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by Chelsea Camaron

  I shake my head. “Not sure what you’re looking for from me, but no judgments … ever. You wear a suit to work, you hate to get your nails dirty. That’s all good, and it doesn’t scream that you’re gay, but that you might be or your metro. I get you’re from this small town and you probably stand out, but in a city, you wouldn’t.”

  “Then to the city I will go.” He laughs like it’s so easy to pack up and leave. Then the pain hits him again, and he grabs his side.

  “What does your sexuality have to do with getting the shit kicked out of ya?”

  “You ever struggled to know yourself?” The sincerity in his eyes cuts me deep. The air in the room shifts with his honesty.

  “Every fuckin’ day,” I answer truthfully.

  He reaches out, and I hand him the washcloth, which he pats to his lip.

  “Kinda got lost and in some shit.”

  I nod as I move to my single chair in the corner and sit in it, legs crossed. “Tommy, your parents, they’ll support you.”

  He laughs then groans. “Told ’em, Mandee. Told ’em I’m gay. They said they accept my choice.” His voice cracks. “Choice, Mandee. Like I woke up and decided I’d like to have my sex life be about takin’ it in the ass. I didn’t choose it, but it’s who I am. Not the ass part, but the being gay. What I want is a connection.”

  “I don’t think they view it like that, Tommy,” I say, feeling so in over my head about his situation.

  “You ever fell in love?”

  I nod.

  “The soul, not the man, the soul of a person. Have you ever fallen in love with a person to the deepest level? Not about sex, release, touch, but a serious bond.”

  Again, I nod as I feel the tears form.

  “Amanda, pussy is pussy. Had it. I’ve fucked chicks. I’ve sucked dicks. All that is physical. I can get off all by myself; don’t need a partner for that.”

  I sigh. “Totally agree.”

  “What I crave is someone in charge. Someone to be my safe place to fall. Someone who will let me be their lover. Not about fuckin’, but about supporting. I want someone strong, thick-skinned, and ready to take on the world with me at their side.” His emotions become too much, and he quiets.

  “I had it once,” I whisper, sharing more than I should. “Cliché as it is, the boy next door was my safe place to fall. He loved me, not for the physical, but for me—good, bad, and ugly.”

  “Can’t say that I see one ugly thing about you, Mandee.”

  I choke back a sob as the past rushes full force to my mind. “The past, Tommy, it’s so ugly it’s tarnished my soul, declared me unlovable.”

  “Lotta things about you, Mandee, you keep secret. I get it. But you are far from unlovable.”

  Deciding this is far too deep, I just look at Tommy. He’s a mess. His hair is everywhere, he has lost weight since I first came here, and he almost seems like a different person every time I’m around him.

  “What are we gonna do? You can’t go to work like this.”

  He raises the eyebrow of his swollen eye at me and winces in pain. “Got something for a headache, rib ache, and body ache? If not, then can you cover for me.”

  I pause wondering what to do before I get up to get him some pain pills. “I’ll handle work, but only if you agree to stay here so I know you’re safe.”

  “I don’t think I could leave if I wanted to.”

  It’s my turn to raise an eyebrow.

  “I think I may have a couple of broken ribs,” he says.

  “Damn.” I blow out a breath as I hand him a cup of water and the pills. “Don’t know what we’re gonna do, Tommy, but for now, you stay here and I’ll cover you.”

  He reaches out to grab my wrist again, this time softly. “Thanks, Mandee. And about grabbing you, I’m really sorry.”

  “Just get some rest,” I tell him as I scoop up my phone once more, scared to face the screen and what may or may not be going on with Tempest.

  The rules were simple: don’t call home, no matter what. So, why would she send that on Twitter?

  Chapter Nine

  ~Bladen~

  One call and within three hours, Deacon has backup at the house. With the guys here, they begin cleaning up, while I shower and change.

  A box truck with the logo for “Crews Transports” pulls in.

  A blond-haired, man-bun wearing man with a five-o’clock shadow and full sleeve tattoos stands in the driveway, talking to Deacon. Another blond, this one with short, spiky hair gives Deacon a handshake and a half-hug, backslap. The men are wearing cuts, and I focus in to see the skull with wrenches for crossbones and the engine insignia on the back of man bun’s cut. Hellions Motorcycle Club.

