by Zoey Parker
Mason laughed. “I know what you mean, man. I used to feel that way about my stepfather. He would scream at my mom and hit me, and when I was a kid I wished so hard that I was bigger so I could do it right back to him. I wished I could give him back everything he gave us.”
I left the shed, locking it behind me. “Did you ever?”
“Oh, hell yes. When I got big enough. He never touched me or my mom again.” I heard the vicious sound in Mason’s voice. So he knew how I felt.
“That’s what it was like last night. I wanted him to get up and try to fight me, you know?”
Mason laughed. “He’s stupid, but he’s not crazy.”
“Yeah, I wonder about that, too.” I remembered the way he had screamed at Ellie, how crazy he looked and sounded. Like a mad dog that needed to be put down. I wished I could be the one to do it.
I was still thinking about it as I walked into the clubhouse, and it must have shown on my face because Candace whistled when she saw me. “Boy, somebody pissed you off.”
I grinned. “How could you tell?”
“You look like you wanna murder somebody.” She sat on a stool at the bar, watching me. “Is it that guy? Ellie’s husband?”
“Why is everybody so obsessed with my life right now?” I turned my attention to the bottles behind the bar. I had to inventory those, too, and finish the job in the cellar, where we stored cases of liquor. It was thirsty business, being an outlaw.
“Because you’re always there to help everybody else, and you never ask for help or even talk about yourself. Sorry, but I’m getting a little bored consoling the girls whose hearts Mason has broken.”
Mason chuckled, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “That’s because I’m too busy being in love with you to commit to them. Don’t you know that?”
“Don’t you let my old man catch you talking that way,” she advised.
“I heard him.” Ryder’s voice rang loud and clear from the office. “I just don’t give a shit. He’s not man enough for my old lady.”
Mason turned a deep shade of red. I turned away, laughing.
I didn’t like feeling like everybody’s science experiment, like they wanted to know what I would do or say next with Ellie and Connor. I hated that so many people knew what went on in my private life. I was never a public person. I guessed when a man’s fiancée died in front of the people who have become his family, they paid attention to what he did after that.
I thought about her, and I couldn’t help the familiar twinge of guilt that bloomed in my chest. What would she think of Ellie? Of Isabella? Of the shit with Connor? I didn’t think she would be happy I’d punched him out, but she wouldn’t have made me feel bad either. She hated women beaters just as badly as I did—she used to see the effects of their fists in the ER all the time, and she would come home crying some nights after seeing the same woman for the third or fourth time. With the same lies as the first time, she’d say. A fall down the stairs. A door. A cabinet. I didn’t think she would blame me for hurting Connor the way I had.
But would she blame me for sleeping with Ellie? I believed she would want me to be happy. She was never like me. If the tables were turned and I was the one leaving Kelly behind, I would haunt the fuck out of whoever she slept with after me. I would make that asshole’s life a living hell. But Kelly was different. She’d want me to be happy. Just knowing she would tore me up inside.
“What are you thinking about?” Candace asked, and her voice sounded a lot softer than it had before.
I waited a while before turning around, pretending to be busier than I was. “I’m thinking about the amount of Jack Daniels we go through in a month. We’re either gonna have to stage an intervention or buy a distillery.”
“That’s not what I mean, and you know it.”
I sighed. She wasn’t gonna let it go, obviously. I wished she would. Turning, I looked at her. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“I want you to say you’ll think hard about being with this woman. I know you care about her. You don’t have to say you do—you don’t like to talk that way. I get it. And she’d be good for you. But you can’t just walk in and out of her life. She’s the type who needs somebody to settle down with. She needs a good, strong man. I know you’re that kind of man, but I think you forgot who you are for a while there.”
I scoffed. “I know who I am.”
“You know who you think you are,” she said, her voice low. “I’m not trying to, ya know, shrink you or anything. I’m not trying to break you down. I just want you to be honest with yourself. You shut down a little a couple of years ago. I won’t talk about it, but you know what I mean. You gotta get back to being the person you used to be if you’re ever gonna be happy.”
I wanted to snarl at her. I wanted to tell her to mind her own business. She didn’t know shit about me or what I went through. They all thought they did, but none of them had the slightest idea.
“You tell me how you would act if you held the only person you ever loved in your arms as they died,” I muttered. I poured a drink—a little early in the day for a shot, but I needed one to calm my nerves. Warmth flooded my veins and I felt a little steadier.
“You don’t think I know what happened? I was here. I saw it. I saw you. I can’t imagine how you felt, but I saw what it turned you into. And I’m telling you, that’s not you. You have it in you to get close to somebody again, but you can’t just back out when you decide you’re scared to feel for somebody again.”
“I’m not scared. Don’t ever say that to me.”
“Fine, fine. You’re actually a brutal badass, then. You’re a violent sociopath. Whatever you want me to believe.” She held up her hands, surrendering.
