REIGN

A Black Smoke MC Novel

By Meg Jackson
 This book is a work of
fiction, any names, places,
and situations portrayed
within are products of the
author’s imagination.
Copyright 2015, Meg
Jackson
Table of Contents
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Epilogue
Rough Love
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 epilogue to read my
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Flip the page to start Part

1.

 Part 1

~ 1 ~

Oh great, a used condom.

Oh, wow, super, a bloodstain.

What is this even, yogurt?

Who does this to a pillow?

Was it very necessary,
whoever you are, to
completely cover the walls
with shit?

What is this…oh please…
don’t even…no…yup, it’s
piss.

Jesus Christ, is it that hard to
put your used needles in the
damn trash can?

Oh…a dollar tip, how nice,
considering they left an entire
week’s worth of rotting fast
food and half-empty beers all
over the floor.

How did they manage to get
cum on the ceiling?! That’s
actually impressive, I can’t
even be mad…

All in a day’s work for me. I
pushed my cart from room to
room, arms sore from
scrubbing at mysterious
stains, clothes splotched with
bleach, mind numb to what
wonders might await me
behind the next door.

People are animals, I tell ya.
No one knows that as much
as a cleaning lady at a hotel.
And, no, before you start
dreaming up my identity for
me, I’m not an “illegal alien”.
I am half-Latina, but I’m a
full-blooded American
citizen, born and raised, and I
speak perfect English, thank
you very much.

What is it about staying at a
hotel that can turn even a
mild-mannered person into an
untamed beast with no
problem pissing all over the
floor or dumping an ashtray
onto their sheets before
checking out? Is it because
it’s not their home, so they
don’t care what happens to it?
Is it because they don’t
realize someone like me has
to come and clean it up? Or –
and perhaps this is the
scariest possibility – is it
possible that they’re actually
like that at home, too, and
you just never see it?

Not everyone who came
through the doors of the
Gateway were like that, of
course, but way too many
were. We had our fair share
of families, businesspeople,
truckers. But for every guest
who left the room in a decent
state, there were two
prostitutes, pimps, drug
dealers, alcoholics, or other
such devils who took it upon
themselves to make my job as
hard as humanely possible.

And I never held anything
against those people for what
they did. If you’re a lady and
you need money and you
don’t mind letting someone
give you the old in-out to get
some, go on with your bad
self. Got a drinking problem
and can’t drive home? By all
means, keep everyone safe
and stay at the hotel. Need to
“figure stuff out” through a
drug-fueled weekend? Not
my place to judge.

But, goddam, a little decorum
would be nice to see once in a
while.

“Gabriella, Rosa is taking her
break now, can you make
sure 215 is ready? Early
check-in,” my walkie-talkie
crackled on my hip.

“Already checked it, boss, all
good,” I said, pushing down
the ‘talk’ button and hoping
that my manager would
actually hear me for once
instead of badgering me
about why I “didn’t respond”.
The woman was a sweetheart,
but she was deaf as hell and
the flask of vodka she sipped
on all day didn’t help her
comprehension skills.

As I heaved my cart down the
hall, legs already aching from
all the bending over and
crouching down my job
demanded, I tried not to think
about what would happen at
the end of my shift. To be
honest, as much as I hated
playing nursemaid to the lost
souls of the world, tidying up
after them, wondering
whether that puddle was
vomit or melted ice cream,
there wasn’t a whole lot to
look forward to once I was
done for the day, either.

It was late June, when it’s
really only just beginning to
warm up in the high Rockies.

Maybe it’s a good night for a
barbeque, I thought idly, until
I opened up the door to the
next room and my list and
remembered that it was
raining lightly. No use
stopping at the store on my
way home for hamburgers
and potato chips.

Maybe I’ll make lasagna, I
thought. Lasagna is good for
a rainy day. Jeremy loves my
lasagna.

Lasagna was a safe bet.
Anything that I already knew
Jeremy loved was a safe bet.
Anything I wasn’t sure about
was a gamble. And if I made
anything that he’d told me
once, even if he’d said it
years ago in a conversation
that I had no reason to
remember, I was treading on
ice so thin it might as well be
paper.

Yeah, lasagna, I thought,
thankful that this room, at
least, wasn’t as bad as some
of the others I’d seen that
day. As I pulled up the
covers, balling them up with
the sheets, ready to throw
them in the hamper, I made a
quick mental inventory of the
room. I was looking for
chargers, cell phones, socks,
shoes, a ski goggle, anything
that a rushed guest might
have left behind on their way
out the door.

You’d be surprised what
people leave behind in hotel
rooms. Usually it’s just crap,
but sometimes you find
interesting things:
photographs, mysterious pills,
strange powders in baggies,
gold jewelry. Some of the
girls I worked with, I knew,
were prone to taking such
finds home with them instead
of bringing them to the front
desk, like we were supposed
to. I didn’t hold it against
them, but I always brought
anything I found straight to
the clerks to hold onto or
dispose of as they saw fit.

It wasn’t worth the risk of
getting caught, for me. And
besides, I didn’t do drugs, and
I didn’t need jewelry. Jeremy,
though he had many flaws,
was an excellent provider. Or,
I should say, the police force
he worked for was an
excellent provider. We didn’t
want for money. The fact I
had this job at all was due to
one of his whims.

After we’d married, three
years before the shit hit the
fan, he didn’t like the idea of
me “sitting around at home”
all day. Unfortunately, he
also didn’t like the idea of me
getting a job that would be
“too mentally taxing” or take
up “too much time”. Really,
he just wanted me to get a job
where I’d come home too
dog-tired to do anything but
put up with his shit, and
working for housekeeping at
the hotel was the perfect mix
of physical labor and mind-
numbing repetition.

“But what did I get a degree
for, if I can’t do anything
with it?” I’d said, still so
naïve.

“Well, I don’t know what you
got a degree for, I sure as hell
didn’t tell you to get it. I
mean, what can you even do
with a degree in philosophy?
You’d have to go to grad
school if you want to make
anything of yourself, and we
can’t afford that right now.
Besides, if you went back to
school, you’d have your nose
in a book all the time again,
no time for me. I waited two
years to have you all to
myself, I don’t want to wait
another four,” he’d replied,
appealing to that sappy part
of me that loved him beyond
reason.

“I guess you’re right,” I’d
resigned, not wanting to have
the same argument again for
the third time that week.
After our honeymoon, that
had been our first major
issue. The first of many, I’d
like to add.

So I’d started looking for a
job. With almost no work
experience, it was tough. I
could flip burgers, but that
seemed beneath me, and with
a degree I was way
overqualified, anyway. I
wanted to take a position as a
secretary at a law firm, but
Jeremy had thought that
would be too stressful for me,
with crazy hours and
demanding lawyers to cater
to. He was the only man I
should be catering to, in his
opinion.

So, I’d taken the gig as
housekeeper at the Gateway.
I’m pretty sure I was only
hired because I looked like I
could speak Spanish. Which I
can’t, by the way. Well, I can,
but only curse words. Plus,
my name, Gabriella, is only
one “l” away from the
traditional Hispanic spelling
of the same name, blurring
the line even further. Being
half Puerto Rican and half
Italian, I’m what they call
“ethnically ambiguous”,
which is a nice way of saying
“no one knows what the hell
you are right from looking at
you.”

With large, almond-shaped,
dark chocolate eyes, a deep
tan complexion, and crazy,
kinky, black hair that does
whatever it wants at all times,
I’ve been mistaken for a Jew,
a Mexican, a Filipino, and
even, on one occasion, a
Hawaiian. My body, though,
is pure Latina. I blessedly
missed out on the dark body
hair and stick-thin frame of
my Italian mother, and got
my paternal grandmother’s
luscious hips, large, C-cup
breasts, and wide, womanly
thighs.

Not that I always appreciated
that, mind you. In fact, when
I was with Jeremy all those
years, I hated it. He was as
Irish as they get, pale as the
moon and thin as a rail. He
always made me feel like I
was fat.

He’d buy clothes for me,
intentionally buying sizes too
large, because he knew that it
made me think I belonged in
the “plus” size section. He’d
make little backhanded
compliments about my roly-
poly tummy, which never
seemed to shrink no matter
how much I tried to diet or
exercise.

Now, of course, when I look
at myself in the mirror and
see the slight pudge in my
stomach, I know it’s just a
necessary evil of being what
they call “voluptuous.” But
back then? I did all I could to
hide my body, thinking that,
since it didn’t look like a
fashion model’s, it wasn’t any
good.

But that was just par for the
course when it came to
Jeremy. I was never good
enough, never pretty enough,
never smart enough or funny
enough. He never ceased to
remind me, in little ways,
never outright, how he’d
“settled” for me because he
loved my personality, not my
mind or my body. And how
much could he have loved my
personality, anyway,
considering how much he
thought I screwed up on a
daily basis?

As I went into the bathroom,
gathering towels and making
note of what toiletries needed
to be restocked, I instinctively
paused to check myself in the
mirror.

I’ll need a touch-up soon, I
thought, brow furrowed, hand
gently touching the tender
spot above my left eyebrow
where my concealer was just
starting to look splotchy. You
could just barely, if you
looked hard enough, make
out the dark purple markings
underneath my make-up. I
flinched under my own touch,
the spot still tender although
it’d been three days.

Here’s something you should
know about humans, if you
are one.

None of us are of one mind.

Or, maybe I shouldn’t be so
broad. But I’ve met a lot of
people, and there’s always
two sides to the coin. It’s not
like some old, tired, trope,
like good and evil or black
and white. It’s just…there’s
the “you” that you’ve always
believed yourself to be, the
one you want to be, and
there’s the “you” that you’d
like to ignore, that you don’t
want to take ownership of.

I don’t tell many people about
that time in my life, because
in that time of my life the
latter “you” was in charge of
me. I thought of myself as
feisty and smart, with a
spitfire wit and a take-no-
prisoners attitude. The way
I’d been raised, in a
household that was half no
mames, guey! and half
fangul!

But, of course, that wasn’t
who I was. I was – and this
pains me to write – a
“battered women”. Ugh.
What a horrible phrase. It
makes me think of cake, or
cookies. When, in reality,
there was nothing sweet
about my marriage. Jeremy,
love him though I did, was a
gigantic asshole. A
disgraziat. A so pendejo.

He didn’t always hit me.
Maybe once, maybe twice a
month. But I never deserved
it – does any wife deserve it,
really? I can maybe see if you
walk in on her banging three
dudes at once, or if she’s got
a knife to your head. I
wouldn’t put someone in jail
for smacking their woman if
she was about to go full-on
Misery on the guy. But a
good, hard, close-fisted slug
because you spilled coffee on
his shirt in the morning?

But, the thing is, he made me
feel so low, emotionally, that
I thought I deserved it. Even
though, deep down in the
back of my mind, I knew that
it was all a lot of macho
bullshit and that he was
wrong about me, he was
really, really good at making
me feel like I’d have nowhere
to go, no one to turn to. He
made me feel like being his
wife was really my only
purpose on this earth. And
lord, even if it was the most
fucked-up love in the world, I
did love him.

How’s that for honesty? I can
still admit – now, after
everything – that I loved that
man with all my heart.

But some loves are just no
damn good. Heroin addicts
love heroin, don’t they?

See, this is the thing I need
you know about me before I
go any further. I’m not stupid.
I’m not pathetic. I’m not a
mindless bimbo. I was, and
am, smart as hell. I graduated
top of my class from Baruch
University, with a degree in
philosophy. I can think my
way out of a steel trap.

But back then? I had the
emotional wisdom of a slug.
And as much of my own will,
or even mind. It had only
been three years that I’d been
married to Jeremy, but, like
most lifelong abusers, he was
good at mind games and
manipulation.

