《Crossroads》


 Chapter 1

    *****I am constantly editing - I apologize.Please vote and comment so I know whether to continue this story. Constructive criticism with suggestion and examples for improvement IS strongly encouraged.


    Happy reading - I do hope you will enjoy it...******


    Mike


    "Jace! I told you not to do this! I knew it was dirty money ¨C the fucking cops are all over us!" I yell. He''s my right-hand man. We always have each other''s six when shit hits the fan, but he can be so stupid sometimes. He wanted to take a drug job, but he can''t read people as well as I can and ended up dealing with an undercover detective. Now the whole damn cavalry is outside our motorcycle club house ready to shoot every single one of us over some dirty traced cocaine.


    "I know man! I''m sorry!" he cries out. His blue eyes are wide while grabbing some guns from behind the counter of our house kitchen. He tosses me a Glock .45 ¨C I have 10 rounds; I''m sure of it. Holding the familiar cold steel in my hands, I notice that the doors are beginning to fold in. Jace, me, and the rest of the brothers are barricaded, armed, and ready to fight. They could take us, but we aren''t ones to simply roll over and become their bitches. We''re waiting until they come bursting in to retaliate; in the meantime, they are just shooting the place up.


    Diving to hide from gunfire on the floor behind one of the couches, I peek around to make sure my brothers aren''t getting shot; so far they''re all okay, just hiding, waiting. There''s a pounding in my chest; I should be use to this sort of thing. I get shot at a lot; it''s the price I pay being president. Some tough decisions have to be made and sometimes that means playing God. There''s not a lot of pride with the choices I have made, but they have been made, nonetheless. I live with the consequences.


    Speaking of consequences, I want to hand Jace over to the cops out of spite to put a stop to this maddening raid, God knows he needs to undergo some consequences for being so fucking stupid. I glare at Jace as he hides behind the end of the counter in the kitchen. He is shaking like a rattlesnake; his blond hair is flipping off little beads of sweat onto his pale face. I don''t turn my men in, they are loyal to me; I am loyal to them.


    More shots are fired, the sounds vibrate throughout the building, peppering all out belongings with holes, the gunpowder and lead fills my lungs. There goes my nice couch, coffee pot, wine bottles, and shit ¨C my flat screen 62" television. Damn cops!


    The firing stops. They must be reloading, it''s our turn. I start to signal, but then there is one shot. The sound is deafening. Immediately, I know something is wrong. Up until today, I have managed to keep all my brothers alive. It isn''t often that police would have a reason to come to our house like this. They mostly drop by unannounced to see if they can trap us in anything illegal. Though, we did do quite a bit of unlawful acts, we''ve been able to keep it under wraps...until today, stupid Jace. If he just waited for me to do the transaction, we wouldn''t be in this mess.


    Searching the floor from the ground behind a tattered couch, I see Paul. The organ in my chest stops. Paul is shot. He''s the newest member. He is 19, barely out of high school, had a tough childhood, and was looking for brotherhood. We accepted him with open arms, now he''s shot. I stare at his long lean body -it is limp on the floor which is covered with bullet fragments and shattered glass. Screaming out his name, I rush over to him. He''s still breathing, but blood is pooling in the center of his chest. I scream for our medic, but then realize that the cops have entered and are tackling each of my men. Taking off my shirt, I press it down hard on Paul''s wound, letting the thick warm blood soak into my shirt and into my hands.


    "You''re gonna be ok! You hear me, Paul! Stay with me!" I feel hands grab me, all I see is red. Whipping myself around, I straddle and beat the man with a badge. The feeling of his cheek bone, nose crunching, watching as a couple of teeth leave his mouth, seeing the blood smear his face gives me tremendous satisfaction. Two sets of hands grab me to pull me off the fool. When they stand me up, I fight to get out of their hold, I need to attend to Paul. I yell at them to check on my brother, but they just ignore me. He was just a kid, had his whole life ahead of him. When they snap hard cold metal around my wrists, they force me to walk out. The organ in my chest leaps a bit when I see paramedics enter the house.


    Before I know it, I''m placed in a jail cell, picking at the skin around my busted bleeding knuckles. I''ve been in jail cells before. The iron bars, the hard cold benches, and the smell of stale sweat is nothing new to me - except they could never hold me before. They would arrest me because of a hunch, they hardly had much evidence. My crew and I work hard to make sure that our auto repair business is raking in clean money.You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    Anything that we did illegally, we made sure that it was severely hush hush. If we had a tiny prick of an inkling that something was off, we''d pull the plug. Assaulting and officer though ¨C yeah, I won''t be leaving here for a while. Damn pigs. Stupid Jace.


    **********


    "Michael Gilbert aka Red." The smugness oozes out of the damn officer as he strolls up to my cell. Still studying my blood-stained hands ¨C Paul''s blood, I say a silent prayer for him. I''m not sure why I pray. My Mother is the main reason why I still pray from time to time; she would always drag my ass to church while I was growing up. Lord knows, she still prays for me on her knees. She most likely cries every night because of what her son has turned into. A small pang erupts in my chest at the thought of her, it has been a while since I''ve seen my Mother. Slowly, I lift my head and rest it on the concrete wall behind me and glare at the shithead.


    "Someone wants to have a little chat with you." The pig sings. He motions for me to come up to the door, opening it, cuffs are snapped on my wrists. The guy is shorter than me, rounded, probably from eating out every day, I debate on whether to pummel him and run for it. Something tells me that it won''t end well, seeing as how a few more cops enter the jail area.


    The cop grabs my arm to lead me towards the interrogation room that I know all too well. He opens the door to a room that has the same black tile floors, three white walls, and a large mirror which takes up the fourth wall. I notice they added a camera in the far corner -that''s new. The douche walks me to the center of the room where there is an aluminum table and matching chair. On the other side is second chair, but it has some padding on it.


    The cop takes me to the aluminum chair without the padding and forces me to sit. My back is bitten by the ice-cold temperature of the chair ¨C suddenly I miss my shirt; I left it with Paul. My hands are kept up as the cop attaches my cuffs to a metal bar on top of the table. I sit there in silence as he leaves, staring into the mirror in front of me. I know it''s a two-way mirror and someone is standing on the other side, watching me like a damn pervert. Lifting my middle finger up, I flip whoever is on the other side the bird.


    Minutes later, a decent size man walks in wearing a uniform with a golden badge signifying that he''s an investigative detective.Great.He''s in decent shape, no beer belly or much fat around the gut like the others around here. Gripping a manila folder in his hand, I see strained brown eyes with dark circles under them. Dark hair with some grey that has sprinkled their way in, with a thick dark mustache. In hesitation he pulls out the seat in front of me, letting the obnoxious scraping of the aluminum scratch the tile floor before he sits. After staring at me like he knows all my dirty secrets, he throws the folder down and opens it. Looking, I know it''s my folder; the first thing he pulls out is a document with my name on it.


    "Red." My eyes dart back up to him at the mention of my nickname. "You have quite the folder here. Quite the reputation ¨C" The detective has a faint southern accent. Odd. Before he continues, I cut him off.


    "Aw, you know my nickname and I don''t even know who you are. I''m flattered." I state coolly with a smile.


    Without missing a beat, he introduces himself as Elijah Cochran, Detective Cochran. I just nod my head. He removes a picture from my file and places it in front of me, I didn''t look at it. My eyes remain on his.


    "Do you know who this is?" He motions towards the polaroid.


    Not looking, "No," keeping my eyes on him. My fingers find themselves picking at the ripped skin around my knuckles again. My mind reverts back to the cop that I nearly killed and Paul...


    "You didn''t even look." Irritation and frustration are clear. "Please," he pleads, seeming desperate.


    Looking down at the black and white photo.Shit. I know exactly who the man is. Marcus. I give my best poker face while repeating my answer.


    "No." Marcus is the devil incarnate. He is more ruthless than I am. I once heard a rumor that he sold his own wife into slavery because she just didn''t "do it" for him anymore. Marcus sold her after beating her to a pulp. He has two sons, one is Paul''s age, he''s training him to take over his drug business. That son of a bitch is a drug lord.Thedrug lord, also buys and sells women on the side. The devil''s prodigy has killed three of his men for just looking at him the wrong way.


    I have dealt with him, not by choice. I wasn''t in a position to say ''no'' because he threatened my Mom. Working for him once was enough. Annoying as he is, he keeps trying to get me to do little things for him here and there, but I constantly decline. Moving my Mom away from this God-forsaken town, he hasn''t been able to dangle her life in front of me anymore.


    Fantasies of murdering him a few times have commonly filled my imagination because of how he treats women -it makes my skin crawl. He is a sick bastard. I don''t think his mother ever loved him. Demented as he is, I know better than to cross him. There is no hesitation at all for him when it comes to taking someone''s life ¨C whether it''s a man, woman, or child.


    Detective Cochran slams his fists on the table, it barely makes me flinch out of the memory of Marcus. He takes out more pictures, photos of me with Marcus scatter between us. They are of the side of my head, but anyone can still tell it''s me. A picture in particular is of us, shaking hands. I recall that day. I scrubbed my hands in the sink with scalding hot water, ridding my first layer of skin cells from his touch. "You lie!" he screams, nostrils flaring.

