by Romi Hart
There were so many reasons not to say anything about it, including the fact that no one here, in this area, knew anything about her former life. She’d kept it that way on purpose, cutting ties and making sure there wasn’t any way the wrong person could say the right thing at the wrong time. Any little tidbit about her past could have attracted attention, and she didn’t need that.
But when Corey returned with two ice packs, a glass of water, and some ibuprofen for her, the concern on his face made her think twice. He’d come to her rescue, a stroke of luck that he’d arrived early and found the door open. And he wasn’t running away screaming now. In fact, he gingerly placed one ice pack on her temple and handed her the other. She pressed it to her cheek and the corner of her mouth.
She’d never considered he might be a tender caretaker, with his rough exterior and demeanor. Sure, he showed care and consideration in bed, but that was completely different. Now, he touched her face, carefully brushing away the hair and gauging the damage. Regan didn’t even want to know what he saw.
Then, with a heavy sigh, he told her, “Take this,” handing her the second ice pack. “I’m going to clean up the clothes for you and hang them.” He moved quickly, rectifying the hangers and making sure the clothes were straight. Then, he carried them to her bedroom and returned swiftly.
He stood, looking at her with a strange expression she couldn’t read, and finally asked, “So, is that a current flame or someone from the past?”
Now she understood and shook her head. “I’m not seeing anyone else, Corey.”
His shoulders eased, some of the tension gone, but he was obviously still worried, and possibly a little wired for a fight. “Okay, so that’s a not so welcome blast from the past.” Regan nodded, averting her gaze. He was going to demand an explanation, and even if he didn’t do it vocally, his presence alone and his willingness to ask questions would draw it out of her.
He settled down next to her on the couch, turned her around, and laid her back against his chest. The safety of his arms was more comforting than she could have imagined, and she snuggled in, appreciating his warmth and strength and the emotions he exuded, both violent and tender. “Alright, Regan. I want you safe. I want to protect you. You know that, don’t you?”
“Yes,” she whispered, as if speaking out loud would break the spell of peace that had washed over her. Was this what he felt when he said she brought him peace?
“I can’t do that unless I know what’s going on. I want you to tell me everything so I can figure out what I need to do to make sure that son of a bitch never hurts you again. And I’ll stay here with you as long as it takes, even if you can’t face it right now. Even if it takes weeks.”
That was the most beautiful promise she’d ever heard, and Regan nodded against his chest. “Okay. David is my ex-husband.”
9
“Did you hear anything I just said?”
Corey blinked several times to clear his head. He’d been staring at Harrison for several minutes. Or rather, staring right through his club brother, his thoughts elsewhere. So the truth was, no, he’d heard shit. “I’m sorry,” Corey mumbled, shaking his head. “What?”
Harrison scowled, then took a seat, leaning back casually, as if he had all the time in the world. Great, Corey had changed the ‘hurry up and get what you need’ demeanor to a ‘what’s up doc’ nature. He hated when Harrison took on this persona. “Well, what I came for was to talk about putting more men on the strip club. I had to commandeer a few for Skye’s new place. She pays better anyway. But we’re really low on security at the old place, and things were just starting to turn around. We don’t need a setback.”
Truthfully, Corey regretted that they had ever purchased the dive. Sure, they’d spent a lot of time cleaning it – and its reputation – up, but it was such a stressful situation and had led to a lot of trouble. But Harrison usually took care of things, with Eli’s help, so Corey let it go. He waved a hand in the air now. “Whatever. Make sure you get the budget adjusted so we know what we’re spending in resources.”
“Yeah, I will. But maybe we could talk about what the hell crawled into your shorts and gave you jock itch.” Corey gawked at him, and he just shrugged. “Come on, boss. You would normally be all over this, asking me why, how many, who, what sort of hours we’re talking, and then probably bargaining down because you want more men on the hunt for Gomez. Or looking out for a back stab from one of these fair-weather allies. So, either you can’t concentrate because your crotch is on fire, or there’s something else distracting you. And that’s hard to believe, with the way you are about this club.”
