Freddie
I understood why Abby was a workaholic.
And this wasn't even my business. My name wasn't attached to it. My life savings wasn't dropped into it. I didn't have the risks she had.
But I finally truly understood the pride of a job well done resulting in hard-earned cash.
My check felt heavy in my hand as I looked down at it, waiting for Thad to change after his shift so he could show me how to put it into my bank account through the phone app.
It had been a busy week even if you didn't include work.
I had needed to get a new driver's license, a bank account, work attire, and get myself a bike since Thad's and my schedule overlapped some days and I refused to let him throw down several thousands of dollars on a used clunker to get me from point A to point B.
Besides, I liked the bike. The wind. The sense of utter freedom - something so foreign to me. And the ability to get anywhere I needed to without having to worry about bus schedules and sketchy dudes. I even had Colson attach a basket to the front for if I needed to go shopping.
A basket on my bike.
The girl I was before I went away would be red-faced in shame at the very idea of something as, well, old-lady-ish as a basket on her robin's egg blue beach cruiser.
Funny how time changed even the little things.
I couldn't claim to love all things girly, but I had to admit that I was looking forward to a little spa day after being on my feet, losing five pounds in pure sweat all week.
And, apparently, my hairstyle was 'very high maintenance' and required 'a trim every week and a half.'
Besides, I liked Benny.
And we would be picking up Jelena to bring with us for some pampering too, allowing Colson an afternoon to himself for a change. For as long as I was around, that was a habit I wanted to keep up. For Colson who deserved an occasional day to do whatever he wanted after taking on the whole responsibility of being a single parent. But also for Jelena, who I was really enjoying getting to know.
I never gave much thought to children. I had been too young when I went away to have considered it. And when I was inside, well, it was useless. Not that I wasn't surrounded by it. When you're locked up with a bunch of women, a lot of what they talked about was their children. How they were going to clean up for them, do better, get them out of the system, be a more significant part of their lives. There were endless photographs taped to the walls or lining the desks.
But when my plan was to get back out long enough just to get my revenge, well, it was pointless to torture myself with things I could never have.
Being around Jelena, though, it was making me really get to see something I would be giving up. The chance to be a mother, shape a life with stability like my mother had never been able to give us, with love that my aunt had never provided.
I shook my head, finishing ripping the top off of a frozen push-up yogurt, handing it over the center console to Jelena, secured in her car seat, legs and arms flailing out as she sang along to a song Thaddeus had blasting that I was pretty sure Colson wouldn't approve of.
"Do you and Uncle Thad go to the salon a lot?" I asked when the song winded down and she finally permitted us to get out of the car.
My hands wrestled with the straps of her car seat for a second, forgetting how tight the pieces clicked together, before lifting her small body out, her glittery Doc Martens catching the light as I set her on the sidewalk, taking the hand she immediately thrust up at me.
"Mmhm," she informed me. "They give me a lolly," she told me. "A big one."
"Think they will give me one?" I asked, making my voice low and hopeful.
"I'll make 'em," she promised me with a little hand squeeze I swear I felt in my heart as well.
As one would expect of ten in the morning on a weekend, the salon was packed. Mostly women sat in the chairs getting cuts and colors or at the tables in the back having their nails done. As we were led to our saved seats, a woman was led out of a room in the back. Waxing, I figured.
"You need to get your lady business handled? I can make her fit you in," Benny told me in a voice that wasn't hushed at all, making me glance around to my sides to see if anyone was listening.
"Oh, no. I don't need..."
"Oh, fuc--" Thad started, then eyed Jelly. "Fudge yes, she does. The way that beautiful biker man was slobbering all over her last weekend, I give it another couple of days before he comes banging on her door. And she will need to be all tamed down there."
"I am... plenty tamed enough," I told him in a low hiss. "Not that it is any of your business if I am tamed at all or not," I added with a pointed eyebrow raise. "I don't ask you about your tameness."
"Girl, you wanna see? Smooth as bowling balls at all times," he told me with a smile. "No one likes a mouthful of little hairs when they are all up in your business. Am I right?" he asked, looking over at Benny.
"He's right. I mean for us and the strickly-dickly sorts," he said then cast a guilty look at Jelly who was not paying attention now that a girl who was clearly her regular hairdresser was pulling her hair out of her braids, talking animatedly to her about her next style choice from a book Jelena had in her lap. "I don't know if the same rules apply for the lady cave. But given that most men these days have a stroke if a woman has some leg or underarm stubble, I imagine you need your hardwood floors waxed."
"Okay we are so not discussing this," I informed him even as my lips turned up.
An hour later, my hair was trimmed - just barely - my fingernails were lacquered in a matte black that I knew wouldn't last more than the weekend since I couldn't wear polish and cook, my butt and back were getting a workout thanks to the massaging - and vibrating - pedicure chair, my feet slipped in warm water, waiting for the nail tech to come back. The music in the back was loud and soothing, quieting the noise in the front of the building, allowing you to lean back, close your eyes, relax.
Which was precisely what I was doing.
The air shifted, making me aware of someone taking the empty seat to my side. When no vibrating turned on, my eyes peeked open.
Did I find my brother? A woman from the salon?
Oh, no.
I found the star of my late night vivid, sweaty, torturous dreams.
Virgin.
"Big fan of pedicures?" I asked, hoping it would cover any possible longing that might be clear in my eyes.
Longing.
That was the only way to describe the deep, clawing ache inside.
A primal thing, surely. But also possibly more than that.
Ever since I found something I hadn't expected from anyone except my family. Acceptance. Maybe it shouldn't have surprised me after Abby had no issues with my past. But, I guess, I had been brainwashed into thinking no one would want to be my friend or want to date me because of where I had been. There was this niggling little voice in the back of my head that whispered What do you have to offer someone?
It was ridiculous, of course. Especially when thinking about an outlaw biker. It was silly to think that a man who made his living selling drugs - and then guns - would look down on me for my past.
