Mystery Man (The Dream Man Series Book 1)

I felt weight hit the bed, my eyes opened and slid up.

Tack was sitting there, wearing a skintight tee and faded jeans. His hair was wet from a shower. His blue eyes were on me.

I was lying in his bed, not at the Chaos Compound, in a rather nice house in the foothills outside Denver. It was built just up the mountain. It was one story, long and had a deck that ran the front of the house. I knew it would have great views in the daylight but I didn’t take much in when we got there mainly because I was numb, exhausted and desperately fighting back hysterical tears, a tantrum and the desire to commit murder.

Tack led me to his bedroom, dumped my purse on his nightstand and ordered, “Sleep, darlin’.”

Then he left.

I took off my boots, socks, jeans and since I conveniently was wearing my nightshirt, I climbed into his unmade bed and did exactly as I was told.

Now it was now and I was curled into a protective ball, my hands in prayer position under my cheek.

Tack spoke. “Mornin’, peaches, you want breakfast?”

“Do you cook or do you have a biker babe that makes breakfast to order?” I replied and there it was. Automatic. The smartass.

Would I ever learn?

Tack grinned. “I cook. Best pancakes you’ll ever have, you get your ass outta bed,” he answered.

For the first time in my life, I wasn’t hungry.

No, that wasn’t true. After I found my husband in bed with my sister and kicked his ass out, I didn’t eat for three days. I didn’t realize it, Troy did and he made me eat. But that was the last time I lost my appetite.

“Sounds good,” I lied but didn’t move.

When I didn’t Tack reached out, curled his fingers around my forearm and gently pulled my hand from under my face. Then he lifted my arm and his eyes dropped to my wrist. His hand slid up carefully so he could wrap his fingers around my palm and I watched as he lifted my arm further up… up… until he bent his neck and his lips touched the bruised and torn skin at my wrist.

My breath seized.

Hawk should have done that but Hawk was so busy brooding about Brett, or more likely trying to figure out how to end things with me since he conquered the challenge and was ready to move on, that last night he completely forgot I was kidnapped, bound, gagged and targeted as bait.

Tack’s head lifted, his body leaned in and he pressed my hand to his chest.

“My girl had a bad day yesterday,” he said quietly.

Hawk should have said that too.

“There’s bad and there’s bad and I’m discovering the many nuances but, yes… yesterday introduced me to a new level of bad.”

“Then you need pancakes.”

Finally, a man who understood the healing properties of food.

“Pancakes would be good,” I replied.

His hand squeezed mine. “Ass outta bed, babe, I’ll be in the kitchen.”

Then he lifted my hand, touched his lips to my knuckles, released it, got up off the bed and sauntered out of the room.

I took my time, got out of bed, dug through my bag, found my toothbrush and face wash, went into the bathroom off his bedroom and did my business. Then I didn’t bother dressing, my nightshirt covered me more than most dresses I owned. I walked out of the room and since the house was built into the hill and all the rooms were to one side the hallway was filled with windows and I saw the view.

The good news was there was a sheer drop off beyond the deck therefore difficult to execute a successful drive-by. The other good news was the view was unbelievable. And for the first time in over a week, there was no bad news.

I walked down the hall looking into rooms to my left. A bath and two other bedrooms, one that had a bed and dresser, one that was a messy office. Then I entered the open space. An open kitchen with bar delineating it from internal walkway opposite sliding glass doors to the deck and the kitchen fed into a massive living room that jutted out a bit at the front of the house.

Tack was in the kitchen at the stove.

I moved to stand by him, not too close, and once there I leaned against the counter. I looked down and there were six, perfect, silver dollar pancakes cooking on a griddle.

His head turned to me.

“Looks like you’re good at that,” I remarked.

He didn’t respond to my remark. Instead he asked, “Do you need coffee?”

“Am I Gwendolyn Kidd, am I breathing and is it morning?” I answered.

Shit! There it was again. The smartass.

Tack grinned. Then he jerked his head to the counter behind me.

“Make yourself at home, peaches,” he invited.

Oh boy.

“Do you need a refresh?” I asked.

“I’m good, babe,” he answered.

I moved to find mugs while speaking. “You want to tell me what that was about last night?”

“Seems we got the same thing on our mind.”

I had my hand wrapped around a mug and I turned my head to look at him as I closed the cupboard door. “What?”

“Babe, you came racin’ outta Hawk’s like the fuckin’ place was haunted and jumped on Dog’s bike.”

“Um…” I answered, dropped my head, grabbed the handle of the coffeepot and started pouring. “Why don’t you answer my question first?”

He didn’t hesitate. “I was there ‘cause I wanted an explanation of why you got kidnapped and not an hour later put up for bid. Hawk and I made a deal and the deal was he’s supposed to have your back so that shit doesn’t happen and it did. He fell down on the job.”

