Forbidden Protector

by Natasha L. Black

  Anyway, what it meant now was that I couldn’t do what my tired bones were telling me to – roll on to the other side, just fall softly back into – ugh…

  I propped myself up, then rapidly got up.

  That was no alarm anymore – that was ringing. Someone was calling.

  “Hey?”

  “Good, you’re up.” It was Hayes.

  “Yeah, what’s up? You still want me to come in for my shift tonight, right?”

  “That’s just it.” The more Hayes said, the more I realized that he sounded like shit. “I’m closing the bar until further notice.”

  A pause, then Hayes exhaled. “Don’t worry. I’ll still pay you for the next month – hopefully this’ll all be over by then.”

  “This being…?” Maybe it wasn’t my place to ask, but I wanted to know.

  “The fucking Kings.” Hayes was speaking loudly now, too loud. “Fuckers made a threat, and damn it, my sister works here, I can’t just shrug it off.”

  Right, Hayes’ sister – Blue Eyes. I wonder how she was taking all this? Now, I really wouldn’t be seeing her.

  “They threatened to burn the bar down with everyone in it.”

  “Jesus,” I said, my gut roiling.

  “Luckily one of the guys has a place,” he continued, “a compound we go to when things get really bad. It’s remote, safe.”

  “I could help.” The words were out of my mouth and I was pacing before I realized it.

  Had I just edged myself in the middle of some turf war? Specifically, what Briggs was warning me against. Brilliant.

  “I mean it,” I continued anyway. “You’re paying me already, why not let me help out there? I’ll be bored off my ass just hanging out at home. Let me put my skills to use.”

  That much was true. There was only so much of Lost or Breaking Bad or any of that shit I could watch without wanting to stick my head in the oven.

  “That’s an idea.” Hayes’ voice didn’t sound sure one way or another. I didn’t blame him. The guy was smart.

  Nobody did things out of the undying kindness of their good Samaritan hearts. Which meant that I had an angle – he just wanted to know whether it was the harmless kind of angle that could be a ramp to help the Twisted Souls – or the jagged kind that would slice them to pieces.

  “Listen,” I said. “I mean it. There’s nothing I hate more than sitting around bored. Nothing. In the year after I left the force, when I had shit-all to do, I nearly lost it. Afterward, I got odd jobs but nothing stuck. This is the first time I’ve liked something as much as I liked being a cop once upon a time.”

  I could practically hear the gears grinding in Hayes’ head.

  “My sister,” he said finally. “You think my sister’s hot, don’t you?”

  “Doesn’t everyone?” I decided honesty was the best policy.

  A tense silence loomed for a few seconds finally punctured by his laughter. “Shit, yeah. You’re right.”

  His tone went sharp. “Not that that’s an excuse. I’ll tell you this once and I’ll tell you this early – she’s got enough on her plate, a kid and a dead husband, without dealing with some mystery ex-cop stud muffin, ok?”

  “That a yes?”

  “That’s a let me think about it.”

  Him hanging up was the period to his sentence.

  I sank to the bed, disappointed. I’d half expected him to jump at my offer.

  Nah. Hayes was smart to think about it. I would’ve done the exact same thing myself. It wasn’t like they knew me well. I was still fairly new on the scene.

  Hayes called back one tense, pacing hour later. “Alright – you’re in. Come on down to 35 Clair Creek, basically all the way down a long-ass street, when you think you won’t find anything, there it is: a really ugly box of a factory building.” Dark chuckles resonated from the phone. “Home sweet home.”

  Hayes was right.

  This place had ugly down to an art form. Its boxy exterior was an ill-advised mix of concrete and metal. Even the pitted parking lot, with its faded white and yellow lines and the odd pickup truck, was more picturesque.

  Clearly most of the boys’ precious bikes were inside, protected. I didn’t blame them.

  As I walked toward the front, I glanced back at my pickup truck. A ’97 Honda, still running.

  And if when I came back it wasn’t… ah, well.

  It carried me from Point A to Point B and sometimes Point C. Plus if the Kings so much as touched it, well, I’d have my own nice surprise for them too.

