Page 5

Jaelynn

Can you believe this man? He made a shitty day look so much brighter, and I didn’t mean by just his looks. Slate was the dream guy, the full monty, but I couldn’t understand why he was bothering with me. He seemed to think that me helping at Hell’s Rage meant something special. It hadn’t. It had been mere manners. The bar had been slammed, and the staff had struggled. The decent thing had been to help, so I had.

“I can’t thank you enough,” I said finally.

Slate made a noise similar to a raspberry before inclining his head and turning on the radio. Yet another surprise as country music blasted from it and not rock or heavy metal, as I would have expected. That’s what stereotyping someone did!

I had never met anyone like Slate. Was he a rarity in men? Well, duh, that was pretty obvious. But his brothers—I guessed Slate meant club brothers—also seemed the same. One wanted me to house-sit, which really helped me out, and another was lending me a car. Furthermore, I had two jobs working for them. A simple act of compassion had led to a bounty I’d not foreseen.

Thank you, Auntie Elsie, for raising me the right way. With kindness and respect. Once I’d settled and sorted something out about Damien, I would send for her. Well, for both Aunt Elsie and Dorothy. Both ladies knew I was fleeing Damien; however, my location remained undisclosed for their safety.

Damien wouldn’t go after Aunt Elsie because of Dorothy. That was worth more than his career to tackle the feisty, gun-toting former federal judge Dorothy was. Dorothy would annihilate anyone who attacked my aunt, who was also Dorothy’s wife. Yeah, she had enough contacts to protect them both. Plus, Damien knew Dorothy was looking for a reason to shoot his ass. She’d made no bones about her dislike of him.

Damien wouldn’t contact them, although he might watch them and tap their phones, which was why I bought a cheap burner when I called. I ensured I stayed under the trace limit. Both ladies were aware of Damien’s true colours and how I had been imprisoned in his home. They hadn’t known at the time because if I let anything slip past the ‘so in love with Damien’ front, he’d beat me black and blue.

I’d told them everything when I’d run, and Dorothy had been ready to throw the book at him; she still held sway in the legal system. But that would leave them open to an attack.

Damien wouldn’t go after them as long as they left him alone. I knew that deep down. So, I urged them to keep out of it and act concerned if Damien turned up looking for me.

The fact Damien hadn’t meant he’d guessed I was in contact with them. Dorothy was perfectly capable of putting a bullet in him and crying he attacked her. Two ladies in their sixties against a virile man in his thirties? Yeah, they’d win in the court of public opinion.

Slate pulled to a stop outside a beautiful chocolate box home, and I stared in surprise.

“Your friend can’t rent this?” I asked, shocked.

“Nope.”

“Are you lying?” I demanded, half amused.

Slate lifted an eyebrow, climbed out, and grabbed my bags from the back. There were vehicles parked on the driveway, and as we entered the house, Slate called out.

Two young men appeared and glanced at me before facing Slate.

“Cupboards are full. I hope she can cook, or there is going to be a lot of wasted food. Car’s gassed up, and I’ve stacked the fridge and freezer,” he explained to Slate in an English accent. It puzzled me. Furthermore, the other guy spoke in the same dialect.

“If there’s shit you don’t like, put it to one side, and Slate will arrange for someone to collect it to take to a homeless shelter,” he said.

They exchanged head tilts, and the younger two men left.

“They’re English?”

“Yes. Jared and Christian. They’re prospects for the club and Phoe’s kids from England,” Slate responded as he walked upstairs, and I followed him.

“Pick which room you want,” Slate ordered.

I briefly checked the bedrooms before picking the larger one at the front. Slate dumped my bags on the floor and glanced at the bed.

“Needs bedding,” he muttered.

“I’ll get some,” I replied. Hell, I didn’t really care. Just looking at the bed, I could see it was obviously new and, therefore, hopefully, comfortable. Better than the lumpy, dirty thing I’d been sleeping on.

Slate dug into his pocket and pulled a wad of cash out. “These are your tips and money for working the evening shift. Plus, wages from the strip club.”

I winced.

Slate barrelled on, “Will you be okay going shopping on your own? I’ll be back later, as I’ve some work to finish.”

“Slate, I can’t drive the car,” I blurted, coming to a sudden realisation.

“You don’t drive?” Slate asked.

“Yes, but I’ve got no insurance!”

“Jaelynn, I’ve put you on mine. As I’m the primary driver, and it’s my policy, anyone searching for your name in the system won’t be alerted,” Slate said.

“But you don’t have my details!” I exclaimed.

“Jaelynn, you have a lousy fake ID. I’ve got somebody smartening that up to pass muster, but I used the information off that and added you.” Slate shrugged.

