Текст книги "Wrenched"

Автор книги: Emma James

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Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 11 страниц)

“Nothing, I’m fine. Do you want to talk about that phone call?” I forget my own worries because the caller has severely upset him.

“Whisper, something has just gone down and I don’t have the time to talk about it now. I need to find out more information first.” He sees my worried look and tries to reassure me he is fine by enveloping me in a warm hug. “I have to get going.” He steps back and ducks his head to look me directly in the eyes. “Are you sure you’ll be all right?”

I know he needs to hear I’m okay because this is Lincoln, my friend and all round good guy. I also know he needs to be somewhere urgently and I’m holding him up.

I brush off my worries. “Nothing that can’t wait a few days. Please, you go and do what you need to do, and I’ll be waiting for you when you get back.” I give him another hug and a kiss on the cheek, something I never do to him. I just feel like he needs some comfort from me. He pulls away and I give him my most convincing poker face.

He checks his watch again and starts walking backwards, away from me. A black SUV pulls up to the curb a half-block up the main street, and Lincoln waves to me. “Later, babe,” he says, then turns around, jogs to it, and jumps in. The driver executes a speedy U-turn and drives away from me.

All of a sudden, I get a chill up my spine. I put my dark sunglasses on and casually look around the street. I can’t see anything out of the ordinary, but the feeling won’t subside. I decide to head back to the bar at a brisk walk and get back to work.

 

I’ve had too much fucking time to think about my past on the ride to Louisiana. I had blocked out that part of my life, even though it helped to shape the person I am now.

I’m ruthless.

I don’t give second chances.

I get the job done.

Conscience plays no part in my world.

You fuck me or the club over, you are done for.

I’m indeed a soulless bastard through and through.

I’m grateful I was taken from my father, or God only knows what would have become of me.

Would I even be alive?

He should’ve been at the top of my retribution list. But, I had known if the bastard wound up dead, all bloodied and broken by my hands, then I would’ve been doing the people I call my parents a real injustice for all the kindness they showered me with. They were my kryptonite. I would do anything for them.

I may have had a bad start in life, but they tried real hard to make up for it. It’s the one line I couldn’t cross, for their sakes.

The couple that took me in were in their late fifties at the time. They were kind people, good people. They showed me I was loved.

But then that was taken away from me.

I have them set up in the best nursing home I can afford, and they’re none the wiser to my Soulless Bastards life, mainly because they both suffer from advanced dementia. I’m a ghost of a son to them; they don’t know me anymore. Bad things happen to really good people, and for that, I’m truly sorry. They saved me, and I can’t save them from this fucking disease.

I’m an educated man, I have properties, and I’m ex-military. I’ve fought for my country, and I know I made them proud. It was important to me they got to see that before their minds were attacked and their memories stolen. I gave up trusting in a world that can give and then take away so cruelly when the two people who meant the most to me on this planet had their minds ravaged.

I’m without parents again.

I shake my head to get rid of these thoughts. This shit just can’t be reversed. I’ve had too many hours on the ride over with nothing but my early childhood to think about on replay, and I’m on a cliff, teetering. No fucker better look at me sideways or they’ll be wishing they hadn’t.

I’m fucking furious this can of worms in my head has been reopened. That shit needed to stay buried. Now I have to sort this bitch out, so I can bury it all again.

There’s no love lost. A man like my father should have been caged and the key thrown away.

I have vengeance on my mind, and I’m not taking on any jail time because of that slut. I’ll do time for the club because that’s where my loyalty lies, but I won’t take it on because of my own stupidity.

I need to be clear-headed. I accelerate and hope the sounds of my Harley can soothe the inferno that’s raging inside me.

 

Once I got back to my office, I put the envelope on the table and let it stare back at me the whole time, while I finished off the day’s work.

My phone rings and it’s Miss C. I put her on speaker phone so I can tidy up my desk while I talk to her. “Hello, honeychile, I’m just checkin’ in to make sure you are doing well. Dem old bones of mine are tellin’ me otherwise.”

I love listening to her talk. It soothes me. I don’t want her bones to worry her, so I put on my strong voice. “Hey, Miss Catherine, don’t you be worrying about me. I’m just a little off with Boxer away, and Linc got a call today that has me a little worried for him. I’m just gonna finish up here soon and do a workout then head on off to bed and do some reading. If you don’t hear from me, it just means I’m having a test run at being independent. This is all new to me.” I hope that sounded convincing enough.

