by KJ Dahlen
No keys. So where are my keys? Just a matchbook. She didn’t smoke so why did she have this? She flipped it over. Bennigans. Mmm, the local Irish bar? Was this the bar where they supposedly... She never went to that bar. Her gramps went there a lot in the old days. None of it made any sense.
Shaking her head she wondered...Now what do I do? I can’t even get into my own house! She tried the doorknob even while knowing it would be locked. She always locked it whenever she left and her keys would be in her jean’s pocket. She peered down at herself. No jeans either, just this dress.
Shaking her head, she went around the back to the laundry room window. Raising it, she climbed through. Her bottom hit the laundry table with a thump. “Good thing I installed this or I woulda landed on my butt. But I already did that enough for one damn day.” She jumped down and closed the window.
She again looked down at the clutch still tucked under her arm. It had one item in it, the matchbook. No lip gloss, no perfume, no cell. Why was it in that motel room? Hound didn’t get it when she’d brought it up. But she would never had taken it with her. Then another thing. This dress. She bit at her lip as she peered down at it.
It was flimsy, sexy, black and not hers!
How did she end up in the local Motel Six with a biker that she barely knew, dressed like a slut in a dress she did not own with her clutch and a marriage certificate stating she had married that biker?
She stepped from the laundry room and stopped dead in her tracks.
Her house was destroyed. He couch had been slashed open and the stuffings were everywhere. Her lamps were broken. Glass was scattered across the carpet. Her eyes rounded as she took in all the massive destruction. There were holes in every wall. She wandered from room to room to find all her belongings, pictures, nick knacks, dishes—everything smashed to bits.
She plopped down hard on her kitchen chair.... The one that wasn’t broken to pieces of kindling wood.
Who would do this?
She gazed around. She needed her cell phone. She saw it under a broken plate on the kitchen floor and reached under the pile to pull it out. Screen smashed, no light up. It was destroyed like everything else. A lone tear rolled down one cheek as she sat and wondered what was happening to her life.
Sighing, she stood up. She went to the front door and unlocked it. then walked down her steps and went to the house next door. She knocked.
Mrs. Delvy opened the door. “Oh, hello sweet Sara.” Then her smile dropped. “What’s wrong?”
Sniffling, Sara replied, “Someone broke...” Her voice faltered. “...into my house and wrecked it.”
Mrs. Delvy gasped. “Oh dearie, come on in!”
“I-I just need a phone, to- to call the police. M-mine was destroyed.”
Mrs. Delvy grabbed her elbow and tugged her inside. “Come on and I will make you a cup of tea while you wait for them.”
Hound rolled into the company parking lot on his Harley. His mood had not improved and he had to bandage his knuckles too. Dumb move, punching that wall and he’d had to leave an extra two hundred at the desk for the damage. It would not be good for a part owner in a construction company well known in Troy like Moore Construction ‒ to have one of the Moore brothers punching out a wall ‒ and leaving without paying for the damage.
Besides, his mom and dad would skin his hide. Or rather, make him wish they had after the lectures. Black Jack and Molly Moore always did what was right and had taught their sons to do the same in life. Only one of them turned out bad and that was Bulldog. The man had been an adult when Hound was still a child so he hardly remembered him. But no one spoke of him much. He wasn’t a good man, or what good was in him, drugs and greed took.
Kicking the stand down, he swung his leg off the cycle. His head still throbbed but at least it was bearable now after all the aspirin he took. But he still had a huge pain and that was the certificate in his vest pocket. What the hell was he gonna do? He knew he needed to go to his parents but damn...He did not want his brothers knowing about this.
Hound, their brother had gotten drunk, gotten married while blasted and deflowered a—his train of thought halted. Oh, shit. If his mother heard that, he would stay married. Crap. Now what to do?
“Hey, Hound!”
He looked up.
“Are ya gonna stand there all day?” Black Jack asked.
“Oh hey, dad.” He strolled over to where his father stood by the double doors to Moore Construction.
