Time Owed Read online

  Taking a deep breath, Desiree went back inside Rail Point. Merk walked over and lifted her face. She gave him a mediocre smile. She owed him that much for letting her skip out of work.

  "You okay?" Merk's gaze took in her eyes and dropped to her mouth. "What's that?"

  "What?"

  He lowered his head and kissed her lips. His tongue swiped her lower lip. Her stomach fluttered and she leaned into him.

  Merk pulled back. "Grape?"

  "Shit." She scrubbed her hand over her mouth, damning Katie for not telling her she had stained lips from the Fun Dip.

  Merk chuckled. She stared at him in awe. While she experienced Merk's bossiness while they worked, his quietness while they slept together, and his out of control lust at the lake, she'd never before heard him laugh.

  He noticed her gawking and stopped. The smile turned into concern and his gaze intensified. "What's wrong?"

  She shook her head. "Thanks for watching the bar. I appreciate what you've done around here for me lately. I never realized I needed to get out and just be normal with Katie."

  Before he could say anymore and ruin her lightened mood, she walked away and operated the cash register before she broke down and asked him again why he wanted to help her. The fear of how he'd answer her question kept her from opening her mouth. Maybe she was better off not knowing why he hung around.

  Chapter Eleven

  The gunshots and squealing tires in the action movie playing on the television ended and the blue screen of intermission appeared showing the countdown for when the next movie started. Desiree looked up from the bar's record book and studied Merk. He sat on the other end of the couch and gazed at the show as if the movie never ended.

  She glanced back down at the rows of figures and closed the book. As long as the checkbook balanced at the end of the month in her favor, she saw no reason to categorize the amount of drinks, tally the tips, and worry about if it was time to order more napkins. She could look in the storage room and find out what she needed to do.

  Merk continued to watch the television even though he had eight minutes and thirty-nine seconds until the next movie started. She tossed the book to the coffee table. Even the plop against the wooden surface in front of Merk failed to grab his attention.

  They'd done the same thing every Sunday afternoon for over two months. Both of them automatically going through some weird ritual of doing nothing while she pretended their living situation was normal.

  She ignored how Merk moved in and stayed, because she enjoyed having him in the same room. He distracted her and kept her mind off losing Pop.

  "You do know the movie ended, right?" she said.

  Merk turned to her. "I don't watch television."

  "Ever?" She leaned back and folded her body into the corner of the couch.

  "The only TV in prison is the one in the commons." Merk latched his hands behind his head. "There are more important things to do when the groups are together in the same room."

  She found it too easy to forget he'd spent most of his life in prison. "Like what?"

  He propped his feet on the coffee table. "Like stay alive."

  "Oh." She ran her tongue over her upper teeth. Idaho State Penitentiary's reputation as one of the roughest and most dangerous prisons in the United States was well known. She'd figured the cells inside kept the men safe, but it only made sense that the prisoners got together to eat, socialize, and probably exercise considering how good of shape Merk's body was in.

  "I take it you normally don't pretend to watch a movie, so what do you do on Sundays when you're not babysitting me?" She bit down on her lip to keep from smiling.

  For reasons unknown, she found the idea of a biker sitting with her to keep her out of trouble while she adapted to life on her own funny. Merk glared, which only amused her more.

  "No, really, I'd like to know." She clamped her lips together before any laughter escaped.

  Merk lowered his arms. "Is that funny?"

  She nodded, unprepared for his hilarious reaction. "Don't you have some wood to watch burn, motorcycle races you need to go win, or whatever bikers do in their free time?"

  "Is that what you think I do?"

  She straightened her leg and nudged his thigh with her sock covered toe. "I don't know what you do, but you're officially off babysitting duty. I'm perfectly okay being here by myself, so you should go out and hang with your friends."

  "I'm good staying here with you." He caught her ankle and brought her foot to his lap.

  She pulled back, but he tugged her forward.

