Liam: Lost Breed MC Series, Book 10

by Parker, Ali

  “So in your opinion, there is a need for this?”

  “Oh God, yes,” Tracey said. “Why? Have others told you there’s not?”

  I shrugged as I gazed up at the three-story shelter before us with the “No Vacancies” sign above the front door. “I’ve run into the odd person who has told me there are more important things I could put my money toward.”

  “You mean ran into the odd man?”

  I flashed her a grin. “Tracey, you and I are a lot more alike than you know.”

  She turned pink and giggled. “Oh, you flatter me, Miss London.”

  “I’m not flattering you. I mean it. We’re quite alike. And please, call me Genevieve.”

  “Genevieve.” She said my name like it was the most foreign word she’d ever heard. I smiled to myself as she and I studied the shelter. “The fact that there aren’t any beds right now is proof that we need more shelters. No woman should have to flee her home, usually with her children in tow, only to show up on a doorstep that turns her away. It’s shameful.”

  “Humiliating,” I said.

  “On the business,” Tracey clarified.

  “I knew what you meant.”

  She smiled at me. It was a warm, confident sort of smile, and it was the first one I saw from her that wasn’t etched with nervousness. Then her eyes flicked over my shoulder. “Daniel!” she cried. “Over here. Move your ass, will you? We’ve been waiting for you.”

  Daniel, a tall, gangly, tanned-suit wearing young man with thick black glasses lumbered over to us. He had a folder in one hand that was vomiting out loose-leaf paper, and in his other was a silver coffee tumbler leaking black coffee down one side of his suit.

  Poor kid. He was the definition of frazzled.

  “Sorry, Tracey. Couldn’t get out of the office. Robert was on my ass about one of our other files.”

  “It’s fine.” Tracey sighed, holding out her hand for the folder.

  He slid it into her hand, and she opened it up to straighten the papers with a disapproving scowl. Her young assistant seemed to add more work to her docket than he did to alleviate it.

  Daniel offered me his hand in a quick but firm shake. “Hello, Miss London. It’s nice to meet you. I really am so sorry I’m late. I know it’s a bad look. But you’re in good hands with Tracey.”

  “I have full confidence in both of you.” I grinned, setting him more at ease. I caught the appreciative glance Tracey sent his way before she marched forward to the double glass front doors of the shelter and tugged one open. I walked through first.

  The first thing that hit me was the smell.

  It was akin to what a real wool coat might smell like if it was left out in the rain for four weeks and then dried slowly, locked away in a humid closet somewhere, collecting dust and the lingering smells of everything else in the room.

  Cigarettes, weed, chemicals.

  It wasn’t as pungent the farther into the lobby we got, but it was still there, tickling my nose.

  Tracey marched right up to the front desk, where a rotund woman with purple glasses and an eighties perm received us with a crooked smile. “Who are you here to visit?”

  Tracey shook her head. “We’re not visiting anyone. I called in advance and spoke to a Laurie Clearbrook to let her know I was coming in with Miss London here. She wants to look at the place and see what’s what. She’s funding her own project to build another shelter.”

  The woman behind the desk looked at me. Then looked me up and down. “Is that right, young lady?”

  “It is.”

  The receptionist grinned. “What a lovely thing to hear. And a good start to my shift. We need more good people like yourself looking out for these ladies. Nobody else is.”

  “You are,” I said.

  “Well, I do what I can, when I can. These old knees aren’t what they used to be, so it’s front-desk duty for me now. I don’t mind. Best seat in the house to see all the new faces and meet the little ones. Because there are so many little ones. More than ever, to be sure.”

  I lifted my chin. “I want to build a place that they can feel at home at. Somewhere safe. And warm.”

  The receptionist handed Tracey a pale pink lanyard with a laminated tag on it that said, “Visitor.” She passed two more out, one for me and one for Daniel, and then told us to take our time on our tour. “There’s a note that approves you from Laurie. So you just go right ahead.”

