by Lane Hart
“What?” she gasps into the phone, searching over her shoulder again.
“There’s a black Mazda out your driveway and to the right parked in front of that brick house with the red mailbox,” I tell her. “They’ve been watching you all day.”
“Shit!” she exclaims.
“I’m over on the left, watching them watch you.”
“All day?” she asks.
“Yep.”
“What are we gonna do?” she asks. And I’ve never loved the word we more than I do right fucking now. It means she’s giving me an in with her, letting me take care of her.
“I’ve got an idea,” I tell her. “You’re not gonna like it.”
“I’m scared,” she whispers, and hearing the fear in her voice fucking guts me.
Squeezing my eyes shut to take a deep breath, I tell her, “It’s gonna be fine, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”
“Okay,” she agrees, trusting me to keep her safe now even though I let her down before.
“You still remember how to shoot a gun?” I ask.
“Yes. But I don’t have –”
“There’s one under the top left of your mattress, loaded and ready. And another one in the pantry behind the sugar.”
“Why couldn’t you be romantic and leave flowers instead of firearms?” she jokes, even though I can still hear the fear behind her words.
“Because I’m trying to keep you safe,” I tell her. “And flowers never made your heart race or your panties wet.”
“Chase!” she chastises me, even though she knows it’s true.
“Get out of your car and go back inside. Leave the front door unlocked. Grab the gun from the mattress and hide in the bathroom until I say it’s safe to come out.”
“What are you going to do?” she asks.
“Don’t worry about that.”
“You’re going to walk right up to my door, aren’t you?”
“Told you that you wouldn’t like it,” I reply with a grin.
Her sigh is heavy through the phone line.
“It’s the fastest way to get this over with, sweetheart,” I tell her honestly. “And my nerves can’t take another day of them following you.”
“Are you…are you going to kill them?” she asks.
“They want to kidnap you and hurt you to get to me,” I remind her. “I’d kill them twice if I could.”
“What about Hector?” she asks, not even trying to talk me out of harming the men or convince me that I should go to the police. That’s why I fell in love with this woman. She may have been told to act like a good girl her whole life, but she was born to be a fucking outlaw.
“We’ll work our way up to Hector,” I tell her, using my new favorite word.
“Did you talk to Torin?” she asks.
“One problem at a time, sweetheart,” I reply.
“Okay, fine,” she agrees with a sigh. “I’m going inside.”
“Good. I’ll be right there,” I assure her. “Take your phone. And if anyone other than me comes to the bathroom door, fire through it aiming at chest level, then call nine-one-one.”
Ending the call, I pull out my nine and screw on the silencer, ready to get this shit done.
Chapter Twelve
Sasha
Holding the small Ruger in my hand feels strange. I don’t exactly enjoy handling guns, but I am familiar with them. My father took me to the gun range for the first time when I was sixteen to teach me how to shoot for protection. I liked trying to hit the bullseye on the paper sheets, but I don’t think I could ever fire it at another human being.
And I don’t think I’ll have to make that decision tonight either.
I know Chase will take care of whoever comes after him; I just can’t believe that they were going to use me to try and kill him.
When Travis started bringing up all those details about Chase and me, I should’ve realized that he had a reason, and it wasn’t that he was just curious about my ex-boyfriend.
Travis didn’t deserve to die for doing Hector’s dirty work for him, but how can I be upset with Chase when I know he did it to protect me? If he says it was an accident, then I believe him.
And if Travis was on Hector’s payroll, then half the local police department could be too. That means that calling them for help would only make things worse for us.
Chase made the tough decision, like he’s also doing tonight.
While I would like to think that he’s doing it all for me, I know he’s more concerned with his own self-preservation; and I happen to benefit from his actions.
I jump when my phone vibrates on the linoleum bathroom floor beside me. Thank God I knew better than to keep my finger on the trigger of the gun or I could’ve accidentally pulled it when I got startled.
Picking up the phone, I read the message on the screen.
I’m outside the bathroom door. Open up and don’t shoot.
I quickly type back,
How do I know someone didn’t steal your phone and type this message pretending to be you?
I wait for a response, seeing the three dots moving, telling me he’s typing a response.
The first time you fucked me was in the front seat of your Mustang when we were skipping third period. The first time I went down on you we were under the boardwalk. You swore it was the most religious experience you would ever have in this lifetime. Should I go on?
God, the memories that a few sentences can invoke is unreal. And my body is definitely not immune to the reminders. Even a decade later, it still remembers how good Chase made it feel and craves it again.
Replying to his message, I say,
Of course all you would remember is the sex stuff.
From the other side of the door, Chase says, “Sweetheart, I remember every fucking thing. Every day, every second. Right now you need to pack a bag so we can get the hell out of here; but if you want, I’ll spend the rest of the night proving that to you.”
Pack a bag and leave with him?
Jesus. I think I’m more terrified of doing that than I would’ve been if one of Hector’s goons was on the other side of the door.
“Open up!” Chase says.
“Always so bossy,” I mutter to myself.
