Web of Lies (7 page)

CHAPTER SEVEN

Three weeks earlier--Faith

Grant Lee’s homestead was a compound made up of a cottage, a sprawling farmhouse, and a big barn.  The place seemed deserted until they rounded a corner on the long driveway and Faith saw all the bikes.  His crew knew she would be coming today, and it seemed they had all shown up to welcome her.  Introductions were made, and one of the younger bikers took her things and put them in what she later discovered was her father’s room.

They had made quite a spread― one of them had been trained as a chef― and Faith was overwhelmed by their kindness and attention.  She had expected them to be rough and crude and loud, but though they did not have the polish of the elite, they were sensitive and funny and set her at ease at once.  The second-in-command to her dad in the club, Bob Lafferty, got the guys to clear the table and clean up after dinner.  Then, he shooed them out with a promise to return in the morning to make her breakfast before they got down to business. 

She watched them all mount their bikes and ride off, except for Jack and Bob, who said he lived in the cottage.  Bob bid them both good night, gave Jack a long, considering stare, and then walked off to his place. 

“They seem to be nice men,” she murmured, as the lights went on in the cottage, and she and Jack walked back inside. 

“Did you expect something different?” 

“Well, biker gangs do have a reputation, don’t they?” she answered defensively.

“Indeed,” he said cryptically.  He went around locking up, and she stayed in the living room, waiting for him.  Then, he walked toward the other end of the long hallway.  “Goodnight, Faith.  Sleep well.”  He smiled and opened the last door.

“Goodnight, Jack.”

A quick wash and she was in bed, suddenly exhausted.  She was asleep before her head touched the pillow.  She woke to the sound of birds chirping outside her window, and she felt inexplicably lighthearted.  She took a quick shower and put on a bright blue and green sundress before deciding she wanted to help with breakfast.  She could hear sounds coming from the large kitchen.  She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the tattoo of Spiderman across a male’s back. 

Jack turned around, his eyes bright with some emotion she could not name.  He was only wearing jeans, and he was barefooted.  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said gruffly.  “Want some coffee?”

“No... not yet, thanks.”  She walked over to him, intrigued by the art on his back.

“That’s a big tattoo,” she commented. 

“Yes,” he said, as he turned so it was hidden from her. 

“Aren’t you going to tell me about it?” she ventured, when the silence between them stretched taut, and she couldn’t bear it any longer.

“Nothing to tell,” he said and moved as if to pass her, his mug in his fist.

Faith never knew why she touched him, but all the sexual tension of the last week, coupled with a seemingly endless desire to know everything about him, and a kind of frustration that he seemed to be shutting her out, made her reach for him and grasp his biceps. 

“Faith, this isn’t a good time,” he growled, putting the mug down, but not moving otherwise.

“Why not?  I can make breakfast while you tell me about it,” she said, feeling proud of her reasonable tone.

“Remember your opinion of bikers?  And the reason you didn’t tell me you’d been threatened?”

She could hear the anger in his voice again, but she also saw the pain in his eyes. She knew this was something she absolutely needed to hear.  They had talked a lot during the road trip, and she had found out that he was a faithful friend to her dad and a man of quiet principles. 

She knew he was attracted to her, but he hadn’t once touched her after that last kiss a few days earlier.  So, she also knew she could trust him not to take anything she didn’t offer.  However, she knew he kept whole parts of himself hidden, and this tattoo was apparently one of those parts.

“I remember,” she answered him.  “So what?”  She pretended not to understand the connection he was making.

He sighed deeply and stepped past her.  “I’m exactly what you think, Faith.  I’m the bad boy biker with the gang history behind him.  You shouldn’t trust me because I’m no good for you.  You don’t need to know any more about me than you already do.”

Faith had enough.  She knew he was trying to be noble, and she knew she should just let it be, but after two weeks of getting to know him, and after tasting the passion that he had shared, she wasn’t going to let him pull away from her, or hide behind his bad boy image.

“Is that supposed to scare me?” she demanded, stepping up to him and pushing her index finger into his chest.  “Do I look like some kind of sissy girl who can’t handle a little harsh reality?  Is that what you think?  You think I don’t know what kind of man you are?  You think it’s that easy to bamboozle me?”  She punctuated her questions with hard pokes of her finger into his chest.  “I’m not a lightweight, Jack.  I’m not some stupid little girl who needs protecting.  I told you and my dad that two weeks ago.  So, if what you’re really telling me is to mind my own business and leave you alone, please just say so!  I can deal!  I’ll survive the rejection!”

She glared up at him as she finished and was nonplussed when he burst out laughing.  Then, he grabbed her arms and pulled her into his wide chest.  “So now I’m funny?” she demanded, but he cut short her diatribe with a searing kiss, taking possession of her mouth and kissing the stuffing out of her.  He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his body, so she knew he meant business and kissed her some more. 

“You drive me crazy,” he murmured when he released her mouth.  “You don’t care that I’m trying to give you time to get to know me, do you?”

Faith raised her eyes to his face, confused.  “What does that have to do with the tattoo?”

