Shifter’s Baby (Alpha Fantasy Paranormal Billionaire Shifter BBW Romance) (21 page)

They settled into a stable routine. Luther worked his regular nine-to-five job. Victoria went to school then stayed with her parents until Luther came home. She and Luther stayed together, skin-to-skin, until the next morning.

Two weeks after they got together, Luther took Victoria to a nice restaurant and proposed. She accepted and they decided on a date two months away.

Victoria made good progress in dealing with her handicap until she and Luther went to the bank.

As they drove in the parking lot, Luther said, “This should be very easy. We’ll just walk in, make the deposit and come back out.”

Victoria had her hand on Luther’s leg. “I’m not worried. I’ve been doing so well. I don’t think anything could set me back now.” She kissed his cheek. “Now that you’re here.”

They walked inside the bank and got in line. Luther felt Victoria leaning against his arm and heard her humming a tune.

The bank robbers came inside wearing ski masks and carrying weapons. The leader stood almost seven feet tall. He boomed. “Everyone come to the lobby. Now!”

Luther pushed Victoria behind him. She huddled against him with her head down. He could feel her shake.

The robbers lowered the blinds. One of the robbers produced a small box and pushed some buttons. Three of the people inside the bank were trying to make phone calls. They shook their phones and punched buttons. Nothing worked. The innocent civilians inside the bank were cut off.

The tall robber said, “Search everywhere.” The other bank robbers spread out through the small one-story building. In less than a minute, they came back with three more women.

The tall robber yelled, “Everyone down on the ground. Put your noses on the floor and leave them there. Any heads that pop up will be shot off.”

Victoria crept as close to Luther as she could. He felt her shake and quiver. He whispered, “Just keep it together. They’ll leave as soon as they get the money.”

Three minutes later, the robbers gathered together in the lobby. Three of them carried bags full of loot.

There were five robbers and four men on the floor. Two of the bad men kept their guns on the men on the floor while the other three picked up each of the women, took them out a side door and threw them in a van. Victoria gave a small squeak when the very tall man grabbed her blouse and the seat of her skirt and lifted her off the ground. He did it so quickly that Luther didn’t have a chance to grab her.

The men got into the van with the women and drove off.

The tall man dropped to his hands and knees. He straddled Victoria who was lying on her back on the floor of the van. He snarled, “You’re mine, bitch. I’m going to rip your clothes off and rape you till you die.” He clutched her breasts with both hands and squeezed them viciously. She moaned and tried to pull his hands off.

A bullet came through the back window and killed the driver. The inside of the front window turned red with the driver’s blood. The van bumped into the curb and stopped. Policemen stormed the van and rescued all of them.

The policemen took all of the women out of the van and kept them together. A man in civilian clothes told them. “I’m sorry. Everyone of you except one is going to be inconvenienced unfairly. We know that one of the women in the bank worked with the bank robbers. We’ll have to keep you all in custody until we can identify the perpetrator.”

Policemen loaded all of them in a police van and took them in.

The interior of the van lacked any of the human touches of a civilian car. It was all bare, black and white painted metal. No words on the walls. No cloth of any kind. Victoria sat between a very heavy lady and a woman with bad breath. She had to touch them all the way to the station.

The police herded the women into a holding cell. The jail was small, too small to have separate facilities for women in temporary custody. Men inside the prison watched the women walk inside and filled the building with crude remarks. The noise shattered any feelings of calm Victoria still had.

The holding cell was small with benches in the middle. The women either sat on a hard wooden bench with no back or wandered around the room. One of the women wouldn’t stop crying.

Victoria felt herself begin to lose control. Her hands shook and she felt sick to her stomach. As the minutes tortured her, she felt worse and worse. Panic began to take her over.

The family huddled together in the outer office of the police station. Janice said, “I’ve explained twice about Victoria’s condition. They’re sympathetic but won’t budge. They have to keep everyone in a cage until they’ve done with the background checks.”

Luther grunted. Mike grunted. They looked at each other and shook their heads. Luther said, “She might not make it. She could be as isolated as she was before.”

One of the other women jostled Victoria. The contact pushed her further down in her fight with reality. She began to whimper.

Two women paced around like frustrated tigers. They bumped into each other and started screaming. The noise grated on Victoria’s fragile control like a heavy file across her teeth. She held her head with her hands and mumbled, “I can’t do it. I can’t.”

Luther put away his phone. “I called a lawyer. There’s nothing that they can do until they find the accomplice. She’s stuck in there without any support.

