Page 22 of Strider's Misstep

Now I’m the one having to deal with the disappointment and find a new place for myself.

It's not the first time I have had to press restart and rebuild my life, a sort of return to factory settings, starting off with a clean slate. At least, this time, I’ve my self-made writing career to support me. Last time I ran, I had money with me, plenty of cash left by my dad. I knew, though, I had to use that carefully. One advantage of being around upper-class criminals is that some of their knowledge rubs off. First off, I’d have to obtain a new identity if I didn’t want anyone to find me. I was also going to have to be very careful about who I used to help me. The wrong person would lead to betrayal.

I lucked out, but the process didn’t come cheap. In going to the best and one I’d heard was assured of discretion, I had to pass over most of my available funds. But I’d needed the ultimate money could buy. I didn’t just want a new driver’s licence and identity. I needed a background that would stand up to scrutiny.

Katrina Aster née James had successfully become Jasmine Smart.

But what I’d paid out had left me with very little funds, no home, no friends I could call on if I wanted to protect the new me. I certainly didn’t want to live on the streets. That’s when I came across the Wretched Soulz MC.

I remember entering the club for the first time, as if it were yesterday. I was scared, but realistic. I had little to offer other than my physical assets, but it would be far from the first time that I’d been used without my consent. I’d hoped what I’d heard about motorcycle clubs was the truth—that if you became theirproperty, they’d extend their protection, and that’s what I wanted most. What did it matter if I had a few more rough, sleazy men climb over me? This time, it would be my choice.

Despite my worst fears, the Wretched Soulz hadn’t been a continuation of my nightmare. They ended up giving me more than my wildest dreams. I’d made friends and discovered anew place for myself. And even if I’d had to fulfil my original intention to allow my body to be used, most of the men in the club wouldn’t have turned me off. Of course, it was down to Strider that meant duties involving sexual favours were light. It was my own stupid fault that the feelings I’d allowed to develop for him had brought my new world crashing down.

The end, the drastic change in my circumstances, had come so suddenly that I had no firm plans. I’d jumped into an Uber and run before realising exactly how much I’d left behind. I’ve no transportation of my own. A club vehicle had always been available should I have need of one—so for now, I have to rely on buses and cabs. My first stop didn’t take me far, just to a cheap but clean hotel in town where I hoped I could begin to move forward.

I hadn’t even a phone. It didn’t seem right to take the one the club had supplied to me, though I had made sure I’d made a note of all the important contacts. That’s one of the things I quickly rectified. In today’s world, a phone is a necessity, but I decided to wait before thinking about to whom to give my new number.

What good would it do to give the Soulz the ability to contact or track me? I have to put that part of my life behind me if I’m going to heal.

I feel deep affection for all the members of the club but need time to pass to find some equilibrium before rekindling old friendships. What would that even look like? I was the club girl who only opened her legs for one man. And that’s the one person I don’t want to come after me. I don’t think I’d be strong enough to turn him away if Strider turned up at my door.

Even now, I feel myself weakening.He might not be free now, but he soon will be.Slapping the heel of my hand to my head, I try to get into my thick skull that he never wanted me. I was a minor distraction from watching the woman he truly loves die.

I try to look at the positives. For the first time since I married Barclay, I can think about myself, and not just as a matter of survival. As long as those creative juices keep flowing, I have an exciting career. In many ways, having my heart broken will help me. All the angst I’ve suffered in my life are now put to good use as I allow it to spill onto the pages.

For the first few days, I hide low, letting my emotions bounce all over the place. The dominant one—sadness for the Soulz I left behind—but there’s a kernel of excitement that’s beginning to grow as I realise I can go anywhere, be anything.

Mentally ready to move forward, I start looking for a place to rent. After looking for a while, I realise most in Austin are too expensive, and I question myself, is a city where I really want to be? When an ad catches my eye for a cute two-bedroom one-storey in a small town about halfway between Dallas and here, I start to feel excitement. Googling, I find the town has got everything I’m likely to need—a small mom-and-pop diner, a coffee shop, and a place to get groceries. It will be quiet, and right now, that will suit me.

I purchase a cheap car, then drive to meet the real estate agent. The place is exactly as described and perfect. Within a few days, I’ve got the keys and have signed a six-month contract.

It may not be forever, but it’s space to breathe.

Apart from using it to make arrangements for my immediate needs, I’ve not used my new phone. But once I’ve settled in, I call up a number.

“Jasmine?” is squealed and almost deafens me. “Oh, my goodness. Is that really you? Where are you? I tried to call your old number, but one of the guys answered and said you’d left. He started questioning me and asking me if I knew where you had gone. I was worried, Jassy. We’ve all been.”

“Yeah, it’s me,” I confirm unnecessarily when I can get a word in, a smile on my face at the exuberance in Sheri’s voice.It’s nice to know someone is pleased to hear from me. “I’m sorry I worried you. I didn’t have a choice. I had to leave.”

“Are you alright? Did Strider hurt you?” Obviously, I can’t see her face, but I can imagine her frowning.

“He didn’t hurt me as such.” I pause for a second. “Did you know he was married?” If she had, as a good friend, she would surely have told me. I know there’s a code of honour among bikers, definitely bros before hos, but with us women, I’d have hoped it would have worked the other way too.

“What?” Her startled exclamation proves her ignorance, letting me exhale a sigh of relief. “No, I had no idea. I don’t think Jake even knows. He never said anything to me.” There’s a brief silence before she next speaks. “Oh, hell, Jas. What an asshole. He led you on…”

“No,” I interrupt quickly. “It was a lie by omission, and the circumstances aren’t normal. But as soon as I knew, I had to leave. I was an idiot falling for him, Sheri.”

There’s no point lying to her. She’s called me out on my feelings before. And, of course, she’d read the same book that Strider had. “Well, of course, you did.” She uses the no-nonsense tone that most women can call on when giving supportive advice to a friend. “How are you doing? Are you alright?” Questions tumble out of her so fast she makes me laugh.

“I’m settled,” I butt in as soon as she pauses to take a breath. “I’m writing. It seems that angst is good for getting the creative juices flowing.” I don’t tell her that I’m picturing Strider every time I sit with my laptop to write. Especially when I’m writing a more intimate scene. “And I’m getting in lots of preorders for Motorcycles, Mobsters and Mayhem.” A worry hits me. “You’re still going to come and be my PA, aren’t you?”

“That’s great on the preorders. I knew you’d do well! And, of course, I am. Try to keep me away.” She’s quiet for a second. “I’ll have Jake in tow, though. I’ll be eight months pregnant by then.”

Chuckling, I reassure her, “That will be fine. I didn’t think he’d let you come alone.” Especially after what happened when she attended the signing as a reader last time. “I even checked for you. Sapphire, the person running it, has confirmed colours are allowed to be worn as long as no fights are started.”

“I’ll let him know. I’m so freaking excited, Jas.” Her voice rises in pitch again. “I can’t wait to be your assistant for the day. When do you want me to arrive? Do you need help getting your preorders together? Oh, and have you ordered any swag?”

Laughing at her enthusiasm, which, to be honest, isn’t far off my own, I let her know her help would be appreciated and very much welcomed. Then I tell her I’ve had bookmarks done and a few patches made up for my fictional club that I’ll be able to sell. She has me in stitches when she suggests other items I could have on my table—all penis related, of course. Her ideas make me laugh until my stomach hurts.

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