by Portia Gray
"Okay," she whispered, nodding.
"Stay where you are. I know you're the smart one."
Colton had an excellent phone manner. Arielle was calmer when she hung up, standing in the middle of the kitchen. She had no idea what to do now. So she called Thelma.
"Oh for fuck's sake," was Thelma's reaction to Jolene running again. "I know I said I'd pick up Calvin from school for the night. Do you want me to come in now?"
Arielle sighed, plopping onto a kitchen chair and leaning against the wall. "No, that's okay. I just…I wanted to tell you."
"Okay, well, thanks, honey. How was fancy breakfast?"
Arielle laughed at Thelma's resilience. She envied that Teflon disposition. "Calvin makes excellent waffles."
"What did Quentin think?"
Arielle's smile widened. "Oh Thelma, he loved it." Her burner cell went off, and Thelma heard it.
"That's your cell?"
"Yes."
"I'll let you go. The second you hear anything let me know. Otherwise I'll just pick Calvin up and whisk him away as planned."
"All right. Thanks, Aunt Thelma." She hung up the wall phone and flipped open the burner again. "Hello?"
"Honey, I love you, but if I get my hands on your sister I'm going to kill her."
Arielle cringed, knowing that Mandy was perfectly capable of that. "Hey, Mandy. I'm so sorry."
"Christ, there's no need to apologize. What'd she give Quentin when he passed out?"
"Dramamine. Anti-nausea medication."
"Well, at least it's safe."
Arielle connected the dots. "Is Dillon okay?"
"He's waking up now. He's pissed."
Arielle had to nod. "Yes, he's got a case for that."
"Are you all right, sweetheart?"
"Oh, I'm fine. I'm…I'm getting to the point again where I just…want her to disappear again for a while. A terrible as that sounds."
"Can't pick our family, hun."
That was the truth. "Should I come there?"
"No offense, but Bishop's so pissed I'm advise against anything that resembles Jolene being anywhere near here. I still can't figure out how she got out of the clubhouse without anyone noticing. Bitch even stole one of our loaners."
Arielle rubbed her brow, cringing. "Shit."
"Sorry, hun, take it easy today. You start some worse shit than this tomorrow. We know that. Don't worry, we'll sort all this out."
"Okay. Thanks, Mandy. And tell Dillon I hope he feels better."
"Will do. What’re you up to today?"
"I have to get a fancy supper put together for Quentin's birthday."
There was a pause. "It's Quentin's birthday?"
Arielle had to smile. "Things have been busy. He's not really one to run around telling everyone that his birthday is coming up."
The pause again, then "I don't think I ever knew when his birthday was."
"Really?" Arielle frowned, wondering what kind of world it was when your so-called family didn't know when your birthday was.
"Hell, sometimes Bishop shows up with a gift and I'm wondering what it's for and he tells me it's my birthday."
Arielle shared a laugh with Mandy, but when she hung up she felt a little coldness run through the centre of her chest. It was…sadness, she supposed.
No wonder Calvin's gift made Quentin so happy. Who knows the last time someone even said "Happy birthday" to him? For someone as dedicated as he was to that group…yeah, that made her sad.
She set about to preparing the potatoes and veggies for supper, wishing she'd thought of something to get him. But after seeing his reaction to waffles, she was pretty sure that steak night and the lingerie was going to be a home run.
She put Jolene out of her mind, prepped for supper, then decided it earned her a nap and padded off to bed, falling asleep on a pillow that smelled like Quentin, ridiculously excited to give him his present. Probably even more giddy than Calvin had been.
If blood was explosive, he'd be a fucking spray of crimson on the blacktop of Portus Felix's one and only truck stop and diner. Quentin parked his bike, ripped his helmet off, and damn near had an aneurism at the sight of Jolene, purse slung across her body and resting on her hip, hustling truckers and begging for a ride. She wasn't just a junkie who used her family until nothing was left.
She was a fucking idiot to boot.
He was crossing the lot before she caught sight of him, about fifty yards away when she turned and realized she was busted. She froze, then scanned both ways like the Road Runner, spun and ran.
