Sinful Protector

by Mia Ford

  “Yeah?” I ask. “I guess I can see that. It must make for some embarrassing stories.”

  “Like this one,” Kyle grimaces. “Damn, what time even was it last night?”

  “About two-thirty,” I tell him.

  He looks stricken.

  “I’m really, really sorry,” he says.

  I roll my eyes and smile.

  “It’s okay,” I say with a shrug.

  His clothes are still drying, so I potter about my apartment, getting ready for class, while he sits awkwardly on the couch, still covered in blankets. Before long, however, he starts asking me about attending college, and I find myself answering his questions, if only for something to cover the silence with. Before I know it, time passes and the dryer clicks off.

  “Your clothes are ready,” I say, pleased, bringing him back the jeans and shirt he had worn last night.

  “Thank you for doing that,” he says as I drop them beside him.

  I leave the living room to give him some privacy. When I return, he’s dressed again and stretching his arms over his head, yawning.

  “Feeling better?” I ask.

  “Just a little more alive than I did before,” he jokes. “Allison, thank you. You could have just left me out in the hall last night.”

  “I didn’t want you to get sick,” I say with a shrug. “Especially considering you thought you were doing all that for my sake.”

  Kyle picks up his jacket and stares at it for a long moment. It’s still a little damp. He shrugs, though, and swings it on, his back to me.

  My breath catches.

  Despite the fact that was the second time I’ve seen him in the same jacket, I didn’t even question it last night. I think I just assumed it was his favorite one and left it at that.

  Looking at the huge symbol on the back, however, I suddenly realize that it’s more than just a favored jacket.

  The skull catches my attention first, grinning hideously right in the middle. There are two huge tires attached to the sides of it, facing outward as though it’s prepared to run over anyone in its way. Vines twirl in, out and around the skull and its wheels in an intricate weave. And underneath is a banner.

  Roughshod Rollers.

  I stare, my mouth suddenly dry. I’ve never seen that design before, but it doesn’t matter. I certainly recognize the kind of jacket and symbol that is used by those in a motorcycle club.

  So that means…Kyle rides a motorbike?

  I’ve never seen it. But, then again, Kyle has been drunk the only two times I’ve met him, so he wouldn’t be riding a bike in that condition anyway. Does he leave it at home and walk to the bar when he wants to drink? That, at least, is responsible, but…

  I draw in a deep breath.

  “Everything alright?” Kyle asks, his smile falling.

  “Yeah…yeah, it’s fine,” I say.

  There’s a lot I can say. I want to scream because I can’t believe that Kyle is involved with motorbikes. Those huge, hulking death traps were the reason that my father…

  I close my eyes. A long, long time ago, my father was involved in a motorbike accident. He had been riding his motorbike, his jacket firmly on his shoulders, proud to be part of the club that it represented. An impatient car had collided with him one day. The driver had gotten off injury-free. My father had been instantly killed by the impact.

  Motorbikes aren’t safe. It was an early lesson that I paid dearly to learn. As much as my father loved them, they’re not safe in traffic. There’s too much that could happen to them, too much harm that could be done in such a short moment when up against larger and heavier cars. After my father’s death, I had known then and there that I couldn’t have anything to do with these things, not if they could so easily take someone I loved from me.

  “I’d better head out,” Kyle says, stretching. “I’ve already caused enough problems. Thank you for putting up with me.”

  “It was no problem,” I say.

  I suddenly want him gone. Him and his stupid motorbike jacket. But I keep my thoughts to myself. I have no right to judge him for his interests. And I am still thankful to him for his concern, even if he could have found a better way to express it.

  I lock up my apartment and walk with him down to the bottom floor; I have some shopping to do before class, and I might as well get it out of the way now, I decide. We step outside, and Kyle winces before fishing a pair of shades out of his pocket.

  “Still too bright?” I ask, bemused.

  “Yeah,” he says, turning to grin at me.

  Then his smile drops abruptly. He’s staring at something behind me, I realize, and he lifts his sunglasses to get a better look, shock crossing his expression, followed by anger.

  Slowly, I turn around.

  There are words spray-painted over the front of the apartment building. The landlord, I think dimly, is going to have a field day over this one. They’re huge and done up in yellow, and I know exactly who did it and who the message is for.

  YOU’LL GET YOURS!

  A large hand lands on my shoulder.

  “Still think he’s harmless?” Kyle asks quietly.

  I close my eyes so I don’t have to see the words anymore, suddenly feeling a little sick. Everything Kyle told me last night is suddenly clambering for space at the front of my mind, and I run a hand over my face.

  Jesse’s harmless! I remind myself.

  Except, as I open my eyes and stare once more at the painted words, I suddenly realize that he isn’t, not anymore.

  “I think I’d better call the police,” I say quietly.

  It looks like Kyle was right and I was wrong. Jesse is serious, after all.

  Chapter Ten

  Kyle

  My motorbike roars beneath me, filling my ears with the sound, as I lean over the handles, my mind fixed on the direction I want to go. My entire body is tense; I’ve spent all day thinking about what happened this morning, and I know that I can’t leave this alone.

