4. Chapter Four
Chapter Four
Athena
“ H ey, you doin’ okay? Need some help?” The deepest voice I’ve ever heard makes me freeze on the spot.
It comes from behind me and I could kick myself for not being more aware of my surroundings—part of my training was to be aware of everything around me so that I could anticipate the needs of others.
“I’m fine.” I applaud myself internally for keeping my voice steady, but I don’t turn around.
Keeping my arms firmly on the hood of the truck, I concentrate on steadying my breaths while trying not to breathe in too much of the white smoke at the same time. It takes everything in me not to run away when a looming presence takes all the pressure off, holding up the hood higher than I was able. I do step back though, so I’m not easily within arm’s reach.
“Looks like the coolant is leaking. You might need a new head gasket, but I couldn’t say for sure without really getting in there.”
The man’s voice is like soft velvet, and now that I’m at a safe distance away from him, I dare to look up at his face. His eyes are a breathtakingly deep, rich brown, so dark his pupils almost blend. He has a thick black beard with tight curls that surrounds full lips, currently curved up into a small smile aimed in my direction and it confuses the hell out of me.
“I’ll call a tow truck for you and we’ll get it fixed up. Do you have somewhere we can take you to wait? It could be a few days.” Where I was using both arms to hold up the hood, this man is only using one of his very large, thick, leather-covered arms. He should intimidate me way more than he does, and the fact that he doesn’t scares me.
I can’t let my guard down for a kind face though… because inevitably, it won’t stay kind for long. They never do.
“I’m fine.” Shaking my head, I wrap my arms around myself.
I’ll figure this out without the help. The GPS said I was only about twenty-five minutes from my destination…
“You said that already, Baby Girl.”
Woah, the way he smiles, flashing his straight white teeth… it makes his dark eyes crinkle a little and his whole face light up. He’s not treating me with the kid gloves I’ve experienced so far; he’s not looking at me and seeing the weak shell that I am.
It’s… I don’t know.
I can’t describe the way he makes me feel because I’m conflicted. Everything about him screams dangerous—everything I’ve ever known is dangerous—but the natural urge to defend myself just isn’t there.
I’m completely ignoring the baby girl comment, mainly because I don’t know how to respond right now. My training would have me batting my lashes with a smile, ready to obey the next order given, but this man doesn’t make me feel like I have to do that. It’s a little disarming and I’m struggling with how to present myself here.
I have never come across someone who oozes this much power and safety all at once, but the only logical explanation for him being kind to me is that he thinks I’ll do whatever he wants.
“Okay.” I don’t know what he’s saying okay to, but he slams down the hood of the truck. Well, he closes it gently if I’m being exact, then he winks and pulls out his phone.
The slathering look that usually accompanies a wink isn’t there… this man just keeps surprising me. Or more like, I think I’m surprising myself because I’ve interacted with people since I escaped, and I wanted to get away from each and every one of them within seconds, but not him.
Two people I hadn’t even noticed before now approach, and I realize they must have been riding those motorcycles I heard when I was looking at the engine. There’s really nothing I could have done, so I don’t know why I was bothering to look, but it felt like the right thing to do. If something had seemed out of place, I may have been able to figure it out.
On instinct, I take a step back from the man with tattoos on his face. Not because of the ink, but because of the confident way he comes over and shoulder checks the larger man, who is now on the phone. Now this man makes me wary.
“Hey, don’t mind them. They’re harmless. My name’s Mac.” The blonde woman who was on the other bike looks a lot younger than me, but her eyes are full of a life lived. She holds out her palm for me to shake, but I can’t bring myself to take it.
Forcing a smile, I debate giving her my real name, but I don’t know these people.
“Amy.” One of my favorite characters from the Pitch Perfect DVD I watched a million times. She gave zero shits about what people thought and always went for what she wanted.
That’s what I’m trying to do.
“Nice to meet you, Amy.” Mac lowers her palm when she realizes I don’t plan on shaking it and moves to stand beside me. “Don’t worry. The club’s mechanics are the best in town. They’ll get you back on the road in no time.” She gently nudges my arm with her elbow and this time, I can’t help the very obvious flinch. “Shit, did I hurt you?”
