12. Lyric
Chapter 12
Lyric
S tupid is what I am. How in the actual world I thought this night couldn’t get any worse, and then I was proven wrong. When I reached out to the Rebels of the Undead, I wasn’t sure it was the right choice. I just knew I needed help. I wanted to live, and I needed the protection their president had been offering me since I came to him about my problem. Never in all the time I’d known the club had anyone mentioned Colt Street. Or Karma, as he introduced himself. Four years ago, when I first became acquainted with the club, he wasn’t there. Logically, I know this is a new development and that they aren’t out to hurt me, but I’m not in my logical mind right now. I’m scared shitless, vulnerable, and I feel like all the safety my house had provided me is gone, swept away by a madman. My insides cringe and my muscles protest when I unfold myself and try to slide out from the little hole I’ve been in for who knows how long.
“Let me help you.” Colt reaches for me, and as much as I want to pull away from his touch, I know I will collapse without him holding me up. And I never want to be weak in front of Colt again.
I let him take my arm, and my body staggers a few steps. My legs feel like thousands of fire ants are crawling over my skin while the blood rushes back to its natural flow. My head spins from being upright and causes my vision to have black spots.
The first thing I notice is that my house is dark and it’s pitch-black outside. It’s also eerily quiet around us.
“What time is it?”
Colt’s brow furrows. “Almost ten. We should have been here sooner, but Daggerz wanted to be sure before he sent us in blind.”
“I didn’t know who else to call,” I admit, sucking in air to my lungs and counting in my head to keep the panic in check.
“You did the right thing.” Colt’s voice is hushed, while he gently pushes strands of my hair behind my ear. Shivers break out on my sensitive skin from the warmth of his touch. My stomach coils from taking comfort in the gesture. I have to remind myself it's because he’s familiar, and unlike the unhinged man in my house earlier tonight, he doesn’t mean to harm me.
As if reading my thoughts, Colt gently places his arm around my waist. “We need to get out of here. Prez wanted you to come with us tonight so you’re safe.”
Safe. Until he finds me. Obviously, the piece of paper from the courthouse has done absolutely nothing to protect me. “I need a few things.”
“I got a bag,” another voice announces, breaking through the quiet, and my heart leaps in my chest. “Oh, sorry to startle you, Doc.”
“It's okay, Lyric. Bullet is with us.” Colt’s grip on my waist tightens while he reassures me. I don’t miss the way the two men share a look between them. If the other guy is surprised that Colt knows my name or how familiar he seems with me, he doesn’t comment.
“What bag did you grab?” I turn to the new face warily, while slivers of annoyance embed in my blood.
The man, Bullet, holds up my brown hiking bag. “The one shoved under your bed that looked like an escape bag.”
My mouth drops open in shock. I seriously misjudged this one. I had, in fact, stashed an emergency run bag. Something I had learned about while working at the women’s shelter during grad school. My eyes connect with his and I tilt my head in gratitude. “Thanks, Bullet.”
He gives me a smirk before looping the bag over his shoulder. “If you have Doc, I’ll take the bag. We need to get out of here. Squirrel called in the disturbance and break-in, so it's reported.”
“Let’s go,” Colt replies and bumps his fist to the man’s shoulder. “Can you walk?”
“Yeah.” I show him by moving my feet. “It's not as painful anymore.”
He eases up a little on his grip, now that he’s satisfied I won’t fall over. Once again, they communicate above my head with their eyes and a few hand gestures. Pretty soon Colt is pushing my body behind his and leading me through the chaos that is my downstairs living room, while Bullet walks behind us. I pretend not to see the guns they each hold in their hands, while they also pretend not to see the tears tracking down my cheeks.
