Chapter Sixteen
Telling Paco about the kidnapping had been the best thing she’d ever done. She’d kept all the details of her harrowing ordeal in the recesses of her mind for so long, and now that she’d shared it with him, she felt an enormous albatross had been lifted from her.
Bringing her fingers to her lips, she touched them, remembering their kiss. I’m crazy about him. He’s been so good to me. She was beginning to trust him, and she hoped he was beginning to trust her and let her into his life. Since she’d read the letter Cassie had written to him while he’d been deployed, she understood why he put up such a tough exterior with women. He’s afraid of getting hurt again. Just like me. But he’s showing me that I can trust him. How do I show him he can do the same with me? Sharing her life with him had been a gigantic step for her; she hoped he understood that and realized what it meant to her to do that.
Slowly she padded over to the dresser and grabbed the box he’d given her the night before. Taking the phone out, she clicked on the power button. With shaking fingers, she tapped in her old phone number. She waited with bated breath, her heart skipping a beat at each ring.
“Hello?”
Mom. After all these years, it’s Mom. The lump in her throat pulsed.
“Hello? Is somebody there?”
“Mom,” she croaked.
Dead silence.
“Chelsea? My God! Chelsea, is that you?” Her mother’s voice rose in pitch and tears laced it.
“It’s me, Mom. I’m finally free. I missed you so much. I thought about you every day. And Kate. How’s Kate? Is she in college? Oh, Mommy, how I’ve missed you.” Self-control crumbled and all the heartache, the longing, the fear came tumbling out like a dam breaking and releasing a tsunami of water. Her knees gave out and she sank to the floor.
“I love you, sweetheart. I always knew in my heart that you were alive. I never stopped searching for you,” her mother sobbed.
In the background, Chelsea heard her stepfather ask, “What’s the matter, Linda?”
“Nothing. It’s all wonderful. Beautiful. Chelsea is alive. She’s here on the phone. She’s coming home. Where are you, honey? We’ll come pick you up.”
Before she could answer, her stepfather came on the phone. “Chelsea? Where are you?”
Past feelings and dislikes reared up. “Put Mom back on the phone.”
“She’s crying too much right now. Where are you?”
“I’m safe. Let me talk to Mom.”
“Why won’t you tell us where you are? Is this really Chelsea?”
“It’s me. Give me Mom.”
“Not until you tell us where you are.”
“For God’s sake, Peter. Leave her alone.” Some slight noise in the background. “Sweetie, it’s Mom. Are you safe?”
“I am. I’m with a friend. He’s going to bring me home. I’ll call you when I’m on my way.”
“When are you coming? I can’t wait to hug you. My baby.”
“Soon. I’ll call you again, Mom.”
“Did she call the police?” she heard Peter yell.
“Tell him no. Mom, the kidnappers told me they’d hurt you and Kate. Please be safe. I’m scared they’ll come after you. I’d die if that happened.”
“I’ll call the police and tell them.”
“Don’t call them until I get there, okay? Just watch out for anything suspicious, and if you see anyone around who’s acting strange, call 911. Promise me, okay, Mom?”
“I will.”
“Who are these people?” Peter asked. She guessed he’d grabbed the phone from her mother again.
“I don’t know. They’re very mean and dangerous.”
“How much money do you want?”
“What are you talking about?” Chelsea frowned.
“I don’t believe you’re our daughter. You’re pretending to be because you want money. Why won’t you tell us where you are? Why don’t you want us to call the cops?”
“Peter, stop that!” her mother shrilled in the background.
“I’m Chelsea. Tell Mom I love her and will call again soon.” She hung up and touched her forehead to her knees, trembling like a flame blown by the wind. She sat like that for hours until the sun sank lower in the sky, draining its blue hue and giving way to the inky dark of night.
Paco walked in and, all at once, the room was bathed in startling illumination. She jerked her head up and smiled at him, knowing she looked frightful with all the dried black streaks from her mascara.
“Are you okay?” he asked, kneeling beside her and running his fingers gently over her arm.
