Tuck's stomach lurched.
“I figured a race. Along the open plains. Get all the choppers in top working order; you can put your little munchkin to work. Whoever comes in first across a twenty-mile course, they get custody. Been too long since these poor soldiers have had some missies to fuck.”
There was certainly a challenge in God's eyes—something in the past twenty-four hours had made him change his mind about Bridie's fate. This all felt like a test. To disagree would be to demonstrate bad faith and confess his feelings for the girl, neither of which would sit well with the other Barons. But to agree was more horrible. To agree meant imagining Bridie—beautiful, beautiful Bridie—caught up in the grimy embrace of Yak, or face down on Spivey's bed. He couldn't possibly let this happen; yet he couldn't defy the leadership.
“So what do you suppose, LaRouche? A little friendly game, for the new pussy?” Zuzu laughed behind her man, emerald eyes ablaze. Tuck stood fast, and extended a hand.
“I'll oversee the game myself, sir.” De-coded: he wouldn't lose. He couldn't lose. There was suddenly everything at stake. “She's a fine little nugget, you know. I plan to win.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
DET. RAMIREZ: This is just background info. Will you tell us about your relationship with Tucker LaRouche, in the days that followed your arrival at the Barons camp?
BRIDIE: I wasn't a virgin when I got to the Barons clubhouse, if that's what you're asking. Lost it to Tommy DeRusso on the banks of Sulfur Creek. I was fourteen.
DET. RAMIREZ: You told us to ask different questions, Ms. Calyer—but we still can't situate Mr. LaRouche in the ring. His file is freighted. Three-time suspect for manslaughter...
BRIDIE: And he was released or acquitted all those times, mind, and those were all before I even met him. Don't make me call my lawyer back.
DET. RAMIREZ: No, no. We're just trying to get a better picture of him now, is all. What kind of man he was and whatnot. If the corruption spread from the Waco police to the Barons and back, you'll forgive us if we have a hard time styling your friend as a hero.
BRIDIE: Ha! He wasn't a hero, detective, that's for damn sure.
Okay, you really want to know? What kind of man was Tuck?
There's a thing that happens to people when they're lost and young and afraid and lonely—you get like a moth, you move towards any light that will have you. At first, I thought I was a moth like this. First day at camp, I saw this strapping hunk of man meat—and you gotta admit that, Detective, he's a bona fide looker to this DAY—
DET. RAMIREZ: Sure. But...
BRIDIE: But that night in the bar, when he lied to protect me—I got a glimpse of character below that shell. He was handsome, yes. And just the way I could tell Mr. Reginald craved my body in the living room of our trailer that night, I knew Tuck wanted me. I watched him struggle not to touch me in the low light of the bar. And that's the thing that did it, in the end. He could have done whatever he wanted to me, at any point. Just the way everyone else had. But when we finally did get together, it was both of our choice.
DET. RAMIREZ: (breathless) And you first got together that night, after the third murder?
BRIDIE: He drove me home on the back of his motorcycle. I felt his pulse getting faster with the road. Have you ever fallen in love, detective?
DET. RAMIREZ: You're saying you were in love with Mr. LaRouche?
BRIDIE: You're not listening. I'm not an idiot, I know how love grows. But the falling part—that happens plenty. The falling part is the sweetest. The part where he puts his gruff hands on yours and slides them down your body. How his eyes look in the moonlight, begging for your body. The first kiss, finding out how your mouths fit together.
And yes, I was lonely. And yes, he was beautiful. But it was also right, Detective. I don't regret the way he fit his mouth to my curves. I don't regret the way he asked me, with his eyes, if he could slide his fingers inside me. I don't regret how I felt, rising and falling like a wave on the back of that still-vibrating Harley. I don't regret the mosquitoes or the honeysuckle in the air. And if that sounds like the story of someone eighteen and broken, well…I'm glad I met Tuck when I was eighteen and broken. He was as good a man as they make.
Now does that answer your question?
Detective?
...Detective?
