Heathen: Oath Keepers MC

by Sapphire Knight

  Crossing the room, I step around the few extra desks behind the parent wall. We have a barrier between us and the check-in/waiting area. It’s essentially one long bookshelf with a countertop, nothing fancy but helps hide the various manuals we’re required to keep up front, as well as a vast selection of printed school forms and supplies.

  “You have a lunch meeting scheduled today. I wanted to let you know since it was a last-minute addition to your calendar. Would you like me to order you something to eat from that organic place you enjoy so much?” Her wrinkled hand lightly fluffs at her short, pink-tinted puffy hair.

  She’s in another T-shirt her grandkids made for her, and the sight makes me smile. She truly loves her job and having the chance to be around so many children. I’ve never met someone so family-oriented before. Her presence makes me long for my own grandmother, God rest her soul. She was the best woman I’ve ever known. I’m lucky to have someone close by that reminds me of her.

  “I’ll just have a salad from the cafeteria when I have a free minute, but thank you. What was the reason for the last-minute appointment? Was it a particular student or something?”

  I was looking forward to a few minutes by myself to recharge. It’s been one thing after another this week so far, it seems. I’ve had to deal with angry parents because grades weren’t updated in the online system just yet, even though they technically aren’t due until Friday at four o’clock. Then there were a couple of fifth graders who thought it would be a good idea to use their fists on each other versus talking out their issues. Those parents were so upset, one was threatening to sue the other child’s family along with the school. It’s been a huge headache, but nothing that we don’t deal with often.

  Her cheeks tint just a touch at my question, and I can’t help but bite my lip. Florence only flushes for three reasons I’ve noticed: a student destined for expulsion, the Texas heat, or a handsome man, like the contractors we’ve had in a few times. “Annabelle Teague’s uncle wanted to discuss his niece with you. He was quite adamant about speaking with you immediately. I put him down for the soonest appointment available. Unfortunately, it meant cutting into that extra lunch break you were hoping for today.”

  “I need you to call him back and cancel it.”

  Her gaze widens, stunned at my reply. “Oh, dear, is everything all right?”

  Releasing a heavy breath, I offer up a placating smile. “Of course, but I can’t see him today.”

  “Would you like me to reschedule? I can look over your calendar; do you have a day in mind?” She begins to flip through the colorful planner in front of her next to her desktop computer. She has pictures of her kids and grandchildren filling the rest of the space along with a daisy. It looks suspiciously like the daisies that Annabelle Teague’s uncle brought in with him. I threw my bouquet away after I kicked him out of my office.

  “That’s very kind of you, Florence, but I don’t intend to ever speak to that infuriating man again if I can help it.”

  Her mouth drops open, flabbergasted at my blatant disdain for someone. I rarely show my displeasure to her or anyone else, for that matter, when it comes to dealing with students’ parents or other family members.

  She concedes, “Excuse me for pointing this out, but he doesn’t strike me as the type to be pushed aside.”

  “You’re completely right; he’s ridiculously stubborn and obnoxiously demanding. I may have to call the police if he pushes me any further. I can’t deal with someone like him, and I shouldn’t have to on my lunch break either.”

  She quickly snaps a tissue from the box on her desk and dabs at her brow. “Well, I ah...I thought he was quite charming,” she admits, blinking a bit too quickly.

  “He’s pushy, domineering, and rude,” I scoff and gently lay my hand on her shoulder. I’ve upset the poor lady, and that wasn’t my intention. Clearly, the vexatious male has Florence completely fooled, but not me. “I spoke to him already and trust me when I say he doesn’t have anything that I need to nor want to hear.”

  “I’ll give the young man a call back then and let him know you’re indisposed. Shall I say the same if he doesn’t answer, and he returns the message? We both know he’s going to have something to say regardless,” she assures me and sips from her lemon water.

  “Yes, and that’s much appreciated, Florence. Thank you.”

