by Jax Hart
Heart pumping, I unbolt the door, dash down the steps—grab the garden shovel leaning against the side wall and race across the field after him, shrieking as more gunfire erupts from the woods.
Before I can cross the yard, he’s back.
“Get back inside,” he roars.
I sink to the ground instead, hands still gripping the shovel hard. He strides towards me, tucking his gun into the back of his pants.
“What were you gonna do with that sugar?”
He pries the shovel from my grasp and tosses it aside. He swoops down picking me up and swings me into his arms. My head falls to his shoulder. The heavy patter of his heart comforts me as much as his embrace. He climbs the stairs, kicks the door open and carries me inside.
I’m in shock.
I can’t speak.
My body trembles and shakes.
The sob that’s been trapped finally breaks free. My hands cling to his soft cotton shirt, my nose buried in his chest. I breathe him in wishing he’d hold me like this forever.
He mumbles sweet nothings and strokes my hair. He sighs, sits down on my couch, stroking my back and my heart stops as he buries his nose in my hair and his arms tighten their hold on me.
I’m not sure how much time goes by, and I don’t care.
Neither of us speaks. I’m afraid if I do—the spell will be broken, and he’ll realize his touch has changed from comforting to caressing. My legs shift. I pull back searching his face as my hands cup his cheeks and softly strokes his beard. His erection boldly nudges me, and I move to straddle him, letting it press against my core. His eyes briefly close feeling the contact. I bring my face down to his and stop, hovering above his lips.
My eyes beg his for this kiss.
“Devon girl…,” he groans pulling back. He lifts my hand off his cheek and places a rough kiss in my palm, “we can’t sugar.”
He lifts me off his lap and takes out his phone. “Smith? That bastard was at Dev’s. He showed up threatening her. Yeah, she’s okay, but I want a guard on her 24/7. He got away, had his ride stashed in the woods on the old logging road… yeah, that’s what I was thinkin’ too sounds good brotha.”
He hangs up, pacing and takes a deep breath. Hands on his hips, he stops and stares at me for what seems like minutes. His gaze is burning hot, cheeks taunt and jaw ticks as he breathes hard.
“What?”
“Dammit, girl. Either way, you ain’t gonna walk for days.”
“Excuse me?” I squeak.
“I can’t decide if I’m gonna spank ya’ or bend you over that couch till you scream for me to stop, just because you want me to keep going.”
His words make me wet in an instant. My nipples tighten, begging for his mouth on them as he lowers his gaze.
“But I ain’t gonna do any of it,” he mutters slamming his fist into the drywall. I gasp as pieces crumble to the floor. “I told ya’ to stay put. You put yourself at risk going out there—with a goddamn shovel, no less.”
“I-I needed to help you.”
“It’s my job to handle the bad guys, not you. Christ, he could’ve taken a shot at you from his position in the tree line.”
The door slams in his wake, rattling so hard the pictures on my wall shake.
“Hot damn,” I breathe, “he does want me.”
My heart leaps in my chest, and I have this sudden urge to come clean and tell him everything.
After a few minutes, I pull myself out of my stupor and run after him. My hair flies all around me, as I reach the landing. I stop short seeing Smith and Toad standing right next to him. Three sets of heads swivel in my direction, each looking at me like I’m something to be protected. But Roger looks at me with eyes full of scorn. He shakes his head, climbs into his truck and slams the door. “Make sure she doesn’t get into any trouble.”
Confused, I stare at the dust his tires kick up, as he pulls out onto the road. His eyes don’t check the rearview. Not even once. But I know what I felt. We have a connection… it was in the way he touched me, the way he spoke my name in my ear as his hands stroked my back.
I’m under his skin. A man like Roger doesn’t get easily affected. If he doesn’t hate me for that, he will soon when he finds out whose daughter I am.
Damn the man. He’s just not under my skin; he’s snaking along inching his way closer to the center of my heart.