I sighed. My shoulders slumped. “I’m not that either. Well, not the sociopath part. I don’t even know what that is.”
“It’s nothing good.” She smiled softly. “And I know you’re not. You’re one of the good ones, or else you wouldn’t have acted like you did after Kelly died. It hurt you badly. I get it. I’m just saying, if you wanna be with this woman, you gotta let yourself feel again the way you did about Kelly. You can’t hold her at arm’s length. Get what I mean? She’s been hurt, too. She doesn’t need more pain from you.”
I saw what she meant, and I didn’t like it. She was telling me to shit or get off the can, basically. To decide how I felt and go with it. Only I didn’t know how I felt, or if I wanted to go with it. Did that mean I had to leave Ellie alone?
I thought about it as I went down to the cellar, walking down the rickety, narrow stairs. I didn’t want to leave Ellie alone. She meant too much to me. I felt too good when I was with her—not just physically, when we were fucking, though that would have been enough to stick around. It was just that good. But I felt good inside, too. Better about myself. I liked spending time with her and the kid, and I didn’t think I liked kids before I met her. What else would they show me about myself? It was a scary thought, but it was something I didn’t mind thinking about as long as I could be alone while doing it.
That wasn’t my day to be left alone, I guessed, since Ryder followed me to the cellar. “How’s inventory?” he asked.
“Fine. We’re gonna need a new order with the liquor store, of course, but I think we’ll be okay until it comes in. Unless the guys decide to finish off the last case of Jack.”
“You never know,” he said, sitting on the steps. “With those alkies? All they need is an excuse.”
I laughed. “I wouldn’t call them alkies. They’re just…heavy drinkers.”
“Same difference when you’re the one shelling out the money for the liquor. Something to remember when your time comes.” I hated when he talked like that. It would just be that I’d take over the club when he left. It would mean he couldn’t run it anymore. That bothered me more than the idea of being president. That, I could handle.
“Is there something you’re not telling me about your health?” I asked. “I mean it. Be honest. It’
s just you and me down here. Nobody else needs to know.”
He shrugged—but he didn’t tell me I was wrong. That was my first clue that I had the right idea.
“Tell me,” I said.
“It’s nothing serious. Just my heart.”
“Oh, that’s not serious,” I said, leaning against the wall. “That’s nothing.”
“Well, it is nothing. Too much shitty food, too much smoking. You notice how I cut back?”
“I noticed you only smoke one or two cigars a day,” I said, smirking.
“Hey, that’s cutting back. Anyway, it’s because of my heart. It’s not in the best shape, but it’s not like it’s gonna kill me tomorrow either. Doc wants me to cut back on a lot of shit. Not just the food and the smoking.”
“Like what else, then?”
“Like the club.” He stared at me. “He wants me to step down. Says I can’t handle it anymore.”
I gulped. That wasn’t what I expected to hear. I thought he had a few more years, maybe more. “But it’s up to you, right?”
He shook his head. “Wait until you get married.” I understood what he meant. Candace was on him about it, too. I had a feeling she was trying to get me settled down before I took over.
“What are you gonna do?” I asked.
“You tell me, prez. What do you think I should do?”
Chapter 23
Ellie
“I swear, he was like something out of a movie.” Sandy sighed softly as she remembered the way Parker protected me outside the diner.
“Yeah, he was something, all right. I only wish he never had to do it.”
She nodded, sagely. “But that Connor, he’s asking for it. You know? What else was Parker supposed to do? He wants to keep you safe and away from that creep.”
“I know. Still, it worries me.” I couldn’t shake the feeling that Connor would come back for revenge somehow. “I mean, you didn’t hear the way he threatened Parker and me when he drove away.”
“Oh, threats. That’s all he is, a bunch of empty threats. Don’t even let him get to you, honey. It’ll be okay.” She nodded like all I needed to hear was her reassurance and everything would be okay. I wished she understood a little better. I wished somebody did. I wanted to be as sure as she was, but she hadn’t lived with the man. She didn’t know the way he thought, the twisted way he had of turning everything around to make it my fault. I hated that I lived in fear of him the way I did. I hated knowing him so well.
“Come on,” Sandy said, smacking my butt. “Get your head in the game. I need you out there.” She nodded toward the dozen or so tables waiting for food during the lunch rush.
“Aye, aye, captain.” Work would take my mind off things. It always did. While I never exactly liked a rush—I preferred a nice, steady stream of customers rather than dozens at once—it would at least give me something else to think about. I remembered playing a game when I was a kid where the object was to keep a diner’s customers happy at all times. It started out slow—take their order, get their food, give them their check, clean up their table. One table, two tables. Soon, there would be a rush at the door and dirty tables everywhere and lots of angry customers who wanted their food. And to think, I ended up doing that very job in real life. I was better in real life than I was in the game, that was for sure.