In fucking flip flops yet.
He didn't check to see if T-bone was behind him. Quentin took off running, gaining on her easily because of her questionable footwear. Even when she lost one sandal and kept on going she was still easy to overtake. He grabbed an arm, hit the brakes and yanked back on her. He could give a shit if her shoulder dislocated. She'd be lucky if she lived another twelve hours.
And it wouldn't take Bishop to do it, he was that pissed.
Quentin's anger wasn't from the fact she was fucking over the club, either. It was how badly this was hurting Arielle. Colton had said on the phone Arielle had sounded freaked, but she did good and called it in immediately.
To protect this waste of skin.
Jolene yelped like he'd hurt her, and he could give a fuck. T-bone caught up right then and didn't hesitate grabbing the other arm.
Quentin just glared at the junkie, shaking his head. "You got a fucking nerve, bitch," he snarled, out of breath but mad enough to keep going. "You're gonna do this to the woman raising your kid? Your own sister? She's worried about you 'ya fucking idiot."
Jolene's face crumpled. "I know. But he's going to kill me."
"Or he'll come after them. With all the stupid shit you pull you expect me to believe you don't have a death wish on some level?" Quentin spun her around, nodding to T-bone. Without a word he was pulling out his phone to call for the pick-up.
"I need my other shoe," she whimpered. T-bone told someone where they were.
Quentin marched her back to get the flip flop, not letting go of her arms. A few folks were watching them carefully, but Jolene wasn't pulling a shit fit and screaming so most good Samaritans seemed to believe this was the kind of thing that sorted itself out.
The truckers themselves barely gave them a glance. A few gave cordial chin lifts in greeting which Quentin returned as Jolene slid her foot back onto her sandal.
T-bone flipped the phone shut. "Flynn and Bishop are coming with the van."
Quentin nodded. "Dillon okay?"
T-bone allowed a half-smile. "He's fine. He's pissed way the fuck off but he's fine."
"I can relate." Quentin shook Jolene. "How the hell are you not on every pharmacy's watch list by now?" Quentin grabbed her purse, yanked it off over her head and dumped its contents on the ground.
"Hey," she snapped, ducking down to grab her stuff.
Quentin yanked her back up standing and T-bone grabbed her other arm, still on his phone. "You think I'm shoving my hand in a junkie's purse you're out of your mind," he growled, looking down and kicking her things around, looking inside the purse and realizing there were no pockets so that was all she was carrying. He stooped to pick out a bubble-pack of pills with big words written on the back, seeing that only two pills were left out of sixteen compartments. He shook it in her face.
"This the shit? What you used to knock me and my brother on our asses? Arielle was worried Dillon was taking advantage of you. Isn't that fucking hilarious?"
She didn't answer. The smartest thing she'd done all day. He let go of her so she could gather her shit and shove it back in her purse. He kept the Dramamine.
T-bone helped Quentin herd Jolene back to their bikes, and she didn't make a squeak of protest. T-bone stood behind her, hands in his vest pockets, scanning the area, which was smart. Who knew how many people in this town were keeping an eye out for her on Reuben's behalf. Quentin was fuming so he could only glare at her, on
e arm in his tight grasp. He wasn't giving her another chance to make him run. He was done with exercise for the day.
"You got a lot of nerve," he repeated.
She looked surprised. "What? I'm running to keep Arielle and Calvin safe!"
He shook his head. "She doesn't just forget about you when you're not around. She worries about you and wonders if you're okay. And she should be focused on getting better and taking care of your kid. You gotta be the most selfish bitch I've ever met."
"Hey, I don't need to listen to—"
"Yeah you do," he snapped, and she shut up. Then again, this was his scary tone. "Because your family likes you too much to tell you this, but they're better off without you around at all."
Her lip trembled, but he was too pissed to worry about her fucking feelings.
"You really wanna help them? Let Reuben take you. Get rid of you. You'd be doing us all a fucking favor." With that he turned away, letting her go with a shove. If he looked at her any longer he'd hurt her, and he'd rather not for Arielle's sake.