But it had been a bone-deep fear until he had given me what I had been so desperately craving.
Acceptance.
Approval.
"'Bout to find out," he admitted, kicking out of his shoes and socks as the nail tech came back, filling his foot spa with water and salts for him to slip into.
My gaze slid down his long, solid legs to his bare feet, finding their appearance oddly intimate. You didn't usually see a man's bare feet unless you were close with them in a physical way. Or at the beach, I guess.
"If you didn't come here for a pedicure, why are you here?" I asked as the tech moved away again, an odd smile on her lips.
"'Cause West said you and your brother would be coming here today," he admitted.
"So... you're stalking me?" I asked, lips curling up. Maybe I should have been creeped out. But I found myself flattered by the attention from a man who could clearly have just about anyone he wanted.
"Lightly," he admitted with a smirk. "You could tell me to fuck off. I will. But something tells me you aren't gonna," he told me, leaning closer, dropping his voice a little, making the entire salon suddenly fall away.
Mouth suddenly dry, I had to swallow hard before I could get any words out. "Well, it would be a shame to miss out on your first pedicure," I told him.
"Eavesdroppin'?" he asked with a raised brow, making me follow his gaze to the woman I had thought of as the nail tech - blonde and super pretty with a determined sort of gait.
Her smile was at once amused and guilty. "Get over yourself, Virgin," she shot back, rolling her eyes at me like we were sharing in some secret. But I was completely out of the loop.
"I better not be getting ribbed about this because you pillow talk this shit to Pagan," he added, pretending to sound threatening when it was clear he had a soft spot for the woman.
A woman who pillow talked to a man named Pagan.
Which, well, had to be a road name, right?
Who else had a name like that?
So the nail tech was one of his brothers' women.
"Hey, how am I to blame if you're in here getting your spa day on?" she asked. "I think the Tickled Pink polish would go great with your skin tone, by the way," she added with shining eyes as she moved away. "Or, at least, that is what I am going to tell Pagan you picked."
"That's Kennedy," Virgin supplied when we were alone again.
"As in Kennedy's?" I asked, meaning the name of the salon we were sitting in.
"Yep."
"You're going to get a lot of crap for this, aren't you?" I asked, lips curving up.
His gaze slipped there for a long second before moving up to my eyes. "It'll be worth it," he declared, reaching for the remote on the arm of his chair. "So how does this work?" he asked, holding it up to me like this was the most natural thing in the world - sharing pedicures. Like we were the oldest of friends. Or the most intimate of lovers.
Fifteen minutes later, I was laughing as Virgin jerked and hissed his way through his foot massage.
"You like this shit?" he asked, hands a death grip on the arms of his chair to - I imagined - avoid slapping the poor nail tech who was clearly tickling him as she worked.
"I love this shit," I corrected as my tech slipped the pad of her thumb along my aching arches, making my head slam back on the chair, my back arching, a low, somewhat sexual noise escaping me. A sound that made Virgin momentarily forget about his own feet, his eyes moving over me, the lids seeming to go a little hooded.
"Keep that in mind," he murmured, filling my mind with fantasies of being sprawled out on his bed, my legs over his lap, his hands massaging the aches out of my sore feet.
"Aunt Freddie!" Jelena yelled, launching herself at me from my other side, landing on my lap with a giant smile. "Like my hair?" she asked, touching one of the little knots that were positioned on each side of her head, a part down the center, little cornrows leading up to them, the other half of her hair left in a curly mass almost down to her shoulders.
"I love your hair," I informed her.
"Daddy is gonna grumble," she told me with an eye roll that she had to have learned from Thaddeus.
"Why?"
"It's gonna get knotty," she told me, pulling at the free strands.
"Well, you're gonna have to let him comb it so it doesn't get knotty."
She made a noncommittal grunting noise as she swirled herself on my lap, her little back to my chest, her head resting against my breast like a pillow.
And my heart did a little flip-flop as she snuggled in like she had always been there.
For some reason, my head swiveled, finding Virgin's gaze on us, something strange, unreadable behind his eyes that made my heart do another flip.
"Alright, boo, let your auntie get her toes done," Thad declared, moving up at my side, reaching his arms out to Jelena who reached back, happily settling on his hip when he hoisted her there. "Why don't we go and get you some ice cream?" he suggested. "I can trust you to get her home, right?" he asked, directing his attention to Virgin.
"She's safe with me," Virgin agreed, tone almost determined.
"I'm counting on it," Thad told him, giving me a wink. "See you later. This is all paid for," he added, even though he knew I had wanted to pitch in now that I was working.
"She come to visit you while you were... gone?" Virgin asked, choosing the word carefully, knowing 'away' either meant jail or rehab, and aware that we were not alone.
"No," I told him, a little sad about the lost time even though I had made it clear that I didn't think it would be appropriate for Colson to bring Jelly when he came to visit, not wanting her to meet me after getting patted down like a criminal herself.
"So you just met her?"
"Yeah."
"She has taken to you fast."
"I think that she was kind of looking for a female presence in her life," I admitted. "I mean Thad takes her to do all the girly stuff. And Colson goes with her to all her dance classes and such. But I still think she was craving a woman in her life."
"Her mom bailed?"
"Yeah. When she was just a couple months."
"That's fucked."
"Yeah," I agreed. "But Colson is doing a good job with her."
"What's he do?"
"What he can," I said, shrugging. "It's not easy to work around her schedule. School is off a lot of days. And he has to be around for her classes and such. He works night jobs. A custodian and a security guard at some dive bar a couple towns over. It gives him his days free for Jelly. Then an older lady in his building watches her at night."
"Can't be making much," he mused.
He didn't intend for it to, of course, but the words made guilt stab into my belly. For all the years I allowed him to fill my commissary when he should have been saving the money for Jelena.
"I guess not," I agreed.
