by Karen Renee
“My mom is relentless on the phone. I shouldn’t have answered and I’m sorry. Rain check?”
His thin lips pressed together to the point his face looked like nothing but facial hair, but he finally said, “Yeah. Rain check. Definitely.”
He pecked me on the cheek and I locked the door behind him.
The third date was completely unplanned. He called me at 7:45 the following Tuesday night. He asked if I was home, and I said I was. He knocked on my door about twenty minutes later. We had both already eaten dinner. He had a six-pack of light beer. He came on strong that night, but since I had offered a rain check, I let the pushiness slide. He was a decent kisser, and making out quickly turned into removing of clothes. We moved to my bedroom, and I came to find out that Mark was a semi-decent lover. I wasn’t entirely disappointed. I always had to keep my expectations in check. My time with Cary, now Vamp, genuinely had ruined sex for me with most men.
After sex, we had dozed off, but with two beers in my system I woke up around midnight needing the bathroom. When I came out of the bathroom, I found Mark gathering his clothes from the living room.
I put on a short satin robe and watched from the doorway to my bedroom. When he was putting his second leg into his dress pants, I said, “Leaving so soon?”
He looked over to me and said, “I’d love another go, Frankie, but I have a seven a.m. meeting. Shouldn’t have let myself doze off, but you wore me out. You free Thursday?”
“I might be. Can’t say for sure. Just have to wait and see.”
Come Friday morning, I was feeling like nothing more than a booty call to Mark. No dinner date, no let’s watch some TV, none of that for me. He came by Thursday night around eight. No sooner did he have the door closed than he had his hands all over me and was kissing me with reckless abandon. We had sex twice, and by the time I woke up Friday, he was long gone. And he left my front door unlocked. I lived in a sleepy neighborhood in Neptune beach, but still, I was accustomed to a man being more concerned about my welfare.
Saturday afternoon, I was working an open house at a 1920’s remodel in Riverside. My best friend Reggie is a realtor with Watson and every so often I work an open house with him. The thing about open houses is that an open house rarely centers on selling the house that was open. It was about garnering more leads for buyers who were looking for homes and possibly potential sellers who also needed to buy another home. It was very quid pro quo for the two us. I was able to get more applicants into my pipeline to keep my boss happy, and Reggie was able to get his new customers pre-approval financing for whatever dream property he would finally show them.
The asking price of the property was over $400,000. Needless to say, there were not many people walking through the doors who were of the means to buy the property. However, the curiosity factor of such a huge house on prime real estate meant Reggie and I both had burgeoning lists of potential customers. We were almost an hour from shutting down the open house when a very pregnant blonde woman walked into the kitchen where I had my loan information laid out at the ready. She was followed by a man wearing a forest green polo shirt and khaki pants with brown wing-tip dress shoes. His hand was placed possessively on the small of her back. I looked up to the man’s face, to see he was Mark Stillman.
I was debating whether or not to dig a grave for him to trip right into. The look I got from Mark was a cross between surprise and dismay. I smiled at the woman who was clearly his wife, even though Mark never wore a wedding band. Believe me, as many times as I had been cheated upon, I knew to look for wedding bands and indentations in ring fingers from a suddenly absentee band. Obviously, Mark habitually did not wear his hardware on his ring finger.
I gave a cheery smile to the wife and asked, “So, your first child? I take it you’re looking for more room with a little one on the way?”
She gave me a weary smile and said, “Technically, it’s our first. Though it’s the fifth time I’ve actually been pregnant. We’re so grateful I’ve been able to carry our child for eight months.”
Four lost pregnancies. I didn’t have the heart to lay it on this woman that her husband was a scum-sucking cheater. I asked if they had financing in place already for their next home. The wife indicated that her husband was an engineer, and they were well-known for having all their ducks in a row.
Mark and his wife left, and I mentally dubbed him number eleven.
