Plain Jane and the Bad Boy (Plain Jane Series)

by Tmonique Stephens

  After food, they hopped on his bike and headed to a bar a few blocks from the beach. The parking lot was full of trucks, cars—luxury and rust buckets—and a few motorcycles, crotch rockets, Ducati and Kawasaki. Nothing any respectable MC member would ride. Hard rock bled out of the building and into the night.

  Liam took her hand and pulled her along behind him. He traded a few friendly words with the bouncer, shared a friendly pat on the back, and entered through the front door. The bar was a dive, the kinda place where you went for a drink knowing you’d have to burn your clothes after your morning walk of shame. But it was a beach dive bar with surfers and locals, a live band and a crowded dance floor. Good, because she was happy, truly, blissfully happy, and wanted to dance. A lot. The kind of happy she felt in her bones that made her feel light, as if air filled her veins and she could float.

  Liam got them two draft beers. Sabrina downed it in three long pulls, slammed the empty glass on the bar and threaded her fingers through Liam’s. Tonight was a night to cut loose, think about nothing except the man who loved her and the sweet taste of freedom.

  She dragged him onto the dance floor. Liam wasn’t a dancer, though he tried, and it was A-OK with her. She used him as a pole and gyrated all over him. By the wide grin on his mug, he had no problem with his tool status. It had been too long since she felt this free. Tomorrow, she’d be Vivi’s mom. Tonight, right now, she was a woman dancing with the man she loved.

  The music slowed and the first notes of Staind’s “It’s Been Awhile” filled the air. Sabrina brought Liam in, wrapped his arms around her waist, buried her head in his chest, and held on. Every single word of the song summed up the last five years of her life in so many big and small ways.

  Once again, no matter how hard she tried, she was right back in that big house with Vincent, unable to even think of escaping until the police handcuffed and dragged him to jail. How could she have been so weak? Fear. After the first beating, where she couldn’t walk for two days and stayed, she’d proven to him that he could do anything to her, and she would take it.

  “Hey. What’s going on in that head of yours?” he whispered into her ear and licked the shell.

  Lost in the melody and the lyrics tangled in her head, she hadn’t realized the band had taken a break and they were the only ones remaining on the dance floor. Then the jukebox kicked in with “Start Me Up” by the Rolling Stones.

  She shook her head. “Nothing. Buy me another drink. This time I promise not to gulp it.” He led her to the bar and held up a hand to draw the bartender’s attention, then he flashed two fingers.

  A barstool opened up. Liam picked her up, his hands so strong on her waist, and plopped her down on the rickety seat. “I lost you there on the dance floor.”

  The brush of his cheek, his warm breath on her skin, the scent of his aftershave teasing her nose, all of him was a welcome home sign to her soul. “Would you find me if I had lost myself?”

  A lazy grin spread across his face. “Baby, that’s what I’m signing up for. You get lost, I go hunting. If I get lost—”

  “I go hunting.” She finished, and no statement had ever felt more right. Tell him. Just tell him.

  Raucous laughter came from a group of drunk guys next to them. Liam looked over his shoulder and did a double take. “John?”

  “Liam? Is that you?” A guy separated from the group of men. Short, stocky with a touch of salt streaking the black hair at his temple.

  An easy grin on his face, Liam turned. “John, man they allow you on this side of town.” They did that hand shake back slap thing men do and started talking shop. John must’ve been a work-related friend because they settled into a discussion about lumber prices. “Baby, this is John. John, this is my lady, Sabrina.”

  John politely shook her hand, said, “Nice to meet you, ma’am.” And both men returned to their conversation. She didn’t mind.

  “I’m going to the ladies’ room.” She hopped off the stool and headed to the bathroom. It wasn’t easy because the damned thing was on the opposite side of the room. Threading her way through the crowd, a few men stared, made a comment, tried to engage. She smiled and kept going.

  She used the facilities and crowded next to the sink for a sliver of the only mirror in the bathroom. A fresh coat of lipstick, a touchup to her foundation, a brisk fluffing of her hair. Liam waited for her and she wanted to look pretty, because that’s how he made her feel. A woman waited behind her, staring. It took her a moment to recognize the heart-shaped face under the straight blond bangs. Lilia, girlfriend of Razor. Did that mean he was here? At the bar? Wait, was she still his girlfriend? They could’ve broken up and here she was panicking for no reason.