My house is destroyed. Glass and knickknacks that I had positioned in cute book cases are smashed on the floor. My shelves are dumped over or half-hanging off the walls. My couch is shredded, something that was done with the knife he had grabbed when I heard him in my kitchen. Thankfully, I had been upstairs at the time and was able to shimmy my way down the hidden laundry chute. A little emergency plan that Daggerz had suggested I have when I told him that my stalker’s antics were amping up despite the restraining order. That was a few months ago and I’m glad I had listened to him.
“Don’t look,” Colt advises me as we reach the patio door. I wish I could listen. I wish that my curiosity didn't always get the best of me. Unfortunately, my eyes follow where he glanced to, right at the wall between my kitchen and living room. Spaghetti sauce is splashed against the wall with a little message carved into the sheetrock.
EVIL WILL BE PUNISHED.
“Shit,” I whisper to myself, but Colt still hears me. His hand squeezes mine, but then he’s pulling me out of the door and we’re moving along the side of my house, sticking to the shadows. My feet hurry to keep up until we reach the back of my neighbor’s home where another figure is lurking in the dark. I open my mouth to scream when I hear him whistle. Bullet, behind me, answers. They aren’t loud, but I can tell this is a practiced thing for them.
We come to a stop in front of the new man, whose patch I instantly see reads Squirrel. That has to be one of the more bizarre road names I’ve heard.
“Taylor?” My last name is a gasp from his lips and my head instantly snaps up.
This night just keeps getting more interesting as my past and present collide. My first love and one of my oldest friends, and we’re meeting again while I need protection from their club.
“We can chat later,” Colt interrupts my brain melt and the awkwardness that’s brewing in the air. “We need to get back. You called it in?”
“Jester was putting some of his guys on it, since the local PD doesn’t seem to care so much.” Zane folds his arms across his chest, his eyes watching me closely.
I can read about a dozen different questions in that gaze, but I refuse to hash it out here and now or with either of these two. It's been ten years. I don’t trust either of them more than is necessary to get me out of this town and into the refuge-like walls of the Rebels of the Undead. I keep silent and let them sit on the information. I’m not sharing anything about my life. When I can see their president, then I’ll talk more to him.
Sirens sound in the distance and it pulls us all out of the silence we’ve fallen into. “We should hurry,” I manage to mumble, and Colt immediately reacts.
My hand still in his, he leads us to three bikes parked down the road, obscured by an overgrown tree and out of the streetlights. I never even heard them approach my house. Colt gets on his bike, swinging one powerful leg over the side. His jeans hug muscle on his thighs while he strains to hold the bike still and support us both. I hate that I notice, and I hate how tingly it makes me feel. Even in the shadows, I can see that Colt has changed since I knew him in high school. I don’t know how I feel about it.
“Just swing your leg over,” he mutters, while holding my forearm so I can balance.
Somehow I manage to get my shaking leg over to the other side so I’m straddling his bike. With the crowded position, my legs are forced to hug against his, my front plastered against his back.
“Here.” Colt reaches back again and places a heavy leather jacket over my shoulders. I quickly put my arms inside of the warm material and gather it around my frame. Colt reaches behind me, and when I turn my head, his torso brushes against my cheek. God he smells good. I involuntarily shudder from how near to me he is. “For you,” he mutters while placing a black helmet on my head.
I hold still while he does the strap. “Don’t you need it?”
Our eyes connect and he shrugs. “You’re more important.”
I open my mouth to argue, to tell him not to say things like that about me, but the words get lost when the bike beneath me rumbles to life. The other two make the same noise and I start to realize that this is it. I’m really doing this. I’m riding a motorcycle and I’m being whisked away to safety. Numbly, my fingers grip Colt’s sides, twisting into the fabric of the thermal shirt he’s wearing.
“Easy, tiger. I know you probably want to claw my face off, but let's at least wait until we’re safe,” Colt chuckles, the sound deep and throaty, while he peels my death grip from his sides and winds my arms around his waist instead. “This will be easier for me to drive.”
