Forbidden Crush Read online

  “Ahh,” I said. I was a little underwhelmed by the story, which could’ve been summed up with it was a nickname from the war when my helicopter flopped over. But listening to his long-winded story had taken my mind off of my own troubles, and for that it was worth the hassle. Plus, he reminded me of my uncle. The uncle I actually liked, not the stuck up one.

  I raised my beer can. “To Flop. Best helicopter pilot in Eastland.”

  He grinned as if it was the best praise he’d ever gotten, poured himself a shot of brown liquor, and toasted with me before knocking it back.

  “Come on now, don’t let me do all the talkin’,” he said. “How’s your night going? Seen you all over town this past week, but it’s the first time you’ve come by for a drink.”

  “First time I’ve needed one,” I admitted, ignoring the beers I’d had in my motel room.

  “Tell old Flop your worries. I can’t promise I’ll fix ‘em, but I can listen.”

  “You keep talking like that,” I said, “and I just might marry you.”

  He grinned even wider.

  “I don’t want to talk about my problems,” I said. Then, to change the subject, I asked, “Why does Mindy think you’re an asshole?”

  “She says I talk too much! Can you believe that? You ask me, she’s got the hots for me. She just don’t know how to show it.” He gestured at me. “Come on now. What’s made you crawl out of that crummy motel to have a drink at Flop’s?”

  I gave in and told him the abridged version of my story with Scott. Just the highlights: the “break” he wanted to go on, continuing to live with him and work with him, finding out he was seeing someone else, and then the phone call tonight where he asked me for money. Flop’s face was a theater of surprised gasps and bitter curses for my benefit. Although Hawk pretended to be reading something on his cell phone in the corner, I could tell he was listening.

  Flop whistled between his teeth when I was done. “Exes are the worst, am I right? Especially if you’re stuck working with him. I’d damn near kill myself if I had to work with my ex-wife.”

  A woman with a severe face stuck her head out from the kitchen. “The fuck you say about me, Flop?”

  “Nothing, Sandra,” he hastily said.

  She scowled. “That’s what I thought,” she said before disappearing back in the kitchen. I raised an eyebrow at Flop.

  “Oh, right. I do work with my ex-wife. We both own half the bar, and we’re both too stubborn to sell our half to the other.”

  “How’s it working out for you?”

  He looked over his shoulder and leaned in close. “It’s hell. But it’s better’n the alternative.”

  I laughed and sipped on my beer. This was exactly what I needed: some drinks with new people who could make me laugh and take my mind off things. A million times better than drinking a six-pack in my motel and feeling sorry for myself.

  It would have been the perfect night, except for the Copperhead that chose that moment to walk in.

  20

  Charlotte

  I wouldn’t have noticed that the Copperhead had entered except that Flop’s entire demeanor changed. He looked past me at the door and immediately tensed. Like he’d seen a ghost. Then he rushed to find a nice bottle of whiskey from the bar, something on the higher shelf with a lot of dust collecting on it, and quickly filled a double shot glass.

  “Hey there, Jesse,” he said in an overly-casual tone that was spoiled by his shaking hand. “What brings you to Flop’s tonight? There, uh, wasn’t a problem with my payment, was there? ‘Cause like I told Sid, any time there’s a problem he only has to let me know and I’ll do my best to fix it…”

  Jesse stepped up to the bar next to me. Out of the two kinds of Copperheads I’d seen, he was one of the way-too-skinny variety. A tweaker with 80s rockstar hair running halfway down his back. His skin hung loose on his bones, and if he were a woman he’d be called an anorexic.

  “Relax, bro,” he said in an amused tone. “Just here for a drink.” He finished the shot and looked sideways at me. “And to see this fine little thing.”

  I snorted but didn’t engage. I just focused on my beer. I’d been planning on having a couple more of these while listening to another long-winded Flop story or two, but now it seemed like a better idea to call it a night soon. In the corner, Hawk sat very still.

  The Copperhead, Jesse, was fidgety while Flop poured him another shot. He tapped his boot on the ground and picked at his fingernail. Jonesin’ for a fix, probably.

  And he kept leering at me like I was what he really wanted to put in his mouth.

