by Carol Lynne
Tiny carried her out of the water and sat on the bank with Santana cradled in his arms. “I should’ve protected you, but I never have.”
“You beat up Robby,” she hiccupped as she reminded him.
“Afterward,” he mumbled. “But I should’ve done something about your dad. I saw him hit you more than once, and all I did was stand there.”
“You were a boy.” She’d never blamed Tiny for not stepping in only for walking away. Telling him what she’d figured out about her father wouldn’t do either of them any good, so she kept her mouth shut as she dried her tears.
He cleared his throat. “The beard makes me look meaner than I really am,” he confessed. “When we were younger, I couldn’t wait for the day I could take Smash on.”
She tugged on his beard. He was right. The combination of facial hair and tattoos made him look like one badass motherfucker. She knew he was no angel though. He liked to fight and had been kicked out of school more than once for brawling. “Do you still pick fights?” she asked, hoping to lighten his expression.
“Only when I know I can win.” The corner of his mouth tipped up in a wicked grin.
Santana climbed off his lap and stretched out beside him. The sun felt good, and she still wanted to work on her tan. Plus, she doubted Stake would appreciate her sitting in another man’s lap. She closed her eyes and let the warmth of the day envelope her. “I need to tell you a secret, but you can’t tell anyone else.” She didn’t know if Stake’s plans were a secret, but now that she’d reconnected with Tiny, she didn’t want to leave without telling him.
He laid down next to her. “Okay.”
“Stake asked Cecil if he could transfer to the Fayetteville chapter. He wants to take me as far away from Broken Ridge as we can get.” She took a deep breath. “He said he’s going to kill Gordon, but I can’t let him do that because the police will know he’s responsible. So, I’m going to do it,” she confessed. “I need you to teach me how to shoot.”
“No.”
She opened her eyes and looked at Tiny when he said nothing more. “Please? If something happens to Stake because of me…” She let her words trail off as she shook her head. “I won’t let that happen.”
He rubbed his hands over his face. “I would do anything for you, but I can’t teach you how to become someone like me and Stake. I won’t.”
The statement drove home what she’d often suspected but had never asked. Growing up in the club, you learn as a child not to ask questions, but she needed to know. “Have you and Stake killed people?”
“Don’t ask me that,” he replied.
Closing her eyes again, she thought back to the day the cops had come to their home and arrested her dad. At the time, she hadn’t been upset or surprised that Smash had killed someone, only that he’d been caught, so it would make sense that Stake and even Tiny had, as well.
She decided to drop the conversation about Gordon. Although she hadn’t given up on her plan to kill the bastard before Stake did, she wouldn’t involve Tiny more than she already had. “Do you have a girlfriend?”
He let out a loud grunt. “A different one almost every night,” he said, a chuckle in his voice. “The ladies love my cock.”
Santana reached over and slapped him hard on the chest. Despite Tiny trying to get into her pants as a young teenager, she’d always thought of him more like a brother. “Gross. I don’t need to hear that.”
“It’s true,” he said unapologetically. “They also like to ride my face.” He held up his hands in a defensive position as soon as he said it, knowing she’d try to whack him again.
“Nasty! You’re a pig like the rest of them.” She squeezed her legs together, remembering the first time Stake had eaten her pussy. Fuck. “Did Stake say what time he’d be home?”
Laughing, Tiny rose to his feet and headed for the water. “You’d better cool that hot little body down ‘cuz he won’t be back ’til late.”
Dammit, had she been so obvious? With a sigh of resignation, she followed Tiny back into the lake.
Chapter Seven
The minute Tiny pulled up to Stake’s house, he turned off his bike and reached in his pocket. “My goddamn cell’s been vibrating since we left the lake,” he said. He stared at the display, and his dark blond eyebrows drew together. “It’s Prez.” He glanced back at Santana. “Sorry, sweetheart, but I need to take this.”
“No problem.” She climbed off the bike before setting the helmet on the seat. “I’ll be inside.”
