I was having a perfectly wonderful afternoon, and then Scott fucking Rockford had to screw it all up. His phone call while I was having my first espresso, wanting to know where I was and what I was doing, pissed me off. His questions weren’t the friendly, curious kind either. He still thought he owned me.

When I was his old lady, I thought it was kind of sexy that he wanted to keep tabs on me, but now I saw it for what it was. He wanted to control me so I couldn’t have a life of my own. Now he couldn’t seem to get it through his head we were done. Finished. Over. I wasn’t going to back to the life. For three months he’d left me alone, and now, just as I’d met someone interesting, he pops back up.

A chill washed over me. It couldn’t be a coincidence. He, or members of the club, must have been watching me. As long as I was alone he hadn’t hassled me, but the moment he felt threatened, like something he felt belonged to him might go to another guy, he stepped in. I swallowed hard, a cold weight forming in my stomach. I knew very well what Rock was capable of, what he’d done several times in the past.

The club women were kept at arm’s length from club business. Women couldn’t be members of the Ravens, but the women talked. Pooling the tidbits we’d heard from our men, we had a pretty good picture of what the Ravens did when something didn’t go their way or someone crossed them, and it wasn’t pretty. I didn’t know if Rock had actually killed anyone, but I’d seen his knuckles busted and bleeding more than once.

I pulled into the parking lot of my apartment complex. My apartment wasn’t large or fancy, but I didn’t need much. The units were older, but the complex was reasonably well kept and the rent was affordable. I pulled to a stop, switched off the car, and sat for a moment.

Now that the anger had cooled a little, I realized I shouldn’t have run out on Thom like that. It wasn’t his fault Rock had called and pissed me off, and I felt a little guilty for my actions. I dug my phone from my purse. His number was the last call I’d received. I added it to my contacts and gave it his name. I thought for a moment and decided to call him and apologize.

Just before I pressed the dial button, I saw Rock standing at the steps leading up to my apartment. He was leaning against the handrail, watching me. The chill of fear I felt earlier returned. He hadn’t ridden up after I’d parked. I would have heard the rumble of his Harley if he had. He was already here, waiting on me. I’d never been afraid of Rock before, but creeping tendrils of apprehension surrounded me.

I dropped my phone into my purse and considered leaving, but that would solve nothing. I couldn’t run from him forever. Screwing up my courage, I grabbed my purse and opened the door to my car. Head held high, I marched toward him.

“What are you doing here?” I demanded as I approached.

“I came to see you.”

“I thought I made it clear on the phone. I don’t want to see you.”

“You’re just upset. I thought we’d go for a ride, just you and me. You used to enjoy that.”

“That was before I realized how big an asshole you are.”

“Why don’t we go up to your apartment and talk about it?” he suggested with a winning smile.

“Why don’t you get lost?” I countered.

He smiled. “Mikki, babe, why—”

“Don’t ‘Mikki, babe,’ me. I want you to get out of here and leave me alone.”

“If that’s what you want.”

“Believe me, that’s what I want.”

“Tell me who the geek is and I’ll go.”

“What are you talking about?”

“That pussy at the park, the one driving the Volvo.”

“None of your damned business!”

He reached out and plucked at the strap of my workout shirt. “Did you dress like this for him?”

I swatted his hand away. “Don’t touch me, and it’s none of your business!”

“You’re part of the Ravens, and—”

“I’m not part of shit,” I hissed. “You saw to that.”

“You’re too good for that limp-dicked motherfucker. You belong to me.”

“I don’t belong to anyone, not anymore! Get that through you thick head!”

His eyes narrowed. “Are you fucking him?”

I thought about telling him yes just to piss him off, but I was afraid of what he might do if I provoked him too much. “Why do you care? You’ve got Trip-B. That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it?”

He sucked on his teeth. “I told you, that was a joke. Yeah, I said a few things, but I didn’t know she was going to—”

“That’s bullshit, and you know it!” I interrupted. “I’m done with your lies, Scott,” I said, intentionally avoiding his road name as a subtle reminder I wasn’t his nor part of his club anymore.

