Out Bad

by Janice M. Whiteaker

  She’d spent the beginning of the week having meetings with each of her team members, going over what they liked, what they didn’t. What she felt their strengths were and how she planned to put them to use. She was exhausted, and stressed and burnt out. It was time she started delegating and taking some of the load off herself.

  She’d expected some resistance, but so far everyone seemed really excited to have a little more freedom and to get to spread their wings so to speak. Hopefully that mindset would continue, because she had no intentions of putting all the pressure back on herself.

  Richard in particular had been very excited. Thank God since she had decided to promote him to essentially be an assistant CFO. She needed help. She couldn’t do it all. She’d tried, but it was more than she could handle. More than she wanted to handle.

  Hopefully over the coming weeks and months, she could start to live a more balanced life. A more normal life. If she could figure out what that meant to her.

  She loved her job, but that’s what it needed to be. A job. For so long, she’d worked like it was her life and unfortunately, it was. Now that she thought about it, it was depressing what she’d allowed herself to become.

  Not all of what she’d become was bad though. That was one of the best revelations that came out of her meetings with Jarod Harvel.

  It shocked her at first when he suggested there was any good to be found, but slowly, she began to see it was there. She was hard-working, to a fault but she was tackling that now, and a good boss. She was no nonsense, but fair. It was a trait society made her feel a little bad about. Women were supposed to be warm and fuzzy all the time and if they weren’t, well, they were called bitchy.

  After some unbiased opinions from Jarod, she realized it was nothing to apologize for. She was not a bitch, she was simply the boss, making sure what needed to be done got done. If people chose to think of her as a bitch, that was their problem. Not hers.

  It was amazing how productive therapy could be if you wanted it to.

  She pulled into her garage and headed inside to shower and change. Tonight was a big night. It was the first time she was going out with Joe. Into the world. Maybe if she was lucky they’d have another first.

  Gwen was tugging the low-cut, flowy dress she’d ordered over her head when her phone started to ring. She checked the height of the slit in the mirror as she answered.

  “Hey. I’m almost ready.” Hopefully there wasn’t a strong breeze or anyone within eye shot would see her panties. She intended for them to be seen tonight so at least they were pretty.

  “Do I have to wait on the porch until then?”

  What time was it? She scrambled into her bedroom to check the clock. Shit.

  “Sorry. I’m not sure what happened.” She ran down the stairs, stumbling on the last two steps as she tried not to end up tangled in her dress. Thank God she had a grip on the hand rail or she would have ended up in a pile on the floor.

  She took a breath, trying to slow the adrenaline from her near spill, before unlocking and pulling open the door to a smiling Joe.

  “Good thing you caught yourself or I would have had to knock the door down to get to you.” His eyes widened. “You look beautiful.”

  “Thank you.” She looked at her door as she closed it behind him, trying to see through the window that took up the top half. She’d always been so certain the etched glass offered privacy. Apparently not.

  “You can see right through it. Blurry, but you can see. Probably even better at night.”

  “That sucks.”

  “Only if you run around naked.”

  She felt heat rush up her neck and onto her cheeks.

  Joe’s eyes got wide. “I was just teasing. You can’t see that much.”

  Little did he know the flush of her cheeks wasn’t from embarrassment. All it took to get her blood pumping was the word naked coming out of Joe Parker’s mouth.

  A mouth that she had spent more than a little bit of time thinking about this week. Remembering when he would hold her in his arms and crush that very same mouth hard against hers. She was going to need to figure out how to get that to happen again. Might as well start now.

  “Maybe we should check and see.” She stepped close to his side, barely letting the tips of her breast brush against his tricep.

  “You go back outside and tell me what you can see.” She started to slip the shoulder of her dress to one side.

  One hand quickly shot out to slam the door closed as the other yanked the fabric back in place. Joe’s eyes darkened to almost black as they stared down into hers.

  Sometimes the man was impossible to read. Probably from years of practice. This, however was not one of those times.

  The heat in his eyes was unmistakable. He wanted to touch her just as much as she wanted him to, but was holding back.

  He took a step back from her. She followed him. Maybe it wasn't only concern for her that was causing him pause. No, there was definitely something else and lucky for her, it was written all over his face.

  This big, intimidating, bad-assed biker was scared of her.

  She smiled as she stepped even closer. Maybe it was justified. If there was something she wanted, Gwen was more than happy to put in the work to get it, and right now, she wanted Joe Parker.

  ****

  He was screwed.

  The struggle to keep his hands mostly to himself until now had been monumental, but it was clear it was the right thing for him to do. She was broken and a little lost and needed to recover without adding in the emotions that came with getting physical. It would just take time.

  Unfortunately, now that he’d decided tonight might be that time, his body was doing its best to move the schedule up even further.

  Gwen took another step toward him. He put his hand out to stop her before she did something like rub her perfect breasts against him. Again.

  Until now he was sure he could wait as long as he needed for it to be the right time. Suddenly, he wasn’t so sure. Last weekend, he’d done so well. He’d had his hands all over, and even in, Gwen’s beautiful body. Now the rest of him wanted their turn.

