No Longer Weak

by Lyra Parish

  “Don’t. The bathroom is right there. I’ll be fine sitting here for two minutes. His nostrils flared, but he knew there was no way he was forcing me.

  “Fine. Don’t you fucking move. I’ll be right back.” He rushed off, and I watched the bathroom door close behind him. I knew wouldn’t be gone for long.

  “What about you, sugar?” Rosie asked.

  “I’m good, thanks.” I sat with my hands crossed in my lap.

  A tall man with a mustache and chops walked behind the bar and began screaming at Rosie. “I ordered you to stay the fuck away tonight,” he said.

  “Bart said you’d have company and needed more protection. I thought I could help,” she said.

  “You don’t know how to take instruction. That’s your problem, Rosie. That’s why you’ll never be someone’s old lady. You don’t know how to fucking listen either,” he said.

  She went to open her mouth and speak, but he reared his hand back to slap her.

  I stood up, pushing the bar stool out from under me. “Don’t you fucking do it,” I said. Anger raged inside me. They both tilted their heads at me and narrowed their eyes. Everything in the room seemed to stop and people quieted.

  “Who tha fuck is this broad? Anyone? Anyone fucking know who is brave enough to interrupt my business?”

  “Jennifer Downs, and I’m not a fucking broad.”

  He walked over to me, not taking his eyes off mine. His eyes were brown, the color of chestnuts. A single scar ran from the top of his eyelid down to his cheek, and he had one solitary smile wrinkle on his face; probably from the devilish side grin he instantly shot me when he leaned against the bar. I didn’t stand down. Instead, I stood strong. No man would talk to a woman like that in front of me. I glanced at Rosie, then at the flag with the open-mouthed bone-white devil behind him. My eyes moved from one devil to the one that stood in front of me. My eyes focused on his leather cut with the word President neatly embroidered on the breast.

  “You were saying?” he muttered.

  “That I’m not a fucking broad.”

  Instantly, he started clapping his hands together and laughing. “Looks like we have a little firecracker here. One who doesn’t know her damn place,” he said, inches from my face. These people wouldn’t know the definition of personal space if it hit them in the face. Right now, as I felt his breath sweep across my face, I realized we were both too stubborn to back down. Texans.

  Finnley walked up and placed his arms on the counter, acting as a protective barrier. The man narrowed his eyes then took a step back.

  “Carry on, everyone,” the man said.

  “Baxtor,” Finnley said.

  I shot him a smug look. Finnley actually knew this man?

  “It’s been awhile, Felton.”

  Of course Finnley knew him.

  JENNIFER

  Ten

  “I should have known this little firecracker was yours,” he said.

  “Did you expect anything less?” Finn shot him a devilish grin, and pulled his arm from between Baxtor and I.

  “Jennifer, this is Baxtor, president of the Southern Devils,” Finnley said without any amusement or care in his tone. He pushed his glass forward and Rosie instantly filled Finnley’s glass to the rim with whiskey. This time he took it slower.

  “I love the way it burns going down,” Finnley said. Looking at him, a person would see a clean-cut guy with an air of arrogance, but when he switched to bad boy, mmmmm, it was hot. He ran his fingers through his hair and took a small sip of whiskey.

  “Been a while, old friend,” Baxtor said again. His rough voice reminded me of a rumbling rally car engine. Slivers of grey shone through his dark brown hair and were magnified when the light struck them at just the right angle.

  When Baxtor realized the conversation wouldn’t go any further, and that Finnley had no desire to talk to him, he sauntered back to Rosie and jerked her chin until her eyes were forced to meet his. An unspoken warning passed between them. When he pulled his hand away, I could see red marks from where his hard grip had touched her.

  “What the fuck are you looking at?” she asked me.

  “A bunch of bullshit,” I said.

  Finnley ever so gently placed his hand on top of mine and moved his fingers across my skin. Even with a simple touch, he seemed to ignite a fire in me. Though the gesture was small and could have been easily missed by anyone watching, it was comforting and brought me back to my element.

