Time Owed

by Debra Kayn

  Merk's head pounded. He rubbed his hands over his face. What the fuck was he doing?

  A little girl saw something in him no one else ever noticed and put her trust in him. Then he'd killed her dad in front of her.

  She was supposed to stay hidden. She wasn't supposed to have followed him.

  Any of the stray bullets from her dad's pistol or from the Reds members and the three Los Li members who opened fire the second he stepped into the room could've killed her.

  Innocent and trusting, she had no idea Jerry Carlyle agreed to hand over his daughter to Los Li to pay off his debt to Reds. The son of a bitch never blinked at sacrificing his flesh and blood to his addiction.

  If he'd made the kill years earlier as he'd promised, Desi would've gone on with life unaware of what her father planned to do with her. If he'd waited one more day, she'd be some motherfucker's slave down in Mexico.

  He'd held up his part of the agreement, years too late. Because of his timing, others were hurt. He could've stopped Carlyle's destructive path if he'd gone directly after him. Instead, he'd found himself locked in prison. He'd lost everything, because he'd failed.

  Carlyle deserved more than one bullet in his forehead. He deserved punishment before he died. Merk picked up the bottle of whiskey and threw it across the room.

  Glass popped and trickled to the floor in a rain of shards. He needed to leave, to run, to hit the road, and never look back. He'd gone too far tonight demanding Desi look at him.

  If she learned the truth about why Merk came to kill her father, she'd question everything. Hate would boil inside of her until she broke, killing her ability to trust him.

  He picked up the nearest chair and hurled it across the room, shoved the table, and kicked out wanting to destroy everything holding him back. Nothing would erase the memory of Desi's green eyes locked on him, pressing his hand to her chest.

  He stomped a broken chair leg, sending it scattering across the floor. Everything he remembered ate away at him and yet, went away when he was with Desi. He caught his reflection in the window and looked away. She could never find out why he'd come to the bar that night.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Merk bent at the waist and braced his hands on his knees in the middle of the destroyed bar. Desiree stood in the back entrance, afraid to enter the room. She barely recognized the man who only a half hour ago made love to her.

  Feeling foolish for not having recognized her James under the beard, the tattoos, and the long hair. The man who'd tried to protect her and ended up killing her father.

  She pressed her hand to her chest and dropped her chin at realizing the harm she'd done. Her chest squeezed. On that terrible night, the sheriff had asked her to describe the men in the basement at the time of the shooting. She refused to talk.

  The next morning, Sheriff Colby showed up at the bar and Pop asked her to look at some pictures. The whole time, she never thought of the consequences of picking up the pictures or asking Pop the name of the man with the shaved head and blue eyes.

  The sheriff said the man's name was James. She already knew, so she asked if she could keep the picture. That's all she remembered, because the sheriff took the photo from her, thanked Pop, and never came back to ask her anymore questions.

  James. Merk.

  She wiped her eyes and looked up. In her childish eagerness to know more about James, she'd mistakenly sent Merk to prison. It was her fault he'd gone away and never came back.

  Except, he was here.

  He'd come back for her.

  She swallowed and inhaled a deep breath through her aching lungs. Stark realization kicked her again. There was only one reason he'd come back. He wanted revenge.

  To him, she'd been a thirteen-year-old little girl who tattled on him.

  She gazed at Merk's back. She thought he would've been long gone at the speed he left her bed.

  "I gave myself completely to you, believed your story about needing protection against Reds, and you used me." She walked into the bar and stopped. "Pop's gone, my furniture is broken, and you've left me nothing, except shame for giving you the benefit of the doubt."

  Merk straightened, his shoulders heaving. She stared a hole in his back.

  "If you want to finish what you've set out to do, turn around, and face me. I want to see the man who will put a bullet in my head." She dropped her hands to her sides.

  "What do you think I want from you?" he asked, pivoting toward her.

