Alone on Earth

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Alone on Earth Page 19

by Susan Fanetti


  “Fuck, Riley,” he groaned. Then he groaned again. “Fuck, yeah. Ah, yeah. That’s…it. Fuck.” He came hard, his fingers digging into her shoulders. She found herself fascinated by the way his semen covered her hands, her hip, even the wall behind her.

  When he had his breath, he turned into the shower spray and washed himself. Then he moved her into the spray and began to wash her, picking up the little hotel soap and smoothing it over her body, washing himself from her, washing the stress and fear of the day away. No one had washed her since she was a little girl. And no one had ever washed her like this. After he’d attended thoroughly to her body, he shampooed and rinsed her hair. When he’d rinsed the soap and shampoo away, every cell in her body was bouncing with need. He was standing behind her, and she could feel his cock against her back, hard again. She was so turned on, she actually had a little internal debate about whether it would be okay, as long as he pulled out. No. No, it would not! Don’t be a dope!

  With one hand, he reached again for the soap; with the other, he pulled gently on her shoulder, encouraging her to lean back against his chest. She did, and he lathered his hands and then smoothed them over her breasts, swirling the silky suds around her nipples until they were hard little points, and she thought she’d scream from the pressure and throb she felt between her legs.

  “I love your tits so much. They’re so gorgeous, and I love the way your nipples are almost the same color as your skin. Like you’re made of alabaster.”

  He plucked both nipples between his fingers, and she couldn’t stand it. She arched hard and cried out, “God, Bart! Please!”

  Chuckling in her ear, he slid his hand down her belly and between her legs. She started to come as soon as his fingers raked over her clit. He circled her waist with his arm and pulled her off her feet, his other hand working her clit furiously, perfectly, until stars exploded through her body. She went so rigid she couldn’t make a sound.

  “Ah, yeah, babe. That’s so fucking hot.” He flicked over her clit, and she jerked as if she’d been electrocuted. He did it again, and she grabbed his hand. Too much. God, she felt flayed—and sated, and weary in every corner of her body.

  ~oOo~

  When they were dry, and naked in bed, Bart pulled her close, tucking her under his arm. Riley yawned loudly. She was so tired.

  He chuckled and kissed her head. “Let’s sleep. How’s that sound?”

  She nodded, loving the feel of his hard chest under her cheek.

  He didn’t say more, and Riley began to ease into sleep. Despite the turmoil and sadness of the crazy day they’d had, she felt safe and warm and snug, and sleep was rolling over her like a blanket, moving from her toes.

  “Can I say something now?”

  Her eyes popped open at that. She knew instantly what he meant. She didn’t answer. She wasn’t sure how to answer. So she lay there, not moving or speaking, Just waiting.

  “I’m in love with you, too.”

  She jerked her head up on his shoulder so she could see his face. He was looking down at her, his eyes warm, his smile crooked.

  “I don’t know what we’re gonna do about it. But we’ll work it out. Okay?”

  She nodded, tears blurring her vision. With a finger curled under her chin, he tipped her head up and bent his down to kiss her.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  She was as beautiful when she slept as she was when she was awake. Sometime during the night, they’d moved a little apart, and now they were face to face. She was sleeping with her hands pressed together as if she were praying, and tucked a bit under her cheek. Her brow was smooth; she was a picture of peace.

  Bart, on the other hand, had been tormented by dreams and had woken with a breathless start. The dreams broke apart almost as quickly as he’d realized they’d happened, but he knew what they’d been about—the sick, heavy weight in the pit of his stomach was a sure sign.

  Everything was so fucked up.

  And Isaac. Jesus.

  He rolled over and picked up his phone off the nightstand. No word. He figured that was good—or good enough. It meant there’d been no change in Isaac’s condition, and at this point, no change was progress.

  C.J. had done this. How had his shit with Isaac gotten to this point? That he’d shoot his President in the back? He was the last surviving original Horde. Or he had been. And why the fuck had he been at Isaac’s house?

  And Vic—still tied up in the Room. They had to deal with him soon—today.

