Stranded

Stranded

An Erotic Romance Novella

by Brooksley Borne

Published by Brooksley Borne

Copyright 2016 by Brooksley Borne

Other Titles By Brooksley Borne:

Magic House

No Cop at Night

Taken

The Landlord

The Rescue

He Tamed Her

Chapter One

The only light for miles was a white spot light that Naomi Wellington had the good fortune to get stuck near. Her husband reluctantly – reluctantly—bought her a car that was big enough to accommodate the kids and her.  He had given the family car to his secretary to drive so Naomi had nothing.

She was very grateful when he drove it home.  Her hard feelings and doubts towards him softened.  But when the car died after just being purchased in a town where they rolled up the sidewalks after nightfall, and Naomi’s husband wouldn’t come and get her, her gratitude was hard to find.  So was a pay phone.  Her cell phone got no service where she was. And it was about dead.  She could only send texts.  When she asked her husband to drive the twenty minutes out in the middle of nowhere to come get her, the answer was no.

Naomi had few choices.  She could sleep in her car.  It was certainly big enough.  The spot light that was beaming down on her was attached to a service station.  It would be open with sun up.  Or she could get out of the car and hope that no pit bulls were loose or bears or whatever crawled in the most rural parts of Orange County, and hope for the best.

She felt like if she were in the car where it wasn’t supposed to be, she was a sore thumb.  Or a sitting duck.  She rolled down her window for air.  The car was vintage but she was assured in great condition.  It had windows that rolled down with a crank.  She heard laughter.  A woman’s laughter.  That was good.  If it was close enough for her to hear, it was within walking distance and surely with a woman there, apparently in a good mood, it had to be safe. Safer than where she was.  Certainly happier than where she had been.

Naomi stepped out of the car and crossed her fingers.  Barring getting ravaged by loose savage critters or hillbillies, she was as good as home. Something fluttered across the glare of the security lamp and freaked her.  Owls or bats.  It was all good.

But then the urban legend – if the myths of the tiny historic town of Orange, Virginia qualified as urban – that there was a clan of shape shifters populating the hills played through Naomi’s mind.  The story varied depending on which bar or gas station you heard it at. Vampires.  Werewolves.  Even bunnies or deer which when the story reduced to adorable creatures, sort of lost its edge.

But the foothills had a reputation for black magic complete with dumb suppers, all a mix of colonial-age witchcraft, African practices and holy-roller Christianity. No one wanted to admit they were so silly as to believe the stories but just to be sure they walked in twos and slept with the lights on after talking about them.

Around the bend of the road, out from a side of a foothill, was a square box of a house wrapped with a covered porch.  It had a steep, sloping four sided roof with dormers.  Real ones.  The lights of the house and the opened door were lit with a buttery glow.  On the porch were lazy shadowy figures, chatting and occasionally laughing.  Again, Naomi heard a few women’s voices.  

Out front, at the base of the foothill was a row of shiny motorcycles.  There was just enough light to cast a shine on the chromed parts.  She hesitated when she noted those. Motorcycles meant derelicts somewhere in her brain. Still, she was sure this was the place she was looking for.

It was so dark out where she was that no one noticed her until her shoe scuffed some gravel.  Then all the residents of the front porch, sat at attention.  Out from the front door, walked a tall, muscled figure, clad in just a sleevless T-shirt and black jeans.

If I was that pretty, I would show off my body too, though Naomi.

He was long legged and wore boots that clunked on the planks of the porch.

“May I help you?” he asked.

In more ways that you probably mean, thought Naomi.  He was gorgeous.  His hair was long but it was cropped around his face like he had just gotten a haircut.   He wore a full beard but it was neat and trimmed.  He looked like the devil; but a handsome bad boy devil.

The muscles of his arms corded and sinewed and bulged as they flowed from the T-shirt whose arms he ripped off.  His eyes were something else.  They found her and held her and didn’t seem to want to let her go.  They penetrated her.

“My car,” she began to explain.

But she was rushed with emotion.  Her fear struck her.  She felt so pathetic. She turned her head to hide her tears.  

“Um my car,” she began again and pointed to give them some idea. “Died.”

That was all it took to mobilize a couple of guys who were all too eager to address her needs.  They didn’t even know her and yet they were to her rescue.  God damn her husband anyway.

“Hand me the keys,” said one in a particularly country accent.

“You can miss it.  It’s maroon and white,” she said.

“What may I ask are you driving that’s maroon and white?” asked the good-looking man on the porch.

That brought a much needed smile to her face.

“It’s a Suburban.  Kind of old.  Really pretty though,” she said.

Not unlike myself she wanted to say.   Suddenly everyone there seemed so cool and strong and Naomi felt like a total wuss. 

In no time the pack of guys who dispatched to her car, returned.

“Uh ma’am it sounds like your alternator is gone.  She ain’t getting no juice,” said the country fellow.

The good looking man asked her, “Would you like a drink? Since clearly you won’t be driving.”

“Well,” she hesitated.  “I really should be getting home.”

“And I really should quit smoking,” he said with his brow raised as he took a swig.

Naomi wanted a drink at that.  She just wished it wasn’t stupid to go in a house full of strangers.  She was pissed at her husband. The smart thing to do was to go home but she just didn’t want to go.

“May I borrow a phone?” she asked timidly.

His jaw dropped with mock surprise.

“Out on the road at night with no cell phone? You should be spanked,” he said.

It was more than kind of embarrassing for him to have said that in front of everyone.  But when he looked at her the way he did, it felt like they were the only two there.

“How about I have that drink and borrow your phone at the same time,” she said.