  His thumb pressed into the arch of her foot paralyzing her from stopping him. She swallowed her pleasure. His hands felt wonderful on her tired and abused feet.

  "How old are you?" she asked, trying to cover her positive reaction to the massage.

  "Forty five. No, Forty six."

  She studied the lines around his eyes. "I'm twenty six. So technically, you are old enough to babysit me. Way old enough."

  His touch lightened and she squirmed at the feathered tickles going up her leg. He slipped off her sock. She yelped and her muscles tightened, bringing her knee to her chest. He pulled her leg straight.

  "What's with the babysitter jokes?" He ran the pad of his thumb from her heel to under her big toe.

  "Uh." She quivered, holding her leg still. "I have no idea. You're here and you really don't have to be here anymore."

  Merk pulled her leg, bringing her next to him until he had her thighs on his lap and she held on to his arm to keep from falling backward onto the couch. He hooked her neck holding her steady. "I'm not going anywhere."

  Her mood flipped from amused to worried. "I don't want to get used to you being here for me when there's no purpose of you staying."

  He lifted her off the couch, set her on her feet, and smacked her ass. "Go put jeans and shoes on, we're getting out of here."

  Stunned at the quick change of topic, she crossed her arms. "I don't want to go out."

  "Why not?"

  She darted her gaze around the room trying to come up with an excuse. "I'm tired of the way people look at me. Every customer who comes in here judges me to see if I'm sad or grieving or about to fall apart at any second. I want to stay here with you."

  His mouth softened. "There are no people where I'm taking you, and I have a cure for what's bothering you."

  "What?"

  He stared at her mouth. "Go get dressed and then come downstairs and I'll show you."

  Five minutes later, Desiree entered the bar wearing a pair of her old jeans with rips at the knees, her Chucks, and a sweatshirt tied around her waist. In a half hour, the sun would set and the cool air would settle down on the Silver Valley.

  Merk spotted her and shoved his phone in his pocket. His gaze traveled down her body, stopping at her breasts. Her stomach fluttered.

  She held her arms straight out at her sides. "I'm ready."

  "Right." His tongue came out and moistened his bottom lip.

  She grabbed the hand he offered and walked with him outside to his motorcycle parked at the back of the building. On the sidewalk, Merk pulled off the sweatshirt from her waist and tugged the material over her head. Then instead of handing over the helmet, he stood in front of her and latched the strap tight under her chin.

  "Are we going to the lake?" She pulled her hair over her shoulders and let it fall flat against her back.

  Merk shook his head. "I'm taking you where people can't bother you and no one's going to stare if you want to laugh, cry, or scream. You can feel however you want and nobody is going to judge you."

  His words continued to circle in her head when she climbed up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist. She held on to him riding down Main Street and when he rode under the viaduct and took the on-ramp to Interstate 90.

  Merk sped up and merged with the travelers going west at seventy-five miles per hour. Having no experience on the back of a motorcycle going at a fast speed, she buried her head a
gainst his shoulder, listened to the roar of the engine until she no longer feared the high speed. She sought safety with Merk, relying on him to keep her going, rolling along the interstate.

  The smooth ride glided her over miles. She raised her head, letting the cool air caress her face. The stress of her life taken by the air washed her clean and she closed her eyes.

  Merk's hand landed on hers, squeezing her fingers against his stomach. She opened her eyes, caught his gaze in the side-view mirror, and smiled. The genuine happiness shared with another person filled her with adrenaline and she laughed.

  The whole time, Merk watched her. In his eyes, she found acceptance. His permission undid the vise that'd wrapped around her chest since Pop died and the powerful relief let the damn of grief escape.

  Her vision blurred. Tears rolled faster than the wind could dry them. She sobbed louder when Merk reached back and rubbed her thigh. He traveled with her and somehow knew what she needed.

  He kept her away from traffic, alone with her emotions. Except, she wasn't alone. Merk stayed with her, comforted her, and healed her. He'd done more for her than she'd done for herself. He kept her moving forward, even dragging her along at times.

