by Nia Farrell
Chapter Sixteen
Jack Daniels was a silverback bear of a man. Tall, tatted, tanned, and fit, he had his family’s good looks, with dark eyes, dark brows, and salt-and-pepper hair. His mustache was a darker shade of gray. His thick, neatly trimmed beard and a shag carpet of chest hair were mostly white. The oldest of Luke’s mother’s siblings, Jack was the only one in her family who was patched into the club.
“It’s the alternator,” he said when they went to the repair shop. “I have a rebuilt one that will get her going today, or I can install a new one tomorrow.”
“Unless you’re thinking of trading your car anytime soon, I’d get the new one,” Luke advised. “It’s only a day away.”
Isabella smiled, hearing show tunes in her head. “I can wait,” she told Jack. “Your nephew here has been kind enough to give me a ride.”
Jack looked at them both and shook his head. “I sure hope that you know what the hell you’re doing, pup. Mess with this one, and her uncle won’t take kindly to it.”
“He knows,” Mad Dog told him. “We spoke to him this morning. We’ll talk to her parents when they get home from San Diego.”
Jack dropped his head and took a breath. Looking up, there was more concern than censure in his eyes. “So, it’s serious, then. You two.”
Mad Dog looked at Isabella. “Looks that way. It sure as fuck is starting to feel that way. Hey, thanks for coming in on a Sunday.”
Jack shrugged a meaty shoulder. “Didn’t have anything else going on.”
“Only because you don’t take what’s offered. Carly won’t wait forever. Good looking little like that. Some other Daddy Dom’s gonna swoop right in and snatch her up. They’ll be fucking like rabbits in her blanket fort, and you’ll still be drinking at the bar alone.”
Jack shot him a look.
“No? It’s your loss. Call us when Isabella’s car is done, Uncle Jack. And put the bill on my account.” It was Mad Dog’s turn to shoot her a look. “No argument, little girl. I can’t fucking control everything, but I can sure as hell take care of this.”
Isabella sensed that this was something that he didn’t just want, but needed to do, after the morning they’d had. “All right. Thank you. Thank you both,” she said.
Jack dismissed it with a wave of his hand. “If you’re Mad Dog’s old lady, you’re family. We take care of our own. He’ll teach you that soon enough, if you don’t already know. If you’re ever in trouble, you call the Angels first. Before the law, before anything. Unless it’s a medical emergency and minutes count, any other call comes second. Remember that.”
“I will,” she promised.
They stepped out into the sunshine. The day promised to be warm. The humidity would make it feel warmer yet. “Luke, I almost forgot. I need to go to the pharmacy we use, the one at the corner of 16th and Grand. Do you know it?”
“I can find it easy enough. You have your ID with you, right?”
She’d packed her purse for the day, including her driver’s license, camera, and phone. “Yes, but they shouldn’t need it. I’m in their system from the last time I got an antibiotic. I smashed my thumbnail when I was hanging posters in my room and developed a little pocket of staph infection. One of my cousins is a neat freak and a borderline germaphobe. Now I kind of understand why.”
Mad Dog shook his head. “You can prevent infections without going overboard.”
“You know that, and I know that. I didn’t understand it at the time, but after Krissy was taken, she got to be nearly as bad as my cousin. Thank God, Krissy was already gone when I had staph. I had the bathroom to myself. I had to keep all my laundry separate. Disinfect everything, and keep at it until the infection cleared. It was a royal bitch.”
“Sounds like it.”
Mad Dog strapped on his helmet and got on his bike. Popping the kickstand, he started the engine and waited until she’d settled in behind him before pulling onto the road.
He angle-parked in front of the pharmacy and went with her inside. While Isabella consulted with the pharmacist about the prescriptions that had been called in for her, Luke looked at magazines. She found him when she was done.
Her cheeks were still flushed with embarrassment.
Mad Dog glanced around to make sure they were alone. “So…what did they give you?”
