Page 36 of Dark Biker Protector

I grinned at her, and squeezed her one last time before I got back to my feet.

"We have boxes to unpack," I reminded her. Behind us, Cinnamon and Clove were playing together on the bed, Clove pouncing on Cinnamon’s tail while Cinnamon tried to fight him off. I was glad to see them getting on so well together, and I got the nagging feeling that these wouldn’t be the only cats we brought into this place.

Because this was our home now, and I wanted to fill it with as much love as I could. After Anna had passed, I hadn’t allowed myself to let another family fill that void – I'd had the Dogs, but that was it. The thought of building something else with someone close to me, allowing someone near enough to fill that hole in my heart again, it had been more than I could handle.

But here, now, I knew it was exactly how it was meant to be. I knew it was just what I had been waiting for. A whole new life, stretched out before me – a whole life with the woman I loved at my side. I could hardly wait.

Chapter Twenty-Two – Abbey

"To Abbey!” Star announced, as she lifted her glass.

"To Abbey," everyone else chimed in, their glasses clattering together. I laughed.

"Guys, you don’t need to do all that...."

"Yes, we do," Chuck replied, slipping an arm around me and squeezing me in close. "You worked your ass off on that article, and it’s out today. That’s worth celebrating."

"Thank you," I murmured to him, kissing him on the cheek. I was thanking him, in particular, because I knew this article wouldn’t have blown up the way it had without him – and, if it hadn’t been for his willingness to open up about everything that had happened with his sister, I knew I wouldn’t have got anywhere near the story I had managed to.

I had been working on this piece for the better part of the last two months, and I had been amazing at the response I had gotten when I was piecing it all together. I had imagined, when I put out a call for women who had been in abusive situations, women who had dealt with stalking, that I might get a couple of responses, but I had been inundated with them in a matter of days.

There were so many of us out there, so many women who had survived the same nightmare I had. So many of them who were still in the midst of it, too, though they had seen it for what it was – seen the abuse and the stalking and the harassment for the monstrous attacks on their safety and security that they were, no longer making excuses for the men doing it by convincing themselves they were nothing more than innocent lovers who had taken things too far.

It staggered me just how many stories there were out there like mine and Iris’; how many men like Franco filled out this country. And how shitty the cops were at dealing with stuff like this. So many of these stories were studded through with these moments where these women had gone to the police, practically begging on their hands and knees for help, and had been brushed off because the guy hadn’t physically laid a hand on her yet.

But the stalking and harassment should have been enough. I had gotten distracted from the main thrust of the article a few times as I had found myself involved in other women’s cases, helping them collate all the information they had from their abuser and bring it to the authorities in a way that they wouldn’t be able to ignore. A few of them had been able to bring their cases to trial, and, while they were still ongoing, I was planning on doing follow-up articles on the matter when they had finally come to an end.

But the article itself had still been a huge success. I had released it on my site, and it had been shared more than a thousand times across a bunch of social media platforms, racking up views faster than I could take them in. Comments were stacking up as people thanked me for putting this story out there, told me that they had been through something like this, or someone they knew had, or they were worried about a friend who might have been involved in a situation similar, and they were going to reach out and check in. It was so overwhelming, but in a good way – a reminder that I was doing the right thing, no matter how hard it might have been to see it through, no matter how much it had hurt to go through some of these memories myself.

And Chuck, too, had shared his story – of what had happened to his sister, how serious it could get, and how best to offer help to someone who was in the midst of that kind of relationship. Though he had tried to brush off his contributions, I could see from the comments how important they were. They had empowered people to reach out to family members who were struggling and show them that they weren’t alone. I knew he had saved a few lives with his openness, and I had dedicated the story to his sister – hoping that, at the very least, I could pay tribute to her memory and help someone else avoid her fate in the process.

"It’s such an amazing article," Star gushed, flashing me a smile. "Even better than the one you wrote about my father. You can really feel the passion you have for all of this. You should be so proud of yourself."

"Yeah, agreed," Jaxon interjected. He was a man of few words, but Star seemed able to get them out of him.

"Thanks, guys," I told them, lowering my head slightly. "I guess I just have to figure out what I’m going to write next, huh?"

"Or maybe you can just enjoy this before you start thinking about that," Chuck replied, draping an arm around the back of my chair. We were at the Kennels right now, Star and Jaxon and Lee joining us to celebrate my article, and the buzz of excitement in the air was putting a smile on my face. In some ways, it felt as though I had finally put everything with Franco behind me – like this was, at last, over, and I could move on.

"Maybe," I agreed. "I’m going to get another drink. Does anyone else want anything?"

"Yeah, I do," Lee replied. His eyes were fixed on the bar, and I noticed that he seemed distracted. He headed to the bar with me, and as the bartender came to take our order, he leaned over to speak to him.

"Have you seen Liana lately?" he asked. The bartender frowned and shook his head.

"Not that I can remember," he replied. "Why?"

"She was meant to be in this evening," he muttered. "She hasn’t turned up for work in a few days. There’s something going on with her, I’m sure of it..."

"Or maybe she’s just feeling a little under the weather," I suggested, lifting a hand to plant it on Lee’s shoulder. Chuck had told me he had a habit of overthinking, and damn, if I couldn’t relate to that. Lee grimaced.

"Maybe," he muttered. I could tell he didn’t believe me. Maybe there was more going on here than I realized, more that he didn’t want me to know about.

We got our drinks and headed back to the table, and Chuck pulled me in to his lap before I could sit down. I laughed and looped my arms around his shoulders.

"I have a perfectly good seat of my own, you know," I scolded him playfully. He shrugged, smoothing a hand down the small of my back.

"I know," he replied. "Just figured you’d be more comfortable here."

---