  And the Scorpions had taken over their clubhouse—Jesus, maybe literally.

  Everything was so fucked up.

  Again.

  He put his phone down and rolled back to face Riley. He loved her. He’d never felt the way he was feeling now, but he knew it was love. He’d sought her out instinctively. He needed her. If Rick’s idea panned out, maybe they could even be together. But everything had changed since they’d discussed that idea. Now, if Isaac didn’t make it—or maybe even if he did, if he was paralyzed—and Bart left, there would only be four patched members of the Horde.

  They had to patch Dom and Omen. As soon as they could, they had to patch Dom and Omen in. The club was falling apart.

  First, though, he had to get Riley safe. He had to make sure she got on an airplane today. This morning.

  He scooted close and brushed his fingertips over her cheek. When she stirred and opened her eyes, he smiled. “Morning, princess.”

  ~oOo~

  To guarantee that Riley actually put her tight little ass on an airplane this time, Bart bought a ticket so he could get through security. He set it out as far as he could, so he’d have time to cancel it after she took off, and he didn’t care where it was headed, since he wasn’t going anywhere. With a ticket to Des Moines in his pocket, he escorted his girl through security and to the gate for her flight back to Los Angeles. Her home.

  There had been some complication about her bags, but she explained that there had been a family emergency that had pulled her away from the airport and had her too distracted to think to cancel her ticket and explain before she left. Bart supposed that wasn’t even quite a lie. Her fame wasn’t all that persuasive with the TSA. Her bags had been taken off the plane the day before and thoroughly searched, but there hadn’t been anything troublesome in them, so eventually, after she’d spoken with several people, they were checked again and ready to accompany her on her new flight.

  The rental car was still in the clubhouse lot. He’d helped her arrange for a more open return, and he’d deal with that later. He didn’t know when—getting that car back was not high on his priority list today. He’d need help, and the Horde were depleted and stretched far past capacity as it already was.

  So far, Show wouldn’t leave the hospital. And they were trying to keep at least two patches at the clubhouse as much as possible, in addition to the Prospects, while the Scorpions were there. And Bart had had to get Riley out. There was no time to worry about a fucking rental car.

  Show was concerned that C.J. hadn’t simply been off the rails. Trust between the Scorpions and the Horde was thin at best, and C.J. had been talking to Sam. What if Sam had known about C.J.’s plans? What if he’d sanctioned them? They might have bona fide enemies as guests in their house. If it was still their house.

  In a hurry to get her clear of whatever bedlam was still in store, he hadn’t taken Riley to Marie’s for breakfast, after all. So they grabbed breakfast sandwiches at a fast food place in the airport and ate them at the gate.

  As she took her last bite, she tossed her head back and closed her eyes. “Mmmm.”

  The look was a lot like her sex look, and Bart’s cock started to fill out. He shifted awkwardly, but couldn’t look away. “That good, babe?”

  She swallowed and opened her eyes. “Feels like my last meal. When I get back home, Trevor will be force-feeding me flaxseed and green tea.”

  Jealousy hit him with a force that shocked him. He hadn’t heard that name before. “Who’s Trevor?”


  There must have been something in his tone that exposed the feeling, because she narrowed her eyes. “My health and fitness guy. What—are you jealous?”

  He didn’t answer. He was surprised by it, too. He didn’t think he’d ever felt jealousy before. He was also realizing that a lot of her life in L.A., as public a figure as she was, was a mystery to him.

  She smiled, though, and put her hand on his leg. “He’s gay, Bart. Really, really gay.”

  “Oh. Okay. Sorry.” He sounded stupid.

  She wadded up her sandwich wrapper, took his from him, and threw them both away. When she sat back down, she asked, “How are we going to do this?”

  He wished he could tell her that they would be together soon, but he couldn’t. He didn’t know if that was true. He didn’t even know if he wanted it to be true, at least if it meant him leaving Signal Bend. There was too much uncertainty now. With Isaac down, maybe dying, probably never riding again, with the betrayals of C.J. and Vic, with Sam and the Scorpions breathing down their necks…fuck, maybe the Horde were over.

