by Brent, Cora
I was confused. “Oh? I didn’t know there had been another wedding planned. Was it yesterday?”
“Mmm,” Winston nodded. “Actually it was on Monday, the afternoon of our departure. Rather impulsive affair, although the Bishop had been planning the union for quite some time.”
“My uncle took another wife?” Aston Talbot already had seven wives.
Winston shook his head. “He did not. It’s an honor for your family, for our family.” He spread his hands wide and continued to grin at me. “Josiah Bastian received a call from God. He has taken a new bride.”
The mention of the venomous prophet of Delta City caused me to drop my toast. I could barely speak. I didn’t want to ask the question but I had to. “Who is the bride?”
Winston smiled radiantly. “Your sister. Jenny.”
For a long time I heard nothing else but the roar of blood inside my head.
Chapter Six
I didn’t remember finishing breakfast. Or returning to the Escalade. But when I blinked there I was hurtling east along the I-10, back to the Arizona border, as Winston Allred whistled at my side.
“Promise,” he said cheerfully. He didn’t notice when I failed to look at him. “Do you know why you were selected to attend school?”
I didn’t answer.
“You were chosen,” he continued, “because we agreed that you would return. You would not be tempted by the evils of the common world. You are obedient, Promise.” I heard the smile in his voice. “There is no more suitable trait for a woman.”
I couldn’t speak. Winston didn’t seem troubled. He resumed whistling.
Jenny. I’m sorry. I should have left. And taken you with me.
We had reached the dingy town of Blythe just west of the state line. Winston pulled the car into a gas station and began counting the money in his wallet.
Between the heat, the agony of my body, and the horrific news I’d been fed, my stomach was threatening a full scale revolt. I was going to vomit. Soon.
“Winston,” I croaked as I spilled out of the door, “I need to use the rest room. Now.”
The glance he threw me was more of a glare but he wouldn’t force me back into the car. Not in public. He counted out sixty dollars and headed for the station attendant. “Be quick,” was all he said.
My small satchel was laying on the front seat so I grabbed it. The sun shone directly in my eyes as I staggered to a neighboring Burger King.
As I spilled through the front door I gratefully drank in the cool air. The young woman behind the counter stared at me. A tattoo covered the left side of her neck and as she looked at me her face seemed to drop into grief, as if she knew how I’d been abused. And understood because such things had also happened to her.
I reached over to the condiment counter and picked up a few napkins, wiping the perspiration from my forehead. That was when I saw the men.
At first I didn’t know why the sight of them jolted me so much. One had a square jaw and a dark beard, a bandana tied around his black hair which seemed to be on the long side. He flashed a grin at his companion and showed his shattering good looks. The other man was darker skinned, muscular. His black hair was cropped extremely close and he appeared taller, more powerful, than the first man. His fingers drummed on the thin table and he kept a tense posture, like a cat.
It wasn’t the men themselves which had startled me. I had never seen either of them before. However, there was something else about them which was familiar. Despite the oppressive heat, both of them wore battered sleeveless leather over black t-shirts. The lettering across the back was simple and starkly red.
DEFIANT.
Underneath that, in smaller white lettering read the letters ‘MC’. I had seen another man dressed identically. He figured prominently in pictures my cousin had posted online.
I didn’t know what it meant. Perhaps it was a brand name I was unfamiliar with. But I doubted it. It was too raw a look. As I stood there silently regarding the two men the darker skinned one caught me looking and seemed wary. I turned and lurched down the hallway toward the bathrooms.
There was virtually nothing in my stomach so after a handful of unproductive dry heaves which played havoc with my ribs, I splashed some cold water on my face and returned to the stall. I almost couldn’t bear to tend to my own body these days. Not only was it still painful, but a pervasive shame washed over me every time I needed to clean myself up. With a sick feeling I realized that somewhere my little sister was feeling the same way and a moan of grief escaped my lips. I hated what Winston had done to me. I hated Winston. I hated my father and Bishop Talbot and Josiah Bastian and even my mother for her many weaknesses. I hated all of them.