We’d dated for two years
prior to being married, when I
was still in school, and when
I look back I see all the signs.
The little concessions I’d
make for him, starting way
early in the relationship. The
little power struggles, which
he always won. By the time
my story gets started, I’d lost
pretty much anything that had
once made me proud to be
Gabriella.
 ~ 2 ~

Reign barely looked up from
the girl whose legs were
draped across his lap as Endo
walked into the back office.

“’Sup,” Reign said, his hands
busy playing with the girl’s
tight curls, bouncing them up
and down. She was giggling
like a lunatic. It wasn’t
exactly a sexy sound, more
annoying than anything else,
but Reign was tired, and she
was there, and she wasn’t a
challenge.

He wished she had something
to say besides “like”, “cool”,
and “hot”, though. He knew
that in reality she probably
had a hell of a lot more to say
than those few words, but she
probably thought he wanted
her to be a bimbo. Whatever.

It wasn’t worth the effort to
explain to her that,
sometimes, men like a
woman with a little substance
to her – in mind and body.
The girl looked cute as shit in
booty shorts and a crop top,
but she also looked cold, and
young, and thin. The word
squeaky came to mind.

“So, you know that dealer,
the one who thought we were
giving him the run-around on
that dope deal?”

“You mean, the one we are
giving the run-around?”
Reign asked with a chuckle,
drawing his eyes away from
the lollipop on his lap long
enough to look at Endo
expectantly.

“He’s out front, rantin’ and
ravin’,” Endo said. “Honey’s
doing her best to placate the
guy, but he’s hollerin’ for
blood.”

“Look, that ain’t my deal, it’s
Knicker’s. Get him on it,
Endo,” Reign said, annoyed.
He’d just gotten back from a
huge illegal immigrant job,
hustling migrant workers and
pregnant women over the
border to Utah. He wanted to
enjoy this perky brunette for
an hour, drink himself into
incoherence, and sleep for a
day and a half. Lord, Reign
loved to sleep, and he hadn’t
had much of it the past three
days.

“Knicker ain’t here,” Endo
said. “You’re top dog right
now.”

“Well, fuck, have we even
changed money with the guy?
Ain’t it all just been talk?”

“Yeah, think so. As far as I
know, we ain’t even got
specifics down.”

“Fuck it. Tell him he can
calm down and come back
when Knicker’s here, or the
deal’s off altogether and he
can try and sell ten pounds of
dope in a small town in a
state with a population of 2
million. He needs us more
than we need him,” Reign
said. “I’m serious. Tell him
no one here cares about this
deal. It’s Knicker just trying
to show off to the boss. He
can come back and talk to
Knicker, or he can fuck off
and never show his face
around here again.”

“Alright, boss,” Endo said,
disappearing through the door
he’d come in through.

“Go lock the door, honey,”
Reign said to the giggly,
squirming chick. She
bounced off the sofa, exactly
like a bunny from her
hopping little gait to her
twitchy little nose. Returning
to the sofa, she seemed to be
trying to walk seductively. It
seemed forced. Still, beggars
couldn’t be choosers. Reign
reached out as she got closer,
grabbing her by the belt
loops, pulling her giggling
form in between his knees.

He looked up at her as she
blushed, taking the top of her
barely-there shorts in his
teeth and snarling comically.
She laughed again, the sound
getting a little bit sexier now
that Reign was actually
getting turned on.

He released her shorts,
bringing a hand up to them,
unbuttoning them and letting
them slide down her long,
smooth legs to the floor. She
was wearing a sheer thong,
and Reign leaned forward,
nosing his way between her
shaven folds, breathing
deeply. She giggled again,
pushing his head away. He, in
turn, pushed her hands away,
then proceeded to pull her
thong down to join her shorts
on the floor.

“Fuck, baby,” he said, unable
to remember her name. He
leaned forward again,
wanting to pry those pretty
pink lips apart and lick her
until she squealed for real.
But she stopped him once
more.

“No, that’s gross!” she said,
backing away.

“Gross? C’mon, let me taste
you, girl,” he said, pulling her
back, hands cupping her ass,
pulling her slit towards him
once more. His tongue darted
out in anticipation. The only
thing Reign loved more than
sleeping was feeling girls
come under his tongue. In
fact, if he could eat girls out
in his sleep, he’d be the
happiest man on planet earth.
He’d only wake up to eat,
piss, and make money.

“No, really, that’s weird,
Reign, I don’t like it,” the
twiggy girl said, her tone
turning serious. Reign let his
hands fall to his sides, ire
spiking. He didn’t like being
turned down, but he wasn’t
about to rape the poor thing.

“You don’t know what you’re
missing, doll,” he said,
hoping to entice her.

“Mmmm, neither do you,
baby,” she said, suddenly
dropping to her knees and
crawling forward, somewhat
awkwardly, until she was
between his legs, one hand on
each of his thighs. Reign
sighed inwardly, but he
forced a smile. What kinda
man would I be if I turned
down a nice BJ from a nice
girl? He thought, still
disappointed but willing to
take what he could. He kind
of just wanted it to be over so
he could crash.

The little brunette teased him
slightly, or at least tried to,
wiggling her scant-but-perky
chest under his nose while
slowly unzipping his pants,
releasing his huge cock. She
gasped, 100% genuine, when
she saw it, and seemed to
rethink her plan of attack.
Reign encouraged her with a
slight stroke on the back of
the head, nudging her
forward. She flicked her
tongue across the purple,
puffy head before pulling
back with another grin and
smile.

“You’re the biggest I’ve
seen,” she said, clearly
nervous.

“I’ll go easy on you,
gorgeous,” Reign said,
pulling her head forward a
little more. You won’t let me
eat you out, you’re acting all
weird about the blowjob, little
girl, if you don’t want to do
this, you should just go home
and quit wasting my time.
You were the one who
approached me, remember?

But, the brunette seemed to
steel herself, and began to
perform in earnest, first
lapping at his swollen head,
then taking his shaft into her
mouth an inch at a time.
Reign let his head loll back
against the couch, his hands
coming up to her head,
pressing slightly downward,
more encouraging than
forceful. The brunette
moaned around his cock,
slathering it with her tongue,
humming against the head as
she deep-throated him.

“Oh, yeah, baby,” he
groaned, feigning more
enthusiasm than he felt. It
was just another blowjob, as
far as he was concerned. His
cock throbbed against her wet
tongue, the head massaged by
her welcoming throat. He
began to pulse his hips
against her, slowly, trying to
be gentle as he looked down
at the top of her head. She
brought one hand to his balls,
cupping them and fondling
them gently while she bobbed
eagerly on his cock.

“You want this cock, baby?”
he asked, tired of watching
her gag on him, wanting to
watch her come as she rode
him. She pulled away, a trail
of spit from the head of his
cock to her lips, and nodded
eagerly, biting her lip.

He grabbed her by the
shoulders, pulling her up and
onto his lap. She straddled
him, her small breasts in his
face, just asking for his
attention. He was glad to
provide it. He pulled her crop
top up, exposing her bra-less
chest, and leaned forward,
suckling one of her nipples
into his mouth as she slowly
lowered herself onto his
massive rod.

“Oh, fuccccckkkk,” she
moaned, and looking up
Reign watched her eyes roll
back into her head as she took
the entire length of him into
her tight pussy. She felt
warm, and wet, and he
moaned as he thrust his hips
upwards, filling her even
more as his tongue darted
around her nipples, moving
back and forth from one to
the other, his hands kneading
her ass as she began to ride
him.

“Oh, God, fuck, Reign, you
feel so fucking good,” she
whimpered, her hands draped
around his neck now as she
twisted her hips in a circle
while pumping up and down
on his cock, her face growing
red and her breathing labored
as she impaled herself on his
member.

Reign brought one hand to
her clit, gently pressing
against it as she gyrated atop
him, lowering herself
forcefully onto his cock, no
longer aiming to please him,
lost in her own pleasure. Just
how he liked it. He thrust his
hips upwards to meet her,
using his strong arm around
her ass to help her move
faster, harder.

“Yeah? You gonna come for
me, baby?” he said, watching
as her eyes seemed to lose all
focus, her mouth forced open
into an O shape as she got
carried away, now not
needing his help at all as her
body took over, demanding
release, filled with his cock.

She began to tremble on top
of him, and he increased the
pressure against her clit. She
looked down, her face almost
pained, pleasure dripping
from her lips like nectar as
she cried out in short bursts,
her pussy dripping onto his
thighs. Her grip around him
increased, and her eyes
popped open.

“Yeah, just like that, baby
girl, fuck my dick, come for
daddy,” he growled, knowing
that a girl like this was likely
to lose her mind just from the
word “daddy”. He was right,
and seconds later she was
clutching him to her, crying
out as her pussy contracted
around his cock, throbbing
and milking it for all it was
worth, her body trembling in
his arms.

“Oh, god, fuck, yes, Reign,
fuuuuuuuuuck,” she moaned,
her hips gyrating against him
wildly now.

“Fuck yeah,” he whispered
into her ear, pressing his hand
against her lower back to fill
her even more as she bucked
on top of him. He loved
watching her lose control,
loved when women went
crazy on his dick, begging for
more. Finally, the tiny
brunette slumped against him,
her hips now thrusting with
much less enthusiasm against
him as she recovered from
her climax.

“That was fucking amazing,”
she said, picking up speed
now as she rode him again.
But he wouldn’t come that
way, and he pulled her
upwards and off him, taking
his own dick in his hands.

“Take off your top,” he
demanded, knowing that if
she hadn’t already been
willing to do whatever he
said, she certainly was now.
She obliged quickly,
dropping the top to the floor.
“Kneel down.”

Again, she was happy to
oblige, planting her hands on
his thighs once more as he
stroked his cock, now slick
with her juices. He looked at
her face, still flushed and rosy
from her climax, her
breathing not quite back to
normal.

“Are you gonna come on my
tits, daddy?” she asked,
pouting, playing up the
“daddy” angle. It wasn’t
really Reign’s thing, but he
liked to do whatever made the
girls happy.

“Yeah, baby girl, daddy’s
gonna come all over your tits,
and I want you to lick it all
off,” he said with a snarl,
doing mental gymnastics to
try and put some meat on the
lithe body in front of him –
too thin for his taste. She was
gorgeous though, with those
pouty little-girl lips, and soon
he felt himself automatically
jerking off harder, his balls
churning, the girl in front of
him thrusting her chest out
for him and running her
hands up and down his
thighs.

“Fuck,” Reign groaned as a
stream of cum shot out of his
cock, landing square on the
brunette’s chest, making her
close her eyes and squeal in
pleasure. He shot load after
load onto her, watching her
systematically wipe the cum
from her tits and suck it off
her fingers with relish.

“Thank you, daddy,” she
whispered through a mouthful
of his hot cum, the last of his
load landing just short of the
mark. He watched her get the
last bit of semen, which hung
almost comically from her
nipple, and guzzle it into her
throat. She’s cute, he thought,
unable to fight the slightest
bit of affection for the
otherwise anonymous girl.

“Thank you,” he said. “But
daddy’s gotta sleep now.”

“Of course,” the girl said,
knowing her place well
enough not to ask if she could
sleep with him. Instead, she
hopped to her feet and
quickly dressed herself,
leaving her shorts
unbuttoned. Reign noticed the
slightest string of cum
dangling from her hair and
decided to leave it be; she’d
probably just move on to
Endo or whatever other club
members were hanging
around the bar. He leaned
forward to smack her ass,
playfully, as she skipped from
the room.

He grabbed the bottle of
whiskey that was sitting on
the floor near the couch and
took a huge guzzle, feeling it
burn down his throat. And
then he lay down on the
couch, stretching out, closing
his eyes. As he drifted off to
sleep, he felt cold and wished
he had a blanket, or a warm
body next to him. Not the
girl, but someone else.
Someone he’d never met, but
who, deep down where he
could barely admit it to
himself, he wished he would
meet soon.
 ~ 3 ~

I was almost done. Three
more rooms, and I’d have
finished my duties for the
day. I was more than ready to
clock out, change into real
clothes, and drive away as
fast as I could. Less excited to
arrive at home than I was to
just get the hell away from
work, I knocked on the door
of my next room before
letting myself in. My eyes
immediately fell to a blue
duffel bag sitting on a chair in
the middle of the room.

