by Amber Morgan
She nodded, staring around the room. “It’s nice.” She sounded surprised. After the state of the kitchen, she probably was.
The bed was freshly made with plain white sheets. There was a view of the river from the window, nice if you were into nature or whatever. Besides the bed and a floor lamp, there wasn’t much to speak of, but these rooms weren’t meant for much besides fucking and crashing out. He’d grabbed some clothes from Roxy’s room for Bethany—they were about the same size, and Roxy’s “comfort over sex appeal” mentality would work for Bethany, he figured. The clothes were neatly folded on the bed, along with a towel.
“Shower’s down the hall,” he said. “And then I guess, if you’re hungry or … whatever …” He trailed off again, hoping she’d fill the silence. Her deer-in-headlights look had him worried she was going into shock and he had no clue how to deal with that.
“I think I’d just like to sleep.” She sat down on the bed, wiping her eyes. She was pale, dark circles under her eyes, and Tanner guessed she’d soon pass out whether she liked it or not.
“Okay. Lock your door, okay? I mean, not that you’re not safe, but I don’t want anyone barging in thinking the room’s free.”
She smiled warily at him. Impulsively, he leaned down and kissed her hair. She started, but didn’t pull back in disgust or anything. “Okay,” he said again, straightening up. “Sweet dreams, Bethany.”
“Beth,” she said. “Just Beth.”
“Just Beth then. If you want me, I’ll be downstairs.” He thought of Beth walking into the club’s bar and winced.
But she managed a warmer smile and whispered her thanks, so he left. Whatever she’d been through, and he had some ideas, she’d want some time alone to process it. As much as he wanted to hang over her like a guard dog, he didn’t think that was what she wanted right now.
He stopped by the kitchen to grab a beer and drained it there and then, before taking another and heading into the main club room. Despite the loud music—shitty hair metal from three decades ago, which meant Judge was in charge of the jukebox today— the atmosphere was pretty mellow. A few guys played pool but most of his brothers were just lounging on the threadbare sofas. The thin clouds of smoke over their heads and the scent of pot explained the lazy vibe. A couple of prospects manned the bar, and the Wild Blood MC President, Cullen Nash, sat in the far corner with Judge, the VP. Good. Both the men Tanner wanted to see.
There was a deck of cards on the table between the two men, but since Judge didn’t play, even for fun, Tanner knew he wasn’t interrupting anything. Judge had a major gambling problem before he met Roxy. Curbing it had, apparently, been her only condition for being his old lady. Tanner took the third seat at the table and nodded at them both. “Boss,” he greeted Nash out of habit, pulling off his jacket. The leather was wet and hot, and he’d been itching to peel it off since the diner.
Nash cocked an eyebrow at him. Tanner considered himself a big guy, but he was dwarfed by Nash—most people were. The guy was pushing six-seven, and built lean and mean. Rumor had it he’d been a bare-knuckle boxer in his youth, and looking at the size of his hands, Tanner bet he’d been a good one. “You got that look in your eyes,” Nash told him. “Tells me you did something stupid.”
Tanner took a swig of his beer and shrugged. “Not really. Not yet.”
“Ominous,” Judge said, more to Nash than Tanner. “What d’you think? Do we kick him out now, before he does something stupid? Or do we let him do it in case it’s gonna be fun to watch?”
Tanner tried not to scowl. Judge would be unaffected anyway. The graybeard was the coolest dude Tanner had ever met, nothing shook him. Hell, that was the main reason Tanner wanted to speak to him now. “I found a girl,” he said.
“Congratulations. You need instructions on what to do next?” Nash asked. Judge bellowed with laughter.
“I damn near ran her over,” Tanner said, ignoring the jibes. “She’s on the run from something, or someone, and I think she needs help. Big help.” Seeing he had their attention, he quickly explained the day’s whirlwind events. Nash’s face turned thunderous when he told them about Nathaniel.
“You bored of being free already?” he asked, balling his big hands into fists.
“He won’t go to the cops,” Tanner said.