  Sabrina closed her purse and ignored Lilia as she exited the bathroom. The way she came was too crowded to return, so she alternated by skirting the lone pool table in the rear. “Excuse me. Sorry. Pardon me. Sorry. Excuse me,” was her chant each time she bumped into or interrupted a conversation by slipping between people. She kept her head down and apologized each time she bumped into someone, but it couldn’t be helped.

  “This is a celebration! We’re about to get everything we lost back! Drink up, fuckers!”

  A group of men clustered around a high-top table, blocking her path. She started to go around when a body slammed into her, nearly knocking her off her feet.

  Grabby hands on her hips and ass righted her before she face planted. “Sorry, honey. Sorry.”

  She knocked the hands away. “Listen, asshole—” She looked up, prepared to rip someone a new one, and nearly swallowed her tongue. In front of her was Caleb, the Prez of the Black Dragons, a man who’d been to the house she shared with Vincent several times. Though Vincent kept her out of sight, she’d opened the door for him every visit. He never paid her any attention but…

  Sabrina ducked her head and lurched through the crowd. She had to get to Liam and get the hell out of here. A hand gripping her arm halted her. “I know you.”

  Now wasn’t the time to run, though everything in her said to hit the highway and never look back. A month ago, yeah, she would’ve, but not now. She made a sharp pivot and sized him up from his head to his toes. Hands on hips, she lifted her head but made sure her hair covered half her face, and snapped, “I get that a lot. People think I look like someone, I don’t.”

  Caleb scanned her again while taking a long pull on his beer. Next to him, Razor and Dean, the VP of the Black Dragons. They traveled in packs, as did all MC clubs. Liam was on his own, he wasn’t a part of a club. The Black Dragons had to know that…but did they care? She had to get out of here with Liam.

  Razor did a double take when he saw Sabrina. Lilia rushed up to whisper something in his ear. He shoved her away and scanned the crowd. He’d recognized her, not as Vincent’s woman, but as the girl he met at Liam’s office.

  “This bitch got a problem?” Dean spoke up.

  “Shut your head,” Caleb grunted. “Nah, you ain’t her. That bitch was a house mouse. Nothing like you.” He eased in and she barely managed to keep her knees from shaking. “But there’s something about you I like.”

  “She’s not interested.” Liam stepped in front of her and she’d never been more grateful.

  Caleb backed up. “As I live and breathe, Liam Callahan.”

  The two men sized each other up. Liam was a hair shorter and slimmer, but Caleb was equal parts muscle and fat, while Liam was ripped.

  “Little lost sheep from Mayhem,” Caleb tsked. “You still building them tacky houses?”

  “You live in one of my tacky houses. Didn’t know that did you? Was the third house I flipped. And yeah…” He nodded. “It was tacky.”

  Sabrina peered over Liam’s shoulder to catch Caleb’s expression. He didn’t like someone one-upping him, never had, not even with a clapback.

  “This ain’t your side of town.”

  “Neither is it yours.” Hands at his sides, Liam had a relaxed stance, nonchalant. He gave off the impression
they were just having a nice chat while the crowd around them finally notice the simmering conflict and started backing up.

  How could Liam be so calm? Was he armed? Were they armed? She’d bet a kidney they were. Black Dragons never went anywhere without guns and knives. It was a prerequisite. Vincent had a weapons vault that held sixty guns and an assortment of knives. The feds confiscated everything when he was first arrested.

  Caleb’s gaze shifted to her. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

  “You don’t talk to her,” Liam said with enough venom to give a rattlesnake pause.

  “Tight leash on your woman. I can understand that. Gotta keep them in line else they run all over you.” Caleb nodded as if answering an unspoken question. “Knew a guy who had a tight leash on his bitch. Can’t remember her name though.” He cocked to the side, his stare directly at her.

  Ready to go, she tugged on Liam’s shirt. He ignored her. Can’t say she was surprised. He was dialed into Caleb and the members next to him. She didn’t have to be psychic to feel the violence tainting the air.

  “Looks like you could use a hand?” John and his friends came to stand beside Liam.

