by Lane Hart
“You…you think we should get the police involved?” she asks, emerald eyes wide in surprise.
Fuck, she’s gonna make me admit to the bitter words again.
“Yes.”
If my brothers could hear me, suggesting that she notify police, they would slap me upside my head.
“I don’t want there to be any articles about this…” Mercy starts to say.
“That would suck if it happened,” I agree. “But you’re in danger, and I’m only one man.”
Goddamn, I hate admitting aloud that I don’t think I can protect her. I’ll do everything in my power to keep her safe, but I can’t stay awake on alert every hour of the day. What if he comes in when I’m sleeping or when I slip up and fuck her again? I can’t take that chance. Because I will end up inside of Mercy if she’ll let me, despite how stupid it is. And for some reason, I want to fall asleep with her in my arms, knowing that she’s safe.
Since I don’t know the local police, I’ll first call in a favor with Chase and Torin’s stepsister, Jade, who is also our new sheriff up in Carteret County. Pulling out my phone from my zippered cut pocket, I text Chase and ask him to send me Jade’s cell phone number. Since it’s the middle of the night, I don’t expect a response from him for a few more hours. That’s why I’m surprised when my phone buzzes from beside my plate a few bites of my breakfast later with a message.
Wincing with worry that I may have woken him up, I pick it up and read the message.
What’s going on? Give me a call and I’ll put Jade on the phone since I’m with her right now. She went into labor earlier tonight and just delivered my niece, Makayla Engle.
“Shit,” I mutter. While I’m happy for her, now is the worst time to bother Jade with the stalker mess if she just gave birth.
“Everything okay?” Mercy asks as I hold my phone. It starts ringing before I can type back to Chase to tell him never mind, since they have their hands full.
“Chase, sorry to bother you so late and when you’re busy,” I say into the phone.
“Abe, hey, it’s Jade,” the feminine voice replies. “What did you do?”
“Nothing this time,” I answer. “And congrats on the baby. This can wait,” I tell her. “Everyone doing okay?” I ask, since it seems like the polite thing to ask. Across from me Mercy’s brow is furrowed in confusion.
“The baby and I are both doing great. With an epidural, there was nothing to it, and now my adrenaline is up, so tell me what’s going on.”
“Are you sure?” I ask.
“Yes! Start talking. I’m curious as to what crime you’ve committed now.”
“Fine,” I mutter when I cave. “But I really haven’t done anything. I’m calling for…a friend,” I say after a long pause trying to figure out what Mercy is to me. Guess we’re sort of fuck buddies, but I didn’t want to call her that.
“Okay, what’s going on with your friend?” Jade asks.
“She has a stalker,” I start, then tell her about the letter and catch her up to the missing underwear. I hear Chase and Sasha corroborating the story in the background.
“Are you sure she didn’t just misplace them?” Jade asks when I’m finished. “Women lose clothes all the time…”
“No, she’s absolutely sure. I’m guessing based on her level of concern that she went over every inch of the house looking for them. This guy is dangerous. He showed up on the security camera tonight too.”
“Jeez. Sounds like he could be a real basket case,” Jade agrees. “And you’re sure you want me to call this in to the local PD?” she asks, knowing that with my criminal record and with the MC’s stance on law enforcement that we don’t like to involve cops in our business.
“I’m sure,” I tell her after quickly weighing the pros and cons again. Even though I hate asking for backup, I think it’s necessary to put a squad car on Mercy at all times to ward off the psycho. I thought me being with her would be enough to scare him away, but now I’m not so sure. And being wrong on this could hurt Mercy. I won’t take that chance. Our prospects and my MC brothers have more important things to worry about right now with looking for Hector and shit. I can’t ask them to follow me and the woman I care about around all day when Torin needs his retaliation more.
“Okay. Give me the address and I’ll have WPD send someone over right now tonight to file a report.”
“Thanks, Jade,” I tell her before I rattle off the info. “We’re eating breakfast but should be home in about half an hour.”
“I’ll tell them. See ya, Abe,” Jade says before ending the call.
“Chase’s stepsister is a sheriff, so she’s gonna get someone from the local PD to come by the house and get a statement,” I explain to Mercy, who gave up on eating her girly fruit shit.
“Okay,” she agrees with a nod.
“You’re going to be okay,” I assure her, reaching over to give her hand a squeeze.
“I know. It’s just, he’s violated my privacy and he thinks he loves me, but I don’t even know who he is. That’s the scariest part,” she says before her eyes dart around the restaurant. “It could be anyone.”
“Yeah, it could,” I agree, looking around to see if anyone seems suspicious. Most of the customers are in pairs or groups of three or more except for an ancient old man at the counter who looks like he could barely walk, much less stalk someone. “That’s why it’s best to have more eyes on you everywhere you go to make sure you’re safe. I don’t want to let you down.”
“Thank you,” Mercy says to me before she lifts my hand. Kissing the center of my palm, she places it on the side of her face as if seeking comfort from me. And while I’ve never comforted anyone before, it seems like it comes as easy to me as riding my bike.
