by Laura Day
Val watched me like a scared little girl, afraid of what I might say or do.
And what could I do?
“Just a warning,” I said, walking over to the fridge and pulling out a beer. I popped the top off on the counter. “I'm not good with kids. Never been around any before, never cared to be. But keep her out of my way and we'll be just fine.”
Val looked relieved, placing Laila back in the crib with a smile. “Thank you, Mercer,” she replied walking over and kissing me on the lips. “Thank you.”
Chapter Seventeen
Valencia
The apartment was nice – a hell of a lot nicer than anywhere I'd ever lived before. Laila and I had our own room – an actual room with a door and everything. It was a luxury I'd never dared dream of, let alone experienced.
Mercer came and went – sometimes sleeping on the couch, sometimes not coming home at all. I found that I was a little disappointed that he was around so infrequently. I liked being around him and for the most part, enjoyed his company. It was just a strange situation. Neither of us knew the other particularly well, and there I was, living in his place like we were old friends.
I was thankful to him and all he'd done for Laila and me. Although I did like him as a person, I also couldn't deny that I was still afraid of him. He'd never threatened me or done anything to inspire fear in me – hell, he'd never even raised his voice. But there was just something about him that made me afraid.
He was a big, gruff, imposing figure. Sometimes, his very presence was intimidating. I didn't think that the intimidation was intentional – at least, not when it came to me – but I suspected he was capable of great violence. It was a combination that, if I were being honest, kept me on edge at times.
What was going on with us? He'd asked me to be his girl, and then suddenly, after Laila and I had moved in, he was hardly around at all. And when he was around, it was like he wasn't there. Mercer was sneaking in late and usually slept on the couch. It seemed like he was going out of his way to avoid me and it was confusing. And sad as well.
That was how I found him on that Monday morning – snoring away on the couch. He was still in the same jeans and t-shirt I'd seen him in the day before. He was sprawled out with one arm over his eyes and the other above his head, looking as if he'd just fallen down and passed out that way. Maybe he had.
There was a second bedroom that he could have taken instead of sleeping on the couch, but from the looks of things, he'd passed out there unintentionally. Half a dozen beer bottles – most empty, but one still half full – sat on the coffee table in front of him. As he slept, I managed to pick them all up and toss them in the garbage can without waking him up.
Laila cried in the next room, her screams echoing through the living room. I quickly glanced at Mercer, afraid that she was going to disturb him, but he just mumbled something in his sleep and continued to snore. He didn't seem to have heard Laila. Then again, judging by the amount of beer he'd consumed, I could have probably set off a bomb, and he wouldn’t have heard it.
Shaking my head, I went into my bedroom – it had a king-sized bed that was absolutely luxurious. Of course, it was a giant bed that I slept in alone most nights. The room was very tastefully decorated with light blue walls and a white trim. There were a couple of paintings, and all of the furniture was a beautiful, rich dark wood. It was nothing like the home I'd pictured Mercer living in. It seemed too neat and tidy for a man so rough around the edges. To look at it, you'd never know that there was a hardcore biker living there. It made me wonder why he had that house in the first place – especially since he'd said he didn't live there.
I walked in and picked Laila up off the bed. I looked down at a face that was red, blotchy, and shiny with tears as she choked back sobs. Something had clearly upset her, and it broke my heart to see her in such a state.
“Shhhh,” I said, rocking her in my arms. “It's okay, baby.”
I walked around the large bedroom, bouncing her and singing softly. It was five in the morning, and I had literally just gotten her to sleep. I was exhausted and wanted to sleep myself.
“I know moving is tough, baby, I know. But it's going to be okay,” I cooed. “Somehow, someway, everything is going to be okay. I promise you, baby girl.”
I spoke to her in a calm, soothing voice, hoping her cries didn't disturb Mercer. He'd been so kind and generous in opening up his home to us in the first place, the last thing I wanted to do was put him out or make him feel imposed upon in any way. As I walked around the room, trying to soothe Laila, I couldn't help but be reminded of my not too distant past. Though the situations were vastly different, the parallels were there – me awake with my crying child, Ricky passed out in the living room and me trying so very hard not to wake him up.
Not that Mercer was anything like Ricky. He wasn't. Not even close. I didn't fear Mercer rushing into the room in a rage and beating the shit out of me because I couldn't keep the baby quiet. But I didn't want to take the chance of him getting angry because we'd woken him up in the middle of the night either. Just in case.
He hadn't expected a child to be part of the package when he'd made the offer to let me stay in his place, and admittedly, I hadn't really mentioned Laila either. Of course, when our paths had first crossed, I hadn't thought it was any of his business. Not then, anyway. Little had I known, at the time, that things would change so radically and quickly, that I would end up living in his house.
