UnScripted Read online

  “Yes, sir.”

  He grunts. “Get back out there and take care of my men.”

  A few quick taps sound on his door. “Come in,” Roger barks.

  The man he called Smith stands in the doorway. He looks right at me, with cold silver eyes. Damn, the man looks like he could be a ruthless killer, snapping my neck with one flick of his wrist. He’s tall too, well over six feet. His hair’s shaved close to his head, and his leather cut can’t hide the bulging muscles underneath.

  “Stop eye fucking Smith and get your sweet butt back on the floor. You know how to make drinks, Dev?”

  I don’t stop looking at Smith. “Sure do.”

  Smith moves aside as I brush past him, the door closes firmly behind me, and all the air in my lungs comes out with a whoosh.

  “What was that about?”

  “Nothing. Just personnel shit.”

  “Uh huh,” Smith replies not believin’ a word.

  “Fuck!” I curse, picking up my drink and pouring one for Smith.

  “Salúd, brotha. I wasn’t expectin’ you this week.”

  Smith sits across from me and takes the drink, “We’ve got trouble.”

  “We?”

  “Yep. Zach’s brother is outta jail. He wants vengeance.”

  “Shit.” I run a hand through my hair, a million thoughts running through my head. I always knew this day might come, and started prepping for it the day my best friend Colin Flynn shot the ex-Prez of Creed dead in his kitchen several years back.

  “You got a tail on him?”

  “We did. He slipped it last week.”

  “Where was he?”

  “San Diego.”

  “Shit. He’s heading north.”

  “That’s what we’re thinking. Duke’s not taking any chances with Shanna. He packed her up and took her to the cabin with a few men for protection.”

  I snuff out my cigar, “If I had my way I would’ve taken Zach out to the woods for the animals to scavenge. But Duke didn’t. Do you remember how he wanted to do shit by the book?”

  “Yep. Gregory, Zach’s brother, knows you were involved that night. It was in the police report. I’ll leave a few men here to cover you until we can flush him out.”

  “Good. Leave one by the back door and another to help Federico out front.”

  “Do you need a man for your house?”

  “Fuck no. I can handle myself.”

  “Just checkin’ brother… you know being over sixty and all.”

  “Fuck you. You know I ain’t sixty.”

  Smith grins like a mother fucker. “She’s hot as fuck, eh?”

  “My girls are off-limits.”

  “Your girls… ?”

  “This is my place of business. My employees ain’t club skanks.”

  “Noted.”

  “We good here?” Smith asks getting up.

  “Not quite. I need one more thing. I need a man to tail Devon. I need to know what the hell that girl is up to. No one moves from a suburb in Chicago to the backwoods of Oregon without a damn good reason, and I’m gonna find out what hers is.”

  “Done.”

  “You got big boots to fill Smith. Duke straightened out the club. Keep it that way. Don’t let this shit with Zach’s brother go south.”

  “I don’t intend to.”

  He gets up and walks out shutting the door softly behind him.

  I finish my drink, pissed as hell I let that girl get in my head. I stare at my empty glass shaking my head at how I broke my self-imposed rule not to drink on the clock. But that damn girl, Devon, had me seeing red when I looked over my shoulder and saw her spread out on my bar, offering herself up for the men to enjoy.

  Hell no.

  If I can’t enjoy her, no one will.

  My fists clench. I don’t even know her goddamn story and I sure as shit know better than to fuck an employee but there’s something about her that draws me in. But I’m slammin’ the door on that shit. I’ve never made a fool out of myself over a woman and I sure as hell won’t start now.

  Shit. She probably only flirted with me ‘cause I’m her boss. A woman like her could have any man she wanted. Hell, maybe she’ll go home tonight with one of the men that rode out with Smith from California.

  I wouldn’t give a shit.

  Yeah, right.

  “SORRY, I HAVEN’T BEEN BY in a week. Roger has some meathead tailing me, but I took a different route, cutting between a few buildings giving him the slip. Tina said it’s club business. I feel like I’m living in an episode of Sons of Anarchy.” I bend down to pull a few weeds from the ground. “I ordered you a new headstone, and if anyone defaces it, I’m going to cut their balls off. Don’t worry Dee. I’ll make sure you rest in peace.”

