“SORRY, I HAVEN’T BEEN BY in a week. Roger has some meathead tailing me, but I took a different route, cutting between a few buildings giving him the slip. Tina said it’s club business. I feel like I’m living in an episode of Sons of Anarchy.” I bend down to pull a few weeds from the ground. “I ordered you a new headstone, and if anyone defaces it, I’m going to cut their balls off. Don’t worry Dee. I’ll make sure you rest in peace.”
Shit.
I duck low, crouching behind her headstone, hearing the steady sound of a motorcycle engine humming before coming to a stop. Peeking my head out an inch, my eyes widen as Roger walks down to the same grave he was visiting last week. His hands touch the stone that wasn’t there last time I saw him here. He bows his head for a few minutes before leaving. I wait an extra few minutes myself, then gently tread across the grass between graves, to the one he was at.
The name Colin Flynn is etched along with the dates of his birth and death. Creed’s emblem is also etched on the back of the stone with a Prez patch.
“You know him?”
“Huh?” I jump, startled at the stranger standing three feet behind me.
“I asked if you knew him.”
“Sorry, I didn’t.”
“Really? Why are you here then?”
“I’m a psychic. His soul was calling to me.”
“Oh, yeah what was the old bastard sayin’?”
“He was saying fuck you!” I spring forward kicking him in the balls, then sprint down the path through the woods.
He gave me the creeps. He was standing too close… and his hand was reaching into his back pocket. I wasn’t going to wait to see what he was about to pull out. He looked wild; crazy like he hadn’t slept or showered for days.
I don’t look back, my feet jumping over rocks, my hands force the branches back as I race down towards the road. Stumbling, I cry out and tumble for a bit before I’m able to grab a fallen branch and stop the momentum of my body.
“Fuck,” I hiss feeling the pain of scratches and bruises forming all over. Crawling behind a tree, I catch my breath and listen for any sounds that he might be following. He whistles, that creepy whistle the Saviors do in The Walking Dead. It echoes through the trees and I know I need to get the heck out of here.
Standing up, I’m grateful both ankles aren’t injured as I race down the reminder of the hill to the road.
“Get on!”
I don’t question the man I recognize as the one who has been assigned to tail me. I take his hand and climb on the back of the bike. He zips through town and tears into the lot behind Sassy’s, leaving a cloud of dust in our wake.
Shit.
The door bangs open, and men rush out with guns drawn.
I’m helped off the bike and surrounded, each of the men forming a human shield with me in the middle as they lead me inside.
I’m marched straight back to Roger’s office. The man guarding the door looks down at me with eyes full of pity before opening it and motioning me to go inside.
“Sit,” he sharply commands without even looking up from his desk. One hand shuffles through some papers while the other taps a silver pen on the desk. He’s wearing a pair of black horn-rimmed glasses that are sexy as fuck. My breath catches, noticing how his white T-shirt stretches over his chest. His biceps are huge; as thick as my thigh and covered in tats.
I sigh, just wishing it wasn’t him; that he wasn’t so effing hot. I wish he didn’t know Dee and that he was ten years younger, maybe then he might look at me as more than just a cute employee.
“I’m sorry.”
“W-what?”
“I should have never hired you. But I did. Did you know I was in a motorcycle club?”
“Was? I thought you still were?”
His pen drops on the stack of papers and he sits back crossing his arms behind his head. I don’t even bother trying to hide how my eyes fall to his muscular arms. But he doesn’t even look at me, he turns his body and looks out the window.
“I was the first Sergeant in Arms when Creed was formed here in Springdale. But some shit went down twenty years ago… that broke up the chapter here. I never officially left Creed, but all the other guys scattered, most joined the Los Angeles chapter. Anyway, I suppose you never really get out. Some shit went down a few years back, and now the blowback is coming.”
“Am I in danger? Is that why some guy’s been tailing me?”
“Yes. You can’t give him the slip like that again. Toad’s a good fella. He’ll keep ya’ safe when you ain’t here. I need you to do everything I say. Is that clear Devon?”
I swallow, “What kind of shit are you mixed up in?”
“It’s club business,” he answers, finally looking at me. “Christ! What in the hell happened to you?” He roars springing out of his chair.
I look down noticing the angry red scratches covering my arms. “It’s nothing, I was out jogging and took a shortcut.”
“Cut the shit. I need to know what happened right mother fucking now!”
“Nothing. I went for my morning run and decided to cut through the cemetery.”
He hisses through his teeth, “Follow me.”
He leads me out of his office and down a hall off-limits to anyone who’s not a member of Creed. He opens a door, and I gasp as he lifts a storm trap door built into the floor revealing a wooden staircase that goes down to the dark.
“No. No way,” I shake my head as he gestures for me to go down.
A hand gently nudges my hip.
“I-I’m claustrophobic.”
“In. Or I’ll carry you down.”
I gulp, knowing he’s serious.
One foot hesitantly steps forward, he’s right behind me, the heat coming from his body warming my back.
I close my eyes, walking down the stairs step by step. His large arm wraps around my waist pulling me back against the front of his large frame. His head dips low by mine as he bends over me and reaches forward with one hand to pull on a hanging light.
“You doin’ okay?”
“Fine,” I squeak out, freaking out that he’s actually touching me. But freaking out even more at how my body’s reacting to the feel of his. A thousand sparks crackle and ignite, leaping across my skin and it makes no sense. Why this man? Why here? Why now?
I shake my head, moving forward, taking that last step onto a concrete floor.
“What is this place? A bunker?”
“I suppose so,” he shrugs moving past me down another small hall. It’s a maze of halls and rooms, like a modern-day underground hideout but this one is filled with food and ammo. He leads me to a small bathroom and flips on the light. “Sit.”
He opens the cabinet taking out antiseptic and cotton balls. My eyes follow as his huge hands dab each wound tenderly. But it still stings as the liquid antiseptic touches my skin. He leans down, blowing softly on my skin then dabs some ointment and places Band-Aids on top.
“There. All better. Now, are you gonna tell me what happened?”
“Some guy freaked me out. I got spooked and ran through the woods down to the road.”
“I figured,” he takes my chin in his hand, “don’t lie to me again. I can’t protect ya’ if you don’t tell me the truth.” He takes a deep breath, “Did he hurt ya’? Try anything?”
“N-no. But he had a gun. He was reaching behind his back, and I ran.”
He grips the sink so hard I wouldn’t be surprised if it rips right off the wall. “If anything like that happens again, you come to me? Got it?”
I swallow hard, knowing how many secrets I’m hiding from him and wishing I could just let myself fall forward to feel his strong arms around me again. Just one more time, before he learns the truth about who I am and why I’m here and stops looking at me like something he wishes he could have.
“Rog?”
“Yeah?”
“Are you single?”
“It ain’t gonna happen, sweetheart.”
“Why not?” I bite back, wondering what’s wrong with me.
“You’re jailbait, too young for me sugar. Besides, I don’t dip my stick where I work, especially in employees.”
“I’m over thirty and I won’t be your employee past the rest of summer,” I reply swinging my hips as I walk away.