“Shit, you found my ID?” I gasped.

“Be grateful I did. Whoever sold you that did a crappy job. Anyone could spot that as a forgery. As said, I’ve got someone making you one that will pass a rigorous check,” Slate replied.

Although I was lost for words at Slate’s highhandedness, I also knew he was right. I’d paid a thousand bucks for that, and it had been crap.

“Just say thank you, Jaelynn,” Slate ordered with a grin.

In disbelief, I shook my head.

To my further surprise, Slate stepped forward, his eyes searching my face. Slowly, so I could pull free if I wished to, Slate moved closer and kissed my cheek. Then he ran a finger down where he had kissed me and held my gaze.

“I’ll come back tonight, dinner wouldn’t go amiss,” he said softly and brushed my lips before striding off out the house.

“What just happened?” I murmured.

◆◆◆

I put my few belongings away in a closet and scoffed at how ridiculous they looked there. After that, I explored the upstairs and discovered a further level where the attic had been converted into two rooms. One appeared to be a study with an enormous picture window, and the second was empty. A half bath was also on this floor. The bedroom I’d picked had an adjoining bathroom, and there was a family one further down the landing.

Downstairs boasted a utility space, which held a washer and dryer, a kitchen with basic equipment, and a large living room. There was a half bath, a dining area, and a snug. While enjoying the home, I was a little sad. No way would I be able to afford the rent here when I’d finished house-sitting.

I walked out through two French doors and surveyed the garden. My eyes widened at the beautiful surroundings. The garden was huge, with a decked area that I stood on that led down to a grassy space with a barbeque off to one side. I spotted a circular area in paved stones with a fire pit and benches around it. There were large trees and shrubs, making the garden completely enclosed.

To my delight, there was even a pool. I loved swimming.

I was tempted to jump in but didn’t own a costume. Heading back inside, I picked up the wad of cash Slate had given me.

My brows shot up. There was about one thousand bucks present. I’d been raking in the tips, but not this amount. Then I remembered Slate saying about the strip joint. This obviously included my pay and tips for that night.

Not wanting to spend all of it, I searched for a hiding place to put the money. I hid five hundred dollars in a pasta box and picked up the two sets of keys on the kitchen island. One set was obviously the house, and the other was the car. Checking everything was locked, I headed to the vehicle.

Jared had been right when he said I shouldn’t need any further groceries. He’d bought everything imaginable to cook with. Before leaving, I’d pulled out two large pork chops, and I planned to make a potato salad and homemade fries with them.

But I did require bedding and towels. Maybe the thrift shop might have something. Carefully driving into Rapid City, I spotted a closing-down sale and stopped. Happily, I bought three sets of quality towels and two sets of pretty bedding. Then, I also got a rug, pillows, and a duvet for less than one hundred and fifty bucks. Parking up, I noticed a sign for a bookstore and wandered down the street.

I paused when I saw a huge placard announcing Rage MC Custom Bike Design and Garage. Rage MC was the motorbike club that Slate belonged to. As I hugged the shadows, I saw men working in busy bays, three women gossiping near an office, and two other buildings.

For a few moments, I watched but didn’t spot Slate. Though I did see the bookstore.

Heading inside, I stopped as yelling reached me.

“You’re fucking dead. So dead, Jett. Asshole, I’m going to castrate you myself!” a woman shrieked. A crowd had gathered, some clearly enjoying the spectacle.

“Fuck, I love this place, there’s always drama,” a lady said to a friend.

“What’s the betting Sin is pregnant again!” someone else added.

“She can’t be. Jett had the operation!” a third replied.

“Only you can get a fucking vasectomy and still knock me up!” the screech reached epic proportions.

“Told ya!” The third chuckled.

“Damn, Jett had the op at Christmas, and he’s knocked Sin up?” the first said, awed.

“Ain’t no stopping Jett’s swimmers!”

A man rushed past me, looking completely panicked. He wore a cut like Slate, and I guessed he was a brother of Rage. He was incredibly handsome; however, the expression of terror detracted a little from that.

“How could I know I’d still get you pregnant?” he yelled as he reached the door and clearly thought he was safe. This was Jett, then.

“Husband, I hate you! I’m not a damn brood mare! How the hell can we use condoms and the pill, and I get pregnant, you have the snip, and I’m knocked up? What type of freak are you?” a beautiful woman screamed, appearing from behind a tall bookshelf.

“No fucking way!” A lady at the food counter gasped. “Sin, he’s never got you pregnant again?”

“Penny, I’m five weeks!” Sin wailed, throwing her hands in the air.

Jett appeared panicked.

“Did you lie about the operation?” Penny demanded.

Honestly, I felt kind of sorry for Jett. He looked boxed in and thoroughly scared.

