by Jaci J
“You think I’ll be safe dealin’ with my brother?” I ask, cuddling into him. Wrapping my arms around his waist, I hang like a stage five clinger.
“No,” he whispers, twisting a piece of hair around his finger. Well, that makes me feel a whole lot better.
“Then why the fuck are you doing this?” I’m so beyond confused, but it’s not often club business makes much sense to me anyways.
“Trust me.” He buries his face in my neck.
“Are you trying to distract me?” I ask while he kisses me, licking a path up my neck.
“Is it workin’?”
“Kinda.”
Hands at my waist, he lifts me up with my legs wrapped around him. “We going somewhere?”
“Back to bed.”
“Okay.”
Eleven
Lifetimes
Rock
Ellison asked me to stay.
I should’ve told her no and taken my ass back to the club where I belonged.
I just couldn’t fucking help myself.
I’m a goddamn dog.
I can’t stop thinking about how wrong it is, but how fucking good it felt. Finally getting the taste I’ve been dreaming about for years, I got my dirty hands on all that sweetness.
Seventeen, and asking for things she shouldn’t be asking for from me, and I gave in. I fucking caved.
Looking at me with tears in her eyes, that skirt and those lips, and…there’s no excuse.
“Rocky?”
Staring up above her head at some boy band poster, I cringe. Jesus, what the hell was I thinkin’ fuckin’ her?
“Yeah, babe?” Rolling to my side to get one last look at her, the pink comforter on the tiny twin bed pulls away from her tits and there I go, starting to cave again.
“Thanks.” She smiles. So damn naïve and new to this shit, she doesn’t even know what to say to me. If anyone should be saying that shit, it should be me.
Thanks for your trust.
Thanks for the chance.
Thanks for giving me your virginity.
I’m a dog. It’s true.
“I’m glad it was you, Rocky.” Right in the balls and the heart. El won’t be glad when she wants something I just can’t give her. Jesus, this was such a shit idea.
So bad, and so fuckin’ good.
“Me too.” Me fucking too.
I’ll never forget that guilt. Felt it for a few months after, every time I looked at her, but it didn’t take long for that guilt to be replaced by some stronger guilt about something even worse.
Might have felt guilty, but I never regretted it.
I’ve spent more than enough time feeling bad for shit I do where El’s concerned. I felt like hell for years for fucking her before she was legal. Felt bad for pulling her into my lifestyle when I should’ve been pushing her in the opposite direction, and shitty for exposing her to my life and letting her live it with me. And now, I feel bad for asking her to do something I know she doesn’t want to do.
But that’s life, and it’s unfair as fuck.
The little bit of control I have in life is nonexistent when I’m with El. Everything is a thousand times magnified with her; love, fear, anger, guilt. The woman makes me feel shit no one ever has.
“Hey Rock?”
“Yeah, babe.”
I feel like I’ve spent a lifetime loving her, and it still doesn’t feel like enough. But sometimes the guilt wins out over that love.
“You do know that I would do anything for you.”
That feelin’ is shared tenfold.
“Things will turn out okay, you feel me?”
“I sure the fuck hope so.”
“You don’t trust me?” Not that she should.
“That’s the problem…I do.”
“Your trust in me is a problem?” I don’t even know why I ask. I know it is. She’s been trusting me for far too long, but I’m not gonna lie, I thank fuck that the trust is there.
She only laughs.
El’s the worst thing to happen to me. She reminds me that I have a heart and a soul, and they both belong to her, and her alone. I wouldn’t change a damn thing about it, either.
***
There’s a plan. Whether it’s good or not is yet to be seen, but we’ve got a fucking plan.
“Ellison’s gonna meet her brother, show her bruises, and get his help. The prospect is gonna drive her to him,” Dan says, and looks directly at the prospect hanging back, listening and learning. He nods his head, agreeing with whatever the hell Dan says. “She’ll give him her sob story ‘n shit. She’ll be givin’ us up for some money to get outta town, and that’s where we’ll get her brother. We’ll use the rat as collateral or information, whatever the asshole’s best for.”