“What were you daydreamin’ about?” his dad asked with a raised brow.
More like having a daymare not a daydream. “Umm, just tired.”
His father glanced down at his hand. “Been fighting?”
Dammit, he couldn’t hide anything. “I um... well, I punched a wall.” He knew to tell the truth, it had been hammered into him and his brothers since they’d been born. Besides, it always came back to bite you in the ass later if you tried it.
“And can I ask why?”
Hound shook his head. “It’s sorta personal.”
His father raised his brows. “Oh, so a girl eh?”
If you only knew pops, if you only knew. A girl I married and did not remember doing it.
“Alright then,” his dad replied. “When you’re ready to talk about it.”
He smiled at his father. “You know I’ll come to you first.”
“For what?” Gambler came out through the office door. “You’re late, punk.”
Hound sighed. “I was on time. Just talking to Dad.”
“You can’t use a hammer with that hand.” Judge came out too.
“Yeah, well, I do the PC work mostly.” Hound looked at him then at Gambler.
“Yeah well, one handed at that today too,” Judge remarked.
“I punched a wall ok?” he exclaimed. “That’s what you both are after. What happened to my hand.”
Gambler chuckled. “You are too easy to tease, kid.”
“Kid?” Hound snorted as he pulled up his shoulders on his 6 foot four, two hundred pound frame. “I think it is safe to say I am an adult now, brother.”
“Yeah well, adults don’t punch walls,” Judge supplied.
Hound glared at him. “I had a rough...” His voice fell away. “...Night.”
“Doing what?” Gambler wanted to know.
“Yeah, you have the same damn routine every day,” Judge broke in again. “Get on the Harley, go downtown, grab some of those muffins you and Dad love so much, work 9 to 5. Have one drink and some pool at Bennigans, home by nine. In bed with your jammies and lights off by 10.”
Gambler busted up laughing. “Oh shit, Judge! Dammit, that is exactly it!”
Hound shook his head. “So you are saying I do the same damn thing over and over?”
“Yeah.” Judge nodded. “That’s what I’m saying.”
“Ok, boys. Stop teasin’ him. He don’t look so good today,” Black Jack advised.
And sure enough, both men did what he said and turned around to go in. Didn’t matter how big a Moore brother got, they knew better than to sass dad or refuse.
His dad looked over at him and smiled. “So where’s the muffins?”
Muffins? Yeah, those. Made by the girl he was married to. He winced at the thought. Married? Fuck a duck and fuck everything else too. He’d better do something and quick. “Umm, damn, I forgot em. Am I needed in the next hour?” he asked. “I can go grab them and maybe some salve at Walgreens for my knuckles.”
His dad stared at him narrowly. “Somethin’ is up with you boy.”
“There is yes...” Hound sighed. “But I can’t talk about it just yet.”
Nodding, Black Jack motioned toward his cycle. “Yeah, go.”
Hound turned and got back on his bike. What was he thinking? He had to go get her, go to the courthouse, and ask how the hell this could be undone. Plus, he forgot the damn muffins? His dad and brothers all knew something was wrong and before long, he would have to fess up. But he had to omit the deflowering a virgi
n part, cause the look in his mom’s eyes when one of her sons did something wrong? Nah. None of them ever wanted to see that. It was considered a fate worse than frying in hell.
He started his bike up. Then glancing up, he caught Gambler looking at him from the double doorway. He looked down at his wrist and tapped his imaginary watch, then looked up at Hound.
Hound raised his hand and flipped him off.
Gambler busted up laughing and closed the door.
Fucking brothers, he had too many. Hound cracked a smile.
Chapter Three
When Hound got to the shop, he was entirely baffled. It was closed and customers were standing on the sidewalk. Some were even peeking in through the windows. So, did she even get home last night? Fuck, what kind of bastard was he? So caught up in the anger of being unexpectedly married that he just let her get herself home? He sat on his bike at the curb and wondered what to do next. He got an idea and he hoped he could get it going without too many questions. He tapped his phone.
