He reaches his hand out to mine and I take it. His fingers are cold but smooth and feel small compared to the massive hands of Bryce. He releases me before gesturing toward the coffee. If he’s not aware I don’t have money, he will be when he realizes he has to pay.
Not to be greedy, but I choose the largest cup available before tipping the spout on the strongest Columbian blend they have. I avoid his gaze, but follow behind him to the register—blowing over the hot liquid in an attempt to cool it. I don’t know why…that shit never works.
Without question he pays, then places his hand at the small of my back, guiding me to the door. Outside, I find two bikes occupied by leather-clad men who are smoking. Next to them is a black Jeep with tinted windows.
“Can I get one of those?” I gesture to a cigarette dangling from the mouth of one of the older men.
“Sure thing, baby,” he replies, pulling one of the full flavored Marlboros from his cut.
“Thank you,” I breathe, already feeling relief from just the thought of the nicotine. I lean in, allowing him to light it. I close my eyes, taking a deep pull. When I open them, I notice their eyes are on me. Well, not on me, but what I assume is the swell of my eye from Craig’s brutal backhanded blow.
“Let’s go,” York suddenly says, making me jump. The older man glares at him, but he’s unaffected as he leads me to the passenger side of the Jeep. Helping me in, he shuts the door before coming around to climb in himself—folding his cut and placing it beneath the back seat.
I crack open my window, blowing the smoke out as we follow the bikes out of the parking lot. “Where are we going?”
He doesn’t look at me. “To a motel a few miles away,” he answers in a low tone that gives me the feeling he doesn’t approve.
“Why can’t you just take me home?”
“Like I said, ma’am. I’m just following orders.” Knowing I won’t get any more than that from him, I sip my coffee and finish my cigarette—wishing I had another. As if he could read my mind, he offers his pack to me. “Help yourself. You look like you need it.” I ignore the comment, but take the smoke and lighter.
We ride in silence down the two lane highway, until he pulls into a Days Inn. The two-story building is small, but looks new and clean. We walk past the reception desk, and down the long hall all the way to the end. He pulls a key from his pocket, unlocks the door, then holds it open gesturing for me to enter.
I become nervous. I don’t like that I’m here with no money, no reason and no familiar faces. The hair on the back of my neck prickles—warning me something isn’t right. I’m about to throw my hot coffee in his face and bolt when he speaks.
“Would you like me to call Bryce?” I look up at him to find him fighting a smile. I narrow my eyes, attempting to snatch the phone from his fingers. He pulls it out of my reach, and dials a number before handing it back to me.
“What?” The hard, menacing tone of Bryce’s voice makes me flinch.
“It’s me,” I say, my voice not nearly as snappy as I’d intended. Other than a few deep breaths, he’s silent. I wonder if he’s trying to calm his temper.
“You okay?” he asks, his voice softer now. His concern has tears brimming my eyes. What the fuck is wrong with me?
“Yeah,” I say on a whimper. I sniff—sloshing hot coffee on my sleeve as I raise my hand to wipe my nose.
“You’re safe, baby. Calm down and I’ll be there soon.” My heart flips at his words. In this moment, I want him more than ever. Not sexually, but just to feel his big arms around me—embracing me…rubbing my hair…whispering “shhh” in my ear, just like those damsel-in-distress moments in romance novels.
“Put York on the phone.” I wordlessly hand York the phone and walk into the room. It’s spacious and neat with a king-sized bed, desk and flat-screen TV. The bathroom is large too, and equipped with a whirlpool tub. Without thinking, I go to it and turn the hot tap on.
“If you need anything, I’m right outside the door. Just yell for me,” York says, laying the pack of cigarettes and lighter by the sink. I mumble a thank you, and push the bathroom door closed—turning on the heat lamp in the room.
The water is scalding, but I welcome the burn in hopes it will warm the chill I feel in my bones. I turn on the jets, light a cigarette and lean back—allowing the painful memories of today to resurface in my mind.
Craig had taken my money, and my car—the one thing I owned. Now I was penniless. Aside from the hundred or so dollars I had stashed out in my room, I had nothing. Clothes. That’s it. Even my bed and dresser didn’t belong to me. They were property of the club.
