Authors: Dahlia West
Hayley briefly considered the cost of the cab and more to the point the wait for it to get to the bar and decided it did, in fact, make more sense to get a ride with Chris. “Okay,” she finally said. He nodded and gestured for her to head out the swinging door.
She shrugged on her jacket as he held the front door open for her and zipped it up against the chilly air. She was following him to her bike when she heard raucous laughter of some stragglers leaving the bar. She moved a little closer to Chris as they walked toward his Harley.
“Hey!” someone yelled. “Hey, barmaid!”
Hayley gasped a little, and grabbed Chris’s arm, turning a little to see the prospect, Jack Prior, and a third man ambling in their general direction.
“It’s fine,” Chris assured her in a low tone that only she could hear.
He could feel the tension radiating off of Slick as two Buzzards,
the
Buzzard actually, and a prospect came toward them. The prospect looked happy while Preacher Prior was, as always inscrutable. Chris held his ground as the two men and the kid stopped in front of them.
“Hey,” said the kid. “I was pissed at you,” he told Hayley.
She swallowed hard, but before she could respond the kid laughed. “But now I’m not. So listen,” he said, leaning in. Chris watched Slick visibly recoil. “How ‘bout you get on my bike and we go back to the clubhouse for those drinks?”
Chris didn’t even bother to wait for an answer. He casually slipped his arm around Hayley’s waist, spreading his hand wide along her hip. Slick was so wary of the Buzzards that she barely noticed. “Sorry, kid. This one’s mine,” Chris declared. The kid frowned.
“Got yourself a house mouse, Shooter?” Preacher asked, eyeing Hayley with a seemingly disinterested glance. But Chris knew from experience that nothing Preacher did was random or meaningless.
“Yup,” Chris responded, choosing not to say more. He wasn’t sure if Hayley knew what a house mouse was but if she did, thankfully she didn’t contradict the implication that he was using her for sex.
The kid looked pissed. “He fucked a blond last night and it ain’t even his house. She lives next d-”
Preacher brought his fist down, slamming it into the kid’s nuts. Hayley jolted and Chris held her tighter to him, hoping she could keep it together. The prospect doubled over in pain while the third man laughed. “None of your business who he sticks his dick in,” Preacher declared. “Shooter says the barmaid’s his; makes her his. End of story.”
Chris gave the man a curt nod. “Preacher,” he said by way of good bye.
“Shooter.”
Chris turned Hayley around and guided her toward his bike. “Everything’s okay,” he told her softly. “Just get on the bike. That’s all you have to do, Hayley. Just focus.”
They reached the bike, he straddled it first and pulled down the passenger foot pegs for her. She was shivering either from the cold or the scene in the parking lot or both. “Come on, honey,” Chris coaxed. “Let’s get you home.”
He sighed inwardly in relief as she put her hand in his and climbed on the back. Without having to be told, she put her arms around his torso and gripped him hard but he didn’t complain. He kicked the stand up, turned the engine over, and left the parking lot not sparing the Buzzards a backward glance. At the first stop light, he patted her hands reassuringly and she loosened her hold on him slightly. When he finally pulled into his driveway, he parked the bike and killed the engine. “You survived, babe,” he declared. Hayley didn’t move. He sighed. “Slick, as much as I like your arms around me, it’s late and we’re both tired. Let’s pack it in, okay?”
Reluctantly she sat up straight and peeled her arms back from his waist. She wobbled a little getting off and he held her arm to keep her from falling.
“Thanks for the ride,” she finally told him. “And for…the rest.”
The look on her face and the fact that if she bit that bottom lip any harder she was going to draw blood told him that Slick knew exactly what a house mouse was. He smiled at her. “Well, no one’s gonna bother you now. Not the Buzzards, anyway. I guarantee it. But there are still some unsavory characters at Maria’s every now and then so from now on every night you close, you’re on my bike,” he told her. Hayley’s eyes widened. “Slick” he said, voice full of warning.
“Okay,” she finally agreed.
“That’s my girl.”
***************************
All the tension that had been roiling in Hayley’s belly came to a complete standstill at his words. My girl. My girl. She thought of the blond the prospect had mentioned the night before and wondered if she really was his girl. For one instant, Hayley was insanely, inexplicably, intolerably….jealous? But she clamped down on that feeling. Hard. That was not a thing she needed to look at closer. Not at all. In fact she needed to just nip all that right in the bud.
She snorted, rather unattractively she thought, if she did say so herself. “House mouse,” she muttered. “I’m pretty sure I remember saying adamantly that I wouldn’t sleep with you.”
He laughed and swung his leg over the bike, standing up. “Only you and I will know the truth.”
Before she could stop herself, she blurted out, “What about the blond?” When Chris raised his eyebrows at her she quickly amended, “I don’t want some biker babe coming into Maria’s looking for me ‘cause she thinks her man’s cheating on her.”
To her relief, he shook his head. “Blond’s just a friend. She’s got no claim on me and she won’t come looking for you if she hears about our little ruse.”
Hayley eyed him skeptically. “Well, okay,” she told him, teasingly. “But if you’re lying and I have to go all Crouching Tiger on some poor misguided woman, I’m gonna come to your garage and go all Hidden Dragon
on you
.”
Chris laughed uproariously. “Slick, soaking wet you still wouldn’t outweigh my
boots
.”
She grinned. “Maybe that doesn’t matter,” she told him. “Maybe I have mad kung fu skills that you don’t know about.”
He grinned back at her. “No, you don’t.”
