Fuck.
“We just figured a few sessions at the club would help ease some tension.”
Once upon a time they might have. He needed the feeling of being in charge. These nightmares were something he had no control over. A session at the club, taking command of a sub, a scene, it used to give him back that control, to help him quiet the nightmares.
Now, he wasn’t so sure. He didn’t feel the pull he once had. The nightmares seemed to be coming more frequently and he couldn’t run off to a club each time they did.
“I’m not going to the club. But I am sorry I’ve been such an asshole. I’ll do better.”
Zeke sighed. “Chief—”
“You want to spot me f
or a while?” he asked.
Zeke stared at him for a while longer. Then he nodded. “Sure. I live to serve.”
“Asshole.”
Zeke grinned. “That’s your new nickname, not mine.”
Kent just shook his head. “The lack of respect around here is disturbing. Maybe I should have stayed in the military.”
No, getting out was the best thing he could have done. He just had to find a way to combat the nightmares.
ABBY WALKED OUT OF the back entrance to the bar and let out a low breath. A shudder rolled over her. She’d been coming here every Friday night for the last three months and she still left feeling dirty and nasty and like she wanted to cry.
At least she didn’t have to walk through the notorious biker bar anymore. She’d done that the first night and nearly hadn’t made it out alive. Someone had grabbed her and pressed her up against the bar, his hands hard and heavy on her body and...
She bit her lip. Don’t think about it. Gray, one of Mr. Markovich’s assistants, had seen her and intervened and since then, Mr. Markovich had let her come in the back way. And, unlike the diner, the bar’s back parking lot actually had security lights. Although it seemed darker tonight than usual.
She grabbed her keys in one hand and her bag in the other. She had to think about investing in some pepper spray. Or maybe she should start carrying around the police baton Nana had given her when she turned eighteen. It weighed a ton, though.
But it was better than walking around completely unarmed and helpless. She walked swiftly towards her car, coming to a sudden stop as she heard someone cry out. She froze, looked around. The sound had come from her right, behind a large van. She hesitated.
The cry came again. Female. Scared.
“Get away from me, you assholes.”
Shit. Was that who she thought it was? It couldn’t be. What would Eden Jensen be doing here? Everyone knew the Jensens. Eden’s brothers were gorgeous, rich and powerful. Clint was the oldest. Stern and slightly scary. His younger brother, Kent was much more easygoing. He always had a smile for her and he was a hell of a tipper.
Too bad she always turned into a fumbling, tongue-tied idiot around him.
She dropped her keys back into her bag and grabbed out her cell phone, fumbling with it as she heard a thumping sound then a pained cry.
She dialed 911, noting that her battery was nearly at the end of its life. She hadn’t had time to charge it before driving here. She’d raced home from the diner, quickly gotten changed and came here to meet with Mr. Markovich. He didn’t like to be kept waiting.
She didn’t want to find out what happened if you did keep him waiting.
“911 what’s your emergency?” the calm voice asked.
“My name’s Abby Reynold, there’s an assault on a woman happening in the parking lot of-of Suck ‘n Blow bar.” She hung up. She didn’t want whoever was with Eden to overhear her.
Another cry sounded. Shit. Shit. Shit. She wished she wasn’t a wuss. Why had she never taken up Karate or Judo or gone to a damn self-defense class?
At another pained noise, she knew she couldn’t just stand here while Eden was assaulted. She ran forward, creeping her way around the van, her whole body trembling with fear. She spotted two men looming over Eden, who was sprawled on the ground. One of them pulled back his leg as though to kick her.
Oh, hell no!