Blood and Honor

by Vixen, Jayna

  Jesus, I have to get out of here before they call the cops.

  Shakily, she made it to her feet and recited a silent prayer that her legs wouldn’t give out again. Mickey only took one trembling step before a hand gripped her arm.

  “No you don’t. No way, no how. I’ll be damned if you head back out into this nasty weather. You’re coming upstairs with me. When’s the last time you had a full belly, honey?”

  Mickey wanted to resist. She usually did. Everything in her begged her to stand tall, and leave with as much grace as she could muster. She sneaked a blurry, tear-filled glance and was grateful to find the diner empty, except for the chef, who watched them from a few feet away, near the phone.

  Mickey shrugged weakly. “I don’t remember.”

  “I know you’re in some kind of trouble, honey. And it’s okay. We all walk our path and I’m not one to judge. Okay?”

  It was a rationale Mickey didn’t expect and something about the other woman’s words made sense. All of the fight and resistance drained right out of like she had sprouted an emotional leak.

  “Yes, ma’am.” God, is that my voice? I sound so weak and tired….

  “That’s better. Now, let’s get you upstairs to my loft. You’ll have a warm shower and a hot meal in your belly.”

  Her nametag read “Shelley.”

  “Okay, Shelley,” Mickey whispered, resigned.

  “Shelley. Ha! My name’s Ruby. I’m only Shelley when I’m working down here. We’re all different people, depending on the situation, ain’t we?”

  Mickey found both humor and truth in that statement—and a weird sense of camaraderie. Maybe trusting Ruby for a few hours wasn’t such a bad idea. Mickey wasn’t stupid. She knew she needed the help. She needed to build her strength for what was to come. And…she needed a lot more than twenty bucks to get her ass back to the island to warn Rhee—because that’s what she was going to do. She’d be damned if that man was going to hurt another member of her family.

  “You’re right, Ruby. I’m…Michaela.”

  It was the first time she had given someone her real name in over three years.

  Chapter Eight

  It was coming up on four years. Four birthdays without her. Without any of them. Rhee’s mother, sister, and father all shared the same birthday month: October. But, while Rhee knew that there was no bringing back her parents, that they were long dead and gone, the simple fact that Mickey might be out there—might be scared, alone, or hurt—sat in the back of Rhee’s mind like a latent emotional bomb. The bomb threatened to go off all the time. It was triggered by memories, by smells, by experiences that she wished she could share with her sister…

  And by guilt.

  I should have known. I should have protected her. How could I have been so fucking selfish?

  In some ways, if she could her confirm that Mickey was—- deceased, Rhee thought, it might make it easier to bear her absence.

  I would know if she was gone! I would…feel it. Wouldn’t I?

  “Hey, babe.”

  “Wince!” Rhee practically flew into his arms, grateful for the timely distraction from her thoughts. “Dax didn’t mention you were getting in today.”

  “No worries. He might not have known. Hawk’s been a little…anxious about the next shipment. I’m just here to check on some shit…you know. How are you?”

  Given his shrewd glance, Rhee knew that Wince didn’t miss the shadows under her eyes or the sorrow that perpetually lingered, despite her happier circumstances these days. They had been close once before, and that familiarity was returning now that he was around every few weeks.

  “Getting sick of the commute?” Rhee teased.

  She knew from hearing Dax on the phone that the guys were talking mad shit about Wince and his new found love of first class flying…and of the stewardesses that took such good care of him on the plane. Despite the somewhat disturbing mental image of Wince getting his, er, needs, taken care of, Rhee was happy for him—he seemed like he was finally coming into his own. Now, all he needed was a good woman—someone who offered more than just some mid-flight entertainment.

  “Nah. Had a doozy on this one, actually.”

  Wince grinned rather sheepishly, which told Rhee all she needed to know. “I hope you’re being…er, careful.”

  Now, he chuckled. “Now, now, mom. No need to worry.”

  “Okay, okay.”

  “Where’s Dax?”

  “His usual place.”

  “Surfing the point?”