I tried not to look outside at the spot where Parker had punched Connor. The spot where Connor had terrorized me. I saw a motorcycle, with a burly man I vaguely recognized as one of Parker’s friends sitting astride it. Oh great. He sent me a security guard. I didn’t know whether to be angry or flattered. Or relieved. Maybe a mixture of the three. I hated that he thought he had to keep tabs on me, but didn’t hate that somebody cared enough. And I had the feeling the sight of a man on a bike would be enough to keep Connor away if he were crazy enough to consider stopping by.
“See that?” I nodded toward the window, and Sandy grinned.
“Well, I feel much safer now,” she said with a wink. I never thought she would feel unsafe, but I could see the possibility. Connor could easily have hurt her the night before.
“I’m sorry, Sandy. You don’t feel like he would hurt you, do you? God, why did I never think about that?”
“Because you were too busy heaping blame on yourself for all sorts of other things. Don’t worry about it. I think we’re all a little shaky right now, but it will blow over—especially since you got the restraining order.”
“Yeah, that’s true.” I only hoped he chose to honor it, but I wouldn’t say that out loud. I didn’t want to worry Sandy more than I already had.
The rush went by in a flash, leaving me with much less to do between the hours of two and five. Only a trickle of customers came in during those odd, in-between hours. I waved to my knight in dirty armor, asking him if he was hungry. “Come on. I’ll treat you to a late lunch,” I called. He came in moments later. Yes, I recognized him. Tall, burly, auburn hair with a mustache and overgrown goatee. His patch said Hook.
“Thanks for the offer,” he said, sitting at the counter. “I wondered if lunch was included, but I didn’t wanna say anything.”
“I appreciate that.” I smirked.
“I was here last night, too, but Parker told me to leave before you did.”
I frowned, pouring him a soda from the dispenser. “What do you mean, he told you to leave?”
“He didn’t want you to know I was there.”
“Oh, I see.” It was all clear. He didn’t want me to be angry. I wished Hook had stuck around after all. I had the feeling Parker would have wished the same thing, no matter how much fun it was to break Connor’s nose.
I handed him a menu. “Anything you want, on me,” I said. “It’s the least I can do, seeing as how you already gave up so much time to keep an eye on me.”
He grinned, a scar visible when he did. It extended from the corner of his mouth to just beneath his nostril. The mustache covered it most of the time. I wondered at the violent life those men led, and what it would mean to someone like me who thought she might be falling for one of them.
“Oh, so we’re letting the criminal element lunch here, now?” Sandy wasn’t serious, as the smirk on her face told me. She was actually flirting with him, and I saw from the way he smiled that he appreciated it. I decided to let her take care of him, reminding her that I would pick up the tab. I gave them some space, choosing to focus on side work while I waited for new customers.
It was slow, tedious work, which gave me plenty of chances to think. I thought about that first night, when the club came in to eat. Fate had stepped in that night, I was certain. Otherwise, where would I be? Connor would have still come in, and he might have hurt me if Parker hadn’t saved me. He might have hurt me the night before if Parker hadn’t stepped in again. I might have gone crazy sitting in that apartment with my daughter, unable to leave for fear of my ex-husband. I wouldn’t have slept a wink, afraid to relax in case Connor showed up. Over and over, Parker had protected me.
But was that enough? Once the excitement died down, would it be enough to keep him around? Did we have enough to common to make a good match? Love took a lot more than just a show of protection. It wasn’t enough for Parker to beat the crap out of anybody who got in my way—though it was helpful. I smiled to myself, a little smug, knowing he would go that far to help me.
But I couldn’t keep smiling when I thought of the future. Did we have one? I didn’t know. I didn’t even know if he wanted to have one with me, or if he would scare off as soon as things got too real. Once we settled into the boring everyday stuff of real life. I remembered the story he’d told about his fiancée, too. How much pain did he still carry because of that? How much of that would I have to suffer for, though I’d never known the girl?
Hook must have noticed the way I stood there, staring at the counter instead of working. “Hey. You okay?”
I looked up, trying to smile. “Sure. Just thinking. Nothing important.”
He scowled. �
��You’re as shitty a liar as Parker is. You’re a perfect match.” He took a bite of a big, juicy burger, the juice dripping down his goatee.
I looked away, nauseated. “Yes, well, that’s one thing we have in common, then.” I brushed it off, trying to ignore him. He wasn’t anything like Parker. More like the stereotypical biker, the one “nice” people crossed the street to avoid. Parker might have looked like one, but he at least had manners. Even if he burped loudly after eating.
I waited for Hook to finish his meal, then cleared his plate. “Thanks,” he said, standing and stretching. The t-shirt he wore beneath his leather kutte was a bit too small, revealing a strip of white belly. I tried to hide my laughter, and the slight disgust I still felt. He was a piece of work, for sure.
