by Ivy Black
I start collecting all of my things and putting them into my bag when I hear the door to the room open. Expecting one of my students who’d forgotten something, I’m surprised when I see that it’s Derek stepping through the door. He’s got a wide smile on his face that does something to my insides. I feel my skin warming and my face flushing, but I fight to keep myself under control. The last thing I want to do is feed the man’s ego.
“Am I late for class?” he asks.
“Yes. But you’re right on time for detention.”
“Oh, now there’s a subject I’m familiar with.”
I laugh. “Right. As best I recall, you were never one of the problem students. I doubt you spent a single hour in detention.”
“You might be surprised,” he says. “Old Mr. Danton never appreciated my sense of humor.”
“You had one of those back then?”
His laughter is a deep rumble that sounds like the thunder rolling in off the ocean. It sends goosebumps marching across my skin and sends the most delicious feeling flowing through my body. It’s not easy, but I manage to keep the arousal gripping me from showing on my face. At least, I’m pretty sure I manage it.
“Oh, she’s got jokes,” he says.
“That’s right, I do.”
Derek closes the door behind him and walks across the room, my eyes glued to his every movement. Dressed in dark jeans, boots, and a black button-down, he cuts a striking figure. He’s a handsome man and I feel a quiver run through me as he sits down at one of the student’s desks in front of mine, leaving him facing me. Those hazel eyes pierce through me and I can feel him probing the deepest recesses of my mind and soul. It’s a terrifying feeling, but it’s exhilarating at the same time.
“Dressed for a funeral?” I ask, trying to gather my wits about me.
He shrugs. “It was a good enough look for Johnny Cash, so I figure it’s good enough for me.”
I grin. “If I were a psychologist, I’d say that’s an interesting insight into how you see yourself.”
“Think so?”
I nod. “Definitely.”
“And how would a psychologist say I see myself?
“It’s a good thing I’m not a shrink,” I counter. “I only took introductory psychology classes.”
He leans back in his seat, his eyes boring even deeper into me. “You must have something to offer or you wouldn’t have brought it up.”
Busted. I look down at my desk and laugh. I forgot how clever Derek is and how quickly his mind works. I remember in the classes we had together, he used to box our teachers in, using their own words against them like he just did to me. He’s sharp and I’d do well to remember that. I clear my throat and look up to find him staring at me expectantly.
“Well… the fact that you identify with Johnny Cash, combined with your identification with James Dean, tells me that you see yourself as an outsider. A rebel. Somebody who is dissatisfied with societal norms and stands outside of them,” I offer, surprised at the words that are falling out of my mouth but unable to stop them from coming. “You feel as if you don’t fit in with society, so you’ve come to resent it and willingly stand outside of it. I think that’s why you joined your motorcycle club…. it furthers that outlaw image and lifestyle.”
I finally manage to stop the flow of words and look at him. Derek is staring back at me, a dumbfounded expression on his face. He doesn’t say anything for a long moment, and I expect him to get up and bolt out of the room… and I wouldn’t blame him for it. Not one bit. That giant dose of verbal vomit had to seem overwhelming, to say the least. Not to mention pretty damn judgmental.
But he surprises me when he starts to laugh again. It’s that deep, booming laugh that turns my insides to water and sets my heart turning cartwheels. And although I’m glad he’s laughing, I can’t, for the life of me, figure out what he’s laughing about since I basically just insulted his life and condescended to him like some overbearing, hypercritical bitch.
“Wow,” he says. “I’d say you took more than basic psych classes.”
“I paid attention in class pretty well.”
“I’d say so since that was a very thorough dissection of my character.”
I cringe inwardly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel like I was dissecting you.”
He waves me off. “You have nothing to be sorry about. I asked you to do it. I shouldn’t have opened a door I didn’t want to walk through.”
I say nothing, feeling somewhat better that he’s not taking it personally. I had no desire to offend him or hurt his feelings, so I’m glad it doesn’t seem like I have.
“Do you think that’s all true? What you just said?” he asks.
I shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
His smile is wide and disarming. “You certainly sounded a lot more confident in your answer as you were giving it.”
I bury my face in my hands, mostly to hide my laughter and the flush of embarrassment in my cheeks. Being that candid with him was definitely not on my to-do list today. Not that I had planned on seeing him today at all. Slowly, I lower my hands and look at him again. He still looks fairly amused, but he seems to be done teasing me. At least for now.
“So, anyway, now that you’ve managed to totally mortify me, what can I do for you?” I ask. “I assume you’re not here for help with your homework?”
“Oh, I don’t know, I’m open to a little tutoring.”
I have no idea if he means it the way he said it, but the suggestiveness in Derek’s tone makes me feel warm inside. His eyes widen slightly as he seems to realize what it was that he just said, but he just keeps on smiling at me, apparently content to let me interpret it however I wish.
“Actually, I was just wondering what you were doing when you’re done here?” he finally asks, breaking that awkward strain hovering over us like a thundercloud.
“Well, I planned on having an exciting evening of putting together my lesson plan for tomorrow,” I reply.
“You are a wild woman, Bellamy Young.”
I laugh. “That I am.”