“No! I had the op. Ask Sin, I sat with my balls in a cold bowl of water for three days!” he yelled.

“Dude, TMI,” an English guy said, watching from an armchair.

“Shut up, Reid!” Jett snapped.

“Stop knocking my sister up!” Reid retorted, entertained.

“You’re never getting sex again. Not even a fuckin’ blow job. Knowing me, I’d swallow, and you’d impregnate me that way!” Sin hissed.

Penny began cackling with laughter, and Reid blanched.

Amused, I bit my lip but couldn’t suppress the smile.

“Sin, I didn’t need to know you swallowed!” Reid roared.

Jett smirked, and Reid pointed a finger at him. “Shut the fuck up, she’s my baby sister!”

“Adopted,” Jett retorted.

“Oh my God. I can’t deal with this. I’m having a hysterectomy after this child. No more babies,” Sin cried, melting down.

“Honey,” Penny said, bustling out from around the counter.

Sin literally melted down and collapsed to the floor, sobbing. Jett seemed guilty as the door opened, and three men entered. One was Slate, and he took in the scene, and his mouth fell open.

“No way you got her pregnant again!” Slate exclaimed.

Jett was miserable as he nodded.

“Holy shit!” Slate replied.

“Where is she?” another guy demanded, entering the shop.

“Manny!” Sin wailed from the floor.

Manny sent Jett a dirty look, sat his ass on the ground, and scooped Sin up.

Jett scowled.

“How the fuck did you knock her up?” Manny asked.

“You need lessons? Andi not satisfied?” Jett snarled.

“You had the operation!” Manny growled out.

“Asshole, I know that! It was my fuckin’ balls under the knife. Something’s gone wrong, and it failed. Shit, I’m gonna sue the ass off that doctor,” Jett answered as he glanced helplessly at Sin.

“Manny, I’ve got six kids and another on the way!” Sin sobbed as Manny soothed her.

“Hey, it could be worse, it could be twins,” one of the guys with Slate said. His name badge displayed: Mac.

Everyone stared at Mac in horror as Sin screamed and buried herself even deeper into Manny’s neck.

“Why? Why would you say that?” Jett demanded, appalled. “You know damn well she’s gonna have twins!”

“That was a joke!” Mac defended himself.

“No…I’m going to have eight kids! Eight!” Sin wailed, to my amusement. Now I knew nothing bad was happening, I could relax and enjoy the drama.

“We don’t know that, baby,” Jett soothed.

“Mac cursed us, you watch. These fuckers will be twins! Mac had to open his big fat mouth!” Sin hissed at Jett.

“Walk it off. Leave Sin with me. How about we go play in the Vault, baby?” Manny asked her. Sin nodded as she wiped tears from her face.

Jett opened the door, prepared to flee.

“Where you going?” Mac demanded.

“To find a fuckin’ lawyer and sue that doctor!” Jett announced and disappeared.

As soon as he’d left and Sin had been taken downstairs, everybody broke into laughter. I was a little confused.

“Even a vasectomy hasn’t stopped him. We should rent Jett out, we’d make a fortune,” the third brother said, whose name was Savage.

“Speak to Drake about it,” Mac teased, and everyone laughed again.

Now the drama was finished, the shop returned to normal.

“Fucking love this place. Good food, coffee, and drama,” a woman muttered as she headed for the counter.

I merged into the shadows. Would Slate think I was stalking him? He headed for the food displays, and as soon as his back was to me, I darted down between the bookshelves. I started browsing when I found the cosy witch mystery stories. To my delight, I saw two of my favourite authors had released a couple of books. I grabbed them and kept searching until I guessed Slate had left.

When I checked, the coast was clear, so I paid and headed for a thrift shop that often had nice clothing but was reasonable.

I picked up several pairs of jeans, five tops with labels still attached, a new pair of boots that had never been worn and some other items. I spent one hundred and fifty bucks and couldn’t begrudge what I’d bought. There had been some real bargains today. I treated myself to a coffee and headed back to the car.

Slate

He knocked, opened the door, and called out.

Jaelynn replied from the kitchen, and as he entered, Slate sniffed. Something smelt wonderful, fuckin’ amazing, actually. He walked into the kitchen, and Jaelynn turned to greet him with a wary smile. Slate saw the shadows in her eyes and realised she was on guard. He noted the sharp knife close by and noticed the rear door was ajar.

“Hey, I brought you these,” Slate said, and slowly brought his gift out from behind his back.

Jaelynn cocked her head and smiled uncertainly.

“What are they?” she asked, seeing the bag.

