Sexy Bastards Anthology: Bad Boy, Biker, Alpha, Motorcycle Club, Contemporary Romance Collection (24 page)

“I’m making you uncomfortable,” he observed.

She shrugged. “Maybe. Your words and way of thinking are new to me.”

“Way of thinking maybe. The words are the same, just strung together in a different way.”

“Interesting.” And so was he.

“Glad you think so.” He studied her for a moment longer. “Your clothes are almost dry."

She brightened. “Thank you.”

“Not that you’re going anywhere.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “I’m not?” Now what was he saying? And she couldn’t sort out her own reaction to his words. Was that joy or anger? She didn’t recognize the feelings anymore, but at least it wasn’t apathetic 

“Not yet.” His answer was smooth, silky.

She narrowed her gaze, not sure how to take him and his subtle threats. She’d never made a move to run even when she could so she didn’t know what the damage would be if she tried and he caught her. There was a part of her that knew he’d be more dangerous than Greg. What she didn’t know was at what point that danger would become reality. Was he a killer? Or was he only dangerous when protecting those he loved? She desperately wanted to be safe with him

He had that same underlying power, that calm menace that said if she didn’t do what he wanted her to do, then she’d pay. Or was it that she was looking for a punishment – because she’d always had a punishment? Was it possible she was still seeing Greg everywhere she looked? That would make sense, because it was all she had ever known.

She turned her gaze away and stared back out at the world.

“No comment.”

She shrugged. “I don’t understand and because I don’t, I’ll stay quiet until I do.”

“You could ask.”

She slid a sideways glance his way. “I don’t know you.”

He tilted his head to the side and walked closer. “And that means you can’t ask me something?” he asked in a voice rich with curiosity.

“I don’t know how you’ll react to my questions, do I?” she said. She was aiming for a reasonable tone of voice but from the frown on his face, she wasn’t sure she achieved it. She shifted back slightly.

His frown deepened.

“I won’t hurt you.”

Her eyebrows shot up, but she didn’t know what to say. If he wasn’t going to hurt her, why the threats?

“I want you to heal. Inside and out.”

“And how do you expect me to do that?” She studied him cautiously. “And why do you care?”

“Saying things like that is almost guaranteed to piss me off,” he snapped in a hard voice.

Heat flushed over her cheeks, only to drain away instantly, leaving a coldness inside. She backed up again as she tried to judge what his anger was going to mean for her.

“I said I won’t hurt you.”

She took a deep breath. “I heard you, but in my experience, anger means pain.”

He glared at her. “Then your experience has been limited to shitty people.”

That was the truth.

“Yet when that is my experience, how does one trust that not everyone is the same?”

“You have to step out of your boundaries and try,” he gritted out.

“And get slapped back?” She snorted. “No thanks.”

“Or maybe get a smile, a kiss, a gift of some kind. Or maybe nothing but acceptance – the greatest gift of all.”

“You say the damnedest things. Are you a shrink?”

He laughed. “What does that mean? A head doctor type of thing? No, I’m a therapist.”

She rolled her eyes. “Same thing.”

“Maybe to some people.”

She looked at the doorway he’d come from. “Are my clothes dry?”

“Probably.” He slid to the side to let her walk past him. “Go and see.”

She eyed the space he’d made for her and took a deep breath. Even after being held by him all night, she was worried about him turning ugly. What the hell was wrong with her? She took another deep breath and forced herself to walk past him and out of the room.

She’d done it. He hadn’t reached out and snatched her nor clipped her on the back of her head as she walked past.

Thank God.

Lord, he wanted to beat the crap out of the asshole husband who’d taught her to cringe when she walked past. She probably didn’t even notice the slight movement she made as she came closer. That shoulder shift, the leaning away from him as if he was going to reach out and hit her.

The man had brutalized her. Gentling her would be a whole new experience for him, but as he was starting to realize, it was one that would have the greatest outcome. She was beautiful on the inside, stunning on the outside. She was a flower whose growth had been stunted just at the point where it was ready to unfurl. So instead of blossoming, it was hibernating, waiting for the right conditions. He wanted her to have those conditions. He wanted her to blossom and he wanted to be there when it happened.