“You know that, do you? You beat the shit out of a guy in a public place—”
“I didn’t beat the shit out of him, Nash. I knocked him on his ass, that’s all.” Tanner waved it off. He’d have liked to beat the shit out of the creep, that was for sure, but hey. He’d showed restraint. He’d learned something in prison after all. “And he won’t go to the cops because his kind never do.”
“What’s his kind?” Judge asked, idly toying with a few playing cards. “Wife-beaters?”
Tanner shook his head. “Cult leaders.”
Both Judge and Nash leaned back in their seats, mimicking each other so perfectly Tanner had to smile. “Cult leaders?” Nash echoed.
Tanner nodded, absently rubbing the tattoo on his forearm. It was an ambigram design in heavy gothic script, reading “love” one way up and “hate” the other. It was his newest too, his prison ink. “The guy who came after Beth at the diner was spouting Bible verses and talking about 'the church.' And he had this pin on his shirt, like a cross with a snake around it. Beth was running out from Heatherton Farm way.”
“There’s nothing at Heatherton Farm,” Nash said. “Place has been abandoned for years."
Tanner nodded. At one point the MC had talked about buying the land up and using the old buildings for underground fighting. “Right, but there’s a village close by, isn’t there? Not even a village, more like …”
“A commune,” Judge said, when Tanner couldn’t find the word he wanted.
“Right,” Tanner agreed. “So while I was on the inside, I met this guy, a tattooist.” He tapped his ink again. “He grew up in this commune. I’m sure it’s the same place. He ran away when he was like, fifteen or sixteen. Said the whole community is one of these extreme religious deals, like the Quiverfull Movement and that shit. I can’t remember what he called it, but I bet that’s where Beth’s from.”
“The Church of the Serpentine Cross,” Judge said. He’d straightened up again, expression serious and thoughtful. “They were in the papers a couple years back, remember? Rumors about child brides and shit. Nothing ever came of it.”
Nash nodded slowly. “I remember. Snake-handlers and shit like that. Well, so what? They’re weird, so what? Can’t judge a man for what he believes. And if they really weren’t messing with kids or anything … So what?”
Tanner tried to smother his irritation. “So what if they’re more than just weird? Beth’s scared, man. She ran away with nothing, in a storm like this … Maybe they don’t mess with kids, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t into some dark shit. That guy at the diner, Nathaniel, he was no good. No fucking good at all.”
Nash rested his hands on the table, palms down. In most people it was a gesture of calm, but Tanner knew better. Nash was trying to hide his anger—trying to keep his hands under control. “Look kid,” he said in a tone that was just short of patronizing. “I get it. You see a wounded woman, you go all superhero. I get it. It’s commendable. You’ve got a good heart. But you are six months out of prison and you’re damn lucky to be out at all after what you did. You could have gone away a lot longer. Now you wanna get mixed up in whatever this is? Snake-handling cults and runaways? Don’t do it, Alex. Don’t you fucking dare.”
Nash drained his beer and stood, striding away from the table and disappearing from the room. Tanner exhaled, balling his own hands into fists. “That’s all I’ll ever be, isn’t it? The kid who went to prison? Like nobody else here has ever done anything fucked up or dumb-ass or illegal …”
“Nobody else got caught,” Judge pointed out.
“Bullshit.”
“All right. Nobody else has got caught on Nash’s watch. Either way, we were supp
osed to be putting that kind of shit behind us.” Judge reached across and poked Tanner in the chest, hard. “You did fuck up. Your reasons were good, nobody here’s gonna argue that, and that’s the only reason Nash let you back in. But that isn’t a license to keep fucking up.”
Wild Blood had been an outlaw MC, one percenters, until Nash became President fifteen years ago. Tanner hadn’t even been a prospect then, just a kid with a passion for bikes who hung around until the older members stopped telling him to piss off. Tanner was a little vague on what exactly had gone down. Guns and drugs, he guessed, but Nash had put a stop to all that. All that was left now was the underground fighting, which … well, it wasn’t exactly legal, but the cops looked the other way mostly. Hell, the county sheriff even came down to watch and place a few bets himself every now and then. Some of the MC’s old guard, like Rattler, disliked Nash’s direction, but nobody was going to fight him about it.
