Turning, she saw Fury had reached out and was circling her wrist gently with his fingers, this grip so different from how he had held her before. Softly, he told her, “Keep the change, gal. Let’s call it amends. I’m having a bad day, but you shouldn’t have to put up with my shit without at least some kind of payback.” He paused and grinned at her, and the flash of white teeth in that brilliant red beard was startling. In a sweet voice, he said, “You get tired of the Rebels, Blondie, we’re in town. Look us up.”
“Hope,” she heard Tequila call, and Fury turned her loose, dropping her arm with a slow caress of his thumb across the back of her hand. As she turned to look at Tequila, she saw Fury was mouthing her name, his lips moving soundlessly, pursing in a silent puff of air.
The tone Hoss used wasn’t soft or sweet; it was cold and angry, and when he spoke to her, the words were final. “Hope, get your fucking ass to the bar and cash out. You’re done here. Job’s not a fit.” Her head bowed and she stood there for a second as it sunk in that he had just fired her in front of the whole bar. She took a deep breath and straightened. Putting one numb foot in front of the other, she walked steadily across the room, head held high and eyes unwaveringly forward while she heard the growling tones of arguing men receding behind her.
***
He stood in the yard and watched her for long minutes, framed as she was within the large window in the kitchen. Seated on a tall stool, the bare toes of one foot alternating between curling and uncurling around one of the legs, and the other resting tucked underneath a rung in the front, her knees were pressed firmly together under the patterned fabric of her skirt.
The swag and drape of the curtains surrounding the opening were cheap, single-colored visual interruptions, blocking part of his view when all he wanted to do was look at her. She had one arm wrapped around her waist, holding herself tightly, as if she needed the pressure to retain her place in the world. Her other arm had her hand lifted to her face, the edge of her thumb pressed against her mouth, teeth worrying anxiously at the skin of her cuticle. As he watched, she shifted her weight and moved slightly, the fingers and thumb of that hand trapping her bottom lip, knuckles pressed against her nose. Even from here, he could see her gaze was lowered, and guessed if he was closer he would be able to see her stare was unfocused, her attention turned inward.
She looked lost and sad, the fear on her face glaring. The bloodless line of her lips twisting at something inside him and he had a sudden, overwhelming desire to see joy on her features instead. As if reacting to his thoughts, she lifted her head, turning and arching her neck to look over her shoulder, gifting him with the vision of blonde curls cascading down her back, like the fall of white and gold wisteria blooming in an overburdened southern arbor.
He sucked in a breath when she moved to stand, watching as the fabric of her skirt swirled around her bare legs, reds and purples of flowers in bloom shifting as if blown by an unfelt breeze. From this angle, he could still see her face and observed with a smile as the corners of her mouth turned up, eyes crinkling when she held out her arms wide, welcoming the approach of the small body bulleting towards her. Scooping Sammy up, she pressed him to her torso and twirled in place, and Hoss watched as the fabric of her skirt again caressed the skin of her legs, and he imagined it continued to move long after she was still again, because it didn’t want to give up that touch.
Hoss knew his words had hurt her last night, and wanted to explain, had come by today so he could tell her what had really been going on. When he walked into the bar as had become his routine on the nights she worked, he expected to remain unnoticed as always but was instead greeted with a sight that made his jaw clench. Gaze drawn like a magnet to where she was in the room only to find her perched on Fury’s lap, he had wanted to storm over and rip her away, wanted to pull her close and declare she was off limits. It killed him, but he knew with everything going on in the club right now, his protection of her had to be from afar. He had to stay away in order to keep her safe.
Even Tequila told him to cool it, shaking his head from his position behind the bar, because the assholes they were dealing with had a history of taking the fight to family, dragging innocents into the fray. He had been there the night Ruby was pulled from the Devil’s Sin’s clubhouse, had watched as she died more than once in that fucking basement, Slate losing his mind on his knees beside her still, too-pale body. Hope had enough shit of her own to deal with before having to worry about that kind of trouble coming to roost, and then there was her boy, who might present a different kind of target for a man like Rogue.