And I realized I hated myself most of all.
The man who had caught my eye in the restaurant was coming down the hall toward the bathroom as I was exiting. He looked very strong. The man glanced at me with curiosity but he quickly veered towards the men’s room.
“Wait,” I croaked. I didn’t have much time. Winston would be coming for me soon if I did not return. And I was so weak. From hunger, from shock, from being used like a battering ram. I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop Winston from folding me back into the Escalade and taking me with him.
I stumbled and the man quickly caught me under the arms. His face registered alarm as he pulled me up.
“Hey there,” he said in a gentle, rich baritone.
I looked him in the eye. I couldn’t even be sure he actually knew Rachel. Or that he would be moved enough to get involved in what was obviously a messy situation. But he was the only chance I had. “My name is Promise Talbot. Rachel Talbot is my cousin.” Tears rolled down my face. “I need help.”
The man stared at me for the longest second I had ever known. Then his deep brown eyes showed an instant decision. He snapped his fingers and the second man, who was still sitting in the booth, turned and abruptly headed toward us.
He looked me up and down in confusion. “What you got there, Grayson?”
“She says she’s Rachel’s cousin.”
“Looks like she just walked off the set of Little House on the fucking Prairie.”
Grayson scowled, his eyes never leaving my face. “Mad, come on. Something’s off here.” His clipped accent was reminiscent of the handful of films I’d seen which took place in those churning cities of the northeast.
The man called Mad nodded at me. “You really Rachel’s cousin?”
I nodded, swaying a little as Grayson tried to hold me steady. “Yes. Can you take to me to her? Please?”
Grayson’s voice dropped and his dark eyes glanced around. “You’re not here alone, are you?”
Before I could shake my head and issue a warning, the door to Burger King opened and Winston Allred stalked inside. At the sight of me being held up by the leather-clad brown-skinned stranger his eyes went wide with rage.
But Winston was a man who could keep his evil hidden when he wanted to. So he smiled icily and walked over, reaching for my hand. “I’m afraid my wife isn’t used to his heat.”
As he came closer I issued an involuntary little moan and shrank against the strong arms which were the only things holding me up.
Grayson noticed. I saw the way his eyes narrowed as he glared hatefully at my husband and I realized he might be capable of doing something violent. Winston appeared to realize that too. His extended hand wilted slightly.
Grayson’s voice was cold with threat. “It looks to me the heat’s not all your wife can’t get used to.”
Winston kept his phony smile pasted to his face. “Promise,” he said. “We need to be leaving now.”
“No,” I whispered.
“What did you say?”
“No,” I said again, my voice rising more clearly. “Hell no.”
The other man, the one Grayson had called ‘Mad’, chortled in the background.
“Promise,” said Winston in a voice which dripped with venom. “We are leaving.”
Grayson spoke for me. �
�Look asshole, I don’t know what your fucking game is here, but it’s over. We all heard her refuse.” He gently pushed me behind him and stood not six inches from my husband, glowering down at him. Winston glanced uncertainly at me and then blinked up at Grayson. The other man skirted casually behind him, standing close and with the silent promise of menace. Winston’s fearful glance over his shoulder made him look every ounce the cornered rat, a fact which made me feel flatly satisfied.
Suddenly Winston Allred’s carefully cultivated veneer wavered and his voice turned into something of an indignant snarl. “You can’t steal away with another man’s wife, dark devil.”
Mad erupted in an open howl of laughter. “Jesus,” he sputtered, “is there a fucking candid camera in here somewhere?” He pretended to look for it. “This dickhead’s got some seriously pre-evolutionary notions.”
Grayson, however, didn’t laugh. The tattooed girl behind the counter watched us avidly as did the handful of nervous patrons.
When Grayson finally spoke again his voice was so toxic even I shuddered. “Go ahead,” he growled in Winston’s face. “I dare you to move the wrong fucking way. This dark devil’ll rip out that little worm between your legs and shove it so far up your puckered ass it’ll roll right out of your pasty mouth. Now,” he said, smiling grimly and shifting closer to a visibly perspiring Winston, “I’ve got a special place of hate for a man who abuses women and from the way this girl looks at you, you’re the sort of motherfucker who hangs out on my hit list.”
