by LeAnn Asher
Butcher
LeAnn Asher
Contents
1. Shaylin
2. The Next Day
3. Shaylin
4. Shaylin
5. Shaylin
6. Shaylin
7. Shaylin
8. Shaylin
9. Shaylin
10. Shaylin
11. Shaylin
12. Shaylin
13. Shaylin
14. Shaylin
15. Shaylin
16. Shaylin
17. Shaylin
18. Shaylin
19. Butcher
20. Shaylin
21. Shaylin
22. Shaylin
23. Shaylin
24. Butcher
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Butcher is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are all products of the author's imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locals, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Except as permitted under the US Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.
Designer: RBA Designs
Editor: Stephanie Marshall Ward at the Eclectic Scribe
Cover Photographer: Wander Aguiar
Cover Model: Gio
Dedication
This is for everyone who is waiting for their own unusual, unpredictable, and crazy kind of love. May you find your own Butcher. <3
Who says love must be sane?
One
Shaylin
I’m having dinner at Blue’s Steak House in Raleigh, Texas. I moved here three years ago to open a bakery. My hometown is small, but it already had a thriving bakery, so here I am—and my establishment is getting more business every year.
My brother, Lane, is the president of the Grim Sinners. My father started the club, and it has thrived. I grew up around these gruff, protective men. They may be rough, but they have a soft spot for those they care about.
I am the princess of the club because, for some crazy, unknown reason, I am the only girl. None of the other members has a daughter, only sons. The only reason my dad allowed me to move to this town is because the Devil Souls MC is here. They are close friends with my dad’s club. Like the Grim Sinners, the Devil Souls has me under their protection.
I know something is going down with the clubs right now, and I have to be careful. I am not allowed to know the details—that is a huge part of me staying safe. The clubs are legit, so if something is going down, something bad must have happened.
Something went down a couple of months ago that rocked our family. My brother has a daughter, Tiffany. We knew nothing of this and he didn’t either. When the Devil Souls was taking down a trafficking ring, they found his daughter there. They called my brother and the rest was history. The mother was going to use her for ransom, and then she dropped off the face of the earth.
Well, almost.
Grinning to myself, I look around the room thinking back to when I last saw Tiffany’s mother. I was driving down the road, and I saw her walking along the sidewalk. What did I do? I followed her to her apartment. I watched her walk inside, and I followed her.
I burst through the door and spotted a plate sitting on a table beside the broken-down couch. I picked it up and slammed it over her head, and she slumped onto the floor, unconscious. I walked back down the stairs, got into my car, and went to work.
I am not someone who fights people, but that woman deserved it. In fact, she deserved worse. She treated my niece horribly—that little girl went through hell because of her.
The room falls silent, and I turn around to see what’s going on. The Devil Souls MC and my brother’s club, the Grim Sinners, file into the room and gather around a long table.
That’s when I see him.
He is tall, probably around six five, tattooed to the walls. His arms, neck, and back are covered in tattoos. His hair is cut short on the sides and long on the top. He has stubble all along his jaw bone. He is intimidating. I like that, and just from the side view I am attracted to him.
I don’t take my eyes off him as he walks around the table so his back is facing the wall. He scoots in and my heart starts pounding, waiting for him to look at me.
His head turns and his eyes connect with mine.
His eyes darken and his nose flares.
Oh shit.
He is handsome in a very rough and rugged way. This man is dangerous—he gives off this raw power, and his eyes are dark and seem to look into my soul.
A few minutes later, the waitress hands my menu back to me. A piece of paper is taped to the back, and a phone number is scribbled on it. I look up and see him smirking at me.
The guy growls more loudly and scoots his chair out. I know alpha males, and this man is the ultimate one.
Handing back the piece of paper with the number, I shake my head and the waitress walks away. The guy looks seriously pissed off. Winking at him, I stand up and grab my purse off the back of my chair. I smile at him and then at my brother, who is staring at both of us. I smirk at Butcher and walk out of the room. As I’m heading out the door, I hear a chair hitting the floor. Grinning, I get in my car. My phone dings and I see a text from Lane.
Lane: Behind you.
Butcher walks out the front door of the restaurant, his eyes on me. I start the car and back out, before pulling out onto the highway. I hear a motorcycle start up, and I look out my window. The guy is following close behind. Laughing, I turn on the radio and ignore him.
I probably shouldn’t ignore this man, because following someone isn’t normal, but nothing in the MC world is normal.
I am on break and I need to go back to my bakery, which is right down the road from Blue’s. Shaylin’s Sweets. How original, right?
ME: What’s his name?
Lane: Butcher
Well, that’s a different name for sure. Looking at my rearview mirror, I notice that he is so close to the back of my car that if I hit my brakes he would slam into me.
It seriously makes me wonder what this man wants. MC men are totally different from your everyday man. These men are a different breed altogether, and I feel like this Butcher is on a whole different level from them.
