Page 5 of You've Got The Love
“Dad, I really need to talk to you,” I tell him urgently.
“Talk, babygirl,” his voice softens, knowing it's me, making me miss him even more than usual.
“Is there anything going down with the club?”
“Why? What’s happened?” He asks quickly, sounding alert.
“We got an order for a funeral wreath, which was made up, but then the delivery slip was for me,” I tell him, hoping I’m blowing this all out of proportion, and it’s nothing but a sick joke. “There wasn’t a message card either.”
“Fuck. We had a meet go bad, lost Turk. When did this order come in?”
“Dad, I’m so sorry about Turk. He was new, right?” I ask in sympathy, Dad sponsored him, or something. I don’t quite understand club life and its lingo.
“Just patched in last month, good man. Went out saving Prez. Amber, baby, when did this order come in?”
“Erm,” I mumble, looking at the order slip in my hand. “Came in late last night from a florist in London, so that means it was ordered up there. We’ve called them andthey confirmed the delivery address and gave us the guy's number; it doesn’t work,” I tell him everything I know.
“Give me ten and I’ll call you back—this number. Stay safe,” he says by way of a goodbye and hangs up, leaving me sitting on my bed, none the wiser.
Chapter 4
Bastiaan
I’m pacing around the back of the shop, clenching and unclenching my hands. I don’t like whatever the fuck just happened. I eye the funeral wreath with its‘Grand Prix’deep red roses. They aren’t cheap, I know; I sell them, so whoever sent this wanted them to send a message.But what message?I can’t see Amber having anything to do with shady people, but then, how well do I really know her? No, I refuse to believe that. She’s got a heart of gold; she wouldn’t keep that kind of company. Company that would think sending a funeral arrangement was funny, or something much more sinister.
“Jess, why is she ringing her father? Is he a policeman?” I ask as I watch her nervously scrubbing down the kitchen.
“No idea, Bas. I’ve never met him, and she doesn’t speak about him much, just says he lives in London and that he lives a very different life,” she states. She looks pale andworried, so I put my arm around her, and she instantly hugs me tight.
“It’ll be alright, I’m sure it's just a big misunderstanding.” I’m not sure who I’m trying to convince more.
“You think?” She looks up at me hopefully, standing back as she plays with the necklace she’s wearing.
I like Jess. She reminds me of an English version of Sanne. They both have that carefree way about them, and they have a confidence that a lot of people don’t have. It’s something I love about Sanne, which in turn makes me love it about Jess. Not in a romantic way, she’s a beautiful girl, but I prefer a quieter confidence in a woman. The blonde-haired beauty upstairs springs to mind.
“Has to be, right? We’ll be laughing about this later on, I’m sure,” I tell her as I look up at Amber’s baby blue front door.
“I’m going to go check on her, make sure she’s okay.”
I don’t give it a second thought as I take her stairs one by one and gently push her door open. I’ve never been in here, but I’ve always been curious. I’m instantly hit with her Jasmine scent, it’s everywhere, and it goes straight to my dick. I try to push away thoughts of Amber and my dick as I look around, but it’s not an easy task as I glance into her bathroom and see three bras hung over her shower pole.Lace. Pink, white, and black.I do not need visions of Amber in pink lace as she picks out her flower wraps from my truck on a weekly basis.Come on, Bastiaan, head in the game.It’s not the time to be thinking about all that smoothskin and lace.Fuck, lace is my favourite! Moving on!It’s so her up here—all pastels and soft colours. Beautiful artwork of flowers hangs on her walls, with a zoomed-in focus on their petals and stamens, making their texture the star. She has pictures of her friends up in the hallway in mismatched frames, and mirrors of all shapes and sizes hung with them; it makes a really cool effect. That’s when I hear her voice coming from the room at the end. I make my way to her doorway quickly and knock on the doorframe softly, not wanting to just walk into her bedroom without being invited. Her bedroom is all soft whites and pale wood. It looks feminine, yet also like a place you'd want to spend some time. She spins around with huge eyes, and her mouth opens slightly. She’s sat on her bed—which is enormous—in a pile of brand-new mobile phones.What?She holds up her finger as she listens to who I assume is her father. All I want to do is hold her safe and secure in my arms and comfort her. I can see she’s worried, scared even, and that’s what makes me enter her room and kneel in front of her. I place my hands on her knees, trying to let her know I’m here for her.
“I’ll figure something out, Dad. No, please don’t send anyone here. Yes, I know not to call the police…” she squeezes her blue eyes shut tightly, shaking her head as she obviously listens to him talk. Who does he want to send here? Why? I can feel my pulse throbbing in my temples; what the fuck is going on?
“Yes, I promise. I’ll take the phones and call you in an hour to check in.”
She nods in reply to whatever her father is saying.
“I know, no details on the phone. I will, promise. Please keep safe, Dad. Love you,” she ends the call, takes in a deep breath, steeling herself, and looks directly at me.
“What’s happening? Talk to me, Amber,” I implore, rubbing her knees.
“Okay, so… erm… my dad is in a motorcycle club…”
“What does that have to do with anything?” I ask, confused.
“They aren’t exactly law-abiding citizens,” she states as she lowers her eyes.
“Like Sons of Anarchy? Outlaw bikers?” I ask, frowning.