He grabbed my jaw and I froze in terror. “You listen to me, Mikki,” he growled. “You’re my old lady. I’m a patient guy, and I know you’re upset. Yeah, maybe I shouldn’t have let Trip-B think she could move in on you like that, but shit, Mikki, I thought you could handle yourself better than that. It’s not my fault you got your ass kicked. Still, I’m willing to admit I made a mistake, so I’m going to give you a little time to get your head out of your ass, but if I find out you’re fucking anyone else, it’s going to go down hard for them, and you. Got it?”

I nodded as much as I could and he released me. He smiled like we were having the best time in the world. “Now, we’re going to forget this little incident.”

I took a step back. “No, you’re going to get the fuck out of here and leave me alone or I’m going to call the cops and have you arrested for assault and stalking, got it?”

His face hardened. “My good nature and patience has a limit, Mikki. Don’t fuck with me.”

I pulled my phone out and pretended to dial. I waited a moment as if it were ringing. “Yes,” I said into the phone. “I’d like to report a stalker. Yes, at my apartment. Yes, I know him. Scott Fitzgerald Rockford. Yes, he’s here now. Cedarwood Apartments on Henton, building ‘C.’ Yes, thank you.” I smiled at him as I punched the button to end the nonexistent call. “A unit is on the way. You can explain to them how I’m your old lady.”

He glared at me a moment. “This isn’t over. You’re my old lady, and nobody is going to take you away from me.”

“Tell it to the cops.”

He glowered at me a moment longer, then smiled. “Be seeing you around,” he said as he turned and sauntered away. He disappeared around the corner of the building, heading for the parking lot on the other side, and I wilted in relief. One good thing the Ravens had taught me was how to bluff and put up a brave front even when I was scared shitless.

I heard the heavy rumble of a Harley starting before it roared away. I turned and hurried up to the third floor of the building and opened the door to my apartment, quickly slipping inside before making sure all the locks were engaged.

I blew out a cleansing breath as I dropped my purse into the chair by the door. Now that the danger had passed, Rock’s attitude pissed me off more than ever. He blamed me for what happened, and he was being reasonable and waiting for me to pull my head out of my ass? Fuck him and that iron horse he rode in on!

I wasn’t going to let him intimidate me. I’d have his ass thrown in jail for harassment, or stalking, or something. If that didn’t work, while I might not know all the gory details about what the Ravens did, I knew enough to have the cops crawling up their asses with flashlights and magnifying glasses.

I stormed around my apartment for a moment, trying to burn off tension, anger, and fear, before I stopped at the refrigerator and pulled out a beer. I glanced at the label and snorted.

Thom was opening my eyes in a lot of little ways. Maybe craft beer was like the double, double, chocolate grande frappuccino latte. The Ravens had convinced me that cappuccino, lattes, and the like were drinks for pussies, but after trying one, I discovered I liked it. Thom might not be a Raven, but I didn’t think he was a pussy either. I opened my bottle. I didn’t have any craft beer, so this would have to do for now.

I nursed my beer as I prepared a simple dinner. I smiled to myself as I pushed the chicken breast around in the pan. If Rock hadn’t called and pissed me off, I might be eating at Carolina Ale House right now with Thom, finding out if craft beer was for pussies or not. I was pretty sure he was working his way around to asking me to dinner again. I respected the fact he could take a punch, my rejection, but not go down for the count. He had confidence, but he wasn’t a dick.

I turned the chicken out onto a plate and added my mixed vegetables side. The more I thought about Thom, the more appealing he became. I enjoyed that he opened doors for me and welcomed that he didn’t pressure me. Because I’m an idiot, I’d turned down his dinner offer the first time, but he didn’t hassle me about it or seem to hold it against me.

It might have been a perfunctory offer, but I appreciated that he offered help after the phone call rather than telling me to ‘just fucking deal with it’ as Rock probably would have. If I’d knocked Rock down, like I had Thom, Rock would have called me every name in the book at the very least, and there was no way he’d take time from what he wanted to do in order to help me deal with an unruly dog that wasn’t even mine.