However, what he had seen when he walked into the bar was an image he hadn’t yet been able to purge from his brain. Every time he closed his eyes, he still saw it, been subject to it all night long. Her jeans-covered legs draped over Fury’s lap, his face buried in her neck, the line delineating her hair from his beard hard to see in the artificial twilight of the bar lighting. Fury’s hand on her side, fingers spreading from hip to breast, curving possessively around her body, his other hand deep between her legs, exploring the last place Hoss wanted to think about that man, or any man touching her. Then, the spectacle of her fear when she was free. It killed him he still wasn’t certain if that fear was of him or Fury. Finally, there was the defeated slant of her shoulders before she walked to the bar, how she had slumped, beaten when he called out to her, careless of his words and audience.
Tequila told him later she had lifted her chin, not speaking, not arguing his edict, simply collecting her tips and turning in her nametag without comment. As if she had expected nothing less, had anticipated it would come sooner or later.
The tableau in the kitchen window shifted, and he saw small arms circling her legs, tightening around the full skirt, and Sammy’s face appeared near her hip. Eyes closed at first, he was smiling, seeming happy just to be with his mom. Then, before Hoss could step back and out of sight, Sammy’s eyes opened and focused sharply from behind his glasses, brow knitting together in a fierce frown. Hoss could practically feel the anger and disappointment radiating from the boy and knew he would have a much harder road befriending him now, because of how he had hurt the boy’s mother again last night. Turning, he stiff-armed the gate, letting it rebound and slam shut behind him from the force of the opening blow as he walked away.
***
Pushing and pulling the vacuum cleaner across the floor with one hand, she used the other to turn up the music on her phone. With Emphatic blasting through her headphones, she smiled softly and tried to force a good mood, dancing up the hallway to Louder Than Love. It wasn’t that she didn’t like the job, because the job was fine. Cleaning offices wasn’t hard work, and almost all of it could be done during off hours, which should have made things easier where Sammy was concerned. However, because Mercy worked at a strip club, her work hours always coincided with Hope’s, which meant she was often relying on babysitters she didn’t really know.
To top things off, her cleaning partner hadn’t shown up again tonight, which meant she had the entire complex to take care of by herself. At this point, she was willing to do whatever was necessary to keep this job, because this was number three in the positions she’d had since moving to town. She was a good waitress, and the tips in the bar had been excellent for the few days she worked there, but once Hoss deemed she wasn’t fit for the job, Tequila had only shook his head, jerking his chin towards the backdoor. She hadn’t argued, had walked out to her car without a word, head held high, even as tears streamed down her cheeks.
The next day, she had gotten a call from a man who introduced himself as PBJ, and he had given her an address and a time. PBJ, swear to God. Tequila, Hoss, Slate, PBJ—compared to those names, even Deke sounded normal.
Driving into the lot and parking that first day, she wasn’t really surprised at the kind of business it was. She found Down Range Two, one of two club-owned gun ranges, did a brisk business. She was a good receptionist, keeping the reservations organized and making sur
e everyone had the correct permits. Even now, she wasn’t sure what had happened there. One day, she was hard at work organizing the office and getting things entered into the computer, helping out at the sign-in desk as needed, and then the next morning, she got a call from Diablo, the manager, firing her. Diablo, no joke. All he would say was to call Prez; they had another job they needed her on more.
Once she figured out Prez was actually Slate, she called the number DeeDee had given her. On the phone, when she tried to ask Slate what happened, what she had done wrong, he laughed softly and told her she hadn’t done anything, and some things were better left a mystery.
As she lay sleepless in her bed at night, that laugh didn’t help settle any of her fears, though. Which meant she kept going over and over her few interactions with customers at the range, because it had to be a complaint that got her ousted. She couldn’t remember making anyone mad, and even though she had initially argued against it, she even wore their uniform in the only size available, changing into the logo-emblazoned too-small shirt at Diablo’s direction.
