by D. D. Prince
5:30 am, according to the clock on the wall.
I must’ve passed out shortly after nine o’clock.
And he stayed.
The Denver Broncos blanket that was usually draped across my brother’s couch, but that I’d put away into the only closet (a big walk-in that housed the laundry machines, my brother’s linens, and the clothing I’d brought as well as whatever clothes he didn’t take to Washington) was on us. So were the pillows I tucked into the closet when I closed the sofa bed each day, leaving the bedding on the bed when I tucked it in. He didn’t just fall asleep like I did. He made a conscious decision to stay.
Hm. So, an intentional sleepover. I wanted to be angry, but then I saw he’d cleared up our food mess. It’d been all over the coffee table when I fell asleep. He also installed the chain on the door. I could see the door from where I was. The ongoing joke that I could sleep through a tornado was pretty apt, evidently.
I sat up, swung my legs off the couch, and rubbed my eyes with the heels of my hands.
I was wide awake now and ready to start my day.
And one thing was very apparent to me. I needed him out of here.
I shivered as fingers trailed up my spine to the length of my straight dark hair, which fell at just around my bra strap. I was in a light grey crocheted hoodie t-shirt and a white racerback tank with grey yoga pants. Bare feet. He was shirtless, in a pair of jeans, shoes and socks on the floor beside the couch. I’d been using the green shirt he’d worn like a pillow.
How’d it get under my head?
I didn’t even wanna turn around to the tickling of my spine. I slumped forward and let out a sigh instead.
His fingers halted their journey and then his palm moved up and down my back.
“Mornin’ Sunshine,” he whispered, voice rough.
I blew out a breath and winced, steeling myself against how incredible his voice and his words sounded, not to mention how the backrub felt.
What now?
I turned and looked at him. “You should’ve woken me.”
He smiled. “I tried. You were out. Comatose. Didn’t wanna leave the door unlocked by goin’. So, to keep it locked up, I stayed.”
“Oh.” I felt a little guilty for thinking he’d taken advantage. His reasoning was not farfetched; I’d been told repeatedly that I was hard to wake up. When not suffering with the aftermath of being beaten up by my boyfriend, naturally.
That I’d slept deeper again felt like a sign I was moving forward. I couldn’t marinate in that good news. Nope, I had to get him out of here before he tried to have sex with me. He was looking at me like he wanted me for breakfast and my private parts were feeling like they wanted to feed him. For hours. Nope, nope, nope.
“You want some coffee? I got a to-go cup you can take…” I went to move away, but his arm hooked around my middle and he hauled me back.
“It’s not even six. How ‘bout I fuck you and then we go back to sleep for two or three hours? Pull this thing out into a proper bed, then have some… waffles.”
Whoa.
The roughness was back in his voice. And now there was definite wetness in my undies.
“Uh, I wanna go for a run and I have errands before my first appointment.”
“First appointment’s when?” he asked.
“Ten thirty.”
“So, we got time.” His mouth went to my throat.
I pulled away. “Actually… I don’t. I have errands.”
Yeah. An errand of resisting Spencer Valentine. Priority one.
He looked at me searchingly.
I stretched, making my top rise and he looked at my midriff.
I quickly yanked my shirt to cover me appropriately.
“Thanks for dinner last night. Sorry you were stuck here.” I moved to the coffee maker. “Oh, and thanks for putting that lock up. What do I owe you?”
He stared at me and didn’t answer.
“So, coffee to go?” I asked.
“It was no hardship, baby.” He got to his feet and was right at my back, arms winding around my waist as I flipped the switch to On and pulled a k-cup out of the box in the cupboard.
“I sleep like the dead. When I’m feeling safe, that is.”
He squeezed me.
Shit, what did I go and say that for? Don’t give him the impression he makes you feel safe, Pippa!
I needed distance. I needed him to go.
I reached up into the cupboard and found a travel mug of Phil’s. I stuck it under the coffee maker and hit the button.