I picked up the duffle bag,
wondering how someone
could have forgotten about it
when it was just sitting on the
chair, declaring its presence
at first glance around the
room. It was surprisingly
heavy when I lifted it and set
it down near my cart,
meaning to bring it straight
down to the front desk once I
was through with the room.

There was an odor in the
room that I couldn’t quite
place. It smelled metallic,
cold. But, blessedly, that
seemed to be the only major
problem with the room. No
vomit or spilled beer here.

As I heaved the comforter
and sheets off the bed, back
aching from performing the
same motions over and over
again, I saw something that
made my blood turn cold. I
wanted to believe it was
something other than what I
saw, but I couldn’t fool
myself. That smell was blood,
and what made that clear as
day was the small pool of
brownish-red liquid under the
bed. And in the middle of that
pool, just barely peeking out,
were two fingers.

Two fingers that were,
presumably, attached to a
whole body.

I nearly pissed my pants and
threw up at the same time. I
backed away from the bed.
I’d seen a lot of things in my
time at the hotel, but nothing
like this. Nothing even nearly
as bad as this.

Maybe it’s ketchup and a
glove, I thought, irrationally,
knowing full damn well that
it wasn’t. But something
inside me insisted that I make
sure it was what I thought it
was before telling everyone
about how the sky was
falling. Tiptoeing around the
bed, heart pounding, I
kneeled down a fair distance
from the pool of blood (or, I
still hoped, ketchup). Holding
my breath, I peered under the
bed.

Yup. That was a body. Sure
as shit, that was a dead-ass
human being lying
underneath that bed.

Why even bother to hide it
there…I wondered, my mind
moving slowly, not quite
processing what I was seeing.
I shot straight up, mouth
suddenly very dry, heart
beating faster than a drummer
in a metal band. My eyes
darted to the duffel bag set
near my cart.

I can only chalk my actions
after that up to divine
intervention, or possibly
shock, or maybe even just
morbid curiosity. The
appropriate thing to do would
have been to get on the
walkie-talkie and report what
I’d found to my boss, and the
police, and get the hell out of
that room before I further
muddled up what was
certainly a crime scene.
Instead, I walked to the duffel
bag, leaning down and
yanking at the zipper with
shaking hands.

Holy

Fucking

Shit.

That was a LOT of money.
Like, stacks on stacks. Of
hundreds, not twenties. And
mixed in with the money was
a lot of taped-up Ziploc bags
full of what I’d come to
recognize as cocaine. Like I
said, you find a lot of crap in
hotel rooms after people have
flown the coop.

I took one large step back
before falling on my ass
against the bed. Thinking of
the corpse that was only a
foot away from me, I scurried
away from the bed to the wall
on my hands and knees. If my
heart had been pounding
before, it was basically
ricocheting out of my chest at
that point.

I guess, even then, I knew
what I was going to do.

See, there’s only so much a
human mind and body can
take before it breaks. And
everything in my life had
been working on me so long:
Jeremy, the job, the dullness
of my days, the violence of
my nights. I hadn’t thought I
could ever get away.

And now?

It was like God was shining a
light down from the ceiling
right onto that duffel bag.
Tempting me, maybe even
taunting me.

Everything I needed to make
a clean break.

Right there.

And who’s money could it
be, anyway? It sure as hell
didn’t belong to anyone
good…and if whoever had
killed the person under the
bed hadn’t seen fit to take the
money with them, I was
pretty sure it didn’t belong to
anyone at that point.

Except me.

It belonged to me.

Once that thought came into
my mind, I acted like it was
true. Propriety be damned.
With that sort of money, I
could make straight for
Mexico, or Canada, and
change my name, and no one
would ever find me…

Not Jeremy. Not the cops.
Which, by the way, was
pretty much the same thing,
since he was a cop.

I scuttled forward towards the
duffel bag, hands itching to
get around that money. But I
stopped myself; be smart,
Gabriella. For once in your
stupid, pathetic life, use your
fucking brain.

See? I even thought in
Jeremy’s voice and tone. I’d
never thought I was stupid
before getting involved with
him, but he’d had me so beat
down that I believed him
when he said I was a dumb
bitch.

I straightened up, grabbing
two gloves from my cart and
snapping them on. I took all
the cocaine from the bag.
Where…where…I thought,
looking around the room. My
eyes lit on the dresser;
throwing a drawer open, I
threw all the little bundles
into the drawer and then
closed it, though I left it
slightly ajar.

I didn’t need the drugs, just
the money.

And, I figured, it would
probably help the detectives
or whoever to know that
whatever happened was a
result of a drug deal gone
wrong.

As for the money…

And the body…

I leaned into my portable
laundry basket, pulling out
the sheets and comforter I’d
just stripped. Working
quickly, I made the bed in a
way that looked as though
someone had slept in it. Not
too messy, not too neat.

I needed it to look like I’d
never been there.

But the key…I thought to
myself. The keys at the hotel
were automatic, and wireless,
and they recorded whenever
anyone came or went into the
room.

I threw the duffel bag into the
laundry, covering it with
sheets and comforters.

I took a series of deep
breaths, grabbing my walkie-
talkie and preparing to lie like
my life depended on it.

“Rosa, Melanie, come in,” I
said, actually happy for the
quiver in my voice, hoping it
would make me more
convincing.

“Go ahead, Gabriella,”
Rosa’s voice came over the
other end, her heavy accent
hard to understand over the
crackly radio.

“I was just about to go into
303, and I just got sick
everywhere. Had to run right
to the bathroom. It smells
funny in here but I think it’s
something else. I’m gonna
come down, I need to go
home,” I said. It wasn’t the
best lie in the world, but what
else could I do? They would
know I went into the room
when they checked the logs.
The best thing I could do was
pretend that I only went into
the room to throw up, that I’d
never seen the body or even
touched the bed.

Of course, once I never
showed up back home, and
once someone discovered the
body in the room, there
would be a lot of questions.
And, with Jeremy on the
force, those questions would
probably be broadcast across
America once he figured out I
wasn’t coming back. I could
only hope that by the time
those questions were asked, I
would be safely on my way to
Mexico.

“Make sure you flush,”
Melanie’s voice came over
the walkie-talkie. “Clock out
and go home. Come in
tomorrow?”

“Maybe, I’ll see,” I said,
letting the walkie-talkie fall to
my side once more.

I looked around the room
once more, but knew I needed
to get out of there as soon as
possible. The longer I stood
there, the more I’d freak out,
the more I’d rethink what I
was doing, the more I’d
overthink how to cover my
tracks.

Pushing my cart out the door,
leaving the lights on, the way
they had been when I got
there, I made my way down
to the basement, praying no
one else would be down
there. No one should have
been down there. Rosa was
still doing rounds, the laundry
room was a separate building,
and Melanie would be half-
tossed and chain-smoking in
the courtyard by that time of
day.

And, as though God was still
smiling upon me, no one was.

I tossed my load of laundry
into one of the huge baskets,
the sheets mingling together.
Grabbing the duffel bag once
it fell, I didn’t bother to put
my cart away or even change
into my regular clothes before
going to my locker.

I had my own duffel bag in
there, my gym bag, for the
three times per week that I
went to the gym after work.
Today was not a gym day, but
I kept a change of clothes in
there all the time in case
Jeremy made one of his
“suggestions”.

That was another thing, by
the way, about that marriage.
When Jeremy didn’t want me
to come home, so he could do
whatever – or whomever – he
did when I wasn’t around,
he’d “suggest” that I go to the
gym, and God help me if I
didn’t take him up on that
suggestion.

Now, I was thanking God for
his little “suggestions”. I
shoved the duffle bag full of
money into my larger gym
bag, throwing my running
shoes into my locker to make
room. I grabbed my purse as
well, and threw my street
clothes, which had been
hanging up, into the duffel
bag.

I didn’t clock out.

I didn’t look back.

I was on the highway, pedal
to the floor (though not
speeding), mind numb as I
began to unravel what I’d just
done, what I was going to do.

Which, I realized, was a total
mystery.

I didn’t know how to start
over with a duffel bag full of
cash. I didn’t know how to
create a new identity. I wasn’t
wise in the ways of criminal
behavior.

Jeremy was, but I couldn’t
exactly turn to him for help,
could I?

Well, all I had to do, for then,
was get to Denver. Just get to
Denver, I thought.

Wait, no.

I didn’t realize I was slowing
the car down until I heard
frantic honking all around
me. I pressed my foot on the
gas once more.

Not Denver, not Denver,
Utah, go to Utah, I thought. I
was driving the wrong
direction for Utah, but I knew
it was the smarter choice. It
had to be. Jeremy had friends
in Denver, cop friends. Utah?
A whole new state? A wild
sort of state? Lots of open
land, not too much in the way
of cell phone towers…

Utah.

I took the next exit, feeling
my stomach flipping as the
car swerved around one of the
mountain highway’s many
looping, high-octane turns,
got back on the highway,
going the other direction.

Utah, Utah, go to Utah, I
thought, over and over again,
my mind only able to focus
on that one word, that one
destination. It was all I could
do not to throw up in my lap.
The duffel bag, tucked
underneath driver’s seat,
seemed to pulse and throb
behind my feet.

Holy shit, what the hell are
you doing, Gabriella, you
stupid bitch, you’re never
going to get away with this,
you better fucking turn this
car around right now and go
home before Jeremy gets
there and wonders where you
are. That voice, I realize now,
was Jeremy’s voice in my
head. But it sounded like
mine at the time. And it was
loud.

Keep going, you’re never
going to get another chance,
this is it, this is it, you have to
go now, another voice was
saying, a voice that sounded
strange at the time but which,
I’ve learned, is actually my
voice. And it was louder.

It was 4pm. Another hour and
a half and Jeremy would be
home, wondering where I
was. Just as I had that
thought, my cell phone
dinged.

Shit, I forgot about that
fucking thing, I thought,
panicking, knowing that cops
could trace you by your cell
phone signal. I reached down,
keeping my eyes on the road,
and grabbed the phone from
the pocket of my maid’s
uniform. It was Jeremy
texting me. Shit, shit shit, I
thought, my heart starting to
race once more, my mind
leaping to imaginary
scenarios – all of which
ended in blood. It would be
my body tucked underneath a
bed this time.

Hey. You should go to the
gym after work. Just a
suggestion, the text read. I
nearly slammed my foot on
the brake in utter bafflement.
Instead, I started laughing. A
psychotic sort of laugh,
hysterical and high-pitched.

What a fucking day for one of
Jeremy’s suggestions.

Fucking rat bastard, you
finally threw me a fucking
bone, rot in hell you wife-
beating piece of shit, I
thought, loudly, that same
strange voice overwhelming
Jeremy’s in my head. I
stopped laughing. I had no
idea where those thoughts
came from. I’d never thought
that way about my husband
before.

But it wasn’t just a thought…
it was a feeling. I was mad.
Mad as hell. And…free. I
pressed the pedal harder.
Now, it would be 7:00 or later
before Jeremy realized I
wasn’t coming home. I had
three hours to make time
before he even suspected
anything. The mountains
around me were already
gradually falling lower,
preparing to make way for the
high deserts of Utah.

Everything inside me was at
war, it seemed. Fear and rage,
sense and whimsy, love and
hate, self-defeat and
encouragement. I plastered a
smile on my face as I sped
past a state trooper.
Obviously, the guy couldn’t
see it, but it made me feel a
little better about the duffel
bag under my seat.

Once the trooper was out of
sight, I tapped out a quick
reply to Jeremy’s text.