I looked at Tack. “His man got shot three times, protecting me,” I said softly.

Tack’s eyes locked to mine. “Like I said, fallin’ down on the job.”

Hmm. This was unfair and heartbreakingly true at the same time.

I went to the fridge and found milk. “Do you have sugar?”

Tack was flipping pancakes, he finished this task, reached into a cupboard and pulled out a half full bag of sugar, putting it down by my mug. I searched for spoons, sloshed in milk, did my sugar, put back the milk and stirred. Then I set the spoon aside and sipped the coffee.

Tack made good coffee too.

Hmm.

“Peaches,” Tack called, I looked and I saw he was watching me.

“Yes?”

“I answered your question, now’s the time you answer mine.”

I took another sip and studied him over the rim of my mug. His eyes didn’t leave mine so I sighed.

Then I shared, “Hawk just ended things with me so I really, really needed a ride.”

“Hawk ended things?” he whispered and even though I was studying him, I still missed the change in him but when I caught it, my body got tight.

Shit!

“Um…”

“He ended things the night you got kidnapped, your fuckin’ wrists torn up and your picture, bound and gagged, farmed out for bid.”

That didn’t sound good but then again, it fucking wasn’t.

“Um…” I mumbled.

Tack turned to his pancakes. “At least he fuckin’ ended things. Clean go.”

Tack scraped pancakes off the griddle onto a waiting plate as I asked, “Clean go?”

His head turned to me. “Clean go. For you. He’s outta the picture, I don’t have to deal with his shit anymore.”

Uh-oh.

“Tack –” I started, uncertain how to say what I had to say and that was I was so done with men. Seriously done with them. Forever done with them. I was not going to go there again. The problem was, according to Hawk, saying something like that to Tack was like a challenge and I really didn’t need that.

Tack dropped the pancake flipper on the counter, turned and closed the distance between us before I could blink.

Then he started speaking. “Gwen, people talk and the last week, most ‘a the talk on the street that’s not about your fuckin’ sister has been about you and Hawk. I know your shit’s been linked to his for awhile. I know you’re different from the rest. And I saw your face last night, babe, so I know you’re feelin’ this deep and, believe me, it gives me no pleasure sayin’ this, but I also know when he’s done, he’s done and if he said he’s done with you, he… is… done.”

I felt the sting in my sinuses heralding tears.

Tack went on. “I also know what I saw when you first saw me, I know what I felt when I saw you and I know exactly what you felt when I first touched you. That said, I ain’t stupid and I ain’t an asshole. You aren’t ready. That don’t mean I don’t want in there enough to wait. So,” he moved in closer and his hand came up, curled around my neck as his head bent, his face got in mine and his voice went gentle, “you take your time, darlin’, you lick your wounds and you got me at your back while they heal. You feel like explorin’ more energetic ways to wipe him outta your mind, I’m here. And when you come out the other side, I’m waitin’.”

“Tack –” I started on a breath, my eyes staring into his and I could feel the tears trembling at their edges, tears for the end of my living daydream with Hawk and tears because standing in front of me, apparently, was a good man. A dangerous one, but a good one and still, there was no way in hell I was ever going there.

His head bent further, his mouth touched mine and since my lips were parted, he took that opportunity to slide his tongue in my mouth. Reflexively, the tip of mine moved to meet the tip of his and an electric shock of surprise and something a whole lot different bolted through me causing another bolt to shoot somewhere else.

Even though he didn’t miss his opportunity, he didn’t take advantage, his head lifted and my eyes opened to see his staring into mine.

His hand at my neck squeezed reassuringly and he ordered gently, “Now, eat your pancakes, babe.”

I did as I was told. I took the pancakes and he got me butter and maple syrup. I sat at a stool at his bar, readied them and ate them while he made some for himself.

He was right and I was surprised.

They were the best pancakes I’d ever had.

* * * * *

It was just after noon and I was spent.

Tack had gone down the mountain to see about getting my things. He had decreed that I was staying at his place. Thinking about this, people were kidnapping me. Dad and Meredith were homeless and their vulnerability had been proven by a firebomb. Leo was a cop but he had a job that he had to work in order to get paid which meant he couldn’t spend his days guarding me. I was still averse to buying a gun and, anyway, I was pretty sure there was a waiting period prior to earning a permit so that was out.

Tack had a bevy of badass bikers at his command and a mountain hideaway.

So I picked Tack.

