5 Bikers for Valentines

“What did you say?” he asked.

“This client is killing people, and he knows it,” I said. “He’s a murderer, and he knows it. He’s come to you because you’ve sold your soul to some devil, and that means you’re willing to defend a mass murderer. There are five people dead because of him right now, and if this drug goes to market, who knows how many more will die? This man deserves everything that’s coming to him from the families he’s devastated. I will not help a murderer go free.”

“You will if you want this job,” he said.

“I quit.”

Once those two words left my mouth, I felt like a boulder had been lifted off my shoulders. I felt like, for the first time in two years, I could take my first deep breath. I felt like my head had just come above water, and I was coughing up the burning salt from my lungs from an ocean of darkness that had tried to suck me down in its depths.

My boss’s eyes were on fire as I turned my back to him and threw open my office door.

“If you aren’t out of here within the next four hours, I’m having security escort you out,” he said.

“Actually, I have to pack up and then head down to HR,” I said. “I’ll have to update them on my status and then discuss my severance plan.”

“You will have no severance plan,” he said.

“Would you like me to challenge that in court? Because I’m more than willing to.”

I turned around, caught his glare, and I felt powerful. In control. Alive. I watched my boss waver for a split second before he turned around and stormed away. I sat down in my office chair and looked around, eyeing the few things I’d decorated it with. I didn’t have books or anything that needed to come with me. Hell, I could probably fit everything in the massive purse I lugged around with me. But even though this job caused me more heartache and pain than I could’ve ever imagined, I’d called it home for two years. I spent more hours here than I did at my own apartment, and now, I didn’t have anything to occupy my time.

I had no plans, and that was when my fear began to set in. What the hell had I just done?

I packed up my laptop and the rest of my things before I turned off the light in my office. People were poking their heads out and watching me all the way to the elevator. I smiled and nodded before I headed down to HR. I wanted to make sure I talked with them face-to-face and got paperwork signed before my boss could get to it because now, I was going to need all the money I could muster. I still had an entire paycheck coming in a couple of days, and I could automatically invest my severance package, so that was a start. I signed all the paperwork and made copies for myself, then stayed and watched the HR clerk file them electronically before I left.

I walked out of the office with my overloaded purse, my cobbler, and my tea, and for the first time in my life, I had no idea where to go. I spent so little time at my apartment, that it was practically like a hotel room. My fridge had nothing more than creamer for coffee and bottles of water. Gwen was right. I was cheap because of the way I was raised by my father, and I was scared of spending money because of the turn my life took in high school.

When I was fifteen, my father lost his job. We weren’t wealthy by any means, but with state assistance, we got by. My mother worked whatever jobs she could until her back gave out, and she had to quit.

My escape from my world was always going over to Gwen’s. Her parents had wonderful jobs, and food overflowing their fridge at any given moment. I was mesmerized by the way they lived. I’d always looked forward to sleepovers, when I would eat until I couldn’t see straight. Then her parents would always give me plates of food to take back to my parents.

However, when my father lost his job and couldn’t find work, we were evicted and living on the streets.

My father always taught me how to rub two quarters together to get a dollar, but those couple of weeks on the streets until Gwen’s family found out and took us in had done their damage. My mother had begged for money on the corner while my father applied for any and every job he could find. It wasn’t until I broke down to Gwen one day in the library that she finally knew what was going on.

Gwen’s family took us in for a time, but I knew they couldn’t keep us in their home forever.

I couldn’t blame them. One family taking in another family skyrocketed bills and grocery runs. Even with trying to ration my food, I knew the toll we were taking on the Maxwell household. My father used their computer to apply for jobs all around the country, and after two months of straining an entire household, he found a job.

A factory job in the middle of South Dakota.

Gwen’s family offered to keep me with them so I could stay in school and graduate in my hometown, and at first, my parents were against it. We fought, and we yelled. We screamed, and we cried. I called them every single name under the sun, and they continuously called me selfish. The stress and the pain and the fear that I’d kept shoved down boiled over the top, and it drove such a rift between my parents and me that we couldn’t even stand to be around one another.

Eventually, however, they caved to the notion and left me with Gwen.

What I didn’t realize was that I’d barely hear from them again.

To this day, we barely spoke. They barely called after they got to South Dakota, but I was so scarred by the upheaval that I didn’t reach out much. I didn’t care that I didn’t hear from them, except on certain occasions like birthdays. I didn’t care that they didn’t want me. Maybe they were ashamed that they couldn’t give me the life Gwen’s parents could, so they were doing what they thought was best for me.

But as I stood on the edge of the corner outside of the place I used to call work, I sipped my tea and held back my tears.

I felt like that lost little girl again, sleeping on the street, and I didn’t know where in the hell I could go from there.

Chapter 3

Liam

I could taste the sweat on my brow. I could feel the blood trickling down my arms. I could hear the screams of the innocent while the chains from my bondage wrapped around my wrists. They bound me to a floor that simply kept sinking, sinking into the effortlessness of giving up. I screamed and shouted. I saw Paxton’s face while he sat at his shoddy desk. I heard the cries of those gurgling on their own blood and, as the floor kept eating me whole, I felt it all wash over me.