  There was no front door on the building, it had been long-ago boarded up, so I continued around to the side. There, invisible to the eye unless you were scanning the wall for it, the same ill grey as the rest of the wall, was a door.

  As soon as I tugged on the handle, the whole door rattled.

  “Who the fuck’s there?” a voice that sounded suspiciously like Big Bonzo roared.

  “It’s Chance,” I said, and, to cover my ass, “Hayes sent me.”

  Big Bonzo let out a hrumph, and the door swung open.

  Inside, the place was as big and ugly as its exterior. It had clearly been some kind of factory in the past – my eyes stopped on bases with poles coming out of them, some topped with light bulbs – a lamp factory. Alright.

  Off to the far corner was a makeshift kitchen, which consisted of a dish-piled sink, two beer fridges stacked on top of each other, and a microwave that was already letting off dubious smoke.

  Further in, in the middle of the place, was a collection of cots.

  What struck me most of all was the sheer number of Twisted Souls there. Sure, I’d had a few shifts at the bar already, which could get pretty packed, but clearly each night I was seeing only a fraction of their real numbers. Here, a sea of black jacketed club boys was every direction you turned, their TS insignia – a waft of silvery spirit with a contented black smile and gaping black eyes - staring out at me.

  “Hey Good Cop!” Loretta bustled over, her spiky black ponytail bobbing and her generous chest heaving at the same time that Gary and a couple of others did.

  I got hearty back slaps, ardent handshakes, and a plethora of “Atta boy” comments that made me feel more than welcomed.

  “You ain’t half bad.” Gary scratched at his Santa beard thoughtfully. “For a former cop.”

  I shrugged. “Not my fault you got arrested for pissing in public.”

  As the boys roared with laughter, Gary’s eyebrows jumped in outrage. “Who told you that?”

  “Aw, lay off, Gar, everybody knows,” Loretta said, probably because she was the one who had told me at her last bar shift a few days back.

  “I’ll have you know,” Gary stated primly, “I was barely out of college when it happened. And I was in the corner of a secluded park.”

  “You mean pissed out of your mind in the middle of a busy park two years ago,” Harry, his brother, chimed in.

  Everyone laughed as Gary stabbed a cigarette to his lips. “Fuck all y’all.”

  He flounced off in the direction of what looked to be a discreetly opened side door for the smokers.

  A good-sized group was camped out around another microwave. Hayes waved me over. “Campfire.”

  He offered me a freshly roasted marshmallow when I sat down.

  I refused it, slinging him a sidelong glance. “You all are really making the most of it.”

  Behind us, another group was in the midst of what looked to be a very intense game of Monopoly, one guy having a death grip on his twenties, while another one banged his fist on the board when his dice rolled a 2.

  “Might as well.” Hayes lobbed a marshmallow in his mouth, and chewing, kept talking. “Who knows how fucking long we’ll be stuck here.”

  I glanced around. Lots of leather clad dudes, no Blue Eyes.

  There wasn’t a casual way to bring her up. I’d seen how Hayes got around her – all protective. Hell, he’d specifically told me not to go there.

  Not that I blamed him; lookin
g out for a sister like that can’t have been easy. But it meant he’d be on high alert for any of my ‘innocent’ questions about her. Better to just wait and see.

  “Story time,” Hayes suddenly said, over the indistinct chatter. “Your craziest.”

  He looked to me first. I stared blankly back. “My craziest what?”

  “Craziest thing you’ve seen.” He smiled sagely. “I’ll go first. One time I saw this tall bald fuck of a Devil King, just walking through downtown all casual-like, light a building on fire in broad daylight. He was grinning and whistling to himself and shit. It was a toy store on a Saturday, full of kids. The bastard fucking winked at me.”

  I sat in silence. Was there anything these scumbags wouldn’t do?

  “Sorry,” Hayes said. “Maybe not the time and place.”

  “Don’t worry,” a brown-haired tall guy who I was pretty sure was named Ron chimed in. “We’ve got our boys set up all around, keeping an eye on things. They try anything and we’ll nail ‘em.”