“Sorta. I called home. It was great to hear my mom’s voice, but then Peter got on the phone and started asking me where I was and all sorts of other questions. He even said he didn’t believe it was really me. My mom was crying and I just couldn’t take it anymore. I hung up. I felt like I was in one of those dreams where everything is distorted and out of focus, and there’s no way out no matter how fast you run.”
He gathered her in his arms and rested her head against him. “Shhh. It’s over now. You talked to your mom and that’s good. She knows you’re safe. You’ll see her in no time.”
He cradled and rocked her, and she was so touched by his tenderness that she curled her arm around his neck and brought his face close to hers, peppering it with kisses. In one fluid movement, she was on her back with Paco above her, lavishing kisses on her neck and shoulder as he pushed up her top and glided his hand over her belly. His kisses and touch sent a carnal tingle down her spine. The space between them was supercharged with the electricity of arousal and desire, and smooth sensation replaced words and thoughts. Her demons, her shame, everything she’d become were irrelevant. All that mattered was being in the moment with Paco, having him touching and kissing her while her body unfurled in ways it had never done before.
She slid her hand under his shirt and he bit lightly on her lip, dragging his tongue to her jaw and then trailing it to her earlobe, which he gently took between his teeth and sucked. She squirmed underneath him and her hand found his. He gripped her fingers, bone and ligament, easily broken. His tongue traveled down to her collarbone and then the tops of her breasts, her heart pounding as he licked and bit the delicate skin, craving his mouth on her aching nipples.
Pushing her top over her bra, he placed his hand on her breast and squeezed it. She moaned, arching her back and pressing closer to his warm body. In one movement, he unhooked her bra and licked her tits, and desire raced through her, searing her body. When he drew her pebbled rosy bud into his mouth, a jolt of heat burned right down to her aching sex. A deep sigh escaped her, like air rushing out of something. He looked up at her, his eyes smoldering, finding her mouth and kissing her hard, wet, deep.
“You stir crazy shit inside me, woman,” he rasped as he unzipped her jeans and pushed them down.
Feeling his hard bulge against her thigh, she reached down and put her hand over it, playing with it. His low groan made her tingle all over, and she grasped his zipper and tugged it down. He rolled slightly to his side and kicked off his boots before yanking off his jeans and boxers. His cock was hard, smooth, and pulsing. On his knees, he slowly took her clothes off, piece by piece, kissing and caressing her skin as he revealed it. His actions stole her breath away and made her body tingle in anticipation of what was to come.
Catching her gaze, he dipped his head and swept his lips across hers. “You’ve got the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen.”
“And you’re gorgeous.”
He ran his thumb under her lip. “I’ve never had a woman call me gorgeous. I like it.” He kissed her again, then traced the curves of her body with feather-soft touches. “So fucking soft and beautiful,” he said in a low voice.
He scooted down and bent his head over her quivering pussy. She reached out to touch his hair, but his fingers slipping between her thighs and teasing the slick folds of her sex stopped her. Instinctively, she spread her legs and moaned.
“Everything about you gets to me,” he said hoarsely as he ran his finger from her engorged clit to her heated opening. His head between her legs, she felt the scratch of his stubble on the insides of her thighs. With one finger inside her heat, his lips and then his tongue teased the wet folds of her desire. Every lick, every flick caused an electric surge to flash through her body. And when he steadily stroked her swollen nub, he struck fire. She cried out in astonishment and closed her eyes as flashes of light burst in front of them. Her orgasm tore through her in waves of color—lemonade yellow, strawberry red, persimmon orange—wicked pleasure spreading to every corner of her body as she gripped his arms, crying out, “Paco!” Never had she experienced anything so intense, so magical.
He kissed her shoulders, his finger still buried deep inside her. Licking her lips, she grabbed his dick and squeezed it. A guttural groan echoed through her as she guided it toward her. He reached behind him and dragged his jeans over, taking out a condom. In no time, he had his cock sheathed and pushed her legs farther apart, his gaze still fixed on hers.
Taking his dick in his hand, he ran it up and down her glistening folds, then pushed it inside her. He filled her completely, and she loved the feel of him buried deep between her aching walls.
“Give it to me rough,” she rasped.
