Time Owed

by Debra Kayn

  Jealousy had never been a problem for her before Merk showed up. She sighed. "Pop?"

  "Hm?" Pop frowned down at the paper.

  "Pop, look at me," Desiree said.

  Pop peered at her over the top of his glasses. She sagged forward. The poker game losses and working so many hours aged him. He needed more time off.

  "What's going on?" she asked.

  Pop curled his lips and shook his head. "I'm working the day's sales up, sweetheart. It's what I do every night."

  "That's not what I'm talking about." She folded her arms. "You hired Merk to watch the bar. I thought we were doing fine keeping the poker games quiet and not drawing attention to our gambling. You can't continue to play and take the chance that he'd turn you in to the sheriff. If Sheriff Colby gets a whiff of anything illegal happening in his town, he'll close the place down and there's a good chance he'll arrest us."

  "No one is going to catch us doing anything. My days of playing poker are ending. I think I've lost my lucky touch. I need a break." He pushed his glasses up his nose. "You're doing okay. My grandbaby with the never-ending lucky streak."

  Her breath left her. Years ago, she would've given anything for Pop to give up gambling after the mess with her dad but as she grew older, she understood the pleasure he received from winning. For him to think of walking away from the table told her more than he was willing to tell her. He thrived off playing and winning.

  There was only one reason why Pop would give up. "What's Merk doing here?"

  Pop's fingers stilled. "He works for me, and I'm grateful for the added security. The world is changing. Times are tough for everyone and hard economic times make people edgy. I don't want some man getting rough with you when I'm not around. Merk's here to make sure you're safe."

  "If you're talking about what happened with the guy from the other night, I had everything under control. You've watched me deflect trouble before." She ran her hands through her hair. "I don’t like Merk hanging around. You know he's a felon, right?"

  "You won eight hundred dollars off a tourist today. Do I need to remind you of the dangers of playing against men we don't know? It only takes one person who refuses to take a loss for things to go bad. I won't let you risk your life." Pop took off his glasses and rubbed his tired eyes. "You make me proud, Desiree, but I'm tired of worrying."

  Concerned over the beaten mood overtaking Pop lately, she changed the subject to bolster his spirits. "I hit eight straight balls and finished the game off on my next turn. He didn’t stand a chance at winning."

  Pop chuckled. "Well, take your winnings up to bed. I won't need them anymore. Now, I need to finish my work up, so I can go upstairs myself. My recliner is calling my name."

  She stood, leaned over the desk, and kissed her grandpa on the cheek. "Love you, Pop."

  "Love you, too, sweetheart." Pop called her back before she could walk out of the office. "Do me a favor and give Merk a chance. He's doing his job. You don't have to make working at the bar harder for him than it already is."

  "I’m not." Her defenses prickled her skin and she rubbed her arm. "He's free to do his job, but I'm not going to let him act like he controls how I do my job. Nobody is going to shut down my games. You wouldn't like it if he told you no more poker games, would you?"

  Pop sighed. "Just think about it."

  "Yeah...okay." She blew him a kiss, never intending to give Merk another thought. "Night."

  "Night, sweetheart," Pop said.

  She climbed the steps to her apartment, unlocked her room, and hesitated. Physically exhausted, she needed more information or she'd never be able to shut off her thoughts and sleep. She wanted to know more about Merk and why Pop continued to encourage her to accept Merk's role at the bar.

  She turned around and walked back down to the bar. Behind the counter, she picked up the ring of keys hanging on a nail below the cash register. Not wanting Pop to catch her downstairs alone and question her motives, she hurried down the back steps to the landing. The bulb above her head barely cast enough light to see the keys in her hand. She tried one key and then the next, until she got to the last one. Adrenaline fueling her forward, her hands shook. She hated the basement and Pop always kept it locked, so she could sleep at night without any worries.

  Sliding the key into the doorknob, the familiar click reached her ears.

