by L. Wilder
“Always did play hard to get.” A smirk crossed his face as he took another step closer. “It’s one of the things I like most about you.”
“You need to go, Lucas. Now!”
“Why would I rush off when I’ve finally got the chance to reunite with one of my old flames?” He continued moving towards me, only stopping when he was right in front of me. I wanted to run, scream for help, but I couldn’t move. The fear was holding me prisoner as I listened to him say, “You know I still remember Homecoming night? We had quite the connection.”
“We didn’t have a connection, Lucas. You raped me.”
“Now we both know you wanted it just as much as I did.” He started to reach for me, but I quickly stepped back before he had a chance to touch me. His smile widened as he said, “Still playing games, I see.”
“Fuck off, Lucas. I didn’t want you then, and I certainly don’t want you now!”
“Hey, Alyssa?” Jack called from behind me. “Is everything okay?”
“No.”
“Should I call the police?”
“If he doesn’t leave, then yes. You definitely should.” I looked Lucas in the eye and snarled, “Time for you to go.”
“What are you gonna tell the cops? You really think they’re gonna care that an old friend of yours from high school stopped by?”
“Does it really matter? Either way, they’ll file a report.”
He gave me a wink before turning to walk away. “I’ll be seeing you around, Alyssa Hanson. You can count on that.”
Lucas walked over to a bright red Mustang and gave me a quick wave before he got inside. Seconds later, he started the engine and whipped out of the parking lot. I was standing there watching his taillights disappear into traffic when Jack came over to me and asked, “Who was that?”
“That would be my worst nightmare.”
When I started to cry, Jack reached out and wrapped his arms around me, hugging me as he whispered, “It’s okay. He’s gone now.”
“I hate him so much.”
“He an old boyfriend or something?”
“Or something.” As I stepped back, I wiped the tears from my cheeks and said, “I guess you could say that we have history—but not good history.”
“Then what is he doing here?”
“Reminding me what a jerk he was.” Even though I tried to fight it, the tears kept coming. “I guess he came here tonight because he saw me going into work or something.”
“You gonna be okay?”
“Yeah, I don’t even know why I’m crying like this.” Trying to assure him I was okay, I told him, “I’m just tired and hormonal and stressed.”
“I don’t know how the girlie bits work and all that, but maybe you should go to the doctor for a checkup or something.”
“My girlie bits are fine, Jack. I’m just under a lot of stress.”
“I’m sure you are. You’ve been through a lot, girl. The shooting, the breakup, a new job, and starting a new life in a new city. It’s a lot to take on.”
I feigned a smile and said, “I’ll be fine.”
“Well, go home and get you some rest.”
“That’s an excellent idea.”
Jack walked me over to my car and waited for me to get inside. He gave me a quick wave, and then I was on my way. As I started home, I couldn’t stop thinking about my conversation with Lucas. It was one thing to see him in a parking lot, but it was another thing entirely to actually have to speak to him. I hated the man with every fiber of my being, and as awful as it might sound, I wished he would die in a fiery car crash so I’d never have to lay my eyes on him again. Unfortunately, that wasn’t going to happen, and like it or not, I would be having to face Lucas again—which was something that filled me with dread. I wouldn’t have had to worry about it so much if I could talk to Clay or Beckett about it, but no matter how tempted I was to ask them for help, I couldn’t do it—not after I’d told them both that I wanted to figure out things on my own. One way or another, I would have to handle Lucas Brant on my own.
The next morning, I got up early, well before my mother. I put on an old sweatshirt and a ballcap, and being careful not to wake my mother, I slipped out of the house. Minutes later, I was on the road driving towards downtown. I had no idea where I was going until I saw the store sign—Guns and Ammo. That’s when I knew I had the answer to my problem with Lucas. If he was stupid enough to come see me again, I would be ready.
17
T-Bone
“Goddamn it!” Gus shouted as he chucked a hand weight across the room. “I’m sick of this bullshit!”