She suddenly didn’t care if she taking a risk.

“You got someone to call?” he asked like he was asking if she was single.

“Well actually I already called him and he said no.  I was going to try my luck again to see if it has changed.”

“How about you stay a little bit and I give you a ride afterwards?” he offered.

Fear rippled through her stomach.  Once again it occurred to her that it wasn’t a particularly smart thing to do, to enter a house with a bunch of strangers, at night, with no back up.  Strangers who were indulging in adult substances.

But she did it anyway.   Because her host was so incredibly charming.  Naomi climbed the steps cleared in the middle, up to him. 

“Foley Lardner,” he said extending his hand.

“Naomi Wellington,” she replied.

The place went dead silent.  If Naomi felt fear before she really felt it now. No one moved a hair or made a noise after she said her name.

“What?” she asked.

Foley swiftly danced down the stairs.

“Come inside, ” he said sharply taking her arm.

“Why?” she demanded trying to make her body as heavy as it could be.

His face was dark as he replied.

“I am keeping you.  I am not letting you go home.”

Chapter Two

I am keeping you?!!
Naomi went spineless with terror.  Her legs were rubber as she tried to walk up the stairs.  As it was she had to hike to keep up with Foley’s pace as he was down and up the flight, and into the house.

“Hey!” she implored, feebly trying to pry his hand from around her arm.  “Please no!  I have money.  I can give you money!” 

“It’s not like that,” he assured her.  “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Well you did,” she said.  “I wanna go home.”

She realized on the one hand she didn’t know this guy and it was probably crazy to have interacted with him as much as she did let alone demand he explain himself.  But she would love to know why the mention of her name made him change so drastically.

“What is up? Why does my name bother you so much?” she said.

Foley released her.  She could not help but note that he was so tall.  She knew that but standing next to him, he dwarfed her. His eyes were still kind though they were stern as he regarded her.

“Wellington.  You live on the hill, I presume?” he asked.

That was it, she thought.  Orange County had a big divide between the haves and the have nots.  Naomi’s mother came from old money.  Relative to her family’s one-time wealth, Naomi did have enough to live on for the rest of her life if her husband curbed his spend-aholism, but she wasn’t rich rich.

“Yeah,” she said, sort of hesitated to admit. 

She might sealing her fate by saying so.  He could kidnap her.  Hold her hostage for money he thought she had.

“You married to a fellow by the name of Daryl Pollard?” he asked.

“Yes, I am.  Why, do you know him?” she stomped with frustration. “What do you want with me?”

“I want to keep you safe,” he said softly.  “Your jackass husband approached us to kill you.”

Naomi waffled.  It started from her feet and pushed up through her body. She was going to faint.  Foley’s powerful arms braced her.   He was like leaning on a steel cabinet.  He ushered to a sofa. 

The inside of the house was as charming as it could be.  It had just the right amount of decor and absolutely no clutter, no dust.  Somebody ran a tight ship.  Naomi thought of random things as she tried to process what Foley just told her.

“What do you mean?” she asked. “Did he just walk up to your house like I just did and say hey, kill my wife?”

“Do you know who we are?” he asked, his facial features touched with levity.

“I don’t,” she answered honestly.

“We are a motorcycle club named The Knights of Orange,” he said. “We have something of a, um, reputation.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “I know who you are now.  You’ve been around forever.  My mother and sisters used to point you guys out on the road when I was little.  They talked about you like you were scary.”

“Yep I’d be the guy your mama warned you about,” he said with a wink.

He took a deep breath.

“Well and so we were in Waugh Harley Davidson and there he was.  Your husband. With a woman on his arm and she wasn’t you,” he said.  “Not by a mile.”

Naomi closed her eyes.  It was too painful to listen to.

“Thanks,” she said. “I don’t need to hear how he had some beautiful --”

“That’s not what I meant,” he said directly. “I meant like you’re fine and she was nowhere near fine.”

An unexpected warmth bloomed within her from the unexpected compliment.

“You have no idea, do you?” he asked, studying her. 

“What?” she replied, completely not following him.

“Nothing,” he answer but he was still checking her out.

“I think I’ll take that drink now,” she said suddenly needing one bad.

Her husband was so awful she didn’t know how to get rid of him. 

“What’s your pizon?” he asked.

“Jack and coke, please,” she said.

“A girl after my own heart.  I am going to join you,” he said.

The house had a built-in bar.  Foley reached for the bourbon and glasses and ice and mixed their drinks. He sat a basket of peanuts in front of her.

“Eat,” he said. 

“No thanks,” she answered.  “This will do me.  Finish the story.”

“He said oh are you guys one of those Knights of Orange?  We were like yes.  I need to discuss some business with you, he says.  Now I look at Donny, the guy who is with me.  We both think the same thing.  Your husband is a douche bag. Right off the bat, did not like him.  I go what kind of business would that be?  He looks around like he’s hot shit and makes the woman wait for him as we have an aside.”

Foley smiled wide like her husband was just a dope.

“Men-talk I guess.  Anyway, he said he had a wife, and I will spare you his description, long on cash short on love, if we knew what he meant.  Would make it worth our while if we made you disappear.”

“Just like that?” Naomi shook her head.  “He sees you and asks you to kill me?”

“Yeah he was stupid. Maybe because we are bad boy bikers,” he said mockingly, “that he thought we would bond over a bad deed, I do not know.  I stopped him before he said any more. I advised him to shut his mouth and step away and to never approach me or any of my fellow Knights again.  We also made sure he knew that we would be watching him and if we heard of anything happening to you, he would be made to answer.”