Chapter Six
Rosie
I’m laid flat on the bed with my leg propped up on three small throw pillows while Hawk and Zee stand over me.
“Jesus.” Zee peels the T-shirt off my leg and stares down at the cut. “How the hell did you let this happen? She’s not supposed to get hurt!” He meets me at the head of the bed, the ghost mask still in place, but this time he wears a pair of gray slacks and a work shirt that’s covered in stains. He smells like motor oil and gasoline. The smell reminds me of Owen when he comes home from work, and though most would find the combination of scents revolting, I sort of like it.
I close my eyes for a moment and imagine it’s Owen’s hand on my head, his voice in my ear, his body next to mine. God, I miss him. I wonder what he’s thinking right now, where he’s looking, if he’s gone to the police. I’m sure my mother and Jen have. They probably went after the first missed call.
“I’m okay. It’s not his fault,” I say, ignoring the pain shooting through my leg. “I wasn’t watching where I was going, and I tripped. That’s all.”
“We need Moose. He can fix this.” Hawk stalks toward the door. “I saw him a minute ago, but he was pissed. I’m gonna go find him.”
“How the hell can Moose fix this?” Zee turns back and snarls toward Hawk.
Blood stains Hawk’s shirt and sticks the fabric to his hard stomach. “I watched him sew up a horse last week. This needs stitches, and he has all the tools.”
Stitches. “I don’t need stitches,” I say, uncovering the bloody mess on my knee. “It’s fine. I just need a Band-Aid.”
“You need more than a Band-Aid, Bir—” He looks away and paces the room before glancing toward Hawk. “Stay here. I’ll get him.”
The room is quiet for a moment as Zee leaves. I’m not sure what he was going to say, but I get the feeling he’s holding back on a lot of things. Maybe it’s because he’s struggling with this. Maybe this isn’t who he is, and he’s realizing that now. Maybe he’ll change his mind and let me go.
Hawk draws in a deep breath and lies on the bed beside me, brushing his fingertips against my skin in comfort. “You’re okay.”
“I don’t want stitches, especially not from Moose. He looked pissed. What if he hurts me?”
He shakes his head. “He won’t hurt you. We wouldn’t let him hurt you.” His lips graze the top of my head in comfort, and warmth spreads through me again.
“Why are you so nice to me?” My eyes hold on his for a long moment, and something in the room shifts. My knee stops hurting, my heart aches, my thighs squeeze, my stomach hurts… and I want him to kiss me.
He leans in slowly, and soon my lips graze his with intent until the weight of his frame is heavy against my body and heat passes between us on full blast.
What’s happening? How is a man that looks like Hawk touching me? Maybe he’s full of shit and the nice guy act is just a ploy to get me to cooperate.
The side door slams, and we pull away from each other in a quick instant, cold air rushing between us as Moose and Zee make their way into the room.
Side by side, Moose is a giant. Tall and wide with broad shoulders and a permanent scowl. His beard is long with salt and pepper strands, and he wears a baseball cap pulled down tightly. He pulls the rocker close to the edge of the bed and lowers his large frame down carefully as though he’s tired from a long day’s work.
“Can you fix this?” a concerned Zee asks as he shows Moose my leg.
“Sure can.” He bends down to grab a fishing box with supplies rattling inside. A fishing box? What could be in that box that would fix my leg? “The second you take that mask off.”
Zee shakes his head and looks away. “Get fucked, bro. I’m not taking the mask off. Give her the stitches.”
“Or what? Take the fuckin’ mask off,” Moose growls. “She needs the stitches, she’s already lost a fair amount of blood, but I’m not sewing her up until we put some of this bullshit to bed.”
I have no idea what’s happening, but it’s scaring me. Not only the part about the blood, but the argument happening at the foot of the bed. If these guys turn against each other right now, who knows what happens to me. I think Hawk would protect me, but that’s probably not all together true either. I’ve only known him for a few hours. That doesn’t garner me much sympathy when it’s me or some guys he felt comfortable kidnapping someone with.
Hawk sits up, his hand still in mine. “Guys, shut the fuck up. Moose, give her the stitches. We can argue about this later.”
Moose laughs and stands from the chair, taking his box of supplies with him. “Nah. Zee said we’d remain anonymous. Now, she knows my farm, my face, and God knows what else.” He glances toward Zee. “This was your idea and you’re the only one of us she doesn’t know. Take the fuckin’ mask off or I’ll rip it off your fuckin’ head.”
Zee stalks back and forth, tugging on the ghost mask as though he’s thinking over his options. My stomach twists and tightens as he shifts his arm upward and the flash of a Paul Newman Rolex catches my eye.