  She moistened her lips and shook her head slowly. "You've given me enough clues, I should've known, but I was too caught up in my fascination with you to listen. You had me feeling things for you and excited during one of the worst times of my life with Pop dying. You've succeeded if you've come back to make me pay for telling the sheriff your name. There's nothing left for you to take from me, except my life."

  "You have no fucking clue what I'm thinking." His pained gaze bored into her. "For twelve years I sat in a prison cell thinking about the little girl I helped the night I killed Jerry Carlyle."

  She lifted her chin, numb and devastatingly sad. Merk had been a paradox in her life. Someone she feared and someone she needed, always wishing he'd come back because of the security he'd wrapped around her one night. The extent of their time together was probably no more than a half hour, and yet the way he'd made her feel stuck with her.

  She'd recreated him in her mind so many times, he became her superhero, making him the one person who cared and could protect her when she desperately needed someone.

  To her, Merk fought the monsters in the basement. He'd saved her from the bad men. She'd compared every man in her life to someone she only knew as James.

  "If you're going to shoot me, I won't fight you. I'm through being scared." She turned around and walked out of the room.

  She continued to her apartment and left the door open. Blind to her surroundings, deaf to any noise, only the crazed erratic beat of her broken heart filled her head. Her illusion burst and with the disappointment, the reality of what a complete fool she'd been to believe Merk wanted her.

  How could she have misconstrued that night in her head for all those years?

  The door clicked shut. Desiree held her breath, waiting for the men to hear her sneak into the basement. The conversation continued to flow and she exhaled in relief.

  "I promise I'll have the money to you tomorrow. I have a sure thing going on tonight," said her dad.

  "Our extension ends now. You're two weeks late," said a male with a funny voice.

  Desiree tiptoed, her sneakers silent against the concrete floor, to the empty room beside where her dad conducted business. Pop was right. The men dad hung around with wanted money. No wonder Dad pushed her to the floor this morning and bruised her knee when she asked if he was going to stay home. All she wanted was him to go away. She was tired of him always hurting her and saying bad things about Pop.

  She'd tried really hard to keep her voice from showing any hope that he'd leave, but he must've seen something in her face. He didn't like her question.

  She peeked around the corner. Her heart raced. She'd seen the man wearing a red baseball cap before. She hated when he came to the bar, because he smirked and gave her the creeps.

  "There's one way you could pay us and save your life." Another man with dark skin and an accent crossed his arms. "Our boss is always looking for more merchandise."

  Merchandise? What was that?

  "I'll do anything. I don't want you to kill me."

  They were going to kill her dad?

  She waited for the shock to come, and she thought about running up the stairs and getting Pop to help. However, her curiosity to hear what would happen next stopped her. She was tired of her dad pushing her around whenever Pop was out of the room. Maybe the men would take her dad away and Pop wouldn't have to watch her so close anymore.

  Footsteps reached her ears. She pressed herself against the wall and shuffled to the corner of the room, hiding behind the furnace.


  A man she'd never seen before hesitated at the bottom of the steps, cocking his head. She squeezed back farther into the corner. If she stayed quiet, he might not find her hiding spot.

  Dark stubble covered his baldhead. He wore a jean vest with a cool looking patch. She squinted. V.P?

  She had no idea what it meant, but Katie would. Katie knew everything, because her mom let her talk to everyone in town. Pop was too strict and only permitted her to walk around Federal if it was daylight out and Katie was with her, never alone. Katie always said nothing fun happened in the day. She couldn’t wait until she was sixteen. Being thirteen sucked.

  The man's gaze turned her way. Blue eyes colder than ice cubes locked on her. She gasped, wishing she'd stayed upstairs the way Pop told her to.

  Big and strong, the man walked to the corner of the room. Her stomach fluttered and she covered her throat, afraid she'd get sick.

  "Hey, little girl," he whispered, squatting down beside the furnace. "You need to get out of here."

  He had a nice voice, not like her dad's mean one. "I can't...I'm scared."