“So what am I supposed to do?” Tanner asked Judge. “Beth’s scared shitless and she’s got nothing. If she really did run from this Church—”
“It’s not about what you’re supposed to do,” Judge cut in. “Have you asked her what she wants to do?”
Tanner shook his head.
“There you go then,” Judge said, as if that settled everything.
Tanner wanted to argue, but Roxy, Judge’s old lady, appeared as if by magic with two shot glasses and a bottle of tequila. Roxy was one of Tanner’s favorite people in the world. No way he wanted to hear her telling him he was being a dumb-ass kid as well, so he kept his mouth closed.
“Time for shots!” Roxy announced, dropping into Judge’s lap. She glanced around the room and waved someone else over while Judge wrapped his arm round her waist, squeezing her against his broad chest.
A girl Tanner had a nasty feeling he ought to recognize sashayed over to join them. Tameka? Tamera? Something like that. She was dressed in skin-tight jeans and a hot pink tank top that showed off a banging body to perfection. Her thick black hair was pulled back from her heart-shaped face, and another time Tanner would have taken more notice. But Beth was stamped in his brain and other women, no matter how cute or bangable, just weren't going to register.
"Alex, you remember Tamsin?" Roxy said in a tone that suggested he damn well better.
Tamsin fell into the chair next to Tanner's and laid her hand on his knee. "Of course he does! Miss me, baby?"
"Uh." Tanner looked to Judge for help, but the VP was busy nuzzling his old lady's neck while she giggled and poured tequila. Tanner racked his brain and came up with a fuzzy memory of beer, pot, and a really filthy lap dance. Was that Tamsin? "Yeah," he said, hoping it was. "Course I do. How you been, gorgeous?"
The words fell from his mouth, insincere and empty, but Tamsin either didn't notice or didn't care. She wriggled closer to him, pressing her thigh against his and tilting her head so he could smell her coconut shampoo. He slung his arm round her shoulder automatically, still wondering how he could make Nash and Judge take him seriously about Beth. It hadn't taken long for one guy to find her and if she really was from a cult or sect, whatever they liked to call themselves, Tanner didn't think they'd just let her walk away. You heard all kinds of nasty shit happening to people who left cults. If anything happened to Beth ...
He was dimly aware of Tamsin whispering in his ear, her tongue flicking around his neck, but it was irritating instead of arousing. He shifted in his seat, just enough to break the contact, and Tamsin moved back, pouting.
"You can just say you're not interested," she said, reaching for one of the shot glasses Roxy had brought over. "I'm not a bunny-boiler."
"Are you okay, Alex?" Roxy asked, looking up from her conversation with Judge. Her dark eyes glowed with genuine concern. That was Roxy. She had the biggest heart of anyone he'd ever met.
"He met a girl," Judge said, kissing Roxy's hair. "Got himself all tied up about her."
Roxy and Tamsin let out identical squeals of delight. "Alex! Are you in love?" Roxy teased.
"Where is she? Who is she?" Tamsin put a little distance between them, her manner changing immediately from 'girl on the prowl' to 'girl ready to offer relationship advice.'
"It's not like that." Tanner glared at Judge, who shrugged and took another shot of tequila. "I figured you'd be more sympathetic."
"If the girl's come from a bad place, I got all the sympathy in the world," Judge said. "But it doesn't sound like you know her story. Until you do, don't go throwing punches, that's all I'm saying."
Tanner sighed and slumped in his seat, feeling defeated. Tamsin patted his knee, in sympathy this time, and offered him a shot of tequila. He took it gladly.
Chapter Five
Beth awoke disorientated and panicked, and it took her a second to remember where she was—and more importantly, where she wasn’t. She sat up, kicking off the sheets that now felt too heavy and restricting, and inhaled slowly. She wasn’t at the Church. She wasn’t in the dilapidated house she shared with her family. Better than that, she wasn’t in Abram’s house, Abram’s bed.
She was free. Sort of.
It was dark outside and the storm had passed. Beth padded to the window and threw it open, breathing in the scents of wet grass and clean air. The world stretched out before her, shadowed but within her grasp. That was a new experience. “So what now?” she whispered into the night.
