by Atlas, Lilly
She dropped the phone back to the table with a clatter and swallowed. Four very large, very tattooed, very hard bikers stared at her. Whoops. How much of the conversation had she missed? “Ah, sorry, guys, zoned out for a second. Can you repeat the last thing you said?” Hopefully she hadn’t missed more than a statement or two.
The biggest of the bunch, who sat directly across from her at the rectangular tables chuckled. “Sure, doll,” he said. What had Hook said his name was? Jester, maybe? “I just asked if you’d ordered the food for the party.”
“Yes, I did. Let’s see.” She flipped through the pages of her notebook. “I ordered enough food to feed an army.” She cast a sideways glance at Hook, only to see he still looked at her with undisguised concern.
“Great,” Jester said. The man really was huge. He stretched his arms over his head and nearly took out the lanky man next to him with his crazy wingspan.
Gumby, his name was, the tow truck driver from a few days ago.
“What about you? You good for booze?” Jester asked Gumby.
“Yeah, everything will be delivered to Hook’s tomorrow evening around five, which I realize is right during the vote.”
“No worries,” Marcie said, relieved to be on the ball this time. “I’ll be at Hook’s all day setting up for the party. Does Striker know about it?”
From the head of the table, Shiv laughed. He was a fierce character, a bit older than the others with a dark, close-cropped beard and hair that hung well past his shoulders. A jagged scar ran down his left cheek giving him an intimidating appearance. “He knows about the VP vote, but not the party.”
“So what happens if he doesn’t get voted in as vice president?” Apparently, it was a stupid question if the laughter that rose around the table was any indication.
“No way that will happen, baby. Striker’s a shoe-in for VP,” Hook said.
“All right,” Shiv pushed from the table and stood. “Sounds like everything is under control. Party at Hook’s tomorrow, starts right after the vote and goes until no man, or woman, is left standing.”
Snickers went around the table and Marcie raised a brow at Hook. He winked and turned away to answer something Jester had asked him. From what she’d heard her entire life, No Prisoners’ parties were legendary. Under normal circumstances they were held at the clubhouse, but everyone figured Striker would be expecting that and they could have a little fun at his expense by switching up the location. Hopefully she could keep up with these wild bikers. Not to mention the interesting gaggle of ladies that were expected to make an appearance.
Growing up, her mom had been to a number of parties at the clubhouse, and she recalled a few instances where she’d entertained club members in their trailer. It was a bit disconcerting to be an adult now attending one of these parties, especially knowing there would be women there like her mom. Women looking for one thing and one thing only.
“You ready to go, hon?” Hook whispered in her ear.
“Yes, can we stop for something to eat on the way home? I’m starving.”
He gave her a quick fierce kiss that fired her blood in an instant. “Grab your bag. I’ll just say bye to the guys and we’ll stop at that pizza place you used to love.”
With a smile, she ignored the pitter patter of her heart. He remembered so many things she enjoyed from their teenage years. How was a girl supposed to resist such a sweet man? “That place is still there?”
He rose from the table. “Sure is, babe. And still the best pie around.”
She stood by as he hugged and back-slapped his buddies. Even if she hadn’t known how the MC operated, how loyalty to the club and their brothers came above all else, it was obvious how close these men were. They teased each other mercilessly, but underneath it all was a core of respect and love.
She had none of that in her life. No one who cared for her in such a deep way. No one was loyal to her with that strength. And now that her mother had passed, no family to speak of. Not that her mom had been anything in the way of family. Was it any wonder she fought so hard to be self-reliant?
What choice did she have when she was the only one around?
“Hey, babe? I’m going to move some wood from the garage to the back of the house so we’ll have it for the fire pit tomorrow,” Hook said when they entered his kitchen an hour and a half later.
“Want help?”
“Nah, go take a shower like you said you wanted.” He grabbed her hips and tugged her close, rocking her against his semi-erection. “If you’re still in there by the time I’m done maybe I’ll join you.”