Owen! Did this guy hurt Owen? Oh God, what if the police aren’t coming? What if these people hurt Owen? My heart hammers hard as my breath quickens.
The man in the mask steps toward me, his hand reaching out for mine, but I pull away. “Where did you get that watch?”
The man sighs and stares toward me, his eyes still concealed. “I’m sorry, Birdie. I’m so fuckin’ sorry.”
Birdie?
He pulls the mask up over his head and stares with big, brown eyes wide with sorrow. “I,” he sighs as though the words are caught in his throat, “saw the Fantasy Driver thing the night before we talked and I knew when I saw the bid amount that you wouldn’t quit, so I got some guys together to hide you until the whole thing was over. They were supposed to give it another day. I thought you’d change your mind last night when we talked, but… well, here we are.”
Words scatter in my head, but nothing comes out. I’m not sure anything will ever come out again. Owen? How could he do this? How could he have me taken so violently? How could he… drug me. Who is he anymore?
His hand moves up my leg and onto my arm. “I know you’re thinking about the money, and I’m working on that. Moose approved the bid, so we’ve got until tomorrow to think on our next move.”
I gasp as Moose pours cold alcohol over the cut on my knee. “What? Why did you do that? If I don’t show up, I still owe the money, Owen. What the hell were you thinking?”
He sighs and stands straighter, locking his hand in mine as though we’re still best friends. “You aren’t going to owe anyone anything. I’m taking care of it.”
“Taking care of what? You’re not going to talk some perv out of an experience like this. These guys have been talking me up for months, watching my videos, getting hungry. I owe them, and if I don’t show up, I owe the buyer his money and a penalty charge.” My eyes widen. “A huge penalty charge. We’re talking thirty percent of the total paid.” My chest tightens even thinking about it.
“I said I’ll figure it out, Birdie.” His tone is sharp with anger. I’ve never seen him like this before.
“And then what?” I squeak as Moose flushes the cut with something else that stings.
“Then I talk to him, and I get him to retract the bid.”
I sigh, watching as Moose’s strong jaw locks as he threads a piece of string through a hooked wire. Something tells me this is going to hurt. “You’ve lost your mind! That’s not gonna happen, and if you show up in place of me, you’ll end up hurt. Maybe you missed the part where I signed a contract!”
The sharp pinch of the needle pierces through my skin and Hawk holds me tighter.
I sink into his touch as I stare toward Owen. “Why go through all this trouble? You could’ve talked to me.”
“Birdie… if I thought talking would make a difference, I would’ve talked all day long, but we both know you had your heart set on this. You wouldn’t have stopped for anything.”
“And I’m not going to. You’re holding me against my will. I can call the police. Wolfie saw everything. I’m sure he’s got people looking for me as we speak.”
Owen bites the inside of his cheek and stares at me as though he’s about to say something but holds back again. I’m so tired of the games. Moose pokes in another stitch and Hawk cradles me closer, brushing his fingertips gently against the outer edge of my arm.
Maybe I was wrong about Owen. I get that he hates what I’m doing, but that doesn’t give him the right to change the trajectory of my life. I had plans for that money. Big plans. Plans that were going to change everything, for both of us.
“I… I know it doesn’t seem like it, Birdie, but—”
“Just go. Please,” I groan. “Leave me alone.”
Owen and I have never fought. We like the same flavor of ice cream, we both prefer to keep the house clean, and I can be goofy with him and say whatever’s on my mind, whenever I’m feeling it. With him, life has always been a judgment free zone.
“Come on, Birdie. Let’s just—”
“Leave.”
His eyes sink and he turns away, nodding.
What the actual fuck is happening? Owen’s face is the one face I was looking forward to seeing. His heart is the one heart I was looking forward to finding comfort with. How could he be the one doing this to me? How could he hurt me like this? How could he take away my one chance to make my life better?
I suck in a deep breath and bury myself against Hawk’s chest, breathing deeply as Moose finishes the stitches. Hawk’s hand brushes across my forehead as he holds me close. “You’re okay, sweetheart. Just breathe.”
I shouldn’t trust either of these men. They both thought it made sense to go along with their friend. They both helped ruin my life, but who else am I going to turn to right now? I have nothing. Owen has taken it all from me.
Owen… my best friend. The man I pictured growing old with. The one I hoped would someday be my husband. Maybe I don’t get people as easily as I thought I did because I clearly missed the mark on this one. I mean, how did I not know that the man behind the mask was my best friend? How did I let someone who has the capability to do these things into my life in the first place?