Good idea baby, I’ll be home
around 7, want me to make
lasagna? I needed him to
think it was all a normal day,
a normal night, for as long as
possible. I waited, agitation
increasing, for him to text me
back. I wanted to turn my
phone off. He could be
tracking me right then, for all
I knew. Deciding to beat him
to the punch, I tapped out
another message.

Phone dying and I think the
car charger is broken, wasn’t
working this morning, I’ll see
you at home, I’ll buy pasta in
case you want me to make the
lasagna but we can also do
take-out. Love you, have a
good rest of the day!

And with that, I shut my
phone off. Remembering
something I’d seen once on
Law and Order, I struggled
with the case while trying to
keep my car straight on the
road. Finally, violently, the
back of my phone popped off
and I took the battery out,
tossing all the parts of the
phone back onto the
passenger seat. Now, I was
totally screwed if I needed to
find out where the hell I was,
but at least I didn’t have to
worry about being tracked.

Unless he could track the car.

Fuck.

Just get to Utah, for now,
Gabby, I thought, surprising
myself once more by
referring to myself by my
childhood nickname. Jeremy
didn’t like that name, and I’d
stopped going by it after we
started dating. It’s a wonder
what a car full of cash can do
for you. What sorts of
changes impulsivity can
breed. How one little decision
– regardless of whether or not
you were even thinking when
you made it – can change
every single thing about you,
about your life, your future.

And then, on the flipside,
how easy it can be to barrel
sideways into someone’s life
when you’re riding high on
that decision. How someone
will let you in, only to find
out later that you’re bringing
a heap of trouble with you.
And how amazing it can be
when you find out they don’t
care, that they think you just
might be worth it.

But I’m getting ahead of
myself, aren’t I?

The farther and farther I got
from the mountains that had
been my home (and, now that
I look back on it, my prison)
for three years, I started to
feel more and more wild and
invincible. Each mile I put
between me and Jeremy
seemed to take away an hour
that I’d spent under his spell.
The bruise above my eye
throbbed. I looked at it in the
rearview, and started to forget
why, exactly, I had let him do
it to me. Why I’d covered it
up.

Well, I’d known why I’d
covered it up. I couldn’t
exactly go to the cops. He
was the cops. The whole
force was friends with him,
and I knew that going to the
police would just get me in
deeper trouble than ever.

But how could I have stayed
through all those nights of
crying, all those empty bottles
of concealer, all those
warning signs that it wasn’t
going to get better?

Because, really, I’d believed
for a long time that things
“were going to get better”.
Either I’d figure out just what
it was Jeremy wanted from
me, who he wanted me to be,
and be able to do it and
become that person and we’d
both be happy, or he’d realize
I wasn’t ever going to be who
he wanted me to be and give
me a break. For three years
I’d really, truly believed that,
even though everything was
screaming at me that it wasn’t
the case.

Love is stupid. Love is stupid,
stupid, stupid.

I’m not saying that I went
from Rihanna to Beyonce in a
matter of an hour and a half,
but there was definitely a
shift inside me. I wasn’t the
same beat-up little girl that
had left the house that
morning. I was one part mad,
one part panicked, one part
elated, and one part numb.

And, if things went perfectly,
I’d be 100% rich and living
free in Argentina – or
wherever – by the end of the
week.

I just had to get to Utah first.
 ~ 4 ~

Once the sun started setting, a
lot of my confidence and the
anger that had driven me so
far began to wane. It was
hotter down here, though the
night air still had a bite to it.
The Rockies loomed behind
me, the desert stretching out
in front. I’d passed Moab,
home of Arches national
park, and started heading
south. All I knew was that if I
kept heading south, I’d hit the
border eventually, and have
some semblance of safety.

It was around 9pm; if Jeremy
had thought I’d been running
late, he probably knew
something was up by now. I
hoped, prayed, that his first
instinct was that something
had happened to me, not that
I’d run off. I hoped that he
still thought I was too stupid
and weak to leave.

If he called work, well…no
one from housekeeping
would be there to tell him I’d
left early, and even if he
heard about it the next day or
someone at the front desk told
him, the timeline would be
way too close for him to
know whether I’d texted him
before or after “getting sick”.
I was happy I hadn’t clocked
out. The less of a paper trail,
the better. They’d only be
able to say it was “4-ish” or
“around 4”, and “4-ish” is
when I texted him that my
phone was dying.

And if they told him I’d
gotten sick…

But my mind was just racing
around in circles, chasing the
same thoughts, the same
possible-but-unpredictable
scenarios. It wasn’t getting
me anywhere but tired. I had
put some serious mileage in
between Jeremy and I; thank
God for deserted country
roads, where speed limits are
more like suggestions than
hard-and-fast rules.

I began to look for
somewhere I could get a bite
to eat, maybe even a room for
the night. The thought of
staying in one place for the
next eight hours made me a
little extra panicky, but I’d
worked all day and was
exhausted from the adrenaline
rush and constant anxiety. All
those greenbacks wouldn’t
mean a damn thing if I fell
asleep at the wheel and drove
myself into a canyon.

As I rode along, the desert lay
on either side of me, and in
front of me, like a great, big
blanket of nothing. Distant,
strange shapes of arches and
rocky outcroppings faded into
the dark sky. I sat forward,
straining my eyes. Finally,
after what felt like forever of
nothing but the same-old-
same-old, I saw a sign for the
next exit.

Ditcher’s Valley, 5 mi.

Ditcher’s Valley: if that
doesn’t sound like the kind of
place that was made for wives
on the run, I don’t know what
does. I knew it couldn’t have
been a very big town, but I
also needed to get gas and
assumed that there would be a
Texaco or something else
there where I could get
directions to a bigger town
with a hotel, or at least a plate
of microwave nachos.

Damn, but gas station
microwave nachos sounded
like a meal from paradise in
that moment. Jeremy didn’t
like when I indulged in
“crap”. Jeremy didn’t like
when I did a lot of things.

Screw him, stuff your face
with that gross, melty cheese,
I thought with a smile, still
testing out these waters.

Ditcher’s Valley had a
population just under 2,000,
if you believed the highway
sign that welcomed you in.
The first place I saw that
looked open had everything I
needed: motel, bar,
restaurant. The whole kit and
caboodle.

I still didn’t feel that great
about the idea of stopping on
my journey for the night, but
logic won out in the end. I
needed to get some sleep. I
really did. I could feel my
brain doing that thing where
I’d realize ten minutes had
passed and I couldn’t tell you
a damn thing about what I’d
been thinking about. That,
plus a dark highway, did not
bode well for my personal
safety.

I pulled into the parking lot,
noting with some surprise the
abundance of motorcycles
outside. It seemed like this
place catered to exactly one
sort of person: bikers. Oh
well, what did I care? I was
just there to get a room and a
meal, not make a bunch of
friends and do karaoke.

I checked myself in the
rearview before opening my
car door; the concealer had
mostly worn off by then, my
face slightly streaked from
the sweat that had poured
down my face during the ride.
I looked, to be honest, like
shit. First stop would be the
bathroom, for sure. Just
because I didn’t have anyone
to impress didn’t mean I
wanted to walk around like a
slob, either.

As I was about to shut the car
door, I remembered the duffel
bag under the seat. I mean, I
hadn’t really forgotten it
(how could I?), but I realized
that I probably shouldn’t
leave an indiscriminate
amount of cash in a bag in my
car outside of a biker bar.
Hoisting it out and clutching
it tight to my chest, I crossed
the wide front porch outside
the bar and ducked inside,
trying to be as inconspicuous
as possible.

I didn’t have to try very hard.
The bar was full, wall-to-
wall, with loud, rowdy,
boisterous bikers of both
genders. It wasn’t so loud that
I couldn’t hear myself talk,
but it was definitely loud
enough to make me feel
splendidly anonymous. I
spotted the ladies’ room and
made a beeline for it; it was a
single-person bathroom, for
which I was thankful.

After splashing some water in
my face, washing away the
concealer, I went back into
the bar. I didn’t see any place
that specifically seemed to
deal with the motel portion of
the bar/restaurant, so I went
straight to the bar, where a
few bartenders were making
chitchat with the clientele. No
one seemed in much of a rush
to get their drinks, and money
never seemed to pass any
hands as I waited for
someone to spot me.

Finally, one of the older
women, who was really
gorgeous despite being in her
late thirties, came over to me.
She was wearing a black
leather vest over a tight white
tank top and hip-hugging
jeans. She looked like the sort
of women who’d never let a
man raise a hand to her. I
envied her.

“What can I do ya for,
sweetheart?” she said, her
eyes running over me,
lingering on the bruise above
my eye and the bag I held
clutched tight to my chest.

“A room? Is this where I can
rent a room?” I asked, raising
my voice slightly to be heard.
It felt weird to speak loudly;
living with Jeremy, I’d
learned to affect a sort of
whisper as my default
speaking volume.

“Yup, we got rooms,” she
said, leaning back and
reaching for something under
the bar. “Single room is 60
bucks, with tax that’s…72.79.
Cash or charge, hun?”
Despite her liberal use of
endearments, she sounded
like she didn’t trust me, or
just generally disliked me off
the bat.

“Cash,” I said, wishing I’d
taken the time to take some of
the hundreds from the duffel
bag and put them in my
wallet. I’d left my purse in
the car. “Um, hold on, I have
to go get my wallet.”

“Alright,” she said, eyes
narrowed as she watched me
walk away. I trotted to my car
and quickly unzipped the
duffel bag, grabbing my
wallet and slipping three
hundreds from a wad of cash
into the billfold.

Back in the bar, I had to wait
a little longer before the
bartender came back. I
handed her a hundred.

“Um, I also need some food?
If you got…well,” I said,
stuttering now. When was the
last time I’d ordered for
myself at a restaurant? I
couldn’t remember.

“We ain’t got a big menu,
doll. Burgers and wings,
pretty much.”

“Give me…whatever, I guess,
the least healthy thing you
have. Bacon cheeseburger?
And fries?”

“Alright, that’ll come to just
bought ninety with the room,”
she said, taking my cash.

“Keep the change,” I said,
hoping that a big tip would
change the sour look on her
face. She nodded and slipped
a key across the bar to me.

“Room 7. It’s on the far side
back there,” she said,
gesturing vaguely to the left.
“You wanna go get settled in,
your food should be ready
when you get back.”

“Thanks,” I said, clutching
the duffel bag even tighter to
me as I left the bar again. I
drove around to the area
where she’d directed me,
inching down the row of
rooms until I saw 6, and then
7.

Parking and locking the car, I
breathed a sigh of relief as I
opened the door and saw that
the room wasn’t nearly as
dingy or gross as I’d
imagined it would be. It was
small, and smelled funky, but
it looked comfortable enough
for the night.

I scanned the room, looking
for the safe. It was tucked
above the closet; following
the instructions, I set the
combination, automatically
using Jeremy’s birthday,
which had become my default
password for e-mail and
anything else that required
one; it had been his idea to
use each other’s birthdays.
He’d said random numbers
like that were good for
protection against hackers. I
think he just wanted to know
my password so he could spy
on me.

The duffel bag was a snug fit,
but it fit nonetheless. As soon
as I’d locked the safe, I felt
like a huge weight was lifted
off my shoulders. Now, if shit
really hit the fan, I could just
ditch it and head home or
whatever. I could always say
that the safe had been locked
when I got there. I realized
that I was still wearing my
maid’s uniform; I wondered
if that explained some of the
bartender’s strange looks.

I wanted a shower, but not as
much as I wanted to dig into a
hot, fresh burger, so I decided
to change and head back to
the bar before cleaning up. I
wasn’t sure which would be
less conspicuous: gym clothes
or the outfit I’d worn to work
that day. I decided it didn’t
matter and changed into the
comfier option, which was a
mix of the two. I didn’t have
anyone to impress, anyway.

