by J D Worth
“I really wish I could, but I don’t see how staying is possible.” My eyes begin to water. I’ll have to leave this all behind far too soon.
“Well, we can scratch dive bar, moonshine, and gators off your list. Now what?” Cal asks as mischief dances in his eyes. I let out a laugh, wiping away tears on the verge of escape. Perilous thoughts of staying here have run through my head countless times, especially knowing Lilith’s place will be my only prospect.
“The low country boil with the blue crabs,” I reply, remembering Cal was going to treat me to local seafood.
“Yeah, let’s save that for your last night here. We’ll give you a proper send off.” Cal nods. Melancholy settles over me as the rising sun marks off another day, reminding me how my time is dwindling quicker than I could’ve imagine. We drop off the boat at the large marina located in Harbor Bay. When we reach my cottage, Mace tucks me in and kisses me goodnight before leaving.
Descending into a terrifying pitch-black nightmare, I find myself stranded on the boat stuck in the middle of swampy waters. I yell and scream, but nobody comes to my aid. Scratching noises curl around me as I swing around, discerning where the sound is coming from. More screams, more pleads of help, and still nothing but blackness. A bang makes me jump, and I blink into the sunlit corner of my room. My foggy brain takes a moment to shove the clinging nightmarish terror from the fringes of my mind. Releasing my grip from the quilt, I catch my breath.
Another loud bang has me out of my bed, padding on soft feet to the front door. Chaz may still be out there, lurking around like the predator that he is. I stand with my back to the door and machete in hand.
A hard rap at the door has me shivering in my spot. Glancing out the window, I catch sight of a professional flower delivery van and a man in a tan uniform tapping a hammer against my door.
Pitching the door open, I yell, “What do you think you’re doing?”
Clearing the door, he jumps back. “I have a flower delivery for a Miss Wakefield.”
“Oh. I’m Miss Wakefield.”
“Special instructions were left for me to hang the wreath on the door.” He aims his hammer to the nail sticking out of the door. “I knocked, but no one answered, so I went ahead with the delivery instructions. There was already a nail hole here, so I didn’t see the harm of following through.”
“That nail hole was left by a creepy stalker. You could’ve left the flowers on the doorstop. May I ask who placed the order?”
He slips the small hammer into his pocket and digs through his receipt pad with a worried look upon his face. “This was a special delivery paid in cash by an ‘Audrey Aster.’”
Clearing my throat, I ask, “Placed by Audrey Aster? Are you sure about that name?”
“That’s what the receipt says. We don’t service this far outta Northport. The woman paid extra to make the trip happen today.”
“A woman? Are you sure?” My heart jumps up my throat. What the fuck is going on here?
“Yes, I saw her as she was leaving. I’m sorry for your loss, ma’am.”
“What?” He holds the wreath up for me to see. A silver ‘With Sympathy’ ribbon flashes before me. The exact type of wreath, with pristine white roses and elegant ribbon, was present at my mother’s funeral. I cling to the door for support. “I’ve had no such loss. I assure you that this is a sick joke.”
He glances down and shakes his head. “I’m so sorry. Just doing my job. Nothing like this has ever happened before.”
“I’d appreciate it if you would please return the flowers.”
“I will, ma’am. I have the receipt that shows who placed the order. You could take that to the local sheriff and explain what happened. I’m sure he could track down the woman who’s stalking you.” He hands over the receipt. I stare down at my name on the piece of paper.
“Please wait one moment.” I rush inside and snatch the vase of white roses off the counter. “Did you by chance deliver this vase yesterday around dinner time?” I hand him the exquisite bouquet from the upscale flower shop.
He checks out the vase. “No, but that is one of our signature vases.”
He offers the stunning bouquet back to me, and I jerk my head. “No. Please drop them off to a nursing home, brighten someone else’s day. Will you please withhold future deliveries to me?”
“Given the circumstance, I’ll make a note. Good luck.” He grabs both sets of flowers and retreats back to his van, creating a dirt cloud as he speeds away.
Someone wants my attention. First the photo. Then the vase of flowers. Now the sickening wreath. Is there really a woman posing as me? What’s next?
17
I enjoy a box of gummy bears while sitting back on the chaise lounge of the sectional. Jax and Violet cuddle in the overstuffed chair as she curls up in his lap. Cal and Payton lounge next to me as we binge their favorite biker TV series. There’s still plenty of room for both Mace and Trent on the couch, but I’m guessing Trent won’t be around for a while. I have no idea when or if Mace will show up. Cal said he plans to tonight. He seems to come and go around his own busy schedule.
A rap towards my front door has Cal saying, “That’s gotta be Mace. Remember you locked the door.”
