Satan's Property

by Celia Loren

  “I’m so stupid,” I whisper, hot tears trickling down my cheeks.

  “You’re not,” Drifter says fiercely, “Look at my chest. I’d probably be dying of an infection right now if it weren’t for you. Rooster’s been making you feel stupid for years, but it’s a bunch of bull. You’re brilliant, Violet. I hope you know that.”

  I wrap my arms around his torso, burying my face in his chest. He lies back, taking me with him, and strokes my hair until I’m all out of tears.

  Chapter Twelve

  Later that morning, after I’ve made a late breakfast for everyone, Drifter and I walk the perimeter of the property again. Kalb runs around in front of us, taking off after bugs or imaginary animals every now and then, but always returning to check on us, to make sure that we’re still there.

  Drifter went to Flint earlier to let him know that the club’s collateral, meaning me, wasn’t so valuable to them after all. I suspect a flurry of phone calls followed that revelation, and now Drifter and I are waiting to meet with Flint, who’s currently locked in his office with a few of the other brothers.

  I frown after Kalb, and Drifter nudges me. I sigh. He’s annoyingly good at reading my moods.

  “It’s embarrassing,” I confess. “Them knowing that I married someone like Rooster, and the fact that Rooster cares so little about me. I want them to respect me.”

  “I wouldn’t worry about them respecting you. You’re the best shooter here...well almost,” he adds with a little smile, clearly indicating himself. “It’s not your fault your husband is such a colossal shit head,” he sums up adroitly.

  I grin at him. The things that might bother other men just roll right off his back. After what he saw in Iraq and Afghanistan, most problems now seem surmountable to him. His easy, non-dramatic way of looking at things might seem overly simple, but he does seem to be right.

  Bean appears at the back door and waves us over, signaling that Flint is ready for us. Drifter calls Kalb, and he runs in front of us into the clubhouse. We head into the office area after Bean and into Flint’s office. Twitch and Tag are in there already. I study Flint’s face nervously. He looks tired, but not outwardly angry. I relax slightly as I sit.

  “So, here’s where we are,” he says, “Twitch has stopped the virus and traced its origin to an IP address in Clarksville.”

  “Where the Army’s clubhouse is,” I breathe.

  “So now we know it’s them,” Flint goes on, “And we also know they’ve already managed to steal upwards of fifty thousand dollars from us.”

  My jaw drops open. “I had no idea they had that kind of technology, though it seems like there are a lot of things I don’t know,” I say, thinking of what Drifter told me about my dad. “I’m sorry, I wish I had been able to tell you sooner.”

  Flint waves my apology away. “Rooster tricked us, too. Now we have to figure out how to get our money back. Violet, I don’t know how much allegiance you feel to your father’s old club—”

  “None,” I break in. “Not since the moment he was killed. None of the original brothers are there anymore. It’s just Rooster and his barbaric friends.”

  “Well, then it would help us out to know about their clubhouse’s layout,” Flint says, “We’ve got six brothers out on a run right now, but they’re getting back tomorrow afternoon. As soon as they do, we’re going to strike. What’s important until then, though, is that you continue here as though everything is normal.”

  “Why?” I ask with a frown.

  “The leak,” Drifter says, “We still don’t know who it is.”

  “Could be a sweet butt, one of the prospects—” Tag pipes up.

  “Hey,” Twitch protests.

  “Well, not you, Twitch,” Tag adds, “Why would you point out your own virus?”

  “I agree,” Flint says, “It has to be one of the prospects or one of the sweet butts. I’d lay down my life that it’s not one of the brothers.”

  The other brothers in the room grunt in agreement.

  “Why don’t we just kick all the prospects and sweet butts out of here until it’s done?” Tag asks.

  “We can’t tip off the Army. They find out we did that, they’ll know we’re planning an attack. Better to have the element of surprise,” Drifter says.

  “Exactly,” Flint says. “So, Violet, you tell us about the Army clubhouse, and then just go about your business as usual, OK?”

  “Sure,” I say, “Here goes...”