"Just sayin'," he started, shrugging. "If he doesn't have some moral objection to a different lifestyle, Reign is looking for good men. And the hours are flexible. And the money is good."
"I will... mention that," I told him, even though I wasn't sure there would ever be an appropriate opening for something like that. Hey, Colson. This apartment is really nice. But if you ever want to worry less about paying your rent, you can become a gun-running biker.
"Figure single dads need to keep their options open," Virgin added, shrugging it off. "So, you gonna let me take you home after this, or be a pain in my ass and insist on walking?"
"She could smudge her nail polish," the nail tech told him with a knowing smile.
"Hear that? You could smudge your polish. After all this work. Can't be having that, can you?" he asked, then suddenly yanked his feet away from his tech. "I'm gonna go ahead and skip the polish," he said with quirked lips and a head shake.
"It's clear."
"And shiny," he shot back, reaching for his socks and shoes, then his wallet, handing a twenty to his tech as he got to his feet. "You go dry up. I'm gonna square up and grab coffee. You actually take it as sweet as you made it at your place, or were you... distracted?" By him. He knew I had been practically drooling over him.
"Three sugars," I told him, sidestepping the last part of his question with the same precision as I sidestepped the leg of a chair so I didn't smudge my polish on the way to the dryer.
I had barely slipped my butt into my seat and my feet into the dryer when I felt his body move behind my chair, curling forward to tower over me, his hands moving down to grab the armrests, lowering his mouth to my ear.
"Be right back, baby."
He had likely made it outside before the shivers inside died down.
Easy.
I was so damn easy.
And I couldn't even get mad at myself about it.
"Here you go," Kennedy said, dropping a glass of water that had come from a giant dispenser with cucumbers and lemons floating in it. "I remember that beginning phase. If I had a block of ice for you to sit on, I'd bring it over," she added with a smile before she moved away to talk to Benny.
My shoes in my hand, new reusable pink flip-flops with Kennedy's on the bottom on my feet, I made my way toward the door where Virgin was waiting with two cups of coffee, his head ducked to the side slightly, lips tipped up just the tiniest bit.
And it didn't escape me either that just about every woman's eyes were on him, eye-banging him, thinking about how nice it would be to have that smile of his aimed at them.
That's right, ladies, that smile is for little ol' me.
It was an oddly possessive thought for me to have, but there was no denying how good it felt to step up to him, have him hand me that coffee he got just for me, then look down at my feet to compliment the color. I'd swear I heard sighs around me at that.
His arm rose over my head, holding the door open, then as we stepped onto the street, his hand went to my lower back, staying planted there. A comforting - and incredibly distracting - presence.
"My bike is at the compound," he explained when he saw me looking at the street for it. "Hence the coffee. Figured we could finish as we walked the block or so. How is it?"
"Perfect," I admitted. "Have you recovered from your tickle torture?" I asked, watching as his smile went almost bashful.
"I can take a back rub any day of the week. But I don't know how you tolerate that shit. You ticklish anywhere?"
"My ribs," I told him. "Don't use that against me," I demanded, locking my elbows down at my sides. I'd endured endless torture sessions at the hands of brothers who wanted something from me. The idea of it happening as an adult filled me with dread.
"If I got my hands on your skin, baby, I wouldn't be tickling you."
"Oh."
Yeah, that was eloquent.
And totally the right response to something that, well, swoon-worthy.
The hand on my back suddenly slipped to the side, sinking into my hip, using it to turn me, press me back against a building.
There was a swoop and crunch as Virgin's arm tossed his coffee cup in a nearby bin, freeing his hands.
So that they could slither their way up my sides, barely grazing the ribs that didn't feel the least bit ticklish at all, sliding up the sides of my breasts, up over my chest, the sides of my neck, stopping only as they framed my face, tilting it up.
And they met absolutely no resistance.
In fact, I was pretty sure my body was incapable of resistance.
Everything went weak, fluid.
It was a miracle I was still able to keep upright as his body shifted inward, his hard lines pressing into my chest, belly, hips, pinning me gently to the wall as his eyes held my gaze for a second before his head started to lower.
My heartbeat tripped into overdrive, and a silly, insecure, niggling little voice wondered if he could feel the pulse pounding in my throat from where his hands were.
But then his lips pressed to mine and all thoughts about anything fell away.
The contact set off a jolt through my body, my muscles all involuntarily tightening and loosening in the span of a blink, and I was vaguely aware of the fact that my hands had spasmed as well because there was the hot splatter of my coffee on my bare feet as the cup dropped, the clink of my shoes falling at my other side.
But my mind couldn't seem to think to be bothered about that, just pleased that my hands were free to rise, slide up Virgin's strong arms, curl around the back of his neck, an action that nearly lifted me off my feet, forcing my body to plaster to his as his lips pressed harder, demanded more.
A low, throaty whimper escaped me as my lips slipped open, inviting his tongue to move inside and claim mine.
The hands left my jaw, disappearing for a long second before sinking into my ass, dragging me up and off my feet as his teeth nipped my lower lip hard enough to drag a moan from deep inside.
It was a car horn and cheering that broke the spell, making my body jolt in a much less intoxicating way than the last time. My hands planted on his shoulders and pushed until he settled me back down on my own feet, but pressed me back against the wall. As if he knew my legs were feeling just a tad wobbly.
I pulled in a deep breath that made my chest shake as Virgin suddenly started to lower down, his head level with my crotch.
"What are you doing?" I hissed, wanting to sound horrified, but there was definite heat in my tone.
At the sound, his head tilted up, lips curved, eyes bright with what I could only call masculine pride. I couldn't even fault him for it. He'd earned it.
"Might be a one-percenter, baby, but I don't litter," he told me, lifting his hand to show me the takeaway coffee cup that had fallen from my hand, the lid bent in, coffee saturating the thick paper outside.
