Sexy Bastards Anthology: Bad Boy, Biker, Alpha, Motorcycle Club, Contemporary Romance Collection

by Lexy Timms

  Detective Oliver opened the door with a set of keys attached to his belt and let me out of the cell.

  Mason Oliver had kind hazel eyes and a tough exterior, combined with professional pressed clothing that matched his professional attitude. I liked him already. I nodded my appreciation at him for letting me out.

  “What time is it?” I asked Duke.

  He rubbed a hand over his beard and looked at his fancy watch. “Almost 2 a.m.”

  Fuck. I’d been sitting in that damn cell for eight hours.

  “You posted my bail?” I asked, cringing at the thought of owing anyone anything. I couldn’t imagine how much that would cost, and I was obviously still unemployed, living off of my government check for now. I watched as Duke limped slightly and I felt sick that he still had pain from that injury, the one that replayed in my nightmares every night.

  “Wish I could be the hero in this story, dude, but I’m not. Your girl is.”

  I looked at him questioningly. “Talia was here? She posted my bail?”

  He shook his head as he pulled out a can of chew and shoved some dip into his bottom lip. “Nah, she just gave her statement to my bro here. She told him how Silver had pulled a gun on you guys in the middle of traffic and that’s all we needed to hear.”

  “His nickname is Ripper, just FYI,” I said to Mason.

  Mason laughed with his arms still folded across his chest. “Yeah, we know. After he was treated at the hospital, two uniforms brought him in for questioning. We let him go because he left out the part about him pulling a gun on you and Red. After she gave her statement, we checked the traffic cameras, which confirmed her story. We then brought him in on felony gun charges and stripped him before tossing him in a cell. He’s got RIPPER tattooed across his entire back. We asked him what it meant, and he told us it’s his alias. And he told us fairly easily, I might add.” He chuckled.

  “Felony gun charges? He didn’t actually shoot us…” I trailed off.

  “Felon in Possession of a Firearm,” Duke said. “He’s facing another five years. He can’t be in possession of any weapons. Firearms, knives, explosives… all will get him thrown back in prison. Which is where he’s headed now… on federal charges this time. There is no parole. He’ll do the full five years, plus the three the state let him off. You don’t need to worry about that douchebag, Anderson.”

  To say I was relieved wouldn’t be a lie. I wasn’t afraid for myself, just my girl. She didn’t need to be thrust into this world of mine. Where my past indiscretions were colliding with my present. She didn’t deserve that. She deserved to be treated like a queen, and after this horrid experience, I sure as fuck was going to treat her like one.

  After out-processing and getting my clothes and personal property back, Mason dropped me off at my house. I had debated having him drop me at Talia’s, but it was 4 a.m., and wasn’t sure that was a good idea. Exhaustion overtook me and I thought maybe a few hours of sleep would do me good, so I gave him my address instead. I barely made it to my room once inside, and the minute my head hit the pillow, I was out like a light, my final thoughts on how I was going to go see my girl tomorrow and make everything okay again.

  If that was even possible.

  Chapter 14

  Talia

  School passed quickly the next day, and I aced my first geometry exam of the new semester. I was very proud of myself for doing it, even if I had nobody to share my elation with. Thoughts of Ellis invaded my brain at least once an hour, but I was glad I’d not let the thoughts of last night consume me to the point of failing my exam. Even more than that, thoughts of the other big news I’d received yesterday.

  Yes, I’d gone down to the precinct to give my statement. I was beyond pissed off that they’d arrested him for assault when that disgusting Ripper guy had pulled out a gun in the middle of broad daylight – and had threatened me with it. I just had to do something. So I did. I’d gone back to his house and got in my car. I then marched my ass into that police station and demanded to talk to someone.

  They’d kept me waiting in that uncomfortable waiting area for over an hour, but eventually, an extremely hot cop named Detective Oliver in a pressed blue shirt and slacks with black hair and the coolest hazel eyes I had ever seen came in and took my statement. He was so hot, it was kinda distracting, I’m not gonna lie. But he was no Ellis. This guy was a bit pretty, unlike my rugged man. I told Detective Oliver about how that disgusting piece of shit had pulled a gun from the back of his baggy pants and had pointed it at me and forced me out of the car.

  He had asked if I wanted to press charges for assault and hostage-taking. I’d said yes. So yay me, now I get to go to court and testify against that douche-canoe. The detective then punched some keys on his computer and pulled up a grainy traffic camera. I watched in awe as the scene that wouldn’t stop replaying in my brain replayed on his computer screen. Just how I’d remembered it. He’d thanked me for my time and then told me I could go.

