Jesus, how long did it take to park a bike?
I turned the key in the ignition and... tick tick tick... nothing.
I took a deep breath.
“Come on you piece of crap, don't quit on me now.” I realized calling the car a piece of crap was not how I was going to get it started. I sighed and tried again. Nothing.
There were three taps on my window. I suddenly realized how warm it was in this furnace of a car. I ignored the knock and tried again. I just needed to get out of this spot and out of here. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tick. Tick. Tick.
“Fuck,” I gritted out, then turned my head to the taps on the window and carefully rolled it down completely changing my world once again.
Chapter Seven
Marie
“Ye alright, lass?”
“I’m fine,” I mumbled avoiding eye contact, even though his Irish accent threw me for a loop. I hid in my mass of red curls, then tried again with the key. It did nothing.
“Why don’t ye pop the hood, and I’ll have a look-see?”
“No, really I’m okay. I’ll just call a tow.” I lied. I had no idea what I was going to do; beg a junkyard to take it, I supposed.
“Den you’d be calling one of ours. We’re de only tow in town, and since Brayton’s closed last fall, we’re de only shop too.”
I hated this. Hated that this car was giving me trouble. Hated that a man I didn’t know was talking to me. Hated that I couldn’t stop feeling like I was hiding in my skin. Mostly, I hated that it was a damn biker talking to me, and there was nothing I could do about it.
“Okay,” I searched around the driver panel for the switch to release the hood. I’d only this car for a short time, and I had paid zero attention to where the hood release was. My door was pulled open. I turned my head to get a better look at the man and tell him how presumptuous he was, when he bent, pulled a small black lever by my foot, then shut my door again.
I trailed him with my eyes, but he was behind the hood of my car before I could get a good look at him. There were thousands of motorcycle clubs all over the country; just because they were bikers didn't mean they were bad. I knew this. It’s the whole 'just cause there’s smoke doesn’t mean there’s fire’ argument.
I knew that most likely they were a bunch of guys who rode with their wives and girlfriends on the weekends. Most likely, they had everyday jobs and did everyday things. Most likely, this guy right here was just trying to be a stand-up guy. I couldn’t see him since he was under my hood, but I should’ve been smarter and checked out my surroundings. Most of the guys went into Benny’s. There was a man with long blonde hair that looked bleached and was shaved on the sides. He was handsome, but had a hardness to him. He was smoking a cigarette and was careful to blow his smoke away from the beautiful brunette he had his arms around the waist of. Her head was tilted, and she laughed at something another man wearing black jeans, a T-shirt, and motorcycle vest said. I could see the side of this guy's vest read prospect, so I looked at the blonde man. There it was, the word President was clear as day, followed by the one-percenter patch.
No, these were not your garden-variety, everyday bikers. These were the one-percenters that believed they were among the elite one percent who the rules didn't apply to. I gulped. They didn’t know me. I didn’t know them. I was safe.
“Give it a go,” the man said peeking around from under the hood with less of an Irish accent this time. His eyes connected with mine. They were the lightest shade of blue.
He was gray at his temples. The lines on his face were both hard and soft. He looked older than me, but not by much was my guess. He was attractive, but I was not trying to check him, or anyone else out these days. It was just a fact, like the sky being blue or grass being green. What unnerved me was the way he assessed me, with a single glance. His eyes seemed to penetrate mine. I felt like he was looking into me, not just at me.
I looked away breaking the moment. I didn’t want to be seen that way, not anymore, not for a long time. I turned the key in the ignition. Nothing.
“Hang on,” he said again from under the hood. A minute passed, and he called out, “Now try.”
I turned the key, and it ticked but didn't start.
“Again,” he said. I did as he said and bam, it started. He put the hood down and came over to the driver’s side door. He leaned into the window, and again I saw how handsome he was, but then I saw the Sergeant-at-Arms patch, and that damn one-percenter patch and I stopped thinking he was attractive.
“Yer going to need a new starter.” He reached into his pocket, pulled out his wallet, and handed me a card. “Call. Ye need a tow, or need me to get ye in, use it.”
