“Kind of, yes.”
“Then I’ll come.”
“Gosh, you are so nice,” I breathed out.
“Am I?”
“Yes,” I insisted. “My fiancé should be coming with me.”
“You got a fiancé?” he asked, his voice quiet and sounding a little irritated.
“Sort of.”
“How do you ‘sort of’ have a fiancé, Willow?”
I have no idea why I did it, but I suddenly gave him a blow-by-blow of my entire relationship with Brad. Everything, even things that irritated me, but I’d brushed off previously. And the more I talked, the more I realized I didn’t want to marry Brad. I didn’t even want to date him.
“Sounds like a douche.”
“I don’t think I want to be that cruel, because I thought I loved him at one point, but now I don’t think I do,” I said. “He hasn’t shown much kindness over the last twenty-four hours and I’m kind of over it.”
“I think you’re bein’ gracious.”
“Maybe so,” I conceded. “What did you do after you left my house?”
“Went back to the club and had a beer. Hatch is worried about you.”
“He is?”
“Yeah.”
“He’s so nice,” I said. “Did he tell you I met him when I was little?”
“Nope.”
“He was nice then, too. Actually, all y’all are really nice.”
“And that surprises you?”
“Yes,” I admitted. “I hate that it does, but I was always warned to stay away from the biker bar. My dad wouldn’t even let me drive past it.”
“What made you run there then?”
“I’m not sure really. I guess I knew exactly where it was, and that I could take cover in the thick trees in case anyone was watching.”
“Smart girl.”
The compliment warmed me in a weird way. “Can I tell you something Dash?”
“Of course, anything.”
“I could see everything through the slats of the closet,” I whispered.
“Yeah?” he said quietly like he didn’t want to spook me.
“They came in and demanded money from my dad. They wore ski masks, but one of the men’s voices was different.”
“Different how?”
“Appalachian almost, but he had a lisp.”
“That’s good, Willow. That’s a clue.”
“I’m really sorry I couldn’t say for sure I had seen your other friends in the bar. I would have if I could have, and I almost lied to get them out, but I’ve never been good at lying and I knew Lisa would be able to tell.”
“It’s okay, baby. We’ll figure it out.”
Him calling me ‘baby’ did things to me and I really liked it... but I wasn’t sure I was supposed to like it and I warred with that for a few seconds. “Parker’s brother is a lawyer. She called him to see if he can help. Is it okay if I give him your number?”
“Yeah, that’s cool. We’ve got a guy comin’ out from Portland, but if you want to give him my number, it’s fine.”
“They shot him four times, Dash. Once in the knee, once in the arm, then in his stomach twice. When they shot him, a bullet went through the closet and hit me. I had to bite down on my hand not to scream.”
“You did real good, Willow. If they’d found you, they might have killed you too.”
“That’s what my dad said,” I whispered. “When they thought he was dead, he told me to run. I didn’t want to leave him. I should have stayed and put pressure on his wounds or something.”
“He was pretty far gone when I found him.”
“You found him?”
“Yeah. I stayed with him until I was cuffed. Putting pressure on his wounds wouldn’t have helped.”
“Did he... did he say anything?”
“Yeah, but I want to tell you that face-to-face.”
“But if you tell me face-to-face, I won’t be able to control my emotions.”
“That’s okay, Willow. I want to be there to make sure you’re okay,” he said. “I don’t want to tell you anything at three in the morning while you’re in pain.”
“That’s probably smart.” I squeezed my eyes shut. “Was he mad at me?”
“No... of course not. What the hell would he be mad at you about?”
“Nothing. I don’t know. I always feel like I’m doing something wrong.”
“Religious guilt.”
I smiled. “You’re probably right.”
“I’m always right.”
“Are you?” I deadpanned. “That’s a pretty nifty trick.”
“Man of many talents,” he retorted. “What time do you need to be down at the station?”
“Eleven.”