  Why couldn't each day be free and unfettered by reality? Where she loved and never experienced loss. Where pleasure replaced pain. Where someone stronger protected her at her weakest moment. Where she never needed to question the obvious.

  She tilted her head and screamed to the sky. Her throat burned and the vibration of the noise she emitted flew away in the air, never to return. She half sob-screamed, the ugly sound painful and true, until she ran out of emotions. She had nothing left inside of her. No pain, no confusion, no worries.

  Closing her eyes, she understood why Merk took her on the ride. She experienced what he'd already learned. For one night, she understood him better. His quiet demeanor was for other people. Yet, she could imagine him riding alone and letting himself express his emotions where nobody judged him.

  She wouldn't worry about the changes happening in her life.

  She wouldn't question Merk's motives for staying.

  She'd enjoy the ride.

  Chapter Twelve

  Three months from the day Joe died, Merk took his position at the end of the counter and watched Desi beat herself up. He had no clue what to do with her. Her emotions slowly started to show to those around her and the mood swings came faster as if she wanted to validate her returning feelings.

  Every night, she snuggled beside him. Sometimes she wept. Sometimes she ignored him. Sometimes he swore she wiggled against him for the pure satisfaction of leaving him hard and aching. If that's what she needed, he gave it to her because he had no other way to comfort her.

  During all this time, she never asked him to leave. Even if she had, he'd refuse. Unknown to her, he'd set his plan into motion and started counting down the days she owed him the night he stayed and never left.

  She had twelve years to give him. He could wait for her to acknowledge their situation, because once she understood he wouldn't let her get out of paying him back, she'd erupt and drag him through hell.

  Right now, he enjoyed the small signs of her adapting to her new life without her grandfather. Yesterday, she laughed with the customers, played music extra loud, and even cajoled a tourist into betting a hundred bucks to play her in pool.

  The whole time, he watched her. Waiting. Planning.

  More bothersome than his dick pumping to life every time she moved, talked, or let herself glance at him, he fluctuated between wanting her to pay for his lost years and wanting to make her understand why he wanted them back. The constant flux left him achy and dissatisfied.

  Her lack of attention lately provided him easy access to guarantee his plan remained fail proof in case she fought against him. Since coming back, he realized his one mistake he hadn't taken into consideration.

  The little girl he'd dealt with years ago trusted him without question. The grown woman he slept in bed with every night had lost her innocence. She no longer blindly trusted anyone.

  "She's doing pretty well, considering." Hank, the older retired man sitting at the bar nursing his nightly bloody Mary lifted his chin, motioning toward Desi. "Joe sure was protective of her. Poor kid had it rough for a while after her mom died, and then of course she lived through seeing her old man killed. Yep, ol' Joe did the right thing for her."

  Merk's body hardened. "The right thing?"

  Hank wiped the back of his hand along his mouth. "He took every spare dime he won from his card games and handed the money over to pay his son's debt after the son of a bitch got murdered. Never met a harder worker than Joe. Honest and paid his debts. He'd do anything for that sweet girl."

  Fuck. Reds still had people on the outside working for profits. For all he knew, Reds still worked with Los Li across the border. If Reds still extracted money from Joe after Merk murdered Jerry Carlyle and broke the deal between Los Li and Desi's dad, Desi was in trouble.

  "Yeah, sounds like a stand-up guy," Merk muttered, pulling out his phone.

  He texted Cam. Did J. Carlyle have a debt with Rs ?

  Cam replied back. No clue.

  Merk clenched his teeth. Cam's view to keep Moroad MC safe by extorting money from Reds, Blues, and Los Li supplied money to the Moroad members inside of prison and those living free. The club's motive to stay out of other people's business, including the information he needed on Desi, would make it harder on Moroad. None of them wanted to go to war and jeopardize their income.

  Can U meet me at the bar in an hour? He glanced up at the sound of Desi's laughter and finished his text to Cam. We have a prob.

  Cam: B there.

