Road to Freedom

by Piper Davenport

  “Yes, baby,” I rasped as he slid his hand between my legs and fingered my clit.

  “Come, Remi.”

  I came, and he pulled his cock out and settled against my ass, the warmth of his cum covering me as he guided us back onto the mattress.

  “Oh my god,” I whispered.

  He kissed my shoulder. “Yeah.”

  I rolled to face him. “I don’t want you to leave.”

  “Baby, I just got here,” he said, and slid out of bed, heading to the bathroom. “I’m not leaving right away.”

  I followed.

  Merrick started the shower then faced me. “You joining me?”

  “Yes,” I said. “But we need to talk about this.”

  “I’m here for two weeks, Rem. Unless the club needs me back, I’m good. I don’t have any pressing cases, and whatever work I need to do now, I can do here.”

  “Then what?”

  “Guess than depends on you.”

  “What if I’d told you to fuck off?”

  “Then I would have left,” he said, and stepped into the shower, holding his hand out to me.

  I took it and stepped in beside him. “Are you going to stay longer than two weeks?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I can’t, honey,” he said, dropping his head back, under the water.

  I sighed. “No, I get it.”

  “But you’re coming back with me, so I don’t know what you’re freaking out about.”

  “I can’t go back with you.”

  “Why not?” he asked, guiding me under the water.

  “Because I just got back.” I settled my hands on his waist as he poured shampoo onto my head and began to massage it into my scalp.

  “Exactly. Which means, you can come back with me and it won’t fuck up anything.”

  I closed my eyes. “Um, hello. I gave up my apartment.”

  “Um, hello...I own my own condo.”

  “I can’t move in with you.”

  “You can’t?”

  I opened one eye, then closed it so soap wouldn’t get in it. “Are you asking?”

  “Yeah, sure, if you need me to ask,” he said, guiding my hair back under the water.

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because we don’t know each other.”

  He didn’t say anything as he rinsed my hair, so I wiped my face and opened my eyes. “Tweety?”

  “Not gonna—”

  “Dignify that with a response?” I finished.

  He grinned, kissing my nose. “She’s getting it.”

  “Merrick, we’ve fucked a dozen times over the span of a couple of days, that does not mean we know each other.”

  He picked up the bottle of conditioner and squeezed some into his palm, then massaged it through my hair.

  “Are you really not going to say anything?” I snapped.

  “Remington, I have to head back to Portland in two weeks. I want you to come with me, but that’s ultimately your choice. Not gonna force you if you don’t want to.” He tipped my head back. “Rinse.”

  I rinsed, then wiped my face again. “I don’t know if I can just pick up and move again.”

  He shrugged.

  The asshole just shrugged!

  “Seriously?” I hissed.

  “Don’t,” he warned.

  “Don’t what?”

  “Spiral, Remington,” he said. “I love you. So much so, I followed you here. If you can’t make it work to move back with me in two weeks, we’ll figure something out. There’s no pressure.”

  I dropped my head to his chest. “How are you so fucking calm about all of this?”

  He slid his hands to my neck and lifted my chin. “We’ve got two weeks to spend together, baby. It’s plenty of time to figure shit out. I’m in. Are you?”

  “Yes,” I breathed out. “I’m just worried you’re going to leave and I’m going to be stuck here without you.”

  “Okay, Eeyore. You go towel off and we’ll watch a movie and eat dessert.”

  “I’m not Eeyore.”

  “You are most definitely Eeyore.” He gave my butt a playful smack, then kissed me.

  “I am not clinically depressed.”

  He chuckled. “No, but you are the nervous type...probably more akin to Piglet, but I’m figuring you’d be offended if I called you a pig.”

  “So, I’m an ass?”

  He grinned. “Maybe we should take this conversation out of the Hundred-Acre Wood and find something to eat.”

  “Probably a good idea. Can’t imagine you in Christopher Robin’s shorts.”

