Stalk Her Page 3

  “Bastard got that golden ticket, eh?”

  “Yeah, it was his lucky fucking day.”

  I listened to Stix let me know when he’d be there and who’d be showing up.

  “Fucker is unconscious, so have him wake up in the middle of fucking nowhere. Make sure that bastard can’t find his way back to town.”

  “You got it, Prez.”

  “And be quick.” I ended the call and shoved the cell into my pocket, standing there for a moment just watching her, trying to read her. I was a pretty good judge of character.

  She was afraid, that was clear, and in pain, but she wasn’t showing it outwardly; at least she didn’t think she was. I had to admit—she was hiding it pretty damn well. “Why don’t you have a seat? It looks like you got hit in the head pretty damn hard.” I kept the growl out of my voice. The asshole had clearly pushed her up against that brick wall really fucking hard for her face to be scraped up, bloody, and bruised like that.

  I saw her throat work as she swallowed. She looked behind her to the stack of boxes before sitting down. She looked so small and innocent.

  Too young.

  It was really hard to stop once I started in with a fight. But when I’d heard Poppy’s voice, she’d been like this tether that had everything in me freezing. She’d been this light in the darkness.

  Don’t get me wrong; I wasn’t a good man. I never would be. Even having her by my side wouldn’t have me spouting off poetry and drinking coffee while reading the Sunday paper like a good law-abiding citizen.

  But she made things… better.

  I was fucking losing my mind already with this woman.

  My blood was pumping through my veins, aggression still a heady entity inside me. I started pacing, feeling like a caged lion in the small room. I knew the doc would be here soon enough, but as the seconds turned into minutes, I felt like I was going to lose my fucking mind.

  I leaned against the wall and crossed my arms over my chest. I was trying not to be intimidating, but I could tell she could see I was on edge. Hell, I felt it pouring from me and filling this room.

  It was only twenty minutes we were in there, both of us silent, but it felt like a fucking lifetime. I wanted to say a hell of a lot, knew she probably did too. She’d seen me at a dark moment in my life, where the real me came through and refused to back down. But that might be a good thing. It might be best we got the gritty shit out of the way.

  I heard footsteps approaching and pushed myself away from the wall to open the door. Eric “Doc” McKenzie stood on the other side with his medical bag slung over his shoulder, his glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, and his short blond hair messy. He was young, as doctors went, but the fact that he’d lost his license for opioid and prescription abuse worked out to the MC’s advantage.

  Now he was the resident MC physician, patching up our members and having connections to meds and scripts. And it worked out good. Real good.

  I didn’t say anything, just stepped to the side as he focused on Poppy, who sat across the room.

  “Shit,” he muttered under his breath and glanced at me.

  I could see speculation on his face, wondering if I was the one who’d roughed her up. I clenched my teeth and made a low, dangerous growl, daring him to say something, to accuse me. But he was smart, kept his eyes to the ground, and walked over to her. He crouched down on his haunches and set his bag beside him.

  “Hey there,” he said softly and lifted his hand slowly, as if he were afraid she’d dart off.

  She sat up straighter, pulled her shoulders back, and leveled him with a stoic expression.

  Atta girl.

  “I’m Eric and I won’t hurt you,” Doc said.

  She looked between me and the doctor, and then at him once more. “I tried to tell him I was fine. It’s just a scrape.”

  Doc made a deep sound in his throat and shook his head. He grabbed his bag and opened it up, pulling out supplies. Antiseptic, cream, and bandages, and finally a little bottle of pills.

  “Nevertheless, it looks nasty, and I need to make sure you don’t have a concussion, depending on how hard you got knocked around.”

  She shook her head slowly. “It wasn’t hard. The brick just scraped me up.”

  “I can tell,” Doc said softly and doused a piece of gauze with what I assumed was peroxide. “Is this okay?”

  I had my focus on Poppy the entire time, and when she looked at me from under her lashes, I felt my heart jerk in my chest.

  She licked her lips and looked back at Doc. “Yes. That’s fine.”

  For the next ten minutes, everyone was quiet as Doc worked on her. He cleaned up the scrapes, added some ointment, and put a bandage on the nastier part of the cut. Then he went through the process of seeing if she had a concussion. Shining a pin light in her eyes, asking her questions, the whole nine yards.

  He packed up his stuff and stood, holding out a little brown bottle to her. “This is some pain medication. You can take it or don’t. But you’re going to be sore for the next few days.”

  She shook her head and looked up at him. “I don’t need it. I’m fine.”

  He nodded once and put the pills in his bag before turning and looking at me. “She’ll be fine. No concussion, and the cuts are only superficial.”

  I made a gruff sound in the back of my throat and opened the door for Doc. And then we were left alone again, and all I wanted to do was go over to her and pull her into my arms, to make sure she was truly okay.

  How fucking insane was this? I’d only met the girl just hours before, and already I felt this proprietary need to protect her.

  She stood and I straightened, feeling tension in my shoulders, my spine like a steel pole up the center of my back.

  “Thank you.”

  I didn’t know what to say. Saying “you’re welcome” was foreign to me. I didn’t do pleasantries. That’s how much of a hardened bastard I was.