I’m not sure how I feel about this shit. I don’t care about her brother. It’s Ellison I’m worried about. “What if he don’t believe her?” Because it’s likely he won’t. Ellison is a first class liar, but Michael’s already suspicious.
“Don’t matter. It’ll be too late. We’ll be there before he has a chance to question it, or do anything else.”
“Don’t you think he’ll be expectin’ us to show up?”
There are the holes in this plan. I can’t have holes.
Dan sighs and shrugs a shoulder. “Maybe, but I also believe he’ll wanna help his sister, or at least rub her nose in the fact he was right about you. Maybe he’ll be thinkin’ he can snatch her up ‘n use her like we’re plannin’ on using him. Either way, we gotta try somethin’. It’s all we’ve got at the point. Graspin’ at straws here, brother.”
The shit we do tends to work. Why? Because we’re crafty motherfuckers for the most part. We’ll work with whatever gets thrown our way and make something golden. We work shit out when shit falls apart. But this time around, I’m not feeling particularly confident in our ability to figure shit out as it comes our way. There’s little margin for error here. If we lose a brother it sucks, but we all go in knowing that possibility is there. If I lose Ellison, I’m not sure I could live with that. Surviving it would be a miracle. The idea sure a fuck doesn’t leave a pleasant taste in my damn mouth.
“We gotta do this carefully,” I tell Dan.
“We will, brother. We will.” I hope like hell he’s right.
***
Blind trust, something I have in my brothers. I have it in motherfucking spades. What I don’t have is ignorance. I’m not fucking stupid. Things go wrong, and when you get down to the bones of it, El is expendable to them. Sure the club likes her, my brothers care for her, but if it’s the club or her, they’re gonna pick number one.
I’m an untrusting prick when it comes to my girl. I trust her life in no one’s hands but mine, and even then, I’m not always one hundred percent confident.
Slipped a tracking device in her shoes and she’s none the wiser. No one is. I have to know she’s okay. I fucking have to. Functioning on some sort of normal level wouldn’t be possible if I didn’t know what the fuck is going on with her every waking second.
Call me crazy or paranoid, but it is what it is.
***
El’s hanging on me, her head on my shoulder and her arm wrapped around mine.
“So I’m not going back to work?” she laughs. El wanted to know what was going on. I gave her what I could.
“No. Not right now.” Hopefully not ever.
I hope this is it. The motherfucking change we both need to move whatever the hell it is we have in another direction. I’m getting mighty tired of playing this game and doing this dance with her.
El might be scared, but I’m not. I know what the hell I want. I don’t have to question it. I’m just waiting for her to catch up. It’s her. Always has been, always will be. Might take time for her to adjust, but that’s what she has me for.
“Why does this feel weird? Like a goodbye?” Women. Always saying the right things at the wrong damn times. I don’t want to hear that shit. This is the furthest thing from a goodb
ye. Things will be fine. They have to be.
“Because you’re thinkin’ too damn much, baby. Don’t stress this.”
“That’s impossible. I’m gonna worry until I’m back here with you, both of us in one piece.”
It’s not me I’m worried about ending up in pieces. If I die, I die. Ellison’s got a whole hell of a lot of living left to do.
“Up,” I tell her, getting off the couch in the bar. “Let’s go grab some grub.” She can’t sit here and stew.
“From the 101?” whe asks, grinning.
“Whatever you want, baby.”
Ellison
Rock smiles at me, something I wish he did more of. He’s so handsome it’s ridiculous, but I’m a bit biased when it comes to him.
He’s been smiling at me all day. Smiled through lunch, smiled as we walked along the beach. I’d be creeped out if I weren’t enjoying it so much.
“You’re scarin’ me,” I tell him, laughing softly to myself. Smiling is not something the man does easily. He must be worried if he’s looking at me like this, like it’s the last time.
