Page 8 of Q: Satan's Fury MC

I was working at the local thrift shop, and James had joined a carpentry crew with a popular contractor in our area. Things were going great, but I’d had a hell of a day at work and was exhausted. When I finally made it back to the apartment, I decided to rest for a bit.

I went into the living room and lay down on the sofa. It seemed like I’d barely closed my eyes when I felt my head being jerked forward by my hair. My eyes flew open, and I was shocked to find James towering over me.

His neck and cheeks were red with anger as he roared, “I can’t believe you!”

“James, stop! You’re hurting me!”

“I’ve been busting my ass at work all damn day, and you’re laying here sleeping?”

Without giving me a chance to respond, he gave my hair a firm yank and pulled me onto the floor with a painful thud, then dragged me toward the kitchen. “James! Let go!”

I started flailing my arms and legs, hoping to break free, but it did little good. He just kept pulling me by my hair until we reached the kitchen. “Instead of sleeping, you should be in here cooking fucking dinner!”

I didn’t respond.

I simply curled up into a ball on the floor and sobbed.

When James finally realized what he’d done, he dropped to the floor and pulled me into his arms, cradling me as he muttered, “Oh, God. I’m so sorry, Jules. I don’t know what the hell I was doing.”

I should’ve told him to fuck off. I should’ve gotten up and walked out the door and never looked back, but I didn’t.

I believed him when he said he was sorry.

Don’t get me wrong.

I sulked.

I moped around and felt sorry for myself for days.

But after mulling it over, I managed to convince myself that James had a right to be mad. I told myself that my job wasn’t nearly as strenuous as the carpentry work James did, and I had no business laying down for a nap when I knew he would be expecting dinner when he got home.

I made myself believe that he had every right to be upset with me. It seemed I had my mother’s uncanny ability to manipulate any situation and make excuses, and in the end, I always found a way to convince myself that things weren’t as bad as they were.

But as one year rolled into the next, it became harder and harder to convince myself that I deserved the beatings. When I walked away, I promised myself I would never let anyone hurt me again—even if that meant keeping everyone at a distance. Thankfully, keeping people at a distance wasn’t all that hard. I liked being alone.

Being alone was easy.

It was uncomplicated.

It was safe.

And after the hell I’d been through, I needed safe more than anything, which is why I grabbed my cup of coffee and darted toward the gift shop the second I heard the loud rumble of motorcycles coming up the drive. I didn’t like strangers, especially big, burly ones like Smokey’s brothers.

I’d hoped that I could spend the better part of the morning hiding out there with Katie, but when I stepped into the storage room, I was disappointed to find that she was already putting the books away. “You’re already done with inventory?”

“Yep,” she answered proudly. “I knew we’d be busy this morning, so I started on it last night.”

“Oh, wow.” Trying not to sound disappointed, I told her, “That was smart of you.”

“I just wanted to make sure it was done before the crowds arrived.”

“Yeah, I don’t blame you there. It’s going to be pretty hectic soon.” I could hear Smokey’s brothers gathering outside, so I asked, “Is there anything else you need to get done?”

“Well, I still need to check the shelves and...”

Before she could finish her thought, the front door opened, and two of Smokey’s brothers stepped into the gift shop. One of them was tall and broad with a thick, dark beard sprinkled with gray and fierce, dark eyes that seemed to cut right through me. Just being in the same room with him made my blood run cold.

I was about to bolt when I spotted his friend.

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