I packed up my VyStar folders and loan applications about twenty minutes after Reggie had closed the open house while he was pulling all his signage from the neighborhood. When Reggie returned, I went to my vehicle to load up my stuff. I had shut the back door on my SUV, and felt a presence to my right. I looked up to see Mark giving me a stern look.
I walked up the grassy strip in-between the road and the sidewalk. Looking into Stillman’s beady, brown eyes, I said, “Your secret is safe with me, asshole. But we’re done.”
Mark grabbed me by the arm and jerked me slightly forward. “I’d thank you for not saying shit to my wife, but we’re not done. Before I found you, I hadn’t had sex in close to six fucking months. She’s so fucked-up about this baby, I don’t know when I’ll get any regularly. You and I are good together, so you’re gonna keep seeing me, or I’m gonna report you to your boss for having an affair with a customer.”
“The hell you are! You’re not even getting a loan through me.”
“No, but I’m a VyStar customer, and I’ll still have your job if I want to.”
I was opening my mouth to retort when I saw it. Like any unexpected mayhem, I couldn’t fathom what was happening. I watched in horror as Mark’s tight, large fist swung at me. The strike to my face turned my head to the right with a force I couldn’t believe. It was so unexpected, I lost my balance. Some recess of my mind seemed to know that I was going to fall to my right side. My right hand extended out to diminish my fall. I felt searing pain in my palm where it scraped on the sidewalk as I fell down. I hoped that would be the end of it. I had never knowingly met a man who beat women. I had no idea what to expect, but I saw his brown wing-tip dress shoes approaching my face on the ground.
Please, don’t kick me in the face! It’ll affect my job. These were my stupid thoughts as he approached. He let out a growl and I saw one of his feet leave the ground. Then I heard the foot slam down and blinding pain radiated from my fingers and hand, straight up my elbow. I cried out. I heard the high pitch, but it sounded strangely quiet to me.
“We’re not done, Frankie. Don’t you forget it. You will give it up to me any time I want it.”
His feet stepped back and I thought that would be the end of it. Then the foot that hadn't stomped on my hand pulled back, and all of the air left my lungs in a whoosh. The intense pain from three different parts of my body had me seeing stars. Then the asshole went and kicked me in the ribs, again. I couldn’t believe this was happening. Mercifully, everything went black.
Chapter 2
I opened my eyes to see beautiful light-brown eyes peering down at me. Those eyes were set in the chiseled face of a light-brown-skinned black man. He saw my eyes focusing, and he graced me with a beautiful wide smile.
“Ma’am, we’re going to put you on the gurney now.”
“I’m so disgusted with myself,” I managed to rasp.
Another paramedic came into my line of sight. He was dark haired and had lovely hazel eyes. Not hazel like Cal’s, but they were lovely nevertheless. He was looking at my face in an assessing manner.
“I should have put up a fight. I was this close,” I croaked and then I tried to put my fingers together with only a modicum of space between them, but I couldn’t do it. The pain was excruciating, and I felt an ugly grimace spread across my face.
“Ugh. I can’t move my fingers, dammit.”
My brown-eyed firefighter looked down and gently placed my hand flat on the gurney.
The hazel eyed man looked deep into my eyes and then said, “Don’t worry about it, miss. We’ll get you to St. Vincent’s
and they’ll set your hand.”
For whatever reason, I couldn’t stop my babbling. “I knew he was bad news. He’s an engineer. I bet none of you hot firefighters cheat on your wives. Hell, I bet none of you are even single.”
Before either of the handsome paramedic firemen could speak, Reggie surged into my line of sight and said, “Oh thank God you’re awake, Frankie. Who did this to you? I’ll kill ‘em, and if I can’t kill ‘em, then Tucker sure as hell can.”
“Reggie, babe. I don’t need you siccing your well-built stud-muffin on this guy’s case.”
Reggie stepped back, looking like I had struck him. “You mean to tell me you know who hit you? Seriously? Frankie, who would do such a heinous thing? It better not have been a woman.”
“No, it was the husband of the last couple who came through the house.”