  Shit.

  I duck low, crouching behind her headstone, hearing the steady sound of a motorcycle engine humming before coming to a stop. Peeking my head out an inch, my eyes widen as Roger walks down to the same grave he was visiting last week. His hands touch the stone that wasn’t there last time I saw him here. He bows his head for a few minutes before leaving. I wait an extra few minutes myself, then gently tread across the grass between graves, to the one he was at.

  The name Colin Flynn is etched along with the dates of his birth and death. Creed’s emblem is also etched on the back of the stone with a Prez patch.

  “You know him?”

  “Huh?” I jump, startled at the stranger standing three feet behind me.

  “I asked if you knew him.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t.”

  “Really? Why are you here then?”

  “I’m a psychic. His soul was calling to me.”

  “Oh, yeah what was the old bastard sayin’?”

  “He was saying fuck you!” I spring forward kicking him in the balls, then sprint down the path through the woods.

  He gave me the creeps. He was standing too close… and his hand was reaching into his back pocket. I wasn’t going to wait to see what he was about to pull out. He looked wild; crazy like he hadn’t slept or showered for days.

  I don’t look back, my feet jumping over rocks, my hands force the branches back as I race down towards the road. Stumbling, I cry out and tumble for a bit before I’m able to grab a fallen branch and stop the momentum of my body.

  “Fuck,” I hiss feeling the pain of scratches and bruises forming all over. Crawling behind a tree, I catch my breath and listen for any sounds that he might be following. He whistles, that creepy whistle the Saviors do in The Walking Dead. It echoes through the trees and I know I need to get the heck out of here.

  Standing up, I’m grateful both ankles aren’t injured as I race down the reminder of the hill to the road.

  “Get on!”

  I don’t question the man I recognize as the one who has been assigned to tail me. I take his hand and climb on the back of the bike. He zips through town and tears into the lot behind Sassy’s, leaving a cloud of dust in our wake.

  Shit.

  The door bangs open, and men rush out with guns drawn.

  I’m helped off the bike and surrounded, each of the men forming a human shield with me in the middle as they lead me inside.

  I’m marched straight back to Roger’s office. The man guarding the door looks down at me with eyes full of pity before opening it and motioning me to go inside.

  “Sit,” he sharply commands without even looking up from his desk. One hand shuffles through some papers while the other taps a silver pen on the desk. He’s wearing a pair of black horn-rimmed glasses that are sexy as fuck. My breath catches, noticing how his white T-shirt stretches over his chest. His biceps are huge; as thick as my thigh and covered in tats.

  I sigh, just wishing it wasn’t him; that he wasn’t so effing hot. I wish he didn’t know Dee and that he was ten years younger, maybe then he might look at me as more than just a cute employee.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “W-what?”

  “I should have never hired you. But I did.
Did you know I was in a motorcycle club?”

  “Was? I thought you still were?”

  His pen drops on the stack of papers and he sits back crossing his arms behind his head. I don’t even bother trying to hide how my eyes fall to his muscular arms. But he doesn’t even look at me, he turns his body and looks out the window.

  “I was the first Sergeant in Arms when Creed was formed here in Springdale. But some shit went down twenty years ago… that broke up the chapter here. I never officially left Creed, but all the other guys scattered, most joined the Los Angeles chapter. Anyway, I suppose you never really get out. Some shit went down a few years back, and now the blowback is coming.”

  “Am I in danger? Is that why some guy’s been tailing me?”

  “Yes. You can’t give him the slip like that again. Toad’s a good fella. He’ll keep ya’ safe when you ain’t here. I need you to do everything I say. Is that clear Devon?”

  I swallow, “What kind of shit are you mixed up in?”

  “It’s club business,” he answers, finally looking at me. “Christ! What in the hell happened to you?” He roars springing out of his chair.