  “I got one,” Loretta said, before anyone could respond to that. “The identity of this fellow will remain anonymous. Only there was one Twisted Soul got so plastered one time, he was at the bar trying to put his jeans on as a coat.”

  The whole group roared with laughter.

  “I think I know who it was,” Ron exclaimed.

  “I ain’t telling.” Loretta wagged a neon green and blue nailed finger firmly. “Don’t even try.”

  Ron scowled, his expression going sneaky. “Where’s James?”

  Loretta’s eyes narrowed. “Back at the kitchen, fixing us up something. Now why don’t you mind your own fucking business, Ron?”

  Tittering amongst the group, Hayes turned to me. “Your turn.”

  “Nah.”

  “Come on.”

  “I don’t have anything.”

  He made a skeptical sound. “You were a cop for a bunch of years, and you ain’t got a crazy story? I call bullshit.”

  I stood up. I was tired of this game. “You don’t want to know what I’ve got.”

  Which was true, kind of.

  What I had was the kind of fucked-up thing that stays with you, a mental scar, even from hearing it. Something you didn’t want to believe humans were capable of doing, being.

  I just didn’t talk about it.

  Not to my old chief of police. Not to anyone.

  “Hey, don’t run away!” someone said, breaking me out of my thoughts.

  It was Loretta, her heavy lashes flapping like fans as she bustled after me. “Still gotta show you to your room.”

  “I get a room?”

  “’Course!” She grinned and gestured me to follow her, which I did. “You risk your neck for us here, least we can do is give ya a perk or two.”

  Already, we’d reached where we were going, a small room with a slightly less crappy-looking cot and, surprise, surprise, a fully assembled lamp.

  “It’s no Hilton.” Loretta cackled. “But you got a lamp, so there’s that. Anyway, I’ll leave you to it.”

  It took me all of a minute for me to sling my stuff down and sit on the edge of the bed.

  A lot had happened in not a lot of time. But at least the Twisted Souls seemed to have their shit together.

  Part of me worried I’d find some shitty hovel with sleeping bags and flashlights or something. Maybe it was the gangs I’d seen back when I was on the force. Most of them weren’t like the Twisted Souls – fairly well-organized, mostly law-abiding. Then again, most of them didn’t have a Hayes.

  I left my room to check out more of the place. A few steps out and-

  WHAM!

  Blue Eyes.

  She bumped into me again. Her bright blue eyes were wide with the same look, and her hands were back on my chest.

  It was my chance to rewrite history.

  Her mouth was hanging open wide, just enough to fit my cock inside.

  Fucking hell, Chance.

  She took a step back, forced a smile. “We really have to stop meeting like this.”

  11

  Connie

  “I’m Chance, the bouncer.” His hand was warm, strong; hands could hurt or hold.

  An excited shiver went through me.

  I shook his hand with more confidence than I was feeling. “Connie. Bartender and Hayes’ sister.”

  “I know.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “He told me.”

  I chuckled. “I’ll bet. He has a way of doing that. If ‘protective big brother’ was in the encyclopedia, they’d have a whopping big picture of him.”

  “I’d bet he’d like that.” Chance smirked. I bobbed my head.

  We were having a conversation. A normal, honest-to-goodness conversation. No across the room I-want-to-tear-your-clothes-off staring. Just talking.

  And I could think of all of nothing to say.

  Something tugged on my shirt sleeve. “Mommy?”

  “Yes, honey?”

  Saved by the child.

  I waited to see the interest fade from Chance’s eyes, the awkwardness to set in. Just how it did every nine out of ten times I mentioned the most important thing in my life to any new guy.

  Huh. Chance had a good poker face, I’d give him that.

  “Jamjam,” Annie was saying. “I want Jamjam.”

  “Sure, of course.” I took her hand. “We’ll just go get him from our room.” I waved at Chance, threw him a last smile. “It was nice talking to you.”

  But duty calls, I mentally added.

  That was real life for you.

  I could make-believe that I was just like all the other free bird twenty-somethings for only so long. When it came down to it, I had responsibilities.

