SCORE: Hell’s Seven MC Biker Romance

by Jolie Day

  Lauren nodded this time and allowed Marci to take her hand, helping her to the edge of the ambulance and then to the street. When she hopped down, she felt a slight ache in the back of her head. It was most likely from being deprived of oxygen for so long, but she’d recover. She’d recover better than she ever dreamed.

  Once Marci was assured that Lauren could walk on her own, she allowed her to amble back toward her home. Halfway there, however, she heard her name and turned to find Marc Kelly looking at her, remorse written all over his face. He walked toward her and she stayed where she was. She neither welcomed nor denied him. She was sure that there was no stopping him, either way.

  “Lauren,” he said, stopping about a foot away from her, giving her space. “Are you okay?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know…Angelface?”

  He groaned. “I didn’t choose the name,” he said. “Those kinds of things get chosen for you.”

  “Fitting, even still,” Lauren said. “You come into women’s lives, make them fall in love with you, use them as a sex object, and then it just turns out to be all a trick. I don’t know how I didn’t see it before. It was just so…obvious.”

  “Lauren, I can explain—”

  “I don’t want to hear it,” Lauren retorted, holding up her hand. “I just…I want you to leave. Get your things, go get your bike, and then get the hell away from me. I never want to see you in this town again. Understood?”

  After a long, silent moment, Marc nodded. And then Lauren turned and walked away, not even sparing him another glance over her shoulder. She didn’t care if he was following her or not as she made her way into her bedroom, locking the door behind her.

  She untied Emma from under the bed and calmed the frightened dog down with kisses and pats and hugs. Emma whimpered and whined and brushed her head against Lauren’s hands and licked Lauren’s fingers and face until she was satisfied to just fall asleep in her master’s lap on top of the bed.

  Lauren sat up for a while, feeling the tears stream down her cheeks.

  They were there partly out of joy. It was finally over. Jack would no longer be bothering her. She was safe to live her life on her own terms. She could go back to being a trauma surgeon or stay here, in Slightuckett, with Joe and all her neighbors and the patients that knew her by first name and always said hello at the supermarket. Or she could go somewhere else, where absolutely nobody knew her name, and make a fresh start. She’d only really have to stay around for the trial of her ex-husband, to make certain that he was put behind bars where he belonged.

  But she didn’t need to stay here any longer than that. She could sell this house and go off and be happy and safe and…and alone. Without Marc. Without the Marc Kelly she had fallen in love with in the space of a few weeks. The Marc that had somehow made her feel safe in his arms even while playing her the entire time. The same Marc that had made love to her in this very bed—and everywhere else in this godforsaken house.

  The same Marc that had ruined the view from her deck and the beach below it, just by being his stupid, aggravating, infuriating, traitorous self. The same Marc that had lied to her about everything, but had never tipped his hand. The same Marc Kelly that had saved her life, even after he’d almost helped in ending it.

  She was alone again, but if the world was just full of Jack Snyders and Marc Kellies, then Lauren found she was just fine with that.

  Chapter Seven

  There is an old saying: Nothing travels faster than the speed of light but gossip in a small town.

  In the days following Jack’s arrest, Lauren experienced this firsthand. She could hear the whispers of her neighbors as she walked down the street, heard the sudden silence of her co-workers every time she stepped into the breakroom at work, could see the pitying looks that others threw her way as she filled her cart at the grocery store. She tried her best to ignore them, but they seemed to follow her everywhere she went.

  She thought about moving, but the sheriff had informed her that it would probably be in her best interest to stick around for Jack’s trial.

  “He’s requested a speedy trial,” the aging, white-haired Sheriff McNally informed her, sitting at her kitchen table as Lauren brewed coffee and set a mug down in front of him. “Now, honestly, I don’t what he’s playing at with that. Can’t tell if he’s over-confident or just really stupid.”

  “Jack’s not stupid,” she said. “He’s a lot of things—a lot of horrible things—but he’s not stupid.”