As much as I was stressed about everything going on, I knew that Laila was just as stressed. She didn't know Mercer, and he clearly wasn't comfortable around her. He didn't strike me as the type that was good with kids. I knew it was tough for both of them, and I felt caught in the middle. But my little girl didn't have any way to vocalize her frustration except through crying – sometimes on and off all night, which only added to my tension as I worked to keep her quiet.
When I finally got Laila back to sleep, I placed her in the crib and was ready to fall into bed to catch a few hours of sleep. But then I heard movement in the living room and froze. I stood rooted to the floor as I heard footsteps shuffling down the hallway. Mercer was up.
My heart raced for several seconds before I calmed down and reminded myself that Mercer wasn't Ricky. He wasn't going to come in and scream at me for waking him up – at least I didn't think he would. Still, I curled up on the bed, hugged my knees to my chest, and tried to make myself as small as possible. I sat with a thundering heart and waited for the inevitable sounds of boots in the hall followed by the sound of the door crashing open, which was then inevitably followed by the sound of a man screaming terrible things at me.
I shut my eyes and gritted my teeth almost by reflex. Some habits just get so ingrained that they're hard to break.
I listened with my pulse still racing as the footsteps came down the hall and breathed a little sigh of relief when they stepped into the bathroom instead. I heard the door shut and then the toilet flush a few minutes later. The next sound was of the sink being turned on as Mercer washed his hands. A moment later, he was done, and I wondered what was going to happen next. Maybe he'd come to bed? We hadn't slept together since we'd made our little arrangement, and I still couldn't decide what we were to one another. Or rather, what I was to him. He'd made it seem like we'd be a couple, yet we hadn't acted anything remotely like a couple since I'd moved in. I hadn't gotten so much as a kiss from him.
The bathroom door opened with a creak, and I heard his footsteps retreating down the hallway, rather than coming toward the bedroom, telling me he wasn't coming to bed. I heard the sound of the front door opening and then closing. He was leaving. Again.
Curiosity got the better of me – mainly because we hadn't talked very much at all in days, and I didn't know what was going on with him or us. I rushed out of the room and bounded down the hallway. I threw open the front door and called out to him, “Wait!”
Mercer stopped in the driveway, a tall silhouette against the shadows of the night.
He wasn't moving, but he hadn't turned around either. I stared at his long, black hair tied back in a ponytail and wondered what was going through his mind. What was he thinking? What was he feeling? Why was he leaving me without so much as a word?
My voice suddenly caught in my throat and I found that I had no more words. What was I going to say? I hadn't planned for this. I hadn't planned on confronting him. It had just sort of happened all of a sudden, and now I was there, and he was still facing away from me, waiting for me to say something. So eventually I asked what I'd wanted to know for days.
“Where are you going?” I asked softly.
He laughed, but it wasn't a laugh of someone who was amused – no, it was a bitter, rueful sort of laugh. The sound coming out of him was harsh. Gruff. I wasn't sure why he'd be so angry, though. Maybe he'd just been surprised that I'd had the gall to ask him such a question.
I felt like slinking back into my room and hiding, hoping he might forget this indiscretion and my boldness. But something in me rebelled against that notion. It gave me a strength I'd never really known with Ricky. It was compelling and rather than retreat, I stayed. There were questions I wanted answers to.
“What does it matter where I'm going?” Mercer threw back.
He turned his head and looked me up and down. I felt incredibly small. I was wearing a pair of boys shorts and a tank top. It was just my normal pajamas, and what I wore most nights, but at that moment, because of the way he'd looked at me and the expression on his face, I just wanted to cover myself up. I felt dirty. Unworthy.
“B - because,” I stuttered, but eventually found my voice, “because I want to know what's going on. I'm stuck inside here all day, every day by myself – ”
“You have Laila,” he interrupted.
“She's just a baby, Mercer.” My voice grew firmer. “I'd like some adult interaction sometimes too, you know, especially from somebody who calls himself my man.”
Honestly, I was going stir crazy and had a horrible case of cabin fever. Being cooped up, unable to go to work, just staying in the house by myself with nothing to do and nobody to talk to – it was driving me insane. Every time I heard footsteps outside the door, I feared the worst – what if Ricky has found me? I couldn't count the number of times I'd almost screamed when the mailman dropped off a package. I was skittish and on edge, and without Mercer there, I felt vulnerable and exposed.
It wasn't like Mercer was around to protect me day and night – not like I thought he'd be. He was gone more than he was there and I was left alone. Who wouldn't go a little crazy in a situation like that?
He finally turned around, but the look on his face was one of annoyance. I'd clearly imposed upon him, and daring to question him seemed to cross some line I hadn't even known about.
“Fine. Talk to me, Val.”
He stood there with his well-muscled arms crossed over his thick chest; a giant brute of a man, someone three times my size, and quite a bit older than me.
“I just want to know what's going on, Mercer.”
Tears stung my eyes, but I wiped them away. I was scared. Terrified, actually, but I couldn't admit to that. I couldn't bring myself to say it to Mercer. Not that he didn't already know. I was quite sure he knew full well just how scared I was.
