His Poppy: Furious Daggers MC

by Brogan Riley

  She throws her arms over her head, arching her back against the table. “Oh God, don’t stop, Tyler.”

  I hear Tyler growl and eat her.

  “You can touch yourself, Poppy,” Fiona says in a low voice, “if you fancy.”

  I shake my head.

  I’m wet between my thighs, but that’s only for Jackson. I know this even though I know very little.

  I move back and rush upstairs as the tension building in my tummy seeks relief. After I enter my bedroom, I shake off my skirt and top. I lie down on the bed with my legs folded and spread. Jackson’s face flashes through my mind. I imagine his hands touching my breasts and his hardness filling me. It’s almost like we’re together. I slide my fingers under my panties and touch myself as he would touch me. A moan leaves my mouth. I stroke myself faster, my body arching against the mattress.

  It’s easy. Every stroke brings me closer to my peak.

  I explode.

  A female laughter pulls me out of my hazy bubble.

  “Come on, Poppy, the food is on the table,” Fiona says.

  A flame of awkwardness licks my insides as I flop from the bed and rummage to pick up my clothes. Fiona waits for me until I put them on and we go downstairs. The smell of food teases my nostrils as my eyes travel to three bowls placed on the table. Steam rises from them. Tyler moves closer to us and throws his arms over Fiona’s and my back. He kisses her on the cheek.

  “Hope you like it,” he says.

  He shoves me towards the table, still holding Fiona in his embrace. I sit down and watch them. Fiona snorts as he buries his face in her neck.

  I think she likes him but doesn’t want to say that out loud. He likes her very much. Maybe even loves her.

  His eyes cloud with sadness sometimes. I know this kind of sadness.

  I eat my meal and pray to God so that he’ll take that sadness away from Tyler, so that he’ll make Fiona love Tyler. I can do very little, but I can pray.

  I’d prayed for an angel to save me and Jackson appeared in my life.

  I pray to God so that he’ll remove Diana from Fiona’s life.

  Jackson cares for his people so it’s my job as his old lady to care for them too.

  When I’m finished, I deliver my bowl to the kitchen sink and leave the lighthouse. I wander around the compound until I stop by a black rock with a tablet. It reads Jessica Smith. A young woman gazes at me from the black and white photo. No, not a woman. She looks like joy personified. A gust of wind lifts my hair and it feels like it’s whispering something into my ear.

  A heavy hand squeezes my shoulder. I turn my face as my eyes meet Priest’s grey ones. An air of gloom surrounds him.

  “Fiona was four weeks pregnant,” Priest says in a gruff voice. “Artificial insemination, she didn’t know the donor. Anyway, she was with child when the accident happened. She lost the baby.” He glides his palm over his bald head.

  “Tyler could give her another baby.”

  His bushy eyebrows arch as one corner of his lips quirks up. “Very practical approach.” It sounds like a rough compliment.

  “Thank you.”

  Chapter 12

  Jackson

  I connect the wires of my bypass to the push button lock as Doctor taps his feet, remaining on guard. The deserted corridor resembles the ones in horror movies. I feel uneasy. I hate horror movies. I hate the ghost horror movies the most.

  Doctor’s heavy breath blends with the beeping sound of my equipment. The lock screeches as the door opens. We’re in.

  I’m the first to walk in. Doctor follows me and closes the door behind us.

  We disabled the four cameras in the corridor ten minutes ago, so it’ll give us about fifteen minutes before the security staff realise something is wrong.

  My eyes travel to a fragile figure. The woman is sitting in a chair. A dim light emitted from the strip on the ceiling gives her an unearthly appearance. A ghost-like appearance. Long hair cascades down her frame like a waterfall. She wears a plain t-shirt and pyjama bottoms. Her feet are bare.

  I kneel down in front of her. “Hey.” Coldness squeezes my heart as I sweep my eyes over the mask of her face and the hollowness of her eyes. “I’m a friend.”

  The marble sculpture of her body remains frozen as though she’s been dead for years. She looks young, twenty-seven at most. A sharp pain courses through my heart.

  “Sonja,” I say gently. “We need your help.”

  Gravely silence answers me.

  She really is a ghost. Her wide imperceptive eyes don’t see me. They see nightmares.

