by C. M. Owens
I’ll worry about questioning that later.
“I can’t believe how I spoke to you when you were going through so much. Sweetie, what were you thinking?”
That confuses the shit out of me.
She shuts the screen door, but leaves the front door open so we can keep an eye on the boys.
“What are you—”
“He told me everything. About Ben. Ben Highland is in a biker gang?” she hisses. My lips twitch with the biker gang notation.
“He is, but he isn’t like them.” A sick feeling unfurls in my stomach. “At least I didn’t think he was.”
Then her words register.
“Who told you about what was going on?” I ask, feeling even more confused.
“I have to find a way to pay that money back. The last thing we want to do is be in debt to criminals. I can’t believe your father worked for them. That asshole! How could he keep that a secret? He could have endangered us all!”
I stumble back as though I’ve been slapped.
“How… Mom, slow down. How do you know all this?”
“That tall guy. The one with all the arm tattoos. He came here and told me all about what happened. Even told me you’d been through enough so to be easy with your return. What did that mean? It sounded like a threat, Eve. And what have you been through? Did someone hurt you?”
I’m not sure what details she has and what details she doesn’t have. And hearing that tall guy with the arm tattoos does not narrow down the source of her information.
“I’m not hurt,” I tell her, avoiding all the details. “Drex took care of me. And things could have been bad. But—”
“What were you thinking?!” she explodes, throwing her hands up.
For the next ten minutes, I have to hear her tell me all the horrible things that could have happened to me and all the shitty ways I could have died. I also hear an in-depth tribute to my stupidity for all of this.
Good to be home.
“And now… Now I have to pay that back, even though that guy told me I didn’t. There’s no way we can risk owing them money. And we have to go to the police. We need their protection. Oh no. I should get the boys in. They shouldn’t be outside.”
I grab her arm, halting her ramble and rant.
“Across the street is some protection,” I say on a sigh. The four pristine bikes that are sitting in the garage of the house across from us are proof Drex is somehow linked to that house. And they must be there for a reason.
“Who? Those guys on motorcycles?” Her face pales. “They’re part of the biker gang?”
Shit. This turns into a twenty minute rant from her.
“Drex won’t let anything happen,” I sigh when she has to take a breath. “But I won’t be staying here regardless. It’s safer for you and the boys if I don’t.”
She covers her mouth with her hand.
“And you can’t go to the cops.”
“So you are in danger?” Her lip trembles, and I run a hand through my hair.
“Not from Drex. Just… Well, Ben and his dad could be an issue. It’s a long, fucking complicated story.”
She gasps, mostly because I said fucking, and more tears start to stream from her eyes. I wish no one had told her anything.
“The cops can handle this,” she hisses. “You’re not leaving. I’ll take the boys to Laura’s. She’s been helping me out and I’ve been helping her.”
No clue who that even is, but I’m sure it’s one of mom’s work friends.
“No, Mom. Those guys across the street will keep you safe. But you won’t need to be kept safe if I’m not here.”
At least that’s what I hope.
She leans against a chair, slowly lowering herself into it.
“Did you pay off the house and get the car back?” I ask her.
She nods slowly. “Do you have enough to support you?” I go on.
She nods again.
That means I can use the small amount of money I had saved for a rainy day in case we got kicked out and needed something to get us by on until we could find a solution. It’s not much, but it’ll be enough to rent a small motel room for a month. One that’s closer to Drex, just in case Benny comes to collect. There’s one place that is cheap to rent by the month. I can find a job from there to support myself and—
“Why can’t we go to the police?” she whimpers.
Sighing, I bend down so that I’m almost eye level with her.
“Because the last thing you need to do is make yourself a target or a loose end. I’ll contact you as often as possible until this all blows over. If Ben calls, I want you to call Drex’s number immediately. If he comes over, I want you to scream across the street. Understand?” I ask, grabbing a piece of paper and scribbling Drex’s number down on it.
“And only answer the door if you see Death Dealers cuts… I mean… vests that say Death Dealers. Anyone else, don’t answer at all. The guys are watching, so I doubt anyone will make it to your door who doesn’t belong.”
Her face is a mixture of terror and horror, and I blame myself. I did what had to be done, but I never foresaw the true possibility of so many consequences. Naivety at its best.
“Where are you going?” she asks me quietly as I pick my bag back up and head to my room.
“Somewhere farther away. Trust me. Don’t call the cops, and don’t trust any bikers besides the Death Dealers. I’ll find out how long they’re sticking around,” I call over my shoulder, fighting off tears that want to fall for so many reasons. Drex won’t put anyone over there he doesn’t trust personally.
I grab my hidden stash of a few hundred dollars, and shove it into my bag. Then I walk back out to hug my mother, promising her it will all be okay. I’ll find out how well they’re watching the house.
She argues for a minute, but I remind her the boys are here and need to be safe. With reluctance, she finally lets me go, and I jog across the street.
Before I can knock on the door, Dash is opening it and staring at me in confusion. Guess they’re watching pretty closely.
“How many of you are watching my house and for how long?”
