Blue Colla Make Ya Holla

by Laramie Briscoe

  Chapter Eight

  Twist

  ‡

  If I didn’t have so much shit to do at the shop today, I would have called Riley and told him I was taking the day off. Leaving Marlie this morning gutted me. Knowing the girl I’ve loved my entire life almost died and lay in a coma without me even knowing about it made me murderous inside. I want to rip her fucking father’s head off for driving such a sweet, loving girl to a mental breakdown. I want to stay in bed with her all day and just hold her and make love to her and try to make up for all the time we lost.

  “What’s up?” Riley says when I get to the shop. “Didn’t you have those clothes on yesterday?”

  “Seriously, dude, you pay that much attention to what I’m fucking wearing?” I open up my tool chest and start pulling out what I need. I’m starting on Marlie’s bike today.

  My brother narrows his eyes at me. “It’s her, isn’t it?” he guesses.

  “Who?”

  “Don’t play stupid, man. You’re hooking up with Marlie?”

  “Yeah, we’re working on getting back together.”

  He shakes his head in disbelief. “She’s gorgeous, I’ll give ya that. But what about what happened when you were in prison? For fucking her.”

  I glare at him. “We talked about that; it wasn’t her fault. That’s all you need to know. And that shit that happened when we were kids was my fault. I should have known better than to be having sex with her at her age, no matter how we felt about each other. I was young and dumb.”

  “Well, you’re not now, so I’m gonna trust you know what you’re doing. She seems to have her head together at least, unlike that twit at the front desk you were dipping into a while back.”

  I wave my hand at him. “Please, don’t remind me.” Bile rises in my throat remembering the brief stint with that chick.

  “If Marlie can make your miserable ass happy, you’ve got my support, man. How fucking cool would it be to end up with the chick you grew up with? The first chick you did? It’s kinda cool. And she rides.” He nods at her bike. “She’s kinda bad ass.”

  “Don’t get any ideas,” I warn him. “And next time you see Lisa fucking off up front, fire her. She’s useless up there, and Pop hates her.”

  “With pleasure.” He smirks. “I love to fuck up peoples’ days.”

  On my lunch break, I call the veterinary hospital and ask to speak to Dr. Ackerman.

  “Can I help you?” she inquires politely when she takes the phone.

  “I’m the guy who caught the little black dog the other night, me and Marlie brought him in.”

  “Oh yes, I remember you.”

  “Can you tell me how he’s doing?”

  “He’s doing wonderfully. He’ll take a few months to recover fully, but he’s a terrific little dog. No owner has been found, so I believe Marlie will be taking him to her shelter when he’s ready to be adopted. He’s a very sweet dog. Great job catching him; you saved his life.”

  “I’d like to pay for his medical bills anonymously, if that’s all right?”

  “Of course, that is very generous of you. We have a payment plan worked out with Marlie for her rescued pets, but as I’m sure you know, all her funds come from donations, so money can be tight at times, especially when there is a case like this where the expenses are high. We do give a discount as much as we can. It would help her immensely to have this bill taken care of, I do have to admit that.”

  “Consider it done.”

  After I hang up I send a text to Marlie’s phone:

  T: Just thinking about you, beautiful. Dinner tonight?

  M: I would love dinner with you xox

  T: Six okay for you?

  M: That’s perfect! Should I cook? More grilled cheese? :)

  T: LOL Tempting but no. I’m taking you out

  M: Can’t wait!

  Last time I took Marlie out to dinner it was to a cheap fast food diner, so I’m looking forward to having a real date with her now and treating her like a princess.

  Chapter Nine

  Marlie

  ‡

  On my way to the shelter Monday morning, I make a quick stop at the veterinary hospital to check the little black dog. I barely recognize him when they bring him into the exam room and set him on the floor with me. One of the techs had given him a bath, and now sitting in front of me is a tiny black puffball with big black eyes and a curly, fluffy tail. He’s tiny underneath all the poof, and I can pretty much hold him in one hand.

  “Oh my God,” I exclaim to Dr. Ackerman. “I cannot handle the cuteness of this dog! How on earth does an adorable little dog like this end up lost with no owner to be found?” I gently pick him up and cradle him in my arms, and he just relaxes there against me.

  “It happens more than I care to think about. He’s doing great though; you can take him home tomorrow. His leg just needs to heal. His ear infection is clearing up, all ticks are gone, he tested heartworm negative. We have some supplements for him to help get his nutrition back up, but he’s going to make a full recovery. He had two bad teeth that we extracted, and we gave him a good dental cleaning. I’m guessing he’s about four years old, and a purebred Pomeranian.”

  “Thank you so much for caring for him. I love him.” I lean down and kiss his little head.

  “He looks pretty content with you. Maybe you should adopt him?” she hints, grinning at me.

  I beam at her. “I was just thinking that, but isn’t that bad? To keep one we rescued? I don’t want to become one of those rescuers who ends up keeping all the pets.”

  She laughs. “I think in this case it’s totally fine and acceptable. He’s going to need a lot of love, and you can give him that. And how can you give up a dog your boyfriend saved for you? If a man who looked like that caught a dog for me, I would never let him or the dog go.”

