I retrace our steps from last night. She was unusually nervous for an experienced woman. She kept asking for shots of whiskey. I’m sure she tried to get me shitfaced so I wouldn’t notice how uncomfortable she was. Getting inside her was like trying to shove my hand in a glove made for a kid.
Shit. Damn. Fuck.
I retrieve the phone off of the floor and redial her number. Straight to voicemail. This time I leave a message. “Serafina, we need to talk. Call me back.”
Why did she run away? I dress in a hurry, knowing this is far from over. There’s no way I’m letting Serafina go now. At first I thought we could be bed buddies, but after we had a great time together and after making love to her, I knew I wanted more. How much more? I don’t know yet. But if I’m the only man that’s ever been inside her, it means something.
Before I leave, I check every window and door to make sure its locked. I strip the bedding off and throw it in the washer. Then I grab my backpack, sunglasses, and keys and head outside. I set the house alarm from my cellphone, then open the detached garage where my Harley is parked. I climb on and check my messages.
There’s a couple texts from Tonsils and Snake. Nothing from Serafina. If the girl thinks we’re done, she’s never known a man like me before. I take care of what’s mine. Giving up your innocence to a filthy biker like me isn’t a good idea.
If I don’t shake the possessiveness that’s starting to consume me, I’m going to claim Serafina and make her my old lady. But first, I’m getting some answers.
Chapter Twenty
Serafina
“What did you do?” Asia hands me a cup of hot herbal tea, then sits down next to me on the sofa. “I’ve never seen you this way before, ’Fina.”
I’ve been home for three hours, still trying to recover emotionally and physically. My body wasn’t the only thing getting fucked last night. Ill-prepared for the mental fallout, I fight to keep the tears back. “You know how often you badger me to get out there and hook up with a guy?”
She rolls her eyes, looking guilty. “Not just any guy.”
“Well . . .” How can I say it without revealing too much? “Remember that biker boy from last week?”
“Yeah . . . Wait. Is that where you were last night? You slept with him?” Asia makes the funniest faces I’ve ever seen. “Had sex?”
“Pretty sure that’s what happened.” There. I did it. Confessed to the only person in the world I can confide in. Asia might not know my deep past, but she knows Serafina’s history. What makes me tick. Why I live as a practical shut-in. Why I was the last twentysomething-year-old-virgin within a thousand mile radius of Arkansas.
She scoots closer and hugs me. “Are you okay? Do you need a hot bath? Some aspirin?”
I pull back and stare at her. “I’m not on my period, Asia.”
“I know. Aren’t you sore?”
“TMI.” Some things shouldn’t be discussed.
“Where is this mystery man now?”
“Back in Louisiana where he belongs.”
“Wait.” She crosses her arms over her chest, her green eyes sharply focused on me. “You want this to be a one nighter?”
“In a perfect world? No.” I take a sip of my tea, then set the mug on the coffee table. “My world isn’t so perfect. You know that. I’m incapable of having a long-term relationship. Don’t want one.” I lie as coolly as a guilty man testifying at his own trial. “Maybe someday in the future when I’m certain the bad people from my past aren’t trying to find me, I’ll open my heart to the right man.”
Asia knows I moved to Texarkana to escape danger. I had to tell her something. As for details, she never asks and I don’t volunteer any information.
“Why him? He’s a biker. That’s not safe in anyone’s world, ’Fina, good or bad.”
My cell phone lights up for the fourth time in an hour. I grab it off the coffee table and check caller ID. Its Ben again. This time I answer. “Hello?”
“Finally,” he huffs out. “You have a tight schedule tonight.”
“I can’t work tonight, Ben.”
There’s a long pause. “Can’t or won’t?”
“I’m sick.”
“Thought you needed the money, Serafina.”
“I always need money. But not tonight.”
“Goddamnit.” I hear him slap his desk. “Do you know how hard it is for me to cover your ass on such short notice?”