“Nothing new to report,” he told me, shrugging off my comment. “No one is getting in here, though. Top notch security – ”
I stopped him. “What happened to you protecting me?”
“I have work to do, Val. I can't be here twenty-four-seven.”
“I know that,” I said. “But you're only here for a few minutes every few days. Just long enough to drop off some food and groceries – which I really do appreciate by the way. It's like you're avoiding me and can't wait to be away from me.”
Mercer sighed, and without saying another word, looked down at the ground and then back up at me. He stood like that for a few minutes, and I was tempted to speak but refused to fill the void. I wanted to hear what was on his mind, but when he spoke, I hadn't expected what came out.
“You have my number. If you need anything while I'm out, just let me know.”
He turned and strode away without another word. I watched him fade into the shadows of the early dawn and then like that, he was gone. I could have run to him, chased him down, and kept trying to get some answers. But when I tried to move, I found my feet were frozen in place. I told myself it wouldn't be smart to make a scene. The last thing I wanted was to draw attention to myself just in case word got out that I was staying there. But it was more than that.
He scared me. Not like the way Ricky scared me, but Mercer unnerved me. The drinking, the late nights, and the attitude – it all felt incredibly familiar. I found myself wondering, not for the first time, if I'd gotten myself into another untenable situation. A situation that was going to put Laila and me in harm's way again.
I found myself wondering if Mercer would turn on me like Ricky had?
And if he did, would I be able to run away again?
Chapter Eighteen
Mercer
No one knew about the apartment. I'd kept it that way on purpose as a safe house. When you lived the kind of life I did, you might need to get away at a moment's notice. You might need some place that nobody knew about and nobody would suspect was yours. If things went sideways and you needed to disappear, you needed a place that would be the last one on earth anybody would ever think to look for you.
I'd picked that unit because it was secure. It had a gated entry, a community watch program, and my bike could be hidden from any prying eyes. I didn't have to park it on the street where it could be seen by anybody. This was the first time I'd ever used the place as a safe house, and it was still in the same condition it was when my sister stayed there awhile back. Ironically enough, she'd stayed there after escaping her own abusive husband. Of course, she'd gone back to him, and the beatings picked up right where they'd left off – just as they always did. The last thing I wanted was for Val to ever experience what my sister was likely going through now, which was sheer and utter hell.
Not that I'd known exactly what she was going through, but my guesses were based on prior examples. I hadn't heard from my sister since she ran back to the asshole. I couldn't find her at all, no matter how hard I'd searched. They'd lived in Henderson, but that apparently wasn't the case anymore. The day she went back to him, they'd apparently packed up and moved away. No one had seen or heard from them since. It was like they'd just vanished off the face of the earth.
Maybe like Val, my sister's husband had wanted her dead and had made it happen after she'd gone back to him. I kept searching the news reports for her name or picture – even looking for a Jane Doe fitting her description – but I kept coming up blank. Unless she reached out, I was probably never going to know what happened to her. She was gone. Simple as that.
I couldn't let myself make that same mistake again. Not with Val.
I pulled up to the clubhouse, knowing full well that Bates would still be sleeping. Better to sneak in, do my business and be gone before anybody was the wiser. I had a drug run with Jax later that evening – nothing serious, but something to help pay the bills. He and I needed to talk about it and lay out our game plan.
“Jax, man,” I said, shaking him awake.
He was passed out in a booth with a blonde woman that looked rougher than most of the guys in the club. I could tell that she'd lived a hard life, and I wouldn't be surprised to learn that she had a meth problem at some point – or maybe still did. She was only wearing a bra and thus didn’t leave much else to the imagination. Not that it was an unpleasant view, but whatever. The blonde chick stirred and glared at me like I was creeping up to get a good look at her.
“What do you want? He's sleeping,” she said.
“I can see that, but he and I need to talk.” I smacked Jax's shoulder harder.
“Can't you talk later?” she demanded.
If she was concerned about her pussy be
ing visible, she played it off well. She made no move to cover up or even acknowledge that it was exposed. I could still smell the vodka wafting off of her like a bad case of body odor and realized that she was probably still wasted. She had to be to talk to me like that.
“No, I can't,” I snapped. “Jax, seriously, wake the fuck up, man.”
If he'd been wearing a shirt, I might have picked him up by it, but his tattooed chest was bare as just about every part of his girlfriend. Luckily, he'd had the foresight to pull up his boxers, covering up his dick, which I never wanted to see.
“Leave him alone,” the blonde bitch insisted, standing up. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”
Her voice was rising, and she was on the verge of screaming at me, but at least it made Jax finally open his eyes. Good thing too because I was about to light that bitch up. Jax looked around, a dazed and confused expression on his face. He squinted and then a thin smile spread across his lips as he reached out to grab my hand.