DET. RAMIREZ: Ahem, yes. Okay. Let's take a break, shall we? It's gotten a little muggy in here.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Tuck was aware that God might watch him from the windows, so he tried not to race down the hill. He didn't know yet what he'd say, but he knew he had to find Bridie. And he had to get her alone. They'd make a plan, some plan... they could enlist Athena, she was good at that kind of thing.
But before he'd made it to the rock path leading up to the garage entrance, Spivey rolled in front of the doors like a fat, horrible stone. The big man wore a crooked grin below three days' worth of an unkempt moustache that bled into sideburns.
“I heard a rumor, Lieutenant,” Spivey smirked. “Word is little baby's up for grabs. Sure would like to take her for a ride on this wild hog. Heh heh heh.”
“I'd check your facts, Tubbs. Chief wants it a little more complicated than all that. I hear there's supposed to be a race for the prize. And I know your slow ass isn't any kind of competition.”
“Not yesterday, maybe. But little Sark's in there right now, fixing up my Evo. Should run clean as a whistle by this time tomorrow.” Sure enough, from inside the garage there was the sound of an engine sparking and snapping to life. Athena and Bridie yelped gleefully.
“You better watch your back, Tuck. Can't have a big pussy for a lieutenant. You know the man upstairs doesn't go for that. And I have a feeling you're turning soft on us.” Spivey leaned in for a moment, holding Tuck's gaze, before taking a thickly jeweled hand and reaching down. Then he smacked Tuck's balls with the tip of his big finger. The lieutenant instinctively doubled over.
“Just as I thought: soft.” Then Spivey lurched away, cackling. Fighting off twin waves of nausea and fury, Tuck trotted into the garage. He found Athena and Bridie, as expected, puffed up with pride beside a gleaming engine.
“Lieutenant,” Athena said sarcastically. She looked at her friend. He, however, had eyes only for Bridie. Though her hair was ratty in a pile-up bun and her face smudged with engine grease, Tuck was briefly floored by how beautiful she remained in the full light of day. He knew for certain then that last night had not been a dream. His body shivered with pleasure at the realization that he knew exactly what lay beneath her canvas coveralls. He knew what her sweet, brown nipples looked like. He'd experienced the uncovered nape of her neck.
“Tuck,” Athena said, sharpening, “we've got news. There's a lot more going on than you'd think. Cannon is some kind of spy. Bridie's in trouble—”
“I'll say she is!”
“No, you don't understand. It's all over the papers. I don't know why they're holding her here, but it's not for her protection.”
“That's for damn sure. I just spoke to the man upstairs.” Both women stopped short. Tuck avoided their eyes, speaking his next words into the dirt.
“He wants to destroy whatever contract you made with him yesterday. He wants to place Bridie up for grabs.”
Athena stood up. “That's not fair. That's not fucking fair. I should have that lunatic by the throat.”
“Do you know what that means, Bridie?”
“We need to get her out of here, T.”
“I'm talking to Bridie, A—listen. I'm going to do everything in my power. Not one of them is going to lay a hand on you. I swear on my life.”
“Don't listen to him, Baby. We're going to find some way to get you out of here. People have done it before.”
Bridie took a deep breath. “I trust Tuck,” she said, her voice a clear, tough alto. “Just tell me what I have to do.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
As rumors tended to circle in a small camp, all the Barons were aware
of the race by the end of the day. Men made a quick joke of mocking Tuck, though the man himself still wasn’t certain who had seen him with Bridie in the early hours of the morning. His relationship with the ward was another fact that had come into being through consensus. Even Officer Cannon seemed on board with the race, which was less a surprise after Athena told Tuck about the FBI's case against Waco police. Their heads hunched together, the pair of them plotted and murmured their way through a meaty campfire dinner in the clearing. Bridie wasn't hungry. She'd stayed in the garage.
God proclaimed that the race would take place at sunset the next day, and that he and Cannon would be judges.
“Just don't tell my commanding officer,” the crooked cop joked. It took every ounce of Tuck's strength not to knock the asshole's teeth in.
