Chapter Seven

Coyote

Riding on my bike with Bethany following close behind in her car was enough to make me hope for more with her. Holding hands with her at the restaurant while she shared her life's hardships with me felt intimate, like she trusted me to give her support and not judgement. That meant she trusted me on an emotional level. I would have liked nothing better than to have her on the back of my bike, but I didn't want her to feel trapped with me. She left me for a reason, and I still didn't know exactly what that reason was. Until I figured that out, I'd take special care to ensure she felt like she had an exit if she needed one. I'd love nothing better than to lure the only woman I'd ever loved back into a romantic relationship, but I cared more about her feelings and well-being than to pressure her. No, if she wanted me, she would need to be the one to let me know.

When we got out of my auto repair shop, we walked around the parking lot. It was an L-shaped patch of pavement that would easily hold fifty to seventy-five vehicles. There was more space in the grassy area around the back. I took her inside and gave her a tour of the building, gratified that she was sufficiently impressed with what I had accomplished.

My hand came up to move a strand of her hair out of her eyes. "I really missed you, Bethany. I hope you know that."

She flinched, either at my words or my touch. Although I didn't know which, I dropped my hand and took a step back.

She moved forward and brought my hand back up but instead pressing it against her cheek. Turning her head slightly, she placed a kiss on my open palm. It was all kinds of sweet. This woman was good at hitting me in the feels.

She looked conflicted for a moment before speaking, "I need to tell you something that might change your mind about wanting to be with me."

"Nothing you could say would make me change my mind about wanting you."

She pulled back slightly and said, "I just need you to know what I was raped, Coyote. You should know that before you let yourself have feelings for me."

My heart shattered into a thousand pieces for this fragile beauty. "I'm going to hunt whoever did that down and remove his head from his shoulders. Mark my word on that. I'm really sorry that happened you to."

She wrapped her arms around my waist and rested her head on my chest. "I was stupid for putting myself in a situation where he could get to me."

"No, that attack had nothing to do with you. It's like with Rufus earlier, some men have shit for brains and can't take no for an answer."

"I just seem to attract the wrong kind of attention," she said sadly.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked. "I'm a good listener."

She shook her head against my big body. "No, it was a long time ago and I want to keep it in my rear view."

"I understand," I whispered in her ear. "If you change your mind, I'll always be here for you."

I held her tighter, praying that my warm embrace made her feel secure. This woman always brought out my protective instincts, but now learning what she'd been through, ramped up my need to keep her safe even more.

"Do you still want to spend time with me today?" she asked quietly.

"Of course I do. What kind of question is that?"

"Lots of men would see me as damaged goods."

"That's a seriously fucked up way to think, of course I don't see you as damaged goods. I just really hate that something so horrific happened to you. No woman should have to endure being brutalized that way."

"He didn't beat me up or put me in the hospital. He was just drunk and wouldn't stop, no matter what I said or did. Sometimes, I wonder if I hadn't gone out with my friend to bar, or maybe if fought harder, there could have been a different and better outcome."

"That sounds like a lot of victim blaming. It's not your fault you were forced. It's the dumbass who made a shitty decision to break the law."

I drew her into the circle of my arms and held her tighter. "You should be proud that you managed to cope with something so horrific. It means you're a strong woman."

She trembled in my arms, and it pulled all my protective instincts up to the surface, making me hypervigilant. My brain scrambled to figure out what I could do to make her feel better.

She whispered, "Talking about it always leaves me emotionally overwrought. I haven't been sleeping well these last few nights either. I don't know what's wrong with me these days."

Cuddling her closer to my chest, I told her, "Maybe you just need to take a little time out from all life's stressors. Remember how it used to calm you down to nap in my arms. You said it used to make you feel safe."

Without looking up she acknowledged, "It did make me feel safe and relaxed."

"Then let's just take a break from our busy lives to rest. Just for a few moments. What could it hurt?"