 Chapter 2

    Mike


    Yeah, I''m lying to him. I would love to see that asshole behind bars, but that would never happen. Marcus would kill me, my family -what I have left, my brothers and their families, if he had a whiff of me helping these damn cops. If this detective knew what was good for him, he''d let the obsession with Marcus go. However, being in a profession where he doesn''t get paid for just letting things go, he continues to push me.


    "I know you have worked with him, I know you have contact with him, where is he?" Detective Cochran demands while I roll my eyes. His voice sounds tired, like he''s lost a lot of sleep over the last few days. Narrowing my eyes, I stare at him. It''s always best to not say much, if anything at all.


    After a few uncomfortable moments he adds, "What would your mother think about you working for him? Carol is it?" he smugly brings her up.


    That strikes a nerve. How dare he bring my mother into this. She is a kind soul and doesn''t deserve or need to be mentioned in the same room as that twit''s name, let alone with his damn picture that''s inches from me. A low growl escapes deep in my chest; if I could I would leap across and smack his head into this overly glossy aluminum table. It could use a few dents. What did they use to keep it so shiny anyways?


    "Carol Gilbert" he sighed, "I haven''t seen her in what ¨C 18 years?" he thinks to himself.


    Wait. What?


    "What the fuck are you talking about?" My eyes don''t leave his. How did this prick know her? How come I have never heard the words Detective Elijah Cochran come out of her mouth. I screw my eyes shut for a moment, processing this new information. It''s pissing me off. My eyes dart open, I look at him square in the eyes. My nails dig into the palms of my hands.


    His features soften, gathering that I am so confused. Speaking quieter, "I went to school with her. I was good friends with your dad actually ¨C Jack. Before he disappeared, he asked me to keep tabs on you at one point, to make sure you''d turn out ok."Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    My breathing begins to quicken and his eyebrows shoot up, opening the folder, revealing all 12 speeding tickets from this year alone- that are overdue of course, jail records from my high school days to now, photos of the side of my face or the back of my head in illegal gun and moonshine deals; he even has my fucking report cards.


    "I guess I let him down." He halfheartedly chuckles. I remain quiet, not believing this guy. There''s no way he knows my mom or my old man, no way. He''s lying.


    "Look." He has the balls to continue, "Whether you want to believe me or not, I knew them." He pauses to lift the sleeve of his arm to reveal a tattoo. Not just any tattoo, I''ve seen this one on my own damn father. On his right forearm the tattoo is faded black. It''s a shape of a skull with two pistons as a set of bones crossed in front of it revealing the colors of my old man''s club ¨C Outlaws.


    What the...


    His voice lowers even more, his head ducks down to meet my gaze which is burning into his arm at that tattoo. "I was his VP, Red. Trust me when I say that I knew him."


    This man. This... pigtail of a detective was my dad''s vice president? Can''t be. My dad has told me stories of that man: Cobra, they called him. He liked to constrict his victims to death, something about being a part of the way their souls left their body by literally draining them of air. This guy in front of me ¨C I can''t see him doing that.


    My father has told me once why he had to leave, something about a pregnant woman...Lilly? I remember the name. It''s been trapped in the back of my mind for years.


    Is Lilly the woman that this man ran after? Whose child was she pregnant with? Where is Lilly now? Where the hell is my father?


    "Look, I know you''re not a bad person and all this shit that you''ve done in your past, is just that. The past. I know that you are loyal to your men and I know they are loyal to you. It takes a damn good leader for men like that to have respect for you. Since I knew your father, the Reaper, I know I can trust you; I know you''re a good man despite all you''ve done. You''ve gotten yourself into some deep shit nearly ending the life of a cop. I want to offer you a deal. I need your help Red."


    My eyes open further; I scan his face, his forehead beading with sweat. I can tell his pulse is in overdrive, sincerity is written on his worried face. Eyes are laced with honesty and hope, his hands are trembling in the slightest way over my file, showing me that he is desperate.


    Shit.


    He''s telling the truth. Looking down at my blood-stain hands, I figure a deal is probably a good thing. Paul has to be a part of this. I need to make sure that he''ll be ok, my brothers and I need to get something out of this too. Sitting up, I lean over the table, "What kind of deal?"

 Chapter 3

    Three Months Later:


    Elena


    The whistle of the wind and the thuds of rain are hitting the windshield, drowning out the radio station that my dad insists on listening to. I try to ignore the noises while consuming myself with my thoughts. Everything I have ever known is being left behind. Sadness wouldn''t be the word I would describe of how I''m feeling; all of this was my idea. The idea of traveling so far away never crossed my mind until now.


    "Aw come on!" my Dad shouts at the radio, jolting me out of my thoughts. There must have been something the ref said about the Detroit Lions game that he didn''t agree with.


    "That should have counted!" Looking over at me, he apologizes for his outburst. I smile at him. Dark brown hair is beginning to pepper with grey and white, his skin is pale with a dark mustache, deep brown eyes that can tell a story all on their own. Has he always had those tiny crow-feet wrinkles by his eyes? He notices me smiling at him and he just laughs. The laughter is something to be reckoned with- it''s cavernous, loud, obnoxious, and I wouldn''t trade it for anything. I don''t know where I would be without this man. That''s why we''re doing this, I remind myself as we pass the "Welcome to Ohio" sign.


    We are moving. My Dad been a police officer for nearly my whole life, until recently ¨C now he''s a transferring lead detective. He hasn''t always been a man of the law. Dad has done some questionable things in his younger years, but he cleaned up, swore that it made him a better man and father because of it.


    Turning to face my Father I ask, "Are you excited at all about going back to Georgia? I know it''s been a while."


    He looks over at me before facing the road again, "Yeah, sure. I just hope I can still remember my way around." He teases.


    "Hey dad?" He looks at me again with those dark pools of secretive eyes, "How come you never went back, until now?" We never went into the details of his past. Whenever I have tried to get information from him, he''d just power down or make an excuse to leave the room. It always made me wonder, just what kinds of things he has done that makes him feel so ashamed to the point where he doesn''t want to share anything.


    Caught off guard, his grip tightens on the steering wheel. Stuttering and shrugging his shoulders making the winter coat chaff, he says, "I-I''m... Not sure. I guess the opportunity never really came up." That is the extent of how the conversations go about Georgia. The state seems to be the only entity on this earth that knows the whole story of the mystery that is my Dad.


    All I know about my Dad''s past is that he is from the land of peaches. He''s been in jail a time or two. He met my Mom at Georgia State College and University where she had an academic scholarship. They saw each other and instantly fell in love. He had to give some things up to follow her back to the mitten state when he was 24 years old.The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    As we push further through the countryside of Ohio towards Kentucky, the last five years of my life begin to flash before me. He made a point to make every ballet performance, piano recital, and band concert. My mom and dad both did the best they could to be involved with my life, to watch me grow. A twinge of sadness scratches deep in my chest at the memory of my Mother, wishing she was still here.


    Multitasking is a skill - a skill my Dad has mastered. Since my Mom passed, he did what he could to be my Dad, Mom, and best friend. Every Saturday night we would have a Daddy- daughter date night; we would go to dinner and see a movie. I hold those preciously to my heart, since I haven''t had much of a social life.


    Whenever I did go out, it was either with my Dad or Rachel.


    A smile comes upon my face remembering my dearest friend. We have known each other since we were practically in diapers. She has and always will be my best friend, now I am moving away from her.


    "Rachel had promised me that she would visit ¨C do you think she could come visit over Christmas break?" I ask, hoping she can. Unlike me, she is very sassy, dramatic, and just full of life.


    "Yeah, I don''t see why not? I wouldn''t mind paying for her plane ticket so she can come, I know money is tight for them right now." He smiles at me. He is so thoughtful. Rachel means so much to me and he knows it. I don''t know if I would have made it this far without her.


    ****************


    Overlooking the city lights illuminating in the distance of Louisville brought me to the memory that haunts me every day: My Father was shot during a drug bust five months ago, it was enough for him to have to spend the night in the hospital with the surgeon removing the bullets from the right side of his chest cavity. I begged him to look for another job in a safer place so maybe the constant ache of worry on whether he''d come home or not may loosen its hold on me. Losing a Mother is hard enough; I can''t lose a Father too.


    My birthday is in two weeks, I''ll be eighteen. So, I guess that will make me a legal adult, but that doesn''t mean that I want to do it all alone. I don''t know what I would do if I ever lost my Dad. I didn''t realize I was picking at my nails until I ripped the nail on my pinky too deep, a slight shooting pain surges up my arm causing me to jump out of my worst thought of almost losing my Father.


    ?A raspy tired voice steals my attention and I suddenly realized how quiet it was in the cab of this U-Haul van. "Hey, kiddo ¨C I''m sorry that I couldn''t find a place in Michigan, but you''ll like it in Georgia ¨C I know it will be tough at first. It will all be ok."


    ?Looking over at my dad, I see that he has a solemn expression and it hurts my heart, "Dad," I say, "It''s really okay. I''m just glad that we''ll be in a safer place for the kind of work that you do. I''m thankful that you agreed to transferring. Besides, it will be fun for me to see what state you grew up in." I ended with a sincere smile and nudge his arm. He nods his head and smiles at me, then brings his focus back to the road.


    I didn''t think we would ever move to Ludowici Georgia. Apparently, it is a quiet little town not too far from the Atlantic Ocean. I have never seen the ocean before nor been outside of Michigan. There is no denying that there is a bit of excitement bubbling my nerves for this new adventure. Leaving Detroit behind is overwhelming, I will miss Rachel and the home I grew up in. However, if it means that my Dad may be safer because of it, then maybe I''ll be ok...

