by Sonia Belier
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Forest
Sonia Belier
Forest (Alpha Outlaws Book 2)
Sonia Belier
“I crave a dangerous kind of love. One that breaks hearts and bed springs.”
-Michael Faudet
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Copyright © 2017 by Sonia Belier
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Created with Vellum
Contents
Prologue
1. Jamie
2. Forest
3. Jamie
4. Forest
5. Jamie
6. Forest
7. Jamie
8. Forest
9. Jamie
Epilogue: Three Years Later
Do Me A Favor?
Also by Sonia Belier
Prologue
He pinned me to the bed and hissed in my ear, “I’m dangerous you know.”
I didn’t care.
I wanted him and every ounce of danger he had inside of him.
The room was dark, blinding me from seeing anything. I couldn’t see his face, his movements. His anything.
But I could feel.
I ran my hands along the firm body that lay on top of me. Every line, ridge, firm muscle burning itself into the pads of my fingertips. My eyes rolled themselves to the back of my sockets just feeling his breath on my neck.
He kissed me, bit me, licked me, possessed me. I was powerless to do anything about it. I could feel his adrenaline pumping, his body pulsing on me. The man was a hungry beast.
“Say my name.”
I hesitated.
Mistake.
He grabbed my cheek with his firm hand, and smothered me with a hard kiss, parting my lips with his tongue greedily. Holding my hands above my head on the soft bed, he asked again.
“Say. My. Name.”
The words rushed out of my mouth.
“Forest…”
Chapter 1
Jamie
“I’ve got a hot hazelnut latte for Brandon!” A disgruntled patron wearing a wrinkled grey suit, with one headphone shoved in his ear walked towards the counter.
“What took so long?! Goodness! Is it really that difficult to make a darn coffee? Jesus you guys are slow here.”
“I apologize for the wait sir. We’re trying to go as fast as we can. I hope you enjoy your drink.”
“Yeah, whatever.”
He walked away impatiently from the counter, shoving through the small crowd and spilling a bit of the latte on the floor on his way out of the shop.
Nine thirty in the morning. I was pushing out more drinks than I could count and impatient customers trying to hustle their way to work weren’t making the shift any easier. But on the bright side, at least the Java Mug was actually busy. Since the new coffee shop opened a few blocks down from us, we’d been competing for Seattle’s coffee lovers for the last few months.
“Jamie, you hanging in there? It’s gonna be like this at least for another hour or so. Let me know if you need a break.” I was lucky my manger was my best friend Gina. At very least she checked on me every half hour to see if I was still standing.
Well I was. But just barely.
I didn’t expect to be working as a barista after college, but something had to pay for my painting equipment…
“I’m all good Gina! Just trying to get this last push of drinks out.” She gave me a heavy pat to my shoulders and walked to the office in the back of the shop.
“Where’s my Frappuccino?! I ordered a fucking Frappuccino!” A short woman mangled her way through the crowd and plopped her purse on the countertop. The smothering stench of her perfume drowned out the scent of all of the coffee brewing behind me.
“You over there, I placed my order five minutes ago. I have to be to work. Hurry up!”
“Ma’am, I’m preparing your order right now. I apologize for your wait.” Coffee, milk, peppermint shot, sweetener, blended and topped off with whipped cream. I must’ve made this drink a hundred times this morning alone!
“Order for Teresa! Peppermint Frappuccino!”
The short woman snagged the drink without saying a word and marched out of the shop.
The flow of customers continued like that for another hour and then started to die down, leaving the few college students who stayed around to study as the only patrons in the store. I wiped my hands briskly with a towel and let out a huge plume of air. My phone vibrated in my pocket.
“Thank goodness it’s time for a break. Hey Gina, I’m heading out to grab some lunch. Want anything?” Gina emerged from the office in the back with her purse draped around her shoulder.
“I’m coming with. Need a breather from the shop for a bit.”
We walked together out of the shop and downtown the winter streets of Seattle to a sandwich place next door. It was small, but quaint. And the staff were nice enough. We placed our orders and sat in a small booth in the corner of the shop.
My nostrils went from being suffocated by coffee beans, to being suffocated by bread. The food industry was oh so pleasant. Really.
“So the shop is doing really good this month Jamie. I think we’ll outdo the shop down the road by a couple thousand dollars. What a freaking relief! I thought that place was gonna put us out of business!” She took a sip of her tea and leaned her head back against the soft booth we were sitting in.
“Wait a sec. How do you know that?”
“I have a mole down there in that shop. This business is grimy Jamie. We gotta do what we can.”
I laughed quietly at the thought that Gina had her own secret spy operation for her coffee shop.