This was, notably, the first time in his tenure with the Barons that Tuck had felt an inkling of rebellion against the group. The men who had been his friends yesterday now seemed like enemies. The man whom he'd respected with every fiber of his being in the morning now seemed like a devil. It reminded him of nothing so much as his early years in the city, wandering around with Athena. It was a comfort to know that he had been independent once. He could do it again. If the three of them decided to flee in the night, they could do it. They were strong enough.
“But I've thought about this all day,” Athena said, sideways, through a bite of hamburger. “If they really have all of Waco on their side, we can't run. Not right now. One speed trap at the border, we're all in jail. Or worse.”
“There's the FBI, though. Aren't they out for Waco blood?”
“But none of the Feds have even come knocking yet. We have no reason to think they're watching out for Bridie, either. For all we know, she could be a suspect to both groups. I think we've only seen the tip of the iceberg of her so-called aunt's illegal activity.”
“So-called? So now the aunt's fake, too?”
“I don't know which way's up and which way's down anymore, Tuck. This is all so fucking weird.”
Together, the friends looked toward the garage. A single light was lit in the bedroom. The rest of the space was dark.
“You want to go talk to her?” Athena asked, her voice suddenly gravelly and knowing. “Go ahead. I can distract these lug nuts. Just be nice to her, for fuck's sake.”
“Am I ever not a gentleman, A?” But Tuck grinned a little wickedly as he forfeit his seat on a log and threw his dinner's trash into the fire pit.
They hadn't been alone all day. Of course they hadn't—now that the whole camp was on high alert there was a distinct chance they'd never be properly alone again. Tuck took heavy steps toward the light in the garage. His blood quickened. Again, he felt like the high school nerd. Something about this little devil woman made him so, so nervous.
He rapped twice on the side door, before gently pressing on the handle. He waited again on the threshold for her voice. Hearing nothing, he walked a few steps in. His boots sounded heavy on the cement.
“Bridie?” he called. He waited.
“I'm in here,” she said finally. Her voice sounded thick with sleep. Wandering into her makeshift bedroom, Tuck took the girl in: hair long down her back, her body bundled under a blanket, he couldn't tell what she was wearing. She smiled at him. A little weakly.
“Just came in to check on you. It's been a busy day.”
“I'll say.” They were quiet again. He was reminded of all of the silences they'd shared last night—of how they'd never felt awkward, or strange, even though they'd been long. Something in her voice put him at ease. Something in her smile made him want to lie down.
“Come sit,” Bridie said then. She showed her teeth when she smiled next, reaching a naked arm up and out of the quilt to pat out a space on the bed by her feet.
Tuck lurched forward and came to rest on the edge of the cot. Visions were swimming, unbidden, through his brain: Bridie's tight little ass bent over a stovetop, making dinner for the pair of them. Bridie's head thrown back against his motorcycle, her mouth a frozen, orgasmic 'O.'
“You look worried,” she said. He could feel her legs shifting under the thin cover. Instinctively, Tuck moved to touch her through the fabric. He slid his thick hand up and down, back and forth across her legs. He thought he could feel her shiver.
“I never worry, Baby.”
They were silent for a moment. Then Bridie bit her lip. “Do you want to talk about...what happened last night?”
“Do you?”
These questions hung in the air for a moment, freighted like that second suspended at the top of a rollercoaster. Then Tuck lunged for her. The girl seemed to open like a flower at his touch. Her mouth rose to his, lapping, sucking, moving across his round, full lips. He kissed her deeply. He took her tiny face in his hands. Then, he reached down and behind Bridie, his hands moving across her back. Turned out she was entirely nude below the blanket—like she'd been expecting him, he thought.
“Do you really want this?” Tuck breathed, his stubble grazing the side of her cheek. He felt giddy with anticipation. She smelled like rain and lavender. In silent response, Bridie wrapped her legs around his torso, gripping him through the sheet. Tuck made for the exposed span of her neck, and started sucking so hard on the flesh there that he left teeth marks behind. She arched into him.