 Chapter 4

    Elena


    ?We stop in Tennessee for a bite to eat at a waffle house. The atmosphere is like a cracker barrel, but with no gift shop and not nearly as large of an establishment. Ever since the drive out of Michigan, it seems that life is becoming simpler. The air is fresher, people are becoming more pleasant. I blame it on the weather; the sun fills the air and people''s hearts with warmth. It is so nice here and we aren''t even done traveling south. I love the southern accents I''m beginning to hear; it''s melodious, makes my voice sound so whiny.


    "I will never understand how or why you like your bacon burnt to a crisp like that." Dad teases as I pull my long blonde hair back with a hairband. I really need a haircut.


    Taking a bite of the bacon from my plate, I crunch it in my mouth, "It''s the only way, Dad." I tease back, rolling my eyes.


    He just smiles and says, "Not only do you look like your mother with that hair and blue eyes, you act just like her too." He chuckles to himself. "Oh, I miss her."


    "I do too," I mumble. Looking down at my plate to gather some eggs onto my English muffin, I find myself wishing that I had more traits from him. The only similarities between us are that we both like action movies and really greasy pizza. Other than that, there isn''t much we have in common.


    I look over at my pinky nail that I violently removed in the drive down here; I have never seen my Mom or Dad pick at their nails. Where do I get that from? Perhaps a distant relative?


    ****************


    As soon as we hit Georgia we see red dirt, confederate flags flying high, people shooting pistols and rifles at outdoor gun ranges - aimed away from traffic of course. There are a lot of muddy pickup trucks, people sitting on front porches -just sitting there. Rundown homes with so much trash everywhere, and abandoned property from poverty, no doubt.


    Maybe coming here wasn''t such a good idea. Some areas remind me of Detroit only in a small-town way. We keep driving east and the scenery gets a little better, I''m thankful. The further east we travel, the more I see a lot of farmlands or at least houses with a lot of acreage. I see horses, cows, and many other farm animals multiple times. It''s refreshing compared to the hustle and bustle of inner-city life.


    ?"We''re about 20 minutes out." I hear my dad say, pulling me out of my observations. Tiny little butterflies start swimming in my stomach. I have never transferred schools before, let alone in the middle of the first half of the school year. It''s my senior year this year and I will have no friends.


    I take a breath when I see it. There is a wooden sign that reads "Welcome to Ludowici. Population 1,400."What?1,400 people here? That is a tiny town. I wonder if it''s true what they say, that small towns have people that know everybody, and everything is everybody''s business.Gosh, I hope not.


    ?Before I know it, we pull up to a small two-bedroom home. It is charming. The house is white with blue shutters and a red front door. No garage, but that''s ok; it''s not like it will snow here much. There are some bushes in front of the house and a flower bed in front of them with tulips, daisies, and lilies -so colorful and elegant. Whoever had this home before us took good care of it. We crawl out of the van and walk up to the door, my Dad smiles at me as he puts the key in to turn the knob.


    ?"This is it, home sweet home," he says in anticipation. As soon as we walk inside, instantly, the faint smell of lemon intermixed with dusty emptiness greets us. The little entryway just inside the door, leads to the family room to the left of the door. There are wood floors throughout, except for the kitchen to the right of the doorway with white tile floors and a small breakfast bar and updated steal appliances. A spot in front of the door is just big enough for a small table and chairs. It''s not much, but it''s just big enough for two people to live comfortably.


    Walking further down the hall, the wood floors creek beneath our weight; we see two bedrooms across from each other. One of the bedrooms is next to a bathroom in the hall. We walk into the master room which is pretty spacious for the size of the house. My dad has a full bathroom to himself and two windows. We walk over to my room and see that my room is smaller, but I don''t mind. I have one window that faces a light blue house, wooden floors, and a walk-in closet ¨C that''s nice.


    ?We eventually unpack the essentials and rebuild our beds after devouring a pepperoni pizza from ''Sam''s'' pizza parlor. It has a lot of flavor and the perfect amount of grease to satisfy our hunger.


    Even though I am exhausted from the ride down here I can''t sleep. My first day of school is tomorrow and I am so nervous, not only because it''s a new school, but also because I''m transferring in the middle of the school year and on a Tuesday.


    What if I can''t find any friends? I hope I like my teachers. What if I get lost? No, I wouldn''t be able to get lost, this small town is tiny, the school can''t be that big. All the questions and scenarios that are filling my head is starting to escalate my breathing.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    The room is constricting; I need to open a window. Purposefully, I built my bed by the window; looking out into the world as I fall asleep is a necessity. Unlocking the locks, I slide it up. The cool night air swarms into my room and fills my lungs instantly relieving me of my anxiety. I fall back on my pillow with my hands clutching the sheets up to my neck. Much needed sleep is just a drift away.


    ?Deep in my unconscious, I can hear a sound of an engine getting closer.


    Clash.


    "Oh shit." I hear a deep voice close by.


    ?Shooting up from bed, I immediately look around, trying to figure out where I am, forgetting that I''m not in my old room. Looking over at my clock ¨C3am?! Ugh¨C I slam into my pillow face first.


    ?"Fuck." There''s that voice again. What is going on? Who is that? I sit up and look out my window to where the cussing is coming from. There''s a man next door in the driveway trying to pick up trash next to a motorbike. He has long pants and a sleeveless cut off shirt on. There are some designs on his arms. I can tell from the outside lights and the moon that is glistening on him that he has some serious muscles. He''s stumbling around trying to pick up trash, cursing as he goes.


    ?Clash


    "Motherfucker." He mumbles as he trips over an aluminum trashcan top. I can''t help but let out a giggle. This poor guy is having a heck of a time, but he needs to stop making such noise at this hour. I decide to be brave and go over there to ask him to be quiet. The last thing I need is for my dad to hear any of this, then threaten to arrest him for domestic disturbance -especially on our first night here.


    Bringing my legs over the bed, I put on my favorite slippers with little panda heads that cover my toes then grab my bathrobe to cover up my night shorts and tank top. The robe covers me well enough: it hits me just above my knees.


    I push my hair around to make it look somewhat tame. It''s dark out so, I''m not too worried about what my face looks like. I don''t wear that much makeup anyways on any day. I open my door to tiptoe my way down the creaky hall to the front door. Gently pulling it closed behind me, I take a deep breath and make my way over through the dry crunchy grass to the man cussing like a sailor under his breath, mumbling something about... a Jace?


    As I get closer, I realize, this is probably a mistake. His body language is telling me that he is a little pissed off and he can easily tower over me. My heart stops when he turns around. My mouth drops. He is gorgeous. Maybe it''s because there''s lack of light, but he is striking.


    I can''t tell what his eye color is, but he has a cut jawline that is slightly covered by very short dark stubble, he has thick brown hair that is short, but long enough to see that it has some curl to it. His nose is a little bent? It''s hard to tell, still looks good on him though. He has a thick neck, broad shoulders, arms are defined and thick.


    There are tattoos on both arms, but I can''t make out the designs. It takes everything in me not to reach out and trace them with my fingertips and ask him about them. Before I can trail my eyes any further, he says something that breaks me from my trance. I then realize that I''m standing here with my mouth wide open, my eyes are straining from popping out of my sockets. I feel like a buffoon as I try to compose myself.


    ?"W-what?" I manage to wheeze out.


    ?He just smiles, "You got some drool there." He says pointing to my mouth. His voice is a little raspy and deep, but there''s a rich southern drawl that instantly makes my skin quiver in delight.


    ?What? No!


    "Huh? No, I don''t!" It surprises even myself at how defensive I''ve become as I paw at the corners of my mouth to wipe anything away ¨C there''s nothing there. He chuckles at me. I''m so glad that it''s mostly dark out, otherwise he would be able to see the crimson red cheeks on my face right now. I want the earth to swallow me whole. The embarrassment growing inside me is torture while standing here ogling at this beautiful creature while making a complete fool of myself. The need to run away and hide under a rock before further disaster strikes is strong. Unfortunately, my mind is not registering my flight response to the rest of my anchored body.


    ?"Do you always go for a walk at night wearing a robe? Or is this just for me?" he asks, cocking an eyebrow. His words come out a little slurred ¨C is he drunk? He begins to scan the length of my body with an adorable smirk on his face.


    ?"Huh?" Looking down at myself, I notice that yes, I am in a robe. I forgot about that. Here come the red cheeks again.Pull yourself together Elena! That''s when it hits me, I was coming out here to yell at him for waking me up during the devil''s hour.


    I am not sure where it comes from, but irritation takes over, "Look! Mister," I start by pointing a finger at him as to stress the purpose of this encounter. His eyes widen only a little from surprise "you woke me up in the middle of the night with all your cursing and terrible attempts at being a trash can drummer! I came out here to ask you if you could be a little quieter because some of us need to get some sleep!"


    ?He places his hands up in mock surrender, "I''m sorry, I didn''t mean to wake anyone up. That house," he points to my new house, "has been vacant for a while - the only other neighbor I have is across the street." Pausing, he narrows his eyes, then continues, "are you from across the street?"


    ?"No, I live here." I dramatically point at my house that is next to his, nearly raising my voice.