  I look down noticing the angry red scratches covering my arms. “It’s nothing, I was out jogging and took a shortcut.”

  “Cut the shit. I need to know what happened right mother fucking now!”

  “Nothing. I went for my morning run and decided to cut through the cemetery.”

  He hisses through his teeth, “Follow me.”

  He leads me out of his office and down a hall off-limits to anyone who’s not a member of Creed. He opens a door, and I gasp as he lifts a storm trap door built into the floor revealing a wooden staircase that goes down to the dark.

  “No. No way,” I shake my head as he gestures for me to go down.

  A hand gently nudges my hip.

  “I-I’m claustrophobic.”

  “In. Or I’ll carry you down.”

  I gulp, knowing he’s serious.

  One foot hesitantly steps forward, he’s right behind me, the heat coming from his body warming my back.

  I close my eyes, walking down the stairs step by step. His large arm wraps around my waist pulling me back against the front of his large frame. His head dips low by mine as he bends over me and reaches forward with one hand to pull on a hanging light.

  “You doin’ okay?”

  “Fine,” I squeak out, freaking out that he’s actually touching me. But freaking out even more at how my body’s reacting to the feel of his. A thousand sparks crackle and ignite, leaping across my skin and it makes no sense. Why this man? Why here? Why now?

  I shake my head, moving forward, taking that last step onto a concrete floor.

  “What is this place? A bunker?”

  “I suppose so,” he shrugs moving past me down another small hall. It’s a maze of halls and rooms, like a modern-day underground hideout but this one is filled with food and ammo. He leads me to a small bathroom and flips on the light. “Sit.”

  He opens the cabinet taking out antiseptic and cotton balls. My eyes follow as his huge hands dab each wound tenderly. But it still stings as the liquid antiseptic touches my skin. He leans down, blowing softly on my skin then dabs some ointment and places Band-Aids on top.

  “There. All better. Now, are you gonna tell me what happened?”

  “Some guy freaked me out. I got spooked and ran through the woods down to the road.”

  “I figured,” he takes my chin in his hand, “don’t lie to me again. I can’t protect ya’ if you don’t tell me the truth.” He takes a deep breath, “Did he hurt ya’? Try anything?”

  “N-no. But he had a gun. He was reaching behind his back, and I ran.”

  He grips the sink so hard I wouldn’t be surprised if it rips right off the wall. “If anything like that happens again, you come to me? Got it?”

  I swallow hard, knowing how many secrets I’m hiding from him and wishing I could just let myself fall forward to feel his strong arms around me again. Just one more time, before he learns the truth about who I am and why I’m here and stops looking at me like something he wishes he could have.

  “Rog?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Are you single?”

  “It ain’t gonna happen, sweetheart.”

  “Why not?” I bite back, wondering what’s wrong with me.

  “You’re jailbait, too young for me sugar. Besides, I don’t dip my stick where I work, especially in employees.”

  “I’m over thirty and I won’t be your employee past the rest of summer,” I reply swinging my hips as I walk away.

  TODAY’S MY DAY OFF, and I’m not quite sure what to do with myself. I’ve taken my phone out a dozen times, fingers hovering over Mom’s name, but I can’t bring myself to tap call. I know nothing I say can make it better. I’m afraid if I tell her how much Springdale feels like coming home—it would break a piece of her heart that would never heal.

  The coffee maker beeps, and my flip-flops clack across the worn linoleum floor as I reach for my favorite chipped mug I received as a teacher’s gift my very first year from Bradley Jenkins.

  Its heavy ceramic handle always felt sturdy in my hand, and it’s oversized; one cup is more like two. That boy had a mouthful of braces and copper hair that flopped over his face.

  I’ll never forget that kid.

  He had the goofiest grin and carried his favorite worn comic book with him everywhere. Last I heard, he was in Silicon Valley at some tech startup.

  The kid did good.

  I pour the coffee into my mug closing my eyes at the heavenly aroma wafting from it. I bring it to my lips, taking a tiny sip. It’s burning hot, but I needed that first taste of morning and it’s a beautiful one. On a whim, I pick up my phone and library book and take them outside. My feet practically hop down the steps to the back deck overlooking the grassy yard.