In another fervent move, Tuck cast aside the blanket. He paused to look at her, his Bridie: she was wonderfully, beautifully naked below the sheets, her pale skin made more luminescent by the wan light of the garage lamp. He slid his fingers down her neck to cup her right breast, then began to massage fiercely. His mouth followed the trail, kissing and kissing and kissing along her shoulder, toward the crevice between her full breasts, the goose-pimpled flesh on her arms. He reached one erect nipple and began to suck. Bridie slid her shapely legs apart at this, making space for his hands.
“I want you to fuck me, Lieutenant,” she whispered. Drawing back a moment, Tuck looked into his conquest's eyes. She didn't seem afraid. Her voice was raspy with want. “I want you to fuck me hard, Lieutenant.”
Tuck spared a single glance at the door, noting that it was ajar. But he couldn't leave the bed. He couldn't imagine ever leaving the bed, in that moment. Kicking off his steel-toed boots, the man slid his muscular body across the top of her. The cot creaked under his weight.
Bridie could feel his throbbing member through the denim of his jeans. She grasped for it, beginning to rub fiercely at her hero's crotch. Tuck jerked his shaggy blonde head upwards at the touch, so their eyes met. He bent lower, coming to kiss her deeply again. Bridie began to grind herself against him, shifting her mound so his fingers moved all around her pussy. Her skin grew hot.
Tuck peeled off his shirt in one swift move, and Bridie nearly swooned against the sheets at the sight of his naked torso: Tuck was cut. Each section of his pecs was clearly outlined, so his body made little pockets and grooves. She took a sweaty palm and pressed it against his flat stomach. He felt nearly wiry, as if a machine were humming below his skin.
“I want this,” she reassured him once more, though the glint in his eye already spelled determination. She felt his trunk-like legs nudging her own further apart. He buried his face once more into her neck, kissing, sucking.
With one hand, Bridie reached down his leg to unbutton his jeans. She found herself getting more excited, more wet, with each undone clasp. It quickly became apparent that Tuck's cock was enormous—it strained against the fabric of his boxers. She reached for him, grasping him fully in her hand. Then she eased his shorts over the ribbed swell of his hips and gazed at his cock.
It was beautiful, which wasn't a word she used lightly. Tuck's shaft was elegant and smooth. The swoop of his sac was firm. He was already rock hard and dripping with pre-cum. The lieutenant sighed deeply into her ear as she worked her fingers up and down his member, slowly at first, but then faster and faster. His breath was sweet.
Bridie bent low then, bringing her rounded mouth to his tip. She ki
ssed his head, before circling her lips around the whole of him. She began to suck, tentatively—they were moving slowly now—but kept one hand in place to stroke him while she swallowed him down. His cock was the largest around she'd ever felt, and it only seemed to grow longer and thicker at her touch. Soon her movements grew rapid.
“Please,” he cooed into her ear, “oh please, baby. Let me get inside of you.”
It was remarkable, how easy and intuitive it was. This felt nothing like those humid, miserable nights spent fooling around under the bleachers with the boys of her youth; Tuck was nothing like Tommy DeRusso. Her body was open to his. She trusted him with her weight, with all of her secret crevices. Before her was a man, a bona fide adult man. Tuck was going to handle her. He was going to fuck her as she'd never been fucked. He was capable of doing this.
So without breaking her own rhythm or pausing to question, she guided her lover's cock smoothly and swiftly to the brink of her waiting pussy. Tuck cried out. She threw a hand over his mouth.
“Don't let the other Barons hear you,” she whispered, before grabbing his taut ass and pulling him closer. Tuck slowly slid himself inside. He was almost too big to bear...almost.
“Jesus. Fuck,” Bridie sighed. She widened her legs. Tuck moved slowly inside of her, thrusting deeply and then pulling himself nearly all the way out. He held her gaze during these long strokes. Bridie arched her back against him as he moved, and Tuck reached down to cup her swelling breasts.
“Tell me again that you want it, baby,” he whispered into her waiting ear. Bridie felt herself clench around his member. As if to urge her response, Tuck quickly pushed a finger up against her clit. Now it was Bridie's turn to stifle a cry. He began to rub in quick, expert circles, while he pumped faster and faster into her pussy.
Vulnerable (Barons of Sodom) Page 9