Beautifully Broken (The Denver Series Book 2)

by Eve L Mitchell

  Phoenix is a huge city, and if I hadn’t been on the run, I would have appreciated it more. However, I needed to disappear, and I had watched enough CSI and Criminal Minds to know I needed a new identity. Granted, when I was an avid watcher of these shows, I always imagined I would be the investigator, not the criminal.

  I came upon the bar by chance. It was beside an old scrap yard, and after close inspection of some of the salvage cars, I found a pretty decent one to call bed for the night. The trunk didn’t open, but much to my confusion, the back seat lifted up to provide a happy little hiding place for my bag. I slept there that night, my first night under the stars. In the morning, I knew I needed a job. The car would do until I could find somewhere cheap to rent. I hadn’t noticed it the night before, but the “help wanted” sign in front of the bar was obviously meant for me, and I went inside and had an on-the-spot interview. The manager had a pervy look about him, but I was firm, and when he asked about my bruises, I told him I fell.

  He gave me the job and told me to wear something nice and tight for his customers. I had been wary, but I knew tips were tips, and I needed a job. An hour later, I had walked into a suburban part of Phoenix and went to the first thrift store I found. When I went back and changed at the bar, my short denim skirt and black camisole seemed to please my new boss. The first time his hand wandered, I ignored it. It was close behind the bar, and it could have been a genuine mistake. The second time, I asked him if he had a problem. He said no and asked me if I did. I told him I did and it was his wandering hands. He laughed and apologised. I thought, because I had addressed the issue, we’d be done. The third and fourth grope he told me were accidental, but the fifth time, I simply walked out, pulling on a black zipped hoodie to cover myself.

  A guy on a motorbike was outside, smoking a cigarette, kicking up dust on his boots. He struck up a conversation, and I was so disheartened I spoke to him. He was about my age, he was cute, his eyes travelled over me curiously, but his hands stayed at his side. He offered me a smoke, and I declined. I noticed he had patches on his leather vest, and I asked him if he was like a Hell’s Angel. He laughed and said no.

  “You look lost,” he said to me with a smile. “You new to the bar?”

  A low laugh from me had him grinning in question. “I was, I think I lasted maybe three hours?”

  “Hands?”

  “Giant, massive, wandering hands,” I agreed with a nod. Looking around the car lot, I sighed. I suppose I could go to the car and call it a day. Get out of this skirt and get my legs covered.

  “You have somewhere to go?”

  “Yeah, of course,” I nodded.

  “You keep looking at the scrap yard. You won’t find anything in there,” he said with a knowing smile.

  “Maybe I already did,” I said with a frown.

  “Well, that’s just a sad song waiting to be written,” he laughed as he crossed the small space to me. “Name’s Gunner,” he said as he extended his hand. “You?”

  “Da—Devon.”

  “Da-Devon?”

  “Just Devon.” I forced the smile, scared I had already fucked up. Gunner was easily over six foot, bulky, slight belly on him, covered in tattoos and had brown hair slicked back off his face. His band T-shirt and ripped jeans made him somehow seem normal.

  “You need help, Just Devon?” Gunner asked me shrewdly.

  “What does it cost, this help?” I asked warily. “I won’t sleep with you, and I have no money.”

  “Huh, not much to bargain with, have you?” he asked me with a huge grin. “I got a lady. I figured you had no cash since you wanted a job here. Can a guy not just be a gentleman?”

  “No.”

  Gunner laughed loudly in the quiet night. “Get your things, let’s go, Just Devon.” He shook his head in amusement. “My girl’s gonna love you.”

  I had taken so many chances already, I decided one more didn’t matter. I headed into the scrap yard, changed into my jeans, and met Gunner at his bike. “I’m ready.”

  I had never been on a motorbike before, and during the ride, I swore I would never be on another one. Nothing to protect you, travelling at high speed, and even fresh out of a car accident, I was still praying for the safety of a shell of a car as Gunner drove me to who knows where.