Getting to my feet, I take a deep breath and crack open the door, leaving the gun on the linoleum.
Finding Chase sitting on the edge of my bed in his leather cut and tattered jeans like he belongs on it makes my hormones yawn and stretch their arms above their heads, like they’ve finally decided to wake up after a ten-year drought.
“You okay?” he asks. Standing up in front of me, he shoves his phone into his jean pocket. Then, his pale green eyes watch me with concern and worry filling them.
“Yeah,” I reply, acutely aware of how that one question was all that I wanted from him after the accident, and I never got it. “Thanks for not bailing on me this time.”
He lifts one of his thick reddish-blond eyebrows in question as he rubs his hand over his beard in thought. When he opens his mouth to say something, the doorbell rings.
“Who –” I start, my eyes bulging in worry.
“Calm down. It’s the prospects. I’ve had them following me around in case I needed backup.”
“What are they –”
“They’re gonna clean up and watch the house.”
“Clean up?” I ask, and then understanding dawns. “The, um, dead guys?”
“Yeah,” Chase replies before his eyes narrow. “Look, I needed to get you out of here like ten minutes ago. Pack your shit and meet me in the living room. You’ve got two minutes.”
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“The farmhouse,” he answers, not giving me a chance to question him further before I’m left looking at the bearded skull on his jacket when he strolls out of the room.
…
Chase
“I want this place spotless,” I tell Maddox and Holden, our two twenty-something prospects, when I open Sasha’s front doo
r to let them in. These guys do all of our grunt work for a year or so until we vote on whether or not to patch them in.
“Did you park a few blocks over like I told you?” I ask when they come in and eye the two big bodies face down on the floor.
“Yes, sir,” they both answer.
“Important lesson here, gentlemen,” I say with a wave of my hand to the dead men. “These two idiots followed me into the house, just like I hoped they would. I left the door unlocked and was waiting for them behind it. One shot in the back of each head with a silencer. They never even knew they made a mistake. Make sure you never make the same one. Don’t get too confident and always double-check your entryways.”
“Yes, sir,” they agree.
“After they’re out of here and you clean up, come back and take the Mazda out front up to the salvage yard and have Eddie crush it. If they have cell phones, save them, just pull out the SIM cards. Then, I want you to lay low in the house until sunrise.”
“Got it,” Maddox agrees instantly, right before Holden shoots him a questioning look.
“What?” I say flatly, staring down Holden.
“Uh, it’s just…Torin told us to go to Newport tomorrow. Ian called and needed money on his commissary. We were going to go visit and take care of it. One of us could go, I guess…”
“I’ll get Dalton to do it,” I interrupt him. Ian’s got a few months left to serve after getting picked up making a run with a pound of the club’s weed in his saddlebags. He kept his mouth shut and is doing his time. So, if he needs money for ramen noodles, I’ll go myself, if it comes to it. “You two stay together, you hear me? These aren’t likely to be the last bodies we have to deal with, so you watch out for each other.”
“One more thing. Don’t say a word about this to anyone, even Torin,” I warn them. Both of their eyes widen and mouths drop open as if to question that. “Not. A fucking. Word,” I repeat. “I’ll tell Torin, but he hears it from me first. Understood?”
“Yes, sir,” they answer in unison. When both of their eyes cut to the left behind me and sweep downward instantaneously, I know Sasha’s finally ready.
“Don’t look at her,” I snap at them, and they jump before glancing away at the opposite wall. Mostly I’m just fucking with them, because that’s what we do to prospects. If they patch in, they’ll get to repay the favor someday. But also, I know Sasha is a fucking knockout any day, but wearing those skin-tight leather pants and flimsy shirt with no bra, she’s a walking wet dream, hotter than any pin-up girl that’s ever appeared in Easy Rider magazine.
“Oh my God,” Sasha mutters when she spots the bodies. I could’ve stopped her before she came into the room, but I’m not gonna sugar coat shit for her. She’s a tough girl and can handle it. If not, then I need to know now.
“Holden and Maddox are gonna make all this disappear,” I assure her. “It won’t come back on you, or we’ll have two more bodies to bury,” I joke.
“Do they, um, need my mop?” she asks, making me bite back my grin when the guys whip their heads around to look at her with hearts in their eyes like she’s too perfect to be real. It’s fucking true.
“No, sweetheart. They’ll use their own cleaning supplies,” I say as I go over and grab her arm to take her out the back.
“Call me if anyone parks outside the house,” I tell the guys before we take the long way through the yard to my truck.
Chapter Thirteen
Sasha
“I have to go to work tomorrow afternoon,” I tell Chase, mostly just to break the silence in the cab of his truck. The small space smells too familiar, like the comforting leather scent that always lingered on him back when we were dating. Surprisingly, it doesn’t smell like cigarette smoke.
Was I disappointed he wasn’t on his bike? Heck yes. But I’m still shaking so badly from everything back at the house that I probably wouldn’t have been able to hold on.
“We’ll see,” Chase replies.
“No. I have to go to work tomorrow.”
