by J. L. Leslie
The hairs on my neck stand up again. This time when I turn, a man is staring at me. He looks away and takes an item off the shelf, but his nonchalance doesn’t fool me. Years of being around the club has made me always be aware of my surroundings, and I remember I saw the exact same man in the dairy section. He doesn’t have any items, just a set of keys he keeps spinning on his finger. Something’s up with him.
I ease my buggy farther down the aisle. Slipping my phone out of my purse, I call Mason. When he doesn’t pick up, I try Jake. Thankfully, he answers on the second ring.
“Someone is following me. I’m in our local grocery store. He’s about 6’1. Blue tee. Black pants. Brown hair. Tattoos on both arms.”
“Stay there.”
I put my phone away and turn the corner, casually looking to see if the man is following me. He’s still on the aisle, pretending to check out items, spinning his keys. I skip two aisles and turn down the next, pushing the buggy to the end before skirting around the corner. My heart pounds in my chest, hands shaking.
I tell myself to calm down. Calm. The. Fuck. Down. I don’t know for sure this guy is following me. Maybe I’m paranoid. I take a step to turn around to finish my shopping and back smack into a rock-hard body. Calloused hands grip my arms to steady me. My nipples harden painfully in my bra. Hunter.
“Where is he?”
I can’t speak, can barely catch my breath. Why do I have this reaction to him, and how could I forget that?
“He was two aisles over. How did you get here so quickly?”
Without answering, he releases me and saunters off. I wait while he goes to investigate. He’ll probably come back and tell me I’m a damn lunatic. Only his words will be a lot harsher.
“I didn’t fucking see anyone,” he says as he approaches me again. “You okay?”
I furrow my brow. Not what I expected. “Um…yeah. Probably imagining things.”
He shrugs. “Trust your gut. If you think someone’s following you, it’s probably because they are.”
“Why are you being nice to me?”
He smirks. Damn that smirk. I’m certain it’s dropped more panties than mine.
“Would you rather I be an asshole?”
“That’s what I’m used to with you.”
“Fine,” he says with a shrug. “If that’s what you want. Get your shit, and let’s get the hell out of here. I’m escorting you home.”
HUNTER
I can’t win with her. I’m nice, and she wants me to be an asshole. I’m an asshole, and she wants me to be nice. What the fuck?
“Where do you want this?” I ask, holding her grocery bags.
She nods toward the kitchen counter, and I put them there while she places Wes’s carrier on the floor. He kicks his tiny feet as if he can escape his contraption. I’m tempted to get him out, but I don’t know that I’m ready for that. Also, don’t know that she’d want me to do it.
“Tell me about Paul.”
She seems caught off guard, slowly taking her items out of her bags. I walk over to help her, almost feeling like we’re back at the clubhouse unloading whiskey at the bar.
“Um, I’m not sure what you want to know.”
“Everything, Allie. Anything can help, even if you don’t think it will.”
“I go by Jane now.”
“I’m not calling you that. Not ever. You’re my…you’re Allie. Always have been. Always will be.”
“Fine. Whatever. He works at the rehab center I checked into. We met after one of my group sessions, and he noticed I wasn’t feeling well. He’s the one who suggested I take a pregnancy test. Of course, I did and found out I was pregnant. I didn’t want everyone there to know. Didn’t want them knowing I’d been using during my pregnancy. He kept things under wraps as much as he could. I thought he pitied me, but it wasn’t that at all. He was easy to talk to. The more time we spent together, the more we hit it off, and started seeing each other. The rest is history.”
“What exactly is his job? What does he do at an all-female rehab center?”
I stress the place was for women only, but she doesn’t seem to catch on. She puts away her food, then leans against the kitchen counter.
“He was a nurse, like I said before.”
“Did he approach you, or did you approach him?”
“He approached me. Why is that important?”
“Do you keep in touch with any of the women you were in there with?”
She frowns. “Not really. I didn’t exactly get close with anyone aside from Paul. I wanted to focus on getting clean and discharged.”