  They have a long history in the Carolinas. My dad wanted to lock Roundman and his bandits, as he called them, up for years. Every time they rode through Florence, Dillon, or the surrounding areas, Dad and Caleb would be looking for a reason to tag them. The club always was tight on their transports, clean up, and businesses. Word is Tripp is President of the entire club, while his cousin, Rex, is Pres. for the Catawba chapter, which is a second in command charter to the main Haywood’s Landing Club.

  Things get complicated when your territory covers all North and South Carolina like they do. It’s necessary to have multiple chapters and people in charge you trust with everything. Roundman and his crew built it, rock solid.

  Knowing they are here to handle the mess, I blow out a breath of relief. I can focus on finding Tamalyn now.

  “Hellions are here,” Deacon says as he comes in. “Got shit covered. Just need the okay, man, to torch it when they finish. Nothin’ll be traced. Boomer is in the back of the truck. Shooter’s here, too. They brought a solid crew of former Green Berets with explosive experience. Nothing, and I mean nothing, will be traced back when the Hellions finish. Grab what you want and let’s ride, brother.”

  I nod and stand.

  We make quick work of introductions. Then I go to my bike, opening the saddlebag, and grab an envelope full of cash. I then quietly walk back over to the man known as Rex. “For your services,” I say, handing him the money.

  “Hot damn! I’ll fuck my ol’ lady on this tonight and let my son pay for his lunch with some of it next week.” He laughs casually.

  My eyes grow wide. “Never thought there would be someone more brash than Trapper,” I mutter more to myself.

  “Shit,” Rex carries on, “Shooter is my son’s stepdad. He’s got a slew of fuckin’ kids, so every time Axel comes to visit, I make sure he understands his dad’s getting older but all the shit still works, ya feel me?” He nudges me as Shooter comes to stand beside him.

  “Swear it, he catches you and Lux one more time, then Tessie might cut me off, thinking he’s too exposed to too much sex. You get me cut off, fucker, there’s hell to pay,” Shooter jokes back, calm as day.

  Good to know the Hellions may have some weird shit that goes on in their lives, but they are a brotherhood.

  “All right, no sex on the cash I give to my kid. Got it. Damn, Shooter, why do you gotta be the responsible one?”

  “ ’Cause Tessie needed a rock-solid man, while Lux needed a nympho with a soft side for women in heels.”

  Rex drapes his arm around Shooter. “Shit makes me hard just thinkin’ ’bout it. You’re good, Shooter; best thing for Tessie and my boy—our boy.”

  “Are we done havin’ a Hallmark moment?” Trapper joins us. “My brother got y’all paid; Deacon gave the marker. All this talk of ol’ ladies and kids makes me itch like I caught an STD. Can’t be havin’ that now.”

  We all laugh.

  “We’ll be in touch should the time come,” Rex says before he moves to the back of the box truck, lifting the door and exposing a group of Hellions ready to get to work.

  Trapper and I go to where all of us are parked at the end of the driveway.

  “They know about Haven’s Harbor; Caleb told me,” I tell them. “Tempest isn’t safe if he still has the PI on her. We nee
d to head there and regroup, find Tamalyn, then call this one done.”

  Deacon is the first to reach for his phone. “Tempest,” he barks. “Lock down and be alert.”

  She says something none of us can hear.

  “Look, told you this ain’t about how good your pussy is. I’m not the kind of man to give callbacks. Since I pulled my cock outta you, I’ve been all business if you’d stop and listen to me for a minute.” He pauses again for her to speak. “Testin’ me, Tempest, is gonna land you with a pink ass from me spankin’ you. I get you like foreplay, but I’m telling you lock down and be alert till I get there.”

  “Quit playin’ house and tell the wifey to get dinner ready; we’re comin’ home,” Trapper goads, and I swear Deacon lifts his eyes, giving the man the look of death.

  “Tempy, don’t got time, other than to tell you again, get up with your girl. Know you say you got nothing. Told you I’ve tasted you, read you, and you know. Reach Tamalyn and sit tight. Sit pretty, and I’ll take care of you when I get there.”