“I heard you,” he agrees, eyes staring straight ahead as we wind through the country roads to his parents’ farmhouse. “And I said we’ll see.”
Rather than argue with him, I simply lean my head back against the seat to try and calm my nerves.
“Why aren’t we going to the clubhouse?” I ask.
“Because Torin thinks you’re a threat,” he answers, surprising me with his honesty. “I don’t want you near him until I figure out what he’s paying Hector for.”
“Did you ask him?”
“Yes,” Chase replies.
“And?”
“And he lied to me. I didn’t mention the money exchange to see if he’d own up to that shit. He said he was warning Hector to keep the crank out of our county.”
“I’m sorry,” I tell Chase. I know he and his brother are close, and it must be hard to deal with him lying. Chase missed Torin like crazy while he was in the Army. I think that’s one reason he was drawn to his uncle’s MC when he was so young; he wanted that brotherhood.
“It doesn’t matter what the relationship is with Torin and Hector, though,” he says. “Hector’s not gonna back off on trying to take me out, so he’s gotta go.”
“Yeah,” I agree. Hector’s a horrible man, and if the choice is between Chase or Hector, well, I don’t want anything to happen to Chase for the same reason I can’t erase his name from my skin.
“Do you think more guys will show up at my house?” I ask.
Chase shrugs. “Maybe. Maybe not. I wasn’t gonna sit around and wait for more bodies to pile up.”
Clearing my throat, I ask, “What will your dad and stepmom say about me staying with them?”
“They don’t live at the farmhouse anymore,” he answers. “A few years ago, they decided they wanted to live on the beach, so they sold the house to the MC and bought a new one at Topsail Island.”
“Oh,” I reply in surprise. “So, who lives in the farmhouse?”
“No one,” he answers.
So…does that mean, it’ll just be him and me alone together tonight?
“Our grow house is in the basement. We have a few workers that tend it,” he explains.
“Grow house? Like weed?”
“Yep,” he replies. “It was cheaper to grow our own than buy it. Then, when we had more than we could use, we started selling it to the other charters to bring in some extra cash.”
“Oh. Well, that’s not that big of a deal. It’ll probably be legal soon anyway,” I tell him.
“Yeah. Maybe.”
The rest of our ride is in silence. After we hit the bumpy gravel road, I know we’re close.
When we were together, I spent more time at Chase’s dad and stepmother’s than he did at my house, since they actually liked me. My parents wouldn’t allow Chase to come over. They had no clue that he was sneaking into my room most nights after they went to bed.
The white, two-story house with a wraparound porch comes into the headlights view. It’s completely dark, not a single light left on.
“You live at the clubhouse, don’t you?” I ask Chase.
“Yeah.”
Thinking about him spending his nights at the bar picking up women is more unpleasant than I expected. It’s not like I thought Chase had been a monk since we broke up, but it’s another thing to know he’s living there, in that rowdy scene. I’ve been to the Savage Asylum with him before and know how the girls throw themselves at the guys, sometimes even giving blowjobs or fucking them right there for everyone to see. I may have let Chase touch me in front of his brothers, but we never went that far, mostly because Chase didn’t want anyone to see me that way.
Without a word, Chase turns off his truck and climbs out, so I do the same, following him up the porch steps and into the dark house. He flips on a few lights as we go.
“You can sleep in my old room if you want,” he tells me.
Great, the one with the most memories.
Everything in the house
is pretty much the same, just fewer family photos and knickknacks that I expect his parents took with them.
Chase’s room up the stairs is neater and tidier than I remember.
“We have a housekeeper come and clean up every few weeks,” he explains as if reading my mind. “Sheets should be clean. I hardly ever stay here. Just once in a while, to get away from the chaos.”
I nod as I sit my duffle bag down on the floor.
“I’ll, um, let you get changed,” he says as he starts for the door. “If you need me, I’ll be downstairs.”
“Where were you when I needed you ten years ago?” I blurt out.
…
Chase
“Where was I?” I repeat in confusion as I reach up and shove my fingers through the front of my hair. “What the fuck, Sasha?”
“You were the first person I looked for when I woke up,” she says. Her voice cracks when she continues, “And you weren’t there. I thought you…I thought you were dead, because I couldn’t imagine any other reason that you wouldn’t be beside me.”
“Are you fucking with me right now?” I ask. She has to be.
“Just answer the question!” she yells through her tears. “Where were you?”
“I was there!” I shout. “I was in the waiting room.”
She shakes her head as tears stream down her face. “No, you weren’t!”
“Yes, I was, goddamn it!” I exclaim as I stride up to her until our faces are only inches apart, so she can read the truth in my eyes. “I was waiting for days, worried to death about you, wanting to see you, to hold you, to tell you how fucking sorry I was, and you wouldn’t let me!”
Choking on a sob, she says, “I wouldn’t let you? I was barely able to open my eyes for the first few days!”
“You were awake enough to tell your parents that you never wanted to see me again and that you would never forgive me for hurting you,” I remind her.