A Little Bit Wicked (The Wickeds

by Melissa Foster

  “That’s his cousin Tank. He’s a really good guy, although he doesn’t talk much.”

  “I don’t mind a man of few words, if you know what I mean. Speaking of men of few words, Alan is back from his meetings. He was looking for you. He’s in a finance meeting now, but he should be out any minute. I’ll let him know you’re in your office.”

  “Thanks, Shelby.”

  Chloe went into her office and answered a few emails. Then she began knocking off items from her to-do list. She was knee-deep in reviewing a state regulatory update when Alan walked into her office.

  “Hi, Alan. I’m glad you’re back,” she said as he closed the door.

  “Are you?” he asked in a low voice as he walked toward her desk.

  “Yes.” She dug through her papers for the puppetry folder. “I know we have a few weeks before the puppetry trial begins, but I want to get my ducks in a row to present the program to the families, and…” She looked up to find him standing beside her, a cold stare locked on her engagement ring. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end.

  “If this is your way of getting my attention,” he said in a cold, even voice, “you’ve got it.”

  “I don’t understand. What do you—”

  Those icy eyes hit hers, setting off all her internal alarms. Before she could make a move, he put his hands on the arms of her chair, his legs on either side of hers, caging her in. Panic flared in her chest. Images of being trapped against her mother’s counter and on the couch flew into her head. Breathe, breathe, breathe. Disbelief hung in the recesses of her mind, but it was no competition for the fear engulfing her.

  She pushed at his chest and said, “Get back, Alan. Now.”

  “We both know that’s not what you want. You said you’d been waiting forever, and I got the message loud and clear, Chloe. There’s no more waiting.”

  His sinister voice sent ice through her veins. Time and space blurred together, and survival mode kicked in. Chloe jammed her knee up and threw her shoulder into his chest. Her knee missed his groin, but he stumbled, and she got to her feet, choking out an indiscernible noise. He slapped a hand over her mouth and slammed her back against the wall, crushing his body to hers. The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth. His nostrils flared as he ground against her body. She could barely breathe, for his hand pressed against her nostrils as she struggled to break free. She tried to scream, but it was muffled behind his hand.

  He’d morphed into someone unrecognizable. His evil eyes drilled into her as he tugged up on her skirt. “You little witch, spreading your legs for that dirtbag to get me jealous.”

  His sharp, cruel voice cut through her fear and he gripped her inner thigh. Bile rose in her throat. Her mind sped through dozens of self-defense moves, finally catching on one. All at once, she stomped her high heel on his foot, grabbed a fistful of his hair, and bit his hand, using all her might to push forward—and free. He lunged, snagging the back of her blouse and yanking her backward, but not before she grabbed the stapler from her desk. She whirled around and smacked him in the eye with it. His hands flew to his face, and she grabbed her purse and ran to the door, but he’d locked it. Her shaking hands fumbled. She felt a click and yanked it open at the same second he grabbed her by the shirt. She hurled herself through the door, sending the buttons from her blouse flying as she bolted past reception and out the front doors. She didn’t slow down when she barreled into someone, sending them to the ground in her sprint to her car.

  She couldn’t think, could barely breathe, as she sped toward Justin’s house, clinging to the steering wheel, trying to see the road through the blur of tears. She tried to turn on voice commands on the dashboard, but her hand was shaking too badly. It took several tries, and when she finally got it, she choked out, “Call…Justin!”

  “Hey, sweet chee—”

  The sound of his voice brought sobs, and her attempt to say his name came out all bumbled.

  “Chloe? What’s wrong? Where are you?”

  She coughed and sobbed, feeling like she was going to throw up. “Alan…attacked me—”

  “Motherfucker.”

  The malice in his voice brought more sobs.

  “Are you hurt, Chloe?”

  “No.” She gasped for breath. “I’m…going home. I’ll”—gasp, sob, gasp—“report it after”—she coughed—“I calm down.”

  “I’m going to kill that fucker,” Justin growled.

  “No. I need yo—”

  The line went dead.

  CHLOE STUMBLED INTO the house in a daze of fear and disbelief. Just being home among hers and Justin’s things brought solace and sadness. She sank down to the couch to wait for him, giving in to more tears.