“Birth control pills,” she whispered. “And a morning-after pill. I don’t know if I should use it, Luke. There are all these side effects, and if there’s no need, I can’t see taking the risk. You never finished where it would be a problem, so unless some squeezed out early….”
He grew quiet, then shook himself and cleared his throat. “You were tight enough,” he murmured, “but I don’t think you need it this time. I’d hang onto it for now. Backup, just in case. You know, the pill won’t protect you right away. We were careful last night. We’ll have to keep on being careful. College is challenging enough if you’re single. A baby just complicates things.”
“Can we run these by home? I’d rather not carry them around. I can’t take the one until my next cycle starts.”
“And when is that?”
“Five days or so,” she said.
“Five days, huh?” He rubbed his jaw and studied her for a long moment. “C’mon. Let’s take you home.”
It seemed like he had something to say but chose to not do it there. Like the single emergency pill that she’d been issued, further conversation was being saved for later.
For the second time that morning, they pulled into her parents’ driveway and neighbors poked their noses through parted curtains to see what was shaking their world. Luke “Mad Dog” McLanahan and his custom bike were both things to be admired, but Luke’s cut inspired fear in the uneducated masses. The Blackwater Demons MC had left a bad taste for bikers in people’s mouths. They viewed the Avenging Angels MC as more of the same.
The answering machine was flashing thirteen new messages. Isabella still hadn’t been brave enough to look at her cell phone. She knew it was delaying the inevitable, but she wanted to know what Luke had to say.
“Back in the pharmacy, you were going to tell me something but stopped. What was it?”
Mad Dog set his helmet by her purse on the entrance side table. Crossing to where she stood, he framed her face with his large hands and gave her a kiss that nearly made her forget the question.
Reaching, he grabbed her sore bottom and pulled their pelvises together. “Birth control. Your period. I’ll want to fuck you while you’re on your cycle. It’s the one time of the month that you won’t have to worry about a morning-after pill. I can fuck you until I’m ready to come and keep right on pumping until I’m finished. When I shoot my wad inside that tight, wet pussy of yours, I’m gonna fill you to overflowing.”
It was so…taboo. Isabella couldn’t imagine why he would want to have sex while she was on her period. But now she knew. Mad Dog was marking his territory. Making her completely his.
“I hope you have a rubber sheet,” she said slowly, “because it’s gonna be messy. Very, very messy.”
“I have one. I use it for wax play, among other things. It keeps the mattress and sheets from getting ruined. A quick strip, and I have a clean, dry bed at the end of a play session.
Jealousy reared its ugly head. “I thought you said you didn’t do sleepovers.”
“I don’t,” he said simply, swaying slightly with her pressed tightly against him. “You’re the exception to my rule, Isabella. But my toy box is upstairs. When we have a play session, chances are, it will be in my room. I think you’ll be more comfortable there than in the lounge, with an audience. Am I wrong?”
“No,” she whispered. “I’m sorry. I just…I was just thinking. Wondering how many other girls you’ve taken to your room. How many others have slept there with you. I’m trying to not be jealous. I don’t like myself when I am.”
“There’s no one you need to be jealous of. Trust me. I’m no saint. I’ve got a healthy sex drive. There are en
ough sweetbutts and mamas at the clubhouse to meet a man’s needs. But I don’t just dip my wick with no thought to consequences. I wear condoms. I use protection. I have regular checks to make sure that I stay clean. And then you come along, and I’m taking every orifice skin to skin, without even asking if you were clean, too. And today, at the pharmacy…I’ve never gotten a girl knocked up, and there you were, clutching a bag with things to make sure that wouldn’t happen, and I felt…I don’t know…sad.”
“Sad?”
“Yeah. The world is full of shitty parents. All I could think of is what a beautiful mother you’d make…and how lucky your baby will be. You have a good heart, Isabella. I was worried that you were like your sister, but I know better now.”
Tears blurred Isabella’s vision. What he’d said…it was one of the most romantic things she’d ever heard. “Oh, Luke,” she said. “That was…I—”
The phone rang, sharp and shrill.
