Beef Cake

by Smartypants Romance

  “Don’t tell him that,” I chuckle, thinking back to all the fights we used to get into when the five of us still lived at home. There was always a war going on between me and Ozzi. Viggo and Cage were always bossing everyone around, but where Viggo would leave me stranded at school to teach me a lesson, Cage would always come to my rescue. Vali and I had a few years where we didn’t see eye-to-eye on anything. Mom used to say it was because we were too close in age to get along, but one day, we’d all realize family is the only thing you’re born into and will die with and eventually we’d have to suck it up and love each other.

  We love each other.

  All of us.

  But it doesn’t mean we always have to like each other.

  Although, as we’ve gotten older, we’ve learned to put differences aside. Cage breaking away and doing his own thing kind of put a rift between him and Viggo and Vali for a while, but they’re cool now. I mean, if they weren’t, Vali wouldn’t be dropping everything to come here and help with the benefit.

  We need him though, and that’s what family is for.

  “How long is Vali staying?” I ask, squatting down and stretching my hamstrings.

  Cage shrugs. “I don’t know. He said it’s good timing and that he was looking for an excuse to get away. Whatever that means.”

  “Who the fuck knows with him?” I ask, chuckling.

  It’ll be fun having another brother here to mess around with—I do know that.

  I’m not sure this small town is big enough for three Ericksons.

  Chapter 10

  Frankie

  It’s the sound that invades my dreams, turning them into nightmares. The same sound that chills my bones and rattles my nerves while simultaneously filling my chest with . . . what? Hope? Dread? A mixture of both?

  The deep rumbling of the motors is only a couple of miles away but I know in my gut it's coming for me. Thankfully, I haven’t driven out of Green Valley yet and can turn into a nearby parking lot and wait. Panic causes my heart rate to spike at the mere thought of inadvertently leading the Iron Wraiths to my mama’s house, which is where I was headed before the sound of motorcycles invaded my peaceful drive.

  That would be bad in so many ways. My mom would be furious if she knew I’d spoken to some of those bikers, but if she ever found out I’ve been helping them on occasion? Let’s just say, my biker nightmares would pale in comparison to her reaction.

  I put my car in park and wait. The radio is off, so the air conditioner is the only sound I hear outside of the thundering of my heart. Closing my eyes, I take in a deep breath and let it out slowly, willing my body to calm down. It works briefly, but as the roaring gets louder, signaling their proximity, my palms begin to sweat.

  Sweaty palms have always been my tell, which made my clinicals in nursing school extra fun. The more experience I got, though, the more confident in my abilities I became, and my sweaty palm issue was almost completely eliminated.

  Except for moments like this.

  The bikes circle around my car while I stay seated, looking forward. It’s not until there’s a sudden tap on my window, scaring the shit out of me, that I realize someone has approached my car. I roll down my window and peer up at the man sneering down at me.

  “Your services are needed at The Dragon. Right fucking now.” The man practically growls at me. I recognize his face but I don’t remember ever talking to him before.

  “I can’t. I’m late for an appointment.” I guess there’s not enough palm sweat in the world to keep my smart mouth closed.

  “I don’t give a shit about your plans. Follow us to the Dragon now, or I’ll take you there myself.”

  When I don’t answer right away, the burly man adds, “If you help us out in a timely manner, you just may see your daddy. Wouldn’t you like that?”

  This causes me to roll my eyes. “You guys have been saying that for years and I’m still no closer to knowing anything about my father. Why should I believe you now?”

  “How do you know you haven’t seen or met him yet? Maybe he’s been at the compound all this time and you’ve just never noticed. That’s not our problem.”

  I have wondered about that, actually. Although, I try not to look around too much when I’m at their place, I do occasionally glance at the faces near me just on the off-chance I see something familiar. A smile similar to mine, eyes the same color—anything that might clue me into whether or not one of those men was my father. And every time, I see nothing. Nothing happy, nothing caring or loving, nothing I want to be a part of and yet, I still can’t seem to pass up the opportunity to try again.