I lower my eyes and shake my head. “No. I’m fine.”
“I’m sorry. Is there anyone you can call to take you home?” She seems genuinely concerned and I’m positive that’s the first time I’ve ever heard anyone apologize to me. Except my mother, but that was fourteen years ago.
“No!” I immediately step back and move my arms up and cross my wrists over my chest, clenching my fists and resting my chin on them to protect my neck. I shouldn’t have just snapped at this woman. But that’s how they get you. They pretend they’re the good, kind one, then they turn out twice as bad as the men.
“Hey, eyes up, Baby Girl. There ain’t nothin’ on the ground worth looking at.” His shadow appears next to mine as he approaches from my other side. He doesn’t get too close, keeping a safe distance away, and his palms are up by his large shoulders when I eventually lift my gaze. “There we are. Beautiful.” He grins, and I almost can’t remember what I was afraid of.
“Bear’s in love again!”
Frowning, I turn to see Mac slapping the tattooed guy in the back of the head before pointing her finger in his face and scolding him quietly. He doesn’t cower, though, and neither does she when his eyebrow rises and his smile turns feral as he grips her ass cheeks and lifts her. She doesn’t fight him, and he doesn’t fight her when their lips crash together before she taps him on the cheek and unwraps her legs from his waist. They both laugh. Together… happy.
Just like the movies.
I sigh, realizing my attention should be on the hulk of a man beside me. It’s strange how his presence doesn’t feel stifling or uncomfortable. Still super confusing.
“Tow truck’s on the way.” He moves to block the tattooed guy from getting too close as he bounds over.
Is that a…
“Is that a rat on your shoulder?” The question was too important to hold back.
“He isn’t just a rat. Meet Ninja. Cherry’s got his girlfriend, Bandit, over there.” Tattooed guy flicks his head back toward Mac, although I swear he just called her Cherry. “So, your truck’s fucked. But I’m sure my brother Bear here told you that already.” He slaps Bear’s upper arm before pulling a red sucker from the inner pocket of his riding suit, unwrapping it, and pushing it into his mouth.
The rat—Ninja—nuzzles his neck for a moment before disappearing behind him, into the hood peeking out of his leather jacket. In fact, both men are wearing the same one with just a couple of differences.
I feel like I just received a lot of information and I’m struggling to process it. I always thought rats were dirty, not something that could be a cute pet like Ninja. He called that Mac girl Cherry, and he called the huge guy Bear… and his brother.
Now, I may not have a whole lot of world knowledge, but they have to be adopted brothers or step siblings or something. They’re built completely differently, where Tattooed Guy is clearly well muscled, he doesn’t have anything on Bear, not in height either. And the most obvious indicator that they’re not blood related brothers is their skin color. Tattooed guy is sunkissed and golden, where Bear is like a dark night caressed by the moon. Okay, so he’s not that dark, but something about him is making me feel a little poetic.
Not once have I seen pity or sensed danger in his eyes, and it’s refreshing beyond compare.
Of all the different people—tall, short, wide, thin, Black, white, Asian, male, and female—I’ve encountered at the galas, the parties , the events, and the private visits to my bedroom, none of them have looked at me the way this man does. His eyes tell a whole story I’m not yet privy to.
“The tow’s here.” Mac’s voice cuts through my deer-in-the-headlights moment.
“I’ll go talk to them, brother.” Tattooed Guy chuckles and heads over to the truck that just pulled up, greeting the woman with chin-length blue hair. She’s also covered in tattoos from what I can see, all the way up her neck, and she’s as tall as the other guy.
“You really don’t have to do this. I don’t know if I can even afford to get it towed and fixed.” I’m not sure why I didn’t think of this before now, but here we are. And now I’m beginning to panic. My breaths are shorter, my lips downturned like my eyes. “I-I only have fift-fifty dollars an—”
“What did I say about looking at the ground?” It’s not an order, or a scolding. His words come out soft, smooth, like the sweetest of treats. “It’s only gonna cost ten dollars for the new part, and the tow is free. Nothin’ to worry about, Baby Girl.”