“’Scuse me” I said, pulling out of his embrace and zipped into the bathroom.
Phew. My heart wouldn’t stop racing.
Spencer here with me. Spencer here last night after feeding me Chinese food after what’d happened that morning and the night before. All that’d been happening since he found me in that alley.
I did not need this yet. A relationship. He was evidently looking for either a relationship or an ongoing thing, which exclusive or not, I was not ready for. And the whole waffle conversation the other day and then him asking for waffles today? That suggested more than a fuck-buddies thing.
I had to end all of this, now.
I used the bathroom and brushed my teeth, then went back out with the plan of getting rid of him, getting changed, and then going for a run before coming back to shower and face my day.
Face my day as a newly single woman trying desperately to get her life together before getting involved with someone, anyone, even if they were a hot biker with stamina and talented fingers, lips, tongue, and other important parts. Even if they remembered my favorite Chinese food dishes many months later. Even if they smelled like the best smell I’d ever smelled. Even if they looked at me like I was the lottery ticket they’d just realized they had the winning numbers for.
I definitely had to get rid of him and make things clear. Friend zone.
***
He was not happy, at all, about me rushing him out. And when he tried to kiss me, I turned my head and gave him my cheek and patted his back in the hug as if we were nothing but friends.
“Thanks so much for Chinese food last night. It was great. Sorry I fell asleep and you got stuck here. Here’s your coffee. See you later.” I waved and took two steps backwards.
He was still standing there shirtless, barefoot, and my demeanor made his eyebrows go up and his arms go across his chest, which meant I was standing there stupidly holding out the mug that he wasn’t taking.
“What’re you doin’, baby?”
“Here. Your to-go coffee.”
He stared at the mug in my hand and shook his head at me, looking kind of pissed. I kind of hated it but tried to hide it with a bright smile.
He gave me a once over like he was disappointed in a way that made my heart flare.
I tried to keep my expression the same, but I think I failed.
He ignored the cup and went to the couch and grabbed his shirt and threw it on, then headed to the bathroom and shut the door. Kind of hard.
I stood stock still for a second and then put the cup on the counter and started to work on my own cup of coffee. I wanted a half a cup before my run and then I’d come back, drink the second half and get my shower.
He came out, and then I heard shuffling of him getting into his socks and boots. I kept busying myself, stirring my coffee way longer than was needed, when my hair went up into a ponytail in his grip and he used it to tug my head back a little bit. He planted a hot and heavy kiss on my neck and then nibbled his way up to my now parted lips, that rough scruff on his face scraping my jaw and making my knees wobbly. He spun me and devoured my mouth, making my knees go from wobbling to buckling.
As I tottered, he let go, gave me a look of intensity, and then he marched out of there, undoing the chain, opening, and then slamming the door. I stood, like a deer in the headlights for a minute.
I figured he’d get the hint. Or, I figured, by his demeanor heading into the bathroom, that I’d pisse
d him off.
That kiss was pissed off, but it was also almost like a promise that this wasn’t over.
He had to know I was intentionally pushing him away, working hard to keep this casual, or… more like backpedal to friend zone. and he was evidently ignoring this, instead choosing to forge ahead with his own plan.
Well, I’d just have to try harder.
***
It took me over an hour before I got my butt in gear and finally left for my run. I took my frustrations over the whole Spencer thing on the apartment and had vacuumed, dusted, and mopped the whole thing (small as it was) before going for my run. I had already broken a sweat when I left, and I needed to break a bigger sweat, put my energy into something.
There was a great park three blocks from the apartment with a running track, and I decided to make extensive use of it while I was living at Phil’s. On my way back, rounding the corner near the parking lot beside the florist, my heart lurched.
Two guys on motorcycles were parked beside Monica’s (the florist and my brother’s landlord) car.
These weren’t Dominion Brotherhood bikers.
Damn. They were Wyld Jackals. What in the world were they doing here?
