by Naomi West
I nodded. "I can see how that would happen. But now you never have to worry about your parents again. You're your own man. So why stick with it?"
"I guess partly because it's become who I am," Archer admitted. "I wouldn't know who I was, if I wasn't president of Battle Pride. But also because there are people who rely on me. People who I let down if I'm not there." A strange look came over his face, as if he was thinking of something else, something that he, apparently, could not share with me.
"You don't have an obligation to them," I pointed out. "You have a right to live your own life."
But Archer shook his head firmly. "Take someone like Joe. I recruited him to Battle Pride. I saw his potential and brought him in. If I hadn't done that, if I hadn't brought him into an organization with some structure, then I think he'd be in jail by now. Or dead. That's the road he was on; vandalizing buildings, petty theft, picking fights. I can't walk away from kids like that."
"But kids like that are still on the road to jail as part of Battle Pride. Battle Pride breaks the law."
"There's a difference between being in Battle Pride and being a little teenage hoodlum, busting up shops because you've got nothing better to do and an anger in you that needs to be vented. Protecting businesses from mobsters is a better way of channeling that rage."
"The police deal with mobsters."
Archer scoffed. "The police can try, but they need things like evidence. Your dad knows I'm guilty of some things, but, without evidence, there's nothing he can do. Same is true of people who try to muscle in on Fran's bar, or any of the other businesses we protect without concrete evidence, all they need is a good lawyer, and they walk. And where do they walk to? Right back to the person who reported them to the police, and that person will never walk again. So, no one reports them to the police. They call Battle Pride instead. We don't need evidence, and we are a very effective deterrent."
"So, you and my dad are on the same side really?" I suggested. Maybe I was teasing him a little, but there was some truth in it too, or so it seemed to me.
Archer pulled a face. "In a manner of speaking. I doubt he'd see it that way. I don't either, if I'm honest."
"Why not?" I pressed. "You both believe in helping the little guy. You both believe in stopping the bad guys. I know that neither of you would ever hurt someone who didn't deserve it. What's the difference between you and dad?"
Archer squirmed a little in his seat, clearly not liking the question. "I guess ... the law. To your dad, that's an absolute. He'd walk away from something bad happening, if stopping it meant breaking the law. I won't be chained down by what a piece of paper says. I know right from wrong."
"Selling illegal hooch?"
"People have a right to get drunk."
"And go blind?"
Archer looked at me sharply. "Not off my hooch, they don't."
I decided to keep wheedling at him. "But, by selling alcohol cheap, by avoiding taxes, you're screwing someone down the line. The person trying to make a living selling booze by the book, the person who relies on that tax money being spent in their town. I think your definition of right and wrong is a lot more fluid than my dad's."
It was fun watching Archer trying to justify himself before finally settling for, "You know, protection doesn't pay for itself."
We found a place to stay just as night was really starting to take hold. We grabbed a bite to eat and then went back to our room. It had been a long day, and the closest we'd had to a shower was the waterfall the night before, so we went into the shower together. Standing under the stream of hot water together, we made love, Archer lifting me up into his strong arms and pressing me against the wall of the cubicle as he stroked in and out of me. Later, once we had dried ourselves and returned to the bedroom, we lay next to each other on the bed, naked, staring at the ceiling, and sometimes at each other.
I glanced at the clock. "You know, it's not that late yet. This time last night we were just arriving at the waterfall."
"A lot can happen in twenty-four hours," Archer mused.
I reached across and gave his flaccid penis a playful tug. "This thing deserves a medal."
"I think it would settle for a rest," Archer said, with heartfelt honesty.
I laughed, then rolled over on top of him to kiss him. We stayed like that a long time, kissing and staring into each other's eyes, until I could bear it no longer. I had to ask.
"Are you going to tell me what's going on?"
"In what sense?" he asked evasively.
"In the sense that—and I'm not complaining—this morning was our last morning together, but it's now evening and here we are on another bed."
Archer looked away.
"I don't want you to have secrets from me," I pressed.
"There are some things you're better off not knowing."
"Tell me."
He couldn't evade my gaze forever, and, when he looked at me again, I could read the guilt in his eyes.
"There are men coming for me. I think. I guess I can't be sure. But if they're coming for me then they're coming for everyone I care about. Battle Pride can take care of themselves. So can Fran. You ... I can't leave you when you might be in danger."