In short, Thom was everything Rock wasn’t, and wasn’t everything Rock was. Rock called him a geek and a pussy, but I was pretty sure Thom was anything but. Not being an asshole didn’t automatically make you a pussy.

I carried my laptop to the table. I wanted to know more about Mr. Thomas Gregg, the man with two first names. I logged into Facebook and searched while I ate. I found a couple of matches, but neither were him. I considered that he’d lied to me about his name but decided that it was more likely that, as hard as it was too believe, he didn’t have a Facebook account. What kind of person didn’t have a Facebook account?

I quickly washed my plate and grabbed another beer. Now I had a quest. I’d just sat down when my phone chimed with a text. I smiled as I read.

Checking to make sure you are okay. Had fun today. Will call you later in the week. Thom.

I shook my head. Thom, spelled with an ‘h,’ was a real charmer. I knew from experience Rock didn’t give two shits if I was upset about something. He didn’t want to hear it, and Thom asked me, a woman he barely knew, if I was okay.

Fine. Nothing to worry about. I had fun today, even if you are a slave driver. I pressed send and returned to the computer. I’d just gotten his name keyed into the search bar when my phone chimed again. I giggled at the face emoji sneering at me as it cracked a whip.

I sent a pair of lips, and almost immediately received back a face with hearts in its eyes and its tongue hanging out. I snickered again. Like after I knocked him down, he seemed able to toss out one line after another, even in emojis. I sent a blushing face, and seconds later, I got back a face with a halo.

You win I typed and pressed send. I couldn’t believe how much fun I was having.

What did I win?

How about a chance to ask me on a date?

Jackpot! came back with a thumbs up emoji.

I decided to stop there, or I’d be up all night typing on the phone. I smacked the enter key, wondering if Thom could keep it up more than his patter all night. I scrolled through all the search results. Most of it was junk that didn’t have anything to do with what I was looking for. Then I stumbled across an article about a Thomas Gregg from three years ago who had sold his company, PhoneBabel, to a search engine giant, Retriever, for 1.2 billion dollars. There weren’t a lot of details, and no pictures, so I wasn’t sure it was the same Thomas Gregg, but the article was from Columbia, South Carolina, and I remembered him saying he was from somewhere in South Carolina. If it was the same Thomas Gregg, Thom was filthy rich.

I refined my search, adding PhoneBabel but found nothing new about Thom. I did find out that PhoneBabel had developed real time, natural voice translation. I wasn’t sure what that meant, but the writer of the article was gushing over it, so it must have been a big deal.

I spent another hour digging but found nothing more recent than the articles I’d already seen. I did find a high school picture of him, though. He was the classic nerd back then, thin, wearing glasses and a classic men’s hair style. Even though his glasses were stylish, and his hair was neat if not cut in the latest trend, I wouldn’t have given him a second look in high school. In the picture I could see hints of the man he would become, but back then I was into jocks, motorheads, and bad boys, and would’ve turned my nose up at him had he dared approached me. I snapped the laptop closed. I wasn’t painting a very flattering picture of myself.

The rest of the evening I waffled back and forth on the PhoneBabel Thomas Gregg being the Thomas Gregg I knew. He drove a new Volvo XC90, and those weren’t cheap, and he said he was an angel, investing in companies, all indicators he had money. On the other hand, he seemed so normal. I didn’t know any billionaires to compare him too, but until I’d cyberstalked him, I didn’t have the first clue he could be rich. Not just rich, but super rich. I didn’t know how billionaires lived, but I couldn’t imagine them out running with their kid and sharing a cappuccino with a service writer from the local Harley-Davidson dealership.

As I turned in, I decided it didn’t matter if he was rich. If he was rich, he was rich, I wasn’t, so it didn’t matter. If he wasn’t rich, or at least as rich as I thought he might be, it still didn’t matter. Either way, I enjoyed his company and how he’d treated me so far, and that was all that was important.