Contents
Authors Notes
1. Harper
2. Dachs
3. Harper
4. Dachs
5. Harper
6. Dachs
7. Harper
8. Dachs
9. Harper
10. Dachs
11. Harper
12. Dachs
13. Harper
14. Dachs
15. Harper
16. Dachs
17. Harper
18. Dachs
19. Harper
20. Dachs
21. Harper
22. Dachs
23. Harper
24. Dachs
25. Harper
26. Dachs
27. Dachs
28. Harper
29. Dachs
30. Harper
31. Dachs
32. Harper
33. Dachs
Epilogue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Quiet Strength
Coming Soon
Releases April 23, 2020
About the Authors
More About the Authors
Other Books by LaVerne Thompson/Ursula Sinclair
Writing as Ursula Sinclair
Stand Alones
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, or other status is entirely coincidental. Copyrighted 2020 by LaVerne Thompson and Cassanna Dwight
All rights reserved, by the author including but not limited to, the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever known, not known or hereafter invented, or stored in any storage or retrieval system. Exercising these rights without written permission of the afore named author is forbidden and punishable by the fullest extent of the law. Contact LaVerne Thompson at [email protected].
Editor – Phoenix Pen
Line Editor – Refreshed Edits
Cover Model- Tyler Halligan
Photographer- Golden Czermak
Authors Notes
While this is a work of fiction, we recognize there is language and situations in this story that are offense and hurtful to many, ourselves included. But we felt it was necessary in order to tell Dachs and Harper’s story. Ultimately, this is a love story of hope and shows that hate cannot survive when faced with truth and love.
Also for Bostonians, we did take liberties when describing the trains. It was necessary to drive the storyline.
1
Harper
This could not be happening to me—today of all days.
“But Dad!”
“No Harper, this will be good for you. Take the subway to school. It won’t kill you. We’ll decide about your car when we get back next week.”
I took the phone away from my ear for a second to stare at it. What was there to decide? The damn car had broken down on me. I should be arranging for a loaner until I could choose a brand new car. “Fine, I’ll take an Uber or Lyft!”
“No you won’t; you’ll take the subway.”
What was wrong with him?
“I’m not even sure where to catch it. Does it even run straight to school?”
“You know it does. There’s a Harvard Station right on campus. You’re a senior, a year younger than most seniors, I might add, and you’re studying economics. You’re smart, so figure it out. And, if you can’t, then I’m sure there’s an App that can help you. You’ll be fine. We’ll see about the car when I get home. We’ll either get it fixed or get you a new one.”
“Okay, okay, but I’m aiming for a new one. This is the second time I’ve had a problem with it in a year.”
“We’ll see about getting you a new car. Your mother says, hello and she can’t wait to see you when we get back.’”
I disconnected the phone, not even bothering to comment. That woman was not my mother, and no matter how many times I repeated it to him it didn’t stick. Teresa was actually his third wife and only ten years older than I am. I’m twenty-one. My dad’s sixty.
My mother was his first wife and died ten years ago, the second one lasted all of two seconds before he divorced her. He married the housekeeper’s daughter two months later, who dropped out of college to help him ‘raise me’. Mind you, I can count on my hands the number of times I spent more than a week with that woman, and that includes the holidays. Yeah, she tries to be friends, and I love my dad, so I tolerate her. The only good news is Daddy loves me back, and when my mother almost died in childbirth he had a vasectomy. So, I didn’t have to worry about half sibs—a fact that pisses Teresa off to this day; she didn’t realize until it was too late, she couldn’t have his child. Oh, she dragged him to doctors to see if it could be reversed, but no can do. So, she settled for trying to make nice with me.
I was still pissed. It was great for my father to say that I should take the subway. He’s not the one who has to take the damn thing. I’m pretty sure my dad has never been on the MBTA, the Boston T, and his wife probably hasn’t taken the subway since she married my dad. For a second, I thought about calling an Uber anyway. But, Dad would see it since it was on his account. And, I’ve always been a good daughter, doing as I was supposed to do—making all the right decisions for the future I’d planned out for myself and that he’d encouraged. But, I was no fool. If I had any hopes of getting a new car, I better do as he said.
“Hey,” I said to the guy behind the counter at the service shop. “How far is the T from here? I’m trying to get to the Harvard Station.”
He gave me directions. Apparently, I had to go to some station crossing and take any train that would allow me to switch over to the red line. That would drop me right on campus. Seemed easy enough. There was a T entrance about a five minute walk from the shop. Which might have accounted for the funny look he gave me when I asked for directions.