Then he slowly - and there is a definite emphasis on the slowly - moved back to his feet, his gaze staying level with my crotch, my belly, my breasts, then my face for what felt like minutes each before he finally moved away to toss my cup where he had discarded his, giving me a second to shake some sense back into myself, trying to calm the chaos of desire coursing through my body.
I pushed off the wall, ready to try to act like I had it together even as the pressure on my belly all but assured me that I would go through an entire pack of batteries later without any real relief.
Virgin turned back, stooped again, this time coming back with my shoes which he clicked together and held at the heels in one hand, his other going to my lower back again. Possessive. Maybe even a little protective.
Or was that my wishful thinking?
Wouldn't it be strange - and wonderful - to actually find a man who wanted to protect me instead of, well, the exact opposite.
I shook my head, not wanting those thoughts. Not now. Not when they could easily sour a sweet moment.
"So, you gonna let me see you again?" he asked as we walked into the yard of the compound, moving over toward the long line of glistening bikes settled at the side.
Glistening because they'd just been washed.
By, it seemed, the guy who had kissed my hand at the party.
West.
"Hey, pretty lady," he called, wiping some sweat off his brow with the back of his heavily tattooed arm, giving me one of those smiles that women would be hard-pressed to find a better way to describe other than panty melting.
I, however, seemed suddenly immune.
"Hey West," I greeted him with a small smile. And it wasn't until my shoulder brushed his chest that I realized I had moved closer to Virgin as I spoke to his brother. "How are you?"
"Oh, slaving away for these schmucks," he said, waving a hand toward the bikes.
"Hey, at least you don't have to clean the bathroom with your toothbrush," I told him, knowing the horror of that from my adolescence. My aunt was many things, and one of those was a complete and utter neat freak. When she took us in, there was no longer a need to pay for her twice-weekly housekeeper. Why, when she had three sets of hands that could provide free labor?
"You have clearly not been inside to see the bathrooms. Yes, plural. Because Reign is an evil bastard, each of those bedrooms in there has its own bathroom. And since I am the only probie, I am stuck cleaning them all. The horror I have seen," he said, shaking his head solemnly.
"Sugar still here?" Virgin asked, his hand leaving the center of my lower back and out to my hip, fingers curling in.
"Yep."
"Tell him I will be back later to take over your schedule."
"How much later?" West asked, eyes dancing, lips curled up. There was no mistaking the innuendo there.
"None of your business, prospect. Isn't there a SUV you should be washing too?" Virgin asked pointedly, leading me over toward his bike, handing me the helmet with his free hand, seeming like he refused to let his hold of me go until West walked away.
"Yes, sir," West agreed, saluting him, then walking toward the side of the building where the garage must have been located. "Hey," he called, popping back out. "Is it true there used to be a tank in here?" he asked, making my brows raise up.
"Gonna have to explain where you heard that to Reign later. But yeah. It's been moved since the SUV is more practical now."
"Hm. Cool," West said, but there was a light in his eyes like a little boy being told he could tour a fire truck for the first time.
"He's gonna ask to see that tank," I told Virgin as I secured the clasp under my jaw.
"Looks like it," Virgin agreed, dropping his hand so he could climb on his bike. "You gonna answer me?" he asked a few minutes later after we pulled up to Thad's apartment building, cutting the engine, waiting for me to climb off.
"Answer you?" I asked, pulling the helmet off, putting it back on its spot at the back of the bike.
"About letting me see you again," he clarified.
"Oh." Yep. There was that eloquence again. "Sure." That was not much better.
"You working tomorrow?"
"Yeah."
"Monday?"
"Half day."
"I'll pick you up there."
"And do what?"
I cringed a bit at that, the words sounding almost suspicious. Like he was going to kidnap and murder me. Which was only on my mind because freaking Abby had her true crime TV shows on nonstop.
"We could eat," he suggested, almost awkwardly. Like he was no better at this than I was.
I found myself somewhat charmed by that, flattered that I was the only woman he had come across that he felt the need to go on dates with.
"I like eating," I said with a small smile. "Is there a dress code involved?"
"Pretty sure anyone would let you in anywhere even in a sack. Wear what you want. What time you get out?"
"Six. But I have to come home first to get changed. I will be covered in various substances by then."
"I'll drive you home."
"No, it's fine. I have my bike."
"Baby, I have a bike. You have a bicycle," he clarified with a smile.
"It has a basket," I told him, beaming a little. I really liked the basket.
"Christ. You're making it worse," he said, shaking his head at me. "Alright. I will meet you here at seven then."
"Sounds good. Aren't you going to... take off?" I asked when he just stayed there, watching me.
"Yep. Once you're inside," he agreed, jerking his chin toward the door.
Oh.
That was sweet, right?
The little skip in my heart certainly thought so as I gave him one last smile before making my way up the path, my shoes dangling from my fingers.
It wasn't until I was safely inside the apartment that I heard his bike rev and pull away.
And me?
I sank against the door, smiling like an idiot, and incredibly thankful that my brother was not around to see it. Then shower me with questions. Demand answers. Answers I didn't really have.
Like was this going somewhere?
What were his intentions?
What did I want?
Well, I could answer the last one.
I wanted Virgin.
In a deep, aching, undeniable way.
But I had never had much of a chance to simply want a man before. To experience something casual. I had no idea how - or even if - I would handle a situation like that.
"Ugh," I grumbled, taking myself across the apartment, dropping down in my bed, those worries overtaking all the light, girlish excitement I had felt for a few short moments.
It plagued me all night, making Thad claim I was a Debbie Downer and he was going out to find some more fun.
It was still with me when I got to work the next day, Abby's eagle eyes watching me for a long moment.
"What's his name?"
Surprised, not thinking better of it, I blurted it out without considering it. "Virgin."
"What? No fucking way! I know him. Well, I don't know him know him. But I've talked to him a few times. He's yummy. Does he fuck like he seems like he fucks?"
"What way is that?" I asked, feeling my spine stiffen in a way that could be called protective, defensive.
