Cane's Promise (Forever Midnight MC Book 1) Page 2

  Cherrie fluffed her hair and glared back at me. She and Greg may be in their sixties and happy to run the bar now, but back in the day, Greg was my Dad’s second in command. He was a badass fucker when he needed to be, and Cherrie as his old woman had some standing. You might even say she was Queen Bitch after my Mom left. Hell, I’d seen her shoot some stupid fucker in the balls for grabbing her pussy. They’d mellowed with age, but that didn’t mean they were to be messed with. That’s why it was so strange for her to be taking in some stupid ho.

  “Jess ain't your usual stray,” she said. “She’s a good girl, well-spoken.”

  “Not someone who belongs here,” I said, trying to read between the lines.

  Cherrie smiled and glanced at Jameson.

  He gave her a nod and cleared his throat. He was a man of few words, but when he spoke, everyone listened. “All people belong in the place they choose to make their home,” he said.

  “Fucking right,” Lucky added.

  Jameson hadn’t had the same upbringing as the rest of my brothers. He’d been privately educated, went to college even, but he belonged with our family. Although, seeing him walk into the bar all those years ago with his fancy suit and polished shoes you’d be hard-pressed to think that would ever be so.

  “So, what’s the girl’s story?” Rex asked, speaking for the first time.

  “Not a clue. She’s a runaway, I know that much. But she’s as tight-lipped as a nun vowed to silence, as innocent too, so don’t none of you go treating her like no dolly girl. You especially, not a finger on her, you hear?” she said pointing at Lucky. “I see how she reacts every time one of those reprobates we call customers pats her behind. She’s as jittery as a cat on a hot tin roof. No raising your voice none, neither.”

  It was a big ask. If there was anything my brothers liked as much as riding their bikes and a good punch up, it was fucking women, and every single one was fair game until they said otherwise. Hell, they’d take any bitch as long as she had a working pussy and wasn’t already claimed by a brother. Though from the little Cherrie had said, this Jess sure didn’t sound like the type of woman we were used to meeting.

  Lucky placed his hand on his heart. “Not an unwanted finger. Not a loudly spoken word. On my honor,” he said seriously before adding a cheeky smile. “But if she throws herself at me, a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.”

  “That’s good enough for me,” Cherrie said, as each brother said the same.

  “How exactly do you think we can help her?” I asked. If the girl had been here for over a month and Cherrie hadn’t managed to pull her story out of her, then I sure as hell didn’t how we’d pull it off.

  “I haven’t got a clue,” she said. “Hell, every day I’m surprised she’s still around and hasn’t fled to the wind already. I’ve been wishing you boys would get here before that happened. Since you’ve pulled off that minor miracle, you can sure as hell figure out what to do next.”

  “Fine,” I said resolved to do my damndest. No matter how much of a fucking waste of time I thought it was. I may not know this girl from Adam, but she wasn’t the one asking, Cherrie was, and for her, I’d lay down my life. “We’d better meet her first.”

  Cherrie smiled and stood from the table. “I’ll send her in to take your order so you can get a read on her. Take it easy and don’t push for nothing. We’ll play it by ear.”

  “Yes, Ma,” Lucky said and saluted, earning him another cuff with her cloth.

  Chapter Two

  Thea

  “Hey, Sweet-cheeks. Another whiskey for the road.”

  I stiffened for a second before swatting the hand away from my bottom. Resisting the urge to growl and scream for him never to touch me again, I collected the empty glass from the table.

  It was the same thing every day: horny regulars and drunks who thought that because I worked in the bar, I was public property. For the most part, I’d found them to be harmless, but a well of dread always sank in the pit of my stomach at the slightest male touch or raised voice.

  “No more for you, Frank,” I said, knowing Frank was a patron who simply got a bit handsy when he’d had a glass or two. “Hand over your keys and I’ll get Greg to call you a cab home.” Frank reluctantly delved into his pocket and placed the keys in my hand, while I was careful not to shy away from the gesture.