  But what bothered me the most was how they wouldn’t let me see Ellis while I was there. They said a judge had to decide on bail and that visiting hours were at noon the next day. Discouraged, I’d left the police station to try to get some rest, knowing I had tests today. And I was glad I’d had. There was nothing more I could do. Plus, I was exhausted beyond belief. I just worried about Ellis being in jail and hoped he was safe.

  I shoved the key into the lock to my apartment and flung open the door. Throwing my purse and keys onto the dining room table, I picked up Misty and kissed the top of her furry head. She meowed loudly when she had had enough cuddles and I put her down on the floor and went into the bathroom. I avoided eye contact with the little white stick that showed two pink lines still sitting on the back of the toilet. If I didn’t acknowledge that it wasn’t real, it wouldn’t be, right? The problem would just go away and I could get on with my life. So that’s what I did. Those drug-store tests were wrong all the time anyway.

  Sighing in denial, I went into the living room and plopped down on the sofa, wondering when I would be able to see Ellis again. How long was he going to spend in jail? My stomach turned over and I gagged and almost threw up thinking about him sitting in a cold cell.

  Or perhaps there was another reason for the nausea…

  I shifted my thoughts.

  It was almost 2 in the afternoon and I had the evening off from the coffee shop. My classes were done for the week and I wondered what I should do to keep my mind off of all this shit. I smiled again when I thought of the test I’d aced – not the one in the bathroom but the one in the college classroom – and my immediate response was to call my mom to tell her. But my mom wasn’t around for me to call. She’d died along with my heart when she’d overdosed on a cocaine-tequila cocktail on my 21st birthday.

  I shook my head, trying not to remember her open, milky eyes and the white foam bubbling from the side of her mouth. I’d come home from school that day in a great mood, hoping for a birthday present. Instead I’d received a reoccurring nightmare that would probably plague me for the rest of my eternal freaking days.

  I used the remote to pop the TV on and stared without seeing at the late afternoon talk show. Another TV psych trying to help a young girl from going down the wrong path. With my arms folded over my chest, I just shook my head at this guy, thinking he could fix this young girl. Little did he know – he couldn’t. She would be fucked up for life unless she made her own conscious decision to turn in a different direction and make things better for herself. I turned the TV off and decided to visit Mom.

  I parked in the lot that could use some new asphalt and got out of my small car. In my left hand, I clutched the small bouquet of multi-colored flowers I’d picked up at the grocery store. In my right hand, my car keys were gripped tightly. I took a deep breath and headed toward the headstone that was so familiar it shouldn’t cause me pain anymore.

  But it always did.

  I slogged over felled leaves and wet earth until I reached it. I plac
ed the flowers at the foot of the headstone and sat cross-legged in front of it.

  SHARON MARIE SMITH-LOGAN 1969 – 2014

  Mother, wife, friend, angel.

  With a deep sigh, I said, “Hi, mom.”

  The cold, gray stone said nothing in return.

  “I wish you were here. I need some advice on a boy.”

  Inhaling a deep breath, I continued. “Mom, he’s so beautiful, he takes my breath away. His eyes are the color of the sky on a perfectly clear day, and they stare at me – they stare through me. I can get lost in them for days.” I laughed lightly without humor, plucking a few blades of grass from beside me. “I suppose I sound like a total sap.” With another deep sigh, I kept talking to no one, the confessions somehow feeling like a deep cleansing of my soul. “I’m pretty sure I love him. But how can I love someone who’s bad for me? He’s bad, Mama. He’s so very bad. He’s got a bad past, and he’s done some awful things. He can’t be good for me, right?”

  A horn honking knocked me out of my whispered confessions to my long-dead mother. I looked up to see nothing in the parking lot.

  Shaking my head at my foolishness, I kept rambling. “He’s so beautiful, Mom. His voice is deep and his mouth is perfect. When I kiss him, I get lost in his, his… well, his everything. I try to keep my eyes open to capture the breathtaking blue of his eyes but they end up drifting closed so I can get lost in him. And when his rough hands turn soft and explore my every inch, I am completely useless. I turn to putty in his hands.”