  A few minutes later she heard tires on gravel. Justin had taken the truck so he could bring Sampson to work. She heard a vehicle door close, and a modicum of relief swept through her, though it did nothing to stop the tears or the shaking. The rumble of a motorcycle sounded, and she ran to the window. The front door flew open, and Tank, Blaine, and Sampson strode in. Sampson trotted past them to get to her.

  “Aw, sweetheart,” Blaine said full of anguish. He eyed Tank, who looked like he was ready to kill someone, and said, “Get her a shirt.”

  Panic chased up Chloe’s spine as Tank headed into the bedroom. She pulled her shirt closed, crossing her arms over her middle as a rush of tears flowed down her cheeks. “What happened? Where’s Justin?”

  “He’ll be here,” Blaine said gently. “Did he…? Do you need to go to the hospital?”

  She shook her head, and he folded her in his arms, drawing more tears.

  “I’ve got you,” Blaine said.

  “I don’t know who that man was that attacked me,” she cried. “Alan was like Jekyll and Hyde.”

  “I’m sorry, Chloe. You’re safe now.”

  The front door opened again, and Chloe spun around, expecting Justin. But it was Serena running toward her with open arms. Reba came in right behind her.

  Serena threw her arms around Chloe. “Are you okay? Justin called me.”

  Chloe nodded, clinging to her sister.

  Serena drew back with tears in her eyes, searching Chloe’s face. She pulled Chloe’s shirt closed and said, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  She nodded. “He tried….” Her voice was lost in sobs.

  “Oh, my sweet girl,” Reba said, gathering Chloe—and Serena—in her arms. “Breathe, baby. We’ll get through this together, and that man will pay for what he’s done.”

  Tank came out of the bedroom with one of her shirts and strode directly to them, putting his arms around all three of them, and rested his head on Reba’s. Blaine’s phone rang, and they all looked at him, but he walked into the other room to take the call.

  Tank handed Chloe her shirt and said, “I’m real sorry this happened to you.”

  “Thank you.” She put on her shirt over her blouse and said, “Justin went to my work, didn’t he?”

  Tank gave one curt nod.

  Chloe’s stomach lurched. “Oh God. Tank, you have to go after him. Justin will kill him. It’ll ruin Justin’s life.”

  “Preacher went after him, honey,” Reba said. “He took the boys and Gunner with him.”

  “I hope Justin slaughters him,” Serena fumed.

  Tears tumbled down Chloe’s cheeks as she sank down to the couch. “He can’t do that, Serena. He’ll go to prison, and then what? Alan wins, and Justin’s life is ruined? I told Justin I was going to report it. I just needed to get my head on straight.” Sampson rested his chin on her lap, gazing up at her with his big brown eyes, and for some reason that made her cry harder.

  Reba sat beside her and held her hand. “Honey, look at me,” she said in a firm voice. She waited for Chloe to meet her serious gaze and said, “The second you told Justin that man hurt you, nothing else registered. Do you understand that?”

  “I don’t understand any of this,” she cried, collapsing into Reba’s arms.

  C
hapter Twenty-Eight

  JUSTIN WAS SEEING red as he stormed through the entrance of LOCAL, hands fisted, muscles corded tight.

  Shelby looked up with troubled eyes. “Justin, what hap—”

  “Where’s Alan’s office?” The ire in his voice was inescapable.

  She pointed to a hallway and said, “End of the hall, last door on the left.”

  He burned a path down the hall, rage growing with every determined step. He threw open Alan’s door, locking eyes with the fucker sitting behind his desk. Justin hoped to hell Chloe had given him that shiner. He kicked the door shut, and Alan’s face blanched. All-consuming fear shone in his eyes as he pushed to his feet and reached for the phone. Justin lunged for it, tearing the cord from the wall. He tossed the phone to the floor, closing the distance between them. Alan walked backward, saying something about police, but Justin couldn’t process the words over Chloe’s sobs echoing in his head. He cocked his arm and threw a right hook, connecting with Alan’s jaw with an audible crack. Alan’s head flew back. He stumbled, careening toward the floor. Blinded by rage and fueled by hate and love and everything in between, Justin grabbed the collar of Alan’s shirt and hauled him to his feet, landing another blow to his bloody jaw, sending him crashing back against the wall. Alan slid to the floor, eyes unfocused, jaw agape.