  Gunner took me to a single story house nestled in a cute cul-de-sac. The lawn was perfect, and the hanging baskets of flowers were well tended. Cautiously, I entered the house to find his wife and two babies screaming for their momma.

  “This is Just Devon,” Gunner told his wife as he relieved her of a screaming infant. “Devon, this is my wife, Lindsay, my girl, Britt, and my boy, Kel,” he said with a smile to the baby in his arms.

  “Hi.” I had no idea what to say.

  “Why is she here?” his wife asked as she tackled the little girl who was set to run straight to me.

  “Needs a helping hand.” Gunner shrugged. “Reckon she’s running from a bad relationship judging by the bruises, and I think she was sleeping in the scrap yard.”

  “Show me your arms,” Lindsay demanded. Wordlessly, I pushed up my sleeves and showed her my bare arms. “Feet.”

  “Sorry?”

  “Show me between your toes.”

  With a bemused look to Gunner, I shed my boots and took off my socks. “Happy?”

  “Drink?”

  “Are you asking me if I want one or asking if I drink?”

  Gunner grinned while his wife crossed her arms in front of him. I realised that she was standing in front of him and the kids, like she was protecting them. If she was five five, I would be surprised.

  “I drink now and again but prefer coffee.”

  “Okay.” She looked over her shoulder at the big biker. “Three nights, max.”

  “I didn’t know he was bringing me to your home,” I muttered.

  “He brings home every stray he finds,” Lindsay snorted as she headed into the kitchen. “I hope you like cats and dogs, we have too many to count anymore.” Her eye roll to the man in the middle of the living room only made him grin wider.

  “So, Devon, what do you do?” she asked me with a friendly smile. I saw her look at the bruises on my arms, and her smile faded. “You been running from him long?”

  “A few days,” I admitted quietly. I didn’t need to fake my fear of Myles. The fact that everyone was assuming I was running from an abusive relationship was working to my advantage.

  “I’m sorry he hurt you,” Lindsay told me gently. “You can stay here until we help you find a job, yeah?”

  “Thanks.”

  When she told me to sit, she would get Gunner and myself some dinner, I sank into the seat without a word. This was very surreal. They just let me into their home, with their kids there. I could be anyone. I could be a serial killer. I really didn’t know people still existed like this. They were young too. Shouldn’t they have been more wary? I was a nice person, but I didn’t think I would have opened the apartment to anyone Lance had taken home. I don’t care if that didn’t make me a good Christian, it made you an alive Christian.

  When Gunner brought out his whole arsenal of guns later that night as Lindsay put the kids to bed, I realised why he had no problem bringing strays home. He grinned at me as he proceeded to clean his guns.

  “It’s where I get my name from,” he told me as he started cleaning them.

  “Gunner...it makes sense,” I conceded.

  “Where do you get your name from?” he asked me shrewdly.

  “Mother.”

  “Just Devon, do you need new papers?” Gunner asked me conversationally as he dismantled the silver gun in front of me. Guns had always made me nervous, I hated them.

  “A newspaper?”

  “No, hon, new papers.” Gunner looked at me with a small smile. “A new identity.” I had said yes before my brain could process the danger of doing so. “You got cash?”

  As I considered him, I wondered if this was where they took my money and threw me out, and
I would be cursing myself for a fool. Lindsay came in at that moment, wiping spit up off her top, and I saw how tired she was, but she still managed a blinding smile for her man. I had never had that with Lance, I realised. Even if Gunner was going to rob me, he and his wife had served me a hot meal, given me a safe place to stay for a few hours. It wouldn’t be so bad if they turned me out.

  “A little,” I admitted.

  “There’s a guy I know, can get you new documents, but it can take two weeks. It also costs three grand.”

  “Jesus.”

  “That’s with my discount,” Gunner said as he methodically began dismantling the next gun.

  “How much is your discount?” I wondered aloud.

  “Thirty-five percent.”

  Jesus Christ. “And I can use it?” I asked him hopefully.

  “Yeah.” He sat back as Lindsay put a beer in front of him. “If I take the three, what you got left?”

  “Enough for a little while,” I told him. I didn’t want to tell him how much I actually had.