Finally, I felt like I had my
shit together. I considered
throwing the maid’s uniform
away for good. That would
probably feel like real
freedom. But, I didn’t have an
abundance of clothes, and it
might come in handy.

I stopped and looked at
myself in the mirror before
going back into the night; my
workout leggings hugged my
curves, and I could hear
Jeremy’s condescending
voice in my head. The old,
faded, vintage t-shirt I’d worn
to work that day was tight
around my breasts, the only
part of me that Jeremy
encouraged me to show off.

I looked about as normal as I
could, considering the
circumstances. The only thing
that stood out was the ugly
welt above my forehead, but I
didn’t feel like putting on
more concealer. And who
cared? No one was going to
talk to me, and if they did, I’d
shut them down. I didn’t want
any trouble, and I didn’t plan
on making any trouble. I just
wanted to eat and sleep and
coast away come morning.

Back at the bar, I drew a little
more attention in my tight-
fitting clothes than I had in
my maid’s uniform. Plus, I
was no longer concealing half
my body with a duffel bag. I
approached the bar once more
and caught the eye of the
bartender who’d helped me
earlier; she nodded and
walked back towards the
kitchen, grabbing a steaming
plate and delivering it straight
to me. It smelled absolutely
heavenly.

And it tasted like the best
kind of sin.

As I munched my way
through the meaty, salty,
greasy, savory sandwich, I let
the background noise fade
away, focusing entirely on
that one moment. How long
had it been since I’d indulged
like this? Jeremy always kept
me on a strict diet,
disapproving of
“indulgences”. Of course, that
only applied to me and what I
ate; he went to town on
whatever he felt like,
whenever he felt like it.

I was pulled back into the real
world when the bartender
suddenly slammed a huge
drink in front of me. I looked
up at her, mouth full, eyes
questioning.

“Rum and coke. From that
guy,” she said, sounding a
little pissed. I looked where
she pointed, then promptly
wanted to spit my food out
onto the bar.

Holy fuck, but that guy was
hot.

He was looked at me, a sly
sort of half-grin on his face,
short stubble defining his
strong chin under a nose cut
from marble. Even in the dark
bar, I could see his crystal-
clear blue eyes, the color of a
strong-burning flame. His
dark, slightly curly hair hung
around his face like an anti-
halo. He was wearing a
leather jacket over a loose
white undershirt that showed
just the slightest hint of the
magnificent body underneath.
My heart skipped a beat. I
didn’t think that happened in
real life, but apparently it
does.

Automatically, without even
thinking about it, I grabbed
the drink and took a sip,
immediately recoiling once
the alcohol hit my tongue.
Jeremy didn’t approve of me
drinking; aside from a beer or
two at a work event or party
(his work event or party, I’ll
add), I hadn’t drank in the
three years we’d been
married. The taste of the rum
seemed exceptionally strong.
I coughed slightly, looking
back at the dreamboat who’d
bought me the drink. He was
chuckling slightly, those eyes
still lingering on me, his hand
coming up to cover his smile.
Charming. As. Shit.

He just feels bad for you
because of that knocker on
your forehead, I told myself.
There’s no way someone like
him could like someone like
you, you cow. Besides, what,
are you gonna hop into bed
with the first guy who’s nice
to you? Slut.

Shut up, Jeremy, said that
other voice, that new voice,
the voice that I was starting to
like quite a bit. Go for it,
Gabriella. Seal the deal.
Make the break complete.
When’s the last time Jeremy
looked at you with half the
interest this guy’s showing?
You deserve to feel good for
once. Drink up.

I was as torn as I’d ever been
in my life. But what the hell.
I’d dug my grave deep
enough, in my opinion, and
one drink wasn’t going to get
me out – or dig me any
deeper. I smiled back at the
handsome stranger, waved,
and took another sip, this
time hoping I looked coy and
demure and grateful.

I was rewarded by a nod –
and then thrown into a panic
when the man rose from his
place at the bar and came to
my side. I desperately
swabbed at my greasy lips,
cursing myself for having
ordered the most disgusting
thing on the menu.

I gulped at the drink, needing
liquid courage.

Needing any courage I could
get my hands on.

That “Jeremy” voice inside
me was still screaming at me
for being stupid, for being
silly, slutty, pathetic, worn-
out, ugly, fat…

“What’s a pretty gal like you
doing in a place like this,” the
stranger asked as he
approached me, leaning into
the seat next to mine. I’m
pretty sure I responded, but I
think it was just a strangled,
choking sound.

He was even better looking
up close.

I could make out the hint of
tattoos crawling up his neck
from the deep V of his shirt,
and across the backs of his
hands. His leather jacket was
adorned with patches. One
larger than the others, said
“Black Smoke MC”.

His eyes fell on the bruise
above my eye, his brow
furrowing, his hand coming
up to brush it gently. His
touch was like being
electrified. Perhaps it was the
boldness of the motion; we
didn’t even know each
other’s names, but he’d
already made contact with
me; a very sensitive part of
me, to boot. Perhaps it was
the way I was looking at his
lips as he did it, his pouty,
gorgeous lips. Perhaps it was
the booze, or the leftover
adrenaline from my rather
eventful day. Whatever it
was, it sealed my fate, even
though I didn’t know it at the
time.

“Got something to do with
this?” he’d asked when he’d
brushed his fingers against
my forehead. My mind
dragged behind him, trying to
figure out what he was
asking, the small amount of
alcohol I’d had mingling with
the unusually fatty and
carbohydrate-laden meal I
was eating to create a general
feeling of confusion in me.
Alright, so I was confused for
more reasons than just the
booze and burger, but I didn’t
want to admit it at the time.

“It’s a birthmark,” I blurted
out, flinching even as I said
it. Of all the stupid excuses
I’d made for the marks
Jeremy left on me, that was,
without a doubt, the stupidest
to ever cross my lips. The
stranger’s eyebrows raised in
half-amusement, half-
concern.

“Is that so?” he said, his voice
low and sultry. I gulped down
more of my drink, realizing
with no small dismay that it
was the last gulp – I’d
downed the whole thing in a
matter of minutes. And for
someone who never drank…
well, you can imagine how
that might have affected me. I
felt warm all over, and
suddenly a lot friendlier.

“Actually, no,” I said, hearing
the slightest slur in my words.
What are you doing,
Gabriella? One part of me
asked.

Getting what I fucking want
for once, said that other
voice, that new voice. And
even if my real voice was
slurring, that voice seemed
straight sober.

“That’s exactly the reason
I’m here,” I heard myself say.
“I’m ditching the guy who
did it.”

“Well, if I ever heard
something that called for a
damn drink, that’s it,” the
stranger said, flashing me
another crooked grin. They
have yet to invent a word to
describe what happened in
my pants, or my surprise at
the feeling. He pounded on
the bar, attracting the
attention of the bartender and
making an “another” gesture
with his hand. She obliged,
but not without a sour look in
his direction. He offered me
his hand, not turning to me,
snaking his hand underneath
his shoulder in a nonchalant
way that was confusingly
suave.

“Reign,” he said. “Like a
king, not the weather.”

“What?” I asked, stupidly,
taking his hand in a limp
shake that belied the sharp,
short shock that went through
me when we touched.

“My name,” he said, looking
at me out of the corner of his
eye. I could only make out
one side of his face, but I
could see the grin on him
stretching from ear to ear. I
blushed.

“Gabriella,” I said. Gabby,
said that new voice in me.
But not yet; I couldn’t, not
yet.

I have another confession to
make, dear reader. Jeremy
was not only my first and
only husband, and the first
and only man I’d ever let
raise his hand against me, he
was also my first and only
lover.

And in the five years we’d
been sleeping together, he’d
never once made me come.

He’d gotten me close, a few
times, but he seemed to enjoy
keeping me in a perpetual
state of sexual limbo. For that
matter, I’d never been one to
masturbate. That, at least, had
nothing to do with Jeremy.

I’d just always wanted to be
able to orgasm with someone
I loved, and I thought that if I
masturbated I might
“desensitize” myself to that
sort of touch. Even when it
became clear, throughout the
marriage, that Jeremy was
never going to give me the
sort of release they write
about in romance novels and
talk about in Cosmo, I didn’t
think it was going to help the
situation if I took it upon
myself to get the job done.

At 27, you could say I was
long overdue for it.

And what I’d felt when the
stranger touched me, when he
looked at me…that spark, like
a shaft of light jolting through
me, told me that even though
I had just met him, and
certainly didn’t love him, he
had the potential to give me
what Jeremy never had.

And that new voice inside me
was hungry for it.

“Hey,” the stranger said,
turning to me somewhat
abruptly from the bar. “If you
had a theme park, what kind
would you have? What would
the theme be, rides and
stuff?”

I drew a deep breath in
surprise. What kind of
question was that? Especially
after…well, it didn’t seem
like quite the normal response
to an admission like mine.

“Well…I don’t know. Um…”
I said, brain stuttering along.
He was looking at me
patiently, a smile on his face
that just begged to be
returned. So I did. You know
how they say that when
you’re not happy you should
just smile, and it will fool
your brain into feeling
happy? I can attest to that,
from that experience. Smiling
at him put me at ease, made it
okay that I was totally
blindsided by his question
and must have seemed pretty
stupid as I racked my brain
for a clever answer.
Everything, it seemed, was
easy with this guy.
 ~ 5 ~

How many stories start by
spotting someone across a
bar? Taking a chance on
them? Maybe just for the
night, maybe for a night and a
morning, but maybe…

Reign watched the girl, who
was clearly enjoying the
absolute hell out of her
burger. Enjoying it so much,
you’d think she’d never had
red meat or cheese before.
She had beautiful, long black
hair that waved gently around
her face, which just seemed
so damn…kissable. She was a
thicker girl, but that only
made him like her more. A lot
more. He thought about what
it would be like to run his
hands down her sides, pry
open her beautiful, soft
thighs…

He couldn’t see, in the
dimness and the distance, the
welt above her eye that
would, soon, tell him
everything he needed to know
about how she’d come to be
there.

He could only see her
expression of unadulterated
pleasure as she ate, like a
child indulging in a stolen
cookie from the cookie jar,
the way she closed her eyes,
breathed through her nose,
with each bite. He bit his own
lips reflexively.

I’d like to take a bite of you,
he thought, watching her,
hoping his energy would
reach her somehow. It didn’t,
obviously, but he wasn’t shy.
There was no reason to be
shy. If she rejected him, so
what? If she didn’t…

Well, they’d both have a hell
of a night. He’d make sure of
it.

And who knew? Maybe it
wouldn’t just be a night…

But Reign shook that
possibility from his head,
knowing that, just like every
other girl who came in and
out of his life, she would just
be around for a while. And
what did he want some girl
clinging around him for,
anyway? He didn’t need an
old lady. Not yet.

Though he wondered how
she’d look in leather, hair
windblown as they rolled
down the highway…

“Honey,” Reign said, calling
to the bartender who’d served
the girl her burger. “I wanna
buy that girl a drink. What do
you think? Rum and coke?”

“Ummm, anything virgin’s
more like it, buddy. She’s
jumpy as a jackrabbit on a
coke binge, and twice as
cagey,” Honey said, her
disapproval of Reign’s choice
for the night coming through
her eyes.

“Make it a strong rum and
coke, then,” Reign said,
rapping on the bar and
shooting her a “don’t-stick-
your-nose-in-this” look.
Honey shrugged and made
the drink, delivering it to the
girl, who looked surprised,
then nervous, then
embarrassed. She looked over
in Reign’s direction, and he
saw the unmistakable flicker
of “holy shit” that crossed her
face.

And then the wave.

And then, locked in like a
photon torpedo, he made his
move.