  "What are you scared of?" He glanced over his shoulder, listening to the loud voices from the other room in the basement.

  "The bad men. I'm not supposed to be down here without Pop." Her eyes welled up with tears, changing her mind about staying to find out what her dad was doing. Why couldn't she be mature like Katie, and not a big baby? "Will you help me?"

  Pop was going to ground her, and if her dad found her down here, he'd really bust her butt. She shifted. Her foot was falling asleep.

  Loud, angry voices echoed in the basement. She whimpered.

  "I'll save you, but you'll have to hide for a few more minutes. Can you do that?" The man lowered his voice and leaned closer. "Can you trust me?"

  He smelled nice, like tobacco and trees. She picked up his large hand, testing to see if he'd push her away. When he didn't, she pressed his palm to her chest. "Will you come back for me?"

  He nodded. "Yeah."

  He stood, putting his finger to his lips for her to be quiet. She placed a shaky finger to her lips and tried to smile her thanks. He grinned, pulled a pistol out of the back of his jeans, and walked into the other room.

  She lost sight of him and counted to make the time go faster. One, two, three...

  "What the fuck are you doing down here?" said a man.

  She bit her lip, tasting blood. Four, five, six.

  BANG.

  She screamed and closed her eyes tight. Seven, eight, nine.

  BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG-BANG.

  The room filled with footsteps, scraping, and noise from above in the bar. She scrambled around and got on her knees, her ears buzzing from the gunshots.

  The man returned and she held her hand out, motioning him to her. He scooped her off the floor. She clung to him. "Don't leave me down here."

  One of the men mumbling in a different language stopped in the room, looked at Desiree, and backed out. The man turned her, blocking her view. She gazed down at his hand and grabbed his pinky.

  "Sh. Stop crying." The man pulled her away and held her shoulders. "What's your name?"

  "I'm Desi. Who are you?"

  He gazed over her head into the other room. "James."

  James led her to the stairs. She glanced in the other room and pulled on the man's hand. Her dad lay on the floor, blood pooling under his head

  "Desi, you need to run upstairs. Forget what you saw. Don't mention to anyone that you were down here."

  Blood speckled his cheek. Her stomach rolled. "I'm scared."

  "There's no reason to be scared anymore. You're safe." James placed his hand on her back and nudged her. "Go, you'll be fine."

  Half way up the stairs the upper door at the end of the hall opened. Pop was coming down. She stopped and turned around. "Will you come back?"

  His gaze flickered over her head to the top of the stairs and returned to her. "Yeah, Desi. Now go. Be safe."

  She'd done exactly as he asked. Life was better with her dad gone. She'd learned at a young age the difference between a good parent and a bad one, thanks to Pop. Desiree closed her eyes against the pain. Merk fulfilled his promise to her and came back.

  Only she wished he hadn't.

  She rather have the memory of the brave man who saved her the day her life changed. Now she'd bear the pain and humiliation of falling for a man who only wanted to hurt her.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Merk left her.

  Sometime Sunday night, she'd posted the closed sign on the door of the bar, noticed Jacko crashed on the floor at the bottom of the stairs, and returned to her bed. Aware that Merk probably sent Jacko to stay with her, she ignored him and spent Monday locked in her apartment in bed.

  She walked out of the apartment Tuesday at eleven o'clock with no desire to work, but she needed to clean up the mess Merk left her. Sleeping for the last twenty-four hours added to her despondent mood.

  Halfway down the stairs, music reached her ears. Her muscles seized. Merk had the only extra key for the building.

  She continued to the bar and stopped.

  Jacko stood behind the counter, scrubbing the wood surface and talking to Johnson. Movement caught her gaze and she found Katie and Lola filling the peanut bowls at each table. The tables and chairs, minus one complete set, sat ready for customers. She gazed at the back wall. All the bottles Merk broke in his rampage were gone and replaced with new bottles.

  She set her phone down on the end of the counter. "Can someone tell me what's going on?"

