by Erin Osborne
Even though I have the bare minimum information on my profile, no picture, and not a lot to attract men, within an hour I got a message from someone. The man looks sexy as hell . . . completely out of my league, as I check out the picture on his profile. He reminds me of someone I know with his black hair so dark there’s hints of blue in it, eyes the color of dark chocolate, and a smirk that would melt the panties off any woman in his vicinity. He’s got muscles with tattoos peeking out of the sleeves of his shirt. This man is sex on a stick. Yep’, completely out of my league. Honestly, he reminds me of the man I met in a bar. The man—Tech—I gave my virginity to, who’s haunted my dreams and thoughts since that night.
It’s not the man in question who’s talking to me, though. The person I’m talking to is a woman who knows this man very well. She’s setting this up for him. Something about a bet they had, and she won. At this point, I’m not sure if I actually want to meet this guy. Not when he doesn’t have a clue about me or going on this date. I’m intrigued, though, because I get this weird feeling I’ve met him before. I want to find out why.
However, I promised to meet him there and I’m not someone who backs out of a situation when I’ve given my word. That’s something ingrained in me from my mother. While I wish she were still here, I’m glad she’s not suffering any longer. Or my baby sister, Abigail. Neither one of them have to worry the way I do now or run for their lives. Staying alive for them is literally the only reason I haven’t simply given up. I want to make sure someone actually looks into their deaths and brings their killer to justice.
Part of the reason I’ve never been out and around Dander Falls is because I’m hiding out. The other reason is, I have never been an overly social person. I prefer my own company over that of anyone else. Everyone I’ve ever met seems to have some sort of an agenda. They want to get in good with my father, not realizing I’m not the way to accomplish that goal. He doesn’t even acknowledge I exist, for the most part. The only time I even matter to him is when he has to have a perfect front for pictures or any parties he attends as senator. You know, he has to put up a front of a perfect, loving family. Or, they think I have access to a ton of money, which is also false. Any money I have in my possession, before now, was given to me by my father because he refused to allow me to work or move out of our home.
I’m not sure what changed in my father, or really when the change first started to take place. I have a few memories of him being a kind, loving man when Abby and I were little. As we got older, he started becoming strict, staying away from home longer than normal, and treating us like crap. At first, it was only my mom he’d treat bad, telling her the meal she made was inedible or the house wasn’t clean enough. Then, he began to turn his anger on us.
As with everything like this, it all started out small. Yelling at us for petty things like not picking up after ourselves or not moving fast enough for him. I don’t mean typical getting in trouble for this stuff. I’m talking about getting in our faces and screaming. As time passed, things became worse. Worse to the point where I no longer have my mother or sister in my life.
Now, I’m virtually a prisoner in my own apartment. The only time I go out is first thing in the morning, when I head just down the street from my apartment to the coffee shop for my caffeine fix. If I need groceries, I head to the grocery store to quickly grab what I need and hightail it back inside the safety of these four rooms. Most of the time, I don’t have any lights or anything on, so people don’t know I’m here. My father’s lurking henchmen are the reason I don’t venture outside. These men are not the security guards he uses when he goes out in public for an event. I’m not sure why he has a need for henchmen to do his dirty work for him. I don’t want to know the answer to that question. Going to the bar one time and necessities are the only reasons I’ve ever left here.
This is not a life I to lead. I want to break free from my shell, make friends, and find the love of my life. Yes, I’m that romantic twit who believes in happily ever after. Maybe not for myself, with the way I live my life, but I’m sure it exists for other people.
When I’m out buying essentials from the stores in town, I always make sure to pick up gift cards for my books. My time is spent reading almost anything. I’ve recently found the world of motorcycle club books, and there’s an author I absolutely love reading. She makes you feel as if you’re living in the world she’s created filled with sexy, alpha males who fall for various women. Most of them their complete opposites. That’s what I want. Someone to fall in love with me for who I am and not what they think I can bring them.
See, my father is Senator Jackson Banks. He comes from old money. When his father died, my father believed it was his job to step up and fill his own father’s shoes. So, he started off as becoming a mayor when I was not quite a year old. After serving in that office for a few years, my dad ran for the senator’s seat and won. We moved into a mansion filled with anything he thought would make people believe he deserved being in his newfound role.
Abby and I weren’t allowed to touch anything in the house. The few toys we were allowed to have belonged in our rooms and nowhere else throughout the house. Our rooms were to be kept neat and orderly, at all times, even if we were playing. When we got dressed in the morning, it was always a dress and tights, with our hair up in current hairstyles. There were no pig tails or pants for us. We always had to look perfect.
My mother was the same way. She was expected to take care of us, make sure our home was perfect at all times, plant flowers and make sure the yard looked immaculate, have dinner on the table whenever my father graced us with his presence, and look perfect herself. There were no staff to help her with anything, unlike many of my dad’s friends who had maids and other employees working for them. It’s not like my mother would’ve used them anyway. She preferred to do everything herself, since she also wasn’t allowed to work.