Corey wanted to share, to maybe get advice. But two things stopped him. First of all, he was the leader of this club, and he didn’t want to be seen as weak. Asking for advice, especially when it came to women, seemed more out of character than his distant attitude and felt weak.
More importantly, Regan had confided in him, given him every detail of her past, and told him she had never shared all of that with anyone. It wasn’t his place to turn around and share that extremely personal information with Harrison or anyone else.
She’d seemed so small and vulnerable, even as she’d taken on the tone of a narrator, reading someone else’s biography. “David is my ex-husband,” she’d said, followed by a deep, shuddering breath that seemed to settle her in for a long story. “I was a bit of a wild child, and he was the perfect picture of happy marriage when we met. My mother wanted me to marry someone with money, promise, and a very kind but boring demeanor. David was all of that, and he was devoted to me. And I told myself I was in love with him, with the way he doted on me and seemed to always be there.
“So, we got married, and we lived in marital bliss for about six months. But then, he wanted me to quit my job. He didn’t like me paying attention to other people. And when I refused, he started showing up randomly, checking in on me with excuses like wanting to have lunch together. But he would drill me on what I was doing, who my coworkers were. Then, he started checking my phone every night and I found out he had a GPS tracking app on it so he could stalk me remotely.
“When I confronted him about it, he got angry and told me that if I had a problem with it, I didn’t need a phone. He broke the phone, and I was so upset I didn’t go to work the next day. He showed up with the latest model, flowers, and an apology that night, and I forgave him. But it just got worse and worse, until I had no friends or social activity outside of work. And even then, I worried about conversations with coworkers and would hide my phone in my locker, wrapped in cloth to help mute it.”
She’d tensed in his arms then, and Corey knew he hadn’t heard the worst of it. Of course, that was a given, considering what he’d witnessed when he’d arrived. The door was wide open, which was highly unusual, and he’d seen the painful grip the man had on her, the blood trickling from the corner of her mouth. He’d seen red, and only assuring her safety in the scuffle had stopped him from completely wailing on the bastard.
After a few breaths, Regan had continued, “One day, he apparently tried to call when I had the phone tucked away, and I didn’t answer. He showed up at work but played the concerned husband, all smiles and glee that everything was alright. But I knew when he left, that wasn’t the end of it. He’d called eighteen times.”
She shook her head and adjusted in his lap, and it made him wonder if she could still feel David’s hands on her, the pain he’d caused. He held her a little tighter, not wanting to smother her but needing to remind her that she was safe now. “I walked in the door that night, and he shoved me against the wall, used his forearm to choke me as he’d told me never to ignore his calls again. It scared me, but I felt like I deserved it. After all, one of the few things he asked of me was to answer when he called. He didn’t demand housework or meals. He just…” She sighed. “He was obsessive.”
“It’s abuse either way,” Corey had grumbled, keeping his tone low despite his urge to rant and break things, specifically th
is David guy’s bones.
“I know, but it’s hard to see it that way when you’re in that situation, which is why so many battered women struggle to leave. It didn’t matter, the violence escalated, and one night he was drunk and knocked me out. When I woke up, he was catering to me hand and foot, and I told him I thought I should go to the hospital to get checked out for a concussion. He grew fidgety, and I realized he’d drank a lot more while I was out. Seeing an opportunity, I told him that I’d just go get checked, saying I fell in the shower or something. And he could stay, sober up, and get some rest for work the next day.
“I took my wallet and phone, and I stuffed a change of clothes in a bag, telling him that I might need it, and I left. I maxed out the credit cards, getting cash advances, and I emptied the bank account, and I never looked back. I filed for divorce, set up a protective order, and I had him served with all those papers, but I made sure I covered my tracks so he couldn’t find me. And I ended up here. I moved every three months for two years before I landed here, and he found me twice, but he hadn’t shown up in over a year, and I thought I was safe.”