  Inside our room, Hayes had snuck in a red carnation he’d gotten from somewhere. Mom was conked out on the bed. I pointed at her and held a finger to my lips so Annie could see. “Shh.”

  Annie did the same to me. “Shh.” We giggled quietly.

  I crouched down and began rifling through the luggage I’d thrown together in less than fifteen minutes.

  I’d wanted to take a bit longer to pack, but Mom had shown up, demanding that we get downstairs and out of there immediately. Plus, it wasn’t like it really made a huge difference if I brought both the adult and kid’s toothpaste, or just the kid’s sugar-laden Trollz-themed one.

  I had pretty much everything I’d packed on the floor, and… no Jamjam.

  Shit.

  “Mommy?” Annie was looking at me hopefully, her eyes full.

  Jamjam was her favorite. Ace had gotten it for her.

  I can still remember the day he came home late with it, how Annie had shrieked. Carried it all around, the bunny still nameless. How, the next day, when eating toast, Annie had gotten jam on it, started to cry. And Ace, in one of his flashes of brilliance, said, “What’s the matter? That’s his name, after all – Jamjam.” And, just like that, a best friend was born. A best friend I had fucked up in not bringing.

  “Okay, don’t get upset, but Mommy left Jamjam at home by accident. I was rushed and…” I trailed off as Annie sat on her heels, silent tears spilling down her face.

  There was really no excuse. Damn it, I should’ve known.

  “What about Piggypoo?” I lifted up another stuffy, a fat pale pink pig Annie had gotten from Grandma last spring.

  Annie didn’t even look at it, just shook her head.

  “Anastasia?” I lifted up a life-size cat beanie baby with long, white fur.

  Another teary head shake.

  “What’s going on?” Mom’s voice came over blunt and annoyed.

  Guess we’d woken her up – and she was not happy about it.

  “I forgot Jamjam,” I told her.

  “Are you sure?” Now Mom was on her feet, smoothing her mussed silver hair. Always the picture of immaculateness, my mother.

  I gestured to the several empty bags and their contents on the floor. “Yes, I’m sure.”

  Mom was already bustling to the doorway, JCPe
nney sweater arms swishing air efficiently. “Maybe she left it somewhere in the compound.”

  I hurried after her, taking Annie’s hand. “She didn’t.” I glanced to Annie. “Did you Annie?”

  “She forgets things,” Mom said dismissively, continuing on. “

  “She’s not a toddler anymore.”

  “No, but she’s still a child.”

  By now, we’d reached Hayes, who was still sitting on a pillow at the ‘Campfire’, an open bag of marshmallows beside him. “What’s up?”

  “Have you or anyone seen a stuffed rabbit?” I asked, before Mom could.

  No way was I letting her take charge of this search. Annie was my daughter.

  Hayes rose to his feet. “No, why?”

  “He’s lost,” Annie sniffled, rubbing at her eyes.

  Yep, Worst Mom of the Year Award goes to…

  “He’s not lost,” Mom said brusquely. “Only not here. Don’t be silly.”

  I stroked Annie’s head consolingly. Same as when I was little, my Mom got points for pragmatism, not compassion. “We’ll find him. Mommy just left him at home, is all.”

  I glanced to Hayes questioningly. His hazel eyes sparked with understanding, then he shook his head firmly. “Yeah… not happening.”

  I pulled him aside. “Hayes, seriously, it’s a ten-minute drive. And who knows how long we’re going to be stuck here.”

  “Yes, and yes, but no.” His eyes darkened. “I’m not risking it. You just pop out of here, could be just what the Devil Kings were waiting for to strike, and…”

  “I’ll do it.”

  We paused, swiveled to see, standing there, none other than Mr. Hot Bouncer himself.

  Since when had Chance been right there?

  “Sorry. Couldn’t help but overhear. I can go get it. Kings are less likely to recognize me since I’m new, even if I did throw two of them out.”

  “You won’t know where Jamjam is,” I argued.

  “You can tell me.”

  “And the key is shitty, it sticks and sometimes people can’t even get in…” The idea came to me as I said it. “I’ll go with you.”