  Justin grabbed him by the hair, lifting him to his feet again. “Those were for Chloe, you motherfucker. You don’t deserve to breathe the same air as her. These are for every other woman you’ve ever touched.”

  He threw a right uppercut to his ribs, followed by one to his left kidney. The air spilled from Alan’s lungs with an oomph, and he slumped against the wall.

  “And this is from me, you pathetic piece of shit.” Justin pulled his arm back and let it fly, smashing Alan in the side of his head. Alan dropped to the floor in a heap, unconscious. Justin strode out of the office, dripping blood from the cuts on his knuckles. He headed out the front of the building with only one thing on his mind—reaching Chloe.

  Preacher, Gunner, Zeke, and Zander were heading toward the entrance. They fell into step beside him as he crossed the parking lot.

  “Is he still alive?” Gunner asked.

  Preacher said, “Anything we need to clean up?”

  “It’s all on me,” Justin growled. “Call Justice. I gotta get to Chloe.” Rubin “Justice” Galant was an attorney and a Dark Knight, and handled the club’s legal affairs.

  “Blaine already called him.” Preacher motioned for the guys to get on their bikes. When they walked away, he put a hand on Justin’s shoulder and said, “Sure you’re okay to drive?”

  Justin nodded and climbed into his truck. He started it up and called Blaine, listening as he sped out of the parking lot, followed by Preacher and Gunner riding side by side, and Zeke and Zander bringing up the rear.

  “She’s shaken up, torn shirt, scratches on her face, but he didn’t…” Blaine’s voice trailed off. “Pushed her against the wall, pulled up her skirt. She fought back. She needs you, man. She needs you bad.”

  Tears burned Justin’s eyes. He ended the call, grinding out curses through gritted teeth, white-knuckling the steering wheel with one hand and slamming the dashboard with the other.

  When he pulled down his street, he found Baz, Conroy, and two other Dark Knights sitting on their motorcycles, blocking the entrance to the driveway.

  They moved aside, and Baz and Conroy came to the window of the truck. Conroy said, “You a’right?”

  Justin nodded.

  “I got a call. Cuffs is looking for you,” Conroy said. “Better get in there and see your girl.”

  They took a step back, and Justin drove up to the house, followed by Preacher and the other guys. Justin headed up the front steps trying to quell the tsunami in his gut. He knew the second he saw a scratch on Chloe’s beautiful face, the rage consuming him would turn to scorching fury, and that was the last thing she needed. He stood on the porch, hands fisted, face angled up toward the sky, struggling—and failing—to shove all that anger down deep, and blew through the door.

  Tank and Blaine stood in the living room. They turned as he came through the door, their faces masks of anger and empathy. Reba and Serena flanked Chloe, who was talking on the phone with tears streaming down her cheeks. A long red gash ran across her upper lip, and she was shaking as she lifted tortured eyes to his and said, “Yes, I understand,” in a pained voice, then ended the call.

  Justin’s gut seized. He felt his heart shattering as he closed the distance between them and gathered her in his arms. Sobs burst from her lungs, and he held her tighter, one hand on the back of her head, the other arm belted around her, wishing he could tuck her under his skin to protect her. “I’ve got you, baby. I’m so sorry.” He shifted his gaze to Reba and said, “Give us a minute?”

  Reba ushered everyone out of the house, taking Sampson with them.

  “I’m here. You’re safe now.” He kissed her forehead, feeling a crushing weight in his chest. “I love you, baby. I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m so fucking sorry.”

  She fisted her hands in his shirt, clinging to him until her sobs eased. “Justin…” she said shakily against his chest.