“I understand. I’m your safety net if you need me. Don’t hesitate to be callin’ me any time of day.”

“I know, Miss Catherine. You have a good night and take care. I’ll check in to see how you are doing tomorrow.” I know she doesn’t want me fussing over her either. She’s a strong woman to have stayed single and become so self-reliant. She’s so proud of what she has achieved. I’ve watched Boxer keep an ear to the ground with Miss C. He knows she’s old, and he knows she would be offended if he kept an open watch on her. She’s alone in that house surrounded by open fields, the closest neighbor a several-minutes-drive away. She doesn’t fear the isolation; she welcomes it.

“You too, child.” Then she disconnects.

Tapping my fingers on my desk, I eye that damn envelope again that’s quietly hollering at me to open it up. I have to read it to put Miss Catherine’s bones at ease. I pick it up and slide my finger along the seal. It pops and the envelope rips under my sharp nail. I slide the document out and my eyes scan over it.

It’s a letter from Boothe and Brown Lawyers. It’s about William Dupré’s will.

I’m confused as I read the document. I’m named, including my new surname, as the beneficiary to all monies, the house and assets, and that one surviving son, a Mr. Dallas Dupré, is to receive one hundred dollars, this being William Dupré’s last will and testimony...blah, blah, blah.

I have to reread the words again.

William has a son?

I didn’t know anything about a son. I couldn’t imagine that evil man bringing a child into this world. I can’t hide my shock that a son even existed. Does Boxer know? But where is he?

Why would William leave me everything and his son only one hundred dollars? He didn’t even like me.

I go to put the envelope in the bin and something else drops out. A key.

This is the key to William’s home. I have seen it before.

This is wrong. I shouldn’t have any of this. I don’t want any of this. His son should have it all. Tonight, I will go over to the house and leave the key with a note. I would assume if the son has received his letter, he won’t be too happy about my name being on the will. I don’t even like my name on it. It draws too many questions.

He might assume all sorts of things. I doubt he would know about my life with William. I was a secret to the world, as far as I knew. He might think William and I were in a live-in relationship and that’s why I’ve been left his assets. This guy must be wondering who I am, and I don’t blame him. The death of his father will be enough of a shock, and then finding out he isn’t entitled to his inheritance, only one hundred dollars…

I have a feeling he wouldn’t have had a good relationship with his father. The man was evil, a murderer, a bully, an abuser. I’m glad his son didn’t get to live under his roof. I don’t know what his story is, but it has to have been a better one than mine.

I decide to let Boxer handle it all for me when he comes home. He’ll know what’s best, but for now, I don’t want to even be in possession of the key. They say that possession is nine tenths of the law, and I don’t want those nine tenths.

I shut the computer down. I have kept myself busy and had a productive day. I need to go work out. It’s the only thing that releases the tension my body feels when the little boxes of memories in my mind are threatening to pop open. I need to center myself and let Boxer sort it out with the lawyer, so we can turn everything over to William’s son legally.

It’s his birthright.

There’s nothing to worry about at this stage, I try to tell myself. I’ll just refuse what has been given to me, and then my world will be back on its axis again.

 

My meeting with Whisper surprised the hell out of her and she was as beautiful in person as her movie stardom dictated. I’m now headed back to Jackson. All the pawns have been dealt with and my source tells me the biker is on his way. Everything has been timed perfectly.

Even William could not have foretold the shitstorm that is coming for his little pet.

I really should get out of Dodge, but this is gonna be too good to miss.

The maestro has conducted his last song.

What could possibly go wrong?

 

My Harley rumbles down the old oak canopy that leads me towards the weathered plantation home that once would have stood majestic and proud.

So this is my father’s home.

During the day, the old oak avenue would be inviting, but under a pitch-black night, it’s creepy, just like my father. Trust him to own this place.

I pull up to the front steps, letting the bike engine vibrate underneath my body. There’s no light shining through the windows, no smell of cooking in the air. The house appears quiet, like nobody is home.

My rage is starving for justice. I’ve got my gun tucked into the back of my jeans and I’m itching to use it.

Tonight, I’m the bitch’s judge and jury.

Her sentence?

Death by my hand.

One bullet to maim and cause pain. The second, to be her reckoning.