“The fuck you talkin’ about?” Now he’s frowning, something I’m more used to seeing. I laugh harder, something I’m thankful for right now. I need something to feel happy about, even if it’s only a smile from Rock.
“You were smiling at me.”
Rock grunts and shakes his head. “You’re crazy, lady.” Crazy about him.
Wrapping a hand around the back of my neck, Rock pulls me to him and kisses me. His lips are urgent, yet sweet against mine. He lingers, letting me get my fill. Pulling back, he kisses my forehead next. “It’ll be okay, baby,” he says against my skin.
“Promise?”
“Yeah. Promise, El.”
Rock takes a step away, letting me go. His eyes narrow at the prospect next to me. “Take care of her or I’ll kill ya.”
The prospect laughs awkwardly and nods. “Yeah, man. I got her.”
Looking back at me, he smiles again, his eyes easy and light. “I’ll see you in just a little bit, Ellison.” I know he’s lying to me, and I appreciate it right now.
“See you in a bit. Be careful,” I tell him as the prospect fires up the car, throwing it in reverse.
I watch him as we pull away, that smile still in place.
I watch him until he fades away and that smile slips.
I’m not sure if it’ll work, but I send up a prayer and hope like hell someone is looking out for us.
***
I feel sick. My stomach’s a knotted mess. My hands shake and my knee bounce. This feels so wrong.
In an old four door sedan of some sort, the prospect is next to me in the driver’s seat. Facing straight ahead, he doesn’t look at me, and he doesn’t speak. His face is an impassive mask of cool. I don’t know how when there’s a good chance we’re driving into a shit storm.
Staring out my window, I focus on the scenery. It snowed last night, and the roads are covered in dirty snow, the trees are frosted over, and the fields are dusted in white. If I weren’t close to throwing up, I might be able to appreciate the beauty a little more.
I chew on my nails, nervous as hell. This might not turn out okay, and that idea kills me. It makes me fucking sick.
“How much longer?” I ask, my voice barely a whisper, unable to speak around the lump growing in the back of my throat.
“A little bit.”
The highway fades into single lanes. Soon after, we’re on a single lane rural road, a few houses dotted along the way. We’ve been in the car an hour, and the longer we drive, the worse I feel.
Fifteen minutes pass and the car slows, veering off onto the side of the road, the tires meeting gravel.
“What’s going on?” The prospect doesn’t answer me. He stops the car and throws it in park. Getting out of the car, he walks around the front of the car and my stomach plummets.
Pulling open my door, he barks, “Get out.”
“What?” I stammer.
“Out!” he shouts, jerking on my arm. My body pulls against the seatbelt, securely stuck in place.
I sit there staring at the prospect in utter confusion. I don’t know what the hell is happening, but what I do know is that this is wrong.
Reaching in, he latches onto my arm. “Get the fuck outta the car.” I don’t know the prospect well. He’s been with the club a little over a year, and in that time, we haven’t spoken much. He’s quiet, and he’s very neutral.
“Okay, okay,” I concede, taking off my seat belt, scared he’ll pull my arm out of its socket.
Getting out, I stand up next to him. With his hand still wrapped around my upper arm, he tugs me along with him. “Come on.” Pulling me around the side of the car to the back, he pops the trunk and smirks. “Get in.”
“What? No.”
“Get. In.” Pushing me towards the trunk, the back of my thighs hit the bumper.
He’s putting me the trunk. This is really happening. I’m definitely going to be sick.
I panic, fear taking over. Pulling on my arm, I try to jerk away from him with little success. His fingers dig in, his grip burning my skin. “Please,” I start to beg. “Please don’t do this.” I don’t even know what it is he’s doing, but it feels so fucking wrong.
“Shut the fuck up ‘n get in. Don’t make me kill ya ‘n stuff you in.”
My heart hurts as it hammers hard against my chest. “You’re taking me to them.” Not how we had planned it. He’s taking me to them?