    ?"Oh! Oh Shit, I''m sorry ¨C I-I didn''t know. I''ll try to keep it down. Sorry to wake you up." Just when I am about to thank him for understanding, he says while rubbing his chin with his hand, looking me up and down, "Actually, kitten, I can''t be that sorry."


    ?Did he just call me kitten? I am not sure how I feel about that. "What do you mean?" My voice is barely a whisper. Where is he going with this? I suddenly feel so exposed.


    ?"I like what I see in front of me, I can''t be that sorry." He shrugs.


    ?"Ugh." He is so uncouth. I turn on my heels and stomp back to the house. "Just be quiet!" I whisper scream at him. The rude stranger just keeps laughing at me. I yank open the door out of frustration, then I gently close it behind me - remembering that I need to be quiet, and make my way back to my bed. I need to get some sleep.


    Looking at the clock I see it''s 3:30am.I have to wake up in two and a half hours. I groan to myself. Tomorrow will not be a good first day, I can feel it.

 Chapter 5

    Elena


    There''s a hostile noise that abruptly breaks me from my slumber. Reaching out from the covers, I repeatedly beat the button on my alarm clock. It finally falls silent, peeking my eyes out from under the blankets, I see that it''s 6am.


    Eyeing my room, I imagine what can be done with the empty white walls. Perhaps a collage board with pictures of me with my mom, dad, and Rachel. Maybe some posters with encouraging words... There is already a vanity, so no need for a mirror. A light shade of blue, or even a light shade of pink for the color, ought to look nice. Letting my mind ponder for a moment, thinking of all the possibilities for my new room, I lose track of time. Glancing at the clock, it''s 6:13am.


    Groaning and begrudgingly climbing out of bed like a toddler, I drag myself to the bathroom for a shower ¨C hopefully it helps me wake up.


    After washing, combing, and blow drying my hair, I decide to leave it down, but put a hairband on my wrist, just in case. Taking a moment in my towel a thought sprinkles in the back of my mind: this is as good as it will get for me. I am not the prettiest of girls out there. My figure is petite, but I have some curves on me ¨C not enough apparently ¨C according to some. My face is feminine and soft, but I don''t have those high cheek bones or naturally long lashes, nor the plush lips like what boys seem to like... In my eyes and in the eyes of my last school... I am average, to say the least.


    The neighbor''s image pops in my mind. The way he gazed at me; it was like he had a sweet tooth and I was the only piece of candy within a twenty-mile radius. The thought makes me weak in the knees. Slapping myself for something so silly, I shake my head as though it will rid the memory. It was dark out; he wasn''t sure what he saw. He was drunk. If he really saw what I look like, especially sober, he wouldn''t have acted that way. I''ll just keep telling myself that.


    Swinging the door open, I run into a white wall. Only, it wasn''t a wall, it was a solid chest. Looking up, I see him. My neighbor is here, in my house.What in the world is he doing here?I immediately grab ahold of my towel so tight; my knuckles turn white. His hands grab a hold of the door frame on either side and leans towards me.


    There are no words. I have no words, my brain completely shut off. The only thing I am capable of is staring at him like he''s a mystical creature. My eyes dart to the piece of skin closest to me. There is a small black cross tattoo on his right hand between the space of his thumb and index finger.


    "Sorry, didn''t mean to scare you," he says coolly. I look up and meet his eyes. He has very bright green eyes. So beautiful. His gaze sweeps over my face. A small smirk is forming on those perfect pink lips. His nose is slender, but has a little bump in it, it''s probably been broken a time or two; he still looks magnificent. Staring at him like a crazy person, I am frozen in my spot. His regard is too strong. My cheeks are burning a bright red out of feeling so self-conscious. Suddenly a warm, large, calloused hand gently touches my chin then pushes my mouth closed.


    "Don''t want you drooling again kitten." His voice was like velvet with that southern drawl. I begin to blink uncontrollably, and his smirk widens.Good lord he has dimples. His thumb is suddenly caressing my jaw line. The soft touch sends strong sparks through my body and I can''t help but let out a whispered whimper. Those green eyes don''t move from mine. For some reason, I didn''t even care about personal space, my brain is mush.


    This situation in the doorway is the longest few seconds of my life, until my dad comes down the hall calling my name. The man drops his hand from my face, as he leans into the left side of the door frame. His arms cross over his chest making his muscles and tattoos dance ¨C not that I noticed. It takes a minute for my heart, mind, and body to come down from the high he just gave me. It becomes a lot easier as soon as I see a smug smile on his face. He knows what he does to me ¨Cwonderful. I roll my eyes as my dad appears.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    "Elena! What are you doing? You''ll be late sweetie. Oh! Have you met Mike Gilbert?" He asks pointing at the beautiful man to my left.


    "Uh...yeah" I choke. I should tell him we met outside last night while I was trying to coherently yell at him for waking me up at an ungodly hour in my bathrobe, but I decide to swallow that. Of course, it''s no better like this in my wet towel. My dad doesn''t seem to care. That shocks me.


    "Oh Good!" My Dad exclaims. "He''ll be taking you to school this morning. He came on by and introduced himself. He''s in your grade. Transfer student, you said?"


    He and I look over to who is apparently Mike. My Dad continues, but I don''t hear the rest. Regretfully, gawking at this man has become my new hobby.


    Dragging my eyes from his shoes to his face, I take in his leather boots, low hanging black jeans which have a hole in the knee, a white t-shirt leaves just enough for the imagination as I can see the slight definitions of his strong chest as his arms are crossed over it. There are a couple of dark tattoos under his shirt, on his thick biceps, and forearms that also have some veins popping out.


    He even has a tattoo on his left hand that is resting on his right bicep. Is that a verse? Looks like he has scar tissue on his knuckles... Does he get in fights a lot? He has a nice strong looking neck, which leads me to the face that I remember all too well from last night... It takes a moment for me to register those bright green eyes looking directly into mine. As he grins, I look away as fast as possible feeling the heat take over my face once again. He noticed me checking him out and his ''oh so knowing smirk'' is getting wider as the painful seconds tick on by.


    Why is my Dad so keen on him? Didn''t they only just meet?


    "Is that ok with you sweetie?" Dad''s voice brings me back.


    "What?" I ask, clearly not paying attention.


    He repeats himself, "Is it ok that he takes you to school? I have to head to work, so I can''t take you. I really don''t want you walking around by yourself just yet."


    Stuttering, I manage to agree, and my dad slaps my shoulder, saying, "atta girl, now go get dressed, you don''t want to be late." He shouts as he walks down the hall leaving me to have to confront Mike alone.


    Luckily, for my sanity, the mountainous beautiful man pushes himself off the wall with his shoulder and says, "You heard the man, get dressed." He gives me a wink as he strides down the hall. My heart is fluttering to fly in my chest.


    I settle for dark skinny jeans and a light maroon off the shoulder sweater. The outdoor temperature is warm, but I know the classes will have air conditioning. The thoughts of a Michigan winter run through my mind and a shiver compulsively shakes my body. I''m glad I won''t have to experience another one of those any time soon. Grabbing my backpack, a few notebooks, and my pencils, I strategically place them in the appropriate compartments in my bag.


    Stalling some more, I sit at my desk with my mirror and lightly apply some makeup. Just some cherry Chapstick and mascara ought to do the trick.


    "I gotta go Elena! I''ll see you tonight ok ¨C love you!" I hear my dad shout from the front door.


    "Love you too!" I yell back. Great. It''s just me and Mike now. It''s bothering me that my father is so comfortable with the man after just meeting. The notion surprises me with what Mike looks like and everything he portrays. He looks like the kind of man that my dad would want me to run for the hills from. My father''s new chummy acquaintance is someone that he would shoot if he knew he was interested in me.


    Maybe that''s what it is. My dad knows for a fact he isn''t interested in me. He certainly is giving me mixed signals then. Maybe he''s a player. He''s probably just petting his ego with how my body involuntarily responds to him. I roll my eyes. He''s no one I should concern myself with. He''s just my hot, arrogant, egotistical, loud, underage drinking neighbor who is giving me a ride to school...

 Chapter 6

    Elena


    When I get to the kitchen, Mike is standing by the door ¨C he clears his throat, shuffles his feet, and runs his hand through his hair. "Uh, your dad left an apple, a granola bar, and lunch money for you on the counter."


    I follow his hand as he points to the items on the breakfast bar. Placing the granola bar and apple in my bag, the money in my back pocket, I feel his eyes on me. Being a bit daring, I look up, but he looks away and opens the door for me, clearing his throat once more.


    Strolling to his driveway I expect to get into the truck; however, he stops to mount his motorcycle. He reaches behind him and offers me a white helmet. There is no way he is making me get on that thing. I have never been on a bike like that before, let alone with someone I just met nearly three hours ago. He''s observing me as if I grew gills.


    "No, I''m not getting on that." I argue, crossing my arms over my chest, standing my ground.


    "Why not?" he asks bewildered, dropping the helmet to his side.


    "Because. They''re dangerous. Why can''t we take your truck?" I plea.


    "Kitten, if I wanted to take that, I wouldn''t be on Layla here. Now come on, we''ll be late. I''ll take it easy on you, I promise." He grins, handing out the helmet.