While he was gone I called and left a message with Dad telling him where I was so he wouldn’t worry and telling him I’d explain later. I also told him the dinner Elvira and I sorted out with Hawk, Gus and Maria was off and I’d explain that later too. I didn’t call Meredith because she could take calls at work and I wasn’t ready to go there. I did call Cam and Tracy. Cam ranted about Hawk saying how she knew, she just knew, Hawk was a motherfucking asshole. Tracy sounded exactly as heartbroken as I felt.

I didn’t call Troy. He wouldn’t gloat, I knew that, he’d be kind. He’d also offer me a place to stay and Troy was a great guy but he didn’t have a bevy of badass bikers at his command and a mountain hideaway. He had a condo and his male friends were mostly bankers.

I was sitting on Tack’s huge, slouchy, comfortable, tan couch that faced the view, my mind filled with unhappy thoughts at the same time considering a nap which I hoped would last around fifty years, when I saw Tack on his bike roaring up the drive. He was alone and his Harley was not laden with suitcases.

Shit.

I got up and met him at the front door.

He looked unhappy.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“No,” he answered, moved to a door off the entry area, opened it and pulled out a leather biker jacket. He turned, tossed it to me and I caught it. “Put that on, peaches. I hate to break this to you but Hawk’s bein’ a dick. He won’t release your shit unless he sees you. My boys are in a standoff with his boys at his warehouse and to get your shit without unnecessary hassle which could mean anything from minor injuries to bloodshed to hospital stays, I need you to show your face.”

My body had locked but my mouth moved to form the word, “What?”

Tack invaded my space and one hand went to my waist, the other hand curled around my neck. “Darlin’, he’s demandin’ to see you. So,” his hands gave me a squeeze, “we gotta let him see you. He’ll see you, I’m at your back, then we take off and my boys go in and get your shit.”

“He’s holding my stuff for ransom until he sees me?” I whispered.

“Yep,” Tack answered.

“Why?” I was still whispering.

“Fuck if I know,” Tack replied.

I stood there, his hands on me, staring into his eyes.

Then I lost my mind.

I stepped back and yanked on his jacket. “That fucking dick!” I shouted. “God! What was I thinking! I must have lost my mind, getting involved with him. Temporarily insane!”

Then I freed my hair from the collar, stomped straight out the door and toward his bike only to be pulled up short with an arm at my belly, my foot just about ready to take the step off the decking at the side of the house and onto the gravel drive.

Tack lifted me clean off my feet, turned and put me down.

I pulled away, whirled on him then he said, “Babe, boots.”

I looked down at my feet in socks. Then I tipped my head back to look at Tack to see his mouth twitching.

Then I stomped into his house to get my boots.

* * * * *

Tack was right.

When we made it to Hawk’s warehouse there was definitely a standoff. A big black van was surrounded by about a dozen bikes and a dozen bikers were facing off against an equal number of commandos. Hawk had pulled in what looked like the entirety of his workforce.

He was amongst them.

Tack drove his Harley between the battle lines, stopped in front of Hawk and put down a foot.

“You see her, now let my boys in,” Tack growled.

Hawk looked at me. Luckily I’d spent the entire ride down the mountain nursing my snit, stoking it up so I was good and freaking angry so seeing him didn’t make me dissolve into tears or anything else equally humiliating.

“Inside,” Hawk clipped at me.

“No fuckin’ way,” Tack clipped back.

Hawk didn’t take his eyes off me. “Inside,” he repeated.

Tack pushed down the bike stand and I knew he was losing it too so I hopped off.

“Gwen –” Tack started.

I whipped my head around so fast my hair flew over my shoulder.

“It’s cool, I’m fine, I’ll be out in a minute,” I assured him.

“Peaches –”

“I’m fine, Tack, honestly, I’ll be out in a minute.”

Then I didn’t wait for his response, I skirted Hawk, pushed through his line of commandos, or, more accurately, between Fang and Jorge, and stomped into the warehouse.

When I got to the area just beyond the space under the bed platform I saw that rumor and Tack were right. When Hawk was done, he was done. I knew this because my two suitcases were there, my desk, my disconnected computer and my box of desk shit.

Why he wanted me there, I didn’t know. Maybe because he was an asshole. But then, most men were.

I grabbed my suitcases, lugged them up, turned and ran smack into Hawk.

My head tipped back. “Get out of my way,” I snapped.

He bent, pulled the suitcases out of my hands then his hands were on me. I barely got the chance to struggle before I was up against the paneled room under the platform and I was held there with his hand at my chest.

“Now, babe, you’re gonna let me explain.”

“Take your hand off me.”

“Her name was Simone,” he stated bizarrely.

“Who, your new toy?” I shot back.

“No, my dead wife.”

My stomach clutched, my heart stopped beating and I stared.

Then I whispered, “What?”

“My daughter’s name was Sophie.”

His daughter. His daughter. His fucking daughter.