Concern crossed his face. “Are you sure?”
“Don’t you like it that way?”
“Yeah, but do you really want it rough?”
Skimming her top lip with the tip of her tongue, she fisted his hair and pulled it hard. “Yeah.” Her heated gaze locked on his.
He kissed her, then pinched her nipples until she moaned. “Hold on, baby. I’m gonna fuck you good and hard.”
His words were bolts of desire, lust, and excitement streaking through her. She lifted her legs and wrapped them around his waist, and he pulled out his cock and slammed it back into her—balls deep.
“Your pussy feels real good, baby,” he panted as he pounded in and out of her. “I’m gonna make you come until you can’t breathe.” He slipped his hand between them and stroked her sweet spot as he kept pummeling in and out.
Her heated walls tightened with every thrust, and she knew she was about to come all over his dick. Faster. Harder. Deeper—his thrusts kept coming, driving her further up the ladder to ecstasy. A jolt of white-hot pleasure arced through her and she flung her arms over her head, grabbing the legs of the nightstand and twisting beneath him as euphoria pushed her over the top.
He stiffened, then held her gaze. “Chelsea,” he rasped as he panted and then collapsed on top of her, his chest heaving. She draped her arms over his shoulders and lightly rubbed his upper back.
Her mind was whirling. She’d never experienced such an explosion of sensations in her life. She gave herself to him, and he treated her like she was a precious gift. He’d been hesitant to give it to her hard, but she needed him to. How could she explain that rough sex was her way of letting go, of putting all her trust in him, and in doing so she regained her confidence? Considering her past, she knew it had probably sounded fucked up to him, but she’d needed that trust in him to help her break out of the chains of distrust and fear.
She blinked rapidly. He’d done as she asked without ridicule or mistreatment, and in that moment, she felt closer to him than she’d ever felt to any man. Is this what love is? Her heart soared as she hugged him, kissing the top of his head.
He pulled up and smiled at her, stroking her jaw with the rough pads of his fingers. “Damn, woman.” Dipping his head down, he kissed her gently.
As he looked at her, a low growl came from her stomach, and she cringed with embarrassment; she hadn’t eaten since early that morning.
He laughed. “I promised you a steak.” He pushed back and stood up, then helped her off the floor. Tossing the condom in the trash, he looked at his phone. “We better get going. Flanigan’s closes early on weeknights.”
With her insides bursting with joy, she kissed him quickly, then went to the bathroom to get ready.
* * *
The cherry wood and red leather booths in Flanigan’s reminded Chelsea of the Cotton Patch Steakhouse back home. She and her family had gone there at least two times a month for their Sunday night fixed menu.
Sitting across from Paco, sipping a glass of chardonnay, blew her mind. The previous week, she was forced to take off her clothes and shake her body in front of a bunch of men in Silverado. She never imagined she’d ever be free from that life.
“Did you find something you like?” Paco asked.
“Everything’s so expensive here. What are you having?”
“Don’t worry about the prices. I’m going with the porterhouse steak with cognac butter. The cognac butter fucking rules. You should try it. You like mushrooms?”
Nodding, she looked down at the menu. The porterhouse is sixty fucking dollars. She glanced up. “You make that much money owning a surplus store?”
Paco’s face split into a wide grin. “The store makes a decent revenue. I also have money coming in from the club’s businesses. All members share in that. Don’t get hung up on the prices. Just order what you like.” Grasping her hand, he brought it to his lips and kissed it, his gaze fixed on hers. “I’m glad you’re having dinner with me.”
She smiled. “Is this the standard restaurant that you take your dates to?”
“No fucking way. You’re the only woman I’ve brought here.”
Her body warmed. Looking at him in his leather cut and tats, he exuded toughness. She was sure he instilled fear in most people—they probably stepped out of his way when they encountered him—but to her, he had an inner beauty shining through, a sparkle nothing and no one could ever take away.
“Are you ready to place your order?” the waiter asked.
“Know what you want?” Paco asked her.
“Yeah. I’ll have the filet mignon, princess size, with the cognac butter.” She darted her eyes to him and he smiled. “I’ll also have an order of asparagus. And please make my steak medium rare.”