  And right ahead was where we went.

  Tracey led the way, and as we walked down narrow halls with mint-colored walls and fluorescent lighting, I found myself feeling anything but welcome.

  This place felt like a hospital. Or a prison.

  Or a healthy mix of both.

  “Is this standard?” I asked, running a finger along the wall.

  Tracey frowned at me. “What? Their terrible color palette?”

  “And the lights. And the dankness. And the smell.”

  Tracey shrugged. “No. Well, yes. But usually not in threes like that. Each building we visit today has its own set of issues, but they rarely compile into such a level of… unpleasantness.”

  That was good to hear. I hated to think that every place a woman could run to in search of refuge would be this uninviting. At the end of the day, all they really needed was a bed, food, and water, and the rest was just luxury. But that was the problem, wasn’t it?

  These women were running from places that were like Hell. Some of them with their babies in tow. I wanted to create a place that made them sigh with relief as soon as they walked through my front doors. I wanted them to be able to look down at their children and promise them without a shadow of a doubt that things were going to be better for them. That they had somewhere they could stay to get their bearings and plan out their next step.

  The tour dragged on, leaving me feeling hollow inside yet even more inspired by my mother’s vision of opening her own shelter. Of course, this was a dream of hers from when she was young. My age. And back then, her vision wasn’t as lavish as mine had become.

  She’d always said I had a bit more dramatic flair than her and an affinity for all things sparkly.

  And expensive.

  “So what’s the turnover like here?” I asked when the tour brought us back down to the lobby. We’d just passed the recreation room—a half-sized school gymnasium with exercise mats and little else—and the cafeteria. It was a sad, depleted-looking place, and women had been sitting at communal tables eating the lunch special: chicken noodle soup, baked bread, and cookies.

  There was no way in Hell I’d be serving shit like that. Good for high schools? Sure. Grown-ass women who were already having a shitty run of things? No.

  Tracey flipped through the documents in the folder Daniel had brought, and he peered over her shoulder. “After checking in, the women have seven to ten days in a bed, depending on volume and demand, of course. Children make it more complicated, too, because they won’t separate them from their mothers.”

  “Of course,” I muttered, looking around at the chipped floors and the children’s toys piled high in one corner of the lobby. They reminded me of some of the sets at doctors’ offices to distract the little minions while their parents waited for their appointments. “And showers? Bathrooms?”

  Tracey nodded and scanned the page. “Communal. All of it. No private bathrooms or showers.”

  “We can do better,” I said confidently.

  “I hope you don’t think this is overstepping, but yes, with your financial backing, you can definitely do better.” Tracey held her back straight and her chin high as she spoke.

  I definitely respected her.

  “Abso-fucking-lutely.” I smiled.

  Tracey turned toward the doors, and we waved over our shoulder at the receptionist, who returned our enthusiasm with a wave of her own. Tracey looked over her shoulder at me as she leaned on the wooden door panel and pushed. “Shall we head to our next shelter? Daniel, hail a cab for us—”

  “Move,” t
he man on the other side of the door said.

  Tracey stopped dead in her tracks, and I walked right into her back, letting out a startled little yelp of surprise. Daniel squeezed out from behind me as the door fell closed with a quiet whoosh.

  “P—pardon me,” Tracey stammered, sidestepping to the right to get out of the way of the man.

  But he sidestepped too, and she bumped right into his chest.

  He wasn’t the sort of man a girl like Tracey, or me for that matter, wanted to bump into on the street.

  He was mean looking.

  I knew that was called profiling, but it was true.

  He had a thick nose that was ridged in several places, sure signs of numerous breaks over the years. His ears were swollen and misshapen, another sign of a fighter if I ever saw one. He wore a tight shirt that I suspected used to be white. It was faded and gray now, boasting ketchup and mustard stains along the chest. His arms were as thick as his neck, and his eyes, narrowed and wicked, were fixed upon Tracey, who had now retreated a step back into me with both her hands up.