  I try to describe the Army’s clubhouse as best I can remember it, though it’s been a while since I was actually there. I hope my crude drawings can help them. The Army may have fewer brothers, but they’ve got a lot of firepower, and the thought of anything happening to Drifter now...

  Flint stacks up the paper I’ve been using as a map and pats me on the shoulder.

  “I hope we’ll keep seeing more of you around here, Violet. Seems like a lot of the brothers have gotten used to your cooking,” he says with a glint in his eye.

  “Um, Flint?” Drifter says, and we both glance at him.

  “Oh, right,” Flint says. “Twitch, would you do the honors?” He gestures toward my leg. I frown for a moment, not understanding. But then Twitch kneels in front of me.

  “No more ankle monitor? Really?” I ask excitedly.

  Twitch quickly rolls up my pant legs and reaches toward me with a pair of pliers. I grin up at Drifter and see him smiling back at me. Twitch leans back and I look down, but the ankle monitor is still there.

  “Hey...”

  “We have to leave it on to keep up appearances until we strike, but it’s deactivated,” Flint assures me.

  “Oh, alright. Well...I guess I should get started on lunch then?” I ask, looking around awkwardly for a moment before I turn around and head to the kitchen. I guess Drifter is staying to talk about the raid on the Army’s clubhouse the next day.

  I grab ingredients from the fridge and get started on lunch. What did Flint mean when he said he hoped he’d keep seeing more of me around here? I wish I’d been watching Drifter’s face when he said that.

  Shit. What am I going to do after tomorrow? If everything goes well for the Sons, Rooster will be killed and they’ll take over the Army’s territory. I’ll be free to go home and do whatever I want. But then there’s Drifter. I love him, no two ways about it. I don’t want to do a long-distance relationship or something. It’s still three hours from here to Clarksville. And who knows what he wants. He grew up in foster homes, and I don’t know if he even wants a family, or kids, or anything.

  I’m frowning over a bowl of tuna salad when Stephanie walks in the back door.

  “Hey, you seen Twitch?” she asks.

  “I think he’s in with Flint,” I say.

  “Oh, what did Flint want?” she asks.

  “No idea,” I say, hoping I sound believable. “So...When do you think Twitch will ask you?”

  “I dunno,” she replies with a shy smile. “Ugh, I hope I’m not just imagining the whole thing.”

  “Oh, no. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He is completely smitten,” I say.

  “Well, we’ll see,” she says with a happy sigh. “I’ve just always wanted to be an old lady.”

  “Don’t worry, it’ll happen,” I answer encouragingly.

  “Let me help you with this,” she says, setting to work beside me.

  We set the table and I bring out a basket of bread. Drifter winks at me as he sits down. I blush and hurry back into the kitchen. It’s tough to pretend nothing’s different around him. Everyone eats happily as Stephanie and I chow down in the kitchen. The other sweet butts, including Cherish, find us in there and we all eat together.

  I study Cherish out of the corner of my eye. I’m not sure if she was warning me about Drifter out of jealousy or genuine concern. I look around the circle of girls, and think over the list of prospects in my head. Flint said he didn’t think the leak could be one of the brothers, but I think it’s just as likely to be one of them as an
yone else. But it’s easier for me to say that, because I’ve known everyone for the same amount of time, and he’s known some of the brothers for years, decades even.

  We clean everything up and I head downstairs to the laundry room. I don’t really have much to do down there, but this morning has been crazy, with the raid, and Drifter, and finding out about my dad. I just need a minute alone.

  I remember how shocked I was when my dad died. I always knew that being in a club was dangerous, my father never tried to hide that from me, but he had been through a war, my mom’s death, and he was the Ox Avery. He had seemed indestructible to me. With both him and my mom dead, I had been grateful to have Rooster. He was the only family I had left. But he’s probably the one who is, at the very least, responsible for my father’s death, even if he’s not the one who actually pulled the trigger. A shudder runs through me at the thought.

  A noise on the stairs tears me out of my reverie. I realize I’m standing frozen with a pair of jeans in my hand, lost in my thoughts. I turn to the stairs to see Drifter at the bottom of them.