“You employ thirty-six dancers, Ben. I’m sure several are desperate for bookings.”
“You’re one of my top-five girls. That’s hard to replace.”
Right. He’s just a control freak. “I’ll try to schedule the flu in advance next time.”
He hangs up and I laugh bitterly. I haven’t missed a weekend of work in sixteen months. With that sterling record, Ben Matthews knows he can’t complain or doubt me. Honestly, though, I’m in no mood to strip or chat with strangers. Half my job relies on social interactions with horny men. Pretty sure I’d punch someone in the face if he got out of line tonight. So the safest place for me to be is at home. I need to celebrate and mourn my time with Eagle, privately.
“How’s super dick?” Asia scrunches her face.
“You’re still crushing on Ben?”
“No,” she denies. “Just curious.”
“Right. If you could see the look on your face . . .”
She jumps up and rushes to the mirror hanging on the wall over the dining room table. “What face?”
“Look at me.”
She turns.
“That’s not the same look you had ten seconds ago.”
“What are you talking about?”
“That Asia-wants-to-fuck-you thing that happens every time a hot guy crosses your path.”
“You’re so full of shit, ’Fina.” She returns to the living room. “I’m a taken woman.”
“In theory.” Her boyfriend is everything a mother wants for her daughter. But not right for my wild-child best friend. I know she’s bored and needs someone more exciting, someone willing to explore all the dark things Asia is into. “We’ll see.”
“All right. That’s a conversation best saved for another time.” She collects her purse and keys off the table. “I have a dinner date at six. Sure I can’t get you anything before I go? I could zip over to the grocery store and grab a couple movies for you.”
“Don’t worry about me.” I stand and open my arms for another hug.
She embraces me and then I walk her to the door.
“Call me if you need to talk,” she says as she steps outside.
I wave and then lock the door behind her. That’s when I let go. The tears fall freely and my heart feels like it’s about to burst. The sting of Eagle’s possessive kisses is fresh on my lips. And the ache between my legs is very real. And not only because we made love over and over again in a short time. I want him. Desperately. Self-denial is one of the most important parts of keeping yourself safe when you’re in hiding. Don’t do anything to draw unwanted attention.
My cell rings again and I rush over to see who it is. Eagle. I ignore the call, knowing he left a message for me earlier. I’m too vulnerable to listen to it right now. If I let him, he could talk me into doing anything—like spending another night with him. Which can never happen. Especially knowing he probably found the evidence on that comforter I crumpled up on the floor. My phone zings, the sound it makes when a new text message comes in.
Unable to resist, I read it.
Why are you hiding from me?
I drop the phone on the table and walk away before I say something stupid. Something revealing. I race into the bathroom and slam the door, locking the world out. Then I turn on the hot water and let the tub fill up while I sit on the closed toilet seat, thinking of what I’d really like to say to Eagle.
I love you.
Eagle
I’ve tried half a dozen times to contact Serafina. She’s not going to answer me, so I give up and walk into the clubhouse. The par
ty is just getting started. With Angel’s memorial tomorrow, the old ladies decided to have a celebration here. There’s pictures hanging everywhere of us. I was twenty-one when I first met Angel on the beach. I stop in front of one of the photos hanging on the wall. It’s my girl wearing an Iron Norsemen T-shirt that says Property of Eagle. She’s standing in front of my bike with a baseball hat and cutoff jean shorts on. She’s barefoot and beautiful, her blond hair blowing in the breeze. That’s the way I’ve always remembered her.
But it’s time to let go. Not to forget her. Just to accept that she’s never coming back.
“You okay, baby?” Belle hugs me from behind. “She’s with us, Eagle. A part of this club forever.”
“I know.” I move closer to the picture, trying to get a good look at her eyes. Six years is a long time to preserve all the little details in your mind. I’ve struggled to. The dimples in her cheeks when she smiled, the way she smelled, the sound of her laughter, the way it felt to kiss her . . . Shit. I drag my fingers through my hair. “It never gets easier.”