“Do you wanna share a Caesar salad with me?” Paco said. She nodded, and he placed his order.
Her dinner was delicious, the filet mignon melting in her mouth. When the waiter came by asking if they wanted any dessert, she shook her head and placed her hands on her belly. She was beyond full.
As they sipped an after-dinner drink—he a Jameson whiskey and she an Irish cream—his eyes never left hers for an instant.
She put her glass down and took a deep breath. “You know so much about me, but I don’t know anything about you except that you’re a gorgeous and sexy-as-hell biker, own a store, are a great kisser, have a kind and generous soul, and gave me my first orgasm.”
“You’ve never had an orgasm before?”
She laughed. “How is it that you only homed in on that one?”
“I’m just surprised about it. I’m glad I’m your first.”
“You’re my first with so many things, like buying me perfume, treating me kindly, helping me out, respecting me during sex. I could go on and on, but the point I was trying to make before we got side-tracked about my orgasms was that I don’t know much about your background. Do you have any brothers and sisters? Where do your parents live? Did you go to college? It’s only fair you share with me since I shared my backstory with you.”
“One sister, three nephews, no college, my mom’s dead, and my dad is as good as dead to me.” He picked up his glass and took a drink.
“Wait. I didn’t want the condensed story of your life. Does your sister live in Alina?”
“Nope. She’s married to a guy in the Army, and they live in Richfield, Utah. She’s got three boys, just had the third a month ago. That’s why I was driving through Utah when I stopped in Moab. I was coming back from my sister’s. She’s twenty-seven years old—three years younger than me. It’s just the two of us.”
“Are you from Alina?”
“Colorado Springs.”
“So you don’t get along with your dad?”
His face darkened and his jaw tightened. “He killed my mom, so I’d have to say that I don’t.” He lifted his hand and motioned for the waiter. “You want another drink?”
“Sure. Are you okay with me asking you these questions?”
“Yeah.” He turned to the waiter. “Another whiskey and Irish cream.”
“I’m so sorry about your mom… and dad. Why did he… kill her?” She gulped down the rest of her first drink.
“He wanted to marry his whore.” She winced at the word and he frowned. “I guess I should’ve said mistress.”
“Why didn’t he just divorce your mom?”
“To him, my mom was worth more dead than alive. He took out a million-dollar life insurance policy a few months before he hacked her to death. Not only is he a fucking sonofabitch sociopath, but he’s also a fucking dumbass. He really didn’t think he’d be caught.”
She reached for his hand and interlocked their fingers. “I’m really sorry. I don’t know what to say. It must be awful for you. How old were you when it happened?”
“Fourteen. Kendra was only eleven. The bastard is dead to me.” Picking up his newly delivered whiskey, he looked at her straight on. “I’m done talking about it.”
Reflected in his eyes were pain and sadness. She leaned over the table and reached out for him to meet her halfway. He did, and she traced his bottom lip lightly with her fingertip. She lifted in her chair and pulled his lip in between her teeth, sucking and licking it. She had the urge to wrap her arms around him and pull him tight against her, cocooning him from his painful memories, from the horror that no son should ever have to deal with. His hand came behind her head, fisting her hair as his mouth pressed against hers, deepening the kiss.
“I’m sorry I made you conjure up the memories,” she said against his lips, but he swallowed her words. The urgency and passion in the kiss spoke volumes, telling her that he needed her at that moment to feel something other than sadness, anger, and broken memories.
He pulled away, his gaze intense with desire and something else. Admiration? Could it possibly be love? I don’t think so. It’s too soon, but then I feel something so wonderful for him, why can’t he feel it for me?
“What’s going on in your head? I can see you’re wrestling with something in there.” He squeezed her hand.
“Nothing really. It’s just that I’m glad you shared that about your family. I know it was hard.”
“Only a few people know that part of my life. Not even all my brothers do. You’re the only woman I’ve shared it with. I wanted you to know.” He pressed her hand to his lips and kissed each finger.