I park the bike and climb the stairs, regardless of the fact it appears nobody’s home. It’s too quiet as my boots pound each of the wooden planks, heavy with the injustice of my past life, heavy with the fate of the slut who dared to cross my path.

He must have loved this woman to give up everything to her.

I want to see the face of the whore who accepted my father for who he was. As far as I’m concerned, if you were with my father, then you too were a piece of shit, not worthy of being on the bottom of my boot, two fucking evil peas in the same fucking pod.

I knock on the front door. I’m a lost traveller looking for directions, and once I get my feet over the threshold into the privacy of my bastard of a father’s home...

I can only assume the bitch lives here. After all, she now apparently owns it.

What a fucking joke.

I knock again and wait.

Nothing.

I walk around the perimeter of the house and check in some windows. It’s dark and uninviting. I go around to the back stoop and knock on the door.

Nothing.

I sit down on the step and notice the full moon has shed a soft silver glow over the backyard. There’s a dead looking garden patch down the backyard. Nobody has lived here for months, or she simply couldn’t be bothered tending the garden.

I could break in and see for myself. I rub a tired hand over my face. I’m not thinking straight coming here under the cloak of darkness. I’ve let my hatred for everything associated with my father lead me here without a clear plan. I haven’t had enough time to think outside my anger. This needs to be clean and with no ties to me. My brothers will cover for me if I need an alibi.

I need a couple beers and to calm down, then I will come back here later tonight and see if she even lives here. I check my watch; it’s only about a quarter to eight, plenty of time for justice to be served.

The bar shuts down on a Monday at eight o’clock, Boxer’s rules. I’ve told old Paco, the bartender, to go home and I’ll clean up. I need to keep myself busy anyway, get my mind off that letter for a little while.

Paco’s pretty much done everything already. I just need to sweep the floors and take the trash out. It will be my first time closing up. Paco thanks me and heads on out the door.

The town is so small that it really doesn’t warrant being open late Monday through Thursday. Boxer’s times of trade haven’t been met with any resistance. The townsfolk are too old. This is the town young people escape from as soon as they are legal, which doesn’t bode well for it, turning it into a ghost town eventually. It seems like the kind of place where if you lived here, you had a good reason to want to stay. It feels like a place to hide in.

William had his secrets. I have mine, and now I’m beginning to wonder about Boxer and why he lives here. Maybe this is why the town’s people keep their noses out of each other’s business.

No point stirring the wasp nest.

The bar is empty, so I quickly sweep up then go on out back.

 

I’ve just walked into the bar and I’m in need of a piss, so I follow the restroom sign and notice along the way how empty the bar is, while the jukebox has some romantic country song wailing out of it. I could have relieved myself on my father’s land, but even my piss was too good to be spilled on something he had owned.

I’ve taken care of business, ready for a beer, when I hear barely audible feminine grunts followed by smacking noises coming from up the stairs.

Call me curious.

I quietly climb the stairs, noting the Private: Staff Only sign nailed to the beam above my head, ignoring it as I walk toward the sounds, when I see her in a back room, punching a heavy bag in painted on, ass-hugging, little black workout shorts. I’m amused at first. My thoughts of revenge falling to second place as I cross my arms over my chest, propping myself up against the doorjamb while I watch her smack the bag with her toned arms as she makes those soft little grunts.

She has no idea I’m standing here observing her. I should walk away, but the more I stand here watching her, the more I can’t take my eyes off her. She sure is a looker.

This female is so determined to break her thumbs that I have to step in and save them. She is lean, but she still has nice curves, like a slow-winding country road travelling up her body. Her tight, rounded globes have my dick’s attention as she swings around the bag, concentrating so hard that she doesn’t notice me, sweat dripping off her pretty face, determination written all over it.

I decide then and there I want to get to know her tonight. I have seen that look. That’s the look of somebody who’s working off stress…or working off somebody.

She is quick on her feet, but she is holding her hands wrong. She doesn’t even have them strapped. She looks like she walked in and just needed to start hitting something. Her tits are a good handful, and her tight black workout top holds them secure. Her long brown hair is pulled back into a ponytail, perfect for grabbing onto, and she has these big, chocolate brown eyes a man could drown in while he fucks her senseless.

She is light on her feet as she rotates around again, jabbing at the bag with her back to me. In my current status of good-guy-civilian, I have to help her out.