…
Mercy
I hurry into the house when Abe finally allows me to get out of my locked car to enter it.
“Reece said he looked inside and then gave up and left,” Abe tells me when we’re both standing in the living room with every light on. “And I’ve checked every inch.”
“I know, and I appreciate it,” I tell him, wrapping my arms around myself protectively. “It’s still just sort of creepy being here now…”
A knock on the door nearly has me jumping through the ceiling.
“It’s probably the cop,” Abe says in explanation. “Go and stay in the bedroom while I check the door.”
“Okay,” I agree with a nod, walking that way with him behind me.
In the brightly lit room, I watch as Abe pulls something out of the inside of his vest. “Mind if I leave this here in one of your drawers?” he asks, holding up a big freaking gun. “I’m not supposed to possess one.”
“S-sure,” I say, pretending that I see guns all the time and it’s not a big deal as he opens the bottom dresser and then slips it inside before strolling off down the hallway.
Am I surprised that Abe basically just admitted that he’s a convicted felon who isn’t supposed to own a gun? Yes, and I’ll have to ask him about what he did soon. But I still trust him just as much.
I hear my front door open and then the mumbled conversation between two men before heavy footsteps grow louder in the hallway. Abe appears in the doorway with a small, young man in a blue uniform trying to see around him.
“The officer is here, and he needs to get your statement,” Abe tells me.
“Okay, sure. Should we go in the living room?” I suggest. It feels weird sitting or standing in my bedroom while talking to a police officer.
“Wherever you’re most comfortable,” the officer says as I walk toward the door.
“The living room is fine,” I say as I squeeze past the two men and lead the way.
I take a seat on the sofa, where Abe immediately joins me. He throws his arm around the back of the sofa, not touching me, but close enough that I can feel his warmth.
The officer’s eyes flick rapidly between the two of us for several silent moments before he says, “Ma’am, would you be mor
e…comfortable doing this down at the station?” His gaze goes back to Abe and then me again with a raised eyebrow. Apparently, he thinks Abe is my problem.
“It wasn’t Abe,” I assure the officer. Getting up, I retrieve the letter from the stalker that I folded and put in my purse, then hand it to him. “I got this letter after the first night that Abe was here. Whoever left it was jealous of Abe.”
Again, the officer’s eyes go to Abe, as if worried he may jump up off the sofa and attack him, before he finally begins to read the letter.
“Can I keep this for the file?” the officer asks.
“Yes.”
Pulling out a small pen and paper from his shirt pocket, he starts taking notes while still holding the letter. When he’s finished, I go through the details of my missing underwear, and then Abe shows him the photos from the security camera that were taken earlier tonight.
“Is there any way that you can keep this off the record or out of the media?” I ask the officer when he’s finished taking notes. “I’m getting ready to shoot a reality TV show, and this is sort of private.”
“Sure, ma’am,” the officer says. “But I think you need to have one of our squad cars close by at all times until we find the culprit. Our department has actually done this before for celebrities who are in town. We can get in touch with your production team, and they can make the arrangements to pay to have a black and white assigned to you.”
“Understood,” I reply. “If anyone asks, I’ll tell them that the escort is for paparazzi, which isn’t exactly a lie. They’re starting to get out of hand.”
“The department will be glad to help you with that as well. Having an official escort can be more effective than, um…private security,” the man says with a smile until Abe clears his throat in a threatening way.
“Got everything you need?” Abe asks when he stands up from the sofa as if to remind the police officer that he’s twice his size.
“Yeah, I, um, I think so,” the cop says before he finally starts walking toward the front door. “I’ll write this up outside and take the first watch until seven a.m.”
“I really appreciate that,” I tell him as I follow him. “And Abe does too, even if he won’t say so.”
“Are the tags on this bike up to date?” the cop calls out as he starts down the sidewalk and is next to Abe’s Harley.
“Hell yes,” Abe mutters in response from behind me.
“Just checking,” the man says before he climbs into his marked cruiser.
I shut the door and lock up behind him.
“So now will you finally agree to get some sleep?” I turn around and ask Abe.
In response to my question, Abe only growls before he picks me up, tosses me over his shoulder and carries me to the bedroom. “There’s something we need to do first before I get some sleep,” he says before he tosses me on the bed and follows me down. My legs automatically part for him to wedge his big body between them.
Abe looks down at me for several long seconds with his brow furrowed, a frown partially hidden by his thick beard.
“What’s wrong?” I ask him when I run my fingers through the sides of his hair. “I mean, other than my psycho stalker.”
“I’ve never kissed you,” he says before the corners of his lips lift into a grin. “Well, I have on the lower parts of your body but not right here.” Lowering his head, Abe softly brushes his lips over mine. It’s sweet and gentle, totally unexpected from the big tough guy. The problem is I like it a little too much. I can’t afford to let feelings get wrapped up into what the two of us are doing. Sex without emotions involved is incredible with Abe, and I don’t have to worry about getting my heart broken if I don’t put any expectations on him.
“Tomorrow I start filming,” I warn him, speaking the words against his lips.
“Yeah, okay,” Abe agrees before his damp lips immediately lower to my neck.