“I’ll go let him in.” I hop up with a smile, brushing off my overcautious maneuvers after a creep slipped into my cottage and left the vase of white roses. The same creep also sent me a sick reminder of a funeral wreath just last week. I peel open my door and don’t find anyone outside. “Mace?” I call out. We didn’t hear Darla rumble up, and his Jeep isn’t in my driveway.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch the broken hobnail tea glass with my blood on the railing post. A photo is stuffed inside paired with a white delicate rose. The close-up is of me napping in a tiny bikini on the beach from this just morning. The glass is from my private moment of rage that someone watched. A pit of uneasiness stews in my stomach. The stalker is much closer than I realize.
Lifting the glass, my hands tremble. “Fuck,” I say under my breath. There hasn’t been any other disturbing incidents since the wreath. I almost felt safe again. The glass is a game changer as I turn the makeshift vase around.
A poem marks the back of the photo in smudged black ink. I dig out the photo. The elegant, yet almost manic scroll reads: Though her skin is pale as white snow, she bleeds crimson red the day she’s dead.
A shiver drives deep as I run towards the woods and toss the glass and rose as far as I can. Bright headlights flash through the trees from Cal’s driveway. I jump out of fright while my heart batters against my chest like a heavy wrecking ball. Mace’s Jeep roars out of Cal’s driveway and onto the main road, heading for my cottage.
I look from the photo to his Jeep while hustling back to my deck. All along I assumed Chaz was stalking me. Could Mace be the true culprit? He was waiting for me at the resort. He popped up on the beach at just the right time to stop Chaz. He could’ve also saw me emerging from the woods and went to investigate, finding my smashed glasses. He seems to know a hell of a lot about me. Maybe he did send the mysterious ‘welcome home’ postcard after all.
I shake my head of such silly thoughts while snatching my forwarded mail from New York. I slip the photo into a Harvard course catalog as Mace unfolds from his Jeep. I take in his sea green eyes as he studies me out on my deck with my arm full of mail. A sexy curl of a smile unleashes upon his firm lips. Under his penetrating gaze, I’m a captive, weak and ready to surrender to his needy touch.
“Hey, Princess. Did you miss me?” He lifts me up and pins me to the door, kissing me with heat and desire. I grip his shoulder with my free hand. My body warms every time he’s near. He groans as he sets me down.
“I was just grabbing my mail.” I hold the mail close, keeping the photo a secret for now. The pieces aren’t all adding up yet. “Were you just at Cal’s?”
“Yeah, dropping off some tools. You guys still doing the Sons of Anarchy marathon?”
>
“Everyone but Trent.” I nod as we slip into the cottage, locking the door behind me.
“Fuckin’ Trent. He’ll never behave.” He chuckles as he kicks off his boots by my door. A smile lifts at the corners of his lips when spying the overabundance of candy on the ottoman. He puts his feet up on the chaise and tucks me into his body by wrapping his arm around me.
I nestle into him, lulled by his warmth and protection. He’s enticing like a smoky bonfire and soft leather. I can’t get enough as I inhale a deep breath. His hold on me tightens. How could I ever think this man could be out to destroy me? There is so much I still don’t know about Mace.
We take a quick break to refill our drinks when the episode ends. My hand shakes as I ponder the creepy messages. I need something, anything, to keep my mind off from the increasing threat right at my door. I ask, “Does anyone else ride a bike here?”
Cal speaks up, “I’d love me a big ole hog, but I can’t afford a bike right now. I have my truck for work and still gotta pay for school. All my extra money goes into redoing the cottage. Later, when I’m good and settled, I’ll have one.”
“Right there with you, brother,” Jax speaks up. “Someday, I’ll have a vintage one like Darla. I don’t care too much for the newer, bulkier models. Nice to look at, but I wanna ride an older one like my ole man did back in the day.”
Mace nods at him. “I’m still searching, brother. Got a good prospect for a complete rebuild that’s been parked in a barn out in the country. Hey, Princess, you should join me Friday on my trek across the state to the woods. Should be entertaining to say the least.” The room snickers.
“Umm, absolutely, but why are you all laughing?” I jump at the chance to put hundreds of miles between my stalker and me.
“Oh, you just wait, Goof. That’s my neck of the woods, and he’s talking back country. Like way back country.” Cal winks at me.
Jax says, “Can’t wait till you find me a bike so I can help paint my own bike.”
I smile at Mace. “You restored Darla?”
“Well, she was trashed before she was my Darla, but yeah,” Mace replies.
“Did you start from scratch?” I ask, intrigued. “That motorcycle seems in perfect condition. The restoration turned out beautiful.”
“My daddy used to specialize in finding old Ford trucks. They sell for a lot of money with collectors who restore ’em. I was out at one of the salvage yards, scoping out the vehicles and came across her. Right then I knew she was mine and named her Darla. She was a little darling leaning against a clunker, waiting for me to come by and rescue her.”
“Clever. I take it ‘Darla’ means darling.”
“Yeah, in old English.” Curling the corners of his mouth, Mace gives me a chin lift.
“Yeah, and not a stripper. Sorry about that,” I say. Mace laughs in a low rumble and kisses my head. “How long did the restoration take?”
“Motorcycles are quite different from rebuilding a car, easier in some ways. I locked myself in the garage till she was done and loved every moment of the restoration. She’s my pride and joy.”
