by S. Nelson
Forgetting I’d made a fool of myself by showing up at Braylen’s house, drunk and insistent she see me.
Forgetting I’d basically passed out on her couch after having a taste of her sweetness.
Forgetting I’d mentioned my mother.
Forgetting Jagger was gonna be pissed that I’d taken his truck without his knowledge.
Forgetting I even cared.
I was close to ten minutes away from my destination when a vehicle unexpectedly cut in front of me, crossing lanes without any sort of warning. Besides being pissed, something screamed at me to pay attention, more so than I normally would have. An Oldsmobile Cutlass with faded and peeling blue paint, along with a bumper that was held on by duct tape, careened into the opposing lane before righting the wheel, slowing down and then speeding up. I kept my distance when normally I would have sped up and passed him off. At first glance it appeared as if a drunk driver was behind the wheel, but I quickly realized that wasn’t the case.
The Cutlass pulled closer to the side of the road but never stopped completely. I let up on the gas, slowing the truck even more. The next thing I knew something was tossed from the passenger side window, and as soon as the object cleared the car’s interior, the driver gunned it and took off like a shot. I was honestly shocked the ol’ girl had so much gumption left in her.
Several moments later, I pulled over to where the Cutlass had slowed, my tires kicking up gravel until I eventually came to a stop. I had no idea what had been discarded, but I knew I couldn’t leave without checking what it was. It could’ve been a bag of trash, the bastard too lazy to dispose of it properly, although my gut was telling me otherwise.
Throwing the truck in Park, I exited and walked around the back until I came to the side of the road closest to the small embankment. And that was when I saw a white garbage bag with black handles. Upon closer inspection, I saw the bag was moving ever so slightly. When I was a few feet away, I finally heard a noise, a whimpering sound trapped inside the confinement.
What the fuck? I proceeded with caution. For all I knew the guy could’ve tossed out a raccoon he’d caught, or a skunk, or any other kind of rodent. The closer I got the more I knew the animal inside wasn’t any of those things. Crouching down, I cautiously untied the knotted black plastic handles, pulling apart the ends of the garbage bag until I could peer inside.
Looking back up at me were a tiny pair of pale blue eyes, a face so bewildered it tugged at my heart. It was a puppy. I’d always been an animal lover, even had a dog I loved with all my heart when I was young, so when I saw what that bastard threw out of his window, fury pounded through me. My skin was hot, my heart thumping wildly inside my chest.
I had a choice. I could hop back in my truck and take off after him, or I could tend to the defenseless puppy. Without much deliberation at all, I chose the puppy.
Tearing the rest of the bag away, I inspected the tiny creature. It didn’t take long to discover that the puppy only had three legs—two front ones and the back right. From what I could tell, it looked like the missing limb was a birth defect and not the result of some sort of accident or mistreatment. Checking underneath, I saw the puppy was male, his tiny tail tucked under when I scooped him up.
He looked to only be around six weeks old, yet there was an old soul to this dog as I stared into his eyes. It was the oddest moment, but I swore to Christ I bonded with the little bastard, right there on the side of the road. While I wasn’t sure exactly what breed of dog he was, his coloring was quite unique: gray and white fur covered his body, with a black patch circling his left eye.
Walking back to the truck, the little guy tucked close to me, I grabbed a blanket Jagger had in the back and threw it over the passenger seat before climbing back behind the wheel. Turning over the ignition, I gently placed the puppy on the blanket.
He started to shiver, so I put my hand over him. Surprisingly he stopped, licking his little lips before closing his eyes, as if he knew I wouldn’t harm him.
I drove the rest of the way to the club with a discarded, three-legged animal next to me and an odd feeling of affection in my heart.
Ryder
Striding through the doors of the club, I hid the puppy underneath my cut. The morning air was crisp and the poor guy had been through enough; the least I could do was try and keep him warm.
No one was out in the common room, and the door to Chambers was wide open.There was a strong possibility some of the guys were sleeping in one of the rooms in the back. There were plenty of designated spaces for us to crash if we needed to. A night of overindulgence or a fight with an ol’ lady—whatever the reason, all the men had a place to stay if the occasion called for it.
Disappearing into the kitchen, I rooted around for something edible I could feed the pup. What the hell did I even give him? We certainly didn’t have any puppy chow on hand. Opening the refrigerator, I saw some leftover fried chicken, so still holding tightly to the dog, I wrangled the plate from the shelf, kicked the door closed and set up on the counter.
A whimper escaped the little creature when I removed the saran wrap from the dish, my own stomach rumbling from the smell. It was then I realized I hadn’t eaten since early the day before, choosing to drown myself in alcohol instead of food.
“I know, little buddy. Just give me a minute.” Deeming I needed the use of both hands, I found a dishtowel near the sink, folded it to create a little cushion and placed the puppy on top, far enough back on the counter that he wouldn’t fall if he decided to become a bit lively.
“Talkin’ to your dick again, are ya?” a gravelly voice sounded behind me, shuffling feet approaching before I had a chance to recognize the voice.
Hawke.
He sidled up next to me and peered over my shoulder. “Well if I was, what’s your excuse for trying to sneak a peek?”