“You are safe,” he said forcefully. “I’m going to make sure of it.” Hesitating, he asked, “What does he want from you? And how dangerous is he?” Corey didn’t want to pry too deep into her personal life. They hadn’t crossed that bridge, and he didn’t want to invade her boundaries. But if he was going to be prepared to keep her safe from this guy, he had to know details. And she’d told him this much, so he assumed she wouldn’t hold back now.
“He’s obsessed. It’s a sickness, I think, like an addiction,” Regan had told him. “He can’t let go, and so he finds me and deludes himself into thinking we’re going to be together. He pretends, or maybe he actually believes, I left to get some professional help mentally and emotionally. I play along when he finds me because it’s safer than arguing. But now, he’s lost his job because he’s so obsessed, and that also means he’s free to pursue me as long as he wants.”
“You’re obviously scared of him, and with good reason,” Corey replied, stroking her arm absently with the back of his fingers. “I don’t want to take any risks here. I’m going after him.”
“No!” Regan shot up out of his lap and spun to face him. “Please, Corey, don’t get any more involved than you did tonight. I’m going to call the police and make a report. They’ll find him and bring him in for violating a protective order. And they’ll file assault charges with pictures of my face. Let them handle it. I don’t want there to be any chance you get hurt in this.”
“How am I going to get hurt, Regan?” he’d argued.
But she shook her head. “He’s one of those guys that won’t hesitate to kill you for what he sees as trying to steal me. I have every impression that he’s reached the point of thinking if he can’t have me, no one can.”
“All the more reason to take care of this before he comes back!” He’d stood and started to pace, fighting the urge to fly out the door and go on the hunt. He respected her request, but he didn’t like feeling impotent in this sort of situation. And he certainly didn’t trust the cops to get the job done. He didn’t have a problem with law enforcement, most of the time, and they had a mutual respect, unlike so many of the less above board biker clubs. But they were slow and didn’t have the drive that personal involvement created to get things under control.
And sometimes, the punishment wasn’t harsh enough. He could do better.
Her eyes had implored him, and he’d relented, instead deciding to try another direction. “If you won’t let me deal with him, let me take care of you. Come stay with me, or at the clubhouse. We’ve got great rooms. It’s almost like a nice hotel. I can have some of the prospects help me watch over you until he gets arrested, if you’re at my place or the clubhouse.”
She’d gazed up at him, and disappointment had settled in before she even spoke. Corey knew instantly she would refuse. “I can’t do that, Corey. I mean, I appreciate it, and I can’t say I would mind staying with you. But I refuse to let him take over my life, be the decision maker for me. He’s had that control for too long. It’s the reason I’ve moved so many times, the reason I’ve been so careful about getting close to anyone. I want to make things work with you, and that’s a huge step forward. If I run and hide behind you, that’s showing fear, and I won’t do it.”
Growling with frustration, he shoved a hand through his hair. “Can I at least post someone on watch over your apartment? And to follow you to and from work? That way, if there’s any warning flag, I’ll know right away, and there will be someone to take action.”
“I’ll agree to that,” she said, seeming relieved at the idea. Corey was just glad to have found a reasonable solution that set his mind a little more at ease and had her willing to cooperate. Even if it didn’t satisfy him entirely.
In reality, he knew that had been as much a selfish desire as anything else. Personally, he wanted to stab David’s eyes out, mutilate some very private areas of the man’s body, and skin him alive. And he wanted Regan in his bed, every night. But her refusal reminded him that they had discussed that they would take it slow and figure out what they wanted along the way. Asking her to move in, regardless of the excuse, was taking it too far too fast.
As for the bastard who threatened her, one way or another, Corey would tear his lungs from his chest in the end.
