Authors: Shyla Colt
“West Chester Library, Juliette speaking, how may I help
you?”
“Honey, have you seen the news yet?” Evonne asked.
Juliette frowned. “No. What’s happened now?”
“Pull up the net and search under Peter’s name.”
Her hands shook. It took a couple of clumsy attempts with
the keyboard to get things typed in properly. The headlines that greeted her
made her gasp. Hidden harassment charges brought to light. Peter Stant,
predator or powerhouse?
“Oh my god.” Pictures of Peter with a hand over his face were
splattered across the screen.
“Yeah. Keep reading.”
More than three victims have been identified, and more
are anticipated to be unearthed in what is rumored to be a trail on human
trafficking.
“His lawyers are scrambling to do damage control now, I’m
sure. I doubt he’ll have time for recreational activities anytime soon.”
“I hope you’re right, E. I really do.” She shook her head.
Had Shooter made this happen? How?
“If this is your man’s handiwork, all I can say is I do not
want to be on his bad side.”
“Yeah, me either,” she whispered.
“I have to leave the house to meet a client. But I wanted to
make sure you saw this.”
“Thanks, E.”
“Of course. Love you, girl.”
“Love you too.” Disconnecting, she breathed easier. Peter
had his hands full. Between his lawyers and appeasing his parents, she’d at
least have a reprieve. Maybe knowing he could be brought down a peg would
dissuade him permanently? She couldn’t pretend to know how his warped brain
thought. But right then she felt pretty damned good. Smiling for what felt like
the first time in years, she resumed her job without fear. Clocking out around
two, she headed outside to wait for Shooter. The day was beautiful and she felt
like celebrating. The library doors opened and the wind caressed her face,
blowing her hair back. Laughing as the strands tickled her neck, she walked
toward her favorite bench beneath a tree.
“You fucking bitch.” The sadistic voice from her nightmares
sounded too close.
I know that voice all too well.
She glanced up and
froze. Peter’s perfect hair stuck out every which way, and his face was twisted
with rage.
“I know this is your fault. You think you’re safe now? That
I’m going to back off? We will make your life hell. I can’t believe you have
the nerve to try to defy me. Do you remember what happens when you do that?”
She backed up, glancing around for a safe place to be. Her back hit a car and
he caged her in, placing an arm on either side of her body. He pressed his lean
form against hers. His breath caressed her ears. She launched away and he
laughed. Grabbing her hands he twisted them behind her back. Tears sprang up in
her eyes. To anyone else they looked like a couple roughhousing.
“You’re going to wish you never did this, Juliette.” The
whispered words scared her more than the yelling had. The iron band around her
wrists tightened. “I was going to let you be my special girl. But now I’ll sell
you off to the highest bidder. Once I break you in nice and good you’ll turn a
pretty profit. So pretty and innocent with those big brown eyes and lips made
for sucking.” He moaned. “You have a mouth like a Hoover. That sort of talent
is far too good to waste on the likes of your new man. You really did scrape
the bottom of the barrel with him, didn’t you?”
“He’s more man than you’ll ever manage to be.”
“Oh, has my kitten found her claws?” He laughed “How
adorable.” He leaned in and she turned her head. His lips pressed against her
cheek. “Please do fight. It always makes everything so much sweeter.”
“Fuck you.”
“Oh you will, don’t worry. We’ll spend lots of quality time
together soon.”
A motorcycle sounded in the distance. “That’s my cue, sweet
girl. I’m not ready to face your bikers head-on. But know it’s only a matter of
time until they go down in flames.”
He released his hold, spun on his heels and jogged away,
never sparing her another glance. The blood rushed back into her wrists and her
knees threatened to give. She slumped against the car.
How did this happen
in broad daylight?
A few moments later a tiny black sports car burned
rubber out of the parking lot.
The rumble of a motorcycle filled her ears and Shooter
rounded the corner. Their gazes met and he pulled up in front of her.
“What happened?” he barked.
“Peter happened. The look in his eyes.” She wrapped her
hands around her waist. “He wants my head on a pike.”