  All women dealt with unwanted advances. At the bar, at work, even at the frigging grocery store. It was just how things were. We got used to the annoying aspect of it, and we learned to gauge men based on how much of a threat they were. Whether they were only going to say a few flirty lines, or if they were the kind of dude who would follow you to your car in the parking lot and threaten your safety.

  This situation was more dangerous than any I’d been in, obviously. Jesse was a tweaker who looked like he’d gone two days without a fix. He was a Copperhead, so he was essentially above the law in Eastland. And Hawk was sitting on the other side of the bar, pretending like he wasn’t watching everything that happened. I didn’t want to get into a situation where he decided to defend my honor. If anything tipped off the Copperheads that we were close, it would be that.

  “Yeah,” Jesse said while looking me up and down. “You’re a fine little piece of ass. Need more of you around this town, if you know what I mean.”

  I sipped on my beer and tried to stay relaxed, which was tough since it felt like a bomb was ticking next to me. I needed to leave the bar before things got bad. But I wanted it to look natural, too. If I just got up and left he was likely to get pissed off and follow me outside. Better to suffer his comments for a few minutes first. No harm in that.

  “How long you stayin’ in our town?” he asked me. This time he put his elbow on the bar and leaned forward into my field of view so I couldn’t just ignore him. He smelled sour and unwashed.

  “Long as it takes,” I said.

  “You should stay longer than that. Meet some people. Make friends.” He frowned. “Don’t you wanna make friends? Or are you a stuck up bitch?”

  “Got plenty of friends already.”

  “Naw,” he said, drawing the word out. “You ain’t got friends like me.”

  “Come on, Jesse,” Flop said. “Leave the girl alone.”

  Jesse whirled on the man, anger flashing in his shrunken eyes. For a heartbeat I expected him to pull a weapon on the poor bar owner.

  Instead, a big smile split Jesse’s face. “Right, right. Thanks for lookin’ out, Flop. I wouldn’t want to piss off her boyfriend.”

  I snorted, because I thought he was just fishing to see if I was single. Then I realized he was looking over at Hawk seated in the corner.

  Crap.

  “That loser?” I made myself say. “Wish I had a real partner to pick up trash on the side of the road. He just cries about his dead sister all day.”

  I winced at having to say it, but it was better than letting Jesse think we had any sort of connection. Now I really understood why Hawk had insisted on calling me the c-word the other day.

  Jesse chuckled. “You heard what happened to his sister?”

  “Nope,” I replied. “And I don’t care, either.”

  Jesse laughed even harder. I thought I’d convinced him.

  I was wrong.

  “That,” Jesse said, leaning so close I could smell the liquor on his breath, “ain’t what I think.”

  I shrugged. “Don’t care what you think. It’s the truth. You want to replace his lazy butt, come help us fill potholes tomorrow.”

  Jesse waved at Flop for another drink. The bar owner rushed to fill the shot glass with expensive brown liquid, spilling some down the side in his haste. Jesse picked it up, licked the side of the glass provocatively, then downed the rest.


  “You want me to think Hawk don’t care about you,” he whispered. “But that ain’t what I saw at the graveyard the other night.”

  Icy fingers wrapped around my heart and squeezed. Oh no.

  Jesse roared with hysterical laughter. “There it is! That look. Like a possum in the headlights before it gets run over.”

  I glanced at Hawk. He was gone, his glass empty on the table. The front door closed. He’d just left. So had the other patrons in the bar.

  Now what?

  Jesse cleared his throat and I looked back. He was leaning on the counter, a switchblade twirling in his fingers. The blade wasn’t out yet, but the threat was unmistakable.

  “I’m, uh, gonna…” Flop said, and disappeared into the kitchen.

  “Here’s the thing,” Jesse said quietly, so only I could hear. “Sid’s lookin’ for any leverage he can find over Hawk. He wants that money real bad.”

  “Hawk doesn’t have it,” I said, trying to buy time. For what, I didn’t know.