  He kissed me gently and then I climbed out and toweled off.

  “I wish I’d brought a change of clothes,” I complained once he was out of the shower.

  He raised an eyebrow. “See you found a pair of my underwear.”

  I grinned. I’d rummaged in one of his bags and found them, along with a T-shirt. “Yep. They’re a little big, but they’re comfy.”

  He slid his arm around my waist and cupped my ass. “They’re yours now, baby. Don’t say I never gave you anything.”

  I tugged on the towel around his waist and grinned as it fell to the floor. “I’m thinking I should show my gratitude.” I knelt before him and ran my tongue along his cock.

  Before anything could get interesting, however, someone banged on his door.

  “What?” he bellowed.

  “All-hands, Finch. Meeting room.”

  “Fuck,” he snapped, then called out, “Be down in a sec.”

  “Why do you need to go?” I asked. “This isn’t your chapter.”

  He stroked my cheek and helped me to my feet. “I’m part of the brotherhood, baby, so when Prez calls an all-hands, I’m there.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “Oh.”

  “Let me figure out what’s going on. Stay here, okay?”

  I nodded, and he dressed quickly, then left me half-dressed and horny.

  Finch

  I walked into the main meeting room that looked so much like our own in Portland. The walls were adorned with flags and banners collected over decades. The spoils of rallies and runs of the past. Harley calendars dating back to before models had fake tits were pinned up here and there.

  Alamo was standing by the window, a drink in his hand, and a scowl on his face, and that scowl was directed at the chapter president.

  “We don’t know that for sure,” Doc said.

  “Like hell we don’t,” Alamo growled. “Dalton said these aren’t copycats, so what other conclusion can we come to?”

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  “We don’t know just yet because we don’t have all the information,” Doc said, aiming his words at Alamo even more than me. “Dalton Moore, our guy who still has an ‘in’ at the F.B.I., reached out to Alamo today. He wanted to give us a head’s up that two bodies have been found that appear to be in connection with the Gentleman Strangler.”

  “Jesus, Thomas Ellis killed even more women?” I asked.

  Doc and Alamo exchanged a look before Doc continued. “That’s the thing. These are new murders.

  “New? But how? Thomas is dead. Alamo shot him,” I said.

  “Thanks for the fuckin’ news flash Walter Cronkite,” Alamo said before taking a shot of bourbon.

  “Don’t be a dick to the kid,” Doc said. “All we know is that two more bodies have been found, one in our area, and one in Beaver County, Oklahoma. Dalton wouldn’t give us much more information, but the F.B.I. is convinced these killings are related, and that they are not the work of a copycat.”

  “So, what does that mean?” I asked.

  “It fuckin’ means I killed the wrong man,” Alamo grunted while pouring another drink.

  “Ease up, Alamo,” Doc said.

  “Pretty fucking sure you didn’t kill the wrong man,” I retorted.

  “First of all,” Doc continued. “Thomas was a piece of shit and was definitely invol
ved in the murders, if not a direct participant. The F.B.I. has way too much evidence to say otherwise, not to mention everything we know about him personally.”

  “Then who the hell killed these women?” Badger asked.

  “And what did we miss?” Alamo followed up.

  “We didn’t miss anything,” Doc said.

  “Then, how the fuck do we explain two more women being raped and murdered in the exact same fashion after I put a bullet into that sick fuck? There’s obviously someone else out there who’s working with Thomas. Hell, as far as we know, he’s the one that’s been in charge this whole time. Jasmine could be in danger all over again and we don’t even have the slightest clue who we should be protecting her from!” Alamo shouted and launched his glass across the room, causing it to shatter into pieces against the back wall.

  “For fuck’s sake Alamo!” Doc bellowed and shielded his eyes from the flying shards. “We’re all concerned here.”

  “I’m far from concerned, Doc,” Alamo said. “I’m pissed off that piece of shit Thomas is fucking with Jasmine from the grave, and I’m pissed off that there’s another one of these sick bastards out there.”

