Second (14 page)

PROLOGUE

I
WALK
home from school and stop in front of my house, sitting

down on the lawn. I don’t want to go inside. I like school and

fi fth grade, and I wish I could stay there all day. Everyone else

can’t wait to get home, but not me. My mother is always criticizing

me, telling me what’s wrong with me every time she sees me.

Sit up straight, Faye.

Ninety-eight percent is not one hundred percent.

A lady would never dress like that.

I know I’m not perfect, but she never likes to point out

what I’m good at.

I’m smart—I get good grades, and my teachers always tell

me how well I’m doing. I love learning new things every day.

Boys tell me I’m pretty, but my mother doesn’t ever tell me

this.

“What you doing sitting out here alone, Fairy?”

I look up, staring into the handsome face of my neighbor

Dex. He sits down next to me and stares at the sky in silence.

“Did you get locked out or something?”

I shake my head. “No, just wanted a little peace and quiet

before I go inside.”

“Hmmm,” he says, turning to look at me, then glancing at

my house. “You’d tell me if you were in any trouble, wouldn’t

you?”

A few years older than me and a hell of a lot cooler, I liked

being around Dex. He was the most popular boy I knew and

always looked out for me. He spoke to me like I was his equal,

not like some stupid kid. He never spoke down to me like

my mother did either. Instead, he joked with me, teased me

playfully, and told me that I was smart enough to be anything

I wanted to be. He said he was just next door in case I ever

needed anything, or if I was ever in any kind of trouble. I was

always happy that I’d been born in this house, because it was

right next to his and he’d always been a part of my life.

“Yes,” I mumble. It’s not like I was in any real trouble. I just

never felt comfortable at home, so I avoided it when I could.

Dex reaches into his pocket and pulls out a Snickers bar.

“Halves?”

I nod my head and smile.

My mother doesn’t give me chocolate, and Dex knows that.

He always shares his with me.

My mouth waters as he breaks the chocolate bar in half and

hands me the biggest piece.

“Thanks,” I say, taking a big bite.

“Eric’s playing video games at home, if you want to go and

hang with him,” he says, standing up.

“Where are you going?” I ask him, not wanting him to

leave.

He looks down at me with his piecing blue eyes and grins.

I’d always liked his eyes. They were such a beautiful color and

were usually smiling.

Friendly.

Warm.

“I’m going to meet some of my friends.”

He points to the boy and two girls walking up the street.

“Either go inside or go to my house, but you can’t just sit here

alone, it’s not safe.”

His friends call out to him. He had a lot of friends, I’d noticed.

A lot of them were female.

For some reason, I didn’t like that. I didn’t like to share him.

I was ten and Dex was fifteen, so he definitely led a different

life than I did. Even though he was older, he always had a little

time for me. It made me feel special.

“See you around, Fairy,” he says to me with a grin before he

walks off to meet them.

I sigh and stand up, slowly walking to my front door.

When I get there, I turn around to see Dex standing on the

street, staring at me. He motions for me to go inside. I know he

won’t leave until I do. I don’t know what he thinks is so dangerous

about sitting outside my house, but I know he’s just trying

to protect me. As soon as I’m inside, I close the door behind

me and peep through the blinds.

The second my door closes, he turns around, putting his

arm around one of the girls.

I narrow my eyes and turn away.

Dexter Black doesn’t know it yet, but one day he’s going to

be mine.

ONE

I
STARE
at the old motel in apprehension, taking in its brown

brick exterior and dirty windows.

Not the Hilton, that’s for sure.

Feeling sorry for myself is a foreign concept. I normally consider

myself a strong woman. I need to be one, with the parents

I was given and the career I want in the future. I have a strong

will, and I’m not afraid to open my mouth and say what’s on

my mind. I don’t mince words or back down. I fi nd humor in

awkward situations and try to make the most of my life.

But I guess there’s a fi rst time for everything, because here

I am, tail between my legs, feeling more than sorry for myself.

Kind of pathetic, really.

I’d have thought sixty dollars would have gotten me a better

room than this, but I was wrong.

It has been known to happen.

I check in at reception, paying for one night and trying not

to stare at the mold on the wall. Th e bored-looking girl at the

counter hands me my key, then I drag my feet to my room,

taking one bag with me. Inside are my toiletries, clothes, and a

few valuables—including my purse, passport, and food.