Quentin caught sight of the black van heading their way, and he saw that Flynn and Bishop were in the front seat. He was clenching his hands into fists as they stopped. Bishop climbed out of the passenger seat, Flynn from the driver's side, and the sound of another bike brought everyone's attention around in time to see Colton pull up to their group as well.
No one spoke, which Jolene took for the sign of danger that it was. Flynn grabbed her by both arms, and she struggled with a pathetic, "No!" T-bone stepped up behind her and the two of them wrangled her in the back of the van.
Bishop stopped next to Quentin. "Mason’s Woods," he muttered. "We'll lock her in the abandoned warehouse. No way she's walking for help out there."
Quentin nodded, heading for his bike with a nod to Colton. He knew the warehouse, a few people had been kept there for‘interrogations’. Quentin and T-bone got ride-ready and followed the van, Colton falling in behind them.
It was a gorgeous day; sunny, not too hot. There was a slight breeze keeping things airy. A great day for riding, actually.
But Quentin was still fucking livid. He wished he could just beat some sense into this bitch. Honestly, the hurt she was causing his girl made him homicidal. His love for Arielle kept him from acting out on it. Jolene owed her sister even more than she realized.
The warehouse came into view finally, and Quentin, T-bone and Colton parked in a row next to the black van. Flynn yanked Jolene out by both arms, and her tears were streaking down her face. Her eyes were wild, scanning the group and landing on Quentin.
Surprisingly, she broke Flynn's hold and rushed him. "Don't let them kill me. Just tell them to let me go, please. I'll fuck off, I'll ghost and you'll never see me again."
Quentin frowned. "Relax. You have a purpose here," he mumbled, tossing her back Flynn's way. He got a tighter grip and yanked her back towards Bishop.
"They're going to kill me!" she was shrieking. "They don't need me! They have Clark to bring Reuben here!"
Bishop met Quentin's eye. "Oh yeah. Thanks for reminding me of that. Clark's a lot quieter."
Quentin would swear that time slowed down right then. Like a corny, clichémoment in a movie where you know shit is about to go very, very bad.
Flynn moved away from Jolene, which was weird and brought Quentin's attention to their president. Bishop's hand came up with a Beretta at the ready. Quentin shouted "No!" which meant Jolene was looking at him when the bullet went in one temple, ripped a hole through the opposite side, the light in her eyes went out and her body crumpled to the ground. All in slow, sick motion.
He heard Colton shout "Jesus Christ!" in a haze, like a radio with interference. There was a high-pitched whine in his head, maybe from the Beretta's discharge. He was rooted in place, staring at the pile of skin and bones on the ground with that long, dark hair spilling over her face.
Quentin's heart went into an abnormal rhythm. She looked like Arielle. Shit, she looked a lot like Arielle, didn't she?
When Quentin could meet Bishop's gaze it was unreadable. He was studying Quentin, gun down to his side now, like it was an experiment to see what Quentin was gonna do.
Quentin drew in a shuddering breath, finding that he'd also shoved both hands into his hair. "Fuck," he whispered. "Ah shit. What'd you do?"
"Fixed your girl's biggest problem," was Bishop's indifferent answer.
"Fuck," Colton spat out, nearly as upset as Quentin. "Is this how we do things now? Just take out a woman because she's an inconvenience?"
Quentin had wanted to do this a few times, but he knew he couldn't. And now he realized why. She looked like Arielle, and there was no way he could end her. He could never look Arielle in the eye if he did that.
"You okay, man?"
Quentin turned his head, and it was T-bone with a hand on his elbow, concerned. "I'm fine," he said, distracted. "I'm not the one with a bullet in my head."
"Arielle doesn't have to know," Bishop said as he wiped down the grip of the Beretta then handed it to Flynn. Flynn had gloves on and he tucked it into his waistband. "She got away on a bus. We couldn't find her, she vanishes and everyone assumes, correctly, that her shit life decisions caught up with her."
Quentin looked down at Jolene's body again. He felt light-headed. A sharp pain was in the middle of his chest. This felt like a fucking heart attack.
"Hole's dug right over there already," Bishop mumbled. "Flynn?"