  Merk texted Jacko. Bar. Now.

  Jacko: 20 mins.

  The music changed. A slower song came on. Desi rushed behind the bar and pulled the cord for the speakers. He glanced at the time on his phone. Desi still had five hours to work before closing the bar.

  Desi's raised voice from across the room brought his attention back to her. She inflated her cheeks, blew out her breath, and shook her head at the couple on their third drink. Merk approached, knowing there was something more going on with Desi today than her treading the cycle of mourning Joe.

  He removed the tray from her hand. "Take a break. I'll cover the customers while you get off your feet."

  "I'm not tired." She moved to walk around him.

  He tagged her hip, pinning her against the bar. "It's not a suggestion."

  "Well, here's your answer. No." She narrowed her eyes.

  He picked her up, sat her ass on the counter putting her at eye level with him. "Don't fucking move."

  She squirmed toward the edge to get down. He scooted her back fully on the bar. Her stubbornness and attitude pushed him too far. "Hank?" he called.

  The old man rose from his stool and walked down the length of the bar. "She can't serve drinks sitting on the counter."

  "No, but she'd like you to share with her how you met Joe. She's never heard the story before." Merk counted on Hank's long history with Joe and his talkative personality to occupy Desi for a while.

  Desi glared. "Merk..."

  Hank planted his elbows on the wood. "Shit, Joe and I go back to the old days when there were whores in Federal. Joe drove that fifty-seven Chevy..."

  Merk nailed Desi with a look to stay put and went to answer the customer's call for more beer. Fifteen minutes later, Desi had turned her full attention to Hank's story.

  The front door swung open and Jacko strolled into the bar. Merk lifted his chin and motioned to the back room. When Jacko reached him, he said, "Cam will be here soon. I got news that Joe's been paying off Reds all these years. Now he's dead and if the story is true, Reds will be looking for someone else to take up the slack."

  "Desiree?" Jacko scratched his jaw.

  Merk nodded. "I need to make sure she's safe, until we find out Reds next move and put a stop to their connection with Desi."

  "It'll
piss Reds off if Moroad steps into their business. They've held to our agreement and they'll see our active stance in their gang activity toward Desiree as a slap in the face."

  "I understand how they'll think. It comes down to either the club protects her or I do."

  "Brother, I get it." Jacko whistled softly. "You're in the middle."

  "Hang the fuck on." Merk walked to the cash register and instead of opening the drawer to let the two customers pay their bill, he took the money offered and thanked them.

  Caught off guard, the two men cast each other looks, shrugged, and walked out. Hell, Desi deserved more in tips anyways. Call their contribution a donation for her running the bar on her own.

  Merk checked on Desi, nodded at Hank in thanks, glad for his talkative nature keeping Desi busy while he dealt with a possible shit storm coming toward her.

  "I hadn't heard that story before." Desi patted Hank's hand. "Pop always enjoyed his talks with you. He worried about you if you didn't drop by for your evening drink."

  "Nothing is going to stop me from holding up tradition, except now I'll be drinking in Joe's honor instead and remembering the good times," Hank said.

  "You're a good man, Hank." Desi jumped down from the counter, leaned over, and kissed Hank's grizzled cheek. "Thanks for talking to me about Pop."

  Merk blocked her path. He'd accomplished making her take a fifteen-minute break, and he wanted her improved mood to last. "Better?"

  "You do know I pay your wages, right?" she whispered. "Don't do that to me again or you'll find yourself without a job."

  "I've never needed your money. That's not what I'm here for." Merk glanced down at her breasts, heaving under her shirt.

  She'd worn a see through white button-up shirt with lace on the sleeves. Lust stirred in his chest and traveled down warming his stomach. To drive him over the edge, she had on a black bra, one of those styles that only covered her tits and let the top of her breasts bounce free.

  "Merk?" Her voice wavered. "I think we need to talk after the bar closes."

  "I agree." Merk leaned in and kissed her lips. "We'll talk."