“Thanks,” I took his card reading it, Dray’s Customs and Automotive, Mickey McCafferty, Owner.
“You’re new in town,” he said not asking, but stating a fact.
“Yeah.” I didn’t want to talk to him. I didn't want to be on his radar.
“What’s your name?”
I shook my head not wanting to give it to him, then I put my car into reverse, and said, “Thanks, again.”
As I backed out, I didn’t miss the narrowing of his eyes on me. I drove home with my heart beating fast and hard in my chest. I hoped I didn't just catch the attention of a biker. I should’ve asked Sue if there were bikers in town. Who was I kidding? I knew there were bikers everywhere.
When I got back to the cottage, the door was open. I got a sinking feeling and started to panic. Where was Talon? Could Drake have found us already? As I looked around, nothing seemed out of place. I set my purse down inside, maybe she was around here, and I was overreacting. Still, I couldn't help but feel that familiar panic.
I left the cottage, the screen door slamming behind me. My eyes darted everywhere looking for Talon, searching for something to indicate anything out of the ordinary; not that we had been here long enough to understand what ordinary was. I moved to the lake, scanning as far as I could see. Far across it, I spotted long blonde hair. I wondered if it was her. I ran inside, grabbed my keys, and attempted to start the car. Fuck! Nothing. There goes that. Quickly, I made my way down the road trying to keep an eye on the blonde, but the closer I got, the harder it seemed to see her hair.
I went as fast as my hurt ribs would allow. I followed a dirt road that led to the lakefront cottages. These looked more lived in and more updated than my cottage, as mine was not situated directly on the lake. I walked past boat slips and people outside grilling. An old man was sitting in a folding chair fishing. A family pulled up to a cottage with luggage strapped to the top of their car. Life was happening all around me. No one seemed to understand the danger I might be facing. No one seemed to sense the fear that was pouring off me.
I arrived at the place where I thought I saw her, but she wasn’t there. I was sweating from exertion. My heart was beating fast. Where could she be? I continued around the lake. I hadn’t realized until now quite how big it was.
I was maybe three quarters the way around the lake when the sound of motorcycle pipes froze me in place. No. No. No. Not yet. God, no. Then, I saw him. It wasn’t Drake. It was the man who fixed my car, Mickey.
No Talon in sight. I wondered if Mickey followed me. Could he have waited and watched where I went? I stayed slightly hidden on the road by a car that was parked on the street and a sign reminding the drivers to stay under twenty-five miles per hour.
On foot, I saw that Mickey was taller than me, but nowhere near as tall as Drake. I would guess he was somewhere around five nine. His chest was broad, and even though his T-shirt wasn't tight, I could see that his muscles were defined. His black boot came down on his kickstand. I realized he was parking it as he swung his jean-clad leg over the bike. He didn’t seem to know I was there. When he moved to the mailbox, I knew he wasn’t here for me.
Fuck. Mickey was sure to see me. I decided to move and pretend not to notice him. I didn’t want him to think I followed him. I kept my head down and my eyes away from him. I didn’t hav
e time to worry about him. I had to find Talon. I moved as quickly as I could, hoping above all, that he was too focused on his world to notice me. “Ye lost?” he called out.
I froze and looked up. Shit. Even from thirty feet away, I could see Mickey's icy blue eyes trained on me.
“No, but I'm in a hurry. Thanks again for earlier.” I waved hoping to move along without much conversation.
“Ye stay around here den?” I ignored him and waved hoping to avoid conversation. I wasn’t looking at him when I heard his footfalls approach. He grabbed my arm making me flinch at the contact. No one but Drake or Talon had been allowed to touch me for so long. I’d gotten used to avoiding touch. Mickey wasn’t firm in the way he grabbed me. It felt full of concern. “Ye alright?”
“Look, I’m looking for my daughter. She wasn't home when I got back, and I’m worried.” I knew it was a risk mentioning Talon, but he must live here, and if he did, then it was better for me to be straight up about why I was in a rush.
“How old?”
“Thirteen.”
“Pretty?” he asked.