A smile danced across her face as she slipped her hand away. “I have to go to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”
On the way back to the table, she caught something from the corner of her eye. It was a form—familiar yet menacing. Slowly she turned toward the lobby, and all she saw was Bobby. Everything fell away: the low hum of conversation, the clink of glasses and dishes, the cars speeding down the street in front of the restaurant. She stopped dead; she couldn’t move a single muscle, not even to scream. Her pulse banged in her ears and sweat dripped down her back. The absolute horror of seeing him in her space completely paralyzed her.
Bobby came toward her, his beady eyes flashing with rage. His thin lips were pulled back in a snarl, exposing his crooked teeth. Raising his hands, he clenched them into fists as if foreshadowing what he was going to do to her.
The more she thought about running away, or even moving a bit, the more terrified and discouraged she felt. It seemed as if this was the end of the road for her.
One. Two. Three. Each step brought her tormentor closer to her. The heels of the new shoes Paco had bought her dug deeper into the plush carpet, immobilizing her even more. How is he here? He was so close she swore she could smell the stench of his armpits and cheap aftershave.
A choked cry for help forced itself up her throat, and she felt a drop run down her cheek.
“May I help you with something, miss?” the waiter asked her. Simple words, but they were the ones she needed to ground her.
Forcing her legs to move, she stepped back and grabbed the waiter’s arm. “I’m not feeling so well. Can you please escort me back to my table?”
“Of course.” The waiter walked with her while other patrons filled in the gap between her and Bobby. She thought she could hear his frustration and feel his breath on her skin. Without looking back, she let the waiter take her to the table where Paco waited for her.
“Thank you,” she said as the waiter helped push her chair in.
An inquisitive look spread over Paco’s face. “Are you sick?”
“Bobby’s here. I saw him in the lobby when I was—”
Paco leapt up with such force that his water glass fell over. He ran off and she watched him disappear, her heart racing and her mouth dry. The waiter hurriedly sopped up the water and in no time, he’d replaced the wet tablecloth with a clean, dry one. She played with the stem on her glass, trying to calm the thoughts that kept crashing into each other in her head. The only thing that mattered was that Bobby had found her.
Icy fingers gripped her insides and twisted them. What if Victor is here to take what he paid for? I don’t know what to do. What if this was a setup and they’ve hurt Paco? I don’t know—
“I couldn’t find the fucker anywhere. Fuck!” Paco said as he sank in the chair.
She let out the breath she’d been holding. He’s safe. “I can’t believe he found me.”
“Me neither. I don’t see how he did unless he knows someone here in town, or it was just dumb luck. Alina’s not too far from Silverado. If I were looking, I’d fan out over all the counties within a two or three hundred-mile radius.” He looked at her then, holding her gaze with his fierce one. “You can’t go anywhere without me, not until I find the sonofabitch and take care of him.”
Take care of him? “What do you mean by that? Are you going to kill him?” she asked in a low voice, glancing all around.
“I’ll just fix it so you don’t have to worry about running into him anymore.”
The way he said it, coupled with the hard look in his gaze, stopped her from asking any more questions. The truth was she didn’t really want to know anything more about it. She hated Bobby, and it seemed right that his fate should be determined by a badass biker who probably never ran from a fight in his life. Bobby was the type of man who beat up women and cowered in front of men, but she suspected Victor wasn’t that way. He was the type who loved hurting women and men—an all-around psycho.
“Let’s go.” Paco helped her up, then nestled her under his arm.
On the way back, he drove around town, through hotel, motel, and bar parking lots and up and down the streets looking for Bobby, but she didn’t see him anywhere. He finally pulled onto the old highway and headed back to the clubhouse, constantly checking the rearview mirror.
When they’d gone up to his room, changed, and turned off the lights, he drew her into his arms and kissed her. “Don’t worry about this. I’ve got your back.”
“I know,” she whispered against his chest.
After they slipped under the covers, he tucked her close, his strong arm tight around her. Paco fell asleep almost immediately, but rest evaded her for a long while. She hated what Bobby had done to her that night. He’d destroyed her safe world all over again. She could no longer pretend that all was good and normal in her life. He’d taken that away from her, and she hated him for it.