Chapter 15

A sleepless night and a bottle of Tequila put me to sleep before Bard could even think about speaking to me. But when I opened my eyes again, there was nothing but pitch black surrounding me.

"What are you doing Jessie?" his voice rang out from the darkness.

I froze on the thin mattress, ears poised for sound and blinking rapidly in an attempt to force my eyes to adjust. Each breath I managed was shallow and made inaudible by the sound of my pounding heart.

This is it.

He found me.

"Did you really think you could run?" Drake asked, voice deadly. "Did you forget the last time?"

The memory of that day came flashing to the forefront of my mind. My screams, his firm grip, the bite of the whip. The pain of the impact resurfaced as if it'd never left, and a whimper slipped past my lips. I felt the flesh split, the burn, the warm, sticky blood running down my back.

"Of course you remember. Then tell me, Jessie, why are you so fucking stupid!" The words seemed to explode with a force that shook the bed.

I collapsed in on myself. My only defense against him. Be smaller, be a harder target, protect your face. It was the same position I took up as a child when a rough foster family took me in, or at the group homes, when the bigger girls would come after me.

But none of it compared to Drake. His blows hurt the worst. His punches cut the deepest, because with him, it was someone I'd once trusted. With him, it was someone I'd loved.

He'd kill me, but it wasn't the thought of dying that bothered me. I'd welcome death by the time he was done. Drake enjoyed the pain. He lived for the torture. His eyes would go wild with an unnatural lust, and he'd relish it, just like he had before, over and over until I blacked out. I couldn't do it. Not again.

My muscles tightened. "Kill me!" I screamed. "Just let me die!"

He rumbled a laugh. "What's the fun in that?"

Large hands gripped my shoulders, pushed me to my back, and shook hard enough to rattle my bones.

I screamed.

"Wake up!" 

My eyes flew open, and Bard's face loomed just above mine. It was his hands holding me still. "Jesus Christ," he breathed, probing eyes more intense than ever. They cut like surgical tools, ready to extract whatever cancer had taken over me.

I broke away from him, rolled off the bed, and made a beeline for the bathroom. My muscles gave the minute the door slammed into place behind me, and I barely managed to grab the sink for support.

In the mirror, red puffy eyes stared back at me. Something I refused to do in wakefulness, always took me in my dreams. I'd cried.

A soft knock made me flinch.

"Are you alright?"

Never. "I'll be out in a minute." I kept my voice as emotionless as I could. He'd seen enough.

"Everyone is out back. Zeke is cooking." A long pause. "I'll make you a drink." His footsteps echoed away, and I heaved a heavy sigh.

"Time to go hang out with your new family," I whispered to my reflection, voice bitter.

She didn't look excited.

I wasn't getting any younger, standing there stupidly staring into a sink. Music already filtered through the walls.

A grim smile curved my lips. Creedence Clearwater Revival's Lookin' Out My Backdoor. That was Uncle Fred's favorite song. He played it anytime we had a party night around the club.

Uncle Fred was Drake's Uncle, and one of the few people I actually missed. He was around since the club started, before Drake's father died. Apparently, things had been different then. The Onyx Eagles lived by a stricter code of conduct in those days. The days before Drake's sadistic nature tarnished everything.

He looked out for me as much as he could. I grew to love him, how I would if he was my own Uncle. But Fred couldn't protect me, not really. If he stepped too far out of line, it would mean his death. I would never even think of asking him to do that.

I shoved myself away from the sink and finally quit hiding.

Bard stood by the kitchen counter, and the minute I approached him, he held out a glass. I took it and eyed him over the rim. He'd mercifully put a shirt on, and I was more than grateful that he'd yet to push or ask questions about what he'd witnessed.

"Thank you." I passed him the empty glass. "And... I'm sorry about that. I..."

"You're sorry?" He stared down at me, brows furrowed.

I took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. "Can we just not talk about it? Can you pretend you didn't see that?"

His jaw clenched, but after a long pause, he gave a stiff nod.

"Good." I heaved a sigh, and my chest eased. "Now, some ground rules."

His eyebrows lifted, and despite the dark, I made out one very obvious twitch to his lip. "Rules? You're giving me rules, in my house?"

"No. Not rules for your house, which has wheels by the way, don't act like you don't know that." I huffed and crossed my arms. "Rules about me. My house." I motioned to myself in one long, dramatic wave. "Don't touch my shit."

He chuckled, and once again, a full blown arsenal of perfectly white teeth hit hard enough to almost knock me backwards. "You act as if I've touched you before. Have I done anything to you? Shown any disrespect in all the times you've been shit faced within... reach?"

He had a point, but I'd never admit it. "No, but you say some shit sometimes I don't like. Don't do it again. No sweet talk."

"You think I'm sweet?"

"No." I rolled my eyes. "I think you're...." The sentence hung as every ending that came to mind wasn't helpful.

His smile softened. "I promise to be a complete asshole to you from now on."

I shot him a flat look, but it was entirely too damn hard to keep the act up. He was too charming. I liked it better when he didn't speak. My shoulders squared. "Good."

Someone tapped on the front door. "Jessie," Boe's familiar voice sang out. "You're missing your own party," he continued in the same sing-song voice.

I rolled my eyes over my shoulder, then fought back a smile when I caught sight of Bard's reaction. His eyes narrowed on the door, and the way his brow was all scrunched up made him look like a confused dog.

I walked away without a backwards glance and pulled the front door open.

Boe grinned up at me, one foot on the second step, body leaned forward as he gripped the rail. "There she is." He stretched as he straightened. "I told you I was looking forward to this. How dare you keep a man waiting."

I tilted my head at him. "I hear if you hold your breath, it makes the wait end much faster."

He rushed forward in one swift move, too fast for me to react, and scooped me over his shoulder. "I prefer more hands on tactics."

He smelled of a man who'd had one too many beers, and judging by the glassy look he'd shot me at the door, I could imagine he was.

I opened my mouth to give him hell, when he turned to carry me towards the others, and I was given a perfect view of the camper behind us. While I couldn't see the tall, dark and mysterious stranger, I could feel those intelligent eyes as they cut a hole right through me.

An idea struck.

This could be the buffer I needed.

If I showed an interest, it could prompt him to back off a bit. View me as taken.

Maybe, if he did, we could even be friends.

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