by Delilah Hunt
All thoughts of the clerk’s callous disregard for her safety fled when Chase finally spoke. “No. There’s not really anything for us to talk about.”
“Then why are you bothering with me?”
His gaze skimmed over her frame. Larke folded her arms across her middle, feeling more uncomfortable than before. His eyes held hers, glinting with… Larke frowned. She was unable to discern what the look meant, because within a split second, a mask of utter disinterest shadowed his features. “Maybe I’m bored,” he murmured. “Maybe I don’t have nothing better to do tonight than stand out here talking to you.”
“You’re not going to do anything to me?” she asked, peering up at him.
No answer. Annoyed Larke shook her head and took a tentative step forward. “Fine. Since there’s nothing left to say, can I please get to my car? It’s getting late, I’m tired and I just want to go home.”
The smug grin returned. “Soon. I’ll let you go real soon.”
Right then and there, she knew he was playing a cat and mouse game with her. He still hadn’t answered her question, if he intended to harm her or not.
She clasped her hands together and plastered a sugary smile to her lips. “Okay, Chase. I’m all ears. What do you want to talk about?”
“Not like that,” he grated. His jaws hardened. “I’m not dumb. I know when someone is fucking with me. Don’t do that.”
“What do you expect me to say? I don’t know you. I'm surprised you recognized me after all these years. I didn’t recognize you. As far as I can tell, you hate me and because of that, you’re keeping me from leaving. What else do you expect me to say?”
His brows narrowed. He surveyed her up and down, then drew his head up, locking his darkened gaze on hers. “You look different now, Larke. Grew into your fatness.”
“Um yeah.” She blinked. None of this is real. “You uh… you look different too.” A lot different. She slid her focus to his arms. From here, she could see the tattoos on his other arm were also hate related. Her heart sank lower and lower. Raising her head, Larke caught Chase watching her. He growled, “They ain’t going away so get that fucking look off your face.”
She sucked in a tremulous breath. “You’re not making this very easy. This whole talking thing.”
“Are you still writing stories?” He blurted the question out of the blue, anger gone as he switched the subject entirely.
Larke parted her lips; shocked that he remembered. “Yeah,” she answered slowly. “I still write.” Pride grabbed a hold and got the best her. “I have three books in the bookstores. I write for children. No surprise.”
Chase recalling her being a fat little girl stuffing her face with sugar was one thing, but this; such a minute detail about her. That was…unexpected. Still, the revelation changed nothing. Chase was not a good person.
He nodded yet remained silent, simply watching her, which prompted Larke to ask, “Did you really wait out here for me because you had nothing better to do?”
He lifted a shoulder. “Why else? I don’t kill time by harassing women if that’s what you’re thinking.”
Fair enough. “I’m confused because, despite our past, I’m not exactly the type of person you normally mingle with.” Her brows knitted. “I’m honestly trying to make sense out of us standing around talking when it’s pretty obvious this shouldn’t be happening.”
He chuckled low. “Don’t worry. This was a one-off. I don’t make a habit of talking to nig—”
“Don’t,” Larke whispered, holding up a hand, warding him off. “Don’t ever call me that.” Angered and hurt, she drew herself up, no longer able to keep her silence. “You used that word before and I was too afraid to speak up when I should have.”
“And you’re not scared now?” he challenged. Still, he made no move toward her. She squeezed her eyes shut, swallowed down the nerves that caused her heart to beat rapidly inside her chest then reopened them. It was obvious Chase knew she, like any sane person, was terrified of him. Knew and relished it, she imagined. As she had done earlier, Larke slipped a hand inside her bag, curling her fingers around the phone like a lifeline.
She stood straight and raised her chin. “I’m going to ask you one more time to please move away from my car. I want to go home, Chase. I’m exhausted and you’ve ruined my evening.”
“I ruined your evening by talking to you?”
He had the audacity to sound shocked. Was staring at her with his brows arched as if she had offended him.