  “Meet me by the front gates in ten minutes. Don’t tell anyone.” He says, and runs back upstairs.

  “What’s going on?” I call after him, but he doesn’t respond.

  My curiosity stoked, I finish folding the basket of clothes I was working on and head out to the front gate. Drifter said not to tell anyone, so I assume secrecy is important. I don’t want anyone to see me leaving.

  As I walk down the hill toward the front gate, I see him on his bike by the stone wall. I grin at him and trot to meet him. He smiles at me when I reach him and he holds out a helmet for me.

  “Where are we going?” I ask.

  “Surprise,” he says.

  “Very mysterious,” I say, slipping on the helmet. He nods for me to get on the back of his bike. “Wait, I want to check it myself first.”

  I walk up to the front gates and step cautiously through them, bracing myself for some kind of alarm to be raised by my ankle monitor crossing the invisible barrier, and preparing for brothers to run out of the clubhouse yelling at me.

  “Good?” he asks.

  “Good,” I nod, absolutely thrilled. I hop on the back of his bike and wrap my arms around his big frame, gripping him tightly. He pulls back on the throttle and we drive out of the gates.

  I rest my cheek on the smooth black leather of his cut. The wind picks up my hair a little, but I’m mostly sheltered behind his body. I wonder where he’s taking me. I look around as we drive. I haven’t been off the Sons’ property in weeks, and I’ve never driven around here in daylight. As we drive further from the clubhouse, I start to spot some other houses, though certainly at enough of a distance that they wouldn’t hear things like that shooting competition we had the other night.

  We quickly arrive in a small town, but Drifter continues on the main road, zooming through it. A few minutes later, and the houses start to thin out again. The lots in this area are spread far apart, land filling up the space between them. I think it’s been about fifteen or twenty minutes since we left the clubhouse when he slows down and takes a left into a driveway. We’re pulling up to a one-story ranch house, surrounded by dry grass and a few gnarled trees that manage to grow in the desert. I can see another house some distance away, but it’s private here, with space to spare.

  Drifter cuts the engine outside of the garage and swings his leg off the bike. He turns and offers me his hand, and I get off the bike, pulling off my helmet. He pulls his helmet off too, and runs a hand through his hair. I glance at his face. Is it my imagination, or does he look a little nervous?

  I pause, waiting for him to say something, to offer me some kind of explanation as to why he brought me here.

  He clears his throat. “So. This is my house, the one I was telling you about before,” he says.

  “Oh,” is all I can think to respond.

  “Let me show you around,” he says with a vague wave of his hands. I nod, and he takes out a set of keys and lets us in the front door.

  The door opens into a living room with high ceilings and plenty of light. A single sofa sits in the middle of the floor. I follow him to the left, and he pauses by the swinging door to a dining room.

  “I was thinking I could knock this wall down, open up the space a little more,” he says, indicating the wall between the living room and the dining room.

  “Yeah, that would be nice,” I respond.

  We walk into the kitchen, which has a breakfast nook and a window over the sink looking out to the back yard.

  “Garage is through there,” he says, pointing to a door at the other end of the kitchen, “Pretty standard, but I like it.”

  We walk back through the living room, past the sliding door to the backyard, and down a hallway to the bedrooms. We pass a bathroom, and he points out two smaller bedrooms as we walk into the master bedroom at the end of the hall. It has its own bathroom with a window facing the street side of the house. We cross through the sliding glass door in the master bedroom and step out into the backyard.

  “Three point five acres,” he says, sweeping his hand around the backyard. “What do you think?”

  “It’s lovely,” I answer, but when I make eye contact with him he looks away, then kicks his foot in the dirt.

  “I mean, um, what do you think of it for you?” he asks, looking back at me.

  “For me?” I ask, unsure of exactly what he means.

  “Fuck, I’m bad at this.” He shoves his hands nervously through his hair again. “Look, I know I haven’t known you that long, and a lot of things are up in the air, but I’ve fought in two different wars, and I know that time doesn’t wait for anyone. I want you to come live here with me. Be my old lady.”

  My heart feels like it’s about to leap through my chest.