My hands grip the wheel. If I let go, I’ll turn this truck around and race back there, haul her in my arms and take her straight to my bed. I’d lay her down gently but make love to her hard. I’d pin her hands above her head, and my lips would burn a trail of fire across her skin.
I shake my head, foot slamming on the brakes at the stop sign.
She’s too young for me and too good for a quick fuck. Which means it’s never gonna happen. I need to get these dirty thoughts out of my head right motherfucking now.
My eyes glance to the broken pieces of the mug I found in the grass. I traced her steps, seeing the scene play out in my head as that pencil-dick terrorized her. The rage I felt still sings in my blood. I need to hit something; fuckin’ punch something until my knuckles break open and bleed. But it’s too early. The gym doesn’t open till noon. I’ll go home and chop wood. There are at least three logs that need to be corded for winter. I’ll swing my ax down pretending it’s that fucker’s face.
My hands clench the wheel, and I shut my eyes for a few seconds. I know these roads so well; I could drive them half blind and half in the bag. The oversized tires on my Dodge RAM easily churn through the mud as I turn right onto a dirt road barely visible from view.
Overgrown pine trees hug the curb, their long flowing branches hanging low. A mile and a half of bumps, rocks, and potholes would deter anyone from driving down here. It’s black as shit at night. I never put up any lights, not even solar ones. I value my privacy and never have people over. Hell, it was always safer this way when I was the MC’s enforcer. They can’t kill ya’ if they can’t get to ya’.
My small log cabin by the pond comes into view. I turn the truck around and back it into the converted horse barn made into a triple wide garage. Climbing out of my truck, I inhale deeply letting my lil’ slice of paradise, calm me down. My cabin sits in the middle of a small clearing, the porch wrapping around to face a small pond I fill with trout. Tucked away within seventy acres of buffer; there’s nothing out here but me and the wild.
My boots trudge up the steps and I unlock the door. The inside of my home is simple, rustic, earthy… just like me. No woman’s ever been inside, except Shanna, the girl I helped raise. I had the kitchen and bathrooms renovated a few years back after she joked I was livin’ like a grandma. I told her, grandmas don’t have balls of steel and a back full of ink. She shook her head and bought me a few design magazines.
Opening the fridge, I get my kale and greens out and place them on the counter next to my juicer. I hate this shit but damn if I don’t feel better after sucking it all down.
My cell rings from the back of my pants.
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah. Dev was pretty shaken up. I left Toad with her. The bastard got away.”
“Think he’s going north?”
“Yeah, I’d bet my left nut he’s going to Canada. The Prez there was always sympathetic to Zach.”
“Yeah, probably ‘cause his girl eye fucks Duke every time he goes up there.”
“Shit. They all do. Can’t hold that against him when he only has eyes for his woman.”
“True. But last time he was in the clubhouse in Vancouver, the Prez’s old lady got drunk and broke into Duke’s room. She was already naked and slithering on him before he came to. They came to blows, and we left. That was the last straw for Duke. He never wanted the Prez patch anyway.”
“I know. But Zach attacked Shanna, in the founding member of Creed’s home. That shit couldn’t fly.”
“I know brother and now Zach’s six feet under.”
“Well, hell if anyone else is go
ing to be too. We need to shut his brother down. Go to Canada and make our case.”
“I’m already on it. I’m putting shit together on my end.”
“Good,” I grunt, “this shit can’t stand.”
“Agreed.”
We disconnect, and my eyes stare into the backwoods. Once Dev is safe, I’ll be able to put some distance between myself and the girl and get the answers that I was originally lookin’ for.
Who is she?
And why did she come to Springdale?
More importantly, why does the thought of her leavin’ someday make me feel like I just got sucker punched in the gut? She signed a six-month lease; maybe I’ll apply some pressure and get six more.
IF ANYONE TELLS YOU the backcountry wooded towns of Oregon are boring, they’re a liar. I haven’t seen “creepy guy” since that morning a few days ago. I lace up my sneakers and stretch, feeling my hamstrings pull looking up with a grin hearing Toad pull up to the curb. I shake my head.
