Doc: Devil’s Nightmare MC

by Bourne, Lena

  “Who’s that?” I ask once the rumbling is just echoes over the trees and the man who disturbed our peace is walking to the cabin door.

  “A friend of mine,” Matt says sternly. “I’ll go see what he wants.”

  He leaves, and I’m trying to comb my hair as best I can with my fingers for awhile, before I realize he’s not bringing his friend into the cabin. I fully hoped I’d finally get to meet someone from his life, the life he’s been keeping such a secret from me, but that’s clearly not gonna happen today.

  They’re in the trees, talking quite heatedly by the looks of it, but I can’t hear a single word. What I do hear loud and clear is a harsh voice in my head telling me Matt doesn’t want me in his life. I don’t want to listen to it. But I can’t deny it could be right either.

  * * *

  Doc

  The moment I saw Hawk approach, I knew there was a problem, and I knew it was bad. All the brothers know where my cabin is, but none of them ever come up here unless it’s an emergency. The last time there was such an emergency, Straw died.

  I step outside and motion for him to follow me into the trees, far away from the house so that Anne won’t overhear any of this conversation.

  “What’s up, Hawk?” I ask once we’re there.

  “It’s about this new identity thing for your lady friend,” he says, his voice calm enough, but his face is a very tight mask of worry. “I didn’t want to go into it on the phone, since even goddamn burners can be monitored these days.”

  “Yeah, so you’ve told us many times,” I interrupt to hurry him along. Now that I know no one’s dying I want to get back to Anne and continue dissuading her from the fool plan to call her husband. “What about Anne’s new identity?”

  “You want one for her, because she’s wanted by the feds,” he says.

  I nod.

  “And she’s married to a fed agent,” he adds, his voice hard. “You’re an educated man. You know how dangerous this is.”

  “I do,” I say. “As does Cross. He gave me the OK to ask you for this.”

  “I figured as much, but that was gonna be my first question: whether you’d cleared it with him. I wanted him to hear it from you, whatever this is. But if you say he’s okayed it—”

  “He has, Hawk,” I say to speed this along, but all I get is pointed silence during which he’s looking very forlornly into my eyes.

  “Can you do it, Hawk?” I finally ask sharply.

  Hawk sighs and runs his hand through his hair. “Can I give her a new identity? Sure, I can do that. Will it stand up to hard FBI scrutiny? I doubt it.”

  “You’ve given most of the brothers new identities that work just fine to fool the cops,” I snap.

  “See, that’s just it. All of you, Cross included, think what I do is some kind of magic, but really it all comes down to us staying out of the path of cops, and me working real hard behind the scenes, if one of you happen to get caught. I’m not saying I won’t do that for your lady, I’m just saying it could get overwhelming if this husband of hers keeps looking for her. He already knows she’s here, in this town, right? Because he’s here too.”

  I nod and don’t reply, although the news that her husband is still near is unsettling.

  “If there’s another way to deal with him, it’d be easier,” he says, looking at me pointedly again.

  “Just get her a new name, and I’ll see about the alternatives,” I say.

  He nods, tells me he’ll do it, and leaves.

  Cross said not to touch the husband, which means I can’t so much as glance in his direction. I don’t like Anne’s plan of going to speak to him, I don’t like it one bit. But is that just because I’m afraid she wants to return to him?

  It makes sense to try and get him off her back by talking to him. I can’t deny that. And I’ll be there the whole time to make sure neither of them do anything stupid.

  * * *

  Anne

  “You didn’t ask your friend inside,” I say when he comes back in. “How come?”

  I’m sure he can hear the accusatory undertone in my voice, or, in other words, the nagging, and I’m sure he doesn’t like it. I don’t either.

  “He had to go,” he says, clearly choosing to make something up instead of calling me out on my nagging. “And so do we.”

  “Where?” I ask. I don’t like this cold wall that’s erupted between us. I don’t understand where it’s coming from either.