“How would you like to have dinner with me tonight?”
If my heart were to beat any harder, it might just burst through my chest and land into his lap. I have to fight to keep my hands still on the top of my desk, not wanting to fidget in front of him. I don’t want Derek to see how nervous I am. How nervous he makes me. It goes back to the whole not-wanting-to-feed-his-ego thing again.
“Your silence is speaking volumes,” he says and starts to get up.
“No, wait,” I say quickly. “Yes. I’d love to have dinner with you.”
He gives me a sly grin and I suddenly realize he just used the same trick on me that I used on him when I saw him on the street the other night. Put the squeeze on by threatening to leave to get a favorable answer. It makes me laugh.
He’s a clever man. This could be dangerous for me. But I’d also be lying if I didn’t say it’s also kind of hot.
Chapter Thirteen
Bellamy
“You did not,” I say, barely able to control my laughter.
He nods. “I did. The general was none too pleased. I spent a solid month working shit details as penance.”
My control slips and I laugh out loud, making people in the restaurant turn and openly stare at us. When Derek turns and stares back at them, they quickly turn away. For such a sweet man—and I’m thoroughly convinced he is just that—he has an intimidating presence about him that’s tangible.
We’ve spent the last couple of hours talking over drinks and dinner. Derek’s regaled me with tales from his time in the service. Some of them have been harrowing, others have been downright hysterical. His sense of humor, something I never realized he had back in the day, is sparkling. He’s hysterical and knows how to tell a tale, that’s for sure.
“And what about you?” he asks. “Surely, you have some stories of your own from back in Colorado.”
“Nothing that compares wit
h yours. My life there was pretty boring, all things considered. I was just locked in on getting my degree.”
“You enjoy teaching?”
I nod. “It’s more rewarding than I can even begin to tell you. It sounds corny, I know, but it really is.”
“I don’t think it sounds all that corny.”
“Just a little bit?”
He grins. “Yeah, maybe a little. But I can tell you’re a great teacher. You seem to really care about the kids.”
“I do. I really do.”
“I wish we’d had teachers like you back when we were in school.”
He takes a drink of his beer, his eyes never leaving mine. There’s an energy crackling between us I don’t know I’ve ever felt before. It’s strange and yet it feels good at the same time. There’s a comfort between Derek and me that I’m enjoying. And, of course, I’m enjoying the conversation and the laughter. I honestly don’t know the last time I laughed this much or this hard.
“Thank you for tonight,” I say. “It’s been a really nice evening.”
“It has,” he replies. “I can’t recall the last time I had an evening out this nice and this fun. Or with such dazzling company.”
“Smooth, Derek,” I say. “You’re a charmer.”
He laughs. “Too much?”
“Yeah, a little bit.”
“You’ll have to forgive me. I’m a bit rusty at this.”
“Rusty at what?”
“Dating,” he says.
I arch an eyebrow at him. “Oh? Is that what this is? A date? And here I thought it was just two old friends reconnecting over dinner.”
He grins at me. “I’m pretty sure this is a date. It feels like a date. I mean, it’s been a while since I’ve been on a date, but I do remember it feeling a lot like this.”
I laugh. “I can’t believe it’s been a while since you dated. I figured you were the type who had women lined up on a string.”
“Wow. You really do have a warped opinion of me.”
“You’ll have to forgive me. It’s been a while and I’m a bit rusty at this.”
He really does have a beautiful smile. It makes him look even younger than he already looks and far more approachable. It makes me forget that he’s part of a biker gang. That thought, along with the echo of Ruby’s words, makes the smile slip from my face. I try to cover it, but Derek doesn’t miss a thing. He really is far too clever for my own good.
“What is it?” he asks.
I hesitate to bring it up and cast a pall over what really has been a lovely evening. But I feel like if I don’t, that worm of doubt is going to continue writhing around in the back of my head, wrapping itself around everything until it chokes out all of the good feelings that he’s inspired in me. And I don’t want that. Plus, I’d rather get out all cards on the table up front now while things are still new. That way, there are no nasty, hurtful surprises down the line.
Not that I’m saying this is going to go anywhere. It’s certainly far too early to even think about things like that. But being with him makes me feel good. I enjoy talking to him and like I said, there’s this sense of comfort between us that’s really… nice. It’s something I haven’t felt in a really long time. I feel like I can be myself with him. Like I don’t have to put up any pretenses and I can just be who I am, and Derek won’t judge me for it.
“I need to ask you something,” I tell him.
“Uh-oh. This sounds serious.”
He takes another swallow of his beer and sets the glass down, leaning forward on the table, his expression earnest.
“It’s just this motorcycle club. I’ve heard some things and—”
“Let me guess… We’re hardcore murderers. We sling dope all over town. We dabble in human trafficking. And we also assassinated everybody from Abraham Lincoln to JFK. Did I miss anything?”
I laugh softly. “No, I think that about covers it,” I say then look up at him. “Is there any truth to it?”
He frowns and sits back in his seat. “Listen, I shouldn’t say anything. Ordinarily, we don’t care what people say about us. And believe me, we’ve heard it all,” he says. “People in this town love to gossip, and most of what they say is flat-out bullshit. They see MCs on TV and in the movies and assume that’s what we do.”
