BAD BOY ROMANCE: DIESEL: Contemporary Bad Boy Biker MC Romance (Box Set) (New Adult Sports Romance Short Stories Boxset) (43 page)

Sinclair stole a glance at Claude.  He looked older suddenly, but his eyes glinted greedily in the firelight.  She looked at as many of the others as she could see.  They all had the same look.  The promise of what was to come was overtaking their fears.  A short man with braids running along his scalp spoke loudly at Joseph. 

“How will we know it works?  We all paid our hundred dollars to be here, but how will we know it’s not a scam?” 

Joseph smiled down at him.  “I’m going to demonstrate it for you.  It will work on anyone, but for some people it will work faster and better.”  He looked down at Sinclair.  “Bring her up!” 

Sinclair’s immediate reaction was to run.  Both of Enrique’s men were on her before she could move, a hand clamped firmly on each upper arm.  She struggled against them, her heels digging into the earth. 

“No!” 

“Why does she fight if this is a good thing?”  The man with braids yelled out.  Several people nodded in agreement. 

“Because she doesn’t understand the true power yet!”  Joseph called out.  “She doesn’t know what’s best for her.”

Latasha hurried to Sinclair trying to push her way past the short blonde man who held one side of Sinclair.  He pushed her to the ground and kept moving Sinclair to the platform. 

“Wait!  Let me go with her!”

The two men looked to Enrique and he nodded his consent, interest sparking his features. 

As the two women stepped onto the platform, Enrique’s men still holding Sinclair, Sinclair looked over the crowd.  The slightest of movements had caught her attention in the darkness beyond.  It could have been an animal, but she could have sworn it was a person, low to the ground.  Her heart beat faster.  She prayed it was Niall.  She jerked out of the men’s grasp and stepped forward. 

“This little bond between you women is fascinating.”  Enrique said, a cold smile playing on his lips.  “Perhaps when this is all over the three of us can have a little fun.” 

“I want no more of your fun.”  Latasha ground out, her teeth set.  Enrique only laughed in response, turning his attentions back to Joseph. 

“Let’s show them both examples.” 

“No.”  Sinclair said firmly.  “You want to use me as the guinea pig, then do it, but leave Latasha out of it!” 

Enrique stepped forward and grabbed Latasha.  “You don’t make the decisions here.” 

Sinclair reached for Latasha, but Enrique’s men were on her again.  Her struggles were worthless.

Joseph kissed Latasha on the cheek before forcing her to her knees by the back of her neck.  He motioned with his head for Sinclair to be brought forward too.  Latasha looked at Sinclair from the corner of her eye, tears leaking onto the wood beneath her.  Another hush had fallen over the crowd.  Some stood on tiptoe to ensure they missed nothing. 

Joseph flipped Latasha’s braids out of the way and laid the stone on the back of her neck.  At first nothing happened.  She was about to grin at Sinclair, when the burning began.  At first it was only a mild discomfort, but it quickly became an ice pick type of stabbing pain that sent fire down her spine.  Joseph let go of her, a surprised smile on his face, as Latasha flipped to her back and began convulsing. 

“
What have you done?
”  Sinclair screamed. 

Joseph whipped his head in her direction.  The crowd was a mixture of awe and terror.  A few had hands over their mouths, others smiled and cheered.  Joseph grabbed Sinclair by the back of the head, forcing her head down to expose her neck.  He looked up just as the stone was about to touch her flesh.  A crashing sound came from behind the crowd and he saw a flash of orange and black streak through the air.  He squinted his eyes and drew his mouth down in a final act of rebellion, pressing the stone into Sinclair’s flesh. 

Her reaction was instantaneous.  She arched her back against the feeling of fire and ice simultaneously moving through her veins.  The sensation lessened as Joseph was swiped out of the way by Niall, his large paw ripping away half of Joseph’s face and neck.  Blood sprayed across her back as she began to vomit.  She could hear Angela shouting, her cool hands grabbing her by the arms as she began dragging her away. 

The crowd was in a chaos similar to the day at Claude’s house.  A few ran, those who had stared at Joseph and Latasha with terror on their faces, the others stayed, some pulling hand guns from heir waist bands.  Claude was shouting orders.  He was instructing them to shoot Enrique and his men.  He was shouting for them to retrieve the stone from Joseph’s still hands. 

Enrique and his men burst from their clothes and stood over Joseph’s lifeless body.  The gargantuan man had become the largest werewolf Niall and James had ever seen.  Standing on his hind legs he was over seven feet tall, with a snout at least a foot and a half in length.  The shorter blonde had become a yellowish white wolf.  Enrique was like nothing Niall himself had seen.  James, on the other hand, jumped onto the platform and stared at something he thought he would only ever see if he looked in the mirror. 

