by M. Merin
What a fucking day this is turning out to be. My next move isn’t to serve the Order, my next move is calling my cousin.
“Patrick, you still the Treasurer over at Reverend Reynold’s Church?” I don’t start with any pleasantries.
“Huh, Steve? Yeah, yeah, I still am. Why do you ask?”
“If you have banking authority, you need to get over there immediately and freeze the funds, no withdrawals permitted. I can’t discuss it further with you right now, but I think all hell might be breaking loose here shortly and you won’t want to be held accountable otherwise. You understand me, Patrick?” I instruct, as I stand and reattach my gun belt.
“Steve, what???” He sounds like he’s having a panic attack, wouldn’t be the first one.
“Don’t talk to anyone, especially not your Reverend; just go and do it now, you have twenty minutes.”
“Okay, okay, I understand. I won’t be getting arrested for anything will I? Please Steve, my children?”
“No, Patrick, just secure the money; make sure no one can touch it for a month or so.” I can picture him, beads of sweat all over his balding head, but I know he’ll do it.
“Okay, I’m leaving now. Please, come see me tonight, okay?” He pleads as I disconnect.
Standing up, I print up the Order and head out of my office. I can’t help but smirk at Tilda as she continues to glare at me for my swearing.
My first stop is the Reverend’s home, then the parsonage where Mrs. Jones still lives, finally approaching the Church I see both of their cars among others. I stride into the building to see a prayer service taking place.
“Reverend Reynolds,” I call out.
“Ah! Sheriff, we were just praying for word about my poor Marie. Have you heard anything?” He looks at me, surrounded by roughly thirty of his older parishioners. I can only imagine they’re present to enjoy the coffee, cake, and cookies that are on a side table.
“I’m here to serve you with a Protection Order for one Ms. Emma Marie Jones. You are not to contact her, you are to stay a hundred yards away from her, and you are barred from withdrawing any money from your joint accounts until the Judge in the initial divorce proceedings makes a ruling. I need your signature here, please.” I say, without looking at our audience.
The silence drags on, until finally a red-faced Reverend starts towards me. “Are you insane? I told YOU she is unstable! And you come in here and address me this way in front of my parishioners?”
“I’m just reading off this legal document, Reverend. Apparently, Ms. Jones got a Judge to sign off on it, so she must have some pretty compelling evidence of spousal abuse.”
“I refuse to sign anything.” He fumes.
“Well, in light of all the witnesses here today, I’ll just leave this with you,” I say, shoving his copy into his hand. “And I’ll be photographing license plates outside so I can get in touch with all of you if needed.” The last part is said to the Church members in the pews. I spare a glance towards Mrs. Jones, her face has gone stark white and she’s clenching her fists. I nod at the members as their whispers turn into roars.
Now, I may not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but I’m not so stupid as to not call my wife the minute I get back in my cruiser. We may be a little older, but I still enjoy our horizontal mambo and don’t want to get cut off if she first hears about this from anyone else.
I think I enjoyed that conversation a little too much. Particularly when it ended with my Janice saying, “Her mother was always a royal bitch.”
“Now remember, Love, you can receive the calls but I can’t have you initiating them?” I remind her.
“What time are you getting home, Steve?” She practically purrs in reply. I am a lucky man. But I have to go pay another visit to Henry before I head home.
Henry Masters, Oakton, Nebraska
Looking out my window, I’m hardly surprised to see the Sheriff pull up again. Looks like Marie…oh, Emma, now. Looks like her paperwork has been filed.
The Sheriff gets out of his cruiser and walks to the porch, I open the door as he’s halfway up.
“Surprised to see me, Henry?”
“Nope.”
“So about that old car of yours, have any further thoughts on how it ended up a ways away from here?” He asks as I indicate he should take a seat.
“I do, now that I think of it.” I pause, grinning at him. “This sweet girl was beat to all hell and needed a ride out of town. I did my Christian duty and gave her my wife’s old car, free and clear.”
