by Paula Cox
His voice, calling her name, urging her to fight against the darkness, pulled her back. She grasped his voice and pulled herself out of the darkness before it could consume her.
“That’s it, Quinn. Come on back to me. Come on, you can do it. I know what you’re going through. Come back to me.” Slowly the life came back into her eyes and her tremors lessoned as she battled her way out of her own mind. Her face twisted in the most profound expression of grief, and he stepped up to her and pulled her into his embrace.
She’d wept before, but each time it was either silent, or as she wailed in fear. Now he could hear the pain and grief pouring out of her as she was wracked with sobs, gripping his shirt in her hands as she clung to him. He held her, saying nothing, allowing her to draw what strength and comfort she could from the simple human embrace, allowing the pain to pour from her as her tears began to cleanse her soul.
They stood in the kitchen for many long moments until her sobs began to diminish, and still he held her, softly stroking her head. She finally stepped back, her eyes red and puffy, but more alive than he’d ever seen them.
She sniffed, then blew her nose on a paper towel. “I’m sorry,” she whispered as she wiped at the front of his tear stained shirt. “Your shirt is all wet.”
“It’s okay. It’s part of the healing process. If you can’t grieve, you can’t heal.”
“I’ll never heal.”
“You will. You’ve already begun. You’re talking to me. You spoke to Michelle, Toni and Zane. It takes time, but you’ll get there. I know what you’re going through.”
She shook herself. “Can we watch a movie or something so I don’t have to think?”
“Sure,” he said, starting the washer running. “What do you like?”
“Anything you want to watch is fine.”
“Get us a beer,” he ordered as he passed. “Did you like the movie last night?”
“No, not really my kind of movie, but if—”
He chuckled as he called Netflix up on the television. “I picked that because I thought you might like it. What kind of movies do you like?”
She flopped onto the couch beside him, and handed him a beer. “Anything is fine, so long as it’s not stupid. She watched as he flipped through selections. “Wait! Go back! Was that ‘Jurassic Park’? I love that movie!” Somebody else liked it too; it was ranked five stars.
He selected the title and smiled as the opening theme began to play. They sat in the darkness and spent the next 126 minutes lost in a world of dinosaurs. As the music swelled and John Hammond said, “Dr. Grant. My dear Dr. Sadler. Welcome to Jurassic Park,” Quinn leaned in close and tucked her feet up on the couch as he draped an arm comfortably over her shoulders.
Chapter 15
As the horns began to play on John Williams’ epic end credit score, Quinn pulled herself upright and looked at Arsen with shiny eyes.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
She wiped at her eyes then sniffed. “I don’t know. Nothing. Everything felt so...normal. I forgot for a while.”
He smiled. He remembered after he lost Holly how he would suddenly realize he hadn’t thought about her for a while, a minute, then an hour, then a day, and how it both comforted him and made his loss all the more painful. “All part of the healing process,” he said softly. He felt so badly for her, understanding how she felt and what she was going through, wishing he could do something to ease her pain and speed her healing.
Each time she was close to him she felt like a protective sphere surrounded her and nothing evil would be able to touch her again. It was nearly nine and she still needed to shower. She wiped her eyes again then scrambled to her feet, forcing herself from the comfort of his gentle embrace.
“I need to shower,” she said as she rose.
If it’d been any other woman, he would have offered to help. He loved fucking in the shower, the slippery feel of a soap covered woman turning him on. Tonight he refrained. She trusted him, and he would burn in hell before he violated that trust. If she wanted or needed his help, she would have to ask. Thankfully she didn’t, so he didn’t have to try to figure out how to hide his boner. As she splashed, he disposed of the two beer bottles and emptied the dishwasher.
She spent a long time in the shower, trying to wash herself clean, but sometimes soap and water weren’t enough. As she stood, the water pounding on her head, she felt the darkness pulling at her again, trying to pull her back in. She fought against it, thinking of Arsen and the kindness and strength in his voice. The darkness had tried to take her earlier, but he’d prevented it, the bite of his voice cutting the dark tendrils as they began to pull her in.
She knew it was silly. He was just a man, but she’d come to see him as her protector. He’d stood off his friends when they wanted to turn her over to someone else and wash their hands of her. Even when she was trying to hurt him, he’d only restrained her, never hurting her back. He had reassured her until she fought her way out of the panic. He comforted her when she was afraid, fed her when she was hungry, gave her water when she was thirsty, gave her a safe and comfortable place to sleep, and patiently treated her wounds. To her, he represented all that was good in humankind. She began to weep as pain spilled from her once again, his kindness puncturing the darkness inside of her and allowing it to escape a little at a time.
When the shower finally shut off, he smiled. She’d probably used every drop of hot water, and would be in there still had the water not started running cold. He was flipping through a catalog, looking for something he didn’t know he couldn’t live without, as she stepped out of her room.
“I used all the hot water.”
