by Sweet, Izzy
Some calm has entered my head when I turn down my street. Finally, I’ve got ideas on how to go forward, but I still need a better map of where the Scorpions stand right now.
I’m calm and have a fucking desire to fix whatever is broken inside of my Allie Cat.
I need her on my side, I need my fucking ride-or-die chick back. I need her like I need air to breathe. And I need my son with me for as long as I can keep him by my side.
Fuck, I have a son!
A real fucking part of my soul in a tiny little body that depends on me for love and safety. Fuck, that’s a heady feeling. I may have missed so many fucking firsts, but I won’t miss another one.
Everything is bright and shiny until I see a huge fucking man on my front lawn cradling the front wheel of a bike like it’s his dying hound. His shoulders are fucking heaving up and down as his big, bushy-bearded ass rocks.
What. The. Fuck.
Slowing my bike to a sudden stop in my driveway, I can already see the aftermath of what looks like some serious shit that went down.
First fucking clue that gives me the impression there was trouble beyond fucking baby Hammy weeping in my front yard? A fucking minivan is sitting on top of a fucking motorcycle.
The next is Poster Boy lifting his hands as he walks up to me.
Shutting off the engine of my bike, I look down at the gas tank for a long time. I’ve already raised my hand up to keep Poster Boy from talking.
I need this little moment before I decide how many dead prospects is a bad thing.
When I think I’ve got my shit under control, I look up at Poster Boy and ask, “Allie?”
“Inside, Pres,” he says, and it looks like he wants to say more but he sure as fuck knows not to.
“The van on the bike?” I ask.
“Hammy parked it behind the van. Allie didn’t like it when she found out her battery was missin’.”
I try to keep my voice as calm as possible. “Why isn’t someone inside with them right now?”
Reaching up to rub the back of his neck, he says, “Well, she locked us out.”
“You let her lock you out?” I ask, and again I force myself not to shoot him in the foot with the Glock that’s holstered on my hip.
“Well… none of us wanted to touch her.”
Nodding my head, I can understand that.
I’ll fucking kill anyone who touches my woman.
“Where’s Steve?” I ask.
Motherfucker starts grinning at me. “Well, Tampon is in the backyard keepin’ watch.”
What. The. Fuck.
“Why is he bein’ called Tampon?” I ask, a chuckle creeping into my voice.
Poster Boy smirks. “He whipped one out when Allie said she needed to go to the store to get some.”
“Why was he offering my ol’ lady a tampon again?”
Poster Boy’s smirk stretches into a grin. “’Cause he carries one for when he gets nosebleeds, apparently.”
“He don’t like his new name does he?” I ask with a laugh.
“Nope.”
I unsaddle from the seat of my bike. “Fuck, call Pappy and have him bring the flatbed. See what we can do for the bike and have him check the van out as well.”
“Alright,” he says with a nod and heads over to stand near Hammy.
“Hammy,” I shout at the big man sitting on my lawn.
“Yeah, Pres?” he says, looking up with big brown wet eyes.
“You’re on toilet duty at the clubhouse for a week,” I say with a spit on the ground. “Don’t ever park your bike behind a fucking cage like you did again.”
* * *
Poor fucking Hammy, I feel for the fucker. He got that bike as a present for his sixteenth birthday, and his daddy and him rebuilt it together. That bike means more to him than anything.
Fuck. Today is just going to get even better, I can feel it.
Putting the key into the lock, I wait a moment and take a deep breath. Even if Allie doesn’t remember who the fuck she was, she sure as fuck is still a damn hellcat. That’s why I fell for her ass in the first place.
Pushing the door open, I hear nothin’ but peaceful silence.
Yeah, ain’t no way in hell this is gonna be good at all. I’m half-tempted to pull my Glock. Don’t even know why, but I can feel the fucking storm that’s brewin’ in this house like some freaky horror movie.
Fuck me.
Walking into the living room, I spot my little boy sleeping on the couch with his tiny arms wrapped around a Clifford stuffed animal. He looks so damn small and fragile, my stomach clenches and knots up at all the missed time.
Leaning down, I kiss his forehead and smile as he grins in his sleep. Fucking little man is the coolest person ever.
Walking through the dining room and kitchen, I don’t see any sign of Allie, so I head back to the bedroom. Maybe she’s slowed her roll and calmed her shit down.
I doubt it, but it’s a nice hope.
I don’t spot her in the bedroom either, but I do hear the bathtub faucet running. Well, I guess she’s prettying herself up after all the shit from yesterday and last night.
Can’t be all bad right?
Opening the door to the bathroom as quietly as I can, I spot Allie sitting in the bathtub, staring right at me.
Yep, I was completely fucking wrong.
It’s all bad.
Chapter Fourteen
Allie
Lies…
It was all lies.
Hugging my knees close to my chest, I bite down on my knuckles to muffle the sobs pouring out of my mouth.
I don’t want to wake Levi.
I don’t want him to see me like this.
Broken and falling apart at the seams.
I’m supposed to be his rock, his sanctuary.
His fucking shield.
But right now I feel like a scattered puzzle, missing too many pieces.
