Big Daddy

by Alexis Abbott

  No avoiding that, though.

  I set the heavy bowl of breakfast on the nightstand next to her, and I carefully lean in just enough to whisper to her. “Juliette.”

  I see her lip twitch and curl upward, to my surprise, and she turns over in her sleep. She lets out a soft sigh, and I watch her body curl up and squirm softly under the sheets. Now I definitely don’t want to wake her. But as she murmurs in her sleep, that groggy, cracking, soft, almost whimpering sound of her voice makes my cock pulse gently and start to swell. Fuck, even in the moments when she looks like a living work of art, she gets me going. I need to get a hold of myself.

  But it’s tempting to just let her go and see where this dream she seems to be having takes her. Her mouth falls open, and the way her thighs are moving…

  Her eyes crack open, and I sit back slowly, furrowing my brow as she blinks a few times, then turns her tired eyes up and stares directly at me through bleary, half-closed eyelids. The gears almost visibly turn in her head for a few silent seconds before her eyes spring wide open. She bolts upright as if I’d just hit her with an adrenaline shot, and one of her arms shoots out to grab mine.

  The first thing out of her mouth is not what I’m expecting.

  “Shit I over slept! My mom has to take her medication at-” she starts to blurt, but I’m ready for this one.

  “Seven thirty at the latest, half an hour ago, when she takes half of her medications, and then another round of the rest immediately after a high fiber breakfast served at eight o’clock sharp,” I say smoothly, nodding.

  She stares at me blankly for a few moments, more surprised by my first words as she is of mine.

  “The instructions you wrote to yourself were in your car,” I explain. “I’ve got a good friend taking care of it. Your mom is fine,” I say in a low, soothing voice.

  But Juliette’s eyes have already started flitting around the room, and they’re clearly processing what they see in the way I was worried she would. The grip on my arm suddenly tightens, and I catch her other arm’s wrist just in time before she can throw a punch at me, and she starts fighting and trying to wrench away from me at the same time.

  “Where the hell am I?!” she shouts. “How did you get me here? I didn’t come home with you, I remember that much!”

  “You nearly got yourself in a world of hurt, little girl,” I growl as I stand up and wrestle her back down to the bed, careful to keep her from hurting herself more than anything. I can take a few stray knees to my side or fists to my leg that gets away from me, I’m more likely to accidentally hurt her here. She’s scared and confused, and I know I need to be patient, even though I must look like anything but the patient voice of reason in the situation.

  “Yeah, from you, apparently!” she snaps, and I finally let go of her to let her scramble back across the bed until her back hits the wooden wall, and her chest rises and falls with quick, shallow breaths as she glares at me.

  With the sheets off, she can see that she’s fully clothed, and I hope that at least gives her some hope about my intentions. That doesn’t change the true fact that she’s not here by choice, though.

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” I say, slowly reaching for the bowl of breakfast. “Look, you’ve had a long night. You’re going to want to eat something before you do anything else. Panicking takes energy.”

  Even I can hear her stomach growl as she sees and smells the hearty bowl of breakfast, and she definitely knows I heard. She scowls at me, then slowly extends her hands for the bowl before taking it and retreating to the wall again, glaring at me, but picking through the food with the spoon I stuck in it.

  “What is this?” she asks.

  “Eggs, meat, cheese,” I say matter-of-factly. “I’d have a biscuit to go with, but I was short on time.”

  “Is my mom really okay?” she demands without missing a beat. “What did you mean, a good friend? Who’s at my mom’s house?”

  I take out my phone and pull up the picture Tank sent me earlier this morning--a selfie of him crouching by Juliette’s mom’s bed, both of them giving the camera a thumbs up while Tank has medicine and a surprisingly good-looking breakfast whipped up.

  The favor he owed me was for saving his ass in the last skirmish with the Buzzsaws, so he owed me hard.

  “How…?” she says, mouth agape.

