Forbidden Protector

by Natasha L. Black

  He shook his head. “Anyway, that’s not your problem. Just something to keep in mind if you see any of those creepy fuckers again.”

  “I can look into it. I know some guys.”

  Hayes pursed his lips. “I do too. It should be fine.”

  “Alright.” I wondered if he’d noticed that I hadn’t promised that I wouldn’t, either.

  “Well.” Hayes was back in smiley boss mode, shedding the tension like a coat. “Thanks for coming in and we’ll see you tomorrow night.”

  On my walk home, I mulled it all over. By the time I stuck my key into the front door lock, I’d made up my mind and got out my phone.

  It rang as soon as the door closed behind me.

  “Hiya?” Briggs answered in his thick Irish accent.

  “Hey, got a second?”

  “Hello to you too, buddy,” he chirped, clearly not put off in the slightest. I could hear something in the background – rain, maybe? – and could just picture him – bright yellow rain boots and matching rain coat his wife had bought him, sloshing him along to the convenience store to get her aKit-Kat or some chocolate bar shit she loved. He was that kind of guy.

  “I’ve got a question about an MC out in Pembrooke.”

  “Ooo that where you at now?”

  “Yeah, took on a job as a bouncer.” I got telling him out of the way first, so we wouldn’t go down that road. I slung myself into my kitchen seat. As soon as I’d left Pewter, I’d basically lost contact with the whole force. That hadn’t been by accident.

  “How are you Chancey boy?”

  “Briggs.”

  “Ok, ok. I just miss you, is all – our Angie’s soup chats.”

  My stomach growled in camaraderie. I glanced at the fridge, trying to remember what was inside.

  That had been a lunchtime thing with Briggs and me, when I hadn’t gotten the same lunch as Lucy. Hot soup and joking about the job. Now, that all seemed impossibly remote, like a stranger’s life I got to watch in HD in my memories sometimes, but a stranger’s life, nonetheless.

  “Chance?”

  “Me too. But you know I don’t want to go there.”

  “Right. Sorry. What’s your question?”

  “You heard of the Devil Kings?”

  A too-long silence, then a sharp intake of breath.

  My teeth ground together. I knew I’d heard of these fuckers.

  “Yeah, I know them,” he said in a voice I knew all too well.

  It was the voice Briggs reserved for scum – plain and simple.

  “You gonna leave me hanging?”

  “Just-” Briggs was clearly searching for the right words. “These guys are bad news, and if your bouncer job is bringing you anywhere near them –”

  “I saw way worse shit as a cop.”

  His voice was suddenly sharp. “You carrying a gun, these days?”

  “No, but-”

  “These guys, they do. Hell, they deal guns, drugs, run a prostitution ring in several cities. You name it, they do it.”

  When I didn’t say anything, he continued, “You ever hear about the Toronto alleyway body case? The teen girl who was beat up so bad they had to get a DNA sample to identify her? Kirsten Holmes. She was one of their girls. Of course, there was no conclusive evidence to link her to the Kings, other than another one of their girls who testified they were pissed at her for keeping trick money from them, another girl who coincidently ended up falling out of her seventh-floor apartment window and dying.”

  I was now on my feet, pacing, though I couldn’t remember getting up. “I get it, these guys are shits.”

  “Not just shits. The worst shits.” Briggs voice was vehement, then he paused. “You be careful, Chance, you hear?”

  I glared at the wall, could just about see Briggs’ stupid long face curved with sympathy, just how it had been those last few days before I’d left. “Just because I’m not carrying a gun doesn’t mean I’m some helpless little kid.”

  “And just because you couldn’t save her, doesn’t mean you need to-”

  “Thanks Briggs. I’ve got to go now.”

  I hung up, went over to the fridge, and yanked open the door. A gleaming batch of nothing shone back at me. That was one benefit of lots of takeout – your fridge remained spotless.

  As the fridge door swung shut, a pointless thought entered my mind. What was Blue Eyes doing this very minute? It was dinnertime, she hadn’t been at the club. Was she at home? Was she alone? Did she have a man?