Enrique in his new form stepped over Joseph and faced James with his arms spread wide and his shoulders lowered.  James imitated him and they began the slow pre-fight ritual that was subconsciously ingrained in all predators.  They circled each other, keeping their red eyes locked.  Both had the legs and feet of a werewolf and the long hairs down their heads and jaws, but their arms and chests were swelled yet still human.  Both had long nails on the end of each finger.  The thing that gave what was left of the crowd pause, was their exposed teeth.  They didn’t have fangs like a wolf, they had fangs like a vampire.

Angela ran her hands over Sinclair’s face once she had gotten her off the platform.  She handed her over to one of the vampires and yelled for him to get her out and to the cars. 

Sinclair reached blearily for Angela, her body wracked with pain.  “Please…help Latasha.”

Angela glanced back to the platform.  The girl was lying motionless.

“I’ll do what I can.”

Niall let out a roar and bounded past James and Enrique to face the other werewolf and wolf.  He took out the one that posed the least threat, the yellowish wolf falling easily after Niall had him by the throat.  The taste of blood in his animal mouth gave him more power.  He showed his teeth and leapt upward, but his target shook and crumpled to the wooden platform as bullets punched holes in his hairy chest.  Niall looked out over the quickly dispersing crowd in time to see Claude lowering a large pistol.   A few more shots rang out from what was left of Claude’s people, but the standoff was short lived as Marcus and his other three vampires were on them. 

Angela took the cloth bag from the box before going to Joseph’s body.  She kicked the stone from his lifeless hand and toed it into the bag.  She closed it quickly.  Joseph stared up at her with a glassy eye, the other side of his face was only strips of bloody tatters.  She went to Latasha and felt for a pulse.  She lifted her head, but let it drop as her hand came away bloody.  If the girl was alive before, the stray bullet that had entered her skull ensured that she wasn’t any longer.  Angela sighed.  It was such a waste. 

Niall stood over her, his tiger eyes pleading.

“One of the undead took her to the cars.” 

Niall was off of the platform in a flash, bounding through the woods.  Angela looked at the cloth bag in her hand.  She could feel the stone within.  The power there was already beckoning to her. 

James touched her shoulder, his words thick.  “We should leave.”

“Yes, but I need to go in Carla’s house before we go.  I need to get something for Sinclair.” 

Claude tried to keep up with Angela and James, but his old legs wouldn’t allow it.  Angela stopped and looked back at him.  He waved her on.  The shouts of his now ex followers and the sound of cars screeching into the night were fading fast. 

“Go on.  I know my way home.”

“What now, Claude?”

“Now I retire and act like the old man I really am.  I’m done with this weird foolishness.” 

Angela smiled at him briefly before disappearing into the night behind James. 

Sinclair opened her eyes slowly, expecting to feel pain in her whole body, but instead feeling only the steady rhythm of her heartbeat.  She glanced around carefully without moving anything but her head.  Niall was sleeping in a chair near the window.  There was stubble on his chin and along his jaw.  She could see dark circles under his eyes. 

“Niall?”  Her voice was hoarse, her throat parched. 

Niall’s eyes flew open and he was by her side before she could blink.  He touched her gently as if he was afraid to hurt her. 

“Is it over?” 

“It’s over.  It’s all over.”

“He…the stone…”

Niall’s face darkened.  “I know.  I’m sorry I didn’t get to you fast enough.”  Tears welled in his eyes. 

Sinclair took his hand.  “It’s ok.  I’m fine.”  She pushed herself to a sitting position to try and prove it.  “Where’s Gabriel?”

“In the sitting room with Angela and James.”

“Have I slept long?”

Niall smiled tiredly.  “For almost three days.”

“Three days!”  She exclaimed. 

Small feet thumped through the sitting room and into the bedroom.  Gabriel jumped on the bed with a squeal of delight. 

“Mommy!” 

“Oh my, goodness!”  Sinclair said, pulling the boy to her.  “Did you hear what he called me?”

“He started saying it the morning you disappeared.” 

Angela and James came into the room, both smiling.

“Welcome back, sunshine.”  James grinned. 

“Latasha?”  Sinclair asked. 

Angela’s smile faded.  “There was nothing I could do, Sinclair.  I’m sorry.” 

Sinclair nodded, a sadness rushing through her. 

“What will happen to me now?  You know, since the stone touched me.”