Mad was still smiling. But his words were equally deadly as he leaned in close to Winston’s ear. “In other words,” he said, “get the fuck out of here while your arms and legs are still movable.”
Winston tried to crane his neck around Grayson to see me, but Grayson blocked him easily. “You’re done here,” he said with finality.
Mad shoved Winston toward the door. “You can wipe your ass later,” he ordered and then pushed my husband outside. He stood holding the handle of the door for a moment, his eyes intent on Winston’s departing figure.
Grayson finally turned around and touched me lightly on the shoulder. “It’s okay,” he said in such a gentle voice I couldn’t believe it was the same one threatening to rip penises off and shove them up assholes. He looked at where his friend was still focused on the door. “’Wipe your ass later?’” he laughed.
“Yeah,” the man smiled. “Didn’t you smell those Hershey squirts on his backside after you threatened his ah, ‘puckered ass’?”
“You’re full of shit.”
“No,” Grayson’s friend cracked up. “He is!” He sobered up, frowning, when he saw me cowering silently. “So what are we gonna do with her?”
Grayson glanced around the Burger King. A few people still watched the spectacle with worried interest. “We’ll take her to Rachel, like she asked.”
“Boss ain’t gonna like it. These are those cult people on the news. They’re fucknuts weird.”
“Hey,” Grayson scowled. “Enough of that shit. I’ll make sure it’s my ass over the fire, okay. Promise, you said your name’s Promise, right?”
I nodded.
“You still want me to take you to Rachel?”
“Yes. Please.”
He nodded, smiling in a friendly way. “Don’t pay any attention to Maddox. He may look like an Adonis but sometimes he’s just a fucking nervous old woman.”
“Up yours, dark devil,” Maddox said good naturedly.
I blinked as we stepped outside into the blistering heat. I didn’t see Winston or the Escalade anywhere. Apparently Grayson was looking as well. “You sure he ran off?” he asked Maddox.
“Like a goddamn rabbit,” the striking man confirmed and then swung a leg over a motorcycle parked nearby. “You can take her, right?”
“Yeah,” Grayson agreed, pulling something out from a compartment on the other motorcycle. He flashed me a grin and tossed me a black helmet. “You ever been on the back of a bike before?”
“No.” I gingerly pulled the helmet on.
Maddox laughed. “Shit, what a shock.”
Grayson climbed over the thick black seat and motioned to the back. “Just climb on and hold tight. Might not be too comfortable in that dress but I guess we can’t help that.” He started the engine. “You might have caught my first name but I’ll introduce myself anyway. Grayson Mercado.”
I was having difficulty raising my leg enough to climb onto the seat. When I finally managed to swing around a small groan of pain escaped my lips. Between my bruised legs, my battered center and my possibly broken ribs, I was scarcely able to stand the hard seat between my legs and the uncomfortable position.
Grayson turned around and stared at me as I tried to get settled, gritting my teeth all the while. “Worked you over, did he?”
I nodded, a tear falling down my cheek.
“Fucking bastard,” he said softly. He sighed and looked at me forlornly. “Just hold on as best you can. I’ll go slowly. We’ll be on the road for less than half an hour.”
I leaned into him, resting my cheek against the hot leather covering his back, the angry red word DEFIANT seared into my eyes so that when I closed them the word remained.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
If he heard me, he didn’t respond.
Chapter Seven
As we reached the freeway, Maddox pulled alongside us and shouted something over the wind. He might have been taunting our slow speed. Grayson shook his head and Maddox sped away. I was concentrating so hard on clinging to Grayson’s back so that I wouldn’t topple to the asphalt that I didn’t have energy to think about anything else. But as the dry wind lifted the hem of my dress and broke over my bruised legs, a grim feeling of elation washed over me. I would not be tortured by Winston Allred tonight. I was free.