If my mom left the house at all, it was to go to some function my father approved of. More like demanded her to attend. It was usually lunch parties with a bunch of stuck-up, spiteful women she didn’t want to associate with. The few times she told my dad she wasn’t going to attend, I remember seeing bruises covering her usually perfect, pale skin.
I’ve been hit by him a few times. Thankfully, when Abby was alive, she never had to endure that. I made sure of it. If our father came home raging or already upset, I’d make sure his attention was on me and no one else, including my mother. It just seemed to be the right thing to do because I didn’t want my mom to cry anymore. His treatment of her seemed to be getting worse, too. So, I made sure I was the bad one.
My sister and mom were killed when I was ten. Abby had practice for dance because it’s the one thing our father allowed her to do. Mom went to pick her up and on the way home, she lost control of the car and veered off the road before hitting a tree head on. Apparently, the car had no breaks. They were both killed instantly. I have lived in fear, pain, and a prison for the last fifteen years. Even though I’ve been on the run for a year, I’m still living in the same manner. There is no escape for me. Not until he’s dead . . . or I am.
Shaking myself from the memories haunting me, I pull out my kindle. It’s brand new with a new email address, so my father can’t find me. I only use it when I’m at the coffee shop to upload my new books because I don’t have internet or cable at my apartment. There isn’t any point when I’m not going to be here for long. This is just a stopping point along the way. It would just be nice to know I can make some connections to other human beings while I’m somewhere.
Chapter Four
Tech
IT’S THE DAY of the big date I’m going on. I’ve been hiding in my room, so I can evade anyone who wants to joke, talk, or ask me a million and one questions about what I’m going to wear, do, or talk about today. Instead, I’ve been trying to figure out a way to block everything Siren’s done, so I can figure out what the woman I’m meeting looks like.
There’s a feeling in m
y gut. Not necessarily that something bad is about to happen, but something in my life is about to change. It’s still a matter of if that’s going to be a good change or bad one. This is why I have been trying to remain busy, so I don’t think about it.
If I’m being honest with myself, I’d admit I hope it’s with Ashtyn. The woman I can’t forget after one night together. It’s insane. I’ve never had this happen to me. Anyone in the club will tell you I’m the King of one-night stands. I find a woman I want, we have sex, and I’m out the door before she can say a word to me. There is no cuddling, small talk, or time for them to believe they feel something for me. I’ve been that way since figuring out what happens between a man and woman at the age of fifteen.
I don’t know a single thing about Ashtyn: where she’s from, what she’d like to do with her life, or anything else. Without knowing her last name, there’s no way I can even do a search on her to find out what I want to know. That’s usually what I do for the other men in the club when they find a woman to settle down with. I’ve never had a reason to complete the same search for a woman I’m interested in. Plus, I’m not sure I want to go there with Ashtyn.
There was definitely a haunted look in her eyes, if you truly looked at her. She’s filled with a pain so deep it resonates in her eyes and the way she hides herself with her hair covering her face. I’m honestly surprised she talked to me at the bar. More so that she asked me to leave with her. Something rooted deep within me believes those were both first times for her. So, for me to poke into her background seems like an intrusion she wouldn’t like me to do. Even if I can hide it better than most other hackers.
While I’m lost in my head, a knock sounds on my door, immediately pulling me from my thoughts. Walking over, I open it to find Fury standing there with a shit-eating grin on his smug face.
“What’s up?” I ask him, opening the door so he can follow me inside.
“Just checkin’ on you. Wanted to see if you were ready for the big date,” he responds, laughter filling his voice.
“Ready as I’ll get.”
“You’re wearin’ that?” he questions, disgust lacing his voice.
Looking down, I’m in my standard tee and jeans. My feet are covered by boots while I’ve got my cut on. Instead of worrying about doing my hair today, I’ve placed a black beanie on my head. It’s not that I’m trying to look like I’d rather be anywhere other than on this date; I’m comfortable like this and it’s what I want to wear.
“Get the fuck outta here with that shit. Take a damn shower and I’ll get you out somethin’ to wear,” he orders, walking to my closet so he can inspect my clothes.
“I don’t need all that shit,” I argue, seeing nothing wrong with what I look like.
If a woman can’t accept me for who I am, then there’s really no point in going through with this. Not saying I’m looking for this to turn into anything. Just that I’m not about to change who I am or what I’m about for anyone.
“You’re doin’ it. Now get in the shower before I get you in there myself,” he states, taking a step closer to me.
Fury is not one who will back down from anything or anyone. Once he gets something in his mind, there’s really no changing it. He’s a stubborn fuck who only wants the best for his family and friends. For some reason, he believes he has to take care of us all whether we want him to or not.
Relenting, I walk from my room into the bathroom. Once the door is shut behind me, I strip out of my clothes and get in the shower. As the cold water hits my skin, I shiver in response. Soon, it’s hot and warms my freezing body. Quickly, I wash my hair and body before grabbing the towel as I shut the water off. It’s not going to take me long to do everything else.
