by S. Nelson
“Just be warned that it’s quite the sight,” I cautioned before removing my hand from the door. Trigger pulled it open and one by one they hurried down the steps. I debated whether or not I should go back down into the basement, and after several minutes of contemplating, I finally gave in and joined my brothers.
Reece
Again I asked myself what the hell I was thinking going home with a complete stranger. The same stranger who left me all alone in his house, who took off in the middle of the night, explaining that he’d be back sometime the next day. And to add to the already odd scenario, he never told me the code for the alarm system, essentially locking me inside until he returned.
Having no idea what else to do, I grabbed my phone and dialed the number for Indulge, hoping and praying that Carla was still working. I desperately needed someone to talk to, and I feared if she’d already gone home that I’d sit and stew all night. I cursed Tripp, angry with him for firing me, or whatever he called it, all while still remaining thankful he’d come to my aid earlier. The situation was complicated to say the very least.
The phone rang three times before someone finally answered. “Indulge” was the only greeting that came through the line.
“Hi. Is Carla still working?”
“Who’s this?” I knew without asking it was Arianna, and if she knew it was me she’d probably hang up. I couldn’t risk it so I lied.
“Her sister.” I tried to change the tone of my voice when I answered, still fearful she’d end the call.
“Hang on,” she responded, shouting over her shoulder and away from the phone. Breathing a sigh of relief, I counted the seconds until Carla came on the line.
“Heather? Is everything okay?” she asked in a small panic. “Why are you calling so late?”
“Carla, it’s me. Reece. Sorry about that, but if I told Arianna it was me I think she probably would’ve hung up on me.”
“Yeah, you’re right.” She chuckled. “That one is a bit touched in the head, if you know what I mean. Why couldn’t it have been her who Tripp kicked out tonight?” A brief silence ensued. “Sorry, honey. I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Well, that’s why I’m calling. Sort of.” Slouching back against the couch, I tried to get as comfortable as I could.
“Hold on a sec. Let me take this in the office. Too noisy out here.” I waited until I heard the background noise of the club diminish, taking that extra time to figure out why exactly I’d called Carla in the first place. “Okay, all good.” I didn’t have to be standing next to her to know she was smiling, that she was exuding her support through the phone. “What’s up?”
“I don’t know. I. . . .” My words drifted off, but it wasn’t long before Carla picked up on exactly what my worry was.
“Where are you, Reece? Are you safe?”
“Yeah. I think so.”
“What do you mean you think so? Where did Tripp take you?”
I hesitated for a moment, knowing my answer would certainly raise some flags with her. “Back to his place.”
Carla gasped. “Why? Why wouldn’t he take you to your motel room? Well, I guess I understand why he didn’t take you there. I’ve told you that place is dangerous, that you’d be much better off staying someplace else, but what the hell do I know, right? I’ve only lived around here my entire life.” She rambled on for another minute before finally taking a breather.
“Are you done?” I kept my tone non-defensive because I knew Carla had my best interests at heart, and she was only worried about me.
“I think so.”
“Good. Now can I continue?”
“Go ahead.” Her smile had returned. I just knew it.
I wavered before letting her in on what Tripp said on the drive home. “He felt the same way . . . about me staying there, and since it was late, and I had nowhere else to go, he just took me back to his place.”
“Where is he now?”
“I don’t know,” I answered truthfully. “He said he had some stuff he had to do for his club, and that he’d be back sometime tomorrow. That’s all I know. But until then, I can’t leave because he set the alarm and never told me what the code was. So I’m essentially trapped here.” Closing my eyes, I tried to picture Carla’s reaction, but the only image I could muster was of Tripp. The concern in his eyes when he’d crouched down in the private room at the club to make sure I was okay. The annoyance on his face when I’d told him where I’d been staying. The way his full lips kicked up in a smirk when he told me I was free to hit on him anytime.
“Tell me where you are. I’ll have someone close up for me and I’ll come get you,” she offered.