  “It’s dangerous for you to run your mouth here. You need to learn your fucking place, because this one here”—she pointed at Finnley—“can’t be able to stop Baxtor’s wrath if you keep smarting off. Sorry, cookie, but learn to shut the fuck up. You don’t know how this works, and you need to stop before you get yourself in too deep.”

  I sucked a deep breath in through my nose and released it through my mouth. My adrenaline spiked and my blood pumped through me at a high rate. Her words brought me to a point of a rage I hadn’t visited in a long while, or maybe my pent up anger had finally freed itself.

  Time seemed to stand still as we waited for Abbot to arrive at the compound. After a while, the music seemed to scream over the rowdy crowd. It was the witching hour for bikers, apparently. At least twenty-five members drank, laughed, and tried to talk over each other. As the night progressed and the alcohol flowed, it only got worst. Push did eventually lead to shove, and a few men in the corner broke out into a fight, but everyone just stood around and watched as if it were normal. Too much testosterone swarmed through the room.

  As I sat there staring at the stark whiteness and detail in the devil’s face sewn into the dark flag, I heard a familiar voice echo from my behind me. I turned around, and my eyes landed on Abbot, who was wearing a black t-shirt that hugged his body, dark blue jeans that sat low on his hips, and the type of rugged boots that people wore to kick someone’s ass. That man never dressed to impressed, complete opposite from Finnley on every front.

  Abbot exchanged a few handshakes with the men as he entered, until his eyes landed on Finnley, and then finally shifted to me. Finnley didn’t even turn to greet him, and I knew he’d heard Abbot, because I had. He was closed up and locked tight, not allowing anyone to interrupt his thoughts. I had seen him act like this once before, when I had picked up the picture of his late wife. The situation may have changed, but something was going on, and I was determined to get to the bottom of it.

  After a few more hard handshakes, Abbot walked to the bar, stood next to Finnley, and waited with his arms crossed. When he realized he wasn’t getting any sort of acknowledgement, Abbot spoke. “I’m not fucking apologizing, okay? I know how you feel about him, but it was either call in a favor or risk your damn lives. I chose the favor route.”

  Finnley stood immediately. The bar stool fell to the ground, creating a loud crash, but no one even noticed. Finnley stared Abbot down. If looks could kill, one of them would be dead.

  “You made the wrong choice,” Finnley said. His voice was husky and barely over a whisper. Abbot didn’t make a move, and neither did Finn. The tension was high and rising. I wasn’t sure who would snap first, and I didn’t want to find out.

  We had the same goals, and this shit had to stop. With a deep breath, I placed my body between them and faced Finnley. “Stop this, please,” I said. Finnley kept his eyes on Abbot for a long moment, and when he turned his body, he shot the rest of the whiskey then slammed the glass down on the wooden bar.

  “I’m tired. I want to go to bed,” Finnley said.

  Rosie pulled a set of keys from a hook beside the long mirror that ran the length of the bar, then handed them to Finn. “It goes to the spare bedroom upstairs,” Rosie said.

  He headed for the stairs and waited at the bottom step for me. Abbot lifted his hand and shooed Finnley away. Finn folded his arms. They exchanged a silent conversation before Finnley walked away. I turned and looked at Abbot. Rosie poured him a shot of whiskey, but Abbot looked at it and left it where she had pla
ced it.

  I narrowed my eyes at him and leaned my back against the bar so no one else could hear what I was saying. “Why didn’t you drink the shot?”

  Abbot narrowed his eyes back at me. “You don’t miss much, do you?”

  “I’ve learned to watch my surroundings. Why didn’t you drink it?” I asked again.

  “Did you have any?”

  I shook my head.

  “Precisely. I don’t drink from bottles I don’t buy. I don’t trust many people, and I don’t trust anything that comes from this place. When you’re in this business, you have to work smarter, not harder.”

  “What about Finnley? He had two shots.”

  “He fucking knows better,” Abbot said between gritted teeth and slammed his fist on the bar.

  “Watch him. He starts acting strange, you find me.”