  “I’ve got you, baby. I’m here.” She drew back, and her sad eyes slayed him anew. He wiped her tears with the pad of his thumb and said, “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

  She caught his bloodstained hand, her eyes lingering on it, anger and fear joining the sadness in them. She shook her head, stumbling back, her voice escalating. “What did you do? That was my office on the phone. I’ve been suspended. Alan filed sexual harassment allegations against me. He said you found out I was hitting on him and beat him up, and now I’m suspended from a job I would have given my life for before all this happened, and Blaine said the cops are looking for you, and—” She gasped for air, sobs engulfing her again.

  “I should have fucking killed him!” Anger roared through him. “He can’t do this, Chloe. We’ll fix it. I promise you, this is not the end.”

  “Fix it?” she hollered. “You’ll be in jail, Justin! I told you I would report what he did and that I needed you. I just needed to get my head on straight first.” Her shoulders rounded forward, heaving with sobs. “Why didn’t I see what you saw about him? I know the signs,” she cried. “I should have seen them. Why did this…? I’m so…Our lives are ruined.”

  He drew her into his arms. She tried to twist away, but he held her tighter. “Our lives are not ruined, Chloe. You didn’t see who he was because he’s a fucking snake and didn’t want you to see it.”

  “Why did you go after him?” she said accusingly.

  “Because he deserved it. Because I love you, and when you love someone, you don’t let anyone hurt them. I couldn’t protect my mother, and I’ll be damned if I’d let that happen to you.”

  Her face softened—crumpled. “Blaine said you could be charged with assault and battery and get serious jail time. That’s my fault!”

  He took her by the shoulders, staring into her eyes, and said, “None of this is your fault. That asshole attacked you!”

  “But you ruined your life because of me. You could go to jail, Justin. You don’t belong in jail. You’re not your father.”

  “Fuck.” He stepped away, hands fisting. “I don’t give a rat’s ass about jail, Chloe. He deserved everything he got and more.”

  “This is all so crazy.” She gasped between sobs. “I’ll never work with the elderly again with sexual assault charges against me. I told HR what happened, and they’re suspending him while they investigate, but it’s my word against his. I’m supposed to go in for an interview tomorrow. How am I going to do that? I can’t go back in there right now. I don’t know if I will ever be able to face everyone again.”

  Her knees buckled and she reached for the couch, but he caught her around the waist, sweeping her into his arms. The front door opened, and Preacher walked in with Conroy, Reba, Serena, and Cuffs. Reba held Serena, who was crying.


  Cuffs was in uniform, his face dead serious as he stepped forward, the message in his eyes—I’ve got to take you in—clear.

  Chloe made a mewling sound, holding Justin tighter, and his gut plummeted. He’d known this moment would come, but that didn’t make it any easier.

  “Look at me, baby,” he said firmly. Chloe lifted her eyes to his, and the devastation in them brought tears to his. “I promise you I’m going to fix this.”

  Tears tumbled down her cheeks as she nodded.

  “I love you, baby. He will not get away with this.” He pressed his lips to hers, vowing to live up to that promise. He looked at Reba, a silent affirmation of her agreement to take care of Chloe passing between them.

  Preacher and Conroy stepped beside him, and Reba and Serena moved closer to Chloe, causing her to cry harder. Despite knowing Chloe was in safe, loving hands, letting go of her and taking a step back was the hardest thing he’d ever done.

  Until he walked out the front door, leaving his heart, his love, behind.

  CHLOE FELT LIKE she’d been ravaged by the sea, and she wasn’t drifting—she was drowning. Even in Reba’s and Serena’s arms, the waves crashed over her, sucking her under. In her devastation, she couldn’t catch her breath. She loved Justin for standing up for her, but at the same time, she hated that he’d put himself—and them—in an even worse situation. Her anguish didn’t stop there. She hated herself for not giving more weight to Justin’s instincts about Alan, and she despised Alan Rogers.

  She was not going to let that man ruin their lives.

  I can do this. I have to do this. She willed her strength back into her legs, inhaling deeply, filling her lungs with determination as she stepped out of their arms and said, “I need to change my clothes; then I need to go to the police station to file a report.”

  “I know you want to get those clothes off and feel more like yourself,” Reba said caringly, “but it’s important that the police see what he did to you. You don’t have to go to the station. Cuffs arranged for an officer to come here. We were just waiting for you to be ready.”