  “I’m taking you into town so you can call your husband like you wanted,” he says. “Maybe it’s not such a bad idea after all. At least we’ll see where we stand with him.”

  I like how he’s using “we” in this context. It makes me feel safe and protected and cared for. But that ice is still between us. Thick and cold and completely foreign to me.

  “Can’t I just use your phone?” I ask.

  He shakes his head. “Better not.”

  “Why?”

  “Just get ready,” he says and starts clearing up the table.

  I don’t ask any more questions, but I have plenty of them.

  Doesn’t he trust me? Does he still think I want to run back to my husband? After all we shared, all we created? Is that why he’s being so cold?

  If I ask all this now, we’ll argue. I don’t want that. I’ll just have to prove to him he’s wrong to doubt me.

  18

  Anne

  We’re stopped at a gas station, the town visible on the hazy horizon. I’m in the truck where he told me to wait, while he went inside to buy me a phone. Today’s a beautiful, sunny, hot summer day, but not so in the car. Here it’s icy cold and the AC has nothing to do with it. Benji’s phone number is a picture on a lit up screen in my mind, and the real source of the cold. Though Matt’s not exactly warm either, and his coolness only got worse while we drove.

  “Here,” he says when he returns to the truck, handing me the package with a prepaid phone through the open door. “Call him. I assume you’d like to be alone while you do.”

  He doesn’t wait for me to reply, just slams the door shut and walks away. If he were asking a question—or wait for an answer, for that matter—I’d tell him I would prefer him sitting next to me while I call Benji, so I can hold his hand, and know he’s near, because my husband is the last person on earth I wish to speak to or see ever again.

  The fog that used to hide me so well—the one Benji created—has been thickening in my mind, since we started acting on my decision to call him and set up a meeting. Now it’s opaque, cold and clammy and very real again as I sit here, with the means to go through with it. I don’t want to.

  But I must, because it’s the only way I’ll ever be free to live and love again. I must finish what I started with him. Finish it for good. Correct my mistake.

  I cut myself on the plastic wrapping as I tear out the phone, blood beading on the side of my index finger, but I feel no pain. Just like I didn’t when I was still with Benji. I felt no pain, no love, nothing at all. Now I’m afraid. Afraid of how fast that came back. Like it never left, like I never escaped it. Like the life and strength I got back in these last few days are just an illusion and this is the real thing, my real life.

  Matt is standing on the patch of grass to the side of the gas station parking lot, talking to someone on the phone.

  I should dial too. The sooner this is over, the sooner I can go back to feeling good.

  My hands are shaking so hard I misdial Benji’s number three times before finally getting it right.

  “Hello,” he barks into the phone after the second ring, and I’m trying to find my voice, I really am, but I’m suddenly overcome with all that fear that made me leave him.

  “Hello? Who is this?” he barks again, more forcefully.

  “It’s me,” I whisper, because I am stronger than this fear, more powerful. This fear does not define me.

  “Anne? Is it really you?” he asks, his voice sweet enough, but I feel the savagery just beneath that even through the pho
ne.

  “Yes,” I say and get all choked up with fear again, but I swallow it, because I won’t let it win. I’ve let it win too many times. “It’s over between us, Benji. I thought I owed it to you to tell you that in person. So please, return my things to me and let me leave in peace.”

  He laughs. “In person? On the phone isn’t in person, Anne. I’d like to see you. I miss you.”

  Anyone who doesn’t know him would believe the sweet undertone in his voice, this perfect blend of need and want, and kind sadness, he’s so good at faking. But I can hear the hateful animal he really is. I’ve grown to know it too well to ever be fooled by his sweet words again.

  I gather all the strength I’ve gained, realizing it’s a sad little amount in the face of the fear he wakes in me, but also that it’s enough.

  “I would like a divorce, Benji,” I say firmly. “And I would like my money, my IDs, and my good name back.”