“The prettiest.” I was not even sure why I answered but the gentle way his hand gripped my arm, gave me a false sense of security. And it was false because I knew better than to trust a one percenter. He whipped out his phone and hit a button, “Zeke, are you wit a girl?” he paused then looked to me. “What’s her name?”
“Talon,” I offered up, even though huge parts of my brain were screaming at me not to talk with him. He gave me a chin lift and continued with his phone call.
“Aye. Git her home. And Zeke, keep ye fecking hands to yourself.” Mickey pressed end on the call. “She’s fine. Wit Zeke. He’s a local kid. Fifteen. When ye said pretty, I knew he was likely the cause. Dat boy is always chasing. Still, ye girl’s thirteen, I’ll have a word.”
I breathed out an enormous sigh of relief and looked to the heavens feeling grateful that it was just Talon being a teenager. “Let me put my groceries in de fridge, and I’ll walk wit ye.” I wasn't sure how I felt about that.
“No, it’s not necessary, thank you.”
“But it is. You see, wit a lad like Zeke, better to have that talk sooner rather than later.” I ground my teeth in the back of my jaw. I got what he was saying. I really did, and I appreciated it too, but that damn patch was glaring at me. Not wanting to draw any further attention to myself, I gave him a subtle nod and watched as he opened a saddle bag, took out a bag with white butcher paper sticking out of the top next to fresh greens. He moved to the other side of the bike and grabbed a brown paper bag, which apparently had some type of liquor in it.
I stood quietly and watched as he moved into his cottage. Gosh, he was incredibly handsome and not in the overly domineering way that Drake was. He was fit, but in an "I work my ass off" type of way. I couldn’t deny this about him, but it was one thing to find someone attractive, and it was another to think about him in any way sexually, and my mind was so far from sexy.
His screen door slammed behind him, and I noticed on his departure that even the man’s backside was nice. While he was gone, I looked at his bike. It was a newer Harley Street Glider. The black paint was shiny. The motorcycle was larger than what the young guys rode. It made me wonder if he often had someone riding on the back with him. Why the hell was I wondering about him anyways? The slamming of his door made me look up. He took off his vest and was wearing a just a T-shirt. Something about him without it made my defenses drop. “Ready?” he asked me on approach. I nodded feeling a warm breeze on my skin. “Don’t say much do ye?”
I looked off at the lake to my right, “No, I suppose I don’t.”
“Ye going to tell me your name?” I looked away from the lake and directly at him. He didn’t seem like he had any malicious intent. He seemed like a regular guy, but I knew how much looks could be deceiving.
“Hey, Mickey!” A short round lady watering bluebells, dressed in a housecoat with a bad floral print yelled as we passed.
“Mrs. Schumacher, lovely evening!”
“Yes, it is.”
“When you get a chance, do you think you can take a look at the gutter in the rear, it looks like it’s falling down a bit.”
“Aye,” he smiled, turning to me as we continued walking, “Name?”
I could lie, but I knew that it was easy to get caught in those. The more honest I was, the more likely I was going to avoid drawing suspicion.
“My name is Marie.”
“Well, Marie. Nice to meet you.”
I could see Talon sitting on the front porch about a hundred feet away. Wow, we were closer than I thought. She was laughing at something the boy, I assumed was Zeke, said. She had on short jean shorts and a blue spaghetti strap tank top. Drake would be livid if he saw her dressed like this. She looked so much older than thirteen. I increased my pace as we approached, thankful she was here and safe.
“Talon,” I snapped, a little louder than I intended. Her eyes darted to me, and she guiltily stood up, pulling down her shorts as she did. “I just searched around the entire lake for you.”
“Mom, I don't see what the big deal is. I’m fine. I was just going for a walk with Zeke.” Her eyes moved to Mickey. “Who’s he?”
“I’m Zeke’s uncle, Mickey. When I saw yer Ma all upset and she told me ye were pretty, I knew the lass was wit ye,” he looked pointedly to Zeke.
“He’s not really my uncle,” Zeke explained to Talon. “But he’s pretty much family. I have a huge family.”
