“Fuck, baby, don’t stop.”
Her eyes focused at that, and she began to move again—but slowly, deliberately, still raising his sensation without bringing him release. She lifted her tit to his mouth, and he suckled her again, holding her as close as he could get her, until she was moaning sweetly.
He needed to come. He made a move to flip her, but she saw it coming and instead pushed at him until he lay back again on the bed.
And then she put her hands down on the mattress, on either side of his chest, and she started to really move. With purpose, her eyes wide and intent on his. Biting her lower lip, she ground heavily on him, bringing him deep, circling her hips so that her muscles almost twisted around him.
“Oh, fuck, baby. Yeah. That’s…oh, yeah. That…that…yeah. Jesus Christ.”
Finally, it was on him, and he grabbed her hips to hold her down. The sound he made was not a scream, but it was loud and rough and bestial. And then he let go of her hips and let his arms and his head drop like dead weight to the bed. She lay down on him, breathless, nuzzling her face against his chest.
“That was awesome.” Her voice sounded young and sleepy. Sweet.
“Yeah, it really was.” He reached over and grabbed the edge of the comforter so that he could pull it over them. Then they slept, crossways on the bed, Tasha lying on him, their bodies still connected.
~oOo~
A week after New Year’s, Tasha’s condo was sold, and her furniture and the bulk of her belongings were in storage, awaiting the time that they would have a house—the spring, Len hoped. He couldn’t wait to get them out of the clubhouse. He’d cleaned up his trailer, but Tasha had taken one look at that tiny space, asserted that the apocalypse would happen before she would ever live in that dank box and thanked him for changing her perspective on living in the clubhouse.
A woman had never lived in the clubhouse before—old ladies had hardly ever spent nights in the clubhouse at all, except for rare lockdowns—and the single guys who lived there thought having Tasha around was becoming a drag. And Len saw it, too. The girls were a lot different when old ladies—even a single old lady—were around.
So he needed to get them a house built. First, though, they needed to get her practice up and running. The shit with Santaveria and how badly he’d fucked them up had really slowed progress down on that, but it was finally beginning to come together. And not a moment too soon. By the time the sale on her loft had closed, she’d joked darkly that she was down to a couple of nickels and a family of dust bunnies at the bottom of her bank account.
But there was no more ‘hers’ and ‘his.’ Now they were a team, and he saw to it that she had what she needed. He always would.
He kept that thought in mind as they took on their first weed run since the fall. Since…everything. The job was, on its face, the same as it always had been. But under that surface, it had changed in every respect.
In the months since that day, the clubs, all of whom had felt Santaveria’s wrath but none as emphatically as the Horde, had found their way back to some kind of equilibrium with each other. They were all beasts bound under the same yoke. So they worked together.
Today, for the first time since they’d learned of the bug, they would be trading an empty duffel for a full one. They had planted fake Keep meetings on the bug they’d discovered. Now would be the test to see if their ruse would work, and to learn what kind of room that gave them if it did.
The morning they left to meet Becker’s crew for the pickup, the Horde were somber and quiet. The old ladies came to see them off—something they had not done before. Even Cory came, with her sons. It made Len’s heart swell and ache to see that sad, still-broken woman stand with them, holding Havoc’s son in her arms.
Isaac, Show, Len, and Badger were going on this run. They’d fought briefly in an un-bugged Keep meeting about it, but ultimately, everybody knew it had to be those four, despite the fact that it put the entire leadership of the weakened Horde at the same risk at the same time. Again.
They all hugged Cory before they mounted up. She stood bravely, hugging them back, Loki between them each time. They shook Nolan’s hand. He was still angry and bitter, but it was good to see him there, trying to connect again with Havoc in whatever way was left.