  "Yes," she whispered.

  In the basement, she turned on the light and walked to the table. She picked up the trash left on the table from the men who came to play poker and dumped the napkins, half-eaten sandwiches, and a wadded up Kleenex into the garbage can. Nothing she found seemed out of the ordinary for one of Pop's games.

  The chill from the basement settled over her. She shivered. Considering Merk first showed up when he tagged along with his friend who also belonged to Moroad Motorcycle Club, she suspected they both planned to take Pop for all his gambling money.

  Pop had never experienced a losing streak for so long, until recently.

  She wandered around the room, looking in the corners and in the light above the table. Because of the small town and the familiar players that played week after week, games mostly stayed honest. The risk of adding new poker players into the late night games escalated and for how much she loved Pop, he lacked any knowledge of spotting any tricks and gadgets. He played old school rules, trusting men until they proved themselves untrustworthy.

  Bang.

  Desiree jolted, muffling her fear with her hand. Her heart pounded in her chest and her vision blurred. Was that a gunshot?

  She strained to listen for Pop yelling for help through the muffled buzz in her ears. Her tongue, dry and stuck to the roof of her mouth, choked her.

  Familiar voices from the past filled her head and she held her breath making them go away. Her dad was dead. He wasn't here.

  She shuffled backward to the corner of the room to wait for the next boom.

  The doors were locked.

  She was alone.

  Nobody could find her.

  Footsteps thunked against the stairs. She froze, in case someone came in the room. Her thoughts jumped from the present to the past.

  If only she could yell for Pop. He'd save her. But, he'd told her never to go in the basement alone. He'd be angry if he found her down here. She only wanted to find out why the bad men ushered her dad into the basement.

  She hunkered down and put her bottom on the cement floor, wrapping her arms around her legs. Cold seeped into her bones. She pressed her lips together to keep from chattering. They wouldn't notice her. Nobody ever looked at her twice, except for Pop. If only she could run upstairs without anyone catching her. She rubbed her arms harder and closed her eyes. She never should've come to the basement.

  "Desi?"

  She opened her eyes. A man walked toward her. She stifled her cry of relief

  "Hey...what's going on?"

  She blinked, unable to make sense of why Merk approached her. "Wh-what are you doing down here?"

  Merk crouched in front of her. "Are you okay?"

  She looked around the room, scrunched her nose, and pushed down the pain of humiliation and panic. Unable to look at him, she turned away. God, she was losing it.

  She was twenty-six years old, not thirteen. Her dad was gone. The men never returned. She no longer believed the bad man would come and kill her. The stress lately coupled with coming down to the basement in the middle of the night played tricks on her. She was safe.

  She cleared her throat and faced him. "The bar is closed. You're not supposed to be here."

  Merk slipped the pistol she hadn't noticed before under his belt. "I've never paid attention to the rules before."

  "Great, maybe Pop will fire you for insubordination," she muttered, balling her hands into fists.

  Now that she wasn't alone in the basement and Merk stood in the room her body started shaking. She crossed her arms. The noise she'd heard must've been him shutting the back door. The old wood always stuck, especial
ly at night when the temperatures dropped.

  She'd freaked herself out for nothing.

  While relieved to know her imagination got the best of her, Merk frightened her.

  His uncaring attitude and rap sheet warned her to stay away. Yet, he'd treated her differently than the women who hung around the bikers.

  She spent an excessive amount of time while working studying him. Something about him pulled her toward him and she found herself incapable of walking away. She inhaled a thin breath, embarrassed after all these years to have a meltdown, especially in front of Merk.

  He left her feeling as if she'd failed him, because she'd had a weak moment. She glanced at him and walked across the room, wishing things were different. Maybe his quieter ways and singling her out impressed her enough she'd hoped the attention meant something more. Instead, she felt foolish. He probably wanted to distract her, so he could take advantage of Pop in the next poker game.