Miss Allison Stack, the daughter of Edward and Lorraine Stack, those hypocritical bible-thumpers building that megachurch over in Westport…
Last night, I was able to convince myself that this whole fucking thing with Coy was just a case of mistaken identity….
But not now. Not after what Poster Boy said to me.
I’m Coy’s Allie.
Pain rips through my chest and I nearly bite through my hand trying to contain it.
He’s supposed to be dead. They told me he was dead…
My first love. The father of my child.
Someone forgotten but always cherished in my heart.
I’ve carried him around inside me, like a fucking trinket. Cherishing the idea of him when things with Mikhail got too bad. Cherishing the knowledge that someone did love me once…
But it was all a lie.
He isn’t dead. He’s still very much alive and breathing.
And they’re both dead. My parents are fucking dead.
Fuck!
Squeezing my eyes shut, I press my face against my knees.
How much of what they told me was the truth? Can I believe even a word they said?
I wish I could ask them. I wish…
I wish Mikhail didn’t kill them so I could get the answers I need.
Another wave of pain flows through me, so strong I can’t breathe.
As angry and hurt as I am, I still miss them. I still need them.
I didn’t always agree with them. I didn’t always like or approve of what they did. The whole making their riches off the teachings of the Lord never sat right with me.
But I loved them. I still love them.
And I want to fucking scream at the realization that they might still be alive if they didn’t lie to me.
Oh god, if they didn’t lie to me, I wouldn’t have married Mikhail. I probably would have come back to Kentucky. Levi could have been raised by Coy, even if—
The bathroom door opens and before I even look up, I can sense him. His fucking presence pulling at me like its own force of gravity.
> “Go away,” I croak out and lift my head from my knees to look at Coy. “I want to be alone.”
I need space to get through this pain. Space to think. To breathe.
To cry in peace.
One boot inside the door, Coy seems to hesitate as he looks back at me.
Hoping he’ll get the point and go away if I ignore him, I drop my face back to my knees and hug them tighter.
The door shuts after a couple of minutes and I exhale, relieved that for once what I want and need is being taken into consideration.
Then I hear the sound of leather sliding against cloth.
I jerk my head up in time to see Coy sliding out of his vest and hanging it on the hook on the door.
Motherfucker.
“I mean it, Coy,” I hiss, too raw and vulnerable to deal with his shit. I have to deal with my own shit first. “I need to be alone for a little while. Fuck off. Please.”
“You’ve had five years to be alone, Allie,” he says as he rips off his shirt and drops it to the floor.
Caught between a fresh wave of tears and the need to punch him in the face, I clench my teeth and glare at him.
Yes, I’ve had five years to be alone. Five years of raising our son by myself, thinking his father was dead. Five years of fucking up and making mistakes.
And less than an hour to feel sorry for myself. To mourn what could have been, had I only known…
Bending over, Coy quickly unties his boots and kicks them off before unbuckling his belt and dropping his pants.
The sight of him standing completely naked, all hard muscles covered in black ink, affects me in a way that’s only more upsetting.
Fresh anger pumps through my veins as I involuntarily experience a little pang of desire, of all things.
There’s absolutely no logical or sane reason for feeling it. Absolutely none. Especially when I’m pissed at him.
I’m not the kind of girl who can get turned on just by seeing a set of rock-hard defined abs.
Hell, Mikhail is almost as muscular as Coy, and when he dropped his pants all I usually felt was dread.
And yet it’s there, a slight throbbing ache right between my thighs. Right in that place that’s still sore after what he did to me last night.
Coy walks up to the tub and once I figure out what he plans to do, I let go of my knees and start to get to my feet, ready to bolt.
Only to be shoved back down by a heavy hand on my shoulder.
The water rocks and splashes over the edge, but Coy doesn’t seem to give a shit as he climbs in.
“What the hell are you doing?!” I ask as he squeezes into the tub behind me and wraps his arms around me.
Yanking me back into his chest, my naked ass bumps against his cock.
My mind blanks.
Thank god, it’s soft, is all I can think for a moment.
Then he growls, “Holding you,” into my ear.
A little unwanted tingle slithers down my spine at the touch of his warm breath.
A little tingle that reminds me I need to keep distance between us.
“Why, goddammit?!” I nearly screech as I squirm and try to escape him. “I don’t want you to hold me! I want you to go away!”
Because, god help me, every time he touches me, he makes me feel things I shouldn’t be feeling.
I can’t remember him, I can’t. I’ve tried and tried. Even replaying what Poster Boy said hasn’t triggered any deeply buried memories. That one flash of his face when I looked at Levi must have been a fluke because I can’t find Coy anywhere else in my brain.
Yet, when he touches me… there’s… something. Not memories… not the kind you can see, hear, or taste, but something that’s so intense and intangible at the same time it scares the hell out of me.
“That’s too fucking bad,” he grunts as my elbow gets him in the ribs.
He releases me for a second, only long enough to reposition his arms around my arms, then he squeezes me until I stop moving. “Because you fucking need it and you’re gonna fucking accept it.”