  She proceeds to give him an earful, to which he just shakes his head.

  “All right, noted; you’re not givin’ me that pussy ever again. I repeated it.” He waits a beat. “You good now?” Another beat. “Okay, well, just ’cause I said, doesn’t mean I believe it. I’m gonna taste you again soon, Tempy. You keep puttin’ up this fight, I might have to make you beg before I give it to ya. But promise you, sweetheart, I’ll have you again.”

  “We’re through, you asshole,” we all hear her screech into the phone.

  “Love a challenge, baby,” he says before hanging up with a smirk.

  “Got a man watching her phone. We’ll find your woman soon enough, Judge. Till then, let’s go watch Tempest’s back.”

  “Backside,” Trapper corrects on a laugh.

  Without another word or question, we all climb on our bikes and hit the road back to Haven’s Harbor. By the time of our arrival, it’s too late to do anything, so we get a hotel on the outskirts of town, as to not draw more attention, and plan to see Tempest in the morning.

  Chapter Ten

  ~Tamalyn~

  Heading to work, I am a mess mentally. The walk is done with dragging steps. Tommy is tucked away in my shed in trouble. Honestly, I still don’t even really know what kind of trouble he’s in.

  Then my cousin.

  Tempest keeps tweeting me, and it doesn’t make sense.

  With a trembling hand, I pick up the new burner phone I had stashed. I slowly press button after button on the flip phone as I dial.

  Lifting it to my ear, I panic as I listen to the rings.

  “Haven’s Harbor,” Tempest greets with a fake happiness I can read through.

  “Tempy,” I whisper.

  “Come back,” she says while I hear her move. “Can’t give you the right information. Do not go home, but come here, please.”

  “I left to keep you safe,” I remind her.

  “I miss you. I need you.”

  “I can’t take off from here. I started to settle.”

  Tempest is the strongest woman I know. Listening to her muffled sobs kills me.

  “I need you in my corner. I’m in over my head. Please come back.”

  I hear someone talk in the background before she clicks the phone off. We are done.

  Work is a blur. The night is busier than usual. I serve three construction workers right at opening, coming off a long day, apparently. Then, when Willis doesn’t show up at his normal time again, I take a moment to dial Louise.

  “Hello?” Her voice is strained.

  “Hey, it’s”—I pause, trying to remember my made-up name—“Amanda from Creekside. Just haven’t seen Willis and wanted to check in.”

  “He’s come down with somethin’. He’s too stubborn to go to the doctors, so he’s home bein’ miserable.”

  “Well, if you need any help, I’m here,” I offer, wishing Ms. Louise could have a moment of peace.

  “Thank you, honey.”

  Ending the call, I go back to cleaning up when the room shifts from the new regulars entering.

  “It’s my favorite tag-team duo.” I smile as I greet them.

  “Tag team duo?” one questions as they sit down.

  “You know, like on TV. Tag team champions in wrestling.”

  They both laugh.

  “You wanna see us in a speedo?”

  Rather than speak, I wink. I learned in this business that there are times it’s best you say less and flirt more. This is one of those times.

  Thankfully, another couple come in, taking a table in the back so I have a reason to leave the bar.

  Getting their order and making it, I keep the guys in fresh beers and try to keep my mind of Tempest and going home.

  I’m wiping down the bar with just me and the tag-team when one of them asks, “Where’s Tommy boy?”

  I tap my lips like I really am thinking about it. “Not sure he was on the schedule tonight.”

  “Benny leave you here alone a lot?”

  “Is that some kind of threat or warning? It’s a little ominous,” I tell him. The way his voice dropped to a lower alto has me on edge.

  “Smart, hot as fuck, and fearless,” the one with darker eyes says to his friend. “Think boss man’ll take that pussy for payment?”

  “As hot as that hotbox may be, you and I both know that ain’t gonna happen.”

  “Maybe we have a little tag-team action with you tonight, girl?” dark eyes propositions.

  Leaning over the bar, I take my chances. “Next week, big boys. This isn’t the right time, if ya get what I’m sayin’.”