  She nods, and I carry on toward the conference room, straightening my suit jacket as I walk. I always attempt to appear the utmost professional; I oversee everyone in the building, after all. My freshly pressed blouse and slacks are just the small confidence boost I need to face my more pressing students and their parents. As a principal, I never look forward to this part of my job. Conferences with troublemakers usually tend to end up in a yelling match between an angry child and an embarrassed or stressed out parent. Having the proper attire when it goes down is critical to show them all that I mean business, and this matter is serious.

  Jimmy Robertson’s parents are due here any time now to discuss their son’s repeated fighting. One more strike, and I’ll be forced to expel this young man. I’m afraid he just isn’t changing his ways, and there’s only so much we can do for him here. Looking in at an elementary school, you’d never guess that fifth graders could cause any issues, but that’s entirely untrue. Half of the boys are terrors. Testosterone starts to fill them at this age, and I find myself constantly fielding off their curiosity toward the girls and their ridiculous tempers toward other boys. This is just one of the many reasons why I refuse to have a child right now. I couldn’t deal with it and these boys at the same time.

  I should find an all-girls school and transfer. I could put my energy and expertise where it really matters. I’d say goodbye to obnoxious little boys as well as pushy bikers who think they run everything.

  What kind of name is Blaze, anyhow? So absurd. I snort to myself and take a seat at the head of the conference table. That man has no idea who he’s messing with. I may have given in to get him to leave, but I had to, or I was going to seriously lose myself, and he was not worth it. I won’t let him gain the upper hand.

  At least I don’t have to worry about seeing him outside of after school dismissal. If he decides to be obnoxious, I’ll just call the cops on him. We’ll see if he really is friends with the sheriff or if he’s fibbing. My guess is he’s bluffing and would freak out if the police showed up. Maybe I’ll see if they can stop by a few times this week just to shake the biker up.

  ***

  Blaze

  Flashing a wide smile at Florence, I lean in and place a soft peck on her hand. It works like a charm; she blushes, and her neck and cheeks flush. “Miss Florence, it’s always a pleasure to see you, ma’am.” I lure her in further with my politeness; older ladies can never resist it.

  She waves her hand, and a bright smile lights up her face. “Oh, stop with the ma’am, young man!”

  “Just being respectful.” I grin, flashing my dimples and move a touch closer.

  She grabs a tissue from the box on her desk and uses it to lightly pat the back of her neck. “You’re such a charismatic fellow, I swear. I just don’t see why Amelia wouldn’t want to see you.”

  With a shrug, I play innocent, thinking back to her message regarding her boss. “I don’t get it, either. I’m just looking out for my dear niece; without her momma around, she needs as many good people in her life as possible.”

  “Such a sweetheart,” she murmurs quietly, and I don’t know if she means Annabelle or me. It’s a dick move throwing Torch’s daughter into the mix, but he said I could. He’d rather me mention her a few times versus her having issues around here since she’s a club brat.

  “Miss Stone still thinks you were going to cancel my appointment, right?”

  She nods and leans in, conspiring. “I was pretending that I couldn’t get ahold of you with her, so if you showed up, it wasn’t able to be helped. Amelia needs someone like you in her life. She doesn’t realize it yet, but she will, in time.�
�

  Women like Florence always like to play matchmaker, and, in this case, it’s worked to my advantage beautifully.

  “Smart thinking.” I wink, and she giggles a bit. “Now, you remember what we discussed?”

  “Of course, and after this morning, I understand much more of what you were saying. She does need a short vacation—badly—bless her soul. That dear is so tightly wound up and won’t take a moment to relax for herself. Take today, for example, she was willing to cancel her long lunch break to take on another meeting. Well, until she found out it was with you, that is.”

  “It’s terrible.” I sigh and shake my head. “She’s going to work herself to death at this rate, then who would be here to help the students like she does?” I ask, and she pats my forearm, attempting to comfort me. I’m reeling her in like a gator with a bloody, raw chicken. Pretty sure I could get her to eat out of my palm if I tried.

  “You’re a good young man, willing to take her on a surprise vacation. I can’t wait to see her come back in a few weeks after having good food, sunshine, and some sleep. The dear is thin as a rail.”