She sighed. “No,” she agreed. “I don’t. But I
will
come to your garage. And cry.
Like a lot
.”
He scowled. “Now that would be scary. I hate to see women cry.”
“Thanks again,” she told him.
“No problem, Hayley.”
Chris waited until she got inside her little blue house and locked the door. Hayley leaned against it and closed her eyes. She needed a bath. And to not think about the blond. Or being Chris Sullivan’s house mouse, fake or otherwise. She suspected only one of those was a sure thing.
Chapter 7
Chris sat bolt upright in bed, woken by the shrill screaming, which didn't stop. He yanked open the nightstand drawer, grabbed his .44 caliber Desert Eagle and launched himself out of bed. In three strides he was down the hall, in another two he'd thrown open his own front door. He bounded down the steps of the front porch, crossed the lawn and took Hayley's steps two at a time. Not having stopped for keys, he planted his bare foot right next to the doorknob. The wood of the frame splintered and the door exploded inward.
He scanned the living area and finding it secure, rounded the corner and entered the darkened hallway, gun up, sweeping the dark corners. The screaming had subsided but he could hear her crying through the door. He twisted the knob of Hayley's bedroom door. When it didn't give, he slammed his shoulder into it. The door only moved a scant inch.
"What the fuck?" he muttered and slammed into the door again. "Hayley! Hayley open this door!" he shouted.
The crying stopped and he hit the door a third time as hard as he could. He heard a crash on the other side and checked again but still couldn't get the god damn thing to open.
"Hayley, talk to me," he demanded. "What the fuck is going on? Are you alright? What's blocking the door?"
He heard a choking sob and then she answered, "Chris?"
"Yeah, honey. It's me. Are you alone? Are you alright? Get this god damn door open!"
"I- it's alright," she called, her voice cracking under the strain. "Everything's fine. It's okay."
"The hell it is. Get this door open," he ordered.
"I'm fine, really," she said, her voice regaining some of its composure. "Just...you can go. I'm okay. It was just a bad dream."
"Jesus Christ," he muttered to himself. "Open the door," he said more loudly.
"No, really, I-"
"Hayley. I want eyes on you. Right now. Open this door or I'll get an axe and chop it the fuck down."
A moment passed and then he heard her struggling with something on the other side of the door. His whole body tensed with the need to see her. Whatever it was, it was taking far too long. "Hayley," he growled.
"I'm getting it. Just hang on," she called out.
Finally he heard the flimsy doorknob lock flip and the door creaked open a few inches. Hayley blocked it with her body. "I'm fine," she informed him.
Ignoring her attempts to shut him out, he shouldered the door open and stalked past her. Directly across from the doorway was the side wall that encompassed the clothes closet. It had a giant hole in the dry wall. His eyes scanned the room and found the highboy dresser sitting at an odd angle between the bed and the closet door.
"That," he said, pointing at the highboy, "was what was blocking the door?"
She chewed her lip and nodded. Obviously when Chris threw his weight into the door, it had merely succeeded in toppling the highboy into the closet wall, still rendering entry impossible.
Chris scrutinized Hayley from head to toe. She was wearing sleep shorts and t-shirt, both in good order, no rips or tears. Her legs, arms, and face looked okay other than her eyes were a little puffy from crying.
He strode past her and flung open the closet doors, peering inside, when he turned, Hayley caught sight of the .44, pointed at the floor, and stumbled back, eyes wide in terror.
"I thought you were in trouble," he said by way of explanation.
His eyes moved over the room, assessing it. Nothing else seemed out of place. Everything looked normal. His gaze settled on four indentations on the brand new carpet in front of the door. "Hayley, if-" he said, taking a step toward her. She instantly moved away from him.
He sighed and placed the .44 on top of the highboy behind him, then turned back to her. "You're okay?" he asked, and she nodded slightly. "Jesus, Hayley, you scared the hell out of me."
"I'm sorry," she told him. She started to cry and he felt like an ass because he knew he sounded harsher than he meant to.
"No, I'm sorry, honey. I didn't mean to yell. You want to tell me who Jake is?" he asked gently. She'd been screaming his name over and over, also "Stop" and "Please, don't do this."
He felt her head shake against him. "No one. It was just a dream," she lied.
He sighed. "This happen a lot?"
"Not really. Sometimes. Not for a long time, though," she admitted. "I'm sorry. “Tonight scared me.”
"Hayley, this isn’t just about tonight. You move that dresser every night," he observed. Hayley continued to chew her lip and nodded. "Why?" he asked, then chalked up his stupidity to being woken up in the middle of the night. "You're that afraid?" Hayley didn't move or respond.
Chris let her go and picked up his gun off the dresser. He stalked out to the living room and frowned at the broken door. Hayley had cautiously followed him and was now staring at it with growing panic.
"Didn't have time to get keys," he grumbled. "Thought you were...in trouble. I'm gonna stay the rest of the night, Hayley." His heart squeezed as he saw the panic threaten to overtake her at that point. "I'm taking the couch. I'll have the guys here in the morning to fix your door." He tucked the .44 into the waistband of his shorts at the small of his back. "I'm just gonna run to my house and lock the door. I left it open. I'll be right back, honey. Okay?"
She nodded and he jogged down the porch steps intent on returning as quickly as possible. After securing his own place, he swung her front door shut and carried a dining room chair over to it to keep any wind from blowing it open.
He set the gun down on the coffee table and sat down on the couch. Hayley was still standing at the entrance to the hallway, gazing around the room, slightly dazed.