  But if they weren’t—if somehow the club survived all this, could Bart leave? Would he even have a choice, one way or the other? He didn’t know. He didn’t know shit.

  Except that he loved this girl. That felt true. It felt right. In his gut, he felt it.

  He pulled her close and kissed her head. “We’ll work it out. I don’t know how, but we will.”

  ~oOo~

  As he was walking back to his bike after watching Riley’s plane leave the ground with her on it, he got a text from Show. He was calling a meeting at the hospital. No change in Isaac’s condition, but they had to figure shit out now.

  He was the last one to arrive. Everyone else was assembled in the small hospital chapel. Bart remembered meeting here before, more than two years ago, voting to send Wyatt to his Maker for the way he’d gone against the Horde and given Lilli up to his brother. She’d almost died.

  Now Isaac himself might die, again due to the treachery of a brother. And again they’d congregated in this same room to decide the fate of that brother. Bart scanned the faces of the men with him. He loved them. He trusted them. He would die for them. He would kill for them—he had killed for them. They were his family more than the people who shared his blood.

  He would have said the same thing about C.J.

  His feelings about Vic were more equivocal, especially since Marissa Halyard. But even with the way C.J. had been poking at Isaac the past couple of years, Bart had believed the old man to be perfectly loyal to the club he’d helped start.

  He hadn’t gotten far hacking C.J. The dude had been an old luddite, so it wasn’t like he’d had a big digital footprint. Except for what Sam could tell them, if he would, they’d probably never know why he’d turned on the club. But Bart had his suspicions. He didn’t think C.J. had turned—at least not in his own mind. Bart thought C.J., who absolutely hated the way things were changing in the club and in the town, probably, in his age-fried head, had been trying to save the Horde. Stupid fuck.

  The why of it didn’t matter now. Whatever the reason, C.J. had brought the Scorpions down on their heads, corrupting a decade-long friendship and alliance. And he’d shot their President in the back. In the back. It made Bart sick.

  Had all this also corrupted the love and trust among the men who still wore the Flaming Mane? Bart looked from face to face. Badger. Len. Havoc. And Show. They were so few. But these men were solid. Maybe even more than ever, now.

  Show stood in front of the simple altar and crossed his arms. The men in the room knew he didn’t want the gavel, not under any circumstances, and certainly not under these. But he was the natural choice, and not only because he was VP. He was a born leader, probably because he didn’t want it. He thought before he fought, but he didn’t shrink from a fight when it was warranted. When it was warranted, Show fought like no other. He was the only choice to lead, whether it was to keep Isaac’s seat warm for him or to take the gavel permanently, if Isaac could not.

  Assuming there was a gavel to take.

  Clearing his throat, Show began. His voice was naturally deep, and his speech naturally measured and quiet—today more than ever.

  “First thing—no change for Isaac. Right now, doctors say that’s a good thing. He’s right on the edge, I guess, but the longer he fights, the stronger he could get.” His voice cracked, and he stopped.

  It was hard to think of Show without Isaac, or the other way around. They were a team. They’d been a team for as long as Bart had been connected to the Horde in any way. The thought of Show going on without Isaac—of them all going on without Isaac—brought a stone to his throat. He swallowed and looked at the floor, unable to watch Show struggle for composure.

  “They got him in an induced coma, and he’s all screwed into a bunch of shit. Like science fiction. He looks bad. But don’t you fucking leave here without paying your respects. Lilli needs to know we’re all standing behind her. What’s left of us.” His voice cracked again, and he stopped.

  Len said, “Of course, man. You know we’re there. Not a question.” Havoc, Badger, and Bart all nodded their agreement.

  “Yeah. Okay. We got big things to figure out, so let’s just take them in turn. While Isaac’s down, I’ll step in. Len, I want you in VP. Hav, SAA. All temporary until Isaac’s at the table again. You hear? This is a formality only, in case we got more shit headed our way.”

  They all nodded.

