UNDERTAKER

by Nicole James

  Usually she worked for the prosecution, but lately, she’d worked more and more in the field of abusive relationships and abused women.

  “Look, maybe I did play you back then—”

  “Maybe?” Her brows shot up.

  “But I had a good reason.”

  “Of course you did. They all do. Every felon has some bullshit justification for what they do.” She pushed her papers aside. “I didn’t bring you in here to discuss the past. Holly told me everything that happened to her, including how you rescued her. She has nothing but good things to say about you.”

  “Great.”

  “But I can’t help but warn you, as I did her, that this relationship could be toxic.”

  “Toxic? I’d never hurt her, if that’s what you mean.”

  She watched his eyes stray to the flyer for the Abused Woman’s Center fundraiser that lay on her desk. “She needs to return to her regular routine. She can’t continue to hide out in that… that clubhouse.” His chin came up at the umbrage in her voice, but she didn’t care as she stated the obvious. “She told me she was attending University of New Orleans. She needs to re-enroll in classes as soon as UNO lets her. She needs to get back with people her own age.”

  “Don’t you think I know all that? She won’t go. She’s terrified… has a breakdown if I even suggest it.”

  “There are some techniques I can give you, some steps you can take slowly but firmly to steer her toward moving on with her life. But I need to reiterate, she’s vulnerable and—I believe—half in love with you. You’ll have to let her down easy.”

  He ran his hand down his jaw and beard. “Any suggestions on how to do that?”

  “If you really have her best interests at heart, then I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

  “I want what’s best for her. That’s why I brought her here.”

  “I hope you’re sincere.” She could see she’d gotten under his skin. Too bad, it was true—he and Holly both had to hear some cold hard facts. “This isn’t going to be easy.”

  “No shit.”

  “Are you willing to do what it takes?”

  “I’m here aren’t I?”

  “That means no more kissing or anything else. And before you give me another one of those denials, she told me.”

  “That’s as far as it’s gone. I swear.”

  “Yes, well, I remember how much your word is worth.”

  His jaw tightened. “I deserve that. All right? I know. But I’m being straight with you now. So, can you lay off the jabs?”

  She tapped a stack of papers on the desk that didn’t need straightening. “Maintain some distance from her as much as possible. You have to build some emotional space between the two of you. She’s going to push. You’re going to have to stand firm.”

  “Got it. What about the depression?”

  “I could prescribe something for her, but I’d rather not unless it becomes too severe. I believe the best way to overcome what’s happened is for her to continue the sessions with me where she’s safe to talk about everything, and we can work on skills for her to apply in her day-to-day life. In the meantime, here’s a list of things that are important for her to do.” She handed him a flyer. As he scanned it, she recited the steps. “Routine is important; it gives her structure. You or she needs to set goals. Daily goals. They can start small like making the bed or doing the dishes. As she begins to feel better, add more challenging ones.

  “She also needs to take on daily responsibilities. They will ground her and give her a sense of accomplishment. If she’s not up to full time school, that’s fine, but think about part-time.

  “It’s also good for her to do something new and different. Perhaps a new craft or hobby or a visit to somewhere she’s never been. It’s important for her to make time for things she enjoys and that make her happy and that are fun.”

  Undertaker nodded. “Okay. What else?”

  “She needs to eat right, get enough sleep, and I can’t stress enough the importance of exercise. It temporarily boosts the feel-good chemicals called endorphins. Regular exercise also seems to encourage the brain to rewire itself in a positive way. You may have to take up jogging if she won’t do it alone.”

  “Great.” The sarcasm in his voice was undeniable.

  “Eventually, you’re going to need to find someone to begin taking the place of looking after her, someone who can also make her feel safe, especially if she’s to break her infatuation with you. Can you think of anyone suitable?”

  “Anyone? Yeah. Suitable? No.”

  “Well, I’ll leave that to you and her sister.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Undertaker tapped on Holly’s door. It was barely past sunrise, not his usual time for being awake, and he wondered how long he’d have to knock before he woke her. After a couple of minutes, she came to the door with a bad case of bed head, rubbing her squinting eyes.

  “Is something wrong?”

  He leaned against the doorframe and lifted his chin toward her. “Get dressed in something you can run in.”

  She frowned. “Why?”

  “You and I are going for a run.”

  Her head cocked to the side. “Say what?”

  He pushed off the frame. “Meet me out front. You’ve got five minutes, babe.”

  As he walked down the hall, he heard her door slam, and he chuckled. He was no happier than she was about this, but that didn’t stop his determination to do what the good doctor had ordered.

  ***

  At the sound of the door slamming behind him, Undertaker turned from the post he leaned against. Holly didn’t look happy, but she was dressed in shorts, a tank, and running shoes, her hair up in a ponytail. And all in the five minutes he’d given her.

  “Why exactly are we doing this?” she grumbled.

  “Because it’s good for you. Come on.” He set off out of the compound and down the road.