  “You’re a pretty little piece of ass, so I’m gonna tell you a secret. It don’t matter if Hawk’s got the money or not,” Jesse explained in a quiet voice. “All that matters is Sid thinks he does. He ain’t gonna be dissuaded. Sid’s like a dog chasin’ a tennis ball. He ain’t stoppin’ ‘til it’s in his mouth.”

  “I don’t know what you saw in the graveyard,” I said in a shaky voice, “but you’re mistaken.”

  “Here’s what I’m gonna do for you,” he said as if I hadn’t spoken. “Got a deal that’ll make you happier than a raccoon at the dump. You got a boyfriend? A real boyfriend, not that artistic motherfucker.”

  Artistic motherfucker? I didn’t know what he meant, and I was too terrified to choose my words carefully, so I blurted out, “No. I don’t have a boyfriend.”

  Jesse nodded with satisfaction. “You do now. I hear you got about two more weeks in town, right? Until then, you’ll be my woman. Ridin’ around with me and the Copperheads. Comin’ home with me at night. Do whatever I want. That’s all you gotta do and I won’t say nothin’ about you and Hawk to Sid. Mum’s the word. Do we have a deal?”

  The proposition was so ridiculous I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. It would have been insane in any circumstance with any person, let alone this skinny tweaker.

  But he knew about Hawk and I. The kiss, at least. If Sid learned about that…

  “No,” I said. There was no other answer I could possible give. “I’m not for sale.”

  He made a face. “Aww, come on now. You know you want to wrap those pretty red lips around my cock and suck down what I feed—”

  I slapped him without thinking, catching him across his cheek with a loud smack. My palm burned, but Jesse only seemed amused by it. Like he was the kind of man who got slapped by women all the time.

  And then his hand flashed across my face, knuckles hitting the bones of my cheek. I cried out and put a hand to my face, wincing as it flared painfully.

  “I like ‘em feisty,” he told me. He stuck a hand under my barstool to grab my ass, and gave me a gritted-tooth smile. “Slap me again, cunt.”

  A sound by the door made him freeze. The sound of a shotgun being pumped to move a round into the chamber.

  Hawk stood in the doorway with his shotgun aimed directly at Jesse’s face. Lightning flashed in the sky behind, silhouetting him like some comic book hero. Or comic book villain.

  “Touch her again and I’ll blow those fingers off your hand,” Hawk rumbled. Not the tone of a threat—just a man stating a fact.

  I scrambled off my barstool and moved to the side of the room.

  Jesse looked at me, then at Hawk, then at the shotgun. The switchblade still twirled in his fingers, blade now catching the dim light of the bar. He abruptly stopped the twirling, snatched the grip of the blade out of mid-air, and slammed the blade into the wood bartop.

  “That’s not very nice,” he said as he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. Hawk remained motionless, the shotgun still aimed pointedly, while Jesse lit a match and held it to the end of the cigarette. A puff of smoke went up in the bar.

  Flop’s ex-wife came barging out from the kitchen. “Ain’t no smoking allowed in—” She cut off when she saw Hawk. “Oh. Uh. Fuck.” She disappeared back in the kitchen and began berating Flop for letting riff-raff inside.

  “Turn around,” Hawk commanded. “Put your hands behind your back.”

  Jesse chuckled as he obeyed, cigarette balanced in the corner of his mouth. “Wait ‘til I spill the beans about you two. Sid’ll be so happy he’ll give me that plump little pussy as a reward.” He smacked his lips at me.

  Hawk approached slowly while keeping the shotgun trained on the Copperhead. “Flop? Need your help out here,” he called as he got close enough to touch the biker. “Bring something I can use to tie him up. Hey Peaches?”

  He didn’t take his eyes off Jesse. I blinked and realized he was talking to me. “Yeah?”

  “Time for you to get the hell out of here.” When I didn’t move, he raised his voice. “Go to the diner! Mindy’ll give you a ride back to the motel.”

  Unsure what else to do, I fled out into the thundering night.

  21

  Hawk

  I didn’t feel comfortable with the situation until Charlotte was gone. With her nearby, she could quickly become an innocent bystander. With her out of the bar, only my life was in danger.

  I could deal with that.

  “Flop?” I called again. “Need some help, pal.”