  I look over my shoulder and my glance meets Doctor’s. He shakes his head. We won’t get any answers from her. She’s a shell. She died a long time ago.

  Cold fingers close around my wrist. I shudder as a bark escapes my mouth. My heart jumps to my throat. I turn my face only to meet her dark eyes.

  “Get me out of here,” she hisses.

  “Fuck,” I say. “You’re alive. Fuck.” Her fingers dig into my flesh, causing me pain. “Sonja, listen to me. It’s about Poppy.”

  A delicate smile crosses her face as her eyes flutter. “My Poppy?”

  I feel my throat tighten. “Your Poppy.”

  “My little Poppy,” Sonja murmurs. “My baby girl.”

  Every word coming out of her mouth strips me of oxygen. Sweat pricks my forehead as coldness diffuses into my veins.

  Fuck. My suspicions are true. Felix was a sick fuck.

  Sonja yanks my wrist up. “Bad men like him don’t touch retarded children. I knew he wouldn’t touch her. He felt guilty watching her.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  Sonja hums a lullaby and sways like an orphan.

  “Sonja?” I demand.

  “She is my little Poppy,” she says. “Mine. Nobody will hurt her.” Her eyes lock onto mine so aware, yet so scared that my blood turns into ice. “I told her to be disabled. I kept telling her. And she started pretending to be disabled so that he wouldn’t hurt her. Then she just was what she was.” She keeps swaying and humming. “My beautiful girl.”

  “Jackson,” Doctor whispers behind me. “We have to go.”

  “I know,” I say.

  “She’s going with us, Jackson.” There’s a hint of cool toughness in his voice.

  “I know,” I say.

  The sharp sound of an alarm bell causes me to steel myself.

  Poppy

  I wake up as the day is about to dawn. Bursts of laughter and spikes of chattering come to my ears, and I recognize Fiona’s and Tyler’s voice. They’re in the bedroom above mine. A banging sound makes me shudder. Fiona’s moans follow.

  None of my business.

  They are happy. So am I.

  I get up, shower and put a dress on. Heaviness sits on my chest. Jackson hasn’t come back yet.

  I decide to go for a walk. It’s grey and windy outside the lighthouse. The ocean’s waves crash into the cliff, the sound deafening but somehow liberating. The sky threatens to flood me with rain. I feel free. I could leave my hideout.

  No, no thinking.

  When I return to the house, I see Fiona making breakfast in the kitchen.

  “Morning, kitten,” she says.

  She’s wearing only her bra and jean shorts. Water is dripping from her damp hair.

  Tyler walks into the kitchen, his chest bare. His hair is damp and droplets of water shine on his skin. The smell of shower gel wafts through the air. He strokes my head with his big hand and then wraps his arms around Fiona from behind.

  “Hands off,” she says but sounds like she wants him to hold her in his embrace forever. “I’m cooking. Jackson will kill us both if we don’t feed Poppy properly.”

  Tyler chuckles and plants kisses up her neck, palming her big breasts.

  I feel at peace. Love and happiness surround me. I could…

  A hissing sound diverts my attention and I look over my shoulder. The glass in the window rings and shatters. A hand grips my arm and
I feel myself hover towards the exit as a small ball hits the floor. It clicks and hisses. Streaks of grey smoke surround me. I take a sharp breath. The smoke bites my throat and lungs. I can’t breathe.

  A hand yanks me out of the kitchen. I realise Tyler is dragging me over. His coughing fit muffles mine. Two hands push at my back. I tumble out of the house and a loud banging sound deafens me. I turn around and see Fiona emerge from the wall of greyness. She collapses to the ground as redness pours over her chest. Tyler pushes me down violently and I hit the ground with the side of my chest. My hand searches for Fiona’s. I close my fingers around her wrist and the coldness of her skin causes the icy arrow of fear to course through my heart. Her wide eyes fix on mine.

  Jackson

  Sonja squeals in her dream, her form wiggling under the comforter. My eyes meet Doctor’s.

  “She needs a few hours, Jackson. The drugs are wearing off, but she’s still very weak.”

  “I understand.”

  We’re seated at the narrow table in a shitty motel room. Brown curtains with a flowery pattern rustle at the touch of a cold breeze as a seagull screams outside the window.