With a sassy wink, she looped her hands around his neck. “Guess I’ll be taking a long shower then.”
He kissed her quick then spun her around. “Get movin’ before I jump you right here.”
“That’s not what you say if you want me to leave,” she called over her shoulder.
“Go, babe.” He gave her a quick slap on the ass and laughed when she yelped and took off for the stairs.
He lingered a minute, watching the back and forth sway of her rounded ass as she ascended the steps. At some point, they needed to have a conversation about what was happening between them. For the past three days, they’d lived in domestic bliss, something Hook never thought he’d enjoy, but there was no point in denying it. He fucking loved every second of her living in his house and wanted it to continue, for the rest of his life if he had any say.
He was just too chicken shit to bring it up because her feelings weren’t obvious. Tomorrow. After the vote, after the party, they’d have a heart-to-heart. And he’d do his damnedest to convince her to stay.
Buzz buzz.
Marcie’s phone vibrated against the kitchen table. He flicked a glance at the staircase, but she’d disappeared after reaching the top step. No matter, he could just run it up to her if it was anything important. After if buzzed again, he lifted it from the table and checked the message.
I’ve been nice for three days and you called the cops? Some punishment may be in order when you return home.
What. The. Fuck.
Hook scrolled through the messages. Forty-seven. There were forty-seven texts and fifteen voicemails from Tanner over the past three days. Some were oddly and sickeningly sweet while others held not so vague threats like the one that just came through.
She hadn’t said a word. Not one fucking peep. This dickhead had been harassing her for days and she hadn’t uttered a word. How many times had Hook fucked her silly over the past few days? Yet she remained silent. How many hours of conversation had they had about their lives? Lips still sealed. Well that was some right bullshit and not something Hook would tolerate.
He stormed up the stairs and slammed into the bathroom. Marcie stood under the spray, clearly visible through the glass shower door, her hands running through her short locks. She turned when the bathroom door bounced off the wall and a seductive smile graced her lips. “That was fast.”
As mad as he was at her, the sight of soap bubbles sliding their way over her slick skin and over her curves caused him to react predictably. Blood rushed to his cock and it rose to attention. Damn thing knew exactly what it’d be missing out on due to the impending fight. Couldn’t be helped. There were some things Hook would not abide by and threats to Marcie’s safety were one of them.
With a low growl, he yanked open the shower door and held the phone out, ignoring the fact that water droplets splattered the screen. “What the fuck is this?”
Marcie’s hands dropped to her sides and her face lost all color. “What are you doing with my phone?”
“It buzzed on the table and I thought I’d see if it was important. Turns out, it’s really fucking important. How could you not tell me he’s been harassing you? For days, Marcie! Days! Did you think I wouldn’t be able to put a stop to it?”
“What?” Her nostrils flared and she jammed her hands on her hips. “I didn’t say anything because I knew exactly what would happen. This! You’d get on your macho
horse and feel like you have to take over and solve the problem for me. Well, buddy—” she jammed her soggy finger into his chest. “I don’t need you or anyone to fix my shit for me. I’m taking care of it myself.”
Hook raised his gaze to the ceiling and counted to ten. Or at least he tried to make it to ten. At around six, he nearly exploded. “You’re goddamned right I’d put a stop to that shit. He’s fuckin’ threatening you, Marcie! I’m not trying to take over your life, babe, but there are some things a man cannot overlook when it comes to his woman. And another man threatening her is at the top of the list.”
That was the first time he’d laid any verbal claim to her, and it wasn’t lost on her. Her eyes filled with tears and she took a step back, farther under the spray. Shit. That couldn’t a good sign.
“Look, this has been fun. Amazing, really. But we’re just pretending. I don’t live here. My life, my job, my apartment, they’re all in Seattle. And I can’t be with a man who doesn’t allow me to handle my life my way. I called the police. They are dealing with Tanner. In fact, I need to get back to Seattle to meet with them. I think…um…I think I’ll book a flight out for tomorrow.”