  Daddy issues much, Frankie?

  “Fine. I’ll help this time, but it has to be quick. And, if the wound is too deep or consists of something I can’t treat on my own, you must take the person to the hospital, got it?”

  “Yeah, yeah. Same deal as always. You follow me and the rest of the guys will be behind you, making sure you keep up. No funny business, got it?” His menacing eyes narrow, daring me to challenge him.

  “Yeah, yeah. Same deal as always,” I repeat, my tone taking on an air of boredom.

  This time, I actually get a laugh out of him. “You sure would make a great Old Lady. You should reconsider our offer. It would be mutually beneficial, believe me.”

  I try to hide the shiver that ripples up my spine at his words but he knows my answer without me uttering a single word.

  “Suit yourself,” he says with a shrug before turning around and throwing a leg over his bike.

  When he takes off, I fall in line behind him. The rest of the bikers do as he said they would and follow me as we make our way back out to the road.

  Walking into the main building of the Wraith’s compound does nothing to settle my nerves. If I’m being completely honest, it simply freaks me the fuck out. My mom is into Feng Shui and all that New Age stuff and even though I’m not, I can say without a doubt, this place reeks of bad juju.

  Then why are you here, dumbass?

  The compound is laid out like a very elaborate maze and, if I wasn’t following someone, I’d for certain get lost almost immediately. Still, I take a few opportunities to look a little bit closer at the faces of those I pass just in case I see something interesting. Nothing stands out, as usual, and I swallow down the disappointment like I do every time I’m here.

  I’m brought into a room with gray walls and only a mattress on the floor. On top of the mattress is a man who looks to be in his mid-to-late thirties. He’s only wearing jeans, which helps me to identify his injury immediately. Bloody gauze covering parts of the right side of his chest and abdomen make me worry the wounds are too deep for me to stitch up. He may need surgery.

  “When did this happen?” I pull gloves out of the medical kit I was handed when I arrived and quickly pull them on before lifting the dressing and assessing the injury.

  “Last night,” someone, I don’t know who, answers.

  “Why didn’t you take him to the hospital then? You put his life at risk by letting him sit here all this time without proper medical attention.”

  “You wanna give us your phone number and home address so we can get you anytime we want?” A different man answers this time and I turn and glare at him. “I didn’t think so.”

  I begin to inspect my patient, noting his wounds look more like lacerations than stabbings, so I rule out the need for a trip to the emergency room. “How did this happen?” I ask the man. Never in a million years would I have expected him to smile.

  “Me and some of the boys were just playin’ around. You know, wearin’ blindfolds and runnin’ around with knives. That kind of thing.” The motherfucker has the nerve to shrug.

  “Just an average night, huh?” This comes from the man who led me here and when he laughs, I fight the urge to vomit.

  This is how they spend their time? Being reckless and violent and just plain stupid?

  Forget scared or nervous, right now I’m pissed. “You all make me sick
,” I grit out.

  “Hey, now,” the man lying on the mattress says, lifting his head up to inspect me closely. “Why don’t you just do what you were brought here for and shut the fuck up?”

  I stand up and yank off my gloves. “Fuck you. I’m leaving. Have fun bleeding out,” I tell my so-called patient before turning around and coming face to face with my captor—the man who summoned me.

  “I guess finding your daddy ain’t worth it.” His voice is low and gravely and will most definitely star in my nightmares the next time I sleep.

  “Worth what?”

  “You’ve been coming here and helping out our guys for quite a while now and we’ve all been very impressed. You’re earning our trust and that takes time, but once you have it, you’ll be rewarded. So, you have to decide right now if finding your daddy means more to you than your pride. Cause if he does, then you need to get to work. If he doesn’t, we’re through here and you’ll never get a fucking clue as to who he is or where you came from.” He cocks his head, knowing he hit a nerve. That’s all I want—answers to the missing puzzle pieces that make up my life. “You have about three seconds to make up your mind.”