  The sheriff gave her that pitying look that she hated so much, but with him it was almost comforting. She had the inkling that he’d given it to plenty of victims before; women who’d been taken advantage of by cruel men. Women who’d been lied to and hurt, both physically and emotionally, by the men that they loved. For them, though, it was usually just the once before they were smart enough not to trust again.

  With Lauren, she’d been burned twice. Jack wasn’t the stupid one. She was.

  McNally seemed to notice where her mind was at, because she suddenly felt his hand on hers, taking her out of her bitter thought with a start. She glanced up into his deep brown eyes, soft as the ground after a rainstorm in summer, and felt every ounce of pity she’d received from everybody over the last week.

  “He’s a good man.” She knew they weren’t talking about Jack anymore, but she huffed nonetheless and pulled her hand away, turning her head so she wouldn’t have to see the sheriff’s eyes. “He felt horrible about lying to you, he really did.”

  “Oh yeah?” Lauren snorted. “He said that to you.”

  “Well…no,” McNally admitted. “But you know Marc Kelly better than I do. You know how guarded the man is. When he first came to me, I thought he was just some thug that decided to turn on his own men; a biker stepping into my office to cut a deal and maybe walk away with a bit of a reward. I only half-listened to what he was saying.” He took a deep breath and a sip of coffee as Lauren refused to look him in the eye. “Then he put down his badge and I realized why he was there. Before he even said your name, I knew. I mean, you were like a godsend for this town. You were a well-trained doctor, you kept a cool head when we had emergencies that couldn’t wait to get to the hospital two towns over. You knew how to throw stitches like I’d never seen. I took a trauma certification class; did you know that?” Lauren shook her head. “I fought in the Gulf War, then I went to the Academy. When I got out, I already knew a little something about first aid and handling yourself in emergent situations and…well, I took a class with a few other officers and young doctors looking to expand their knowledge. I watched highly trained officers get crushed under the pressure put upon them in that course. I watched one man literally pass out. He wanted to be a surgeon in the army.” McNally scoffed and shook his head.

  “But when we had the four-car pileup a year ago…do you remember that? Ten people on the scene, all with life-threatening injuries? You got there before any of the ambulances could even be deployed to the scene. You had run from your house in slippers, this kit in one hand and a jacket in the other. It was a long winter and you were just wearing a tank top in below-freezing weather. I got there after you, but the second I showed up and saw you…well, I knew you didn’t belong. I knew something bad had to have happened for you to leave a position in New York City, of all places, to come to a town like Slightuckett, Rhode Island. I never wanted to question it, though. Because, that day you saved all ten people. You gave them splints and tourniquets to stop the bleeding. You helped drag them away from dangerous situations and sat with a little girl whose mom had been knocked out. You held her hand and calmed her down better than any officer on my squad. I was just thankful that you were there and I know that I’m not the only one that feels that way. So I said nothing.”

  He took a deep breath and another sip, his gaze flitting away from her face. Lauren could feel her eyes fill with tears and her chest swell with gratitude at his words.

  “I probably should have,” the sheriff went on. “When tha
t Kelly fellow showed up, I should have said something. But he told me that I’d just be putting your life in even more danger than it was already in. That you knowing would only hurt you more. So I kept my peace. I made him give me daily updates on your condition. I made sure that you were good. I even told Joe to call you that day when that ‘detective’ showed up at his shop. The message was more for Marc, though. To let him know that the time was coming when we’d have to protect you. I made sure that I was patrolling close by every night until that sonofabitch showed up. I was the first on the scene. I almost cried when I saw Kelly carry you out of the house.”

  Lauren smiled at that and placed her hand on McNally’s.

