by Cora Brent
“Good morning, Sunshine.” Rachel swung the door open, winking. “You looking for your man? They all took off before the sun came up. Didn’t you hear all those bikes peeling out of here?”
I shook my head. “I’ve been told I sleep like a rock. Besides I’ve been hearing bikes since the cradle. I guess the noise doesn’t make a dent anymore. Where did they go?”
She shrugged. “Casper doesn’t run his plans by me. Club shit, I guess. Says they’ll be back tomorrow.”
Club shit. The words made me cold. I remembered where I’d heard them before. From Crest as he grimaced under the weight of an unknown burden. Only hours before he was murdered.
I swallowed. “You think it had something to do with me?”
Rachel cocked her head. “I doubt it, hon. You worried about the SF’s? Cops netted a bunch of them and every NoCal club is pretty pissed off over the Warlocks.”
I wanted to know about the man who killed my father. “And Ruger?”
A look of doubt flitted across her face. “I don’t know,” she admitted. She pulled at my arm. “Come in. I’ll make you some coffee and you can tell me about your night.”
I followed Rachel into the tidy interior of the trailer. She motioned to a small table and I sat down, watching her fill the coffee carafe with water. She wore only a bra and a pair of cutoff shorts. I stared at her body with envy, knowing I would never be anywhere near as voluptuous.
“So,” she said, grinning at me mischievously.
“What?”
Rachel snorted and slid into the seat across from me. “Must have been some rendezvous. Orion ordering the boys out of the house all damn night? Un-freaking-heard of.”
“Oh,” I said in a small voice, toying with a terrycloth dishtowel. “It was…good.”
“’Good’?” she mocked me. “Why you holding out? Orion Jackson is hotter than a motherfucker and he’s more than ‘good’.”
“Well,” I said slowly. “I don’t exactly have anything to compare him to.”
Rachel’s mouth fell open. “Shit,” she said softly, and nodded to herself. “That’s why.”
Something she’d said raised a question. I squirmed. “You and Orion…”I started to say.
She answered quickly. “A few times. When I first came here.” She shrugged. “It was nothing. I’m with Casper.”
I tried to digest that information. “You love Casper?”
The coffee finished burbling and Rachel rose to pour a few cups. “Aw, you know better. Don’t go throwing that word around, sweetie.”
I did know better. “My dad only ever loved my mom and after she left him flat he never kept a woman more than a few months.”
“See? And these guys? They call themselves Defiant for a reason. And it’s not a warm and fuzzy one.”
I took a sip of the strong, black coffee. “Rachel? You ever hear any talk over what happened between Orion and my dad?”
“Well,” she said slowly. “I know it was ugly but not ugly enough to be final, if you catch my meaning.”
“I do.”
She looked at me with sympathy. “Does it matter at this point?”
I lowered my head into my hands. “I guess not.”
We sipped our coffees for a few minutes and listened to the quiet noise of the desert. Rachel glanced at the clock over the sink. “Still got to get the bar open, hon. You can hang out here if you want.”
“Hey, I don’t suppose you need any help over there. I don’t think I can just sit around all the livelong day and watch the shadows pass.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Sure, we could always use some help. But did you run it past Orion? He might not like you mixing in with the boys.”
I gave a short laugh. “Does everything need to be run past Orion?”
Rachel nodded soberly. “Yes,” she answered.
In the end Rachel decided there was no harm in letting me polish some shot glasses and wipe down the tables at Riverbottom. I got the idea the patrons weren’t the sort who kept regular hours but Monday morning likely wasn’t a popular drinking occasion no matter where you were.
Rachel was her usual chatty self and I listened carefully as she told me about the men. She had definite opinions about all of them and she spoke freely. Teague was an asshole. Maddox played too hard. Brandon was still wet behind the ears despite being a former Marine. She rattled them off one by one as if recounting the traits of her brothers.
“And Casper?” I smiled, rolling pretzel crumbs into a pile.