  Show shook his head. “Let’s make it right. Vote it. All in favor of this temporary role change. Hands.”

  They all raised their hands.

  “Good. Now. The Scorpions. We—only we—decide where our line is. We know where Isaac’s line is. That’s my line, too. Sam’s line is he wants us patched over, or he wants us history.”

  From the front pew, Havoc abruptly stood. “Hold up, Show. You’re saying the Horde is over, either way.”

  “If we can’t beat Sam or change his mind, then yeah, we’re over.”

  Bart knew right then what had to happen. As much as things had changed in the past day, that had not. “I think we can change his mind.”

  The other four heads in the room turned to fix their eyes on him.

  Show cocked his head. “Bart?”

  The stone in his throat had become a boulder, and his blood was churning. He stood up and walked to the short aisle between the pews. “Rick doesn’t usually do runs like this. He rides enough to make his miles, but they don’t usually bring him on a job like this—which is, after all, an enforcement run more than anything. He’s along because Sam wants him in L.A. Besides our movie thing, Hollywood has been sniffing around the L.A. charter, looking to do some kind of reality show. They’re thinking the PR could work in their favor, make a distraction, but Sam wants a hacker keeping track of shit out there.

  “Rick doesn’t want to go. It’s personal shit, but whatever. He’s going, but he doesn’t want to. When all the shit between us and the Scorps started up, he got an idea. Ran it by me. I told him no. But he showed me it could save the Horde. So I told him I’d talk to Isaac. Never got a chance.”

  Show walked down the aisle until he was looming over Bart. “Get to it, brother.”

  It took everything Bart had to say the words. As often as he’d wondered how well he fit with the Horde, in this moment, preparing to offer to leave it, he understood that he had always fit. His voice broke when he finally was able to speak at all. “Send me. Give Sam me. I’m not as good as Rick, but I’m good. And I’m less of a target. Lotta Feds in L.A. Rick was a Fed hacker.”

  Show was shaking his head before Bart had finished his second sentence. All four of his brothers, those who could be in the room with him, were shaking their heads emphatically by the time he took a breath.

  “No way, Bart. No fucking way.”

  “It’s the only way, Hav. You know it’s true. We are five against ten, and that’s just the Scorps who are here in town right now. We have no friends in a
fight against them. We patch over, we fold, or we give Sam something he needs.”

  “We’re seven. We patch in Dom and Omen, and we’re seven.”

  Bart didn’t respond to Hav’s statement. Everybody in the room knew that wouldn’t be near enough.

  “Doesn’t make sense,” Len said. “Why would getting you change Sam’s mind? I mean, I know you’re good, kid. But are you all that?”

  “It’s making him a hostage.” Show looked hard at Bart. “You see that, right?”

  Bart nodded. He saw.

  Show turned to Len, Havoc, and Badge and went on. “Used to do shit like that all the time in the days of empires and conquerors. Broker a truce, take a son or a brother from the other camp, keep everybody in line. In this case, they’d be getting a bonus—somebody who could be an asset to them in his own right. But if all the attention from the movie exposes the Scorps at all, they fuck Bart up bad.” He spun around and stared again at Bart. “Brother, the shit they would do to you. And your blood family. You understand that?”

  Then Bart understood that Show was going to go along with this plan. And the others would follow. Havoc would take some convincing, but he’d follow.

  “I understand. That was a risk before they fell on us like rampaging Huns. From L.A., I’ll catch the rhythm of the intel faster. I can lock in more easily and keep better track. And it’s the only thing that could save the Horde.”

  Havoc looked furious. “You’re giving up your patch?”

  “I don’t want to. I want Sam to take me on loan. But I will, if I have to. To keep yours on your back, Hav. I will.”

  Havoc kicked a pew over and stormed to the side of the room.

  Len was calmer. “I don’t mean offense, kid. I truly do not. But you’re not Scorpions material.”

  “I know. Neither is Rick. Guys who are can’t do what we do. They keep his hands clean. I’ll stay back, in the clubhouse.”

 

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