Forbidden Rider: A Lost Saxons Novel #5

by Ames, Jessica

  “Again, why is this my problem?”

  “They want to hurt me, and they may choose to hurt the people around me. I protect the people I care about. That would usually include you, but if you’re not with me, helping me and doing the things I need you to, then I can’t help you.”

  A cold shiver runs through me.

  “Meaning what?”

  “That if you won’t scratch my back, then I won’t protect yours.”

  What. A. Prick.

  “So, you’d let these people hurt me because I’m not willing to do a couple of photo shoots?” My blood runs cold then heats as fury boils. “You really are a complete bastard, aren’t you? My God, what on earth does my mother see in you? How did I not see you for the complete shit you are all these years?”

  He sniffs loudly. “I’m a shit? I took care of you, raised you, took you in as my own. I didn’t have to take on another man’s problem, but I did.” My stomach twists at his words. “Your mother carried her shame. I took that stigma and gave you a family, legitimacy.”

  “Grant, no one gives a shit that Mum wasn’t married or that I didn’t have a dad. No one but you and her. You carry on as if I was some great stain on your unblemished record and like you did us both some huge favour by stepping in. Newsflash—we’d have been perfectly fine if we’d never met you. In fact, we’d probably have been better off. You ruined my mother. You turned her into a vapid, selfish bitch—”

  His hand smashes against my cheek before I can step out of its trajectory. I stagger back and go down heavily, landing in a heap on the floor, the oak flooring biting as I hit it. My head rings with the force, my vision wobbling. I’ve never been hit before, not by a man. Not by anyone. My face burns, the skin tightening already over my cheekbone as fire stings across the area. He slapped me open palmed, but it felt worse.

  “You always were an obnoxious brat who didn’t know what was good for her. You haven’t changed much as you’ve got older!” he spits the words.

  I brace, not sure if he’s going to attack me again, not sure if I need to move off the floor and prepare to defend myself, but he merely snarls at me, “You’re on your own. I won’t protect you when things get ugly, and they will get ugly, Piper, believe me. These men are dangerous and they will act. When they do, I won’t step in for you. Not when you’ve decided you are no longer loyal to your family. If you want help, go and ask your precious fucking bikers. See how much of a shit they give. I’m sure your brother will walk away the moment he sees what a selfish, spoilt, troubled child you are.”

  He gives me one last glare, letting all his disappointment shine through that look and then turns on his heel and storms from the loft, leaving me staring after him in stunned shock.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Jem’s late.

  Usually, I wouldn’t care. He’s laid-back to the point of being horizontal, so being a little tardy here and there isn’t that unusual for him, but he’s over an hour and a half late. I’m feeling anxious about this. I hope something hasn’t happened to him. He’s a careful rider, but other drivers are not. Has he had an accident on the way here?

  I chew nervously on my thumbnail, a habit left over from childhood that I’ve relapsed into in the last twenty minutes, as I stare at my phone screen. I’ve messaged him twice and phoned, but he’s not replying or answering, which has my anxiety moving into critical levels. Logically, I know he’s not going to be able to answer if he’s on the bike, but the fact he’s so late has me panicking.

  “Still no word?” Cami asks as she moves towards me, handing me a coffee like a safety blanket.

  I take it with a murmured thanks. “No. I’m getting worried, Cam. What if something has happened to him?”

  Cami’s been a rock for me over the past week. After she saw the mark on my face from where Grant slapped me, she was ready to murder him. I don’t blame her. If the situation was reversed, I’d be spitting fire. She wanted me to go to the police, but I couldn’t do it, and not because I feel any loyalty to Grant. What happened would go public, and my brother and boyfriend would end up in jail.

  Luckily, my cheek barely bruised and by the mid-week—when Jem would usually visit—it was starting to fade. Some Club business kept him too busy to make the drive down mid-week, giving my face extra days to heal. It is practically back to normal now, but I still put on a healthy amount of concealer this morning, just in case.