  “Meet me in the town of Pleasantville at noon,” he says. “We’ll talk more then.”

  “Where?” I ask hoarsely and it’s all I can manage. The reality that I’ll have to see him again, actually see him in person, just dawned on me and my whole body is fighting it, not just my mind.

  “There’s a nice diner across the street from the police station,” he says. “I’ll see you there.”

  “No,” I say, knowing this could be a trap like the hundreds of traps I never saw coming from him. “In the Chinese restaurant. The White Lotus. I’ll wait for you there. Please bring my purse.”

  He chuckles, but it’s a very cold sound. Like nails scratching a chalkboard. “I’ll see you later, Anne,” he says pleasantly enough, but it’s actually no better than the chuckle.

  My hands are shaking worse than ever when I hang up. I’m very aware that he made me no promises. And I’m very aware he might not give me what I asked him for. Is this another mistake I’m making with him?

  Matt opens the truck door again, his face hard, but his eyes soften as they meet mine.

  “Did you arrange it?” he asks, but softly, no sharpness anywhere in his voice.

  I nod, clasping the phone hard to try and hide my shaking hands. He climbs in and shuts the door.

  “When and where?”

  “The Chinese restaurant at noon,” I say looking down at my hands. “I don’t know if it’s gonna do any good.”

  “You don’t have to go through with it,” he says, prying the phone from my hands and taking hold of them. I didn’t realize how cold I was until the warmth from his palms starts seeping into me. I wish it was strong enough to dispel all the cold talking to Benji conjured up in my soul, but it’s not. Not right now. Maybe one day it will be. Once I can add my own to it.

  “I have to try,” I whisper, hoping he understands now, but afraid to look at him in case he still doesn’t.

  It took all the strength I’ve regained to call Benji and I hope I have enough left to face him. To fight for myself against my greatest fear. I wish Matt would understand that. But it’s too soon for him to. I understand that too.

  “I’ll be there with you,” he says softly, making my heart race and fear rise like bile in my throat.

  “He can’t see you,” I say. “He’ll kill us both.”

  Matt gives me a bemused smile. “I can protect you from him, and I’m not that easy to kill. But why see him at all, if you’re this afraid of him?”

  “I have to face him or he’ll haunt us forever,” I mutter. “You understand that, don’t you?”

  He gives me that same skeptical look he gave me over the breakfast table this morning, but it’s pensive now, less sharp, more understanding.

  “I don’t, actually,” he says. “But I’ve made a life out of running away, shutting down and ignoring my problems, hoping they’ll go away. Maybe your way is better.”

  “I hope it is,” I whisper.

  “You’ll meet him alone, but I’ll be sitting at a table nearby, keeping an eye on your meeting,” he says. “And I’ll make sure nothing happens to either of us. How’s that for a plan?”

  He smiles finally, and so do I, squeezing his hands for good measure.

  “You and me against the odds,” I say. “I like it.”

  He leans down as though he’s gonna kiss me, but stops just short of my lips. “I like our odds.”

  Then he kisses me, and the cold, clammy fog Benji’s voice awoke in my mind disappears like it never was, recedes beyond recollection.

  Whatever happens today, we’ll always have each other. We’ll always have the cabin and the peace we found there.

  I need Matt more than I need my name. Much more. And I think I’ll have him whichever way today’s meeting goes. I think I’ll have him forever.

  * * *

  Doc

  All else aside, I don’t think her meeting the guy is a good idea. I also don’t think it’s a good idea that I’m so close to him when she does. I found it hard not to break his jaw the first time I saw him, and that was before I even really knew her. Now I just might find it impossible.

  I do respect her choice to face him though. I could never really do that with most of the things plaguing me. And maybe that’s the true source of my constant anger—the anger which has gotten much better at the cabin with Anne, but which is threatening to overflow now, as I sit in a shadowy corner of the Chinese restaurant where she waits for him by the window. When he arrives we’ll be the only three customers in here.

