Twisted Steel: An MC Anthology: Second Edition

by Elizabeth Knox

  “Ms. Monroe.” My back stiffened at the sound of Luke’s voice.

  Shit.

  Shit.

  Shit.

  “Uh, hello, Mr. Matthews,” I replied with a falsely bright smile. From the corner of my eye, I saw my date lean back in his seat, one hand loosely holding his glass.

  “Imagine seeing you here—with Officer Edwards, no less. I wasn’t aware that you knew each other like this,” he said in a deceptively calm voice. The fury in his eyes belied his words and tone.

  A quick glance at Chet revealed his narrowed gaze flashing back and forth between me and Luke. His shoulders had tensed, and he had a white-knuckle grip on his fork.

  Inside, I screamed at Luke, Why do you care? You didn’t want me!

  Purposely ignoring his comment, I took a sip of my drink. Then it occurred to me that we were at a nice restaurant over at the lakes. “And who are you with tonight?” I asked in a manner that reflected innocent curiosity as I screamed inside.

  “Luke, there you are. When I came out of the restroom, you were gone,” a woman said from behind him. My own anger flared until he stepped to the side.

  “Mom, I’d like you to meet Ms. Monroe from the Leon Adolescent Drug Prevention and Rehabilitation Center.”

  Oh my God. His mother!

  The woman smiled warmly. “My name is Mary,” she said as she reached out to shake my hand. Her eyes were the same dark blue as her son’s, and it was obvious he had his mother’s cheekbones. “Thank you so much for what you do there.”

  She seemed to blink away tears.

  My cheeks heated at the jealousy that had spiked when I thought he was on a date. Then I realized that for all intents and purposes that’s what I looked like I was doing.

  Awkwardness engulfed me, and I had to remind myself that he’d essentially walked away from us and whatever we’d had. Granted, thanks to my stubborn pride I hadn’t reached out to him in over a week either. Not that I hadn’t wanted to.

  “Well, we should probably get going and let Ms. Monroe get back to her date,” he said with a slight sneer at the last word. “You two enjoy yourselves.”

  “Goodnight, and it was nice meeting you,” Mary said over her shoulder as she rushed to catch up to her son. He moved with such masculine grace, he reminded me of a panther prowling through his domain.

  More than anything, I wanted to run after him to tell him this wasn’t what it seemed, but that would shoot all my careful planning to shit. I needed to focus. I also needed to remember he was the one who had ended things.

  “So what exactly is your connection to Luke Matthews?” Chet asked the question as if it was idle curiosity, but the tenseness hadn’t left his shoulders.

  “We worked together on the planning for the annual fundraiser. As you probably know, his club was a huge contributor to its inception. You’re also probably aware they make a significant donation each year in both time and money.” I sipped my drink as if I wasn’t bothered by the query in the least.

  He snorted softly. “You mean his gang of thugs?”

  Frowning at his bitter tone, I shrugged. “I’m not really that familiar with them outside the fundraiser.” Lies!

  I was so familiar with Luke Matthews, I could draw him like a French girl from memory—that was, if I could draw anything outside of a stick figure.

  “Well, it might be a good idea to steer clear of him and his gang of merry misfits. They’re all trouble, and I’d hate to see you get tied up in that,” he said before he wiped his mouth with the cloth napkin.

  “Oh!” I tried for wide-eyed innocence again. “Have you known him long, then?”

  “My whole life. He was older than me though. I went to school with his brother.”

  “I see. Well, I’ll certainly keep that in mind, though I doubt our paths will cross outside of the annual fundraiser. Well, and occasionally running into each other in restaurants, it would seem.” Another artificial smile, and one last sip of my beverage.

  The waiter came by, and Chet gave him his credit card. I insisted on paying for my “bar tab.”

  “Well, it’s getting late. I suppose we should call it a night,” I said after he paid the bill. When I stood, I made a production of being unsteady. Pushing my boobs together as I leaned forward on the table to catch my balance, I gasped.

  “Oh! Goodness,” I said as I blinked innocently. Of course his eyes were focused on my display of cleavage again. I wanted to smirk at how predictable he was.