I’d rounded the corner in a way that announced my arrival before realizing who was there. It was too late to turn around without drawing attention to myself, so I kept moving past them, heading to the door.
“Yo!” A tall, thick, ugly one called out to me. I wouldn’t normally call someone out for their looks, but he had a mean face, a bald head, a tattoo of a bleeding skull on the side of his neck, and tattooed hands. And he was a Wyld Jackal, which definitely added to the ugliness.
He sat on a big motorcycle, eyes on me in a way that made my veins run icy hot.
The other biker was standing beside his motorcycle. He was dark-haired, average height, heavy set, and bearded. They were both in their early thirties, maybe.
I kept running, my keys in my hand, not making further eye contact, and as I got close to the door, the one standing was moving quicker than he looked like he could move, to get between me and the door. I halted.
The other guy was off his motorcycle and sauntering over, a mean look on his face, and a predatory gleam in his eyes.
I was in a running bra with a hoodie, but it was half unzipped because I was sweating. It wasn’t balmy out, still the very early spring, but I’d been hot. I had second-skin running pants on.
I’d left only with my keys and my little phone wallet, which was in the inside pocket of my hoodie.
“Your man owes us money,” the bearded one blocking the door informed.
“My… man?” I asked, a bit breathless. I’d already downed my water and needed more.
“Yep,” he stated, popping the ‘p’ and giving me an oily once over with beady eyes.
Just then, a shit-box of a car pulled up. A little old 1990-something Toyota Tercel, the color of rust.
A guy got out and had his hands up in the air.
“Sorry, I’m late,” he greeted the two bikers. The guy looked like he hadn’t been to bed yet.
I reached inside my hoodie casually and pulled my phone out.
“Hey!” The bearded guy pointed with menace. “Keep yer hands where I can see ‘em.”
My phone was inside the snapped-shut wallet case, so I couldn’t even access the screen covertly.
“Sorry, but I don’t know what---”
“Yep, that’s her. That’s his woman,” the Tercel driver stated. He looked like a strung-out junkie.
“I think you’ve got the wrong girl,” I advised shakily, feeling my heart race.
“Just ‘cuz he left town don’t mean his debt’s done, babe,” the mean biker informed me.
“I don’t even know who you’re talking about,” I volleyed, throwing my hand up in the air. The bearded biker glared at me, seeing through my lie.
“Your boyfriend owes this guy, who owes us, four hundred and fifty bucks for some stuff he got. We need that money, a fifty dollar late fine on it, or we need that blow back. What’s it gonna be? Blow, dough, or… blow?” His eyes traveled the length of me for the second ‘blow’.
Oh yuck. Yuck!
My mouth dropped momentarily before I declared, “That guy’s not my boyfriend.”
The bearded Jackal looked to the Tercel driver.
“I saw them a bunch of times goin’ into his place. Saw her go into that House of Allure salon, you know the one, so I knew where she was and when I stopped seein’ him around, followed her here. Trust me, this is her. Wouldn’t forget an ass like that.” He jerked his chin in my direction.
They both looked to me and the bearded one in front of me craned his neck to look behind me.
Checking out my ass, blatantly. Pigs.
“Where is he?” Mean Ugly Jackal asked me.
“He’s in jail. We split up. He’s not my responsi---”
“What’s he in jail for?” Bearded biker cut me off.
“Beating me up!” I snapped.
Mean Ugly Guy gave me a look, an assessing head-to-toe one and then gritted his teeth. “Fucker,” he grumbled.
“Gee, thanks,” I said, my words oozing with snark.
Bearded biker folded his arms. “Well, this debt’s gotta be paid.”
“Not my debt.” I folded my arms across my chest.
“Someone’s gotta pay.” His eyes dropped to my chest and I realized I’d drawn his eyes there by folding my arms.
I shuffled uneasily on the balls of my feet. “I had no idea he had any debts. No idea he did cocaine or whatever. This has nothing to do with me.”
“Then how’d you know it was cocaine?” He raised his brows speculatively, confirming it was cocaine.