“Hard ass with a wicked humor who gets me hotter than the desert sand in July.”
I had one more question. “Orion?”
That one she hesitated to answer. “Yeah, he’s tough. Don’t think you can lie and get away with it. I swear there’s a supernatural sense in those wild blue eyes. But you should make up your own mind about him.”
“Fair enough.”
The two women I had seen were a pair of sisters named Talia and Adele. Rachel said Adele was sweet but Talia was a sneaky bitch who hid it well under innocent eyes. She was on and off again with Grayson, a blustery ex con from New York who was the newest to the club.
I enjoyed Rachel’s company a great deal. Crest had never approved of my associating too freely with the women who hung around the Warlocks, though a few of them had taken an interest in a motherless girl being raised among men. Maybe my father saw them as something inferior to what he expected his daughter to be. Or maybe he figured I was something like my mother and wouldn’t be happy in their rough world.
When the door to the bar opened I was startled. We’d been idling around for a few hours and aside from the brief occasion Talia popped her head in only to be barked at by Rachel, we hadn’t seen anyone else.
There were two of them and they wore denim cuts which said ‘Mojave Marauders’. A quick glance at Rachel told me she was immediately uneasy but in one blink she buried the look. She motioned for me to retreat and turned to smile at the men.
“Been a while, Angelo. Boys aren’t around but I’ll get you whatever you’re thirsty for.”
I headed down the hallway which led to the back door, all the while feeling eyes appraising my bare legs.
One of them chuckled, addressing Rachel. “Fresh meat?”
I sharply turned a corner and flattened myself against the wall.
“New girl. Her name’s Kasey and don’t get any ideas. She’s already spoken for.”
“Who’s doing the speaking?”
“The boss.”
“Ah, enough said. Just give us a few cold ones and we’ll enjoy the atmosphere for a few minutes before leaving you to your housekeeping.”
The fact that Rachel felt it necessary to lie about my name was enough to let me know I ought to stay put until the place was clear.
Angelo and his buddy drank and casually joked with Rachel for about twenty minutes before moving on. I heard the crank of their bikes as they fired up the engines and rolled out.
I counted to fifty and returned to the bar. Rachel was folding white dish towels.
“Did Orion tell you to do that?”
“Give you an alternate identity? Not in so many words. He said anyone who would ask after you doesn’t need to know anything.”
I nodded, a growing disquiet in my gut. “So he’s worried.”
Rachel straightened the long chain of the silver cross she wore around her neck. “He’s being cautious, Kira. If he was really worried he wouldn’t have left you here alone.”
Rachel let me linger around a while longer and then decided it probably wasn’t a good idea for me to be hanging out in the bar until I talked to Orion.
I wasn’t especially pleased at the thought of returning to the silent house. But with the ache in my most tender parts I wasn’t up to walking around too much. I looked through the pile of books I’d acquired and finally settled down for a long spell with Dune. I’d always loved the intricacies of Frank Herbert’s world and my new, sparse surroundings were strangely reminisce
nt of Arrakis, the perilous desert planet. Reading had been my escape ever since I was a little girl. For a long time my most prized possession was a small case filled with Golden Books with titles like Pokey Little Puppy and Tawny Scrawny Lion.
The day passed quickly and as the darkness began to descend bringing with it the yips of nearby coyotes, I was struck by the sudden recollection of who had given me that treasured book collection. It had been a birthday gift. From Orion Jackson, my father’s best friend.
Chapter Eight
I slept later than I’d meant to. As I sat up I listened carefully. Only silence answered. Orion hadn’t yet returned.
As I pushed the covers back I felt a bit petulant. Was this how it would be? Orion would just use me for what he needed and take off without a word of explanation, expecting me to be primly waiting whenever he decided to swing by.
My mood didn’t improve after a long shower. I asked myself what I’d expected. I knew exactly what kind of man Orion was. After all, how many pining women had my own father left in his wake as he went on his merry way?