  Jacko moved in her direction and Katie hurried over, reaching her first. "You weren't answering your phone, and I was told not to go upstairs. Are you all right?"

  Desiree backed away. "Don't touch me right now."

  Katie's eyes softened. "Honey, you've gone through so much lately. We only want to help."

  "Help?" Insulted, her body vibrated. "Who do you think busted up the furniture and made the mess you cleaned up?"

  "Merk said you were—"

  "That was your first mistake, believing whatever came out of Merk's mouth." She walked over to the door, flipped the sign to open, and returned to face the others. "I want you all out of my bar."

  "That's not going to happen, sweetheart." Jacko rubbed the back of his neck. "You've got a target on your back and you're under Moroad protection. That means I'll be helping out at the bar and the girls are coming in during the day to lend a hand before they have to take off for the night and dance."

  "You can't be serious," she said. "I'm not paying you all."

  "We're not asking for money." Jacko grimaced. "The way I look at it is if you'd like to go up in your apartment and ignore the world longer, we're okay down here. If things get busy, I'll give a call to a couple of my MC brothers to help me out."

  "You don't know the first thing about running a bar." Pressed into a corner, she could only argue until he left.

  "Well, honey, that's where you'd be wrong." Jacko tilted his head. "I worked three years at a bar in Boise before serving time across the street in the pen. I'm sure it won't take me long to remember how to keep the liquid inside the glass."

  She clamped her lips together. "You're not going to leave?"

  Jacko shook his head. "Merk ordered us here. Cam backed his decision. The women...well, they're free to leave if they want."

  "I'm not leaving." Katie sighed. "Desiree, you're my friend. You've always been here for me, and I've been here for you. Let's not stop that now. I love you."

  Her eyes prickled and she blinked. "You're not giving me a choice."

  "I know, but it won't last forever." Katie stepped closer. "Let's get through the next few days and when you want to talk, I'll be here for you."

  Desiree studied them all in a stupor of what to do. Jacko went back to cleaning. Lola pulled up the blinds on the corner window. Her bar could be full of people and still feel empty, because one person was missing. "I don't want Merk here," she whispered to
Katie.

  Katie's shoulders slumped forward. "I don't think that will be a problem. He's..."

  She snapped her gaze to her friend. "What?"

  "He called a meeting in the middle of the night to make sure the club protected you, and then went back to his apartment. Gunner came here earlier, so Jacko could go home and shower. He found Merk passed out with two empty bottles lying on the floor beside him."

  "He doesn't drink," she mumbled.

  Katie's forehead wrinkled. "When he drinks, he keeps drinking. That's the problem."

  The bell on the front door jingled with the first customer of the day arriving. Desiree caught Jacko's gaze, turned around, and went into the office, shutting the door. If they wanted to run the bar into the ground, they could do it without her help.

  She sat down in Pop's chair and planted her elbows on the old, wooden desk. Merk's problems were his own. He'd already tried to ruin her by breaking her heart. She wasn't going to help him punish her more.

  She had no idea the sheriff had used what she'd said to arrest Merk for her father's murder. At the time, she had more important things to worry about. Her world had turned upside down. Her hellish childhood ended. All the minutes she'd worried about running into her dad alone, afraid to speak when he was around in fear of being slapped or pushed to the ground were over. Merk made him go away, and afterward she never had to worry about someone hurting her again.

  She'd been thirteen years old and scared. If only she'd known asking Merk's name and looking at the pictures would incriminate him, she would've kept her mouth shut. She groaned and cradled her head. Everything would've been different if she'd only kept him to herself.

  Merk never would've come back. Her heart would be whole and pain-free. To get Merk out of her life and take his biker friends with him, she needed to figure out a way to take care of the problem with Reds. She opened the right side drawer in the desk and pulled out a handful of files. If she could find the contract, she could keep making the payments her dad owed until she paid the debt in full.

  After that, she'd be safe.