    He named his bike. Is that normal? Makes me wonder if he named it after a woman. Perchance he just likes the name. What''s his truck''s name? Does his truck have a girl''s name too? The truth of the matter is that I kind of want to get on the bike, but I''m still not so sure. He can tell that I''m debating with myself when he speaks up again:


    Grinning, showing the dimple, he says, "I''ll be gentle. I promise. You''ll be safe...I know for a fact, you''ll enjoy the ride," he adds a wink for good measure. Was that an innuendo? Are we still talking about the bike? My cheeks flush at the play of his words. As quick as a frog''s tongue catching its meal, I strangle the idea and throw it in the back of my mind. There''s no way he''s into me like that; I am not that lucky.


    "Fine." Giving up, I throw my arms in the air. Yanking the helmet out of his hand, I realize something...


    "Wait, where''s yours?" I ask while I place and fasten the helmet to my head. If I had it my way, I would want knee pads, elbow pads, a chest guard, and shin guards, but this helmet will have to do.


    "Kitten, I have been riding these things since before I could walk. I don''t need one." He shrugs, placing a pair of aviators on. The whole ensemble just enhances how sexy he is as he holds out a hand for me.


    "Come here, I''ll guide you on." There''s that smirk again. Gazing down at his palm, I place my hand in his. It''s difficult, but I''m determined not to think about his calloused, warm, and large hands as they cover mine. He guides me closer to the bike, motioning that I lean on him while swinging my right leg over the seat. Taking my left leg by the calf with his left hand, he brings my foot to a peg sending heat through me to my core. My breathing hitches as I move my other foot to its peg.


    Speaking over his shoulder, "Relax babe. You''ll be fine." Oh, I am fine alright. I''m so relieved that he can''t see my face. It''s as red as a tomato.


    "You''re gonna wanna hang on to me." Before I can respond, he flips a switch and the engine roars to life. I can feel the vibrations beneath me, there''s a slight sway of the bike as he lifts it off the kickstand. Hands immediately find his waist, I nearly dig my nails into him. Letting out a laugh, he grabs my hands to pull me forward, it forces my body to scoot closer to his as he wraps my arms around his waist. I try not to think about the hard abs beneath my touch.


    "Hang on tight, when we take a corner, lean in that direction, just a little bit -okay?" He informs me. Nodding in response, I can feel his warmth between my legs, my chest, and on my cheek as I press against him. He revs the bike and before I know it we are riding down the road.


    There are no words to describe it. I can tell he is going slower than he normally would, but the feeling of the whipping warm wind on my face is incredible. I feel free, not that I ever felt trapped. In the moment of finally loosening up, I unglue the side of my face from his back to look around. I realize why people ride these things. It makes you feel invincible, happy, and unrestricted. It calms my nerves as I take in the smell of pine, crisp morning air, and the sights of nature, homes, and businesses that we zoom past. They seem so close without the protection of a car. I can''t help but smile at the sensation. Glancing into the side mirror of the bike, I notice that he''s amused by me. Embarrassed, I duck my head behind him using his body as a shield to block his gaze upon my reddening face. How does he do that? Why does he do that to me?


    ***************


    We pull into the school parking lot; there''s a sign for Long County High School. It is a rather large red brick building with blue doors and white trim around the windows. Mike drives us to a parking spot and backs in. Looking around, I feel like we''re in a fishbowl being a special kind of specie that someone just found as all eyes are on us. I''m not used to having people look at me, especially like this. Hopefully, they aren''t even looking at me, maybe they''re just taking their fill of the hunk of a man I am clinging to.


    "You can let go now ¨C if you''d like. I mean, we can try and go to class like this, but it will be a little difficult." He teases with a wide grin. "Although, I do appreciate challenges."


    Those words cause me to blush for the hundredth time, "Oh, sorry."If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Reluctantly, I remove myself from him. Holding his hand out to the side for me to use, I dismount the bike. I can still feel the rumbling from the motor on the inner parts of my thighs. While taking off the helmet and brushing out my hair with my fingers, I hear some loud giggling nearby. Peeking over my shoulder I see a group of girls. They are probably my age, gawking, pointing, and snickering amongst themselves looking at my biker chauffeur. He seems to be oblivious as he strides over to me, motioning to head into the building.


    He opens one of the blue doors for me and I step inside. A large warm hand finds the small of my back as he leads me down the hall through the sea of fellow pupils. The school has white and blue tiled floors, white brick walls with a large painting of blue waves that has "Home of the Blue Tide" written above it.


    Guiding me to the office, he opens the door for me, signaling I should enter first. Walking up to the front desk there''s a pungent floral smell that tickles my nose; ignoring it, I introduce myself as Elena Cochran and that I am a transfer student. It takes the receptionist a minute to look up my records; I can feel Mike''s watchful eyes. Slowly, I turn my head, I was right. As soon as I make eye contact with him, he gives me a smile with a wink. Nearly losing my breath, I manage to smile back. Turning around, I momentarily think about what it would be like to kiss him. To have his arms around me...


    "Okay, Elena, here is your schedule, the room numbers are here on the left and your classes are listed next to them on the right. Down at the bottom is your locker number and combination." Her high-pitched voice diminishes my daydream, causing me to clear my throat.


    "Uh... thank you." Is all I say as I take my schedule and step to the side.


    "I''ll be right behind ya." He nods his head towards the door as if to push me along to my first class.


    Having no idea where I''m going, I decide to look for my locker. The little blue signs on the white brick walls have the white locker numbers on them. It takes a while, but I finally find my hall. I scan the small black numbers on each orange locker until I find mine. The combination works on the first try. With my bag on the hook, I take out a pencil and a notebook for my first class. Having butter fingers, the pencil slips from my grasp and rolls on the floor. I dive for it until another hand picks it up. Sliding my eyes up, there''s a boy smiling at me. He has black curly hair that just sweeps his forehead and the tops of his ears. His eyes are a deep brown, a clean smooth face. He is slender but has an athletic build. He offers his hand to help me up, it''s nice and warm. The boy helps me up to my feet, he stands a little shorter than Mike, but not by a whole lot -maybe a couple of inches.


    "Here''s your pencil." Brown eyes says as he hands it to me. That sweet southern drawl escaping his lips.


    "Thank you." I say, a little embarrassed even though I''m not one hundred percent sure on why.


    "I''m Declan Young." He introduces himself.


    "Elena." I smile.


    Declan takes a deep breath and continues our awkward conversation with, "So, you''re new here? I haven''t seen you before."


    "Yeah, just moved." Giving him a little smile while I press down my sweater.


    "Cool, cool. Where are you from? Is that a ''Yankee'' accent I hear?" He teases, interested.


    My nose scrunches at the word ''Yankee''. "Detroit Michigan."


    His eyes open wider, "Wow, quite the move then! Welcome to Georgia." He smiles, and I thank him.


    "So, what''s your first class?"


    "Human Anatomy 101." College -like courses are supposed to help us prepare for university, but why does it have to be human anatomy? I groan to myself as I can hear him chuckle at my expense no doubt.


    "That class isn''t so bad. I had it last year. I''m willing to help you study if you ever want help." He winks. I blush at that, not sure what''s going on here. "Who do you have?"


    Looking down at the paper again, merely trying to hide the red face with my hair ¨C thank God I wore it down today. "Miss Jackson."


    "Oh! She''s great. You''ll be fine. She makes it fun. I''ll walk you." He offers, his eyes are so hopeful. As soon as I am about to agree - someone with a low voice answers for me.


    "No, I''ll take her." It''s Mike. I''d know that voice anywhere. I turn my head and he''s standing with his arms crossed and feet shoulder width apart as he''s sizing Declan up. He looks...irritated or angry? I turn to Declan with an apologetic smile, he just grins back. It doesn''t surprise me to find that he is a tad bit intimated, as his brown eyes widen.


    "Ok, cool. I''ll see you around Elena." He waves and turns on his heel to walk away.


    Hitting Mike on the arm with my notebook, I demand, "What was that?"


    The man didn''t even flinch when I wack him, he stands there unaffected. He looks at me as I try my hardest to look pissed off, but he just chuckles.


    "Come on, let''s get to your class, you don''t want to be late." He says flirting with his eyebrows.


    Nearly stumbling on my own two feet as I try to keep up with him, I still can''t believe how he treated Declan. It was very rude; I can''t let it go. "Seriously, Mike, what was that back there?"


    "What? Oh, I was just having some fun." He shrugs his shoulders. Faces, classrooms, and lockers blurring my vision as we speed by.


    "It was rude!" I shout.


    "Oh, come on, it was harmless. I was just rattling his chain to see what he''d do. He ran away ¨C pansy." He mutters the last word under his breath.


    We suddenly stop in a hall that I follow him to. There''s a classroom door open with some students with their phones out, waiting for class to start.


    "Well, I don''t appreciate you acting like that, especially when I am trying to make new friends." I pout, trying to stick up for myself. He just gazes at me with those green eyes, they turn a little dark as he inches closer to me. Cranking my head back a little to keep eye contact with him, I try not to lose my nerve. I can feel my breathing deepen, my hands are starting to tremble clenching my notebook against my chest, and my heart is pounding so hard, it might just jump out. Almost hovering, his face just inches from mine. Mike''s jaw clenches as he holds my gaze, I can''t help but gulp.


    In a low curt voice, he says, "That little boy does not want to be your friend. He wants to fuck with you." I instantly flush and cringe at his crude choice of words. He backs away with a self-satisfying smile. I let out a breath I didn''t realize I was holding. How would he know that? Why does he think that? He''s being rude and paranoid. I can''t stand him. Does he always have to use such words?