After I’m dressed, I wipe the steam from the mirror and take in my appearance. Looking at myself through the eyes of another person, I see the hard glint to my eyes, the beard in desperate need of a trim, a scar running through my eyebrow, and the tattoos covering my skin. Picking up my clippers, I trim up my beard, keeping it long as it was, just a little neater. Then, I run a comb through my hair before grabbing the hair goop I usually wear when I put it up. Those times are few and far between these days. I don’t have to work for pussy, so what’s the point?
Walking out of the bathroom with a towel around my waist, I see Fury sitting in my chair. He’s got a pair of jeans, a black button-down shirt, and my cut laid out on the bed. Turning my back to him, I drop the towel and pull my jeans on before adding the shirt. Once I’m dressed, I turn for Fury’s reaction.
“Happy now?” I question him, sarcasm dripping from my words.
“Yep.”
“Why are you so concerned when nothin’ is gonna come from this? It’s not like I want to settle down or anythin’. This is nothin’ more than fulfillin’ my side of the bet with Siren,” I remind him, sitting down so I can tie my boots.
“You never know what’s gonna happen,” he states, fully believing I’ll change my mind about wanting an ol’ lady, I’m sure.
Grabbing my phone, wallet, keys, and other shit from the desk where I usually leave it, I stuff it all in my pockets when I realize it’s time for me to leave. Fury stands up and walks out of the room with me. Neither one of us say a word as we make our way through the abnormally full common area, so I can head out.
“See ya later,” Fury calls out as I walk through the front door, dragging my feet.
I may not want to do this, but I’m not about to be late and make some woman think I’ve stood her up, either. I’ve got more respect instilled in me than that. Just because I’m a biker doesn’t mean I’m rude or a bad person. Even though people still tend to cross the street when any of us make our way through town. They haven’t taken the time to get to know us or care about the work we do in our community. It’s their right, and we let them have their opinions of us.
Wrapping a bandana around my face, I turn my bike on, listening to the rumble of the engine as it roars to life, echoing off the clubhouse, so I can head out. Leaving the compound, the prospect on the gate gives me a two-finger salute as I pass him by. It’s only about ten minutes to get from the clubhouse to the new coffee shop. That’s what I love about Dander Falls—everything is only a few minutes from us.
Riding into town, I notice a scuffle going on in the alleyway just before the row of shops on Main Street. From a quick glance, there are two men cornering a woman. She’s a tiny little thing from the small amount of her I can see. Quickly, I pull my bike over to the curb and get off. Racing to the alleyway, I catch a flash of bright red.
“The fuck is goin’ on here?” I yell out as the two men briefly turn their attention toward me.
“This doesn’t concern you. Get the fuck outta here before we make you leave,” asshole number one demands, turning his back to me once more.
“It does concern me when this is my fuckin’ town. The Wild Kings MC are in Dander Falls. You fuckin’ with someone in town makes this our business,” I state, racing for the douche bags just as a piercing scream erupts.
The scream is definitely from a woman as it echoes off the building surrounding us. My fist lands against one man’s head and he quickly collapses to the ground, dazed. As I grab the second man, I faintly hear the snapping of a bone.
“Motherfucker!” I yell out, punching the other man in his temple.
By the time I’ve got the second one away from the woman, douche canoe number one is back up with a steel pipe in his hand. He swings it at me. His movements jerky and uncontrolled allowing me to easily duck the pipe while slamming my fist into his stomach. Asshole doubles over as I continue to pound my fists into him. I finally pull away when I think he’s had enough.
“Let’s get the fuck outta here,” dick number two announces. “We’ll get our hands on her again. She won’t be saved the next time we meet.”
Both men run from the alleyway with their tails tucked between their legs. My attention is on the woman who’s curled in on herself. Pulling my phone from my p
ocket, I call Gage.
“Callin’ already? That’s not a good sign,” he answers his phone.
“Haven’t even made it there. On my way saw a woman gettin’ the shit beaten outta her in the alley. Need a van and some help,” I inform my president.
“Where is her attacker?”
“They got away. She’s in bad shape,” I respond as I carefully pull her hair out of her face and suck in a breath.
Laying before me is Ashtyn. My Ashtyn from King’s Bar. The woman who’s been invading my thoughts and filling my dreams.
“What’s goin’ on?” Gage asks as I hear a commotion in the background.
“It’s Ashtyn,” I tell him, almost dropping the phone as I take in her appearance.
“Be there in five.”
Hanging up my phone, I take in the bruises covering her face, blood pooling around her head, her arm laying at an odd angle, nails are broken on her fingers as I pull her hand into my own, and her clothes torn. She’s even missing one of her shoes. Sitting my ass on the ground next to her, I silently vow to her I’ll catch the fuckers who did this to her. They’ll pay for hurting the beautiful and amazing woman lying on the ground before me.
I don’t want to move her because I’m not sure what kind of damage has been done. There is no way in hell I’m going to make it worse by moving her. With the blood pooling from her head, I’m not sure if there’s been any damage done to her neck. Since she’s been knocked out from something, I can’t ask her what else is wrong.
It’s not long before I hear several bikes thundering into town. While several of them stop out on the road, I hear tires coming down the alley as close as they can to us. Doc is the first one to us as he begins to check her over, so we can determine if we can safely move her to the waiting vehicle.