  And I certainly can’t leave Allison’s safety in the hands of the police. I’ve had dealings with them in the past before; they won’t do shit unless they have proof. What proof will Allison be able to offer them that Jesse was the one who graffitied the front of her apartment building?

  “My ex-boyfriend almost assaulted me the other night, and some stranger that I met and had sex with overheard him threatening me, so I’m sure it has to be him!”

  Yeah, that’s not going to go down very well. And even if the police did happen to believe Allison, what could they do then? There wouldn’t be any evidence that Jesse was there; the apartment Allison is living in doesn’t even have a camera - something I hope she’ll speak to the landlord about.

  Then there’s the question about what would happen next. So, Jesse spray-painted a building and made some empty threats. So what? At most, he’s acted like a child. As such, even if we could get past the first two problems, there was no way the police would treat this as anything more than a bout of mischief.

  They wouldn’t think there’s any cause for concern. And the more convinced the police are of this, the more convinced that Allison would also become. She already doesn’t think Jesse was a threat, but the words on her building and my warnings from the night made her waver enough to decide to call the police this morning.

  I have every intention of making sure she stays wary.

  I pull up in front of the University of Pennsylvania Law School and look up at it with a grimace. The lawns are freshly mowed, the paths are perfectly clean and the windows are gleaming. It’s exactly the sort of place that I wouldn’t feel like I belong.

  But it’s where Allison belongs, and that’s why I’m here. I remembered that she had said she had class today, and I snuck a look at her calendar while I was getting changed to see that she finishes at six tonight. I’m going to be here when she leaves and make sure she gets home safely.

  I don’t have to wait very long. Soon, I see a small group leave through the doors, and I sit up st
raighter on my motorbike, taking my helmet off so that Allison will recognize me. Before long, I see her. She’s walking next to another woman with dark skin, in deep conversation with her. I wait until they reach me.

  “Allison,” I say.

  Startled, Allison looks up. She obviously wasn’t expecting to see me here. The woman she’s with stares at me with unabashed curiosity and interest.

  “Kyle!” Allison says. “What are you doing here?”

  “I…” It feels stupid now that the moment to explain myself has come. I clear my throat. “I wanted to know how it went with the police.”

  “Ah.” Allison’s expression darkens. “They’ll get someone to come out and take a look, but…”

  She shrugs. It’s all I need to know that the police aren’t going to do something about this. I narrow my eyes. Then I’ll do something about it.

  “I see,” I say evenly.

  Allison shoots me a suspicious look.

  “How did you even know what time I finished?” she demands.

  “I saw your calendar this morning,” I confess. “After everything that happened, I didn’t want to take the risk, and I don’t really trust the police. Do you want a ride home?”

  Allison’s expression abruptly darkens.

  “No,” she snaps. She glances at her friend. “I’ll see you later.”

  Then she turns on her heel and stalks away. She’s mad, but I don’t really know why. Does she feel like I’ve invaded her privacy? To be fair, I probably shouldn’t have snooped, even if I do want to keep her safe.

  “She’ll take the bus home,” her friend offers, eyeing me. “So, you’re Kyle? I’m Jacqui.”

  “Good to meet you,” I say, shaking her hand. “I think I’ve upset her.”

  “Yeah, but probably not for the reason you’re thinking,” the woman says with a shrug. “Allison’s not a fan of motorbikes, so you showing up on one wasn’t the best idea.”

  “Oh.” That is something I can understand; there are many people that take a look at my bike and my jacket and then turn their noses up. It’s oddly painful to realize that Allison is one of those people who will judge me just because of the club I belong to. “I see.”

  “Actually, you really don’t,” Jacqui says with a small smile. “Allison has a very personal reason to dislike motorbikes. But…” She eyes me. “If it’s you, maybe she’ll calm down a little.”

  I frown.

  “What do you mean by that?” I ask.

  Jacqui shrugs, though there’s a small smile curving at her lips. Then she leans forward, her face alight with mischief. She reminds me a little of Ethan, who always has a ready smile and joke to cheer someone up.

  “Is it true that you came to her apartment last night to guard her door?” she asks.

  I cough, embarrassed.

  “Allison told you about that?” I ask.

  “We tell each other everything,” Jacqui says.

  That means Jacqui also knows about our night together after Jesse assaulted her. I sigh and grimace at the thought.

  “Right,” I say. “Well…I was a little drunk. And part of me believed what Jesse was saying.”

  “Yeah, but it ended up being true, right?” Jacqui points out. “Jesse was there last night, even if he didn’t go inside. That means he knows where Allison lives.” She scowls. “I’d like to know how he found out.” Then she sighs. “Not that it would be too hard; Allison didn’t go very far. It’s important to her that she isn’t very far from the college, because it makes commuting difficult. We sort of hoped that Jesse would be too stupid to realize that she lived so close, but it looks like that backfired.”

  “At this point, it might just be safer for Allison to get another apartment,” I say.

  “Right!” Jacqui says, grinning. “That’s what I said to her. But she’s stubborn, alright. She says that it doesn’t make much sense for her to move when he hasn’t done anything worse than spray-paint her apartment building.”

  “He did do worse,” I point out with a frown. “He grabbed her. Who knows what might have happened if I hadn’t walked past.”