  “Yep. Sirena is at preschool right now, can you believe it? I feel like I blinked and she was three. Manali has been over at Turtle’s a lot lately, taking care of his uncle. Suddenly, I have free time and I have no idea what to do with it.”

  Rhee’s comments were supposed to sound light and carefree, but she couldn’t keep the melancholy from her voice. “I secured a huge grant for the studio from some politician, but I spend so much time away…”

  “Hey. Come here.”

  Rhee hesitated, but only for a second. Wince got her. Dax got her too, but Wince was like a brother from another mother. Sighing, she went into his open arms. “I’m sorry. I’m happy. Really, I am. More than I deserve…”

  “Don’t say that, Rhiannon.” he chided softly. “I want you to know that I’m still looking for her, okay. We’ll never give up. Not until we find her.”

  “Thank you.” Am I that transparent?

  “Always. You’re like a sister to me. Your family is my family. And you know how Phantoms feel about our family.”

  Rhee smiled at that, blinking away the moisture in her eyes. “Definitely.”

  ***

  Wince liked the feeling of sand under his toes. It made him feel…real. He wandered down to the beach to wait for Dax. Hawk wanted an update on the guys he sent to help with the new crop. More grunts. It seemed like the club was overrun with them lately. It was a nice arrangement, though. Wince really was becoming fond of the plane rides—and the dark jeans and fitted tees. Carrying his laptop. Hell, he almost felt like a fucking executive.

  It was the life he might have had. If only…

  Well, whatever. Wince smiled as a dark-skinned girl in a thong jogged to the water’s edge, her shortboard under her arm. Local girls. Totally off limits. Most of ‘em were related in one way or another to Turtle. Still, they were nice to look at. Wince stretched out on his back, letting the sun heat up his skin. His thoughts raced around in a jumble.

  Why did he feel so unsettled lately?

  Without warning, a light spray of moisture landed on Wince’s forehead. He opened his eyes to find his club’s vice president grinning at him, his blond hair dripping with ocean water. Dax’s teeth gleamed, standing out against the dark tan he had acquired over the last few months.

  “What’s up, brah?”

  “You’re starting to sound like Turtle, brother,” Wince smiled, accepting Dax’s outstretched hand.

  “Worse guys to sound like, yeah?”

  Wince shrugged, his lips curling into a half-smile. It was obvious that island life agreed with Dax. “So…when are we heading out?”

  “Tonight. Speedboat. Sorry, man.”

  Wince felt the smile melt from his face. If there was one thing he was never going to get used to, it was the fucking boats. Something about the way they bobbed up and down, the shoreline, the ground, getting farther and farther away, turned his stomach. He forced a wan smile.

  “I got these magnets.” Wince displayed the shiny bracelet to Dax, who stifled a laugh.

  “Magnets?”

  “Yeah. They’re supposed to help. You know, with the puking.”

  Dax nodded, his expression growing somber. “Sorry, kid. It’s just the way it is.”

  “No worries.”

  “I’ll head back up to the cottage. See my lady and tuck my kid in. Then, we can head out. Eight?”

  “Sounds good, man.”

  “Are you staying at the hotel?”

  Wince shru
gged. “I guess. Haven’t checked in yet.”

  “Turtle’s cousin runs a nice little bed and breakfast. It’s quiet.”

  It was crazy how their relationship had evolved. From grunt and superior, to almost rivals, to practically brothers. Dax could read Wince like no other person could.

  Except maybe for Rhiannon.

  “She got Internet?”

  Dax smiled. “Wireless, brah.”

  “Fuckin’ right on.”

  Dax headed up the path carrying his board and Wince followed him. It was hard to walk up the trail without remembering the blood that had stained it a few months back.

  What a mindfuck.

  He ran through his itinerary to distract himself from the images that seemed to be seared into his mind. He’d retrieve his laptop and head to the place Dax recommended for a quick shower and a change of clothes. Maybe some of that tasty local food he was growing accustomed to. Hopefully, he’d have enough time to work on the Mickey puzzle before the fuckin’ speedboat wrecked him.

  They walked in silence until they reached the gate. He and Dax paused. Remembering. Looking around at the idyllic location, it was hard to believe what had gone down here some months before.