“I’ll pick you up at ten-thirty.”
“You really don’t have to do that, Dash. I can get Jazz to drive me.”
“I’ll be there at ten-thirty,” he said in a tone that broached no argument.
“Okay,” I said. “Thanks for letting me vent.”
“No problem,” he said. “You feel better?”
“I still don’t want to go back to sleep, but yes.”
“I’ll stay on the line with you until you do, but I want you to take some meds.”
“Yes, sir.” I sat up and opened the pill bottle. “So serious.”
“No one’s ever accused me of being ‘so serious’ before,” he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice.
“Then they must not know you.” I popped a pill and swallowed it with some water.
He chuckled. “Couple hours of crying on my shirt and you know me better than anyone, huh?”
I bit my lip. “I didn’t mean―”
“It’s all good, Willow. I’m messin’ with ya.”
“I’ll need to get used to that. Jazz is the only one who’s sarcastic with me... the Bible says it’s a sin.”
“Does it?”
“In a roundabout way, yes.”
“Well, then I’m fuckin’ goin’ straight to hell.”
“Don’t say that,” I whispered. I’d been raised to believe if you speak it, it will happen. I never fully held to that belief, but the thought of Dash going to hell didn’t sit well with me and I didn’t want him to say things like that... just in case.
“Babe, I’m not goin’ to hell. God has already sent me to Bakersfield twice, so technically he still owes me.”
I giggled. “I hope not, but just do me a favor and keep those thoughts to yourself.”
“I like that you’re worried about my eternal damnation, baby.”
“I’m worried about everyone’s eternal damnation,” I retorted.
“Fair enough.”
“Can I ask you a question?”
“What are you doing right now?”
I rolled my eyes. “Do you call everyone ‘baby’?”
“Never called a man ‘baby.’”
“But do you say that to every woman?”
He sighed, but didn’t speak for several tense seconds. “No, Willow, I don’t call every woman ‘baby.’ You’re the first.”
“Wow,” I whispered.
“You good?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll be at your place at ten-thirty.”
“Okay,” I said, pulling the jacket closer to me. “Dash?”
“Yeah, Willow?”
“Thank you. For everything.”
“You’re welcome.”
I snuggled further into his jacket. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Night.”
I hung up wishing he’d called me baby again, but still falling asleep with a smile on my face.
* * *
Dash
I dropped my cell phone onto the nightstand and dragged my hands down my face. Goddammit! Engaged. I should walk away. Fuck that. I should run.
I should, but I knew I wouldn’t. In a matter of hours, this beautiful, innocent, and sweet-as-fuck preacher’s daughter had wormed her way into my heart. I didn’t know how, sure as hell di
dn’t want it, but regardless, it had happened.
I’d never called a woman ‘baby.’ Believed it was for someone I cared about. I’d never talked to one for over an hour on the phone either. And sure as hell not at three in the morning. Willow was makin’ me do things I’d never done before, and I didn’t care. I liked the way she made me feel, and welcomed the change.
I dragged myself out of my bed at the compound and hit the head. Falling back into bed, it took me a while to get back to sleep, my thoughts filled with Willow and what I planned to do to her once I got her naked and under me.
Awoken by my phone buzzing again, I answered it expecting Willow. It wasn’t.
“Brother, it’s Doc.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Mack’s here. You need to fill him in on everything.”
I glanced at the clock. Nine. Gave me about an hour to tell him what I knew. I sighed. “I’ll be down in ten.”
“Okay, man.”
Doc hung up and I showered quickly, then headed downstairs. Mack and Doc were in the kitchen, pouring coffee, so I grabbed a mug and did the same.
“Hey, man,” Mack said, and shook my hand.
“Hey. You bring Darien?”
“Nah. She’s got shit goin’ on with the movie and takin’ care of the kids.”