Instead of responding, she snuggled down closer to me on the sofa. And just like that, it felt like old times for me. When I wrapped my arm more tightly around her smaller form, she relaxed against me and after a while I felt her breathing slow down. Of course, I didn't rest more than my eyes, because I was too busy enjoying the feel of her in my arms after so many years. I don't know how long we sat like that, her sleeping with her head resting on my chest and me, thinking that this was the happiest I'd been in ages, but suddenly she stiffened.

"No, no, don't hit me. Please, let me go." Bethany was clearly having a nightmare. Her words were spoken in a panicked and fearful voice. I didn't have to think too hard to know that she was reliving the past. I shook her, hoping to wake from whatever terrible dream she was having.

She began thrashing. "Please stop."

Unable to stand seeing her in such distress, I shook her some more. She jerked awake, her eyes were wild and terrified.

I quickly held up my hand. "It's okay, querida. You're safe."

It took her a second to realize she was on my oversized sofa with me, "I'm sorry. I was someplace else and being hurt again. It was awful."

I wrapped my arms around her, feeling hopeful that she allowed me to console her during her time of need.

"Fucking hell, sweetheart. Whoever that stupid fucker is, he couldn't take me out in order to get you. I'd kick his ass into the next century. You're safe. Trust me on that."

I don't know how long I held her but when she finally pulled back, her face was tear stained, and she looked thoroughly miserable. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I can't seem to shake the nightmares."

I cupped her face in my hands and gazed into her dark eyes. "You had a nightmare that terrified you. There's no shame in that. It's clearly unresolved trauma and it happens to the best of us."

She placed her hands on my chest and slid them upwards. "Thanks Coyote, I just hate that it happens."

I tilted her head up to look into her eyes. "Just remember, I'll always be here for you."

The way she looked at me gave me hope that maybe we could get close again. We chatted about the grand opening for a bit because she needed to change the subject. When we were finished, I walked her back to her car.

Watching her drive away, I rolled around in my brain what she'd told me about being raped. That's when I knew she left me because I didn't protect her like I should have. She liked me, maybe even loved me, but she didn't quite trust me to be the protector she needed because I let her down last time. Because surely if she trusted me then she'd have come for my help? Same as when she found herself falling on hard times back when we first met. That was a tough pill to swallow.

Well, I wasn't about to make the same mistake twice. I called Storm.

"Hey, Coyote. What's up?"

"I've a got a problem and I need help."

Storm's voice turned serious. "What's going on. You know you can always count on your club brothers to have your back."

"Remember Bethany?" I asked.

"Hell, yeah. Of course I do. The two of you were a thing for a nice long while. She's the only woman I've known you to be exclusive with. I'm sorry it didn't work out between you. She seemed like a really nice lady."

"She left me. I want her back." Rather than disclosing her personal business, I explained. "Right now, she's got a stalker. I caught him harassing her and gave him a little tune up, but I don't think he's going to take no for an answer. She has a kid and that makes her vulnerable."

"You want to get our security firm involved? We can definitely do that."

"No. Rufus isn't worth breaking out the big guns over. He's weak and stupid but unfortunately, he's also persistent. I was wondering if I could get a couple of prospects to keep an eye on her when I can't, for a few weeks. I figure the three of us can keep her covered."

Always one to parse out the details, Storm asked, "Do you know if he's packing? Are the two of you spending evenings and weekends together?"

"We've only just reconnected. I don't think he's carrying a weapon. He didn't have one when I confronted him and doesn't seem like the type to carry a handgun. She lives in her employer's pool house and I doubt he would show up there. I'm more worried about protecting her at her work, because he approached her there, and has been inappropriate. I roughed him up pretty bad. I don't know for sure that he'll come sniffing around again but I had a bad feeling about this guy. He's persistent and not to smart."

"Would two prospects be enough to cover the hours you need?"

