by Gemma Weir
“We’d be glad to help you. I can get Geoff over to you in just a few minutes.”
“Perfect, thank you,” I say, with an inward roll of my eyes. Isn’t it amazing that all of a sudden they can get a cab to come pick me up?
“Well that’s all set then, honey. You have a nice day now.”
“Thanks, bye,” I say, ending the call. I slow to a stop outside of the florist shop and lean my butt against the wall. Balancing on one foot, I stretch out first one bruised sole, then swap to repeat the action with the other. My shoes are super pretty, but they weren’t meant for walking over a mile along country roads.
Blade turns off the engine of his bike and pushes it onto the kickstand with his feet. He looks at me expectantly, but I just raise an eyebrow and stay silent.
“You’re seriously gonna pay for a cab, rather than let me give you a ride?” He says, climbing off his bike and taking a step closer.
“Yep. Thought we’d already established that I don’t want anything to do with you, your biker buddies, or the club. I’m prepared to tolerate Daisy for my sister, but I have no interest in the rest of you. Now I don’t want a ride and as I think I’ve already demonstrated, I’d rather walk a mile in incredibly uncomfortable shoes than get on your bike. I’m assuming that the organ grinder told you to follow me, so, monkey boy, you do as you’re told, but don’t expect me to cooperate or be grateful.”
Blade’s jaw drops, and I almost laugh at the shocked expression on his face. Then his eyes darken, and his brows draw together. He takes a menacing step toward me just as the cab pulls up behind him and sidestepping him, I quickly dart to the waiting vehicle and climb in. “Chestnut Grove please,” I say to the driver. Winding down the cab’s window I smile at Blade sweetly. “Bye, monkey boy,” I call as the cab pulls away.
I settle back into the cool leather seat. The air conditioning is on high and the cold breeze pumping from the front cools my heated skin. Exhaling loudly, I glance over my shoulder and spot Blade following two cars behind. “Bikers,” I say on a sigh, shaking my head in exasperation. When I turn back to face the front, I catch the driver’s eyes on me in the rear-view mirror. Our eyes meet and he immediately looks away. Weird.
Pulling my cell from my purse, I check my emails and quickly respond to a couple of the most urgent ones. The small envelope icon flashes on the screen and I click on it and find a message from an unknown number.
Unknown: Nikki, it feels really weird to be texting you lol. Our new address is 352 Pine, it’s off Main. I love you, Sissy. See you in an hour xo
Smiling widely, I save the number into my cell under my sister’s name and type out a reply.
Nikki: Love you too <3 see you soon xo
I can’t help the smile that fills my face. My sister just texted me for the first time ever. Looking up, I find the driver’s eyes on me again in the mirror. “Shouldn’t you be looking at the road?” I say. His eyes immediately go back to the road ahead, but a moment later they’re on me again.
“Are you…are you Nicole Jefferies?”
I freeze. The sound of my real name makes my stomach churn and bile pool in my mouth. “No.” I reply quickly.
The driver’s eyes widen for a second, then narrow minutely before they return to the road ahead and don’t stray toward me again. Ten minutes later he pulls to a stop outside my Dutch Colonial-style house. He doesn’t cut the engine, but he turns in his seat to look at me, his eyes scanning my face. “You sure look like her.”
“Who?” I say, forcing annoyance into my tone.
“Nicole Jefferies.”
“I must have one of those faces, huh?” I say dismissively.
He nods suspiciously and accepts the money I thrust in his hand. Climbing quickly from the car, I slam the door closed and make my way toward my front door.
“Nicole.”
I spin, then instantly realize my mistake. The driver flashes me a knowing smile. “They said you were dead.”
I sigh. “So, I’ve heard.”
His responding laugh is dry and amused. “Kenny never believed it.”
“Kenny?” I look closer at the driver.
“My son. You remember him?”
Recognition clicks into place and I smile warmly, the tenseness in my shoulders instantly abating. “Yes, I remember him, Mr. Baumann. How is Kenny?”
Blade’s motorcycle rumbles loudly as he pulls to a stop behind the cab. Glancing at him, I send him a withering glare and then turn my attention back to my old friend’s father.