I can’t speak, my thoughts are all jumbled and the adrenaline I’d been riding high on is starting to tamp down. I nod my head instead, hoping he can feel the gesture against his back. He doesn’t reply or acknowledge. Instead, he kicks up the kickstand and pulls away from the curb. My stomach experiences a second of butterflies from the gliding motion as we start to soar. I scoot farther up in my seat and hold on tighter, keeping my face turned to the side. Eventually my body becomes fluid with the motion and the ride isn’t uncomfortable. With the wind and the noise from the engine, there is no way for us to talk to each other and I’m okay with that. I don’t know what to say. I may have thought about what I’d say to Colt Street if I ever saw him again, but that was years ago. I’m no longer that girl from high school that he left behind. My past and demons are catching up to me. This life might as well be a thousand lifetimes apart from the time when we were two young kids falling in love.
We roll through the small town of Braham, a short forty minutes later. I’ve always liked this town; it is small enough to be comfortable in but also has a big town appeal. It reminded me of my own hometown when I chose to work and live in the city next to it. I’m surprised Colt would want to stay in a town like this after he left our hometown the way he did. There is still a slight pinch of pain in my heart when I think about it, but I ignore it.
Soon, we’re pulling into the somewhat familiar compound of the MC. Most of my interactions with the president’s daughter took place at their family home with his wife, who I absolutely admire. What they were all going through was not easy, but they pulled together as a family. I was only at the clubhouse a few times, one of those as a celebratory family day. That was when Austin and Jocelyn pledged the club’s help to me should I ever need them.
Colt parks his bike with an expertise that suggests he’s been riding for a while. I still wonder when he became part of the club. If he had been here four years ago, I would have known. Unless he left for a job when he knew I was coming last time. I’m sure that he seemed just as surprised to see me tonight as I was to see him though, so I don’t think that’s it. Once the bike is stable, Colt hops off and then reaches out to hold my arm while I slide off. Once again, my legs feel like they want to give out, but I force myself to stand straight. I don’t want to lean on Colt any more than I have already.
Keeping my eyes averted from his probing stare, I watch as Bullet saunters over and hands me my bag.
“Here ya go, Doc.”
I smile. “Thanks, Bullet.”
He nods and heads on inside, holding the door open for us. Zane glances from me to Colt and then to me again. When he realizes I don’t plan on talking to him, he walks in next. I follow after him, not wanting to be left alone with Colt.
The usual party isn’t going on inside. A few members are playing pool and a few are gathered around the bar. They all turn toward us when we walk in, and instantly, I’m being swept up in hugs from the various brothers I met years ago, before being deposited at the bar. Zane and Colt stand close to me again, and I do my best to ignore them. Ari is behind the bar and I almost forget that it's been four years since I’ve seen her. She was a teenager then but has to be in her twenties now. She gives me a small smile, although it looks forced. Then her eyes shift to the two men next to me and it sinks in.
“Karma, I changed your sheets in your room when I was in earlier. Made sure it's the soft ones that you like.”
I fight hard not to snort or laugh, hoping for her that she didn’t announce this at my expense. I stay silent and take the bottled beer that was handed to me. I can feel Colt’s gaze hot on my face while I keep pretending not to care that this girl is insinuating she knows how his bed feels or what sheets he likes.
“Thanks, Ari.” He tips his head at her before sliding over to me. “Here’s the key. My room is number fourteen.”
I glance at him, finally giving him my whole attention. For some reason his words bother me as if he just assumed I’d take his room. “I’m fine just taking a couch or something.”
Zane grunts. “Pretty sure you’d catch something if you slept on those, Taylor. Might as well take a decent bed.”
My mouth opens to argue, but Colt jumps in. “Just sleep there tonight, Lyric. You need some space and a bed. Prez wants to talk with you right away in the morning and you can go from there.”