  I often considered finding a better place to work, one where the clientele wasn’t so rough around the edges, but I knew appearances were deceiving. Just because someone was smartly attired on the outside, it didn’t mean they had a warm and caring heart.

  No, Midnight Anchor was the best place for me to be. Somewhere Daniel would never think to look. It was easy to handle the occasional pawing when I knew what was at stake if my family found me.

  At least for now.

  Though a part of me knew I’d taken too big a risk and stayed in one place too long already.

  I sighed and glanced across the room to the bar. Greg polished a Pilsner glass with his cloth and set it on the shelf. He may look intimidating with his muscles the size of tires, and the tattoos covering his arms, but if I hadn’t met him and his wife, Cherrie, I didn’t know what I’d have done. They’d taken me in like a lost puppy and given me a job. No questions asked. As I said, looks can be deceiving. Although over the last month or so, I’d confided in Cherrie that I’d run away from home, I hadn’t had the strength to tell her the reason why, but I thought she’d understand the day I didn’t turn up for work and all my things were gone from the room they let me use upstairs.

  “Jess, I could use a favor,” Cherrie said as I walked back towards the bar. She fluffed her powder-puff pink hair and gave me a wink. “I need to use the little girls’ room. The owners are set up in the back room. See if they need anything, will you?”

  A flicker of confusion rushed through my mind as I’d believed Greg and Cherrie the owners of the bar and hadn’t met anyone else who seemed to fill that role in all the time I’d been working there.

  Cherrie was about to rush away, but quickly turned back. “They can come across a little... intimidating,” she said. “But don’t be fooled, they’re a bunch of softies at heart. At least to family. I’ll be there to help you in a short while.”

  With that, and without giving me a chance to respond, Cherrie darted off in the direction of the restroom.

  “I guess, I’ll go serve the owners in the back room,” I said to thin air as a weight settled on my shoulders. If the owners weren’t happy with my employment, I’d be back on the road sooner than anticipated.

  I shoved Frank’s keys into my pocket and pushed my way through the crowds to the back door marked private, and hesitated while attempting to still the sense of dread building inside me. I pictured a group of men dressed in business suits, all drinking whiskey. I glanced once more at Greg behind the bar, he caught my gaze, smiled and nodded before proceeding to serve the customer before him.

  I took a deep breath and steadied my irrational nerves. If Cherrie thought the bosses had hearts of gold, then they must have. She wouldn’t send me in there alone otherwise.

  I knocked on the door and waited a while for a response before daring to enter. When none came, I twisted the door handle and stepped inside.

  Four men sat around the table, another stood at its head. Five very intense, very scary-looking sets of eyes turned in my direction. My eyes locked on the man standing and my breath stilled. If Greg’s muscles were the size of tires, this guy’s were the size of monster-truck tires. Tattoos didn’t just cover his arms, they reached out from the top of his black T-shirt and traveled up his neck towards his beard. His hair was dark with blond highlights, and pulled back, making me think it must be long. Everything about him was terrifying, yet captivating.

  Worried that I was staring, I pulled my gaze from his face, but the tight T-shirt visible beneath his black leather jacket hugged every muscle like a second skin and drew my attention to the smoking hot body beneath. I found myself staring a
gain.

  He looked as though he was about to say something when the words, ‘Cherrie sent me,’ escaped from my lips. “C-can I get you anything?”

  “I’ll have a beer,” one of the men sat at the table said.

  For the first time, I turned my attention to them. They were massive, although not as large or commanding as the man standing. Each wore the same leather jacket, and I noted that it had some kind of skull logo on the back. Greg had the same jacket, as did lots of the other bikers who frequented the bar, but I’d never seen these particular men before.

  “Beer here too,” another one said.

  “Let’s make it easy on the girl and all have beer, shall we, brothers?” the man standing said in a low voice that sent shivers down my spine.

  My eyes darted to him, and he gave me a slight frown. Even so, I couldn’t help but imagine my hands caressing his chest and the six-pack I was certain lay beneath his clothing.