    "Oh really?" Before I can think, words just come tumbling out like a tumbleweed, "What gives you the right to say that? You don''t know him! Maybe he was actually just being nice. You are so, so..." a pause lingers as I search for the right word. He cocks his head with amusement showing off those gorgeous dimples. "Conceited. Yeah, conceited." As I point a finger into his hard chest. Big mistake there. The smirk comes back. "Stop looking at me like that!" I bellow, yanking my finger away before it decides to rest there for too long.


    His grin widens, "You like it. I can tell."


    I feel myself start to fume.


    "We''re about to start class, are you in anatomy 101?" A voice interrupts us, stopping me from clobbering Mr. Dimples. Turning around, I see an older lady with her brown hair in a bun, thick round glasses, a soft smile, white teeth, and a floor length dress from her neck to her feet with a cardigan sweater.


    "Yeah, I am." I respond sheepishly.


    "So am I." Mike says proudly.

 Chapter 7

    Elena


    As soon as the bell rings, I can''t get out of the classroom fast enough. At my locker, I switch out notebooks and head to my next class, English Literature.  Astonishingly, I''m able to do all of this without Mike hovering.  Why is he acting so protective of me?  I walk into English Lit and see Declan. As he sees me, he smiles and waves me over.  He is sitting in the second row of the classroom which has three horseshoe shaped rows of tables and chairs. The smaller horseshoe in the front and the biggest one in back with the podium in the middle of the room, the teacher''s desk is off to the side. Padding my way over to him, I take a seat between him and another boy who doesn''t acknowledge my presence as he reads a book.


    "Hey, we have a class together." Declan announces with a smile.


    "Yeah, I guess we do.  How do you like this class so far?" I ask, hoping to get a feel of what to expect.


    His response doesn''t help my nerves, "Eh, it''s ok. A lot of reading and there are reports and stuff. But Mr. Sullivan is pretty cool." He shrugs.


    "Oh, well, hopefully this class won''t be so bad then." I say to myself more than to him.


    "Hey, what''s up with that guy from earlier, is he like your boyfriend or brother or something?" His voice is quiet as to not gain attention from anyone.


    "No, no, he''s neither and I don''t have a boyfriend." I nod my head, why did I have to say the latter? "He''s my neighbor actually." I finish.


    "Oh...that''s weird." He states.


    I just nod my head again and purse my lips, "Yep," making the ''P'' pop.


    "Well, hey, if he isn''t your boyfriend, would it be okay if I asked you out sometime?" He asks, squeezing his hands together on the desk while leaning into me slightly.


    I can feel my cheeks turning pink.  I have never been asked out before.  So, this is what it feels like.  My heart is racing, my palms are sweaty, and my mind is trying to tell my mouth to say something, anything.  "Yes!" I finally blurt out, then try to act more casual as to not seem too desperate or excited, "I mean, yeah, that would be fine."


    I smile at him, and he smiles back at me.  It''s a beautiful moment until I hear a deep clearing of someone''s throat.  My eyes dart around to figure out where the noise came from, I don''t see anyone in front of me.  My chair jolts forward from a force so I turn around to look at the person behind me for being rude in kicking my chair only to find Mike sitting at a table directly behind me.  When did he show up? He has a scolding stare at the back of Declan''s head.


    "Will you chill out." I whisper annoyed with him.  His eyes dart to me and they soften.


    Leaning over his desk, he speaks low, "You''re not seriously going to go out with him, are you?" He doesn''t sound very happy and I am thankful that the rest of the class has drowned out our conversation with their own voices so Declan can''t hear.


    "Yes. I will.  Not that it concerns you." I whip myself back around to face the front of the class.  As if on cue the teacher is standing in front of us all, cutting off whatever comment Mike was going make.


    "Hello Class, let''s dive right into it shall we?" We begin to discuss Lord of the Flies.


    At the end of class, this time, Mike gets up and leaves right away. I decide to take my time with Declan. Why would my neighbor even care so much if I wanted to spend time with him or not? It''s not like he''s wanting to ask me out anytime soon.


    ?Declan and I exchange phone numbers after he asks me out for next Saturday night before walking out ahead of me. I can''t help but smile as I step into the hallway¨C only for it to be wiped off by Mike, who decided to hide in the shadows to jump out at me.  I smack him in the chest for the scare; he pretends to be wounded, holding his chest with his hand.Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    ?"Don''t do that!" I screech, effort goes into trying not notice how cute he looks.


    ?He places his hands up in surrender. "I''m sorry, I couldn''t help it.  So, your date with Derrick is Saturday -huh?" He sounds irritated.  Why is he acting like this?  Has he been eavesdropping?


    ?I straighten up my shoulders, bring my chin up high. "His name is Declan, it''s next Saturday, and yes. I am very excited and there is nothing you can say that will bring me down."


    ?Taking a couple of long strides in a blink, he stands in front of me, causing my body to stumble to a stop before him.


    ?Shaking his head, he says, "I don''t trust him, you shouldn''t either." He is very stern about it. He stands shoulder width apart, crossing his arms over his chest and blocking my exit down the hall.


    ?My eyes are nearly about to bug out when I say, "Excuse me?" I am stunned.  I barely know this man, my neighbor, and he''s acting like he''s a jealous ex-boyfriend or something.  I can''t put my finger on it, but he''s pissing me off and if I wasn''t so livid, I think I might actually be a little frightened.  "I don''t care if you don''t trust him, you don''t need to trust him, I need to trust him.  So far, he hasn''t given me any reason not to.  Besides, I have the rest of this week and next week to get to know him a little more before going out with him on Saturday." I finally huff out.


    ?His jaw clenches as he blazes his eyes into my soul. "You should care what I think.  I can read people Elena, I read people damn well enough to know that he''s trouble. Something about him isn''t right.  You''re not going out with him."


    ?"Well, I think you''re just being paranoid." I snort, cutting him off while crossing my arms over my chest to mimic him. "Why do you even care so much?" I challenge.


    ?"I''m your neighbor Elena.  Believe it or not, even in a small town like this, neighbors look out for each other. You shouldn''t date him; you should stop seeing him. I''m just trying to look out for you." His voice softens at the end. He has some nerve telling me what I should and should not be doing for only meeting him mere hours ago. I suddenly realize that I need to get to my next class before the bell rings. The anxiety of being late for Calculus gnaws at me to end this conversation.  I''m still not sure I believe him.  He seems to be genuinely concerned. For some reason it tugs on my heart to see such tension in those bright emerald eyes.


    ?I place my small hand on his upper arm in an effort to comfort him. His skin is warm, and his muscles are hard, I look from his mouth to his eyes.  Being this close to him, touching him fogs my mind, so I must step back and drop my hand.


    "I appreciate your concern, Mike.  But I''m a big girl.  I can take care of myself.  Neighbor or not, it doesn''t give you the right to meddle in my dating life and tell me who I can and cannot date.  It''s unacceptable and very immature!" That part may have come out a bit harsh, but I continue. "Besides, you don''t have to worry too much, my Dad has taught me a few moves if I need to defend myself.  We can talk about this later if you want, but I need to get to class ¨C so do you." He takes a deep breath and sighs; his shoulders slump a bit.


    ?"Fine." He states with no emotion as he turns to walk away. Rushing to my locker, I switch out my notebooks and go to my next class.


    *********


    ?The rest of the day, he keeps his distance.  Even at lunch, when Declan finds me to keep me company, Mike sits at a table, two tables away from us.  He never takes his glaring green eyes off of me.  There are a couple of girls that come up to him to try and sit with him, but he politely declines them. Meanwhile, I try not to be rude and pretend to listen to Declan as he comments about the stale cafeteria food. For some reason, I''m pleased that he declines them.  They''re dressed in cheerleading uniforms, skirts that are just way too short, but they can wear them because it''s their uniform.  Internally, I roll my eyes at how desperate they seem; the girls are rubbing his shoulders and giggling way too loud.


    He is in every single one of my classes; Ive noticed that he never has any books with him.  How is he going to do well in these classes without any books?  I''m glad he isn''t hovering, but at the same time I miss him being close to me. Nibbling on my thumb nail, I chew over the fact that he has such an effect on me.  Why does he affect me so much?  Shouldn''t I be thinking more about Declan?


    At the end of the day he takes me home without saying a word.  It''s awkward holding onto him on the bike while he gives me the silent treatment. The feeling of being on the bike is different than being on it this morning.  I can''t wait to get away from his cold behavior, even the weather decides to take a chilly turn.  The sun was out this morning, but now it''s overcast.  If it rains, hopefully it won''t be for too long ¨C I can smell the rain in the air.


    When we arrive in his driveway, he turns off his bike. Without saying a word, I quietly remove myself from him and place the helmet on the back seat.  He sits there for a minute.


    ?"Are you okay?" The words are hesitant as they leave my lips.


    ?"Yeah. Fine. Just giving you space." He says coldly.  That isn''t exactly what I wanted.  I didn''t want him to give me space necessarily, I just wanted him to lighten up.


    ?As I try to explain, the bike roars to life again, he turns behind him to remove the helmet and straps it to the back bar.  I shout over the roaring of his bike, "Where are you going?"


    ?He shoots me a look and says, "None of your concern." Spinning the wheels, smoke escapes the spinning rubber and he disappears into the cloudy mist.

