The Biker's Baby

by N. Alleman

  I open my eyes, petrified of what I'm about to see.

  My sister is no longer slumped on the floor.

  Instead, she stands next to the bed, holding a bloodied baseball bat in her hands.

  She's a mess.

  Everything in the room is a bloody mess. It’s like I’ve stumbled straight into Hell.

  I yank my skirt down as low as I can and look around for Manny.

  He's lying face-down on the floor, twitching. I assume he's still alive because strange sounds are coming from his throat.

  Karen grabs me by the shoulders and makes me turn around to face her.

  "You have to go," she says weakly, another trail of blood running down her beautiful, broken face. "Take the cash under the floorboard in the kitchen and leave."

  "I'm not leaving you!" I whimper, but she screams in frustration.

  "LEAVE!" she yells. "You have to go! He'll never leave us alone. Can't you see that, Daisy? You don’t need to be mixed up in my mess.”

  I shake my head, and heavy tears spill down my cheeks. I don't want this to be real.

  Karen grabs me by my shoulders and marches me into the kitchen where she lifts the slightly-crooked floorboard and hands me a stack of bills.

  We're both sobbing soundlessly.

  "You have to go," she tells me. "Don't come back here. Just go somewhere else. There's enough money to start you off..."

  "I don't want to," I whisper, grabbing for her. She moves away from me, her swollen lips set in a thin line.

  "You'll never be safe here," she says, eyes narrowed. "Not with me."

  She points toward the front door. "Just go ... I'll deal with this."

  “I’ll get help…” I start, but she quickly jumps in.

  “You’ll do no such thing. Let me sort this out!”

  At that moment, Manny stumbles into the kitchen, mad as a bear and bleeding everywhere. How the hell is he standing right now?

  "Get out!" Karen yells at me, and I bolt for the door. I give her one last look right before Manny gets to her, and she mouths the three words I need to hear the most.

  ‘I love you’.

  ‘I love you too’, I mouth back, and then I run out of the apartment, leaving Karen behind to pick up the pieces.

  That is the last time I saw my sister.

  I wake with a start, and it takes me a moment to remember where I am. My breathing is shallow, and my heart is beating way too fast.

  What the hell just happened?

  My eyes look up to meet those of a stranger. His deep brown eyes draw me to him, though there’s something dark in them.

  “I…” I start to say, but my voice refuses to cooperate.

  His hood is pulled up, concealing most of his face, but I can make out a twisted smile, and the way that he’s licking his lips suggests that he wants to eat me for dessert.

  I’m doomed right from the start.

  3

  Jake

  "Cheers," I say, raising my glass to the blonde, but she doesn't move an inch. As I move to the other side of the table, I notice her brows are furrowed in a worried expression.

  Her beauty blows me away. She’s like a breathtaking piece of art. Her wavy blonde hair spills down her back, looking so soft it makes me want to touch it. Her perfectly formed nose tilts upward, and her plump lips remind me of a movie star.

  She’s a conventional beauty, but if you look deeper into her eyes there’s something more, something wonderful. But also something incredibly sad…

  She blinks a few times, like she’s trying to rid her eyes of sleep.

  When her gaze meets mine, the color of her eyes startle me.

  They’re a bright, piercing blue. Brighter than I’ve ever seen before.

  They’re stunning.

  She’s stunning. Every damn inch of her.

  "Nice nap?" I ask before taking a sip of my whiskey. I make sure to keep my face hidden by my hoodie. I don’t want her to recognize me from the news and freak out.

  "Err," she replies, nervously looking around as if she’s trying to remember where she is. Her shoulders slump, and I wonder what her story is. "Who are you again?"

  I move in closer, just near enough so she can see the outline of my jaw. "Who do you want me to be, baby doll?"

  The hairs on her arms stand on end, and I’m not sure if she’s scared or turned on. Then all color drains from her expression, and I realize that I’m going to have to change my tactics if I don’t want her to run for the hills—and I don’t. I want her to stay here and talk to me.

