Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea (Brimstone Lords MC 3)

by Sarah Zolton Arthur

  “That’s good.” I happily reply, because it is good. Mrs. Grandville fell and fractured her hip. Hip fractures, so I’ve been told, could be life threatening, especially for the elderly.

  “You only say that because you don’t have to live with her. After forty-seven years of marriage, she’s still the worst patient to look after.”

  “You’d be lost without her.”

  “A fact she reminds me of daily, my dear.”

  I snicker. He snickers.

  “Don’t suppose you’d ever find interest in an old man?” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively, which causes my snicker to bloom into a full-on laugh.

  “No,” says a new voice, and at the sound of it, my laugh dries up immediately. “She’s in a committed relationship. Isn’t that right, Liv?”

  The man from the bar. He found me.

  “You know this guy, Liv?” Dr. Grandville asks. Even being older than dirt, he shifts his body protectively between me behind the counter and the guy.

  “Met him the other night at Sea Breeze’s. I wasn’t buying what he was trying to sell.”

  “You get gas, son?” Dr. Grandville turn his very practiced glare at the man.

  “Not your son,” the man responds. He holds out a hand with a twenty between two fingers and approaches the counter, shoving Dr. Grandville out of the way with his shoulder.

  He had, in fact, gotten gas.

  I ring him up, then reach to take the twenty. “It’s probably best you get your gas elsewhere from now on. I’m sure Smitty will agree with me.”

  The man surprises me by grabbing my wrist. “Come on, Liv. You’re just being rude now. I’ve been nothing but nice to you.”

  “I already asked you not to call me ‘Liv.’ That’s not nice.” I attempt to wrench my wrist away, but he has a surprisingly firm hold. “Let go,” I order through clenched teeth.

  “Sure, Livvy.” He releases my wrist and holds his hands up in front of him in that ‘calm down’ placating manner men take when they think a woman is being irrational. “No harm, no foul.” Then he turns around to leave. Hand to the door, he looks over his shoulder at me. “See you around, Livvy.”

  I suck in a sharp breath. If it’s one thing I know, it’s men. And what he said was no parting remark. That’s a promise. The look he sends, the sound of his voice, he absolutely intends to see me again.

  “Sweetie,” Dr. Grandville says as he places a comforting hand over mine. “You want me to call the police? You’re shaking.”

  “No, thank you. He didn’t really do anything wrong. Paid for his gas and told me he’d see me around.”

  “He grabbed your wrist, that’s assault,” Dr. Grandville tells me what I already know. But if I go on record, I could be traced. By Raif. By Houdini. No, it’s safer just to let it ride for now.

  “I know, but I don’t want him to think he’s getting to me. I call the police and he’ll know. So I’m going to let it slide this time. Please…” I implore him with my eyes. “Let it slide this time?”

  “Yes, well just this time… I don’t trust him.”

  “Neither do I,” I admit.

  Dr. Grandville, the sweet man, stays in the store with me until the end of shift, even ordering lunch to be delivered so he wouldn’t have to leave me. I pull a chair from the backroom for him to sit near the counter and at least be comfortable while he gives up his time to see me safe.

  Once second-shift Krissy comes in to take over, he won’t even let me walk out back to my car alone, staying until I slide inside, lock the doors and start the engine.

  Then Dr. Grandville waves me off.

  I back out of the spot and drive directly home.

  After I walk in and lock the door behind me, I hang my keys on the key hook I’d installed and head to the kitchen for a beer. I need a beer.

  Again I’m met with the light left on. I thought for sure I’d turned it off this morning. Whatever. The douche showing up today is messing with my head, that’s all. I left the light on. Period. Considering this, I run my hands through my hair, scratching my scalp. Not sure how I keep forgetting to turn them off. My electric bills are going to be huge if I don’t stop being so scatterbrained.

  My sleep has been improving, though still not perfect, so I’m at a loss as to why I can’t get my shit together.

  No, I know why. Gage. I miss him more than I thought I ever would. But what did I expect? He’s the love of my life. My soulmate. My… everything.