“Everything, and nothing at all,” he said and backed her into the kitchen table.  “What will I get in exchange for my story?”  His hands were trembling slightly, telling Faith how much restraint he was exercising. It turned her on so much she could hardly think to answer him.

“What do you want?”  Her response was a whisper of sound against his lips, as she reached up to kiss him.  He groaned, and let her do what she wanted with his lips.  He hugged her close to his heart, as she explored his mouth with her tongue.

“Everything you’ll let me have,” he whispered, as he stroked his tongue into her mouth.  He took over the kiss, grasping her bottom and pulling her into his lower body.  The motion helped her to grind against him where they stood. 

They consumed each other, and Faith had no idea how long they stood there, lost in each other, but someone clearing his throat brought them both back to Earth with a crash.  Faith shivered with lust and hid her face in Jack’s neck.  She felt the reverberation of his deep voice, as he spoke calmly and apparently without embarrassment.

“Morning, Bob.  I could use some help with breakfast.  But we’re fresh out of eggs.”

“I’ll check the henhouse, then.”

A door opened and closed, and Jack growled in her ear, “Unless you want me to take you right here, right now, and forget about breakfast and everything else for the rest of the day, you will run the hell away from me.  This minute.”  He let her go, and she wheeled around and shot out of the kitchen, as though she was the anchor in a relay race.  Back in her room, she sat on the edge of the bed, willing her limbs to stop shaking.  Sooner or later, Jack was going to finish what he started. Although she admitted to wanting him fiercely, she wondered if she could handle all the man he was.

By the time she was called to breakfast, her body was calm. She schooled her features to the same serenity, though she could not quite meet Bob’s eyes without her cheeks warming.  The other five men, excluding Jack, talked about everything from the weather--there was a storm brewing--to Grant’s stories about their time together.  It was clear they had liked and respected her father, and it warmed her heart to know he had had people he could trust. 

Talk turned to the key, which she had brought to the table with her.  Bob studied it closely, before handing it off to the others.  They all seemed to be of the opinion that it was the key to a storage pod.  They questioned what he could have in a storage pod.  As far as they knew, everything he owned was in this house or the barn and garage in the back. 

After Jack told them about the attacks on her, it was decided that Matt, the youngest of the group, would try the two storage places in town.  He’d check and see if one had a unit that fit the key.  Once it was found, they would make arrangements for her to see its contents.

After they tidied the kitchen, again refusing her help, they all left, including Bob who said he had errands to run.  Faith took her leave of the kitchen before Bob left, unsure of what would happen when it was just her and Jack.  She wanted to hear the story of the tattoo, but she decided it was best to let him tell it in his own time. 

Faith wandered out to the wraparound porch and found the swing chair.  It made her smile to know her father had had such normal things around him.  Obviously, there was a whole lot about him she didn’t know, but she was liking the things she was discovering now.

“Grant used to love sitting out here on the long summer evenings.”  Jack’s voice interrupted her thoughts, and she turned her head to look at him.  He was wearing a t-shirt now, but it did nothing to hide the breadth of his shoulders or the muscles that ripped his abdomen.  He stood in front of her, crossing his legs at the ankles and his arms over his chest.

“I’m glad he was happy,” she said.  “So, is this a working farm?” 
A neutral subject is best
, she figured.

“Not a farm like you’re used to.  Aside from the vineyard and strawberry fields, Grant had a few horses, the chickens, and a kitchen garden out back.  He sold everything but the fifty acres around the house before he came east to find you.”

“Why would he do that?”  Faith turned troubled eyes to his face.

“He wanted to be with you again.  Especially after the diagnosis.”

Jack stopped speaking, and Faith let the silence spin out, as she thought, 
What is there to say, anyway?
 

“I was with a biker gang when I met Grant,” he said, out of the blue, catching her off-guard.  “They were a tough bunch, and I wasn’t really a member.  Everyone had a persona, if you will, something that uniquely identified him within the group.  I am a climber...trees, walls, mountains.  You name it, I can climb it.  And I was a wiry kid back then.  So, I became Spiderman.  Hence the tattoo.  They used me because I made a good cat burglar.  I was climbing into your dad’s hotel room, while he was visiting you once, when he caught me.”

He stopped speaking, and Faith looked at him.  “And?”

“And nothing.  He didn’t call the police, not even when I attacked him.  After he scared the crap outta me― he had a big gun that he pulled on me, after he beat my ass.  The wily old bastard, I couldn't lay a finger on him. Standing there with his cannon pointed at me,
he warned me about breaking and entering and keeping bad company and let me go.  I was shocked.  No one before Grant had ever given me a chance.  Even the guys in the gang took it out on me when I messed up.”

Faith went to stand directly in front of him.  Something in the way he spoke told her there was a deep wound that he was not talking about.

“What about your family?”  Even as she asked the question, she knew there had been no family in the way she meant it.  The gang had been his family, even though she assumed they abused him.

“I lived in foster homes from the time I was born until I found the biker gang at seventeen.  I hung around them when they let me, and they used me until I got caught.”

She did not ask any more questions.  She had had enough abuse from her blood relatives to know that some things needed to be left in the past.  Instead, she tried to focus on other things.

“So, how did you come to be in my dad’s club?  And why did the biker gang let you go?”