CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

“Give me a book boyfriend any day. Real men are a big fat disappointment.” – Winter Deseille.

 

“You shouldn’t be worried considering we’re over and have been for months. I don't care, Chad. It’s still no. It’ll always be no, and you know why, so do us both a favor and lose this number.” The woman behind the U-shaped shiny counter said in an angry whisper into the phone. “You know what you did! Don’t play the forgetful card with me.” Her back turned to preserve privacy, Zara guessed, but it was more than evident she was shaking. The French manicured hand she lifted to her shoulder length icy-gray hair was visibly trembling.

Zara frowned. Not because she’d been waiting several minutes to check out her pile of books this week, but she didn’t like the tone she was hearing in the librarian’s voice.

It was unguarded fear.

And Zara knew all too well how a voice could tremble with anxiety.

Her own belly without warning began to claw-clutch in sympathy and for a crazy second, she wanted to call Rider to come and shield her from listening to this woman’s upset.

Cradling her books tighter, the heavy weight of the hardbacks forgotten, she glanced over her shoulder out of the glass doors. Slider was out in his SUV waiting for her. One signal from her and he’d come instantly.

But that was ridiculous, and this was none of her business.

“I don’t care. Not anymore.” The woman whispered, her voice shaking. “You said it all before, or did you forget you called me a fat waste of your precious time? It’s bull-crap. It’s over. It was over a long time ago. I don’t want to hear whatever lies you have to say this time, save it for someone who cares.” With a press of a button the silvery-blond woman dismissed the call and inhaled intensely with her body sagging in the middle with relief, Zara identified, before shoving the cell phone under the counter. It was another thirty seconds before she turned to see Zara.

Zara smiled.

The woman with the gorgeous fuller figure in the thigh hugging pinstripe A-line skirt flushed. “Oh. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you were waiting. My apologies, really.”

“It’s no problem at all.” Zara told her gently seeing how the shaken woman tried to pull herself together in seconds. Like a veil had come down over her fear suddenly she was just a stunningly pretty woman again like nothing had occurred in the last two minutes. But it didn’t hide how her pupils were wild, or the dark circles under her eyes.

The librarian looked to be in her early thirties, Zara estimated, with wispy silver-blond shoulder length hair that reminded Zara of a classic pinup model from the early 60’s with her hourglass figure and sense of style about her. Her lips were ruby red and full, and she wore a fitted knee length skirt and a tucked long sleeved white blouse. And maybe Zara spied the high gray pumps the librarian wore too. Shoe envy was a real thing.

Armado Springs wasn’t large compared to other places. Faces were recognizable on the street, but big enough that people weren’t up in your business, unless you were the girlfriend of a notorious biker-man that was. Everyone knew Rider Marinos and now Zara by association but as, yet her memory wasn’t placing the woman anywhere other than here at the library.

Since Harper’s birth this and her date nights with Rider were the few outings Zara made each week to replenish her book fix. Rider always made sure to keep her amazon account fully stocked with credit but there was something so romantic and indulging about holding a heavy paper book in her hands that it was hard to let the habit go. There was nothing like getting lost in a romance novel.

Was it polite to ask where she’d come from? Maybe not, she thought. The woman wasn’t new-new. But she wasn’t long to the city, that much she could gather. Her boys were terrible gossips and if they’d seen a gorgeous woman like this one around town one of them was sure to have mentioned it at the club since they were forever chasing one woman or another always.

“I really am sorry. We’re not usually busy this time of night,” she explained taking the books Zara handed over to scan them. Zara got the feeling the woman was used to offering apologies for many things as her default setting.

She knew the feeling all too well. Not now. But before. Offering an apology in hopes a thump didn’t follow. I’m sorry I dropped your food when you punched me, it’s all my fault. I’m sorry I didn’t read your mind and anticipate where you wanted me to be. I’m sorry for breathing. Every one of Zara’s spidey senses on alert hurt her belly.

She recognized silent abuse more than most.

“I didn’t mind waiting. I love the library. It’s peaceful and I don’t mind telling you, it’s my little slice of me time,” Zara smiled in hopes of putting the woman at ease. “My house is, let’s say, with a new baby, it’s never a dull moment. And that’s just with my guy when he can’t find his keys when he knows fine well he left them on the hall table the night before but of course being a man, his eyes don’t work as good as ours do.” She said with affection for her big bad biker-man.

The woman chuckled too, color returned to her cheeks in turn some of the worry from her face faded. “How old is your baby?”

“She’s coming up on four months. Born on New Year’s Eve.”