When I step out of my car in front of the bakery, I see Butcher pulling in. I stand still and watch as he pulls in right beside where I am standing. Butcher turns the bike off and stares at me intensely. He doesn’t say a word, but we begin a staring match. I gulp and open my mouth to say something but close it instantly.
What do I say to this? What do I do? Do I tell him to leave? But I feel like that won’t work. I’ve got to admit that I find him extremely attractive. I have a thing for bad boys, and this man isn’t a boy but something else entirely—which makes it so much better.
So I don’t say anything. I turn around and walk straight through the front door of my bakery. Mary, one of my workers, pops out from the back, takes off her apron, and hangs it on the hook. “I am going to lunch now,” she says without looking at me. Mary is my best friend. We have been friends since I was a baby. Her mom used to watch me when my dad was busy. Usually I was taken to the club with him, and one of the other MC men, who I call my uncles, would watch me.
Mary finally looks up at me and smiles, then her eyes pop open and she drops her purse. I crane my neck around to see what’s the matter.
Butcher.
He is standing behind me, and I can see why she would have a reaction like that. He doesn’t look like a cuddly teddy bear. This man looks like he could kill you with his pinky—hell, if his permanent glare didn’t kill you first.
“You will be okay?” She lowers her voice almost to a whisper. Her eyes go from me to Butcher, who hasn’t moved.
I smile and nod. “Yes, I will be fine. Go on.”
She nods and walks past us, her head down as she passes him. Mary may be my best friend, but she hasn’t been around the MC life like I have. She saw them in passing, but that was really it. She was never someone who wanted to be a part of that life.
I watch as she hurries to her car, and I laugh under my breath. Butcher still hasn’t taken his eyes off me. I don’t even think he blinks. I walk into the kitchen to start a birthday cake.
I gather the ingredients and measure everything out before setting it down on the counter. I place all the wet ingredients in the mixer before adding all of the dry.
I feel like I am being watched. I peer over my shoulder, and I jump at the sight of Butcher sitting in a chair next to the entrance to the kitchen. His eyes are still on me and he doesn’t move.
I go back to working on my cake. This man is intense. Very intense. He doesn’t say anything—the only thing he does is stare and stare. I want to say so much and, most of all, I want to ask what the eff he is doing.
I pour the batter into the floured cake pans and slip them into one of my many ovens. I stand back and clap my hands together to rid them of extra flour before heading to the sink to wash up.
I love this place. It’s everything I dreamed of—and I got it. I went to school for years, perfecting my craft. I have been baking and cooking since I was a small kid, I used to stand in a chair so I could reach the counter. I know my concoctions were far from edible back then, but my father and brother never complained. I even took my baked goods to the clubhouse, and all my “uncles” claimed they were the best thing they’d ever tasted. Big softies, every single one of them.
Butcher still hasn’t moved. The bell above the door dings as someone walks inside. I untie the string behind my back and slip my apron over my head before hanging it on the hook on the wall beside the door.
I walk out of the kitchen to the front of the bakery. Henry is standing in front of the counter. Henry is someone I can’t describe. I get major creepy vibes, because he is like a dog panting over me. I feel like he is harmless, but he is annoying nonetheless.
“How can I help you today, Henry?” I ask him and he gets this excited look on his face. I would find it kind of endearing if he weren’t covered in a year’s worth of grime with some suspicious brown stains on his hands and other parts of his body. I don’t want to think of that right now. I have a really weak stomach, and I can’t stand any kind of bodily fluids.
Butcher is standing at the entrance to the kitchen. His eyes aren’t on me, for once, but on Henry.
“I want a red velvet cupcake.”
I open the glass and pull out his cupcake. I put it neatly inside a box and set it on the counter. As Henry reaches into his pocket for money, I am cringing inside. The crotch of his pants is wet. Please let that be water.
As I reach forward to take the money from him, he grins. I shudder at the sight of his tooth. Yes, tooth—because most of his are missing. He grabs my hand in a tight grip. I want to vomit as I take in his fingernails. Don’t puke, Shay, I tell myself.
“Let me go,” I tell him sternly. I spot Butcher, out of the corner of my eye, thundering up to the counter. I attempt to pull my hand free. “Let. Me. Go.”
“No.”
1, 2, 3…
Fuck it. I grab the tip jar off the counter and smash it on Henry’s head. His eyes roll into the back of his head, and he hits the ground with a thump.
Butcher stares down at Henry, and my eyes widen as I see the grin on his face.
I smile back sweetly. “He should have let me go.”
Butcher’s grin widens and my stomach flips.
“Now what do I do with him?” I take out my phone to call Lane.
A hand closes over my cell phone. “I’ll handle this,” Butcher says in his gruff voice. I stare into his intense eyes. He lets go, and he grabs Henry’s leg and proceeds to drag him through the kitchen.
I blink a few times and rush after him to see what he is going to do. Light shoots into the room as he opens the back door. I wince as he drags Henry across the concrete. Talk about road burn. Well, I did break a jar over his head—why am I worrying about that now?