The threatening tears finally spill down my cheeks. I cry them silently other than an occasional sob I can’t prevent. Pushing myself beneath the water, I let the warmth wash away my tears. But the moment I resurface, a new wave of sadness hits me—flooding my cheeks once again.
I cry for my mother—a bitter, old bitch who hated me even more than the father who made me this way. I cry for my brother—a man willing to sell his sister’s body to pay his own debts. I cry for Bryce—the man who fucked me, held me, spanked me and came to my rescue even though I’m not worthy. And I cry for me—my soul, my demons, the incessant monster who claws at my skin, and ruins not only myself, but everyone in my path.
I cry until the weight of my problems becomes too heavy of a burden. Then I give myself to sleep—my temporary reprieve. The only break from reality I have.
CHAPTER 15
Thick, cool hands rub my head—the fine strands snagging on calluses as fingers caress me. A thumb brushes over my cheek, and I open my eyes to find Bryce’s green and blazing with anger at the spot he’s so gently stroking. When they meet mine, the anger diminishes and something warm and understanding replaces it.
“Hello, Love.” Love. I’m not sure if it’s that word, his tender touch or just his presence, but my eyes well with tears I wasn’t aware still remained. Swiping one with the pad of his thumb, he gives my face a gentle squeeze before standing.
I watch, crying hot, heavy tears as he pulls the drain on the tub. He grabs a thick towel from the rack, shaking it open then throwing it over his shoulder. Leaning down, his hands slide beneath my arms and lift me from the tub as if I were a toddler. Once I’m steady on my feet, he starts to dry me—keeping one hand on my waist while the other wipes the droplets of water from my skin.
My tears still fall. My face burns from their salty sting, but I don’t try to stop them. Other than a slight tremble in my lip, I’m otherwise unaffected. My breathing is normal and my pulse steady. My limbs feel heavy as if they’re weighted in lead, but I’m pretty sure that’s a result from Craig—not the crying.
I look at myself in the mirror. My naked body is visible to the tops of my thighs. I look tired, older. Dark, wide circles are beneath my red, puffy eyes. The corner of my left one partially closed from swelling. A bright crimson welt joins it and runs the length of my cheek. My hair is a wet, tangled mess. I seem smaller—more vulnerable than I’ve ever been.
Bryce’s reflection is the complete opposite of mine. His back strong, powerful. His patches are worn and faded—dirty and used. The reaper’s face centered on his back is hidden by the hood of his cape. I’ve never found a skeleton draped in fabric sexy, but this one…
Faded jeans sag on his hips. A black cap sits backwards on his head. The muscles in his neck are thick and visible before he covers my head with the towel—gently massaging the water from my sodden hair.
When I’m dry, my body slightly trembling from the cold and my fragile state, he wraps me in a fresh towel and finally—pulls me to his chest. He holds me…pets my hair…whispers to me.
“Shhh, Love. You’re okay. I got you.” He’s got me. Him. Bryce. I’ve never felt more protected—safe and secure—than in this moment. In his arms.
“He took it all,” I sob, a shiver wracking through me and shaking me to my core. I really didn’t care that Craig took my money and my car, it was that sliver of dignity he stole that was my undoing.
“It’s over now. You’re safe.” Soft kisses rain over the top of my head. “Come on.” He gives my butt a light tap, and pulls away.
I walk out of the bathroom and to the window that overlooks the parking lot. Other than a few cars, it’s vacant. Rolling clouds illuminated by the partially hidden moon pass quickly through the sky—warning us of an impending storm that will likely bring warmer weather.
The dark, looming shadow of his presence reflects in the glass as he stands silently behind me. The tension in the room thickens, or maybe it’s just the tension I feel burning inside me. I rub my hands up my arms—searching for the part of me that itches--it seems to be located somewhere I can’t scratch.
“Do you have an ol’ lady?” I ask, turning to face him. I’m not sure why I asked, but I’m gonna go with me trying to make conversation.
“If I had an ol’ lady, do you think I’d be here with you?” He pierces me with that intense glare of his. It’s a little unnerving.