by Shyla Colt
“You believe me, don’t you?” Slouching in an attempt to catch her gaze, he reached out to brush her hair behind her ear. Skittish, she pulled back. Panic swam in her gaze. “What’s wrong?”
She tugged the robe closer and shook her head.
“ I know this isn’t about more than the twins, not really? So what is it about?” Her breaths shortened, and she clutched at her throat. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him as he led her to the couch.
“Put your head between your legs and breathe deep. You’re going to hyperventilate. Do you have an inhaler?” He went into Marine mode dealing with the issue at hand. There was something extremely wrong here.
She shook her head. “I’m fine.” The quiver of her lips said otherwise. “When I saw them at the end of the bed and she started to taunt me…it brought back bad memories.”
“Peter?” He ached to wrap his fingers around the man’s neck. He’d avoided digging into the man’s identity until now. Because once he had an address, it’d be a matter of time until he paid the motherfucker a visit. He had a feeling whatever Juliette said now would tip him over the scale to the “I don’t give a fuck who this asshole is” zone.
“He liked to make me watch him with other women. It got him off, and when that stopped, things got ugly.” She rubbed her robe between her fingers. Her eyes darted around the room.
“Fuck, baby. I didn’t know.”
“I-I know. I’m not pissed at you for having a colorful past. “ She shook her head. “I’m not a child or ignorant. I know who you are. It’s just, in that moment all I could remember was how inadequate I felt. I couldn’t please him as is. And they were always so small. Petite dolls with pale skin. It made me wonder why he was with me. He wanted me to join, but I couldn’t…I couldn’t.” She pressed her hands to her mouth like a small child afraid of getting into trouble for being too loud. “He wanted me to be like them. I tried. I really did. But I could never.” Her chest heaved once more and he removed her hands.
“Juliette. That bastard was sick. There was a hole inside of him no one could ever fill. Was he your first boyfriend?”
“Yes.”
“He preyed on that. I’ve known men like that. They can’t handle how out of control their life is, so they focus on someone else.” Shooter shook his head.
“I know. I know that now. I’m not a complete basket case. This is just my first time attempting a relationship since. Things triggered when I didn’t expect them to.”
“Well to be fair, the situation was far from normal.” He snorted, choking back the chuckle that wanted to crawl up his throat and escape. “I understand you needing space, but I can’t handle a disappearing act. I need communication… Jesus, you got me sounding like a pussy.” He shook his head.
“It’s okay to have feelings.”
“I don’t think I like the role reversal.”
She snickered. “I didn’t much like climbing out of a bathroom window like a deranged hooker.”
He released a bark of laughter. “I feel that. So we’re good?”
“Yeah. We’re good. I’ll try to let you know when I’m flipping out.”
“I’d say I’d try to be less domineering but it’d be a lie.”
She snorted. “You’re lucky you’re so pretty…”
“The word you’re looking for is manly.”
“Dashing, chivalrous?”
“Careful with that fancy talk—your learning is showing.”
“I am a librarian.”
“Speaking of that…Prez said he liked you, told me to bring the librarian around more often. I think you got yourself a nickname.”
“Really?” she whispered.
“Yeah. You might be stuck with more than just me before it’s said and done.” She giggled. “What?”
“Just imagining a group of you coming into the library.”
The laughter replaced the sadness. He made a mental note to look up Peter Stant.
“You’ve seen into my wounds, but I know you have your own. Why did you chase me?”
He sighed. “Because once I didn’t fight hard enough to keep something precious and it made me lose everything.”
She studied him carefully but didn’t press him for more. For now it’d be enough.
Chapter Nine
Juliette turned to glance over her shoulder as she locked up the library for the night. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Maybe I shouldn’t have let Jeff leave early. The library sat in the heart of town. But crime didn’t politely agree to stay in the bad areas. Crazy ran amuck these days.
Gripping her keys, she stuck the pointed ends outward, per her self-defense classes. A glance assured her there were no cars close to her own, and the light she’d parked beneath illuminated everything. Chalking it up to too much late-night thriller reading, she spun around and rushed to the safety of her black sedan, keeping her guard up. When she reached the driver’s side, she noticed a sticky note adhered to the car beneath a pink begonia. Great, now the serial flower giver has upped his game. Just what I need. Removing the note, she began to read and froze.
A flash of heat bloomed in her face and nausea rocked her stomach like a boat in a storm.
I thought you learned your place. For the past few months you were my good girl, keeping to yourself. Now you’ve taken up with a miscreant. I can’t allow that to happen…
She looked up, sure he was somewhere watching her every move. God, had he been stalking her since their breakup? A chill set in. The flowers were from him. Suddenly the forget me not’s made sense. The other flowers had to mean something. Peter Stant never did anything without purpose. Fumbling with her key, she unlocked the door, climbed behind the wheel, cranked the car and peeled out.
Peter had returned. Per his usual style, he’d done it with a bang. Her hands shook as she turned on the speaker system in her phone and glanced in her rearview mirror to see if anyone followed. He’d driven a black sports car, but that might have changed.