Now, with Harrison patiently waiting a response, Corey wasn’t sure what to say. He was tempted to see if Harrison could get to Regan through Skye, who was friends with Rory. Eli’s pregnant wife taught the yoga class that Regan attended, and Rory was pretty good at getting people to talk, which meant she could probably draw out the same story Corey had and then offer her sage wisdom on how well the Devil’s Flames protected the people they cared about.
Instead, he went a completely different direction. “It’s just woman troubles,” he sighed. “Which is fucked up, right? How long have I avoided women and all the pain and anguish that usually go with them?”
“I see.” Harrison narrowed his eyes and considered him carefully. “What sort of women troubles? The kind that you got a woman claiming you’re the baby’s daddy, or the kind where she’s got claws and seems to be clinging?”
Corey snorted. “I could handle either of those. Those are simple.”
Harrison whistled, his eyes wide. “Sounds like you do have some sort of predicament. What can I do to help?”
Protection was the only thing on Corey’s mind right now. He’d called one of the prospects and set him up as a lookout, telling him not to let Regan out of his sight until he got a replacement. But he needed to set up a twenty-four-seven detail. “Well, you could help me out with a detail. Take who you need for the club, but I need someone watching out for a woman in danger at all times. And they need to be very astute and not listless and likely to daydream. Focused.”
“Is this a Gomez problem?” Harrison sat at attention.
“No, in some ways it’s worse.” He wrote down Regan’s address and handed it to Harrison. “All hours, everywhere she goes. At home, at work, at the store. I don’t care if she goes for a bikini waxing, I want a detail outside the building, watching the door, and I don’t care how obvious they are. And if anyone comes anywhere near her or seems to be following her, they need to let me know immediately and be at her side.”
“Who is this woman?” Harrison asked, reading between the lines.
Giving him the honest response, Corey said, “She’s my massage therapist. And I’m just now starting to feel better. So, I need to keep her safe.”
Harrison chuckled. “I’d make a rotten joke about the fact that she must give amazing hand jobs, but you’re too serious for that to be funny.”
“You had to go there anyway, you sick son of a bitch.”
“I need a little light in my life. Who knew starting a strip joint from scratch, especially one that’s this high end, would be such a beatdown? Skye’s under so much stress I can barely touch her wi
thout her jumping and scolding me. And if I say the wrong thing, I get an hour long lecture. Trust me, working on this gives me something to do outside the strip clubs, and I’m grateful for the reprieve.”
He stood to leave, turning back to Corey and asking poignantly, “Would she go to this kind of trouble for you?”
Corey didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
With a nod of appreciation, Harrison disappeared, calling quietly, “Then she’s worth it.”
Corey steepled his fingers in front of his face and leaned his head against his hands. As far as he was concerned, Regan was more than worth it. He tended toward a protective nature, especially where women and children were concerned, and he would take a stance on abuse any day, whether he knew the victim or not. But the feelings he had in this case went far deeper that normal.
Yes, he wanted to protect Regan and keep her out of harm’s way, and he wanted to pummel the asshole who’d hurt her, until his face was nothing but mush on the ground. The feel of flesh bursting beneath his fists would be incredibly satisfying. But more than that, he wanted to make Regan happy. Safety wasn’t enough. He wanted her to have that relief, to not have to run anymore, but he also wanted her to have a future that was bright and offered her everything she’d dreamed of.
The question was, could he give that to her? Was he prepared to be present and attentive enough to offer her the happiness she deserved? He told himself, one thing at a time. Today, he needed to have someone watch over her in case David came back. Tomorrow, he needed to meet with two of the other club presidents, who said they had information to share. Then, he would go to his appointment and get his shoulders adjusted.
And over time, he would assess the possibility of moving forward with a relationship. It was a big decision he’d never thought he would face, but to feel completely certain that Regan had everything she needed, he knew he couldn’t just sit by and twiddle his thumbs. He trusted his men, but they didn’t have the same vested interest he did. Because he was falling in love.