There was no answer, of course. She wondered if she should pray, but her prayers had never been answered before, so why start now? Everything she’d achieved in life—which wasn’t much at all—she’d achieved through her own efforts. She wasn’t really sure whether she even believed in God, and she was almost certain she didn’t believe in the vengeful, cruel God that Abram preached about. Fire and brimstone, blood and venom, sacrificed children … Who would serve such a God willingly, lovingly? Who would turn to Him for help?
So she didn’t pray for guidance, but she did hope for clarity. Direction. It would come, if she looked for it, she was sure. It only took a moment to change things. Wasn’t the very fact that she was here proof of that?
She closed the window and went to find the shower. Most of the noise she’d heard earlier, the pounding music and muffled cries of pleasure, were dimmed now. She showered and went back to her room without seeing anyone, which was a relief. After Rattler, she wasn’t sure she wanted to meet anyone else, no matter what Tanner said. Something about him had reminded her of Nathaniel and Abram. Some cruelness, some arrogance. She guessed she couldn’t avoid the other people here forever, but just a little longer would be nice.
She put on the clothes Tanner had left her, made the bed, and then wondered what to do next. Go find Tanner? Would he still be here? The thought that he’d left her alone was a little unsettling, but it didn’t last long. The way he’d behaved with her, right up until the moment he’d kissed her hair and told her to sleep well, had been nothing less than caring. She didn’t think he’d abandon her in a strange place without saying goodbye. Her only lingering concern, that he was an ex-convict, she pushed to the back of her mind. She shouldn’t judge, and he hadn’t hurt her.
After a few moments of silent contemplation, she realized how hungry and thirsty she was. They’d never gotten those burgers at the diner, after all. She decided it was probably late enough that she could sneak down to the kitchen without running into anyone else, and left her room.
As she stepped into the hall, another door further down swung open. A woman ran out into the hallway, squealing with laughter and clutching a bed sheet to her naked body. A man ran after her, snatching at the sheet. He tripped, she grabbed him for support, and they both went down in a flurry of shrieks and giggles, rolling around as if Beth didn’t exist. She saw flashes of flesh, plump breasts, strong thighs, and felt her face flame.
“Oh Lord.” She turned quickly and hurried for the stairs.
“Come join us if you want!” the man called cheerfully. “The more the merrier.”
“Wolf! You finish wi
th me before you start on anyone else!” the woman cried, mock-outraged.
Feeling like her head was going to explode, Beth all but ran down the stairs. A rich mix of embarrassment and curiosity filled her. They’d been having fun—sex wasn’t about fun. It was for procreation and duty, or so she’d been taught. She’d never liked that thought but even her mother, who had five daughters, had never talked about sex as anything other than a chore women had to perform. Beth had asked her once if she ever found any joy in her chore, and her mother had simply smiled sadly and changed the subject. It was a memory that had always sat uneasily with Beth. Sex came with marriage and she thought marriage ought to mean love, or at least affection. The idea that you’d get neither was depressing.
The kitchen was blessedly empty and she rummaged around until she found a clean glass. Food seemed in short supply, but she wasn’t entirely comfortable with helping herself to the bits and pieces in the fridge anyway, not without asking someone. She was painfully hungry now though. Her last meal seemed a lifetime ago. Everything that had happened before Tanner almost ran into her seemed a lifetime ago.
She sat at the table and sipped her water, and probably would have just gone back to her room if someone else hadn’t come in. Beth started at the sight of the other woman, mostly because they were dressed very similarly in worn jeans and a plain button-down shirt. Was this Roxy? Tanner had mentioned getting clothes off her. The woman had been heading for the fridge, but she stopped dead to look Beth over, her face breaking into a wide, knowing grin as she did.
“I guess you’re Beth, right?”
“Yes, sorry,” Beth stuttered, leaping up and sloshing water all over herself. It was her destiny to end up soaked in other people’s clothes, it seemed. Feeling stupid, she stared at the floor, hoping it might swallow her. “Sorry,” she heard herself saying again.
“Relax.” The other woman’s voice was gentle, making Beth raise her head again. “I’m Roxy and I promise I don’t bite.”