DAMON: A Bad Boy MC Romance Novel (49 page)

“This one is for all the star-crossed lovers out there, and to all the ships at sea,” Alicia said in a mock-grandiose tone. I groaned as the song started playing. It was Dolly Parton, “Touch Your Woman.”

“Really, Alicia? Could you get a little more obvious?” I asked, turning back to her. She shrugged, a grin on her face.

“You guys! Stop teasing me! You know I’m a sucker for this stuff,” she said.

“What’s the address?” Becky asked, all business. I read the address from the cover of the matchbook and watched as she plugged it into the GPS. It was outside the city, on the entirely other side. It was about a 45 minute drive.

“Off like a herd of turtles,” Alicia said from the backseat. And so we were.

I
t wasn’t necessarily
easy getting the night clerk at the motel to give us Boon’s room number, but it also wasn’t as difficult as it should have been. I guess three young, beautiful girls have some sort of power over elderly, overweight night clerks at sleazy highway motels. He wrote the number down and slipped it across the counter, begging me not to do anything that would make him regret it.

We drove around the motel, twice, before parking near his room. We went around twice, mainly, to give me time to stop panicking. He hadn’t answered my text; I’d tried to call him again on the road, but his phone went straight to voicemail again. I was a total wreck.

My hand was shaking as I raised it in a fist and knocked on the door. The do-not-disturb sign swung on the handle. Somehow, the solid sound of my fist against the door calmed me down: it brought me back to the present, to reality, away from all the dangerous places my mind was trying to take me.

“Fuck outta here,” Boon called from the other side of the door. He sounded like he’d been drinking. I knocked again. There was a crash, the sound of angry footsteps, and then the door swung open violently.

“WHAT?” He screamed into my face. I flinched, bumping into Becky and Alicia behind me. I think some of his spit flew into my eye. As soon as he saw me, he drew back.

“Shit,” he muttered, not quite under his breath. He swayed as he stood, holding the door open. He looked bad. Well, that’s a lie, he looked hot as hell in his ripped t-shirt and tight jeans. But he looked rather unhappy. And definitely drunk. I could smell whiskey on his breath, and peering behind him I saw a bottle of Jack Daniels sitting on the floor beside the bed.

“I suppose y’all want to come in,” he said, slurring slightly. I was more than a little taken aback by this greeting; I understood he wasn’t expecting me, and I understood him screaming “what” in my face, but I’d hoped, after that, he’d warm up. At least seem…excited? Maybe this forbidden trip would be worth something, after all, even if it only proved he really was a jerk who didn’t deserve my time.

“That’d be nice,” I said pointedly.

“It’d be nicer if you were happy about it. C’mon, man, we went to a lot of trouble to get your girl here!” Alicia blurt out from behind me. I could have killed her. Boon’s eyebrows raised.

“My girl?” he spoke the words slowly, looking me over, a change coming over him, softening his features. “I wish.”

The sadness in those last words…I could never describe it. It broke my heart. Even Becky looked like she felt the weight. Boon stepped aside and we filed in. There was a single chair across from the bed, and I took it without invitation. Boon half-stumbled to the bed, sitting down like he was carrying forty pounds on his back. He reached down for the Jack Daniels, took a slug, handed it out to me. Impulsively, inspired by my growing anxiety, I took a swill, coughing it down. I put it down on the floor, out of his reach.

Being in that room, though it was a far cry from the hotel he’d taken me to in Vegas, brought back a rush of passionate memories, of yearning that I’d buried. Just being close to him, even in his drunken state, made my heart beat quicken. His blue eyes drifted over me, my own longing reflected in them.

“How did you find me, Boon?” I asked, not sure where to start. I figured that was as good a place as any. “And why?”

“Your phone number. Sheriff’s daughter. I have high friends in places,” he said with a mirthless chuckle.

“But why?” I pressed, not wanting to let the budding conversation lapse into half-hearted jokes. This was serious. This was my
life.

“Why? Why, why, why. You tell me. Aren’t you just another girl? Isn’t there nothing special about you at all? That’s what I keep thinking. That’s what I keep trying to think. It’s not working,” he said, rubbing his eyes with open hands, scowling.