  “Then let’s figure out what we’re gonna do about it,” Doc said.

  * * *

  Remington

  Merrick texted to tell me he was gonna be a while, so I decided to clean his room. Pulling on a pair of sweats, I stepped into the hallway to see if I could find some sheets but ran into Jasmine instead.

  “Hey,” she said. “I was just coming to find you.”

  “You were?” I asked.

  “A couple of us are watching a movie. Want to join?”

  “I take it, this “all-hands” is going to take a while?”

  “They usually do.”

  I smiled. “Then, I’d love to watch a movie. Let me grab my phone.”

  I walked back into Merrick’s room and threw on a bra, grabbed my phone, and slid on a pair of his socks before following Jasmine downstairs and into a huge movie room.

  “Oh my god, Remington Charles?”

  I squinted my eyes in the dim light. “Quinlan Westgate?”

  My old friend pulled me in for a hug. “What are you doing here?”

  “She’s with Finch,” Jasmine provided.

  “Grace’s brother?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Is he here?”

  “Yes,” I said again.

  Quin smiled. “Well, that sounds like a story and a half...maybe we should wait to start the movie.”

  “What are you doing here?” I asked.

  “Well, that’s also a story and a half...”

  The movie was paused, the wine was poured, and we filled each other in until our men came to find us two hours later.

  * * *

  Finch

  “And he hit her, Merrick. Beat her to shit over and over again.”

  My woman was drunk. And emotional. And currently pacing my room raging at Quin’s ex-husband who was a piece of shit.

  “Yeah, honey, I know,” I said, handing her a bottled water.

  Our meeting had wrapped up an hour ago and we’d headed into the media room to find our women crying. All of them. Four bottles of wine annihilated and five women all gathered around Quinlan, sobbing as they hugged her.

  I’d peeled Remington away from the group, led her upstairs, and was currently trying to figure out how to get her to calm down and hydrate.

  “Why didn’t you stop it?” she snapped.

  “Baby, I wasn’t here. I just know that shit went down with her and her ex. Alamo and Badger ran him out of town.”

  “He raped her, Merrick. More than once. And you said you’d leave.”

  “When?”

  “When you got here. You said if I told you to leave, you would have,” she cried. “Did you mean it?”

  I smiled gently. “What do you think?”

  “I think you would have broken down any door and busted through any wall that kept me from you.”

  “Yeah, baby. You’re right.”

  “I know I’m right,” she said with a sniff. “I’m always right. I’m the fucking queen.”

  “Rem?”

  She licked her lips. “What?”

  “Gonna hold you now, okay?”

  She nodded, and I closed the distance between us, wrapping my arms around her. She dropped the water bottle on the bed and slid her hands under my shirt, squeezing me tight.

  “He almost killed Badger,” she whispered.

  “I know, baby.”

  “To make her obey him.”

  “Yeah,” I said with a sigh. “He’s a piece of shit.”

  “And then he raped her to drive home his threat.”

  I stroked her hair and kissed her temple.

  “How is she still functioning?” she asked.

  “People might ask you the same thing,” I said.

  “Having your ex-fiancé demand to shit on your tits does not come anywhere near her abuse, Tweety.”

  “Fuck me, he did that?”

  “Yes, she endured six years of abuse.”

  “No, Rem. The shitting on your tits thing.”

  “No, gross. I didn’t let him.” She shuddered. “He just wanted to. Like I said, way past Christian Grey kinky.”

  “No shit.”

  “That was my mandate.” She slid my T-shirt up and tugged on it. “I want this off.”

  “Baby, you’re drunk.”

  “So?”

  “Not gonna fuck you when you can’t say no.”

  Her eyes met mine. “I’m not that drunk, Tweety. A little over tipsy, but fully coherent. And I would like to suck your cock. You got a problem with that?” She knelt in front of me and unbuttoned my jeans.