"Like he can make you scream god in tongues."
"Oh," I said, choking out a laugh. "I wouldn't know. We have just run into each other a few times."
"Well, when you bump into each other in the more fun way, let me know how it is. Promise? I won't stiff you. The guy meeting me here can make me come hard enough to forget my own name. He's dumb as a stick, but no one said I have to sit around and listen to him after. Oh, speak of the stick," she said when there was a knock at the door, prompting her to drag her giant hobo bag out from under the counter, hauling it up on her shoulder as she made her way to unlock the door.
"Hey Abby," he said, giving her a long once-over as he stepped into the doorway.
"Robby," Abby replied, eyeing him up as well. "We're going to my place this time."
"Where do you live?"
"About two inches above your face, sweet cheeks," she said, making me have to cover a laugh by slamming a pot down. "See? Right over his head," she said, shaking her head at his blank look. "Lock this door. And make sure the delivery guys lock the back when they come in and out too. Come on, Wallbanger. You have some work to do."
With that, they were gone.
And thanks to an onslaught of orders, I was able to drift out of my thoughts for the afternoon, half aware of the creepy show on the TV Abby never did tell me where the remote to was, working me up to a fit of nerves until the phone rang and I nearly jumped out of my skin.
"Hey, your plans with Mr. You'llSpeakInTongues aren't tonight, right?"
"No, tomorrow."
"Would you mind swinging a double? I will pay you overtime. Wallbanger must have been chugging energy drinks and wild yak essence because he is still hard as steel. And this girl needs as much stress relief as possible or I am going to have to take that script my shrink keeps trying to throw at me."
"No problem," I agreed, shooting the recreated kidnapping on the TV a wary look. The restaurant didn't close until two in the morning. By then, I should be jumping at my own shadow with this crap. "Can I..."
"Thanks so much. You're the best. Oh, well, yes, you may have a little snack..." Abby said, voice dipping low enough that I decided to go ahead and hang up before her end got decidedly X-rated.
The orders died down around half after one in the morning, giving me time to load the dishwasher, wipe down all the surfaces, and leave Abby a note about what we were running low on for when she got in early the next morning like she always did to check on stock.
With that, I took a deep breath, slipping the pocketknife Thad had given to me into my palm as I made my way through the restaurant to check the back door before going out the front where I would find my bike locked into the bike rack installed between Abby's and the store next door.
My head peeked out before I moved outward, turning to lock the door then pull down the metal cage, locking that into the ground, making my way to my bike to work that lock free, my heart wedged pretty firmly up in my throat.
"Baby, the fuck you doing here this late?"
Yeah, so, I screamed.
And not one of those kinda quiet inward breath screams.
No.
I screamed.
Like a girl in a horror movie who has been haunted by ghosts for months and then someone suddenly grabs her shoulder out of nowhere.
That kind of scream.
"Christ," Virgin's voice hissed, his hand going over my mouth. "It's me," he added when my whole body jolted. "You good?" he asked before he let his hand drop from my mouth, making me spin to find him standing there, the streetlight casting him half in shadow.
"Sorry. I'm jumpy. Abby has the stupid TV set to all those true crime shows. It's making me paranoid."
"Paranoid in this town isn't a bad thing. But, Freddie, babe, the knife works better if you open it before a threat shows itself," he told me, reaching down for my hand, pulling out the knife, flicking it open. "Jab," he told me, closing my hand around it, then pulling my arm out to jab toward his chest. "Or slice, but this way," he told me, turning the knife so that the blade was parallel with my forearm when it lifted. "Your arm is stronger this way," he explained.
Finding myself oddly breathless - and not from the scare - I swallowed hard twice before I could find words. "Were you waiting here for me?"
"Honest answer? When I noticed your bike here when I drove home an hour ago, I figured I would chance a walk around at closing time to make sure you aren't driving that damn bike home at this hour."
"Actually, my..." The flash of headlights stopping behind Virgin made my words fall away.
"Brother?" he asked, half turning as the door to Colson's SUV flew open, his body hopping out, muscles tensed, ready to beat the hell out of the strange man with me alone at night... when my knife was out.
"Wait," I said, holding up a hand, palm out. "It's alright, Colson. I know him," I told him as he got to Virgin's side in about two angry, protective strides. "He was actually making sure I was safe," I added as Colson sized him up. Virgin, it seemed, was doing the same.
"Since when do you socialize with Henchmen?" Colson asked, and I would have sworn there was a hint of suspicion there, making my heart and belly sink to my feet.
My head started to fall before I forced it back up, my jaw getting tight.
"Oh, since I started selling illegal guns for them. This whole cooking thing is just a cover for my criminal activities. Once a criminal, always one, right?" I asked, bitterness dripping from my words, not even caring that we had an audience.
Virgin's brows lowered, looking confused, maybe a little angry as his gaze went to my brother.
"Christ, Winnie, that's not what I meant. You know that's not what I meant."
"It sounded like what you meant," I shot back.
"Alright," Virgin cut in. "I know this isn't my place, but maybe this isn't a discussion to be having right now. You're worked up," he added, looking at me.
"Yeah, come on, Win. Let me get you home. You're dead on your feet. And you have to be back here tomorrow."
"I'm taking my bike," I objected, jaw set to stubborn.
"No you're not," Colson said.
"Like hell," Virgin objected at the same time.
"I am a grown ass woman. If I want to ride my bike home at two a.m. naked, then I can do that. And you can't do anything about it."
"Come on," Virgin said, reaching for my bike's handlebars.
"What are you doing?" Colson asked, stiffening.
"I'll walk her back to the compound. Grab the SUV. Then drive her home."
"You're not getting to know where she lives."
"He already knows where I live," I shot back. Typically, I would be warmed by my brother's protectiveness. But I felt nothing but hurt and anger.
"Jesus, Winnie..."
"It's fine. Thanks for coming out anyway. But Virgin is taking me home. I will talk to you some other time."