“Call Shooter.” Her voice shook and cracked, but the machine understood. When his voicemail picked up, her heart dropped. Not now. She’d never called him at the club before, but this counted as an emergency. “Call Club.” The phone rang twice.
“Hello.”
“Can I speak to Shooter?”
“Who wants to know?”
“The librarian.”
“Give me a second.” Rustling sounded in her ear. “Hey, Shooter. Your old lady’s on the phone.”
“Hey, baby. What’s going on?”
“Peter’s back.”
“Are you okay? What happened? You need me to send some boys out to the library?”
“N-no. I don’t know. He left a note on my car, said he’s been watching me for years, and now that I’m seeing you something needs to be done.”
“That Barbie-looking son of a bitch.”
“You looked him up.”
“Of course I did. I should’ve snapped his fool neck.”
The gravelly tone of his voice soothed her.
“I want you to come to the club now.”
“I’m still dressed for work.”
“I don’t care. Who knows how long he’s been lurking in your bushes, jacking off while you sleep. I want my boys to head to your house and check the place out.”
“Okay…but then what am I going to do?”
“You let me worry about that.”
“What if he follows me?”
“I hope that motherfucker does. We’ll have a nice present waiting for him.”
Turning onto the highway ramp, she gunned the engine. “I’m scared.”
Shooter’s low growl made her jump.
“I hope you aren’t horrified when this is said and done. As far as I’m concerned this prick just declared war.”
“He’s crazy, Shooter. I don’t put anything past him.” She shuddered, thinking of the rages she’d seen him launch into when things didn’t go his way.
“Then he’s me
t his match. He’s fucking with the Lords and one pissed-off Marine.”
His words soothed her. Shooter didn’t say things he didn’t mean or couldn’t do. Blinding light flooded her rearview and she gasped.
“What’s wrong?”
“Someone’s got their lights on behind me.” She moved into the other lane, and the car followed. “Oh god. I think it’s Peter.”
“Where are you?”
The steady tenor forced her addled brain to focus. A quick glance to her left provided her with a viable answer.
“Between Wilshire exit and Monroe.”
“Get off on Monroe, go to the Express gas station right off the road. I’ll meet you there, park right by the door and no matter what, do not get out of the car.”
She gripped the wheel tight to keep her car straight as her body shook. Memories of his forced participation and oppressive control assailed her. Sucking air in through her nose and letting it out of her mouth, she managed to make it to the next exit and pull into the gas station.
Parking directly in front of the door, she breathed a sigh of relief when the car sped past her. She rested her head against the center of the steering wheel. This time she would not be a victim. He’d exploited her weaknesses and damn near broken her. She hadn’t spent all that time putting herself back together only to shatter on impact. This time she wasn’t alone or isolated. There were people to help her. Empowered and enraged, she sat up straight. He didn’t have the right to make her feel that way. She’d taken that back in therapy. Life had taught her she couldn’t dictate the chaos unfolding around her, but she could control her response to it.
He should be afraid. Her doctor had everything documented. If anything happened he wouldn’t get away with it. The thought of his tan skin, brilliant, sky-blue eyes, fine aristocratic features and perfect white smile made her bare her teeth.
It was time she took her pound of flesh. The last step to recovery had begun, she was taking her life back. Peter wouldn’t be allowed to come in and stunt her progress. Alert, she took in her surroundings. The car behind her had ensured she couldn’t get a glance at it, but she was positive it’d be a luxury vehicle of some sort—the Stants didn’t do mediocre. His drolly spoken, “Kitten,” played in her head.
God, I dodged a bullet getting out when I did. She would have been bullied, battered, taunted and paraded. Her mother had fawned over him, oohed and ahhed over his impeccable manners and prestigious background. Caught up in the fact that this beautiful male had taken an interest in her, she hadn’t seen the warning signs when they had begun to pop up.
Like any abusive relationship, it had started off good, too good, looking back on things. Of course, that was how they got you. The thought of him trailing her all the time turned her blood cold.
How could I not have noticed? Has he been in the house? He had enough money to buy anything he wanted, so she didn’t put shit past him. You didn’t tell him no. She began a mental checklist of all the things she’d need to change. Motion sensor lights, new locks, an alarm. The roar of motorcycles had never sounded so sweet. Craning her neck, she searched the crew of ten for Shooter.
He pulled up beside her car with his game face on and her heart soared. Unlocking the car, she stepped out and rushed to him, throwing her arms around his neck. He smelled like leather, sandalwood and him. Pressing her face in his neck, she breathed deep.
“You okay, baby?”
“I am now.”
“Did he approach you?”
“No, he drove by. But I know it was him.”
“I want you to lock up your car and come back with me. One of the prospects will drive your car back.”
Too tired to haggle, she nodded. “Let me just grab my purse.”
Settled on the back of his bike, pressed against his broad back, she held him tight and realized Shooter had become her second home.
* * * * *
Fury didn’t even begin to cover how he felt about Peter Stant. The thought of him watching Juliette’s every move made him see red. He squeezed the handlebars of the bike to dissipate the energy built up inside him. The fuck liked picking on those weaker than him. Shooter needed to pay him a visit and see how he enjoyed being treated like someone’s bitch.
