Chapter Seven
Bella
I stare at the locked door as I clear the tables, my eyes flicking up every few seconds, waiting for the sound of his motorcycle. Part of me wonders if I could slip out the back, disappear, go home, but deep down, I know I won’t.
Because I’m terrified.
Terrified that Liam will show up again. He’s never been this volatile before.
A hand taps my shoulder and I flinch, heart leaping into my throat, before I realise it’s only Jodie.
“Sorry,” she says, holding her hands up. “You okay?”
I nod, not trusting myself to speak.
“I was gonna shoot, unless you need me?”
“Nah, you go. I’ll lock up.”
“Sure?”
“Mmhmm.”
“Positive?” she asks again.
“Fucking hell, Jodie, go. I’m fine. I’m just waiting for that hot biker who’s picking me up.” I wink, hoping it will be enough for her to stop probing.
She throws an arm around my shoulder and kisses my cheek.
“You kept that one quiet.” She heads for the door.
“Call me if you need rescuing.” I follow her, making sure to lock it behind her.
Then I head back behind the counter to begin loading the dishwasher.
Once that’s on, I go and grab my bag from the staffroom and take a seat on the leather couch by the glass door.
I pull out my mobile phone and scroll through the images of my boys.
I don’t know how, I don’t know when, but I will get you back.
I hear the rumble of a motorcycle outside the shop, and I take the time to watch Clay as he kicks down the stand.
The streetlight illuminates him as he dismounts, showcasing his broad frame.
His leathers cling to him, and I watch in awe as he removes his helmet and I scold myself for staring, remembering he’s just helping a girl out.
He taps on the glass, and I realise I’m still staring, he smirks as if reading my mind. I open the door, stepping out into the crisp dusk air. My skin breaks out in goosebumps, and I begin to wonder if it’s the air, or the effect Clay’s close proximity is having on me.
I lock up and post the keys through the door like I always do when it’s my day off and turn right into Clay, not realising just how close he is.
“Sorry,” I whisper, my cheeks burning with embarrassment.
A flutter of nerves hits me out of nowhere.He takes my hand and leads me towards his bike, the touch sending a rush of electricity through my veins.
Turning me to face him, he reaches for a helmet, then tilts my chin up, his fingers grazing my skin with a gentleness that steals my breath.
For a long moment, he just looks at me, his gaze steady, searching, like he can see every thought and every feeling I’ve ever tried to hide.
I swallow hard, suddenly aware that no matter how deeply I breathe, the air between us isn’t enough.
“You okay?” he whispers. I watch tentatively as his tongue darts out, wetting his lips. I wonder how soft his lips would feel against my own and my heart beats faster in my chest. I nod, knowing it’s all I can muster right now.
“Yeah?” he questions, that perfect smile ghosting his lips. I smile, realising it’s been a long time since someone asked me if I was okay, and actually waited to hear the answer.
“Yeah,” I whisper. “Thank you.”
He winks before placing the helmet over my head, tightening the straps under my chin and sliding the visor down.
He lifts me as though I weigh nothing, placing me on the pillion before climbing on in front of me.
He pulls my body to his and I rest my head against his back, inhaling his scent as I wrap my arms around his waist.
Minutes later, we arrive at the clubhouse. It’s a big deal, and I can’t stop the nervous sickness bubbling in my stomach. I don’t know these people, but somehow, with Clay, I feel safer than I’ve ever felt.
Inside, there’s a low hum of rock music being played through the jukebox and the bar is a hive of activity.
The sound of chatter rings loudly, drowning out the music.
As the door squeaks open, everyone turns to look at us.
I almost want to retreat into myself, having all eyes on me makes me self-conscious.
As if sensing my nervousness, Clay places his hand on the small of my back, encouraging me into the room.
“They won’t bite,” he says with a laugh, and I take a deep breath before falling into step with Clay and heading for the bar.
“Beer please, Hazel,” Clay shouts as he pulls out the bar stools for us to sit on.
“What are you having, Belle?”
“Erm . . .” I cough, clearing my throat. “Just water, please.”
Hazel smirks, raising a brow. “Where’d you pick this one up, Clay?” She laughs, and I feel my cheeks redden.
“Just get her a fucking water,” he snaps.
