by Hazel Parker
It all added up in my head.
She was on the run.
And she fucking lied.
“I guess you got everything you needed.”
I wished she hadn’t lied. Why did she lie? If she had come to me, I could have protected her. I could have done something but…she lied. And if she lied once, how could I know I could trust her?
My fists clenched as I slid the folder back to Wiz and dismissed him with a nod.
I tried to breathe, but all I could see were the bruises on her body. That bastard hurt her. Bryant fucking Byrd. That asshole. How could a man ever lay a hand on their woman? Especially a woman that’s his wife! It was messed up and he was a fucking coward. Plus, I hadn’t missed the fact that they were married. She was still tied to the fucker. My fists clenched as I thought about it. I didn’t want her to belong to him. She was mine.
Red made me feel so greedy, like I could never get enough of her, and that scared me. The thought of any man touching her, owning her, drove me insane. I had no right to feel like this about her. This possessive shit wasn’t like me at all. I liked being a free agent, fucking whomever and whenever. Wham, bam, thank you, ma'am worked just fine for me, but something in me wanted to own Red, keep her as mine. I’d never felt that way about a woman, and it rocked me to my core. What was she doing to me?
I drove myself home and climbed into the bed. I looked at Red’s small frame and felt new waves of empathy towards her. It all made sense, and I realized the woman had been through a lot. No wonder she was being so paranoid: she was running for her life.
I climbed under the covers and smiled as she sensed my presence and scooted over until her arms wrapped around my chest. She sighed in contentment and my heart thumped loudly as laid there waiting for sleep.
The next morning, we sat together at the table eating scrambled eggs and toast. I watched Red with questions running through my head. I wondered why she was with me and how long she was planning to stay. I couldn’t help thinking about her lie and how many lies she had told me. She noticed my mood and was being cheeky because I was questioning everything she said.
“You want orange juice?”
“Sure.”
“You like OJ, or you prefer something else?”
She shrugged, “I like whatever.”
Everyone has a preference.
I watched her flit around the kitchen in my t-shirt. It hung just above her knees. I could see her nipples through the shirt and knew I would never wear that shirt the same again. She was humming something and shaking her little butt.
“Do you have on panties right now?”
She giggled. “Nope.”
“You sure?”
“Of course I’m sure,” she said, setting my plate down before turning back to the counter to get her own.
I grunted. “I doubt that, Tamara.”
The loud explosion of her plate breaking on the floor halted my fork from reaching my mouth, and I realized what I said.
Shit.
She took off running at the same time I jumped up and grabbed her arm.
“Wait. Ally. Wait.”
“No!” She looked back her eyes wide with pure panic. “Let me go! Please don’t take me to him.”
I pulled her into my arms tightly, bear hugging her so she couldn’t wield her body as a weapon, and waited. She needed to work it out.
She kept throwing her body, trying to get out of my arms and still not ready to listen. When she realized that her fighting was hopeless, she burst into tears and sobbed into my chest. “Please, Warren. Please don’t work for him.” Her sobs were frantic, like the stress of all that she’d been through had weighed her down and at this moment, she couldn’t hold it any longer.
I rubbed her back with one hand, still not letting her go, and waited until she was semi-quiet and hiccupping. “Red, listen to me. I promise, I would never hurt you.”
She stepped back and I let her move, on guard in case she tried to run again. Her eyes were the most like her DMV picture: broken, sad, and unsure.
“I don’t know that asshole. I have never met him and I would never turn you into your ex. I will never let anyone hurt you. Not when I’m around. Please hear me, baby,” I said, reaching to hold her chin. “I am not out to get you. You’re safe here. With me.”
She nodded slowly, as if taking a moment to accept her new reality.
“If you’re running, I can help you. The club can get you a new identity and I know a guy that can help you start over. Everything from a new social security number to bank accounts.”
Chapter Eleven – Red
I felt extremely drained. The quasi-heart attack Warren gave me by calling me my government name and the cryfest I had afterward stole almost all of my energy. I wasn’t sure how to feel. I was pissed at Warren for invading my privacy, but for the first time, I felt hope. I allowed myself the hope that I would be able to stop running. If I got a new identity, I could stay in one place and rebuild my business without fear of my husband tracking me down. I could live again.
“Okay,” I said shoulders slumped. “Let’s go.”
It was too early for me to climb back into bed and I didn’t know how to politely tell Warren I wanted to go back to my hotel.
I could tell he really cared, and as much as I didn’t want to be tied down, he liked having me around.
He handed me my helmet and we drove the short distance to the club.
Once in the clubhouse, Warren took me to a backroom where a white background was set up. We passed by several men, and I couldn’t help noticing how attractive all Warren’s brothers were. I thought bikers were dirty, grungy, and brutish but none of these men fit the description. They were more like underrated movie stars: tall, built, tatted, and begging for someone to ride their cocks. No wonder Warren was so damn cocky: he could back it up. I blushed in the dim lighting of the backroom, hoping no one noticed.