“Yeah, you focused on that all right,” I mutter, but she doesn’t hear me.
She glances down at Wes, and I start to ask her about her pregnancy, but she excuses herself and heads down the hall, letting me know she’ll be right back. As soon as she’s out of sight, he starts crying. I give her a minute to come back. When she doesn’t, I bend down and unbuckle him, cradling him against my chest.
I softly shush him the way I do with Maisy. She likes it, so I figure he will too. I stroke his back, pacing back and forth, and he quiets down. He’s tiny, so damn tiny. I lean him back, his head resting in the palm of my hand, blue eyes gazing up at me in curiosity.
“Um, sorry about that,” Allie says, walking back into the kitchen. “Nature called.”
I glance up at her, and she has this look on her face. I don’t know what to call it. Her lips are slightly parted, eyes soft. It’s the same look she had when she saw me holding Maisy. I called it longing then. Maybe that’s what it is. Or maybe I’m reading it all wrong.
“What?”
“I don’t know. It’s just strange seeing you holding a baby. I thought that when I saw you holding Maisy. This big, bad, tattooed biker holding this tiny thing so carefully.”
I snort. “You think I’m not capable of holding a kid?”
“It’s not that. I just know what those hands are capable of.” I snicker, unable to hold it back. Damn if her cheeks don’t turn red. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Sure you didn’t.”
“You are so full of yourself,” she says, rolling her eyes.
“And you wish you were full of me.”
“Yeah? Look where that got me last time.”
I lay Wes against my shoulder, rubbing his back. “Allie, listen, I wasn’t thinking clearly that night.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “Wow. Look, you already said enough that night. I don’t need to be insulted any further.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Oh, what did you mean then? That you weren’t thinking clearly, or you never would’ve fucked me?”
“Dammit, that’s not what I meant, Allie!” I raise my voice, and Wes starts to cry. “I just meant I don’t fuck without protection.”
She takes him from me, glaring at me with such hatred it nearly makes me flinch. “I’m certain that’s a load of bullshit.” Before I can deny her accusation, she adds, “Thanks for coming, but you don’t have to stay. You’re not welcome here.”
She heads down the hallway, taking my son with her. Dammit. Like I said, I can’t win with her.
ALLIE
I roll over, reaching for Paul, only to find his side of the bed empty, cold. I smooth my hand over his pillow, furrowing my brow. Where is he? He was just here, wasn’t he? We put Wes to bed and turned in together. I watched him shut off the lamp. Didn’t I?
“You okay?” he asks, climbing back into bed.
“Where were you?”
“Got thirsty.”
I touch his chest as if I’m making sure he’s actually here. Something doesn’t seem right. Feels off. He moves closer to me, and I throw back the covers, this sudden urgency hitting me. Straddling his legs, I strip his boxers down until his cock is free.
“Jesus, Jane, what are you —”
He abruptly stops talking when I close my mouth over the head of his dick, sinking down until he hits the back of my throat. Sex w
ith Paul is good, always has been, but it’s not earth-shattering. Not the way it was with Hunter. It’s not raw and devouring. Doesn’t leave me exposed. Doesn’t make me lose all my inhibitions. I’ve convinced myself that’s a good thing. Being that exposed, that raw, is harmful. Dangerous.
Paul is safe. And I’m at a point in my life where I need safe. I need secure. He gives me that. He gives me what I need.
He lets out a moan, and I suck harder, digging my nails into his thighs. I feel the bed dip behind me, then hands on my ass, pulling my panties down. I panic and release Paul, looking back.
“It’s okay, baby. It’s only Hunter,” Paul says, like this is a common occurrence.
He shouldn’t be here. Not in our house. Not in our bedroom. I shut him out of my life. I started over. I forgot about the club, forgot about the life I used to have. Most importantly, I forgot about him.
I shake my head. “I don’t understand. I don’t want this.”
Hunter rubs two fingers up my slit. “Yes you do, Allie. Or do you want me to call you Jane?”