As he got closer and her face
grew clearer, he saw the
bruise above her eye for the
first time. She was guzzling
the drink heartily; that didn’t
necessarily make him happy
to see, since he preferred to
spend his time with girls who
could actually think for
themselves and weren’t
puking on their shoes, but as
his mind put together the
puzzle pieces (the way she’d
been eating, the bruise, her
very presence in the bar in the
first place), he thought she
needed that drink more than
even she knew.

She’d need a lot of things.

And even if she refused some
of what he wanted to offer,
the sexy stuff, he knew he’d
still want to help her get what
she needed in any way he
could.

After all, he’d been in much
the same place as her when
he’d come to Ditcher’s
Valley, all those years ago.
Running away from a broken
home where fists flew more
often than kisses. And he’d
been lucky to be taken in,
taken care of, set back on his
feet and given the chance to
find himself, be happy.

And he was interested in
paying that forward,
whenever he could.

Starting with another drink
for Ms. Gorgeous Runaway
over here. And maybe a touch
that wouldn’t hurt, if she’d let
him.

He hoped, harder than ever as
he took in her voluptuous
body, that she would.
 ~ 6 ~

“…and a bike ride on Mars
thing, with a Led Zeppelin
laser show, you know, anti-
gravity bike riding in space.
Gravitron, of course. And…a
Martian photo booth. Martian
laser tag, maybe you have to
fight evil aliens who want to
eat you. A zero-gravity bar,
powdered vodka and all that
shit. Anti-gravity sex room!”

“Stop, stop, please! Reign’s
Grown Up Space Camp…I
can’t!” I said, snorting, acting
quite unladylike, my hand
over my mouth to try and
control myself. I almost
thought I was going to wet
my pants from laughing so
hard.

“So, Reign, you’re what, 27?
28? I’m good at guessing
ages,” I said once I’d calmed
down enough to stand up
straight. We were standing
outside the bar, enjoying the
evening, so much warmer
than I was used to up in the
Rockies.

He was smoking a cigarette; I
was half-drunk and eying the
cigarette somewhat
enviously. I’d been a smoker
when I met Jeremy and, you
guessed it, had quit upon his
suggestion. I enjoyed being a
non-smoker, didn’t miss it
much, but, hell, I’d broken all
my other rules that night, and
a smoke sounded like as good
a way to keep the train rolling
as any.

It had been so long since
someone asked me so many
questions about myself,
seemed to care about the
answers. Laughed at my
jokes. Smiled at me.

Don’t I sound desperate as
hell? Would it make it any
better if I told you that I
wouldn’t have been talking to
him at all if he wasn’t also so
damn handsome, as well as
charming? I mean, this would
be any girl’s dream
regardless of the
circumstances. That crooked,
boyish grin, that easy laugh…
trust me, ladies, if you’d been
in my shoes you’d hold your
judgement.

“Close, 29,” he said. He
seemed to notice where my
eyes were lingering and held
his pack of cigarettes out to
me; Parliaments, my old
brand. It was fate! I laughed
as I felt my hand go up to the
offered pack, certainly not
responding to any conscious
demand from my brain. But
why not? I was feeling good;
two drinks in, hamburger
slowly digesting in my
stomach, a handsome man at
my side, why not? I let him
light the cigarette for me,
began to cough violently as
soon as I took the first drag.

“Been awhile?” he asked,
eyebrows raised as he tried to
hide amusement. I let him off
the hook, laughing at myself.
God, it felt good to laugh.

“Five years,” I croaked,
smoke still streaming from
my mouth and nostrils. The
second drag, though, went
down okay, even if it felt a
little scratchy. By the third, I
remembered how good a
cigarette felt combined with a
few drinks. The fourth, I was
considering buying my own
pack. But, I knew that was a
dangerous path to go down,
Jeremy or no Jeremy.
Smoking in 2015 seemed as
stupid as drinking while
pregnant. I stubbed out the
cigarette, only a little
disappointed.

“He make you quit?” Reign
suddenly asked, his smile
fading as he brought up
Jeremy. I’d told him the bare
minimum: cop husband, me
on the run. We’d changed the
subject quickly. This wasn’t
the time or place to linger on
the past – even the very, very
recent past.

The mere mention of “him”
actually drove a cold stake
through my heart, made the
night seem a little chillier,
bristled the hair on my arms. I
wasn’t safe yet. I was still in
the States, not far enough
away. I still had my damn
car. Maybe he already knew
where I was…maybe he was
headed there right now…and
I was, what, drinking and
flirting with a stranger? Real
fucking smart, Gabriella. Just
sit like a damn duck in a
frozen pond.

“Shit, sorry,” Reign said,
picking up on the change in
my mood. “I didn’t mean to
drag you down.”

“No, no, it’s fine, you, uh,
you gave me a little wake-up
call is all,” I said, my words
coming out slow and heavy as
my brain imagined all the
horrible things that would
happen when he found me. If
he found me. When he found
me. If/when.

“You know, you don’t have
to be afraid of him, not here,
at least,” Reign said, cocking
his head to the side.

“And why’s that?” I asked,
distracted by my own brain,
barely even registering what
he was saying.

“Just…trust me. Anyone like
him, he’d not be welcome
here. Cop or no cop, he
doesn’t have any sway
around these parts,” Reign
said, suddenly moving a bit
closer. I responded by
backing up. You don’t know
Jeremy, I thought.

“Really, I mean it. If you
haven’t figured it out yet,
everyone in that bar is
looking out for each other.
And we’ll look out for you,
too, if you need us to,” Reign
said, his eyes seeming to
grow deeper with each word.
I wanted to believe him,
wanted to believe those
gorgeous eyes, but I’d just
met him. And he’d just met
me. He just wanted to get into
my pants, anyway.

“Yeah, okay, well, I should
probably…” I said, starting to
turn away, meaning to end
this madness, go to my room,
sleep until I was sober and
get back on the road. He
stopped me, grasping my
arm. Oh god, the feel of his
hand on my bicep…Jesus
Christ. It was a light grip, not
forceful, but it sent shivers
throughout my entire body,
seemed like electricity
coursing through me.

“How’d you do that?” I
blurted out, turning to face
him, the alcohol only adding
the confusion I felt about my
body’s reaction to his touch.

When’s the last time Jeremy
grabbed your arm without
leaving a bruise, I thought.

“Do what?” Reign said,
cocking his head once more,
his expression increasingly
concerned. I shook my head,
as though I could physically
shed the feeling that his touch
had left me with. A fluttering,
heart-racing feeling. A warm
feeling.

A safe feeling. An exciting
feeling.

“Nothing, nothing, I just…I
drank too much,” I said,
pulling my arm away and
rubbing at the spot he’d
touched.

“No, you didn’t. Something
happened. After I mentioned
him. You’re afraid, and you
shouldn’t be. Every moment
you spend afraid of him is
another moment he wins,”
Reign said, our conversation
no longer the lighthearted
frolic of getting-to-know-you
it had been.

“Well, sorry, it’s just all
happening so quickly,” I said,
getting defensive. “And I’m
not safe. He could be tracking
my car. I need to…I need to
get out of the States. I need a
new car, and I need to get to
Mexico.”

“We can get you a car,”
Reign said.

“Why? Why would you want
to do that? Why are you even
talking to me? Why do you
want to help me?” I asked,
my mind trying to make sense
of him. This strange,
stunning, charming, man
before me, like another of the
day’s bizarre gifts from God,
who seemed to only want to
help me. It wasn’t what I’d
ever expected from life, to
find kindness in a stranger.
Not, at least, since Jeremy
had come into my life. “You
just want to bang me!”

Reign suddenly smiled,
seeming almost like he was
stifling laughter. My heart
fell. Of course he doesn’t
want to bang you, you fatass.
He just watched you scarf
down a burger, and look at
him! He’s a goddamn God!
And you? You’re…you’re just
a fat girl with a black eye.

“Well, you ain’t too far off. I
mean, there’s a reason I
bought you that drink. But I
want to help you because I
know where you are. I been
there, too. Takes one to know
one, as they say. I’d help you
no matter what. If I was lucky
enough to get to see you in
your birthday suit, well…
that’d just be a bonus for
me,” he said. His eyes told
me that he was being truthful.
I blushed, now embarrassed,
and more than a little turned
on by the idea of being naked
with him.

I hadn’t felt turned on in a
long, long time.

And why shouldn’t you feel
turned on? He’s hotter than
Jeremy by a country mile,
and he’s interested in you.
Shit, Gabby, you better take
his hand right now and drag
him straight to your motel
room. If you don’t, you’ll
regret it forever. This is your
clean break. Make it a little
dirty, why don’t you? For
once in your life…

Do what you want.

My heart was pounding, my
face flushed. Was I really
going to…was this really…he
kept looking at me, just
looking, like I was a piece of
pie he wanted to slather in
whipped cream, like I was
worth looking at. I could feel
my pussy responding to his
gaze, melting under his blue
eyes…

“Come to my room,” I said,
the words flying from my
mouth before I even realized I
was saying them. One hand
automatically came to cover
my lips as they gaped open, a
comical “o”. Reign’s
eyebrows raised once more, a
grin coming over his face,
shaking his head slightly.

“I don’t think you thought
that through,” he said, as
though speaking to a foolish
child. Which is exactly how I
felt as I stood there blushing.

“I don’t…I’m sorry…” I
stuttered through my hands,
just about ready to crawl
under a rock from
mortification.

“Don’t apologize,” Reign
said, the grin fading from his
face as he looked at me, eyes
slowly growing darker.
“Unless you mean to take it
back.”

He stepped closer to me, his
hand coming up once more to
my bicep, this time stroking
the flesh there softly, making
my chest constrict, all the air
seeming to leave my body,
my hair standing on end. I’m
pretty sure I made a sound,
unintentionally, a soft
mewling sound.

I didn’t mean to take it back.
I meant to take it further.

In a blind rush, I grabbed for
him, acting on instinct alone,
my palm against the back of
his neck, under the wisps of
curling hair that fell around
his shoulders, pulling him in
towards me until his lips
landed on mine. He tasted
like sweet honey and whiskey
and smoke and everything
free.

Something inside of me broke
in two.

His hands came to my hips,
pulling me into him, and I
parted my legs automatically,
without thinking. I wanted to
wrap them around him right
then, rub my pussy against
him. I hadn’t felt myself so
alive, so aroused, in years. As
his tongue danced in my
mouth, I felt his thigh press
gently between my knees,
inviting me to move closer to
him.

I did, my own tongue now
tentatively darting into his
mouth, tasting him. With my
eyes closed I felt him press
his leg upward, between my
thighs, and moaned into his
mouth, my body trembling as
it flooded with desire for the
first time in so long. My clit
jumped as the tough denim of
Reign’s jeans pressed against
the thin fabric of my
leggings, then strained
forward, wanting more.

With a sudden grunt, Reign
pulled back, his hands
remaining on my hips, his
eyes looking down into mine,
all fire and need.

“Are you sure?” he said, his
voice low and rough, almost
like a caress in my mind. It
drew another burst of shivers
from my body. I nodded,
unable to speak, only wanting
to taste him on my lips once
more. But I didn’t have the
chance; at least not then. He
grabbed my wrist, pushing
me away while
simultaneously pulling me
along the side of the bar
towards the motel rooms
lined up side-by-side.

“Seven,” I said, breathless,
mind turned into a lightning
storm, clouded and
tempestuous. I could barely
remember my own name, but
I could remember my room
number perfectly well. Reign
looked back at me as he
pulled me forward, my feet
stumbling over themselves in
my agitated state.

As though suddenly
remembering the bruise
above my eye, and what that
could mean, he slowed down,
letting me catch up to him,
and we walked abreast to the
room, his arm coming around
my waist and sending little
tendrils of excitement through
me.

I dropped the keys trying to
open the door, then took too
long trying to get the key to
fit the lock. Meanwhile,
Reign was being categorically
unhelpful by tracing his
tongue along my neck,
planting feathery light kisses
across my skin. A part of me
wanted to cry. What have I
been doing all my life, why
have I waited so long to feel
so good, why couldn’t Jeremy
make me feel like this?