He waited for her to return.

She didn’t come back.

In the bedroom, he found her still in his t-shirt and sitting on the edge of the bed, tears rolling down her cheek. Shit.

He walked over and sat down beside her. Close, but not touching. “What’s wrong?”

She looked up at him, her eyes huge wells of pain. “I don’t know what to do.”

“To do?”

“Do I stay here with you? Do I pay for the food I eat, the piece of bed I take up? Am I supposed to pay in kind? Did you want to make a slave of me?” Her voice rose at the end. “I don’t understand.”

“And that’s the part you can’t handle, isn’t it? If I were to beat you, you’d be fine with it as that’s what you’re used to. But this unknown scares you.”

A shudder rippled down her back.

He sighed and tucked her up against his chest. “I don’t want a slave or a whore. You don’t have to pay for the food you eat or anything else here. I want you to heal. I’ll cover the costs. I’m not broke, so you don’t have to worry about that.”

He reached down and tilted her head back. “And get this really clear – when we go to bed and make love, it will be just that. It won’t be you paying for services, and neither will it be that you think it’s what you need to do to survive.”

Her gaze widened and her mouth opened, but no words came out. He nodded. “Exactly. You’ll be in my bed because there will be no other place you’d rather be.”

Now her mouth dropped open.

He grinned. “And just so you know what you have coming…”

He lowered his head and kissed her.

Chapter 6

The kiss caressed more than plunged, coaxed more than dominated, but at the same time it came with a deep, drugging sensation of possession. This man would never use force, and his stamp of ownership was all that much more powerful for it.

When he finally lifted his head, she sank against his chest weakly.

He held her close and murmured. “You will come to me when you’re ready.”

And he stepped back, gazed down at her, and surprised her with a complete change of conversation. “Now get dressed and I’ll make breakfast.”

She left the room, almost at a run, and found the washer and dryer with her clothes folded neatly on top. She didn’t know what to make of him. In her experience, men didn’t do this type of work at home if there was a woman around to do it for them. She knew there were men in the world who did such things and had seen it on television and in other people’s houses, but she’d never known anyone who did personally.

She dressed quickly. Her jeans didn’t appear to be any worse for wear and her t-shirt appeared whiter than normal. Or maybe she just thought it was. She ran her fingers through her hair and twisted it into a knot at the back. Ready to face him, she returned to the kitchen and watched as he cooked a big meal of bacon and eggs with toast. The coffee pot was half full. She glanced at it then decided she could have a second cup. While filling it, he asked, “Fill mine too, please.”

She obliged and carried both to the table. There were plates already on and cutlery spread out. With nothing else she could see to do, she sat down and waited.

Minutes later, silent minutes later, he placed a heap of food on the table in front of her.

The smell wafted toward her, making her realize how long it had been since she’d had a bite to eat.

“Are the police going to be looking for you?”

A good question. It was an easy one to answer. She shook her head. “No,” she said softly. “No one will report me missing.”

“Good. That simplifies things. And you have no family, so you don’t need to notify anyone you are safe. Or do you?”

She shook her head. “I don’t think so. I worked at the liquor store, but they have lots of transient staff. I doubt they’d even notice past me not showing up for my shift.”

Except…

He saw the look on her face and correctly interpreted it. “What?”

Replacing her fork on the plate, she said, “I need my paycheck.”

“It’s not deposited into your account?”

“No, he paid cash at the end of the shift.”

He eyed her as he popped bacon into his mouth. “So he doesn’t owe you anything at this point.”

She frowned and toyed with the food on her plate. “That’s true, but I need some money of my own.”

“I can see it would help you to feel independent. We can look at that after you heal.” He chewed through a bit of food. “Did you think I didn’t notice how you hold your arm? The bruising has gone down some. Am I correct in assuming it’s not broken?”