  I wonder what she tasted like.

  I did an about-face and walked out my front door. Those thoughts were weird, borderline creepy. Getting obsessed with some girl I’d seen only twice and talked to zero times, wasn’t normal.

  Then again, those generous curves, her flaming hair, her triumphant grin as she’d kicked the club asshole in the chin – none of that was normal, either.

  And Hayes’ sister, eh? Which meant, if I hadn’t gotten the hint already, that she was more than off-limits. Probably taken.

  Except taken girls didn’t look at you how she’d looked at me that first day.

  Like she’d do anything I asked.

  I glared at the sun slanting through my shutters. Early. Too early.

  Then again, I used to wake up five every day. Maybe that was another thing I should be getting back into. Healthy habits.

  Only right now, all I could think about was…

  Before the thought could land, I threw myself out of bed.

  Another night dreaming of fucking Blue Eyes. Great.

  I threw on the first pair of clothes I could find and hurried to the sidewalk outside.

  I forced my feet onward, my focus elsewhere. My neighborhood wasn’t exactly nice, though I was close to a DQ at least. But I wasn’t in the mood. Not even really for food, I realized as I moved. Just more walking, moving away and on.

  Yeah, I liked walking. Even purposeless walking, ending up where I ended up. Cycling between looking and thinking and looking some more.

  Like here. My feet brought me to an old shut-down movie theater, the sign still with all its old decaying splendor, letters for the last movie it would ever show: The Moonlighters, whatever that was. Further on, little nice food shops competed for my starving belly’s business.

  I settled on a fajita place, aptly called: FAJITA NITA’S.

  The pot-stinking old man at the cash register definitely wasn’t Fajita Nina, but I got a chicken fajita anyway.

  I wanted some fresh air so I went outside, sat down on a bench, and got eating. The fajita was too hot, burning the top of my mouth.

  “Fuck.”

  A little kid in a stroller and her permed mother gave me identical scandalized looks as they passed. I glanced away, muttered, “Sorry.”

  That kid couldn’t have been more than a year, that would’ve been about the same age as…

  Not thinking about that.

  I blew on the fajita, tested it with the tip of my tongue. Still hot, but not burn-your-mouth hot.

  I sat there and chewed on my fajita and let the warm morning breeze ruffle my shirt while I people watched. Maybe I was too used to city life and criminals, but these people really did look happy.

  I liked it here.

  I stopped eating at the realization.

  It was true. I liked this small town and its old stone buildings and happy people and tasty fajitas. I even liked my job. And while the Twisted Souls were no saints, they knew the line and they didn’t cross it.

  Not like the Devil Kings. They were the ‘scum of the scum’, as me and the boys used to call the worst of them. And these scum Kings were trying to jeopardize Pembrooke, trying to fuck up a good thing.

  I wouldn’t let that happen.

  I stood up, tossing the rest of my fajita in the trash bin beside me.

  Fuck eating. What I needed right now was to go back and hit the gym.

  If the Kings tried anything, I wanted to be sure as shit that I would be ready.

  9


  Connie

  “Come on, will you cut it out?”

  I know that voice, it’s…

  Go away Simba.

  “Can’t cut it out. It’ll grow right back!”

  Ugh, you too Rafiki… damned piece of crap DVD player…

  I held Annie tighter to me as she nestled her warmth into my belly. That was her thing – using my belly as a pillow. It was surprisingly comfy for me too. Like having a little hot water bottle right on my tummy.

  Annie was always warm, even in the winter. She smelled like peanut butter cookies too.

  My eyes finally, grudgingly opened. At the same time that last night came swimming back to me.

  ‘Peanut Butter Cookie Movie Time’, as I’d called it, while playing the Peanut Butter Jelly Family Guy song on the phone – me and Annie boogying, Ziploc bag of cookies clasped in hand, all the way to my bed. Yeah, I was a juvenile, but it made my daughter laugh and that’s all that mattered.