“He’s doing really good. He and Richard got married last year and they have a lovely condo out in Florida,” Mr. Baumann says, smiling warmly.
A huge grin spreads across my face. “That’s great. Please let him know I said hi next time you speak to him.”
“I surely will,” Mr. Baumann replies. “Take care of yourself, Nicole.”
“It’s Nikki now,” I say. “Nikki Coleman.”
Mr. Baumann nods. “I’m sorry about what happened to your parents.”
“Well that makes one of us,” I say acidly, wishing I hadn’t the moment the words are out of my mouth.
Mr. Baumann’s face softens, and in that moment I get the feeling that he knows how my parents were, maybe he always knew.
All of a sudden, I feel like I need to say something to acknowledge the words that are being left unsaid. “Kenny was a good friend to me when I needed one.”
He twitches his lips into a sad but knowing smile. “I’m glad. Goodbye, Nikki.”
“Goodbye Mr. Baumann,” I say, watching the cab pull away.
Exhaling slowly, I head to my front door. I feel Blade’s presence behind me before he touches my elbow, stopping me. “You know him?”
I pull my elbow out of his reach, grab my key from my purse and slide it into the lock. “He was the dad of an old friend.” I admit quietly. By the time I’ve turned the key in the lock I can already hear the scrabble of claws on hardwood and as I push open the door to my home, I’m smiling happily. Jock, my Scottish terrier, barrels along the hall toward me and I fall to my knees just as he launches himself into my arms, wiggling and giving me happy doggy kisses. “Hi, baby, have you missed me? I missed you,” I coo at him.
“What the fuck is that?”
Ignoring the belligerent biker behind me, I hold Jock close to my chest and stand up. I get more doggy kisses as I make my way down the hall and into my kitchen. Blade’s footsteps follow behind me. “I didn’t invite you in,” I say, glancing at him over my shoulder.
“I know,” he replies with an amused grin. He saunters into my kitchen, scanning the room. “This is a nice place. Why would you want to move?”
Kissing Jock on his soft black ear, I place him back on the floor and he scurries off toward his bed and toys in the corner. Eyeing Blade warily, I lean my butt against the island and turn to face my new biker shadow. “I don’t know you, and I certainly don’t have to explain myself to you. I’d like for you to leave or I’m going to call the cops and tell them I have a home invader.”
“You do what you need to do, Duchess. But I still expect an answer,” Blade replies tersely.
Sighing deeply, I cross my legs at the ankle and brace my hands against the cool granite countertop. “If I answer your question, will you go away?”
He scoffs. “No.”
“You’re such a dick,” I say, exasperated.
“Been called worse. I’m waiting,” he replies, lifting his arms and crossing them so that the tattooed skin on his biceps bulges enticingly.
Uncrossing my legs, I stand up straighter and force my eyes to lift from the arm porn. “Blade,” I say my voice condescending. “I’m gonna try to dumb this down to a 3rd grade level for you, so you’ll understand. My sister is in Archer’s Creek and unfortunately she doesn’t want to leave. The sperm donor and the doormat that were formally known as our parents are dead, so I’m gonna buy a house to be close to Angelique. I’ve missed out on two years already and I refuse to miss out o
n anymore. If that means I have to move back to that fucking nightmare of a town, then so be it.”
“How the fuck can you afford to buy a second house?” Blade asks, not even flinching at the fact that I just spoke to him like he was an annoying child.
“My finances are none of your business; now get the hell out of my home. I’ve answered your question, so if you want to waste your time following me around, that’s your choice. Right now, I need to have a shower and get changed, then you can follow me back to my sister’s new apartment like the good little stalker you are.”
Blade takes a step toward me, his eyes raking over my body like I was naked. “You’re an angry little bitch aren’t you? What’s up, Duchess, do you need a good fuck to sweeten you back up? Your claws are a bit too sharp for my normal taste, but I’ll make an exception.”