Moose ties off the last stitch and stands with a groan, staring at Hawk. “Go get her a soda and a snack. She needs something to get her sugar up after all that pain.”
Ugh, I really don’t want to be alone with Moose. Aside from the fact that he’s intimidating as hell, he gives me this jittery stomach ache that makes my knees weak but also soaks my panties. It’s uncomfortable. With Hawk, I understand it. He’s sweet and straightforward. With Moose, I’m not sure what the hell is going on. It’s like my body is responding to him without consulting my brain. Like the coding in my DNA is taking over and I revert to a simpler state.
‘Woman must mate with a tall, strong man. Must produce strongest offspring.’
Hawk kisses the top of my head. “I’ll be right back. He’s not gonna hurt you.”
I’m not sure I believe that, but at this point, I’m exhausted by everything, and the sooner Hawk leaves, the sooner he gets back.
Moose lowers his heavy frame on the edge of the bed. “They aren’t pretty, but they’ll do the job. I’ll cut ‘em out after a week or two, and you should be fine. The pain’ll subside in a couple of days, but the ibuprofen will curb most of it. You got lucky it’s not on the joint. Shouldn’t impede you much long term.”
“Thanks,” I manage, biting back tears as I stare down at the ground before me. I don’t want sympathy or empathy or anything, really. The only thing I want is my bed. My bed, my phone, and something resembling reality.
Moose sighs loudly. I can’t tell if he’s annoyed by my tears or if he feels empathy. I’m going with the former. “You should talk to Owen. He only wants the best for you.”
“Sure. That doesn’t mean he was right. I’ve been working on this auction for months. He doesn’t get to cancel my life because he doesn’t agree with my choices, and he definitely doesn’t get to kidnap me!”
Moose clears his throat. “People act crazy when they’re in love. He’s a good guy. He’s just misguided.”
“In love ? Yeah, I don’t think this is love.”
“Then what is love, little girl? Last I checked, it was doing whatever the hell you need to do to keep someone safe, and you were boardin’ a crashin’ train.”
I blow out a heavy breath and stare at the giant man in front of me. “It wasn’t crashing. It was going exactly as I planned. And no offense, but I don’t need a protector. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”
He laughs under his breath. “Clearly.”
Rolling my eyes, I smirk and say, “What? You don’t think I can take care of myself because I’m here?”
“No. I’m sure you’re perfectly capable of taking care of yourself, but you’re missing the point. Love makes you want to care for someone. If I’m taking care of a woman, I’m doing it for me, not her. I want to know she’s safe. I want to know she feels loved—”
“And how do you let her know what a psychopath you are?” I seethe, twisting my hair to the side of my shoulder.
He groans, and the annoyance is back. “Look, all I’m sayin’ is the man talks about you every day. I know you were sad when the flower shop closed. I know you like Oolong tea after dinner with a shortbread cookie. I know you love to watch the sun come up after a storm because the colors are brighter, and how you cried during a boxing match because you felt bad for the old guy who couldn’t fight anymore. Hell,” he laughs, “I know so much about you I feel like I know you. Give him a chance to explain. He wants to protect you. That’s all. Let a man, be a man.”
I shake my head and fold my arms over my chest as I stare toward the prehistoric-minded male in front of me. “I see why you’re single.”
He lifts his brows and laughs before clearing his throat. “You and the rest of humanity. Talk to Owen and I’ll let you feed the chickens before dinner.”
“You really like making deals, don’t you?”
He stands from the bed and the mattress creaks. “I think there are some eggs that need collecting too.”
Before I can answer, Hawk steps back into the room with a basket of snacks, drinks, and a bottle of ibuprofen. There’s nothing this man can’t do that doesn’t look attractive. I mean, he hasn’t done anything but step into the room, yet he’s done it with this wide shoulder assurance that would make any woman wild.
Moose glances toward me. He’s attractive as well, though his look is much rougher and grizzlier than Hawk and Owen. “Last chance. Do we have a deal?”
I glance up toward him, studying the dark wrinkle across his forehead and the lines of ink that travel down his arms and onto his hands. He’s big, rough, and rugged, which I didn’t think was my thing until last night.
I can’t believe I had his cock in my mouth. His big, thick, pulsating cock. My clit throbs as I think back, associating his face with the moment.
“What are we doing, little girl? We have a deal or not?”
I nod in agreement, my stomach tight.
It’s only feeding chickens, and I’d have talked to Owen, anyway. At least that’s the story I tell myself, but deep down, I have a feeling I’m a little excited for some alone time with a big, grizzly giant.