Coal (Regulators MC Book 3)

by Chelsea Camaron

  It’s not a huge library like the one on the other side of town, but that’s probably why I love it. It’s the oldest library in the city, and I like that they keep the history in it alive. More than anything, shelves and shelves of books surround me. The computer section is very small, consisting of only two computers placed in cubby style desks facing each other. The other computer is empty, making me feel a little better about what I’m about to do.

  The search box is in front of me. I pause.

  This is an invasion of privacy.

  I wouldn’t want someone to do this to me. I’m breaking a cardinal rule here.

  Guilt eats at me.

  If only the stubborn man would let me make things right, then I wouldn’t have to stoop to this level. Determining it’s Coal’s fault I’m doing this, I type in his name.

  I hear women talking all the time at the gym about going on social media to check up on the men they are seeing or are interested in. Therefore, this is common, right? Everyone everywhere is constantly talking about updating statuses or posting pictures; certainly, I can find something.

  I scroll through hundreds of men named Trevor Blake, but they aren’t the right age, race, or location.

  Absolutely nothing.

  What the hell? This day in age, who doesn’t have a social media footprint?

  I huff out a breath. Me, that’s who.

  I don’t buy into the hoopla. To me, if the people from my past wanted to keep in contact, they would have. Plus, I don’t want to waste energy by being tied to some sort of electronic device just to tell the world what I’m doing, have done, or want to do. I mean, really, why should anyone care?

  Hell, when my parents died, none of my so-called-friends came to the funeral. The community banded around me in their own way. The church covered the costs of their services and burials.

  I fight back the tears.

  Fire.

  My parents died in a fire from a turkey fryer. The explosion happened, and then the flames consumed the old house rapidly.

  I wasn’t always vegan. I wasn’t always concerned with my environment, my aura, or what anyone felt or thought of me. There was a time in life when I was carefree.

  College. I was free for the first year of college. Life was wild, and I didn’t give a second thought to my actions or my words. Then my parents didn’t follow the simple instructions on their turkey fryer and blew their whole house up and my life with them. It also left me no chance to make things right with them. Day after day, I lost myself in the grief that my parents died angry with me.

  It’s my fault. I wasn’t doing things right. I was partying my life away. In an instant, Mother Nature stepped in and showed me who is boss. It took me three counselors and a psychology class to sort out the crazy thoughts running through my head.

  I had a roommate studying acupuncture and other alternative medicines who first taught me about Feng Shui. Through techniques in traditional Chinese practices and my own interpretations, I found a balance with my physical and spiritual body and Mother Earth.

  This lifestyle change isn’t about paying penance for my parents’ deaths as much as it is my coping mechanism. In finding my center, I have learned to face life and every moment, and not in fear and despair. The depression doesn’t control me anymore. The loss and fear of losing everyone I get close too doesn’t consume me anymore. I learned to live again. It is clean, positive, and balanced.

  I’m not sure what my parents would think of my lifestyle choices if they were alive. Then again, if they were here, I wouldn’t have lost my footing in life in the first place. I took too much for granted, and now I treasure, value, and respect it all.

  Thinking of my own family, an idea hits me suddenly. Birth announcements! My mother and father had kept mine from the newspaper when I was born. Surely, Coal’s parents would have had his.

  Three hours later, I learn that Trevor “Coal” Blake was born a healthy nine pound, eleven-ounce baby to James and Nita Blake. He grew up moving around with his dad’s Army career. He went to Garfield Senior High School and graduated with honors.

  From searching his high school online yearbook, it turns out Trevor Blake had a high school girlfriend named Amber Bridges. Their prom picture was in the annual, and from there, I followed the trail.

  Amber Bridges, now Amber Bridges-Stokes, believes in social media. The young woman graduated alongside Coal then took off to Penn State where she earned a Master’s Degree in Psychology.

  Interesting.

  She has an album on her profile with pictures of her and Coal when they were teens.