  I gave him a side hug and thanked him for coming, but his words kept echoing through me. I knew Finnley was pissed at him, but he really did have our best interest in mind. I couldn’t fault Abbot for that. I had to go upstairs and make sure Finn was okay. If he weren’t, I wouldn’t know what to do.

  JENNIFER

  Eleven

  I walked away from Abbot, and before I went upstairs, I gave him once last glance. When I turned around, a strong hand wrapped around my arm and pulled me down the stairs. I tried with everything I had to pull my arm from Baxtor’s death grip, but it was no use. His fingers dug into my flesh. They were strong and unwavering.

  Work smarter, not harder.

  “Hey, sweetheart.” Baxtor’s breath reeked of alcohol and cigarettes.

  “I’m not you’re fucking sweetheart.”

  “Ooowwwwww. I love that smart mouth.” He chuckled then narrowed his eyes on me. “Now let me make this clear.”

  The mood became dark, serious, and I knew he was like a poisonous snake waiting to strike. I glanced over at Abbot, then at Rosie. Both watched with worry in their eyes. Abbot stood up straight and made his way toward me, ready to pounce at any moment.

  Maybe I should have felt fear, but as Baxtor tightened his grip, the only emotions that flooded through me were hate and anger.

  “The two of you aren’t running fucking shit here. I know your girl, Jesse. I know where she is, what she wants, and how much she’d pay to have the two of you right this moment. But she refuses to make a deal with the devil. Abbot’s paid for your protection tonight, but it can be easily outbid, sweetheart. So watch your pretty little ass, and keep your smart mouth to your fucking self. It’s an embarrassment.” He let go of me, and my arm pounded like he had burned his fingerprints into my skin. My emotions were in overdrive. He knew Jesse, where she was, and what she wanted: me dead.

  Abbot pulled me away from Baxtor. I stared the devil down, knowing that something had finally snapped inside me. We turned and began our trek up the stairs. “Oh, and Jennifer … ” Baxter said.

  I stopped walking but didn’t turn around to acknowledge him.

  “If you need a good fuck to straighten out that little attitude of yours, just let me know, baby girl.”

  I rolled my eyes and kept walking. Abbot grabbed my arm, and we walked faster. When I got to the top of the stairs, I balled my hand into a fist and punched the wall. Pain instantly swept through me. It was almost an instant relief.

  “Ha. Never imagined seeing that.” He smiled at me. “Don’t worry about that asshole. We will be out of here in the morning.” Abbot was convincing.

  I turned my head and noticed the warm glow billowing from the doorway at the end of the hall. After I focused, I saw Finnley leaning against the entrance, watching Abbot and me. He wasn’t supposed to see that moment of weakness, neither of them were. When I stepped inside, I turned and looked at Abbot, who had his arms crossed over his chest. Finnley and him exchanged looks again, then Finn slammed the door closed and locked it. He looked around the room, which seemed normal. A queen-sized bed with two pillows thrown on top of the blue comforter took up most of the space. Pictures of motorcycles were randomly placed on the walls, and there was a single window facing the long dirt road that led to the house. Dark tiles spread across the floor, and a single dresser stood lonely in the corner. The room was nothing special. It was the definition of plain.

  He roughly rubbed his hands across his face, mumbling something. In a blink, he reared his fist back and punched the wall, opening the drywall up to the insulation. My eyes widened and my mouth dropped open. What the hell had come over him? Maybe it was the same anger that had jolted through me just a moment prior? I’d seen him angry before, but nothing like this.

  He brought his hand down to his side, and when I looked at it, I saw blood.

  “Fuck,” he yelled.

  “What the hell?” I understood being frustrated—hell, I understood being angry—but I couldn’t stand there and watch him completely unravel.

  “I’m not going to ask again,” I said, giving him every ounce of sternness I still had in me.

  He moved toward the bed and sat, staring down at his bloody hand. “I didn’t want this weekend to be like this. I’ve failed you,” he said.

  “What are you talking about? You haven’t failed me. We’re safe, aren’t we? We’re alive.”

  “Safe?” He laughed sarcastically. “Safe? That’s a fucking joke.”

