is sitting, and I get bold. I take his hands in mine and point at the still raw stitches from last night’s incident. “You don’t think I forgot about this, did ya?” I wait as he rolls his eyes and pulls his hand away lightly. The other one still holds onto me, as if he’s forgotten about it completely. I add slyly, “You owe me, Anton…”
“Murdoch.”
“Anton Murdoch. You owe me so big. If it weren’t for me, you’d be in some hospital ER still waiting on an intern to practice her sewing skills on you.”
“But instead I get the vet.”
“The vet in training.”
A lightbulb goes off in my head, as I come up with the perfect cover story that may just clear both of us. I walk to my purse and check my phone. It’s blank, meaning that no one is too suspicious of where I am. If they were, the police would be checking in on me, and my phone would be dead from the calls threatening to kill me when I got home. Instead, all I’ve got is a message from April about a guy she slept with named Derek. Typical stuff from her. I ignore all of it and reply with a question.
As I type furiously at the keyboard, I turn back towards Anton who is waiting on me to
leave. “Listen, Anton. You have to come to lunch with me.”
“No, I don’t. I don’t have to do anything. And if you think I’m stepping foot into Clay Walsh’s home after what that bastard did last night, you have another thing coming to you.”
“Yeah, yeah. I get that. But I need you to keep me from getting killed by my daddy.” I sit back down on the old, brown leather couch and wait for him to join me. He moves back into the living room, setting his keys down on one of the side tables.
With his attention back on the situation at hand, I lay out my plan, “Here’s what’s going to happen, I’m going to tell my mama and daddy that after my mom went to bed last night, I got a text from April Lauder to spend the night with her at her new place once she got done with the party. The next morning… I mean, this morning… April messaged you because she was too hungover to drive, and you agreed to pick me up. We met and hit it off. You asked me out to lunch, but I said you had to meet my family first.”
He scratches his head, as he mulls over my plan. It’s asking a lot of him, I know that. First, I’m asking him to straight up lie to the president of his motorcycle club. That alone is akin to treason against his country. And then, I’m asking that he pretend to be my boyfriend. This, after a night of just getting so far as taking off my shoes and making out with me for about two minutes. Any other guy would have run for the hills and prayed I didn’t rat him out.
But he doesn’t run. He doesn’t even move. After a long second of him thinking it over, he replies, “You know that’s a stupid plan. All those guys saw you at the club party after your brother called you out. What are you going to do about that?”
He’s got a good point, but I’ve already thought it through. “Brandon isn’t going to tell my daddy. He’s a snitch, a nark. So unless he told him that night, he isn’t going to rat me out now. And he didn’t see you with me, so my story makes sense, even if I lie about being with April the whole night. To Brandon, I left when April did. We met when you picked me up to go back home. The rest is history.”
“But I still have to pretend to be your boyfriend.”
I don’t know why I say this, but I do, “Is that a problem?”
My heart sinks a bit when he doesn’t answer. Motorcycle men like Anton with the tattoos and scars littering his arms and chest aren’t boyfriends. They aren’t even lovers. They are guys you, as April puts it, “fuck, suck, and say good luck.” If you managed to snag one down for more than a minute, you were a fool. None of them ever stayed true, and that included my daddy, who came home at least once a week smelling like some other woman dosed herself all over him.
Anton juts out his jaw and pops his lips before answering, “No, no it’s not. As long as you agree to see me again.”
I want to say “no.” I want to get this nightmare over with and get back to my goodie-girl routine, but I know there isn’t going back from this point. Both Anton and I owe each other something big. And if it means seeing him again, I can handle that.
“Fine. As long as my daddy says it’s okay.”
“He’s not going to.”
“No, he isn’t. But I’ll make it work.”
The ride back to my house was one of the most excruciating in my life. I knew that to make this work, I was going to have to be more confident than I had ever been in my life. As I thought about how I should act, what I should say, and how to put Anton into the equation, I squeezed my grip around his hips even tighter. He was the only comfort I had, and the only way I was going to ensure getting out of this situation alive.
I should have probably mentioned that I was using him as protection and that he was walking into a volcano of fire that was waiting for me. However, he probably knew that already. By the patches on the back of his jacket, I could tell he wasn’t just a low man on the totem pole. He’d been around, and he’d seen a side of my dad that I could only imagine. Hopefully that could work to my advantage.