I can’t bite back the moan that escapes my lips. I do want this. Dammit, I do. He eases a finger inside me and uses his other hand to push my head back down toward Paul’s waiting dick. I want to resist, know that I should, but I don’t. Not even the slightest bit.
I grip Paul’s dick and take him into my mouth again as Hunter slams into me without warning. It feels so damn good, I almost come right then. Paul pistons his hips up, fucking my mouth as Hunter rams into my pussy. Saliva drips out of my mouth, pouring down Paul’s dick as I bob up and down.
Hunter smacks my ass as Paul gives me a warning that he’s about to blow his load. I cup his balls, massaging them as I deep throat him. He groans as he comes, and I swallow every drop down before I release him. Hunter fists his hand in my hair, jerking me back.
“I’m not done with you yet, Allie. I’ll never be done with you.”
I startle awake, sweat beading on my forehead, breathless. I throw the covers off and climb out of bed, walking down the hall to my kitchen — anything to get that dream out of my mind.
When I stormed out earlier, I didn’t come back. I checked on Wes, and I stayed in my bedroom, far away from Hunter. I knew he was going to stay, although I told him not to. After my scare at the grocery store, the RBMC was going to put protection on me whether I wanted it or not.
And there he is on my couch, one of my blankets draped over him as he sleeps. My body betrays me as my nipples perk right the fuck up. I’m disgusted with myself. I can’t control what I dream, but I can control the fact that a big part of me wants it to become a reality.
HUNTER
The sound of a crying baby wakes me from a dead sleep. I sit up on Allie’s couch, running a hand through my thick, blonde locks. I hear soft footsteps and figure she finally ventured from her bedroom to the nursery.
Grabbing my pack of cigarettes and cell phone from the coffee table, I head outside to her front porch. I lean against the banister and light one up as I text Seth to see if there has been any news and let him know Paul had access to patient records. Could be why his laptop is missing with him.
While I wait for him to respond, I take a look around the neighborhood. All fresh cut grass, sprinklers, and cookie-cutter homes. It’s a far cry from the clubhouse and the way we live. Hell, the way Allie used to live. Is this what she wants? The life she wants for Wes?
I can’t say I blame her. Skylar and I didn’t have this life growing up. We were fairly poor and lost our mom when we were kids. My dad had a gambling problem, and although he did a decent job as an old man, we didn’t have anything remotely close to this. Don’t get me wrong, we didn’t have a shitty childhood. My dad had a gambling problem pretty much all our lives, but we were provided for — for the most part — and we got by all right, we just didn’t have this.
I take another drag, noticing one of Allie’s neighbors sweeping off her porch. An elderly woman in hair curlers, her nosy ass staring right over at me. I suppose a shirtless, tattooed, pierced biker standing on a porch smoking a cigarette isn’t the norm.
I throw my hand up in a wave, pretty sure I scare the shit out of the little old lady. She tentatively waves back and keeps right on sweeping...and staring.
I finish off my cigarette and snuff it out before tossing it onto the ground. Then I head back inside, finding Allie in the kitchen trying to reach something in the cabinet. On her tiptoes, arm extended over her head, her T-shirt rises just enough to show some of her creamy flesh.
Walking over to her, I rest my hand on her hip, my thumb brushing against her exposed skin as I grab the bowl she’s reaching for with ease. I place it on the counter in front of her, not moving, and watch with pure desire as she bites her bottom lip.
“Need anything else?”
Cause I fucking do. I need to snatch those cute as hell pajama pants down and rip her panties right off her ass. Bury myself in that greedy cunt, because I know, without a doubt, it’s still greedy, and she’ll be wet for me. She can deny it all she wants, pretend she’s immune to this attraction, but it’s always been there.
I was the one who resisted before. I ignored her. She was always at the club, always talking to me, checking on me, being a good friend. I didn’t reciprocate. Not once. Okay, once. Is there really any reason to keep denying this?
Yes. There absolutely is. I am a grade-A jerk with absolutely no intention of whatever this is being more than a mind-numbing fuck — just like it was before.
And Allie? Well, Allie has a kid now. My kid. I’m not so insensitive that I don’t recognize she deserves way more than what I’m willing to give her — and so does he.