“I don’t really know where I am exactly. He lives out in the middle of nowhere.” Then I suddenly remembered that his brother was at the club. Or at least he was when we left. “Is his brother still there?” I asked, hoping she’d say yes.
“Hawke? No, he left already. One of his buddies came to get him about a half hour ago.”
“Oh, okay,” I dejectedly responded. “I guess it’s just as well, seeing as there’s still the small issue of his alarm.”
“Oh, I don’t give a shit about that. I’ll bust you out of there and he can deal with whatever happens.”
“You’ll bust me out of here?” I laughed.
“You know I will.” Carla’s amusement faded, quickly replaced by a serious tone. One which kind of freaked me out.
“Do you think I’m in danger here? You can tell me the truth.” My heart rammed against my chest in anticipation of her answer. She obviously knew Tripp more than I did because of the way she spoke to him when he was in the midst of dragging me out of the club earlier.
“With Tripp? No. Not from what I know of him. He can be quite intense sometimes. Other times . . . he’s laid-back, joking around to stifle a tense situation. He’s a good guy. I don’t agree with him taking you to his place, however. Although. . . .”
“Although what?”
“I’m sure I read it wrong.”
“Carla,” I said as sternly as I could. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“It’s just . . . the way he kept looking at you. I don’t know. It was off.” What she told me momentarily freaked me out, until she finally explained herself. “Sorry, what I mean is . . . I’ve known Tripp for some time now and I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he was looking at you tonight. Yeah, I’ve seen him interested in women before, but not like he was with you. He seemed bothered by the fact that you were even there, all while being intrigued at the same time. Again, I could be reading too much into it, so. . . .”
Out of everything she’d just said, it bothered me when she mentioned him being interested in other women. A small pang of jealousy surfed through me, even though I realized it was ridiculous for me to even feel such an emotion.
“Reece? You still there?”
“Yeah, sorry.” I expelled a deep sigh. “I’m just thinking about what I’m gonna do for a job now.” Then a thought suddenly came to me. “Carla, do you think you can talk to Tripp? Make him reconsider and let me come back to work?”
“Do you think that’s such a good idea? Especially after what happened?”
“I don’t have another choice. Not until I’m able to find something else. I need this,” I pleaded. “I need this job. Please.”
“Of course. I’ll talk to him.”
“Thank you.” After several minutes we finally ended the call, Carla promising she’d do her best to try and convince Tripp to let me stay on at Indulge until I found another job.
I should’ve been pissed. I should’ve been scared. But I was neither. Carla’s reassurance helped to ease some of the anger and panic I’d felt. I had no idea what I would have done without her. Even though I’d only known her a short time, I considered her a true friend.
Deciding not to delve too far inside my various thoughts, I deemed it best to try and distract myself by exploring Tripp’s home. If he was gonna leave me all by myse
lf, then he should expect I’d go snooping through his things. Curiosity won out as I opened the drawer of the end table in the living room, finding nothing inside except a few motorcycle magazines and a remote for the television. Everything stacked neatly. Looking around the small living space, it was then I noticed that not one single thing was out of place. A few pillows were strategically arranged on the couch, a comfy-looking blanket thrown over the back. Not a single item littered the coffee table, or floor for that matter. Everything seemed to have its place, and the thought that Tripp was some kind of neat freak made me smile.
Wait . . . aren’t serial killers anally neat? I lost my smile for a brief moment before I laughed out loud. “Get a grip, Reece,” I mumbled to myself before heading toward the kitchen to grab some water.
Walking through the cozy cabin, I took it all in, immersing myself in Tripp’s world. A small glimpse inside the man who’d saved me. The place was small, the only rooms in the front the kitchen and living room. A large stone fireplace took up the majority of the wall, and with the way the evening had dipped into the lower digits, I imagined relaxing on the brown leather sofa while a fire warmed me.