Everything about that run was normal and smooth. No attention at all from law, no snags at all at either end, no delays, nothing. Even Isaac’s back and legs held out better than usual. But still everything about that run was wrong. And when the four Horde stood in an alert row, their legs spread in a ready stance and their hands on their weapons, and faced six cartel heavies with much bigger weapons, Len felt deep fear. The kind of fear that made him need to shout inwardly down at his knees to lock and hold lest he run like a little bitch.
Never in his life had he felt that kind of fear. Not even in the torture cell had he felt this need to run. He could sense the vibe coming off his brothers on either side of him; they, too felt it. If one of them broke, they all would. He cast a sidelong glance at Badger, whose eyes were wide and almost spastic with terror. But he held.
Isaac handed over the empty duffel and took the new black duffel, full of cash and, presumably, a fresh bug, and Len knew that Santaveria would hold their balls until he was dead.
So they would have to make that happen.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Tasha stood behind the reception desk and turned in a circle. She could not believe that this building had once been the Burger Shack. Now, it looked like a professional medical practice—modern but welcoming, with beautiful pale wood floors and trims, the walls painted in muted tones of blue, green, and grey. The furniture complemented everything exactly so.
It was perfect.
It hadn’t been long after the Horde had bought the building that everything around them had fallen apart, so it had taken months longer than they’d anticipated to get everything done. But Isaac had hired town men to help them get it going, and as soon as Len, Show, and Badger had been able, they, too had put in long days. They’d intended to open in the fall, and instead they were opening at the end of the winter, but they were ready, and they had made it through.
She’d sold her loft at very little profit—enough to get clear of her loan, pay off a credit card, and pay for several months of storage for her belongings. But, for all intents and purposes, Tasha was broke. It didn’t matter, though. She was with Len, and the Horde were partners in her practice and fronting the money to get the door open.
She looked at the empty records file. Although she’d keep most patient records electronically, she hoped to have that cabinet full of patient files very soon. Everything depended on Isaac being right that she was needed in Signal Bend. She believed that she was—she’d seen more than once that she was—but if the townspeople didn’t agree, or if they stayed away for other reasons, then what was a hopeful moment now could be a disaster tomorrow.
There was reason for concern. Signal Bend didn’t seem so universally on the Horde’s side any longer. There were rumblings and suspicious glances, little clusters of women with wagging tongues standing in the aisles at the market, suddenly going quiet when she pushed her cart around a corner and into their aisle—and all of it disquieted Tasha.
She’d have a better sense the next evening, the night of the next town hall meeting. Lilli sat on the town council; she’d said that, although there wasn’t any hostility toward her or the club among the council members—all of whom were owners of businesses the Horde had kept afloat for years—she was getting resistance to her positions and proposals that she hadn’t had before in more than two years on the council. Council members were beginning to have qualms about supporting the Horde.
Tasha wondered whether that meant they would reject a town doctor because she was Horde. And she wondered what she would do—and what the club would do—if they did.
She couldn’t worry about that now, though. Now, she was supposed to be writing job ads for office and medical staff.
She needed at least three people—two administrative assistants and a registered nurse. She’d decided to serve as her own office manager for the time being, until she got the practice underway.
Or didn’t, in which case it would be one less person she’d need to fire.
Shaking that thought away, she went back to her new office and sat down in her new chair at her new desk and opened her old laptop. For a few seconds, she just sat there, feeling a little sick with warring emotions—happy and excited and anxious and terrified—but enjoying the bright scent of fresh construction—paint and drywall, hardwood and carpet. Her guys had done a great job.
She’d been fussing with a draft of the job ad for the nurse for half an hour or so, struggling to find the right way to describe the job and the town—and also how to word it in a way that might help her find somebody who wouldn’t have a problem with wounded men showing up randomly but probably not infrequently for sutures, bone-setting, and the occasional bullet extraction. Ambivalence toward the law and a well-honed sense of adventure highly preferred. Experience with firearms a plus—probably not the best thing to write in a job ad. Not one for a nurse, anyway.