“What?”
“Do you own anything besides that leather jacket, jeans, and boots?”
“Why? Don’t I look damn sexy?”
“Maybe you would, if you didn’t smell,” I answer wrinkling my nose.
“Come run with me,” I ask trying to make friends with the man who has been appointed my bodyguard.
“Hell no. I smoke and drink too damn much to keep up with you. My damn lungs are full of tar.”
“That shit will kill you.”
“I know. But it’s my way of life.”
“Why did you join Creed?”
He shrugs, “You running today or what?”
My feet pound the pavement, earbuds in place, I run against traffic, turn up the volume high to drown out the engine of Toad’s bike coming up behind me. I’ve been avoiding the cemetery, trying to figure out how to broach the subject with Roger. I wasn’t expecting to like him, or for him to be so damned hot.
After a few miles, I turn into the small shopping center in town. Sweat drips down my back, and I lift my shirt to wipe some from my brow.
“What’s up?” Toad asks climbing off his bike.
“Come on,” I command circling my hand in the air. I lead him inside the sports store. Picking out a T-shirt, athletic socks and shorts turning to him, “What’s your shoe size? Twelve?” I don’t wait for him to answer but pick up a box of Nikes and dump everything on the cashier’s counter. Taking out a damp hundred-dollar bill from my sock, I slap it down.
“I can’t let you do this.”
“Too late I just did,” I answer swinging the bag off the counter and placing it in his arms.
He shakes his head and lifts his sunglasses up. Toad’s actually kind of hot when he smiles. “Thank you. It’s been a long time since anyone’s bought me anything.”
“How old are you Toad?”
“Twenty,” he answers looking down.
“You have any family here?”
“No. The club’s my family.”
“I see. Come on, we’re not done yet.” His cheeks turn pink as I lead him next door to Supercuts.
“I’m not sure about this.” He drags his feet, eyes downcast looking anywhere but at me.
“Well, I am. How do you see? You’ve got longer bangs than me.” I grab his arm yanking him inside.
“Jesus. I’m not an intervention. The guys are gonna laugh their asses off.”
“No, they won’t. Especially when you get all the bunnies at the bar this weekend.”
He perks up and doesn’t say shit when I direct the hairdresser to crop it close to his head.
“Level two okay?”
“Make it a level three,” I answer as she holds the buzzing clippers in her hands.
Toad doesn’t flinch as inches of overgrown hair is shorn right off his head. I don’t know what his story is, but I can tell by the hard look in his eyes, that there is one.
“You need me to hold your hand?”
“Hell, no,” but his voice cracks.
“What’s goin’ on?”
The vibration from his rich velvet voice moves through me straight down to the apex between my thighs.
“Hey,” I turn around, pretending he’s just my boss.
One eyebrow is raised, waiting for an answer.
Toad’s face is as red as the clay desert I drove through coming out here from Chicago.
“Nothing. What are you up to?” I ask playing it cool. Like it’s normal for me to be hanging out at Supercuts at a little after nine in the morning with a young motorcycle club gangster with a sleeve full of tats and a gun tucked in the back pocket of his jeans.
His lips try not to tip up. I wait for him to lose the battle, just when I think he might actually crack a smile—he stares me down hard whipping off his aviator lenses. “Guess I wasn’t clear enough the other day?”
“You were. Am I not allowed to go for my daily run anymore? Toad here has been my shadow.”
“Looks like he’s more of a goddamn lapdog than a guard dog,” he turns away swiping a hand across his face muttering, “she’s leading more than one dog around by the collar.”
“What’s that?” I ask with a sweet smile.
“Nothing. Hurry this shit up and go shower. I need you to work the lunch shift today. Tina’s out sick.”
“You mean she’s hungover?” I ask elbowing Toad in the side. We both saw her making out with one of Smith’s boys from Creed last night after closing.
