Chapter 4
Bastiaan
I’m pacing around the back of the shop, clenching and unclenching my hands.
I don’t like whatever the fuck just happened.
I eye the funeral wreath with its ‘Grand Prix’ deep red roses.
They aren’t cheap, I know; I sell them, so whoever sent this wanted them to send a message.
But what message? I can’t see Amber having anything to do with shady people, but then, how well do I really know her?
No, I refuse to believe that. She’s got a heart of gold; she wouldn’t keep that kind of company.
Company that would think sending a funeral arrangement was funny, or something much more sinister.
“Jess, why is she ringing her father? Is he a policeman?” I ask as I watch her nervously scrubbing down the kitchen.
“No idea, Bas. I’ve never met him, and she doesn’t speak about him much, just says he lives in London and that he lives a very different life,” she states. She looks pale and worried, so I put my arm around her, and she instantly hugs me tight.
“It’ll be alright, I’m sure it's just a big misunderstanding.” I’m not sure who I’m trying to convince more.
“You think?” She looks up at me hopefully, standing back as she plays with the necklace she’s wearing.
I like Jess. She reminds me of an English version of Sanne.
They both have that carefree way about them, and they have a confidence that a lot of people don’t have.
It’s something I love about Sanne, which in turn makes me love it about Jess.
Not in a romantic way, she’s a beautiful girl, but I prefer a quieter confidence in a woman.
The blonde-haired beauty upstairs springs to mind.
“Has to be, right? We’ll be laughing about this later on, I’m sure,” I tell her as I look up at Amber’s baby blue front door.
“I’m going to go check on her, make sure she’s okay.”
I don’t give it a second thought as I take her stairs one by one and gently push her door open.
I’ve never been in here, but I’ve always been curious.
I’m instantly hit with her Jasmine scent, it’s everywhere, and it goes straight to my dick.
I try to push away thoughts of Amber and my dick as I look around, but it’s not an easy task as I glance into her bathroom and see three bras hung over her shower pole.
Lace. Pink, white, and black. I do not need visions of Amber in pink lace as she picks out her flower wraps from my truck on a weekly basis.
Come on, Bastiaan, head in the game. It’s not the time to be thinking about all that smooth skin and lace.
Fuck, lace is my favourite! Moving on! It’s so her up here—all pastels and soft colours.
Beautiful artwork of flowers hangs on her walls, with a zoomed-in focus on their petals and stamens, making their texture the star.
She has pictures of her friends up in the hallway in mismatched frames, and mirrors of all shapes and sizes hung with them; it makes a really cool effect.
That’s when I hear her voice coming from the room at the end.
I make my way to her doorway quickly and knock on the doorframe softly, not wanting to just walk into her bedroom without being invited.
Her bedroom is all soft whites and pale wood.
It looks feminine, yet also like a place you'd want to spend some time. She spins around with huge eyes, and her mouth opens slightly. She’s sat on her bed—which is enormous—in a pile of brand-new mobile phones.
What? She holds up her finger as she listens to who I assume is her father.
All I want to do is hold her safe and secure in my arms and comfort her.
I can see she’s worried, scared even, and that’s what makes me enter her room and kneel in front of her.
I place my hands on her knees, trying to let her know I’m here for her.
“I’ll figure something out, Dad. No, please don’t send anyone here.
Yes, I know not to call the police…” she squeezes her blue eyes shut tightly, shaking her head as she obviously listens to him talk.
Who does he want to send here? Why? I can feel my pulse throbbing in my temples; what the fuck is going on?
“Yes, I promise. I’ll take the phones and call you in an hour to check in.”
She nods in reply to whatever her father is saying.
“I know, no details on the phone. I will, promise. Please keep safe, Dad. Love you,” she ends the call, takes in a deep breath, steeling herself, and looks directly at me.
“What’s happening? Talk to me, Amber,” I implore, rubbing her knees.
“Okay, so… erm… my dad is in a motorcycle club…”
“What does that have to do with anything?” I ask, confused.
“They aren’t exactly law-abiding citizens,” she states as she lowers her eyes.
“Like Sons of Anarchy? Outlaw bikers?” I ask, frowning.
“Yes. He’s the VP of the Kings of Chaos MC in London.
A meet went bad yesterday with a rival MC, and they ended up losing a member,” she throws the phone on the bed and lays her hands over mine.