She stared at her right arm. “It might be. He broke it the first time over six months ago, so it’s never really had a chance to fully heal.”

“He always targeted it?” This time anger in his voice had her shooting him a quick look. except that outside of being angry, he appeared to be in control.

Relieved, she nodded. “That injury and others. He avoided hitting me where anyone could see. So I wasn’t allowed to go swimming or wear shorts or anything that showed skin. Not that he didn’t want anyone to see me, but that he didn’t want anyone to see my bruises."

“And you had no one to help you?”

“I didn’t think so.”

She fell silent at hearing her use of past tense. Was she already seeing things differently now that she was here with him? What did that say about her?

Was it distance that made the difference? Or was it Cash? Or maybe the dump from the bridge gave her new perspective. It had given her a second chance and a reality check, something she’d badly needed. Now she knew there was an option. If that could happen, how much else was out there that she didn’t know about?

And how could she find out?

First she had to get away from Greg permanently. After that, she needed a way to make money so she could provide for herself. Or maybe that had to happen first. She glanced over at Cash and realized he was busy plowing through an impressive amount of food. She then glanced at her own plate and realized with surprise that it was almost empty. Good. She needed the strength for what was to come. Whatever that was.

If he had money… would he lend her some so she could get established in another city? No, he wouldn’t. Why would he? He didn’t know her and what he did know wouldn’t impress him. To him, she’d been ready to walk away from everything to avoid dealing with her problems. Somehow it seemed worse when she looked at it that way. Besides, if she did borrow the money, it would take forever to earn enough to pay him back.

He stood up and carried his plate to the kitchen.

She was about to follow and wash up the dirty dishes when there was a heavy pounding on the door. She gasped, overcome with an icy fear. Had Greg found her already? How?

She darted into the hallway and out of sight. Cash walked to the door and opened it.

From her new position, she couldn’t see who was there, but there were harsh voices. She leaned forward, making sure to still keep out of sight.

“Greg is missing his wife. Have you seen her?”

Cash’s deep voice rumbled through the kitchen as he said, “Who? I barely know Greg and I haven’t met his wife – why would you ask me?”

She curled up into a ball on the floor and rocked back and forth. Would he hand her over? Would he let something slip? Greg had always said he’d burn down the place she ran to and kill anyone that helped her.

He would too. Dear God, what had she done? Cash had only been kind to her. He didn’t deserve to face Greg’s wrath. She tried to hear the rest of the conversation, but the words weren’t clear. She had no idea of her fate.

Not until she was grabbed up by Cash and given a gentle shake. “Is Greg your husband?”

Her teeth chattered but she managed to nod. Then she burst into tears. “I’m so sorry. You shouldn’t have helped me. He’ll kill you now.”

“I’m not a defenseless woman, and I am not afraid of that spineless wimp.” Cash appeared insulted by her comment.

She stared at him in shock. “Aren't you afraid of what he’ll do?”

Cash snorted. “No. The man is a sneak and a bastard. No one beats a woman and lets another man know. It’s always done in the shadows where no one would know him for the coward he is.”

It was hard to stare into his anger and see it for what it was. Anger not at her, but at what had been done to her.

He had done so much for her already. She wanted to do something for him, to help him in some way in return if she had time. But she had to keep him safe first. He wasn’t afraid of Greg, but that was because he was assuming that in a fight, Greg would be fair. And he wouldn’t be. If Greg knew she was here, he’d burn the house down with her in it.

“He’s dangerous,” she whispered. “He’s not going to meet you in the middle of the street and have an old-fashioned shootout. He’ll shoot you in the back when you least expect it.”

His gaze darkened. He gave her a clipped nod. “Good to know. Now let’s get the kitchen cleaned up.” He followed her into the kitchen and quickly loaded the dishwasher. She followed his lead, but questions churned in her mind.

“Did anyone see you riding last night?”

He stopped and looked over at her, the dishcloth still in his hand. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” She stared at him. “Not a good time for maybe.”

“You’re worried about me?” He grinned a boyish grin that made her heart blip.