  “It’s all that health junk she eats that you were telling me about,” I agree, refraining from laughing.

  One thing I’ve discovered about sweet Florence is she’s a proud grandma to nine grandchildren. She’s a true old-fashioned Southern lady who believes food, sweet tea, and sunshine is good for the soul. I do agree with her on that, and in this case, she thinks Amelia’s putting her body through hell eating all the gluten-free, organic stuff she likes. I’d bet good money in Florence’s house, macaroni and cheese is a staple, as is sweet tea, red meat, and watermelon—all my favorites. Anyhow, we had a long chat after I’d come in with Torch and again today over the phone.

  “You’re exactly what she needs.”

  “Thank you for that vote of confidence. I’ll do my best. You canceled her other appointments?”

  “Yes, they’re all rescheduled for the week following her return. The less pressing meetings I’ve set up with the assistant principal to take in her place. I’ll make sure it looks like she’s here for the rest of the week to administration as well. She’ll have a full two weeks of paid leave and won’t have to lift a finger. It truly is the least we can do for all she does around here.”

  “You’re a gem, Florence. I hope she appreciates you as much as you deserve.”

  She beams at the compliment and gestures for me to glance behind her. “That’s the private entrance I was talking about when you called. Her car is parked in the first spot to the right of the door; you two can slip out there without any issues. Do you really think you can get her to go with you? She’s a bit stubborn, I’m afraid.”

  It’s too perfect; we’ll sneak out the back door and drive her vehicle to the compound. It’ll look like she’s left on her own free will. Viking wanted me to bring a truck, but after speaking with Florence earlier, I’ve decided this would be the best plan. It’ll have the least amount of possible blowback, and hopefully, no one will think anything suspicious of her departure.

  “Yes, ma’am. You leave that part all up to me. We’ll be quiet and not draw any unwanted attention either. In fact, I doubt you’ll even hear us—maybe just the door opening and closing.”

  If Amelia even attempts to protest, I have just the thing to make her pass out right out. She’ll be out like a light and damn near immediately. Luckily, we have a doctor on the payroll who was willing to help me out.

  Her eyes light up as she stands. “Well, come on, let’s get you tucked away in her office before she comes back. I don’t want her putting that wall up and turning you away. She’s a lucky woman. Back when I was her age, I’d have been beyond flattered to have a handsome fella like you coming to surprise me with a fancy trip all preplanned.”

  I wink at her again and round the counter to follow her back to Amelia’s office. Florence is the only other one up here with the principal’s key, so this part was imperative. The custodian doesn’t even have a copy, because I was initially planning to go that route. Figured I could pay them off and take Amelia Stone by complete surprise.

  Lucky for me, Florence is a romantic who I’ve convinced to be on my side. She thinks I want to take her high-strung boss on a surprise vacation and woo her. She’d probably faint if she knew I had something in my pocket to knock the bossy-ass woman out so I can kidnap her. I’m a bastard for deceiving Florence, but I’ve never claimed to be a good guy.

  Before the Oath Keepers, I was what most would claim nightmares are made of. In the past, I’d never have hesitated to kidnap a woman for my old prez or even torture her. I’d tie her up and not think twice at my old brothers having their time with her. It was the way I was raised, so I didn’t really grasp the consequences of how it affected the female. To me, it was just what the brothers did—what we did. We took what we wanted when we wanted it.

  This time around was done with much more finesse and some patience. Viking should appreciate all the thought I’ve put into it, not going south. The club, along with Princess, has changed the way I treat women immensely. I’ve learned to spoil and protect them—the opposite of how I treated them before. I’ve quickly discovered that I don’t have to take pussy from chicks. Most of them will quickly offer it up when they learn I’m even remotely interested. A little flirting and maybe a drink later, and those panties drop in no time.

  Growing up under Joker—Viking and Odin’s father as our club prez—he had all of us doing shit we’ll forever regret. Evil twisted shit that’ll haunt me for life. Not that any of it could’ve been helped. Back then, we were doing what we had to, to survive. Joker would’ve killed us in a heartbeat had we faltered at his orders in any way. Thank fuck that’s in the past, and Viking is nothing like his father was. The Oath Keepers never would’ve let us patch over. They hold a certain level of reverence amongst the clubs, and back when I was a Widow Maker, we never would’ve considered having morals.

