by Lane Hart
I retrieve a pack of gum from my purse, peppermint flavor, and unwrap a stick to put in my mouth. Ever since that night, the scent has been soothing, comforting whenever I’m upset. Once I’ve started chewing it, I finally answer the psychiatrist. “Yes. I still have trouble sleeping because of…nightmares,” I say, using her preferred word.
“Are you taking the sleep aid I prescribed?” Dr. Burgess asks.
“No,” I tell her honestly, biting down hard on my gum. “Those made it harder to wake up, so I stopped taking them.”
She scribbles down more notes.
“What else is new besides your living arrangements?” she asks. “Have you spoken to Paul?”
“No. I told you I don’t want to talk to him.”
“Because you don’t think he’ll respect your boundaries? That he’ll try to touch you without your permission.”
“Yes, that’s part of it,” I agree as I stare down at my fingers twisting in my lap. “I don’t want to lead him on. We’re not getting back together, so I don’t think I should speak to him at all.”
“It’s still nice to have friends.”
“I have friends. I have Charlotte and Roman. My former coworkers, Bev, Sydney, and Ruth. Oh, and, um, Verek,” I reply, even though I haven’t seen Verek in a week, since I left the treatment facility. He used to visit every day, and now he only sends a couple of texts a day, asking how I am.
“Let’s talk about Verek for a moment,” she says.
“What about him?”
“The two of you are just friends, but he was visiting you every day while you were an inpatient, bringing you flowers and telling you funny stories to cheer you up?”
“Yes, that’s right,” I reply, sad that the peppermint gum in my mouth has already started losing its flavor. Isn’t that the perfect metaphor for Verek? All I’ll ever have of him is his friendship in small bursts before he leaves again, going off to sleep with tons of women who aren’t damaged. “We’re friends. There will never be anything…romantic with him. How could there be when he was the one who found me?”
“You’ve discussed this topic with him?” Dr. Burgess asks.
“Not directly, no, but it seems pretty obvious that it couldn’t work. We don’t need to discuss it.” Verek is a playboy who works in a club filled with beautiful women every night. I’ve known that since we met, when he put the moves on me. In fact, I’m certain he went home with a different girl after I left. I wouldn’t doubt that he took a girl home on the nights after he visited me. How could a man like him with a dirty mouth and a sexy body made for fucking ever want to be with the woman who was raped and can’t stand the thought of being touched by a man again? It’s impossible even if he is still attracted to me, which I’m certain he’s not. Verek just has a hero complex, like Roman.
“Very well,” Dr. Burgess says, writing all of that down. “Is there anything else you would like to talk about today?”
“I do have one question,” I start. “Do you think, well, with other victims, does their life ever go back to normal, like maybe after the assailants are caught?”
“As I mentioned last week, you should probably not focus on words like ‘normal’ as a measure of improvement. You’re a different person now, Tessa, and that’s okay. It’s best to focus on constructing your new normal, one that you can live with and that makes you happy.”
“Fine. Would you say that victims are happier after their rapists are off the streets?”
“Sometimes, yes,” Dr. Burgess responds. “But unfortunately, there’s usually a day when the criminal justice system releases them back into the world, either on bail or after they’ve served their sentence. Prepare yourself for those days, when things are out of your control, and the fear grows out of nowhere.”
Dammit! That’s not what I wanted to hear! I wanted her to say yes, that once the monsters are behind bars, then I could finally stop worrying about them finding me, of them coming after me, killing me because I saw their faces.
Now I know what needs to be done – all four men have to die. And I need to be there to ensure they’re really dead and can never hurt me or any other woman again.
Chapter Two
Verek
* * *
Roman’s right.
I may be impulsive, but I’ve always been a stubborn son of a bitch too.
Which is why I skulk around the clubhouse all day Monday, sipping on a beer, watching, waiting, until our president makes the same mistake again – leaving his cell phone unattended.
Charlotte came to visit for some alone time with Roman in his office while Tessa was at her appointment with the shrink.
It’s not my fault if Roman didn’t take his cell phone with him or change his password after I broke into it Friday to find out the location of the safe house.
And really, the man is asking for the theft by using the password Twix, or eight-nine-four-nine using those letters. He’s always had a sweet tooth, and I’ve seen the unlocked desk drawer in his office that’s full of Twix and packs of Oreos.
As I slip past the bar, I quickly lift the phone and drop it into my pocket on the way out the door as I tell the other guys hanging out bye.
Then, it’s just a matter of waiting for Reece, the mother charter’s IT genius, to come through with his intel.
I head back to my town house and start packing a light backpack while I wait, tossing in a pair of binoculars and several weapons, unable to stop myself from checking Roman’s phone every few minutes until it finally comes in.
The email from Reece is full of details – the addresses on maps for all three men, who they’re all related to, where they work, the descriptions and license plates of their vehicles. It’s all here in one very in-depth report from the former military man.
I want to call Tessa, but since it’s been a few hours, she’s probably out of her appointment and back at Roman and Charlotte’s. Calling her is too risky.
Instead, I send her a text message.
Call me when you’re alone.