“Uh, huh. Well then, not to be a gossip, but I just delivered a Protective Order to the Reverend; mind avoiding him for a while, Henry?” He asks.
“Oh, not a problem, Sheriff,” I laugh to myself. “I’ve been avoiding him for years!”
Chapter 11
About a week later, back in Idaho
Flint
That Asshole hasn’t climbed out of a bottle long enough to do anything but shit and vomit. Vice is dealing with an MC with territory to our south, the Spiders, the best he can without spreading our guys thin. They’ve been trying to push more and more into our territory the past few years but shit’s been brewing lately.
Vice seems to think that Jasper’s binge is about over but I’m fucking outta retirement until Jasper gets his act together and not happy about that. Fuck it all. I wake Gunner and Vice early; they’re watching the MC and that piss-ant the next couple days. I need to get out on the road for a bit.
Spending a week up and around the mountains don’t make me feel any better, but at least calls for a stop at this pretty good greasy spoon I’ve been trying to buy a piece of. It’s a couple hours from home, and gets pretty heavy traffic.
Couldn’t leave well enough alone though; have to stick my nose into the noise I hear around the side of the fucking diner.
Isn’t it Jasper’s fucking kitten?
In a waitress uniform, leaning against the building that girl is crying for all she’s worth. She doesn’t see me, so I head inside.
Ten minutes later, with nothing more in me than pie and coffee, I walk back around to find her in the same position.
“How the fuck do you get tips with your eyes all puffy like that?” I snarl at Emma, pissed for having to deal with this shit.
Maybe not the best position to take.
Taking in a shuddering breath as she recognizes me, she looks like she’s ready to run. Looking at me with her swollen, glistening blue eyes, half her face still yellow from her fading bruises, I can see why Jasper’s so tied up over her.
“Well?” I push harder, stroking my beard like I do when I get pissy.
“Is he ok?” She asks, in between hiccups.
“What the fuck do you care?” I had to see that kid vomit for over a week, I will not let her off easy.
“Please, Flint?”
“You have ten minutes to turn in your apron, get your bag, and meet me on my bike. You understand that?” I glare at her.
She pulls herself up to her full height and just as I think she’s really going to run from this; she nods and relaxes her whole body. “Will he forgive me?”
“One way to find out,” I throw over my shoulder before heading to my bike. “He don’t need a coward in his life, I know that much. Tick. Tock.”
Nine minutes later, she’s striding towards me. Been a long time since I’ve had a woman on my bike; and I ain’t never had one that cried all down my back before.
Getting back near town, I drop her off at Jasper’s house. My next stop is the clubhouse, time to sober that asshole up. Probie is off flirting with some random chick, so I send him to get groceries and to keep an eye on Emma.
I send Betsy to brew a fresh pot of coffee before I barge into Jasper’s room. He’s lying half on his bed and stinking to high heaven. In the interest of helping him out, I take the bag out of his garbage bin, fill the container with cold water and douse him. Ok, that wasn’t to help him so much as to amuse myself.
Yeah, add that to the
list of things that suck about his life.
Looking up at me with bloodshot eyes, I ignore his curses. “Your woman’s at your house. Sober the fuck up and go make it right. Be back here in three days, SOBER, or don’t fucking come back at all. Nod if you understand.”
Betsy timidly knocks on the door and I crack it open, yanking the coffee mug through.
“Keep it coming, every hour or so.” I holler at her. “I saw Connal out there, send him back now.” I add before slamming the door in her face; not wanting this half-drunk shit head to get the idea of screwing the wrong woman.
She runs back up the hall, obviously delivering the message as Connal is quickly entering the room. “You sit with him until he’s sober, he doesn’t leave this goddamn room until then. Then you feed him and drive his sorry ass home. Emma’s there waiting on him. Got me? Know that my word is law right now?”
Connal quickly assures me that he’ll do as I said, with a look to the bed I see Jasper has passed back out so I storm outta the room. Fucking children.