  “I’m coming!” He emerged from the kitchen a moment later with a length of string so thin it was practically a shoelace.

  “That looks like the string used to tie a sack of potatoes,” I grumbled.

  “That’s exactly what it is!” Flop snapped. “I don’t got anything better, so it’s this or nothin’.”

  “Y’all are gonna regret this,” Jesse said with a raspy laugh. The cigarette fell out of his mouth onto the counter. “Damnit.”

  “Keep your hands there,” I said, but he was already reaching for the cigarette.

  I didn’t want to kill him. That was my mistake. I should’ve pulled the trigger the moment he reached.

  Jesse spun around with shocking speed. He grabbed my wrist and twisted. The gun wrenched sideways and he punched with his other hand, knocking it to the floor. Disarming me.

  “Shit!” Flop shouted, and ran back into the kitchen.

  I swung a fist in a desperate attempt to regain the upper hand, but Jesse was quicker than I expected and leaned away from the blow. As he slid sideways he reached out and snatched his switchblade from the counter, slashing it across his body and almost spilling my guts on the floor.

  I backed up, putting some space between us, and he came onward, knife extended out like this was a goddamn fencing match instead of a fight to the death. I jumped back with each of his thrusts, painfully aware of how close each one came. I was running out of room, and moving farther and farther from my shotgun.

  “Sid’ll be pissed if you kill me,” I taunted. “He wants me for himself.”

  Jesse sneered. “Maybe I’ll just—”

  It was the oldest trick in the book, and it worked. In the pause while he responded I threw my weight into him, shoving the arm with the knife aside and getting in close. I head-butted him in the forehead, which might have hurt me as much as it hurt him, but it did the trick of disorienting him enough for me to punch the knife out of his hand and tackle him to the floor.

  I tried to stay on top of him but he rolled sideways, kicking his knee up into my balls. The pain was so intense I almost vomited. I grunted and fell over, grasping and grabbing at him in front of me in a frenzied attempt to keep him from getting on top of me.

  Flop returned from the kitchen with his own weapon, an old M16 assault rifle from the war. I was vaguely aware of him aiming it, but we were moving around too much for him to take the shot. At least I hoped he wouldn’t try to take the shot. The bullet from t
hat rifle would go right through Jesse and into me.

  Jesse got on top of me, planted a hand on my forehead, and slammed me back into the floor. The back of my head hit the ground, disorienting me. With each blow my vision flashed white. “Fuck. You. Copperhead. Traitor,” he said with each slam.

  Suddenly Jesse grunted. He blinked and fell sideways off me, groaning as if he’d been shot. Flop held his assault rifle backwards, having just hit Jesse with the butt of the gun.

  I sat up and reached for my shotgun. “About time you helped.”

  Flop lowered his rifle and made an offended noise. “That’s the thanks I get?”

  “Thanks, Flop.”

  “Ought to give me more than just thanks,” he said. “You know what Sid’ll do to me if he knows I helped you? Gonna peel my toenails off one at a time…”

  I retrieved Jesse’s switchblade and put it in my back pocket, then used the potato sack string to bind the Copperhead’s hands behind his back. It did a surprisingly good job, at least for now.

  Flop and I dragged the tweaker back into the kitchen, then into the dry pantry. “Had to go bringing trouble into my bar,” Flop’s wife grumbled.

  “Your bar?” Flop shot back. “Whose name is on the goddamn sign, woman?”

  She rolled her eyes. “You think the man who owns McDonald’s is named McDonald? Name don’t mean shit.”

  “It ain’t owned by one guy, stupid. It’s got shareholders.”

  “Hey Flop,” I interrupted. “You know your buddy down in Jacksonville? The one who helped us that one time, with the thing?”

  He got a faraway look in his eye. “Sure do. You think that’s a good idea?”

  I shrugged and stared at Jesse. “I mean, I’m open to suggestions. But that seems like the best plan right now.”

  “Gonna need transport down there,” Flop said.

  “Leave that to me,” I replied.

  “Why don’t you tell him the story about getting shot down in Vietnam,” his wife suggested. “He’ll hang himself on the doorknob to avoid hearing that again.”