  “Fair enough.” Gunner took a swig of beer. “Linds, you got space at the salon?”

  “No.” She frowned as she looked at me. “You fussy about your work?”

  “No.” I shook my head.

  “Motel off of Black Canyon Freeway, need cleaners, not nosy cleaners. You able?”

  “Housekeeping?” I asked curiously.

  “Yeah.”

  “I can do that.”

  “Okay, we’ll swing past in the morning,” Lindsay said with a smile.

  “Why are you helping me?” I asked quietly as Gunner reassembled his guns and Lindsay stole his beer.

  “Because my husband takes in strays that he can help,” Lindsay said with a soft smile, and then with a frown at my arms, she looked at me. “And because a woman should never be scared in her own home.”

  “Thank you.” I couldn’t tell them the whole story, but I had told them enough for now.

  Lindsay was true to her word. In the morning, we left the kids with Gunner, and she drove me to the motel. After a brief conversation with the motel manager, who looked at me with too much interest, I had a job. Before we left, Lindsay had caught the guy in the gut with a sharp jab and reminded him that if he touched me, she would send Gunner and his friends to the motel. Unlike my warning to grabby hands in the bar, the motel manager listened to the fiery woman.

  On our way back to her house, she said I would need my first two paychecks before I could rent somewhere decent, unless I could put down a deposit. I didn’t want to part with more of my cash, and when she said she knew a place that would let me rent on her word, I agreed to go with her.

  The apartment wasn’t much, but it was surprisingly clean and well-maintained. Rent was cheap, but that’s because the apartments in the block were above a small parade of shops and one bar. The apartment was also only fifteen minutes’ walk from the motel.

  By that afternoon, I had an apartment and a job. When we got back to their house, Gunner was waiting for my three grand and my new name. I was born Davina Courtney Lannister. I wanted something close to my original, so I chose Devon, through default, and Lancaster because it was as close to Lannister as I could think. I didn’t want to be the idiot who didn’t recognise their name when it was shouted. He took two pics of me on his phone for the new identity cards and told me it would be easy.

  Lindsay took me and the kids to Target, and I reluctantly parted with some cash for bedding, towels and pots and pans. We got groceries, and suddenly within about twenty-four hours of meeting Gunner, I had a new life.

  Thinking back to the past wasn’t healthy, I thought as I rose with a sigh from the bed and covered my now soothed ass. It had been so freakishly simple. Meet strange man, make strange man laugh, strange man takes you home to his wife and kids, part with your money for a new name, get a job, get a home. What could have gone wrong?

  Well, I didn’t die, and I didn’t get chopped into tiny pieces. I had fallen on my feet. Or so I thought. Until Gunner came looking for a favour. He helped me, I could help him. Put the bag in an empty room at the motel, make sure no one got the room, don’t look inside the bag.

  The first time I took the bag and didn’t question it. The second time, it was two bags. I did as he asked. A week after that, it was a lot of bags, and Gunner wouldn’t be coming to get them; someone would meet me to get them.

  However, I was indebted, and Gunner still hadn’t delivered my new papers. I waited back at the motel for the person to come and get the bags. A black van pulled up outside the room, and a guy got out of the truck.

  He looked dangerous, but there was an appeal to him, something…sexy. Jet black hair, trimmed beard, warm brown eyes and a lot of tattoos. He had the same leather vest that Gunner had, with the same patches on it. He wasn’t like Gunner. This guy had no problem running his eyes over me.

  “He didn’t tell me you were a hot piece of ass.”

  “He didn’t tell me you were a jerk.”

  “You can jerk it anytime you want, babe,” he told me with a wicked smile.

  “Oh my God, seriously?” I shook my head as I opened the door. “Just take the bags and go.”

  “I want to stay.”

  “Fine, stay.” I stepped out of the room. “Close the door behind you when you’re done.” I walked away from him, happy I had gotten the upper hand on the good-looking jerk.

  The next week, Gunner came to my work with a van. “Need to make a drop, Dev,” he told me with a smile.