I walk up to her and lay my hands on either side of her shoulders to calm her movements. She stops with a gasp, her body stiffening. I watch her reaction time. It’s slow as her mind works on what to do next. She needs to get a little quicker with that.

Then it comes.

I’m ready.

She swings around, ready to shove her palm straight up into my nose, hoping to buy herself some time as she flees for help.

Somebody has been taking self-defense lessons. I actually find myself liking the fact that she has some knowledge about how to protect herself.

I dodge her predictable defensive response to my invasion of her space. Her palm goes flying through the air, hitting nothing. I twist her back around, keeping her arms locked down tight, and her back to my chest. “We can do this all night if you like, but I’m not here to hurt you. I came in for a beer and to take a piss. I’ve been on the road the last few days. If you’ll calm down, I’ll release you.”

She thinks about my words and my actions and does as she’s told. She’s naïve, but I won’t tell her that. Before I fully release her, I move my hands over hers and reposition her thumbs for her. “Like this.” I soften my deep, rough, gravelly voice because I can be very intimidating when I want to be. “Little lady, I was just gonna tell you you’re gonna break those thumbs the way you are hitting that bag.” From her body language, I can see intimidation will get me nowhere. I need to behave like a civil gentleman, and not who I really am.

“You’re not thinking about the care of your hands before you beat the heavy bag senseless because your mind is elsewhere.” She’s all kinds of frazzled about something, and this is an impulsive thing to do. She might have started out with good intentions, putting her workout gear on, but then it escalated to, ‘Fuck my hands. I need to hit something, pronto’.

I fully release her and she immediately takes a step away from me, twisting around to take in who was touching her, who has invaded her private workout. Her eyes widen in surprise as she looks me up and down quickly. They don’t linger too long. She just needed to assess me for any danger.

Smart girl.

All she sees standing before her is a clean-cut American guy. She would have given me a different look had she seen me in my cut, but for some reason, I don’t think it would have necessarily impressed her. There are the chicks who would fear us, and then there are the chicks who can’t wait to get in our pants. I’m not a hundred percent sure which category she was in at the moment.

I look her in the eyes. “I can tell this isn’t your first time at the bag. You’ve let yourself get distracted, little lady.”

“Thank you,” she whispers to me. “You are right. I am distracted. I wasn’t thinking clearly.” Her eyes are now downcast and darting back and forth. “I’m good now, thank you. You can leave me to it.”

I sense a challenge. I saw her look of appreciation before she looked away. I never have to work hard. I get fucked with ease.

“You shouldn’t be up here. This is the private part of the bar and it’s now closed. How did you get in here?” Her voice is soft-spoken.

“The door was unlocked and the jukebox was wailing. Also, it’s only just eight o’clock. I needed a beer. What bar shuts at eight o’clock?”

“This bar,” she mumbles. She slowly looks up when I don’t respond to her two words, and then her eyes roam all over my body...again.

I’m neatly dressed and my hair is freshly cut. I’m wearing designer jeans, a checkered button up, and a leather jacket. I stopped off in New Orleans to get myself some civvies to wear on the way over. My cut is rolled up in my saddle bag on my bike.

I usually look dangerous and intimidating, but tonight, I need to be somebody else less threatening. I also need to be anonymous in this town, just a guy wanting a beer, passing on through.

Tonight, I’m nothing more than your average Joe Blow.

“Are you in charge of the bar?” I can’t sense anybody else around.

“Not normally, but for now, yes.”

She’s deciding if she will allow me a drink. I know I look tired, and now I’m all kinds of sexually frustrated, since I’ve laid eyes on this female.

“If you want a beer, I can get you one.” She’s too trusting, but I won’t knock her back. I really could do with a beer.

This new hair cut is hanging in my face, and it works to my advantage, making me look younger. I scoop it up and over my head and give her a little smile. “You look like you need a break. Can I buy you a drink?” I’m all for smooth talking her to get what I want.

I can see her weighing up whether to let me buy her a drink. Interesting, she’s making me work for it. I’m all for a challenge. She just made herself that little bit more of a game to me, so I offer up more information. “I’m just in town to visit family and decided to stop on by for a couple drinks before I head on over.” A little white lie, but I can see I have to pull some half-truths here to get this one to take the bait.

“And they can’t give you a beer?”

Shit. “They no longer drink.” Well, that part is true. “Wouldn’t be polite of me to show up with alcohol, when they’re on the wagon.”

