Dragon's Lair by Chantal Fernando
Chapter One
I stare at the old motel building in apprehension, taking in its brown brick exterior and dirty windows.
Not the Hilton, that’s for sure.
Feeling sorry for myself is a foreign concept for me. I normally consider myself a strong woman. I need to be one, with the parents I was given and the career I have in mind for the future. I have a strong will and I’m not afraid to open my mouth and say what’s on my mind. I don’t mince words or back down. I find humor in awkward situations and try to make the most of my life.
I guess there is a first time for everything, because here I am, tail tucked between my legs, feeling more than sorry for myself.
I’d think sixty dollars would have gotten me a better motel than this, but I was wrong. It has been known to happen.
I check in at the reception, paying for a one night stay and trying not to stare at the mold on the wall. The bored looking girl at the counter hands me my key. Then I drag my feet to my room, taking one bag with me. Inside are my toiletries, clothes, and a few valuables—including my purse, passport, and food.
Unlocking the door, I walk in and check out the room. A small bathroom, a couch, bed, fridge, and a TV. Eh, it could be worse. I don’t know how—but I know it could. I put my bag on the couch and take off my sandals. Placing them neatly in the corner, I pull out one of the plastic containers and open the lid.
I munch on the cut fruit as I contemplate my life. I have five thousand dollars saved, a growing belly, and no clue what the hell I’m going to do. One thing I do know for sure is that I need to keep moving. Two nights here, and then I’m going to keep on driving. I want to get as far away from my old life as possible, that shit does not need to catch up with me.
I take a long shower, then take my time rubbing moisturizer into my skin. I have cherry blossom lotion that I use every night without fail, and tonight is no exception. I brush my teeth, comb my wavy auburn hair, and climb into bed. Wishing I had brought my own sheets, I ignore the musty smell and fall asleep.
This is my life now.
*****
One night passes and then I’m back on the road, heading farther north. Soon exhausted, I check into another dodgy motel and all but collapse onto the bed. I spend the next day looking for a job—applying anywhere and everywhere. I’m not fussy, I will do just about anything right now. Well not anything, but I’m not opposed to working in a grocery store or cleaning houses. Anything that makes some money is good enough for me. A quiet knock at the door makes me groan. I force myself to get up, expecting housekeeping. I open the door slightly, just enough to see who it is through the chain lock.
My jaw drops open and panic sets in.
Definitely not housekeeping.
“Open it, or I will,” he demands, his eyes blazing. I consider my options for a few seconds before I slide open the lock. He could just break down the door if he wanted to. I open it and take a few steps back as he enters.
Crystal blue eyes narrow on me. A muscle ticks in his jaw as his gaze rakes over me, as if checking to make sure that I’m okay. He’s wearing worn, ripped jeans and a long sleeve black t-shirt that accentuates his muscular build.
“Just in my part of the neighborhood?” I ask, hope filling my voice.
“What the f*ck, Faye?” he rasps, gripping the door frame.
I take another step back. I don’t know what he is capable of right now. The old Dex would rather cut off his arm than hurt me, but do I really know him now? And I don’t know how the hell he found me.
Does he know? Of course he does.
Nothing gets by Dexter Black.
He bangs the door behind him, the noise making me flinch.
“Pack up your shit,” he demands, eyes searching the crappy motel room, which is now looking considerably smaller with his hulking presence. He doesn’t look happy with what he sees. In fact, his scowl deepens. He crosses his arms over his broad chest and stares me down, waiting for me to move.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I say, putting my hands on my hips and glaring at him. He’s not the boss of me. Yes, he’s a badass, sexy man who I had one night of hot, passionate sex with, but that doesn’t mean he gets to tell me what to do. I might have liked him bossy in bed, but this right here is a different story.
He takes a deep breath, as if calming himself. “I’ve been looking for you for two days. I’m trying not to lose my f*ckin’ temper here, Faye, but you’re pushing me. I don’t think I’ve ever been this patient in my f*ckin’ life.”
This is him patient?
“I’m not going anywhere,” I reply, lifting my chin up.
We stare at each other, the tension building.
I can actually feel the moment before he snaps.
His fists clench, and the tightness in his jaw looks almost painful.
I step back, into the frame of the open bathroom door as he loses it.
He picks up the TV and throws it into the wall. The crashing sound makes me jump, but he doesn’t stop there. He punches the wall several times, then slides the few glasses off the table in one smooth movement.
More crashing.
He turns and points his finger right at me.
I gulp.