Angela sat on the edge of the bed.  “You will see changes, subtle things really.  The biggest shock is over.  I thought we were going to lose you a few times, but you came through it.”  She patted Sinclair’s hand.  “There’s time for that later.  Right now I want to give you a present.”  She stood and left the room, returning a moment later with a manila envelope.  She handed it to Sinclair and sat back down.

Sinclair opened the envelope and pulled a paper free.  There was a small blue card attached by a paper clip.  It was a social security card with the name Gabriel Alexander Amrit printed across it.  The larger paper was a birth certificate.  It stated that Gabriel Alexander Amrit was born to Sinclair Mackenzie and Niall Amrit on October 1
st
of 2010 at 12:01 am at Palm Springs General Hospital.  Sinclair looked up with disbelief. 

“How did you do this?” 

“An acquaintance at the social security office owed me a favor.  I went into Carla’s house and luckily she had a file folder in a dresser drawer that held his original birth certificate.  Come to find out, he really was born on October 1
st
of 2010.”

“Angela, I can’t thank you enough.”

“I have a present too.”  Niall said quietly, and took Sinclair’s left hand.  He slipped a small diamond onto her ring finger.  “Will you marry me now, Sinclair?”

Sinclair nodded, happy tears falling down her face. 

James stood behind Angela his is hands on her shoulders.  Sinclair watched with wide eyes as Angela grabbed his hands affectionately. 

“We can have a double wedding or something.”  James winked.

Sinclair laughed out loud.  “How long was I out really?”

Gabriel bounced on his knees happily hooted, “BULLSHIT, Mommy!”

THE END

By Sicily Duval

Wind whipped through Taylor’s hair and sand stung her eyes.  She ran along the beach wishing she hadn’t thrown the temper tantrum that forced her to run away with such drama.  Her bare feet could still feel the heat from the day’s sun, though night had fallen over an hour ago.  Startled, she glanced to her right just as lightening lit the sky over dark angry waters. 

She heard voices, now farther away and muffled from the roar of the ocean, as she darted into an abandoned shed.  She crouched, pulling her arms and legs in to herself. 

I’ll just wait here.  I’ll wait until they’re all sorry.  Her eyes narrowed and her full lips stretched into a grin.  Yeah, let them feel bad. 

Taylor awoke an hour later when rough hands jerked her from the dank confines of the shed.  She looked into the angry faces of the shoot director and her manager.  They had enlisted the help of two of the resorts employees.  They both stared at her wide eyed in the moonlight.  Neither one could have been over twenty one, which made them both older than her. 

“What were you thinking?”  Jason asked as he shook her.  “You don’t pay me enough for this crap!”  He let go of her and handed each of the young men from the resort a bill of some sort.  They nodded their heads and trotted off into the night, their flash lights sending streaks of gold up then down as they ran.

Taylor smoothed her tawny hair and began marching back towards the other end of the beach where the house they were staying in for the week was located.  It had cost a mint to reserve this section of the beach for a whole week, but the shoot wouldn’t go well with throngs of people interfering. 

Jason caught up with her in two quick strides.  “He’s going to quit you know.” 

“So?  Find another.”

Jason yelled an expletive into the sky then looked at her with glaring eyes.  “I spend days, weeks; hell even months away at a time from my family for you!  My wife thinks we’re having an affair!” 

“She does?”  Taylor dropped her chin and looked at Jason coyly.  Too bad it was dark, her light gray eyes were like a weapon when she wanted something. 

“Yes, she does!  Why do I do this?”  He threw his hands up in the air and let them flop back to his sides.  

“Because I pay you six figures a year to manage my career, and you promised my father, on his death bed, that you would!” 

The shoot director caught up.  “Why exactly were you so mad?” 

Taylor looked at him like he were stupid.  “Because I specifically asked for John Marquee to be part of this shoot!  And I asked for specific food items that were never delivered.  I mean, seriously, I thought this was a five star resort!” 

Jason leaned back and caught Rich’s eye.  He made a twirling motion beside one ear and shook his head slightly.

“Maybe we can get him next time, sweetie.  I found two very nice looking men to be in the photo shoot tomorrow.  I don’t know about the food items.” 

Taylor sniffed.  “Ok.”  She simply said and marched ahead.  Her blue summer dress swirling around her ankles. 

“Something has to be done.”  Jason said as he poured bourbon into a glass tumbler and swallowed it with two gulps.  “She scared the religion out of me tonight!” 

“You have no religion, darling.” 

