Chapter Two
Katrina
There was something wrong with me. That had to be it. Not only was I divorced from a man who hurt my daughter, but I had to be rescued from the next man who’d taken a shine to me. A man who kept us prisoner in a biker club that wasn’t safe for us to move around freely.
And yet, as I stared at the man who appeared at my front door, my only thoughts wondered what he looked like under all those well-fitting clothes.
He was tall. Taller than me, though most men were. He had dark brown hair, almost black, but there was a bit of lightness to it. His eyes, though. They were dark blue, but that wasn’t what drew me in; it was the sadness I saw there.
A sadness I knew all too well. It was the sorrow of knowing you’d lost everything and there was no way to get it back.
“Would you like a drink?” I blurted out, rushing toward the fridge.
“No, thank you.”
His voice was deep and raspy. The kind of voice that rolled over your body when he whispered in your ear all the dirty things he wanted to do to you.
My hand felt for a fever; that must be what it was.
I was mad; that was the only explanation for this nonsense.
Like a bitch in heat, I stood frozen in my spot when I should have left the room and let him do his work.
The only movement was from my head as it tilted to the side to watch the denim pull tight across his ass as he crouched down in front of the open cabinet under my sink.
A throat cleared at the end of the hallway, and I jumped. I looked over at Slyce, who had a grin on her face and one eyebrow raised. I scowled at her and shook my head. Her smile dropped, and she sighed before turning around and going back down the hall.
I was still angry with her. We weren’t friends. She was here only because of her job. The one that required her to locate Frankie and me and keep us safe.
She wouldn’t tell me who hired her, or who we needed to be kept safe from. She assured me it wasn’t Richard. That he didn’t know where we were, nor was he looking for us. He was too busy with his new family.
A family that consisted of three little girls like Frankie had been. I’d wanted to warn the woman, wanted to save those girls from the heartache Frankie had endured. But she knew what she was getting.
She knew because she’d been my best friend. I’d told her everything Frankie and I had endured, and when I finally found the strength to press charges, she’d called me a liar.
I’d lost everything trying to protect my daughter.
And I’d failed.
I turned away from Slyce and walked into the living room, leaving Derek to fix the leaky pipe. I wouldn’t risk Frankie’s safety because I couldn’t keep my legs closed.
That was why I had a vibrator. Sure, it wasn’t as good as the real thing, but the real thing came with complications. It came with heartache and conflict that became dangerous. And I didn’t mean that metaphorically.
No, I would enjoy the eye candy and maybe think about the man later tonight after Frankie was asleep. But making a connection was out of the question.
“Schoolwork’s done,” Frankie crooned as she stepped out of the hall, looking for me. When she found me on the couch, she smiled and then turned toward the kitchen.
I jumped up from my perch and followed. “Frankie,” I hissed.
“Hi,” she said in a cheery voice I hadn’t heard in way too long.
Derek looked up from his place on his back.
His head and shoulders pushed into the cabinet as he worked on the pipe.
“Hi.” He smiled back at Frankie, and the hair on the back of my neck stood up.
There was something about the way he looked at my daughter that had my nerves on edge.
Something that reared up when any man looked at her.
It was different from the way the men at the clubhouse looked at her. Different from how Richard had looked at her. But something about it had me on edge and kept me watching from the corner of my eye, my muscles tensed and ready, even though I couldn’t articulate why.
“Frankie, don’t bother the man.”
“I just want to watch what he’s doing. What if I want to be a plumber when I grow up?” my daughter asked with a smirk.
“I’m not a plumber,” Derek said softly.
“You aren’t?” I asked, dread pooling in the pit of my stomach. If he wasn’t a plumber, what the hell was he doing here? He hadn’t actually said his name was Derek; he’d only nodded when I’d asked him.
You’re so stupid, Katrina!
Richard’s words ran through my head on a loop. I’d missed so many red flags where he was concerned. Between him and Clay, it made me doubt I had any self-preservation skills at all.
“Not officially, no. I’m a contractor. I build houses, so I do a little bit of everything. I’m building houses for the club, so when you called King about the pipe, he asked me to come by and fix it.”
My shoulders relaxed a fraction. He was who he said he was. Though the moment of panic reminded me that I was too damn trusting. I looked over at Frankie; it was clear she was already enamored with a man we’d only just met.
“You build houses? Like the entire thing?” she asked, and Derek nodded with a smile. “That’s so cool.” She turned to me. “Isn’t that so cool? Dad couldn’t change a light bulb without grumbling.”
I closed my eyes. I didn’t want her to think about Richard. The counselor we’d seen assured me that Frankie would be fine. That she was young, and while the memory might always be there, it shouldn’t shape her life the way it would have if she’d been older.
My daughter hadn’t had a good life. For the first two years, the woman who gave birth to Frankie had abused her. Marsha Wade wasn’t Frankie’s mother. A mother didn’t poison her child for years hoping to get attention.