Jasper
Rolling over to grab last night’s bottle, I nearly burn my hand on a hot cup. Opening my eyes I see the offending coffee mug, a bottle of water, and Connal.
Then I remember Flint being in here and yelling about some shit. “Get me a drink.” I croak out, rolling over onto an equally damp spot on the mattress.
“Brother, Flint was serious about taking your patch. You got less than three days now.” Connal eyes me, unmoving from the chair he’d brought in here. “Sides, Probie’s stuck at your place with Emma until you sober up enough to go home and one of us need to be at the Garage.”
“Emma?” No fucking way. “Get rid of her.”
Connal lets out a whistle and shakes his head at me. “You think you’ll feel better if you puke, or if we go to the diner? Get some grease in you?”
I groan again, having sat up to quickly. “Puke first. Ray’s second. What a long fucking night.”
“It was more than a week.” Connal does not look impressed.
A couple hours later and I’m feeling marginally better; though my liver aches and my head is throbbing. Connal drops me off at my house and Probie ducks his head at me before he takes off. Emma is frozen in place near the new kitchen Vice’s team installed this past week.
“Few days on your own and you ready to get whore’d out?” I snarl at her as I head to my bed, ignoring the tears in her eyes.
It’s dark out when I wake again. After showering my stench away, I head out to the kitchen in search of food. Emma is on the old couch with the tarp from the floor pulled over her. Moonlight floods the living room but blurs out the fading bruises on her face; giving me the first impression of her without blue and purple streaking across what was once a swollen face. As I look down at her, she takes a shuddering breath; knowing she cried herself to sleep pisses me off so I turn back to the kitchen. Taking a covered dish from the fridge, I start programing the new microwave.
“It heats food up really fast, Jasper. A minute should do it,” Comes Emma’s quiet voice from behind me.
Following her instructions before turning to her, “What are you doing here?”
“I’m sorry for what I said. I knew you wouldn’t let me go unless I said something awful; I never, ever meant it, Jasper.” The microwave beeps, stopping me from giving in to her words and shuddering breath.
“That doesn’t answer my fucking question, now does it?” I finally reply, after eating half the food in front of me.
“Everyone’s acting like you and I being together is a forgone conclusion, Jasper.” She turns away, frustrated. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, but you can’t just decide that I belong to you.”
“Yeah, cause I’m a shitty biker who’ll treat you like a whore!” I bark at her back, throwing the container in the sink as I walk towards her. I grab her shoulders to make her face me. “Yet here you are again.”
Her face absolutely collapses and her knees give way sending her to the floor in front of me, she hugs herself while whispering; “No, Jasper, I’m not good enough to be with you.” Her hands cover her face as she sobs, I can only make out the words “disgusting” and “debased”.
When she starts to calm herself, it’s the sight of her reaching a delicate hand out to straighten the hem of my jeans against my ankle that melts my heart all over again. That bastard did a number on her alright.
The realization of what she’s saying and how she’s acting, paints a visual for me of why my mother never walked away from my father. Her self-loathing rips something inside of me wide open while it also serves to answer questions about my mother. Emma doesn’t understand that she is neither disgusting nor debased in my eyes. SHE was the goddamn victim.
I lean down and scoop her up, carrying her back to my bed; she fights me as I spoon into her, covering us both with the comforter. “Don’t leave me again. Not fucking ever. Understand, Darlin’?”
The next time I wake up, I actually feel human. After taking a piss, I head out to the kitchen where Emma is making breakfast.
“The thing is, Emma,” I start. “I do want to be your hero.” Reminding her of her words from the day she left, I wrap my arms around her waist, kissing her neck. “I can’t deal with you threatening to leave every couple hours, though; so what should we do about that?”
She stiffens in my arms at the second part of my statement; and I know she has to tell me what happened that last night with him; she has to see my acceptance of her before she’ll ever consent to be mine.