When we get to the yellow brick house, my mother is already outside pulling weeds in her garden. Her straw hat covers the top of her face, but I can tell by the way she purses her lips together, as if she’s chewing on something sour, that this isn’t going to be an easy sell.
Immediately, she jumps on me and says, “Tory Jane Walsh! Where the hell have you been?” I take a step backwards, running straight into Anton, who places two hands on my shoulders to steady me.
“Um, I was at April’s. I didn’t want to wake you. I thought it would be okay since, well, it’s April. I would have texted you this morning, but my phone died.” The lies were flowing through me like water in a stream. Maybe this was going to be easier than I thought.
“Mrs. Walsh, I’m Anton. It’s good to meet you.” Anton stepped ahead of me, pushing me behind his large body as if he is protecting me from a bomb. “My friend April had me drop off Tory since she was too hungover to drive from the party last night.”
“Yeah, Mom. I invited Anton over for lunch. Is that okay?”
My mom is completely caught off guard. Anton’s gigantic size and the way he stepped in for me has shocked her into submission. She stares off dreamily into Anton’s sky blue eyes until the sound of my dad’s bike roaring in the driveway brings her back down to earth. She turns and gathers her gardening supplies and dusts the brown dirt chunks from her pants and top.
Anton and I turn towards him as well, making room for the king and his castle. My father calls his name in a way that isn’t exactly friendly and isn’t exactly predatory, as he says, “Anton! What brings you here to my house?”
Anton keeps his eyes directly on my dad as he answers readily, “Sir, I was doing a favor for April Lauder. She was too out of it from last night to drive your daughter home, so I stepped in.”
Dad sneers at him and says, “I didn’t know you knew April or Tory.”
“Well, I met April at the party last night. She’s friends with Derek, one of the armory guys. And I met Tory when I picked her up.”
My dad is staring him down, as he tries to decipher the truth behind it. But even with his rough glare, Anton doesn’t flinch. I have to add something to this before he finds a hole in our story to poke at.
“Yeah, Daddy. Anton was great. We talked for a while and realized we had a ton in common like…”
“Animals. I was always interested in animals. Tory was talking to me about her vet training and all the dogs she’s working with. I’m thinking about getting a guard dog for the place. You know, with break-ins and all.”
God Bless Anton. He’s faster than I could ever be at this. “Right. We were talking about what dogs would be best. But anyways, I invited him over for lunch. We were going to go out, but I figured you’d want to approve of that first…”
I stop before I can get too far ahead. The whole conversation hinges on whether my dad says he can come to lunch, and I can feel both Anton and I collectively hold our breath together. He looks towards my mom, who is out in the corner of the lawn looking totally powerless and just as clueless, before finally relenting. “Yeah. Come inside. I’m sure your mama cooked up enough since your brother’s out today.”
Anton and I both linger back, as my father heads inside with my mother mere steps behind. Anton hovers just above my ear, as he leans down to say, “I guess I’m getting a dog…”
“A beagle. You should get a beagle.”
Anton joins Dad in the living room, as I help my mother set the table for four. My hands practically shake as I set down the flatware and serve out the pasta salad. She, too, looks petrified, as if her world is about to collapse. Part of me thinks she can see right through me, but my mom has never been the most astute person. I’d be surprised if she noticed I changed my hair color, let alone lied to her about something like this.
The men join us soon after, neither of them talking or even smiling. Anton takes his place at the lower end of the table while I sit buffer in the middle between him and my father. My mother pours the glasses of lemonade, as I try to break the ice.
�
�So, Daddy… how was your day today?”
“Hell,” he answers, as he takes a bite into his roll. “What about you, Anton? Aren’t you supposed to be riding?”
“Not until this evening, sir. I’ve been picking up day shifts lately, but after yesterday and my bike, I can’t take on anything extra.”
I can’t help but ask, “Yesterday? What happened yesterday?” Anton’s face goes instantly blank, as my father sips loudly at his drink. No one even attempts to answer me, so I continue, “Daddy, do you think that after Anton’s shift tonight, we could go out and maybe grab a bite to eat? I’m going to be at the college late anyways doing practicum…”
Taken: A Dark Hitman Romance Page 29