  A lot has changed for him since these photos were taken. First, his eyes are so full of life in these photos. I can’t help wondering what scarred him so deeply.

  He’s grown. The man was tall before, but now I think he may be even taller than he was in high school. He’s also broader, more muscular, and there is an innocence in these pictures that is long gone. No, the man he is today is dangerous compared to the young man he once was in these photos.

  Amber Bridges-Stokes has found her happily ever after with a military man of her own. They are currently stationed in Kentucky. Carson Stokes smiles adoringly in every single photo at his wife and their young daughter Emma. Amber has moved on in life, but she hasn’t.

  As I look through the comments on the photos of Coal, I notice she has left a message asking if anyone knows where Trevor is to contact her. She posts on more than one that she needs to explain some things to him. The replies to her only make me more curious. There are posts saying she doesn’t deserve to speak to him. Other posts say he’s dead and she needs to forget him.

  What happened between these two? Is she the reason he swears he’s black as coal? I can’t help wondering why a woman who is happily married and settled in life continues to seek out a man from her past.

  I scribble down what I can sort out from Amber’s posts and the birth announcement then log out.

  My phone rings, stopping me as I answer Morgan’s call.

  “Hello,” I greet. Even I can hear the guilt in my voice.

  “I need recipes! Help a sister out!”

  “What kind?” I ask, looking back at the phone screen as if it’s a diseased animal.

  “Of the healthy variety! Madyson has decided she needs to revamp her life. This is a huge step for her. I’m going to be her biggest cheerleader, even if it kills me.”

  I laugh at Morgan, knowing her love for her sisters runs deep. “I’ll get some together and drop them by. You know how I feel about this phone thing.”

  “Paisley, you’re the best. You also need to relax a little, honey. Talking on the phone isn’t going to give you cancer.”

  “Um … Morgan, is that why you think I don’t like the phone?”

  “Well, what other reason would there be?”

  Deciding my past is far too heavy to lay on her shoulders or anyone else’s, I don’t argue. Can she understand that after losing my family, I just want to talk to people face to face? So many things are misunderstood and miscommunicated in emails, text messages, and phone conversations. Body language is a communication all its own.

  “Okay, let me get finished at the library and I’ll be by.”

  “Library?”

  I huff out a breath. “I needed the internet.”

  She laughs at me. “Paisley, you know you’re welcome to use my computer or Desirae’s anytime.”

  How do I explain that the library’s stuff is already running, and to minimize the impact on the environment, it’s better I come here since I could walk from the gym? It’s not something most people would even think about.

  Modern conveniences have spoiled society. Morgan isn’t wasteful or anything of that sort, but she isn’t aware of the little things that add up to a bigger problem for the world. It’s her life to live and not my place to judge. Explaining myself wouldn’t change anything. She doesn’t want to hear it, anyway.

  “I was already in the area,” I answer. />
  “All right. See you in a bit.”

  I hang up the phone. Then, as I gather my things, I freeze when two large arms come around either side of me, hands settling on the desk on each side of the keyboard.

  Slowly turning around, I look up into the dark eyes that have been haunting my every free minute.

  “Hello, Pixie.”

  Chapter Six

  ~Coal~

  Her mouth opens and closes, but she doesn’t speak.

  “Wanna tell me what you’re up to?” I ask as I keep her caged in her seat.

  “Um …” She pauses. “Not really.”

  I laugh.

  I shouldn’t laugh. I am an intimidating son of a bitch. I know it. I know I have made grown men piss themselves. Yet, the tiny woman in front of me challenges me.

  “Pixie, were you searching me?”

  She leans back in her chair, relaxing.

  Inhaling, I smell the lavender of her soap, lotion, perfume—I don’t know what, but it’s intoxicating.

  “Can I plead the fifth?” Her voice is smooth, calm, and seems to talk straight to my cock.

  I’m fucked.

  Does she realize this means she’s fucked, too?