Toward the back was a short hallway which led to two bedrooms and a bathroom. Peeking my head inside Tripp’s sanctuary, I glanced around the room and smiled. Again. What was with my lips kicking up whenever I thought about the gorgeous man who’d forced his way into my life? Taking a tentative step inside, looking behind me as if he was gonna show up out of thin air and catch me snooping, I marveled at the state of his room—neat, just like every other inch of this place. An overly large bed took up a lot of space, but seeing how big Tripp was, it made absolute sense. An end table and a five-drawer dresser were the only other pieces of furniture, a small walk-in closet tucked into the corner housing the rest of his belongings.
Glancing at the alarm clock, I saw it was late, reminding me that I was most certainly beyond tired. Raising my arms above my head, I stretched as best I could and bellowed out the loudest yawn before turning and exiting the room. Walking only a few feet I came upon the bathroom. The thought of losing myself to a hot shower suddenly seemed like the best remedy to the horrible night I’d had.
As soon as the water beat down on my body, the steam enveloping and soothing me, I relaxed and pushed all thoughts of what had happened to the back of my mind. It was what I was best at—denial, oblivion. Over the years, I’d gotten very good at shoving life way deep down. It was the only way I could survive. Old habits were certainly hard to break, and because I didn’t know any other way to cope I chose denial once more.
After my shower, I pulled Tripp’s T-shirt back over my head, inhaling his lingering scent before pulling it down to cover my body. Images of the sexy biker rushed forward, and it was all I could do not to fantasize what he would look like completely naked. Normally such thoughts never entertained me, not even when I encountered a good-looking man while working. I always tried to keep that life separate from my real one, never mixing the two worlds for fear of the uncertainty. And even though I’d only been stripping for a short while, my promise to never mingle the two worlds had proved beneficial. Until tonight.
Tripp made me feel things without even trying. I’d never come across such a man before, someone who made me question my logic and instincts. I’d drive myself insane if I gave in to the need to try and understand why I’d suddenly become obsessed with him. Why he’d done what he had for me. Why I shoved aside my inner voice and got into his truck, allowing him to take me to his place. Why I’d thought about him almost every second since he’d left.
Deciding to forgo making myself crazy, I trudged back toward his room and crawled onto his bed, laying my head gently on the pillow. I would have curled up in the guest bedroom had there been a bed, but it appeared as if it was being utilized strictly for storage, the numerous boxes stacked perfectly. Not a shocker.
As I lay there, I took a deep breath and recapped everything that’d played out that evening. I refused to focus on anything that happened before Tripp had come to my rescue. No point in frightening myself over something I couldn’t change. I strangely thought my body would refuse to succumb to sleep, that I’d unfortunately be awake for the rest of the night. But as soon as Tripp’s face appeared in my mind, I smiled and slipped into the darkness of a comforting slumber.
Tripp
“What the fuck?” Stone asked, pacing back and forth in front of Psych before moving toward his best friend and leader. “Marek. What the hell happened, brother?” was all he could ask.
But Marek never answered. Instead, he remained on the floor where I’d left him, his head still in his hands as he mumbled the same thing over and over again.
“It can’t be true. It can’t be true.”
He was slowly losing his mind, and so far I was the only one who knew why. The smell of the room had intensified over the past hour, and because no one had made a move to clean anything up, we were completely exposed to Psych’s lifeless body and all the horrible smells his dead flesh emitted.
“Why does he keep saying that?” Jagger asked after pulling me to the corner of the room. My answer didn’t come as easily as I thought it would’ve. There was a part of me that wanted to protect Marek as long as possible. Maybe if I told the others the reason he kept repeating “It can’t be true,” it would become all too real. So I stalled, trying to think of what to say. “I know you know something, Tripp. You were the only one here with him. Other than that fucker over there.” Jagger pointed toward Psych, his eyes lingering on the dead Reaper for only a few seconds before his attention was back on me. “What can’t be true?”