Reggie gasped. “Green polo and khakis? Pregger wife? What the hell? Shit, did they sign the guest book?”
I didn’t know, and the firemen didn’t give me time to tell Reggie because they were wheeling me to the back of the ambulance.
* * * * *
The following Monday, I was leaving the VyStar headquarters office on Blanding boulevard around quarter to seven. I had a hankering for buffalo wings, and I had called Dick’s Wings in Argyle with my take-out order. I pulled into the parking lot and realized that it was bike night there. There were easily thirty or more bikes in the parking lot, ranging from Harleys and Triumphs to Kawasaki and Yamaha crotch rockets. I stepped out of my SUV and couldn’t help but slowly wander by the bikes and openly ogle them. As bikers are wont to do, some of them were milling outside amongst the bikes while sipping beer. I tried to covertly ogle some of those bikers too.
I went inside and walked directly to the bar for my to-go order. I leaned my right arm on the bar in an effort to keep my right hand elevated, even if only for a few minutes. My trip to the emergency room resulted in my broken hand being set in a cast, my rib cage wrapped with ace bandages, and ice applied to my left eye. I had quite the shiner working on my face. This morning, I had found that no amount of concealer or foundation could hide the hideous bruise. It took until mid-afternoon before I could tune out my coworkers’ gasps and reactions to my marred appearance. Being in a wing joint during bike night, I found there weren’t as many surprised looks coming my way. Bikers didn’t flinch at anyone with black eyes, at least not openly.
A large burly man wearing a black Harley t-shirt and leather cut strode directly up to me as I waited on the waitress to come back with my to-go order. The man firmly grasped my shoulders and turned me to him. I looked into his chocolate-brown eyes and realized I was looking directly at Roll. Another one of Vamp’s MC brothers from Riot.
“Shit! I thought that was you. Girl, how are you doin’? And what’d you do to get such a nasty shiner? Air bag deploy on your ass in a car accident?”
Behind Roll I could see another brother, and just as I remembered him, Blood was standing there with his goateed face and lank brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. His gaze was concerned, and I suddenly remembered distinctly just how much I loved these guys. Blood did not miss the fact that my answer was not forthcoming. Before I could say anything at all, I realized Roll had caught Vamp’s eye and he was coming our way.
Vamp looked me up and down, taking in the black eye and broken hand. “You were beaten by a man, weren’t you?”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know fighting. Women don’t dish out black eyes and broken hands.” To my utter surprise, Vamp tenderly ran his hands down my sides from my breasts to my waist. My surprise prevented me from hiding the flinch when he gently touched my bruised ribs.
Vamp’s blue eyes narrowed on me like the blue light from the laser gun dentists use to seal a filling. He growled at me, “Who the fuck did this to you?”
“Vamp, you really – ”
Roll jumped in before Vamp could. “I don’t care if you’re not with Vamp any more, and haven’t been for a long time. I liked you, always have. We’re gonna get this fucker and let him know he doesn’t fuck with our Lorraine.”
“It’s Frankie now.”
“What the fuck ever,” Roll rumbled.
I put my good hand on my hip. “I appreciate it. I really do. And I’ve always liked you too, Roll, even if you are the most annoying Alabama fan in all of Florida. But if you go rough him up, he’ll have my job. I got a small house at the beach and my mortgage is decent, but it’s still steep for a single woman. I can’t afford to lose my job.”
Further discussion of the issue was interrupted by the waitress bringing my to-go order to me. Realizing I was going to leave, Blood and Roll talked me into taking my Styrofoam take-out box to their table, and I ate with them. Vamp was around, but keeping his distance. I would sense him staring at me every so often and when I would try to catch him in the act, he’d turn away.
Cal came by and said, “He ain’t been the same since we ran into you that day at Jared’s.”
I looked at him and asked, “Who would that be?”
“Don’t be coy with me. You know I’m talking about Vamp. He’s had a wakeup call recently. Things are changing with him. Maybe you should give him another chance?”