I sobered as a man with dark-blond hair and blue eyes addressed me. “You need to stand over there.” I realized his twin was the one who was typing information into small laptop.
One brother with brilliant green eyes took my picture, donned gloves, and took my fingerprints. Warren stood in the back of the room, silent as his brothers moved around me. They seemed in control and like this wasn’t their first time.
One guy with a bald head spoke up as the rest of the brothers wrapped up and left the room. “You’re going to have to wait a few days, but we’ll get this stuff to you.”
“Okay. Just let me know how much it costs. I’ll bring back what cash I have when I come to pay for my car,” I said explaining.
Warren, who’d previously watched in silence, dictating with his presence, stepped up, interrupting us. “No,” he shook his head. “It’s on me.”
I could tell from his face that arguing wasn’t an option. I sobered on his words and kept a good face as the other members were watching me and how we interacted. We needed to talk, but I also needed to rest.
Thankfully, he seemed to understand. “Come on, I’ll take you to your car.”
We walked in silence, and I could tell what Warren was thinking. If I hadn’t been so lost in my own thoughts, maybe I would have said something. But my car was fixed, which meant I should leave soon. I had to let Daniella know I would be leaving and I had to find a way to say goodbye to Warren.
Betsy looked the same, though the lack of crazy noises when I turned the key was a huge relief. I walked around the exterior, noting that not much had changed. She still had a dimple on the passenger side from the time a car got a little too close in a turning lane. A scrape on the front where I misjudged how much space I had before I ran into a brick wall. My key stuck a little as I unlocked the door. I didn’t have a fancy remote to unlock all the doors. I had to unlock the door by hand, though my windows were automated.
“Thanks,” I said with the door opened, though not yet sliding into the driver’s seat. “You didn’t have to do that, and at least let me give you som
ething since you paid for everything.” I reached in the car for my purse.
“Red. No. I don’t want your money, and I won’t take it. So save your breath.”
“But—”
He held his hand up and I stopped. He stood before me, rubbing his eyes before pinching the bridge of his nose. I hated knowing I was probably the cause of all that stress. He seemed to be struggling with his words, unsure of himself, which was a first before he said, “Look, Red. I just want to say I’m sorry.”
I was still a little upset that he pried into my information, but I knew he meant well. He looked at me contrite. “I shouldn’t have gone through your things. I was really worried.”
I touched his chest and tried to show I wasn’t angry. I was more hurt than upset, but what could I expect? I was a strange woman who had visited his bed and home a few times. As suspicious as I was for the past three months, I could understand being overly cautious. “I understand. Thank you for everything you’ve done.”
“When can I see you again?” His change of subject and tone was too quick for me to follow and I almost forgot to have up my guard.
“Um. I don’t think that’s a good idea, Warren.”
“That wasn’t what I asked.” He was so difficult, and that was one of the things I loved about him. I tried to hide my smirk, but he saw it and pushed my chin up until we were looking in each other’s eyes. “When can I see you again, sweetheart?”
“Well,” I said, not enjoying the butterflies in my stomach. “I have to work tomorrow, but maybe after.”
“That’s cool with me. Just tell me the time.”
“Six.”
“Done. Where are you staying?”
“Springs Motel.”
“Room?”
“14.”
“I’ll be there.”
I smiled and nodded, stepping as close as I dared to his body. I hoped he’d grab me and slam me against him, but he didn’t. He sighed and kissed my forehead before helping me into my car and closed the door once I was inside. “See you soon, Red.” His voice was low and I wondered how hard it was to let me go. A part of me wanted him to pull me back into his arms. I had to stop being reckless.
“Good night, Warren.”
I drove off feeling somewhere between heaven and a rainstorm. I kept trying to remind myself not to get too hopeful. It was dangerous to believe I was safe and finally alone, but I couldn’t help but believe Warren when he said he would protect me. He looked like a man who kept his word. When I pulled up to the hotel, it wasn’t late, but I was exhausted. I quickly counted the money I stashed under the bed. It was one thousand dollars, the exact amount I left, and then I counted the money I’d hidden in a plastic bag under the toilet back. Fifteen hundred, also untouched.
I had three hundred in my purse and ordered a pizza for dinner. The wait wasn’t long, so I busied myself cleaning the bathtub because I’d earned a soak. The stress of the day and Bryant needed to come off. It was sad but true. With the tub clean of whatever residue and substances I couldn’t see, I ran the water and squirted some of my shower gel in it for bubbles. The tub filled just before someone knocked on my door. I tiptoed to the door and peeked out the peephole, double checking it was truly the pizza man before I opened the door.
“Pepperoni, bacon, and onion pizza? Thin crust.”
“Yeah, that’s me,” I said turning my back to get my purse.
“That’ll be 12.78 ma’am?”
I handed him a $20. “You want to make an extra $50 bucks?”
“Sure.” The skinny boy looked barely old enough to drive with whiskers of hair and pimples dotting his chin.