She hoisted herself onto the back porch, wondering why Stake had never bothered to build stairs. The porch wasn’t high off the ground, probably only two feet or so, but while it was an easy step up for Stake, she was only five-foot-five.
She used her key to enter the house before retrieving a bottle of water from the refrigerator. Swimming had been fun after she’d recovered from her meltdown, and she’d managed to get some nice color.
Tiny knocked before entering. “I’ve gotta go out for a while.”
“Problem?” She asked, opening the fridge to hand him a bottle of water.
“Business, but I should only be gone a few hours.”
She sighed. Stake had left money for grocery shopping, but Tiny was supposed to go with her. She eyed the envelope of cash on the table. It was stupid, but she’d really looked forward to shopping without worrying about the total. Stake had been very clear that she was to load up on junk food because he enjoyed eating shit while he watched baseball on TV. “Will you be back in time for dinner? I thought I’d make meatloaf.”
He groaned and rubbed his flat stomach. “Hell yeah, I’ll be back. I fuckin’ love meatloaf.”
“Good.” She finished her water and tossed the empty into the recycle bin she’d created out of an old cardboard box lined with a trash bag.
“You have your phone?” he asked.
“Yep.” Stake had insisted on buying her a new phone. She unplugged it from the charger on the counter.
Tiny walked over and gave her a peck on the forehead. “Sorry about this. Stake’ll probably kill me for leaving you alone, but at this point, I’m more afraid of Cecil.”
She waved off his concerns. “I’ll be fine. I’ve spent most of my life taking care of myself. I’m sure I can handle it for a few hours.”
His expression darkened. He shook his head before giving her another friendly kiss. “I like brown gravy with my meatloaf. You do it that way?”
“I can.” She didn’t tell him it had been years since she’d had enough money to buy the hamburger required for meatloaf, let alone splurge on gravy.
“Stay safe,” he called as he walked out the door.
She waited until she could no longer hear the sound of his Harley before running to the bedroom to change into dry clothes and brush out her hair. She grabbed the extra set of keys and the envelope before heading out of the house.
Behind the wheel of Stake’s truck, she took several deep breaths. It had been close to three years since their old piece of shit car had finally given up the fight, but she assumed driving was something you never really forgot how to do. “You’ve got this,” she repeated over and over as she started the pickup and pulled out onto the road.
The drive went so well that she turned on the radio on the outskirts of town. She was almost to downtown when flashing lights in her rearview mirror caught her attention. Her immediate reaction was to stiffen and glance down at her speedometer. She wasn’t speeding, so what the fuck? Pulling to the side of the road, she turned off the engine and started searching her purse for her driver’s license.
“Fuck me,” she groaned when she spotted Robby Langers walking toward the truck in the driver’s side mirror. She hadn’t spoken to Robby since the day she’d heard his douchebag jock friends talking smack about her. She held out her license and the registration she’d retrieved from the glove box. “I wasn’t speeding,” she said before he could speak.
Robby leaned his forearm against the door and stared
straight at her tits. “Looking good.” When Santana flinched, he held up his hands and took a step back. “It was just a compliment. Don’t stab me.” He started to laugh like he’d told the funniest joke ever.
A “fuck you” was on the tip of her tongue, but she held it back. Robby was the kind of dick who would arrest her at the slightest provocation. “Why’d you stop me?”
Sobering, he glanced down at her license. “I haven’t seen you drive for a while. Thought it best to make sure you were still legal.” He handed her license and registration back. “And to give you a warning. Folks in town aren’t happy that you tried to file a false police report on Sherriff Gordon. You might watch your back while you’re in town.”
She rolled her eyes and bit her bottom lip. “Can I leave?”
He eyed her for several moments before slapping his palm against the side of the truck. “I wasn’t kidding when I said you looked good. I’d ask you out, but I heard you’ve shacked up with that piece of shit biker.”