  I came here angry as hell. I came here to beat the shit out of someone. I came here with the intention of interrogating someone to find out why they would seek me out. Instead, I find the woman who, for whatever reason, can’t leave well enough alone. I find the woman who is in my nightly dreams as soon as I close my eyes. I find the woman I am trying to stay far away from.

  “Look, Pixie, while I love a good game of cat and mouse, you’ve got the pussy, but you’re not the pussy, and I’m not the mouse.”

  As she gasps, I drop my head low so my breath comes down hot on her neck. I can see the pebbles of her nipples poking out of her shirt and will my cock down as I feel it harden.

  “I told you, I’m not hurt and the accident was no big deal. What’s it gonna take to get you off my ass?”

  “I have to make it right. I have to do something,” she says as her own breathing picks up, no doubt feeling just as hot as I am right now.

  I wonder what she would be like panting under me.

  “What’s it gonna take?” I ask again, needing to put space between us, but not doing so.

  “Dinner,” she sighs out. “I need to at least make you dinner.”

  “Okay,” I concede. “No more looking me up. I got a guy who, every time my name is searched, is on it. Don’t make shit get ugly between us, Pixie,” I warn as Hammer saunters up to my side.

  “Screech will have entertainment watching this shit unfold,” Hammer says to me before he immediately brings his attention to the woman in front of me. “Paisley, what the fuck?”

  She turns her head to look at him, and I want to drop my head to the curve of her shoulder. Being bald, feeling her skin on mine, I wonder what that soft spot will feel like or what my head between her thighs would feel like.

  “Hammer, sh … We’re in a library.”

  “You two know each other?” I ask Pixie, keeping myself close, knowing I need to retreat.

  “He’s Desirae’s man.” Pixie looks back at me, and I see this sparkle in the green depths of her eyes.

  “You know Des?” I again ask Pixie, ignoring everyone around us. I am definitely going to be looking into Paisley Asher now. I brushed her off as a good citizen before, but now the woman is like a dog with a bone. I refuse to be her chew toy, even if my cock wants to know what she can do with her mouth.

  “She’s one of my closest friends. Her and Morgan.”

  At that, I jump back.

  She is too close to home. How am I going to shake her off now?

  “Paisley, why would you be looking into Coal?” Hammer asks, bringing us back to what brought us here.

  “I owe him,” she answers, looking at me, not Hammer.

  “No, you don’t,” I argue back.

  “Then make him some of those oatmeal cookies or something, Paisley. I get you aren’t normal, but it’s not really good to go internet stalking someone to repay a debt.”

  She balks at his words, and I have this urge to beat the shit out of my friend for making her uncomfortable.

  “I like cookies,” I reply, trying to ease her obvious discomfort. Why do I care?

  “I’m sorry,” she says, and I can hear the sincerity in her voice. “I just have to make things even between us so our energies can disengage from each other.”

  “I agreed to dinner. Let the rest die.”

  Hammer laughs, though I don’t understand what he finds funny about any of this.

  “Tomorrow night; six good for you?” she asks me calmly.

  “Okay,” I give in. The woman is tough. She isn’t at all intimidated by me. It’s shocking and refreshing.

  Hammer laughs from beside me. “Coal, you got yourself your first date! I’m proud of you, buddy.”

  “Shut the fuck up, dickhead.” I shove Hammer lightly out of my space. Then I look back at Paisley. “Pixie, no more searching and digging up shit that’s got nothing to do with you.”

  “Okay,” she finally agrees.

  I can only be thankful, because who knows what Screech has made up in his mind about why someone is looking into me. With my job, she can’t find much of anything. I have no social media. To have social media would mean I would have to consider being social, and yeah, that’s not me.

  “I’ll be at your place at six tomorrow to pick you up,” I inform her, thinking the sooner I get this over with, the sooner I can be disengaged from Pixie.