  “I’m sure it’s nothing. He’s probably got caught up in something. He’ll be here soon.”

  I want to believe her reassurance, but a tendril of unease unfurls in my belly. I don’t feel like this is a case of him being late. Something feels off, wrong. I’m considering calling him again when my phone buzzes in my hand.

  “It’s him?” Cami asks.

  “Yes.”

  I swipe the message open.

  JEM: Angel, shit’s come up. I’m not going to make it to yours today. I’ll call you later to explain.

  I read the message again, then once more, looking for clues, answers in his words. I come up empty. There’s nothing in this. I feel a hint of anger start to grow as I pass the phone to my best friend to read. Her eyes scan the message before widening a touch.

  “Okay, well, at least he’s safe, right?”

  “Yes, clearly, but this tells me nothing. I’m sitting here worrying and that’s all he gives me.”

  Cami frowns at the message again before handing me the phone back. “At least give him the chance to explain before you tear his head off. There could be a perfectly reasonable explanation.”

  I try to let go of my ire, nodding. She’s right. Jem has yet to let me down, and while I want to believe this is just the usual pattern for people in my life, I’m trying to be less negative, to see the good in things. Jem wouldn’t risk everything—especially with Josh—just to toss me aside like this, so I have to believe there is a legitimate reason why he isn’t here right now.

  “Let’s go into town, get some lunch. It’ll take your mind off things,” Cami suggests.

  It’s a good idea, so I agree.

  The Northern Quarter of Manchester has some decent places to eat, so me and Cami have to flip a coin to decide where we’re going for lunch. We decide on a place that does Mexican, which suits me perfectly because I’m in the mood for lots of cheese and spices.

  I’m halfway through a rather divine tasting cocktail when I start to feel a little uncomfortable. I can’t put my finger on it, but as Cam drones on about some event her and Spencer are attending next weekend, I can’t stop from feeling like I want to grab her and leave.

  It’s such an intense sensation, I have to sit on my hands to stop from moving. I’ve never had such a primal reaction to anything in my life before.

  I force my breathing to remain slow and steady as I let my gaze move around the restaurant, seeking what, I don’t know, but I figure I’ll know when I see it.

  It’s not overly busy inside, although there’s a decent lunchtime crowd in, and there’s a din of noise that is just louder than the pop song playing in the background. Waiting staff sweep between the tables, delivering drinks and dishes that smell mouth-wateringly good, giving the place a somewhat kinetic energy.

  It’s normal.

  Everything is normal, but my senses are on hyper alert.

  Even so, I want to leave, and the strength of the feeling to flee is so overwhelming, it scares me.

  “P, are you all right? You’ve gone awfully pale.”

  I snap my gaze back to my best friend, who is staring at me with consternation. I force a smile, my hand going to the back of my neck, which is surprisingly clammy.

  “Yes, I’m fine. Just hungry.”

  “Well, we ordered a while ago. The food should be here soon. I can ask about breadsticks if you’re feeling lightheaded.”

  “I’m fine, Cam. Don’t fuss.”

  “I’m your best friend. It’s my job to fuss.”

  I laugh a little, even as my eyes start to roam around th
e room again.

  And it’s then I see him.

  He’s sitting at a table in the darkest part of the restaurant, obscured by a column holding up the roof. This is why I overlooked him the first time, but now I can see the guy, I don’t know how I missed him. He’s so out of place with this crowd of people. He’s dressed in a brown, worn jacket with a dark shirt beneath, his head shaved, his hands tattooed, his neck too. He has a long scar running across one cheek, though it’s old because it’s faded to a silvery gouge, although it doesn’t make it look any less severe.

  And he’s staring right at me.

  I swallow, but my mouth seems to have stopped making any saliva, so it’s a painful dry attempt. What is he looking at?

  Cami glances over her shoulder, following my line of sight.

  “Do you know him?”

  I shake my head, unable to make words form.

  “Darling, he’s staring at you.”

  “I know,” I manage to choke out. I’m completely freaked out.