His words make sense, and as much as I don’t want to sleep in Colt’s bed, my body does not want to fight it right now. I do need sleep. Everything in my body aches, and my head is throbbing. Even though I won’t admit it, sleeping in Colt’s room will make me feel safe for the night in order to get the rest that's needed. My hand creeps out and takes the set of keys from him.
“Thanks,” I mutter and take a gulp of my beer.
His lips turn up in a half smile. “No problem, Ly. There's a shower too. Make yourself comfortable.”
His words shouldn’t mean anything, but I feel like there's an underlying current under them that sends heat across my chest and into my stomach, making it swoop. No. Just no. I don’t know Colt anymore. I will not be swayed by anything nice he says to me. I’ve grown since then.
“I still feel bad. If I’m taking your room, where are you staying?”
His brow lifts, as if he can’t believe I’d be concerned about him. You and me both , I think sarcastically.
“Don’t worry about it, Doc,” Ari jumps in. “He’ll probably just stay at my place like always.”
Her words feel like a small jab to the heart and I get mad at myself for even caring. It's been years. He broke up with me. It's not like he’s been pining and waiting for another chance. As far as I know, Colt has never tried to track me down or reach out. He could have handled our break up better, but we were eighteen. We were kids.
My eyes meet Colt’s and I watch his face harden. I laugh lightly, hoping to ease the tension that is starting to build among the four of us while we stand here. “Okay, well then I don’t feel too bad.” I drain the rest of my beer, deciding that there’s really no other reason to stand here any longer. “Thanks for the clean sheets, Ari.”
I keep my eyes on anyone and everyone else around me while I step away from the bar and head toward the back of the clubhouse with my bag, where I know the rooms are. I’m able to avoid Zane’s sad, puppy dog eyes, and the attention of any of the other brothers. Colt’s room is easy enough to find and I slide the key in the door before twisting the handle.
I’m immediately hit with the familiar scent of the man who used to be my everything as the door opens. His space smells exactly like his room at his parents’ house. The bed is still made up of the blue and gray tones that he likes, and nostalgia hits me full force and tears instantly burn my eyes. Taking a deep breath, I shut the door behind me and lock it before immersing myself in the space even though it hurts. My lungs ache and my chest squeezes, trying to keep in the emotions assaulting me. I run to the open door of the bathroom and shut it quickly. It's easier to pretend the slab of wood will keep out the reminders of how well I used to know the owner of the room.
Shedding my clothes, I quickly jump under the spray of hot water and let it take all my stress from the day down the drain. This is exactly what I needed. I wash my hair quickly and take more time scrubbing my skin until it's pink, hoping that I can erase the fear that clung to my sweaty skin. I know tomorrow is going to be hell having to relive the event with the club’s prez. I’ll have to tell him everything about the man that's making my life miserable. I just wish there was a way to make it stop.
The water starts to turn cold before I’m willing to admit defeat and get out. My hand grabs for the towel on the rack, but then I pause, remembering Ari’s words. She only changed the sheets. I let my fingers run over the towel lightly, contemplating if I want it touching my naked body. It's just Colt. I can always wash it before he uses it again. My teeth worry my bottom lip, but before I can think on it anymore, my hand is grabbing it from the rack. Quickly, I dry off and put my pajamas on, leaving the towel on the floor. I’ll get it washed before he sees it and it won’t be weird is what I tell myself.
Taking my bag with me to the room, I take out the extra phone charger and plug my phone in. I’m not sure when it died, all I know is it was soon after I had called Austin for help. The phone lights up, showing that it's charging, and a few calls and messages come in. I recognize Austin’s name. It's the numerous calls from UNKNOWN CALLER that make me shiver.
“He can’t get you here, Lyric,” I say to myself over and over while I slide under the covers of Colt’s bed. I’ll never admit this, but having his scent around me helps me relax. I swallow back the emotion and the memories, like I’ve perfected over the years, but I still feel comforted. It's enough, just enough to allow me to fall into a deep sleep, where my monster won’t find me tonight.