  Dax clapped his hand on Wince’s back, jarring him from his thoughts. “Later, brah.”

  Chapter Nine

  “Slade!”

  Fuck. Her voice was like nails on the proverbial chalkboard. How the fuck did Hawk tolerate this bitch? Slade might have worked his way up to head grunt, but he was still a grunt all the same. Which meant that he was stuck fucking babysitting the spoiled little bitch princess.

  “My arm. It hurts.”

  “So?”

  “Can you rub it?”

  Seriously?!

  Grazed by a stray bullet over three months ago and true to form, Alanna was milking the hell out of her injury. She wasn’t the president’s old lady—only ‘cause Hawk was dead set against ever giving another skirt that title—but she was definitely the old man’s favorite. The other groupies and the rest of the club knew it, too.

  So, here they sat.

  “You want me to rub your fucking arm?”

  The way she was looking at him—Slade knew exactly what she was up to.

  “Pretty please?”

  She had a nice mouth but the little-girl pout didn’t do shit for Slade.

  “Don’t think so, sweetheart.”

  “What?” Alanna sounded so incredulous it doubled his resolve to stay the hell away from her.

  “I’m not the shoulder-rubbing kind of guy.” Slade shrugged and slipped his dark shades over his eyes, shuttering his gaze so the broad wouldn’t see the disgust on his face.

  Fucking club whore.

  “I’ll be in my bunk.” He left her sitting there, her face twisted into all kinds of pissed off.

  ***

  Asshole! How dare he?

  Alanna was beyond enraged. I am fucking sick of these pretty boys turning me down. Maybe it was because she was Hawk’s. Sort of. But…she wasn’t officially Hawk’s old lady. And what the fuck was wrong with him, anyways? She was a good thirty years younger than the Phantoms president. She fucked him, sucked him, made him his morning coffee…

  Shit, what else could the man want?

  Alanna had dirt on Hawk. She just wasn’t sure what to do with it yet. All she knew was that she should stay close. Get closer if possible. Find out more. Anything she learned might get her closer to what she wanted: Inner circle status.

  She wanted in. She wanted to be the head bitch of this club. And she still wanted Dax. That would never change. He sent videos and pictures and she made sure to keep her expression neutral when she viewed them. It was important that Hawk believe she was only into him. But…Dax. God, if possible he was even hotter. All tanned and sun streaked, his washboard abs rippling against the backdrop of waves and sand…

  A tattooed outlaw turned sexy surfer beach bum? She’d fuck that in a heartbeat.

  So what if he had a kid? And a woman. Whatever. The slut had Dax practically checking out of the club. Forgoing his duty. It wasn’t cool. And Alanna knew that Hawk was feeling the sting of Dax’s decision. Hawk needed him—and that little bitch he was with was obviously fucking with Dax’s head and his sense of his priorities.

  As for Slade…now, he was a good stand-in. Tall. Blond. Brooding. He fit the bill for sure. But Slade was a tough nut to crack. Alanna had tried every little wile she could think of, but her ploys only seemed to push him farther away. Still, she resolved to get to him. There was something about Slade. The man was tenacious. He was here for the long haul—and he had an agenda. Anyone with eyes could see that.

  Alanna sighed, rubbing her forearm absently. It didn’t really hurt, but the small scar that would forever remind her of the shit that went down in paradise felt tight from time to time. It gave her a strange sense of connection to know that she and Dax had both been wounded by those crazy fuckers. It was something they shared…in addition to the fact that she had fucking saved his kid.

  Dax would never forget that.

  Don’t worry, I’m right here waiting for you, baby. Holding your place.

  Alanna stretched lazily and then sauntered to the bar for a drink. Hawk would be back soon. Time to work on a good buzz. She’d do what needed to be done to get to her goal. But it was hard to fake it all the time. When she was sauced, fucking the old man was a little bit easier to bear.

  Chapter Ten

  It happened a lot now. At first, Mickey could count the number of times he touched her on one hand. Then two. Then…she lost count.