I don’t have to wait long – maybe five minutes or so before my phone buzzes in my hand and her name flashes on the screen.
“Hey, sweetheart,” I answer.
“Hi, Verek,” Tessa replies, sounding a little out of breath. “Is everything okay? I haven’t heard from you in over a week.”
“I text you at least three times a day,” I remind her.
“Yeah, but you haven’t called or come by…” She trails off, making me smile because she’s basically saying she missed me.
“I would have, but Roman thought it would be best if I not bother you.”
“I’m not a child,” she huffs. “Roman doesn’t need to make those decisions for me.”
“I know,” I reply, swallowing around the lump in my throat. “But, um, maybe he’s right about me not being good for you.”
“That’s not true,” Tessa argues, and I wished she was right. “I’ve missed seeing you.”
“I’ve missed you too,” I tell her honestly. Even if seeing her struggle with the aftermath of those men hurting her is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, I still love to see her face, to spend time with her. Which brings me to the point of my call.
“So, if you’re not worried about Roman grounding you, how would you feel about going on a road trip with me?”
“A road trip?” she repeats.
“A few days, a few hundred miles away. We could stay at a hotel. You could have your own room,” I promise. “And, um, by the end of it, we could be reading the obituaries for three men who deserve to die…”
I hear her gasp of acknowledgment and then silence before she speaks again. “You have their names? Roman said he was still trying to get them out of Joey.”
“He lied. I have them. And the addresses,” I assure her. “But you don’t have to come. I can do it alone.”
“Alone?” she repeats. “Not with the other Savage Kings?”
“No. I want to be the one who ends them,”
I tell her. “Roman wants to be cautious, to wait and come up with a foolproof plan for the group to avoid getting caught. I think he’s right. There’s no reason to drag everyone into this when I can handle it myself.”
“Are you sure?” Tessa asks.
“I am,” I reply. “So that just leaves one question – are you coming with me or not?”
She told me Friday that she wanted to be there, to see Joey die because it was the only way to possibly end her nightmares. I’m no psychiatrist; I don’t know if seeing the men again will do more harm than good. What I do know is that if it were me…I would want to watch them die.
When Tessa doesn’t respond, I add, “No pressure, sweetheart. This is your decision and yours alone, okay?”
“Okay,” she replies.
I wait for her to say more, like that she needs time to think about it. Instead she says, “When do we leave?”
“Tonight if you think you can sneak out of the house? We need a head start before Roman realizes I took his phone and you’re with me.”
“You have Roman’s phone? He’s been looking for it frantically all afternoon!” she tells me.
“I disabled the Find my iPhone app,” I admit with a smile.
“He’s going to be pissed at us, isn’t he?” she whispers. “Not about the phone but what we’re going to do.”
“I’m certain he’ll put all of the blame on me,” I reply. “You’ll still be able to live with him and Charlotte. I’ll tell him I kid –” I start to say “kidnapped her” and catch myself with a wince. “I’ll tell him it was my idea and I convinced you to come with me.”
“Okay,” Tessa says again.
“I’ll wait for you at the corner of his street tonight on my bike. Come out when you can or text me if you change your mind.”
“I’m not going to change my mind,” she assures me. “And I can probably leave around eleven or so.”
“Good. I’ll see you then,” I tell her. “Pack light and leave your cell phone behind.”
“I will. See you then,” she says before ending the call.
Is what I’m about to do incredibly crazy and dangerous? Hell yes. But I’ll come up with a plan on the road, one that ensures I won’t get caught.
Chapter Three
Tessa
* * *
“So, how did your appointment go today?” Charlotte asks when we sit down to eat the steaks Roman cooked for dinner after he gave up on finding his phone.
“Great,” I say with mock enthusiasm, making a mental note to leave behind a letter for Charlotte, telling her I’m okay and that I appreciate all she’s done for me and am sorry for sneaking off like a teenager. She would never approve of me leaving with Verek, and of course if I told her, she would tell Roman.
Just to make sure I play the part, I turn to Roman at the head of the dinner table and ask, “Any names yet?”
“Still working on him,” he answers without meeting my eyes, which I have begun to notice means he’s lying. Roman thinks I’m too weak to handle seeking vengeance, while Verek understands that I need to be a part of it. I don’t think I would be able to pull the trigger or whatever it is he has in mind, but I have to be there. I need to see these men die, to know they can’t hurt me again.
“My appointment was good but emotionally exhausting, so I think I’m going to turn in early tonight,” I say as I get up and take my plate and glass of water to the sink.
“Are you sure? We have an Oreo pie for dessert,” Charlotte says, watching me over her shoulder.
“Save me a piece for tomorrow?” I ask with a forced smile.
“Absolutely,” Roman agrees. “Sleep well.”
“Good night,” Charlotte says.
“Night,” I reply before retreating to my room, shutting and locking my door. I don’t lock it because I don’t trust Roman and Charlotte. It’s just that I don’t trust that no one else will break into the house while I sleep, even with all of the security measures Roman has in place.
Shit! The motion-sensing camera outside could be a problem. I’ll just have to go out the back and take the long way around the house to try and avoid it.