  I slide into the seat across from her and smile, trying to lessen her fear. “You don’t want to know my name.”

  It’s probably the most honest sentence I’ve spoken in a very long time.

  "Why not?" She leans forward, balancing on her elbows.

  I drown in her wonderfully symmetrical face.

  She’s the sort of woman that I would normally avoid, because I’d never have a shot with her. She’s just too perfect, a dream come true. I usually stick with trashy, classless women.

  "You wouldn't like what you'd hear." I toss back my glass of whiskey and set it down on the table. "How old are you?"

  I cut straight to the point. I don't have time for bullshit. If I want to sleep with this woman, I don't have time to question whether or not she’s jailbait.

  "Eighteen." She lowers her eyes shyly.

  I don’t think she’s lying. If she was, I think she’d have said twenty-one in hopes I’d buy her a drink.

  "Legal," I say, trying to wind her up, and she gives me a disgusted look as a response.

  I like seeing her emotions run free.

  Her face is like an open book. She jumps up, slings a backpack across her shoulders, then makes to leave, but I grab her wrist, my fingers pulling her closer. Her eyes find mine as I pull her onto my lap.

  The bar, which was annoyingly loud only a moment ago, is now quiet. I can feel her breath on my lips, her hands trembling under my touch.

  "What's the rush?" I ask softly against her lips. They’re so damn close to mine that I could taste her right now if I wanted to. But I don't want to scare her off.

  I want her to stay.

  I need her to stay.

  "You're scaring me," she whispers, her eyes resting on the bottom half of my face, the only part that’s clearly visible, since I'm wearing my hoodie.

  “Can I please see your face?” she asks.

  “No,” I protest, but she doesn’t listen.

  She pulls back my hood until my face is revealed.

  I take a deep breath as her eyes explore the contours that define me.

  Grabbing her wrist, I glare hard at her, not pleased at all about her disobedience.

  I wait for her to recognize who I am, but the moment never comes.

  After a few long seconds pass, I realize that she doesn’t recognize me at all. A huge weight falls off my shoulders. I’m safe for a little while longer.

  “Like what you see?” I ask in a deep, cocky voice.

  She smiles softly, like we’re playing some kind of game. And I guess in a way we are. Except it’s not a fair game, because I already know I’m gonna win and that she’s going to end up coming home with me tonight.

  I knew it the second I set my eyes on her.

  She gets off my lap without answering the question, gathers her purse, and is about to leave.

  “Where are you going?” I ask, and she points outside.

  “My car. Gotta go now. It was fun meeting you.”

  I’m up before she can take another step, and my body presses against her slight frame. “Come with me,” I say, grabbing her hand one more time.

  She shakes me off. “No,” she replies. “I have to get going, anyway.”

  Fuck.

  Denied, for the first time I can remember, and I’m none too pleased about it.

  I really want this girl.

  “Let me buy you a drink, then,” I offer, hating the fact I’ve turned into a desperate pu
ssy for this chick. But she has a pull on me, and I want more … a hell of a lot more.

  I want to taste her skin.

  To see what kind of panties she’s wearing.

  Tear them off with my teeth.

  She laughs, a soft and melodic sound that doesn’t belong in this seedy bar. Her hair is falling in her face, and she tucks it behind her ear like it’s nothing more than a nuisance while I’m standing there like a jackass, wishing I was the one touching her like that.

  What the hell is it about this girl?

  “No, I really have to get going, but thanks,” she says sweetly, escaping my grasp and walking toward the door. I’m left standing there like a fool, my mouth gaping open as she steps outside.

  For some reason, I just can’t let this girl walk out on me. I need to go after her, just to get a few more precious moments with her.

  I catch up to her, and my hand finds the small of her back.

  She jumps and gives me a confused look as we both head out of the bar, but she doesn’t stop me—the first positive sign I’ve gotten so far.

  “Need to walk you,” I say, barely able to hide my annoyance. “Something could happen to you out here. It’s not really safe.”