“Yeah?” came the reply.
“Hey Zipper.”
“Hound?” Zipper asked.
“Yeah man, I need a huge favor.”
“Well, you got it if I can do it. You bailed me out a time or two. So whaz up?”
Hound breathed a sigh of relief. “I need an address on the QT. It’s personal, not MC business.”
There was a pause.
Hound wondered if Zipper ‒ who was the Sin’s bustards IT guy ‒ would even do this for him.
“Ok, shoot.”
Hound let out a breath of relief. “It is for a Sara Beth Bassette.”
“Just a sec,” Zipper said.
Hound heard the typing of his keyboard.
“Ok, 556 Desmond. Anything else?”
Hound paused. Should he get the entire life of Sara? No, he could do that on his own when he got to his laptop. He did need to find out all he could if he had just got hitched to this woman while not even knowing why. “Nah, man. Just worried about her and needed to find her.”
“All is good. Hey, isn’t she the one that makes those heavenly donuts the club gets by the dozens?”
Hound winced, he had forgotten the Sin’s had a standing order for donuts every damn day with her shop. “Um, yeah the Bassette Bakery. Her shop is closed today.”
“What? Wow, it is always open till what? Four every day?”
“Yeah, so I kind of know her and I wanted to check on her.”
“Good man, good man. Ok, laters.” Zipper ended the call.
Hound put his cell away and shook his head. Good man? Right now that was in fucking doubt. He revved his bike and headed two streets over. This part of town wasn’t the best but her shop had such great goods that it drew people from even the best parts of town. He turned on Desmond which had many older houses.
Then he saw them. Cops. Three cars all lined up in front of a small house. Fuck. His chest tightened a bit. If something happened to her, he would feel like shit for a long ass time.
He rode to a stop, 2 houses down. Then shut his bike off and sat there watching. He wanted to see if she was around. God dammit, let her be around.
Hound sat and waited. No Sara and the cops looked serious like something major had occurred. It was driving him crazy. He saw cops go in and out but he never saw her. Finally, he started his bike up and moved closer. Shutting it down, he kicked the stand and got off.
“Hey, Duggan!” Officer Barnes Copeland called from the cop car he stood next to.
Hound waved and walked over. “Hey, Barnes.”
“What are you doing here?” Officer Copeland asked.
Hound knew him from a couple times when cops got involved with the Bastards. Mostly, when they were fighting off some criminal or syndicate...the man was friendly toward the MC.
He shrugged. “Her bakery was closed. And in the 2 years it has been there, it has never been closed except on Sundays. I wondered, got concerned and came over.” Yeah, way over the top explanation but Hound himself did not know what the hell he was doing here anyway.
“Oh, you know Sara?”
Yeah really well, considering. He thought but aloud he replied, “Yes I do.”
“Well, it was pretty bad in there.” Barnes motioned to the house.
Hound’s gut tightened. “Bad? Is-is Sara—?”
“Am I what?” a voice came from the backside of the car.
He turned to see Sara, still in that hot ass dress but she wore a long sweater to cover most of it. “I was worried. Your shop was closed and customers were lining the street.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh, my god! The shop! I-I forgot all about it!”
He stared at her. She’d been crying. Her eyes looked red and swollen. Well, yeah she was crying this morning. He winced, mostly because of his actions. But dammit, he didn’t know what had happened either. “So, are you okay?”
She didn’t seem to hear him as she turned and rushed back into her house.
“So, she seems a bit off. But considering everything, its shock, I will bet,” Barnes commented from next to him.
“Yeah,” was all Hound was gonna add. She had reason to be before she even got home to whatever this was. “So what happened here?”
Now the officer part of Barnes kicked in as he eyed Hound. “We can’t say Duggan. You know that.”
Yeah, he figured. He then walked around the car and up the walk.
Another officer stepped in front of him. “Sir, this is a closed crime scene.”