I tightened up my Balenciaga backpack and set out. I was just glad I had on comfortable shoes because I only had three classes today; two of them were in the same building, but the third was a hike.
I joined the flow of masses on the sidewalk, moving in the direction I needed to go. Everyone seemed to be heading for the T. I would have thought rush hour would be over by now but guess not. Hopefully, all of these people weren’t getting on the same train I was. That would suck.
I waited in line to buy a card to ride the thing. Thank God the machines took credit cards, otherwise that would have been a problem. I never carried cash. Then, it still took me a few minutes to figure the damn thing out. Three people had already come and gone, getting their cards in the line next to me before I got mine, and only because the lady behind me pointed out the right button I needed to press. You’d think it would be a simple process. Like 1, 2, 3 just follow these steps. But noooo, wasn’t that simple.
Can’t say I was really liking the metallic scent of the trains before I even saw them or the feel of the concrete surrounding me underground. At least the map I checked showed me where to go, and I wasn’t standing shoulder to shoulder with people, like over on the other platform. The lights embedded in the floor began f
lashing a few minutes after I arrived. Thank you, God, I didn’t have long to wait.
By the time I made my way on board, after getting shoved a time or two by people exiting, I took the first seat I found near the window facing another row of seats, already occupied by one other person, but he had the aisle seat. I didn’t really glance at him, but I could feel his eyes on me. I quickly took off my backpack and placed it on the seat next to me, hoping no one would sit there and crowd me. I also kept one hand on the strap, just in case anyone got any ideas. I settled back, but these seats were damned uncomfortable, at least the one directly across from me was empty. I could stretch my legs a bit. It was then I got around to glancing at the guy seated in the aisle.
Shit on a stick, he was gorgeous. If I’d known guys that looked like him rode public transportation, I’d have been using it for years. Then again, probably not. But damn, he was fine.
I pulled my phone out and raised it, like I was trying to read something. I was really trying to snag a picture of him. I pushed the button just as he moved his head a fraction in my direction, and his gaze met mine. I quickly glanced down.
Caught.
Damn. I had a boyfriend. I couldn’t flirt with this guy. And, as good looking as he was, I could tell by his clothes and the tats I could see on most of the exposed areas of his skin, he wasn’t my type. I texted the picture of him to my best friend Serena anyway. She too appreciated good eye candy. Her reply came back fast.
‘HOLY SHIT!!!’
‘I know right!’
‘Get his number.’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘Gotta run. Get his damn number or give him mine.’
‘LOL’
I turned and tried to look out the window but there was nothing to see. Then I noticed I could see his reflection on the glass. Damn, was that the initials HH on his neck? Mine were HH, Harper Hodges. Was that some kind of sign?
Shit, he was staring at me. I would have chuckled, but I had to play it cool. Should I say something to him? No. He’s the dude, he should approach me first, not the other way around. I don’t have to throw myself at anyone. Ever. Not about to start now. But damn, he was fine. I kept thinking that, but it was the truth.
I shifted and adjusted my backpack for something to do as the train came to a stop. I glanced up and our gazes met, again. Crap, we were doing some serious eye fucks. I noted he took out his phone. I wondered if he was trying to sneak a pic of me. I smiled. I put his picture in Google images and did a search to see if I could find him on social media. A few hundred pictures came up, and while some of the guys resembled him, I really didn’t find him on there. Too bad. Then again, maybe that’s a good thing. I might have been tempted to send him a friend request—tell him I was the girl on the train. Yeah, like he didn’t meet a lot of girls on the train.
The train had stopped a few times before I glanced up again, finally realizing my stop was the next one. Well damn it anyway. That was not enough time to get him to say something to me. I wondered if he rode the T all the time. It might be worth my while to ride it again tomorrow.
As the train pulled into the school station I stood and grabbed my bag. His long legs took up the space between the seats, but I didn’t bother to even say anything to him. I stepped right over them like they weren’t even there and moved past him toward the door. But, when the train stopped, I glanced quickly in his direction only to see him staring back at me.
Yeah, even though the train ride wasn’t anywhere near as smooth as the shocks on my car, and the smell of way too many humans in a confined space left much to be desired, I would be on the train again tomorrow. If only to see if I could find him again. Besides, I knew what to expect now, and I’d bought a damn card for a week. I couldn’t figure out how to just buy one for a day. So, might as well not waste it. I got off and began walking toward my exit as the train left the station. I could see him sitting in his seat. Our eyes locked for the last time and neither of us looked away until the train moved out of sight.