"My dad is a sheriff, and a pretty tough guy." I didn’t know why I said it. It was like I was trying to convince him to send me back home, which was the last thing I wanted. But, actually, the last thing I wanted was him to be in danger, especially because of me. On his own, he could run far and fast. Dragging me along behind him, he would always be handicapped, and I knew that he would put my life above his own every time.
"I don't want your dad to be in danger because of me either."
I grinned. "Big, bad Archer Cyprian wants to protect Sheriff Ben Dupont? Don't let the rest of Battle Pride find out."
"I don't want anyone to get hurt on my account," Archer retorted, a little petulantly.
"Because you're a good person."
"I told you already ..."
"Here's the thing," I interrupted him. "You've told me time and again that I'm a good girl and no amount of pretending will make me a bad girl, because it's who I am, it's in my bones. I think the same is true of you."
Archer snorted derisively. "If you knew some of the stuff I've done ..."
"Killed anyone?"
Archer looked annoyed. "Well, maybe not actually killed ..."
"Mugged anyone?"
"Not as such."
"Raped anyone?"
"Of course not! What do you think I am?!"
I smiled. "I think you're a good guy. I think that there was a time when you were young when, because of your horrible home situation, it became safer for you to become a bad guy. You play the part better than me, for sure, but then you've been doing it for longer. Maybe you've been doing it for so long that you've even convinced yourself that it's what you actually are. But in the end, what you said to me is true—you can pretend all you like, but you can't change who you really are. And, for my money, you're a good guy."
Archer looked at me for a long beat before speaking. "You're crazy."
"That's a separate issue, and it doesn't make me any less right."
He shook his head and rolled his eyes, still offering no real comment on what I had said.
"We're quite the pair," I said. "Both pretending to be something we're not."
"And you're going to say we belong together?" Archer guessed.
"You said that, if things were different, if you weren't the man you are, then we should be together."
"I said that?"
"Something along those lines. And it turns out that you're not the man you are. So why shouldn't we be together? What's stopping us?"
"You mean apart from your father, the sheriff, a biker gang, and the Mafia?"
I laughed. "Yeah, aside from that, what's stopping us?"
Archer looked at me a long time with a little smile on his face. I wasn't sure what I expected him to say next, but it certainly wasn't what he said. "What wo
uld I have to do?"
"What?" I started up into a sitting position on the bed, looking down at him.
"Hypothetically," Archer said carefully. "What would I have to do?"
There had been a little voice in my head for a while now suggesting a course of action, but I hadn't mentioned it, because I feared how Archer might react. It was a risk, but it seemed like the only way out for him, and the only way I could keep him in my life.
"I don't think my dad has much of a case against you. Nothing that will hold up in court, I mean."
"Maybe not," Archer acknowledged.
"Turn yourself in."
Now it was Archer's turn to start upright. "Are you out of your mind?"
"Do you want to be on the run for the rest of your life?"
"No, not particularly."
"And," I continued, "If my Dad doesn't have a good legal case against you, then what's the worst that could happen?"
"He could get me alone in a cell and beat the shit out of me for banging his daughter."
I shrugged. "I'm not going to lie. That's a risk. Which is why I don't think you should turn yourself into Dad, himself. If you're in someone else's custody, then Dad wouldn't hurt you for fear of getting the arresting officer into trouble. That's what happens when people stick to the rules."
Archer gave me a look, as if he knew I was winding him up a little, but I could tell that he was thinking it over.
"If we're wrong about him having the evidence ..."
"That's the risk we take."
"That's the risk I take," pointed out Archer.
I placed my hand on his heart. "If you think that losing you isn't a risk for me, then you don't know me at all."
Archer smiled and placed his hand over mine. "Sorry. That was unfair of me."
"You can't clear your name unless you hand yourself in. You'll be on the run forever. This is a chance, not just to escape the law, but to put this whole thing behind you. And, once it's behind you, then we have a life in front of us."
Archer nodded. "And I'm sure your dad will be just delighted about that."
"One problem at a time."
Archer looked pensive. "I'm still worried about the Mafia. If they come for me in jail, then I can handle them, but if they come for you, or your dad while I'm in jail ... I know you said your dad can protect you and handle himself, and I don't doubt it for a minute, but I don't like the thought of you or him having to fight my battles, and ..." He glanced away momentarily, as if embarrassed. "If anything happened to you, I'd never forgive myself."
"Why are they coming for you?" I asked.
"To keep me out of the way, so they can go on preying on local businesses."
"You'll be in jail. How much more out of the way do they want you?"
Archer acknowledged that there was some truth in that.