Finished with the conversation, she started the truck and pulled back onto the road without a reply. She couldn’t believe that slime had the nerve to think she would ever go out with him again.
By the time she parked in front of the grocery store, most of her enthusiasm had waned. She tossed the keys into her purse and confirmed she’d grabbed the envelope of cash before going inside.
Barb, the not so friendly cashier, stopped chatting with a customer to stare at her as Santana fought to untangle a cart. She did her best to ignore the whispered gossip that floated around her as she made her way through the aisles. With absolutely no appetite, she found it difficult to shop, but she loaded the cart with two boxes of cereal, chips, Coke and Grape Crush before heading to the meat department. One thing Stake had made clear since she’d begun to cook was that he required meat, and lots of it, at every meal. She thoughtfully picked up enough hamburger, steaks and pork chops and chicken to last the two weeks they’d still be in Broken Ridge.
By the time she finished, she could barely maneuver the cart to the check-out lane. As she started to unload her groceries, she caught Barb staring at her. “Is there a problem?”
Barb gestured to the food piled on the conveyor belt. “You have enough money to pay for all this?” She clucked her tongue. “Looks like you came out ahead after stabbing Pete.”
Tired of the bullshit, Santana dropped a twelve pack of Coke back into the cart. “You know what? Fuck this. If you don’t want to sell me groceries, just say so, otherwise, shut your goddamn mouth, and do your job.”
Barb gasped and crossed her arms over her saggy tits. “How dare you speak to me that way, you piece of trash.”
Santana was trying to calculate how long it would take for her to drive to the next town with a grocery store when a middle-aged man she’d never seen moved to stand next to Barb.
“Is there a problem?” he asked the cashier.
Before Barb could open her big mouth, Santana answered the question. “Yes, there is. I’ve been shopping at this store my entire life, and this woman has treated me like I didn’t exist for most of those years.” She gestured to the mounds of food waiting to be scanned. “Now, I’m trying to buy all this, and your employee feels the need to call me trash and spout her fucking mouth about something she knows nothing about.”
The man looked at Barb. “Is that the truth?”
“She’s the one who stabbed Sheriff Gordon,” Barb replied. “We don’t need her kind in here.”
The handsome man scratched his jaw. “Well, since you don’t own the store, I can’t see where that’s your place to determine.” His hands moved to his hips. “I think it’s best you take the rest of the day off while I try and figure out if you still have a job come morning.”
“You can’t talk to me like that. I’ve been here for over thirty years. Bob won’t let you just come in here and fire me.”
The man shrugged. “Maybe not, but he hired me to manage the place, and that’s what I’m doing.” He didn’t try to hide his animosity toward Barb, and Santana could barely keep the smile of satisfaction off her face.
With a final harrumph, Barb squeezed past the man, waving her finger in the air. “This isn’t over. I’m calling Bob,” she said as she walked toward the back of the store.
“Sorry about that.” The man rolled up his shirtsleeves and began scanning.
“Thank you,” Santana said as she finished unloading the cart.
The man smiled at her and held out his hand. “I’m Keith, the new manager Bob hired when he decided to retire to Iowa to be closer to his grandchildren.”
“Santana,” she said, shaking his hand. She was genuinely amazed that Keith was being so kind. “You must be new in town.”
He grinned. “Yeah, but it’s not my first small town. Ensuring a store stays in the black is nothing compared to navigating the local gossips.”
She liked Keith so much she was tempted to tell him she wasn’t the woman Barb made her out to be, but she got the feeling he already suspected that. By the time her groceries were sacked and paid for, her mood had lifted considerably. “Thanks again,” she said with a smile.
“You come back, and if you ever have another problem with any of our employees, ask for me.”
“I will.” Santana pushed the cart toward the automatic doors. The moment they opened, she froze. Her breath left her body in a whoosh as she stared into Pete Gordon’s eyes. He was sitting behind the wheel of his Sherriff’s car staring straight at her.