I could only assume Frankie’s father had something to do with that. Her file had said he left Marsha when she found out she was pregnant. Then he’d signed away his rights when Marsha went to jail. He hadn’t taken responsibility for the life he had helped create.
Was Marsha the person who had hired Slyce? Not long after Frankie came to live with us, Marsha had assaulted the social worker who worked with us. She’d gone to jail, and that was when the judge stripped away her parental rights, allowing the first step in our journey of adopting Frankie.
After her parole, Marsha disappeared. Richard wasn’t the only person who had me watching over my shoulder. He wasn’t the only reason I was quick to accept Slyce’s help.
Marsha Wade was always at the back of my mind. The only reason I knew what she looked like was that I’d sat in the courtroom during her trial. I wanted to know everything I could to keep Frankie safe.
I knew nothing about her birth father, except for the fact he didn’t want her. We had a short medical history he’d provided when he signed away his rights, but the social worker wouldn’t tell us anything, spouting some bullshit about his privacy and anonymity.
What about Frankie’s safety?
I heard Derek snort and then ask, “Where is your dad?”
“Mom and Dad got divorced. Dad went to jail for hurting us,” Frankie said as if it was nothing. I knew what the counselor said, but I wondered if she’d blocked out the really heinous things Richard had done.
“Fuck!” Derek shouted as the tool he held in his hand dropped on his head. He sat up from the sink and rubbed at the spot.
“Are you okay?” Frankie asked, rushing forward.
“Frankie!”
What was wrong with my daughter? Had she learned nothing from my mistakes?
“Yeah, sorry for my language,” he said, looking sheepishly up at me.
I found myself shrugging and excusing his outburst. “I’m sure that must have hurt.”
Derek pointed a finger at Frankie. “You don’t say shit like that.”
Frankie giggled, and I found myself smiling at the contradiction of telling a child not to swear while swearing again yourself.
“Everything okay?” Slyce asked from the other side of the room.
“Derek dropped the wrench on his head,” Frankie crowed as if it were funny.
Derek shook his head, but I didn’t miss the small smile on his lips. His full lips that looked firm. Like they had enough power behind them to melt an iceberg.
STOP IT!
“Hazards of the job,” he said before sliding back under the sink and getting to work, Frankie by his side watching everything he did.
My heart hurt as my girl talked quietly with Derek. He explained everything he was doing patiently, answering every question. This was the kind of thing a father did. This was quality time spent with a child.
I didn’t want to leave Frankie alone with Derek. He might seem nice, but he was still a stranger. But I needed a moment to pull myself together.
“Go. I’ll stay,” Slyce whispered beside me.
I looked up at her, tears filling my eyes.
She nodded and rubbed my shoulder. I looked back one more time before fleeing outside to the front porch.
I sat on the steps and cried for my daughter.
For everything she’d been through. For everything she was missing out on because I’d chosen the wrong man.
Twice!
When I heard the door open, I quickly wiped my cheeks. I took a deep breath as Derek sat on the step next to me, his toolbox between his feet. He rested his elbows on his knees and stared straight ahead.
“You’re a good mom.”
I laughed at the statement. This man didn’t know anything about me. He’d spent less than an hour in my home.
“I loved my mom,” he said when I didn’t reply. “She was my whole fucking world. But she wasn’t a good mom. She didn’t protect me. She didn’t protect herself. My father was a bastard and a drunk. He beat her every day. When I was three, he started on me. And she didn’t do shit.”
My gasp was soft, but when he looked down at his hands, I knew he’d heard it.
“She tried. She got between my father and me and took the brunt of it. But she never left. Then he killed her.”
“Oh, Derek, I’m so sorry.” I placed a hand on his arm without thinking. He looked over at my hand and then up at me when I pulled it away.
“You’re a good mom. You got away. You protected your daughter.”
I turned away from him, feeling the tears well up again. “Not soon enough,” I whispered.
His hand grasped my knee, and a shot of electricity zipped through my body. “You got away.”
I bit my lip and looked at where his hand was. “Sorry,” he apologized as he pulled his hand back, and I wanted to cry out, beg him to touch me again.
But I didn’t. I couldn’t take that chance again. Richard had seemed nice when we met. I was twenty-one and in my last year of college. We married a year later and started trying for a family immediately.
After we found Frankie, Richard changed. It was the same with Clay. He seemed so nice. So stable. He’d love-bombed me into believing he was my knight in shining armor. My Prince Charming.
When really, he was the villain. In his defense, he wasn’t anywhere near as bad as Richard, but Clay had seen a scared, vulnerable woman and taken advantage of that. He’d convinced me that he was the answer to all my problems, when in fact, all he did was add to them.
I wouldn’t make that mistake again.
Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.