That girls antics never ceased to surprise me.
“You know who owns that shop?” She fixed her blonde hair into a messy bun and a sly smirked wrinkled across her face.
“Uh-oh. I’m not sure I wanna know by the way you’re looking at me.” I kept my head down, glancing at my phone the whole time.
“Joel Williams.”
“You’re kidding. That football player from high school? The ‘star quarterback’? He’s pushing coffee beans now?”
“Yep. That Joel Williams. Isn’t it funny how the mighty have fallen?”
I thought about what Gina said for a moment.
Back in high school, we all had these delusions of grandeur about how rich and famous we were going to be when we got out. But most of us wound up working whatever mundane jobs we could find to keep afloat.
I dreamed of being a famous painter. But now all I was “painting” was flower designs in the foam of people’s coffee.
“Do you remember much about him?” Gina asked me, pulling her phone out of her purse.
“Can’t say I do…I just remember him getting into a really big fight at the
end of our senior year. He got kicked off the team for it.”
Gina shook her head, tapping her fingers against the glossy wood on the table. “The whole school never lived that one down.”
Eight years earlier
“I heard you talkin shit Joel. Well you got a chance now. Do something.”
“I wasn’t saying nothing about you Forest. I don’t know who was goin’ ‘round spreadin’ rumors, but it wasn’t me.”
I looked around that cafeteria and everyone’s eyes were glued to the seen in the middle of the room. Joel Williams and Forest Lock were at each other’s throats and I suspected that any minute someone would wind up out cold and on the floor. As my luck would have it, they decided to have their little spat one table away from me.
“Hey Jamie, let’s move. I don’t want any of them falling on me when they decided to start going at it.” Gina motioned me to move to a couple tables down and I followed her.
I never understood why men couldn’t control their hormones. Why did they always insist on fighting?
Forest was a quiet kid. Tall, short hair, husky deep voice. He always traveled alone and didn’t make friends. At his insistence. I always suspected he was troubled, but honestly, I was too scared to even say hi to him. At eighteen, one year older than me, he seemed more hardened that most adult men. But something about him drew me to him. I always did like him, thinking maybe there was some way I could fix his wounded heart. We would sometimes say hi to each other in the hall. And we sat right next to each other in our homeroom, but that was about it.
Joel just had a big mouth. We all knew one day he would say something to the wrong person.
I went back to picking at the bland salad in front of me, occasionally looking at Gina for updates and trying to drown out Joel’s yelling.
“I swear Jamie, someone is gonna get knocked out. I can just feel it.”
“As long as they leave me out of it they can have at it for all I care.”
I heard a loud pop that I swore was the crunch of the romaine lettuce in my salad. When I heard the screaming is when I finally decided to turn around.
There was Joel, on the ground, bleeding from his nose.
“Oh my god, Gina look!”
Gina was already gone and front in center of the group of students around Joel.
A small crowd formed around Joel with a glaring mixture of laughs, “oohs and ahhs” bubbling from the center of the group.
“I told you not to mess with me. Maybe next time you’ll think twice.” Forest wiped off his hand and the cafeteria silenced at the sound of a megaphone.
“Out of the way! Clear it, clear it!! Go back to eating! Forest Lock, you’re coming with me.”
Mr. Bryce, the principal, dragged Forest by his arm awkwardly leaving Joel on the floor with blood spewing out of his nose.
“Isn’t someone gonna help him??” I asked into the abyss of students. Seemed like more people were content with just watching him writhe in pain on the floor there.
The screeching sound of the fire alarm dispersed the majority of students outside to the rec yard and nurses scrambled to help Joel up.
There was my excitement for the day, and my appetite.
Present…
“I’ve got a California club sandwich for Jamie, and a Grilled chicken club for Gina. Enjoy your food ladies.”
I dug into my food chewing over my thoughts of a high school flashback.
“Now that I think about it, I remember that fight like it was yesterday. Do you remember how everyone just left Joel on the floor?” Gina tried to stifle a laugh as she recollected.
“Yeah, that was just sad.”
Stifled gargles of air escaped our nostrils as we both tried to hold in our laughs.
“Well, I’m glad to see that he’s doing well now.”
“Ever the diplomat huh Jamie?”
I continued eating my sandwich as I pondered where I was back then.
Thinking I was gonna be some amazingly famous painter, I got a scholarship to go to art school. Thirty portraits, five landscapes, and two sculptures later, I’m a barista at my best friend’s coffee shop.
Life was stagnant. Mundane. And I was just getting by.