  She stopped. For a second, as relief flooded his body, he thought maybe he would still be in control of this situation. Then he realized where his hand was.

  Yanking it off her left breast, he shoved it in his pocket rubbing it against the rough denim trying to remove the memory of the softness of her beneath his palm. He scooted out from in front of her before she could advance on him again.

  They needed to get out of here before they didn’t make it to dinner. Before he pulled the hem of that sexy dress up and buried himself deep inside her over and over again.

  He yanked the door open wide. “We have to go.”

  He expected to see disappointment on her face, instead she looked a little satisfied, smiling coyly as she passed him, running her index finger across his chest as she went. His breath stuck in his chest as her finger brushed his nipple, sending a jolt of sensation straight to his already overexcited groin.

  This was how he was going to die. Self deprivation. All the blood was going to leave the rest of his body in favor of a more southern climate.

  “Are you coming?”

  The woman was wicked. The smile in her voice. The giggle at the end of her question. She knew exactly what she was doing to him.

  He was definitely going to die, but it would be a murder.

  He pulled the door closed and made it to the van just in time to open her door. He walked the long way around, going behind the vehicle so he had the opportunity to adjust his jeans. This was going to be a long dinner.

  They were halfway to the restaurant when his phone started to ring from the console between them. He’d forgotten to turn off the damn ringer. “Sorry.” He reached to silence it and caught the look on Gwen’s face as she stared at the screen. It was Cynthia, her name spelled out in big black letters. Damn. This was a really bad time.

  “You can answer that.” He
r voice sounded calm, but the look on her face was a different story.

  He had to answer it. Whether she liked it or not. “Hey.”

  “Hey Joe. Sorry to call on a Friday night, but it’s not something that could wait until Monday.”

  “That’s okay. What’s going on?”

  “I’ve got a lady with a clogged toilet. She thinks one of her kids tried to flush something down.”

  “Is it a mess?” He looked down at his clothes. He was not dressed to be dealing in toilet water.

  “She said it’s not overflowing, but it got close. She tried to plunge it, but it’s not moving.” Cynthia’s voice was apologetic. “It’s their only toilet or I wouldn’t bother you.”

  He sighed. “Text me the address and I’ll head over.” He got off the highway and turned the van around to head back home.

  “Is everything okay?”

  “Are you starving?”

  “I’m okay.”

  He wasn’t. This really wasn’t how he wanted to spend his evening with Gwen, but some things were more important than what he wanted.

  He felt Gwen staring at the side of his head waiting for an explanation. He was working on it.

  “Where are we headed?”

  “Back to my place real quick. I need to grab a couple things.” He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel trying to come up with a good way to explain what they were going to be doing. A way that wouldn’t raise a lot of questions and open up another set of wounds.

  He just wanted to have one normal night out with Gwen on his arm. Go out to dinner, see a movie. Have an actual date. It seemed easy enough, but it was turning out to be next to impossible.

  His frustration was making it even harder to get his brain working. Seconds ticked by and he still had nothing to tell her. He was going to have to go with the truth and deal with the fallout. He sighed as his hopes for a nice quiet evening ended.

  “I help out sometimes when people need work done and can’t really afford it.”

  “That’s really nice of you.” Her voice was quiet as she watched him from her seat. “Do you get called a lot?”

  “Usually a few a month.”

  They stayed silent the rest of the way to his house. He wasn’t sure what else to say. How to explain what he did and why, so he just stayed quiet and made a list of what he needed to grab.

  He backed up to the sliding door of the barn and left the van running. “I’ll be right back.” He started to shut the door, then paused. “I’m sorry about this.” Gwen was still quiet, but gave him a little smile. “Do you want me to take you home?”

  “No.” She smiled, a little bigger this time. “It’s fine, really.”

  He nodded before closing the door and heading in to get what he needed, not sure if he believed her. He was dropping a couple wax rings in his work bag just in case he had to take the toilet off to get at whatever was blocking it up, when he heard Gwen behind him.

  “That’s a lot of stuff.”

  She was looking at the lines of toilets and sinks in front of shelves containing faucets of all sizes and finishes. “Where is all this from?”

  “Different jobs. If the people don’t want the old stuff, I bring it here.”

  “What do you do with it?” She wandered over to an avocado green toilet and peered inside.

  “If someone needs it, I put it in for them.”

  “Like the people now?”

  Just like the woman now. “Yes.”

  “How do these people know to call you?”

  “The shelter has a list.”

  She looked up at him obviously confused. “The homeless shelter?”

  “No.” He turned to finish grabbing what he needed. “The women’s shelter.”

  Soft footsteps crunched across the gravel floor. Gwen rested her hand on his arm and stepped close. She’d already been this close to him tonight, but this time was different. She wasn’t trying to be coy and seductive. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down. Her lips were soft against his. Gently and softly, her mouth nipped at his, her tongue slowly sliding against his.