It wasn’t possible for her to look more vulnerable that she did in that moment, tears streaming down her face, arms crossed over her chest, naked. All he wanted was to gather her up and make them both forget the past ten minutes. But the problems would be waiting for them when the heat cooled.
“I’m not your mother, Marce. I won’t abandon you. I won’t make you promises I’m unwilling to keep. Yes, I want to take care of you. Yes, I want to help you with your problems. Yes, I want to be involved in every aspect of your life. But I want the same from you. For you to take care of me, be involved in every part of my life and help me with my problems. I’m not looking for a takeover. I’m looking for a partner and a lover. And that’s what you’re really afraid of. But go ahead and keep hiding behind this need for independence, because it seems to be working real well for you.”
Was this what a broken heart felt like? This hollow emptiness in his chest? This feeling that everything good in his life was spiraling away faster than the water disappearing down the drain? If it was, he fully understood why he’d never offered his heart to a woman before. This shit hurt. “Don’t go, Marcie.”
She sniffed. “I have to.”
“At least wait until after the party. You worked hard to help us put it together. You deserve to see it through.” As much as he wanted to, he wouldn’t force her to stay. But there was no way in hell he’d let her walk out that door without ensuring that Tanner wouldn’t be a problem for her in Seattle. And for that he needed a little time.
With a sad smile, she shrugged.
Only one card in his deck had any chance of producing a winning hand. “Striker would be crushed if you weren’t here to celebrate with him.”
Furious emerald eyes met his gaze. “Fine. You win. I’ll stay for the party. But I’m leaving when it’s over. And I’m sleeping in the guest room tonight.”
With her head held high she turned off the water, ducked under his arm, grabbed a towel, and slipped out of the bathroom. The sound of the guest room door slamming shut mimicked the closing coffin of their relationship.
Now what?
Now, he had about twenty-four hours to change her mind. And if that didn’t work, he had twenty-four hours to ensure Tanner wasn’t around to cause trouble for her in Seattle.
Chapter Thirteen
The party was a resounding success. All around her, men and women celebrated Striker’s election to vice president. They ate, drank, danced, flirted, and did a few other eye-popping yet arousing things that were typically reserved for private locations. Instead of joining in the merriment, Marcie hung to the side and watched the crowd while her thoughts swirled like a violent cyclone.
Was Hook right? Did she hide a fear of abandonment behind the guise of wanting to be independent? A large part of her worried he was dead on. It made sense. She picked guys like Tanner, who wouldn’t so much as slap a band-aid on her if she were gushing blood, forcing herself to manage everything on her own. Then, when the relationship inevitably failed, it didn’t matter, because she didn’t need them. These men didn’t play any significant role in her day-to-day, so she was no worse off when they vanished.
What the hell was she supposed to do if she gave in to Hook? If she allowed him to help her, to be her partner? How would she endure if he one day changed his mind and no longer wanted her? Today, she was strong, independent, and capable of taking care of herself. Yes, walking away from Hook was going to gut her, but she would survive as she had in the past.
If she stayed? If she allowed him to solve her Tanner problem and do things for her, she’d inevitably lose that part of herself that was strong and self-reliant. Then what would happen when he was gone? She’d no longer be the woman she was today. No longer be able to dust herself off and move on. She’d have to start from scratch, learning to be independent and take care of herself all over again. There was a chance she wouldn’t have the strength to build herself back up again.
Wasn’t it just better to avoid the possibility of heartbreak altogether? A couple came into her field of view as she leaned against the side of the house and tried to blend into the scenery. She had no idea who they were, the man wasn’t wearing a No Prisoners cut, but that was beside the point. They sat near the fire, whispering back and forth, stealing the occasional passionate kiss and making googly eyes at each other. They looked smitten, hopelessly in love.
And where was she? Guarding her heart like a junkyard dog, alone, and on the outskirts. She told Hook she’d be leaving after the party, yet she’d made no move toward any sort of plan to return to Seattle. Hadn’t booked a flight. Hadn’t rented a car. Hadn’t packed so much as a sock in her suitcase. Her head was such a mess.