Quietly, I grab my big leather purse from the closet and tuck away my wallet, phone, a change of clothes, and my pajamas before zipping it up. Remembering that I’ll need my toothbrush, I hurry to the bathroom and use the toilet, then brush my teeth before tucking my toothbrush and hairbrush under my shirt as I head back to my room.
Once I’m packed and ready to go, my handwritten letter for Charlotte lying on my pillow, I sit on the edge of the mattress and then listen intently to Roman and Charlotte moving around the house. I hear their muffled voices and soft sounds coming from the television until around eleven thirty when the house is finally quiet. I wait another ten minutes just to be certain, and then I make my way out of my bedroom with my big purse, tiptoeing out the back door. Being outside alone in the darkness would usually terrify me, but I know Verek is just down the street, close enough to hear me if I scream.
I take the long way around through the neighbor’s backyard, not caring if they see me on their security camera, and then finally loop back around to the sidewalk that runs along the front of the houses. Under the streetlight at the corner, I spot Verek straddling his bike. His handsome face is lit up from the screen of the phone he’s holding in his hand.
“Hey,” I call out softly to get his attention.
He looks up and then turns the phone around to light the ground for me. “Hey,” he replies as I approach. “Are you sure you’re up for this?”
“Absolutely,” I tell him. “I know Roman thinks it would be traumatic for me to go through with this, but what they did to me was the traumatic part. Seeing them die will be therapeutic.”
“Not exactly something you can discuss with your psychiatrist, though,” Verek jokes with a smile.
“No. Of course not. It’ll be our secret,” I assure him. “Well, until Roman finds out. Aren’t you afraid of what he’ll do to you?”
“Nah,” he says, brushing off any worries. “It’ll be worth it.”
“Hopefully,” I agree. “We should probably get out of here before they notice I’m gone.”
“You’re actually excited about this trip,” Verek says in surprise when I hand him my purse to squeeze into the saddlebag of his Harley.
“I haven’t been out of the house much after being cooped up in the facility for two months. Well, except for sitting around the safe house that one day. I think a road trip will do me good. And I know I’m safe with you,” I say, eyeing the bulge under the side of his leather cut where I know he always keeps a gun.
“You will be safe with me,” Verek agrees. He offers me a spare helmet that I fit on my head. It takes several tries to finally get the chin strap snapped. The sound of the click as the two pieces finally fit together makes me freeze as a thought suddenly hits me.
“This will be my first time on a bike,” I tell Verek which of course reminds me of the first night we met.
“I’m glad it’s with me,” Verek says with a small smile that lights up the street even more. “Climb up on the back when you’re ready. You can either hold on to the sidebars or me, whichever makes you more comfortable.”
This is what I love about him. He’s always so considerate, thinking about how everything may affect me, knowing that I still find physical contact difficult. And while I appreciate his restraint, I wish it wasn’t necessary.
Since I’ll be the one making the contact in this situation, I’m looking forward to getting my hands on Verek’s body.
So without further delay, I throw my leg awkwardly over the seat to get into position on the seat, then tentatively place my hands on either side of his waist, the leather smooth and cool under my palms.
Glancing at me over his shoulder, Verek says, “Unless you want me to go ten miles an hour the whole way down the highway, you’ll need to lean in closer and lock your fingers together in front of my stomach. If you only hold
on to my cut, you’ll end up on the pavement. Or you can sit back and grab the bars.”
“Oh, okay,” I say in understanding, glad he took the time to explain that to me rather than just take off.
In order to get my hands to meet in front of his stomach, I have to scoot up on the seat until the front of my body is flush against Verek’s warm back. That means the inside of my thighs are pressed to his hips. We’re practically spooning! I’ve never been the big spoon before, but it’s nice, the kind of intimacy and comfort I’ve craved but wasn’t sure I would be able to have again. And since it’s one-sided, it’s safe.
“You ready?” Verek asks.
I wind my arms around his lean waist and lock my hands together. I’m not touching his body directly, but that doesn’t mean I can’t feel his rock-hard abs underneath his shirt.
“I’m ready,” I agree with a deep inhale, filling my lungs with Verek’s leather and peppermint scent that blends together nicely with the salty air of the night.
Chapter Four
Verek
* * *
Plenty of women have been on my bike, so many I’ve lost count.
Not that there have been any in eight weeks, but still, it’s not a new experience for me to have a beautiful woman’s thighs locked around my waist, her warmth soaking into my back, her hands on my lower stomach.
Having Tessa on the back of my bike is pure torture because she’s so close and yet so far away. I can’t even reach down and touch her leg for fear she would jerk away so hard I’d wreck my bike.
And of course it makes me think of the first night we met at Fluid when she told me she had never been on a bike before and I insinuated that she could ride anything of mine she wanted. That whole conversation seems like a lifetime ago. We were both two different people, Tessa more so than me. I was an asshole for treating her like any other one-night stand, hitting on her even after I realized she was engaged. But even back then, I could tell that she wasn’t happy and was looking for something more – possibly with me. Still, I came on too strong, and she ran away – right into the arms of those rapist bastards. Because of them, I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to touch her the way I’ve longed for since the moment I saw her.