"Winnie..."
"I'll make sure she gets home safe," Virgin assured him, making Colson's gaze move his way, sizing him up. Maybe I would have found myself feeling guilty for the way his shoulders slumped, his head ducked, but I was too annoyed right then to care as he turned, got back in his car, and drove home to his daughter. "You alright?" Virgin asked, voice quiet.
"He cut off contact with me," I admitted, eyes avoiding contact. "For a while. After I was locked up."
"Your brother loves you."
"Yeah, but I don't think he sees me the way he used to either," I told him, my breath sighing out of me, defeated.
"Sometimes our choices, our actions, do that to people around us. Or society. I don't expect everyone to look at me without suspicion when I am walking around with a one-percent badge on my chest."
"The difference being that you actually did... you know... never mind," I said, shaking my head, ripping the lock off my bike, tossing it into my bag. "You don't know my story," I told him with a rare surge of honesty. "So you can't explain my situation to me."
At his silence, I felt the regret course through me. Never having been someone who could be outwardly snippy or confrontational, the reality of being able to do so with him, this outlaw biker I barely knew from Adam, made uncertainty flood my system. My eyes slipped upward, finding him watching me with a gaze I could only call curious. Not offended. Not pissed. Just... interested.
"Maybe you'll tell me your story someday and I can understand," he suggested, reaching to grab my bike, turning to walk, leaving me to jog up a few steps so I wasn't following behind him like a puppy.
"Sorry I was snip..."
"Don't gotta apologize to me," he cut me off, shaking his head. "We all have our moments."
And he wasn't just saying that. He wasn't feeding me platitudes while passive-aggressively storing this away to use against me at some point down the road. Remember that time you were a complete bitch when I didn't even deserve it? No. He was just... okay with it.
They call me Virgin because I don't give a fuck.
That was what he said.
Meaning he was laid back. Easy going. A roll with the punches kind of person.
I couldn't imagine that kind of freedom.
I gave fucks. I gave all my fucks. About damn near everything. I couldn't claim it made me happier to be that way, but I wasn't sure it was possible not to be that way either.
Virgin led me back to the compound, loaded my bike into the back of the SUV, then opened my door for me. All in silence. Not seething, angry, or uncomfortable silence. Just silence.
He was not a silence filler.
I was used to Thad who was convinced every silence would be better filled with his voice. But I still found it enjoyable as he climbed into his seat, flicking on the butt warmer in my seat like he somehow knew after endless hours in a hot kitchen, the combination of dried sweat and tiredness was giving me a chill.
Soft, oldies R&B hummed from the speakers.
And, apparently, the combination of the music, the heat, the gentle glide of the car down the streets was downright hypnotic.
Because it wasn't until I felt a giant hand close around the area just above my knee and give it a gentle squeeze that I realized I had fallen asleep.
"Home," he murmured when my eyes fluttered open, finding warm eyes and a matching smile only about a foot from my face.
"I never fall asleep that fast," I admitted honestly. I was a toss and turner since going away, since I learned that sleep meant vulnerability and that some people like to use that vulnerability against you.
"I'd claim it was because you're comfortable with me, but the seats are like butter and the butt warmers are like Ambien," he told me with a smirk. "I'll go grab your bike," he told me, leaving the car on so I could bask in the cozy comfort for another few minutes before I saw him standing outside the passenger side door, reaching to pull it open. Suppressing a grumble, I climbed out of the warm car, fishing in my bag for my bike lock for the front rack because I simply wasn't in the mood to try to wrestle it into the elevator and hang it up in the apartment. Thad claimed the building was safe enough to leave it outside without a lock. I was just going to trust him. And my padlock. "Still on for tomorrow night?" Virgin asked after I secured my bike and stood back up to face him.
"Yeah. I promise I won't be so snippy."
"I promise I can take it even if you are," he told me with a lip twitch.
"Thanks for driving me home," I told him on the top step, turning to unlock the door.
My hand barely got a chance to raise before the wrist got snagged, yanked higher as his body pressed me against the brick wall, pinning my arm above my head as his lips crashed down on mine.
The brick scraped at the skin of my forearm. His stubble scratched the sensitive skin on my face. His body heat moved through his shirt and into mine, making a shiver move through me as my lips parted, demanded more. My free arm rose, grabbing the back of his neck, holding him as though he showed any intention of pulling away.
His free hand slid down my thigh, sinking in behind my knee, yanking it upward, curling it around his waist as his hips pressed in. His hardness pressed against the aching need, making a moan escape me, only mildly muffled by his lips on mine.
The sound of someone clearing their throat made my face rip away, my leg dropping to the ground heavily even as Virgin's grip slowly loosened on my wrist, his head dipping down to place a kiss at my throat.
"Sorry to break up the necking session, you two, but it was getting a bit steamy for the apartment entryway," Thad informed us, and I didn't have to look to see the amused smile he had on his face. "Your brother called to let me know some dangerous criminal was driving you home," he added as Virgin let out an airy chuckle against my neck before straightening, slowly pulling away and turning.
"Hey Thad."
"Hey you handsome thing, you."
My gaze went to my brother, finding him standing there in his kimono in his furry No, Officer, I didn't kill my rich husband slippers, a sleep mask sitting on his forehead, gold strips under his eyes that he claimed worked wonders on dark circles.
"You knew who it was. You didn't have to come down here to walk me in."
"Walk you in, no. Spy on you? Yes, I sure did. You two kids have fun?"
"Oh, God. Stop," I grumbled, moving away from Virgin, almost sure that when his hand brushed mine that it was on purpose. "Thanks for driving me home. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Goodnight, baby."
"Oh, goodnight to you too, baby," Thad called, giving him a wiggly finger wave as he turned to walk away.
"Could you be more embarrassing?"
"We both know I could," he told me, curling an arm around my hips. "Your lady bits need some ice?"