  When I open the refrigerator, my beer is on the top shelf. Wait a god dammed second. I never put beer on the top shelf. It goes in the door. Always in the door.

  But maybe this time I did put it there?

  My phone rings and I jump, then laugh at myself when I see the name. Smitty.

  “Hello?” I answer, still laughing.

  “Jerry said you had some trouble at the store today?”

  Jerry? Oh, Jerry, right. Dr. Grandville.

  “He shouldn’t have bothered you. I’m fine, really,” I tell him while pulling a beer from the six pack, popping the cap off with the magnetized bottle opener I keep on the refrigerator door.

  “Well, that’s not how he recounts it. He said you were uncomfortable to the point of shaking. That the guy wouldn’t leave when you asked him to.”

  “Something like that.” I breathe into the line.

  “Well, from now on you aren’t working alone. I’m contacting a security firm, keep one of those rent-a-cops around ’till this is taken care of.”

  “Smitty, that’s really not nec—”

  “It’s done.” He cuts me off. “Now Georgie has dinner on the table, so I’m going. But you got the next couple days off until I can set that guard in place.”

  He doesn’t even give me the chance to protest, hanging up on me. Hopefully, he’s just rearranging the schedule so my coworkers don’t hate me.

  My phone rings again. This time I don’t start.

  Gage.

  I answer.

  “Hey, beautiful,” he says. And I can hear the smile in his voice.

  “Hey,” I whisper back.

  Do I tell him about that creepy, what had he told me his name was? Michael, maybe? I’m thinking Michael. Do I tell Gage about that creepy Michael guy?

  No. Better not. At least not yet.

  “You’re never going to believe it. Duke’s got himself a woman.” That smile in his voice grows into full-on laughter.

  “I’m sure he has many.” Not enough energy to cook, I grab the ring bologna and block of Colby-Jack from the fridge. Then the box of whole wheat crackers from the cupboard. I pile all that on a large platter along with a steak knife, then grab my beer and walk into the living room, where I plop down onto the sofa.

  “No, I mean he has an old lady. And she’s the doctor. The one who delivered baby Gun,” he says, making me choke on the sip of beer I’d just taken. “At least that’s what the brothers report.”

  His response strikes me as curious. “What the brothers report? You aren’t at the compound?”

  He stays quiet.

  “Gage?” I prompt.

  “Can’t be there without you. Your shampoo just isn’t cutting it anymore. Everything reminds me of you,” he admits softly.

  Those words couldn’t have hurt any more if they’d been delivered with a punch to the gut. I’ve run him from his club. His family. I feel nauseous. “Where are you at?”

  “Been out riding for a while now. Your brother and Boss have been keeping me company.”

  “That’s nice.” But we both know it’s not nice. Boss should be home with his family. And Gage should be here with me. I stare at the plate of food wishing he was here for snack dinner with me.

  “Liv?” he calls to my silence. “You still there, baby?”

  “I’m here. Was going to have snack dinner tonight.”

  He goes quiet again, too. “Remember the last time we had snack dinner, we were watching that movie in bed. You laughed so hard, you flipped the plate. We were brushing
crumbs out of the bed all night.” Then, all humor gone, he asks, “You were just pretending then, weren’t you?” That breaks my heart. But I can’t correct him.

  “When are you going to give up on me?” I don’t know where the words come from, but they needed to be said and suddenly need to hear the answer.

  “Never, Liv. I’m never giving up on you. When I’m ninety-five, senile and living in a home, I want it to be your face that I turn to look at and can’t remember.”

  I start to laugh but break out in tears.

  “Hey… Shh… baby. No tears. It’s okay.”

  “It’s not okay, Gage. I’m keeping us apart and I miss you so damn much. But I can’t go back. I can’t. He’s there.”

  “Baby,” he says, then pauses. “Let me come to you, then. I won’t try to force you back. We’ll stay where you are until he’s caught. Please. Please, Liv.”

  “Is that my sister?” asks a voice in the background. Then the phone rustles. “Quit dicking around and come home, Liv,” My brother says into the line.

