Walk the Line (Kings of Chaos Book 5)

by Shyla Colt

  I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do. I moved to part time Physical Therapy work when Whit hit ten and got heavily involved in activities and advanced academics. Brooks was never home, I was stretching myself thin, and I couldn’t stand the thought of having her raised by a nanny. After three more years, I left the field altogether. It’s been six years since I had a client. I haven’t kept up with the advances in the medical field or gained any new skills. I’m lost and struggling against the tide like a salmon trying to swim upstream. Every day is a trial. I peer down at my sweatpants and cringe. I’d put on a good fifteen pounds since everything happened. That’s what happens when you’re not following a strict diet and exercise plan.

  It takes all I have to wake up, dress, cook breakfast and play happy for Whitney. A knock on the door makes me tense. I’m not expecting anyone. Dear, God. Have they found us again? I push myself up from the chair and cross the living room to the door. I peer out the peephole, and my heart jumps into my throat. I choke on a sob as I rip the chain of its slot, twist the lock, and open the door. I launch myself at the curvy brunette with hair big enough to defy gravity, ripped jeans, and a white tank top. She smells like roses and clean air, and her arms around me are the sweetest gift I’ve been given in years.

  “Oh, B. Why didn’t you tell me you needed me? Come on, sugar, let’s get inside.”

  I sniff, as I swipe at my eyes, unable to stave off the waterfall of salt water rolling down my face.

  “Inside now. The neighbors don’t need to know our business.”

  I give a strangled laugh and step back inside. She follows me in with two massive black suitcases.

  “What are you doing here, Jesslynn?”

  “Checking on you, and not a minute too soon by the look of it. I knew you were selling me wolf tickets when you swore up and down you were fine on the phone. No one goes through all that and comes out smelling like roses. I wasn’t here but a hot minute when I flew out after it happened. I woulda been back here sooner, but everyone was shopping for Derby, and I couldn’t see leaving the shop.” Jesslynn shakes her head. She’d gone to school for design and business and managed a popular shop back home. Posh sold clothing and accessories that would make any Southern Belle swoon. She worked hand in hand with local designers and crafters, to present unique, fashionable, and affordable merchandise.

  “I’m here now for the rest of the summer and if I’m not satisfied with your state of mind before I leave here. I’m taking you back home with me. Whitney will be in college by then, and you won’t have any ties to this place.”

  My lower lip trembles. I’ve never been so grateful for her aggressive personality and almost obsessive planning in my life.

  “I can’t believe you’re here, Jess.”

  “Honey, you’re my sister in everything but blood. Where else would I be right now?”

  I shake my head. I’d forgotten what true friendship looked and felt like. My girlfriends in California had all abandoned me like rats on a sinking ship after the news broke. As if my tragedy might somehow rub off on them. I always knew our relationships were shallow. We ran in the same circles, but I never felt truly close to them. The girls I knew from nursing were different, but I’d neglected those connections like I did so many others in my life.

  “I love you, Jess.”

  “And I love you too, B. Which is why I’m going to tell you this sweatpants chic look is not working for you, honey. We need to take you out for some new clothes, a bit of spa time, and a haircut. It’ll work wonders.”

  I touch my hair. Since I’d stopped straightening it, I’ve been at a loss at how to handle the thick, unruly kinky coils.

  “You’ve done your mourning. Now is about remembering how to live.”

  “You make it sound so easy,” I whisper.

  “Now that I’m here it will be. We’ve got an appointment at—” she glances down at her watch. “Oh, twelve-thirty with a top salon. So I suggest you go spruce yourself up. Don’t bother arguing, because you know I’ll win.”

  I open my mouth and close it. I have no fight left, and the thought of downtime with my sister is a break from the hell I’m living. “I’ll go get ready.”

  She places a hand on my shoulder and squeezes. “We’re going to get through this together you and me. I promise you that.”

  ***

  I’m a newborn colt trying to walk on wobbly legs as we step out of the SUV and head toward the BLVD bar. After being exfoliated, waxed, pampered and made-up, I no longer recognize the woman in the mirror. Dressed in a brand new pair of blue jean cutoffs, and a gray tank top with a rose. Short brown boots with fringe, round out the outfit. It’s the most casual I’ve gone in years. The big curls I was once known for while growing up are back.

  They surround my head in a cloud of fluffy spirals that reminds me of my roots. I’m more me than I’ve been in a long time. I should be excited, but I’m terrified because I’m out of touch with that woman in a way I never imagined I would be. It’s shameful how caught up I was in an ideology. The perfect family with the big home, amazing car, and expensive clothes.

  I never cared much about any of it, but I knew Brooks did, and I wanted to please him. That’s what good southern girls do, support their husband with a smile, well-cooked meals, and pretty packaging. It was the way my mother did it, her mother, and her mother before her. Some traditions and beliefs die hard, especially in the small town where I was born. It burns my biscuit, thinking of how good he had it. Home cooked meal, a pretty wife at home who adored him. He was my first love. The only man I’d ever slept with, and for a time, all my dreams come true.