  “I’ve never had any daughters,” the sheriff said, sniffling. “I’ve got four sons. Two are construction workers, one’s a doctor, and the fourth is a cop in the city. They’re all gruff and tough as nails, just like their old man.” He chuckled as he wiped a tear away. “But I’ve never felt as protective over any of them as I have with you and I think that’s as close to having a daughter as I’ll get.” He took a deep breath and rose to his feet. “I know you’re probably planning on leaving after that…animal gets sentenced. Hell, I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to get as far away from here as possible after everything that went down. I wouldn’t blame you for wanting to go back to trauma surgery in New York. I wouldn’t even blame you if you never wanted to see me or Marc Kelly ever again. We lied to you for so long and I…I just want to say sorry about that, Doc. You’ve been so good to me and everybody here. We’d miss you something fierce if you left, but nobody here would hold it against you. You do what you think is right. I’d just like you to promise me something?”

  “Name it,” Lauren replied, standing up with him.

  “You come back to visit when you get the chance, okay? Don’t be a stranger.”

  Lauren smiled and reached for his hand. “Deal,” she said.

  The sheriff ignored her hand and instead pulled her in for a tight hug, wrapping her up in his embrace like it was the last time they were going to see each other, despite the fact that the trial was still three months away. Lauren hadn’t felt comfortable around many men in the last couple of years, but Sheriff McNally was a good man. She’d known that since she first met him at her clinic, when he had come in for a cholesterol test. He was soft with calloused hands and a laugh that made him sound like Santa Claus. He had a gun on his hip that she doubted he’s ever had reason to use, but she could see the streak of protectiveness in his eyes when he spoke of his sons and his wife. A good man, yes. She’d always been able to sense that.

  Well…not always.

  She hugged him back just as tightly and sighed against his shoulder, where she rested her cheek for a moment, before pulling back.

  “Thank you for coming by, Sheriff,” she said, picking up the court summons. Jack had been arraigned two days ago, but she wasn’t there. She wasn’t quite ready to face him head-on right then. And her presence wasn’t necessary. They had enough to hold him on. He’d broken a restraining order; had stalked the woman who had placed it on him, had tried to kill her. Her injuries had been logged and handed over to the judge.

  Jack was held without bail and was facing over twenty years in prison for attempted murder and domestic violence, as well as stalking charges. According to Sheriff McNally, there was no way he was getting out of it. Not with the eyewitnesses and Marc Kelly’s testimony.

  At the thought of Marc, Lauren pulled out of the sheriff’s embrace, furrowing her brow. “Where is he?” she blurted, before she could stop herself.

  “Back in New York City, I guess,” McNally said. “He’ll be back for the trial, to give his testimony.” She nodded, keeping her face guarded; keeping the pain and hope hidden away. “Joe tells me you two were shacking it up while he was in town. I know that it was just for him to have an excuse to keep you safe until Snyder got here, but…well, it’s none of my business.” He shook his head. “And honestly I don’t even want to know. But you should know that he was fond of you.”

  “Fond of me?” Lauren snorted. “Those are his exact words?”

  “More like a series of grunts and nods,” McNally chuckled. “But the way he kept looking at you that night? Like he just wanted to make sure you were okay? Well, I didn’t make sheriff based on my rugged good looks, you know?” Lauren laughed at that and McNally chuckled. “The boy has been through a lot,” he went on. “He’s infiltrated several biker gangs, made friends and lost them. Even lost a loved one at least once. No,” he said, when Lauren opened her mouth, “he didn’t tell me that. A man can just tell those kinds of things. I guess that’s why he’s so closed off to everything. Doesn’t wanna let himself feel.” He shook his head in pity. “Poor man. Probably been dealt a crappy hand in life.”

  “It doesn’t give him the right to lie to me,” Lauren huffed. “Or to sle—to trick me.”

  “Trick you?” McNally laughed. “Is that what the kids are calling it these days? You and I both know that Marc Kelly doesn’t make any woman do what they don’t want him to. He may be a quiet, brooding hulk of a man, but he’s no snake. Don’t treat him like one.”

  And, with that, he left.

  Lauren thought long and hard about his words as she picked up their abandoned mugs and washed them out in the sink, then placed them on the drying rack. It was true that Marc Kelly hadn’t forced his way into her bed—exactly the opposite, actually—but she couldn’t help the anger that swelled up in her every time she thought about the lies he had told her. How he had pretended to fall off his bike and limp around her house as if he was actually hurt. How he had spun some tale about hiding out from the anger of his ‘boss’ after he’d slept with her daughter. How he had pretended to actually care about her.