He frowns before pocketing his hands like he’s been caught. Did he think they were unnoticeable?
“Five of us will be watching at all times for a few months. We’re taking shifts. Why? What’s going on?”
Five. That’s a good number.
“Keep them safe, please,” I tell him with a forced smile.
“We’ll keep all of you safe. Drex would kill anyone who let harm come your way.”
Just his name has my heart squeezing in my chest and emotion wads up in my throat.
“Thanks.”
I turn and walk away, but Dash jogs up when he sees me heading toward the bus stop.
“The fuck are you going? You just got home.”
“And I need to get far away from that house,” I point out. “My brothers live there.”
“Yeah. Which is why we’re all watching diligently. You’re safe here.”
“They’re safer without me.”
Just as the bus pulls up, Dash grabs me at the waist and lifts me off the ground to keep me from getting on it.
“You’re supposed to stay at home,” he growls. “Where are you going with a bag full of clothes?”
“You do remember the fact I tried to destroy your dick the last time you got in my way?” I hiss.
People gasp and walk by quickly, while Dash chuckles. “Which is why I’m holding you with your back facing me and keeping those pretty knees and hands far away from my beloved jewels.”
I twist, bending just right to reach between my legs and his legs to grab onto his crotch before he can do anything about it, and I clamp down on his jeans until I grab a good handful. Air hisses between his teeth, while people stumble over themselves to look at how ridiculous we must appear.
“Damn it! What are you? A fucking circus freak?”
“Put me down and let me go. I have to be somewh
ere else, but I want all of you here to watch over them. You decide if you want your dick intact or not while you watch over them.”
He growls, but he loosens his hold on me, slowly lowering me to the ground. It’s an awkward arrangement, since I’m still reaching between my own legs to grab his crotch. Finally, I release him and jump back. He makes no move to come after me.
“You’re a fucking menace to balls,” he growls, rubbing himself without shame as more and more people take notice. Poor sweet neighborhood. They’re not used to such spectacles.
“Do you have a weapon and an address as to where you’re going?” he asks me as he continues to massage the pain away from his groin.
“I’ll be at the motel downtown. About twenty minutes from your warehouse. The one with the stars, boobs, and boots on the sign.” He grimaces, but I don’t see how he can judge. It seems like his kind of place. I also add, “I don’t want a weapon.”
He looks around, then jerks my bag out of my hand. Before I can protest, I see a glint of black being shoved inside.
“If you have to use that, fucking call me immediately. Or at least wipe my damn prints off it. We’ll send some guys out there to watch you too.”
“Keep them all here. I don’t want anyone pulled off my family.”
“Drex will send others there, Eve. No one will be pulled off.”
His name again.
Tears fill my eyes this time, and my lip trembles. Dash’s look softens and he finally quits playing with his balls.
“You can go back if you want to. He won’t mind.”
I snort derisively. “He sent me away for a reason. And he didn’t even bother saying goodbye. And last I checked, most of you assholes want me dead if the mood strikes you right.”
Guilt flashes across his face, and he looks down.
“A team will be there later. Need cash?”
I shake my head. “Paying my own way now. Thanks though.”
Turning around, I load up just as the second bus appears, but Dash is pulling me back off the bus again. Do I have to rip his damn balls off to prove a point?
“Bus is not happening,” he tells me. “I’ll give you a ride.”
Chapter 12
EVE
Two weeks alone in a shitty motel room will definitely make you contemplate your life decisions. At least this place also gave me a job cleaning rooms. I get to stay here full time, order takeout, and watch static-ridden television. Yay me.
I also get to stare at my phone too much, waiting on Drex to call and check on me. But he never does. I get to think about all the times he made me feel something, and then remember how quickly we were done.
The longest I’ve gotten out was when I got my birth control shot renewed. Not that it seems to matter anymore. On a side note, that was a weird escort service for the older, buff, long-bearded biker who drove me there and sat in the waiting room… which had walls full of diagram posters with the inner workings of a woman’s womb, vagina, and breasts.
He actually asked me if it was a game to find the g-spot on the vagina diagram… Like it was Where’s Waldo or something. And he was studying it like he was serious while stroking his beard pensively.
Good times.
I’m back to being empty… Back to making it through the day in hopes of finally living tomorrow. But tomorrow is another day I’m just killing time. It’s even more depressing after you’ve had something you actually wanted but didn’t realize the value of it at the time. Isn’t that the way it goes? You think something’s wrong for you until it’s gone, then you’re miserable without it?
In my head, I always knew it was temporary. But my head and heart are never on the same team. At least when I’m alone in my room no one gets to see me crying over the asshole. And no one gets to see how utterly devastated and lost I feel.
Not because I don’t have him, even though it’s a big part of it. I just feel disconnected and alone. It’s like I don’t fit in here anymore, and I don’t fit in there either. It’d be nice if there was somewhere in the middle where I did fit in. Somewhere in an alternate reality where Drex and I could have something real and untainted, yet dangerous and exciting.
