Chapter Ten
Lacey
I can think of no better way to wake up than having the thick cock of a filthy biker inside me. I can’t stop smiling in the shower. Is this really my life? Kevlar flashes in my mind, but so does another man.
“Fucking bitch,” he shouts before his fist connects with my head. I touch the back of my head as the memory turns hazy again. My stomach sours and my headache returns. I stay in the shower until the hot water abandons me. My teeth chatter as I wrap a towel around my body.
Who is the other man, and why did he try to hurt me?
I hug the towel tighter to my body. My cold, wet hair sticks to my back.
Beads of water race down my spine and get absorbed by the white cotton I’m wrapped in.
The beginning of a panic attack sets in.
Shaky hands, difficulty catching my breath.
I grip the sink, resting my head against the fogged mirror.
The anger behind that voice makes my skin crawl. Chill bumps fan across my arms.
“Got breakfast,” Kevlar’s voice sounds from the other side of the door.
I suck in a breath followed by another and remember that no matter who that voice belongs to, they aren’t here. They can’t hurt me. Not while I have Kevlar. I put a smile on my face, hiding my unease, and get dressed.
By the time I finish drying my hair, Kevlar has had breakfast. My covered plate sits on the dresser.
He’s out on the balcony on the phone, arguing with someone.
I wonder if it has anything to do with me.
I grab my plate and sit on the edge of the bed with it, unsure if I will be able to consume any of the pancakes and sausage links.
I nibble on a strawberry, testing the tart fruit against my soured stomach.
“You’re an idiot. Why would you go there? Wanted a job, my ass. Fucking hell, Candy. Stupid as hell. The two of you toxic shits belong together, you know that.” He stomps back into the room, shoving his phone into his back pocket.
“Everything okay?”
“Not even close.”
My spine tingles as he shoves a set of keys into his pocket. “Are you leaving?”
“Got some stuff to take care of,” he mutters.
“Oh.” My face falls. Dread and disappointment wash over me.
“Hey.” He crouches down in front of me. “I won’t be gone long.”
“Sure. You’ve got to go. I understand.”
“You worried about being here alone?”
I bite my lip and nod.
“Would you feel better if I got Ashley to keep you company until I get back?”
“No. I’ll be okay,” I lie.
“I won’t be long.” I nod as his lips brush across my forehead. “See you soon.”
As soon as he leaves, I lay my plate of food to the side and flop back on the bed. I close my eyes and return to the memory that surfaced while I was in the shower.
A man. My husband? His name echoes in my mind. Phillip. I see him as if through a fuzzy screen. His face is hard but handsome. When he looked at me, he was never truly smiling. Always judging. Always waiting for me to mess up. He wasn’t always so cold and cruel, but something changed.
It was me. I changed. I dyed my hair and wanted to get a job. He didn’t like that. It didn’t fit into his plans. I wasn’t the trophy wife he wanted.
I’m in a white dress. At a party or we were about to go to one. I can’t be sure.
We’re fighting, and he’s screaming, “You’re pathetic.
You can’t do anything right. I can’t even bring myself to fuck you.
You’re a lousy lay. Might as well be fucking a dead fish.
You should just disappear.” He throws a glass against the wall, the shards sparkling on the floor. My every nerve ending burns.
He slaps me hard. Not a punch. A showy, open-palmed slap that leaves my ear stinging. But then he pushes me from behind, and I hit my head on a table. The next thing I know I’m on the floor. Then he’s shouting at someone else. Another voice, a woman’s, shrill with panic, says, “You’ve killed her.”
In the next flash I’m alone, stumbling through a hotel hallway, ice clinking in the bottom of a glass I don’t remember filling.
My heart slams against my chest, beating faster and faster.
I’m afraid to look over my shoulder. Afraid of what I’ll find.
Terrified I’ll see him chasing after me to finish the job.
Then I’m running. I’m outside. On the beach.
I keep running until I hit the water. I’m in the water and can’t breathe.
A wave sucks me under. Panic roars in my chest. Was I trying to swim or drown?
Was someone with me that night, or did I walk into the ocean on my own?
I shoot upright in bed, cold sweat clinging to my skin. White-hot pain bursts behind my eyes, and I feel sick, but I remember.
I remember everything.
Phillip was having an affair.
It had been going on for a while. He was screwing Leandra, his childhood friend whom he swore was like a sister to him.