  He wrapped his arms around her sighing into her open mouth. Why had he stopped himself from this? She felt so good in his arms, against his body. Holding her fed something deep inside him. A starving part of him that had been neglected probably his whole life. He breathed in the smell of her, sweet and warm, letting it soothe the memories brought out at the thought of the women he could help and the woman he couldn’t.

  She pulled away, just far enough to look into his eyes, her arms still firm around his neck. “You really are a good man.”

  He wrapped his hand in her hair as he brought her mouth back to his, her lips open to him before they even touched. She clung to him as he kissed her mouth, her face, her neck. He wanted to feel all of her. Her smell, her taste, her touch, he couldn’t get enough. He tried, pulling her closer, breathing her in, covering every inch of exposed flesh with his lips, his tongue, but it still wasn’t enough.

  He kissed her harder, groaning as she kissed him back, her need seeming to climb as fast as his own.

  “Please.” She tugged his shirt free from his pants and shoved her hands inside, running her fingers over his heated skin. “I need you. Please.”

  It felt so good, her touching him. He’d never been touched by someone like Gwen. He’d been with more than a few women. A fact he was less than proud of, but none made him feel the way he felt right now. He’d never wanted to touch a woman so bad it hurt. And they’d certainly not been this eager to touch him.

  Everything about Gwen was different. Everything about her seemed right.

  That was why he needed to hit the pause button. He pulled his lips from her. “Sweetheart, there is nothing I would like to do more than let you keep running your hands all over me.”

  He loosened his grip on her so he could look at her face. Her cheeks were flushed, her dark blonde hair mussed and fly away. “But?”

  “But not in a barn.”

  She looked around and blew out a breath. “Fair enough.”

  Two hours later they were finally, finally being seated for the dinner he’d been trying to accomplish for what felt like forever. Gwen had just finished the last of the white wine she ordered while they waited at the bar when he felt his phone buzzing in his front pocket. He slid his hand in and sent it to voicemail. Whoever it was, would have to wait.

  “Good? Want another glass.”

  Gwen nodded. “It was very good, but I will wait for some food or else you’ll have to carry me home.” She gave him a smile from across the candle lit table.

  His phone started buzzing in his pocket again. He pulled it out to shut it off, but seeing Heath’s name made him pause.

  He looked at Gwen. “It’s Heath.”

  “Answer it or Gabbi will start calling me.” Gwen sipped at her water as he connected the call.

  “Where’s Gwen?” Heath’s voice was tight.

  “She’s with me. What’s going on?” He glanced over, his eyes meeting hers.

  “Keep her with you. Something’s going on with the Sixes. We need to talk. Hurry up.”

  Twenty-One

  Gwen sipped at the chalky caramel colored beverage they were trying to pass off as coffee. Heath offered the drink, then disappeared with Joe for an amount of time that could have involved picking, roasting and grinding the beans in addition to brewing them into the sludge filling her cup now.

  Joe sat next to her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders and leaned in close. “How is it?” His voice was low, as if they were discussing some private matter instead of coffee so full of grit she could almost chew it.

  “It’s shit.”

  He gave her a tight smile as he rubbed her shoulder with the tips of his fingers. If they weren’t sitting in the police station right now, she would love to cuddle up against his side and close her eyes, letting that gentle, rhythmic touch calm her nerves.

  But they were at the police station and
it was royally fucking up her evening plans. “What the hell is going on?”

  Heath pulled out a chair across the table from them, slapping a folder down in front of him. “We have a problem.”

  Her brother-in-law looked tired. His shirt was rumpled and he had bags under his eyes. He looked up at her, then at Joe as he tapped his pen against the manila cover. “You want to explain this or do you want me to?”

  Neither man made a move to begin talking and she was getting more than a little irritated. She looked down at her small foam cup trying to determine if it contained enough liquid to hit them both. She eyed Heath, trying to judge distance.

  “Dammit Joe. How does she not scare you?” Heath opened the folder. “I found out one of Joe’s former associates may have thrown him under the bus.”

  Gwen straightened up and looked at Joe. “What does that mean?”

  “Somebody from the Sixes got picked up and told the police things he shouldn’t have.”

  “The Sixes?”

  “The uh, group Joe was involved with.”

  “I know that. The biker gang.”

  “Club, yes.”

  Gang, club, who the fuck cared? “What I’m asking is why?” She pointed at Heath. “You said everything was fine.”

  Heath blew out a breath. She turned to Joe. “What does this have to do with you?”

  Joe hesitated. “It sounds like the club figured out somebody squealed.” He looked at Heath.

  Holy Jesus, this was like pulling freaking teeth. Could no one simply tell her what was happening? “And?”

  “He told them it was me.”

  Heath flung his pen onto the table as he leaned back in his chair, rubbing his eyes. “Shit.”

  Joe had been out of the gang for years. How would his name be the one that this guy picked to point the finger at? “Why you? I thought you said everyone liked you.”

  “Like, in a club, is relative. There were people I had problems with over the years. This guy was one of them.”

  “What was the problem?”

  Joe looked at Heath.

  “I’ll come back.” Heath grabbed his folder and left the room, closing the door behind him.