Butcher continues dragging Henry without a care in the world, like he just taking an everyday stroll through the park. He drags him behind a building and moves plastic bags, along with debris, around him so he can’t be seen.
Butcher turns around and stalks back to me. Every single step is filled with intent. His eyes never leave mine as he gets closer and closer.
I duck inside the building and go back to the front of the bakery, where a few more customers are drifting in. I take care of them and Mary walks in. The door shuts behind her, and she looks around like she is looking for someone.
I feel Butcher move close to me, and her eyes widen. She ducks her head and all but runs into the kitchen to be as far away from us as possible. Looking out of the corner of my eye, I see Butcher staring at the kitchen door.
I take that moment to look at him. He is all dark features and he is just big. He is buff and has this rough and tough exterior, but I know there is more to this man than what meets the eye.
When Butcher looks back in my direction, I quickly look away and go back to work, rearranging the showcase counter to make sure everything looks nice and orderly.
For the next couple of hours, people come and go, getting their desserts while booking cakes and cupcakes for weddings, birthday parties, and other celebrations. Butcher is now sitting in a chair just to the right of me. He intimidates everyone who walks into the room.
Mary hasn’t come out of the back since she got back to work. It’s close to closing time, and I’m starting to get hungry. I open the glass showcase, grab the rest of the vanilla cupcakes, and place them in a box. I grab the box and sit down in the chair next to Butcher, who is still staring at me. I hold a cupcake toward him. “Want one?” I blush. His lips turn up at the corners just slightly.
He takes the cupcake from me, his fingers brushing mine. I blush harder and look down. Licking my lips, I grab my own cupcake. I peel back the paper and take a bite.
Butcher peels back the wrapper of his cupcake and stuffs the whole thing in his mouth. Laughter bubbles up as I watch this man stuff his face with cupcakes—why is it so funny to see such a rough man eating a cupcake?
I take another out of the box and hand it to him. He winks and I jerk in shock. My mouth pops open a bit. Did he just wink at me? I smile at him, teeth and all. I probably look like a loon.
“Shaylin, I am going to start cleaning up!” Mary calls from the kitchen.
“Okay! I will be there in a second.” I hand the rest of the cupcakes to Butcher, who immediately grabs another. I smile. I love seeing someone savor my cupcakes or anything else I make.
For the next hour, Mary and I clean everything up, along with preparing for tomorrow. Tomorrow is my day off, so I want to make sure everything is perfect for her and the other worker who will be here.
“Bye, Mary!” I walk Mary to the door and watch as she gets inside her car safely and drives away. I turn around and run face first into something hard. I back up—I ran into Butcher. His hand is on my forearm, steadying me.
“I’ve just got to lock up and make sure everything is off.” I spin on my heel and go into the kitchen. I do a walk through to make sure all the refrigerators are closed and everything is turned off.
I turn off the light and walk back into the main room, and I see Butcher is already outside the door staring inside. By the time I’ve finished turning off the lights and locking up, Butcher is on his bike. Okay then. As I’m getting in my car, he is still staring at me. There is so much I want to say.
Swallowing, I sit in the driver’s seat and put the key in the ignition. I feel my mind going in a million different directions. I pull out of
the parking lot, and my eyes flick to the rearview window. I stop at the stoplight, and my eyes follow Butcher as he comes up on the right. The light turns green, and I turn left toward my house. Butcher turns in the other direction.
Well, I guess that is that. What did I expect? I honestly didn’t know what to expect with him. One part of me had anticipated that he would follow me home, and the other side had thought he would part ways with me once I got off work.
Today has just been a weird day in general. I broke my tip jar over a man’s head, even though he asked for it. Then Butcher dropped him behind a dumpster.
We aren’t normal, but isn’t normal overrated?
Two
The Next Day
Beep! Beep! Beep! I groan and roll over in bed to turn off the alarm. Once it’s turned off, I roll onto my back and yawn, my eyes watering. Then I reach onto the nightstand and grab my phone. I see a text
Lane: Your niece wants to have a girl’s day.
I grin at the prospect of spending the day with my niece. I love that little girl more than anything. She had a rough go of it before Lane got her. I want to kill her mother, and I would have if I thought I could get away with it. What kind of mother tries to put her kid up for ransom?
Me: Be there in an hour.
Lane: Perfect.
Thirty minutes later, I am ready. I will get breakfast with my niece. I grab my purse off the back of the chair and my keys off the table. I push my hair out of my face and behind my ear as I put on my shoes. All of my shoes are flats because I can barely walk on solid ground. I am clumsy. That was a huge thing for me while growing up. I have broken way too many bones because of it. I step onto the porch and lock the door behind me, slinging my purse higher up on my shoulder. That’s when I see something lying on my lawn chair.
What the actual fuck is going on? Is some crazed man or woman sleeping in my yard? I look around to see what I can knock some heads with, and all I see is a rock. Shrugging, I bend down and grab the rock. I raise my hand and chuck it at the person lying on the lawn chair.