  “I’m still married,” I whisper, unable to process the flood of emotions I’m feeling.

  “I know,” he says, a little grimly.

  “I don’t want to be. Still married, I mean,” I rush to assure him. “I’m scared. After tomorrow—what if something happens to you?”

  “That’s why I wanted to bring you here and ask you today,” Drifter says. “I don’t plan on anything happening to me tomorrow night, but if something does, I want you to know how I feel, what I would have done.”

  “I certainly don’t feel married. I haven’t for a long time,” I say. I twist the thin gold wedding band I still wear on my left hand. I pull it off, turning it over in my hand. With a long step forward, I toss the ring as far as I can into the backyard of this house that will someday be my home.

  “OK,” I say, turning to him. “Yes. Yes, I will be your old lady.” My face feels like it’s going to split in two, my grin is so wide.

  Drifter lets out a joyous cry and picks me up in the air. I shriek as he throws me up in the air like I weigh nothing and catches me. His lips find mine, and we kiss each other hungrily, rapturously. He breaks away and takes a deep breath, running his thumb across my cheek.

  “Come on,” he says, taking my hand and guiding me inside through the sliding doors. He shuts the door behind us and takes off his cut, letting it fall to the carpeted floor. I back away from him into the middle of the room. He is absolutely radiating heat and desire. Who knew commitment could be such a turn on for a tough guy like him?

  “I’m going to have you on every surface of this house, starting right here,” he says, his eyes growing dark with lust.

  I barely have time to take a breath before he’s upon me. He lifts me off the ground once more, and I wrap my legs around his back. He brings me down onto the carpet with him, setting me gently on my back, never taking his lips off mine. We tear off our shirts, eager for the feel of each other’s skin. I reach behind me and unhook my bra as I admire his sculpted torso. He unzips his jeans and leans down, kissing my breasts. I throw my head back and revel in his touch. I feel him unbuttoning my jeans, pulling down the zipper.

  I bite my lip in anticipation
as he pulls down my jeans. His hands rest briefly on my thighs as he kisses my stomach just above my cotton panties. He runs his fingers across my crotch, over my panties, and I instinctively lift my hips slightly to meet him. He rubs a finger over my clit, and I groan, aching for him. Thankfully, he slips my panties off. He kisses my inner thigh, working up to the crease of my leg, flicking his tongue against my skin. I feel his tongue inside me, licking me all the way along my slit. I cry out as he covers my clit with his lips, sucking hard. The sensation is overwhelming, and I’m already close to coming, but I want him to go there with me.

  I reach up and run my hand through his hair. He looks up at me as I force him back onto his knees. I kneel and lean into him, shuddering with delight as I taste myself on his lips. I place both of my hands on his shoulders, gently pushing him onto his back. He sinks back onto the carpet as I pull my hair back behind one ear. I grin at him as I bend over his hard, throbbing cock.

  I hover just above the tip of him and blow softly before pulling him into my mouth. I suck down hard, taking him as far back as I can. He moans loudly, and I can taste the saltiness of his pre-cum on my tongue. As his breathing quickens, I wrap up his shaft with my eager hands.

  He cries out, close to orgasm, and I quickly straddle him. With no warning, I sink down onto his cock. His eyes fly open in surprise as I draw him inside me. I sink down as far as I can, then rise up on my knees until only his tip is inside me. I take him back in, pushing down until I can go no further. I circle my hips there, feeling his cock swirl deep inside me. He groans as I throw my head back, feeling my hair fall freely.

  Drifter runs his hands up my thighs, and I feel his thumb on my clit. He circles it quickly and I gasp, pumping up and down faster and faster. I lean back farther, supporting myself on his muscular thighs.

  “Oh, fuck, Violet—” he moans. His hips push up to meet mine with every thrust, and I’m screaming with pleasure, completely letting go in this empty house. We cry out as we come together, our indecipherable sounds mixing together.

  I drop over him, my legs exhausted. I bury my face in his neck and feel his chest rising up and down under me as I try to catch my breath, too. He wraps his arms around the small of my back. I gently scratch at his chest hair as I come back to earth.