It all started when I told him I wasn’t ready for children.
That I wanted to wait, but he couldn’t wait.
He raped me. He beat me. And I ran. I was trapped.
Our marriage was one of contract. A business arrangement.
Neither of our families believe in divorce. I wanted out.
I was trying to drown myself.
My hand moves to my mouth as vomit spews up my throat.
I wanted to die.
Then Kevlar found me.
He saved me.
He brought me back to life.
I rush to the bathroom and throw up.
I’m not sure how long I sit on the bathroom floor, but eventually, I pull it together long enough to clean up.
I wish Kevlar were here so I could tell him the truth.
That I do have a husband. A man that I hate.
A man who hates me enough to want me dead because I’m not the wife he wanted, but I’m the one that was promised.
If I file for a divorce, a war will erupt between his father and mine.
I should let them kill each other off, but I have my brothers to think about.
I don’t want them gunned down in the streets or in their beds. I’m their big sister.
I married Phillip to keep them safe. They’re not even ten years old. I couldn’t divorce Phillip, but if I had died, then he’d be free to be with Leandra and not keep her as a mistress. That’s what he wanted. To break me. For me to do the dirty work for him.
But I survived, and now he’s coming after me to finish the job.
I need to warn Kevlar.
Downstairs he’s nowhere to be found.
There’s a couple of guys milling around but not many.
I don’t recognize any of them.
Maybe Kevlar went to his tattoo shop. I know he doesn’t want me to leave, but this is important. Phillip is dangerous and will do anything to get what he wants.
Me six feet under.
I go back up to Kevlar’s room, but it’s locked and I don’t know the code to get back in. I didn’t think any of this through very well.
If Ashley’s here, maybe she can call him or something.
As I roam the hallways, I stop in my tracks when I hear Blood’s voice.
“Yeah. Crazy bitch. A real pain in the ass. Just more problems we don’t need.”
Is he talking about me?
“Kevlar said he’d take care of her, but he’s too close to the situation.”
Take care of her? Does he mean? Oh god. Did Phillip get to the club and pay them off?
I’ve gotta get out of here.
I move quickly, running back the way I came and bumping into a solid chest.
“Hey. Where’s the fire?” A rough voice, thick with grit asks.
I spin around, knowing the bewildered expression I’m wearing makes me look as crazy as I feel.
The big guy stares at me like he’s trying to work out who I am and why I’m alone.
“Just looking for the kitchen. I wanted to bake Kevlar some cookies,” the lie tumbles out, and I know it sounds lame as hell.
“What kind?”
“Hmm?”
“Cookies. What kind?”
“Oh. Ha. Right. I did say cookies. Chocolate chip.”
He eyes me up and down with an arched eyebrow. “Make some extra.”
“Will do, big guy.” I pat his chest and hurry around him before he can stop me.
I round the corner and bump into Ashley holding a little boy on her hip. “There you are. I was just looking for you.”
“You have a baby.”
“My nephew. I think I told you about him.”
“Right.” I nod. “What’s up?”
“Are you okay? You seem a little nervous.”
“I’m good. Never better. Have you seen Kevlar?”
“Yeah. I think he said something about knocking some sense into Candyce.”
The pieces weave together. Blood wasn’t talking about me. He meant Kevlar’s sister. Relief swims in my chest.
“Do you like cookies?”
“Cookies?”
“I have all this pent-up energy, and when I want to relax, I bake. So cookies,” I tell her.
“I love cookies. And I won’t tell anyone you’re making them unless you want a line out the door.”
I force a laugh. “You can have the first batch.”
“We’ll bring them to the guys posted up front. Gotta keep morale high.” She bounces the kid on her hip, not the least bit thrown off by my half-manic grin. “The kitchen’s this way, c’mon.”
I follow her down to the main level where the kitchen is being restocked by one of the younger prospects. It’s wild how these tough guys, tatted and scarred, scatter at the sight of a bossy woman. Ashley takes command of the space in seconds.
“Let’s see what we’ve got for you to work with,” she says, handing off the little boy to another biker and rolling up her sleeves. “You bake a lot?”
I open the cabinets. “Feels like I do.”
That’s all the answer I can muster because my head is doing a tornado spin. Phillip is here, or coming, and Kevlar is out. I want to call him, but I don’t know if it’ll tip him off or put him in more danger. I need another plan.
But what?