“Fuck him,” Shooter spat. “Get on. I want you home where I
know you’re safe.” She nodded. Mechanically she went through the familiar
motions, handing him her purse to place in the saddlebag and mounting the bike.
Hell was coming and nothing Shooter said or did would save her from its flames.
Locking her arms around his waist, she pressed her face against his cut,
inhaling the scent of leather and Shooter as she focused on the man in command
of the beast between her legs. Twenty minutes later they stopped at the gas
station near his house and filled up.
“I need to hit the head, come in with me.” He held out his
hand, and she clutched it, vaguely aware of the members of his crew coming in
behind them. Right now he felt like the only lifeboat on a sinking vessel.
Scanning the parking lot, she paid close attention to the cars and the people.
Inside he headed down the hall and she went to the magazine rack, purchasing a
few tabloids for the laughs she desperately needed. Stepping up to the
register, she smiled and handed the cashier her card.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. It’s been declined.”
“What? There’s no way.”
When it rains it pours.
“I can try it again if you’d like.”
“Please. I literally just checked my account this morning.”
A few moments passed, and the machine beeped angrily. “Same
thing. I suggest you contact your bank.” Numb, she moved to the side, pulling
her phone from the purse and dialing the number. Punching in her code, she
checked her balance.
“At this time you have zero dollars in your checking
account.”
No. This morning it was twenty thousand.
With a flurry of
button pressing she checked her savings account. “At this time you have zero
dollars in your savings account.” Her entire savings had vanished in the blink
of an eye. Voices sounded around her, buzzes in the background she couldn’t
focus on.
This has to be a mistake.
She pressed zero to go back to the
menu and rerouted her call to a live person.
“Vista Lago bank, my name is Stacey, how may I help you?”
“Hi Stacey, this is Juliette Moore. I’d like to check my
balances.”
“Hi, Ms. Moore, can I get your social security number?”
They want through the song and dance and Stacey confirmed
she was flat broke.
“Juliette.” Shooter’s hands on her forearms pulled her back
to the present. “Baby, what’s wrong?”
“It’s all gone.” Her voice cracked.
“What?”
“All my money.”
“Are you sure?”
“I just checked my balance, zero—all twenty thousand—poof.”
Opening her hand, she glanced up.
“We’ll go home and get it all sorted out.”
Her head pounded at the thought of phone calls and
paperwork. “Oh god.” Snapping out of her stupor, she fumbled with her purse and
pulled out her credit card, repeating the process.
“You have no funds left on your card.” The phone dropped
from her hand, clattering to the floor. Her two-thousand-dollar credit limit
was maxed. Hyperventilating, she allowed Shooter to lead her outside, away from
gaping patrons.
“He took everything.”
“Whatever he did we can fix this.” Shooter cupped her face.
“But you have to calm down for me, baby, okay? I have to get you home. I don’t
want to be out on the streets in the open like this.”
“Y-You’re right.” Breathing in through her nose, she focused
on calming her racing heartbeat. She wasn’t alone. Her phone rang. Afraid to
answer it, she glanced up at him.
“Give it to me—I’ll answer it.” He took her purse, fished
though it and came out with her phone. “Hello? She’s in the restroom right now,
can I take a message? Her what? Someone’s towing her car? Are you sure? Thank
you. We’ll get this straightened out soon.” Hanging up, he met her gaze. “It’s
going to be okay.” His voice sounded far away but she nodded. In less than
fifteen minutes, Peter Stant had set her world on fire. “Come on, let’s get out
of here.”
She followed him like a baby duck after its parent. Her sole
concentration placed on putting one foot in front of the other. Muscle memory
saved her from embarrassment as she donned the helmet he offered her, tightened
the straps and climbed on behind him. She wrapped her arms around him, losing
herself in the vibrating machine beneath her, the solid man in front and the
wind on her face.
* * * * *
Given the circumstances, he took her to the one place he
knew no one would attempt to breach to get her. The lost look in her eyes and
robotic manner she responded with added momentum to the shit storm brewing
inside him.
“You’re going to be safe here. Call your girls, have them
come stay with you, okay?” Shooter whispered, standing in front of where she
sat on the bed.