  “Looks like,” he murmured, but his gaze never wavered from Caleb.

  The bouncer stepped between Liam and Caleb. “Y’all ain’t doing that shit in here. Liam, your group needs to head out.” He hiked a thumb at the door. “You three, wait till I give you permission.”

  “Permission? No one gives a Black Dragon permission,” Dean said.

  John’s friend—the biggest, drunkest—had to throw his two cents in. “You assholes come in with your leather cuts, think you’re so fucking tough. You’re nothing but a low-life scum.” He hacked up a loogie and let it fly.

  All hell broke loose. Dean went after the guy who spit on him. Razor went after John. The bouncer tried to separate the men, but the fight had already spun out of control. One random bump. One misplaced punch and, like wildfire, the fight erupted into a brawl.

  Liam shoved her behind him, giving him room to meet Caleb, who lunged for his throat. “Get out of here, Sabrina!”

  Caleb’s head snapped up. His gaze landed on her and the coldest grin crossed his face. He’d made the connection. Her house of cards tumbled.

  Liam wiped the grin off Caleb’s mug with his fists. The two traded punches as the bar emptied of patrons, mainly frightened women. Sabrina should have followed the herd but she huddled against a counter. Leaving Liam wasn’t an option.

  Liam and Caleb rolled across the floor, trading blows. Liam landing on top of Caleb. He pinned him to the ground with a hand on his throat. The rage on Liam’s face… Razor broke away from John and stalked Liam’s blind side, a straight blade in his hand.

  She couldn’t scream, tried too, but could only squeak his name, “Liam.” Over the sounds of flesh pounding flesh, he couldn’t have heard her, yet he spun in time to duck the blade arching for his throat. He grabbed Razor’s arm and twisted it until he dropped the blade. With Razor off-balance, it was easy to yank him off his feet. Somehow, Razor stopped himself from landing on his knees in front of Liam. A glancing blow to Liam’s cheek freed Razor and both men lurched to their feet. Caleb was still on the floor gasping for air.

  Razor had his blade in his hand again. He flicked it back and forth, made it glint in the bar lighting. She couldn’t take her eyes off it, a scream clawed at her throat. A distraction wasn’t what Liam needed, but she had to warn him.

  In a blink, Liam grabbed Razor’s wrists and twisted. The blade clattered to the floor. Liam followed with a left cross to Razor’s jaw, then wrapped him in a choke hold. Razor’s face went from red to pastel blue, and there was no indication Liam intended to stop. Razor strained to slash at Liam’s face, but Liam leaned out of the way, his hold tightening on Razor’s neck.

  Tripping over her feet, Sabrina rushed over and grabbed Liam’s arm. “Let him go.” Not a single ounce of acknowledgement. “Liam! Let. Him. Go!” He didn’t even look up. Razor’s color dipped from baby blue to navy.

  Sabrina cupped Liam’s face. Around them, hell had broken loose while she smoothed his hair off his brow. She caressed his cheek down to his jaw, rubbed a thumb over his thinned lips. “Baby, please. You’re going to kill him. He’s not worth you going to jail. Please, Liam. Don’t do this.”

  Finally, he looked at her. For a few precious seconds there was no recognition in his eyes. He was faraway, in another place, a cold place where emotion went to die. A place she knew existed yet had never seen, not even in Vincent’s eyes when he was his craziest, until now. Her hands dropped and she retreated. One step. Two steps. Three steps.

  Liam blinked, shook his head like a wet dog and refocused on her. The dead space in his eyes vanished. Razor hit the ground and inhaled a ragged breath, his hand cradling his bruised throat. Liam stepped over him and approached with his palms up, as if she were a wild animal about to flee. Good thing, because she was, even though her knees had locked, she wanted to run. Where had the gentle man who saved her body by feeding her, her spirit by giving her a real job, her mind and heart by showing her she was worth loving just as she was, where had that man gone when the coldest yanked him away?

  John and Dean slammed into Liam. They all went down. Liam was the first on his feet. He pulled the two apart and shoved Dean into Caleb, who struggled to his feet. “Get your man!” He spun and ordered John. “We gotta go before we end up in jail.”