My eyes widen as he grabs my bag and starts packing anything of mine he comes across. I walk up to him and try to grab it away from him, but one deathly look has me retracting my hand.
“Temper tantrum over?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.
He looks down at my bare feet, then at all the glass scattered on the carpet floor. “Don’t move.”
I do as I’m told as he brings me a pair of my shoes. I slide them on then look up at him.
Why does he want me to go with him? What good can come from it? What I need to do is move on with my life, and settle down somewhere quiet and safe. Somewhere without sex-on-a-stick bikers and their douche lord cheating brothers. Somewhere where my parents aren’t around, and I can be myself.
“I just want to be left alone, Dex,” I say, tears forming in my eyes. I’m tired, so f*cking tired. My life isn’t meant to be like this, and I hate the fact that he’s seeing me this vulnerable.
I hate it.
I’m not this weak—not usually.
And he’s the last person I’d want to see me like this. He’s strong. Nothing touches him. I have no idea how he would handle me if I broke down right now, which is something I’m seriously close to doing.
“No, you thought running was going to solve your problems. You thought lying was going to solve your problems. You’re lucky my dipshit brother mentioned that you left, and that you were pregnant, or I wouldn’t even know that I was going to have a f*ckin’ kid!” he yells, losing his composure.
Talk about kicking me when I’m down.
“I really don’t need your shit right now,” I mutter, looking down at the floor, feeling like the worst person in the world. Because he’s right, I probably wouldn’t have told him. I can’t say what I would have done.
“You would have gone on, wouldn’t you? Your whole life without telling me,” he says in disbelief. “Don’t you think I deserved to have found this out from you?”
I think about lying, but in the end I don’t. I deserve his judgment over this. “Do you really think you could give this kid a good life?”
Wrong thing to say, but I needed to say it because that was my rationalization for leaving without a word. He shuts his expression off from me, his eyes turning cold and hard. “I guess you’re going to find out now, aren’t you?”
“How do you know this kid is even yours?” I ask, lifting my chin up. Why am I poking the tiger? I have no idea.
“I know because the condom broke that night, and you hadn’t had sex with Eric in a while,” he says, staring straight at me. “Or anyone else.”
“The condom broke?” I gape, my eyes flaring.
Well, that explains things doesn’t it?
And who is he? The sex police?
He watches me under his lashes but ignores my comment.
“Grab your shit, Faye, you have five minutes or we leave without it,” he says, sitting down on the bed. I grit my teeth but do as he says, taking my few belongings and packing them back in my bag with efficient ease.
“I’m ready,” I say, avoiding eye contact. He takes the bag from me and hikes it on his shoulder, then holds the door open. I walk out and wait for him to lead me to his car. He walks down toward the car park, and I follow a few steps behind.
“What about my car? It has some of my stuff in it,” I ask him.
“Rake will drive it home,” he says as he opens the door to a black four-wheel drive. He grips my hips and lifts me up onto the seat. My breath hitches at the contact and flashes of our night together enter my mind.
Him braced above me as he grinds into me, sweat dripping down his body.
Me on all fours in front of him, his fingers digging into my hips as he thrusts.
“Faye,” he says, snapping me out of it.
“Huh?”
“What were you just thinking about?” he asks, his voice a low rumble.
“Oh, nothing,” I mumble, embarrassment coloring my cheeks.
“I’ll bet. I said Rake will handle your car so don’t worry about it.”
“Rake?” I ask, my brows furrowing in confusion. I watch as Dex lifts his head towards the side of the building. I follow his line of sight and see a man leaning against the wall, smoking a cigarette. He walks over and stands next to Dex.
“So this is what the fuss is all about,” the man named Rake says, checking me out and not being subtle about it.
“I’m Rake,” he says, grinning at me. He’s a good looking man. Blond hair, curling around his face, green eyes, and a panty-dropping smile. He has a lip ring and an eyebrow ring—both suit him perfectly.
“Faye,” I say, managing a small smile.
“I have to drive your car home,” he says. “You owe me, Faye.” Another grin and then he’s off.
Dex sends Rake a look I can’t decipher, then turns to me.
“You okay?” he asks, scanning my face. His expression softens as he looks over me.
“Yeah. Thanks for asking,” I tell him, clearing my throat. He grunts in reply, closing the door and heading to the other side. When he pulls out of the car park, he turns to me.
“You know, I thought you were one of the good ones. I never thought you would do something like this, trying to keep me in the dark about my own kid.”
With that parting shot, which I feel deep in my bones, he drives me back to Perth.
Back home.
Back to where I am trying to escape from.
Back to where my child will have no future.