  “Thank you for having your doctor look at me. But seriously, I’m fine.” She cleared her throat and looked away, and I could see she was nervous. I wanted to tell her she had nothing to be anxious about with me.

  I nodded, although I wanted to say a hell of a lot more. But I wasn’t an idiot. She was freaked out, and if I pushed too hard, she’d run. So I stepped aside and opened the door, giving her a wide berth so she could leave, so she didn’t feel trapped.

  She stood there for a second and looked at me, her throat working again as she swallowed. I could see how hard and fast her pulse was beating right below her ear. Her pupils were dilated, and I felt my anger continue to grow as I looked at her wounds again. It pissed me the fuck off and all I wanted to do was finish what I’d started out there with that asshole.

  I wasn’t a stranger to killing a man, but I didn’t do it unjustly. If they crossed me, betrayed me, or if they hurt the ones I cared about… then all bets were off.

  And even though I’d only met Poppy hours before, when I’d first seen her, I knew she’d be mine. Therefore, she was under my protection. That meant I’d do whatever was in my power to make sure she was safe, to let her know she would never have to be worried or feel fear.

  Possessive? Irrational? Fucking insane? Yeah, I was all those things. But that’s who I was. And I’d be like that until the day I died.

  Chapter Five

  Poppy

  I was home ten minutes after leaving the bar, and I was exhausted, not because I’d worked especially hard, but because of the events after the fact.

  All I could keep thinking about was Butcher beating the living hell out of that man. And even though it was a darkened alley with the muted yellow light washing over the dirty asphalt, I’d seen all the blood, like spilled ink across his face and on the ground.

  And his face… God, the drunk’s face had been swollen and a mess, wrecked and distorted.

  I tossed my purse onto the Formica breakfast counter, kicked my shoes off, and leaned against the door. I closed my eyes, exhaling slowly, my e
ntire body aching. The side of my face hurt, the feeling of the blood rushing beneath the surface causing this warm, thumping sensation below the wound.

  I pushed away from the door and made my way down the short hallway and into the bathroom. After I turned on the light, the flickering glow filled up the small interior a second before it stayed steady. This apartment was a piece of shit, but the rent was cheap, the landlord happy to get paid under the table—which meant no paperwork. With my current situation, what more could I ask for?

  I’d deal with filth to stay safe.

  So I lived in a severely archaic one-bedroom hovel with outdated decor and appliances, my neighborhood sketchy, and with the occasional sound of gunshots in the distance. Why? Because all that meant was I was even more hidden.

  I turned and faced my reflection, the girl staring back at me definitely having seen better days, but then again, this wasn’t the worst I’ve ever experienced. Having a drug addict for a mother meant she brought questionable men to the house. And when they drank too much, they got a little too grabby, a little too violent with her. With me. I had my fair share of bruises because of her drunken, cracked-out boyfriends.

  But I learned early on to fight back, because when you fight back, they knew you weren’t weak, weren’t a victim. But Henry… Henry was different. Henry was dangerous. And it’s why I ran. Because I knew if I stayed, not only would he take what he wanted from me; he might very well kill me for having the strength to fight back.

  I pushed away from the sink and walked over to the bathtub, turning on the water and holding my hand under the spray for a suspended moment. I felt it go from cold to warm, and finally to hot.

  This was my happy place... sitting in a bathtub with nearly unbearably hot water, letting my arms and legs just float. I’d pretend I was weightless, that nothing else mattered.

  And it didn’t in those moments.

  After putting the stopper in the tub and watching it fill up for a moment, I made my way into the bedroom to grab a change of clothes. The flash of headlights moved in through the window, making it almost seem daylight in my room for a few seconds. I walked over to the window and stared out, the shitty little neighborhood I lived in no stranger to crackheads and prostitutes on the corner of the streets.

  I thought about Butcher and what he’d done tonight, how he’d looked. He’d been protecting me, albeit in a very violent, savage way. I should fear him, but I didn’t. Watching him kick that guy’s ass made me feel one thing.

  Safe.

  I pulled my thoughts back to the present. A few old, rusted, and probably barely running cars sat by the curbs, scattered around, but one had me straightening. One vehicle looked severely out of place.

  A shiny, very expensive SUV was across the street and a little ways down. The lights were off, the windows too dark from being tinted for me to make out if someone was inside. Could be a drug dealer. That’s what I told myself anyway. But because I was running, hiding, I never brushed anything off to coincidence, to happenstance.

  But if it were Henry, he’d already be in here. So I felt myself relax, told myself that I was only this jittery because of what happened tonight.

  I turned away from the window and went back into the bathroom, about to let myself be weightless and forget about all the shit I let into my life.

  * * *

  Butcher

  I stared at her apartment complex. I’d been sitting here for the past twenty minutes. I wanted to drive her home, to make sure she was safe. I even asked her, but didn’t push when she declined. Although I sure as hell wanted to push. But I knew asking her, demanding it, would only drive her further away. So I let her walk home, but I followed, knowing she hadn’t realized.

  And then I saw her at the window, looking at the shitty neighborhood then focusing on my SUV. She couldn’t see me, not with the illegally tinted windows. But Poppy wasn’t stupid. She knew my vehicle was out of place for this area.