2
Dachs
The deep, muffled rumble of the train along with the smooth rocking motion was soothing. It was rare I had time alone to think. If it wasn’t my family demanding I devote time to our pierogi shop, that I hate, then it was meeting up with members of the brotherhood, which I love. It’s not hard to see where I stand. I don’t hide my beliefs, and if necessary, I will back them up. A first generation German American born to immigrant parents, I am a true Aryan.
Early morning class at tech school is brutal, but connections will only get a person so far without an education. My buddy got me a spot at an electrical company as an apprentice journeyman. It is hell, listening to those lazy ass ethnics I work with whine about how unfair their lives are. They cry about money but only got the job because they fit a certain racial profile, unfair to those of us in the true white race.
Fucking niggers.
Today, at least I would get a break since it was my day off.
I straightened out my legs and rested my head on the back of the seat. Surrounded by empty seats, it was good. No need to hold my tongue, and every time someone passed and hesitated, eyeing the open spaces beside me, I’d simply flex my fingers or roll my head on my neck. The tattoos I sported spoke volumes. My cell vibrated in my pocket. A long sigh escaped past my lips as I dug the phone out. My peace didn’t last long.
“Yeah.”
“I sent you the location for tonight’s meeting,” Bruno muttered. A Jersey boy transplant, my friend and second in command of our burgeoning group, skipped his hometown after a jump-in went bad—blood in and blood out, turned out the guy being initiated was an informant. Mother fucker got a lesson he would never forget.
That was all I needed to know. “Same time?” I smiled at a perky blonde as she bounced by. Now, that was more like it—baby blue irises, platinum curls and a tight ass. I sat up and watched her as she sauntered down the aisle. There was nothing prettier than a pure blooded woman.
“Seven.”
“I’ll be there.” I ended the call, settled back, and hunkered down into my seat, closing my eyes. The stop/start motion made me sluggish. My lids drifted shut, just for a minute, and the blare of a horn jolted me awake. I opened my eyes to find her peering at me—a black girl. God, of all the people who could have shared space with me, it was a monkey. I watched her; even animals could be cute. Didn’t she see the annoyance on my face?
Her hair was long and nappy. She couldn’t even bother to comb the snags from her strands. Her skin was the color of heavily creamed coffee, and her shape…I narrowed my eyes. It was hard to tell with her seated. She was no longer looking directly at me, instead tinkering with her phone. An unusual aroma reached my nose. Sweet and flowery, it wafted from her direction, combined with the train stench the smell came off more like sweet smelling shit. Why the hell did she keep peeking at me from under her long ass lashes? Things like her were a dime a dozen. I still cannot understand the fascination that some guys have with women of other races. Mixing should never-ever happen, it just dilutes the blood.
Now, she was openly staring, hiding behind the little device in front of her face. It wouldn’t take much for me to just lean forward and snatch that cell from her hands. Clamping down the urge to lash out, I swallowed my annoyance. Too many people. If I assault her now, there will be witnesses. What was the debate? I could ease over to sit beside her and slam a few punches into her belly for the blatant disrespect... Hurting an untainted white woman was a big hell no in my book, but Blackies, they have no value. Hmm—maybe socially, thanks to the damn liberals that are trying to control the country. I glanced around. A crowd can also work in my favor. It would be nothing to teach her a lesson and slip away. Not enough people filled the train.
The car slid to a stop, and she stood. Without a word she stepped over my legs. I resisted the urge to grab her wrist. In my presence, she needed to acknowledge me—respect her superiors. I scooted forward, her fingers within my grasp. Some
asshole in a hurry jostled my arm. She kept moving. I made a fist, slamming back into my seat. Through the glass I caught a glimpse of her looking back. Laughter burst past my lips. The foolish little negro girl had no idea how much danger she’d just courted. I held her gaze as the train moved on.
The devil you know.
The phrase popped through my mind. I was the demon she didn’t know. A snort escaped past my lips. Would she watch me like that if she knew the things I could do to her? Some brown skin moved past me, leaving in their wake the stench of ripe sweat and rank body odor. Tears brimmed my eyes, and I stood to escape the smell lingering at waist level. The next stop, I got off. Fresh air would go a long way toward clearing my sinuses. Trotting up the stairs two at a time, I exited the short tunnel into bright afternoon sunlight. It would be a while before I was needed for anything.
I pulled the cell free and tapped in a number. Rings abruptly stopped, giving way to silence.
“I know you’re there.”
“You only call me when you want something.” Becky’s soft tone flowed into the earpiece.
“I’m not far from your place.” I can get my dick wet and still make the meeting.
Defiant Page 1