  She flinched when he took her hand. He paused to search her face, her body, and asked quickly, “Are you hurt?”

  She shook her head. She was fine. It was her confidence in him that was shattered. She followed him out of the building.

  “Thanks for having my back, man.” Liam shook John’s hand.

  “You throw a lot of business my way. Gotta keep you alive.” He chuckled.

  “I respect that.” Liam glanced at the club. “Don’t linger. Get in your cars and leave now.” The faint cries of police sirens reached out. They were close.

  “On it.” The four men headed to a Camaro and a Mustang parked side by side. Liam hustled her over to his bike. He climbed on and he didn’t have to tell her anything. She shoved her head into her helmet and hopped on. Arms wrapped around his waist, she held on as he peeled out of the parking lot.

  Sabrina plastered herself to his back, not only because he wove through traffic at dizzying speeds, but because she feared what would happen when they reached their destination, wherever that may be. He felt the same, the hard-bodied man she clung to, yet different. Altered. Maybe that was her reacting to him. Maybe he’d always felt this way, but she’d let herself get swept up, swept away with what she wanted to see and not what was there all along. Just like she did with Vincent.

  Damn. All the evidence was there. So what he went into the Army. He was the son of the Mayhem MC President. Tattoo on his skin to prove his loyalties. Violence was probably fed to him in his breastmilk. Him leaving the club and leaving the violence behind, and forging a path for himself was all a lie. How could he when it was inbred.

  And I thought he was different. No. I let myself believe he was different. How long before that violence touched her? Touched Vivi? No. Not again. Never again.

  Lost in her thoughts, she hadn’t realized where they were until he made a left into their cul-de-sac. He rolled to a stop in his driveway and cut the engine. Sabrina climbed off the bike and pulled the helmet off her head. She ran her hand through her hair, her focus on the gray concrete, not the man in front of her.

  She didn’t fight him when his arms circled her and pulled her into his body. He smelled of beer and sweat, and his natural underlying musk. Fuck! It took everything in her not to bury her head in his neck and never let go.

  He’s not real. The man you thought he was isn’t real. She moved away and he let her. The distance she put between them wasn’t huge, but it was enough for his hands to drop to his sides. And the silence between them…Grand Canyon huge.

  “Would you ha
ve stopped if I wasn’t there?” Voice low, she was the first to speak. From beneath her lashes she watched his head drop and he grabbed the back of his head.

  “I don’t know. Maybe. I pray I would’ve…but I can’t say for certain.”

  At least he was honest. “I don’t even think you were angry. You were just in a place that had no light. You were…were—”

  “On autopilot.” He finished for her and looked off into the distance. “It’s how I operated after my first patrol in Afghanistan.” He muttered a curse and turned away to face the closed garage door.

  She had to come clean. Guilt weighed on her heart. But not tonight. Tomorrow. She’d do it tomorrow. “I’m going home.”

  “Don’t,” he said before her first step. He came to her, arms at his sides, looking defeated. “This isn’t how I wanted the night to go. Come inside. Let me make it up to you.”

  Make it up to her? As if seeing him a second away from killing a man could be somehow okay. It wasn’t. She left that life behind. Nothing and no one could get her to return.

  Sabrina backed away, the click of her heels ricocheting like gunfire on the concrete. He halted. “I can’t do this. I can’t put myself or Vivi in this situation. I thought I knew who you were, but I don’t.” Hypocrite, whispered through her head. “I have to protect myself and my daughter.”

  “I would never ever hurt you.”

  His sincerity touched every part of her. She wanted to crumble, give in, run into his arms and accept what she’d seen tonight as a onetime thing, a random occurrence. She couldn’t because she’d done it before and wouldn’t again.

  “I believe you, but I’ve heard it before. I’ve fallen for that line before. I can’t anymore.” Toneless, the words fell from her mouth and hung in the air, filling the space between them.

  “Now you’re comparing me to him?” Anger crept into his voice, though he tried to control it. If it were one thing she could spot, it was an angry man.

  “I compare every man to him. I have to because I refuse to go back there again.” She hiccupped because she couldn’t breathe. She looked away, looked up at the heavens for help, then looked down knowing she wouldn’t receive any. Blood dripped onto the concrete, bringing clarity.