“Let him through. He is a friend of the victim,” Barnes spoke from behind Hound.
Hound felt surprised by this help, but he would take it. He turned n smiled at Barnes. “Thanks man. I just want to see if I can help.”
“Yeah, thought so. You Sin’s are that sort and have done wonders for this town. So I figured it was that.”
Hound didn’t look him in the eye. Yeah, the sort to deflower a virgin while stinking drunk, then get hitched, accuse her of doing it all, then let her get home across town on her own. That sort. He thought with disgust. He needed to do something. It was like his family had taught him. Be decent, help when you can, keep your honor. Hound now knew he hadn’t done even one of those things when it came to this woman.
He walked in and halted.
The place was entirely wrecked.
“What the fuck?”
“Yeah,” Barnes muttered. “Someone did this with malice and hate. Man, they even soaked all her clothes in bleach.”
Hound blinked. He had seen places ripped apart before. Someone hunting for something. Or when a fight had occurred. But this? What the hell had this girl gotten herself into?
He nodded at Barnes and continued into the small house. There were holes in the walls, her furniture ruined, glass everywhere. It was as if pure hate had made a visit with the devil by its side and they both turned the dwelling into a hole in the ground, pretty much.
He wandered through seeing all the damage. Whoever had done it, had wanted her to have nothing left that was useable.
Wandering down a small hallway where every wall had holes whacked into them, he stopped at a smashed door. The door hung off its hinges.
“Oohhh,” a voice cried from inside the room.
He peeked in.
Sara stood by the closet and had tears running down her face. “Why?” she sobbed.
Looking down at her feet, Hound saw her clothes in several mish mash piles with the white stains of bleach soaking all of them. It had to be like 3 gallons worth that they’d used to do this.
He took a deep breath and stepped in.
Sara turned to see him. “Why?”
Hound stared at her tear streaked face. “Do you have any enemies?”
She blinked as though she couldn’t understand the question. “That’s what the cops asked. But...”
Hound saw in her eyes that she had someone in mind.
“But no... I live here alone. I run my bakery...”
With another breath intake, he st
epped further into the room. So, she knew something and wasn’t saying. Why? Was she unsure or was there really someone out to hurt her? He intended to find that out later. “You have any friends who can help like... clean this up?”
Her gaze swung up to him and finally that dazed look left her eyes. Those green orbs filled with a hard glint now. “Why are you here?” Her voice was hard too.
Hound knew he deserved that look and that tone. “Like I said, your shop was closed. And after...” he paused to try to form words and a sentence that did not make him out to be the asshole he had been. But no go on that. “After I failed to make sure you got home ok, I found out your address and came over.”
She kept staring as if he didn’t just explain himself. “So you need muffins that badly?”
Hound blinked hard. Yeah, he deserved that too. He had to smile though, at the remark. Yeah, he was hooked on those for sure as was Black Jack. “Look, I wasn’t in great shape earlier. I...”Apologizing had never been something he did often or well. “I was out of it... then when your shop was closed, I realized...” Again, his voice fell away.
“Realized what?”
Yeah, she wasn’t gonna make this easy was she? “That I had allowed you to get home on your own.”
“Oh.” She nodded and seemed to dismiss his near apology altogether. She moved over to a dresser that had lingerie hanging out of it and gasped.
Hound walked over to see what was in the drawer, besides sexy underthings.
Her panties and bras were soaked in something. He sniffed at it. “Lighter fluid?”
Almost stumbling, she stepped back. “I-I—don’t know what to do. I have no clothes to wear, except this strange dress. How can I open up? I can’t even get there unless I walk.”
“Why? Don’t you have a car?”
Her bewildered gaze swung up. “You should see the garage.”
Hound shook his head.
“They—they slashed all my tires and keyed the paint. And the hood was up, so I don’t even know if it runs at all.”
“Well, fuck.” Hound was still at a loss. “The only thing I can say is... that is was good that you weren’t home last night.”