I slowly lift my eyes, up and up, until they finally reach his. The smile from before reappears and he rubs his palm across his hairless head, almost like he’s a little bashful, and I think I’m blushing. My cheeks are warmer than I can remember them feeling through natural means.
As if in an instant, his kind eyes turn dark and it looks as though he’s holding himself back from reaching out.
“Who hurt you? Where did you get that bruise on your cheek?”
I’m momentarily stunned into stillness, trying to figure out if his anger is directed at me or for me. I don’t want to answer him, but I do at the same time. I can’t though, it’s not safe.
“I walked into a door about a week ago.” Pulling all my reserves from the pit of my stomach, I do what I’ve been trained to do; I smile, feign a laugh, and shrug. “It was my own fault, really.”
“Hmm.” His response is the deepest growl, it would rival a lion, and it’s obvious he doesn’t believe me but he doesn’t call me out on my blatant lie.
“Grabbed a new one for you, Bear.” The blue-haired woman approaches holding out a black motorcycle helmet.
“Appreciate it, Kincaid.” He takes it from her with a nod of thanks and the respect these people have for each other is like nothing I’ve ever seen in real life.
Blue—Kincaid—nods back, her eyes flicking over me briefly before she gives me a respectful head tilt too. I don’t know what I’ve done to earn it, but it felt kinda good.
But what if all these people are planning something awful? In my experience, appearances are without a doubt deceiving. The kindness they’re showing me could all be a big ruse, but what could they possibly want from me? I’m not young and beautiful anymore… never really was.
I have no money to give them, no possessions, and none of them have even tried to touch me since Mac nudged my arm. It’s almost as if they know things.
They can’t.
“They’re gonna take your truck to the shop and I’m gonna take you home.” He holds out the motorcycle helmet for me.
“You can’t take me home. I’m not going home. And I can’t go on that thing. I can find my way. I’ll buy a map an—”
“Shhh, Baby Girl. It’s okay. I’ve got you.”
I realize light tears have begun to fall down my cheeks as his image becomes clear in front of me again. From out of nowhere, this big guy with a kind attitude is holding a white tissue in front of my face. With patience in spades, he just waits for me to take it, never showing annoyance or anger that I'm not moving.
Tentatively, I grab the tissue and close my eyes, taking a deep breath before drying my cheeks. I don’t know why I took his offering, I shouldn’t have, but it felt so natural I didn’t even think about what I was doing.
The blue truck that got me this far is now attached to chains, the front wheels lifted, and it is moved into position. Kincaid and another man wearing a jacket with the same symbol as the others are operating the tow truck like the pros I presume they are. Maybe the logo is for their garage?
“You ready to go, brother? Bash and Kincaid have got this. We can follow behind so you don’t gotta come back to the compound solo.” Tattooed guy reaches over his shoulder and out comes Ninja from his hood, pattering down his arm and onto his motorcycle. Does he ride with the rat there?
“Just gotta persuade her that riding with me is preferable to riding with you, Psycho.” Bear laughs and it’s a sound I could come to adore, if that were even a possibility. But it’s not.
Is Tattooed Guy’s name Psycho or was Bear calling him a psycho?
For how overwhelmed I currently am, I’m doing good, but the act will break soon enough and I’m twenty-five minutes away from the safety Mom promised I’d find.
“Is it… safe?” I understand that my options here are limited, but I definitely don’t want to be on the back of a motorcycle with someone being called a psycho, and there’s clearly no room in the tow truck cab. They just kind of did everything without actually asking and now if I don’t accept this help, without my truck I will probably end up lost or dead by the side of the road. My determination can only get me so far, and I’m aware of that.
“You’ll be with me. Of course it is.” He winks, passing me the helmet. I like that he isn’t trying to put it on for me. “Now, where am I taking you?”
I sigh heavily, resigned to the fact that this is what I need to do. Giving in here has nothing to do with the strange feelings this man evokes in me… nothing at all.
“3020 Remington Road, Rockford Beach.”