  That’s when the worry hit me like a slap in the face.

  “Yes, Finnley. We are safe. For tonight, at least,” I said.

  His head shot up and he stared at me. “Did you notice the scar on his cheek? The one that runs down his eyelid almost to his chin?”

  I nodded.

  “I gave that to him ten years ago. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but I don’t follow orders from other people very well, especially for things I don’t agree with. I have a conscience. I have morals. I could have been like Abbot, and if I hadn’t left London when I did, I would have been Abbot. Even though I was in the States, trouble seemed to follow me, and hanging with the wrong crowd when I arrived didn’t help. I had a lot of growing up to do when I came here. I learned a lot of hard lessons. I did regrettable things. I was fearless. But it seems that my past continues to haunt me, while Jesse tries to ruin my future.”

  “I don’t want any lies. I want to know everything. You want me as your wife, and there is so much about you that I don’t know,” I said.

  “Do you trust me?” His words were few, but they held so much behind them.

  “Yes.”

  “But do you? Do you really trust me? No matter what?”

  “That’s not fair to ask of me, Finnley. But I can tell you this. Love holds no bounds. It’s not like if you told me you’ve done something horrible that my heart will instantly stop loving you. Of all people, you should know that love doesn’t work that way.”

  The room was so quiet I could hear the wind brushing against the window, creating a low howl in the night.

  “I’ve had too much to drink. I’m saying stupid things,” he said.

  “A drunk man’s truths are a sober man’s lies.”

  “I shouldn’t have drunk so much at the club. I shouldn’t have had those fucking shots.”

  Finnley fell back on the bed and closed his eyes. Then he began to speak, “When my wife died, I didn’t think I could ever go on without her. She was my world, my everything; all I could see was her and me, and me and her. We are never guaranteed another day. Tomorrow may never come for either of us.” He turned his head and looked at me.

  I had moved to the window and was staring out into the darkness. I watched him in the reflection, then turned to him.

  He looked at me with everything he was, seeing everything I was. “When I found you, it was like someone had lit a match inside me, temporarily pushing away the darkness and loneliness that had taken over. I never expected to feel that again. Sometimes it scares the shit out of me, because you’re so easy to love. Love isn’t easy, though. It’s tough. We both know that. There will be things about me that you won’t like. I’ve
watched horrible things happen to people, people who deserved it, and some who didn’t. Abbot … he brought us to the lion’s den. You do realize that, don’t you?”

  “He was trying to protect us,” I reminded him.

  A broken laugh fell from Finnley’s mouth. “Baxtor tried to steal my wife from me. I never forgave him. He is the type of man who takes what he wants, whether a woman wears a ring or not.”

  All the pieces seemed to fall into place. His anger and hatred stemmed from his past. Finnley would go to the extreme for me, and I’m sure not much had changed. Love made people say and do stupid things, even violent things, and the heart never forgot. A ten-year-old grudge made sense.

  I moved to the edge of the bed and placed my hand on his upper thigh. He grabbed my arm and pulled me down beside him. Gently, I ran my fingers through his hair, and soon we were closing our eyes and kissing, the types of kisses that stemmed from pain and hurt, and I wanted to take it all away from him. We were two broken people, hoping our shattered pieces could mend and create some sort of happiness. Finnley held me tightly in his arms until we fell asleep. Today had been long and stressful, and I was more than happy to forget it had ever happened.

  FINNLEY

  Twelve

  I woke to the sound of revving motorcycles and hard pounding on the door. Jennifer and I shot out of bed, neither of us ever having fallen into that realm of sleep where rest existed. For a moment, I was disoriented, and it took me a few seconds to realize I was at the compound. My head pounded like someone had hammered nails into my skull.

  “Who is it?” I asked, walking to the door. My throat was dry, and I would have done anything for a glass of cold water.

  “Abbot.”

  I unlocked the door, and Abbot slipped inside the room. Jennifer looked out the window. When I glanced over, I could see the taillights of the motorcycles traveling fast down the dirt road. The party must have ended.