Unlocking the door, I walk in and check out the room. A

small bathroom, a couch, a bed, a fridge, and a TV. Eh, it could

be worse. I put my bag on the couch and take off my sandals.

Placing them neatly in the corner, I pull out a plastic container

and open the lid.

Reaching inside, I decide on a piece of apple. As I munch

on the cut fruit I contemplate my life. I have five thousand dollars

saved, a growing belly, and no clue what the hell I’m going

to do. My entire life, I’d had a plan. I always knew exactly what

I was going to do, and how I was going to do it. But now? I had

no plan. It was a scary thought, especially under the circumstances.

One thing I know for sure is that I need to keep moving.

One night here, and then I’m going to keep on driving. I

want to get as far away from my old life as possible. That shit

does not need to catch up with me.

I take a long shower, then take my time rubbing moisturizer

into my skin. I have cherry-blossom lotion that I use every day

without fail, and tonight is no exception. It gives me a little

comfort, a little sense of normalcy. I brush my teeth, comb my

wavy auburn hair, and climb into bed. Wishing I had brought

my own sheets, I ignore the musty smell and fall asleep.

This is my life now, and I can’t afford to complain.

Literally.

Another night passes and then I’m back on the road, heading

farther north. I actually enjoy the drive; it’s nice being away

from the city. Before it gets dark, I check into another sketchy

motel and all but collapse onto the bed. Driving at night isn’t

safe—there are animals that cross the roads. After a good

night’s rest, I spend the next day looking for a job—applying

anywhere and everywhere. I’m not fussy; I’ll do just about anything

right now. Beggars can’t be choosers. I’d never had to use

that saying before in my life, coming from a fairly wealthy family.

But just because my parents had money didn’t mean we

were happy. Far from it, actually. A quiet knock at the door

makes me groan. I’d just gotten comfortable. I force myself to

get up, expecting housekeeping. I open the door slightly, just

enough to see who it is through the chain lock.

My jaw drops, and panic instantly sets in.

Definitely not housekeeping.

Unless they decided to hire a hot-as-hell, angry biker.

“Open it, or I will,” he demands, his eyes blazing. I consider

my options for a few seconds before I slide open the lock. He

could just break down the door if he wanted to, so there really

is no point. I open it and take a few steps back as he enters.

Crystal-blue eyes narrow on me. A muscle ticks in his jaw

as his gaze rakes over me, checking to make sure I’m okay. He’s

wearing worn, ripped jeans and a long-sleeve black T-shirt that

accentuates his muscular build. He looks good; he always did

though.

“Just in the neighborhood?” I ask, hope filling my voice.

“What the fuck, Faye?” he rasps, gripping the doorframe.

I take another step back. I don’t know what he’s capable of

right now. The old Dex would rather cut off his arm than hurt

me, but do I really know him now? I don’t even know how the

hell he found me.

Does he know? Of course he does.

Nothing gets by Dexter Black.

He bangs the door behind him, the noise making me flinch.

“Pack up your shit,” he demands, eyes searching the crappy

motel room, which is now looking considerably smaller with

his hulking presence. “We’re leaving.” He doesn’t look happy

with what he sees. In fact, his scowl deepens. He crosses his

arms over his broad chest and stares me down, waiting for me

to move.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I say, putting my hands on my

hips and glaring at him. He’s not the boss of me. Yes, he’s a

badass,

sexy man with whom I had one night of hot, passionate

sex, but that doesn’t mean he gets to tell me what to do. I might

have liked him bossy in bed, but this right here is a different

story.

He takes a deep breath, as if calming himself. “I’ve been

looking for you for two days. I’m trying not to lose my fuckin’

temper here, Faye, but you’re pushing me. I don’t think I’ve

ever been this patient in my fuckin’ life.”

This is him patient?

“I’m not going anywhere,” I reply, lifting my chin up. “And

you can’t make me.”

We stare at each other, the tension building.

I can actually feel the moment before he snaps.

His fists clench, and the tightness in his jaw looks almost

painful.

I step back into the frame of the open bathroom door as he

loses it.

He picks up the TV and throws it into the wall. The crashing

sound makes me jump, but he doesn’t stop there. He

punches the wall several times, then slides the few glasses off

the table in one smooth movement.