Mack and Darien had two kids now, and she was a best-selling romance author, whose books were being turned into movies. They were currently filming in Portland, and several of us had wanted to head out for the chance to meet the movie’s star, pop princess-turned actress, Melody Morgan.
“Was it tough to get a flight?” I asked.
Mack chuckled. “Guess who flew private?”
“Yeah?” Doc asked.
“Yeah. RatHound loaned me their plane.”
I choked on my coffee. “What the fuck?”
“Seriously?” Doc asked. “You know RatHound?”
“Do you also hang out with Springsteen too?”
“Long story,” Mack said. “I’ll fill you in another time.
I nodded.
“You good to talk for a bit?” Mack asked.
“Yeah.” I glanced at my watch. “Gotta leave here around ten-fifteen, but can fill you in on what I know.”
Mack nodded, and we headed to one of the private offices in the back.
“You alright?” he asked, sounding genuinely concerned.
“I’m good, just pissed.”
“Good, I’m glad you’re okay,” he said, his tone changing sharply. “Because I’m also fuckin’ pissed! What the fuck were you idiots thinking?”
“What?” I snapped. “What the fuck were we supposed to do? Doc was there when I rounded up the crew.”
“Did he know you were going in heavy?”
“Heavy? Jesus, man, you make it sound like we rolled up, looking for a gun fight.”
“Watch it, pup. The stitches on your patch are a little too fresh for that kind of tone with me.”
“The stitches may be fresh, but they still hold up a full patch. You know I respect you, Mack, but what the fuck were we supposed to do? All we knew was there was a girl, she was shot, and her dad was in trouble. Of course we went in armed. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t have too.”
“Don’t presume to think you have a goddamned clue what I would have done. This is the kind of disrespectful shit I’m talking about.” He stared at me silently for a few moments before continuing. “You’re a good guy, Dash. A good guy, with a big heart.”
“Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me. ’Cause that big heart of yours, coupled with that big mouth, is gonna get you thrown in prison again... or killed. Shut up and do what I tell you to do, if you want to get out of this.”
“Out of what? I haven’t done anything wrong. The cops let me go, and Willow told them I didn’t have anything to do with the shooting.”
“That’s all true, but the Sheriff and the D.A. still want to know why there were a bunch of bikers running around the church with guns at the time of a mass shooting.”
“All I know is that we went in, saw the receptionist on the floor, checked for a pulse and then I saw Willow’s dad. Before I knew what was happening, the cops were on us like flies on shit. Deputy Bettincourt, this asshole we all went to high school with, took our guns and we were off to the station.”
“Did they read you your rights?” Mack asked.
“They barely said shit to us, and we didn’t resist. Once we got to the station, we were told we were being held on the suspicion of murder. Not long after Willow showed up, and since she could ID me and provide me with an alibi, they let me go.”
“They can only hold the others for seventy-two hours without charging them, so we should know soon what they plan on doing.”
“Those asshole cops know the club didn’t do shit. They’re just lookin’ for a reason to jam us up!” I snapped.
“Well you made their jobs pretty fucking easy, showing up to the scene of a mass shooting, armed for World War III,” Mack grumbled.
“What the hell are you talking about? I had my Glock, Badger had his .38, and we both have our concealed carry permits. I’m sure Fletch and Gator were packing, but it’s not like we rolled up in a tank or anything.”
“What about the Raptors’ guys?”
“What about ’em?”
“Those guys are known to carry some pretty heavy artillery, and from what I understand it’s not always exactly clean.”
I dragged my hands down my face. “I didn’t exactly take weapons inventory before we left the bar, Mack. What the fuck do you want from me?”
“I want you to think a little more before you bring any more heat on the club.”
“The cops know we didn’t have anything to do with this, and they’re gonna have to let everyone else out soon, you said so yourself.”
“Maybe, but any potential weapons charges associated with this club are going to be a big fucking hassle for all of us.” He looked at me even more seriously. “And a big fucking deal to the Prez.”