Was.

He said was.

He kept talking. “She had a brother, Simone did, and he was just like Ginger. But there was a reason he was a total fuckin’ piece of trash shithead. Their parents were nightmares. Made your Mom a candidate for Mother of the Year. Simone, she was smart, she got out from under that shit as soon as she could. But for good reasons, but reasons that made her make fucked up decisions, she was tight with her brother. Too tight. And they stayed tight. I told her, unless she was with me, she didn’t go visit him. But his woman was pregnant, I was away on assignment and he called because his woman was in labor. Simone, she loved kids, she loved her brother, she loved his woman, she was so fuckin’ excited to be an aunt. So she went to their place and took Sophie with her. He walked out of the house, his woman walked out and Simone was walking with Sophie up to the house to meet them. He had some of his boys with him. They were all out on the lawn. Easy targets. Simone didn’t know he was in the middle of a war and died not knowin’ it. Doesn’t matter, that entire neighborhood was a warzone and she knew it because she grew up in it. The enemy took their shot and did their drive-by and didn’t hesitate to add collateral damage to their play. Simone went down, Sophie went down, Julian, Simone’s brother went down and his woman went down. She died before she gave birth but they saved the baby. That kid was the only one who survived that massacre.”

I was listening at the same time trembling and I wondered if my ears were bleeding but I knew my heart was or at least it felt like it.

“Hawk,” I whispered.

“I can’t go there again. I can’t do it again. Trust me, babe, I promised you I’d handle you with care and when I say I’m doin’ it, I’m not lyin’. This ends now before you get too deep.”

I stared up at him and it hit me.

He was so full of shit.

Therefore I informed him of that fact. “You are so full of shit.”

His face went hard, his hand left my chest and went to his cargos. He pulled out a wallet, his thumb sifting through it until he yanked out a folded bit of paper. He opened it and held it in front of my eyes. In it was a younger Hawk wearing fatigues, smiling at the camera while holding two girls. One, in the curve of his arm, an extremely beautiful dark-haired woman who was also smiling at the camera, resting her head on Hawk’s shoulder, her arm around his back, her other hand on his abs. The other, held up against his side, was a two or three year old extremely beautiful little girl, her face in profile a perfect blend of everything that was beautiful about her Mom and her Dad. She was wearing an adorable outfit. Pink. Her little hand was resting on Hawk’s throat. She wasn’t smiling at the camera. She looked like she was giggling and her eyes were on her father.

Yes, my heart was definitely bleeding.

He was still full of shit.

He pulled the picture from my face, folded it, shoved it in his wallet and shoved his wallet in his cargoes saying, “That was the day I was shipping out and that was the last time I saw them.”

“I caught my husband fucking my sister,” I reminded him.

His eyes locked to mine. “Yeah, babe, that sucks but you need to wake up and get over it.”

Was he insane?

“You’re unbelievable,” I hissed.

“My wife and kid were murdered in a drive-by, Gwen, when I was thousands of miles away. What happened to you sucked but do not stand there and throw that shit in my face when it in no way, in no fuckin’ way, compares.”

“You’re right, it doesn’t. Absolutely. It doesn’t. That doesn’t mean what you said to me doesn’t hold true.”

“And what’d I say to you, babe?”

“You said to me, I didn’t take the risk in giving myself to you that meant I was saying you weren’t worth the risk. And that holds true the other way around. What happened sucked, Hawk, beyond sucked. I’m pissed at you and my heart still bleeds for your loss. But even so, you’re standing right there saying I’m not worth the risk.”

I knew my point was made when I watched as his face freeze into a blank mask and I took that opportunity to walk right around him, go back to my bags and heft them up. Then I stomped to the door.

At the door I turned to see his eyes on me, his face still frozen in that mask.

“Tack’s boys’ll be in here to get the rest and don’t stop them. You want this to end, you release all of me.”

His face unfroze and it did this in order to gentle and watching his beautiful face gentling was like a punch in the gut.

Jerk!

“Gwen –” he started.

I shook my head. “No, you said what you had to say. And you proved my point. I have no fucking clue how to live my life. I’m not special to you no matter what my instincts and those butterflies I got in my stomach every time I saw you before we became us, but mostly after, told me. And you’re not special either, precisely because you made me feel like shit, again, and I listened to my heart, followed my instincts and allowed it to happen. The decisions I make are whacked. Point made. Lesson learned. I can’t trust my gut so I’m going to live in my head. Lucky for you, we’re over and you don’t have to watch me doing it.”

Then I turned, dropped a suitcase, grabbed the knob, opened the door an inch, picked up my suitcase and kicked the door open further then I struggled through it carrying my suitcases and leaving Cabe “Hawk” Delgado behind.