“I rang and alerted him to the wreath addressed to me, he told me about Turk—the brother they lost—and said he’d call back.
He just called back and told me to shut up shop and go somewhere I can hunker down in for a while until this is over, as Prez’s ‘old lady’ was shot and killed.
He thinks they are going after family,” she tells me like she’s on autopilot.
I think she’s going into shock, as I can tell she’s not really seeing me.
“So, calling the police is out of the question?”
“Right now, nothing's happened besides receiving the wreath, so what can they do? Dad said they could be just trying to scare me. Also, the police and the club don’t mix. They are like oil and water. I don’t want to cause trouble for my dad and his club unless I really have to,” she murmurs.
“Hang on, they ‘lost someone’, like they are no longer living lost?” I ask, not believing we are having this conversation.
“Yes. I’m sorry, Bas, you should get going. I’ll cover the cost of what I’d usually spend with you the next time you’re here; you shouldn’t have to lose income.”
“Amber, this is serious. Two people have died. We should call the police,” I’m starting to feel hot all over. Her being in danger is terrifying.
“It’s nothing to do with us down here, I’ve just received a funeral wreath, the police can’t help. Not yet anyway,” she squeezes my hands on her knees, looking lost.
“Okay. Pack a bag, come back home with me, no one will know where you are there,” I decide for her.
“Bas, no. No way. I won’t risk you, and especially Abel. It’s far too dangerous,” she flat out refuses, vehemently shaking her head.
“Abel can stay with Sanne for as long as we need. There’s no decision to make, Amber.
Pack your bag, I’ll go down and help Jess start shutting up.
We need to get on the road,” I’m nearly out the door when she forcefully hugs me from behind, making me go forward a step.
I hold her arms tightly, letting her know I’m here.
“Andrea should be here any minute. I’ll call her and hopefully catch her before she leaves and let her know not to come in,” she murmurs into my back as she lets me go and starts opening drawers.
I head down into the shop to see that Andrea is already here.
She’s older, but I have no idea how old, as she doesn’t look old, but she’s not a youngster anymore.
She’s like a mother to Amber; she’s been here since the first day I started delivering to ‘Wild Ones’, and I know she’s been in Amber's life since she was a little girl, so I understand the worry on her face.
“Bas, what’s happening? Why has someone sent our girl a funeral arrangement?” She demands almost immediately, stepping into my space.
“We need to shut up the shop. Now. Amber is potentially in danger, so she’s coming back to Holland with me,” I state as Jess instantly starts bringing in the plants and bouquets lined up in front of the shop display window.
“This is connected to Jack, isn’t it?” Andrea asks, arms crossed and radiating anger.
I’m grabbing the plants from Jess and stacking them on the shop floor as I stop and ask, “Who’s Jack?”
“Her father.”
“Then yes, a rival club… erm,” I start trying to explain something I really don’t understand when I feel Amber's cold hand slipping into mine. I look at her in wonder. Fuck she’s beautiful.
I wish I could wrap her up and keep her safe forever, keep her happy so she’s smiling instead of the lost look she has right now.
“My dad is in a motorcycle club, and shit has gone down. They’ve lost a member, and the President's wife has been killed. Dad thinks that the members families’ are potentially in danger, so I’m shutting the shop and going to Holland with Bas until Dad gives me the okay to come home.
You’ll both still get paid,” she says so calmly, like she’s talking about the weather.
Andrea moves forward and hugs her tightly; she steps back and places her hands on the sides of Amber's face.
“First of all, I couldn’t give a shit about the money, don’t you worry about that. Secondly, what do you need me to do? I can take the work clips home and cancel orders?” She asks gently, her eyes shining.
“Yes, please, thank you. Also, if you could call our planned vendor deliveries for the next week and cancel them, otherwise they’ll be trying to deliver flowers to a closed shop,” Amber says stoically, all the while not letting go of my hand.
Andrea kisses her cheek and starts grabbing the work clips from the hooks on the wall. Jess has finished bringing in all the plants from the front and is starting to pull the shutters down.
“I’m just going to help Jess finish up.” I squeeze her hand before I let her go and take over pulling the shutters down. I hear Jess change the voicemail to say the shop is closed due to a family emergency. I look over my shoulder and see Amber hasn’t moved an inch; she’s stock still.