  “No,” she corrects me. “I have to do this for you. Be at my place at six tomorrow, hungry. I’ll cook something special.”

  Hammer claps his hands together and rubs them like he’s excited. “Oh, Coal, you’re in for a real treat.”

  I don’t ask questions. I turn and walk away. I don’t even want to know what Hammer is thinking. I just want the woman to realize she bumped me, yes, but I’m okay, so she can get me off her mind. If it means she needs to cook me a meal, so be it. I lived off chow hall food and MREs in combat for years; I can choke down anything she puts in front of me.

  ~Paisley~

  Oh, my heavens to Betsy, what just happened here?

  I sit in front of the computer, staring at it like it’s the enemy. It is. I got caught because this thing has a trail.

  Hammer’s comment nags at me. I never claimed to be normal. Society’s standards and judgments aren’t what defines me. Unfortunately, he is not the first person to tell me I’m strange and he won’t be the last, so I push back my emotions and focus on what is to come.

  Okay, Paisley, I mentally pep talk myself. He agreed to dinner. What to make?

  Italian! Everyone loves Italian.

  To make the pasta, I will have to skip the gym tomorrow.

  My phone rings. I look down to see Des calling.

  “Hello,” I answer, leaving the library.

  “I told you to leave it alone!”

  “What alone?”

  “Coal! Paisley, Hammer just called and told me they found you at the library, searching him.”

  “I admit nothing.”

  She sighs. “Girl, I love you and all your quirks, but you are gonna have more than bad energy if you keep this up.”

  “I don’t have to keep anything up. Coal agreed to dinner tomorrow night. I’ll cook; he’ll eat. The cosmic center between us will go back in balance, and I can move on with my life and he with his.”

  Before she can reply, I stop at my car, and it hits me.

  “That no-good man!”

  “What?” Des asks while I try to calm my temper.

  “He doesn’t have my address! He doesn’t know where I live, so how the heck is he going to come to dinner?”

  She laughs.

  I don’t find one bit of this funny, yet Des is laughing at me.

  “Honey, Coal is the kind of man who can know when you’re out of milk if he wants to. Finding yo
ur address isn’t hard since Hammer already gave it to him when I was on the phone.”

  “Then why are you on the phone with me? I have a dinner to plan and prepare,” I say before hanging up on her.

  ~~~

  The knock at my door has my pulse racing. He’s here. He really is coming for dinner so I can make things right.

  I open the door to see him standing in front of me, bald head glistening in the evening sun and his beard trimmed. He’s in well-worn jeans, black boots, and a T-shirt that clings to his body like a second skin.

  I feel my panties dampen in desire. He’s both scary and sexy rolled into one.

  I have never had such an instant attraction as I do to Coal. He’s mysterious with a side of dangerous, but it’s all wrapped up in sexiness. Knowing he’s not married and doesn’t have a kid only makes me wonder what he would be like in bed.

  I shake my head, shaking off the thoughts. This is to make our energies disentangle, not to complicate things further.

  Stepping back so he can enter, I greet him, “Trevor, thank you for coming.”

  His eyes widen for a brief second before he steels himself to seem unaffected by the use of his given name.

  Saying his real name feels different, but not in a bad way. I have determined he won’t be Coal to me. This isn’t about his nickname. I want to know the man from the inside out. As dark and mysterious as he is and wants to be, I refuse to have any darkness around me. No negative energy here. He will learn. I will give him as much light as I can muster to outshine all that murkiness he carries around.

  I smile as he comes inside my space.

  I have a high-vaulted ceiling because my apartment is a loft. Yet, the moment the big man steps through the door, he makes my living room look entirely too small, dwarfing everything around him as he stands on the edge of the carpet.

  From the living area, the apartment flows into an eat-in kitchen with an L-shaped layout. The floorplan is completely open, which is why I picked it.

  He ignores the small set of stairs that lead up to my sleeping area above and focuses all his attention on the space in front of him. It’s as if he’s on a mission.