  Until the cracks in his carefully sculpted façade began to fade. I made excuses for him over the years. Pride was a poison I administered to myself in order to remain in denial. We approach the building, and I nibble the inside of my cheek.

  “You nervous, B?”

  “A might bit.”

  “How long has it been since you went out and had a good time?”

  “Well—”

  “No. Not when you went out and played the who’s life is better game with the Stepford wives. I’m asking when’s the last time you went out, threw back some shots, and listened to some country music and rock?”

  I shake my head. “I can’t tell you.”

  “Exactly. Relax. We’ll have a few drinks, play some pool, and listen to some good music. Trust me. We won’t be running into anyone you know here.”

  The words are insanely soothing. I’ve been forced to play a role for so long. This is my turn to be me, whoever that is.

  Jesslynn hooks our arms and pulls me to her. “I aim to see that smile of yours, darling. It’s gotten lost over the past few months.”

  Whitney is at home with her best friend Amy, marathoning movies and scarfing down junk food. This is my time. I take a deep breath as we walk into the silver building with the white rectangular sign with a red arrow pointing us inside. The bar is dimly lit, and Johnny Cash is playing over the speakers.

  “Now we know we’re in the right place.” The familiar music and clump of people gathered around tables, and the bar set me at ease. There’s anonymity in being in a new environment with the woman who knows me better than anyone in the entire world. Jesslynn lets out a whoop as she guides me to the bar. The girl never needed much to get a party started. The trait was good and bad depending on the situation. She’d landed us in some pickles. But without her, I would’ve missed out on the most amazing things. Some people just shine a little brighter than others.

  Jesslynn is a beacon in the darkness. You can’t help but be drawn to her. She squeezes in beside a dangerous looking man with long brown hair pulled back into a low ponytail. The words Kings of Chaos stand out in blood red against the black patch that has a skull wearing a crown on his leather vest.

  “You don’t mind if I squeeze on in beside you, do yo
u?” Jesslynn asks.

  I try not to let my jaw drop as the man turns and peers down on her. He’s far younger than I thought he would be with a strong jaw, deep-set hazel eyes, and a light brown goatee that adds to his rugged appeal. When did bikers get so hot?

  “Not at all. It’s an improvement to my current company.”

  Jesslynn peers to her left toward the muscular blond in black in his mid-thirties and nods her head toward him. “Him?” she mouths.

  He shakes his head. “Myself.”

  Jesslynn laughs. His witchy hazel eyes twinkle and his smile is a flash of white. The change is devastating. In a split second, he goes from intimidating to inviting. “Me and my best friend, Blanche are here to let loose and have a good time.”

  “Is that right?” He arches an eyebrow and smirks. “You always this quiet, Blanche?” he asks.

  The words roll off his tongue like honey. I swallow as my hormones flare to life. The man can’t be older than mid-twenties, thirty at the most.

  “Well, Jess always does enough talking for the both of us. I like to hang back and observe until I decide if there’s anyone worth talking to.”

  He chuckles, and I shrug as heat fills my cheeks.

  “I like that.”

  “And you are?” Jesslynn asks.

  “They call me Freeze.”

  “Interesting choice of name your parents choose. They must like the cold an awful lot,” Jess says with a wink.

  He laughs. “That’s my road name. Only my close friends get to use my government name, and we just met, sweetheart. Besides, I didn’t hear you give me yours. Only Blanches.” He nods toward me, and I swear his color changing eyes smolders.

  I swallow to moisten my dry mouth. I’m so rusty I can’t read his expression properly. He’s too young for me. There’s no way he’s interested in me.

  “Pardon me for being so rude. I’m Jesslynn. My friends cause me Jess, but we just met, so.” She shrugs, and he laughs.

  “Touché.”

  Jess turns to the bar and flags down the pretty blonde bartender.

  Freeze leans in closer and nods to Jess. “Is she always like this?”

  “What you see is what you get,” I say.

  “And what about you, Blanche the observer?”

  “What about me?” I ask cursing my lameness.

  “What are you like?”

  “I don’t know,” I whisper quietly.

  He tilts his head. “Odd answer.”

  “Honest answer.”

  “Well, you can’t leave me hanging with that.”

  Jesse slaps down two shots of Tequila. “Drink up, bitch. We’re getting you back to your happy place.”

  She hands me a wedge of lemon and slides over a salt shaker. I dash the salt between my thumb and pointer finger. I suck on the lemon, lick the salt, and throw the liquid courage down the hatch, eager to escape Freeze’s beautiful question filled gaze. The Tequila goes down the hatchet smoothly and warms me from the inside out.

  Jesse claps. “Now we’re talking. I got two Buds coming to chase them. I’m the designated driver tonight.”

  “Lucky me,” I say as I lick the remaining salt from my lips.

  “I like a woman who can hold her liquor,” Freeze says.

  “Oh honey, I’m Tennessee raised, it’s pretty much a requirement.”

  He laughs. “Noted.”

  “Is he bothering you ladies?” the blonde to Jess’s left asks.

  I hold my breath. Please don’t let my first night in God knows how long turn into a bar brawl.