Belle moves beside me and admires the photo, too. “So young and full of promise.”
“Yeah. She’d be twenty-two next month.”
“I’m sorry, Eagle.” She gives me a sad look, but then smiles. “How’d it go at the cabin?”
Goddamn, Tonsils. The name fits because the guy can’t keep his mouth shut about certain things. Like women. “The repairs are almost done. Pretty sure we can open the new chapter in a few months.”
“Are you ready for it?”
The Iron Norsemen continue to grow. Instead of letting our chapter get too big, I decided to establish a new one in Shreveport. Though I own the property outright, I’m willing to take a chance on the club. We need fresh blood and new territory. Once the clubhouse opens, Tonsils will run things in Holly Beach until I’m sure the new chapter is established.
“I need the change, Belle.”
“And what about the girl?”
“What girl?”
“The one I can smell all over you.”
The words hit me hard and I stare at her like I don’t know what she’s talking about. Belle is the mother hen of the club. She keeps things running behind the scenes. Manages the women and, as a professional RN, stitches wounds and sets broken bones. In return for her invaluable service and loyalty, she gets to ask questions the other old ladies can’t.
“Nothing to worry about.”
She shakes her head. “I know better. The last time you spent the night with a woman . . .”
“I showed up with Angel.”
“Yeah,” she says.
“This is different.”
“How?”
Sam staggers over with a shot glass and hands it to me. We fist bump and then I down the whiskey. “Get me another.”
He nods and walks off.
“I like her.”
“Enough to introduce us to her?”
“She’s not old lady material.” Not yet. Not until she explains herself to me—why she didn’t tell me she was a virgin before we made love. Old ladies are expected to be completely honest. Trust is the number one factor where my club is concerned.
“No one ever is. That’s never kept a man in leather from doing what he needs to do.”
She’s right. Caveman mentality is common enough among one percenters. See something you want, take it. But there’s something about Serafina that holds me back—beyond the virgin thing. More than just a look in her eyes or the secretive life she leads. Yeah, she gave me her body, then ran away without a proper goodbye. I’ve never known a woman who did that.
“We fucked all night and when I woke up, she was gone.”
Sam returns with a longneck and more whiskey. I take the beer and the half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels and gesture for Belle to follow me. We find an empty table in the back of the room and sit down together. I guzzle right from the bottle and offer it to Belle.
“Maybe she’s afraid of you.”
“Maybe,” I agree loosely. “Or maybe she ran away because she didn’t tell me she was a virgin.”
Belle’s eyes grow wide as she takes a swig of whiskey. She coughs as she lowers the bottle from her lips. “What?”
“After I woke up alone, I went looking for her. I found a note in the kitchen that said thank you, nothing more . . .” I explain everything, hoping she can help me figure out what the fuck is going on in Serafina’s head. “Once I found the bloodstained blanket, I understood better. But Jesus Christ, Belle, the girl is driving me crazy.”
“Give her some time.”
“How much time.”
“She’s young and inexperienced. Seems you’ve been in this position before. Look at it from another perspective, you could have ended up with damaged goods like me.”
Belle was a rescue from a rival club ten years ago. She crawled her way out and ended up here. Once she proved her loyalty to the Iron Norsemen, Tonsils claimed her. I feel like I’ve known her all my life. “Not damaged,” I say with conviction. “Don’t let Tonsils catch you talking like that about yourself.”
She twists around in her chair and scans the crowd for her husband. He’s at the pool table, surrounded by brothers and a group of passarounds who want to fuck him. “Pretty sure he’ll be busy all night.” She laughs and faces me again. “I’ve never asked him to be faithful. He just is.”
“Sometimes a man doesn’t need to prove anything to himself.”
“Is that what you call it? Proving yourself?”
“Men love pussy.”
She slaps my arm and laughs. “I know some women who love pussy, too.”