Nearly choking on the sob crawling out of my throat, I bend forward and shake my head back and forth. “I don’t need it. I don’t need you!”
I need space. Some part of me he can’t invade. I need to figure out some way to come out on the other side of this mess in one piece without him completely destroying me.
“The fuck you don’t,” he says harshly and uses his arms to pull me back until my spine is against his chest. “You need it. You need me, Allie. Deny it all you want, but it’s the fucking truth. You’re my woman, goddammit, and I’m going to take care of you.”
I continue to shake my head back and forth.
I’m not his woman and I don’t want him to take care of me.
That woman he loved, the one he wants me to be, died in that accident. She’s gone.
I can’t find her anywhere and I don’t think she’s coming back.
And me… I just want to be free.
“I know you’re going through some shit in your head. I know that you’re fucking scared and want to run. I know it because I fucking know you, and I saw the fucking proof when I got home.” He takes a deep breath and shudders a little before he growls so deeply it rumbles out of him. “But goddammit, Allie, you don’t gotta be scared of me. I’m the last fucking person you should be afraid of. I meant it when I told you you’ll never be safer than when you’re with me. I’ll kill any motherfucker that hurts you.”
Unable to counter his strength, I finally give up on trying to squirm my way free and collapse against him.
Clenching my eyes shut, I try hard to fight off the sense of utter fucking helplessness overwhelming me.
Does he even hear himself?
He claims to know I have some shit going on in my head. He claims to know me…
But he doesn’t know me at all.
If he did then he’d realize his mistake.
He’d realize the only motherfucker that is hurting me is him and he should fucking shoot himself if he wants to protect me.
Mistaking the end of my struggle as acquiescence, his arms loosen around me until his hold becomes something that’s close to tenderness.
And pressed against him, my naked body against his naked body, it’s the tenderness I can’t stand. The tenderness killing me inside.
I’ll take his anger, I’ll take his violence.
But, god help me, anything else is pure fucking death.
I start to twist around in his hold and his arms immediately tense only to relax once he realizes I’m not trying to escape.
Needing to be face to face, needing to look him in the eyes on even ground, I grab onto his shoulder and position myself until I’m sitting on his lap.
Wet skin slides against wet skin and despite my current mental state, my flesh is thrumming from the sensation.
“Allie,” he exhales.
His lids lower as he looks down at me, and I feel his cock swelling against my thigh.
I take a moment, a moment I didn’t get last night, to get familiar with his body. I take in his broad shoulders, the hard muscles of his chest. All the different tattoos inked into his skin. I even glance down at his waist, taking in that big cock standing up at attention.
Then I lift my eyes, meet his, and tell him, “I still don’t remember you, Coy.”
Raw pain flashes in his eyes, pain that quickly transforms into anger.
“You will,” he growls, and his hands slide down my back.
Grabbing my ass, he pulls me into him until my pussy is pressed up hard against his cock.
Shaking my head, I don’t know whether to laugh or cry, so I do a little bit of both. “You can’t bully me into it, Coy! I don’t remember you. I don’t know you. Do you get that? Do you understand that? You’re a complete fucking stranger to me!”
Coy’s fingers dig into my ass, squeezing and kneading me as he insists, “You will remember—”
“And what if I can’t?” I gasp at him. “I�
�ve tried, Lord knows I’ve tried. But that girl, that girl you want, that girl you think is sitting in the tub with you right now, she’s gone, Coy. She died in that accident and she might not come back.”
Coy freezes for a split second, like I just hit him.
Then he shakes his head in denial, and all it does is piss me off more. He’s still not getting it. He still wants to believe whatever stupid fantasy he has in his thick skull. The stupid fantasy of me being her and coming back after all these years.
This won’t end in a happily ever after…
Grabbing his face, I stare hard into his dark eyes and tell him, “The girl who loved you is dead. I’m not her! How many times do I have to say it? How many times? She’s fucking gone. Gone! And me? I don’t fucking love you! How could I? I don’t fucking know you. And after all the shit you’ve put me through, I don’t even like you!”
His jaw clenches, his teeth grinding together, and when he starts to open his mouth, I know, I just know he’s going to say something stupid, so I don’t give him the chance.
“I don’t like you, Coy. Not only do you scare the shit out me, I think I’m starting to hate you because you’ve trapped me here and won’t let me go.”
Panting, I continue to stare into his eyes, willing him to understand. Willing him to finally accept the truth.
But his eyes only darken and his fingers squeeze around me harder. I don’t know if he’s doing it on purpose, but I can feel his cock hot and pulsing against me, nearly driving me to distraction.
“You done?” he asks after a couple of heartbeats, and the little jerk of his hips that forces his shaft to slide against me is definitely on purpose. “Did you get everything out that you wanted to say to me?”
Little warning bells start to ring in my head from the way he’s looking at me and I try to push away from him.
He yanks me right back with the hands that are still squeezing my ass. “Good, because it’s my turn to talk now.”
“Coy—” I gasp and try to push away again.
“No, goddammit!” he curses, yanking me right back. “You said your piece, now it’s my turn, and you’re gonna fucking listen, Allie.”