Read Online Call Me...Vengeance: Book 1 in the Vengeance MC Series by Natasha Thomas - Free Book Online Page B

gone given enough time, and I didn’t want to be caught without enough money to survive until I could find a job.
     
    As fate would have it, I hadn’t needed to worry about any of that. Kevin’s daughter, Rebecca lived off campus in a cozy two-bed apartment, and she just happened to be looking for a roommate. The fact the coffee shop she worked in was hiring was another in a long line of things I found out later that, Kevin had arranged while I dozed fitfully during our drive. He had sorted a place for me to live, a job, organized for Rebecca to order a bed and have it delivered before I arrived, and got the number for a doctor and counselor for me so that I would have someone to talk to if I ever needed it. He was my savior.
     
    I didn’t use the phone number for the therapist for months after arriving in L.A. It wasn’t until Rebecca confronted me one morning before work, and said that if I didn’t make the call today, she’d be telling Kevin about my nightmare the next time he called.
     
    I’d been living with her for almost a year at this point, and she was the best and probably only real friend I had ever had. Her Dad, Kevin, the closest thing to a father to me. It was time, I knew that. It was time to talk to someone and exercise the demons waiting for me when I closed my eyes, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t scared shitless. I was petrified.
     
    What if when I started talking about it, everything got worse? What if the barriers I’d created in my mind to stave off the images broke, and I couldn’t survive the deluge? I couldn’t afford for the night terrors to get worse, they were bad enough already. Most nights I got less than four hours sleep as it was. What if recounting my waking nightmare fractured the small amount of control I had left over myself? All these questions and more swirled through my brain, causing an overwhelming feeling of impending doom to settle deep and take root.
     
    I still have those days occasionally. The days where I desperately want to crawl back under my covers and hide until the world makes sense again. Days where I don’t think I’ll ever be able to go to sleep at night without my dreams being filled with fear and pain. But I didn’t let any of that stop me from making the first step to healing. Rebecca came with me, holding my hand through the whole sick, sordid tale, crying for me when it was done. She dried my tears, hugged me tightly, and promised to be with me every step of the way. And she had been. Every single one.
     
    Speaking of,
    “Hey, Bec. What’s up?” I ask answering her call.
     
    “Nothing much, hooker,” she sings happily. “I was just sitting here watching re-runs of, Sons of Anarchy and wondering if you’ve died and gone to biker heaven yet?”
     
    I can’t help but laugh at her ridiculous question, because honestly, I’ve never met another woman more obsessed with the biker way of life than, Bec. Her dream man is clad in leather, chains, piercings, tattoos, and rides a motorcycle. Since Bec hasn’t found said man yet, apparently, she’s going to vicariously live through me.
     
    “I’m not there yet, honey. An hour or two tops, and I should be able to tell you if your ideal man is walking around downtown shirtless and glistening.”
     
    “I want pictures. Fuck telling me about it, woman, I want visual proof,” she says sighing dramatically. “I need new material for my fantasy bank, and you’re tasked with providing them.”
     
    “Why me?” Because just, no. I really don’t want to think any photos I send her are going to be used so that she can get herself off. There are some things you never need to know about your best friend, and how she flicks the bean is one of them.
     
    Snapping her fingers close to the mouthpiece, Bec responds with,
    “Because you’re the one who decided to move to the middle of nowhere to live with the sexy hunks of man meat, that’s why. You’re going to have honest to God, eye-gasm inducing