  No matter what the sheriff said, Lauren couldn’t help but think that she was just a job to Marc.

  She’d learned all about his ‘mission’ the day after the encounter with Jack. How he was an agent with the FBI. How he had infiltrated several biker gangs and had only made contact with Jack because he learned about the restraining order from his actual bosses. How the FBI and local police had been trying to nail Jack down on several acts of violence (Lauren was the third in a line of women he’d beaten and scared into submission) and this was their chance to finally nail him.

  Which, apparently, included nailing her, Lauren thought bitterly. Then she shook her head. That wasn’t fair to Marc. Sheriff McNally had been correct when he said that Marc was no snake. While rough, he never tried to coerce Lauren into bed after she’d pushed him off of her (not that she’d refused him all that often), nor had he ever hurt her in any way.

  Physically.

  She still felt an ache when she thought about how hard she’d fallen for him. And she’d thought that he might have felt the same way, that he might have been starting to develop the feelings that he swore would be absent from their “purely sexual” relationship. But she was a job to him and he was good fun for her. He made her feel safe and desired and respected and maybe that was why she’d thought she was falling for him, but none of it was real.

  She knew that now.

  Still, it hurt like hell.

  *****

  Emma barked happily as she chased the receding waves, kicking sand up behind her and wagging her tail as fast as it would go. When the waves lapped against the sand again, she ran back, spinning in circles and behaving like a small puppy. Lauren watched, envious.

  It had been a month since the incident and she’d received no word from the prosecutor on the status of the case. She knew that Jack was still locked up and that, a week ago, he’d received a black eye from one of the other prisoners, but wouldn’t reveal the identity of his attacker, so his lawyers were pushing for the trial to be moved up. She’d only found this out by Sheriff McNally, though, and the older man had laughed through his explanation of the whole ordeal. He’d practically been in stitches on her kitchen table. Lauren couldn’t help but take a small bit of
delight in it as well.

  “The FBI is refusing to move the trial up, though. They say that they’ve already given him what he wanted with the speedy trial bullshit, but that if he felt unsafe in the jail, he could just go into solitary.” He shook his head. “I gotta tell you, Doc; that man you married is a real tool.”

  Lauren nodded in agreement, but she couldn’t stop the shiver that ran up her spine at the thought of what Jack Snyder had done to her. McNally seemed to sense this and he put down his mug, reaching out for her hand.

  “He can’t hurt you anymore,” he assured her. “You’re safe.”

  “But for how long?” she asked. “Jack is a wealthy man. He can afford the best lawyers. What if they find some kind of loophole and free him? What if he finds me again? What if there’s nobody there to stop him from—”

  “Don’t think like that,” the sheriff said. “Just stay positive, alright? He’s going away, for a long time. I promise.”

  Lauren nodded, wishing that she could believe him.

  The breeze blew through her hair, making the strands flutter around her cheeks, tickling her skin as she watched the sun begin to set over the horizon. She still had a mountain of paperwork sitting on her kitchen table, but it was one of the few last warm days of the year before the winter chill set in and she wanted to enjoy it. Especially since she knew that it could be her last chance to do so in Slightuckett.

  She’d been looking at listings in cities all over the East and West Coast, looking for homes on the beach, where she could get a similar view. Where Emma could continue to chase the waves and Lauren could continue to watch the sun set from the beach. Where she could feel as calm and safe as she does, right here, right now.

  Nothing spoke to her. Not like Slightuckett, Rhode Island.

  Other than looking at homes, Lauren had also been interviewing for jobs in all the nearby cities. But word had spread quickly that she was looking for a trauma fellowship and she’d already received several offers from hospitals all over the country, including some top-choice trauma centers. She had them all written down on post-its around her house, in an attempt to inspire her into picking one.