He chuckled, making no comment on the redness of her eyes. “So I noticed. Feeling better?”
“A little, I guess.”
“That’s better than none at all, right?” He paused as he flipped another page in the catalog. “I’m going to let the water heater catch up before I grab a shower. You don’t have to wait up on me if you don’t want to.”
She smiled but said nothing. They chatted for a few minutes until he excused himself, Quinn turning into her room as he shut off lights on his way to his bedroom.
He showered and brushed his teeth, then paused as he stepped out of the bathroom. Quinn was in his bed, and he immediately started to harden.
As he stepped out of the bath, she saw him, all of him, for the first time. She already knew he was tall and well-muscled, but seeing him in the light from the bathroom, she realized how impressive he was. She had noticed his strong chin and deep brown eyes, and the kindness they contained, but he was cut and muscled like a top athlete, his body the stuff of dreams. He had a tattoo inked on his chest, a pair of daggers crossed over a highway running into the distance. His cock was uncut and impressively big. He was larger than her previous lover, perhaps larger than any lover she’d ever taken.
“Can I sleep with you again tonight?” she asked softly. “Last night was the first time I didn’t have nightmares. Please?”
He flipped the light out, plunging the room into darkness. “Yes, but…” he began, trying to get control of himself.
“I trust you,” she said softly.
He didn’t know if he could trust himself, but he slid into the bed with her. She backed up to him in a spoon, her t-shirt covered ass pressing into his erection. There was no way she couldn’t feel his hardness between them, but she made no comment and sighed softly as his arms went around her. She crossed her arms over his and held them snuggly. He sighed. It was going to be a long night.
They lay still, wrapped in their embrace. He thought she’d gone to sleep, but then she began to speak.
“I told you I was the old lady of the VP? I’d been part of the club for a couple of years. I didn’t love him, not really, but he was good to me and I enjoyed his company. We had good times.”
He waited, letting her tell her story at her own pace. “One day, the Chrome Horsemen demanded a meeting. They were taking ov
er the weed trade. Of course, the club wasn’t going to stand for that. If we lost the weed trade, we would have nothing. The Desert Riders weren’t like the Blades, we didn’t have any legitimate income.” She paused again. “There were a few skirmishes. They put a couple of our guys in the hospital, and I heard through the grapevine we killed a couple of theirs. That was about three months ago.”
He heard the hitch in her voice. “We thought it was over. Nothing else happened for a couple of months. Then they demanded another meet. Most of the club rode out. None of them came back. There were two brothers left behind, the two that couldn’t ride. I was there, along with five other women.” She paused and her voice became thick with pain. “There were fifteen of the Horsemen. They set fire to the clubhouse. We knew it was trap, but we couldn’t stay or we’d be burned to death. We got out. The men, they tried, but there weren’t enough of them. They killed the men, and I thought they were going to kill us too. They shot two of the women, the ones who tried to fight. Me and two others, they kept alive.”
She whimpered, but kept going. “They slapped us around a little, telling us what they were going to do to us. I was so scared. They took us back to their clubhouse, and they all took turns using us.”
She became quiet for a long time. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered.
“After a week, I guess they got bored with just fucking us,” she began again. “One day a woman showed up and then one of the men and the woman, they started getting…creative. While some of the men watched, they made us…do things. Terrible things. I had to lick the woman…” Quinn paused as she whimpered. “I had to lick the woman while the man raped me, and she told me if I didn’t make her come, she would kill me. Then she raped me, in the ass, with a strap-on. It hurt so bad, and the more I screamed and cried, the harder she raped me.”
He tightened his embrace, trying to give her strength. “Teresa and Miranda…” She stopped and sobbed for a moment. “I could hear them screaming as the men laughed and cheered. At night, when they were done with us, they would lock us in a room. Sometimes they would feed us, sometimes not. But the woman, she was the worst. The men would fuck us, but she liked to hurt us, to humiliate us. Then one night,” she began but the stopped as she sobbed. “Then one night, Miranda didn’t come back. She was their favorite. She was so beautiful, and they liked to do things to her. I guess they finally killed her, and I was so jealous.”
He waited for her to continue, his desire for her snuffed out, the hardships she’d endured chilling him to the bone. He had suspected it was the Chrome Horsemen that had killed his family, but had no proof. They were known for their ruthlessness, and Quinn’s story only helped cement that belief. At least Holly was spared what Quinn had to endure.
Not knowing what else to do, he kissed her on the shoulder and held her tight, a simple touch to show her he was there, hoping she could draw strength from him.
“After a while, I just stopped caring,” she began again, her voice quiet and flat, all emotion gone. “I prayed for death. One day, a man came to us, and he picked me. He was either drunk, or high. He took me into another room and started fucking me without even taking his pants off. His knife was on his belt. I grabbed it and stabbed him. I stabbed him so many times, and I kept stabbing him until he stopped moving. I went to get Teresa, but she wouldn’t come with me. I begged her to come but she kept shaking her head, telling me they would kill me. I didn’t care. I would rather have died than live another day like that.”