  She nods.

  The wind chimes above the doors jangle as we head outside, just in time to cover up some of the evening news report sounding from the TV above the bar.

  “Jake Malone, a fugitive, is still on the run from police...”

  I swiftly slam the door behind us, tugging my hoodie back up to cover my face. It’s a small miracle that this girl hasn’t recognized me yet, and I’m not risking it anymore.

  I’ve been lucky enough. I don’t want to push that. I have to stay in the shadows.

  I follow her as she heads for a shitty-looking car, which is sitting at the end of the in the parking lot.

  The night is damp and foggy—a horrible time to be outside, let alone driving. I wonder where she’s going, but I don’t ask. She’d probably ignore me, anyway, seeing as she hasn’t really told me anything about herself yet. She strikes me as a very private person.

  “You’re just going to leave me here?” I ask her as we’re walking.

  She gives me a quick nervous look. She walks really fast, like she’s trying to get away from something. I hope it’s not me. “I just need to go,” she mumbles.

  “Got family in town?”

  Why can’t I let her go? I should turn the fuck around and walk away from this girl. I’m giving her too much attention. More than I’ve ever given a chick before, and I’m probably creeping her out.

  She shakes her head as she stops beside the car and turns to face me. She crosses her arms over her chest and shivers.

  Without thinking, I slide off my hoodie, revealing my face to anyone nearby, and wrap it around her shoulders.

  “You look cold.” My words come out defensive, and she looks surprised by my sudden kindness.

  “I can’t return it,” she says with a sad smile. “I have to go now.”

  “It’s all right.” I shrug, like it doesn’t matter.

  In fact, I’m itching to rip the hoodie and the rest of her clothes from her body. I’m certainly not thinking about her returning it. “You sure I can’t tempt you for a drink?”

  “No, I should really get going.” Her voice doesn’t sound too sure, and we both linger in the parking lot like lost souls. “What’s your name?”

  Her question takes me by surprise. She seems genuinely interested in finding out the answer, and I can’t help but give in, however dangerous that might be.

  “Jake,” I admit, even though I shouldn’t.

  Her pupils dilate, but not with recognition.

  “I’m Daisy,” she says.

  “Daisy.” The name is soft and sweet on my lips, and I wonder if she tastes the same as her name does in my mouth. Fuck, I want to know. “Sure you don’t need a place to stay, Daisy? You seem a little lost.”

  She looks at her car and laughs mirthlessly. It’s a miserable sound which convinces me that she really has nowhere to go. I wonder why she’s here with only that shit-heap for transport. Why doesn’t she have money to get a room?

  I have a lot of questions about this girl, and I still don’t have a single fucking answer.

  “I’ll be okay,” she says. “What about you, Jake, will you be okay?”

  It’s then that I see a patrol car pulling into the parking lot.

  Daisy’s eyes spot the police too, and I can see her expression turn cold. Her pupils turn almost black with terror, which causes me to do the very thing that I’ve wanted to do since the first moment that first I saw her.

  I grab her by the waist, put a hand over her pretty mouth, and drag her into the shadows of a dark alley, away from prying eyes.

  Shit. It had to be done, but now she probably thinks I’m a fucking serial killer…

  4

  Daisy

  I don't have time to react. One moment, I'm standing in the deserted parking lot, and the next, Jake pulls me into a shadowy side street.

  I shiver as adrenaline rushes through my veins. My brain is screaming at me, begging me to stop this man from hurting me. It's no good, though—he's enormous, a wall of muscle and tattoos. I could never stop him, even if I fought with all my might.

  What the hell am I going to do? How is this happening all over again?

  I scream against his callused palm, my voice coming out as a small whimper. I'm really panicking now, the memory of Manny fresh in my mind.

  He drags me deeper into the shadows, but he doesn’t hurt me.

  There’s something in the way he moves that tells me perhaps his intention might not be to harm me. He's almost gentle, his grip firm, but he doesn’t overpower me.