I sighed. It was what it was and there was nothing I could do about it, so I had to wait it out and let Mack do his worst. I had a woman to take care of, and right now, she was the priority.
Willow
He was late. Granted, he was only ten minutes late and we were only fifteen minutes from the station, but still, I felt a little sick. Maybe he’d changed his mind. Maybe he wasn’t coming at all.
Jazz was in the shower, so I flopped onto the sofa and turned on the television. I’d avoided any kind of media coverage, mostly because Jazz and Parker had played referee. I didn’t mind at the time, but now I felt out of the loop, so I flipped to the local news channel... and immediately wished I hadn’t.
“Hi, folks. If you’re just joining us, we’re updating you on the First Baptist Church massacre. We have confirmed there were four people killed, including a twelve-year-old girl...”
I swallowed down bile. The only kid I’d seen before the shooting started was Eleanor’s daughter, Taylor. I felt tears stream down my face as the reporter listed the other fatalities. I knew them all.
“Willow Annabelle Miller,” Jasmine snapped, rushing to me and grabbing the remote, flipping it off.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I ground out.
“Because you were in pain and when you weren’t in pain, you were hopped up on meds or sedated.”
“Was it Taylor?”
“Yeah, honey,” Jasmine said. “She came running when she heard her mom scream and they took her out.”
“Oh, my word,” I sobbed.
Jasmine wrapped an arm around my shoulders and gave me a gentle hug. “You need to take a minute. It’s okay. It’s all going to be okay.”
Before I could comment, the doorbell rang and Jasmine went to answer the door. Finally, Dash was here to make me feel better.
Only it wasn’t Dash.
“Hello, sweetheart,” Brad said, and sat beside me on the sofa.
“Hi, Brad.”
He took my hand and shifted to face me. “You’ve been crying again.”
“Yeah, that happens when your father’s killed in front of you,” Jasmine ground out.
He didn’t pull me against his chest and hold me, he chastely held my hand as though I was no more than a neighbor or a friend. I pulled my hand away from his.
“Where’s your ring?” he asked.
I rose to my feet and grabbed it from the kitchen, handing it to him.
“Why is it not on your finger?” he demanded.
“I’m sorry, Brad, but I think we should rethink our engagement.”
I heard Jasmine make a quiet squeak and then she walked out of the room.
“Willow,” Brad said slowly. “Sweetheart, you’ve had a shock.”
“Exactly. And this is the first time I’m seeing you.”
He sighed. “I was extremely busy. I tried to break away, I really did.”
“But you didn’t.” I sat back down. “I would think, as your fiancée, that you’d just make it happen!”
“It doesn’t work that way, Willow.”
“Surely, your boss wouldn’t have a problem with you rushing to comfort your grieving fiancée.”
“We have a very important deadline, sweetheart, that was my priority.”
“Well, I don’t want to be second anymore, Brad.”
“After all the time and effort I’ve put in to get you ready for politics?” he snapped.
“I’m sorry?” I asked, my mouth dropping open in shock.
“Years, Willow. I have been working to get you up to par.”
“Up to par?” I snapped. “I thought you proposed because you loved me, but you’re telling me I was your project?”
“Don’t be naïve, Willow. You knew exactly what this was.”
“Is there a problem here?” a deep voice demanded.
I turned to see Dash walking into the room, irritation etched in the tight expression of his face.
“Who are you?” Brad demanded.
“Who the fuck are you?” he spit back.
My heart raced as Dash stepped in front of me and stood toe-to-toe with Brad.
Brad scowled. “I’m Willow’s fiancé.”
“Not anymore, you’re not,” I corrected.
Dash glanced at me over his shoulder, but didn’t respond to my announcement.
“Since when do you hang around with low-lifes?” Brad challenged.
“The only low-life I see here is you, dickhead,” Jasmine hissed.
Saving the Preacher's Daughter (Dogs of Fire: Savannah Chapter #1) Page 5