“That’s impressive, Mace.”
“Jax was the one who designed the paint job after I told him what I wanted. He even sprayed the design himself.”
Raising my eyebrows, I shift my eyes over to Jax. “Wow. I love how the red and orange flames melt into one another, creating a perfect transition.”
“I’m an artist by trade. Painting, drawing, and especially ink.” He lifts up his shirt, showing his massive collection of tattoos on his chest. “I designed all of these. The classic Sailor Jerry styling is an ode to my tattoo career.” He points out all of the tattoos on his arms and even the one on his neck of a violet. “Mace, show her yours.”
Mace turns, revealing the sun I caught a glimpse of earlier. The middle of the sun sits at the top of his arm that meets the shoulder. The rays jet out all around, similar to the flames on his bike. I trace the flames, feeling Mace’s eyes burn into mine.
I tilt my head. “Only one? I’m truly surprised.”
“I have plans for a ton. I just don’t have the time needed to sit. I’ll get ’em eventually. Cal, you’re up.”
Cal whips off his tank top and turns his back to me. He has a tribal band design that goes across his back at shoulder level and a medallion on his shoulder. His last one looks like the name of his little brother entwined with another tribal design, running down the side of his built body. He looks much more intimidating without his shirt as his muscles ripple.
“Is that Aiden’s name?”
“Yeah, I got the ink for little brother. I wanted the piece done after he was born, but decided to wait till Jax could do the design. Aiden was premature and was touch and go for the first few days,” Cal says.
“That’s sweet. Aiden seems fine now. I guess everything worked out?”
“Thankfully. He’s small for his age, and his only problem is that speech delay, not too severe, and that may not even be from his early arrival. We had to learn baby sign language to help him communicate. He’s talking better now.” Cal cracks a big smile towards me as he puts his shirt back on. “Payton, it’s your turn for show and tell.”
She twists, and Cal peels back her jean shorts, revealing a tribal design on her lower back. “I went with these guys when they got theirs. Jax modified one of the designs for me and inked me for my birthday. Mine is similar to Cal’s shoulder tattoo just much smaller.” He flashes her a winning smile, slowly wooing her as the summer flies by.
“My turn!” Violet jumps up and shows off a small violet on her hip that perfectly matches Jax’s neck design.
“Beautiful work, Jax.”
Jax says, “I’m apprenticing under a guy who has a shop in Northport. I’m pulling more weekends now summer’s here and the clientele picks up. I work with Cal during the week, he guarantees me forty hours, and I need the money. My cousin, Odessa, is apprenticing in Myrtle Beach with a brilliant artist named Remi.”
Violet says, “Remi’s pretty famous too in the tattoo world.” She taps Jax’s realistic violet tattoo on his neck. “And he invited Jax to join him at his shop called Sinful Skin. The place is hopping with clients all the time. Jax will make a name for himself down there. I’ll be at The Art Institute of Charleston, which is only two hours away from Myrtle Beach.”
Jax smiles. “Each member of our crew got ink that counted towards my apprentice hours I needed to get my license. Now I can tattoo on my own. Cal and Mace were my first two clients.” Jax shares a prideful look with his two good friends.
“Our pleasure, brother,” Mace replies. “Trent and Colt’s tattoos alone covered your apprentice hours. They’re both covered in ink.”
I smile at the crew as Jax shares, “Violet and I are gonna settle down in Myrtle Beach. The customer base is at least three times that of Northport. College kids seem to be on a perpetual spring break there. Fort Jackson is close enough that the soldiers always flock to the beach for tattoos before deployment. Northport also has constant bike rallies. Mace goes to promote his motorcycle customizing and restoration business, which is huge right now. You wouldn’t believe the crazy amounts of dough bike enthusiasts pay for that service. I gotta keep an eye on my momma who’s planted herself here anyway, so I’ll be here for the paint jobs.”
“Mace, you restore and customize other people’s bikes as well?”
Mace replies, “A few. I’d like to switch the garage over to take on bikes full-time. I mostly work with older models and love the challenge. These bikes are worth restoring to their former glory ’cause they don’t make ’em anymore.”
“How do you promote your business at these bike rallies? Are there booths?”
“Darla’s her own booth. I usually ride her ’round and pass out my cards.”
“Instead of you having to work the crowd, they should come to your own booth. Darla is a masterpiece. I don’t know bikes, but she astounds me ever
y time I see her. Cal could construct a simple display area and run the booth with Payton, handling sales. Jax could paint your logo on a large sign like he did with Doc’s. Match Darla’s flames on each side of the display area. Make the display hard to miss.”
“Thanks, Darlin’, for appreciating our mighty fine work.” Jax shares a bright smile.
“Jax, you could silk screen T-shirts and bandanas with Doc’s logo. Don’t forget the female population. I imagine at bike rallies, they represent a large untapped customer base. Their spending power is tremendous and influential. They’d buy whatever you three guys plan to sell.”