Larke stiffened. “Not by talking to me. You’ve ruined my evening by using that horrible word twice in front of me. The messing with my head I could tolerate, but not the slurs. If you try to stop me from reaching my car I’ll call for help. It doesn’t matter if no one helps me right away. At least it’ll be on record that I called. The clerk also saw me with you last. There are probably cameras around here too.”
“I get your point,” he said flatly. “It’s cool.” He held up his hands while backing away. His movements were exaggerated and telling. Her threat much like her fear, amused him.
Reaching for her keys, Larke took one hesitant step after the other as Chase continued moving further back until there was a safe distance between him, her and the car. She breathed a heavy sigh of relief the minute she was seated behind the wheel with the engine on and doors locked. Eyeing him one last time, Larke carefully exited the parking lot, forcing herself to not waste another second looking back on Chase.
2
There were a few things that Chase was certain of in life. The first being, he was a proud racist and would tell this to anyone without blinking an eye. The second was, at some point he would take over the group his grandfather had started. Antebellum Resistance was becoming one of the biggest neo-Confederate nationalist groups in North Carolina and hopefully in the entire country one day. The second one was merely a forecast for his future. At twenty-four he was still young and had other things to occupy him. Plus, it wasn’t as if his stepfather Trevor planned on stepping down as leader any time soon.
That first certainty in his life, though… That one had Chase’s mind in a twist tonight. More messed up than his mind had been when he’d agreed to collect membership dues from the paranoid owner of the bowling alley, who was in constant fear of someone finding out about the people he associated with. Anyone, except for the idiot clerk who they all knew was too terrified to say anything.
He’d entered the building feeling like a damn fool for playing pick up boy tonight and left feeling worse than a fool. Like a traitor. The worst kind he knew–a race traitor. He’d walked out the door of the bowling alley stunned and in disbelief after realizing the woman, whose throaty and bubbly laughter had caused his brain to blank and made him turn around and stare; was everything he hadn’t expected or liked.
Barely able to listen to the stuttering clerk’s attempt at finding the envelope, Chase had stopped altogether after hearing the sound of a girl laughing. When he’d turned around to see the face and body it belonged to, his stomach had plummeted with disappointment. All he could see was a black girl with long dark braids and her mouth opened. The laughter had died on her thick lips as her dark almond-shaped eyes focused on him, widening like a deer right before his hunting bullet pierced the neck. Come to think of it, she’d looked like that the entire time after he’d cornered her in the parking lot.
Despite her race and his traitorous thoughts, Chase had somehow managed to convince himself it was important to heed the ache in his balls and the twitching of cock that happened the moment he allowed his eyes to wash over her curvy figure, clad in a tight pair of cut-off jeans that hugged her waist and clung to her plump, round ass. His mouth went dry recalling the outline of her large breasts under the silky v-neck shirt she wore. Faced with his body’s immediate reaction to her, he’d still waited for the disgust that was bound to come, simply for allowing himself to give a creature like that a second glance.
When the disgust failed to appear, Chase’s mi
nd went into overdrive imagining what her body looked like under those clothes. Before he’d even heard her name and put two and two together, that this was the same chubby girl he’d nearly died with, he was already formulating a plan to get her alone. Luck was on his side when she’d left her friends and went back into the bowling alley for her sweater.
Chase hoped once he had her alone and got a real good look at her, talked to her after all these years, that he’d come across a flaw–apart from the obvious–that would really churn his warped stomach.
Still waiting.
The moment never came. Larke had no flaws. At least none that he could visibly see—which in a way made him feel pissed but relieved at the same time because he liked being aroused for her. Blood pumped through his veins and rushed to his cock, giving him a steel hard erection. It felt so fucking good, unlike anything he’d ever felt before. And that was why he was seated inside his pickup, waiting outside Larke’s apartment building.