The couple locked lips again and Marcie had to look away. Her heart ached too much to witness other’s blissful adoration.
“Okay, darlin’, I have no idea what happened between you and Hook, but I’m done letting you throw your own pity party over here.” Striker leaned against the wall next to her and held out an uncapped beer.
“Thanks. And congratulations.”
“Thanks, hon.” He pointed across the yard. “Hook looks even more wrecked than you do. You want to talk about it?”
Hook did look bad. Or sad, really. Standing in a group of laughing bikers, he wasn’t engaged in the conversation, but scanning the crowd. Probably looking for her. In true cowardly fashion, she’d avoided him like the plague since last night. “No. No, I don’t.”
With a heavy sigh, Striker faced her. “I’m just going to say one thing, then I’ll leave you alone. You’re it for that man.” He pointed toward Hook with his beer bottle. “Always have been. He stayed away years ago because you were way too fuckin’ young and it would have been wrong. But it’s not wrong now, and he wants you even more. He won’t hurt you, Marce. Not like you’re afraid of. That man will not abandon you. Ever.” He pressed a kiss to her cheek then pushed off the wall. “Think about it,” he called over his shoulder.
An ache formed between her eyes and she rubbed it. Was everyone onto her issues? She took a long drink from the frosty beer and when she lowered the bottle, her eyes locked with Hook’s. He looked like every woman’s fantasy with a T-shirt stretched across his powerful chest and jeans that hugged him in all the right places. But it was his gaze that held her captive. Sad and hopeful all at the same time.
Someone came and whispered in his ear. He nodded then shot her a wink mouthing don’t move. It was time to face the music. Time to put on her big girl panties and talk to him. Time to admit that maybe she did have some hang-ups.
Damn, Marcie looked good in those tiny denim shorts with the form fitting yellow V-neck T-shirt. Yellow was such a great color on her. Sunny like her personality. She was so close to him, yet might as well be a million miles away for the emotional distance between them.
“You hear me, Hook?” one of the prospects asked.
“Yeah, man, sorry. You said the coolers need more beer?”
“Uh huh. Want me to fill them?”
“Nah, Prospect. I’ll get it.” The fewer people inside his house the higher the chance it wouldn’t be destroyed by the end of the party.
He held up two fingers and mouthed two minutes to Marcie. Hopefully she’d wait for him. It’d been almost twenty-four hours since their fight and she hadn’t spoken a word to him. In fact, she’d avoided him the entire day. Since she seemed to need a bit of distance, he gave her space to set up for the party and made himself scarce.
That had given him exactly zero opportunities to apologize properly and beg her to stay. Because he would beg if he had to. He just couldn’t lose her. Not to mention the friends he contacted in Seattle to give Tanner a little talking to couldn’t track him down. Neither could the police. He appeared to have vanished. Something was up there. Something that had his gut churning. Marcie needed to know, to be vigilant.
He stepped into the sizable room he used as an office on the first level of his house. Often times, after far too many hours at the garage, he brought paperwork home to complete in peace and quiet. The office served as a dedicated work space. Tonight, it served as extra beer and liquor storage. The temperature outside had soared during the afternoon, making it too hot to store the plethora of booze in the garage.
As he bent to retrieve a case of beer, something—or rather someone, based on the shape and feel of a male body—slammed into him from behind. Hook was an excellent fighter, but a sneak attack, an ambush from behind was nearly impossible to anticipate or defend against.
“What the—” The force of the assault caused a forward momentum Hook was helpless to avoid, and he crashed headfirst into the tall stacks of liquor-filled boxes.
Sounds of smashing glass filled the room as a tower of boxes came tumbling to the ground. Hook landed in the heap and grunted in pain as a final box plummeted into his shoulder. Shit. That was going to leave a significant mark. Not to mention the one that would be left by the sharp points of multiple boxes digging into his back.