"Yeah," I responded with relief. "That should do it. My new shop is halfway between Griffinsford and Patterdale, which is the town she's living in. I can set up a place for them to crash and make sure they're fed and pay them some cash for their trouble."

"The club pays the prospects a stipend, as you probably remember from your time prospecting. You can give them a few bucks for incidentals related to staying offsite, but you certainly don't need to pay them."

"Any idea who you're going to send?" I asked as I paced back and forth.

"Probably Mace and Cooper. They're both experienced and dependable."

Mace was an older guy, I didn't know too much about his backstory, but in the time he'd been prospecting with the Slayers, he'd been solid. Cooper, thought with his cock—pretty much like I did when I was his age—but he wasn't afraid of hard work or getting stuck into a fight, so they both seemed like good choices. "How soon can we have them in place?" I asked while hoping it would be within the next twenty-four hours or so.

After a short pause, Storm responded, "Look, I know things are hectic with you right now. Getting your new business set up is a time suck. As for when I can get them in place, I'll have to talk to them, but I can probably have one with you by this afternoon. Will that work for you?"

Relief lanced through my chest. "That would be perfect. Thanks, Storm. I appreciate this more than you know." I really needed my club's help right now if I had any hope of keeping Bethany and her kid safe.

"You know your club will always be there for you, just like you've showed up for your club brothers in their time of need. It's what a brotherhood is all about."

I swallowed the lump in my throat and responded gratefully, "That's true. I'm glad the Slayers took me in when Breaker made my sister his old lady. It's made a world of difference in my life."

"You've proven yourself to be smart, dedicated, and brave, Coyote. The Dark Slayers was fortunate you decided to prospect for us. Patching you in was one of the best decisions your club brothers have made in a long time."

I felt warmth unfurl in my chest. It was pride, I told myself. "Thank you, prez. Bethany has had a hard life, and I just can't take a chance on anything else bad happening to her."

"I trust you to do whatever it takes to see to her safety. If you need anything else from the club, just ask."

Before I could respond, he disconnected the call. I took a minute to make sure the notification for Beth's tracking app was turned on. I noticed she was already on the interstate heading in the direction of her home. While she was sleeping, I'd installed the app on her phone, I was feeling a bit conflicted about doing it, because any decent man would have just come out and asked. But Bethany had this crazy idea that she attracted bad men and if I wanted to prove to her that I could look after her properly this time, then I had to stay in her good books. Asking to put a fucking tracking app on her phone would probably look like a giant red flag and she'd think I was trying to control her—not that I was trying to protect her.

Feeling a bit stalkerish, I had already had Hacker do a little research on her, as well as the employer who sheltered her on his property. Her boss was Reginald Archibald, a gay man in his early fifties. His business was Effortless Events. It was a surprisingly robust business because he had been clever enough to diversify. His business model involved an event planning business for wealthy local socialites. They planned everything from charity events for the local hospital to fundraising events for the mayor, and most especially lavish weddings and anniversary shindigs. But the part that really kept them afloat was the store that sold party supplies and rented tables, chairs, and fancy tableware for semi-formal events. It's like Reginald cornered the market on any and everything related to fancy parties in his neck of the woods.

I guess that made him both clever and benign. Not to mention altruistic when it came to helping Bethany and her daughter by giving her full-time employment and a safe place to call home. Truth be told, I already liked the guy even though we'd never officially met.

I slid my phone back into my pocket and went inside. My all-consuming task for today was to upload the software I bought for my business onto my work computer. It was a fancy program that linked up with the cash register and tracked all sort of important stuff like how much I needed to pay for quarterly taxes to keep the sheriff's office from paying me a visit. I poured myself a coffee and prepared to get comfortable for a few hours while I tried to wrestle with the new tech. I probably should have asked Hacker for assistance, but I know my club brother would have told me to fuck right off and that the program he'd recommended was fool proof. Maybe it was, but it clearly hadn't been designed with a fool like me in mind.