“I don’t think so. Cheater eleven may have hurt me physically, but I can’t take the kind of heartbreak that comes with Vamp’s territory.”
Cal gave me a sideways glance. “Cheater eleven?”
I shrugged one shoulder. “Yeah, once they cheat, they get a number. Vamp’s number four. As you can tell, in the past six years I haven’t managed to break the damn cycle. Damn pathetic as far as I’m concerned.”
I thought Cal would have a reaction to that, but his gaze shifted over my shoulder and his face practically lit up. I turned my head to look in the same direction. I saw a petite brunette in an aquamarine-hued sleeveless dress with ruching at the hip. It was business-like, but hot at the same time. The neck of the dress scooped slightly, and I saw a huge teardrop-shaped necklace hanging from her neck. As the woman came closer, I noticed a herringbone pattern on the teardrop charm, and if I wasn’t mistaken it was likely a LeVian crafted necklace. Routinely, I would drool over the chocolate diamonds in the LeVian case after making my Pandora purchase. I missed that opportunity recently thanks to Bradley, but at least I didn’t feel so guilty for ruining Tyrone’s potential sale of an engagement ring a few weeks back.
“Hey, Firecracker,” Cal said to the woman as she approached.
“Hey,” she said, almost breathy, as Cal wrapped an arm around her.
He bent his head to hers and gave her a kiss with enough passion to make me turn away.
When they broke their kiss I heard Cal say, “Mallory, I want you to meet Lorraine, sorry, I mean Frankie Ingram.”
Mallory gave Cal a look, then with an outstretched hand she smiled at me and said, “Hi. I’m Mallory. It’s very nice to meet you.”
I raised my cast, but outstretched my left hand to her. “Sorry, my right hand’s currently out of order.”
She gave me a sympathetic smile and switched to her left hand, too. After we shook hands, I said, “Thanks, nice to meet you too. Glad to see Cal finally landed a decent woman. Love the dress.”
Up close, I could see the gorgeous necklace perfectly accentuated Mallory’s chestnut locks and her intelligent brown eyes. I also noticed that it was definitely one of the necklaces I had drooled over at Jared's many times.
Turning to Cal I said, “You went with LeVian! Guess you really did make up for my cousin and me derailing Tyrone’s commish on number ten’s engagement ring.”
Cal’s eyebrows furrowed. “Your cousin?”
“Yeah. The lady who ‘gave’ me the engagement ring,” I said, using air quotes when I said the word ‘gave’.
Cal almost looked irritated with me. “Well, shit. If I woulda known she was your family—”
“Oh, stop! You’re layin’ down money on LeVian, you’ll be buyin’ more for Mallory. Just ask for
Diane when you go back.”
With a groan, Cal said, “Not so sure. That piece set me back a goodsized chunk.”
I giggled because I knew Cal had plenty of ‘good-sized chunks’ set aside. Six years ago the club had been into some nefarious dealings, but those dealings were lucrative to say the least. Each brother got a cut of the take, and since Cal had been the Sergeant-at-Arms even back then, his cut was a bit larger. He was living at the clubhouse at the time, so with low overhead and chunks of change coming his way, I had to figure Cal had some cash on hand.
Shaking my head, I said, “Yeah, right. Whatever you say, Cal.”
About the Author
Karen Renee has wanted to be a writer since she was eight years old, but it’s taken the last twenty plus years for her to amass enough courage and overall life experience to bring that dream to life. Some of those life experiences came from the wonderful world of advertising, banking, and local television media research. She is a proud wife and mother, and a Jacksonville native. When she’s not at the soccer field or cooking, you can find her at her local library, the grocery store, in her car jamming out to some tunes, or hibernating while she writers and/or reads books.
Other books by Karen Renee
Please visit your favorite ebook retailer to discover other books by Karen Renee:
The Riot MC Series
Unforeseen Riot
Inciting a Riot Available August 2018
Into the Riot Coming December 2018