  I stretched out my toes and felt the significantly lighter Ziploc bag.

  No doubt we’d slumbered amidst a good helping of cookie crumbs too. Not my wisest Mom moment.

  I reached for the remote, swiveling to my side to get it, saying a silent prayer as Annie shifted position too, praying she didn’t wake up. I loved her, of course I did. But sometimes I wanted a few morning minutes to myself, to think.

  Even if I wasn’t exactly adoring what was coming up in my thoughts right now. That this had been Ace and my Friday night tradition. He’d pick some Disney classic– usually Dumbo, for some morbid reason – we’d plop in bed here with Annie, start up the movie and get watching.

  Back then, the DVD player hadn’t been on the fritz, restarting the movie as soon as we were finished watching it. Back then, my husband had been alive.

  Ah yes, Ace…

  Not the ‘ace in the hole’ Val and I had giggled about, after our first few dates, when I’d thought he was it. My it.

  No, not that, but something else entirely.

  I sunk back into my pillow.

  There I was, going down memory lane, even though I knew the lackluster story by heart.

  It had happened gradually, the realization that Ace’s dark slash of waves, freckled face, and laughing eyes had bypassed my brain and wormed into my heart before I could put two and two together.

  That I wanted an equal, and he wanted a stay-at-home don’t-talk-back ‘old lady’.

  How by the time Ace and I figured it out – that we were good, not great, together – he was at the club every other night, and I was pregnant and making up for it by making sure that the house was sparkling clean and always supplied with something yummy – a tuna casserole, peanut butter cookies, steamed linguini.

  How Annie coming along was an accident – but a welcome one. Ace was a better dad than he was a husband, just how I was a better mom than a wife.

  Anyway, he was gone now, and it was just Annie and me, and life was still good. Just not great.

  I shook the thought away. Annie was my everything, but sometimes when I woke up tired and grumpy, I forgot how good I had it. How lucky I was that Hayes had handed me this job, that my Mom was around and willing to help. That Annie was a funny, sweet angel most of the time.

  “Mom?”

  I jumped a little. I hadn’t even realized Annie was awake. “Yes, pumpkin?”

  She poked her bed-rumpled head out from under the sheets, getting that thoughtful look she had more and more lately. “Nadia says that if you don’t have a daddy, life is hard.”

  I frowned, my hands twisting on the duvet.

  Maybe it was time I got to talking to Jessica, Nadia’s mom. Nadia was a nice girl but had had quite a few quotables lately that I wasn’t exactly thrilled with. Then again, maybe I was overreacting. The girl was only six, after all. Children weren’t really the ones to take other people’s feelings into consideration.

  “Life can be hard for anyone, pumpkin.” I reached my arm around her. “And yes, it’s tricky when you don’t have a dad sometimes. But you know what?”

  “What?”

  “If you’re very strong and brave, like we are, then it’s ok. Better than ok. It means that you get to be and do whatever you want in life, as long as you learn a lot and work hard.”

  Annie’s smile beamed out, her eyes squeezing into little delighted half-moons. “Really?”

  I kissed the top of her head. “Really.”

  I wasn’t just saying it for her sake, either. I believed it. I had to for what I was doing, what I wanted to do.

  As Annie nestled back into the covers, I rose, my gaze going to my overflowing Ikea hamper. Laundry… right.

  I tugged off my shirt and lobbed it at the hamper.

  “Score,” I murmured under my breath.

  Although waking up to The Lion King wasn’t exactly my dream morning, it beat having hot dreams about the new bouncer who probably looked very, very good without his shirt.

  Better than good.

  As heat flushed through me as I bustled over to the hamper. Yeah… no. I had enough to worry about without pursuing something with the hot new guy.

  My glance back at the bed confirmed that Annie was fast asleep again already, her head cocooned by sheets.

  That was another thing. I was pretty sure Chance would be good for one thing and one thing only: hot sex. Although I could use a good lay, now that I had this new job, there really wasn’t the time. I wanted to savor every free minute I had with Annie before she started school.