“You said, most of what they say is bullshit,” I say. “What isn’t bullshit?”
“I want to be open and honest with you. I mean, I don’t know what it is, but there’s just something about you that makes me not want to keep things from you.”
“All right. So don’t. Lay it out for me. I’m a big girl and I can take it.”
He hesitates, and I can tell he’s struggling with the decision to spill his club’s secrets. I feel bad for putting him on the spot like this, but it’s better to get this all out now before either of us lets our feelings get the better of us. I mean, once feelings start to solidify and get real, people start getting hurt. And I can tell he doesn’t want to hurt me anymore than I want to hurt him.
Derek takes a long swallow of his beer and sets the glass back down. He looks around as if he’s making sure nobody is close enough to overhear. Even still, he leans forward and lowers his voice so only I can hear.
“The truth is, we deal in weed. It’s our main source of income,” he says.
“But weed is legal in California. How is that the main source of your income?”
A small grin flickers across his lips. “It’s mostly legal. And definitely not in the quantities we deal in. Truth is, most of our product goes out to other, less enlightened, and forward-thinking states.”
Weed doesn’t seem like a big deal to me. I know plenty of people who smoke marijuana for a variety of mental, physical, and just recreational reasons. Hell, my mother has a medical marijuana card for her pain. To me, that’s not a deal breaker. But I get the feeling there’s more to it than just that.
“What else?” I ask.
“That’s it. We don’t sling meth or heroin or any kind of crap like that. And we don’t tolerate people in town who do.”
That lines up with what Ruby told me, and that seeming penchant for violence is a little worrisome.
“Did you and your club beat some guy up who was abusing his son and dealing heroin in town a few years back? Did you force him to leave town?” I ask.
He frowns. “Probably. I only joined the club a couple of years ago. But I have been part of a couple of incidents where we—strongly suggested—to somebody that they stop selling drugs in town,” he says.
“Strongly suggested?” I ask, arching an eyebrow at him.
“We usually give one warning. We tell them to stop slinging their shit in town or they’re gonna pay a price,” he replies.
“And if they don’t take your warning to heart?”
“Then, we have to reiterate our point… physically,” he says softly. “Listen, we all come from around here. This is our home, and we all love this town. We protect it. At all costs. We won’t tolerate anybody slinging that poison in Blue Rock.”
“But doesn’t your club—”
“Not in town,” he tells me, his expression and tone firm. “We don’t sell it in town nor do we allow it to be brought into town either. We do everything we can to keep Blue Rock clean and free of that shit. We don’t want it in our streets.”
It’s not the answer I expected, but it’s one that I actually kind of like. It’s odd, but I feel a sense of respect for what they do. At least, as far as protecting the town. I’m ambivalent about their selling pot. And I don’t like the fact that they’ll beat somebody up to make their point. But all in all, the picture I’m getting of Derek and his club is vastly different than the one the rumors suggest.
There are still some things that concern me, but in most ways, I feel better about them. About Derek. He’s definitely not the trigger-happy murder monster Ruby was concerned he might be. I’ve heard enough from him tonight to know that my initial impression of him was spot-on. I truly believe he’
s a good guy with a good heart. But he does love the image of an outsider as well.
“So, what do you think? Am I the horrible, murderous beast some people in town seem to think I am?”
“I’d say, probably not. I have to be honest and tell you I don’t like the idea of you running around roughing people up, but I don’t think you’re a beast.”
He laughs softly. “It doesn’t happen often. It’s rare, in fact. But if people think I’m a monster because I’m willing to throw a few punches to keep that poison out of Blue Rock, that’s a price I’m willing to pay.”
I give him a smile, the warmth in the pit of my stomach growing and spreading through my entire body. I glance at my watch and feel my eyes widen.
“Oh shit. I didn’t realize how late it had gotten. The nurse is leaving soon. I need to go check on my mom,” I exclaim.
“I’m sorry to have kept you. I didn’t mean—”
“Come on,” I tell him with a grin. “Let’s go have a nightcap and continue this conversation. I’m intrigued.”
“Intrigued, huh?”
“Better than just telling you I have to go, then ghosting you, isn’t it?”
“This is true,” he replies then snags our waitress as she passes by. “Check please.”
Chapter Fourteen
Spyder
I stand at the bookcase looking at pictures of Bellamy and her family. There are pictures of her when she was a little girl—a time when her father was still alive, and her mother was still in good health. She looked so happy. So carefree. I saw hints of that girl at dinner tonight, but I got the feeling it had been some time since she was as happy and carefree as the little girl she used to be.
I hear her in the back, talking to her mother. Their voices are low murmurs, but they sound excited, and I hear laughter. It sounds like whatever rancor that existed between them when she left for Colorado evaporated and they’ve got a close relationship now. That makes me glad for her.
Turning back to the photos in the bookcase, I notice the absence of recent pictures. The newest one seems to be from Bellamy’s senior prom. She looked regal in her gown. Every bit the prom queen she was voted to be. And in her face, I can see the traces of the stunning woman she would grow to be. As her face floats through my mind, I feel my heart lurch inside of me.