Victoria felt herself shut down. She knew the symptoms. Her delicate conscious control was crumbling. She’d be catatonic within a few minutes, and it might take a week to bring her out of it.

A voice that felt very unfamiliar sounded loudly inside her mind. It shouted, “No, don’t give up! Don’t lose everything you’ve fought for.” Her eyes went wide when it continued, “Stop being a fucking wimp and fight back.”

She perked up. The voice sounded strong and decisive. She liked the casual profanity. It was aggressive instead of helpless. The voice was her own. She said, to herself, “I will not go back where I was. I have the love of a good man and a real family. I’m keeping them.”

She willed herself to remember Luther’s arms around her and his broad chest holding her. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. She recalled all of the times she’d reached for Luther and found him at her fingertips; solid, stable, completely supportive. She exhaled all of her stress.

Two hours later, the police let her go. She saw Luther and started to run to him. She stopped. She said, out loud, “I’m not going to be a cripple any longer. No more panic.” She walked toward her family and let Luther run to her.

He folded her into his arms and kissed her forehead. He said, “I was so scared.” He held her away from him. “How are you?”

She smiled up at him. “I’m fine. I almost collapsed then I thought of you and the way you love me and hold me and I was alright.” She kissed him on the cheek. “If you don’t mind, I need to go to each of my family members, alone. I can do it.” Luther let her go. She walked across to Janice and gave her a long hug. Janice cried. She hugged Sarah and Sarah cried. Mike hugged her but managed not to cry.

She went back to Luther and held his hand. He looked down at her and shook his head. “Sorry baby. Now it’s me who needs contact. Come here.” He didn’t let go of her until her father brought the car around, and they got inside.

Victoria said to Luther, “Let’s go to your apartment. We need some privacy.”

Four pairs of eyes looked at Victoria with questions in them. Janice said, “They need to make some noise. They’ve had to be quiet at our house.”

All three of the members of the family who now understood said, “Oh” at the same time.

The End

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Off Limits

Bad Boy Stepbrother Romance

By: Lisa Cartwright


Copyright 2015 by (Lisa Cartwright) - All rights reserved.

In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.

Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.

              Callie brushed a piece of hair out of her face, reaching for the tie on her wrist to pull it back into a ponytail. It was only her third day working at the bar, a summer job until she went back to college, and already she was wishing she were back in Washington. She was pretty certain that everyone who said that the “dry” heat of the California desert was better than “humid” heat had never actually
lived
in the desert.

              Truth be told, she was wishing she were back there for more reasons than one. She’d originally planned only to come back for the weekend, to be there for her mother’s wedding to the tall, rough-looking biker that she’d fallen in love with and married in the space of six months. While she’d been making the plans to attend, however, her mother had been calling her every other day, begging her to stay for the whole summer. It had been Callie’s third year, and she’d managed to avoid going home every summer thus far, claiming jobs or school internships, and saying that she couldn’t afford the plane fare. But since she was coming back anyway…it had been hard to come up with an excuse. Her mother’s begging had finally worn her down, and here she was, working in a small dusty biker bar to save up some extra cash.

              She shook her head, reaching for the broom to sweep up some fries under a booth, left by the latest patrons to make their way through. Growing up, she’d been familiar with the motorcycle club in town, but she’d never expected that she’d have anything to do with them beyond sighing over the president’s son with her girlfriends. Now the president was her stepfather, and his son was sleeping in the bedroom next to her old one. The happy couple was living in her mother’s house, the one she’d bought with Callie’s father. The one Callie had grown up in, happily, until her father was killed in a car crash.

              She checked her watch. Her shift was over in ten minutes, and her mother had promised to pick her up. Likely she’d be running late, the reasons for which Callie didn’t even want to begin to ponder. She stowed the broom in the closet and began counting her till, grimacing as she thought about the night ahead.

              The club was throwing a party that night, a kind of reception for the newly wedded couple. There would be barbecue and copious amounts of beer, and likely more than one half-naked woman throwing herself at the men. There would be a few kids there Callie’s age, but she couldn’t imagine what she would possibly have to talk about with them. None of them would be interested in her finance degree or the internship she’d done last summer. The boys were all either prospects in the club already, or hanging around attempting to become one. The girls were waitressing at the diner, the one restaurant, bartending at one of the two bars in town, or stripping at the small gentlemen’s club at the edge. None of them would ever go to college. Callie was entirely an outcast here, in the place she’d grown up. And she didn’t like it one bit.

