by Jessica Ames
I turn and all but storm out of his office. I grab my coat and my bag, seize the few items I have in my desk drawer, and I leave Pearson’s.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“What have I done?”
I sag onto the table top, groaning dramatically. Holly looks at me with a mix of concern and amusement, although why she’s the latter, I don’t know. This situation is as bad as it can possibly get.
After walking out of work in a spectacular fashion, I started the long walk home. I got about ten minutes down the road—just a safe enough distance from work to avoid half the office gawking out the window at me—and called a taxi to the shelter. I should have gone home, but I needed to talk to someone about what happened—someone who isn’t likely to murder my boss, which is precisely what Dean will do when he finds out what happened.
I’ve spent the past fifteen minutes explaining (translation: ranting) to Holly about what transpired. It’s not often I see her dumbstruck, but I managed to shock the hell out of her with this one. Not surprising really; I’m still reeling. I’m pretty sure the adrenaline rush of telling my boss to shove his job is going to stay with me for a week.
“What you did was stick up for yourself,” Holly soothes. “You should be proud. You would never have done that twelve months ago.”
I blink at her. She’s right. I wouldn’t have had the guts to say anything, but I felt empowered, in control. Don’t get me wrong, I’d been a wreck as well. Holly considers me for a moment as I reach for another biscuit. She’d cracked out the chocolate digestives the moment I walked through the door.
“You know, sweetie, you probably have a case to take Bob the dickhead to court. I’m certain he broke at least fifteen employment laws today.”
The thought of suing Bob doesn’t fill me with joy, although he deserves it. Judgemental bastard.
The longer I’ve been with Dean, the more I have come to realise just how judgemental people can be. And I get it; I was the same in the beginning. I didn’t see the man—I just saw the kutte. But now… knowing him as I do, knowing how sweet and loyal and kind he is it makes me boiling mad to know people can treat him that way. Dean is better than most of the men out there. Don’t get me wrong; I’m not naïve; I know he’s hardly squeaky clean, but I can’t think about that. All I can think about is the way he treats me, and that is like I’m gold dust.
“I don’t want to sue Bob. I just want to be able to make rent at the end of the month. I don’t even know why I reacted like that.”
“Because he acted like a first-class arsehole. Sweetie, you don’t have to ever take shit like that, least of all from an employer.”
Dean had said something similar this morning. I give her a look. “I take shit from you all the time.”
She snorts. “Give over.”
“What am I going to do?”
“Pick yourself up and dust yourself off.” She tilts her head at me. “Would you consider working at the shelter full-time?”
I blink at her. “Doing what? Don’t I need qualifications?”
“I’ve been considering hiring a deputy manager. I’m trying to do everything at the moment, and truthfully, it’s too much. I can’t keep doing all the paperwork and looking after everything else. I need help.”
That she’s admitting that surprises the hell out of me.
“You’re admitting you need help? Pinch me, quick.”
She rolls her eyes at me. “I’m not that stubborn. But I am burning the candle at both ends and it’s taking a toll on me. I spoke to Georgia about it a couple of weeks ago and she’s not signed it off yet, but I don’t see why she wouldn’t. Even she knows I need more support. Truthfully, I planned on broaching the subject with you when you were next in; Bob being an arse has just pushed everything forward.”
“What would I be doing? Not that I can afford to turn anything down right now.”
“I need someone to do the paperwork—chase suppliers and order stuff we need; transport details. What do you think? If it is possible, would you be interested?”
I nod. “Yes, I would be absolutely interested.”
And that is the truth. I really would, because the shelter is where my heart truly lies. Being here, I make a difference; at Pearson’s I’m just another number, another cog in a machine.
“Then I’ll start the paperwork. It’ll all have to go through Georgia and the central office, but it shouldn’t take too much time. We already have your details from your volunteer application, but I think there’s a few more bits we’ll need to fill in. At least we won’t need to do another background check on you.” She studies me for a moment. “Technically, I’m supposed to interview you, but I don’t think it’s necessary. I already know you’re a chocolate biscuit addict with a penchant for bikers.” Her eyes narrow at me. “Speaking of which: Dean gave you a lift to work this morning… that’s what Bob had his knickers in a twist about, right? So I’m guessing your date-that-wasn’t-really-a-date went well then?”
It went better than well. I was expecting to ride the wave of that high all week. Bob destroyed that in less than fifteen minutes. Still, I can’t stop from grinning.
“It went great.”
Holly stares at me, then she mutters, “You got lucky, didn’t you?”
I gape at her. “You can’t possibly know that just by looking at me.”
“Oh my God. Spill. I need all the details.”
I shrug as I shove another biscuit into my mouth. “There’s nothing to tell other than it was amazing. He’s amazing. That’s why I got so mad when Bob was being a dick. He doesn’t know the first thing about him—or his Club.”
Then again, I don’t know the first thing about that either. I’ve only been to the clubhouse a few times and I’ve met some of his brothers, although not all of them.
“Well, you don’t have to go back there. Give me a couple of days to file everything with Georgia, but there shouldn’t be too much of a gap between you leaving there and starting here.”
