Damon:A Bad Boy MC Romance Novel(100)

"Please, Boon. I came here to listen to your side of the story," I said,  turning back to him. He still looked distrustful, on edge. I wished  that the girls would leave but knew it would take a hurricane to move  them: Alicia wouldn't leave because she loved drama, Becky wouldn't  leave because she was basically a walking, talking ball of worry.

"First, tell me," Boon said with a sigh. "What did your father tell you?"

"He told me about the cop, Giordino. About your mother and father … that  he thought your father killed him. About the business your father was  doing in town. About the murders," I said, glazing over the details.

"That cop was crooked, Samantha," Boon said, looking up at me, his eyes  belying a desperation for me to believe him. "He was helping my father,  covering his tracks, for a cut of the profits. And it was all profit,  Samantha. He was getting loaded off our dirty business. My dad's dirty  business." I noticed how quick he was to push the blame onto his father.

"I was just a kid. I didn't know what was happening. I mean, I knew, I  knew what we were doing, whatever it was, was wrong. I knew we were  basically in hiding. I knew my mother was afraid. I knew my father  didn't give a shit about my mother.

I remember when the cop came knocking on the door. Giordino slamming  that door like he wanted to break it down. My father wasn't there, was  getting ice in the lobby. My mother was so afraid; there was almost  nothing left of her at that point, just a bundle of fear and anxiety.  That was all she was. The drugs my father pumped into her left her that  way. She opened the door. He barged in, gun out, screaming for my  father.         

     



 

I don't know what he wanted. Probably more money before the operation  shut down. I hid in the closet. I watched through the door. He pushed  her, he pushed my mother. And all she was doing … she was trying to get to  the money, a stash we kept in the room, in the bible. I saw her trying  to get to it.

And then he shot her. He shot my mother. Right in front of my face,  Samantha, right there, I thought I'd never hear anything again, the  sound was so loud, and she just … she smiled. She smiled, and the blood  started coming out but she was smiling and I thought she'd be okay, I  thought, she stood up, even, smiling, and then … "

Boon trailed off, his voice cracking. I wished, fervently, that I'd  forced Becky and Alicia wait outside. I didn't want him to have to go  through this in front of them. This was too much like how my father had  sounded. Boon shook his head, coughed, gathered himself. He seemed  considerably more sober than he had just a few minutes before.

"And then my father came. Shot him right in the back. No questions  asked. After that … well, then it was just the road. I blacked a lot out  after that. Next thing I remember, I was in a different city, a  different hotel, staring at the ceiling, seeing my mother's smile in the  pattern on the ceiling. In the drapes. In the shadows from passing  cars. It was everywhere. And I was alone," Boon said, coming to an end.  His eyes had dropped from mine, were staring down at his lap.

"Jesus. H. Christ," Alicia said from the corner. I snapped my head back  to her, giving her a death glare to end all death glares. She covered  her mouth with her hands and turned to Becky, who rolled her eyes and  grabbed Alicia's arm, pulling her towards the door.

"Sammy, we're gonna be right outside, okay?" I was thankful Becky was  there to keep Alicia in line. It was obvious, at this point, that I was  in no real danger from Boon, and that we needed the time alone. If Becky  hadn't been there, though, Alicia would have stuck around just to watch  everything play out. The door closed quietly behind them.

"And here it is, now, after all these years. You know, it's fucked,  Samantha. It's really fucked. I finally … I met you. You were amazing, and  beautiful, and you lived in the one place on earth I knew my father  would never return to. I didn't think anyone would recognize me. I  thought I could disappear. I thought I could … "

He seemed to lose steam as he spoke, deflating even more than he already  was with each word. I reached out, not even thinking about it, and  grabbed his hand. It felt warm in mine. It felt familiar, like I'd held  it a million times before. He looked up at me.