She heard the front door open, and her pulse picked up. She hadn’t locked it, because she hadn’t seen a reason to, but now she was seeing one. Len, Isaac, Show, and Badger were off on a run to Springfield, their first run since the fall. They were on their way home today, and everything had gone okay, but it was too early for them to be back. She couldn’t think of anybody else who had reason to be here; the practice wasn’t open yet.
She opened a desk drawer and pulled out a Beretta .22. Small, but she knew how to use it to stop somebody. All a matter of where one chose to aim.
“Tasha?”
Dom. Relaxing instantly she put the little gun away. “In here, Dom. What’s up?”
Instead of Dom, a little girl came to her open office door. With blonde pigtails that coiled into springs on the side of her head, she looked familiar, and Tasha tried to place her. And then she saw the little scar on her forehead.
“Um…hi…Ashlynne?” The little girl from the Midsummer Fair. God, that seemed like ages ago.
“Hi! Mommy, I found Dr. Tasha!”
Dom came up behind Ashlynne. “Sorry, Tasha. I saw your Jeep out front.”
“It’s okay. Is somebody hurt? Ashlynne, are you okay, honey?”
“Yes, I’m fine, thank you.” She trotted away from the door.
Dom watched her go and then turned back. “No—sorry. Nobody’s hurt. I just thought…um…I thought…”
Tasha was confused. Her brain kept trying to tell her something was wrong, but wouldn’t hit on what it could be. “Dom? What’s going on?”
“You haven’t hired anybody yet, have you? For the office or whatever?”
Ah. She let out the breath she’d forgotten to breathe. “Are you looking for work, Dom?” She smiled.
But Dom missed the joke and took her question seriously. “No—no, not me. But Bree. Ashlynne’s mom? Would you talk to her?”
“Are you two…?” Tasha remembered that Dom had helped Bree out that day at the fair, too. She saw a lot of Dom at the clubhouse, and he got around regularly and fairly athletically with the club girls, but if he was cheating on a girl, that was not really her concern. It would put a giant hole in her opinion of him, but that didn’t make it her business.
“Oh, no. No. Just friends. Went to school together. But she could use some work. She used to do office stuff for a tax guy or something in Millview, but he closed up a couple years ago. I thought maybe you’d talk to her, see if she could do the office stuff here? If I’m outta line—”
He was, really. Being an admin assistant in a medical office was more than answering phones and scheduling appointments. She was really hoping to hire somebody with real experience, somebody who might even help her with the business end of this endeavor as she figured things out herself.
But a Signal Bend native—somebody who knew the Horde, somebody local whom she could help, too? Those were good things. Things that could help the practice—and the Horde. And it wasn’t like she was going to find experienced people in town. A smart person who could learn? Maybe. Maybe Bree was one of those.
“I’d be happy to talk to her. Is she here?”
His smile was bright and relieved. “Yeah. She’s…I’ll get her. Should I send her back here?”
“Yeah. Sure. Could you keep track of Ashlynne while her mom and I talk?”
“Absolutely. Thanks, Doc. This is…thanks.” He turned and headed toward the waiting room.
While she waited, Tasha looked around her office. Still bare, devoid of any personal touches. But a nice room. The Horde had taken a lot of care to make her practice at least look successful.
Bree came back, looking shy and nervous. Tasha stood and held out her hand. “Hi, Bree. It’s good to see you again.”
The girl—young woman—took her hand and shook it, first limply, but then, as if remembering someone’s advice that she should offer a strong handshake, she firmed it up. “Hi. Thank you for this. Dom said…he said it would be okay.”
“It is. Have a seat.”
Bree sat in one of the chairs on the opposite side of Tasha’s desk. She was dressed nicely, conservatively, in an inexpensively cut, red pencil skirt and a navy sweater set. Tasha had noticed plain navy pumps before she’d sat down. Her earrings were small faux pearls. She wore a discreet gold cross on a chain that lay right at the base of her throat, and she wore no other jewelry. Her straight, mousy blonde hair was caught back in a red plastic headband, its teeth making subtle ridges across her head. She was making a real effort, even if she had brought her daughter to her ambush interview.