  “Sorry,” she said.

  I closed my hands on her shoulders and pushed her to the right so she was out of his path.

  His nostrils flared, and had I not been so intimidated by him, I might have found it funny how much he looked like a bull in that moment. A big, hairy, mean, stupid bull.

  But I was intimidated.

  He leaned forward and got in Tracey’s face. “Watch where you’re walking, you little bitch.”

  Daniel looked like he was going to spring a leak. I opened my mouth to tell him where he could stick his attitude, but he wasn’t done with Tracey.

  “You work here?” he barked. She started shaking her head, but he wasn’t listening. “Where’s Annie?”

  “I don’t work here,” Tracey finally managed to say.

  “I said, where the fuck is Annie?”

  He was high on something. I was sure of it. His hands were balled into fists at his sides, and reality slammed into me. He was here for his girl.

  His girl who had clearly run from him. Why she’d want to run from a charmer like him, I had no idea.

  Not.

  “Excuse me,” I said, pulling Tracey farther away from the stranger, who I had no doubt was dangerous as hell. “She doesn’t work here. But I do.”

  Tracey’s eyes nearly popped out of her skull. “Genevieve, I—”

  I held up a hand to shut her up. It worked. Then I planted my hands on my hips, channeled all the bad-assery I could muster, and squared off with the asshole in front of me. “There’s no one named Annie at this establishment. I suggest you look for her elsewhere before the police arrive and take you away for trespassing and, if you don’t cool your jets, assault.”

  He blinked at me.

  Stupid bull.

  Then he lifted a hand to jab a finger in my chest.

  But he never got the chance.

  His index finger was inches from grazing the white chiffon of my blouse when he suddenly toppled sideways, slammed into the pavement, and let out a furious bellow as his assailant came in for round two.

  Chapter 5

  Liam

  “Bastard,” I spat as my nails dug into my palms. “You were going to lay hands on a woman?”

  The man at my feet was struggling to right himself. He was drunk, high, or had busted inner eardrums. Either way, he was unsteady on his feet.

  “I’m here for Annie,” the man growled as his vision tunneled onto me.

  I was familiar with guys like this. Big bruisers too stupid to walk away from a fight they sure as shit knew they weren’t going to win.

  Like this one.

  “I suggest you piss off,” I said, jaw clenching and unclenching in anger.

  “Or what?” he challenged, finally straightening up to his full height.

  He towered over me by a good three or so inches. He was wider, too, in shoulders and hips and general girth. His legs were solid as trees, his bare arms rippling in muscle, chest swollen.

  Steroids, most likely.

  But I was definitely stronger than a roid-monkey.

  I stepped closer to him. “Or I’m going to make a mess out of you right here, right now, and keep you here until security gets their fat asses down here to handle their shit.”

  He laughed.

  It made me grin. To a passersby, I probably looked like a maniac. Hell, to the pretty girl in white behind me, I probably looked like an absolute madman, sweeping in out of nowhere to pummel this no good piece of garbage into the pavement.

  But I craved this.

  I needed it.

  There was no walking away now. Even if security did finally get down here—if there even was any at this shelter—I probably wouldn’t let him off the hook without breaking his nose.

  Again.

  It had definitely been broken a half-dozen times or more.

  At least I couldn’t make him uglier. Someone else had already done that job for me.

  “You’re picking the wrong fight, kid,” the man said, lifting his fists in front of his face and assuming a fighting position.

  I remained relaxed, with my arms at my sides. No need to show my cards this early on. He could learn as he went. Or not. Didn’t matter at all to me. Slow learners were always more fun.

  I rolled my shoulders. “Let’s see how you feel in a couple of minutes. Now, no more chit chat. I’m getting bored already.”

  He bellowed and charged like a rabid animal just sprung from a cage. I sidestepped his attack and gave him a good smack with my open palm on the back of his head as he went barreling past me. He reeled back around, eyes wide, nostrils flared, teeth bared, and growled at me.