Deep inside Chase knew what he was doing was wrong. Hell, he wasn’t even sure what he planned to do now that he knew her address. Tonight was the first time he’d trailed a girl home. He was no stalker, had never considered or found the need to do anything like this before. Something about her was screwing with his head and it needed to end. Fast.
A light went on inside an apartment on the second floor. That had to be her place, he thought, shoving down another bout of conscience. He wasn’t doing anything wrong. He lived in a free country. If he wanted to sit in his truck outside some darkie girl’s apartment, he could. And if his dick was getting excited again thinking about her, well there was nothing he could do to stop it.
Right?
Earlier, he’d led Larke to believe boredom was his main reason for waylaying her in the parking lot, but in all honesty, the idea wasn’t that hard to believe. What if it was just a matter of boredom causing wild irrational thoughts to rampage through his head? It wasn’t that far-fetched that he might be bored from always sleeping with the same type of females. Chase tapped a finger to the steering wheel, picturing the last couple of girls he’d fucked. Hmm. They’d all been slender and thin, much thinner than Larke, who made him think of softness and lush flesh that a man could hold on to while he… No! He shook his head, refusing to allow his thoughts to run that far off course.
Body type aside, Chase knew it had nothing to do with his previous one-nighters being alike. It couldn’t because he was only attracted to white girls. At the first sight of Larke tonight, his dick should’ve fallen right back to sleep instead of standing at full mast in hopes of getting her attention. If he really was in the market for a change–someone ‘exotic’–then wouldn’t he have been better off scoping out a female spic? One with enough European blood to overshadow whatever else they were usually mixed with. An Asian chick would also be the better choice than sitting here like a perv alone in his pickup, his mind and body raging for a black chick he barely knew.
I’m going to hell.
Seriously. If he believed hell existed like his mother described during the Bible lessons she’d given him–before she'd run off while he was stuck in the sinkhole–Chase knew he more than likely had a room of torture awaiting him. A real special one for idiots like him.
Grunting his frustration, he gave a fleeting glance toward Larke’s apartment then drove away. He was unsure about his next move if there’d be a next move, all things considered. Like her being terrified of him. Chase frowned as his conscience took another unexpected hit. At first, he’d found it amusing, watching Larke squirm while blocking the entrance to her driver’s side door.
Messing with her hadn’t been as fulfilling as it should’ve been, Chase decided. He kept picturing the way her eyes, filled with fear stared at the tattoos on his arms. He’d yelled at her about it too, hadn’t he?
“Probably shouldn’t have done that,” he muttered to himself.
His phone vibrated a second before the trill ringing jarred his thoughts from Larke. Chase welcomed the interruption until he saw the name that popped up on the display. It was Haley, a slim brunette with real pretty green eyes and just enough curves to escape being called boyish. She was also one of the latest girls his stepfather tried to push him onto. Or rather them onto him. Haley had also grown up in the same community as him.
The phone continued to ring, but Chase ignored it. When it finally stopped, he eyed the display with a pang of regret as the light faded. He should’ve answered. If she was calling after nine in the night, he doubted it was his voice she was wanting to hear. Which was fine by him. Haley was the exact medicine he needed to get rid of the traitorous thoughts inside his head and ease the pressure in his balls.
Good thing too, because her place was on the way to his house. The drive from Larke’s apartment to Lee’s Fortress took about thirty minutes. The small township begun by his grandfather was on the outskirt of a larger city and was once occupied by coal miners before the mines were shut out of business. There was nothing charming or nice about the town. The houses, even the newer ones built years ago when AR first started up, were a paint’s peel away from appearing run-down. But for the people who lived and grew up here, it was the only place they were guaranteed interaction with those who looked like them and shared the same beliefs and concerns.
Speaking of… He let out a groan and shook his head at the sight of Trevor standing outside the house Chase had lived in as a kid. Smoke wafted around his stepfather as the older man waved a hand in the air, flagging him down.