Finally, I managed to get the
door open and we stumbled
in. I automatically turned off
the light that I’d left on, but
Reign turned it back.

“I want to see your beautiful
body,” he said. I was standing
in front of the bed, at a loss
now that we were here. I
hadn’t really let myself plan
that far ahead. What did I do
now? I hadn’t ever been with
anyone with Jeremy. I knew
what he liked, knew his
desires better than I even
knew my own, but not this
stranger. Not this mysterious,
sexy, intoxicating stranger. I
didn’t know where to begin,
and I felt panic rising in my
chest as I worried about
disappointing him, about not
performing up to his
standards.

“I…” I started to say, wanting
to apologize before I made a
total fool of myself.

“Please, stop talking,” he
said, moving across the room
towards me, the look in his
eyes silencing any thoughts
that could have come
tumbling from my mouth. His
hands came to my shoulders
and he looked down on me,
as though I was the only thing
he’d ever wanted. I shivered
under his touch, under his
gaze. “Sit down.”

I did so, without thinking, not
taking my eyes from him. I
was eye-level with his crotch,
and automatically reached out
to undo his belt and jeans,
thinking that it was blowjob
time. That’s how Jeremy
always started things…

I was surprised to feel my
hand swatted away, surprised
to see Reign drop down
before me, crouching in front
of me, so that we were eye to
eye.

“You’re so fucking
beautiful,” he murmured, his
hands coming to my shirt and
rolling it upwards.

“Please, no,” I said, suddenly
shot through with another
rush of shame over my body.
I didn’t move to stop him, but
felt like crying as he exposed
my small but wide stomach,
my large breasts, all the parts
of me that had brought me so
much shame. His eyes darted
towards mine, almost
seeming angry, then
softening.

“You don’t even realize,” he
said, a hint of astonishment in
his voice. At the same time,
his hands came to my hips
once more, tickling up my
sides, making me close my
eyes and moan in pure
ecstasy. I leaned backwards
automatically, my body
delighting in his touch even
as my mind tried to make me
feel bad about my body.

I barely felt as he unclasped
my bra and threw it to the
side, his hands now coming
to my breasts and fondling
them gently, much more
gentle than Jeremy ever did.
Unlike my husband, who just
pawed at my breasts like they
were pillows that needed
fluffing, Reign’s hands
massaged them, a growing
warmth in my stomach as he
gently pushed me back
further onto the bed, rising
even as my back fell, leaning
over me.

Finally, I was lying on the
mattress, eyes closed in bliss
as his thumbs grazed my
nipples, now erect. I
shuddered, then moaned as I
felt one of his lips come
gently to my nipple, sucking
it in slightly, his tongue
rolling over it while his hand
favored my other breast,
tweaking the nipple between
his thumb and forefinger.

I could feel my slit flowing
with juices, my body turned
on in a way that hadn’t
happened in years, and I
squirmed underneath him, a
low-level frenzy developing
in my mind as he teased my
nipples, moving his mouth
from one to the other,
blowing over them in
between, the chill feeling
making me arch my back.

I almost cried out in
desperation when I felt his
head move from my breasts
and begin to trail down my
stomach, which fluttered
under his lips, my nerves
alive and aching for him. His
hands settled on the top of my
leggings and he yanked
downwards.

No. No way. This is not
happening, I thought when I
realized he was making right
for my wet, aching sex.
Jeremy never went down
there. No one else had, either.
A part of me cringed,
screamed for me to stop him,
that it was wrong, dirty,
gross. Another part of me
wanted to push his head
faster, to feel his tongue
against my aching clit, now
swollen and straining for
stimulation. I pushed myself
up onto my elbows.

“You don’t have to…” I
started to say, wanting to give
him an out, my two personas
fighting to the death over
whether or not I wanted him
to. His eyes flashed up into
mine and he reached out,
pressing me back down on
the bed, just forcefully
enough to tell me that he
wasn’t going to invite any
argument.

Oh god, oh god, oh Jesus, I
thought, my mind in an utter
frenzy as he drew closer and
closer to my now-exposed
slit, his fingertips tracing up
and down my thighs as he
lingered on my tummy, his
mouth promising delights that
I could never dream of even
as his fingers drove me into a
whirlwind of sensation, up
and down, up and down, my
inner thighs starting to quake
now as he let his fingers draw
just slightly nearer with each
stroke…

“Oh, holy fuck,” I screamed,
piercing the night, as his
tongue flicked over my clit,
suddenly, strongly,
unleashing a flood inside me
as I tried to contain myself.
The sensation was unbearably
delicious.

I grasped at his head
automatically, running his
soft, dark hair through my
fingers as he lapped at my
swollen clit steadily, his
tongue stiff against it, then
soft, then circling it, then
flicking over it, a pattern that
held me in a suspended state
of unbearable tension. He was
playing me like a master, my
body a finely-tuned violin, his
tongue the bow. My legs
wrapped around his head of
their own accord, pulling him
in closer.

“Oh, holy shit, shit, holy
fuck, Reign, shit,” I moaned,
over and over, his name
tasting like nectar in my
throat as he licked my pussy
methodically, masterfully.
My whole world was
narrowed and narrowed to an
ever-shrinking point, my clit
the center of my own
personal paradise, a fire rising
in my face as a pressure built
inside my pussy.

His tongue flicked and circled
and flicked and circled so
warm, so warm, so soft, and
my clit, his tongue, my body
stiff like a board, my legs like
tightly wound coils around
his neck, my hands pressing
his face forward, wild
abandon taking control of me
as he brought me closer and
closer and closer to some
destination, someplace I’d
never been, some shining
moment, that point growing
smaller and smaller as he
flicked and circled and
flicked and circled and tore
me apart with pleasure until
finally

I exploded, juices streaming
from me, body nearly
breaking from my muscles
snapping in sacred release.
My pussy clenched and
released, over and over, again
and again, my teeth gritted
together as I tried to make
sense of the sensations taking
over my body, my first
climax coming so hard and
fast that I almost couldn’t
believe it was happening at
all.

My fingers buried themselves
into Reign’s hair, clutching
desperately, my toes curling
tight to themselves. My hips
bucked under his mouth, and
my legs were like a vise
around his head. He hadn’t
stopped licking at my clit
even as it sent shockwaves of
pleasure through my body,
and as I began to sway gently
down from my peak I panted,
releasing him, his warm
tongue still dancing over my
slit, now lapping at my juices

I lifted myself up once more
on my elbows, panting and
goggle-eyed, head spinning
with the enormous pleasure
I’d just experienced for the
first time ever. I can’t believe
I waited so damn long for
that.

Reign looked up at me, his
come-hither eyes now smiling
as he pulled away from my
tender mound.

“I’ve never…I mean…that
was…” I tried to speak, but
couldn’t make sense of my
own voice, my own thoughts.
Reign wiped his mouth and
stood above me. My hands
came automatically,
desperately, back to his belt,
wanting to repay him. He let
me pull his jeans down,
exposing a cock that put
Jeremy’s to shame, massively
erect and throbbing before
my flushed face.

I gripped the base, my hand
stroking up to the plushy
head, looking up at him with
gratitude. In a single motion,
he’d removed his leather
jacket and shirt, revealing a
body that was sculpted from
marble, covered in tattoos,
with just a spattering of chest
hair crossing his broad, steely
pecs.

I leaned in, wanting to taste
him, but felt his hands on my
shoulders, keeping me at bay.
I looked up, confused, to see
him smiling wickedly, a
crooked grin that only
rekindled the flames inside
me.

“I want to feel you,” he said,
pushing me back even
further, coming between my
legs once more as I let my
body fall to the mattress. No
one had ever been inside me
besides Jeremy. My heart was
trapped in my throat, each
beat vibrating through my
body, as I closed my eyes and
prepared myself. “Is that
okay?”

He was asking me
permission? After what he’d
just done for me?

“Please,” I moaned, reaching
out to grab him closer, his
hard cock now pressing
against my gushing slit. Even
with just a centimeter of it
inside me, I could feel how
huge it was, how it stretched
my slit to its limit.

I kept my eyes on his as he
knelt onto the bed, and I
pushed myself back further
until we were both laying
down, the weight of him
against me thrilling and new.
His cock returned to my slit
and he pressed inside slowly,
slightly. I gasped, my pussy
stretching to fit his girth, a
new heat rising to my cheeks.

I grabbed his biceps, stroking
his skin, wanting more. He
looked at me with eyes like a
wolf about to take his mate,
and I felt lost in his gaze,
tumbling through nowhere,
the only things in the world
our two bodies bound
together in bliss. I cried out,
throwing my head back and
closing my eyes, as he
suddenly thrust into me, his
cock sliding easily into my
wetness, tearing my pussy in
two in a delicious moment of
combined pleasure and pain.

He throbbed inside me,
holding still for a moment,
my body beginning to glow in
some inner place, previously
unbeknownst to me. My
fingernails dug into his biceps
as he began to thrust into me,
slowly, gently, each pump
driving a cry from my mouth
as he filled me entirely with
his hardness, lighting up parts
of my deepest self that I’d
never even felt before.

My nerves were sparking like
fireworks, my face turning to
a fan of flames as heat
coursed through me with each
stroke, my eyes popping open
to meet his. My hips
automatically began to work
with him, rising and falling to
meet his pumps, my pussy
gushing around him as he
drove deeper and faster into
me.

Suddenly, he pushed one arm
underneath me, raising my
lower back, and with his next
stroke I felt him hit some
tender button inside me, some
field of untapped energy, my
mind sparking with electricity
as he pressed hard into it. My
nails dug into his flesh, my
free hand now coming to his
lower back and pulling him
in, my body only knowing
that it wanted more of what
he was giving me.

My legs clenched tight
around his waist as he thrust
into me, each time pounding
into that same spot, a hot air
balloon of pressure rising in
my stomach once more as my
eyes closed and my mouth
opened in a soundless cry,
muscles dancing up and down
with ecstasy. He began to
fuck me harder, no longer
holding back, his massive
cock driving into my body
almost violently, his hips
working at a breakneck pace,
his breathing growing
labored.

Turning my head to the side, I
could see his fingers
clenching the covers, feel his
body on top of me tense and
begin to shake. That balloon
of pressure was rising inside
me, rising, quickly, too
quickly, my eyes clenched
shut, my toes wiggled
frantically, my grip on his
bicep almost painful, lights
dancing before my eyes as
my body relented,
surrendered to him, melting
into a soft puddle of
shimmering pleasure, my
second climax making me
feel like I was levitating off
the bed, entering an
intoxicating dream world, my
pussy milking his cock as he
thrust it once more into me
with a shudder.

I barely registered the bursts
of cum that spouted from his
cock, massaging my pussy
walls as they clenched around
him, my body tingling all
over as I collapsed in an
exhausted puddle underneath
him, feeling him pulse inside
me with each burst of hot
cum, filling me entirely until
he finally slid out with a wet
plop, his cock trailing gooey
white cum down my thighs.

Jeremy, fuck you, I thought,
lazily, almost giddily, my
body now freed of the last
thing he held over me,
another man’s cum dripping
from my gushing slit, my
entire being a singular pillar
of dizzy bliss and ecstasy.
Reign slid onto the bed beside
me, our bodies too overheated
to even touch, both spent and
panting beside each other.

“Thank you,” I murmured
through closed eyes. He
turned to me, opened one eye
in a slit, chuckled.

“Sure, anytime, beautiful.
Holy shit,” he said, letting all
his breath out in a rush and
shaking his head. “I can’t
remember the last time I
came like that.”

“Really?” I said, lifting my
head in bafflement. Surely he
had girls by the dozen lining
up to experience a taste of
that amazing cock.