“Oh, how sweet!” The books checked out and handed back to Zara who put them in her tote bag which read; ‘For Books and Wine Only. Never Veggies.’ on the side. A gag gift from Ruby this past Christmas.

“Don’t even get me started,” warned Zara, she touched the braid over one shoulder before swinging it around back. “I’ll be here all-night swiping through pictures for you if you show even the slightest interest in my princess. I’m an unashamed show-off mom. Her dad is even worse.”

The woman flashed a sudden grin. “I’d love to see baby pictures. My best friend from back home sends me pictures of her kids all the time. Though, I’m not sure it was necessary to show me the first potty training.”

“Where’s back home?”  

Zara couldn’t be sure, since the woman began fussing with a pot of sticky notes to the side of her next to a cactus plant, but it appeared she blanched a little at the question, further sending Zara’s senses into a nosy tailspin.

Who had hurt this woman? And better question, who was still scaring her?

“Washington DC.”

“That’s some distance.” Remarked Zara. “I’m from Boston originally but I have family all over the states. It gives me an excuse to travel. At least,” she smiled. “That’s the plan this summer. I have a cousin in New York who is getting married. I’m determined to get there and shop until I drop.”

“I love New York,” a wistful smile. “The stores are to die for. But take out a million-dollar loan before you go.”

Zara laughed and offered her hand. “I’m Zara.” The woman grasped it gently.

“Good to meet you, I’m Winter.” Zara raised a brow and Winter chuckled with ease. “I know right? My sister is called Summer. Thanks, mom and dad.”

“I think it’s a gorgeous name.”

“Well,” blush. Shy head dip. “Thank you.”

“I love the shelf there.” Zara pointed to a three-tier just behind her with a sign that said, “I don’t remember the title but it’s blue.” Every book on it was blue. Winter grinned and took the compliment gracefully.

Lifting the tote onto her shoulder, Zara shifted on her ballet pumps. “I should get going to see what trouble man and daughter have gotten themselves in to in my absence. Thanks for the adult chat.” Zara said.

With a million things on the very tip of her tongue she ached to say something. Reluctant to appear nosy held her back. It wasn’t her business, she reasoned with herself.

But wouldn’t she want someone in that same position to intervene, if only to ask if they were okay? Are you okay can go a long way to let a person know they’re not alone even when they feel it.

So many what if’s she’d gone through the three years of her captivity that if somehow someone had asked her how she was, she would have asked for help immediately. And with her ongoing therapy twice, sometimes three times a week, Zara was learning to have more courage in life, not just with her recovery. To speak up, to listen to her gut instincts and right now her gut was singing like a soprano that this woman might need help.

 “Any time, hope to see you again. Enjoy your books. I’ve read several of them and they were wonderful. There’s a hot tattooed hero in one of them.” Offered Winter with a girlish grin.

Mmm. Just like her own tattooed biker-hero. “Thank you, I will.” Zara took a step towards the door.

Then stopped.

She just couldn’t neglect her instincts. Even if Winter told her to fuck off.

Don’t get involved her old man would probably say, but she couldn’t help it.

“Listen,” she started. Winter turned from her task, eyebrow raised in question. “I couldn’t help overhearing your call …”

Winter’s face blanched.

Fear was a definitive smell in the air.

“It’s none of my business and I’m not asking for details. I just wanted to check that you’re okay. It looked like it scared you a lot …”

“Oh. I’m fine. Really. Thank you.” There was hardness in her voice and Zara knew the woman wouldn’t say any more. She gave a short head inclined of acceptance.

“Good. I’m glad.” Rummaging in her bag she pulled out her wallet and fished out a small rectangle card. It was the business card for the RS auto-shop/office. “But if you ever find that you’re not okay. Or need help. For anything.” Zara stressed the word, holding the stare of the wary librarian. She pushed the card across the counter with a finger. “You can always call this number or drop by.” She mentioned the road where the compound was situated. Everyone knew of the Renegade Souls MC, but if Winter was new to town then maybe she didn’t yet. “My man is Rider Marinos.” Zara watched the eyes widen. Ah, maybe Winter had heard of all her boys after all.

She smiled. They had such bad-boy reputations. And huge egos to match.

“Again, it’s none of my business, Winter. But if you ever need help. With anything.” She tapped the card and left it there. Turning, she walked back towards the SUV where Slider jumped out to open her door. Such a sweet boy.

Zara’s mind was on Winter the rest of the drive home.

Hoping that phone call she’d overheard was nothing sinister.

The option for help was there if she ever needed it. it was up to her to take it.

For now, she’d go home to her family which now included her favorite sister-in-law and she’d see the librarian next week.