"Samantha, you're not the only reason I came here. I mean, you are, the  main reason. I could have gone a lot of places, I guess, but I chose  here. For you. But … I want out. I love my boys, I love the club, but I  can't deal with my father anymore. He's running it into the ground. He's  gone rogue. I want out before he really hurts someone. Before … before my  mother, it was all pretty harmless. I mean, sure, drugs and money, but  no one … no one got hurt hurt. Now it's like … it's almost like he's trying  to leave a string of bodies behind, no matter where we go.

And I'm scared of him. I'm scared to leave … so is everyone else. None of  us agree with the way he's running things, but we're all too damn scared  to do anything about it. I thought, maybe, if I came here, where he  wouldn't follow … I could start over. I could be a new man. I could maybe  try to do something good with my life.

But it's not in the cards, Samantha. This will follow me. Forever.  Wherever I go. I'm fortune's fool." He was speaking quickly, almost as  though he needed to say it all fast or else never say it at all. It was  like just saying the words scared him; I could see the anxiety in his  eyes.

"You're a good girl, though, Samantha. You don't deserve to get dragged  down into my … my mess. Go home. Go home to your mother and father and  your pool and your friends and college. You have everything in front of  you. Don't let me take that away," he said, closing his eyes and pulling  his hand away from mine. I could feel him drawing away, into himself,  shutting me out.

"No. Come with me. We'll talk to Daddy, we'll tell him everything, he'll  help you, he will!" I blurted out, desperate for him to return from  whatever dark place he was going. If he wanted to escape, start over … if  he just told Dad, we could help. Dad might not like the idea of Boon,  but I was sure that if he could just think of Boon as that 12-year-old  boy in that hotel room, he would change his heart.         

     



 

"Your father will shoot me right between my eyes if he ever sees me near  you again, and you know it. This is it for me, Samantha. I have to go  back to L.A. I have to face my father or … or just keep going. For as long  as I can. No matter what he asks me to do … "

Boon's voice trailed off, his eyes distant and glazed. I reached out for  him again, but he pulled back even further. I didn't know what to do.  I'd never had to comfort a man like him before. I could only think of  one thing. Reaching up to the straps of my tank top, I started to pull  them down, my breath coming heavy. Boon looked up, shook his head.

"Please, don't. I … fuck, I want you, but it's wrong. Not here. Not like  this. See, this is why I'm bad for you. You think you need to do that to  make me feel better? Make me stay? You didn't come here for that," he  said. I blushed.

"You don't know what I came here for," I whispered, letting the straps stay down but not pulling them further.

"You came here for answers. You've got them. Now you can go," Boon said,  flopping down onto his back and throwing an arm over his face.

"Can I ever see you again? Please? Just one more time … tomorrow night?  Please, just stay that long. Please, Boon," I said, pulling my straps  back up. He groaned.

"Can't you make this easy for me, Samantha? This is already so hard … "

"Please. Meet me tomorrow. Here," I said, a flash of inspiration coming  to me. I got up, grabbed the pad and pen from the nightstand, scribbled  an address. It was someplace I'd been many times, but always alone. If  this was going to be it, if Boon and I were going to be done, if that  was what he really wanted, I at least wanted this.

One more night with him. One more dance of flesh on flesh. If it was  going to end, I wanted it to end sweetly. I scribbled 9pm under the  address, and my name under that. What, if anything, would he remember of  this?

"I'll be waiting, Boon. And then you can go. You can go and forget me  forever, I promise," I said, the words bringing unbidden tears to my  eyes. It's a good thing I'm not in love, I thought, or this would sure  hurt a lot more.

This is what I have to say to my past self, as she stood in that room,  looking down at Boon: you don't know the first damn thing about love, or  hurt, or being hurt, or hurting. You still think this is lust. You  still think you can get away free and clear. You have more to learn than  you could ever imagine.





20





My parents were none too crazy about me going out the next night, but  what could they do? I was 18, had my own car, they couldn't exactly  ground me. Of course, they thought I was going to meet the girls.  Meanwhile, I hadn't heard anything from Boon, didn't know if he would  even show up.