“Touché.”
“Seriously, Eagle. If this girl means something to you . . .”
“Her name is Serafina.”
“Give her a few days to get used to the idea of having a big bad biker in her life.”
“I’ll try.” I finish off my beer and leave the bottle on the table as I get up. Truth be told, I can’t wait a few days. I’m incredibly restless—ready to move forward. After the memorial service tomorrow, some things are going to change in my world. Angel will always have a special place in my heart. She’s the first and only girl I’ve ever loved. But I owe it to myself to give life a second chance. Serafina is my first step in that direction. “Better go protect your old man.”
I walk to the bar and grab a fresh bottle of Jack before I exit the clubhouse. I need some space and time to think. Serafina is a complicated puzzle I plan on piecing together, even if it kills me.
Chapter Twenty-one
Eagle
I arrive at the cemetery hours before the memorial service is set to start. I place a bouquet of violets in the vase next to Angel’s plaque. I usually come here twice a week and put fresh flowers out. I step back and fold my hands over my stomach, contemplating what our lives would have been like if she’d lived. She shouldn’t have died an Orani. That last name represents everything I despise. It conjures my worst nature.
I sit on the memorial bench I commissioned for her. There’s roses carved into the four corners, her favorite flower. Only I know what’s inscribed on the underside of the seat. I’ve admired it twice before and find no need to look again. Words from her favorite Shakespeare sonnet—love is an ever-fixed mark that looks on tempests and is never shaken.
Those words hold a special place in my life. It was one of the last things she ever said to me, hours before she disappeared. Some couples say good morning and goodnight, Angel always quoted Shakespeare. One of the quirky personality traits I miss. The girl had brains. Spirit. Guts like a warrior. Most of all, she had my heart. My eyes sting with tears of regret and sadness, but I swallow the pain. Men don’t cry. Not in public.
“Caleb Laramie?”
I don’t appreciate being disturbed, but I look to the left and find Angel’s mother standing there in a black dress. I grimace, not wanting to see or talk to her.
“Why did you show up now? You didn’t give a shit about the funeral
or coming back for any of the other memorial services.” I say.
“I’m here now.”
I frown. “Too little too late,” I say, bitter as hell.
“Is it?” she asks, edging closer to the row of plaques. “People make mistakes, Caleb.
“Don’t ever use my name, Miranda.”
She sighs. “All right, Eagle,” she corrects herself. “I’m here to make up for some lost time.”
“Fuck you,” I growl. “I buried her. Loved her. Where were you when your sons wanted to sell her like some goddamned farm animal?”
My harsh words don’t affect Angel’s mother in the slightest way. She touches the name plate, then kisses it before she faces me. “Living a life I’m very ashamed of.”
“You mean selling your pussy for your next fix? Passed out on some filthy mattress in a crack house with a needle hanging out of your arm? There’s a name for women like you, Miranda—and it’s not mother.”
Pain etches her face this time. She looks twenty years older than she should. Chewed up and spit out. “I should be in that box.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “You should be.” Uncontrollable rage is swirling just below the surface. I better leave before I say or do something I can’t take back.
“I forgive you for killing my son.”
“I don’t need your forgiveness. The State of Louisiana exonerated me, remember?”
“Self-defense,” she whispers.
“He was a weak sonofabitch. Couldn’t keep a steady finger on the trigger. Angel saved me that day, reached out from the grave and touched my heart in a way you’ll never know. That’s what you gave up for drugs, Miranda. The perfect daughter.”
I turn my back on her, unwilling to give her another moment of my time. Maybe Tonsils was right. I don’t belong here. I hate them all. The Dead Dogs are my archenemies. Angel’s family, something even more sinister.
I trudge to my bike, climb on, and peel out of the parking space.
What the fuck? I knew Angel’s mom was going to be there, but I didn’t plan on having a conversation with her. I didn’t plan on being alone with her, either.
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