“You wish.” He took a step back and leaned his hip against the counter. Wearing an old KISS T-shirt and boxer shorts, Hawke looked a little worse for wear, his dark hair sticking out all over the place and a pillow line running down the entire length of his cheek.
“Rough night?” I teased, my hands busy tearing the chicken from the bone and putting aside small pieces for the pup.
“You could say that?” he gruffed, narrowing his eyes at me while he watched me destroy the food. “What are you doing? Isn’t it a little early for leftovers?” Running his hand through his hair and making it worse, he pushed off the counter and grabbed some orange juice from the fridge. Chugging back a few gulps straight from the carton, he wiped his mouth afterward before putting the drink back in the fridge.
Hawke still hadn’t seen the surprise visitor sitting patiently on the counter next to me. Not until he heard him whimper.
“What was that?” His confusion was comical. Looking all around the room first, he glanced up at the ceiling as if something was gonna drop down on top of us.
The puppy whimpered again. Before Hawke started shouting for me to tell him what was making the noise, scaring the dog in the process, I moved out of the way so he could see the little guy.
“Some asshole threw him out of his car while driving in front of me.” I didn’t have to say any more before Hawke approached the puppy with his hand out so the dog could smell him, a goofy smile appearing as he gently pet the puppy’s head.
“I can’t believe someone would do that. That’s seriously fucked up.”
“You’re tellin’ me.”
“What are you gonna do with it?” he asked, picking him up so he could get a better look. It was then he noticed the puppy was missing one of his back legs. “What the hell?” he shouted, startling the little guy. “Did they cut it off?” He turned the creature from side to side, lifting him up to the light to see him better.
“I think he was born that way,” I offered, finishing my hack job on the chicken. “Here, gimme him.”
Hawke passed him to me, continuing to pet him as I fed him small pieces of chicken. He was hungry enough, biting my f
ingers in his eagerness to eat, his little teeth like razors. That bastard probably starved him as well, although he didn’t look too gangly from what I could see.
“Are ya gonna keep him?”
“What am I gonna do with a puppy?” The thought had briefly crossed my mind on the way to the clubhouse, but then I decided against it. Puppies were a lot of work, let alone one with a disability. No, it was better if I did what I could, then passed him off to one of the no-kill shelters in the area so they could find him a permanent home with people who had the time to care for him.
“You need somethin’ to go home to, man.”
Ignoring his observant comment, I asked, “Speaking of, why didn’t you go home last night?” I knew things had been rough between him and Edana. Ever since she’d been attacked, she’d been having some nasty nightmares, pulling away from Hawke which in turn strained their already tumultuous relationship.
“I can’t help her. She doesn’t wanna talk about it, and every time I even try to touch her she freaks out and starts cryin’.” He ran his hands over his face. “I don’t know what to do. She wants to go stay with her sister in Florida.”
“Maybe it’s the best thing right now,” I suggested. Even as the words left my lips I knew I would’ve never followed my own advice if I were in his shoes. I’d be fighting to keep my woman close.
“Well, apparently I don’t get a say. She’s already packed a fuckin’ bag.” He plopped down in a nearby chair and hung his head. “I just don’t know what to do,” he mumbled.
I’d never seen Hawke so despondent. Normally, he was taunting the guys, crossing lines to where they’d retaliate and put him in his place. Or at least try to if Tripp wasn’t there to interject.
After a few minutes of him wallowing and me feeding the rest of the scraps to the puppy, we both acknowledged our conversation was over with a simple nod, then proceeded to walk out into the common room.
Sitting on the sofa with a beer in hand and the puppy next to me, I welcomed the sweet arms of numbness. I needed one last ride to oblivion before I had to man up and deal with my shit with Braylen. I had to decide if I wanted to let her all the way in or let her go. It wasn’t fair to string her along and I knew it. We’d both be worse in the end if I didn’t make a decision once and for all.
Braylen
I saw him kill my mom. How do I ever get over something like that? Those words kept me awake for an hour after I’d left Ryder on the couch. Who did he see? How did his mother die? What happened to the man who did it? How old was he?
I wanted so desperately to push him to tell me more, but I knew in his state he’d either refuse or ignore me completely. Much like he’d do if he was sober. The only difference between him being intoxicated or lucid, however, was that in his oblivion, he’d let something personal slip through. I wasn’t even sure if he knew he’d said anything out loud.
His statement explained a lot, like the nightmares. Hell, even when he’d unknowingly attacked me in his sleep. In his dreams, was he trying to protect his mother? Had he tried when it happened for real? I was riddled with questions, but I knew enough about Ryder that no amount of persuasion would make him open up. Irritatingly, he had to come to that step all on his own; the more I pushed him, the more he’d shut down and distance himself.
Ryder was gone when I woke up. I tried his cell to make sure he was okay but it went straight to voice mail. Apparently, he’d stolen Jagger’s keys while he was sleeping and took off at God knew what hour of the morning. I prayed he had at least sobered up before he left.