“I can’t…date anyone while filming the show,” I explain further even though it’s becoming incredibly difficult to think clearly with his mouth making my entire body tingle with expectation.
Finally, Abe lifts his mouth to look down at me. “Does that mean I can’t fuck you?”
“No,” I reply quickly, because I’m not ready for us to stop doing this together. “Just that no one can find out.”
“Chase and Sasha know,” he points out.
“Well, no one other than our close friends,” I clarify. “To everyone else, you’re my bodyguard, nothing else.”
“Okay,” Abe easily agrees, as I expected, and then the bottom of my shirt is covering my face and a tickly beard is moving down my stomach, ending all further conversation.
Chapter Sixteen
Abe
My life is turning into one big round of déjà vu.
It’s the second night of filming, and this one is even more brutal. I had to watch eight assholes take turns dancing with Mercy before she picked one who got to have an hour long private dinner with her.
Maybe I’m biased, but the guy was goofy as fuck and only talked to Mercy about chess for the whole meal. Chess, for sixty minutes. There’s no way she would want to be with someone that damn boring, right?
I don’t ask her, though, in case I’m wrong. Instead, I stay quiet on the drive to an open all-night diner like the one we ate at yesterday, the police cruiser following behind us the whole way.
It was while we were waiting for our food that Reece sent me a text nearly identical to the previous night, some motherfucker looking in Mercy’s damn house.
“That’s it,” I grumble when I get to my feet.
“What?” Mercy asks. Before I can respond, she says, “He’s there? Again?”
“Yes,” I answer, hating the panic in her eyes that one word causes. “I’m gonna go talk to the officer outside, see if they can send someone over to the house right now, because I don’t want to leave you.”
“I don't want you to leave either,” Mercy says instantly. “Have the police send someone.”
Nodding, I leave the table and push open the glass door to step outside. When I walk up to the police cruiser with my phone clenched so tightly in my hand the case starts to crunch, it takes a moment for the cop to roll his window down. He looks a little nervous when he finally does.
“There’s some asshole at her house right now,” I tell him before I show him the screenshot of the photo Reece just texted to me. I’m starting to wonder if that man ever sleeps either.
“Shit,” the officer curses. “I’ll call it in and have someone circle the neighborhood. Is the suspect in a vehicle?”
“Not that we know of,” I say before texting Reece to ask him. “If my IT guy monitoring the cameras finds out more, I’ll tell you.”
“Thanks,” he says before he rolls the windows up.
There’s no fucking way I’m taking Mercy back to her house tonight. I know I won’t be able to sleep, and I doubt she will be able to either. Last night neither of us got any rest until the sun came up, partly because I couldn’t keep my hands or mouth off of her, but mostly because we were both a little paranoid.
When I retake my seat at our booth, Mercy blurts out, “I don’t want to go home tonight.”
“Good,” I say with an exhale. “I was thinking the same damn thing.”
“Should we get a hotel room?” she asks. “It’s too late to wake up Sasha and Chase.”
“Nah, we don’t need a hotel or to bother the lovebirds,” I assure her. “We can stay at the clubhouse.”
After a few weeks, we’ve finally been able to plaster and paint over all of the bullet holes in the doors and wall. The bar is officially open to the public again with more security cameras out front and inside. We learned our lesson after Hector’s attack, so now each of us have no less than three firearms locked, loaded and ready in all of our apartments, in the chapel, and behind the bar. It’s an incredibly safe place, so I know Mercy will be fine with me there.
“Okay,” Mercy agrees. “Tomorro
w, we can go by the house for me to change clothes before we have to be on set.”
“Yeah,” I agree, even though I’m dreading having to endure another day of men gawking at her while imagining fucking her. I know that’s exactly what they’re thinking, because no straight, single man can possibly look at her without it crossing his mind. And while I may not be good enough for her, I don’t think any of those bastards are either.
After we eat and I pay the bill despite Mercy’s protests, I give the officer a heads-up that we’re going to the clubhouse and that he needs to park on the street. My brothers would lose their shit if they saw him on the lot.
“That’s out of my jurisdiction, so I’ll call the Carteret sheriff,” he replies. That’s fine with me, since I would prefer that one of Jade’s officers shadows us. Besides, they’re on the MC’s payroll.
Our hour ride up the highway to Emerald Isle is silent, filled only with the music Mercy puts on while I drive her car. I finally break and ask her about what I saw on the set earlier.
“Do you like chess?” I ask her.
“Ah, no,” Mercy answers.
“So that guy…”
“He’s definitely going home tomorrow night during the ceremony,” she tells me. And when I glance over, I can see her smile even in the darkness.
“Good,” I reply. And while it’s a relief to know she wasn’t into that dork, I can’t help but wonder if she’s into some of the guys. I fucking hate that shitshow. I’ve never been jealous of other men. Hell, I’ve shared most of the girls that hang around the clubhouse with at least one of my brothers, and it’s never been a big deal. The whole MC could fuck Cynthia and I could watch without a single spark of jealousy.
But thinking of Mercy with anyone else makes me want to snap some necks.