  Mickey knew that it was only a matter of time before the inevitable occurred. There was no one she could turn to. Her mother was working double shifts to cover the bills and Rhiannon was never around any more. Paul spent all of his time at the bar or playing cards. Sometimes, he went to the track and those were the nights she wished she was anywhere but her house—he was either giddy with excitement over his winnings, or angry and bitter about losing the mortgage payment.

  In either case—he took out his emotions on her.

  Mickey dreaded coming home but there was nowhere else to go. She had exhausted her welcome at her friends’ homes. She saw the looks their parents exchanged when she showed up after school, day after day. She tried to rotate the homes she begged refuge from. But after a few months, Mickey discovered that her friend list had dwindled. There were two she could count on.

  Then one.

  Then…none.

  Rhee blamed her absences on her new boyfriend Marco, her after school clubs, and more recently, her college applications. Mickey couldn’t blame her in the least. Her stepfather wasn’t pleased about Rhee’s disappearing act but he held it together until her mother left for work.

  “Your sister‘s a whore,” Paul would sneer. “Bet she’s sucking his cock right now. You’re jealous, huh? Baby girl? Wish you were your big sister? Here, let me do you a favor.”

  At first, Mickey fought him. Left marks that she was certain her mother would see. Her thighs and wrists were bruised. She scored his back and one time, even his cheek with her nails, but it made no difference. Did her mother ignore it? Did she fail to see it?

  Why didn’t she intervene?

  “You tell her and I’ll kick her used up ass.”

  Mickey believed him. After the first few times, she started to think that her resistance made it worse. So, she just lay there and took it.

  Started thinking…maybe she deserved it.

  One night, he pinched her nose and poured whiskey down her throat. Liquor became her salvation. Part of her just floated away. Mickey learned soon enough that if she drank enough, she didn’t much care what Paul did to her body.

  Or remember it either.

  She started sneaking it in the evenings after dinner. Alcohol had a way of dulling the pain. After he touched her, made her touch him, she would lie there, unmoving, focused on the dolly who sat on her headboard—it reminded her of Rhiannon. The c
racked cheek and kind smile on the doll’s face tricked her into thinking about easier times. The red light in the ceiling shone on her like an angry red eye. She thought it was the eye of the devil. She stared at the unwavering glow and wondered if she was going to hell.

  Maybe…she was already there.

  Chapter Eleven

  Rhee was trying desperately to keep up the façade but it just wasn’t working. She stifled the snicker that threatened to escape out of her throat but she was unable to contain it.

  “No giggling, stowaway.” His voice was both disgruntled and aroused.

  Rhee surveyed her handiwork. A grumbly Dax Jamison, tanned and hard—all over—his wrists secured to the headboard with a silken tie. Naked as the day he was born.

  Why was the sight so comical?!

  “Don’t test me, little girl. You’re lucky I’m going along with this.”

  It was true—Dax hated being restrained in any way. But this particular little fantasy had been running around in her brain for quite some time now. She wanted Dax at her mercy for a change.

  “You want me to send those pictures of your tea party to the club, tough guy?”

  “At this point, baby, I don’t give a fuck. Take that sarong or whatever the hell it is off. Now.”

  “I don’t think I like your tone, Jamison.”

  Though she played the confident seductress, Rhee’s heart was thumping wildly. This was a new game and one thing was certain: Dax wasn’t going to submit for very long. Which was a good thing. They never seemed to have very long. It was one of those rare nights when Manali was home and Sirena was with her. Rhee and Dax had maybe an hour to themselves. Sometimes, an hour at home, sans kid, was better than an expensive meal and a night on the town. Plus, Rhee had the leverage to get Dax just where she wanted him.

  “It’s hot in here. Maybe I should take something off.” Rhee was getting bolder in her sex play now, and she was enjoying it. Maybe a little too much.

  She shrugged at the sheer material, baring her shoulder. Then, she lifted her leg to adjust her skirt, revealing her lack of panties to the helpless male in her bed. Something about seeing Dax Jamison, his washboard abs and his rippling physique, tied to her bed, made her core clench in equal parts fear and longing.