Jason glared at Constantine Givens as he poured another tumbler full.  The bourbon burned as it went down, and after the second glass, he was feeling calmer. 

“She’s your daughter, Constantine!  Can’t you do something?”

“Like what?”  She laughed, turning another page in the magazine on her lap.  “She’s twenty years old.  She’s the most sought after model in the country…in the world!  She’s entitled to a few tantrums.” 

Jason glanced at Rich and motioned with his head for him to leave.  He walked in front of the chaise lounge she was laying on.  The white ceiling fan above them made a low whump whump sound.  How could this woman be so unconcerned? 

“You’re in my light, darling.” 

Jason clutched the empty glass, his eyes hard.  He didn’t move. 

Constantine looked up, her red lips (always red lips) drew slowly downward.   “What?”

“Are you aware that she received another text message?”

Constantine shrugged.  “So she has a few…intense…fans.”  She flipped another page.  “Change the number again.”

“I did.”  Jason replied quietly and walked out of the room. 

Taylor laid in the bed with thick pillows strewn across the top and around her.  Her finger tips moved back and forth along the satin material.  It was her favorite shade of green, the kind that is muted and makes one think about the promise of spring, but she took no pleasure in it that evening.  She wished she could just be Taylor, the one that was born with the silver spoon in her mouth, the one that had once begged for a pony because she wanted to be a Veterinarian.  She had gotten the pony of course, but she had to promise she would put all thoughts of nonsense out of her head.  To her mother being a Vet was nonsense.  Her mother had groomed her for modeling from birth.  Being a retired model/actress herself there was no other option for her daughter. 

Taylor grabbed a pillow and threw it against the full length mirror across the room.  The frame made a slight creaking noise, but to her dismay didn’t break.  She thought about a shoe, but thoughts of seven years bad luck stopped her.  She was more than a pretty face.  She was more than a perfect body.  She threw tantrums because she didn’t know what else to do.  She wanted conversations with people that involved more than where the next shoot was, or where the next runway show would happen.  She read Ivanhoe and Sense and Sensibility when everyone else thought she was sleeping.  She wanted to discuss the books.  She wanted to watch a movie and have someone listen to what she really thought about it.  Taylor sighed and felt the prick of tears.  She hated tears.  What she really wanted was a friend.

“I’m hiring a body guard.”  Jason confided in Constantine as they watched a nearly naked Taylor roll around on the sand while smiling and posing for the camera.  Two desperately handsome men posed around her, and at times on her.  Her bikini was worth nearly a thousand dollars and the manufacturer was praying for record sales after Taylor was seen in it. 

Constantine dabbed more sunscreen on her face, oblivious to the fact that they were in the shade.  “Do what you must, but she won’t like it.” 

“Maybe she will, and honestly I need a little more free time before I’m divorced.” 

Constantine clucked her tongue.  “Divorce isn’t so bad.” 

Jason fanned himself with his wide brimmed hat.  Of course she would think that.  Taylor’s father was husband number two, and there had been husband number three since John Randall had died.  When John had died, Taylor was only fourteen, her career already blossoming into something truly promising.  She had been devastated.  After that, Constantine pushed her child beyond reasonable limits, well beyond, and had created the monster that was currently Taylor.  Not Taylor Randall.  No, she was so full of herself that she was known only as Taylor.

“I put a few calls in early this morning.  She needs someone at least for the short term.  I should have a couple of guys to interview today.” 

She waved him off.  “Do what you want.” 

“Budget isn’t a problem?”

“Is it ever?” 

Jason looked out over the sand.  Taylor was being outfitted with a sarong to match the bikini.  Her full breasts barely fit into the bathing suit top.  He forgot his recent thoughts and wondered if Maxim would like another photo shoot.

Namir Stone walked into the lobby of the Fair Lady lounge at noon exactly.  He tucked his dress uniform hat under one arm and approached the back booth where a rather tall gangly man in his early forties was waving. 

“You must be Namir!”  The man said and stood to shake his hand. 

“Mr. Jones?” 

“Yes.  Thank you for coming under such short notice.” 

Namir wouldn’t have cared if it were a five minute notice.  He needed a job, a permanent job, and he needed it yesterday.  He nodded curtly and waited for the invitation to sit. 

“Please, have a seat.  Would you like a drink?”

“Just water, thank you.” 

Jason raised his eyebrows briefly and motioned for the waiter.  A young man with braids running along his scalp approached the table.  Jason ordered the water and a Margarita for himself. 

“So, you’re ex-military?”

“Yes, Sir.  I served eight years.” 

“Impressive.  So, you’re how old now?”