  I gasp, then quickly bite my bottom lip to attempt to keep Raif from hearing me cry. I don’t think it works. He definitely doesn’t care. Hasn’t that been the story of our lives?

  “My boy’s balls are blue and he’s mopey. Chaos is never mopey. Do something. Come back or let him go—ouch.”

  The phone rustles again. “Sorry, baby. Don’t listen to him. This is between you and me. I will come to you.”

  “Would you be able to lay low? Could you keep our location from your brothers? These are questions you need to ask yourself. Bikes call attention wherever they go. I don’t want Houdini to find me. Could you give up the biker life until he’s found?” I cry even harder now. When he doesn’t answer, I’m sure of his answer. “Bye, Gage. I love you,” I say and abruptly disconnect.

  Having lost my appetite, I walk my plate back into the kitchen to put the perishables away, then head to my room to lay down.

  Eventually, I fall asleep, which means when I wake, it’s early the next morning. With nothing on my agenda for the day now that Smitty has given me the next couple of days off, I dress in my favorite string bikini—a crocheted yellow little number—throw my cover-up on over top, pack sunscreen, my eReader and a towel into a beach bag; then after throwing my hair up into a high ponytail and sucking back a cup of coffee and a bowl of instant oatmeal, I head to the beach.

  I hope with the warm temps, the sun shining bright and all the people around, it will be enough to distract me from thoughts of Gage, Houdini and now Michael.

  The aroma of salt and the sound of the waves lapping the shore bring on a feeling of peace and contentment I haven’t felt in over a year. It shouldn’t have, considering the large body of water spread out before me. I should be petrified, paralyzed by fear at the mere idea of water, except I can’t muster that emotion.

  Hours pass. For about twenty minutes I put my eReader down to watch a young family—mom, dad and baby who’d be about Gun’s age, squirming, giggling and splashing in the ocean. Although I missed them—Boss, Elise and Gun—it makes me smile to watch the family at play.

  When they move back up the beach to their towels, I resume reading the steamy erotic romance I’ve been attempting to get through—a romance which is probably a poor choice considering I’ve been here for months, and Gage and I hadn’t had sex for weeks before that. Well, aside from our over-the-phone activities. But over the phone has nothing on the real thing. The thick feel of Gage between my legs, or when he puts his mouth on me. Gah! Definitely not the right book for me to read.

  I power down the eReader and close my eyes to bask in the beautiful summer sun. That is until a shadow crosses over and I shiver, slowly opening one eye to see if we’re in for a rain shower or if I’d fallen victim to a rogue cloud.

  After a second shiver, both my eyes pop open and I scream. That’s because Michael—yes, Michael—stands peering down over me.

  “What are you doing here?” I whisper, fear choking my words.

  “Cover up,” he demands.

  “Excuse me?” My voice is louder now.

  “Men are watching you, undressing you with their eyes. I don’t like it. Cover up.”

  “Leave me alone.” This, I shout a little louder than I’d mean to. Several men jog over to us.

  “This guy bothering you?” one of the men asks.

  “Yes,” I admit, lamely.

  He and the several other men with him form a semi-circle around Michael, giving me the chance to gather my things and get the hell out of there, making a beeline to the parking lot.

  I can hear the testosterone-fueled bravado shouted loud in the distance.

  Instead of waiting for the shuttle to bring me to my car in the back parking lot, I begin the long trek to put as much space between me and Michael as possible. Fast at first until it feels like he won’t find me.

  Resting a hand to my hip, I lay a hand to the burning metal of a car—it looks like a Buick—then wince from the pain, but do it taking a long, shuddering breath. Only just holding back the tears threatening to fall from my eyes. I’ve had too many reasons to cry over the last year. I’m tired of it. God, I’m so damn tired of the tears and I have this horrible feeling that they aren’t about to end anytime soon. Haven’t I earned a break?

  I look to the sky, “Haven’t I earned a break?” I scream to the universe.

  Damn me for letting my guard down. Did my time in Chicago, with Elise, teach me nothing?