Mad Dog tightened his hold when she tried to get it. “Let it go to voice mail. You can call them back.”
The feel of his burgeoning arousal made her second the notion.
Her own voice came on the line, instructing callers to leave their phone number and a brief message after the beep.
“Pick up the phone, you little whore. I know you’re there, you filthy slut! You’re going to burn in hell. Burn, do you hear me?!”
Luke was furious. “Who the hell is that, Isabella?”
She looked at the caller ID and felt her stomach churn.
“I have no idea.”
Chapter Seventeen
Mad Dog couldn’t stand the look on Isabella’s face. She was pale as a ghost and had one hand pressed to her stomach, like she might be sick again.
He dialed the number that he knew better than his own. “Crash, I need another favor. Isabella’s getting threatening calls. I need them traced, and I need her folks’ security system checked out. She’ll be staying with me until things calm down, but she’ll rest better, knowing that her home is protected. Think you can come over sometime soon?”
His best friend since kindergarten and his Marine Corps brother-in-arms blew out harshly. “Jesus, Mad Dog! You know how to ruin a man’s plans for the day.”
“Sorry, bro. You know I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t have to.”
“Well, you’re gonna have to keep asking on the first one. Her uncle’s security chief is the one who traced your mom’s call and found where Reaper was holding her. He’s your guy for this, too.”
“Well, shit. Looks like I’ll owe one more favor to Uncle Giovanni. I’ll call him next. See how soon he can get his security guy working on it. Have you had any luck tracing the source of the leak?”
“It’s buried so fucking deep, I’m still digging with no end in sight. I keep hitting encryptions, brick walls, dead ends…. Whoever’s responsible is one smart motherfucker. Either they knew how to hide what they were doing, or they knew someone who did.”
“Yeah, well, there’s another, more immediate concern now. Priorities have changed. Someone threatened Isabella, and I’ve got to protect her, whatever it takes. You understand me?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I’d do the same for Rose.”
“Fucking right, you would. Hang on a minute.”
Mad Dog looked at Isabella. “Michael is my sister Rose’s significant other. Would you mind if he brings her along when he comes to check out your security system?”
“No,” she said, brightening. “I’d love to meet your sister.”
“Bring Rose,” he told Michael. “We’ll see you in a few.”
Mad Dog ended the call and turned back to Isabella. “They’re headed over. You’d have met Rose eventually if you go to work at Angel Ink. She does the books for our businesses. Just graduated from SIU with honors and passed her CPA. Michael’s pretty fucking proud.”
“He should be. Working and going to school isn’t easy. My folks want me to focus on my studies. I’ll have to see how it goes. Everything costs so much these days.”
“It makes sense to work and save this summer, if it means that you don’t have to work during school. Give it some thought. Once you’ve figured out I’m right, just say the word, and I’ll hook you up.”
Isabella shook her head at him, but she was smiling. “Not bossy much, are you?”
“Not much,” he parroted. “I guess you heard. I have to talk to your uncle again about tracing that call. I should be off in a minute.”
Just like he thought, the conversation was short and productive. Thank fuck, Isabella’s uncle was willing and able to help them out. Mad Dog didn’t tell Isabella, but that hateful phone message had rattled him. There were sick fucks out there who stalked people. Hurt people. Killed people. There was no fucking way that he was going to sit back and let Isabella become another statistic.
She was his.
His to have. His to protect. His to keep.
And she loved him. He couldn’t say the same, but fuck if it didn’t feel good to hear it. If anyone else he’d known for a day had said the same thing, he’d have cut his losses, jumped on his bike, and ridden away like a bat out of hell. Instead, she had him imagining how she’d look with a baby at her breast.
“What?” she asked softly.
He snapped out of it. “Nothing,” he told her. “It was nothing. Why don’t we listen to the rest of the messages? We need to know if this was the first time the sicko called, or if she called before. I should send Lee something, and you should talk to Anna. Don’t leave things hanging. Make a clean break if there’s no way to salvage things between the two of you.”