“Of course,” she snapped in frustration that he wasn't taking this seriously enough. “You saved my life. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you because of me.”

That did it. He threw down the dishcloth and stalked out of the room. She stared after him in shock. What had she said? Done? She didn’t know if she was supposed to run after him or leave him alone. He confused her. And intrigued her.

But he was the damnedest one for making her think of things she hadn’t thought she could have.

Finishing the dishes, she stood in the center of the kitchen. What was she to do now?

She didn’t know she’d insulted him. That was almost worse. Still, it wasn’t hard to understand as she barely knew him. Plus, she was still in shock over last night and where she'd landed. It was a joy to see her in this state of awareness. Already throwing off the shackles of her marriage and the mind control the bastard had done on her. She had no self-confidence and was alive with doubts, yet she was already standing straighter as she realized the next blow wasn’t coming to get her.

The bastard, Greg, was a weak weasel. He’d definitely be the type to beat a woman.

That Cash knew him caused a different set of problems.

Why had Jones and Sam, both friends of Greg’s, come here? What did they know or suspect? And how could they have any suspicions? He’d not seen anyone last night, but it was possible he’d been seen returning with her on the bike. Greg’s house was in the next neighborhood, so it wasn't out of the possibility. But why didn’t Greg come on his own?

Then again, that wasn’t his style. Greg was sneaky but not confrontational. At least not without backup. Cash glanced around the kitchen, wondering if they’d have seen any trace of her here. And if they had, what would Greg do?

He wasn’t a fool, but neither was Cash. If Greg wanted to play hardball, then Cash would take him out. He wouldn’t let Greg’s wife be hurt. No, not his wife. Willow. He wouldn’t allow
Willow
to get hurt. She was Cash’s. And she’d know it soon. In the meantime, he had to keep her safe. She’d been through enough. He had to protect her from her husband. The asshole wasn’t going to get her back.

A heavy pounding sounded on the front door.

This time it would be Greg. Cash looked around. There were no signs of a female being present.

Good.

He opened the door. The door was slammed wide open and Greg, along with the two men who’d shown up earlier, barged in, striding past Cash as if they had the right to be in his house. He’d seen these strong arm tactics before. He wasn’t impressed.

“Where the fuck is she?” Greg snarled.

“Who?”

“My wife, Willow.”

“Hmmm. I heard she left you.” He said it with a snicker, standing arms crossed and legs wide. He waited.

“She can’t leave. She’s my wife.”

“A wife is not the same thing as a plate. Or a blanket. She’s a person with a right to make up her own mind, not a mindless possession.”

“She is a mindless possession. She’s good to fuck and that’s it.”

The other two men snickered.

Cash, a bored look on his face, looked at each of them. “Is that how you treat women, too? In a cowardly way? Showing that you’re scared of them. Afraid of a little woman, are you?”

The two men shifted uneasily and glanced at each other then over at Greg.

“I’m not afraid of her,” Greg snarled.

“Good, then let her come home on her own time and you won’t have to worry about being alone again,” Cash mocked.

Greg’s face turned ugly. “Do you think this is a fucking joke?”

“That you’ve lost a wife?” Cash tilted his head and then gave a decisive nod. “Yeah, it is actually.”

The blow came from the left, but Cash was no longer there. He spun and caught Greg’s other arm and twisted it behind his back, then he marched him to the front door and threw him out. “Get the fuck out of my house and off my land.”

He spun to the other two men both looking ready to get into the fight. He eyed them up and down. “Yeah, you’re also the kind to use a woman as a punching bag. Get the hell out, and don’t come back or I’ll take you apart piece by piece." They looked at each other, then at him, before silently walking out of the door.

“I want my fucking wife,” Greg roared from the lawn.

“Well, maybe if you treated her as something other than a punching bag, she might not have been so happy to leave you. Besides, she’s not here. Go knock on someone else’s door. If you come back here, you’ll get the fight you’re looking for."

And he slammed the door.

Hard.