  “Good enough reason I guess,” she muttered under her breath as she fell in beside him.

  They were silent as they ran—no conversation, just the sound of their feet pounding on the pavement, the autumn breeze blowing through the trees, and the occasional bird chirping. It was peaceful, and Undertaker found that it cleared his mind, and the blood pulsing through his veins let him think clearly. He was a man who did his best thinking on the back of a bike, with the throttle wide open and the wind in his face. But he had to admit—this was a close second.

  They made a five-mile circuit, ending up back at the compound about an hour later.

  Undertaker poured a bottle of water down his throat.

  Holly bent over, her hands on her knees, breathing heavily as she peered up at him. “I guess I’m a little out of shape.”

  He grinned down at her. “You did real good. I only had to slow down a couple of times.” She flipped him off, and he chuckled. “We’re going to be doing this every morning, so you’ll be back in shape in no time.”

  “Every morning?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Every morning or until my knees give out, whichever happens first. Now go grab a shower, and meet me back down here for breakfast.”

  “Are you saying I’m sweaty?”

  “You’re sweating like a pig, darlin’,” he teased.

  She shoved him back a step. “You are!”

  He flung water from the bottle at her, and she squealed, dashing inside and almost plowing into Mooch as he walked out the door.

  “Damn, girl,” the man exclaimed, turning to watch her dart past him. Then his eyes swept over Undertaker, and his brows shot up. “Tell me you weren’t just jogging.”

  “Okay, I won’t.”

  Mooch frowned, confusion written all over his face. “But, you were, right?”

  “Yup.”

  “Have you lost your damn mind?”

  “Nope. It’s good for you, old man. You should try it.”

  “Thanks, I’ll pass.”

  Undertaker chuckled and lifted the hem of his T-shirt to wipe t
he sweat from his face. “I was just about to hit the shower. You need something?”

  “I got an update on Mutt.”

  “Yeah? How’s he doin’?”

  “They got him through the worst of the withdrawal. Bam-Bam is wondering how long he has to play babysitter.”

  “As long as it fucking takes.”

  Mooch nodded. “I’ll tell him.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Nope.”

  Undertaker headed for the door. “Good. I’m taking a shower and getting some chow.”

  ***

  He was showered and halfway through a plate of bacon and eggs that Mama Ray had cooked him when Holly came down. He glanced up, continuing to fork up food as she moved to get a cup of coffee and take the seat across from him.

  His eyes noted the lack of plate. “You need to eat something.”

  “I’m not hungry,” she murmured, sipping on her mug.

  “Bullshit. After that run, your body needs food.”

  “I’m fine.”

  He dropped his fork on his plate.

  Mama Ray turned around at the sound, and he jerked his head at her. “Bring Ms. Difficult a plate, will you, Mama Ray?”

  She gave Holly a stern look, banging her spatula on the skillet. “My pleasure.”

  A moment later a plate was dropped before her with a bang. “I ain’t no waitress. Prez tells you to eat, you eat. Next time you get your sweet ass up, and do what you’re told.”

  Holly didn’t say a word, but picked up her fork and kept her eyes on her food. Undertaker could see the sheen of moisture on her eyes. He knew that was probably the first time Mama Ray had ever raised her voice to her. Mama Ray was a hard-ass woman, one you didn’t want to cross, but he knew she’d been treating Holly with kid gloves since she’d arrived. Apparently her welcome was wearing a might thin. Mama Ray took care of the clubhouse and the boys. Undertaker wouldn’t get in her way unless things seriously went to shit. He wasn’t about to cross her, but she also knew that if she crossed a line, he’d ream her ass out just like the boys.

  He munched on a strip of bacon and watched Holly eat. After she’d forced a few mouthfuls down, he said, “The doctor feels it’s important you set up a routine with some structure.”

  She glanced up. “A routine?”

  “You know, some daily goals or chores.”

  She pushed around the food on her plate.

  “You can come up with some, or I can come up with some for you.” He lifted his chin toward Mama Ray. “I’m sure Mama Ray could use some help around the kitchen.”

  Hearing her name brought into it, Mama Ray turned and glared at him. He grinned and winked at her.

  Mama Ray muttered, “Yeah, sure. She can start by washing this pile of dishes I got in the sink. Then we’ve got some floors that need mopping.”

  “There, you see? You’ve already got two goals for the day.”

  “Yippee.”

  “You want to put some more enjoyable things on the list, I’m open to it.”

  “Do I get to do anything fun?”

  “Sure. You got any hobbies or crafts you like to do?”

  “How about a ride on your bike?”

  He grinned. “You finish the list of things we come up with every day and if I’ve got the time, I’ll take you for a short ride. Deal?”

  “Deal.”

  ***

  Undertaker lay in bed, smoking a cigarette and staring at the ceiling. He’d taken Holly to her meetings with Dr. AJ Carter all month long. And with every session, more and more he’d come to realize that AJ was nothing like the girl he once knew as Allison. There was a harder edge to her, and he knew from experience that there had to be some hurt and pain behind a change like that. And damned if he didn’t want to find out what it was. What had happened to her in the ensuing years since he’d first met her?