Isabella sighed. “You’re right. Let me get a notebook to copy the time log.”
They listened to the voice mails together. Most of them were the equivalent of junk mail, pre-recorded messages for goods and services. Her dad was self-employed and got a lot of those, even at home. The one from her parents sounded normal, like today was just another Sunday and not the nightmare that it had become. The one from her sister Krissy, though, was as bad as Isabella feared.
Listening to her tirade, he got the distinct impression that Krissy was more upset that he was Isabella’s partner than the fact that they were filmed. Either way, she was pissed. She did say that she wasn’t going to tell their parents…yet.
“She doesn’t deserve an immediate callback. Let her sit. Think about what you’re going to say to her. I’m gonna put an order in for Lee to be delivered. We’ll listen to your cell messages after that.”
He ordered a pound of milk chocolate-covered strawberries from the local chocolatier to be delivered to Lee’s condo, where she was most likely to be right now. Eleven-thirty was her scheduled time to start work at the club, which opened at noon.
Isabella checked her text messages next. The first one was from Anna, begging Isabella to not tell her parents about Richie. Anything with him would end when she went away to college in the fall. What they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them.
What about his brother?
Fucking cunt.
Anna didn’t deserve Richie. She didn’t deserve Isabella, either, but it wasn’t his place to tell her that. Isabella needed to figure out on her own that friends who lie aren’t friends at all. They’re users.
The rest of the messages were mostly Anna, being defensive. One from her mom, one from her dad. Neither said anything that set off alarm bells. They asked about Isabella, the house, the cat. Did she remember to bring in the mail and stack the papers? The recycling center didn’t accept glass but she could take the plastics and paper. Keep the aluminum; that went somewhere that paid by the pound. Typical parents, treating her like the child they’d left behind, not a legal-aged young woman capable of handling a man like him.
And he knew he was a lot to handle. His size was challenge enough, but he was a Dominant who loved rough sex. He had warned Isabella, and still, she had stayed.
Anna was a fucking coward. Isabella might be the bravest girl he knew, besides his sister
Rose. It was going to be interesting to see how the two of them got along.
Rather than return any of the calls, Isabella sent text messages. She essentially put Anna in a friendship time-out corner (“We’re taking a break until you can tell me the truth. No more lies or excuses). She muted her phone again after answering her parents’ questions. Dealing with everything today had drained her.
“It’s not even lunch time, and I just want to curl up, take a nap, and forget about everything, if only for a while,” she told him. “Maybe after Michael and Rose leave….”
“You can have a nap,” he said, “but I’d rather tuck you in my bed. We know the clubhouse is secure. This house, I’m not so sure about. I want to hear what Crash says. We’ll stay until he’s finished. Meanwhile, I want you to pack a suitcase with enough to last you until your folks get home. Michael and Rose can follow us back with it. Mama Mare doesn’t get to see her baby girl nearly enough to suit her.”
Isabella shook her head. “Luke, I can’t leave Sophia, and it won’t work to take her to the clubhouse. She’d have to stay shut in your room with her litter box and food and water, and she’d want to sleep with me. With us. She’s used to having the run of a house. She’d probably stress pee on every horizontal surface she can find.”
“Let’s see how she warms to Michael and Rose. It won’t take much to talk them into cat-sitting for us. They’ve got the room. We could go with them, get her situated, see how she does before we leave her. If nothing else, we can split our days, spend what time we need to here and the rest doing what needs to be done. But nights are nonnegotiable, Isabella. We’re staying at the clubhouse.”
He sent Isabella upstairs to pack and did a walk-through downstairs, checking windows and doors, making certain that everything was secure. Done, he returned to the den at the back of the house. One wall was covered in framed photographs. People. Landscapes. Architecture. Animals. Machines. Still-lifes. In brilliant color and moody black and white.
He’d bet anything that they were Isabella’s.