The way he stared at her when she came out of the bathroom after squeezing into the top made her nervous, as did his muttering something about rushing an order of shirts for Hoss. Still, the only real blip on the radar the entire two weeks she worked there was the last day, when Deke came in. He walked in the door and, immediately, she recognized him as the man Hoss had faced down her first night in town. The encounter at the gun range was a blip, because he had been a jerk, again.
She paused, mindlessly running the vacuum over the same spot again. In the quiet, as Emphatic drifted to silence and before Iron & Wine could begin singing Naked As We Came, the loud sound of thunder startled her, gaze going to the window to see the rain still coming down in sheets. Ugh. If it kept up, it would make the trip home miserable.
Her mind turned back to that day at the gun range, because knowing her sister had begun dating Deke, she hadn’t expected his snarky remarks. Cringing, she had whispered a request to Diablo. Permission granted with a head tip, she escaped to the office, closing the door behind her with some relief.
That barrier didn’t keep her from hearing Deke talking, though, and her cheeks flooded with color now as she remembered his language about her shirt and the anatomy it failed to cover fully. With that fresh memory, she tugged at the uniform she now wore, pulling the top up in the front, trying to cover her cleavage as she bowed her head, focusing on the cleaning still to do.
It was late when she finally finished, and after putting up all the supplies, she stood in the foyer, watching through the glass as the rain sheeted down. Opening the alarm system, she punched in the code to set the building’s alarm, closing the panel with a flat palm before turning to face the door again. Staring out into the darkness for a moment more, she stayed in the shelter of the doorway while she tugged her hoodie up to cover her hair. It wasn’t much, but without an umbrella, it would be all the protection she had from the rain. Aware she was eating into the three minutes of grace before things would start to blip and beep, she shrugged and adjusted her hoodie again. Glancing at her phone, she saw it was just after three in the morning, more than four hours later than normal, but at least the job was completed to her satisfaction. Four more hours of babysitting to pay for, but no one would be able to complain, which would mean she could keep the job at least one more day.
She pulled the door closed behind her with a dull thud, the noise barely heard over the combination of rain and her headphones. Bopping to the music, which was now Leela James singing Tell Me You Love Me, she didn’t notice the shadow that separated itself from the side of the building. Not realizing she wasn’t alone until the hand fell on her shoulder, she stumbled when it jerked her around and off balance. When a hand ripped the headphones from her ears, she screamed before she recognized Hoss standing there, hair and shirt soaked from the rain, a furious look on his face. To keep from falling, she had reflexively stretched out a hand, which was now resting against his chest, the rapid thudding of his heart pounding through her palm.
“What the fuck are you doing, Hope?” His voice, raised to be heard over the pounding rain, was so harsh it stole her breath, and she felt her shoulders hunch in protectively. This felt like a bad dream and she glanced around, waiting for Cal to show, because if it was a dream, he would be here, since he usually featured heavily in her nightmares. “Hope, I’m talking to you. Look at me. What the fuck are you doing?” He lifted one of her earbuds to his head and listened briefly, and then frowned and dropped it again.
Nearly in tears, both from the initial fright and now his tone, with a trembling voice, she said, “I just finished. I…I’m headed home.” Her clothes already felt heavy with water, and she dreaded the walk back to the apartment, exhausted, and now soaked and cold. Licking her lips, she felt his chest rise and fall with a deep breath and realized her palm still pressed against him.
Stepping back, she was surprised when he followed her by taking a matching step forward, and then he reached up, trapping her hand against him. “Um. I went as fast as I could, and I know the job pays seven to eleven. I’m not looking for anything extra. I just wanted to make it right. I just worked until everything was done.” Licking her lips again, blinking the water out of her eyes, she tilted her head to look up at him as he loomed over her.
