Now I’m really pissed. She’s staring at me with wide-eyes, not moving or saying a word. Good, she knows she’s in trouble.
“Pack up your things, you’re coming with me.”
“I can’t do that, this is where I live, you can’t just walk in here and make me leave.”
“Wanna bet,” I go to the dresser that is askew by the wall and start opening drawers. There isn’t much in here but what there is, I start taking out and tossing on the bed.
“Stop that,” she comes towards me.
“No, get a bag, Charley. You’re not staying here.”
She looks at my hand and her cheeks flush. I follow her gaze and see a handful of panties and bras. I tighten my fist around them and her eyes get bigger again.
“Bag, now. Don’t make me even more annoyed than I already am.” That sounded like a threat and I don’t want to scare her, but I’m still shocked that she has been staying here. “Do you have any idea about the people who live in this place?”
“Of course I do.”
“And you’re okay with filthy fucking men trying to break in here?”
“No, that’s why I…” She waves a hand at a dresser.
“That thing is fucking heavy, Charley. They could have broken that door down before you got it across. Then what?”
She looks away from me. Shit, I hate frightening her, but she needs to see the reality of the situation she has put herself in. If I hadn’t come back…
Darkness descends over my mind. I’d fucking rip the head clear from the neck of any asshole who hurt her.
“Pack,” I say.
Her chest heaves up and down as she breathes. Before I can say anything else, she grabs a beat up suitcase from behind the dresser and does as she’s told. I fold my arms and watch, guarding the door. It doesn’t take long, she doesn’t have a lot of stuff.
I grab the case and open the door, going outside to check the hallway. There had been people milling around before but word must have spread that a Blackhawk Disciple was here and everyone has left or gone back to their apartments.
We walk the few blocks to my bike and after some screwing around with a bungy rope, I get the case secured to the back of the bike, leaving enough room for her to get on behind me. She hasn’t spoken since we left her apartment.
Now that we’re on the bike, I haven’t really thought about my next move. There is only one thing I can do this late in the evening. It’s notideal, but it doesn’t have to be long term, just until I find somewhere else for her to go.
The garage door on my house starts to rise before we pull up because I have a controller on my bike, so I’m able to drive straight inside.
Charley gets off the bike and takes off the helmet herself, looking around as the garage door goes back down.
“Where are we?”
“My house.” I don’t say anything else as I detach her case.
I may have joked around to Ronin about having an expensive house, truth is my house wasn’t cheap at all. It has a front and rear yard, the garage holds three cars and it’s set over two stories, there are three bedrooms, a gym and office. Not that I use most of them, I just like having the space.
Where I grew up there were four boys, really close in age, in a three-bedroom house with our parents. As a teenager, sharing a room was bad enough, two teenage boys who almost topped six feet sharing a room was horrendous.
I like having space and I’m earning more than enough money to be able to have that. I’m not a foolish person who squanders money. When I get it, I invest it and I’ve made some good choices that have kept my little pot of gold growing.
Charley is looking around and her gaze pauses on my 1969 Shelby Mustang, it’s parked in front of the BMW X5 that I use when I need a cage. The Shelby is a rich dark green with two white stripes over the hood and roof. It rarely leaves the garage but sometimes I like to take her for a spin.
“Is that yours?”
“You like classic cars?” I ask, putting the helmets on the hooks over a work bench.
“It’s unusual to see one, and it’s in really good condition.”