  “I mean, really staring at you.”

  “I know,” I repeat, sounding a little stronger this time. “I have no idea who he is.”

  “Creepy bastard. I’m going to tell him to bugger off—”

  She starts to stand, but I grab her wrist, pulling her down.

  “Don’t.” Her confused expression has me explaining further, “Grant said he was mixed up with some bad people that he wouldn’t protect me from.”

  Cami’s eyes flare. “You think that’s one of Grant’s ‘bad people’?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Piper, if that’s the case you need to tell someone—your brother, Jem, the police.”

  I glance back over at the guy and see he’s gone. Scanning the restaurant, there’s no sign of where he went either. Bugger. I sag back into my seat, my heart doing a staccato drumbeat beneath my sternum.

  “I’m not telling either of them anything—the police neither.”

  “Um… why not?”

  “Because likely we’re both overreacting.”

  “I don’t think so. That man was a first-rate creeper.”

  He was. I’m shaking, but I’m not admitting this. I take a sip of my cocktail to steady myself, the alcohol burning a path down my gullet. It doesn’t help. Even so, I say, “Watching me doesn’t make him guilty of anything.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “He could have just been having a drink. Maybe he’s not even linked to Grant, and I’m just being paranoid. I am a little bit stressed.”

  She leans over the table, her head close to me and hisses, “People who are just having drinks don’t freakishly stare at random women, Piper.”

  “Maybe he was trying to flirt. Who knows? It doesn’t automatically make him a thug. That’s awfully judgemental of you to think that.”

  I have no idea why I’m defending this man. I felt all my instincts firing at me and telling me there was something wrong with that bloke. Cami clearly felt something was off too. Denial isn’t going to change anything, but I don’t want to believe my stepfather, who raised me from a little girl, would turn his back on me like this. I know he said it, but I didn’t really believe it.

  And that man… I don’t like to judge people by how they look. I learnt my lesson with that the hard way. I judged the Lost Saxons and found they were not how I believed them to be from their appearances—Jem, in particular. But that man looks like a thug and he looks like he would hurt me.

  “Sometimes books should be judged by their covers, because what you get inside does match the book jacket, and I get the feeling he’s a ‘what you see is what you get’ kind of guy, P.”

  Me too.

  “That still doesn’t prove he’s involved with Grant.”

  We’re stopped from talking further by the arrival of our food. The waitress is all smiles and cheer as she puts our plates down. I stare at my meal, not sure I particularly fancy it now, even though it smells and looks delicious.

  As soon as we’re alone again, Cami leans over the table and says, “Grant’s a dick, but your brother and your boyfriend are in a motorcycle club, Piper. If you’re in trouble, they can protect you.”

  Hearing Jem referred to as my boyfriend is surreal and for a moment, I forget about the situation I’m in.

  Boyfriend. I’m not even sure if that’s where we’re at yet. We’re seeing how things go, but we’ve not labelled what we are. It seems like a woefully underwhelming word for what we’re building, though. Jem is slowly becoming my everything, and that scares me to death. The only person I’ve ever let in that completely is the woman sitting opposite me right now. Cami knows all my darkness and all my light. She knows all my secrets, but I’m giving pieces of myself to others now—to Jem mostly, but also to Josh. It’s terrifying, but it’s liberating as well. The power Jem has over me, to destroy me if he chooses to, is frightening, I don’t know if he realises it. Josh too for that matter. I worry that he’ll walk away when he finds out about me and Jem, but I’m too far gone to give that silly man up now. He’s mine. I don’t know when I reached that conclusion, but I know it in my soul. Jem’s mine and I’ll do what I have to in order to keep him—even if it means fighting against my brother. If I handle it right, though, I’ll get to have them both. I just have to be careful.

  “Some bloke staring at me in a restaurant is hardly reason to call in the cavalry. Let’s just eat.”

  “No, you being scared is a reason.”

  “I’m not scared.”

  “Liar.”

