Bikers Librarian (Lords of Mayhem 1)

“This is she.” She held her breath frightened of what the man would say next.

“This is Paul with Randolph Security. We regret to inform you there’s been a break-in at your house. The police are currently on the scene and waiting for your arrival.”

“What?” The air left her lungs in a rush. Anger, fear and anxiety mixed together forming a potent cocktail. Feeling inebriated, her head grew light.

“I know this is sudden, but these things do happen, and I’m here to walk you through it.” His steady voice brought her back down, anchoring her.

“How bad was it?” she whispered, closing her eyes as a feeling of violation hit. Someone had been in her space, touching her things, damaging items she could never replace and tainting their memories. Peter did this. I know he did. Fury swept to the forefront and she latched onto drawing strength from her outrage. How dare he?

“I’m not sure, ma’am. The police are assessing the damage now.”

“I-I’ll be there as soon as I can.” She felt the weight of four sets of eyes on her.

“What’s wrong, Jul?” Evonne touched her arm gently.

“That was Randolph’s Security Company. Someone broke into my house.”

“Shooter!” Specs’ voice carried across the lawn to the horseshoe pit where Shooter stood with a few others. He took one look at her, and his expression grew dark. Tossing the piece of metal onto the ground, he stalked over. So much for one day of peace and relaxation.

Chapter Thirteen

On the outside of her home everything appeared fine. She walked behind Shooter, not ready to see the damage done to her sanctuary. They stepped inside and he shut the door. Her mouth fell open, and her soul wept. The photos that lined the wall of her entry way had been thrown onto the ground. Glass crunched under the heels of her boots. She avoided the biggest pieces, struggling to take everything in at once as they moved farther inside. It was like being trapped on the movie set of a post-apocalyptic film. Destruction met her gaze everywhere she looked. Tables were overturned, chairs had been slashed. Her chest ached with every breath she took. Her safe place had been taken away from her. She stumbled forward into the kitchen and clutched the counter.

The angel figurine her mother had purchased to watch over her home when she first moved in rested a few inches away from her on the counter, broken in three places. Its wings had been removed along with his head, all were laid out neatly in a line. He’d hit below the belt. Tears obscured her vision. How much longer will I have to deal with this? What if he never stops? The weight of uncertainty fell onto her shoulders.

“Hey, you okay?”

“No, I’m really not,” she whispered.

“Come on, let’s take a breather.” He wrapped his arm around her waist and helped her stand upright.

“Where? Everywhere I look I see utter chaos.” Manic laughter bubbled up in her throat. “I thought I got away, but it was nothing more than an illusion. He’s still calling all the shots.”

“No he’s not. Look at me.”

She shook her head. Shooter’s comfort meant nothing when her life was littered, shattered and scattered into tiny pieces on the ground. He grabbed a hank of her hair and tugged it tight. She looked up to relieve the pressure.

“I have you. You’re not alone and you’re not powerless. We’re working on this together. Understand?”

“Yes.” She gave him the response he wanted, but he narrowed his eyes. The man saw through bullshit.

“Do you want to leave?”

“No. I want to see what he did.” She licked her lips, gathering what was left of her backbone.

“All right. You lead I’ll follow.”

An hour of sifting through the rubble confirmed what they all ready knew, nothing was taken, just destroyed. Police wanted to blame it on teenage vandals, but she knew better.

It was Stant.

Not that they’d find his fingerprints anywhere. No, he was too smart for that. He’d hire someone who couldn’t be traced or located. What they referred to as an outside man.

Deflated and fragile, Juliette sat in the middle of the wreckage of her room. Her eyes were glossy and distant and her hands shook as she picked up the contents of her jewelry box and placed the items back inside the cheerywood square one by one. The police had come and gone, leaving her free to try to piece her place back together

“Baby?”

She glanced up at Shooter.