              The sudden roar of a motorcycle engine could be heard outside, and Callie looked up briefly from wiping up the bar one last time before she clocked out. One of the members, she was sure, here to grab a midday beer.

              Then the door opened, and in walked Wyatt, her newly minted stepbrother.

              Callie couldn’t help it. Her heart still skipped a little when she saw him, just like it had in high school. Every one of the girls had lusted over him then, with his rough denim vest over white t-shirts, and his brown hair that he’d kept long and pulled back into a ponytail. She’d been no different.

              He was different now, though. He wasn’t a boy any longer. He’d traded the denim jacket for a leather vest with the patch of the club on the back, and he’d cut his hair so that it clung closely to his scalp, thick and shiny. She couldn’t help but think how she’d love to run her fingers through it. The loose t-shirts he’d worn had grown tighter, clinging to a defined chest and thick, muscular arms. Tattoos snaked their way over their arms now, the knuckles of one hand tattooed as well. His green eyes were still mischievous, but there was something else there now, too. They were the eyes of someone who’d grown up since the last time Callie had been here.

             
He’s your brother now,
she had to remind herself. Not that she thought he’d be interested, anyway. She’d been shy and quiet in high school, too nervous to ever approach him, and now he was entirely off limits. She couldn’t imagine what her mother would say, and she was sure Wyatt would be in a world of trouble if he ever touched her.

              He cleared his throat, and she realized she’d been staring. “Hi,” she stammered quickly. “What are you doing here?” Wyatt had just turned twenty-one a few weeks before, his birthday about a month after hers. Not that it mattered—things like drinking laws weren’t really enforced in the town. But Wyatt rarely drank, anyway.

              He shrugged. “Your mom sent me to pick you up. Said she got stuck running errands.”

              Callie grimaced. She could only imagine what sort of “errands” had held up her mother, and she didn’t want to. “Please tell me you drove the truck.” She’d never been on a motorcycle in her entire life, and she didn’t want to start now. While the concept was vaguely sexy and exciting, in reality she was flat out terrified.

              Wyatt grinned. “No ma’am. No cages for me.”

              Callie rolled her eyes, and then bit her lip as she looked out of the window. Sure enough, Wyatt’s gleaming black Harley was sitting at the curb. She felt her stomach drop with terror, and she looked at Wyatt, trying to think of something to say.

              Still smiling, he walked in front of her to the door, swinging it wide and holding it open. “Come on. You’re not scared, are you?”

              Callie gritted her teeth. She was absolutely terrified, but there was no way that she was going to let Wyatt know that. She had no choice but to get on the back of the bike.

             
He’s not going to let anything happen to you,
she told herself firmly.
It’s not even ten miles to the house. Everyone here knows to look out for motorcycles. Nothing is going to happen
. She swallowed and forced a smile. “Well, first time for everything, right?”

              Wyatt nodded, and she could tell from his smirk that he knew she was scared. “Well, let’s go, then. The party will be starting soon, I’m sure you’ll want to get freshened up.”

              Callie glanced at him quickly, but his face was blank, with no sign of anything but sincerity. She followed him out to the bike, and he reached for a helmet attached to the back seat, handing it to her with a stern expression. “Put this on, and make sure the strap is adjusted.”

              Callie felt the twist of fear in her stomach again. Fingers trembling more than a little, she buckled the helmet on and tugged at the strap until she could feel the nylon just pressing beneath her chin. Wyatt climbed onto the bike and revved it up, and Callie, swallowing down her fear, swung her leg over the back.

              For just a moment, when she wrapped her arms around Wyatt’s waist, she felt the knot in her stomach unfurl. His leather vest was warm and supple from the sunlight, and she could smell the tang of sweat and the faint musk of cologne wafting from the back of his neck. A sudden, rare breeze kicked up, and her hair fluttered in front of her face, drifting over his shoulders, and she felt him shiver a little.

              The growl of the motorcycle drowned out any further thoughts, and she involuntarily squeezed Wyatt tighter as she felt the bike begin to move forward. “If I lean, lean with me!” he yelled over the roar of the engine. “Not a lot…just go with me, okay?”

              “Okay!” Callie shouted back. She was beginning to wish she’d forgotten all about saving face and just walked home.

              The bike sped up, and Callie bit her lip, then let go for fear they’d go over a bump and she’d bite straight through it. She closed her eyes tightly, knowing they couldn’t possibly be going really
that
fast, but it felt like everything was speeding by.