  “Let me walk you out,” he said as he clasped my elbow in a firm grip. He walked me to my car but placed a hand on my arm when I went to open my door.

  “As an officer of the law, it wouldn’t be prudent of me to let a lady drive home after several mixed drinks.”

  “I’m not drunk,” I insisted.

  “Maybe not blackout drunk, but you probably shouldn’t be driving. Let me give you a ride home,” he smoothly insisted.

  “Are you sure?” I asked, faking concern and appreciation.

  “Absolutely, and if you can’t get a ride over to pick up your car tomorrow, I’ll be happy to drive you back here.”

  “Oh, thank you so much.” I gripped my purse tightly and threw my arms around him, smashing my boobs into his chest. I wanted to cringe when his hand slid from my back to rest on the top of my ass.

  We were halfway back to Grantsville when he briefly glanced my way. “Since I’m driving, could I interest you in stopping by my place for a glass of wine? It’s not really all that late, so I thought we could maybe relax, talk, then I could run you home.”

  “That sounds lovely. Thank you,” I said with a doe-eyed gaze.

  He lived in a newer neighborhood in a beautiful home. He left his car parked in the driveway and ushered me inside.

  While I waited on the couch, I checked out the living room. Hardwood floors, massive stone fireplace, vaulted ceiling, with the upstairs looking down on the entire area. It seemed like a really expensive home for a small-town cop.

  Spinning to face him as I heard him return, I pasted a smile on my face as he set the glasses on a dark wood coffee table. After efficiently removing the cork, he poured the bloodred wine in each glass until they were half-full.

  With what I assumed he thought was a sultry look, he handed me my glass. “To new beginnings,” he said as he held his glass to mine.

  “To new beginnings,” I repeated. My glass gave a crystal ping when they met, and I took a small sip after swirling it gently in my glass and sniffing it properly. At least I thought that’s what I was supposed to do. A wine aficionado, I was not.

  I sat on the couch, placed my purse next to me, and slowly crossed my legs. “You have a beautiful home,” I offered.

  “Thank you.” He appeared somewhat distraught before he added, “My parents passed away several years ago. I was only able to buy this home because of their passing. It doesn’t seem right, but I’m thankful for their thoughtfulness every day.”

  “I’m so sorry!” I earnestly replied. Well, maybe that explained that.

  “It’s okay. Like I said, it’s been several years, but I still miss them every day.”

  Moving to set my glass on the table, I caught the base on the edge of the table. Red wine spilled across the dark wood and onto the floor. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry!”

  “It’s okay, I’ve got it.” He set his glass on the dry end of the table and went to the kitchen. Watching over my shoulder, I dug in my purse and pulled out the small vial.

  What I was doing was highly illegal, and I questioned the morality of it for a brief moment. Quickly dismissing my worries, I shook the powder into his glass and swirled it. Sweat ran down my back when the powder was still slightly visible. Unsure of what to do, I stirred it with my finger.

  His returning footsteps drew closer as I watched the wine still moving in his glass. Heart pounding, I nervously glanced from the wine to his approach.

  “Here! Let me do it. I made the mess,” I stood up, stepping in front of his gla
ss and reaching for the towel. I covertly wiped my finger on it.

  He grinned. “It’s okay. I’m not going to have a lady on her hands and knees cleaning my house.”

  The look in his eyes said he’d certainly like said lady on her knees for other things. A shiver of distaste shot through me. Honest to God, he hadn’t done a lot that was extremely cringe-worthy, but it was a gut feeling. That topped with what the kids had told me had my hairs standing on end.

  Once he mopped up the mess and wiped it down with the damp end of the towel, he left it sitting on the edge of the table. “More wine?” he asked with a smirk.

  “Please,” I said with a thankful smile. “And again, I’m so sorry I was such a klutz.”

  “It’s fine. Accidents happen,” he assured me.

  After refilling my glass, he picked his up again. It took everything in me not to stare at him as he drank from the tainted wine. I had no idea if he’d be able to taste it or not, and my hands were getting clammy as I fought to appear normal and relaxed.