“W-where are you going?”
The pitiful whimper gutted him. “You know where. That
motherfucker came in and not only fucked with you, but threatened my entire
crew. We ain’t going to let that stand.”
Tears formed in her eyes. “I- I don’t want you to do this
for me.”
“This isn’t about you, it’s how we do things. We’ll figure
out a way to keep everyone safe.” All that and she was worried about him?
He smoothed her hair back from her face. “I’ll be fine. You
worry about yourself. I don’t like the look in your eyes and you’re shaking.
After you call your girls, get into the shower and get comfortable.”
“That’s a good plan.” She nodded to herself like a crazy
person trying to be rational. The lights were on but nobody was home. Unsure if
he should leave her, he hesitated.
“Go…I’m fine. I’ll call the girls.” Clarity shone in her
eyes.
“You sure?” Narrowing his gaze he studied her.
“One hundred percent. I’m shaken. I admit that, but I
haven’t checked out yet.”
He smiled. “Good. I’ll stop in when the meeting is
finished.” When he reached the door he paused. “Juliette, I love you.” Her
slack-jawed expression was the last thing he saw before he hurried to the
meeting where the others were gathered.
“How are we going to take care of this problem?” Tiny asked
the moment he walked in.
“Specs has the case laid out and waiting on a conviction.
The hard part is making it through to the court date. Once he’s in the system
he ain’t never getting out.” Shooter shook his head.
“No one comes in, disrespects us and plays us for fools.
Weakness is death in the M.C. game,” Tiny said. “It bothers me they had their
sights set on us and we had no clue.”
“Agreed,” Hawk said. “I did some digging. Stant owns, or is
in the middle of negotiations for, over half the strip clubs in town. Mayhem
and The Eights are pretty much the last two standing.”
“That explains why he’s got a hard-on for us,” Tiny said. “I
think your girl is just an excuse. A smoke screen for what was really going
on.”
“ I think you’re right.”
“You and your old lady need to take a trip. You understand
what I’m saying?”
“For how long?” Shooter asked.
“As long as it takes, lay low, stay off the grid and keep
her safe.”
“I can do that,” Shooter said.
“Good, I want you gone tonight. You let us worry about the
shit at home. We need to know everything we can find out about Room 801 and who
Stant is partners with.”
“You got it, Prez.”
“Good. You better go pack.”
Dismissed, Shooter turned and left the room.
How the hell
am I going to keep Juliette from losing it when I tell her we need to leave
town?
Slipping inside the door, he shed his clothing and walked into the
bathroom. Steam fogged the mirrors, and the sound of water on tile soothed him.
Pulling back the shower curtain, he drank in the sight of the woman who’d come
to mean everything to him. Her hair was dark silk piled on top of her hair to
reveal a graceful neck that led down to a curvy frame. Peering over her
shoulder, she delivered a shaky smile.
“Hi.” The welcome melted his heart. He’d been afraid she’d
shy away.
He stepped inside and pulled her slippery body close.
“Juliette Marie Moore, I love you,” he whispered, peering
deep into the darkened windows of her eyes. “I wanted you to know that. I had
the words rattling around in my head for a while but you weren’t ready to hear
them and I wasn’t ready to say it.”
“Shooter, I love you too.” Her voice was thick with
emotions.
“We got some shit to discuss, but right now I want to love
you. Is that okay? Can I erase an ugly memory for both of us? Give myself
something good to carry me through this.”
“God, yes. Please make me forget.” Her voice caught on a
sob.
Sliding his hands down her skin, he gripped her and balanced
her against the wall of the shower. “Guide me home.”
She reached down between them, pressing his swollen head to
her entrance, and he thrust home. Her legs tightened around his back and he
held her gaze as he moved inside her tight heat. There were no words as he slid
as deep as he could go, relishing the feel of her slick walls as she flexed her
muscles and arched her back. The love she held shone bright, and every time he
re-entered her body, the bond between them wove together tighter.
Her lips parted, and her pussy trembled around them as they
reached the pinnacle together. She gripped his biceps as her body vibrated.
“That’s it, baby, give it to me.”