I give her my warmest look, which I normally reserve for the people I’m hunting, because I need to pull on my resources for this female standing before me.

My brothers know if I get this look on my face I’m far more dangerous than when I look like I want to kill you. If I look like I want to kill you, then where’s the element of surprise? But if I look at you like you are my friend and you can trust me, then you won’t see me coming, motherfucker.

I need to take the edge off and get laid, and she just became my prey for the night. I’ll be fucking her before the night is through.

I hold my hand out to her to shake. “I’m Edge, and you are?”

She puts her small hand in mine and gives my hand a little squeeze. “I’m Sara.” I can see immediately she’s lying to me. She has no clue how to lie. My name’s Edge because I always have the upper hand.

She looks at me like she wants to say something more, her mouth opens a little, and then she says in a very small voice, “Ok. I’ll be over in a few minutes. Let me just clean up a bit.”

“I’ll just go wait out at the bar for you.” I have to strain my ears to hear her. “Take your time, little lady. I’ll be waiting.”

I can sniff a good girl out, and she’s definitely a good girl, but can I get her to be a bad girl tonight?

I head down to the bar and take it upon myself to flip the closed sign on and click the locks. She’s not used to closing up the bar because somebody else normally does this, and tonight, for whatever reason, she’s been left alone to do it, and look what happens.

I happen.

I take a slow look around the bar. It’s fitted out in wood and leather. A real old school kind of small town bar, with an old school kind of jukebox in the corner. The music has stopped, so I walk over to it, feeling around my pockets for a handful of coins, and I punch in several songs. The jukebox comes to life, clicking and whirring, and “One Of These Nights” by The Eagles starts playing.

I could have ducked behind the bar and gotten a couple of beers, but I don’t want to appear more than who I want her to see. I want in her pants, and being Edge, the Soulless Bastard, isn’t gonna cut it with this gal.

I take out my phone and text Hazard. I let him know I’ve arrived and I’ll be tidying everything up soon. Whisper will be meeting an untimely end. We discuss some club stuff back and forth, and then end our conversation. I delete the messages, so my phone is clean.

I’ve positioned myself so I can see when she comes back into the bar. The jukebox clicks away as it chooses the next song, “Are You Gonna Be My Girl” by Jet starts playing.

She walks in, looking around the empty bar until she locates where I’m seated. She makes a stop behind the bar and holds up two beers. I nod my head, and she brings them over. I don’t care about the brand; I just need a drink. I can see she’s showered and has put on a clean white tank top, a knitted black zip-up, little denim shorts, and flip-flops. I’m amused at the flip-flops.

“Slide on in, little lady.” I figure she’ll sit next to me, but instead, she sits across from me. “Do you talk?”

“Of course.” Her voice is so damn quiet against the jukebox playing in the background.

“Darlin’, you’re gonna have to speak up because I can’t hear you.” She slides the beer over to me and I hold it up to her. “Thank you,” I tell her, then take a deep swig.

She takes a long drink from her bottle and makes a little face while she looks about nervously. I need to go in for another swoop of getting her to trust me. This chick needs to chill. “Look, Sara, if you don’t want to talk and have a beer, that’s fine by me. I just thought you looked interesting and we might get along tonight.”

“No. You are great. It’s me. I’ve got a lot of things on my mind.” Her eyes turn to me, but can’t stay on me for too long. “I received some unwanted news today.”

“Is that what the pounding on the heavy bag was all about?”

She nods her head. “My trainer would be disappointed all his hard work went down the peach pit the minute he left me alone.”

Peach pit? I like this woman. “Is he your boyfriend?” Of course she would have somebody. I take a long swig out of my bottle, draining the contents. I’m about to cock-block my own dick and get out of here.

“Oh, no!” She laughs and I like the sound of it. “He’s more a father figure to me. He’s away for a few days, and I was just feeling a little tense. He will help me sort it all out when he gets back.”

I give my dick a mental double-thumbs-up, deciding maybe she’s worth the challenge tonight after all. It’s very rare a female doesn’t push herself on me, or rub her tits in my face when I invite her for a drink. Actually, it’s rare more than one woman isn’t vying for my attention at the same time. This is something new to me. She’s put a small chink in my ego.

When I’m hunting, I need to know when to back off and when to go in for the kill. This girl needs more effort, or else I will blow it before I can get to the finish line.