With a hand to her chest, she stumbled backward, heedless of the display of greeting cards she’d knocked over. “No. No,” she gasped as she felt herself falling.
* * * *
Stake handed Charity the bi-monthly pregnancy test all the girls were required to take. “Make sure you keep this up once I’m gone,” he told her. The tests were his requirement, not the club’s, and he paid for them out of his own pocket. He seriously doubted whoever took over for him would care enough about the girls’ health to do the same.
“I can’t believe you’re leaving us,” Charity whined as she opened the bathroom door.
Charity was one of the few whores who remained clean despite the King’s new incentive program. She was a good kid. Knowing the Kings in Fayetteville also ran a small prostitution business, he scribbled his phone number on piece of paper and handed it to her. “If you decide to get the fuck out of San Antonio, give me a call, and I’ll get you a job in Fayetteville.”
“Arkansas?” she laughed.
“Hey, don’t knock it. The scenery is gorgeous, green as the eye can see.” He looked forward to cutting the grass, something he’d never had to do before. His phone rang, pulling his attention away from Charity. One look at the display and he grinned. “Hey, bug.”
“This is Keith Oberman, manager of the Pick and Save. I’m sorry, but your number was the only one programmed into Santana’s phone.”
Stake’s heart stopped beating at the mention of Santana’s. “What’s happened?”
“Well, she’s had a bit of a spell, and she’s currently sitting in my office because I don’t think she’s coherent enough to drive herself home. I was wondering if you’d be able to come and get her?”
“Hang on a second.” Stake knocked on the bathroom door. “Gotta go,” he told Charity as he left the studio apartment. “What do you mean a spell?” he asked Keith.
Keith cleared his throat. “The sheriff was parked outside the store when she started to leave. She…umm, well, she didn’t handle it well. Unfortunately, he’s still here which is why I brought her back to my office.”
“I’m an hour out.” Fuck. Where the hell was Tiny? “Was she alone?”
“Yeah. I’d drive her, but I sent Barb home earlier, and no one else is on shift who can run the register.”
Stake climbed on his bike. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. Whatever you do, don’t let her leave, even if Gordon isn’t parked out front.”
“Okay,” Keith agreed. “She h
as a bunch of groceries, but I’ll put the refrigerated items in the cooler until you get here.”
“Thanks.” Stake hung up and roared away from the curb. Tiny was going to fucking die when he got hold of him.
Fifty minutes later, he parked his bike next to the pickup. There was no sign of Gordon, which probably saved the bastard from a trip to the morgue. The motherfucker deserved to die, and Stake’s patience with his Prez was running out.
As soon as he entered the store, a man behind the checkout counter stopped what he was doing and walked toward Stake. “Stake?” he asked, holding out his hand.
“Yeah. Where is she?” He appreciated the man’s kindness, but he needed to see his woman.
“Straight back, first door on the right. I’ll have one of the stockers help you with the groceries.
Stake wanted to tell him he didn’t give a fuck about the groceries, but simply nodded before taking off. He jogged down the aisle and pushed through the swinging door. He turned right and opened the office door.
He found Santana sitting in a comfortable-looking desk chair with her hands fisted in her lap. Instead of looking distressed, she appeared to be pissed.
Santana jumped to her feet. “Get me out of here,” she demanded.
Before she could blow by him, Stake hooked an arm around her waist and pulled her into a tight embrace. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered against her ear as he tried to wrap his body around her.
“Not your fault,” she said without emotion. “I just want to go home. I’m fine to drive, and I tried to tell Keith that, but he took my keys and said I couldn’t have them back until you got here.”
Stake cradled her face in his hands. “Where’s Tiny? He should’ve been here for you.”
She shrugged. “Cecil called, and Tiny had to leave.” She shook her head. “I didn’t tell him I was going to shop, anyway.” Tears formed in her gorgeous hazel eyes and began to trickle down her cheeks. “I was so excited about shopping.” She closed her eyes. “I was stupid.”