She sniffed. “I left her the knife, took the man’s keys, and rode as far away as I could. I didn’t know where I was going, but I didn’t care. Anywhere was better than where I was. I got on the interstate at Gila Bend, then ran out of gas. That’s when you found me.”
He nodded. No wonder she freaked out when he got off the interstate at Gila Bend. “I didn’t know.”
“I know. I didn’t think.” She sobbed once, then gathered herself. “Thank you for not leaving me. I walked for a long time, but you were the only one to stop to help me. Nobody else cared.”
He kissed her on the shoulder again and drew her in tight. They lay still and quiet, and he knew she was crying, mourning her lost friends, reliving the hell she’d been through, but she made no sound. After a long time, he felt her relax, the stiffness leaving her body as she coasted into sleep.
He didn’t sleep well that night, his sleep restless as her story haunted his dreams.
Chapter 16
“The Chrome Horsemen are on the move again,” Arsen said, looking around the table. Lunch was over and he had gathered the brothers together.
“What do you mean?” Phil asked.
“Quinn opened up last night. The Desert Riders have gone dark because the Horsemen wiped them out. They took her and a couple of others and kept them locked up.” He didn’t need to elaborate on the details. The brothers knew. “She didn’t know a lot of details, only they wanted to take over the weed business and the Riders pushed back.”
“First they wanted into our market, and when that didn’t work, they went after a softer target. But why?” Zane asked.
“I don’t know, but that adds credence to the idea they killed Mom, Dad and Holly to throw the club into turmoil.”
“It might have worked if they’d gotten you too. It’s not like you can advertise in the paper for an illicit drug chemist,” Berk said.
“Yeah, but we still no have no proof, and I’m not going to start a war until I know for sure.”
“I don’t get them,” Zane said again. “We have the molly and the Riders handled weed. What do they want with weed when they’re moving cocaine?”
Chet shrugged. “For that matter, why our molly?”
“I don’t know, but we need to find out,” Arsen said. “Phil, I want you to find out what the Horsemen are up too. Spend what it takes to make it happen. Since they went after the Riders, we may be next.”
Greg nodded. “They tried it once before and we kicked them in the nuts. They’re probably still smarting from that.”
Arsen nodded. There were three major outlaw clubs in Arizona: The Blacktop Blades in Tucson, the Chrome Horsemen in Phoenix, and the Desert Riders in Flagstaff. The Chrome Horsemen were the biggest of the three, bigger than the Riders and the Blades combined. The Blades were the smallest, but most likely the richest of the three clubs. Between the manufacturing of the MDMA, and the surprising profitability of B3, they had two income streams, though B3 alone wouldn’t support the club. If B3 continued to grow, though, they might eventually go completely legit. It would be peaceful, not worrying about losing brothers and loved ones to drug violence.
“Maybe,” Arsen agreed. “But something is driving them and we need to find out what. I can sort of see them coming after us, but the Riders? Weed isn’t shit compared to coke, so why bother? Quinn has given us a heads up that something may be coming down, so we need to pull that thread and see where it leads us.”
“You think the Horsemen are the ones suppling the counterfeit Hearts and Daggers?” Reggie asked.
“The fakes turned up in California, so probably not. There is plenty of action out there, and we know we have competition, so it’s probably a local.”
“Unless they are trying to take over all the drug trade in Arizona.” Zane pointed out.
Arsen shrugged. “Since they hit the Riders, you may be right. The Advocates are working that end for us. Eventually they’ll find out who’s making. When they do, we can pay them a little visit and express our…displeasure.”
Berk shook his head. “I have to hand it to you, Arsen. I thought you were crazy as shit bringing her back here, but it turns out it was a smart move.”
“You always were a lucky son-of-a-bitch,” Chet teased.
“That’s why I have the gavel,” he chuckled. “Phil, get me that info as fast as you can.”
“We have a pretty good inventory right now,” Zane said. “We can shut down manufacturing for a few days to free up some guys.”
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��We’ll do that. The sooner we know what’s coming, the better prepared for it we can be. Just make sure the crew is back here Thursday for the special.”
Phil nodded. The special was their short hand for an MDMA run. They ran the special once a week, then immediately sent the product out so it didn’t sit around on site.
They had the capacity for over eight million tablets a month, but that would require the plant only on MDMA production and they would lose the cover of the bath salts business. Many of the component chemicals that went into MDMA production were also were used in the production of the various aromatic oils, soaps and salts, so it kept them off the radar. Now they idled along, running molly one day a week, producing to demand, and making between 150,000 and 300,000 tablets a month. That had a street value of over four million dollars, and put between hundreds of thousands of dollars into their pocket month after month. It was a business model that had worked for them for years.