  My boyfriend. I like how that sounds. And Dr. Ackerman is right, how can I possibly give this little guy up when Twist saved him?

  “All right,” I relent. “This will be my first adoption failure. I have to keep him.”

  “Congratulations. Oh—and we received an anonymous donation; his bill has been taken care of in full.”

  A huge smile spreads over my face as I hand the dog back to her. Anonymous donation? I know exactly where that came from, and he’s going to get a big kiss for this.

  *

  “We just got a call you need to hear about,” Wendy says as soon as I step foot into the shelter.

  “Uh oh, what’s wrong? You look serious.”

  “I am. Very. A woman called and said she thinks her neighbors are running some kind of beginner’s dogfighting in their back yard. She said there’s a hurt dog tied up back there.”

  “Oh shit,” I say, as fear clenches me. Dogfighting is something I had hoped never to have to deal with. It’s evil on so many levels I cannot even wrap my head around it.

  “We’re going to have to check it out. Has she called the police?”

  “She’s afraid to. You know how this stuff goes. Nobody wants to get involved. She says the guys she has seen are young—like early twenties. Maybe we can just go in there nicely and tell them we are taking the dogs, and if they relinquish them, we won’t get the police involved. That might be the best way to tackle this.”

  “Sounds good. Let’s take the van over there now and see what’s up.”

  The house with the dogfighters is in a bad area of town, so Wendy and I are both nervous. We enter the yard next to the house in question and peer over the fence, and sure enough, there is a dog tied to a tree, and the animal appears to have puncture wounds seeping fresh blood.

  “This isn’t good,” I say to Wendy. “I feel very nervous about this.”

  “Me too. I don’t want to get shot out here in the ghetto.”

  “Me either, but we have to get that dog. He’s hurt.”

  Thinking quickly, I say, “I’m going to call a friend and see if he can come help us. I’d feel better if we had a man with us.”<
br />
  “Good idea,” Wendy agrees.

  I call Twist and tell him what’s going on.

  “Marlie, I’ll be over there in fifteen minutes. Do not approach any of those people, okay? You wait for me.”

  “I promise, we’ll wait. I’m so sorry to bother you with this, I didn’t know who else to call.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Just stay put.”

  Soon we hear the telltale roar of two bikes coming down the street, stopping to park behind my van. Twist and Riley get off their bikes and walk towards us looking like two huge muscled wrestlers covered in ink—and each of them wearing a gun on their hips.

  “You have a gun?” I whisper to Twist. “Are you crazy?”

  “You’re in the fucking ghetto,” Riley interrupts. “There’s a lot of drugs and shit here. Trust me, we’re not going to shoot anyone.”

  “Maybe we should just leave?” Wendy suggests nervously.

  “No,” Twist replies, looking up at the house. “We’re not leaving an injured dog here to get mutilated and killed.”

  Riley smacks his brother on the shoulder. “Let’s go. You ladies stay here.”

  “Holy crap those guys are hot!” Wendy whispers to me as we watch the guys approach the front door.

  A guy who looks to be about twenty answers the door. We can hear Riley’s deep menacing voice from the street, and the kid is getting paler by the minute.

  A few moments later, Twist is coming back towards us. “They’ve got two dogs inside and one outside. We told them if he gives them to us we won’t contact the cops, but we’ll be watching him to make sure he doesn’t try this crap again. You have your cages?”

  “Yeah, in the back of the van. Are the dogs manageable or are they viscous?”

  “The kid said they’re friendly. He and his dumb friends were trying to force them to fight.”

  “Stupid kids!” I say, pissed off, as we open up the back of the van. “The dogs will have to be taken to the vet and checked out and then evaluated for temperament. We can’t adopt out dogs with behavior problems.”

  Riley and Twist bring the two dogs out on leashes and load them into the cages. They’re wagging their tails, so I hope they will pass our behavior testing. Twist and I go to the backyard to get the injured dog, who’s cowering and shaking.

  “Fucking asshole kids,” Twist swears, gently holding his hand out. The dog sniffs but makes no move to bite or growl. Twist unhooks his chain from around the tree and gently guides the dog into the cage and carries it to the van.

  “I think we scared the shit out these kids,” Twist says when all the dogs are loaded up.

  “Fuck yeah,” Riley agrees. “You ladies are gonna need us to help you with shit like this.”

  “He’s right,” Wendy agrees. “When we have to get abused dogs tied up in yards, and situations where we have to confront owners to get them to let us take the dogs, having guys like this with us is going to help us a lot.”

  Twist grins at me. “Looks like you just got two new volunteers,” he says, putting his arm around my waist.

  “You two really want to help us with this stuff?” I ask in disbelief.

  “I do. I’ll beat down any punk who’s hurting a defenseless animal,” Riley says. “Nobody says no to me.”

  “He’s got a point,” Twist adds.

  “Alright then, looks like you guys are joining the rescue team.”

  “Now that our work here is done, we got bikes to build,” Riley says. “Kiss your chick and let’s go.”

  Twist walks me over to the side of the van and kisses me. “We’re gonna help you with situations like this, okay, baby? You can’t do all this alone, not with things like this.”