She recoils slightly, holding her hands up in defeat. “Who the fuck rattled your cage?” she asks as she places some ice into the glass. Clay rests his hand on my knee, the simple touch comforts me and I relax instantly.
“About bloody time,” a woman shouts from behind me, and I turn to see Lizzy. I frown, looking to Clay for an explanation. He glances away, having the decency to look embarrassed.
“You’ve met Red,” he mutters, and my frown deepens. “The idiot with her is Rock.”
Lizzy steps forward and embraces me in the biggest hug. I stiffen, feeling almost numb to her embrace.
“These goons nicknamed me Red, but don’t worry, I am actually called Lizzy. I’m not some crazy stalker woman.” I laugh nervously.
“Nice to finally meet you, Bella,” Rock says as he pulls Lizzy back into his side.
“I’m confused,” I admit.
“I asked Red to look out for you. She’s Rock’s ol’ lady and has had her fair share of psychotic exes.”
“But . . .” I run my hands over my face, giving my brain a second to catch up. “You had someone watching over me?” I ask, and he almost looks ashamed.
I shoot to my feet, the chair screeching against the tiled floor, and head for the door. His hand catches my arm, stopping me mid-stride. I glance down at his touch as though it’s burned me, and he lets go immediately.
“Wait,” he says, following me out. “Just give me a chance to explain.” I push the door open and step out onto the steps, wrapping my arms around myself like a coat of armour. I feel hurt, betrayed, and yet I have no idea why. He was trying to do a nice thing, but somehow, it feels sneaky.
“I wanted to make sure you were okay, I was worried.”
“Maybe I should just go,” I mutter.
“No,” he says a little too quickly. I stare at him, and tears well in my eyes. “You can’t,” he says, calmer this time, “I have to protect you.”
“I am not your responsibility, Clay. You didn’t have to send Lizzy or Red, whoever the hell she is, to befriend me.”
He reaches for me, and I step back so his hand falls away. “I’m sorry, I fucked up.”
“You want to know what hurts more?” I’ve never seen him look so unsure of himself. “That I thought she was my friend because she wanted to be, not because you sent her.” I turn away from him. He steps closer, and I can almost feel his breath on my neck.
“She is your friend, Belle. One thing you need to understand about Red is that if she doesn’t want to do something, she won’t. She’s had these bikers by their balls on a number of occasions,” he says, reassuringly. “She genuinely likes you.”
I turn to face him. A lone tear rolls down my cheek, and he uses the pad of his thumb to swipe it away. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “Please, just stay, speak to Red, and you’ll see that she’s genuine.”
I nod, admitting defeat. Right now, in his presence, I feel safe, not only from Liam but from myself. He takes hold of my hand, and instead of guiding me back into the bar, he leads me up the stairs.
Clay
I open the door to my bedroom and lead her inside.
“It isn’t much, but it’s home,” I say, releasing her hand and dropping my keys on the bedside table. “You take the bed. I don’t sleep much anyway.”
I sit on the end of the bed to undo the laces on my boots. I avoid her eye, still feeling like a grade A prick for upsetting her. “You don’t have to do that,” she says, sitting on the end of the bed.
“I’ll grab a spare duvet and make a bed on the floor. My years in the Marines have taught me that you can bunker up anywhere,” I say, laughing as I kick off my boots. “The en-suite is through here,” I add, getting to my feet and pointing out the bathroom.
“Erm . . .” she stutters. “I don’t have anything to change into.”
Opening my drawer, I pull out one of my T-shirts, unfolding it and holding it up to check the size.
“This should fit, let me find you some shorts. We can pop back to your place tomorrow and fetch a bag of your clothes.”
“Clay?” I look up from rummaging through my drawers. “How long am I staying here?”
“As long as it takes to make sure that arsehole doesn’t come knocking.”
“You do realise I have children with him, right? I’m going to have to see him at some point if I want to get access to my kids again.”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Right now, my focus is on making sure he doesn’t bother you, so you can heal.”
She smiles softly. “Thank you, and I’m sorry.”
I frown. “For what?”
“For downstairs,” she looks down, her hands fidgeting in her lap.
“You have nothing to be sorry for. It’s me who should be sorry. I fucked up.”
“I’m not used to anyone caring about me, and in your own messed-up way, that was what you were trying to do, right?” She chuckles, and I throw my shorts at her, smiling.