"And, once you're out, then you can tell Dad all about them. Then Battle Pride can team up with the law to kick the Mafia's butts once and for all!"
Archer frowned. "I think now you might be living in a fantasy world, but ... I can see your point. Besides," he shook his head, grimly, "I don't like running away from my problems. If it wasn't for you, I would have headed back to town straight away to help Battle Pride. I don't like the idea of leaving them to it." He looked at me, meeting my eyes with a smile on his face. "Let's do it."
I threw my arms around his neck, and we kissed.
"So, if I can't hand myself into your dad, who should we go to?"
"One of his deputies, I guess."
A thoughtful look came into Archer's eyes. "I know just the guy."
Chapter Sixteen
Archer
In the morning, we showered together as we had the night before. Cassidy knelt down and took me into her mouth, running her hands up and down the backs of my legs, until, finally, I pulled her to her feet, turned her round, and we had energetic sex against the wall of the shower.
It was a good start to what was going to be a make-or-break day. Though neither of us said it, we both knew that there were two very different ways in which today could end, and both were equally probable.
We filled up with gas and then headed back the way we had come. Though I tried not to let Cassidy notice, I was constantly on the alert for anyone following us. I had a hunch that, if the Mafia had been on our tail, we would have known about it by now, but it was better to be on the safe side.
# # #
Just after lunch, we arrived at the home of Deputy Polo Carter. Although, anyone who had seen him arrest me the other night wouldn't necessarily have guessed it, Polo and I went way back. In high school, we had been friends, and were damn near inseparable. It was safe to say that, since then, our lives had taken dramatically different courses, but I figured that if I was going to be turning myself into anyone, then choosing someone who might have some residual good feelings toward me was probably best.
From the look on his face when he opened the door, Polo Carter had not been expecting the town's most wanted man to arrive at his house with his boss's daughter in tow.
"Archer," was all he said.
"Hey, Polo, how's it going?"
"I suspect better for me than it has been for you," Polo said. Then he looked at Cassidy and added, "Or, then again, maybe not. Would you like to give me some idea of why you're here?"
"I'm turning myself in."
If his face had looked surprised when I arrived, then that was nothing to how it looked now. He recovered himself and shook his head.
"Well, I didn't have anything else planned for my day off so, what the hell, let's do this."
"Can we talk before you take me down the station?"
Polo shrugged. "That's not normally how we do things, but 'normal' is not a word I would use to describe any part of this."
We sat down at Polo's kitchen table, and he made the three of us coffee. I'd have to say it was the most surreal experience I could have imagined.
"Before we start, Archer," said Polo, setting down the coffee in front of us and seating himself, "I think I need to make some things clear."
"Fire away."
"I hope it won't come to this, but ..." Polo paused, wondering how best to explain himself. "Look, do you remember Artie Reed?"
I nodded. Artie had been another of our little circle of friends. He had gone bad in a big way after school and was currently serving a life sentence in prison, having narrowly escaped the death penalty on a technicality.
"You know what happened to him? Where he is now?"
Again, I nodded, wondering if having Cassidy in on this little meeting had been a good idea.
"You know who put him there?"
I nodded again. "Rumor tells me that it was you."
"Rumor is right," Polo said. "I loved him like a brother when we were in school, but I sent him down, and, when I did, I fully expected him to end up on death row. And beyond."
"Well," I acknowledged, not liking the general trend of this conversation. "He did some bad things."
"And you're going to tell me that you're all sweetness and light?"
"No," I said, firmly. "But I think we'd both agree there's a difference between what Artie did and what I do."
Polo held up his hands. "No doubt about it. I wouldn't be asking for death for you. But I saw that book, Archer, before your boys stole it back. I know you're guilty."
"Of selling illegal alcohol."
"The law is the law," said Polo, sternly. "I'm not vindictive. I wouldn't go after you for more than you've done, or try to pin other crimes on you. Your dad taught me that," he added to Cassidy. "But you broke the law, and I plan to make you pay to the extent of the law. I just want that understood, before we go any further. And, if you try and make a run to the door now, then I also want it understood that I will try and stop you. We were friends once, and those were good times, but they were a long time ago. I'm not saying you didn't have it tough growing up, but so did I, and I'm here, and you're there. And that's the way it is."
&nbs
p; Polo sat back and waited for my response.
I nodded. "Well, I appreciate you being up front with me, Polo."
"Figure I owe you that much," Polo said. "There were times back in the day when you had my back when no one else did."
"We had to stick up for each other back then."