I waited, for what I had no idea. My lips remained sealed while my heart picked up its pace. Marek stepping back into reality and shouting for me to remain silent would have been extremely welcome at that point. But there was only silence. Even Ryder, Stone, and Trigger were quiet, whispering to each other every few minutes. All of us were contemplating the next move, but shock about the situation kept us locked into ambiguity.
Before Jagger could press me again for an answer, Stone closed in on us, his presence leaving no room for anything but the truth. “What the hell happened down here?” He looked back and forth between Jagger and me, but obviously I was the only one who could answer.
“What does it look like happened?” I whisper-shouted, doing my best to deflect from giving him—giving them all—the answers they truly wanted. “He fuckin’ lost his mind and took it out on Psych.”
Stepping closer, Stone gripped my shoulder. “Why did he all of a sudden lose his mind?” The VP of the Knights stood a couple inches shorter than me, but his domineering presence was larger than life. The stern look in his eyes told me he wasn’t gonna let up until I told him something.
Quickly contemplating what I should say, my eyes veered over to glance at Marek, hoping he’d look at me and give me some kind of signal on how to proceed. But he did nothing, continuing to mumble to himself while he shook his head back and forth.
Tightening his grip, Stone demanded I let him in on what exactly happened. Why his president was on the fuckin’ floor and actin’ like some kind of mental patient. “Tripp, I swear to fuck if you don’t tell me what happened. . . .” He didn’t need to finish his sentence because it didn’t matter what he threatened me with. I’d never let it get that far. We were dealing with enough shit as it was; there was no need to add to it.
Stepping back to give us as much privacy as possible, I blew out a breath and started talking. “When I came down here, Marek was torching him and shit. Fuck. I thought I was gonna lose my lunch from the smell. Anyway, out of the blue, Psych started talkin’ about family and why the war really started between us and them in the first place.”
“Greed and territory,” Stone interrupted. “That’s how it started.”
“Not according to Psych.”
Stone frowned, leaning against the wall while waiting for me to clear up the confusion. Jagger continued to listen,
keeping his mouth shut so he could take it all in. Ryder and Trigger were across the room, crowded around Marek and trying to talk to him, to get him to snap out of whatever delirium held him captive.
“He lied. Whatever that fucker said . . . he lied.” Stone’s temper rose, but he kept it under control. “What did he say?” he pressed while clenching his fists.
“He said that the war started because he raped Marek’s mother. That the Reapers and the Knights went to war because he raped her . . . and knocked her up.”
“Fuck!” Jagger and Stone yelled at the same time, looking over at Marek to see if he heard what I’d just told them. But he didn’t, still lost in his own world, which was probably for the best right then. At least until we got the hell out of there.
“That’s not the worst part,” I continued, running my hands through my hair as a stall tactic.
He hit my shoulder in frustration. “Out with it, nomad.” Stone and I didn’t have the best relationship, but it had been getting better over the past year. And if I didn’t want to go back to him constantly giving me shit every time he saw me, and meaning it, then I better just spill the rest of what happened so we could all move on and deal with it. No matter the consequences.
“Psych indicated that he was Marek’s father and asked Marek how he liked fucking his sister.” I let the words linger in the air between us, allowing them the time to process what I’d just said. It didn’t take long at all, their reactions mirroring what I’d gone through when it was being said for the first time.
“Is it true?” Jagger asked, staggering back a step before bracing himself.
“I don’t think so,” I answered.
“But it could be. Holy shit,” Stone said, lowering his voice. “It could be.”
“How do we find out if he was lyin’?” My question swirled around all three of us, waiting for someone to come up with a plan to either put Marek out of his misery or drive him further into it.
“Fuck if I know,” Jagger muttered. His dark blond hair, which was normally strategically styled, was all over the place, looking more like Marek than I cared to admit. After telling them the reason for their leader’s meltdown, Jagger tugged at his strands, practically ripping out chunks because he didn’t know what else to do with his hands. He couldn’t punch the wall; he needed them for his fights, his way of earning for the club.