Patrick, Gus’s physical therapist, kept his tone low and calm as he said, “Easy there, Gus. I’m gonna need you to settle down and concentrate so we can get you out of here.”
It had been four months since the night that Gus was shot, and after weeks in the hospital and a stint in a rehabilitation facility, he’d made remarkable progress. It seemed the doctors had been right. The bullet had caused minimal damage, and other than a nasty scar, no one would ever have guessed that the man had taken two bullets. He was up and walking, talking like normal, and he’d even gotten most of his memory back, but he was still struggling a little with his fine motor skills. Gus’s face grew red as he growled, “Don’t see why we still gotta do this shit. I’m fine!”
“I tell you what. When you can write your name in cursive, then we’ll consider the job done.”
“Cursive? Why the fuck do I gotta be able to do some girly shit like that?”
“I don’t know”—Patrick leaned over to him—“maybe so you can sign your name on a check or hold a fork in your hand without dropping food all over yourself.”
“Fuck you, Patrick.”
“Why don’t you take a five-minute break?” Patrick patted him on the shoulder and said, “Cool off a bit and then we’ll get back at it.”
Before Gus could fire back at him, Patrick turned and walked over to the front desk, leaving Gus sitting alone at the workout table. I could see that he was stewing over there, so I got up and walked over to him. “Having a rough one?”
“Yeah, you could say that.” Gus ran his hand over his beard. “I’m tired of spending my days here with Patrick and his fucking torture tactics when I should be at the clubhouse. Fuck, man, I got shit to do.”
“You got shit to do right here, Prez.” I knew he was frustrated, and rightly so. He’d been busting his ass to recover from his injuries, and while he’d come a long way, he still had his work cut out for him. That wasn’t something so easy for Gus to swallow; unfortunately, he didn’t have a choice. I tried to be reassuring as I told him, “I know it’s not in your nature to take orders from anyone, but Patrick is trying to help.”
“Well, Patrick is gonna get my fist down his throat if he isn’t careful.”
“Gus.”
“I know. Damn it, I know.” He let out a frustrated sigh. “This whole thing makes me wish I’d handled Booker differently. I should’ve made that motherfucker suffer instead of just shooting him like I did.”
A few days after Gus was released from the hospital, Moose went and picked him up from his house and brought him over to the clubhouse. We’d already given him the rundown of everything that had happened the night we took the Genocide out, and how we’d saved Booker for him. The guy had been in one of Shadow’s holding rooms for just over three weeks. He knew his time was coming, and it had to be hell sitting in that room alone, only getting fed once a day as he waited for his end. Hell, the guy actually looked relieved the day Gus stepped into that room. We all knew Gus would kill him. We just didn’t know how. He could’ve tortured him, beat the hell out of him, or wounded him in a way that would’ve made his death come slow and painful. Instead, Gus turned to Shadow and said, “Give me your Glock.”
Shadow nodded, then placed the gun in his president’s hand. Gus then stepped over to Booker, placed the barrel at Booker’s head and said, “I’ll see you in hell.”
He pulled
the trigger, and the deed was done. Without a word, Gus slowly walked out of the room, and today was the first time he’d talked about it since. I understood his regret. If I were in his shoes, I would want to take all my frustrations out on the piece of shit, but that opportunity had come and gone. I gave Gus a pat on the shoulder as I recalled that night. “He had to sit in that room, and with every gunshot he heard, he knew we’d just killed another one of his men. Trust me when I say, the guy got what was coming to him.”
“You’re right.” He ran his hand over his face with a huff. “I need to quit whining like a little bitch and get my ass back to work.”
“That you do.” I stood up and walked over to pick up the weight he’d thrown across the room. I carried it back over to him and said, “I think you’ll be needing this.”
“Yeah … Motherfucking stupid shit,” he muttered under his breath.
Neither had noticed that Patrick had walked up until he chuckled and said, “Glad to see that you’ve cooled off.”
“Don’t start with me, kid,” Gus warned. “I’ll do the shit you want me to do, but I’m not gonna be happy about it.”
“Understood.”