  “He told her an old friend of Diesel’s wanted to give you some time off,” I say simply. “That’s technically not a lie. Looks like she’s buying it. Tank will take care of her, and she has your own instructions to go on. I know it must sound funny coming from me, but you’ve got to trust me here.”

  She stares at me in disbelief for a few seconds, blinking slowly as she tries to wrap her head around her situation, still putting on as tough a face as she can muster despite how scared I can tell she is just under the surface. I’ve had a long time to know what fear looks like, and she might not be panicking, but I’m not out of the woods with her yet. Trust builds slowly--slower if you kidnap someone.

  “Well, if you wanted to poison me, you wouldn’t have gone through all the trouble of taking care of her,” she half-mumbles ruefully as she glares daggers at me and attacks her food, shoving it into her mouth ravenously once she gets a taste for it.

  I look away from her and run my hand over my shaved head so I’m not staring at her while she eats, but this isn’t going well. I need to get her to see my point of view and that this is for the best. If scaring her into it is what needs to happen, so be it.

  “Look, I know how this looks,” I say plainly. “Neither of us are stupid. But you’re somewhere safe and comfortable, and I have this place very well stocked with canned and dry food. Anyone could live here for weeks without trouble. But it’s cold enough in the nights now that you do not want to try wandering out there on foot, so don’t get any funny ideas. You won’t reach town, not where we’re at. You’re safer here, anyway.”

  “You kidnapped me!” she says.

  “For your protection!” I retort.

  A tense silence hangs between us, and my heart is pounding just as fiercely as hers clearly is. It doesn’t help that the way the light is hitting her still makes her look like a goddamn dark angel in the sheets, and it makes it all the more infuriating that I can’t have what I want with her right now. Not like this.

  “You weren’t taking my warning seriously,” I say, sitting back and letting my shoulders relax as she resumes eating. “You’re in danger, and you need to know exactly how much danger you’re in, and why I did this. The Buzzsaws hurt people, Juliette. They hurt women, treat them like property. They’re those kinds of bikers. They’ve been using strip clubs up and down the state as bases of operation. When the girls don’t comply, they get hurt--or worse. I’ve seen it.”

  She’s listening to me with rapt attention, and by the way she’s trying to keep her face from showing emotion, I can tell it’s upsetting her. I wish I could avoid it, but some lessons have to hurt.

  “That’s why you’re out here,” I say. “Because you obviously won’t stay out of the line of fire, so you’re going to stay here until we can get this war settled.”

  “You mean you’re keeping me here, because I’m your prisoner,” she corrects me, narrowing her eyes, and I frown.

  “You’re the one who wants to use that word,” I say, cracking a gruff smile. “Not me. But if you want to call it that, fine,” I say, standing up--she doesn’t flinch, nor does she break that defiant eye contact with me.

  Fuck, I’m never going to get her out of my mind. I can just feel it.

  “I don’t need you to cooperate to keep you safe, I just need you to stay put,” I say. “Eat up. I have some things to take care of,” I say, making my way out the door and locking her in before she has time to respond.

  My heart is pounding with as much desire for her as anger. That willful girl doesn’t know what’s best for her, and getting her to see things my way is proving harder than I thought. But I couldn’t just wait aroun
d for her to be the next victim of the fighting.

  Even if Diesel would never put his own sister through the kinds of things he does to other women, collateral damage has already happened, and the war has barely started. And with a growing gang like the Buzzsaws that draws the most ambitious bastards on this side of the country, there’s no telling when the power structure could change. And that’s never bloodless, not for anyone involved.

  I spend the day taking care of sprucing up the so-called prison. I make sure all the electric is good and still working properly, set up some cameras around the perimeter to make sure I can keep an eye on her at all times, check in on Tank, and check all the locks on premise.

  As I’m chopping firewood outside during the afternoon, I swear I feel the sensation of eyes on my back. My axe head crashes down on yet another piece of wood and splits it in half, but as I turn my head and let my gaze pan across the small clearing in the back of a long and winding dirt road where the cabin stands, it rests on the boarded-up bedroom window. There’s a small enough gap between the boards that I bet a pair of eyes could watch through from within. I narrow mine at the window, and I wink. When I turn to go back to chopping wood, the feeling of being watched has passed.