Since my body’s soreness was markedly improved, I decided to take a walk, throwing on a light dress of Rachel’s and a pair of tennis shoes I’d managed to pick up in Quartzsite. I was out by the wash, idly tossing pebbles and thinking about the urban sociology class I ought to be sitting in, when I heard the unmistakable roar of motorcycles.
I stayed there, my back turned, listening to the coarse exchanges of the Defiant club members. I heard Orion’s low, rumbling laugh and tensed. The men were walking between the bar and the house, meaning there was no way they could fail to see me. But they only continued straight into the house without any acknowledgement.
The sun rose higher in the sky. It would be a hot afternoon. I picked up a flat stone and tried to skip it down the parched wash. It landed with a thud, startling a gecko from his hiding place.
I looked over my shoulder at the house. No one was outside. I covered the short distance in less than a minute, growing anxious with every step. My brief annoyance with Orion was being replaced by something else. I wanted to see him.
Casper was heading out as I reached the door. He leered at me and then winked. I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of dirty details Orion had given him. But I only greeted him with cool detachment and nodded tersely at the club men whose names I couldn’t quite sort out yet.
Orion still dripped from a quick shower. He looked up when I entered the bedroom but didn’t say anything, casually toweling off as he stood there naked.
I bit my lip and closed the door, noting the way his eyebrows rose. And then when I pulled my dress over my head his dick quickly rose as well. I wasn’t sure how to play this. Part of me still felt a little shy over my nudity.
“Put your arms down,” he ordered, approaching me. “Don’t hide yourself.”
“I’m not hiding,” I argued, starting to tremble with my back against the door.
Orion’s hands peeled my panties down and I willingly stepped out of them. He ran his thumbs purposely over my skin and sucked in his breath when I boldly stroked his rigid shaft.
Without pausing Orion slid his thick forefinger inside of me. He smiled when he got deep.
“Look at that,” he mused, “nothing in the way now.”
It was true. There was no barrier, no pain. I rocked against him as he slid another finger inside. With his other hand he showed me how to stroke him evenly.
Suddenly he sank to his knees and boldly pressed his face between my legs. I gasped and reared away when his finger was replaced with his tongue. Orion gripped my hips firmly and refused to let me go.
The sensation was unbelievable. The hot reach of his tongue curled inside me and he plunged in and out. I felt the steady rise of the coming wave and heard my own noises of pleasure as I pushed his head into me more firmly. And then, right when I was on the verge of melting into rapture, Orion let go.
His grin was full of the devil as he pulled me down to the floor on top of him. He opened me around his body and shoved his engorged organ inside with such precision I came immediately. I moaned and moved around wildly, needing to squeeze every ounce of pleasure from the moment.
“Harder,” Orion demanded and I obeyed, quickening my pace and squeezing him in more deeply. “Good girl,” he whispered as his large hands covered my breasts.
I wanted desperately to feel him shudder with orgasmic fury underneath me. Dimly I recalled that we were failing again to use any sort of protection but the thought only made me spiral higher.
“Do it,” I told him, kneading his hands into my breasts more forcefully. “Come inside of me again.”
Orion’s blue eyes widened and I felt a flicker of triumph as I knew I’d surprised him. But Orion Jackson wouldn’t be outdone. With a mighty heave he toppled me as we remained joined and before I could process what was happening I was underneath him. The thin carpet scratched at my back as Orion pinned my arms overhead and thrust with all his considerable might. I couldn’t do anything but be carried along by his whims. As he bored down I felt his hot release and it was all too much for me. I screamed my pleasure again, not caring who the hell heard.
He was still inside me and still had my arms pinned. His smile was one of grudging respect. “You learn fast, Kira” he said, pulling himself out yet not releasing my arms. “But I give the fucking orders.”
I met his eyes. “If you say so, Orion.”