  “You hurt my feelings with your assumptions. These are my new friends, Blanche and Jesslynn.” It was a small thing, introducing me first, but there was something in his tone that felt territorial.

  “Nice to meet you all, I’m Mark. You never know around this bar. I’m a bartender here, so I try to keep an eye on things.”

  “I got you, man,” Freeze says.

  “It’s nice to meet you, ladies,” Mark says.

  “Nice to meet you,” Jesse and I chime, polite as punch.

  “Tell me, Mark. Do you play pool?” Jess asks.

  “I do. You up for a game?”

  “I am.” She grabs her bottle of beer and winks at me. “I’ll be just across the way if you need anything.” I shake my head and laugh. Jesslynn has never been married because she likes to keep her options open, and fully embrace the experience life has to offer her. A business woman who never lacks for dates or traveling companions, she’s never had a problem bucking tradition.

  “Before the alcohol started flowing you were saying something about changes?” Freeze says.

  I take a long draw off my bottle and nod as I toy with the label. I finally find a man who listens, and it’s the wrong time in my life. “Yes, I’m coming out of a marriage and figuring everything out, starting over fresh.”

  “Oh, yeah? I am too.”

  “You just got divorced?” I say skeptically. “You seem awful young for that.”

  He laughs. “No, going through changes. I’ve been thinking about relocation recently. My jobs kept me traveling over the past five years, and now I have a chance to plant some roots. I’m twenty-nine, by the way, not that young.”

  “More than ten years younger than me,” I say addressing the elephant in the room. May-December romances with older men and younger women don’t seem to make too many waves these days, but rarely have I seen it the other way around.

  “Good, it means we’re both legal. I was a bit worried before. You look so young.”

  I shake my head exasperated by his tenacity.

  “You’re a determined thing, aren’t you?”

  “If you stick around I’ll show you how much.”

  I give a laugh. “Cocky.”

  He winks. “So I’ve been told.”

  I study him closer. “Tell me more about this change of yours. You’re moving here?”

  “I am. I’ve been floating around to where my family needs me for the past couple of years, and I’m ready to put down roots.”

  “San Diego isn’t a bad place for that.”

  “Not when I get the sand, sea, and the company of a beautiful woman.”

  He’s coming on strong without being offensive. I like it more than I should. We’re from two different worlds. I have no clue what the Nomad patch on his vest means or the ins and outs of his life as a biker. Yet, knowing I’m desirable to another man, a younger man no less, is a thrill that takes me away from the dark headspace. Alright, young’in I’ll bite.

  Chapter Two

  Freeze

  I’m fascinated by the woman I spent all night talking to. Hell, I even asked for her number. Woman are easy for me to get. They see my cut, and they cream their panties. They want the bad boy experience, or they’re from the life and want the prestige that comes with being an Old Lady. I know how the game is played. Only, Blanche is different. On the outside, she’s polished and put together, but I can tell looking at her eyes she’s seen some shit. She has the kind of deep down hurt that only comes with massive trauma. It draws me to her like a moth to the flame. I like pretty broken things. They speak to the dark spaces I carry inside my soul.

  I stare at the slip of paper she handed me and wonder if the feminine handwriting is a gateway to bullshit. Is this her real number? Logically I should walk away. I’m not based out of this chapter, and she’s way out of my stratosphere. But the thought of her full lips, gentle twang, and humor hold me captive. This woman is meant to be mine. I’m the type of man who always gets what he wants, and damn do I love a good chase. I’m a wolf who’s caught his mate’s scent.

  I roll onto my back in the bunk. What the hell. I waited two days, three is cliché, and the day after made me seem too needy. I’m aware of the age difference between us. I couldn’t care less, but
her comments lead me to believe it makes her wary. Then again, maybe she’s just guarded in general. Divorces tend to be nasty, and hers is fresh. There’s a story there. It’s in the ways she keeps a close eye on her surroundings.

  The phone rings. Well, it’s not a rejection hotline, that’s a good sign.

  “Hello?”

  “Blanche. It’s Freeze.”

  “Oh, Hi.”

  I smirk. “Didn’t think I’d call?”

  “No actually.”

  I chuckle. “I like your honesty. Never lose that.”

  “I’m pushing forty. I think my quirks are set by now.”

  “You got time for me today?”

  “Maybe. I have a daughter who gets home around three, and I like to be here for that.”

  “How old is she?”

  “Eighteen.”

  “Blanche, I have a hard time believing you have a daughter that old.”

  She laughs. “If nothing else, you’re good for my ego.”

  “I’ll be good for a lot of things trust me.”

  “Cocky.”

  “So, I’ve been told. How about lunch?”

  “I can do that. When and Where?”

  “Say thirty minutes. You pick.”

  “Oh, Jeez, no pressure. What do you like to eat?”

  “Anything, I’m not picky.”

  “Do you like Mexican food?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How about Colima’s in Oceanside.”

  “I’ve never been there before, but I can find it.”

  “I’m looking forward to breaking you into one of Oceanside’s hidden treasures.”