  “Good luck, Blaze,” Florence wishes me and squeezes my bicep, drawing me away from my thoughts of the past. I step into the over-organized office, following her lead.

  “Thank you,” I mumble to the short woman, and she closes the door.

  The first thing I do is head for the security feed and delete the entire week's footage for the front desk. Just in case someone does report Amelia Stone as missing, I need to cover my tracks and make it look like I was never here. She really is high strung and a control freak having the system in her office. Only two people have access to it, and that’s just crazy when she has an entire school to keep an eye on.

  Now, the real decision I have to make is, do I wait behind the door to surprise her? Or, should I sit my ass on her desk and witness the fury firsthand in her beautiful irises one last time before I use the knockout drug and take her with me? I know one thing for certain, I’m going to enjoy every moment of this.

  My fingers rake over the dirty blond scruff on my jaw as I think of what would be best. Her fighting me would be much more fun, but she may make too much noise. I promised we’d be quiet. With a sigh, I step behind the door and eagerly await my woman’s arrival. I’ve got a surprise for her—one she won’t ever see coming or know how to stop.

  Chapter 5

  Amelia

  My head’s feeling heavy, my brain filled with grogginess. I’m consumed with an abnormal amount of fatigue. What on earth happened? Did I pass out? The last thing I remember was my meeting at school with Jimmy’s parents. I’d finished discussing punishment options and walked back to my office. At least, I think I did. I don’t remember ever making it to my desk, though. Ugh, I feel like I’ve been sick for a week, and I’m finally beginning to make my way out of it.

  Inhaling, I roll over onto my stomach, noticing multiple things all at once. First of all, my wrists are squished together, my hands balled up into fists under my chest. This doesn’t smell like my lavender vanilla detergent either, but rather, it’s distinctly male.

  I haven’t had a man in
my bed in God knows how long. That’s not true; it’s been two years since I’d invited anyone home with me. I blame it on a long day and too much wine, but even then, it was at a hotel and not my house. I was at a conference out of state...so a guy wasn’t in my bed at home. Why on earth do I randomly smell one now?

  The scent is a mixture of musky male, deodorant or cologne, and soap all meshed together. Inhaling again, my stomach tightens, and I groan, wanting to keep smelling it. Whatever dream I’m in, I don’t want that part to end. I could cover myself in the scent and never get my fill. It’s been too long since I’ve had sex. I’ve been busy and especially haven’t wanted to deal with the potential of having a time-consuming relationship with anyone.

  The air conditioner kicks on with a soft hum, and the sudden brisk breeze of cold air causes my nipples to stiffen. Now that isn’t right. I must be dreaming because I don’t ever sleep naked. I have a collection of comfortable satin nightgowns and flannel pajamas that I snuggle up in each night. I get a full chill, and my flesh covers in goosebumps. My body squirms, seeking warmth.

  Where are all the blankets? Why’s it so cold in here?

  A big, rough palm lands on my bicep, and my body jerks in surprise as the warmth moves up and down, chasing the goosebumps on my arm. “Shhh,” a deep, gruff voice coos quietly from behind, and my muscles tighten in response. My back’s as stiff as a board, my frame constricting further as my mind finally clears up enough to grasp that I can’t move my arms. I concentrate on the movement again but get nothing in return.

  Don’t freak out. It must be a dream, I chant, attempting to silently placate myself.

  Everything is confusing and jumbled in my mind at the moment. I want to ask who's there and why in the hell I can barely move my body. I attempt to talk, even to cry out, but only a whimper manages to break free. Why am I so damn groggy? What’s wrong with me?

  “You’re all right, babe. Just try and relax. It’ll be easier coming out of the drugs if you don’t fight. Slowly wake up and pull yourself out. You were unconscious for a while. You have to give your head some time to catch up with everything.”