“Here’s a fifty. Are you over 21?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Get me some wine. Ask for help if you can’t find it, but I want a bottle of red wine. Anything that’s not in a box. Understand?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Great. Buy and bring me my receipt and change and you’ll get this other fifty bucks when you return.”
He took the bill and turned around. I sighed. How desperate was I that I had to outsource the pizza delivery boy to get me wine? I took a bite of the pizza and moaned. It was delicious, but it would taste better with wine. Thankfully, Willow Springs was small and the pizza boy knew where to go.
“Here’s your bottle,” he said, holding it outstretched like it was a bomb.
I looked it over. Barefoot. Good enough. I handed over the other fifty. “Thank you, doll. What’s your name?”
“Richard, ma’am.”
“Richard, I’m not old enough to be a ma’am and you just made my night. Have a good one.”
I closed the door without waiting for his response. After double checking that the deadbolt was turned, the doorknob was locked, and the chain was in place, I stripped, taking my box of pizza and wine with me into the bathroom.
It was some kind of sad that I was drinking straight from the bottle and eating an entire box of pizza alone, but it was my current state of life. I couldn’t change it, and I couldn’t take it back. I was hoping that it wouldn’t be like this forever, though.
After eating, I dragged my tired bones to bed, not bothering to dress in night clothes or pull back the covers before I fell asleep. I slept hard and without dreaming, thankfully because I often had nightmares. Though I never did when I was in Warren’s arms, and when I woke to my alarm, it was 7am the next day.
I went through my regular routine, not bothering to rush since I knew my car would start. Unlike most mornings when I gave myself an extra 30 minutes to hope, pray, and turn the key a few times. I smiled in the dirty mirror on the wall. I actually looked like I tried. My hair was still pulled back into my signature ponytail that meant business, but the ends were curled. My makeup was actual makeup instead of the ChapStick and mascara I deluded myself into thinking was enough, and I was professionally dressed without wrinkles as I walked out the door and saw the brand new day. There was nothing in front of me but the parking lot.
“Shit!”
Where was my fucking car?
I couldn’t report it to the police. That was the equivalent of putting a billboard up for Bryant that said, ‘Here I am. You found me.’
I glanced at my watch and realized I had to make a decision, and soon. I had too much work today for a wedding, and there was no getting around it. So, I dialed the one person I knew could help me.
“Please pick up. Please pick up,” I mumbled as the phone rang one time too many.
“Who is this?” a gruff voice said into the phone. I called the clubhouse because I didn’t actually have Warren’s number.
“Is Warren there? I really need to speak to him.”
“Who is this?”
“Tell him it’s Red.”
I heard the phone shift hands. “Red?”
“Warren. Someone stole my car. I need help.”
“Stay right there. I’m on the way,” he said, and the line went dead.
Chapter Twelve – Warren
I didn’t hesitate when Evan handed me the phone. Red needed my help. That was all I needed to hear. I arrived in a little under ten minutes later to see her distressed and standing outside, looking forlorn. “What happened?”
“I don’t know,” she said, throwing her arms up. “It was here when I went to bed.”
“Did anyone come here last night?”
She raised her eyebrow at me, obviously knowing I wasn’t just asking for detective work. “No one but the pizza delivery guy.”
“Was the car here when he dropped it off?”
“I don’t remember. I wasn’t looking for it, and I was so tired.”
“Okay. Well, you need to call out of work. You can’t get around.”
“No, Warren. That’s why I need help. I can’t call out. I have to show up today.”
“Accidents happen, honey. You need to call them and tell them you can’t make it.”
“You don’t understand. I have to work today. This is all prep for a
wedding in a few days. I have to do this stuff.”
“What do you need from me?”
“A ride.”
“Well, I hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but I don’t drive cars.”
“That’s fine. I don’t have to pick up anything, just show up at a few places.”
She looked so cute, pouting and practically begging with her eyes. “How many is a few places?”
“Not that many,” she said, fluttering her eyelashes.
I sighed and hoped I wouldn’t regret this. “Hop on and give me directions as we go.”
Red had me driving over the entire damn town, and sometimes out of town, but oddly enough, I hadn’t regretted it. I actually had fun. She explained on the way that she was doing last minute errands for a wedding that was happening tomorrow.
First, we went to a bridal boutique and I watched her calm a woman near tears about her dress. Apparently last minute adjustments had to be made due to weight gain and the bride was sure she would look like a whale on her day. Red calmed her down, and even hugged her like they were long-time best friends. When we left, the dress was altered, the bride looked happy, and Red looked completely in control of the situation.
Then we went to a church so she could set up. She ordered me around like a slave to move chairs, swap out table cloths, and hold a ladder steady so she could hang ribbons and bows. After that, we had to find replacement flowers because the ones they ordered wilted. Something about the refrigerator broke down. We did at least twenty other things like that where Red showed up, put out the fires, and took control of everything like Superwoman. Everywhere she had to go, I drove her there without complaint. She looked in her element.