  A slight warm breeze blew. I closed my eyes, pretending it was my mother, coming to offer me a sliver of comfort or advice as to what I should do about Ellis. My mind wanted to hate him – to tell him to get out of my life. It would be so much simpler if I didn’t have all this drama. But my heart… it tightened painfully in my chest and begged me to go to him. Like a magnet. He was the negative charge and I was the positive, drawn together inexplicably and it was infuriatingly unexplainable.

  I shook my head. “What does all this mean, Mama? Should I just fall into him, let him have me – let me have him, any way I can get him? Or should I tell him to move on without me? Aside from being beautiful, he’s also got something deep inside of him that seems like it needs to be let out. I want to help him exorcise his demons. I want him to open up more to me. And he has, to an extent. I want to be and have been sympathetic to his troubles while trying to let him know I need him to help me through my trials, too. What do I do? Why aren’t you here to help me with this? Why did you have to leave?” I choked on a strangled sob and wiped tears from my cheeks, trying to breathe through the pain in my throat and chest at her loss. I sniffled like a child and took a deep breath. “You were so selfish, you know. You should have thought about me and Calvin before you left us. Even though we’re adults, we still need you. Why couldn’t you see that? Understand that?”

  I plucked some more grass and threw it angrily onto the ground. Then I looked back at the cold, gray engraved stone. “What do I do? Please, just tell me.” I sobbed into my hands, feeling lost, and almost crazy.

  “You choose love,” a voice said from behind me.

  I turned around to see Ellis standing there, all smugness and cockiness gone from his face. His hands were in the pockets of his jeans and the black Wounded Warrior Foundation T-shirt fit snugly over his chest. His face was a mixture of curiosity and warmth, and my knees went weak.

  “How…” I asked, the words trapped in my throat as I stared at his beautiful figure. He was a vision, gorgeous and breathtaking, and I was powerless to resist him.

  But then I thought – why and how had he thought to look here of all places? I couldn’t ever recall telling him where my mom had been laid to rest but maybe one time I’d had? There had been a few nights where the wine had been flowing and perhaps my loose lips had gotten the better of me. Regardless – he was here now, so what was I going to say to him?

  So I swiped at another tear but stayed sitting. “How long have you been standing there?”

  A serious countenance darkened his face, and his jaw ticked. “Long enough.”

  I sucked in a breath and let it out. “That’s not an answer.”

  “I don’t give two fucks, sweetheart,” he whispered, gliding over to me and offering a hand. “Let’s get out of here.”

  I didn’t move, but stared up at him incredulously. “Just like that? You just want me to leave with you after hearing all that?”

  He smiled a little. “Yes, leave with me. Be with me. Stay with me. Live with me. Marry me. I’ll take care of you. I can be everything you were confessing to your mom and more. I’ve made peace with my past and I think you should, too.” He nodded to the tombstone and looked back to me. “Talia, I’m going to be the man you need. To be the man I want to be. The man who’s going to be a daddy to our baby.”

  He stared down at me, his hand still outstretched. I forgot to breathe as I looked up at him. “How… how did you know?”

  Without breaking eye contact, he pulled out my pregnancy test stick from his pants pocket and held it up, smiling. “I went looking for you. You didn’t lock your apartment door, T. You should be more careful. This caught my eye in the bathroom.”

  A single tear dripped down my face and I looked up at him. “Do you mean all that stuff you just said?”

  Nodding, he smiled a little, pulling me to stand. He reached his hand up to my face, his thumb swiping away my sadness. “Of course. I love you, Talia. I always have. You just couldn’t see it because I was too selfish and stupid to tell you, to show you. And for that I’m sorry.”

  His fingers brushed slightly over my belly and his eyes shifted down to it. “I love you. I’m gonna marry you, and we’re gonna give that kid a great life, better than the one we had. You in, sweetheart?”

  I smiled through my tears. “Yeah, baby. I’m in. For life."

  The End

  Partial proceeds of this series are donated to the Wounded Warrior Project. You can donate, too, by clicking here!

  Coming April 4, 2016

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  Meet Duke Hawthorne

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  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  I'm a California girl living in land-locked Colorado. Lover of red wine, wearer of fabulous shoes, and a die-hard Niner fan, I'm also an editor at heart. I've written over a dozen books and short stories that contain both contemporary/new adult and paranormal romance that are a little bit badass, a little heart-wrenching, and sorta funny (to me, anyway). Almost all my books usually contain law enforcement or military undertones, since strong, brave, alpha men and women are my weaknesses. When I'm not writing, I can be found working at a very strange day job, which may or may not have some mild influences on my gripping stories - so strange, in fact, I think I'll write a book about it one day.

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