  Actually growled at me.

  I beckoned him to come at me again with a come-hither motion. He dropped his head and charged again.

  Seeing no advantage in letting him bulldoze me over with his very large, hard head, I spun out of his way, rolling in along his side to deliver two quick jabs to his ribs and another strike right between his shoulder blades.

  He roared with anger. And to my delight, he charged again.

  Like I said, the slow learners were always more fun.

  This time, he switched tactics, coming to a halt and taking a wide swing with his right arm. Had he kept it tight and succinct, he might have landed a hit. But his arcing swing made it easy for me to anticipate, and even easier to avoid and turn against him. I went in at his side with three more rapid jabs and came up with a hook under his jaw, sending him sprawling onto the pavement with a grunt and a prolonged moan as he lay on his back clutching his chest.

  I had knocked the air out of him.

  Moving forward, I poked him in the ribs with the toe of my boot. “You done?”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Yeah. Well, fuck you too, asshole.” The sounds of heavy footfalls drew my attention, and I looked up to see two security guards in navy outfits coming out of the shelter. I clapped my hands together in applause. “Hey! Look at that! They do have security here. It’s your lucky day, pal. You’re their problem now. Not mine. Tell Annie I say hello.”

  “Why you little—” He squirmed but it was futile. The guards were thunderous men, wide and thick and round and heavy. They held him down, strapped handcuffs on his wrists, and offered me breathless thank yous.

  I had already turned toward the lady in white. My lady in white. Well, my dream lady in white. Whatever.

  There she was, staring at me. Her sunglasses were off, and I finally got a glimpse of her eyes. They were exactly as I’d pictured them. Bright. Green. Ringed in gold and flecked with gray. Her skin seemed to shimmer with gold flakes the longer I looked at her, and for a brief moment, I was convinced this was all in my head and the asshat on the ground had actually knocked me unconscious.

  And then she spoke.

  “Well,” her voice was like silk. “That was reckless.”

  “Me, reckless?” I asked, a little short of breath and very much unnerved b
y talking to such a beautiful woman. “You’re the one who lied to him and told him you were an employee here.”

  She arched a blonde eyebrow, and her lips parted slightly.

  God damn, she was beauty and sex incarnate.

  I swallowed. “And about Annie not being here.”

  She shrugged. “Well, I can honestly say I have no clue where poor Annie is. Or who she is, for that matter. But you’re right. I don’t work here.”

  No shit. “You stuck up for a girl you didn’t know?”

  She cocked her head to the side, and her long blonde hair slipped over her shoulder, beckoning for me to reach out and run my fingers through it. I wondered what it smelled like. Something elegant, probably. Like lavender or—

  I stopped myself. Too creepy, man. Too creepy. Reel it in.

  “I said whatever I thought would keep him out of there and away from Annie and the other women. And the employees. And Tracey here.” She nodded at the dark-haired woman beside her, who still hadn’t managed to comprehend what just happened. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water as she looked from me, to the man being hauled to his feet by security, to the lady in white, and then back to me.

  The lady in white opened her purse and pulled out the sunglasses she’d been wearing when she first walked by the cafe. She slid them onto her nose and shifted her weight to her right foot, creating a dramatic wave of curves with her body for my eyes to follow. I willed them not to look, but damn it all, they did, and I liked what I saw.

  If she saw me checking her out, she didn’t care. “Where did you learn how to fight like that?”

  A woman like this would think poorly of me being in a motorcycle club, so I lied. “That? That was nothing. Just some stuff I picked up from boxing classes.”

  “Just some stuff?” she asked, giving me a wicked little smile.

  I gulped. Actually gulped.

  The power she had over me was undeniable.

  “Well, that stuff was impressive,” she said.

  “Impressive?” I asked. “You were the impressive one. You didn’t even flinch when he came at you.”