“Guys,” I said, turning to the girls. I raised my eyebrows and motioned towards the door. Things were going to get even more serious than they already were, and I assumed Boon didn’t want an audience.

“No way. I’m sorry, but no way. I’m not going to be sitting outside in the car while…while who knows what goes on in here. Now, we brought you here, and you’re our responsibility,” Becky said, puffing herself up like a momma bear. I was embarrassed but knew there was no use in arguing.

“Anything you can say to me you can say to them, Boon.” It was true, anyway; even if he swore me to secrecy, Becky and Alicia would probably manage to get it out of me, anyway.

Boon looked doubtful, withdrawn. I turned back to the girls.

“Sit down, will you? Jesus, you’re like cops standing behind me like that,” I said. Becky grunted and uncrossed her arms. They both looked around the room; there actually wasn’t any place for them to sit. I was in the only chair, Boon on the bed.

“Come on, Papa Smurf,” Alicia said, plopping onto the carpet and pulling Becky down with her. “Comfy cozy,” Alicia said with a giggle that was far from appropriate considering the situation.

“Please, Boon. I came here to listen to your side of the story,” I said, turning back to him. He still looked distrustful, on edge. I wished that the girls would leave but knew it would take a hurricane to move them: Alicia wouldn’t leave because she loved drama, Becky wouldn’t leave because she was basically a walking, talking ball of worry.

“First, tell me,” Boon said with a sigh. “What did your father tell you?”

“He told me about the cop, Giordino. About your mother and father…that he thought your father killed him. About the business your father was doing in town. About the murders,” I said, glazing over the details.

“That cop was crooked, Samantha,” Boon said, looking up at me, his eyes belying a desperation for me to believe him. “He was helping my father, covering his tracks, for a cut of the profits. And it was all profit, Samantha. He was getting loaded off our dirty business. My dad’s dirty business.” I noticed how quick he was to push the blame onto his father.

“I was just a kid. I didn’t know what was happening. I mean, I knew, I knew what we were doing, whatever it was, was wrong. I knew we were basically in hiding. I knew my mother was afraid. I knew my father didn’t give a shit about my mother.

I remember when the cop came knocking on the door. Giordino slamming that door like he wanted to break it down. My father wasn’t there, was getting ice in the lobby. My mother was so afraid; there was almost nothing left of her at that point, just a bundle of fear and anxiety. That was all she was. The drugs my father pumped into her left her that way. She opened the door. He barged in, gun out, screaming for my father.

I don’t know what he wanted. Probably more money before the operation shut down. I hid in the closet. I watched through the door. He pushed her, he pushed my mother. And all she was doing…she was trying to get to the money, a stash we kept in the room, in the bible. I saw her trying to get to it.

And then he shot her. He shot my mother. Right in front of my face, Samantha, right there, I thought I’d never hear anything again, the sound was so
loud,
and she just…she smiled. She
smiled,
and the blood started coming out but she was
smiling
and I thought she’d be okay, I thought, she stood up, even,
smiling,
and then…”

Boon trailed off, his voice cracking. I wished, fervently, that I’d forced Becky and Alicia wait outside. I didn’t want him to have to go through this in front of them. This was too much like how my father had sounded. Boon shook his head, coughed, gathered himself. He seemed considerably more sober than he had just a few minutes before.

“And then my father came. Shot him right in the back. No questions asked. After that…well, then it was just the road. I blacked a lot out after that. Next thing I remember, I was in a different city, a different hotel, staring at the ceiling, seeing my mother’s smile in the pattern on the ceiling. In the drapes. In the shadows from passing cars. It was everywhere. And I was alone,” Boon said, coming to an end. His eyes had dropped from mine, were staring down at his lap.

“Jesus. H. Christ,” Alicia said from the corner. I snapped my head back to her, giving her a death glare to end all death glares. She covered her mouth with her hands and turned to Becky, who rolled her eyes and grabbed Alicia’s arm, pulling her towards the door.

“Sammy, we’re gonna be right outside, okay?” I was thankful Becky was there to keep Alicia in line. It was obvious, at this point, that I was in no real danger from Boon, and that we needed the time alone. If Becky hadn’t been there, though, Alicia would have stuck around just to watch everything play out. The door closed quietly behind them.