  “This is fantastic,” I complimented as I took another sip and met his gaze over the rim.

  He cleared his throat and shifted on the couch, bringing his leg against mine. My breath caught, and I knew any second he’d call me out for what I’d done. Nervously, I took a bigger sip.

  “What do you say we finish this wine and maybe… engage in some”—I licked the wine from my lower lip seductively—“evening activities?” My voice came across as breathless, though it was far from being passion related.

  His mouth kicked up, and he downed the rest of his glass. Without another word, he stood and reached out for my hand. I gulped the rest of mine for courage, then set the empty glass with his.

  Before placing mine in his, I surreptitiously wiped the dampness on my dress.

  Legs shaking, I followed him hand-in-hand to what was obviously the master bedroom. The entire way, I prayed that the research I’d done was accurate. I needed to get him on the bed because I had no idea how long I had before he was out. If he actually went out.

  I prayed he went out.

  Shit, what if I hadn’t used enough? I hoped it would work, because there was no way I was actually going to go through with having sex with him. Ew. I’d find some way to bail before I did that.

  When we got to the bed, I boldly pushed him back to sit on the edge of the mattress. Inside, I was praying like a priest on Sunday morning for the drugs to take effect.

  “Damn, baby, I didn’t know you were this feisty.” He was slightly shocked but grinning broadly.

  “Lay down,” I whispered as I leaned in and ran my nose along his neck. At least he smelled good, though he did absolutely zilch for me. Thankfully, he kicked off his shoes and did as I said. He propped his head on his hands as he continued to grin.

  “I’m all yours,” he said as he raised his hips suggestively.

  God, no. Ugh.

  Trying to hide the tremor of my hands, I unbuckled his belt and made a production of pulling it free from his pants. Taking my time, I unbuttoned his shirt slowly. I bit my lip and gave him what I hoped was a teasingly seductive glance.

  Oh sweet Jesus, give me strength.

  Well. While he was tall and lean, he obviously didn’t take care of himself as well as Luke did. His stomach was a little paunchy when it wasn’t disguised by his jacket and shirt.

  Right when I was ever so slowly sliding his open shirt off his chest, he grabbed me and flipped us over so fast, I lost my breath.

  “What are you doing?” I gasped. He was suddenly like a fucking octopus. Hands everywhere at once, tugging my dress up, raining kisses over my neck and chest. Panic started to well in me as I tried to stop him.

  “Sorry, baby, I don’t do submissive well.” He nipped my neck, and I jerked my shoulder up to get him away.

  Not the plan! Not the plan! Not the plan! Abort! Abort!

  “Wait. Slow down,” I breathlessly demanded. “I-I-I wanted us to take our time,” I stuttered.

  “Next time. I need you too bad right now. You tempting me in this tight, sexy dress all night drove me crazy. Like I didn’t know you were flashing those pretty tits at me on purpose,” he panted, and his wet lips trailed over my skin.

  Eeeewww! I tried to wiggle away and remove his hands.

  “But—” was all I got out before he kissed me. I gagged when he shoved his tongue down my throat. He didn’t seem to notice as he moved back to my chest and bit my damn boob!

  “Ow!” I reflexively smacked his head.

  “Sorry, I can barely control myself around you,” he apologized without really stopping.

  Sweat broke out all over me. I had to keep telling myself I could do this. Simply needed to wait out the effects.

  Jesus fucking Christ, why isn’t that shit working?

  I began to question whether I’d been duped. After all, I wasn’t super savvy on buying illegal products. What if I’d been sold placebos or powdered sugar or something? Justine had gone out on a limb to get it for me. She’d be fired if anyone found out.

  That’s when I realized he was moving slower. He had pressed his face into my neck, and he attempted to bite me again, but he barely made contact before all of his weight went dead on me.

  “Oh God,” I wheezed. He was so heavy, I could barely get my lungs to expand. It took everything I had to get him wiggled off me. Glancing over at him, out of breath from my workout, I saw him staring at me as he lay prone in the bed, face turned my direction. “Chet?”