  We’re sitting at opposite ends of the restaurant, and I’m looking at her back, because I’m sure she won’t be able to keep from making eye contact with me while they speak, which would blow my cover. Or maybe I’m worried I won’t be able to do that.

  He walks in, and for a moment I can feel nothing but boiling rage, thick like lava and just as destructive. When he spots her, he smirks in a way that looks more like a snarl, then fixes his face with the sweetest damn smile I’ve ever seen before approaching her. Men shouldn’t smile that sweetly. It’s fucking unnatural.

  “Hello, Anne,” he says once he reaches her and his voice is unnaturally sweet too. “It’s nice to see you again. You look well.”

  Yeah, she fucking does. And no thanks to you.

  I better get this rage under control, or I’ll betray all the trust Cross has placed in me in a single blow—the one that’ll break this guy’s face. And that’s not worth it, no matter how pleasurable it seems.

  “Did you bring it?” she asks, making him frown and snarl again for a split second. It happens in a flash, and he’s all smiles again the next moment, making me doubt I even really saw the snarl.

  “Bring what, honey?” he asks, his voice still oozing sweetness. But his eyes are hard and menacing.

  “What I asked for,” she says. “My purse that you took from the car.”

  She doesn’t sound firm or forceful, she sounds scared. I want to end their conversation just to prevent that fear of hers. But I have to be patient. I may think this meeting is pointless, and that it won’t achieve a damn thing, but she doesn’t. I have to let her carry it out.

  The waitress comes over to take his order, but he waves her away with a sharp, dismissive gesture.

  “Of course I didn’t,” he says, his voice no longer so sweet. It’s starting to match the menacing look in his eyes. I’ve met many hard men in my life, some of which were full-fledged psychopaths, but none have caused the level of sickness in my stomach that this guy is causing.

  “I want what is mine back,” she says, not firmly at all. “And I want you to clear my name. I didn’t steal anything.”

  “You stole my money and my things when you left our home,” he says. “That’s what you’re wanted for. In fact, I should arrest you right now.”

  I can see her shake.

  “I stole nothing from you,” she says.

  “Sure you did,” he says. “You have no money of your own. You haven’t worked in years. All of it is mine.”

  “Half,” she mutters, earning a very amused look from
him.

  “What?” he says and chuckles.

  “Only half of everything is yours if we divorce,” she elaborates.

  He laughs a very grating and unnatural laugh. “You don’t want to divorce me. You know you don’t. I should take you back home right now, and show you how true that is.”

  What the fuck does that even mean?

  This conversation needs to end. Nothing good will come of it. She’s faced him for long enough.

  “You can’t do that,” she says, but she doesn’t sound sure at all.

  “Yes I can, Anne,” he says. “You know I can. But let’s stop talking like this. I still love you very much, and I would like nothing better than for us to stay together. And I know you do too. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here meeting me today.”

  Now the conversation really needs to end.

  She shakes her head. “I came to meet you, because I want my good name back. And a divorce. That’s all. I am leaving you. You’re not the man I thought you were when we married. You’re a monster.”

  “A monster?” he says, in this weird little-boy voice that I think is supposed to be apologetic. “We’ve had our problems, I admit it, and I’ve made mistakes, some of them big. I’ve been monstrous to you at times, I admit that, but I’m not a monster. We pressed each other’s buttons, that’s what happens in a marriage. But I can control myself, and I will from now on. I can be the man you fell in love with.”

  I hope she’s not buying any of this. It’s the fakest bullshit I’ve ever heard.

  I don’t like her silence in the face of his bullshit. Is she considering taking him back? Does she believe this crap he’s spewing? Is this what she wanted to hear today? I wish I could see her face.

  “There’s no way back for us,” she finally says, and I let out the breath I didn’t even know I was holding. She’s a strong, smart and brave woman. I should’ve given her the credit she deserves. “Please return my belongings and drop the charges against me.”