This is not working. I have two pages of total crap on the screen. None of it is usable, not really. I thought that if I got something, anything, down then the words might flow. But then Aiden came in and did that sexy move of pulling his shirt off with one hand from the back, and I melted into a little puddle of goo. Now all I can think or see or smell is him. Anything I write at the moment is going to star Aiden.
There’s only one solution — I need to get out of here. Temporarily, at the very least. And at least one thing has changed since the last time I was up here. I’m now over twenty-one. Which means I can go into the bar at the bottom of the mountain. It’s seedy, but there are bound to be guys there that bear zero resemblance to my handsome surgeon. And I mean zero. The few times I’ve driven past after dark there were usually two rows of motorcycles, and the rest of the parking lot were oversized trucks. Not the neat, pretty kind like Aiden’s. More the mudding in the woods after a full day logging type of truck.
And just because I go in doesn’t mean I have to drink — plus it’s mid-afternoon. If I get there when they open at five, I can get some ideas down on my phone and be back up here before it’s completely dark. I’m liking this idea. Even if a tiny part of me feels like I’m betraying Aiden somehow. I’m not. He asked me (okay, insisted) I write about someone else, and I’m going to make my best effort to make that happen for him. I owe it to myself too.
When I pop my head around the door out to the deck to tell him I’m headed out, I can tell he’s asleep. He looks relaxed but exhausted. If I wake him up, he’ll go back to work. So I tiptoe over and slide his reading glasses off his nose and set them on the table. He’s the sexiest thing alive when he has those glasses on. Then I write him a quick note on the adjacent legal pad, so hopefully, he sees it when he wakes up. Or maybe he’ll still be asleep when I get back. Wouldn’t that be a hoot?
I head back inside and grab my purse. I’m not taking my laptop, this is just a reconnaissance and research mission. I can take notes on my phone. I’m humming along to my favorite pop star as I drive down the mountain. It is so much more fun going down than up. Takes no gas at all and the sunlight is filtering beautifully through the trees.
I’m quaking just a little when I park in front of the bar. There are bigger, nastier looking bikes here than I remember. But I’m a grown-up businesswoman, I will not be scared off by a few tough guys. I don’t need Aiden laughing at me over that. Not that he would, I can’t think of a time when he’s ever laughed at me. Maybe an occasional twinkle in his eyes, but I can forgive him that much.
I pull open the heavy steel door, and the odor of stale beer and peanut shells almost overwhelms me. I let my eyes adjust to the interior gloom and notice that the place has gone silent. I keep a five-dollar bill in a separate pocket of my purse for any occasion where I don’t feel safe pulling my wallet out, and I reach for it now. I find an open spot at the bar and ask the bartender for a cola. He looks at me funny but exchanges the drink for the money without asking for my ID. Which in theory he should do since you aren’t supposed to be in here at all if you’re underage but judging by the clientele I don’t think he’s too worried. And if I were with the cops trying to trick him, I’d be asking for liquor, right?
I see a quiet table at the back where I can have my back against the wall. That seems to be a favored aspect, because most of the middle tables in the room are empty. I take out my phone and pretend I’m scrolling through social media until the conversations pick back up again, and then I raise my head to look around.
I hate to be rude, but this is not romance hero material. Particularly not when a few of them come up to me, wanting to know what my hourly rate is. Oh. Dear. God.
After the fifth such innuendo, I’ve decided I’ve had enough and get up to leave. Nobody tries to stop me, so I’m breathing a sigh of relief when I step out of the bar onto the sidewalk. More time had passed than I thought because the sun is going down. And I shouldn’t have relaxed my guard. I really shouldn’t have.
I didn’t even see him. All I know is something big slammed me against the rough boards of the building and then dragged me up. I screamed as best I could around the hand holding my throat as my back scraped against the wood. Not much noise came out, so I didn’t miss the words, “Fucking little bitch. Nobody turns me down, you sorry piece of ass. And you ain’t going to after I’m done with you either.”
I’m trying to kick him. I’m trying to breathe and scream, but he’s dragging me through the bushes towards his truck. I panic and try to reach his eyes with my keys that are still clutched in my hand. I can’t reach, but it annoys him enough that he screams at me again. I don’t know if someone called or if the deputy was driving by, but out of nowhere, there’s a gun pointed at giant murdering guy’s head, “Put the girl down, Malone. You know the drill.”
Unfortunately, he doesn’t really, or he just doesn’t like following orders because he drops me right onto the crushed gravel of the parking lot and I land hard. Still beats being raped and murdered.
Once big murdering guy, who the deputy seems to know as Malone, is in handcuffs, the deputy helps me to my feet. “You alright there, Miss? Need an ambulance?”
“Um, I don’t think so, but he really scraped me up.”
“Yeah, sorry about that. He’s only been out on parole for twelve hours.”
What the fuck? They let this guy out?
“I’ll need to get a statement from you, but if you can write down your local address, I can come see you for it later.”
Oh, hell no. “I’d rather just write it out for you now. You probably saw more than I did.”
He gives me a sad half-smile and fetches a clipboard out of his vehicle. It’s painful, but I bend over the hood and fill out the form. I really didn’t see much, so it doesn’t take too long. I don’t give him my local address. Anyone that needs more can contact me through official channels like my email. But I also know I’m in no state to drive back up the mountain, so I rub my aching throat and pull out my cell phone to text Aiden.
He’ll know as soon as he sees me, but I don’t want him doing something stupid coming down the mountain and wrapping around a tree.
I sigh and lean against one of the posts holding up the front of the building. I don’t want to sit down right now, and all of me is hurting worse with every passing second. The bad guy is now handcuffed in the backseat of the deputy’s vehicle, and the deputy, whose name is Mark Healy, offers to wait with me until Aiden shows up. Which is about ten seconds later. He leaps out of his truck, “Rose? What the hell happened?”
Even yelling I’m so happy to see him, tears start running down my cheeks. “I’m mostly okay, Aiden.”
He doesn’t look like he believes me.
“Rose, you okay for me to leave?” Deputy Healey asks, and I give him a smile or as best as I can manage. “Yes. Aiden will take care of me. Thanks for waiting.”
“Wait, who did this to her?” Aiden asks.
“The guy in the backseat of the squad car, who’s headed back to prison tonight. She already filed her statement and declined medical treatment so the rest is lawyers and paperwork.”
“Fuck.”
The deputy just nods in understanding and gets into his vehicle.
Aiden turns back to me, and the expression in his eyes is heartbreaking. “Okay, Rose, let’s get you taken care of. Can you walk or should I pick you up?”
“Walking probably won’t hurt as much.” I try to joke, but it’s clear he’s not in a laughing mood.