  "Desi?" Merk called, stopping her from leaving the room. "Go for a ride with me."

  She shook her head. "Whatever game you're playing, you can stop."

  "It's no game." Merk walked over to her. "We both need to get out of here for a while. We'll talk."

  "I don't care what you have to say."

  "You do, or you'd already be up the stairs telling Joe you found me in the basement." Merk dipped his head to the side and caught her gaze. "He gave me a key to the place. I swung by, because I'd hoped to talk with you after the bar closed."

  "He wouldn't—"

  "It's easier for me to enter from the back. Less people notice me that way." Merk lowered his voice. "Come ride with me. I need to get out of here, and I want you with me. When we're done talking, I'll bring you back."

  His mouth tightened and the lines etched across his forehead remained. He continued to confuse her. Pop would never allow an employee to come and go in their private area of the building. The back entry served as the entrance to their apartments upstairs.

  "I don't believe you," she whispered, holding her opinion. "He knows I need the basement locked when I sleep."

  "Desi, ride with me. It's a nice night and fresh air will do you good." Merk cupped her cheek. "Go tell Joe you're going with me if that'll make you feel better about being alone with me."

  She shook her head, doubt filling her. He wouldn't allow her to talk to Pop if he meant to hurt her.

  "Come on," he whispered.

  She nodded, already regretting her decision, and followed him up the stairs and out the back door. Yesterday, she would've enjoyed a night ride with him before she found out about the other women. Now all she wanted was answers and to stand up for Pop's oversight on allowing him to work at the bar.

  Merk removed a helmet on the back of the motorcycle and slipped it on her head. She rocked back on her foot, taking the strap out of his hands and fastened it herself.

  "Have you ridden before?" he asked.

  She nodded. "Pop had a motorcycle when I was younger, he'd take me around town."

  Merk's brows rose in surprise. She brushed off her hands, walked to the back of the bike, and waited for him. Once he sat down, she climbed up behind him.

  "Where are you taking me?" she asked, a moment of panic over going out in the middle of the night with a man who equally frightened and fascinated her.

  "The lake." He started the bike and pulled away from the curb.

  She grabbed for his vest, the material coming away in her hands. He clasped his strong hand around her wrist and pressed the palm of her hand against his stomach. She swallowed hard. Unless she wanted to fall off the motorcycle on the turns in the road, she'd need to hold on to his body.

  His hard body.

  His hot body.

  His sexy body.

  She groaned, letting the wind hide her response.

  The road outside of town turned into a mix of S-turns and bumps along a gravel road where only locals knew the remote route. She closed her eyes an extra beat, remembering the way she'd laughed when Pop used to weave his motorcycle back and forth making her dizzy.

  She held on to the memories Pop gave her with an iron fist. He'd made her childhood bearable and the bad parts less painful.

  Holding on to Merk's waist gave her different feelings. Feelings she hadn't felt for almost a year when a tourist hung around after the bar closed and she'd taken him up to her apartment once Pop went to bed. She'd had a one-night stand and instantly forgot the man's name the next morning.

  She shook her head, getting the hair out of her mouth. Sex for sex's sake was overrated.

  Her arms molded perfectly around Merk. She stared over his shoulder at the beam of the headlight hitting the road. Bugs flickered in the light, escaping Merk's path.

  If she could figure out why Pop hired Merk, she could move on from thinking about him constantly.

  He obviously played a hand in security the way Pop claimed, because he never served drinks or talked with the customers. He stayed aware of everyone coming and going and followed her with his eyes even when she entered the walk-in cooler in the back of the bar. If Pop truly hired him to run security and he had nothing to do with Pop's losses, maybe she had no reason to be upset about him hanging around.

  Maybe Pop hoped Merk would be his eyes and ears to watch out for law enforcement. She admitted Pop was slowing down. It took him a little longer to get moving in the mornings and years of smoking often stole his breath, turning his skin to ash. He refused to go to the doctor and was adamant about when his time came, he'd be ready to leave the bar in Desiree's capable hands.