  Dinner is grilled cheeses with bacon and a hearty tomato basil soup--something simple, but filling and heavy. Once I’ve got it made, I take it back to the bedroom, carefully opening the door and watching for an attack from within. But when I step inside, I find that Juliette has fallen asleep, to my relief, and she seems to be a heavy sleeper. That, or she’s pretending. Either way, I don’t let my guard down as I carefully set the dinner down on the nightstand and take breakfast’s dishes from her.

  As I leave the bedroom and lock it behind me again, though, I hear a sound that makes my blood run cold: a motorcycle engine.

  There shouldn’t be anyone out here. Fuck.

  I immediately have my hand on my pistol and start approaching the door before I get a look at the man riding the bike, bringing it to a halt in front of the cabin in the last beams of twilight through the trees.

  “Breaker?” I grumble. “Tank, you motherfucking snitch.”

  Fifteen minutes later, I sit down on the couch opposite where the Heartbreakers’ prez sits, taking his own dinner out of the fast food bag he brought with him, still glaring at me warily. I’m getting used to being alone in tense rooms with people, it seems.

  “This is an act of war, Big Daddy,” Breaker says.

  “If keeping a civilian out of the fighting is an act of war, Prez,” I say, holding my ground, “then that’s the way it’s got to be. I did what I know is right.”

  “There’s going to be retribution for this, from the Buzzsaws,” Breaker says. “This is a kidnapping, they won’t take it lightly or give a fuck about your intentions.”

  “I know,” I say. “And I’m prepared to deal with that. It doesn’t change my mind about this.”

  “Little late to change your mind even if you wanted to, you are over that bridge my friend,” he says with a gruff smile, then looking down.

  “Don’t you come at me with that,” I say, sticking a finger out at him and making him raise his eyebrows--I don’t normally tangle with Breaker, not like Bones does, but I care about the issue this time. “We’re Heartbreakers. This whole club started when you pulled the same kind of stunt as this, remember? If you hadn’t made a stupid-ass impulsive decision to save someone you thought didn’t deserve getting hurt, we might not even be wearing these kuttes.”

  Breaker watches me for a few moments, then chuckles softly. “You might be quiet, Big Daddy, but I know you’ve got a good head on your shoulders. No, I’m not going to come down on you too hard for this, but we need to figure out what to do from here.”

  “Besides kill Tank for snitching on me?” I ask, smiling.

  “He did it for the good of the club--something you need to not lose sight of,” Breaker says, something I’ve never been accused of before.

  “That’s why I brought her here,” I say slowly. “To keep her away from club business. This is personal, or at least I consider it that way.”

  “Diesel won’t,” Breaker says, taking a deep breath...and then, a smile crosses his face that makes me wary. “Unless we put a spin on it.”

  “Huh?” I grunt. “What are you getting at?”

  “We want to avoid war,” Breaker says simply, leaning forward. “There are enough young riders in caskets out there. If there’s any way we can keep the Buzzsaws out of commission without bloodshed, that’s better than any alternatives.”

  “As long as we can bring the fuckers to justice, true enough,” I say, nodding.

  “We have lives at stake,” he goes on. “Multiple kids are on the way in the club. They’re going to be born into a warzone unless we can nip this in the bud. Now, we’ve been talking strategy and pinch points and supply lines until we’ve gotten blue in the face, but on the ride over here, I had an idea that might turn this into an opportunity.”

  “Hold on,” I say, furrowing my brow. “I’m not about to let Juliette get used as some kind of bargaining chip.”

  Breaker’s smile widens into a grin.

  “Maybe not a bargaining chip,” he says. “But how about a bride?”

  Juliette

  My heart is beating like hummingbird wings. I can hardly believe the words I’m hearing. These guys are talking about me like I’m some kind of commodity. A bride? For whom?