But what if it could be more than just sex?
That question comes out of nowhere. What if we could be a family? If I could give Wes what I missed out on most of my life? Damn if a part of me doesn’t want that for him. I get this Paul guy can give him those things but fuck if I don’t want to be the one filling those shoes. I’m just not sure I can. Not sure I’m worthy. Not after the pain I’ve already put her through, because chances are, I’m going to hurt her again and again.
I drop my hand from her side, and I swear she exhales as if she’d been holding her breath the whole time. I take a step back, then another, putting distance between us. This is how I can be the good guy for her: by leaving her alone.
“I’m going to head back to the clubhouse. See what I can dig up on your guy.”
Your guy. That’s right. She has a guy. She plans on marrying that guy.
“I appreciate that. I’m ready to have him back home.”
“I’ll send someone over. After the grocery store incident, I don’t think you or Wes need to be left alone.”
She gives me a slight nod, understanding what I’m saying. Someone else will be coming. Not me. Not again.
I’m not the guy for Allie. I never was.
ALLIE
Now that Hunter is gone, my body is like this ball of energy. I don’t know what to do with myself. He touched me, and my skin burned. Flames spread all over me like an inferno. I was engulfed in heat. Only I didn’t want the fire to be extinguished. I wanted to dance within the flames. That’s what Hunter does to me.
The first time I saw him, I was sitting on the couch at the clubhouse. Wesley was there doing some mechanic work on one of the bikes. It was hot as hell outside, so I went in, grabbed a drink, and decided to watch television.
Hunter walked in, following behind Mason. We locked eyes for a moment, then he disappeared down the hall. I knew we were getting a new prospect. I also knew that meant he was off limits. Club rules. Members don’t date the family of other members. Causes too much drama. That didn’t mean I couldn’t look.
And I’ve been looking for years. Hunter is like the puppy in the window. You can’t help but look because they’re freaking adorable, then you end up giving in and taking them home, only to go right back to wishing you just kept looking. With that freaking adorable puppy c
omes responsibility. Responsibility you absolutely were not in a million years prepared for.
So instead of dwelling on how monumentally I screwed up last year, I focus my energy elsewhere. I practically tear this house apart looking for any clue as to where Paul is. I check every drawer and shelf in our bedroom, Wes sleeping soundly while I rummage through our clothes and belongings.
When Dash arrives as my new protection, I put him to work too. I start him in the garage, figuring that’ll keep him out of my hair while also satisfying the club on me having someone here.
Part of me feels guilty for searching through Paul’s things. Like I want to find something that tells me he left on his own accord or is involved in something sinister, so I don’t have to feel bad for my reaction to Hunter. I would have nothing to feel guilty about if Paul left me or is somehow involved in something horrible, the way I know Hunter thinks he is. But I haven’t found a thing, and neither has Dash. Paul is not the enemy. He’s not a bad guy caught up in bad shit. Maybe he just ran from me.
I sit down on my couch and think about what that means, how it makes me feel. If he ran, and it’s starting to look like he did, I should be devastated. He’s my fiancé. We’re engaged to be married. And he up and left without saying a word. Didn’t even have the decency to break things off.
I shake my head. He wouldn’t do that. I know in my damn gut he would not do that. He wouldn’t leave me this way. And that knowledge, me knowing he’s out there and has to be in some sort of trouble, really makes me feel like a horrible person. Because I’ve been consumed with thoughts of Hunter and not my fiancé.
I shouldn’t be here thinking about Hunter. Shouldn’t be wondering what my life would be like had things somehow worked out between Hunter and me. If this is a second chance for us.
I should be out there finding Paul. He would be tearing this town apart trying to find me. I owe him the same courtesy.
There is one place I haven’t searched. Hopping up, I check on Wes, who’s sleeping soundly in his bassinet, and grab the baby monitor before I head outside. When Paul left or was taken…or whatever happened to him, the only thing that went missing was his laptop. He didn’t take his phone or his wallet, not even his vehicle.