  "Please," he begs me in the deep, gravelly voice which has come close to melting my heart so many times within the last fifteen minutes, although I couldn’t tell you why. It melts just a little more as I look up at him. "Please, just be quiet."

  I try to calm down once I realize that he isn't going to hurt me.

  This is about something else entirely. Even though I feel more confident in my safety, I can’t forget that we’re in a dirty alleyway, and the man who is holding me is a complete stranger.

  Anything could happen.

  Somewhere deep in the darkest recesses of my mind, I consider what it would be like if he did ravage me in this filthy place. I can’t stop myself from imagining his strong, taut body thrusting against me, and an involuntary moan escapes my lips, much to my embarrassment.

  But Jake isn’t even looking at me.

  I follow his gaze toward the parking lot, where the squad car has pulled up. Jake’s grasp on my mouth grows stiffer, more rigid. His heart pounds against my chest, the powerful thump, thump, thump betraying him.

  What the hell is wrong? Only a criminal would be afraid of the police.

  I whimper, suddenly afraid again. I try to get free, but he only holds me tighter.

  "Shh," he whispers. "Just a minute longer, I promise."

  The hand that’s wrapped possessively around my waist leaves my side for a moment, and his palm flattens against my cheek. I tense, scared of what he's going to do next. My heart flutters, matching the frightened rhythm of his.

  His hand gently glides down my face, stunning and soothing me all at once. He's caressing me softly, clumsily, like it's a motion that he's not used to.

  I remain tense at first, but once I realize that this isn't some sick prelude to a twisted game he's playing, I relax.

  Slumping into his arms, I allow him to hold me, and I nuzzle into his chest, feeling every single one of his hard muscles pressing against me. He’s a strong, powerful person who oozes masculinity like no one I’ve ever been close to before.

  He hesitates for a moment, trying to gauge whether it’s safe to move away yet. Once he decides I’m not going to run at the very first opportunity, he releases me and takes a step back.

  I realize I could scream at t
he top of my lungs.

  There's a squad car only a few feet away, and the cops would undoubtedly come to my aid.

  But I can't bring myself to shout for help. I'm too engrossed in this stranger, too curious to let him go now.

  Plus, my opinion of the police isn’t exactly the highest. When I first tried to report Karen missing, despite her insistence that I shouldn’t, they completely blew me off as some sort of hysterical idiot.

  "What's going on?" I ask, my voice shaking. I lean against him, wondering what it is we’re hiding from. "Why did you drag me in here?"

  "I needed to hide." Jake motions toward the two police officers who are now heading inside the bar. "I didn't want those two to see me."

  "Why not?" My heart pounds, and I'm not sure I want to know the answer, but it's too late now. The words are already out in the open.

  "You really don't know who I am, do you?" he asks me incredulously, and I give him a wide-eyed look as a reply.

  It's the first time we've met. How am I supposed to know who he is?

  "You're ... Jake," I say simply. He stares at me, stunned, like a wounded animal ready to strike back. There's a vulnerability in his eyes, like I've just hurt him on some deep emotional level.

  Should I know who this guy is? Oh God, is he famous? I’ve never kept up with popular culture, so there’s no way I would know if he was.

  "I haven't been Jake in a while." He averts his gaze. "You don’t have anywhere to go, do you?”

  His question takes me by surprise, and it’s my turn to look away.

  I blush.

  "Yeah, I don't really have a place to go," I admit. "My car ... I ran out of gas, so I won't be able to go anywhere tonight anyway. I guess I’ll just sleep in there.”

  "I see."

  I love that he doesn't question why I can't go further. He just accepts my answer and is now pondering where we’re going to go from here.

  "I'll help you, if you want. You’re more than welcome to come and stay with me. But first, I have to tell you who I am."

  "Okay," I whisper, giving him what I think is my most trusting look. For some reason, even though I've just met Jake, he doesn't seem like he'd hurt me. He’s huge, ripped, and has lines of ink peeking out from his sleeves, but I don't think he wants to cause me any harm.