 Chapter 8

    Elena


    Sprinkling rain is blanketing me with a fresh coolness from being heated with confusion over Mike.  He just left.  What did I say?  I don''t think I said anything wrong.  The rain is turning into heavy droplets.  If I don''t get inside soon, I''ll be cold and drenched.  I pick up my thoughts from the muddy ground and jog over to my front door. Dad isn''t home yet, his cop car that he picked up from the station last night isn''t in the driveway. As I enter the house, I notice that there have been so many boxes that haven''t been unpacked yet.  In need of a distraction, I welcome the fully stacked boxes with open arms.


    ?After getting the kitchen supplies all unpacked and put away in various places within the small kitchen, I decide to make dinner.  There isn''t much food to choose from because we just took with us what was in our cabinets from our old house.  I settle on spaghetti. Taking my hair tie from my wrist, I pull my hair back and fill a pot up with water. Dumping the contents of the spaghetti into the pot, I watch as the steam fills the air.


    As the noodles cook, I text my Dad ''Making dinner, will you be on your way soon?'' I really didn''t want to have dinner by myself.  I had a really weird day and want to talk with my Dad about it.  Maybe I should call Rachel.  She must be dying to know how my first day went. Pouring the sauce into a pan, my phone vibrates.  Unlocking the screen, I see a text from my Dad, ''Great! Be home in about twenty minutes.'' Twenty minutes is a good amount of time to talk with Rachel while getting dinner ready.


    ?"Hello?" Her voice is always so cheery.


    ?"Hi Rachel ¨C oh my gosh I''ve missed you!" I exclaimed.  I really do miss her.


    ?"Elena! You''ve only been gone for three days ¨C you can''t miss me that much." Her smile over the phone is contagious.


    ?"Oh Rachel, you have no idea.  My first day at this school was so weird."


    ?"What happened? Who do I need to beat up? Tell me everything." She sounds a little worried. I laugh out loud at the thought of her trying to beat someone up, not that I don''t think she can''t. She can, her older brothers have taught her well.


    ?"I don''t even know where to begin." I tell her about my classes, then I encourage her to share how her day was.


    The inevitable strolls in and Declan came up. She squealed so loud in the phone that I had to remove it from my ear.


    ?"Is he cute? Are you going to go out with him next Saturday night?" she asks.


    ?Swirling the sauce around with the ladle, I ponder, then let out a sigh, "He''s... not unattractive." I turn the knob for the spaghetti to ''low''.  "I''m not sure, Rach.  I don''t know him all that well..." drifting off, Mike''s words slither into my mind causing me to doubt Declan''s intentions. ''He wants to fuck with you'', ''I don''t trust him'', ''something about him is off''-  Rachel''s voice cracks through his overpowering statements.


    ?"You have almost two weeks, you can always cancel if you feel uncomfortable with him, El." Turning the burner on simmer for the sauce and checking the noodles one last time, I smile.  She''s right.  It''s nothing I really need to worry about right now, but that doesn''t stop me from bringing Mike up.


    ?"There is this other guy ¨C" before I''m able to continue she cuts me off.


    ?"-another guy? How many guys are after you Elena! My goodness!" she squeals.  Happy for me no doubt.


    ?"Just one guy." I laugh. "This other guy ¨C Mike, he''s strange." How do I explain him?


    ?"How so? Is he hot?" she asks over the receiver.


    ?Letting out an exasperated sigh while leaning into the counter next to the stove. "Eh." I laugh awkwardly. "He''s my neighbor and for some reason, he''s in every single one of my classes. When he found out that I was thinking about going out with Declan, he freaked out! He claims he is just being neighborly, but he really doesn''t like or trust Declan.  The man doesn''t want me to have anything to do with him.  He keeps sending me mixed signals too."If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    ?"Does he know Declan?"


    ?"I don''t think so, he''s a transfer student too.  Although, he has lived next door for a while before we moved here." Thinking back to when I first met him in my bathrobe, how long has he been here? Does he know something about Declan that I don''t?


    ?"Weird." Silence. "Well, maybe he likes you too.  Maybe he''s just jealous or something." She offers.


    ?I scrunch up my nose and glance at the sauce to make sure it isn''t bubbling too much. "I don''t think that''s it.  He made it very clear that he is just looking out for me because I''m his neighbor. apparently, that''s what people do here.  It also doesn''t help that my Dad seems to be very keen on him and so quickly." I roll my eyes as I start to see headlights from the window in the kitchen.


    Saying my goodbyes to Rachel, my dad walks inside.  Rachel made me promise to keep her up to date about my "love life" which made me laugh, but I agreed.


    ?Placing my phone on the counter. "You need to lock that door whether you''re inside or not." My Dad barks, catching me off guard.  He does this sometimes.  Out of the blue he will be moody.


    ?"O-okay. Sorry."  I just thought that with how safe this town seemed to be; it wouldn''t matter.


    ?He sighs, takes off his jacket, and places it over the chair as he walks towards me with his arms open. "I''m sorry kiddo." He says as he brings me in for a hug.  "I just had a long day." Leaning over the stove, taking in the aroma of dinner being prepared he says, "Dinner smells good."


    ?After pulling out of his hug, we set the table for the two of us and begin to dish the spaghetti with the sauce onto our plates.  He rolls up the sleeves of his white dress shirt as to not get any food on them, I see the tattoo.  I''ve asked before where he got it, if it meant anything to him.  All he ever said was that it was a dare during spring break one year.  Why did he have to get such a menacing looking tattoo? Couldn''t it have been a lightning bolt, Scooby-Doo, or... something else?


    Following some uncomfortable silence, my dad asks how school was.  I tell him about my teachers and my classes, he nods his head as he listens. Pausing, I swirl the pasta around my fork and decide to tell him about Declan; he nearly spits out his water.


    ?"What?" He''s shocked.


    ?"Well nothing is set in stone, I can still back out. It''s not until next Saturday." Trying to soften the blow. "But so far, I would like to go." I zone onto a wrinkled spot on his tie.  He just stares at me for a moment. I''ve never been on a date before; this is new territory for both of us.


    ?Bringing a napkin to his mouth, he asks, "Does Mike know?" Why on earth would he care about that?


    ?Hesitantly, I respond with, "Yes.  He does... Why?" I cringe as the memory of Mike''s words flood my mind again.


    Shaking his head, he coolly says, "Well, he brought you to and from school. I wasn''t sure if you both talked about it.  What does he think?"


    ?Getting a little impatient and ticked off, I counter his question, "Why does it matter what he thinks?  I''m the one going on the date, not him.  How are you so okay with him anyways?  Didn''t you guys just meet this morning? I don''t get it!" I didn''t realize my voice was getting so loud.


    ?Dad remains calm, but his eyes are blazing. He seems to be struggling with what he wants to say. "He doesn''t like him, does he?"


    I can feel my face turn hot.  "No, he doesn''t." My voice cracks at the last word. "Answer my questions ¨C please?"


    Scooting back in his chair, he rests his arms on either side of his plate.  His knuckles knock on the oak wood three times before looking at me. "I-I''ve met Mike on a couple of occasions while interviewing for my current position and looking at this house." He pauses. "I also knew his family while I was growing up.  I know he''s a good kid." The thought that my Dad knew his family brings in a bit of understanding. "Besides, you don''t think I''d let him around you if I didn''t do a background check, now would you?" A playful smile dances on his lips.


    ?Smiling back at his playfulness, I reply with, "How did you know his family?  How long have they all lived next door?"


    ?He runs his hands over his face, "So many questions." While I wait for an answer, I discover a chip in my glass, probably from the move or maybe from the unpacking. "His Dad and I went to school together, we were friends.  They have moved next door about a month ago.  You should listen to him. He''s wise beyond his years and he can read people very well." My eyes dart to him, he used the same phrase as Mike did earlier today about reading people.


    Sighing, Dad asks, "Do you have any homework tonight?" He''s diverting.  He does this whenever I try to get anything out from his past.  His present.  Any information from him at all really.  I''ve become so used to it ¨C I drop the matter and trust his judgement on Mike.  I won''t tell him that I''ll still go on the date with Declan.  Not tonight anyways.


    ?"Yeah, I have some English lit homework." My voice sounds heavy.


    ?Shortly after our bizarre conversation over dinner, he helps me clean up the kitchen with conversation about Rachel and how her first couple of days at school without me were.


    Taking my homework out of the backpack, I sit back down at the kitchen table to rack my brain around English lit. Staring down at my notebook, trying to answer questions about the chapters we are supposed to read in Lord of Flies, my mind keeps dancing between the green-eyed boy and Dad''s tattoo.

 Chapter 9

    Mike


    The rain starts to come down even heavier now. Burning my skin; they may as well be fireballs falling from the heavens on the no good, low life that is me ¨C reminding me of just where I will go when I die. The roads are becoming nice and slick.  It was beginning to get darker, the cooler weather is breezing its way in.


    Before I know it, I am idling my bike in front of Charlie''s, a hole- in- the- wall bar just outside of Ludowici.  The large yellow neon sign is blinking, there are women dressed in clothing that leaves little to no imagination huddling together smoking cigarettes.  Filthy habit.  I never was one for smoking.