  Remembering my phone, I went over to my bedside table and picked it up. Val had sent a message last night.

  Closed doors tonight… Shit with the Kings about to hit the fan!

  I gripped the edge of the table, exhaled.

  No.

  Going into the bathroom, I called her up. Even though Val worked nights, she still somehow managed to be a pleasant morning person.

  “Hello Sleeping Beauty,” she said as she picked up.

  “Hello Doom and Gloom Sister,” I replied.

  “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger.”

  I sighed. “I know, I know. Was it because of what I told Hayes?”

  “About the motorcycles across from DQ? Think that’s part of it, but there’s other stuff too. Apparently, they lit Harry’s shed on fire.”

  “No.” I cursed. “Why?”

  “Beats me. Maybe they were bored.”

  I’d heard talk that things were getting serious with the Kings, but I’d hoped it was just that – talk. But now…

  “Hayes is pretty freaked,” Val said.

  I groaned. “Freaked enough to just sequester us in the compound, I’ll bet.”

  “Hey, it’s not that bad. Those Costco hotdogs are actually pretty good.”

  “It’s not my appetite I’m worried about, it’s Annie.”

  “Ah, yeah. That’s a thing.”

  “I mean, she won’t hate it at first,” I admitted. “She actually likes going to Uncle Hayes’ and thankfully has no clue we’re there because we could get a bullet to the ass for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  I was talking myself into it already, although that didn’t change facts.

  “So, not so bad, right?” Val said.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Annie loves the outdoors, the fresh air. Being all shut up like that for a long-ass time.”

  “Last time it was only for a few days.”

  “Last time it was because Hayes had a tiff with the former Twisted Souls President over the new direction Hayes was taking the club in.””

  Val chuckled. “Ah yes, Gerard. What a character. I do miss him.”

  “Point is,” I said, “If things are really as bad as people are saying, if things are really boiling over with the Kings, we’ll be stuck in that dusty old compound for a long, long, long-ass time. Weeks, maybe even a month or two. We’ll be virtual prisoners.”

  Val shut up for a while, chewing her gum.

  When she finally spoke, her voice was
low, cowed, “Still beats the alternative.”

  My hands gripped into the edge of the bathroom counter so hard it hurt. Of course it beat the alternative. The alternative was getting our brains spat onto the sidewalk when walking to the grocery store or the park.

  It’s going to be okay.

  I looked at my reflection and glared at the mirror image. My hair was sticking out all staticky, my eyes bulging, my lower lip trembling.

  You can do this.

  There was no other choice. I had to be strong for Annie, had to protect her.

  Danger came with the territory when your brother was the President of the Twisted Souls. Whether it was from rival gangs, riding the motorcycles…

  Like Ace, that late night with the sleet he had no business trying to make it home through.

  “Connie?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. I should go. I want to get a few things done first, if we are going into lockdown.”

  Having several weeks’ worth of laundry to do wasn’t exactly the going-home present I had in mind.

  “Ok girl, you take care. Maybe see you soon?”

  “Thanks, you too. Tell Walter I say hi.”

  Afterward, I hurried over to the laundry room and did the loads quickly and efficiently Annie did her part too, staying sound asleep through it all.

  I had just put away the last pair of Annie’s socks, when my phone rang.

  “Where are you?” Mom’s voice was laced with fear.

  “At home. Why did something happen?”

  “It’s bad, Connie. Call your brother, he’s been trying to reach you.”

  The line went dead. I gripped my phone and dialed his number.

  The last time I’d heard Mom sound like that, my husband was dead.

  10

  Chance

  What in the hell?

  I glared at my phone on its current perch – atop my bedside table on the far side of the room, even though I had put it there on purpose to prevent my lazy ass from pressing Snooze to oblivion. That was one of the less-than-useful ‘habits’ I’d inadvertently picked up in the year following what happened. Along with parking myself in front of the TV with the sound off and walking with no real destination in mind.