“Gina, did you ever have different plans for yourself after high school?” She finished munching a potato chip and arched her head to the side in thought at my question.
“Hmm…honestly I think I’m right where I always wanted to be. Java Mug was exactly what I wanted to do and here we are.” Pleased with her answer, she continued munching away on her sandwich.
How was it that some people knew just exactly what they wanted and went for it? I felt a little empty at the thought that I didn’t achieve my goals like Gina.
“Seems like breaks up. Back to the shop we go!”
We left a tip at the table and walked back to the shop through the brisk winter air.
The bustle we experienced in the morning died down, and the low murmurs of pages turning and people whispering were the only remaining sounds in the shop.
I sat behind the counter in the dim light, sketching in a notebook while I waited for the store to close.
“Jamie, you’re out for the day! I’ll see you on Monday!”
“Already? Okay Gina, catch you later!” I grabbed my coat zipping myself in the warm layers of down feathers, and headed home.
I walked the night streets alone and in deep thought. Something was lacking in my life, and it had been for a while.
A cool, brisk gust of wind slapped me across my face, knocking my hood off and blowing my long hair all over my face.
“Urgh, why does it have to be so windy today?!”
I jogged the rest of the way to my apartment five blocks from the coffee shop and was relieved to feel the warmth of the building inside.
My apartment was a quaint little 400 sqft. box that held all of my easels, canvas and artwork just barely. A sofa bed and small flat screen took up the remaining space in the living room. Needless to say, I wasn’t inviting to many guests over to my place for wine and dinner. I had a nice little unobstructed view of the Space Needle and I was content with that.
“Let’s try to get something painted today.” I threw my coat to the couch and walked over to a blank canvas that I found myself staring at daily for the past four days.
Maybe something would come to me today.
I threw on my linen apron and tied it around my waist. Gathering my hair and placing it into a ponytail, I reached for my paint brush box on the table behind my canvas.
My hands brushed against the plastic top of the small table.
No brushes.
“I have to go outside again?” I flung my head back in distress at the prospect of going back outside in the brisk weather.
I ran outside as fast as I could and grabbed my brush set from the trunk of my Honda.
When I got back upstairs, I waltz over to the canvas feeling a renewed sense of hope that I might actually get something painted tonight.
The canvas was the only place that I felt control in my life. And it wasn’t paying my bills.
My hands touched the firm, rigged surface of the board and I clenched my eyes. I read somewhere that “connecting with the canvas” would help the creative juices flow.
Yeah, I wasn’t too sure about that, but I had nothing else to lose at this point.
Dipping a wet brush into a mixture of crimson red and royal blue, I dragged the purple concoction across the canvas.
I worked and worked for a few hours until the weight of my lids became too much too support.
“Alright. Somethings on the canvas. Guess that means I can head to bed now.”
A warm shower would be nice.
I let the water flow over my bare body. I kept hoping that it would wash away this feeling of disillusionment that I had with life. Kept wishing for something to change. I was too afraid to take a risk with my art.
What if I failed?
Standing in the shower for a while I
pondered my future. Talking with Gina about high school brought these thoughts to the forefront of my mind.
When I’d gotten to pruny to stay, I hopped out of the shower, drying my body and throwing a robe on.
I plopped on my bed and shut off all of the lights, shoving my phone underneath my pillow.
The sound of my obnoxious ring tone startled me out of sleep. My eyes forced themselves open as I flinched at the bright screen of my phone to get a look at who was calling me.
Delvin Smith. The art curator at the Vox Musuem.
“It’s 3:30 and he’s calling me?” I hesitantly answered.
“Hello?”
“Hi, may I speak to Jamie Jordan? This is Delvin with the Vox Musuem.” I strained my ears to try to hear the Delvin’s mouse like whisper.
Why did he insist on speaking so quietly?!
“Hello Delvin, this is Jamie. How can I help you?” I was barely awake, struggling to keep my tired eyes open and speaking to the curator of the largest art museum in Seattle.
Way to go Jamie.
“I’m sorry I’m calling so late but I wanted to let you know that I just got through the portfolio that you submitted to the Museum. What’s your earliest convenience for meeting up and discussing a few of your pieces? I’m interested namely in three of them.
The cold feeling of a long stream of perspiration running down my back made me shiver.
I submitted that portfolio a year ago never thinking I’d hear anything. And as if lady luck answered my prayers, I got a call back?
This kind of stuff just didn’t normally happen to people like me!
“Y-yes! Umm, I would love to meet with you! I’m available all weekend to meet with you.” Clearing my throat, I tried to conceal the stammering in my voice, but dammit I could care less if he could tell that I was nervous or that I just woke up.