  “Yeah, baby, I got a problem with that.”

  “Bullshit,” she countered, reaching for my zipper.

  I pulled her hands away from my dick and lifted her off the ground.

  “Hey!” she growled.

  I quieted her by covering her mouth with mine and she slid her hands to my waist.

  “Okay, that’s good too,” she said and smiled against my lips.

  “Baby, you need to hydrate.”

  She ran her tongue over my bottom lip. “I’m good, Tweety.”

  I cupped her face and tilted her head up. “Remington Charles. You’re gonna drink that bottle of water. You get none of my manly bits until you do.”

  Her button nose wrinkled as she tried to give me a scowl and then she burst out laughing and slid her hands under my now unzipped jeans. “Mmm, I’m gonna have those manly bits even without the water.”

  “No means no, Remington. I am more than just a sexual being,” I said, and put distance between us, snagging the water off the bed.

  She giggled. “I know you’re more than just a sexual being, Tweety, but not tonight. Tonight I plan to play with you...all of you.”

  I held the water out to her. “You’re gonna drink this first.”

  “I’m not a child, Merrick.”

  “I know that,” I said, handing her the water. “Just want to make sure you don’t get sick.”

  She took the water and opened it, drinking deeply before setting it on the table by the window. “Happy now?”

  “Yeah, baby, thank you.”

  “Can I have your manly bits now?”

  I spread my arms wide and smiled. “Have at it.”

  She knelt in front of me and had at it.

  * * *

  Remington

  The shrill ring of my phone drove home the fact I’d drank a little too much and I groaned as I reached to answer it. “Hello?”

  “Rem,” Kennedy said with a sob. “Chel’s in the ICU.”

  I sat up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. “What do you mean, she’s in the ICU?”

  I’d just seen her two days ago, and although she looked tired and way too skinny...she’d seemingly lost about twenty pounds in a week...she was upbeat and high on life.

  “I had
to call the ambulance.”

  “Oh my god, why?” I cried.

  “She—”

  “Rem?” Merrick grumbled, cutting off Kennedy’s explanation.

  “I have to get to the hospital,” I said, and threw the covers off. “Where is she, Kennedy? You can fill me in when I get there.”

  “St. Josephs.”

  “Okay, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  “Okay, honey.”

  She hung up and I rushed to get dressed, realizing I still didn’t have anything clean. “Shit!”

  “Baby, what’s going on?” Merrick asked and slid out of the bed.

  “Michelle’s in the ICU. I need to get to St. Joseph’s, but I don’t have any fucking clean clothes,” I snapped. “And I can’t go back to Kennedy’s to get anything because she’s already at the hospital.”

  He dragged his hands down his face. “Grab something of mine, honey. I’ll take you.”

  “You don’t have to. I’ll call for an Uber.”

  “Remington, you’re not calling for an Uber. Get dressed and I’ll take you.”

  “No,” I rasped, and dragged one of his T-shirts over my head.

  “You’re tired and worried, so I’m gonna ignore that,” Merrick said, and pulled on his jeans.

  “I will get an Uber.”

  He ignored me and sat down to put on his boots.

  “Merrick—”

  “You’re not getting a fucking Uber, Remington. Just drop it and get dressed.”

  “What if you’re not allowed in?” I challenged.

  “Then I’ll wait in the waiting room.”

  “Alone. You’ll wait in the waiting room alone.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Because you could be stuck there for hours.”

  “So?”

  I burst into tears. “So, you shouldn’t have to be stuck in a hospital waiting room alone while I watch my friend die.”

  “Okay, baby,” he said, and rose to his feet, pulling me against his chest. “I’m here whether you want me to be or not. If I have to wait alone in the waiting room, I will.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I love you and you need me.”

  I wrapped my arms around his waist. “I really do need you,” I admitted.

  “I know.”

  “She’s dying and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

  “How about we head down to the hospital and see if we can’t figure out exactly what’s going on, hm?”