He chuckled and released me, sitting up and pulling me into his lap. I rested my head on his shoulder. There were things I wanted to say. That I’d missed him in the day he’d been gone. That whatever this was between us was helping me heal from the violence which had ended the world I’d known.
But instead I just kissed the knot of hard muscle and asked him a question.
“Orion? Will you take me for a ride?”
***
We hurtled through the scrubby brown desert as the sun rose higher in the sky. I recognized that we’d left Quartzsite behind miles ago. There didn’t appear to be much on the eastern horizon. According to the signs which blurred past, Phoenix was over a hundred miles away.
Between the wind, the roar of the bike and the whoosh of the large haul trucks we passed on the I-10, I couldn’t very well get a question across to Orion. So I gripped him more tightly and leaned into his broad back, loving the feel of my hair whipping around us furiously. I hadn’t been on a bike in years.
After a time Orion exited the freeway. I missed the sign which would indicate where we were headed but the road was considerably narrower than the interstate. I closed my eyes and hugged my driver more tightly, indulging in the sensation of trust which came with being carried along like this.
Orion slowed as we neared a crop of buildings with a smattering of palm trees. We passed a painted yellow sign with red lettering reading ‘Salome, Arizona’ and then, oddly, underneath that were the words “Where she danced”.
The town was small, smaller than Quartzsite even. Outside of a squat cafe a man sat in a folding chair with his enormous belly spilling out in all directions. He waved a laconic arm in greeting. On the side of another low, boxy building was a painted picture of a womanly sick figure underneath the curious words which were apparently the town’s logo. “Where she danced.”
We had passed through the small center of town within a minute. I was able to see how Salome sat in a serene valley surrounded by brownish gray mountains. Orion turned abruptly onto a dirt road which clearly warned against trespassers and drove the rough terrain closer to the mountains. He made another quick turn onto an even shallower road which was really more of a path. After a few moments of bumpy travel he stopped the bike next to a small neglected plot which was surrounded by a low fence made of ruined chicken wire.
I waited until Orion climbed off the bike and then followed him. He took off his sunglasses and squinted towards town.
“So who danced here?” I asked, looking into the same direction to see whatever it was he saw.
“Salome.”
“Who’s Salome?”
Orion grinned. “Don’t you know the bible, Kira?”
“The bible?” I scoffed. “No, and I’d bet my slim collection of possessions that neither do you.”
He laughed. “You’d be surprised. Some shit sunk in back in the early years. My mother was a believer. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. This Salome was named after the wife of one of the earliest residents. One summer day about a hundred years ago this lady, Salome, made the mistake of walking somewhere barefoot. When the ground burned her feet she jumped around in pain. And to the men who watched, I guess it looked like she was dancing.”
Orion settled on the dusty ground next to the plot which I realized from the crumbling place markers was likely a small cemetery. He looked at me expectantly and I sat down next to him. A few hundred yards away a pair of carrion birds circled overhead, evidently tracking a meal.
“It’s quiet out here,” I said.
“Yes,” he agreed.
“Orion? Is Ruger alive?”
He was a long time answering. “Yes.”
I thought about the man who had murdered my father. I’d seen him in the flesh only once. He was a big brute with hair so blonde it was almost white and dark, almost black, eyes which were at odds with his light hair. My freshman year I’d taken an Ancient Civilizations class. Part of the required reading was a lengthy tome on the Vikings. I’d shuddered over the brutal descriptions of their exploits, and at the time thought that if I were to draw a picture of a marauding Viking raider I would depict Ruger of the SF Outlaws.
“Do you know,” I asked, “What brought it all on? I remember the look in Crest’s eyes that last night. He knew something bad was boiling but I’m sure he didn’t think death was so close. He never in a million years would have let me stay nearby if he had a clue.”
Orion removed a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lit up. His face was thoughtful. “A deal gone bad. Someone dicked out of a lot of money. That’s the gossip anyway.” He took a drag. “Who the fuck knows? Any man who would tell the truth about it is dead.”