  Clearly, this is not a conversation I am meant to be privy to, but I managed to pick the lock in that admittedly cozy bedroom and sneak down the hallway. I guess there are a couple things my big brother taught me. Lock-picking is among them. Obviously it took me a little time, first just to work up the courage to creep out of bed and across the room. I know better than to poke a bear. That’s another thing I learned from Diesel. I don’t get an especially threatening vibe from Big Daddy, but what do I know? He did just kidnap me. That’s not a great indicator of his moral compass, probably. But then why did he help me? If he wants harm to come to me, he could have easily let that drunk guy catch up to me in the Muffler parking lot. He saved me and set me free. He let me leave. Only to capture me again! I can’t make sense of it.

  Once I finally convinced myself it was safe to try the lock, it took me a little while to work it open using a bobby pin I always keep tucked into my hair at the nape of my neck. While I picked the lock, I hardly dared to breathe. I sat totally silent, listening for any other sounds besides the shallow mechanics of my chest and the clicking of the lock. I worried that Big Daddy would hear me trying the door and come rushing to stop me. I don’t get the sense he would really hurt me. In fact, if I’m totally honest with myself, everything feels calmer when he’s nearby. It doesn’t make any sense, but it’s the truth. Still, whatever wires are crossed in my head to make me so drawn to my captor, I have to hold onto my goal: to get free. He may have found some guy to babysit my mom, but that’s not good enough. And I don’t like being told what to do.

  Of course, I didn’t expect to stumble upon this conversation between Big Daddy and one of his club brothers. I thought I could sneak out of the house and run away or at the very least get an idea of what the layout of the house is like. That way I can better plan a real escape. But now? I feel like all my plans have fallen apart in light of this new development. A wedding? They talk about it so casually, but to me, it’s like a strike through my heart.

  A storm of conflicting feelings overtake me. Apprehension. Panic. Confusion. And oddly enough, a strange lightning bolt of pure delight. I’m so surprised by that emotion it knocks me flat for a few moments. I have never given a lot of thought to marriage, or even dating. I’ve always had other priorities way ahead of it. So why is my heart melting? Why are my hands shaking? Why is there an annoying lump in my throat that won’t go away?

  No, I scold myself inwardly. That’s weird. Don’t feel that way. Stop it.

  “You really got her locked up like a princess in a tower, hu
h?” the guy called Breaker says. I hold my breath, waiting for the answer.

  Big Daddy grunts affirmatively. “Not my first choice of action, but I’m doing it to protect her. Even if she doesn’t realize it yet. Or ever,” he adds.

  “Well, keep an eye on her. I have a feeling she’s a runner,” Breaker remarks.

  “Yeah. You might be right about that,” is the slightly amused response.

  It dawns on me that this conversation might be drawing to a close any second now. I have to get moving before Big Daddy decides to come check on his captive princess. Careful not to take heavy steps, I softly pad down the hallway and slip back into the bedroom. I make sure to lock the door behind me, then I quickly flop myself back into bed, pulling the sheets up to my chin like a child hiding from a monster in the dark. I lie still for a moment, listening intently for any signs of my approaching captor. After a few minutes, I breathe a sigh of relief and decide I must have made my way back undetected. Now that I have a better idea of the blueprint, not to mention the startling news that I might become some biker guy’s truce bride, I can start plotting my escape. I have to admit that so far, Big Daddy has treated me well. He’s made accommodations for me and gone out of his way for me on a regular enough basis lately that I feel like he might be a decent person. You know, despite kidnapping me and all that.

  But that other guy? I don’t know about him. And if he’s representative of the rest of the club members, I don’t think I am totally safe here. I sit tangled up in the sheets for a long time, just picking through different escape scenarios in my mind. I sit and I listen. To my annoyance, the guy called Breaker ends up hanging around longer than I expect. As it turns out, my captor must be a surprisingly excellent conversationalist or something. They chat and skulk around the property for a while, and they’re always just far enough out of earshot for me to not understand what they’re talking about. Which, of course, is on purpose. I think. Probably.