We eat our breakfast in silence and then I go and get her running shoes, “Come on, lace up, show me what you got.” I say, dumping them on her lap before heading to get changed myself.
Deciding on a jog around the perimeter of my property, we head out. I’m more into lifting weights than running, but manage to make a pretty decent showing. Right up until we nearly close the first loop, then she takes off at a faster pace and I’m soon left in her dust.
She’s looking pretty pleased with herself when I finally get back to the porch. She’s just finishing her stretches, skipping that I just plop down in the grass. She smiles at me then heads inside, quickly rejoining me with two bottles of water.
“Where’d you go?” I ask, after nearly draining my bottle.
She fills me in on her time away, explaining she was worried about the divorce proceedings so wanted to stay close. She was smart enough to check in with the lawyer and Henry during the past couple weeks. She looks at me sideways, “And you?”
“I stayed drunk the whole time. Flint had had enough of my shit by the time he came across you.” I exhale, looking up at the sky. “No women.”
“You could have,” She whispers. “You certainly don’t owe me anything.”
“I need you to tell me what he did to you, Emma. We’ll never speak of it again, but it’s eating you up.” Tears start streaming from her eyes, and she stretches out on the ground to look up at the sky.
“That last time, I woke up on the kitchen floor in the early evening.” Her voice is barely a whisper, her eyes trained on the clouds above us. “Besides the beating and the rape, he had pissed and shat on me, Jasper. I woke up in a puddle of piss with shit on my neck and chest, the taste of it in my mouth.”
I reach for her, but she is up and running again. I stand, watching her restart another loop around the property; pulling my phone from my pocket I call Roy.
“It’s worse than I knew,” I say without preamble, trying to keep my voice steady. “I’d like to have a guest at the safe house for a few days. Can you come by for a chat tomorrow?”
“Glad to hear you’re feeling better, I’ll see you in the morning.” Roy was an Enforcer, both under Flint and Flint’s father. I’ve never seen him in action but have no doubt he’s just the type of motherfucking hardass I can use. “Mind if I bring Gunner?”
“Bring breakfast, too.” I disconnect.
Emma
I just keep running until there’s nothing
left. Jasper stays in the yard keeping his eyes on the tree line waiting for me to reappear during each lap I make.
I’m finally so done in I can barely make it to his porch. He swoops in behind me and carries me in, walking straight back to the bathroom.
He starts running the water before turning to undress me. I try brushing him off but he won’t have it and I’m too tired to care. I’m soon soaking in hot water, yes, in more ways than one.
“You are the strongest woman I’ve ever known, Emma.” He starts, pouring liquid soap into a sponge. “You are too good for the likes of me. I know that; but I’ve wanted you from the start. I admire your strength, I get excited over each smile you give me, seeing you run full out was amazing – I will build a track around the property line if you want that, but also, I want to bury my dick in you and make you come so hard you’ll never want to leave my bed.”
He is gently scrubbing my body during his speech. I am melting under his touch and his words. “Jasper, he defiled me.” I pause. “I can’t, I mean, how could you want to touch me? The lowest whore wouldn’t…” I can’t stop the tears that fill my eyes.
He grabs my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. “Shut the fuck up, darlin’. That sick son-of-a-bitch will get what’s coming but don’t ever take any of that on you.” Holding me tightly, he whispers. “I’m claiming you. You’ll never be touched but with love, not ever again. What he did doesn’t matter, not between us.”
Clasping my face in his strong hands and not breaking eye contact, he asks; “Say you’ll be mine, Emma. Please, Darlin’?”
I am unable to speak. I just sit there until he lifts me up into the towel he has ready.
He carries me to the bed, lying against me, he places his forehead against mine; “Darlin’, will you let me kiss you here?”
His hand strokes my mound. “Can you trust me? No sex, just let me make you come; that’s all I want right now.”
This man has seen and heard the worst things that have happened to me and isn’t running. I feel like I’ve been running for so long, so I just stop. Laying back on the bed, I pull him towards me.