Why was I helping her? Because I had some good memories of her when we were kids? All that shit was a long, long time ago. We were both different people. Just because she stumbled back into my life talking about some dead biker boyfriend didn’t mean I had to stick my neck out for her.
And yet there was something about her. I’d never forgotten the last time I saw her. Hell, I’d even fucking jerked off while thinking of what I had missed out on. And seeing her there, looking just as fine as the day she left, well, it was almost like I didn’t have a choice.
I kicked off my boots and lay back on the couch, sipping my beer. Tomorrow I’d have to explain to her exactly what had happened back at the clubhouse. The girl still didn’t understand what was going on.
And I’d need to get more information about this Rod guy. I needed to know if I should worry about what had happened, if the guys that did the hit were coming after her or if it would all blow over without a hitch.
I closed my eyes, dreaming of the girl back in my bedroom, of what I would have done to that body.
Of what I wanted to do to it.
Chapter Five: Caralee
He always seemed to be watching.
It wasn’t weird, not really. Years ago, he was just the boy across the street.
The badass, muscular asshole boy. His mom was a drunk and his daddy was never around, so Ford did whatever he wanted. Usually that was riding his motorcycle and flirting with girls.
I had to admit that I was watching him from a distance, too. We didn’t talk much. Sometimes he nodded at me, and that always sent a chill down my spine. Ford was totally unlike the guys I hung around with at school. We ran with totally different crowds even though we were about the same age.
He was intense. He wasn’t much of a talker from what I could tell, but he was always bringing around some new blond girl, probably all from different schools. He was charming and sexy as hell, over six feet tall, and covered in muscles by the time we both turned eighteen.
That was the summer just before I was supposed to go off to college. I had been accepted at the University of Texas in Austin, and I was finally leaving our tiny town for the city. I could hardly contain my excitement. Plus, Daddy was happy for me, excited that I was trying to make something of myself.
My daddy was a cop and a drinker, like Ford’s mom but more violent. I got used to it as I got older, and I figured out ways to survive. He rarely laid hands on me, even when he was at his worst.
Sometimes, though, Daddy could really lose his temper. It only happened a few times, but the last time, and the last time I saw him, was by far the worst.
It was late on a Saturday night. I had been out with some friends seeing a movie, and I got home a few minutes past curfew. I crept up to the front door, hoping that Daddy had already passed out.
But he was wide awake.
“You’re late, girl,” he said.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “Movie was longer than I thought.”
“You sure about that?” he asked, standing up.
“Of course.” I shut the front door behind me.
I could tell something was off. The look in his eyes was intense, terrifying. Something had happened to set him off, but I was guessing it had nothing to do with me. Still, I was the daughter of the woman that left him, and so he’d take it out on me anyway.
“I’m sick of you breakin’ my rules, Caralee,” he said, coming toward me.
“Please, you’re drunk,” I said.
“I ain’t drunk!” he shouted, flinging his bottle at me.
I ducked, but barely. It shattered on the wall behind me.
He lurched at me, grabbing my arms. I struggled, and he reached one hand back and slapped me hard across the face.
“Stop!” I screamed.
“Shut your mouth,” he said. “So tired of you not listenin’ to me, you little bitch.”
He reached back to slap me again, but I shoved him back and tore my arm away from him. I turned and threw the front door open, running out into the front yard.
“Get the fuck back here!” he yelled, coming after me.
I don’t know what I was thinking. I shouldn’t have left the house, knew that I should have just stayed quiet and taken his abuse. But I was so close to leaving, so damn close to getting out of that house and never looking back. I couldn’t take it anymore, couldn’t let him abuse me anymore.
And so I ran out into the street. He came after me, yelling abuse. “Stop right now, bitch! Get back here!”