The breath in my lungs seems to evaporate and my heart pounds. “Keep your dick in your pants, old man. Geriatric’s with leather fetishes aren’t my type. I prefer my men, fit, clean-shaven, and a hell of a lot closer to my age,” I say with as much sarcasm as I can muster, fighting to hide the quiver I’m sure he can hear in my voice.
He takes another step forward until his chest is almost touching mine. “Are you sure, Duchess? Because you’re looking a little flushed, like your body wants to know what this old man would feel like when he’s licking your pussy.”
An audible gasp escapes me, and I place a trembling hand on his chest and push. He allows me to move him back a pace, a smug grin on his lips.
My stomach twists, as fear, arousal and anger, all fight for supremacy. “Back the fuck off. You have two seconds to get away from me, and out of my house.” I cry, pulling my cell from my back pocket with shaking fingers. Holding it in front of me, like it will protect me from my own unwanted desire, I swipe the screen bringing it to life and attempt to type 911 into the dial screen.
Blade watches me, his eyebrows raised in amusement. “Be sure to tell the Sheriff, Blade says hello,” he says with a wink, then turns and saunters down the hall and out of the front door.
When the door clicks shut, I slump back against the counter and blow out a ragged breath. Why is that arrogant, pig-headed idiot having an effect on me? He’s too old for me, he’s a biker, and he’s an asshole. In the last two years, I’ve been hit on plenty of times and apart from one quick fling, the guys have left me cold and disinterested. Why has my body suddenly decided to come back to life now for him?
Staring at the closed door, I pull in a deep breath and exhale slowly. In and out. I repeat the action until it eventually calms my rapidly beating heart. Sensing my change of emotions, Jock trots across the room from his bed and nudges at my leg. I lower myself to the floor and pull my furbaby into my arms. “How the hell did this happen, Jock? All I wanted was my sister and now I’m moving back to a town I hate and being stalked by a biker pain in the ass.”
Jock offers me a small yap and a tilt of his gorgeous black head as an answer. “You’re no help are you, baby?” He jumps and licks my face, and I laugh, pushing him down and rising back up to my feet.
“I need to go wash the plane funk off me, then I’ll take you with me to meet Sissy,” I say, as I climb the stairs with Jock padding behind me. The scent of rose hits me as I push open the door to my bedroom and a sense of peace washes over me as I take in the feminine space. My bed calls to me, the perfectly pressed white comforter looks incredibly inviting and my feet take a step toward it without me being aware that I’m moving. Eyeing the luxurious pale pink throw that would be so soft wrapped around me, I wish I could just sink into the pillows and pretend that my sister’s new life surrounded by bikers is just a dream.
Unable to resist, I drop onto the mattress and curl into a ball, pulling the blanket over me like a protective cover that can hide me from the real world outside of these four walls. The adrenaline that’s been keeping me moving forward for the last day starts to fade, and a sob bursts from me as the walls of stability that I surround myself with, crumble under the pressure of the day’s revelations. Hot tears pour from my eyes and desolation consumes me like it has so many times before. I fight my own memories, refusing to be dragged down the black path that will lead me back to my demons, but unlike before, I’m no longer ignorant and living with the hope that my sister is safe.
Guilt bubbles through my veins. She suffered because I left. He hurt her because I left, because I’m a coward and I sacrificed her to save myself. The last two years have been my penance, but loneliness and isolation in no way makes up for leaving my sister at the mercy of a monster. Have I truly been lying to myself? I wrack my brain to see if I honestly thought she would be okay and as much as now it seems obvious that of course he wouldn’t stop being an abusive asshole just because I wasn’t there; when I left I really thought she would be okay.
Since the day I walked away, I’ve assuaged my culpability with the belief that her natural submissiveness to our father would protect her. Looking back at my actions, I can see my desperation to believe he would become a different person once I wasn’t there, was just the wishful thinking of a girl so incredibly terrified of staying, that I’d probably be able to convince myself of anything that made my escape less cowardly.
Wiping the tears from my cheeks, I push myself up from the bed and pull in a shaky breath. I did this. I left, and the time for self-indulgent tears has passed. I have to take responsibility for my actions and try to find a way to atone for them. With a groan, I kick off my shoes and force myself to strip out of my jeans and shirt. I shed my bra and panties and pad naked into the bathroom, pulling the pins from my hair as I walk.