She pulled often at the cuff of her left sleeve, and Tasha detected a hint of ink inside her wrist, which she was trying to hide. Well, Tasha had Len’s ink in the same place, so she’d be something of a hypocrite to make a fuss about potentially visible ink.
“So, Dom tells me you might be interested in a job? As an administrative assistant?”
Bree smiled. Her teeth were white, and a little crooked—but cutely so, her canines slightly forward from the rest of her teeth. “Yes, ma’am. Doctor. If you’re still looking for somebody. I worked three years for a CPA in Millview. I mainly did phones and filing at first, but before he went out of business, I was taking dictation and doing some records and bookkeeping. I’m good on a computer, too. Dom taught me.”
“Do you know anything about medical records or working with insurance claims?”
Her face fell a little, but the smile stayed. “No, ma’am. Doctor, I mean. I’m sorry, I don’t. But I didn’t know anything about taxes, either. I’m smart and learn quick. Straight As in school. Math was my best subject. I brought my report cards so you could see. I don’t have any other school. I’m sorry.” She opened her purse and began to comb through it.
“I don’t need to see your report cards, Bree, but thanks. What have you been doing since that CPA? Do you have a resume?”
Now her smile faded away, and she dropped her eyes. “No…Doctor, I—”
“You can call me Tasha, Bree. It’s okay.”
“Oh, no, ma’am. You’re a doctor. That’s important. You should make people call you that. If I was a doctor, I think I’d make my friends call me that, even.” She thought for a moment. “I could call you Dr. Tasha, like Ashlynne does. If that’s okay.”
“That’d be okay.”
“Like I was sayin’, I don’t have a resume. I didn’t know until Dom came to my house that I was going to talk to you. I’m working at the 7 Eleven now. Night shift. I been—have been—doing that since Mr. Roark closed up his business—he’s the CPA.”
“Night shift with a little girl can’t be easy.”
“No. But my mom helps. We get by. And the money is a little better on third shift.” Again, she dropped her eyes. “Can I—would it be wrong to ask what this job pays? I don’t mean to sound like I think I’ll get i
t or anything. I was just wonderin’. Wondering.”
“It’s appropriate to ask, Bree. Don’t be embarrassed. I was going to put the range in the job ad I’m writing.”
“Oh. You’re just now writing the ad? I’m sorry. I didn’t know you weren’t hiring yet.”
“We’ll open as soon as we get a staff, so I’m hiring. Dom just knew about the job a little earlier than most people. You’re benefitting from knowing him by getting an interview early. That’s called networking. As for what the job pays...” Tasha had a range in mind; she’d done a lot of research and had figured out a good starting point for the least experienced acceptable hire and a top point for an ideal hire. Bree was hardly an ideal hire—at least not in the way Tasha had been defining that term. But in other ways, maybe she was. So Tasha took a quick moment to think and then quoted Bree a number right in the middle of her range.
Bree’s eyes went wide. “Really? Oh. Oh, my goodness.” She said nothing more.
“Sit tight for a second. I’ll be right back.” Bree didn’t have a resume, but Tasha had a pad of generic applications—they’d been part of a package of small-business start-up supplies the office supply warehouse in Springfield had been offering as a promotion. She went out to the reception desk and pulled the pad from a drawer, tore one off, and took it back to her office.
“Why don’t you fill this out. I need to check a couple of things first, but if everything checks out, then I think you could start as my receptionist and assistant when we open—hopefully that will be in no more than two weeks.”
“Really? Oh. Oh, that would be great. That gives me time to put my notice in, and—” Her enthusiasm came up short, and she looked embarrassed again. “Um…does this job come with insurance?”
“Yes. Medical, dental, and life.”
Show the Fire (Signal Bend Series) Page 29