  We checked in four hours ago.

  My eyes sweep over Doctor’s bruised face.

  Five security men against us, but we made it as always. We stole a van. We escaped from the site through the back gate and then loaded our bikes into it. We changed the van two hours later.

  “We’re lucky bastards,” Doctor says as a grin crosses his face.

  I nod. “We are.”

  I close my fingers around my swollen wrist and yank it to the side. My bones click as a growl escapes my mouth. Doctor rises to his feet and leans over me. He starts wrapping bandage around my wrist.

  “You need a splint,” he says.

  I take a pull of vodka straight from the bottle. “I need my naked wife beneath me.”

  He chuckles. “Of course. She’s your remedy for everything.”

  Sonja’s scream causes my eyes to travel to the double bed she’s lying on.

  Doctor straightens, turns around, and perches on the mattress. He strokes her head with his knuckles. “Everything’s fine, sweetheart.”

  Sonja sits up, wet tendrils of hair clinging to her face. “Where is she?”

  “She’s safe,” Doctor says.

  “She needs help,” Sonja says.

  “We’ll help both of you,” Doctor says. “Everything’s gonna be fine. Trust me.”

  She grips his arm. “You don’t understand. She’s seen too much in life.”

  I feel like an icicle is drilling into my stomach.

  Poppy

  So much blood. The deadly redness is everywhere. Scarlet rivers, dark ponds, ruby gems. On my hands. On my dress. On Fiona.

  My hands shake, but I don’t allow myself to cry.

  Tyler yells something, but my brain can’t discern the words. My focus is on Fiona.

  Priest is helping me, guiding my hand with his enormous hairy one.

  From the corner of my eye, I see Tyler’s gun swing in the air. A dull sound makes me shudder. A male groan follows.

  “He’s not gonna talk,” Tyler says.

  “He’s one of them,” I say.

  I don’t know how but I suddenly have a cool head. The man kneeling in front of Tyler is one of them—one of the men who forced me to jump off the cliff.

  “Finish it,” Declan says in a cold voice. “We know enough.”

  Tyler growls like a furious predator. His mouth emits a few curses.

  A bang tears at the air.

  I stiffen, my ears deaf from the sound.

  Then I carry on wrapping the bandage around Fiona’s arm. Her blood dribbles down from my hands, but she manages a half-smile.

  Priest pats my shoulder. “Done.” He kisses Fiona on the top of her head. “Go to a Sunday Mass, child. The bullet missed the main artery by a few millimetres. It’s just the blood loss and shock.”

  Yes, Priest said the bullet had gone through her arm and brushed against the bone. It didn’t cause any serious injury. Priest knows what to do. He starts attaching a bag of fluid to her good arm.

  Fiona rolls her eyes. “I will attend Mass every month,” she rasps. She raises her good hand a bit and waves her fingers. “Tyler, come here, baby.” Her couching fit follows.

  Tyler moves closer to her, putting his gun under the waistband of his jeans, as his hand searches for hers.

  “I’m moving in with you,” Fiona says. She chuckles as tears flow from her eyes. “You know, life’s too short, too precious to be fussy. You’re sweet, I’m bitter. We’re perfect for each other.” Her eyes roll back and she starts slipping from the chair, but Tyler scoops her up into his arms and lays her on the couch.

  My eyes sweep over the corpse lying on the floor in a pond of blood.

  I don’t feel.

  It’s like my feelings have switched off.

  Priest holds the dead man by his ankles and hauls him out of the bar, leaving a ghastly smudge of blood. One of the club girls starts wiping the floor with a damp cloth. Her name is Shirley if I remember correctly. The others escaped from the compound as soon as the attack started. Disgust sharpens her face as she retches. Declan grunts, tears the cloth away from her hand and tells her to get the fuck lost. I kneel down by Fiona, beside Tyler who’s stroking her head with his palm.

  Her eyes flutter. “So much attention.”

  “You’re worthy of it,” Tyler says as his voice stirs. He draws in a sharp breath. “I love you, woman. Always have.”

  “You’re such a romantic,” Fiona murmurs. “Jessica was like you. So romantic. So genuine.”

  I can see sadness in Tyler’s eyes.