More crashing.

There goes my deposit.

He turns and points his finger right at me.

I gulp.

My eyes widen as he grabs my bag and starts packing anything

of mine he comes across. I walk up to him and try to grab

it away from him, but one deathly look has me retracting my

hand.

“Temper tantrum over?” I ask, trying to keep my voice

steady.

He looks down at my bare feet, then at all the glass scattered

on the carpet floor. “Don’t move.”

I do as I’m told as he brings me a pair of my shoes. I slide

them on and look up at him.

Why does he want me to go with him? What good can come

from it? What I need to do is move on with my life and settle

down somewhere quiet and safe. Somewhere without sex-ona-

stick bikers and their douche-lord cheating brothers. Somewhere

where my parents aren’t around, and I can be myself.

“I just want to be left alone, Dex,” I say, tears forming in my

eyes. I’m tired, so fucking tired. My life isn’t meant to be like

this, and I hate the fact that he’s seeing me this vulnerable.

I hate it.

I’m not this weak—not usually.

And he’s the last person I’d want to see me like this. He’s

strong. Nothing touches him. I have no idea how he would

handle me if I broke down right now, which I’m seriously close

to doing.

“No, you thought running was going to solve your problems.

You thought lying was going to solve your problems.

You’re lucky my dipshit brother mentioned that you left, and

that you were pregnant, or I wouldn’t even know I was going to

have a fuckin’ kid!” he yells, losing his composure.

Talk about kicking me when I’m down.

“I really don’t need your shit right now,” I mutter, looking

down at the floor, feeling like the worst person in the world.

Because he’s right, I probably wouldn’t have told him. I can’t

say what I would have done.

“You would have gone on, wouldn’t you? Your whole life

without telling me,” he says in disbelief. “Don’t you think I

deserved to have heard this from you?”

I think about lying, but in the end I don’t. I deserve his

judgment over this. “Do you really think you could give this

kid a good life?”

Wrong thing to say, but I needed to say it because that was

my rationalization for leaving without a word. His eyes turn

cold and hard. “I guess you’re going to find out now, aren’t you?”

“How do you know this kid is even yours?” I ask, lifting my

chin up. Why am I poking the dragon? I have no idea.

“I know because the condom broke that night, and you

hadn’t had sex with Eric in a while,” he says, staring straight at

me. “Or anyone else.”

“The condom broke?” I gape, my eyes flaring.

Well, that explains things doesn’t it?

And who is he? The sex police? I hadn’t had sex with anyone

else, but how did he know that?

He watches me under his lashes but ignores my comment.

“Grab your shit, Faye. You have five minutes or we leave

without it,” he says, sitting down on the bed. I grit my teeth

but do as he says, taking my few belongings and packing them

back in my bag with efficient ease.

“I’m ready,” I say, avoiding eye contact. He takes the bag

from me and hikes it on his shoulder, then holds the door open.

I walk out and wait for him to lead me to his car. He walks

down toward the parking lot, and I follow, a few steps behind.

“What about my car? It has some of my stuff in it,” I ask

him.

“Rake will drive it home,” he says as he opens the door to a

black four-wheel drive. He grips my hips and lifts me up onto

the seat. My breath hitches at the contact and flashes of our

night together enter my mind.

Him braced above me as he grinds into me, sweat dripping

down his body.

Me on all fours in front of him, his fingers digging into my hips

as he thrusts.

“Faye,” he says, snapping me out of it.

“Huh?”

“What were you just thinking about?” he asks, his voice a

low rumble.

“Oh, nothing,” I mutter embarrassment coloring my

cheeks.

“I’ll bet. I said Rake will handle your car, so don’t worry

about it.”

“Rake?” I ask, my brows furrowing in confusion. I watch as

Dex lifts his head toward the side of the building. I follow his

line of sight and see a man leaning against the wall, smoking a

cigarette. He walks over and stands next to Dex.

“So this is what the fuss is all about,” the man named Rake

says, checking me out and not being subtle about it.

“I’m Rake,” he says, grinning at me. He’s a good-looking

man. Blond hair, curling around his face, green eyes, and a

panty-dropping smile. He has a lip ring and an eyebrow ring—

both suit him perfectly.