Kena was off from work, so I gave Jagger a ride home before heading to work. He asked me to wait until one of the guys could pick him up so they could follow me to the salon, but I insisted I was fine. It was the middle of the day; what could possibly happen? He tried Ryder on his cell, and he also got his voice mail. After some reluctance, Jagger agreed to let me leave.
How gracious.
It was noon when I finally arrived, and since my first client of the day was waiting for me, I wasted no time diving right in. I could certainly use the much-needed distraction from all things Ryder.
“I’m sorry if I caused any kind of tension between you and your boyfriend,” George said, flashing me an apologetic smile while I worked on his hair later that afternoon.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I blurted, slamming my mouth closed as soon as I’d spoken. It was the truth, but George didn’t need to know anything more about my personal business.
“Oh, I thought—”
“It’s complicated.” I kept my eyes down, pretending I was focusing on what I was doing, but the truth was I didn’t want to talk about Ryder with him. Or anyone for that matter. The topic only served to upset me.
“If you ever want to uncomplicate things, just let me know. I’ll be the first in line to take you out.” He chuckled, trying his best to lighten the mood. Too bad for him mine was already soured.
Five minutes later I was done. He came in so often it didn’t take long to shape up his hair. “All finished,” I announced, unsnapping the cape from behind his neck. “Did you want to make an appointment for next time or just call?”
“Just book me in two weeks.”
I should’ve known.
“Sure thing.” After he paid and left me a large tip as usual, Sia strolled out from the office, looking exhausted and a little unwell.
“Are you feeling okay?” She’d changed her hair from pink to light purple, and I swore she was one of the few women who could pull off the look.
“My stomach’s a little upset. I think I may be coming down with something. Do you mind closing up for me?”
“Not at all. Tammy and Michelle left already, and I don’t have any more clients. Do you mind if I finish what I’m doing, then close up early?” Please say yes. The last thing I wanted to do was wait around for another hour just in case someone decided to pop in.
“Of course,” Sia agreed. She slung her purse over her shoulder, gave me a weakened smile and walked out to her car.
Music was what I needed in order to make the mundane task of sweeping not so bad, so I flicked the switch for the sound system and got to work. Both Tammy and Michelle were great stylists, but when they were done for the day, they were done. Which meant that sometimes they didn’t sweep up their stations or put their used towels in the back room to be washed. And since I told my friend I would close up, I wanted to ensure the salon looked its best when opened the following day.
Ten minutes into my task, I heard the bell over the door ring, alerting me that someone had walked in. “I’m sorry but we’re closing early for the evening,” I called out over my shoulder.
No answer.
Silence.
And the door’s bell didn’t ring again, indicating the person had left.
Maybe they didn’t hear me over the music, although I’d kept it a reasonable level. Resting the broom against one of the stations, I slowly turned around, goose bumps prickling my skin with the oddest sensation of unease. I wasn’t even fully facing the person before his hands were around my throat, my eyes popping wide in fear as he backed me against the nearest wall.
Looking into the face of a complete stranger, one who was intent on doing me harm, was the scariest thing I’d ever encountered.
Terror raced through every cell.
My lungs seized.
My heart raced.
My vision tunneled.
My body went on lockdown, all of my senses heightened in fear.
I had no idea who the man was or what he wanted. Well, I could guess what he wanted, but I hoped he was just there to rob the place. Maybe he was a drug addict looking for his next fix. Or maybe he was looking to do something a bit more sinister.
He was tall and lanky, but there was no doubt he was strong, his grip on my throat rendering me powerless. My fingers scratched at his hands but it only served to anger him more than he already was, so I dropped them to my sides, hoping and praying he’d let me go soon.
Looking at him was painful, and would no doubt give me nightmares for years to come, but I wanted to be able to describe him in case I made it out of there alive. Eyes the color of coal peered back at me while I struggled to breathe. His shoulder-length hair was light brown, but there were streaks of gray running through it. Scars riddled his face, one in particular standing out amongst the others—a long-since healed, jagged mutilation ran from the corner of his mouth all the way up to his hairline.
“You sure are a pretty one, aren’t ya?” he asked, leaning closer and inhaling the air around me. His breath smelled like garlic and smoke, one whiff of it enough to make me wanna pass out. “I think maybe I’ll take ya for a test drive as well.” I wanted to shout, ‘As well as what?’ but obviously I couldn’t.
Cocking his head ever so slightly, a menacing grin spread across his mouth, warning me something bad was about to happen. When his free hand shot out and seized my breast, I found my strength to struggle once more. If he was going to rape me, then I’d give him the fight of his life. Tightening his grip around my neck, he kicked my legs apart before lowering his hand to cup me between my thighs.
“You’re gonna like what I do to you, bitch. So much you’re gonna go runnin’ back to your boyfriend to tell him what a real man feels like inside your cunt.” Spittle hit my cheek as he tried to unbutton my jeans. I rocked my hips from side to side to try and escape his touch, but he was just too strong. “After I’ve had my fill of you, I’m gonna sample your little sister. Don’t think that fighter is gonna stop me,” he blurted, laughing when he saw the pure horror light up my face.
All of a sudden I didn’t care what he did to me, as long as he didn’t touch Kena. How did he even know about her, or me for that matter?