  “You’re right. You guys are awesome for helping.”

  “We’re gonna make a great team in every way, I promise you that, Marlie.” He kisses me again, his hands cupping my ass and pulling me against him. “I can’t wait to see you tonight. Get these dogs taken care of and then go home and make yourself pretty for me. We’re going for our first romantic dinner, and then I’m taking you home to ravish you.”

  I beam up at his smiling face. “Oooh. Now that sounds great.”

  Wendy and I watch the guys ride away and then get in the van to get the dogs taken care of.

  “That’s your boyfriend? You are one lucky girl, Marlie.”

  I smile and nod at her. “Yup. I fell in love with him when I was five years old.”

  I can’t stop smiling as Wendy drives us to the animal hospital. Everything is going to be okay, I can just feel it deep in my heart and in my soul. Twist loves me, and wants to be part of my life again. I look down at the ring on my finger that Twist gave me so long ago, and I know that promise is never going to be broken.

  The End

  Do you want to read more about Marlie and Twist and learn how the Devil’s Wolves MC is started? Message Carian Cole on Facebook or via email to let her know you want more!

  Contact Carian to let her know you want more!

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  Email: carrie@cariancole.com

  About the Author

  I HAVE A passion for the bad boys; those covered in tattoos, sexy smirks, ripped jeans, fast cars, motorcycles, and of course, the sweet girls that try to tame them and win their hearts. My debut series, Ashes & Embers, follows the lives of rock band members as they find, and sometimes lose, the loves of their lives.

  Born and raised a Jersey girl, I now reside in beautiful New Hampshire with my husband and our multitude of furry pets. I spend most of my time writing, reading, and vacuuming.

  CONTACT CARIAN

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  Email: carrie@cariancole.com

  *

  Other Books by Carian Cole

  Storm – Ashes & Embers Series #1

  Vandal – Ashes & Embers Series #2

  Lukas – Ashes & Embers Series #3 – coming Summer 2015

  Nobody But You

  Seraphina Donavan

  Chapter One

  ‡

  Gripping the hammer tightly in his hand, Boone Caldwell grinned with satisfaction. He was driving the last nail in the last board of his new countertop. It might not have excited some people, but that put him one step closer to having his shop off the ground.

  Opening a tattoo parlor, as his grandmother still called it, wasn’t exactly the most traditional route he could have taken. But he’d fallen in love with tattoos and had spent his twelve-year stint in the military sucking up every scrap of knowledge he could. From Thailand to Afghanistan to a couple of hellholes in South America, he’d learned, he’d absorbed, and when he’d finally come home, he’d apprenticed.

  For another three years, he’d lived in a city he hated, studying and learning the craft. He’d spent every spare dime he had buying up hams to practice on. The people at the grocery store must have thought he was feeding an army. He chuckled a little, recalling the odd looks he’d gotten every time he’d gone through the checkout line.

  The nail sank into the board with a satisfying thud. He ran his hand over the smooth wood. It would need sanding and then a couple of coats of high gloss black paint and it would be perfect. The Inkwell would be open for business by the end of the week.

  “Put your shirt on!”

  The feminine voice was filled with more command than any drill sergeant he’d ever encountered. Turning to throw a rebellious glance at his sister, he replied, “Or what?”

  Lucy glared at him, her hands on her skinny hips and looking so much like their mother it was scary. “Or the woman whose name is tattooed on your chest is going to walk in here any minute and see the proof of your adolescent obsession!”

  Boone reached for his discarded T-shirt. “Shit!”

  Tugging the shirt over his head, he repeated the curse for good measure
. “Shit!”

  Lucy’s toes were tapping on the hardwood floor. “You should just cover it up! Put something elseon there,” she suggested.

  No was his immediate knee jerk response. It wasn’t the woman. He’d gotten over his infatuation with the woman who’d inspired the tattoo a long time ago. Or so he told himself on a pretty much daily basis.

  The tattoo itself had meaning for him. He’d been in a lot of dark and scary places over the years. Guns and bombs going off all around him while he watched his friends die. In those moments, he’d put his hand on his chest, over that tattoo, and he’d think about home. Thinking about Caroline and all the things he’d always dreamed of had brought him out of hell, and he wasn’t ready to let go of that yet.

  That’s what it represented to him. Safety. Security. Being in a place where the world was right. There was no way in hell he’d change anything about it. He’d just keep his damn shirt on.

  The door opened and she walked in. It was like a punch in the gut. Her blonde hair was still long though styled differently. It fell in soft waves over her shoulders now. The ridiculous curves of her body might have become a little fuller over the years, but that didn’t do anything to detract from their appeal. She smiled at him, and he thought he’d swallow his tongue. Caroline Matthews-Ainsley left him as punch-drunk as always.

  “Hello, Boone! It’s been so long,” she said, rushing forward to give him a hug.

  Caroline had been Lucy’s best friend in school, and even though she was only two years older than Boone, she’d always treated him like a little brother. He’d felt a lot of things for Caroline over the years, but none of them had been familial. Of course, she was married, and it didn’t matter how crazy he was for her, that was over the line.