"I'm on it," Flynn mumbled, and even his voice sounded perplexed. But in true, practical, Flynn fashion he crouched down and scooped Jolene up over his shoulder easily. Yeah, she weighed nothing. A husk of a person. Simple. Small sack of trash.
"I might be sick," Quentin shared, turning away and leaning over, hands on his knees. He closed his eyes, feeling a hand hit his back.
"You all right?" Colton asked low, sounding completely pissed. Quentin appreciated that for some reason.
"Yeah," he answered, straightening up and rolling his shoulders.
Colton nodded, gave him his space. Just like T-bonedid. Bishop came closer, his shoulder hitting Quentin's arm. "I trust your girl to keep her mouth shut about Reuben's step brother," Bishop said low. "Because if she doesn't…"
Quentin's blood went cold in his veins and he studied his friend's face. "You kidding me?" he asked, voice strained. "You're going there?"
"Keep your girl in line." Bishop moved away to the van again.
The lump in Quentin’s throat choked him as he felt his whole life change in just one moment.
His president was threatening to take the one thing he cared about more than his own sorry sack of skin.
And he had a strong feeling, he was going to have to choose between his heart and his duty.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Arielle touched up her lip gloss, smiling at her reflection in the mirror. She futzed with her wig a bit again, studying her side profile in the dresser mirror. She hadn't worn this little black dress in ages, and it was a bit big on her. But she liked the way the skirt clung to her hips and butt, and the Breakfast-at-Tiffany's neckline was the kind of cut that made her more comfortable.
She had on her three-inch stiletto heeled shoes, too. With complete make up, the wig in place and a spritz of perfume she was feeling almost…pretty.
The potatoes were boiling a bit before she roasted them. Once they were softened she melted butter over them with some lemon pepper and put them on a sheet and slid them into the stove. Steaks were swimming in marinade and she'd put them on the grill once the birthday boy got home.
She set the table with two complete place settings, a champagne flute at each one. She didn't expect him to drink champagne, but she was sure going to. He could have beer. A salad was already set out. And she was wearing dessert under the dress already.
When the bike pulled into the drive Arielle's heart sped up. Yeah, she was giddy about this. And she didn't really care if it showed.
The storm door opened as she lit the two ta
per candles in silver holders on the table and shut off the overhead light. Then she retrieved a beer from the fridge and headed for the archway. She leaned against the wall as he opened the inside door.
Arielle felt a slight bit of concern flare up, such was the expression on his face. She worried about what else had happened now, but she pushed that away. It was his birthday, she'd take his mind off whatever it was. After all, he would have called if they found Jolene. Maybe that's why he looked like that; he felt he'd let her down.
"Hey, honey," she said casually as he shut the door and his head came up. Whatever had been worrying him seemed to pause as he looked at her, his eyes tracking down and back up her form.
"Arielle. You're all…dressed up. What's going on?"
As she approached she allowed a small smile small and held up the bottle of beer. "I thought it was your birthday."
He blinked down on her, then allowed a trace of that wild smile she loved. "Babe," he said softly, taking the beer from her and pulling her close with his free hand. His face came to her neck and he breathed in deep.
She wrapped her arms around his shoulders. "You okay?"
"Mmm," was his answer, pulling his head back. The smile still wasn't as big as she expected.
She moved her arms down to wrap around his ribs, under his arms. "Good. I hope you're hungry."
That worrying smile stayed in place. "Definitely," he said softly, playing with her hair. Even though it wasn't attached it still felt nice. "I can't believe you made me supper. You should be taking it easy."
She shrugged. "This isn't really hard work. And I wanted to do something for your birthday."
He kissed her forehead. "I better go clean up then. Try to at least be in the same zip code of hot as my girl is."
She giggled as he kissed her again, then he turned her and pushed her away with a swat on the ass. She started the grill, slapped the steaks down and took to watching them in the light of the bare bulb next to the patio door. When they were nearly done warm hands slid around her hips to clasp on her tummy, tugging her back into a warm and fantastic-smelling body. She could feel that the kutte was gone. It was just Quentin with her, and that's what she liked best.