  Two strong hands grip my waist hard and snatch me between two large SUVs, blocking us from view.

  “I told you men were watching.” Michael. Then he leans in and kisses me. I struggle. Shove at his chest. He barely budges. Michael laughs. “You like playing rough. I can play rough.”

  “No,” I shout and claw at his face. Praying some passerby or someone on the shuttle would hear and get it to stop.

  But instead of a rescue, I get Michael reaching around to pull the tie on my bikini top until my bare breasts come exposed, totally unfazed by my attempt to gouge his eyes out. In fact, he very easily wrangles my arms to my side. Too easily.

  “No,” I shout again. “Stop.”

  “Quit being a tease, Liv. I know you wanted me the minute we locked eyes.”

  Oh god. He begins to rub his thumb over my nipple like we’re an intimate couple.

  “Please stop,” I beg. Then I cry. More tears. I guess the universe doesn’t think I’ve had enough. “We didn’t lock eyes. You sat next to me at the bar.”

  “Not then. I’m talking the first time. When we locked eyes and you smiled at me before you went into the Smithfield gift shop.”

  My body stills. That was my first full day in town. I know because I hadn’t been back since. “I smiled at a lot of people that day,” I stupidly tell him.

  “Liar.” He hisses and shoves me hard against the door of the SUV behind me. The handle juts into my back hard enough where I know it’ll leave a bruise, and I yelp, wincing from the pain. He ignores my pain. “You led me back to your home. You got off in the tub for me.”

  He’d been in my house.

  He’d been in my house.

  Shoot—shit—shoot. I remember finding something on my bedding, not knowing what I’d spilled there, but I had to throw it in the wash. His next words confirm what I remember and freak me right the hell out.

  “I returned the favor in your bed. When you said you had a man, I knew what this game meant to you. I like being your man. But I’m done with getting off without you.”

  “You aren’t my man. Please, let me go. Please.”

  He shakes me hard. “Quit your lies, Liv. If I’m not your man, why do you keep my favorite beer in your fridge?”

  That’s when I realize he’d been in my home just yesterday. Maybe even this morning.

  When he brings his mouth to the crook of my neck, he inadvertently loosens his grip. It gives me just enough space to rear back and slam my knee into his groin.

  As Michael
doubles over, I run, screaming for help. Bare breasts and all.

  7.

  Livvy

  Thankfully, the shuttle, only half full of happy beachgoers, slams to a stop when, with my arms outstretched in front of me, I stumble into the front end. The driver jumps down and I break apart—I’m talking a major freak-out—in his arms. There’s a swirl of activity. Police. Statements. Photos taken. When it’s done, I can’t go home anymore. He could be waiting for me.

  I check into a hotel two towns over. In a big, busy city with lots of people around.

  Finally settled, I do what I promised myself I wouldn’t do, but what I’d promised him I would. His phone rings in my ear. “Liv, baby,” Gage answers. And as always when he first talks to me, there’s a smile in his voice.

  For a second time in a matter of hours, I crack. Crack wide open. “Gage, I need you.”

  Before any more words leave my mouth, I hear him scrambling around. Brothers asking him what’s wrong. Him answering he doesn’t know yet. Then I hear his truck.

  “You’re… home now?” I ask, sniffing into the line.

  “Not for long. Tell me where I’m headed,” he snaps. He sounds like he’s a second and a half away from losing control. I don’t even think he packed. “Liv, where am I headed?”

  “Smithfield. Virginia,” I tell him through my sobs. “No, wait. I’m in Virginia Beach. I couldn’t go home, Gage. He broke in.”

  “Who, Liv?” All traces of calmness gone. “Houdini?”

  “No.” I try to get control of myself. “M-Michael. He’s st-stalking me.”

  “The fuck from the restaurant,” Gage correctly surmises.

  “Yes.”

  “He hurt you,” again, he correctly surmises.

  This one takes me a little more time to answer, but I do. “Yes.”

  “Fuck,” he bellows into the line. “God dammit, Liv. God-fucking-dammit.”