              And then something changed. The wind whipped her hair back, blowing it behind her, and she felt the sharp bite of it on her face, smelled the sun on the leather and the scent of engine grease and motor oil. The vibrations rolled through her body, and she suddenly felt melded to them—the machine and Wyatt both, and she felt herself relax against him, the shapes of the bike between her legs and his body against hers suddenly feeling entirely natural.

              She felt free, as if they could go anywhere or do anything, and she suddenly understood why these men loved their motorcycles so much. She’d never felt this kind of euphoria driving a car.

              She leaned with Wyatt as they turned the corner into the driveway of her mother’s small house, and she took a deep breath as she swung off of the bike when he came to a stop, her legs feeling a little shaky and weak. She unclipped the helmet and reattached it to the back, and when she looked up she saw Wyatt looking down at her.

              “You did a good job,” he said, and his voice was a little rough. There was something odd in the way he was looking at her, an expression in his eyes that she didn’t understand. He was very close to her, and she felt her heartbeat speed up, and her skin prickled.

              There was no reason for her to think of him like that. But his proximity made her feel breathless and shaky, the same way she’d felt a second ago, getting off of the bike. She wanted him closer to her, wanted to grab him and pull him against her body—and she couldn’t ever remember feeling like that about anyone. There’d been a few boys in college, but they’d all been friends, fun-loving guys who made her laugh and were easy to fall into bed with—and back out.

              She knew instinctively that if she fell into anything with Wyatt, it wouldn’t be easy to get back out. He was nothing like the funny, sarcastic nerds that she tended to hang out with at college.

              He stepped away from her, and the bubble was burst. She was abruptly reminded that he was her stepbrother now, no matter how dark and handsome and generally attractive he was to her. That sharp burst of chemistry between them that she’d just felt didn’t matter. He was, legally, her family, and that made him entirely off-limits.

              Which, of course, only made him that much more desirable.

***

              After a much-needed nap, Callie started getting ready for the “reception”, doing her best to look the part. It wasn’t easy. Her college wardrobe, while financially limited, was pretty straightforward. A lot of jeans and t-shirts, and a ton of cardigans for the wet and chilly weather. She had a few pairs of shorts she’d picked up for the summer at home. Even in the summer, though, California nights could be chilly. Sighing, she grabbed a pair of dark skinny jeans and a tight black tank top. Usually she layered it under another shirt or sweater, but for tonight, she supposed she could do something a little different. Peering into the mirror, she did her makeup quickly, adding some black eyeliner and a rose-hued lipstick into the mix. She fluffed her long blonde hair out, and sighed. Really, she didn’t know why she was even trying this hard.

             
Wyatt. You’re making all this effort because Wyatt will be there.

              She sighed and grabbed her black Converse from beside the bed where she’d tossed them. She could hear her mother yelling for her from downstairs, and shouted a perfunctory: “I’m coming!”

              She couldn’t wait to get out of here, and back to Washington.

              Her mother was waiting impatiently downstairs, keys jingling in hand. She was wearing a tight white sundress that, admittedly, looked fantastic against her tanned skin. A dark denim jacket was thrown over it, and Callie couldn’t help but think how pretty her mother looked. She definitely could pass for younger than forty-five. “Come on, Callie. I don’t want to be late.”

              Callie finished tying her shoes, and forced a smile. “Alright. Let’s go.”

              The trip to the clubhouse was a little tense, just as the whole summer so far had been. Callie genuinely wanted her mother to be happy. She just wasn’t sure that the president of the town’s motorcycle club was the guy to do that. It seemed like such a rough lifestyle, something that her mother wasn’t at all accustomed to. Maybe that’s why she was attracted to it. It was something different…something she’d never been a part of. Something forbidden.

              Just like Wyatt.

              Callie forced the thought of him out of her head. The last thing she needed to do was reflect on the way his strong body had felt against hers, the flexing of his muscles as she wrapped her arms around him. She wondered if she’d think about that ride every time she smelled leather. She stared out of the car window, watching the dry landscape roll by. As much as she would have never thought it, she missed the rain in Washington.

              Dusk was gathering and the party was in full swing by the time she and her mother arrived. Someone had built a huge bonfire in the middle of the courtyard, and some of the “old ladies” had set out a picnic table with plates and plasticware and all the fixings for the barbecue. There were multiple coolers presumably filled with beer, and already the younger girls in their early twenties were beginning to mill around, fetching beers for the guys their age—and a few that were much older.