“Ain’t worried about overtime, sweetheart. What I am worried about is you being so stupid as to step into this parking lot at three in the fucking morning in a fucking rainstorm without even looking around. Or being able to hear a goddamned thing over that fucking music you’re listening to. That’s my main worry.” He tipped his head, gaze scouring her face, looking for something, but she didn’t know what. He seemed indifferent to the rain and wind, eyes narrowing as she flinched from a flash of lightning. “But since you brought it up, why are you here alone? Because that’s a different worry for me.”
“Um. Laurie called, said she couldn’t make it, so it took a little longer with one person…” Her voice trailed off, because the look on his face was terrifying up this close. It would probably be merely frightening from across a wide room, but because she was only a foot or so away, she caught the full effect of his wrath. She also felt the anger rolling off him, felt the boiling rage filling the air. So all of that jacked frightening up to terrifying within seconds. The play of shadows and bright flashes made his face foreign, which added to her weight of fear.
“Are you fucking kidding me? Did you fucking think of calling anyone?” These questions from Hoss were puzzling, and her confusion must have shown on her face, because he took in another deep breath, one she again felt, because her palm was still trapped against his chest. “Did you fucking think of calling me, Hope? Me?”
“Um. No, she said she would take care of notifying Jase. I didn’t think I needed to call anyone.” Jase was the club’s general business manager in Fort Wayne, and for the jobs that didn’t need direct day-to-day management, he was the go-to guy. Biting the inside of her cheek hard, she tried to still the trembling of her lips. I will not cry in front of him, she thought, and then ducked her head, because, in spite of her best efforts, tears were filling her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, chin down, tugging her hand out of his grip and gathering up her headphones from where they hung out of her front pocket. She unplugged them, pushing the wires into the back pocket of her jeans, still without looking up, because the tears were entirely too close. “I’m just trying to do the best I can. I need this job.”
She squeezed her eyes shut when she felt his fingers under her chin, lifting her face so he could see her. “Oh, sweetheart,” he muttered and then reached out, pulling her to his chest in a hug that felt so good and right she could nearly feel the sadness and fear leaving her body, banished by his embrace. The heat and warmth of his body eclipsed the chill from the rain, and she felt a shiver move through her that had nothing to do with being cold. He wrapped her up, one arm pressing against her shoulder blades, a
nd one spanning lower on her back, his hands cupping her side and hip. His body moved as he shook his head back and forth, denying something, his beard scraping across her skin, raising its own crop of goosebumps. He moved again, bending his head down and because her hair was up, she felt his breath against her neck, heated and rapid. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Hope. Hush, baby.”
He held her for a long time, minutes passing with only a softly muttered, “Hush,” when she tried to move. The rain created a silence of sorts, isolating them from noises that would otherwise intrude. Relaxing into him, she wiggled her arms from in front of her and wrapped them around his waist, pressing her palms flat against his back, feeling the slickness of the wet fabric under her hand. She turned her head, laying her cheek against the warmth radiating through his shirt from his chest. Opening her eyes to darkness, she froze for a moment because she had somehow snuggled her way underneath his leather vest. A quick laugh escaped her, causing a matching laugh to rumble under her ear as he asked, “Whatcha laughing at, sweetheart?”
“I think I needed that,” she said, making movements to signal her intent to pull away, but his arms tightened around her. “You’re the best hugger. Thanks, Hoss.”
“I don’t think I’m done,” he said softly, and she felt his hands gripping her a little tighter, until a few moments later he gave her a little shake before letting her ease back. The rain was beginning to slack off, more of a drizzle now than a true rainfall. “Has this happened before with Laurie?”
“Just a couple of times. It’s no big deal,” she said with a small grin, but let it fade when he didn’t return it.
“And she said she would call Jase?” His tone had firmed again, the humor from a moment ago a memory. She nodded and watched as his face tensed then relaxed. “Let’s get you home,” he said, turning her while keeping an arm around her shoulders. Walking towards the lot, he stopped in surprise and asked, “Where’s your car?”
Hoss (Rebel Wayfarers MC Book 7) Page 9