On the bright side, nothing has happened. Which is awesome. My family is safe, and no one from that world has contacted me. The Death Dealers staying two rooms down haven’t even looked my way, even though I know they’re watching my every move. To keep me safe? Or to make sure I don’t spill the beans? Good question.
I think with Drex, it’s to keep me safe. I think for the rest of the club, it’s to keep me quiet.
A light knock at my door has me putting down my cheap wine and peeking out the tiny hole. Ah hell. Why oh why did I jinx myself?
“Eve Marks, we know you’re in there. We just need to ask you some questions.”
“Guess what, I don’t have to answer any questions. Go harass someone else,” I call through the door.
Never thought I’d see the day where I was back-talking federal agents.
They pound on the door a little harder. “We’ll speak to the owner of this establishment and let him know you’ve been involved with a known criminal. Heard you got a job here and are living here, Ms. Marks. It’d be a shame to lose that.”
Assholes.
Cursing, I prop my phone up on the bed and start recording. No way am I taking any risks. Then I open the door, but I block them from coming in and seeing the phone.
“What?” I ask, aiming for badass, but just sounding bitchy. That works for me.
The two young guys who showed up that first night are staring at me with amused, somewhat triumphant expressions.
“Drex Caine dumps his girls in a place like this, huh?” the one on the right drawls.
“Drex Caine has nothing to do with my living arrangements or me. What do you want?”
“Answers. Lots and lots of answers to lots and lots of questions. Otherwise your employer-slash-landlord will know of your involvement with the Death Dealers.”
“Let me summarize my knowledge for you boys,” I say sweetly. “I don’t know anything about Drex Caine other than how he fucks and how he likes his dick sucked.”
A cough sounds out from the one on the left as he strangles on air, and the one on the right wrinkles his nose.
“I know he loves pizza and dark beer. He also likes sex first thing when he wakes up. He’s incredible with his mouth. Oh, and he can give me multiple orgasms any time he wants, because he’s that good. I also know he loves his motorcycle. Just like all of them. Some of them might smell like shit, but their rides are going to sparkle. Drex always smells good, so he’s not included in that. He works out a lot, in case you’re wondering about why his body is so nice. They like their clubs and bars. They also like their women. And they have constant bets on who can reassemble a carburetor the quickest. Those guys love the mechanics of things.”
They both narrow their eyes at me. Leftie shakes his head.
“You know that’s not what we’re here to ask about.”
“It’s a shame you think I know more. Think Drex Caine would just turn me loose if I knew anything other than what I just told you? Honestly, that’s the most boring crew I’ve been around yet. The Hell Breathers had more excitement and danger. Benny Highland is a beast. It’s why I left the Death Dealers. I got bored. Understand?”
Neither look convinced, but they also look torn because I pose a good point about Drex not letting me go if I knew something. The whole Hell Breathers thing was stupid to say and it sounded incredibly contrived, but it’d be nice if they shoved their noses up Benny’s ass for a while and left Drex alone.
They start to say more, but my boss/landlord, who is sweating profusely and walking with a limp, comes toward us, waving his arms around wildly.
“Unless you boys have a warrant, you can’t be on my property.”
“It’s a public establishment,” Righty growls.
“It’s for paying customers, and I can refuse service to anyone I want. S
ays so on my damn sign. Now quit harassing my guests!”
Apparently Mr. Sweaty—as I like to call him—doesn’t want the Feds poking around in his place. Makes sense, since this is a rent-by-the-hour sort of place too.
He grumbles at their backs as he guides them away, and I watch until they leave, probably heading back to scout out Drex.
I pick up my phone, stop the recording, and start to send it to Drex. Then decide I’d rather do it in person. Maybe I’m a masochist who wants to feel her heart broken into a million pieces, but I want to see him. I also want him to tell me why he just shoved me out without so much as a goodbye.
I deserve at least that much.
After putting on another shirt that shows off my tattoo, I walk over and pound on the door where I know two are always staying, and to my surprise, Axle is my greeting.
“What’d they want?”
Apparently he was watching. I’m surprised he couldn’t hear.
I hand him my phone, but I don’t give him time to play the video.
“I need a ride to the warehouse. Drex should see it himself.”
His eyebrows go up. “Not supposed to take you there anymore.”
“The bus works just as well as your bike.”
I smile like a smartass, and he groans while cursing and telling someone he’ll be back. He walks over to his bike, pausing to wipe some dust off it. I bet it’s killing him to have to leave it out in the open like this, but there’s actually a “no motorcycles in the room” policy here. That’s a real thing.
Axle hands me a spare helmet, helps me onto the back of his bike, and bitches about how pissed Drex is going to be before finally cranking it up and tearing out of the parking lot.
It’s not a terribly long ride, but it’s at least twenty minutes.
Now, my stomach is in knots, my hands are sweating, and my heartbeat is going so fast that it’s almost a constant hum in my chest. Even my toes are tingling. I’m going to get to see him, and the excitement unfurling can’t be denied.
I also can’t deny that it’s the first time I’ve felt anything but miserable since I left.