  And then she walked away, probably dismissing it as nothing more than some shady shit going down, maybe a drug dealer.

  I opened up my cell and dialed the club. Diesel was the one who answered, but by the slurred tone of his voice, I knew he was too far gone to do the task I wanted him to.

  “Put Reaper on the phone.” I could hear the music pumping on the other end of the line, the club girls giggling, moans and groans following. Reaper was on the line a second later.

  “Yo,” he said in his husky voice, the slight pitch of his Russian accent coming through even though he’d been living in America for a few decades.

  “I need you to watch a house for me.” I gave him her address and then disconnected the call.

  I’d stay here until he arrived, until I knew she was watched and protected, especially in this neighborhood… especially with the secrets I knew she had.

  I could tell by looking at her, at the way she moved, the way she acted, she had darkness in her. Hell, we all had secrets and darkness and pain, but I was good at reading people, finding out about those dark places we didn’t want anyone to see.

  I’d find hers out. It didn’t matter what she was hiding, because I’d already decided she’d be mine. But making her mine meant finding out everything about her.

  That meant stalking her.

  Chapter Six

  Poppy

  I stared at myself in the mirror before I finally said screw it and shut the light off. After grabbing my bag, I left my apartment and made my way downstairs toward the entrance. The front door slammed shut behind me, the sound of metal against metal loud, a violent shot like a bullet from a gun.

  I made my way down the cracked, worn sidewalk. The heavy sound of the bass on a stereo resounded, and the playful scream of kids in the distance filled my ears. I could hear a fight breaking out between a man and a woman close by, their cursing seeming to echo off the tall buildings. The smell of filth and exhaust surrounded me like this thick, lead blanket that was suffocating.

  And already I was used to it. It was just like home.

  Shitty cars sat on either side of the sidewalks, but I stopped when I saw a much too nice SUV again parked a few yards away. Was it the same one from last night? A different one? Maybe it was the same one, having stayed the night?

  My heart was racing, my hands slightly shaking. I wasn’t a stranger to fear, and that adrenaline pumping through my veins… that was what fear felt like inside you.

  A part of me wanted to go past it and leave or to walk the other direction, and I did just that. I started making my way to the bar, but not more than a minute later, when I looked over my shoulder, I saw that SUV following me.

  My pulse was painfully fast now, and beads of sweat started to dot my flesh.

  I would not let fear dictate my life.

  I would not let the unknown make me a victim.

  So I stopped and turned around, and I found myself taking steps toward the vehicle, closer and closer. It was stopped once more, like this ominous presence. And the windows, God, the windows were so dark I couldn’t see inside.

  But before I could get to it, the car pulled away from the curb. I stood there in the middle of the road, watching as it drove by me, away from me. But I felt whoever was in the driver seat watching me. I felt their focus on me, even if I couldn’t see them.

  No, this wasn’t a coincidence. This was someone watching me. But who? If it were Henry, then he wouldn’t be waiting. He wouldn’t be just sitting there watching me.

  He’d act.

  He’d have broken into my apartment last night and did whatever it was he was going to do. He wasn’t a man of patience.

  I didn’t know how long I stood in the middle of the street, staring after the SUV as it disappeared around the corner. I stood there wondering what I was going to do.

  Should I run? Should I leave and start anew somewhere else? I didn’t know what to do, even though leaving was the smart, safe choice. I swallowed roughly, wondering if getting help was what I needed to do. Help from men wh
o were far more dangerous than Henry. Men who did far worse things than that bastard.

  Because I couldn’t run forever. I couldn’t hide forever.

  So maybe I should seek that out, ask a certain hardened MC member for the help I desperately needed. Because I couldn’t afford to keep running, to have a job for a week and jump to the next town. I hadn’t saved enough, didn’t have much of anything but the rent I put down on that shitty little apartment, the under-the-table, cheap-as-dirt amount that let me survive and have a roof over my head. I was already running low on the money I’d stolen from Henry, and until I got paid a few times from the bar, I was up shit creek without a paddle.

  Maybe I was crossing the line, getting myself in way more trouble than I already was. Maybe asking Butcher for help was digging my own grave. But he’d saved me in that alley, would have probably killed that man if I hadn’t stopped it. That had to mean something, right?

  Right?

  * * *

  Butcher

  I’d stayed all night, watching her apartment, staring at her bedroom window as I waited for the light to finally turn off. And when it finally had, when she’d gone to bed, I found myself getting out of my SUV and heading to the apartment complex. I stood right below her bedroom window, wishing I could look inside, wanting to see her sleep, watch the rise and fall of her chest as she wasn’t worrying about anything.

  Then I’d gone to the entrance. I didn’t even need to jimmy the fucking lock, not when the front door was barely hanging on as it was. I’d already known what apartment was hers, had gone to her door, just stood there, closing my eyes and picturing going in there and pulling the blanket off of her, seeing the material sliding from her sweet, tight little body.

  But reality had slammed into me as I looked around, saw how shitty her surroundings were, where and how she lived. I’d watch her better than anyone else could. I’d keep a closer eye on her.