    I kick my kickstand down with my boot, switch off Layla, and pad my way to the doors. A small brunette stops me in my tracks trying to coax me into a "fun night" through her puffs of the nicotine.  I politely refuse her company; she doesn''t seem too upset.  On any other night I would have taken her up on that offer ¨C hell, I still might, depending on how much I drink.


    I open the old wooden door to the bar and instantly inhale the musty smells of fellow patrons. The dim lighting, stained alcohol on the wooden floors mixed with old peanut shells, and the loud lame country music filling my ears is like coming home.  If I didn''t have ties here, I probably would never step foot into this shithole.


    I find an isolated seat at the bar and Dave; the overweight, bald bartender knew exactly what I want ¨C Jim Beam.  I need something to burn down my throat after leaving her there in my driveway.  She didn''t deserve that. But she shouldn''t expect much from me - I think to myself as I grip the glass with the warm liquid inside it, he filled it up to the brim. Thank you Dave. I bring it to my lips ¨C it stings a bit ¨C taking a long swallow, I can feel the hot burn travel all the way to my stomach.  I needed that after the hell I went through today.


    Going back to school was something I didn''t expect.  Of course, I am only pretending to be a transfer student, but still, just being around all the drama and teachers with no clue reminds me why I hardly went to school in the first place.  Thank God I graduated three and a half years ago, even though the curriculum didn''t change much, I am so glad that I don''t even have to try for a grade.  I never even brought my books around with me. No point.  None of it counts.  I''m just there to keep an eye on her.  To be her bodyguard, I snort.  Some bodyguard I am.


    She won''t listen to me about that shit face, Declan.  He''s trouble and I know it, I can feel it. That darn girl, is being so stubborn and on this high from the ''I am woman, here be roar'' kick.  I swallow another hot burn from the bourbon.


    How can I get her not to go on that dumb ass date? Or any other date for that matter ¨C at least until this whole Marcus thing is taken care of. It''ll be hard to keep an eye on her if she dates, I will end up coming across as a jealous asshole trying to keep her away from all the other boys. Which, I guess, is what I''m kind of doing now...


    Shit.


    Her Dad made it clear that I am not supposed to actually pursue her, but how else can I keep her from going out with fucking Dylan?


    Taking another swig of the bourbon, I groan into the glass.  This whole bodyguard thing is harder than I thought it was going to be.  I expected her to be this little girl with nothing but trust and curiosity in her blue-grey doe-like eyes and she would just do what I say, but no.  She''s a spit fire and has a mind of her own.  I won''t be able to play the nice guy here.  She''s going to loath me.  Perhaps that will make things easier.


    "Red! Hey man." A familiar voice calls out.


    Turning around, I see Paul.  I can''t help but smile at the lad walking up to me, I stand from the stool and embrace him in a bro hug.  "Hey brother, how are you doing?" I motion towards his chest.


    "I''m doing better.  Sometimes it hurts and I have flashbacks, but I''ll be ok." I am glad that Detective Cobra Cochran carried through on his word.  He made sure that Paul would make it through, he even paid for his physical therapy afterwards.


    I pat him on the back and ask for him to join me at the bar.  He does, even though he''s 19, Dave knows he''s a part of my crew, so we don''t worry about the legalities. He asks for a Coors light and I laugh.


    "What?" He asks.


    "Only you would order such a weak drink." I smile.


    "Hey, I was shot a few months ago, give a brother a break," he nudges me with his shoulder.  A more serious tone takes over his voice as I stare into my half empty glass, swirling the dark liquid around. "How is...How is your deal going?" Dave places the Coors can in front of Paul.


    I told him.  I told all my men.  They know how to keep a secret; they were a part of my deal.  They were all ecstatic to say the least, except for Paul.  He thought it was a bad idea. He couldn''t help but feel for the poor girl, she has no clue who I am, who her father really is, and the cyclone of a mess she''s in the middle of. He has a big heart and a part of me is not sure why someone with such a big heart would want to be a part of a motorcycle club, but here he is.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    "Hell, I don''t know.  I''m already screwing it all up." I confess.


    "What do you mean?" He lowers his head with his voice.


    "She doesn''t listen to me." It''s true, she doesn''t.


    "What won''t she listen to?" He''s trying to pry, it''s his way of helping.


    I take another sip of the burning bourbon and tell him, "There''s this twit named Declan. Something''s not right with him, I can''t put my finger on it, but he wants to take Elena out on a date next Saturday night.  I told her not to, I told her that I don''t trust him.  She only met him today and she already decides to go on a date with him."


    My drink is almost gone, I need another one to get through this conversation.  I signal for Dave and he preps me another one.  I like Dave.


    He laughs, "Hey, like you have room to talk.  This is coming from a guy that fucks women within minutes of meeting them.  At least he''s planning on taking her out first." He pauses to take a drink and I lower my head ¨C he''s not wrong, a shiver washes over me at the thought of Darren touching her.


    "Did you go all caveman on her?  Telling her what she should and shouldn''t do without actually trying to form a friendship with her?" I glare at him. Letting out a sigh, I bring my hand up and position my thumb and index finger into the universal sign for ''little bit''.  Paul rolls his eyes at me.


    ?"Look, you gotta take this all in in her perspective.  You know stuff about her from her dad when he gave you information for this deal.  She knows nothing about you.  You have a leg up here, you''re just a stranger to her." Paul pauses, "You need to get her to trust you, you need to actually try and be her friend." Dave gives me another glass.


    ?I know he''s just trying to help, but I can''t be friends with her.  Even if I try to pretend to be her friend, I know I won''t be able to control myself.  She is beautiful, way more beautiful than her Dad led on.  Of course, when we were going over the deal, he showed me her freshman year picture, she just looked like a little girl.  The girl I saw last night...er...this morning was all woman.


    I didn''t realize that they moved in so soon, I thought I had more time, so I had to ask her specifically which house she belonged to.  If it was across the street, I would have laid it thick on her.   It took everything in me not to try to haul her over my shoulder and take her inside with me.


    Of course, she''s not eighteen yet, so...that would have been bad.  It''s just a week away ¨C she''s practically eighteen.  I take another drink.  Damn this shit is good. I was proud of myself that night.  I was drunk off my ass and I still knew not to sleep with a seventeen- year-old- who''s- practically- eighteen.


    "I can''t be her friend, Paul.  If I try to be her friend, I know exactly what will happen.  She''s already gotten under my skin.  She''s attracted to me; I know what I do to her and I''m sure as hell attracted to her too.  It will just be a mess."  I take another drink, finishing the glass this time and like clockwork, Dave comes in for the rescue and gives me another.  I gotta give him a very good tip.


    ?Paul brings his Coors light can up to his lips, takes a swig, and says, "If you''re going to keep your end of the deal, you''re going to have to try harder.  Can''t you be friends with a girl without sleeping with her?" He nudges my shoulder in attempt to joke.


    ?"Ha," I snort. "Never." I smile to myself.  I have had my fair share of women... It wouldn''t surprise me if she''s had a few men. A pang of jealousy chisels its way into my chest. She is gorgeous.  I nearly lost my shit when I saw her in that towel and when she walked down the hallway in those painted on blue jeans and a sweater that hung off her one shoulder.  It was like her shoulder was begging for me to touch it, kiss it, and...


    ?"Well," the voice next to me says, and I frown as the memory evaporates by his words. "There''s a first time for everything Red, think about it." He finishes his beer and places it on the bar top with a light thud.  "I gotta get going.  Don''t drink too much ok?" He places his hand on my shoulder and I half nod in his direction. I plan on drinking all night.  Stupid Jace, he got me into this mess.


    ?Finishing my third glass of bourbon, I look around this ridiculous bar and spot her.  She has blue eyes, blond wavy hair ¨C shoulder length, and pouty pink lips.  I shake my head, it''s not her.  I ask for another and good old loyal Dave obliges.


    Paul''s words are echoing in my mind like an itch I can''t scratch.  "Get her to trust you" and "Actually try to be her friend".  These concepts are foreign to me, I trust my men and they trust me, but outside of that?  I think my mom trusts me, she trusts me to always look out for her and protect her but trying to get someone to trust me because of a job ¨C a job she doesn''t know about ¨C feels wrong.


    If this were a different situation and I was undercover for something illegal ¨C I can handle that, no one would be innocent in that scenario.  But this job?  She is innocent. It feels like I''ll be gaining her trust in vein.  When this whole Marcus mess is over and done with, I''ll never see her again ¨C it was a part of the deal.  I''m not supposed to have any ties with her when all of this shit is said and done.  I take another sip ¨C gulp actually.


    ?How can I be friends with Elena just to be torn away from her later? I don''t take friendships lightly; they are a bond.  No one can get through life without friends, they see things that others don''t.  Friendships are intimate and fragile.  If I seriously try to be her friend, even fake it, I''ll be dragging her trust through the mud while earning it at the same time.


    Damnet.


    I should not be caring about this -I''ve turned into a pussy.  She is a job.  I finish my drink with one swallow.  She is a job.  She is a fucking job.  I need to think about my men and about myself.  She is our ticket.  I need to remove myself from the situation. Just be the man she can trust, then I''ll just turn it off and she''ll be safe.


    She''ll hate me when I flick her away like a dead fly on my countertop, but she''ll be safe, and I''ll feel less of an ass for it...maybe. I look back over at the girl with the pouty lips.  She smiles at me; I wink at her.  It''s not her, but she''ll do - I need a distraction and by the looks of her loneliness, she does too.