  I fell in love with this place the second I clicked on it online. It’s cheap compared to Chicago, is on the outskirts of Springdale, and felt wild. Like if I took one step off the lawn, I’d fall into the mystical forest turning into the wood nymphs I used to read about.

  I laugh out loud, why not take a stroll and find out if I would? Feeling silly, like the little girl I once was, I kick off my flip-flops, feel the dew on the bare feet, and smile. The steam from my mug rises in front of me, leading the way across the yard. The sounds of morning greet me. Birds chirping, leaves rustle in the wind, as my feet sink into the damp earth covered with grass as green as sparkling emeralds glittering in the morning sun.

  A twig snaps and my eyes cut towards the sound expecting to see one of the many deer that venture out looking for the apples I’ve been sneaking from Roger’s kitchen.

  A scream bubbles up from my throat, but never makes it out.

  I’m walking straight towards him.

  The man from the cemetery.

  He’s standing just beyond the clearing, hiding behind the brush. I pretend not to see him and drop my hand in the grass pretending to pluck a wildflower. Turning around slowly, I pretend to drink my coffee.

  Feeling afraid for the first time, I understand this MC stuff isn’t from a TV show. But is this actually happening in real life? I take my phone from my shorts and call Roger on his cell.

  “What?” He asks sounding like he’s out of breath.

  “Rog… he’s here. I can see him standing out in the woods looking at the house.”

  “Toad still with you?”

  “No. I don’t run on Saturdays.”

  I feel his sharp intake of breath coming through the phone. He’s breathing hard. “Bolt your doors. I’m coming sugar. And stay the hell away from the windows in case he decides to start shooting.”

  “Rog?”

  “Yeah, sugar?”

  “D-don’t hang up. S-stay on the line with me?”

  “It’s gonna be okay sweetheart. I won’t let that piece of slime get near ya’.”

  I shriek hearing more twigs snap. He
comes out of the woods standing in plain sight.

  “What do you want with me?” I yell.

  He doesn’t answer but smiles slowly. His eyes telling me everything I need to know. This sick fuck wants to hurt me.

  Badly.

  The mug falls from my hands, shattering on the cement walk as I run for the door.

  “Dev?” Roger roars in my ear. But I can’t answer him. I’m running for my life.

  I make it up the stairs to my apartment bolting the door. I drag a chair over and place the back under the handle.

  “ANSWER ME GODDAMMIT DEVON!” He roars as I hear the engine of his truck start up. I nod as if he could see me and sink to the floor. Crawling on my hands and knees down the hall, to the bathroom door, I turn the knob and crawl in.

  “Dev? What’s going on sugar?”

  “I’m in the bathroom. He has a gun.”

  “Good. Stay put, I’m on my way.”

  A hard pounding starts on my apartment door.

  “Open up sweet thing. It’s the big bad wolf sweetheart. Come out now, and I’ll go easy on ya’.”

  “He’s trying to get in.”

  “I’ll be right there sweetheart. I swear to you—you’ll be safe. He can’t get in. There’s no going through that door and I installed the best locks money can buy on all my properties.”

  My breath comes out in pants; I’m sweating as if I worked out. Huddled, in the far corner of the bathroom next to the toilet—I pray he’s right.

  I can’t talk.

  I can barely think, I’m so terrified.

  My heart’s pounding, adrenaline coursing—it’s a terrible rush of panic welling inside, wondering if this is how my story is going to end. At the hands of some crazy ass biker using me as payback for something I know nothing about?

  Minutes tick by.

  The pounding ends.

  I rock back and forth trying not to cry. Either he found his way in, or he’s waiting to ambush Rog.

  “Be careful…”

  The phone call ends, muffled cursing and yelling comes from outside. I jump to my feet hearing quick pops of gunfire followed by squealing tires.

  Without thinking, I bolt up from the floor unlock the door and run to the front window just in time to see Roger charging like a grizzly bear, gun in hand, running into the woods.