I huffed. “All sorts of stuff revealed itself as our relationship ended. I didn’t know about the debts.”
“Where’s his family live then? You sayin’ it’s on them?”
“I’m saying it’s on Joe. And Joe’s in jail, so… I don’t know.”
The bearded Jackal leaned against my door and folded his arms across his chest like he had all the time in the world.
I was still sort of panting from my run and also my heart was hammering against my chest with the stress of all of this.
It was still early enough that there weren’t many people around. It had to be before eight thirty in the morning.
This wasn’t a very busy area, but it wasn’t usually this dead. And I was wishing it wasn’t. Panic spiked.
“I have to g-get ready for work,” I informed, then cleared my throat and took a fortifying breath. “This isn’t my problem, fellas. I’m sorry.” I waved my hand and gestured for the bearded Jackal to move.
He didn’t leave my doorway. In fact, he took a step forward at the same time as the guy behind him and they weren’t quite touching me, but I was sort of in danger of becoming the middle of a biker Oreo. Only, these two weren’t my type so not an Oreo, unless an Oreo was gross with two yucky men surrounding one sweaty woman.
“Unfortunately, babe, it might be your problem,” Bearded biker informed. “’Cuz it’s someone’s. How do we know you ain’t bullshittin’, hidin’ him?”
I sidestepped, not liking how close they were.
“Maybe we need to check your place up there.” He jerked his chin up toward my window.
Fuck, no. No way was I letting them get me alone out of public view. I decided I was done with this shit. I was done with these guys trying to intimidate me.
“Listen, this isn’t my problem. This is his problem. I don’t do cocaine, never had nothing to do with anything he got from you, didn’t even know about the coke until we were breaking up, and have had enough of his bullshit to last a lifetime, thank you very much, so now if you’ll all just kindly, pardon my language, but fucking go. I’ve had enough of Joe and his bullshit.”
They closed in again and the bearded guy’s face went mean. I might’ve just put myself in a really bad position by mouthing off.
“Where’s his family live?” He demanded.
I shook my head. “I’m not telling you that.”
“All right, then, so that means the debt is yours and so you got two choices,” he said, too close to my face. Way too close. He reached up and tipped up my chin with the knuckle of his index finger.
“You either pay up the $500 or you pay out in trade.”
I felt heat at my back. The mean one was breathing down my neck. Literally. And then I felt him right against the back of me.
“Fuck, she smells good,” the mean one said low. “Love the smell of sweat and fear on a beautiful woman.”
Beard let go of my chin and reached around and squeezed my ass.
I side-stepped and put my hands up defensively. “Hands off.”
He raised his hands and smiled a creepy smile at me.
I quickly weighed out my options. No one was around. I was essentially cornered by three men. Toyota Tercel looked like a strung-out junkie, not big or tough enough to do much, but then again, strung out could mean desperate enough to do something whacked. Mean biker behind me was as tall as Spencer and wider. The guy in front of me looked like he wanted an excuse to do bodily harm to me. Or something else… harmful.
I knew the Wyld Jackals’ reputation. These were outlaw bikers and scum. A few of their members in Sioux Falls raped and murdered a Dom member’s girlfriend, and dropped her at the Sioux Falls clubhouse gates with words written on her body, messages to the Dominion Brotherhood.
They kidnapped Ella with the intent to gang-rape her. Twice. Thankfully they did not succeed either time.
They did something really bad to Scott and no one said specifically what, but it was hinted that it was Deliverance ‘squeal like a piggy’ kind of bad that required stitches in very private places.
They threatened Rider with raping and murdering Jenna, if they could find her.
They were believed to be directly responsible for Rider nearly getting dead a few months back.
These guys were seriously bad dudes, hence the war with the Doms.
If I name-dropped right now that I knew any Doms, it would likely make things worse for me. I did not need that. What I did need, was to get out of this situation, ASAP. I was trying to act unintimidated, but decided then I had to make sure I didn’t piss them off.