"There's not enough ice left on this ever-heating planet," I grumbled, closing my eyes, taking a deep breath.
"Well then, we're lucky you have a date tomorrow so you can finally seal the deal. Don't think I didn't see the empty battery package in the trash, you horny bitch."
"It's a first date. We aren't sealing the deal."
"Oh, psh. You'll be lucky if you make it to the restaurant from what I just witnessed. Don't be close-minded for the sake of some antiquated idea about when it is appropriate to fuck. The only appropriate time to fuck is when you want to. Now let's get us back upstairs. Colson interrupted my REM cycle, and we both know I am bitchy when I am sleepy."
A long shower washed the cooking off of me, but did nothing to ease the aching inside.
As I fell asleep, I wondered if Thad was right.
If I could jump into bed with Virgin, a man whose real name I didn't even know.
But maybe if I asked him his real name at dinner...
--
"Girl, go," Abby demanded, slapping my ass with a wooden spoon hard enough for me to wonder if she was going to leave a bruise. That Virgin might be seeing later.
"It's early," I objected, looking up at the monitor above our heads where the orders scrolled as they came in.
"Yeah, but, Fred, doll, you just put sugar in the macaroni and cheese," she told me, making my eyes shoot down to what I had been doing. And, sure enough, the gooey golden cheese was speckled with granulated brown sugar I had meant to throw in the bacon brown sugar chicken pan. "You are clearly already in date-mode. And, judging by your stint at a woman's facility for the past decade, I figure this will be your first male-female rendezvous in ten years."
"It will be my first rendezvous at all in ten years."
"Really? I mean, I'm not into the lady cave that much either, but in a pinch..."
"I haven't been in that tight of a pinch," I said with a smile.
"Christ. You must be wound like a clock, huh?" she asked, dumping the macaroni and cheese in the trash, then filling up a new pot with water to start over.
"I guess."
"Well, go. Get yourself all cleaned up, dolled up, the usual. Do you need condoms?"
"My brother already threw a box at me this morning."
At my face, in particular.
From what I saw last night, he's a Magnum man, he had told me with a finger wave before heading off to work.
As I went home and showered, shaved, did the hair process again since I had just wrapped one of Thad's colorful scarves over my hair to go to work, then worked on my makeup, picked out my clothes, his words came back to me again.
From what I saw last night, he's a Magnum man.
And this time, they sank in. Magnum. I had been so wrapped up in the sensations the night before that I hadn't given size much thought. But now, alone in the apartment, I was unnervingly aware of the fact that I hadn't had sex in ten years, that I barely even had a chance to engage in it before I went away.
The women at prison used to joke about being re-virginized.
They used to claim that after a spell, it was nearly like the first time all over again when they went home. Or, at least, the child-free ones said that. The ones with kids made crude jokes about how with the way their babies battered their way out of their bodies that nothing would ever pinch let alone hurt like the first time again.
My butt sank down on my bed, still only clad in black lacy panties and a matching bra.
And that was exactly where Thaddeus found me about an hour later.
"Alright, what is it?" he asked from my doorway. "And don't be trying to tell me it is nothing because no one pulls a The Thinker pose in their panties over nothing."
"Do you think it's going to hurt when we have sex?"
"Aw damn," Thad said, pushing off the doorway to drop down on the bed beside me, nudging his shoulder into mine. "Look, I can't claim to know all about what you have going on down there," he told me, waving a hand to my crotch. "But the way I see it, if you want it enough, and you're primed enough, your body will do what it is meant to do even if it maybe pinches a bit at first. What I do know is that if you get all up in your head about it, you'll psych yourself out of it for no good reason. Now, let's get some clothes on you for that handsome man to peel off later."
With that, Thad got me into a white sundress with red flowers I never would have picked for myself even if I had to admit it was flattering.
"Flats," I told him when he held out a pair of wedge sandals.
"It's a date. You don't wear flats on a date."
"You are not the one who will get blisters," I shot back. "Go let him in," I told him as the buzzer went off, shoving him toward the door before going into my closet myself, finding a pair of sandals similar to the wedge ones, slipping my feet into them, then spritzing on some perfume.
"Look at you," Thad said in his flirtatious voice as the door closed. "Freddie, your gentleman caller is here!" Taking a deep breath, I checked my reflection one last time before moving out into the central area of the house.
Walking out, I found Virgin out of his jeans, boots, and leather cut for the first time. In their place, he had black slacks and a matte black dress shirt. No tie. Slip-on loafers.
He'd shaved too.
And he looked good.
Good enough that I almost didn't want to go to dinner.
"And this, dear children, is where you stop eye-fucking one another," Thad told us. "And you," he said, pushing Virgin, "tell her that she looks beautiful. And you," he went on, pointing at me, "tell him he looks good all dressed up."
Virgin's lips curved up as he moved closer toward me, ducking his head down. "You look beautiful."
"Thank you. You look good too." He smelled better.
"So where are you taking her?" Thad asked, never one to miss an opportunity to butt in.
"Famiglia."
"Oh, fancy. Well, you two have fun. I am heading out to date Danny. You know, Danny-On-The-Down-Low. He got a room. I will see you in the morning." He was being ridiculously obvious. "Here, boo," he added, holding out my purse. "You have some Mags in the tampon zipper and your nightstand. You are all set," he told me in a blessedly quiet whisper. "You two have fun!"
"Thanks, Thad."
"Mmhmm."
"Take care of my girl," Thad told Virgin as he moved past, voice losing the light, amused tone, getting uncharacteristically serious.
"Got nothing to worry about with me," Virgin assured him before stepping out into the hall with me. "What's the matter?"
"I'm gonna have helmet head at a fancy restaurant," I declared, reaching up to touch the curls that came out perfectly, like they were excited for the date as well.
"Took the SUV tonight," he told me, hand going to my lower back as we waited for the elevator, stepping us both to the side to let off the lady down the hall who always stole Thad's magazines before giving them back to him claiming they were in her mail by mistake. We moved inside, the doors closing with a quiet click that somehow still made me jump. "You're nervous." It wasn't a question, but I answered anyway.
