Page 8 of Baja
I weave through the crowd, the buzz of laughter and clinking glasses growing louder as I approach the stage where my brothers sit at our usual spot.
“Look who finally decided to join us!” Mystic shouts, his glass lifting high as he gestures toward me. As I drop into an empty chair, someone slides a whiskey over me. I down the shot, the burn hitting just right, cutting through the leftover tension in my shoulders.
Salem’s gaze locks onto mine, his brow furrowing. He takes a slow drag from his cigarette, the smoke curling up. “What’s eatin’ you?”
“Nothin’,” I mutter.
“Your sour mood got anything to do with a certain MILF?” Mystic smirks, and I cut my eyes at him.
“Hey, brother, we all saw you and Alice vanish the other night, and it was hard to miss when she hurried to exit a bit later,” Laredo says as he pours me another shot of whiskey.
I say nothing—no sense in denying what happened. I have nothing to hide. My brothers aren’t judging me, just spitting facts and holding nothing back. I wouldn’t want it any other way.
The subject of Alice is dropped.
Instead, we do what we do best and have a good time.
The night stretches, and the liquor flows. I sink back into my seat as the whiskey warms my insides, feeling myself loosening up, the last bits of tension slipping away. The warm amber liquid glides down my throat as I take another shot, a soothing sensation contrasting my current mood. I focus intently on the girls dancing on stage, their bodies twirling around the poles, each movement synced perfectly with the beat of the music.
Bebe, one of our new girls, moves in front of us, spinning slowly on the pole, her body twisting in time with the beat. She’s got tattoos snaking down her thighs—roses and skulls—and a black widow on her shoulder blade. I watch her, letting the movements and the music wash over me as I lose myself in the rhythm, hoping it will distract me from my worries.
Yet, Alice continues to haunt me.
5
ALICE
Rolling over in bed, I look at the clock on the bedside table. Five o’clock on the dot. I tossed and turned all night and got maybe two hours of sleep because every time I closed my eyes, thoughts of Baja flooded my dreams. I’m exhausted, yet my brain won’t let me sleep past five. Years of being told when to go to bed, when to wake up, and when to eat will do that to a person. I’d love to know what it feels like to not wake up before the sun each morning, to truly feel at peace enough to give into the invisible shackles holding me prisoner.
I toss the blanket aside and climb out of bed, going across the hall to the bathroom. Bracing my palms against the basin, I stare at my reflection. The dark circles under my eyes indicate how little sleep I’ve gotten in the past few days. The incident with Baja is affecting me mentally. The man single-handedly flipped my world upside down, and the longer I stare in the mirror, the more I question what he sees in me.
What do I see?I see a weak, lonely shell of the woman I used to be.
As I lay in bed last night, I couldn’t help but wonder if Baja saw me the same. Does he see me as an easy lay? But Iquickly quashed the notion because deep down, I know he’s not that kind of man. The only person who got off was me. It was all about my pleasure, and in my experience, men are selfish creatures.
Not wanting to pollute my mind with the past, I shake off memories of my dead ex and go about getting my day started. Once I’ve brushed my teeth and moisturized, I throw my hair into a messy bun, then dress in a pair of cut-off jean shorts, a white tank, and khaki wedge sandals. Walking to the dresser, I pull open my jewelry box and pick out the gold necklace Sukie gave me for my birthday two years ago, along with some gold bangles and gold hoop earrings. I forgo makeup since after I run errands, I plan to spend the rest of the day in the greenhouse.
My cell phone is vibrating on the table when I enter the kitchen. I pick it up to see Sukie’s name flash with a text letting me know she’ll email the store’s inventory list this morning so I know what to pick from the nursery in town. After typing a quick response, I go to the office and fire up the computer. A few minutes later, Sukie’s email pops up. A quick scan shows my nursery haul today will be a big one. Once I’ve printed the spreadsheet, I shove it into my back pocket.
Fifteen minutes later, I’m heading out the door with my travel mug.
I come to a screeching halt at the sight of a familiar figure standing in my driveway. My next breath gets lodged in my throat, and a sinking feeling settles in my stomach. “What are you doing here, Ricky?”
Ricky’s gaze flicks down to my trembling hand, and a sinister smile spreads across his face. Ricky is what most would describe as handsome in a conventional way. He’s six feet tall, has a lean build and broad shoulders, and has dark, clean-cut hair. He is pure evil and my ex’s cousin. Like the other men in his family, Ricky is a cop.
Ricky shrugs. “Been a while, Alice. Figured I’d stop by and make sure you were behaving. Can’t be too careful having felons on the loose.” He sneers. “Another innocent person could end up hurt,” Ricky says as if my ex was innocent. He knows what kind of person Brock was. The whole family is full of bad seeds, Ricky included. Every man in that family has a thing for abusing women. The first time I met Ricky’s wife years ago, she had a black eye and a bruised jaw.
Ricky takes two steps away from his car in my direction. For a split second, I consider turning and running back inside to call the police, but I abandon that thought just as fast. The chances of cops helping me are slim to none. I could call one of the guys at the club, but I want to avoid burdening them with my problems. That and if word got back to Sukie, she’d worry. She has her own life to lead, and I refuse to let mine disrupt hers.
Squaring my shoulders, I let my shaky legs carry me down the porch steps toward my truck. “Well, you came, and you saw, Ricky. Now, you can get in your car and go back to Boston.” I yank open the truck door. “If you show up on my property again, I’ll call the police.”
When the threat leaves my mouth, Ricky is in my space, and my back is pressed against the driver’s door. “Don’t ever think you can threaten me, bitch,” Ricky sneers, his face an inch from mine. “You think you’re untouchable because your daughter is playing whore for a biker? Let me tell you something, Alice, that piece of shit club can’t protect you.”
I try to push Ricky away, but he only presses further, causing the truck’s door handle to bite into my back. I stare into eyes that are filled with so much hate. “Let me go, Ricky.”
The asshole grabs hold of my jaw in a punishing grip. “Or what, Alice?” His fingers dig into my skin, sharp and unyielding, forcing me to meet his piercing gaze.
Finally, he releases his hold on me and backs up, but the reasons behind his presence are not clear. “I’ll be seeing you around, Alice.” He walks back to his car, and the bastard folds into the driver’s seat, puts his aviators on, and then casually backs out of the driveway.