  Embarrassed by my reaction to him, I mumbled an affirmation and rushed from the room as quickly as I could, headed for the bar.

  “Five beers, please?” I said to Greg as soon as he was in hearing distance. Although I couldn’t for the life of me fathom why I was in such a rush to get back.

  “Any particular kind?” he asked.

  I looked down at my feet as a flush crept over my cheeks. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t check.”

  “Hell, no worries. We’ll give them something generic. If they complain, we’ll tell them to be more specific in the future.”

  “Thank you. I am truly sorry.”

  He froze for a moment and shook his head while giving me a funny look. “It’s really not that big a deal.” Greg reached for a glass and was about to draft a beer when he looked at me again. “Actually, you were headed into the back room, if memory serves me right.”

  “That’s right,” I said.

  “Then I know just the beer they want,” he said, giving me a wink.

  A wave of relief washed over me as I remembered Cherrie saying that the men inside were the owners. Greg knew their preferences. I really wasn’t keen on heading back to them and telling them they could like their beer or lump it.

  He put the glass down and grabbed five bottles from the fridge before popping the tops off them and placing them on the counter. “You manage that lot without a tray?” he asked while glancing around to see if he could spot one.

  “I’ll be fine, thank you,” I said and smiled. Cherrie had taught me how to hook three bottles between the fingers of each hand.

  Greg shook his head at me again. “Always with the please and thank yous. You sure been brought up with some fine manners.”

  I stiffened at his words and almost dropped the bottle I’d just picked up. Greg noticed and reached out a hand towards me. I flinched back and Greg withdrew and scowled at me as though I’d slapped him across the face.

  “I-I’d better get these back to the room.” I snatched up the bottles and practically ran across the bar floor.

  So stupid! Greg had only been making a casual observation, but my mind flashed back to the last time I’d seen Daniel. If he ever caught me that promised session on manners would be a million times worse than anything I’d experienced before.

  I sighed and cast a quick look back. For the third time that shift, I thought about leaving. Maybe, the time had come for me to move on.

  I composed myself at the door, but looking down at the handle, I realized with all the bottles in my hands I couldn’t open it. I shifted the beer around, managing a fourth in one hand and two under the crook of my elbow, and turned the knob, using my foot to inch the door open. With a quick shift around, I returned the bottles to their original location and entered the room.

  Once again, all eyes turned to me, but this time they all came from people sitting down. I avoided their gaze and looked at the floor, moving around the table and putting one beer in front of each person.

  I hesitated in front of the big guy. His sweet honey scent, overlaid with dirt and engine oil, cut through the stench of beer and smoke that permeated the club. As I placed his bottle on the table, the guy to his left reached out and grabbed my wrist.

  Before I had the chance to react, the big guy stood from his chair and growled, “Get your fucking hands off her, Rex.”

  I’d never heard a voice so angry and wanted nothing more than to run. Rex must have felt the same way as he released me without a moment's hesitation and raised his hands in supplication. Clutching the remaining two bottles to my chest, I backed into the corner and stared at the floor unsure what else to do.

  “Cane,” Rex said. “You need to check her necklace.” A tension overhung the room, but Rex continued. “I’ve seen its like before. It’s a fucking tracker.”

  I dropped the bottles, vaguely registering Cane’s voice demanding to know who I worked for. They shattered and sent a spray of glass and liquid over my legs. My hand flew to the black-heart pendant at my neck.

  A tracker? No. It can’t be. It can’t be.

  My whole body shook. I was going to be sick. Mom had given me this gift as a sixteenth birthday present. I only ever took it off in the shower and at bedtime.

  Every time... every time I’d run away, they knew where to find me. But... but why was now different?

  I dropped to the floor.

  This time wasn’t different. Daniel knew. Daniel knew, and he was playing with me. This was a lesson to be learned. No matter how far I ran, no matter how long I was free, he would come for me.