“And here it is, now, after all these years. You know, it’s fucked, Samantha. It’s really fucked. I finally…I met you. You were amazing, and beautiful, and you lived in the one place on earth I knew my father would never return to. I didn’t think anyone would recognize me. I thought I could disappear. I thought I could…”

He seemed to lose steam as he spoke, deflating even more than he already was with each word. I reached out, not even thinking about it, and grabbed his hand. It felt warm in mine. It felt familiar, like I’d held it a million times before. He looked up at me.

“Samantha, you’re not the only reason I came here. I mean, you are, the main reason. I could have gone a lot of places, I guess, but I chose here. For you. But…I want out. I love my boys, I love the club, but I can’t deal with my father anymore. He’s running it into the ground. He’s gone rogue. I want out before he really hurts someone. Before…before my mother, it was all pretty harmless. I mean, sure, drugs and money, but no one…no one got
hurt
hurt. Now it’s like…it’s almost like he’s
trying
to leave a string of bodies behind, no matter where we go.

And I’m scared of him. I’m scared to leave…so is everyone else. None of us agree with the way he’s running things, but we’re all too damn scared to do anything about it. I thought, maybe, if I came here, where he wouldn’t follow…I could start over. I could be a new man. I could maybe try to do something good with my life.

But it’s not in the cards, Samantha. This will follow me. Forever. Wherever I go. I’m fortune’s fool.” He was speaking quickly, almost as though he needed to say it all fast or else never say it at all. It was like just saying the words scared him; I could see the anxiety in his eyes.

“You’re a good girl, though, Samantha. You don’t deserve to get dragged down into my…my mess. Go home. Go home to your mother and father and your pool and your friends and college. You have everything in front of you. Don’t let me take that away,” he said, closing his eyes and pulling his hand away from mine. I could feel him drawing away, into himself, shutting me out.

“No. Come with me. We’ll talk to Daddy, we’ll tell him everything, he’ll help you, he will!” I blurted out, desperate for him to return from whatever dark place he was going. If he wanted to escape, start over…if he just
told
Dad, we could help. Dad might not like the idea of Boon, but I was sure that if he could just think of Boon as that 12-year-old boy in that hotel room, he would change his heart.

“Your father will shoot me right between my eyes if he ever sees me near you again, and you know it. This is it for me, Samantha. I have to go back to L.A. I have to face my father or…or just keep going. For as long as I can. No matter what he asks me to do…”

Boon’s voice trailed off, his eyes distant and glazed. I reached out for him again, but he pulled back even further. I didn’t know what to do. I’d never had to comfort a man like him before. I could only think of one thing. Reaching up to the straps of my tank top, I started to pull them down, my breath coming heavy. Boon looked up, shook his head.

“Please, don’t. I…fuck, I want you, but it’s wrong. Not here. Not like this. See, this is why I’m bad for you. You think you need to do that to make me feel better? Make me stay? You didn’t come here for that,” he said. I blushed.

“You don’t know what I came here for,” I whispered, letting the straps stay down but not pulling them further.

“You came here for answers. You’ve got them. Now you can go,” Boon said, flopping down onto his back and throwing an arm over his face.

“Can I ever see you again? Please? Just one more time…tomorrow night? Please, just stay that long. Please, Boon,” I said, pulling my straps back up. He groaned.

“Can’t you make this easy for me, Samantha? This is already so hard…”

“Please. Meet me tomorrow. Here,” I said, a flash of inspiration coming to me. I got up, grabbed the pad and pen from the nightstand, scribbled an address. It was someplace I’d been many times, but always alone. If this was going to be it, if Boon and I were going to be done, if that was what he really wanted, I at least wanted this.

One more night with him. One more dance of flesh on flesh. If it was going to end, I wanted it to end sweetly. I scribbled
9pm
under the address, and my name under that. What, if anything, would he remember of this?

“I’ll be waiting, Boon. And then you can go. You can go and forget me forever, I promise,” I said, the words bringing unbidden tears to my eyes.
It’s a good thing I’m not in love,
I thought,
or this would sure hurt a lot more.

This is what I have to say to my past self, as she stood in that room, looking down at Boon: you don’t know the first damn thing about love, or hurt, or being hurt, or hurting. You still think this is lust. You still think you can get away free and clear. You have more to learn than you could ever imagine.