“Kick a guy when he’s down, why don’t you,” I tease, causing a fit of giggles from her.
It’s like music to my ears.
“Right. You use the bathroom, and I’ll grab a spare duvet.”
Lying here by the bedroom door, I double check my revolver for about the tenth time to make sure it’s within reach. It’s become routine since my time serving in Afghanistan.
“Are you okay down there?” Belle’s voice cuts through the darkness of the room.
“Yeah, absolutely fine.”
“Are you sure? I keep hearing you moving around. You can’t be comfortable down there.”
“Nah, I’m good, I promise. Night, beauty.”
“Night, my beast.” I hear the smile in her voice.
I stare into the darkness, hoping that sleep will find me soon.
I’m not sure how long has passed before I hear the soft snores from across the room. She doesn’t realise her own beauty, she’s magnetic. My mission was to save her, but I can feel this overwhelming urge to give her everything she deserves and more. If only I could trust myself.
Screams echo around the darkness and my heart pounds in my chest as I wrestle against the duvet.
“Clay . . . Clay . . . Clay.” I hear a voice screaming my name, but I can’t place it. My pulse is racing, and I can’t catch a breath.
My eyes shoot open, and I reach for my gun, the room is still cascaded in darkness.
“Shhh, it’s okay,” her soft voice immediately calms me. “Clay, listen to me,” she says, as I rummage around on the floor for my gun. “Clay, look at me.” She grabs my face in her hands, forcing me to look at her. “You’re okay, it’s just a dream.”
I close my eyes and lie back on the floor, throwing my arm over my face.
“I’m so sorry,” I pant, trying to even out my breathing, swiping a hand over my clammy face. “I must’ve scared you.”
She lies on the floor beside me. “No, not at all,” she whispers, as she tucks herself in the crook of my arm. “Are you okay?”
I sigh. “Yeah, yeah, I’m all good.”
I lie there, inhaling her sweet-scented shampoo, allowing it to ground me further.
The sun pierces through the room, and I squint. I glance at the alarm clock and see it’s eight in the morning. I never sleep in this late.
I look down at Belle. Her head’s resting on my bare chest, and her arm is stretched across my stomach.
I admire her beauty and the way she looks good draped over my body.
Her light snores fill the room, and I commit this image to memory.
Every moment I spend with this woman has me falling further for her.
I stroke her hair gently, causing her to stir beside me and stretch out.
She looks up before realising she’s tangled around me.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” she says, scrambling to sit up. She runs her hands over her face.
“Nothing to be sorry about, beaut.” And there really isn’t. If I could take her right now, without her running scared, I would. “It should be me apologising for waking you.” I put my arms behind my head, leaning back on the pillows.
“It made a change from me not having nightmares.” She smiles over her shoulder at me, a little sparkle in her eyes.
“Well, having you tucked into me, gave me the best night’s sleep I’ve had in a long time.”
“Maybe tonight you could join me in the bed.” She stretches again. “This fucking floor is not comfortable at all.”
“Oooh, so I’ve convinced you to stay longer?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Well, no, not really.”
“May as well make the most of it then, hadn’t I? Not every day a woman gets saved by her knight in shining armour, and gets to stay in his tower,” she jokes.
I stand from the floor, offering her my hand and lifting her to her feet.
She falls against me and steadies herself by placing her hands on my chest. She glances up, our eyes connecting and her breathing hitches as she bites her lower lip and looks down at the floor.
I lift her chin with my finger, pulling her gaze back to mine.
I need to know that she feels this pull too and it isn’t just me.
I pull her lip from between her teeth, and she closes her eyes, like she’s savouring the connection.
I lean down, placing the quaintest kiss on her lips.
Her tongue darts out and I take it as her acceptance, deepening the kiss as I grab her around the waist, pulling her into my body.
She places her hands on my chest pulling back slightly, her breathing heavy, and in that moment, I know she felt it too.
Our eyes connect again. “I’m sorry, I can’t,” she whispers, and I see the conflict in her eyes.
I shake my head. “Don’t apologise.”
She sighs heavily, pressing her forehead to my chest. “I need to sort myself out, I can’t get distracted.”
I rest my chin on her head. “I’m here waiting whenever you’re ready.”
In that kiss, I knew, as much as I wanted to save her, she might just save me.
She is going to be mine. I just have to be patient.