  I am a liar. Ever since Grant told me I was on my own, I’ve been on edge, waiting, expecting. Nothing has happened—until today. But a feeling and a guy staring doesn’t equal an incident. I’m just being paranoid. Likely Jem being late and his cryptic message has me on edge.

  Cami and I eat, avoiding the conversation of Grant, mystery voyeurs, and head back to the loft, but I can’t shake my unease. It stays with me all day. Jem doesn’t call or message, and I hear nothing from my brother either. I hear nothing the day after and when I head to work on Monday morning, I’m starting to move from irritated to worried. What’s going on?

  After work, I’m debating getting on the train and heading up to Kingsley myself when Jem finally calls.

  “I’m about a nanosecond from coming up there. What’s going on?”

  There’s a long pause from him before he sighs and says, “Angel, I can’t… some shit went down in the Club. I can’t talk about it. I’m sorry, but it’s done with now. Wade was hurt—”

  “What? Oh my God—”

  “Piper. He’s fine, but shit got messy with a couple of brothers. Really messy. You’re not supposed to know about this stuff, so you’ve got to keep quiet, unless you want to go public about us.”

  I close my eyes, my stomach churning. “What happened to Josh?”

  “He’s okay. He just got knocked about a bit. He’s already back home with Paige.”

  Paige… the girl he’s been pursuing. Clearly, things are going well there then.

  “He’s okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  I take a shaky breath and release it. “Oh, God. I’ll get on the first train.”

  “You can’t. Piper, I’m not even supposed to have told anyone about this, and how in the fuck do I explain telling you?”

  I open, then close my mouth. He can’t, unless we come clean about us, and neither of us is ready for that.

  “You’re sure he’s okay?”

  “Yeah. Grouching, pissed off, but okay.”

  I bite my bottom lip and squeeze my eyes shut as I try to collect all my panic, all my stress into a box and shove it to the back of my brain. He needs me to be strong for him right now, not throwing a tantrum.

  “Are you okay?”

  There’s a hint of humour in his voice when he says, “I’m grouching too.”

  “I’ve never known you to grouch about anything.”

  Other than when he first met me and thought I was being a bitch. Oh, a
nd when I ran out on him at the hospital after he tried to kiss me. He was pretty grouchy then, but I keep that to myself. Usually, though, Jem is laid back, chilled.

  “Yeah, well, it’s been one of those fucking weeks.” He huffs out a breath. “I’m so sorry I stood you up. Worst feeling in my life knowing you were waiting for me and I couldn’t contact you to let you know I wasn’t able to get to you.”

  I can envision him running his fingers through his hair so vividly. I wish he was here, with me.

  “It’s okay. I understand. I’m just glad you’re okay—that everyone’s okay.”

  My words surprise me. Months back, when I first arrived in Kingsley, knowing something like this had happened would have thrown me into a tailspin about the dangers of the Club. I would have freaked out and gone to town on Jem about how the Club should have protected Josh. Now, I know Jem and the others. I know it’s not that simple. I also know those men would have done everything in their power to protect my brother. That they were not able to tells me it must have been serious—probably more serious than Jem is leading me to believe, and that scares me a little.

  “Me too.” He huffs. “Things are going to be messy for a little while. I’ll try to get up to you as soon as things have settled this end.”

  “Just take your time. Get things sorted.”

  “I need to see you. I need you.”

  The desperation in his voice cuts through me. He sounds tired, and if I’m being honest, a little ravaged. What in the hell happened? I wish I knew Paige to ask her, or that I could message one of the girls, but that would raise flags—like who told me. For now, I’ll just have to wait and see if Josh contacts me, or one of the girls.

  “I’ll be here. Whenever you’re ready, just come to me.”

  “I needed to hear that so fucking much right now.” There’s a noise from behind Jem somewhere, voices talking to him, I think. “Shit, I’ve got to go. I’ll call you as soon as I can.”

  “Bye, Jem.”

  He hangs up and I stare at the phone a moment before I toss it onto the coffee table.