Breaking Free: A thriller, M/F, erotic romance (6 page)

Chapter 9

Dan's funeral took place on a cool day in early September. Even if he wasn't the best guy in town, a hefty crowd turned up to pay their respects. Most were gang members, but there were community leaders there too, perhaps wanting to earn favour with the notorious biker crew. His girlfriend Missy said a few words, quoting romantic poems and crying openly while the casket waited to be lowered into the ground. She thanked those who took time out of their busy schedules to be there, and insisted that she knew those who couldn't make it were there in spirit.

The roar of motorcycle engines sounded into the late afternoon, accompanying their fearless leader as he was set into a wide grave. Across the cemetery, a stone plate marked the grave of Sandy Hewett, local prostitute and assumed killer of gang's feared head rider. An investigation had gone on for the better part of the summer, handled internally and occasionally by a few of the crooked cops in the service of the DBD club. All evidence pointed to Sandy murdering Dan during a deviant sexual act, and then taking her own life sometime later.

No one left flowers on her grave.

It had been a black summer for the whole crew. There were fewer bar nights, no bonfires. The days were solemn. Everyone knew that once Dan was buried, the struggle for the next leader would start. More would die before the new king was crowned.

As soon as the casket was covered, various bikers taking a shovel and heaving piles of dirt as a final act of respect, the crowd dissipated. Many were headed to Morrison House to get stupidly drunk. Others planned drink at Dan's place instead, toasting his first night in the real afterlife the only way they knew how.

Curiously, Dan's girlfriend followed neither crowd. As the folks in their black outfits parted ways, Missy headed in the opposite direction. Only a few eyes followed her: with Dan gone, she was old news. The former queen no longer reigned, so why should anyone give a shit?

But for those who
did
watch, they might have noticed the way her tears stopped streaming as soon as her former lover was under six feet of dirt. They might have seen the strut in her walk, or the way her shoulders stood back. Tall and proud, she stalked across the cemetery, expression unreadable, climbed into her car, and left.

Never to be seen again.

******

Seated on the front porch of his family's old cabin, a cigarette hanging between his lips, Red straightened up when he heard the sound of tires climbing the gravelly pathway. Situated in a stunning valley along the Appalachians, the Parker family had owned and passed on the beautiful log cabin from one generation to the next. The newcomers always made upgrades, and inside there was a mix of modern appliances and horrible textile curtains. It had been his home ever since he left the night of Dan's murder. Even if Sandy had balked on the plan, he figured Dan would be stupid enough to wear the mask he and Missy had planted in his bedroom—it was his favourite colour, after all, and Missy had gotten him
very
drunk before Sandy arrived.

So, by collar or by mask, Dan would stop breathing by midnight that night. There were risks, sure. Sandy could have tattled on them, but he'd accounted for her flakiness by telling Missy to get him as drunk as possible. When he was in that state, there was no way anyone could have a legitimate conversation with him.

But that was almost a month ago. He hadn't been back since, hiding out in the cabin under the guise of attending his mom's funeral. Most of the DBD gang members knew jack shit about his home life, so who was to say his mom hadn't died?

She hadn't. She was alive and well in a retirement community with his dad, eager to meet the mysterious new woman who had given Red the chance to ease out of the biker lifestyle. It was a lifestyle his parents had never approved of, and probably would have gotten him killed well before his time.

Living out in the woods hadn't been terrible. He missed his high-speed internet, and the cable was shit. The worst part of it all, however, was the fact he had zero communication with Missy since their plan had come to fruition. For her safety, he thought it best not to keep in touch with her during the investigation. She'd be under suspicion anyway, and he didn't want her to be accused of having a secret lover on top of everything. It had been sheer agony. Sometimes, just as he was on the verge of waking in the mornings, he'd catch a whiff of her scent. Her hair. Her skin. He'd hear her melodic laughter on his walks through the massive trees. He'd see her smile when he closed his eyes.

All that waiting, however, would be worth it today. Now, in fact. An unfamiliar car rumbled up to the house, but with the window down, he caught a flash of red hair that made his heart sore. She was alone, and as soon as she cut the engine, Missy hopped out of the car and raced toward him. Red tossed his cigarette aside, vowing to sweep up all the butts later, and all but jumped off the porch to get to her.

Sweeping her up into his arms, he held her like he might die if he let go. Red wisps tickled his face, and she'd adopted a new cream—vanilla. Homey. Comfortable. She trembled in his arms, and he stroked her hair when she started to cry. Red could only imagine what she had been through, alone, while the gang rooted out the cause of Dan's death, and he'd kick himself for the rest of his life for leaving her behind. Never again. Anywhere she went, he'd go—if that was what she wanted.

When she pulled away, sniffling, he was blown away by her smile. He'd never seen it so vibrant before, so full of life. While tears rolled down her cheeks, she laughed, clutching his shirt and keeping him close. She carried herself differently now. As if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders, Missy stood taller than she ever had before, her eye line nearly at his.

"Anybody follow you?" he asked, his voice cracking. He tucked her hair behind her ears and cupped her face, unable to look away. How could he? She shook her head, her smile unending.

"Not a soul." Her voice was music to his ears—it breathed the life back into him, reminded him why he'd been kicking around in a cabin solo for all these weeks. "You happy to see me, Red?"

His eyebrows shot up at her words. Was that even a question?

"I think you know the answer to that, Missy Mae," he muttered, his throat tight with emotion. She turned her head and kissed his palm.

"Missy Goldman." Her eyes glistened in the beams of sunlight sneaking through the fall canopy. "And I'm all yours… If you'll have me."

His answer came in the form of him hoisting her up and over his shoulder as she laughed, then carrying her inside. Of course he'd have her. He'd have her forever if she let him.

But for now, he planned to have her over and over again into the night—the first night of the rest of their lives.