And then I remembered that my sister wasn’t.
Grayson slowed as we reached the first exit for Quartzsite. As he idled at a stoplight, he called back to me.
“You okay?”
“Yeah. I’ll make it.”
All around me I saw desert punctuated by a few buildings, scattered RV’s and a handful of anemic billboards advertising gas or dining. I squinted off into the distance where a small mountain perched outside town sported a rustic ‘Q’.
Grayson turned down a series of narrow roads mostly lined with trailers and small homes, most of which were not unlike the prefabricated variety found in Jericho Valley. Grayson slowly made a right turn and my eyes were instantly blinded by the sunlight glinting off a pack of motorcycles. I saw a sign which read ‘Riverbottom Bar’ and blinked at it stupidly, wondering what river was being referred to. I saw Maddox, the man who had helped Grayson drive Winston Allred away. He stood in front of the building with his arms crossed. And I saw my cousin.
She was pacing next to Maddox and it was obvious he had told her we would be following. With a cry, Rachel Talbot ran across the gravel parking lot and seized me in a fierce embrace the second I climbed down from Grayson’s bike. I held her, reveling in the clean scent of her dark hair and the lovely feeling of being cared for by someone.
“Rachel,” I croaked in a dry voice, unable to stop the hot tears.
“Promise,” she sobbed, cupping my chin, “what did they do to you?”
And then, whether it was from shock, from relief, or from the agony of my injuries, I fainted.
***
I knew before I opened my eyes that I was in an unfamiliar place. And that there was more than person watching me.
Rachel’s beautiful face broke into a smile when I focused on her. She had been a pretty girl in Jericho Valley. But she had grown into a stunning woman. She stroked my hair in a motherly way. “Hello, sweetheart.”
A cute blonde who looked to be about my age carried a glass filled with water and ice, which she silently handed to Rachel. Rachel helped me drink and I instantly felt more alert as the icy water traveled down my throat.
The man at Rachel’s side was familiar. H
e was sturdily built with curly, dark hair past his ears and he loomed over me with a troubled set to his jaw as his hand rested comfortably on Rachel’s shoulder. I knew his name. He was Casper. He was Rachel’s love, the man from the pictures who had been wearing the jacket spelling out ‘DEFIANT MC’. As he wore it now.
The blonde girl sat on the edge of the sofa I was lying on and crossed her long, suntanned legs. She seemed rather baffled by the sight of me but tried to be friendly. “Hey, maybe you should eat something. You want a cookie?”
Casper swore and shook his head as if irritated but then he smiled. “No one’s gonna eat those crappy cookies, Kira. They taste like tar.”
Indeed, an acrid smell hung in the air as if an epic baking fail had recently occurred.
Kira glared at him, pouting. “I’d like to see you do any better.”
Casper snorted. “Well, tomorrow if I wake up with a fucking vagina I’ll give it a try.”
I hadn’t eat more than a bite or two in the last twenty four hours but my stomach still felt a bit uncertain. I tried to smile weakly. “Maybe later.”
Rachel still hadn’t taken her eyes from my face. She helped me drink a few more sips of water and I settled uneasily back on the sofa.
A large and very hairy man seemed to materialize out of nowhere. He wore the same sleeveless leather jacket as the others and he scratched at his considerable beard as his eyes took me in. “Who the hell is this?”
Casper sighed. “Rachel’s cousin.”
“Oh. Why the fuck is she dressed like Holly Hobbie?”
“Brandon!” Rachel yelled.
Brandon shrugged mildly and retreated to the kitchen, having already lost interest.
Rachel looked at Casper with a silent question and he nodded. She pressed her forehead against his and mouthed the words ‘Thank you’.
“Hon,” she said to me sternly. “I don’t want you to worry about anything. You can stay here for as long as you need to. We’ll take care of you.”
“Jesus,” moaned a male voice and I searched for the speaker. He was thin, wiry, and older than the other men. “I must have missed the meeting a few months back where we stopped being a bike club and became a halfway house for indigent young women.”