“The dumb bitch figures it out,” he mutters in annoyance. “Now get the fuck in the trunk.”
I know it’s a mistake before I make it. Twisting to run, I make it a few yards before the prospect is on me, knocking me to the ground with a blow to the back. The wind is knocked clean out of me and I gasp for air as I fall face first.
Crushing me to the gravel, he grabs my arms, twisting them behind my back. “Fucking stupid.” Wrapping something smooth around my wrists, he twists and pulls.
Something solid and round presses into my spine. A gun. He’s going to kill me.
“Please don’t do this.” What it is he’s doing, I’m not sure, but it has my legs weak and my mouth dry. “I’m sorry.” I apologize for something I’m not sure I’m even sorry for.
With my arms clasped together, he jerks me up and onto my feet, my hands held behind my back. “Now try ‘n run again,” he laughs, clearly proud of himself.
Shoving what I assume is a gun, harder into my back, he pushes me closer to the car.
“You’re not taking me to my brother are you?” I know without a shadow of a doubt he’s taking me to them.
“That I am.”
***
Claustrophobia is not something I suffer from, but I can feel it creeping up my neck, threatening to strangle me. The trunk is dark and dank. A musty smell wafts off the damp carpet every time I get jolted by the movements of the car.
Deep breaths in and out, I focus on my breathing and the road noise echoing in my ears.
I don’t have a single fucking clue what’s going on, and that only makes my panic that much worse. If I knew what was happening, I could prepare. I could be ready. Instead, I’m left wondering what the hell is going on.
I had one job, to convince my brother I need his help getting away. I wouldn’t have to actually execute the getting away part. I’d show up and tell my story. Rock would be there soon after and it would all be over. I’d be on my way home.
I’m not fucking stupid. I know the Disciples are going to do something, probably illegal, and probably bloody. Who am I to judge? Who am I to do anything other than help when Dan, Rock, and the rest of the guys have done nothing but support me when I needed them the most?
Family, by blood or bond, is forever. Through the good and the bad, Rock is my family, and his family is my family.
It feels like a lifetime, but finally the car slows and pulls off the road. The tires hit gravel and the car lurches slightly to the left, my body sliding to
one side.
Bumping down the road, I listen for anything helpful, but hear nothing.
I keep praying to hear Harleys, but my prayers are going unanswered.
I’ve decided that my hands are zip-tied together, the plastic tight and uncomfortable. My arms are starting to burn, and my back is bowed unnaturally.
This is fucking awful.
A minute or two later, the car stops. I listen for something, anything, but get silence in return.
My hope starts to slip. I’m alone.
Twelve
A Million Miles Away
Rock
How the fuck do things go so goddamn wrong so fast?
Following the little blue blimp on the map, my stomach bottoms out and my vision blurs. Caught somewhere between worried sick and mad as fuck, I’m not real sure what the fuck to do with myself.
For the first time since losing my mom years ago, I feel fucking helpless, a feeling I don’t handle real well.
“Fuuuuuck!”
Standing outside of my truck, I feel like going back inside and grabbing a bottle of Jack or two for the road. Jesus, when shit goes bad, it goes real bad.
I’m trying to stay in control and levelheaded about this, but all I keep thinking is I’m never gonna see her again. The worst motherfucking conclusion keeps taking control of my mind.
“You okay to drive?” T asks, hopping in the passenger seat.
Gripping the steering wheel until my knuckles turn white, I nod, barely able to get out, “Yeah.”
“How far away are they?” Too fucking far.
Feels like I’m a million miles away, like there’s no way in hell I’m getting there in time. The closer I get, the further away she goes.
“Fifteen miles.” And fifteen miles has never felt so goddamn far.
“He’s not takin’ her to their club?” T asks, baffled.
I don’t know what the hell the prospect’s doing, but what I do know is that he’s not following the plan. The motherfucker is deviating.
The plan was set into motion. Everyone is where they need to be, which is not where they should be right now when things have gone up in motherfucking smoke.