22. Kelsey
Kelsey
Whew! A day off. Kelsey had been running for two weeks straight. Between the salon, weddings on the weekend, and the play that had finally wrapped production, she’d barely had a minute to breathe, let alone shop.
Which was, by far, her favorite therapeutic activity. Nothing boosted her mood more than scoring a kick-ass outfit for a rock-bottom price.
There was nothing better than combing through thrift shops, searching for that diamond in the rough. Considering Kelsey carried a few more pounds than most, had a full hourglass figure with a generous portion of hips, thighs, ass, and tits, if she found anything in her size, she celebrated.
Though in Oklahoma, discovering anything that wasn’t equivalent to a poncho was difficult. She loved the hunt. Sometimes, fancying herself a seamstress, she bought the smaller sizes, intending to rework a piece to fit her body.
She had yet to sew a damn thing, but a woman could dream. Kelsey had the best intentions and armloads of things to try on. She was in her glory.
When she heard her friend squeal, she scanned the store to find her. What had she discovered? Were they vintage bell-bottoms from the seventies? Maybe a plaid miniskirt from the nineties? Both would look phenomenal on Carrie.
Oh.
Well, shit.
Kelsey’s mood immediately plummeted when she saw the burly biker wrapping his arms around Carrie and burying his face into her neck.
Kelsey should be happy for her friend. Carrie was clearly elated, but Kelsey couldn’t muster it. Mike and his band of merry assholes gave off a dangerous aura. They were unnecessarily brash and, in her experience, far too forward with women.
Consent was an option—for at least one of them. Carrie hadn’t told her otherwise with Mike, but the bad vibes were strong with him. Though she couldn’t rule out guilt by association.
“Hey, gorgeous.” Pete’s greeting made her skin crawl.
Turning, she found him behind her, resting his elbow on a rack of clothes, wearing a grin she wanted to slap right off his face.
“What’s a classy girl like you doing in a dump like this?” he teased.
The cheesy line combined with his smug expression threatened to make her stomach spill its contents all over the floor. She had no desire to engage in flirty banter with this twatwaffle.
“What do you want?” she asked, putting her back to him so she could angrily flip through the garments. The hangers made a clacking noise as they banged together.
She wasn’t looking at the stuff anymore. Her goal was to send him the message that she wasn’t interested. Apparently, he’d forgotten that over the last few days.
Why was he obsessed with her anyway? Carrie had told her there were plenty of women hanging around them, throwing themselves at the bikers. Why couldn’t he latch on to one of them? Why did he keep sniffing around Kelsey?
Pete filled her peripheral vision as he encroached on her space. “Let me make up for my unacceptable behavior.”
She snorted and shifted down the rack, putting space between them. “No, thank you.”
“Come on,” he groaned. “Don’t be like that.”
Kelsey closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. She didn’t want to lose her shit in the middle of the thrift store. There was no need to make a show of things, but she needed to get her point across.
Turning toward him, she met his gaze and exhaled. “I’m not interested.”
There. Plainly said. No room for misinterpretation.
He furrowed his brows as though he didn’t understand. Which was impossible. There was no other way she could say it. She’d been clear. If he didn’t get the point now, she might have to go to the police, because this had surpassed ridiculous.
“Here.” He reached for the clothes she had hanging on her arm. “I’ll get these for you.”
“What?” She stepped back, clutching the items she’d held and had yet to try on. “No.”
He tugged. “Don’t be so stubborn.”
“Stop it.” She yanked them toward her. “Let go.”
“You have to give me a chance.” He continued their tug-of-war.
“No, I don’t.” Kelsey didn’t owe him shit.
“You’re being irrational.”
Pot calling the kettle black, much?
“And you’re an asshole,” she countered.
This was pointless. She released her hold on them. This absurd back and forth wasn’t worth ripping perfectly good garments.
He stumbled but recovered quickly. Clearing his throat, he closed the distance between them and leaned closer to her.
She pulled back. With his free arm, he grabbed her and yanked her into him.
Her heart jumped into her throat. Flashbacks of him pinning her against the wall, ripping her shirt flashed through her mind.
Where was Kev? Shouldn’t he be hopping out from behind a rack somewhere right about now? Kelsey squashed that hope as soon as it crossed her mind. She couldn’t keep depending on him to rescue her. That wasn’t his responsibility. They were essentially strangers.
But were he to show his face again, that’d be nice.
She’d appreciate it.
“You’re gonna wanna be my friend,” Pete whispered into her ear.
He reeked of stale weed and beer. His breath was hot on her skin, and it gave her goose bumps, but not in the good way. She wriggled to free herself. He tightened his grip on her. Pain throbbed in her arm.
“Shit’s about to go down, and that Royal Bastards dickhead ain’t going to be around much longer to save your pretty fat ass.”
With her breath coming in brief gasps, she lifted her chin and met his eyes defiantly. Cowering to Pete wouldn’t do her any good. Even though he absolutely terrified her, she couldn’t let him know that.
“You’re mine,” he said and covered her mouth with his.
His lips were dry, cracked, and forceful. He jammed his tongue into her mouth as she wedged her hands between them and pressed them on his chest.
She turned her head, skittering his lips along her face. “Fuck you,” she hissed.
He let her go.
The clothes he took from her dropped to the floor as she stepped back from him.
“In time, gorgeous.” He winked.
She sneered. Over her dead body.
Blowing her a kiss, he spun on his heel and strolled away as though he hadn’t just forced himself upon her.
She sagged and let out a breath. Covering her heart with her hand, she looked around for Carrie. They needed to get out of there. Maybe now that her friend had witnessed what Pete did, and how he treated Kelsey, Carrie would understand things weren’t all sunshine and roses.
Pete and Mike were the bad ones. These were the bikers who would hurt them.
But Carrie was nowhere to be found.
She’d vanished.
Fretting that her friend had been kidnapped by a bastard biker, Kelsey charged through the aisles of the thrift store. As she walked past the changing rooms, a man groaned.
Kelsey halted her steps.
“Fuck,” he muttered. “That’s good.”
Shifting her attention toward the noises, Kelsey glanced at the bottom of the stall, looking for signs of the occupants. She noted a set of boots beyond the curtain and a pair of knees before them.
Shaking her head, Kelsey pinched the bridge of her nose.
Carrie hadn’t seen a damn fucking thing because she was too busy blowing Mike in the changing room. Of course she was. Why wouldn’t she?
Kelsey knocked on the wall. “Hey, I’m gonna get out of here.”
She and Carrie had taken their own cars and met up at the store, so she wasn’t abandoning her friend. Carrie could get home, but Kelsey had no intention of staying there. She wanted no more run-ins with Pete.
“Fuck off,” Mike barked.
“Carrie,” she said. “Call me later.”
Gagging noises were her response.
Kelsey dry-heaved in her mouth as she fled. She had to figure out how to get her friend away from that guy. Apparently, his dick was magic, because Carrie couldn’t seem to get enough of it.
Kelsey had her work cut out for her.