  Why? Why do I need this so badly? Why do I even care who my father is? He, obviously, wants nothing to do with me and never has, so why am I putting myself through this just to be led on by these assholes? What if my father isn’t even a part of the Iron Wraiths anymore? He could be long gone for all I know, and they could be using my weakness for their benefit.

  I definitely wouldn’t put it past them.

  But I sigh in defeat, because regardless of what I do or don’t learn about my father, my conscience won’t allow me to leave the hurt man unattended to. So I swallow my fucking pride, put on another pair of gloves, and kneel back down. It’s when I’m inspecting his wounds more closely that I notice a slew of silvery scars covering other parts of his chest.

  Scars that look exactly like the ones on my body.

  The scars I have absolutely no recollection of receiving.

  Without thinking, I trace one with my fingertip and that’s when I hear the screaming. Not from my patient, but from me. Not right now, but from when I was a little girl. Sitting back on my heels, I blink rapidly trying to clear it from my mind. The scream is so clear and audible, I look around the room to make certain there’s not a child in here with us.

  There’s not.

  Of course, there’s not.

  Trying to block out the sound—the only form of a memory I’ve had at this point—I quickly patch the man up so I can get the hell out of here.

  **BC**

  It’s not until Saturday at the farmer’s market that I see Gunnar and when I do, I feel a sense of relief that should be surprising to me but isn’t. I’ve been itching to call him or find him ever since I left the Dragon.

  I’ve never really leaned on anyone before or had someone to vent to, but I wanted it after leaving the compound. And I wanted that someone to be Gunnar.

  To be perfectly honest, I wanted even more than that. When I was finally calm enough to get into my bed and try to sleep, I imagined what it would feel like to be wrapped in his strong arms, with his mouth leaving sweet kisses on my head. I was so comforted by the images my mind conjured, I managed to fall asleep before my visions turned more X-rated.

  I’m just full of surprises this week.

  Still, I try to play it cool when he walks to my table. I cannot let him know I’m into him. Not yet, anyway. It’s just too soon.

  He greets me with a “Happy Saturday” and I try to bite back my smile because he already knows how charming he is. He doesn’t need me to boost his ego.

  “Hello. You already need more jam and candles?”

  “No, I need more time with you and there are only three places I know you frequent besides the hospital on a regular basis, so here I am.” He spreads his arms out wide and there’s no denying the guy has an incredible wingspan. And muscles. Good Lord, he has muscles for days. They’re lean, not too bulky, and look fantastic in his tight t-shirt.

  “Wow, stalker much?”

  Gunnar clutches his chest in mock horror. “You wound me, madam.”

  This gets a giggle from me and it feels good. Natural, almost. “Besides, you know a fourth place I frequent—the shelter.”

  “I know of the shelter, but I’ve never been there so it doesn’t count,” he clarifies.

  “You should come with me one day.” The words fall out of my mouth before I can stop them, but I realize I don’t regret them. I want Gunnar to visit the shelter with me. I want him to see the side of me that helps others in a more relaxed environment than the hospital. I want him to see why the shelter is so important to me. There’s also something else there, but I don’t acknowledge it or the “why” behind my desire for him to know more about me. It’s a foreign feeling and one I’m not ready to tackle today.

  “Really? I can do that? I mean, you want me to go with you?” A flustered Gunnar is a cute Gunnar, and he’s definitely flustered. My statement has surprised him more than it did me, and that’s saying something.

  “Yeah, I think it’d be great. You can see what the money you help raise will go toward.”

  “But, I’m a guy—a big guy. I don’t want to scare anyone or make them feel uncomfortable.”

  Well, damn, I wasn’t expecting that.

  The fact he even considered the possibility his gender or size would undo the help Helen and I have given blows my mind . . . and maybe knocks a few of my walls down. There’s definitely more to him than meets the eye.