“Come and find out,” Slate ordered and placed it on the island, careful to keep it between them. Despite her smile, Slate recognised a woman who’d been abused when he saw one. Clearly, dinner had been a trigger for her abuser. He opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of wine and a beer for himself.

“Would you like a glass?” he asked, tipping the bottle of wine towards her.

“Please,” Jaelynn muttered, confusion warring with the trepidation in her eyes.

“Food smells fuckin’ amazing. Can’t remember the last time I had a home-cooked meal. I tend to scrounge off my brothers, so this is awesome. When I mentioned dinner tonight, I’d meant I’d order takeout. You’d had a long day,” Slate said calmly. He deliberately turned his back on her.

By doing so, it showed Jaelynn he trusted her; he just hoped she realised that. When he pivoted back, holding the glass of wine, Jaelynn appeared more relaxed.

She opened the bag and let out a delighted gasp. “These are amazing!”

Slate took a stool at the island as Jaelynn emptied the gift bag of candles, wax melts, incense sticks, and two burners. One for the candles and one for the wax melts. There was also a stick holder included.

“Wasn’t sure what scents you liked, so I chose a selection,” Slate said.

“I love all of these. Those Stamford Mystical Variety ones are amazing! And they do them in incense sticks, too!” Jaelynn squealed.

Slate smiled. Who the hell knew Mystical smelling incense sticks would make a woman go gaga?

“Do you need any help with dinner?” Slate offered, and Jaelynn jolted and stiffened.

“No. Everything’s under control,” she said and hastened to the oven, where she checked some trays.

“Is it in danger of burning?” Slate questioned and hated the way Jaelynn’s shoulders scrunched up.

“No,” she replied in a small voice.

“Then can you come and sit your ass down, drink your wine, and enjoy your gift?” he asked.

Jaelynn jolted again and looked surprised.

“Sit your butt down. Do you need to do anything?”

“Er, I gotta put the air fryer on for the fries. I made homemade ones,” she murmured, eyeing Slate as if unsure.

“Great, I can manage to put an air fryer on, but don’t ask me to do anything else. Well, I can toss a salad, cut fresh baked bread, and carve a joint. Other than that, don’t ask too much of me. I’m useless in the kitchen,” Slate teased and moved to switch the air fryer on.

Jaelynn’s eyes were huge, and Slate could see her wondering if this was a trap. Was Slate luring her to relax before he lost his temper? Slate made sure his body language remained loose and easy.

Slate would punch his anger out later when at home. He really wanted Jaelynn to learn to trust him. For several reasons.

“You don’t cook?” she asked.

“Nope. Toast, microwave meals, and takeaway are my staples. I can make a banging sandwich, too.” Slate grinned as he swallowed some beer. “Then, when I need a cooked meal, I just hunt one of the old ladies down and look pathetic.”

“Old ladies. They are what your brother’s girlfriends are called, aren’t they?”

“Yeah. They mean more to us than a wife would. But at Rage, we claim them and marry them. Seems to be a pattern we fell into. But most bikers don’t wed their old ladies. But that doesn’t mean they ain’t loved. They are, and the ground they walk on is worshiped,” Slate explained.

“I can’t imagine what that feels like,” Jaelynn murmured and shook herself. She forced a bright smile to her face.

“Want to go and turn the TV on? I am sure there’s a game on tonight,” she offered.

“Why would I do that when I’m talking to you?” Slate asked, and once again, Jaelynn looked shocked. “Can I lay something on the line?”

“Yes,” Jaelynn said, but Slate noticed her moving towards the knife. He let her.

“I recognise abuse when I witness it, Jaelynn. Drake’s woman, Phoe, was battered, and some of our other old ladies have been beaten. We have several times intervened in relationships and got women to safety. Nobody in Rage will stand for an abusive asshole.

“I can see dinner is a trigger. So, I’m going to give you lots of space, but remember, this is an unexpected gift from you to me. Babe, I didn’t expect you to cook, not for me. I’d planned to order a delivery. So, whatever you’ve cooked, which smells fuckin’ amazing, is perfect.

“I’m not here to watch TV or do anything else while you remain here slaving over a hot stove. My mama would have beaten my ass for that. In my mama’s house, if we couldn’t cook, we laid the table, poured the wine, or did other tasks, but nobody disrespected who was cooking. Now I’m going to give you lots of space. Jaelynn, I’ll move slow, so I don’t scare you, what with me being a big man and all, and I’m gonna sit here and talk to you. That would make me really happy, having a chance to get to know you,” Slate explained, sitting on the stool.

Jaelynn stared and Slate wondered what she was thinking as her expression was blank. Then she opened the fridge and pulled out a bowl.

“You can toss the salad, unicorn,” she said and offered a slight smile.

Slate winked and did as he was told.