  When they both lean back, getting space between us, I know they took my clue. By next week, I will make sure I’m out of here. Two men in clean-cut suits like that, I thank the heavens above that I’m a chick and can threaten a messy period to save my ass, Tommy’s ass, and Benny’s from whatever these two are up to … at least for one night.

  Dark eyes tosses a fifty on the bar top before standing. “That’ll cover us for tonight. You see Tommy, tell him that shit’s deep and he can’t hide forever. We’ll be sure to see you next week. You’re in for a tag-team match up that is title-worthy.” He winks, and I want to vomit.

  Just as I flip the sign behind them from open to closed, my phone pings with an alert.

  @MaryAstronomy Stand firm in your place as solid footing is hard to find.

  The message concerns me. Is she telling me to stay put because I said I was finally getting settled?

  @ArikaMae No matter the distance …

  I send my reply, wanting to remind her that I am here for her.

  @MaryAstronomy The B is buzzing here.

  The B is buzzing …?

  Then it hits me like a smack to the face.

  Bladen is there.

  Shit.

  Dammit.

  Fuck.

  He will catch on if he ever sees her phone.

  @ArikaMae Plan B.

  I send her our mayday signal, my heart breaking.

  We always agreed that, if things got too close or if one of us felt either of us may be compromised, we would tweet “Plan B.” At that, we would both disconnect our Twitter accounts and switch burner phones. There will be a thirty-day silence, after which we will take to Instagram and use meme’s and pictures with locations turned off.

  We agreed that, no matter who sends the mayday, we both would follow through. So, without waiting for a reply or for her to try to stop me, I deactivate my account and remove the sim card. Flushing the little plastic smart chip down the toilet, I toss the phone in the garbage then go about with my closing routine.

  The walk home is eerie, and I feel the hair on the back of my neck stand up more than once. Am I being followed?

  Taking my time, I finally relax, and as I hit the gate to Benny’s house, I shut it behind me and head to my shed, giving a twirl to my pinwheel before unlocking the door.

  I immediately look for Tommy.

&n
bsp; He’s gone.

  Filled with so much anxiety about Tommy, the men, and what is going on with Bladen being back at Haven’s Harbor with Tempest, I stand behind my door, overwhelmed.

  What the hell have I gotten myself into now?

  Chapter Eleven

  ~Bladen~

  “All right, she’s in Utah. We’re sure?” I ask Deacon for what he probably feels is the hundredth time.

  “Told you, brother, hacked Tempest’s shit. They were using Twitter.”

  I nod.

  “Location services off, but there are ways around it. Got her shit triangulated. She’s in Utah.” Deacon is firm with me, obviously tired of going over the same shit. “PI is still on the case, but thinks she is still in Haven’s Harbor, which means heat is on Tempest,” Deacon explains again.

  “You’re here with X and Hadley. Collector, Sonnie, Rowdy, and I will head West.”

  “Where does that leave me, sugar?” Trapper asks in a high-pitched voice.

  Not missing a beat, I look at the five-foot-eight ball of energy. “Where you wanna be?”

  “Aw … you do love me.” He bats his eyelashes, mocking me.

  “I can’t believe a damn Navy SEAL like you, Deacon, with training and shit couldn’t get Tempest to break,” I mutter, still in disbelief and irritated. I shouldn’t be. I know it’s not on him or Tempest to track Tamalyn. She’s a grown woman, after all. I can’t help it, though.

  “She doesn’t know where she is. That was the plan. Let it go, Judge. You’re treading thin with me, brother,” Deacon warns.

  I can’t help wondering what’s going on with him and Tempest Adams. She has a past, and he lives in a perpetual nightmare. They are doomed and need to stay away from each other. Then again, do I have any room to talk?

  Everything I have done has been one mistake after another, and Tamalyn has paid the price.

  After a quick goodbye, Collector, with Sonnie on his ride, leads, while Rowdy flanks him a little ways back and to the right. Trapper is to the left, a bit back from Rowdy, and I close the rear as we head West. Deacon stays behind like a proud peacock, fluffing his feathers and ruffling Tempest’s, with X and his woman Hadley.