The cool air in his face did nothing to take down his rocketed core temperature. He wanted to go to Peter’s house, kick down the door, drag him out and beat the message to stay away into him. But he had to handle this with finesse. Peter had money and power. He needed to make sure he caught him alone, away from cameras and witnesses. He’d told Moose what was up before he’d left and that he’d contacted Tiny. Specs was working on pulling up everything there was on file about him.
Blackmail could be just as effective as violence. It all depended on the person’s motivation. Being in the M.C. felt like the military in a lot of ways. Chain of command, delegation of authority, and looking out for your family above all. Shooter had taken to it like a duck to water.
Relaxing only when they pulled into the compound, he helped Juliette off the back, truly seeing her for the first time. The black dress stopped just above the knee and hugged her curves in all the right places. His gaze trailed down to the bright-red, three-inch-heel pumps.
“I needed a pop of color.”
Meeting her gaze, he smiled. “Forget hot for teacher—I’m hot for librarian.” Wrapping his arms around her waist, he pulled her to him. “You okay?” he whispered against her lips.
“Yes. He’ll find I don’t scare so easily.”
Shooter frowned. “I don’t want you anywhere near him.”
“Me either.”
He scoffed.
“If I don’t stand up to him this time, it’ll never stop. He’ll take over my life again, control where I go, steal my joy and put me right back where he left me. A basket case, one step away from rocking back and forth in a chair in the corner.”
“I’m here now to do the heavy lifting.”
“I know. But you can’t wrap me in bubble wrap and put me in the Popemobile.”
“The what?” He furrowed his brow, pissed she’d chosen now to launch into an I-am-woman-hear-me-roar crusade.
“You know, the bulletproof square contraption they used to drive the Pope in.”
“I love it when you talk smart to me.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and they walked toward the club. Now wasn’t the time to get into this. He needed her squared away so he could start solving the problem.
“I was serious about what I said,” she reminded him.
“I know you were. We’ll work it out.”
“If that’s your way of diverting my attention from the topic, it won’t work.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he assured her.
“I want to learn to shoot a gun.”
His back stiffened. “That’s a huge jump.”
“We both know the police don’t do shit about stalking until it’s do or die or you have a ridiculous amount of proof, and that’s just for normal people, which Peter and his family aren’t.”
“You think they know what he’s up to?” The thought disgusted him.
“No. But he’s Mommy and Daddy’s darling boy, and they’d do anything to keep him from behind bars and on the most eligible bachelors list.”
They stepped inside the club and he met Moose’s gaze over her head. Giving a quick nod, he walked her to his bedroom.
“You cleaned up. I’m impressed.” A sweet butt had cleaned and done the laundry, not that he’d tell her that.
He cleared his throat. “Figured I needed to up my game now. Tell me what I need to know about Stant. Then I’ll go in and hash things out with the club and I’ll come get you.”
“First, you can’t shut me out of my own problem, Shooter.” She crossed her arms beneath her chest and rocked back on her heels.
He held his hands up. “I’m not trying to do that. Do you trust me?”
“Yes.” Her voice wavered. “Of course. I’m just worried. He wa
s into some heavy shit. He owned a club with a few buddies. I wasn’t sure exactly what they had going on. It operated like an illegal sex club. You came in with a partner, or if you paid the right price one was provided for you.”
“Jesus, human trafficking?” Shooter whispered.
She nodded. “I never knew the inside workings. I got out the minute it clicked. He kept his partners quiet.”
“An operation like that is going to be talked about. Shit. Where you at the club?”
She swallowed. “T-the last day I walked out and never looked back. Before I always thought multiple partners were just some fetish he had, an extracurricular activity he practiced behind closed doors. Then he started talking about Room 801. I’ve heard of BDSM clubs, so I wasn’t shocked he frequented a local one. Then he brought me there and I realized just who he was and what he was capable of.”
“What did you see?”
“I saw one of his exes. Her eyes were dull and haunted. I knew her from school. She was a sweet girl. There was no reason she’d end up that way if it weren’t for Peter. Imaging myself in her place terrified me more than the thought of what he’d do to me if I left. I walked out, changed my cell phone number, the locks on my house, told my friends and went to some counseling sessions.”
“Shit, baby.” He wrapped his arms around her, thinking about how close she’d come to becoming one of the nameless faceless women who got trapped in trafficking situations.
“You’re the only one who knows everything. I didn’t want to put the girls in danger, or let him know how bad it actually was.” She licked her lips. Fine tremors shook her and she held him tight.
“He’s not going to fucking touch you baby. Stay here and I’m going to talk to the boys. We do things differently around here. They’re holding the meeting for me right now. I have to go.”
“Okay.” She sank to the bed, looking small and lost. He wanted to rip Stant’s heart out and feed it to him. How many times had he done this same thing to other innocent women?
“I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” He placed a gentle kiss on her lips and rushed to join the others. Clearing the door, he shut it behind him and moved to sit beside Moose.