Thank God. My rent isn’t expensive—not compared to other parts of the UK—but it’s not cheap either for someone on one wage.
“Thank you, Holly. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.”
“I’m not doing this because we’re friends—although we are friends and I would help you in any way I could. But I wouldn’t just put you in a role because of that. I picked you, and I wanted you before this even happened because you’ll be a good fit. You have experience, you know the staff, you know our processes. You’ve also lived the same traumas as many of these women. Of course me and Georgia thought of you. You’ve given so much to the shelter since you started volunteering; more than we had any right to expect, given your history. I don’t say this enough, sweetie, but I’m proud of you and how far you’ve come.”
Tears clog my throat.
“You’re going to make me cry.”
She smiles at me. “Well, just don’t tell Dean I did. I don’t want to get ‘whacked’,” she says.
I shake my head at her for throwing back my words from many moons ago when I’d been worried Dean would see me off for insulting him. How far we’ve come.
“And sweetie, I don’t like to brag, but I do recall telling you you’d be sucking face with Dean within six months. So… I told you so.”
She grins and I glare before I mirror her expression.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Darlin…”
I moan and turn away from the voice.
“Liv… time to wake up.”
“No.”
I hear a chuckle and pry my eyes open to see Dean leaning over me, his eyes twinkling.
“You’re going to be late if you don’t get up.”
We go through this routine more than I would like to admit. I am not a morning person while Dean overwhelmingly is. And since I wake up every morning in his bed or him in mine—and have done for the past few weeks—he gets to see this demonic side of me.
I groan dramatically. “I’m e
xhausted. Someone kept me awake late.” I feel sore between my legs, a delicious ache that reminds me of our mind-blowing sex session last night. And it had been mind-blowing. Then again, it always is.
He kisses the side of my face, working his way down my neck and I suddenly forget what I was complaining about.
“I’m sorry, love.”
“Oh, I’m not,” I moan as his hand runs over my breast. Sweet Jesus.
Then he withdraws it and I let out an aggrieved whimper. “You need to get up or you’re going to be late and Holly’ll have my hide.”
He’s not wrong—about me being late, not about Holly having his hide, although I don’t want to make a habit of being late when I’m only two weeks into my new role. It took a few weeks to sort the paperwork, during which time I lived as close to the bone as I’d ever been money wise. Dean tried to help me out but I didn’t want to keep taking from him so I was glad when I was able to start at the shelter.
He pushes off the bed and I watch his muscles bunch as he stands in front of me in just his boxer briefs.
He holds out a tattooed hand and I take it, letting him pull me out of the bed and into his arms.
“You shower. I’ll make coffee.”
That sounds like a plan I can get behind, although I would prefer to get behind him. But he’s right; I do need to get up and ready for work, otherwise I am most definitely going to be late.
His lips brush against my hair.
“Go shower.”
I do as I’m told. The hot water is glorious and I stand under it probably a little longer than I should. When I head down to the kitchen, Dean has not only made coffee, but he’s also rustled up some toast and eggs—his signature breakfast dish.
“You didn’t have to make breakfast,” I tell him, even though I’m secretly glad he has. Dean’s eggs are becoming a firm favourite for me; the man can make a tasty egg.
I move to the coffee mug on the side and I touch him as I pass. It’s just a small brush against his side, but enough to make his eyes heat.
“I wanted to.” He hands me a plate, kissing me as he does.
“Thank you.” I move over to the small breakfast table pushed against the wall and he joins me, sliding his plate onto the top. “What are your plans today?”
“Garage this morning, Club shit this afternoon.”
“Club shit?” I cock my brow. “That’s descriptive.”
He smiles but doesn’t offer any further explanation of what ‘Club shit’ might be. “I’ll be done in time for you finishing work, if you want me to pick you up.”
I grin. “Okay.”
We eat breakfast and finish getting ready for the day. Then Dean takes me to work on the back of his bike. My arms wrap around his middle as we move through the morning traffic and I wish we were on the open road so we could just hit the throttle.
We reach the shelter with ten minutes to spare before my shift starts. Dean pulls up outside the gates and lets me off. Once we’re helmet-free, he cups the side of my face and draws me to him for the most sensual kiss of my entire life. I feel it from my toes up. His eyes scan over my face and neck, a grin tugging at his lips.
“Have a good day, beautiful.”
He waits for me to go through the gates and only once I’m safely on the other side do I hear his Harley roar and take off up the street.
I move up the steps of Hope House, taking them two at a time and let myself into the porch. Then I hit the buzzer. The door disengages and I push it open, stepping into the foyer. I head to the staff area and find Holly having a coffee.
“Oh good, you’re here. I’ve been wai—” She stops talking and stares at me. “Oh my God.”
“What?” I demand.
“You have an enormous bruise on your neck.” My hand instinctively goes to my throat.
“Shit. I do?”
Oh my God. Dean must have given me a love bite last night. He had been sucking on my neck like a fucking vampire, so it’s hardly surprising, but did he not think to mention I have a bloody hickey? How the heck didn’t I notice it myself?