  “Hey,” Fiona says. “She’d be happy for me. She wanted me to be happy and you make me feel happy, Tyler.” Her words come out on a few gasps.

  “Stop talking, woman,” Tyler says. He nods several times as his eyes turn glassy. “I loved Jessica like she was my sister.” His voice breaks.

  Tears prick my eyes.

  “I know, baby,” Fiona says. “You’re a good man.”

  Tyler’s face lights up. “Good enough for you to marry me?”

  “Not so fast, Tyler.” Fiona rolls her eyes.

  We allow her to take a few breaths and then Tyler carries her over to his bedroom upstairs. I follow them.

  We enter the bedroom. Sci-fi books layer the floor and a black cat is sleeping on the bed. She flops off and hides in the wardrobe. I jump over the clothes scattered around the bed. Tyler lays Fiona on the mattress.

  “It needs cleaning,” Fiona mutters.

  Tyler scratches his head. “I’ve never had a girlfriend. Nor have I ever had a wife.”

  “I’m a very bossy type,” Fiona says, “so you’ve been warned.”

  “Can I play with the cat for a moment?” I ask.

  They don’t pay attention. They’re busy kissing and holding hands.

  Right. Grow up, Poppy.

  I move towards the wardrobe, grab the cat, and carry her downstairs. She’s lovely. Very clingy and strangely mine.

  “You okay?” A man with black eyes asks.

  I nod, pulling the cat to my chest. The floor of the bar is spotless like nothing has happened.

  “Santi,” the man says. “You’re Poppy, right?”

  “Yes, I’m Poppy.”

  “I can make you a cup of tea.”

  “I’m fine, thank you.”

  “Hot chocolate?”

  “Yes, please. I’d love a mug of hot chocolate.”

  Declan moves closer to us. “Prez’s little flower.”

  Santi throws his arms over my back and Declan’s. “Prez wants to have fun when he reaches old age. Can’t blame him.”

  “I’m not a very funny person,” I say.

  Declan and Santi erupt into laughter.

  It seems like I can tell jokes.

  Chapter 13

  Jackson

  Stars layer the black expanse of the sky as I g
et off the van. Doctor helps Sonja off and scoops her up into his arms. She’s so exhausted she falls asleep in his embrace.

  “I’ll talk to Poppy first,” I say.

  “Don’t worry,” Doctor says. “Take your time. I’ll take care of Sonja and you call me when you’re ready.” He turns around and starts walking towards his caravan.

  He’s always been a bit of a recluse. The boys live in the clubhouse, but he prefers his caravan. It’s very modern and nicely furnished so Sonja will feel comfortable in there.

  His interest in her makes me wonder, but I shake it off.

  I rush towards my house as Tyler meets me half way.

  “We need to talk, Prez.”

  My throat pulses at the serious tone of his voice. “Poppy okay?”

  “She’s fine, but there was some shit yesterday.”

  “I assume it was sorted?”

  “As always.”

  “We’ll talk first thing in the morning.” I feel like I’m standing on needles.

  Tyler salutes me and I hurry over to my house, my heart thundering in my throat. I enter the lighthouse and run up the stairs. As I tumble into my bedroom, Poppy sits up on the bed.

  I need to merge with her or I’ll go mad.

  I kick off my boots, remove my jacket and t-shirt and jump on the bed. With my palm against Poppy’s chest, I pin her down to the mattress. My mouth covers hers.

  She pushes at my chest, averting her face. “You’re wounded.”

  “That’s nothing, don’t worry.”

  “You stink, Jackson.”

  “So what?”

  “You’re sticky.” Humour tinges her voice.

  I graze along her jaw line. “I’m dirty, sweaty and hungry.”

  “There’s food in the oven.”

  “I’m hungry for you.”

  She chuckles and I kiss her, stealing her breath away.

  We’re not Poppy and Jackson. We’re two souls merging into one. Souls have no age. Souls have no restraints. There’s our love, our unbreakable connection and this precious moment of eternity.

  I unzip my jeans and free my stiff cock. Easing my weight onto my good elbow, I try to pull her panties aside. My wrist hurts as fuck, but that’s nothing. Poppy sinks her fingers into my hair and makes me forget about the pain. A thought wavers on the edge of my awareness. Something is not as it should be.