Shit. Trevor was the last person he wanted to see or talk to tonight. Because he had no other choice, Chase slowed his truck to a halt. He retrieved the envelope he’d received from the clerk, then walked toward the man who’d helped to raise him. As much as he’d wanted to keep going, pretending he hadn’t seen the slim man with his hair drawn back into a ponytail, Chase knew if Trevor stopped him on his way home, this wasn’t for any stepfather-son talk. He followed behind the leader of Antebellum Resistance, taking a seat across from him on the porch.
“Took your ass long enough to get back,” Trevor drawled, kicking one leg across a small table scattered with ashes and cigarette butts.
Chase shrugged and dropped the envelope on the table, not the least bit offended by his stepfather’s words. Trevor spoke like that to everyone. Even Louise, Chase’s mother, and Trevor’s ex-wife. Chase hadn’t done that. He’d always spoken to his mom with respect. Didn’t stop her one bit from dropping him like hot coal, pushing him completely out of her life.
“You were waiting out here for me all this time?” he asked Trevor, who was reaching into his shirt pocket for a cigarette.
Trevor nodded then leaned his head to the side, his entire body jerking up and down from coughing. Chase looked on with a mixture of disgust and fascination. No matter how often he’d witness Trevor’s hacking cough over the years, the man never failed to keep lighting up and puffing away.
“You want me to get you some water? Medicine?”
Trevor flicked his hand in the air. “I’m good, man. Got a doctor’s appointment coming up soon. Hope he can give me something to get this shit under control.”
New pair of lungs? Chase nodded, humoring the man. “Lots of new medicine out there.”
“Hmm,” Trevor said absently. He drew himself up in the chair, scratching his chin. “You still planning that trip down to Jacksonville next Friday?”
“I have to. This is the only chance I have to talk with that new captain I hired before the ship sails.” Chase was the sole owner of a cargo ship. He’d bought the old ship two years ago with his grandfather. They’d purchased it after meeting up with an old family friend who was tired of the industry and desperately wanted the ship off his hands. Chase had plans of turning that one ship into a successful cargo fleet sometime in the future.
Trevor knew this. Knew Chase wanted to keep everything legal without any authorities breathing down his neck for something he’d worked so hard for. But in the end, it would make no diff
erence. He’d have to do what was best for the group. Antebellum Resistance was his legacy. He’d always have to do right by the group and their struggle before himself. Staring at his stepfather and knowing what was about to come, Chase silently counted down the seconds, waiting for the order that would be wrapped inside a request.
Another puff on the cigarette. A fit of coughing and the countdown ended. “I got a friend who works near the port. Got himself an exporting company. Lots of connections with foreign ships and customs.”
“Trevor. Honest to God, I don’t have time for any stories. I told you last time that my shipping business is completely separate from AR.”
“I know. And I’m telling you I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t real important. I was trying not to say anything but since you’re dragging this out. Money’s running tight these days and some of our sponsors are getting stingy. Too many pussies out there scared of showing their pride.” A swirl of smoke rose from the edge of his mouth and drifted in the air. “You remember what that was like, don’t you? We got lots of kids here. Lots of em.”
Hungry children. Chase ground his teeth, holding tight to his anger. He got the damn point. Trevor didn’t need to drive it in. “How much money are we talking about?”
“Fifty grand. More or less. We can handle it just like last time. Use the same people.”
“Yeah, okay. Since you have it all planned out. All I wanna know is what the hell are we talking about this time? Old ass DVDs? Food? Bootleg crap? I’m lost here. Last time I let you do this, I said I didn’t wanna know what all that shit was, but fuck… Seriously, man. What is it this time?”
“Like I was telling you. This friend of mine took a trip over to Singapore the other day. Business.” Trevor rolled his eyes. “Trust me, he didn’t wanna go.”
Chase let out a loud breath. “No stories. Just say it. What exactly are we sending over there?”
Trevor chuckled. “You ain’t gotta look like that, man. It’s only liquor.”