Well, I had been kind of preoccupied this morning…
I move over to the window, trying to see my reflection in it, but I can’t make anything out.
Holly moves over to me, pulling my hands away. “What the hell happened?”
“Nothing happened.”
“Sweetie, you don’t get a bruise like that without…” She straightens and her eyes come to me. “This is a hickey, isn’t it?”
I’m fairly certain I blush to the roots of my hair.
“It is, isn’t it?”
I scowl. “Fuck.”
“Oh my God!” She grins. “Dean…”
I can’t help it, I break into my own grin. “I’m going to kill him for putting his mark on me like a fucking Neanderthal.”
“I’m happy for you, sweetie! Jealous as all hell, but happy,” she tells me.
My phone buzzes against my leg and I pull it out, expecting it to be Dean. It’s not.
TAMMY: He’s crazy. I don’t want him near our son. I want out. How did you get out? Help me, please.
“Okay, your happy glow just went ‘poof’,” Holly says. “What’s wrong?”
I hold my phone in her direction, my shoulders setting in a tense line. This is not good. It’s been months since I last heard from Tammy and this message is enough to set my panic levels to DEFCON one.
“Tammy. She’s in trouble by the sounds of it.”
Holly takes the phone off me. Her brow gets progressively more furrowed as she reads the message.
“Text her back; tell her we’ll help her. I’ll get in touch with Georgia. If we can get her to the Bedford shelter first, I’ll see if we can move her out of town.”
I quickly type back a reply.
ME: Can you leave the house?
TAMMY: Yes.
ME: There is a shelter on Garrows Lane. Go there. The manager is Georgia Fairfield. She’ll take care of you. I’m going to see if we can set you up somewhere out of town in the meantime. Pack up just what you need. We’ll sort the rest.
The reply takes an agonising few minutes to come back and when it does it’s short and to the point.
TAMMY: Okay. Thank you.
I’m on tenterhooks, worrying, panicking in case Simon catches Tammy trying to leave. Georgia keeps us updated but three hours after the message there is still no sign of Tammy. I go about my tasks at the shelter, my heart dancing in my chest as I work. I’ve been where she is, but I didn’t have the added danger of a baby to consider. I can’t imagine what she’s going through; it was terrifying enough leaving when I only had my own safety to think about.
By the mid-afternoon I’m practically climbing the walls waiting for news. She doesn’t sign back into her social media account and I don’t receive any other correspondence from her.
“Maybe she got cold feet,” Holly says to me when we stop for a coffee break at around three in the afternoon. “It happens.”
It happens more than you would imagine. It happened a fair few times to me.
“Maybe we should give the local plod a call, ask them to do a welfare check.”
It would risk escalating the situation but I’m starting to get panicked.
Holly is about to respond when her phone pings. She puts her coffee mug down on the table and swipes her finger over her mobile phone screen.
“Oh, Georgia says she’s arrived!”
And all the tension leeches from my body. I sag forward onto the table top and let out a long breath. “Oh, thank fuck. Are they okay?”
Holly swipes across the screen and after a moment another ping comes back. “Both mum and baby are fine. I got them a bed in a shelter in north Merseyside. Georgia will sort transport now.” Holly leans over the table and seizes my hand, squeezing it so hard my fingers ache. “They’re safe.”
I sag back into the chair. “Thank God they’re okay.”
Holly nods, smiling. Our stories don’t always ha
ve happy endings; I’m glad this one has because the thought of something happening to Tammy and her son…
“Are you seeing Dean tonight?”
“He’s picking me up after work.”
“Well, at least one of us is getting lucky.”
I don’t point out that she would also be getting lucky if she would open her eyes and see Nate is totally in love with her, but I don’t. She has to come to that realisation herself.
Dean texts me towards the end of my shift to tell me he’s waiting outside. I say goodbye to Holly, grab my stuff and head out into the evening. He’s waiting just outside the gate, leaning against a low wall, the bike parked up against the curb. He’s lit up under the streetlight, the end of his cigarette glowing as he takes a drag of it. He pushes up off the brickwork as I move towards him, stubbing the end out, and as soon as I reach him I go into his arms without hesitation. He wraps me tightly against his chest and kisses my hair before pulling back a little so he can brush his lips over mine.
“Good day?”
“The best,” I tell him, meaning it. “You?”
“The best, too,” he says. “I want to take you out for dinner.”
“We went out last night.”
He grins down at me. “So we can’t go out tonight?”
“No. Of course not. It’s just… I don’t want you to waste all your money on me, Dean.”
He kisses me. “I love wasting all my money on you, darlin’.”
That was kind of romantic, right?
“Then let’s go to dinner.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
“Time to spill, Liv. We need to know what the bloody hell is going on.”
This question is fired at me the moment Dean disappears into the changing room to throw on his gym stuff. The girls move to surround me, firing questions at me.
“Uh… what?” Heat rises in my cheeks.
Dean has continued teaching the classes every Thursday. Truthfully, we’re all getting good at defending ourselves. I can take down any of the girls without breaking a sweat, although I have no idea how I would fare against someone bigger and stronger.