  “I love that you’re concerned about that, but I really do think it’d be fine. I can run it by Helen first, if you’d like.”

  “I would like, and after, I’d like to take you out on another date at night. What do you say to that?”

  “That sounds nice.” A genuine but shy smile covers my face. I don’t recognize myself at all in this moment. But something about opening up a little and taking a chance on this—on whatever this could be—feels good.

  Just as I’m trying to put my finger on what’s different about Gunnar Erickson and why I feel safe with him, he steps closer. The table displaying my mother’s items for sale is still between us, but it might as well be made of water because it’s not holding him back in any way. “You sure are amicable today. I kinda like it.”

  I don’t respond. I can’t. My mouth has lost the ability to form words and sounds while my eyes only seem to focus on his lips. He seems to be encouraged by my silence so I stay quiet, daring him to make a move.

  So he does.

  And so do I.

  His lips are light as air at first, not teasing but gauging my reaction, and when a whimper escapes my mouth, he lets go of the restraint. Gunnar’s mouth dominates mine and I follow his lead, gladly allowing his tongue access.

  This man is absolutely delicious.

  Too soon, he pulls away, forcing both of us to come back to reality. I can feel my face flaming with embarrassment because I’ve never let myself go like that, especially while out in public. And, although I can recognize what we just did was still fairly tame, it’s still a big freaking deal to me and my small world.

  Thankfully, no one around us seems to have noticed or care in any way about us kissing at the farmer’s market. This being a small town with a big mouth, I’ll still be shocked if this moment doesn’t come back to bite me in the ass.

  Gunnar clears his throat. “Um, that was . . . wow. Yeah.” He shakes his head and I get the feeling he wants me to say something, but I can’t. That kiss rendered me speechless. He’s all on his own.

  After a few moments, he finally collects his thoughts—that makes one of us—and says, “So, there doesn’t seem to be as much product on your table as last week. Is, uh, everything okay with your mom?”

  I’m grateful for the change in conversation and this bone he’s throwing me for neutral conversation, but I wish he’d ask me anything but that.

  It’s true I don’t
have a lot to sell this week but the reason why has nothing to do with my mother and everything to do with my visit with the Iron Wraiths. After I left the compound, I was too emotionally drained to drive out to her house. Instead, I called her and lied, saying I had to be at work for an emergency. I, of course, have worked every day since then and haven’t had time to go back.

  But I’m not ready to share anything about that day with Gunnar. So I evade.

  “Yeah, she’s, uh . . . fine. Just a slow week. I’m sure she’ll have more for me to sell next week.”

  He must sense the change in my demeanor, but in true Gunnar fashion, he’s not deterred. Where most people would let it go and change the subject again, he persists.

  “Frankie, you know you can tell me anything, ask for anything. Right? If you’re ever in trouble or need help, I’m here for you—ready, willing, and able.”

  He’s also entirely too perceptive. The way he says in trouble leads me to believe he’s speaking about the Iron Wraiths without coming right out and asking about them, because he told me he wouldn’t. So, he’s keeping his word but still trying to get the information he wants.

  If feels a bit manipulative and makes my defenses go up.

  “Just because I let you kiss me doesn’t mean you have the right to know everything about me. So, if that’s what you’re after, you might as well leave.”

  My words sound icy to my own ears, so I know they must sound that way to Gunnar.

  I admit, it’s kind of a shitty thing to say given the moment we just shared, but my stubbornness rears its ugly head and I clamp my lips closed, waiting for Gunnar’s response.

  Like hell will I be letting Gunnar get mixed up with the Wraiths. Not on my watch.

  I’m the one who voluntarily goes into their compound, but I refuse to let anyone get involved with them on my behalf. Especially someone like Gunnar Erickson.

  He and the Iron Wraiths just stink of violence, and although he looks menacing, I’ve come to know different. And there’s only one of him and too many of them. If he got hurt because of me, I’d never be able to forgive myself.