Turning on the shower, I step into the torrent of hot water, letting the warmth soothe my tense, aching limbs. My muscles gradually start to relax as I lather up my hair and body, washing away the stress and grime of the day. I try to focus on what to do now—my plan had always been to wait for Angelique to turn eighteen and then get away from Archer’s fucking Creek. It’s my own fault that fate had to step in and send someone else to save my sister, or maybe that was always the plan and I just played the role of coward like I was intended to. Either way, everything is different now.
Turning off the water, I wrap a towel around my hair and then another around my body and walk back into my bedroom. For a moment I indulge in feeling sorry for myself. I’ve been planning how today should have gone for years. I wanted everything to be perfect when I rescued her. I wanted to have enough money in the bank to look after both of us, I wanted to have a choice of homes for us to run to, but I left it too late and someone else rescued her instead.
Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I sit up and drag the towel from my hair. Why did my stupid fucking parents have to choose the only time in two years that I’ve been out of town to fucking die? I became complacent. I knew where Angelique was, so after months of asking I’d eventually agreed to go to New York to meet with one of my clients. My incompetent P.I. didn’t bother to tell me that my parents had croaked it and I only found out a few days ago that hell had finally called them back home. When the idiot private investigator finally told me that Angelique was with the Doomsday Sinners, I jumped on the first flight home and got a taxi straight to the clubhouse. I didn’t even bother to bring my luggage back. I just arranged for the hotel to ship it back to me.
Rubbing the skin between my eyes, I try to decide what to do. My sole focus for the last two years has been creating a new life for me and Angelique, and now that I’ve seen the love between my sister and her biker boyfriend it’s ruined all of my plans.
I like plans, and structure, and targets, it’s how I’ve survived. What the hell do I do now?
Closing my eyes for a moment, I force down the rush of panic that tries to overwhelm me. Then I stand up, dry myself off and make my way to my closet to find some clothes. I quickly dress in a white Bardot shirt, paired with gorgeous navy-blue high-waisted shorts. I slide my feet into my comfy, polka-dot, wedge-heeled, peep-toe slingbacks and then walk
to my dressing table and perch on the stool. Brushing out my wet hair, I twist it into a messy bun and then tie a black and white polka-dotted scarf like a headband, knotting it at the front.
Quickly applying my makeup, I give myself one last look in the mirror and then head back downstairs. It’s time to embrace a new plan. My parents are dead. My sister has a new family, but she’s still mine and I won’t lose her. It’s time to figure out how I fit in with her life and what I can do to try to make up for leaving her in the first place.
“Jock,” I call, and the bundle of black fur scurries through the dog flap in my back door and across the kitchen, landing in an enthusiast heap at my feet. “Calm down, silly boy. Now go get your leash.” At the mention of the word leash Jock scampers off into the kitchen and returns with his red tartan leash in his mouth. “Thank you, baby,” I coo, taking it from him and attaching it to his matching tartan collar.
“Shall we go see, Sissy, huh? You wanna go for a ride in the Comet?” Jock bounces along at my feet and I grab my purse from the kitchen counter as I make my way to the front door. Pausing, I take a moment to look over my shoulder at my home. This house is my sanctuary; some days the impenetrability of its walls has been the only thing that has kept me upright. It’s been the prison of my own making, the gilded cage I’ve locked myself in. If I was to look closely at my life, I’d see how small it is. Right now I’m not sure I can admit, even to myself, that this life—my life—has been both my salvation and my punishment.
Despite it all, I love this house—it’s my home. But I love my sister more and I’d give up everything to be a part of her life again.
New plan. Reconnect with my sister, buy a house close to her, figure out a way to either get rid of her biker boyfriend or learn to live with him, make up for everything she’s suffered because I left, and try not to have anything to do with my new stalker shadow.
It’s time to pull up my big girl, silk panties, and move forward.
The front door opens and Nikki emerges with her rat dog at her heels.