Page 11 of Hook
“What do you think I want from you? You've already told me that you don't have any money. I don't see anything of value on your person.”
I raise my eyes to his once again and stare daggers at him. He's really going to make me say it out loud, isn't he?
“You want to fuck.”
His eyes go wide, and before I can process what's going on, he bursts out laughing.
“Oh sweetheart, please don't flatter yourself. I don't need to trade pussy for my couch. I'm not that hard up.” He waves his hand and turns in the small room, walking over to the closet to pull out what looks like a worn sheet and a flimsy pillow that he throws in my direction.
“So what do you want from me?” I ask, nearly screaming at him. I don't know how to decipher what this man is doing.
“Bea, listen and listen good. I don't want anything from you. I know what it's like to be up shit's creek with no one around to help me out. I've got a couch; you don't look like you're going to burn the place down, and I'm feeling extra generous today. You don't owe me anything.”
My jaw drops as I listen to his words. I'm trying to find the lie, trying to find the catch, but he seems like he's telling me the truth.
“The bathroom has a small shower, so you can use that if you want. I lock the front gate when I go to bed, so when you wake up, you won't be able to get out until I come to unlock it. Don't steal anything from me, and get some rest. Help yourself to whatever is in the mini fridge.”
With that, Hook turns around and walks out of the office, leaving me there to my own devices.
My voice squeaks as I hear him close the door and walk out to the main area of the tow yard.
I didn't even get a chance to tell him thank you. He didn't have to do this for me. If it wasn't for him, I'd be out on my ass right now; no doubt one of Lance's friends would have picked me up and taken me back to Lance. Hook may not realize it or even care, but he's probably saving my life tonight.
I walk over to the small couch that Hook said I can use to sleep and start fixing it up. The motions seem so mundane. So normal. Tonight is anything but normal. In fact, the last few days have been a complete nightmare.
The walls of the small office threaten to close in on me, trapping me in this tiny space. I can see the peeling paint and the cracks in the drywall, as if it is crumbling under the weight of my fear and desperation. My mouth is dry and my tongue feels thick, like I have been chewing on cotton. The taste of fear lingers on my tongue, bitter and metallic. The sound of my own panicked breathing fills my ears, drowning out any other noise in the room. I can't even hear the faint hum of the mini fridge anymore.
I can’t believe it’s come to this.
I'm stuck here running from my crazy ex. Things were so much better when I knew he was still in jail. When I could count onthe bars of a prison cell to keep him away from me, but now it feels like he's right around every corner. I don't understand how someone as dangerous as Lance could be let out on parole. Even worse, I don't understand why it's so hard for me to find someone to help me. Aren't situations like this exactly what the police are for? I shouldn't have to run around town begging for someone to help me when the police know Lance is dangerous.
I give up on trying to make the couch any better than it already is and just drop down on it. My body is so weak I'm pretty sure the minute I lay down I'm going to fall asleep. I prop the pillow on one end of the couch and lay back.
Unfortunately, I don't fall straight to sleep like I think I will. My mind refuses to let up. The warmth of the small room seeps into my bones, and I find a comfy spot on the couch to snuggle into. The air is heavy with the pungent scent of oil, mingling with the metallic tang of weapons and tools. Underneath it all is a subtle muskiness, like the scent of a wild animal. Hook’s scent.
That man is a mystery to me. Everything about him screams danger, but so far he's not shown me much of that side of him. Sure, he's brash when he speaks, but for the most part, he's been more supportive than nearly everyone I've recently come across.
When Lance and I first met, it was that same air of danger that drew me to him. I wanted to test my luck with a bad boy. He was exactly what I was looking for. I wonder how much different my life would be if I'd met Hook instead of Lance. Would I still be locked in a horrible relationship, or maybe I'd have a man who was rough on the outside but showed me his soft side? Like my very own beast...
I wish I had found Hook first.
“No! You don't need to be thinking about men right now. You need to think about how you're going to survive this.” I reprimand myself and punch the thin pillow once before I turn over and force my eyes closed.
The logical part of me knows that Hook could very well be just as bad as Lance, but the wishful part of me prays he's not. As the warmth wraps me even tighter, my body finally gives up, and a deep slumber overcomes me. I'm warm. Safe. For the first time in weeks, I'm not worried about what tomorrow will bring. For some reason, I know as long as I'm here, everything is going to be okay.
Seven
Hook
Fuck,she's gorgeous.
I know I shouldn't be spying on Bea, but my curiosity gets the better of me. The club members all have businesses in the small strip mall attached to the clubhouse compound, and Brick, ever the cautious one, insisted on installing surveillance cameras in each one. Right now, I'm peering at the screen that shows a live feed from the camera in my office at the tow yard.
Bea is following my instructions perfectly. She's made herself comfortable on the couch and looks like she's ready for bed. I can see her settling in for the night, and I feel a slight twinge of disappointment when she doesn't take advantage of the shower. But I quickly scold myself for even thinking about watching her undress. Though I have to admit, the thought of seeing a stunning woman walking around in revealing clothing has its temptations.
"What the hell are you staring at?" Brick's voice pierces the tense silence of the surveillance room like a gunshot, causing me to physically jump in my seat. My heart races as I whirl around to face him, my hands trembling with the fear of getting caught. Desperately, I try to block his line of sight from the screen that reveals my damning secret, but he stalks towards me with a predatory glint in his eyes. His question rings out like an accusation, making me shrink under his intimidating presence.
"Nothing," I lie, even as he walks over to where I'm sitting and shoves me out of the way.