“All right then.” Knowing they needed to get back to work, I told Gus, “I’ll let you boys get to it.”
As I started to walk away, Gus called out to me. “Hey, Bone.”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks.”
Samantha was babysitting Harper, their granddaughter, so I’d volunteered to bring him to therapy today. It wasn’t the first time I’d done so and I doubted it would be last. I didn’t mind. It meant a lot to me to see the progress he was making. I gave him a nod and said, “Anytime.”
I found a chair and sat down, watching quietly as Gus continued his therapy. When he was finally done, I drove him back over to his place. Being typical Samantha, she invited me to stay for dinner—her way of thanking me for taking Gus when she couldn’t. No way was I going to turn down a home-cooked meal, so I accepted her offer. Spending time with Gus and Samantha and watching the way they interacted with such love and respect for one another had me thinking about Alyssa. There was a time when we had something a little like theirs, and I won’t deny that I missed it. I missed her—more than I cared to admit. There were nights when I’d drive over to her place or the restaurant, hoping to catch a glimpse of her.
I wasn’t the only one who was missing her. Clay was struggling with the fact that she was still keeping her distance. They’d had a few quick phone calls here and there, but he hadn’t actually seen Alyssa since the night she refused to come to lockdown. Even after the danger had subsided and the lockdown was lifted, he couldn’t convince her to come to the clubhouse. I could only assume it was because she knew I would be there.
It had been over four months, and I hadn’t gotten so much as a text from her. There were many times when I was tempted to reach out, but I always ended up talking myself out of it. I wasn’t the kind of man who pushed himself on a woman, but knowing what we had made it hard to let go. That was one of the reasons why I’d left Gus’s place and drove over to the restaurant. It was almost time for her shift to end, so I parked between two trucks that were just a couple of rows down from her car. I turned off my lights and crossed my fingers, hoping that she wouldn’t see me. A few minutes later, the back door opened and Alyssa walked out, looking amazing as always. Her hair was pulled up, and she wore a black coat with her purse hanging off her shoulder.
She was approaching her car when I noticed a man get out of his car, and it was clear from Alyssa’s expression that she was startled as he walked towards her. The guy’s back was to me, so it was difficult to see who he was until she charged past him. Rage washed over me as soon as he turned to follow her and I recognized it was Lucas Brant. Knowing how terrified she was of the guy I opened the door to my truck and was about to get out when Alyssa reached into her pocket and pulled out a handgun. As she pointed it directly at Brant, she shouted, “I’m not playing games with you, Lucas. I’ve told you to stop coming around here, and I mean it.”
“So what ... you’re gonna shoot me?”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” She took a step towards him, and with determination in her voice, she asked, “Do you really want to take that chance?”
“You’re fucking crazy.”
“Crazier than you think. Now go, Lucas, and don’t come near me again or you’ll regret it.”
“You’ll pay for this shit, Alyssa.” Brant turned and started back towards his vehicle. “No one fucks with me and gets away with it.”
Relief washed over her face as he got in his car. Wasting no time, Alyssa quickly returned the gun to her coat pocket and rushed to her car, looking completely freaked out. As much as I wanted to go to her and make sure she was okay, I knew I couldn’t. I’d made her a promise, and I intended to keep it. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t deal with Lucas. It wasn’t the first time he’d come to see her; otherwise, Alyssa wouldn’t have had a gun on her. That very thought had me following Brant out of the restaurant parking lot and onto the main street. I wasn’t surprised when he pulled up to Mikey’s Pub, one of his favorite bars in town. Hell, over the past few months, I’d seen him go in there more times than I could count. He’d have a few drinks and do his best to convince some chick to go home with him, but normally, he’d just end up leaving empty handed, returning to his oblivious wife and baby.