  “What are you dropping?” I asked in astonishment as he opened the back of the van and I saw all the wooden crates. “Jesus, Gunner, what is this?”

  “Don’t you worry your pretty little head ’bout it.” Gunner dropped a kiss on my head as he passed. “I’ll unload, you just be here later, yeah?”

  “Yeah.” I mean, I couldn’t say no, could I? “Hey, you get my documents yet?”

  “Soon, Just Devon, soon.”

  “Okay.” I knew he was lying. I just had nothing to prove it.

  “Tats will be by later,” Gunner told me with a grin. “Seems you made an impression.”

  “I didn’t mean to.”

  “You’re hot, Just Devon. The boy’s hot-blooded,” Gunner said with an easy smile. “You’re too serious. Tats will show you some fun.”

  “Just hurry up with this. If my manager looks up here, we’re both in the shit,” I whispered desperately. “I’ll go clean number forty-two. Holler when you’re done.”

  “Okay, thanks, hon.”

  That evening, as I was thinking about what to have for dinner, while waiting for Tats to arrive, I realised that Gunner and Tats were obviously in some biker gang. From the different symbols, I reckoned they were different roles within the gang. I eyed the crates distrustfully. There had been a biker show Lance was obsessed with, and on the show, the crates held guns. I edged away from the crate nearest to me. Please don’t be full of guns. I was sure that would make me an accessory to...something.

  I heard the vehicle pull up outside, and cautiously I opened the door. Tats got out of the van with another man. I didn’t pay attention to the other guy, as my eyes were on the sexy biker who was already undressing me with his eyes.

  “Holy hell, babe, I could eat you up,” he told me with a wicked grin.

  “Learned nothing from the other week then?” I snarked at him.

  He walked right up to me, and with a knowing smile, he was up close and personal. “I learned that you put an extra sway in your hips when you want me to watch your ass,” he said with a confident smile as he leaned into me.

  “You need glasses?” I asked him, but I knew I was blushing.

  “I can see you perfectly, baby,” Tats said as he ran a finger down my bare arm. “Where’s the little uniform?” he asked as he appraised my jeans and T-shirt.

  “I’m off duty,” I answered, looking over my shoulder to check the manager hadn’t come looking to see where the van had gone.

  “You l
eaving me this week?” Tats asked, bringing my attention back to him.

  “Do you want me to?” I asked cautiously. “It’s just I was going to make sure the room was okay when you were done.”

  “I want you to stay,” Tats told me, his eyes running over me again.

  “Can you stop looking at me like that?” I asked self-consciously.

  “No.”

  “Um, okay.” I stood back from him. “I’ll wait here while you, um, work.” I waved my hand uselessly at the room.

  Tats grinned at me, and then he and his companion were loading the van. The other guy kept looking at me, and I didn’t like his perusal. Tats looked too closely, but that’s because he obviously liked what he saw. This other guy looked at me with a frown.

  When they were finished, Tats declared he was going to walk me home. I protested, and he ignored me. Frowny muttered something about Tats thinking with his dick, and then he was driving off, leaving me with the dark-haired biker.

  “I can walk home okay,” I said as I fidgeted.

  “I know.” Tats slung his arm around my shoulder casually. “I’m just walking the same way.”

  “Do you know where I live?” I asked in alarm.

  “No, that’s weird stalking shit.”

  “Oh.”

  We walked in silence, and I tried twice to move out from under his arm, and twice he merely pulled me back into him.

  When we got to my apartment, Tats convinced me to go for a drink with him in the bar under my apartment. Either he or the alcohol loosened me up. He was funny when he wasn’t being a jerk. When we were finished drinking, he pressed me against the wall outside the back of the bar and kissed me senseless.

  I had my first ever one-night stand. He was gone when I woke up, and although I felt stupid and a little slutty, I also hadn’t had sex like that before. Tats definitely didn’t think I was a lousy lay like Lance had accused me of.

  That afternoon when I went to work, I got the scare of my life when a man was waiting for me in one of the motel rooms needing cleaned.