  My hands shook uncontrollably, but I had to get the necklace from off my neck. I tugged and tugged at the chain. It was strong. I’d always thought it thicker than necessary for the pendant it held, but now realized that was to make it hard to break. It cut into my neck, but I had to get it off and I couldn’t manage the clasp. Not now.

  Someone grabbed hold of my hands and stopped them from pulling on the chain. A deep soothing voice reached my ears, but my thoughts drowned out his words. I looked up and saw Cane’s deep brown eyes filled with concern. His mouth was moving, but I still couldn’t hear his voice.

  “Get it off,” I muttered.

  There was a slight commotion to my right. I shifted my gaze and saw Cherrie enter the room. At her presence, all sound returned to my ears.

  “What the fuck is going on?” she demanded and charged over barreling Cane out the way. Everyone glanced from her to Cane. I could tell it wasn’t usual for someone to talk to him that way, but at that moment, I couldn’t care what that meant. I registered a brief loss as his hands left mine, but Cherrie’s face filled my vision.

  “What happened, sweetie?” she asked and touched a finger to my neck. She pulled it away with blood on the tip.

  “Get it off,” I said again before screaming the words. I clawed at the chain again, but no matter how hard I tugged, it wouldn’t come off.

  This time, Cherrie was the one who grabbed my hands. “I’ll get it off. Just stay still, you’re hurting yourself.” I gave a brief nod to show I understood, and Cherrie reached around my neck and undid the clasp. She tossed it to Cane and turned to face me, wiping the tears running down my cheeks. “There, it’s gone, okay? It’s gone.”

  I looked into her concerned eyes and shook my head. “It doesn’t matter,” I said after a moment. “He knows where I am. He’s always known. He’ll come for me.”

  “Not if I have anything to fucking say about it.” Cane’s voice rang with a resolve I’d never heard before. It resonated through my whole body and made me feel that maybe, just for a second, everything would be okay.

  He slammed the pendant on the table and ground it beneath the base of his beer bottle. After it broke into pieces, he lifted what looked like a SIM card from inside the remains. All hope fled me.

  Daniel knew where I was. Daniel would come and get me.

  I lifted my knees and clenched them to my chest, burying my head as tight as I could to them. Cherrie stroked my hair. From her breathing, I wondered if she might
be talking, but once again, my ability to hear the words and comprehend what she was saying had left me.

  Chapter Three

  Cane

  “Shit, we smell worse than a decomposing body,” Jameson said, lamenting our lack of personal hygiene.

  Lucky sniffed his pit. “Speak for yourself,” he said. “I smell like a bed of roses.”

  I cuffed him over his head. “You fucking stink worse than the rest of us.”

  We all smelt like motor oil, sweat, and the road, but not one of us wanted to keep Cherrie waiting longer than necessary, and had come to the bar as soon as we’d arrived in town. I was about to cuff Lucky over the head for being a smart-ass when a knock sounded at the door.

  Silence fell over the room and we waited for something to happen. Jameson looked at me and raised an eyebrow. We weren’t used to someone knocking before entering a room. When no-one appeared, I was about to shout for them to come in already, but remembered our oath to Cherrie: ‘not a loudly spoken word’. I shook my head and stood to answer the door.

  It opened before I had the chance to take a single step.

  Fuck!

  The woman before me was not what I expected. Cherrie called her a girl, because of that and her being a runaway, I’d pictured a minor, but this woman... fuck... This woman was all woman. She was beautiful. I flicked my gaze down her tall, slender body. Long brown hair hung in a braid over one shoulder. Despite her height, she seemed fragile and small. The baggy T-shirt she wore over loose-fitting jeans looked like some expensive shit that came from a high-end boutique and did little to conceal the curves beneath. Most remarkable of all, were the big green eyes that popped out of her head, making her look like a motherfucking doe caught in the headlights.

  All people may belong in the place they choose to make their home, but this woman screamed innocence and purity. She also screamed money, like some fucking debutante on her way to a ball. Even if she was trying to hide the fact. She sure as hell didn’t belong in a bar like Midnight Anchor, and she certainly didn’t belong in a room with the likes of us.