  I waved my hand in front of his face, but he stared unblinking. I shook him, but he still didn’t move.

  Praying I hadn’t used too much and killed him, I rested my ear against his back. The sound of his lungs filling with air had me exhaling in relief. His eyes being open creeped me out, but it was necessary for a minute.

  I shoved my hands under him to get in the pockets of his slacks for his phone. It wasn’t in the first one, nor was it in the next. “Shit!”

  Scrambling off the bed, I ran to the kitchen and found his jacket hanging over one of the chair backs. In the inside pocket, I found what I was looking for. I rushed back to the bedroom and held the phone in front of his face, then checked. It worked!

  “Thanks, Chet,” I whispered before I reached over and closed his eyes. As quickly as I could, I went through his text messages. Nothing. Next I checked his social media chats. Still nothing. Flipping from screen to screen, I worried that maybe he messaged on his computer or something.

  Dammit, I suck at this!

  Then I spotted the “misc” folder and opened it to find a messenger app. It was password protected. “Dammit! Please let it be facial recognition too,” I whispered and prayed as I held it in front of his face as I held his eyes wide with one hand.

  The app popped open, and I tried to still my racing heart. I could not believe that worked.

  At first I was confused. There were only a few messages from today, and they all referenced the recipient to a specific number. I could only assume he had deleted everything prior.

  I rummaged around in his dresser and bedside drawers. I checked the closet, the spare bedrooms, the kitchen, everywhere—no other phone. “Maybe it’s a partner,” I whispered. The kids had said it was always him, though.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck! Think!” I tapped the phone against my thigh. Then I froze. Heart beating so hard I thought it would explode, I called the number in the messages.

  It went to a voicemail that wasn’t set up. That was when I realized I’d heard vibrating. I called it again. The vibrating commenced. Trying to hold myself still and barely breathe, I tried to locate it. Three calls later, I found it under the bed. There was a small slit cut in the box spring liner. The phone was in a baggie taped to the inside.

  “Holy shit!” I whispered as I lay with my torso under the bed. “What the fuck do I do now?” It was one of those cheap store phones. No facial recognition; this had a passcode. I tried the last four digits of his actual phone number. Nothing. His house num
ber. Nope.

  The bed shifted above me and I froze. Eyes wide, I held my breath. Looking at the time, I realized I’d been here longer than I’d planned. I had no idea how long he would actually be out. It wasn’t every day I drugged people.

  When no further sound ensued, I cautiously scooted out from under the bed and slowly rose up to peek over the edge. Eyes still closed, he had moved his arm and leg a bit.

  Having no clue what to do next, I erased the calls I’d made from his phone, wiped it down with a dish towel, then used the towel to drop it back in his jacket. I grabbed my shoes and purse and tiptoed toward the door.

  The story of the tell-tale heart came to mind, as every little sound seemed amplified. I caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror in the foyer and cringed. I looked awful. Closing the door as quietly as I could, I speed walked to the sidewalk and hopped on one foot as I slipped on one shoe, then the next.

  My plan was to go a few blocks over, then call a cab.

  Except a truck pulled up next to me, brakes screeching as it stopped, and I shrieked.

  “Get in.”

  14

  Snow

  “Dying”—Stone Sour

  Rage didn’t begin to touch what I was feeling. Seeing her on a fucking date with that fucking prick Edwards pissed me off. Following them to his house after dropping off my mom had me burning mad. Seeing her stumbling out of his house looking just-been-fucked had me ready to kill someone with my bare hands.

  “I said, get the fuck in the truck, Hailey,” I growled out through clenched teeth. She stood on the sidewalk staring wide-eyed and wild like a deer caught in my headlights. “Now!”

  She jumped, and I momentarily regretted snapping at her. She glanced around before she cautiously opened the door. Without a word, she climbed in and closed the door.

  “Seat belt,” I demanded.

  Her hands shook as she did as I said. Hitting the gas, I rolled up the window as we roared out of the neighborhood. I didn’t trust myself to say anything further.