"Yeah. I... haven't been on a date in a long time," I admitted.
"Baby girl, I've never been on a date," he told me with one of those smiles that made his eyes go all warm. "So we can just trip along this whole thing together," he told me, hand slipping to my hip to give it a squeeze.
Trip along.
I liked that.
"Are you nervous?" I asked, watching as the button froze on the main level.
"I don't really get nervous, but I second-guessed these shoes for fifteen minutes. So that counts."
The drive to Famiglia was short.
I had never been inside the restaurant myself, but had walked the docks beside it, watching all the men in their suits walk in with their ladies in dresses, everyone looking altogether very fancy and wealthy since I knew the food was expensive because it was where my aunt made her dates take her when she managed to find someone who wasn't put off by her gruff personality.
It looked like I remembered it, but somehow nicer and brighter at the same time. The lights from the outside deck shined down on the choppy water below the stilts holding up the building. Inside, everything was dimmed to the perfect intimate lighting level, the colors black and gold and just a hint of red here and there.
"So did you and your brother work it out?" Virgin asked after we ordered our drinks, as we looked over the menu while we sat in our fancy rounded booth in the back of the restaurant that was saved just for us in a way that implied it was a big deal, like maybe had an in with the owners or something.
"We haven't spoken yet," I admitted, feeling guilty. Now that the anger had died away, I knew I had overreacted, that I read too much into his tone.
"Got some wounds there that need stitchin' up," Virgin told me, glancing up at me over his menu. "And I don't mean about last night."
"I know," I agreed. "It's a sore spot. I was pretending it wasn't because I was just happy to have him around again. And I didn't want to rock the boat or make things awkward. But we are going to have to have that uncomfortable talk, I guess."
"Your family loves you. That is worth working on. Even if it isn't comfortable."
"Are you close with..." I lost my sentence when the waiter came over with a bottle of complimentary wine From Mr. Grassi. "Do you know the owner?" I blurted out when he walked away again.
"I've met him and his sons. I wouldn't say we know each other. But there has always been an understanding with The Henchmen and the Grassi family."
Grassi family.
Family.
"Do you mean family as in family?" I asked, half leaning over the table to whisper it.
"Yeah. That kind of family. The established organizations in Navesink Bank have respect for one another even if we don't do much business together."
"Who else is in an established organization in town?" I asked, having been too young and too into my own little life when I was last in town to know anything about them except for The Henchmen who always openly flaunted their illegal activities by wearing their cuts and one-percent badges.
"Mallicks. Hailstorm on the hill. And then there is Abruzzo. Though he stays clear of us now."
I wanted to ask, but also figured that asking questions was not what an outsider did in this kind of situation. "That's it? It sounded like so much more."
"There are a lot of, ah, independent contractors. Then there is Third Street."
"The gang?" I asked.
"Yeah, them," Virgin agreed with a grimace.
"I'm confused," I admitted.
"About?"
"Why you are grimacing about Third Street when you aren't about all the other organizations. What makes them worse?"
"Reign doesn't like 'em because they deal all sorts of shit. Heroin when they can find it, meth. I have nothing against drug dealers, obviously, from where I came from. What I have a problem with is the way they treat their working girls."
"Working girls. Like... prostitutes?"
"Are you surprised?" he asked, smiling.
"No, well, maybe a little." I shouldn't have been. There were more than a few women in prison with me who had worked the streets or in makeshift brothels. I knew all about the business. I knew more than I wanted to know, in fact. "Just that it is happening here and I never noticed, I guess. But, I'm guessing they are rough with them?"
"Rough is an understatement. I don't think I ever see one of those women without bruises or dried blood. And if they are doing that to their own women, you can only imagine what they let the Johns do. That shit doesn't fly with me. And now we are hearing that they are selling Easy Lay."
"What is Easy Lay?" I asked, feeling like I used to in high school when people would talk about weird sex acts then make fun of me for not knowing what they were.
"Date rape drugs," he told me with a dark look in his eye.
"Oh." The sound came out of me, weighted, heavy, knowing what that meant for the women in the area. All women in the area. Anyone who went on a date with a new man. Anyone who went to a bar where the bartender was paid off to slip something into the drink. Any girl who went to a high school party and woke up to find herself sore and bruised.
Yeah, no, there was no respecting an organization who sold those kinds of drugs. For me, while I had never used - and would never use - drugs, I understood the sale. Supply and demand. It was no different in my mind than selling illegal guns or whatever the Grassi and Mallick families did. But there was a line to be drawn in the sand. On one side, you could sell as much product as you wanted to someone who was okay with messing their own lives up. On the other, you catered to the lowest of the low and became slime yourself when you sold things that enabled someone to screw someone else's life up.
"This probably wasn't appropriate first date talk, huh?" Virgin asked, picking up on my dark thoughts.
"Well, we did agree there would be some tripping involved," I told him, shrugging it off as the waiter came back to take our order. "Besides, neither of us really know what appropriate first date talk is anyway."
"I think it is all about getting to know each other."
"That sounds about right." And also somewhat terrifying, to be perfectly honest.
"So, Freddie. Why don't you tell me your story?"
We both knew what he meant. He already knew what I did for a living, where I lived, what my family situation was like.
He was asking for the other stuff.
The stuff I didn't like talking about.
The stuff that lead to me losing ten years of my life.
And I wasn't sure I was ready for that yet.
Would he even believe me if I did tell him?
No one else did, save for Thad and Colson.
Reaching for my wine, I took a tentative sip, trying to find the courage to launch into it.
But what came out of my lips wasn't my story.
"You first," I demanded, watching as his shoulders went a little tight, as he struggled with the possible ramifications of telling me his story.
But, in the end, he leaned back, kept almost unnerving eye-contact, and went into it.