“Twenty-six.” 

“The security company highly recommended you.  They said you have been doing a temp job as a security guard at one of the Casinos here on the island.  How did you land that job?”

“I was stranded here, Sir.” 

“Stranded?”

“Yes.”  Namir clenched his jaw.  “I came here with some friends and…it went badly, sir.  I was stranded.  I needed a job.” 

“I see.  Please, stop calling me “sir”.  Just call me Jason, ok?”

“Yes, Sir.” 

Jason sighed, grateful that his Margarita had arrived.  This man was so stiff that starch was jealous.  “Look, the job I have is a security job.  A bodyguard really.” 

“For you?”

“No.  For Taylor.”

Namir frowned.  “Taylor who?”

Jason laughed delightedly, nearly choking on the large gulp he had just taken.  Cutie little umbrellas and straws were always thrown to the side when it came to his alcohol.  “Wow!  A strapping young man like yourself, and you have no idea who Taylor is?”   

Namir shook his head.

Jason looked at the young man’s dark eyes and tan skin.  He was built like a linebacker, tall and muscular.  He would be perfect for keeping Taylor in line. 

“Do you want the job?”  Jason asked bluntly, motioning to the waiter for another drink. 

Namir’s eyes widened.  “Don’t you want references, or a job application, or…anything?”

Jason waved him off impatiently.  “No, the agencies good word is enough.”

Namir swallowed.  It seemed too easy.  “What are the responsibilities?” 

Jason threw the umbrella and straw out of his new drink.  “Do you have obligations elsewhere?”

Namir thought about his few possessions sitting in storage in his mother’s basement.  He thought about Rebecca and her hands all over a complete stranger.  His mouth formed a thin line. 

“No.  I don’t have obligations.” 

“Great!”  Jason said and clapped his hands together.  “You’ll travel with Taylor when need be, and you will reside at her home in the Hamptons.” 

Namir felt like his mind was going to explode.  “May I ask what it pays?” 

Jason’s face went blank.  Man, I really suck at this job.  “How does a grand sound?”  He sipped his drink and held up a finger, smacking his lips before he spoke.  “Of course all meals and room and board are free too; even if you’re on the road with her.” 

“A grand a month?”

“Hell no!”  Jason laughed, the skin around his eyes creasing.  “A week.”

Namir was positive this was all a joke.  He was positive a man with a camera would jump from behind something and say, “You’re on candid camera!” 

“So, will you do it?”

Namir nodded slowly.  “Yeah, I’ll do it.”  A grand a week!  “When do I start?” 

“Today.  Meet me here with your stuff in an hour and we’ll go to Taylor.”  Jason stood and slapped him on the shoulder.  “I hope you’re as tough as you look; she’s a little bitch!” 

Namir held his duffel and back pack awkwardly waiting for Jason to come back.  He had changed into khaki’s and a white polo that was a little too tight across his chest.  Jason’s final words to him about his new employer being a “little bitch” had rang in his ears.  He just wasn’t sure he wanted the hassle, but at a grand a week, he could put up with it long enough to stash some money.  Once he had done that, he could start over.  Really start over.

A black limo pulled to the curb and a back door opened.  Jason motioned him in, as a large island native jumped out of the driver’s seat and hurried to put his bags in the trunk. 

“I’m glad you ditched the uniform, although you looked dashing, but Taylor was bound to make some snide remark.” 

“You don’t like her very much, do you?”

Jason opened his mouth, the smell of alcohol strong, he closed it again and slid a breath mint between his teeth. 

“It’s not that I don’t like her.  I’ve known her, her whole life.  Her father was my best friend and business partner.  I don’t like who she’s become.”  

Namir nodded.  He understood not liking who someone had become, even if it meant himself. 

“Now her mother is a piece of work.  She tags along with Taylor trying to relive her own long dead glamour.  She’ll like you.”  Jason said, giving him a knowing look.  “Just ignore her, she’s more bark than bite.”  Jason tilted his head.  “She’s really more of a yip than a bark.”  He laughed robustly at his own joke, his red nose wrinkling.

The limo drove down a narrow dirt road that was more like a path.  Palm trees lined most of the road and Namir could see the ocean for the entire half mile they were on it.  They pulled into a private beach house at the end of the road.  It was one of those houses scattered on the island that rented by the week.  Namir had heard some of them rented for ten thousand or more.  He was guessing, by the looks of it, that it this one did too.  It was a white rambler set on a slight bluff that over looked the ocean from its own personal cove.  There were enough trees and growth, that the white stucco was almost completely shaded.