  It was a question that kept him up at night. He took a drag off his cigarette and slowly blew the smoke toward the ceiling, one arm tucked under his head.

  This new Allison, this AJ, intrigued him. He’d always found her attractive, but now she had the sexiness of a grown woman and the appeal of someone who could hold her own with him. She was smart, too. And he had to admit that was a big draw for him—always had been. He loved a woman with whom he could hold an intelligent conversation.

  All the reasons he’d given Mooch for not exploring a long-term relationship with Holly, all the qualities he’d said were missing and that were holding him back, AJ possessed.

  She was strong, mature, experienced in the world, and with enough backbone to go nose to nose with him. Hell, he bet she could spar with the best of them.

  He looked forward to the days he’d see her, and as he lay there, staring at the ceiling fan slowly whirling, he realized he wanted more. He wanted to get to know her on a personal level and see where it would go.

  But damned if there weren’t a lot of roadblocks in his way.

  For one, if he chose to pursue her, he’d first have to let Holly down easy, make sure she was taken care of, and arrange for her to move out of the clubhouse. That was a big obstacle. Not insurmountable, but it would take some time.

  Then there was always MC business that constantly needed his attention.

  But perhaps the biggest hurdle would be the fact that the good doctor didn’t seem too keen on him.

  It had been a long fucking time since he’d had a problem like that. Around the MC, women fell at his feet, especially once they knew he was club president. Perks definitely came with the position, along with the headaches.

  The problem wasn’t that she wasn’t attracted to him. He knew she was; all the telltale signs were there. The problem was getting past her head to her heart. He knew she’d throw up all kinds of barriers and excuses why it would be a fool’s idea to get involved with him.

  He’d just have to bulldoze right over all of them.

  If he could get her to see him outside of her office setting, he was sure he could breach those barriers. If he could get her talking, laughing, they’d all topple like wooden blocks.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  AJ glanced up from the file on her desk as her office assistant came in.

  “I just wanted to let you know I’m heading out. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “I’m right behind you, Coralee. Enjoy your evening.”

  “I will. Goodnight.”

  When the door closed, AJ began shoving files into her briefcase. She had some work to do once she got home tonight, but hopefully she could knock it out in an hour. She considered staying to finish it, but she’d had enough of being locked up in the office and needed to get out of there.

  A change of scenery, even if it were only her house with a microwaved dinner in front of her favorite TV show about secret antique finds, sounded heavenly right now.

  She clicked off her computer and shrugged into her suit jacket, then grabbed her red leather satchel and headed out.

  She breathed in the fresh evening air. It was fall now, and a cool breeze blew through the trees. She rubbed a kink out of her neck and moved toward the street.

  Her eyes flicked up to a motorcycle parked at the curb, and she came to a stop as she recognized the man leaning against it, his long legs crossed at his booted ankles.

  The sun was sinking, but the last rays were bright, and he still had a pair of mirrored shades on. It didn’t matter; she still knew who he was. He smiled, revealing beautiful straight white teeth.

  “Can we talk?”

  She took a few tentative steps toward him, stopping six feet away. Her eyes swept over him. This was the second time she’d seen him in the black leather vest that bore his MC colors. Seeing him wearing them and resting against the big Harley struck her speechless. Those things changed him; surprisingly she found they suited him. How could that be possible? She shook herself from her thoughts. “Did you need an appointment?”

  “I was thinking more along the lines of having a drink together.”

/>   She arched a brow. “I don’t socialize with clients.”

  The corner of his mouth pulled up. “I’m not a client.”

  No, perhaps he wasn’t actually a client, but this felt like mixing business and pleasure, something she knew better than to do. It was swimming in dangerous waters, and standing before her was the shark. If anything spoke danger to her, it was this man. She bit her lip and glanced down the street. “I don’t think so.”

  “Just one drink. I’d like to talk to you.” He nodded toward the office building behind her. “Outside of there. I think there are some things from the past I need to explain and apologize for.”

  Her chin came up. Yes, he did owe her an apology, though at this point did it really even matter anymore? But curiosity got the best of her. She had to admit, she was damn curious, if only to hear how exactly a badass MC president apologized. She almost couldn’t wait to hear this.

  “All right. I guess I could spare a few minutes.” She nodded to a pub across the street. “O’Malley’s?”

  He glanced over his shoulder. “Sure.” Straightening from the bike, he nodded down to the briefcase in her hand. “Did you want to stow that in your car first?”

  Tightening her grip on the handle, she nodded. “I’m parked right over here.”

  He followed her half a block down to where her car sat at the curb. She unlocked the passenger side door and tossed her bag inside, turning to find him right behind her, his eyes moving over the silver sports car.

  “Nice ride. What is it?”

  “Fiat Spider.”

  He leaned down to look inside. “Six speed?”

  “Yes.”