I followed him inside, sat in the back of the bar, and watched as he downed a few shots. Even after all the times I’d kept tabs on the guy, I was still amazed that at one time he’d been a star football player. He was about six-one and weighed about a hundred and eighty pounds, but his build looked more like a guy who never once saw the inside of a gym. Seemed that all the booze and late nights were taking their toll. It wasn’t long before he spotted a petite redhead in the back of the bar. Clearly drunk, she was leaning over with her elbow on the table and her chin propped up on her hand. When Brant realized that she was blitzed, he decided to make a play for her. With a shot in hand, he made his way over to her and said, “Hey, beautiful. Can I buy you a drink?”
“Mm-hmm ... thaat’d be ... great,” she slurred, barely able to keep her eyes open.
“I tell you what.” Brant slipped his arm around her waist and said, “How about I get us a room at the hotel across the street, and you and I can have that drink alone.”
She nodded. “Ooo-kaay.”
“Great. Let’s get out of here.”
All smiles, Brant helped the chick to her feet and shuffled her out the door. I waited a couple of minutes, then went back out to my truck. I followed them across the street to a trashy motel, then parked and watched as Brant rushed inside to get them a room. Moments later, he came back out to his car, and the girl stumbled out, barely able to walk as he latched onto her waist and led her inside the room. The whole scene was enough to make a decent man sick to his stomach. That girl had no idea what was coming. She was too far gone to know that Brant was going to try and take advantage of her. Lucky for her, I was there to make sure nothing happened. I waited a few minutes, giving them a chance to get settled, then I got out of my truck and started towards the room. I was just a few feet away when I heard the girl cry, “Wait ... Stop. What are you doing? No!”
I heard a hard slap, followed by the sound of her crying, and that’s all it took. I lifted my foot and slammed it against the door, kicking it open. When I walked in, Brant was on top of the girl, pinning her arms above her head. “Get off her. Now!”
“What the—get the fuck out of here!” Angered by the unexpected forced entry, he shouted, “Can’t you see we’re in the middle of something?”
“You deaf or something? I said get the fuck off her!”
“Look, man. If this is your girl, I’m sorry.” Finally doing as he was told, he slowly eased himself away from her and got off the bed. As he turned to face me, he said, “I don’t want any trouble.”
“Well, trouble is whatcha got, asshole.” I
walked over to the girl, and as I helped her up, I asked, “You all right?”
“Uh-huh, I think so.”
“Fuck this shit,” Brant shouted.
He started for the door but quickly stopped when I pulled out my gun and aimed it towards him. “Stop right there, Brant. You’re not going anywhere.”
“Okay, okay.” He held up his hands. “I’ll stay right here.”
I turned my attention back to the girl. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah, I’m okay. Thank you for helping me.” Tears filled her eyes as she muttered, “I thought he was a good guy, but—”
“I know. Don’t worry about it,” I interrupted. “I’m gonna need you to go down to the lobby. Wait there until I can get someone to come take you home. Can you do that for me?”
“Yes, I can do that.”
“Gonna need you to do me a favor.”
“Okay?”
“You never saw me. Got that?”
She nodded. “Yeah, I got it.”
“Good. Now get to the lobby.” Once she’d made her way out of the room, I turned my attention back to Brant. “You’re a real piece of shit, you know that? Bad enough that ya cheat on your wife while she’s got a newborn at home, but ya gotta rough up a drunk chick?”
“How do you know I’ve got a wife and kid at home?”
“I know all about you, Lucas Brant. Grew up in Nashville and were the star quarterback. I also know you got a thing for forcing yourself on women, and that shit don’t fly with me.”
“Who the fuck are you?”
“I’m a friend of Alyssa Hanson’s.” His eyes widened with surprise as I continued, “I know what you did to her, how you raped her and stole her innocence, and I also know you didn’t leave things there. No, you still keep coming at her, taking more and more from her every time she has to see your stupid face. That shit is about to end.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I’d had enough. I wasn’t going to stand there and listen to his bullshit. I reared back my fist and slammed it right into the side of his head, knocking him out cold. When he collapsed onto the bed, I took my phone out of my back pocket and dialed Hyde’s number. As soon as he answered, I said, “Hey, brother. I’m gonna need you to meet me at the Blue Nights motel on Second.”