  She molded her body around Merk's, pushing the depressing thought of someday losing Pop out of her mind.

  Merk's warm body in front of her, solid and punishingly sexy in a mysterious and scary way, comforted her. She enjoyed the chance to touch him without any pressure or worry he misread her signals. She had to hold on or she'd fall to her death.

  Maybe she'd fabricated reasons to believe he planned to play Pop to excuse her jealousy over seeing him with Katie and the other women. She lived a different lifestyle with responsibilities and an obligation to help Pop with the bar. She couldn’t skip out every weekend for a quickie.

  The Moroad women were a reminder of what she'd missed out on and lacked in her life. She'd thrown herself into working at the bar to escape the horrors of her childhood. If she changed now and took time to enjoy friends and spend the nights away from work, she'd become a burden on Pop. For that reason alone, she realized how unfair she'd treated Merk. She had no claim on how he acted or how he conducted his life, so why was she upset?

  They'd shared a kiss. He'd kissed her to prove a point or maybe to see how far he could push her. Unaware she'd laid her chin on his shoulder during the ride, she sat straighter. She failed his test, because she'd kissed him back without even thinking about telling him to stop.

  At the party, he'd watched her. When she'd talked with the other bikers, he made her feel guilty for enjoying herself. Or, maybe she'd brought that on herself.

  He certainly never spoke to her about why he singled her out. She'd jumped to conclusions and let herself create something that wasn't real.

  Merk turned right, riding down the trail taking them the last mile to the lake. Her stomach tightened at realizing how unfair and how far off she'd been in her assessment of Merk.

  She'd screwed up.

  Big time.

  Merk wasn't her problem.

  His dominating style, never letting her make an excuse to run away from him, appealed to her. She stifled a yawn. It felt nice to know someone cared enough to want to bring her happiness.

  All of his good points turned her on. A lot. She found herself frustrated, because all she wanted him to do was force her to take another one of his kisses, and more.

  Then, she hated herself for wanting him.

  Having come to her senses, she planned to apologize first thing when Merk stopped the motorcycle. Pop always made the decisions concerning the bar and no matter how much s
he might disagree with him, he ran the business the way he wanted. She'd overreacted, because whenever Merk came near, she practically ovulated in hopes of having him stay with her.

  After she gave him an apology for making his job harder everything could go back to normal and she'd stop feeling like a messed up emotional bitch. She swallowed the lump in her throat. She'd request Merk stay away from her for her own sanity, and she'd offer to lay off snapping at him whenever he got within ten feet of her.

  He could go back to having all the women he wanted, and she'd stop fantasizing about the impossible.

  The trees cleared away and the headlight floated across the pristine bluish-green lake. The chill from the ride brought her alert and the moment the engine cut off on his motorcycle, she slid off the back of the seat.

  Merk stood, leaving the headlight on, lighting the area at the edge of the water. "The ride okay?"

  "Yeah. It was nice." She wrapped her arms in front of her. "It gave me time to think about your place at the bar."

  "Maybe you should hear me out first."

  "No." She blew out her breath, raspberrying her lips. "I think this whole misunderstanding is my fault."

  "Misunderstanding?"

  "You told me Pop gave you a key, and I believe you. The bar, the building, the way he runs everything is up to him. You're only doing a job and keeping the building secure." She paced a few feet and turned. "I've just been...delusional. I've been making bad decisions without thinking things through lately, and I'm taking it out on you. Maybe I'm not getting enough sleep at night."

  "It's almost three o'clock in the morning," Merk said.

  "Right. Exactly. Not enough sleep." She swung her arm out and nodded, glad he believed her story. "If you could take me back to town, we can forget this whole thing. I'm sorry for snapping at you. If we both go about our job and leave each other alone, we can move on as if nothing happened. The kiss...the touching...it's all out of my head. Gone. Out of there."