“Whatever, just be there,” he grunts putting his sunglasses down to shield his eyes, turning to walk out.
“I can’t.”
“Excuse me?”
“I have plans.”
“Break them.”
“You don’t own me. So, no I won’t. I’ll show up at six like the schedule says.”
He stalks towards me stopping an inch away. He leans down, the whiskers from his beard gently brushes against my ear as he whispers, “I do own you sugar. You just don’t know it yet.”
“No man will ever own me.”
“That’s quite a statement. But I wouldn’t bet on that sugar. You just haven’t met the one who will, yet.”
Or maybe I have, and I’m fighting like hell to pretend otherwise. Since you don’t look twice at me anyway.
He smacks the door open so hard the bells jangle for minutes after it shuts. His bike roars out onto the road kicking up dust and turns right towards the cemetery.
“Hey Toad.”
“Yeah?”
“Whose grave does he go visit?”
“Colin. He was the original founder of Creed, and our first Prez. He died a month ago. He and Meat were tight.”
“Huh. Have you heard of a woman named Dee Dee Stanton?”
He jumps off the chair like his pants are on fire, pulls a twenty from his wallet and slaps it down on the counter. “That’s a cursed name. Don’t ever say it.”
“Toad? Spill. I smell a story here…,” my foot taps, my cheeks are red, but I bite my tongue. I’m pissed as hell that he just disrespected Dee.
“Hey, Dev… you better show up for Tina’s lunch shift or my ass will be on the line,” he answers, choosing to ignore me.
I turn around meeting his gaze. “Fine. But I’m not done with you yet.”
“Jesus H. Christ. What’s next?”
“You’ll see,” I answer with a wink.
“How many more bags?”
“Ten.”
“Christ.”
I just smile and point to the heavy bag filled with gardening soil and watch as he loads it all onto the cart.
“I need tools too.”
He rolls his eyes but does whatever I tell him to. Toad’s a good guy and I’m working this whole bodyguard thing to my advantage. Besides, it’s a lot less creepy than having him following me all day without speaking.
He rolls the heavy cart over to the checkout, and I swipe my card feeling giddy. I can’t wait to dig my hands into the earth and plant my bulbs for spring, line the rows with my favorit
e herbs that I bought last week, and watch as the flowers bloom with bursts of color.
The total reads over two-hundred dollars because I kept adding shit on top of the already packed cart.
“Hey, Dev?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re crazy,” he shakes his head eyeing the bill.
“I know. But guess what? You are going to be my lawn boy.”
“Fuck no.”
“Yep.”
“I’m toast. I’m never gonna live this shit down if anyone catches me out in your yard with a friggin’ sunhat and a pair of gloves on.”
“Don’t give me any ideas.”
I lift the gate of my Subaru, and together we load my treasure in.
“You’re gonna be late for your shift.”
I shrug, “We better drive fast then, because you stink.”
I make quick work getting back to my rental. He takes the keys from me and gets his Glock out, checking the door like an actor in a film as he unlocks the main entrance and climbs the stairs to my second-floor walk-up.
He unlocks my door motioning for me to wait until he checks out my apartment.
“It’s clear.”
“Well, yeah. I’d hope so.”
I brush past him and open the fridge taking a cold bottle of water for myself and one for him.
“Strip.”
“Excuse me?” He chokes on his water.
I roll my eyes. “The bathroom’s the third door on the right. Leave your clothes on the floor outside so I can wash them.” I hand him the bag with the sport clothes I bought him.
“Jesus. Is this what having a girlfriend feels like? You sure are damn bossy.”
“Just do it,” I snort pulling out cold cuts and bread to make lunch for us.
“You have no intention of showing up at Sassy’s do you?”
“Nope,” I reply slamming the jar of mustard down on the counter.
“Fuckin’ hell. It’s gonna be my ass.”
“No, it won’t.”
“You don’t get it, do you? Meat’s word is law. Literally. He runs the whole goddamn town.”
“I’m not a mindless sheep.”
