Page 6 of Skid
My eyes met his, and he smiled sadly down at me as I chewed on my lip with worry. I met Eddie when I was at my lowest, and he gave me a safe place to land when I needed help the most. It took over a year for me to open up to him, and I only told him a fraction of what caused me to run away at sixteen years old.
He never looked at me with pity or disgust, and I never told him the whole story, even though he could probably guess. He helped me get my GED online and has been the closest thing to family I’ve had since my father died when I was four. I don’t have any real memories of my father, just the feeling of him that I still experience from time to time.
Shaking off the painful memories, I glanced over at the bearded man and back to Eddie. “I guess you’re right. Just don’t make a habit out of it.”
He raised his hands in mock surrender, and I chuckled at him as he handed me two clean glasses and a bottle of whiskey. Shaking my head, I took them from him and walked around the front of the bar, stepping around customers standing in the walkway and slowly approaching the mystery man.
He smiled up at me as I grew closer and pushed the chair across from him out with his boot, giving me a place to sit down. Placing the two glasses and bottle on the table, I took my seat as he poured us two fingers of whiskey in each glass. Seeing him so close with the light hanging over the table, I noticed how deep blue his eyes were, and I swallowed down my nerves.
He slid the glass to me, and my fingers brushed his as I took it. An electric shock shot through me, and I drank the glass in one swallow, needing to take the edge off. A strong, tattooed hand came across the table as he spoke, his smooth voice like honey as he said, “Dalton, but you can call me Skid.”
I shook his hand, and the tingles from his contact warmed me, starting a slow simmer deep inside me that I feared would never leave. “Grace. And you can call me Grace.”
A beautiful smile filled his handsome face as he withdrew his hand and tipped a splash of liquor into my empty glass. I’d noticed over the last few visits that he always wore a leather jacket covered in patches, even when it was getting hot outside, so I leaned in to inspect what the patches said.
Death Hounds MC Portstill Chapter.
“What’s a Death Hound?’ I asked as the buzz from the alcohol began to course through my blood.
He leaned back and glanced down at his jacket before answering, “The Death Hounds are my club, my brothers, my family.”
“Where’s Portstill? I’ve never heard of it.”
“Tennessee, between Nashville and Memphis.”
His responses were clipped, and I wondered if either of us could open up or if this was going to be a tug of war to give the smallest answer possible. Sitting back, I heard Eddie ring the bell for last call and glanced over my shoulder to see only two orders being placed. Knowing he could handle it, I decided to sit with Dalton for a few more minutes.
“What brings you to Alabama?” I asked, finishing the small amount of liquor and placing the empty glass back on the table.
He went to lift the bottle, and I placed my hand over the top of the glass, stopping him from pouring any more. I had to drive home, and I didn’t need any more of a buzz. Drinking wasn’t something I often did, preferring to get my relaxation from the occasional joint and daily yoga. He set the bottle down before he answered.
“I had some business to take care of in the area and decided to stay for a while. It’s a cute community.”
I shook my head with laughter. “It’s as backwoods as you can get, but it’s home.”
“Are you from around here? You don’t have much of an accent,” he remarked, and I pushed back from the table slightly.
“Midwest girl,” I answered vaguely and deflected back to him. “Tell me about yourself, Dalton.”
“Not much to tell. Older sister is my club President’s old lady, younger brother is in college for computers. Tennessee is home, and I’ll be headed back that way . . . eventually.” His heated gaze never left my face, and I could feel his caress across the table.
“Do you have any siblings?” he asked, and I shook my head.
“Just me and Eddie.” I looked over my shoulder to see him returning bottles to the shelves and locking the coolers behind the bar.
A voice from the next table caught me off guard as the music from the jukebox faded. The words were whispered and they ran across my spine, pushing me closer to the bleak darkness that I couldn’t shake, no matter how hard I tried.
“Come to Daddy . . .”
I stood from my chair and grabbed the empty glasses and bottle on autopilot. He looked up at me with confusion, and just as I went to leave, his voice broke through the painful memories overpowering me. “Grace, are you okay?”
Everything was happening in slow motion as I tried to capture his gaze with mine, only to feel myself tumbling into darkness. I made it one step before my feet failed me and I started to fall. My hands were filled with glass, and I threw them out, trying to break my fall as my vision grew to a pinpoint, casting me in blackness.
“Grace!” Dalton yelled as he jumped from the table and grabbed onto me, stopping me from hitting the dirty floor.
I could hear Eddie yelling my name as strong arms held me close to a warm chest. An intoxicating scent surrounded me as I fought to pull away from the years of pain and regret flashing before my eyes. The feeling of being lifted into the air brought a wave of nausea, and I struggled not to be sick as I was carried into Eddie’s office and placed on the couch along the side wall.
A warm hand caressed my face as my vision slowly came back, and the memories receded into the vault I locked them away in. It had been years since they were so strong, and I feared the panic and shame would soon follow. I could see Eddie wringing his hands as he looked down at me, and I blinked to see Dalton kneeling next to me, worry etched across his handsome face.