“Marie, good to meet you. And he’s right your daughter is very pretty.”
Zeke reached his hand out to shake mine. I was not in the mood for a teenage boy to flirt with my daughter. “Hello, Zeke. Nice to meet you, but you’re too old for Talon.”
“Mom,” Talon gasped.
“She’s right. Zeke, leave dese people alone. ‘Ain't ye got nothing else to do ‘cept chase around some young girl?”
Zeke smiled proudly. “Nah, Mick. I think this is exactly where I should be.” He winked at Talon, and I watched her blush.
“Mrs. Schumacher has some gutters that need cleaning and yer going to help me.”
“I am?”
“Yes, if ye know what’s good for ye.” Mickey gave him a stern look, and Zeke shrugged his shoulder.
“Nice talking with you, pretty bird.”
“Bird?” Talon giggled. I give her a look that portrayed how agitated I was. She ignored me.
“Talon’s a bird’s claw, right?”
“Yeah, I guess it is, but most people don’t know that.” She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear nervously. Mickey grabbed the back of Zeke's neck, not hard, but he got his message across.
“Come on.” He tilted his head to me, “Marie, Talon, we’ll be seeing ye.”
“Thanks for your help.”
His eyes twinkled, and for the first time, I understood what that famous Tyra Bank's model meant when she said smize, the way he smiled with his eyes. His eyes lit up in a way that made me feel comfortable. I couldn’t afford comfortable.
“Come on, Talon.” I walked past her into the cottage and sat on the ratty couch with my head in my hands. I started to cry. I couldn't help it. I was so afraid that something had happened to her. So worried we were found already.
“Mom, Jeez. Dramatic much?” Talon stormed past me. I quickly wiped away my tears.
“Talon, don’t,” I warned.
“I came back, and you weren't here. Do you know how afraid I was? If he found us...”
“Mom, it’s not like he’d hurt me. Maybe he was having a bad day. Maybe he was just really angry. Maybe he’s sorry.” My sweet Talon, so much like me in more ways than she could ever know.
“Talon honey, sit down.” She grabbed a throw pillow, curled it to her stomach and sat down with her knees pressed to the pillow. “The first time your daddy put his hands on me, he apologized. He was sorry, incredibly so. I believed him, and I stayed. I should’ve left, but I forgave him. I know it's a
lot to swallow, but this isn't the first time. It’s been happening for years. All those times he brought you to your auntie's and I wasn’t with you, why do you think that was? It wasn’t so he and I could have alone time, or that I needed space. Honey, it was because he didn’t want you to see.”
I could see the wheels turning, and Talon was calculating a lifetime of auntie visits.
“I know it’s a lot to take in, and your dad loves you, but he’s unhinged. You’re thirteen, old enough to get the truth, but young enough that it’ll hurt. Sweetheart, if he finds us, you’re right. He might not hurt you, or he may, but baby he’ll kill me if he finds me.”
“No,” she shook her head vehemently. “My daddy wouldn’t do that. He’s not a monster.” She was in denial. She didn't want to believe what he was capable of, but I knew once she thought about how she found him with me and the way our life had been, that it would coincide with my words. I scooted next to her closing the gap between us.
“I love you, sweetheart, but I need you to know that’s exactly what he is. Don’t ever forget it, not for a second. Because the moment you start thinking monsters aren’t real, that’s the moment they attack.”
Chapter Eight
Marie
“So, tomorrow we’ll enroll you in school. If you leave here, just write a quick note, so I know where you are. You’re not a prisoner; I just need some piece of mind, okay?” I’d stewed over my words all night long and felt guilty. They were honest, but maybe too brutal for a thirteen-year-old who’d just had her entire world ripped apart.
“Ugh, what if they hate me there? What if everyone has their own cliques, and I don’t fit in?”
“Talon,” I twirled a piece of her long blonde hair, “that’s never been a problem for you. It won’t be now. Everyone will love you.”
She sighed heavily, “Okay.”
“You got this, honey.”
She grabbed an apple from the bag on the counter. “So, how many miles do you think it is to town?”
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