  Jacqui blinks, looking at me intently. I feel like I’m being x-rayed, and I shuffle uncomfortably. Suddenly, Jacqui grins.

  “I like you,” she declares. “You know what? Allison is a little blinded; even though her relationship with Jesse sucked, and he was a violent shit that needed to be put in jail a long time ago, he never actually touched her, so she believes that it’ll be the same now. I don’t know why Jesse decided that his girlfriend was off-limits, I was only grateful for it. But Allison isn’t his girlfriend anymore, and she’s just the same as everyone else, now. On top of that, Jesse took their break-up hard and, from what she told me about the other night, he’s desperate for them to get back together. All that added up tells me that Allison doesn’t really know that she’s playing with fire right now.”

  “And she’s too convinced that Jesse is a foolish coward to see otherwise,” I say with a sigh. “But…” I run a hand down my face. “There was a look in Jesse’s eyes. It was…crazy.” I frown. “Did he love Allison?”

  “God, no,” Jacqui snorts, crossing her arms. “Fact is, they only stayed together so long because they were used to it. No, I think it’s more like he believes Allison is his, like a possession. That’s why he’s gone a bit insane; because he wasn’t prepared to have her leave him. Also, she did make his life a little better; she cooked and cleaned for him, and she bailed him out when he got in serious trouble, and the money she makes at her part-time job kept them afloat enough that he felt like he didn’t have to get a job.”

  I grimace. “He sounds like a Grade A asshole.”

  “Exactly,” Jacqui says, pleased. “Eventually, Allison had had enough and she left him, but she stuck it out way longer than she should have.” She snorts. “Not that Allison didn’t give as good as she got; that girl can curse like a sailor when she gets going, and she wasn’t shy about pulling her punches, either.”

  I try to imagine this. The Allison I know, so far, is stubborn and independent. While it surprises me to know that she hung around in a shitty relationship for a very long time, it also doesn’t surprise me that she would have stood up for herself in that relationship until it ended on her terms.

  “Either way, the two of them were terrible for each other and I threw her a party when she finally decided to leave him,” Jacqui says with a shrug. “If Jesse was smart, he’d realize that this was the best thing for them both. But he just wants her to come back and look after him again.” She rolls her eyes. “He never was very smart, anyway.”

  “I’ll say,” I mutter. “Well, I still don’t trust him, and I trust him even less after all that. I’m going to keep watch on Allison’s apartment. If I keep watch outside…”

  “You’re going to stalk her?” Jacqui asks, raising an eyebrow.

  “What… No!” I say, flustered at the accusation.

  “Then go up to her front door and tell her what you’re worried about her,” Jacqui says, shaking her head. “ Don’t just hang around outside and watch her window. Talk to her. Jesse was a coward. She doesn’t need you to be one, too.”

  I blink at the comparison and she walks away.

  “For the record, Allison and I aren’t together,” I call after her.

  She winks at me over her shoulder.

  “Yet,” she says.

  Then, with a wave, she disappears around the corner. I stare at the space where she had been, bemused. Jacqui thought that Allison and I should start a relationship? I snort. I barely know Allison, and she barely knows me. It wouldn’t work.

  Shaking my head, I turn my bike on and leave the campus. If I’m lucky, I’ll get there before Allison does on the far slower bus.

  When I reach Allison’s apartment, I stow my bike in the alley beside it, locking it up tight. I don’t want Allison to see it if it’s really causing her that many problems. Then I make my way to the front of the apartment.

  Al
lison is just approaching it from the street, and I can hear the sound of the bus meandering away in the distance. She looks up as I approach, blinking in surprise to see me.

  Then she sighs and gives me a small smile.

  “You’re really damn persistent, you know?” she says.

  I smile slightly. “So I’ve been told.”

  She rolls her eyes. She doesn’t seem angry anymore, which is a good thing.

  “Come on, then,” she says, shaking her head. “If you’re going to stalk me, you can come and help me set up.”

  “I’m not stalking you!” I protest, but I follow her anyway, into the building and up the familiar steps to the second floor, where her apartment is. Then what she said hits me and I frown. “Set up?”

  “Yeah,” Allison says.

  She shoves some bags at me, which I remember her carrying when she left the college, too. Startled, I grab them before they call and peer into them. They’re full of candy, chips and bottles of drink.

  “I’m having a small party tonight,” she explains. “It’s not anything big, just some friends over to drink and play games.”

  “I see,” I say as she unlocks her door and we enter. “So what do you need to set up?”

  “Mostly we just need to put food in bowls and the drinks in the fridge,” she says. “I do need to go back out and get some alcohol, though; I couldn’t take that to class.”

  I try to imagine Allison walking into class with a case of beer and I snort at the image.

  “Exactly,” Allison says with a grin, making a beeline for the kitchen and opening a cupboard. “Come and grab a bowl, I have a lot.”

  For several minutes the apartment is only full of the sounds of us opening plastic bags and pouring food into the bowls. I sneak a glimpse at Allison; the darkness is gone from her face and she doesn’t seem opposed to me being here.

  “What time are your friends arriving?” I ask.