“You’re something else,
that’s all I have to say,” he
said, and I detected
something strange in his
voice, almost wistful. I turned
onto my side, looking at his
profile. My eyes fell on a
tattoo on his bicep, a Celtic
cross that wound around a
supplicating angel. I brought
one finger to it, tracing it
gently, and felt his skin react
to my touch. He turned to me
once more, no longer smiling,
his eyes fixing on my face
like I was the finish line of a
race.

“Can I stay for a while?” he
asked. He sounded
embarrassed, like that wasn’t
something he usually did. I
nodded. He turned on his
side. I thought, briefly, that
my little belly was probably
in an unattractive roll. But the
way he was looking at me I
knew it didn’t matter a single
bit. He stroked my cheek.

“Something else, indeed,” he
said.
 ~ 7 ~

“And…I mean, you don’t feel
bad? Being a one-percenter,
or whatever? Doing criminal
stuff all the time?” We were
still lying in bed, had been for
hours, minutes dripping away
as we talked about everything
and nothing at once. He had
been telling me about the
Black Smokes, his club,
apparently trusting me
enough – or at least not
threatened by me enough – to
let me in on some of the
grittier details of their
operation.

“Well, I don’t know, you
gotta look out for your own. I
don’t like doing bad things,
but if someone’s gonna do
something bad to you and
yours, well…better to beat
them to the punch, I guess.
We aren’t such bad guys, we
aren’t out there feeding drugs
to kids. Hell, we take care of
drug dealers, you know? Rip
‘em off, keep ‘em from
getting people hooked, I see it
as being Robin Hood,” Reign
said, eyes half-lidded. I was
surprised he was being so
open. I guess I wasn’t much
of a threat.

“Well, Kant would have a lot
to say about that,” I said with
a laugh. Reign looked at me
puzzled.

“Can’t would? Yeah, I guess,
if you aren’t in the life you
don’t have much of a right to
say anything…”

“No, no, not ‘can’t’. Kant.
Like, Immanuel Kant. He was
a philosopher,” I said, trying
to hide my amusement. Reign
looked slightly offended.

“Got no use for philosophers,
big talkers. None of his damn
business, if you ask me,” he
said, seeming upset to be told
something he didn’t know. I
got the impression that Reign
wasn’t used to “chicks” who
knew more than him about
any subject except lipstick
shades.

“Well, I guess that’s true,” I
said, conceding that it really
wasn’t any of the long-dead
German’s business what a
modern-day biker dude’s
personal philosophy was.

“What about the cops around
here, though?” I asked,
thinking about Jeremy, his
cop friends, the way they
seemed to rule every aspect
of my life. It’d been no less
than a miracle that I’d
snapped and taken the money
and run when I’d been too
afraid to even tell anyone
about Jeremy’s nasty habit of
speaking with his fists. Reign
scoffed.

“We own the cops in this
town. Shit, they love us. We
keep the drugs out of town,
we bring money in. Someone
tries to come in here and start
messin’ around, we take care
of ‘em. This is the wild West,
sweetheart. Vigilante justice
is our bag,” he said, a
confident smile coming over
his face. He was bragging,
like he was trying to impress
me.

“I don’t think I could live like
that, myself,” I said, hoping
to stroke his ego a bit. He
deserved it, after all the ways
he’d stroked me. “I don’t
even really know how to live
on my own.” Now that I’d
started speaking, I was saying
things that I hadn’t realized
I’d felt before they left my
mouth.

“I’m sure you know more
than you think. You’re just
confused right now, you
know? It’s a tough thing,
what you’re doin’. Ain’t got
no one to help you along the
way?”

I shook my head. Both my
parents had passed, I had no
siblings, no other family, and
my friends…well, I’d stopped
having friends the longer I
stayed with Jeremy. Because
he didn’t trust me to go out
with them on my own, and
thought they would poison
me against him. He’d never
said those things, of course,
but he made my life such
living hell whenever I tried to
keep up my friendships that I
eventually stopped trying.

There was no one on this
earth I could trust anymore.
That thought made me want
to start crying. But I didn’t
want to do that here, now, in
bed with this mysterious
stranger who’d helped me
climb that final mountain.
Attain that last peak, if you’ll
excuse my mixing metaphors.

“No, no. And it’s not just my
husband,” I said, lifting
myself up onto my elbows as
my mind turned. Should I tell
him the whole truth? About
the money and everything?
Because it really wasn’t just
escaping Jeremy that was
plaguing my spirit. If anyone
would understand, it seemed
he would. But he was
basically a stranger, still, and
he wasn’t being very
secretive about his criminal
habits. I’d be stupid to tell
him about the money. He
might not turn me in,
probably wouldn’t, but he’d
probably take it for himself
and his club.

“Oh?” he asked, and I
realized I’d been silent for a
while, thinking of how to tell
him that I was in trouble with
the law without telling him
exactly why. The solution, as
most things in life, was
actually simpler than I made
it out to be.

“I just…I had to do
something to get away, and
it’s not exactly legal. I can’t
stick around. I’ve got to get
somewhere safe, and soon. I
need to get to Mexico. I
have…I have money,” I said,
hoping he wouldn’t ask for
more details.

“And you think Mexico is
gonna be safe? Darlin’, do
you know anyone in Mexico?
Do you even speak Spanish?
You look like you might,” he
said. I was relieved he didn’t
pry into exactly what it was
I’d done; then again, it
seemed like that might be
some sort of criminal code. If
you meet a like-minded (or
luscious-bodied) person on
the run for something bad,
you helped before asking
questions. I shook my head at
his queries.

“What do you think is gonna
happen? You get ‘cross the
border, they hold a party for
you, welcoming to the great
country of Mexico? Shit, the
way you look, you don’t
wanna take two steps in that
place unless you got
bodyguards. They’d eat you
up, honeybuns,” he said.

I bit my lip. He sounded like
he knew what he was talking
about. Then again, after so
many years of mind games
from Jeremy, it was hard to
tell when someone was being
genuine and when someone
was being manipulative.

What if he was just trying to
get me to stay so he could
find out what it is I’d done;
maybe he had suspicions
about how much money I
had? I cursed myself for
telling him I had any money
at all. But what other reason
could he have for not wanting
me to hit the road as soon as
possible? Surely, he had
plenty of girls to choose
from, what with his kiss-me
lips and honey-come-here
eyes.

“I don’t know. I just figured
I’d be better off living free in
South America than on the
run here…”

“Sure, but you can’t just go
barging down to no man’s
land in a beater. You even
have a passport? I mean, not
your passport? They track
that shit, you know. Girl, you
best to stick around a few
days. I can help you. With the
car, sure, but I know people
down there. Let me make
some calls. And we’ll get you
some clothes, a new ID, all
that,” Reign said, leaning
back and closing his eyes as
though the discussion was
done.

“Well, thanks for the offer,
but I really feel more
comfortable…”

“You think you do, but you
won’t. Trust me. Nasty guys
down there at the border. You
don’t wanna risk your pretty
little neck. Let me get it all
set up for you. C’mon, let me
be a good Samaritan. You did
me a favor tonight, let me
repay you,” he said, opening
his eyes slightly, looking at
me through the corner.

“What kind of favor did I do
you tonight? Seems like you
did all the work,” I said,
unable to keep the blush from
my face and the excitement
from my voice as I
remembered what had
brought us to our current,
naked, lounging state.

“Just trust me, you done me a
whole lotta good,” he said,
suddenly reaching out and
grabbing me around the
shoulders, pulling me into his
broad, tattooed chest. I
breathed deeply, savoring the
smell of him, the musky,
leathery odor, so masculine
and rough. They should bottle
that scent, it’d get guys laid a
whole lot more than Axe.

Suddenly, the alarm clock
next to the bed went off. I
looked over; it was 8am. I’d
set the alarm as soon as I’d
gotten into the room, meaning
to be on the road as soon as I
could. 8 was the latest I’d
wanted to sleep. Now, I
hadn’t slept at all. Regardless
of whether or not I wanted to
take Reign up on his offers, I
wouldn’t be going anywhere
that day. Not on zero hours of
sleep. Not with my mind as
screwed up as it was.

“Shit,” Reign said, rolling
over. “Is it morning?”

The heavy curtains blocked
the entirety of the sun,
keeping us in the illusion of
constant evening. I nodded,
suddenly feeling very, very
tired. Reign’s hand crept up
my thigh, slowly. My body
shuddered, but I put my hand
on top of his, halting his
progress. I couldn’t do that
again now, as much as my
body might want it. I needed
sleep, and a shower, and time
to think without oxytocin
flooding my neurons.

“Sorry,” I said, hoping to
sound as genuine as I felt. “I
need…I need to be alone for
a bit. I didn’t realize…”

He nodded.

“Sure, you had yourself a hell
of a day. Don’t worry about
the room; no one gonna come
kick you out. I’ll make sure
of that. You get yourself
some sleep.”

I could hear disappointment
in his voice, but his eyes were
all understanding. It almost
made me want to change my
mind. But, no, I needed to
deal with my shit. Reign
rolled out of bed, landing on
his feet like a cat, his
magnificent manhood
dangling between his legs. It
would have looked comical if
it didn’t flood me with
memories of what he’d done
to me with it.

I clenched my legs together,
biting the inside of my cheek
as I watched him get dressed.
His lean, toned, gorgeous,
tattooed, hairy, oh-so-edible
body disappearing one
garment at a time. I just sat
there in the bed, covered to
the chest, watching him,
hoping that I’d get to see him
without his clothes again
sometime. If I was going to
be there another night…

“Mind if I come by later?” he
asked, the question sounding
not like a question at all. He
knew the answer. Damn, but
that cockiness was just as hot
as his body. It was different
from Jeremy’s confidence,
which was inflated beyond
reason. It was a cockiness
that was backed up by…well,
cock. There, I said it.

I nodded. “Much later,” I
added, meaning to sleep the
whole day if I could. I needed
it.

“Trust me, I won’t be
opening my eyes before 9,”
he said with a chuckle.

“Are you…are you sure I’m
safe here?” I asked, panic
setting in as the warmth of his
body left the bed. When he’d
been lying next to me, it was
easy to chase away my fear.
Now, I was going to be alone
again. Alone in this room,
with no one to protect me.

Images of the body under the
mattress in the other room,
Jeremy’s squad car pulling
up, the cocaine stashed in the
drawer, my phone in pieces
on the passenger seat of the
car, began to flash in my
head, as though I’d blacked
out for the past twelve hours
and was trying to piece
everything together bit by bit.
Reality came in a rush. And it
hurt.

Reign looked at me as though
he could see right through me
into my head. He dropped his
hands to his sides, came to sit
on the edge of the bed beside
me.

“Do you want me to stay?” he
asked. I could see it wouldn’t
be an imposition on him. I
shook my head. He couldn’t
just stay forever. At some
point, I’d have to be on my
own. And that might as well
start now. And, I figured, I
was so exhausted I would
probably pass out quicker
than I thought, anyway.

“I’m okay. But…you…no
one will tell anyone where I
am, right?”

“Of course not. We’re not in
the habit of selling people
out. And I’ll make sure
everyone knows you ain’t
even here,” he said, then
paused, seeming to think.
“Give me your car keys.”

My chest constricted. What
did he want those for? What,
was he going to steal my car?
But then why would he ask
for my keys? What if he
wanted to strand me here?
What if, under all that charm
and sincerity, he was just like
Jeremy – worse? What if he
was going to make sure I
couldn’t leave?

“I’m just going to move it to
the municipal lot down the
block,” he said, as though
reading my thoughts. “That
way, if you’re right and he’s
tracking your wheels, he
won’t know where you are,
just that you’ve been here at
some point. But if you’re
parked right outside your
room…”

“Oh. Of course,” I said, still
not entirely sold but also
seeing the logic in his
proposal. Besides, if I was
going to be stuck with an
abusive man, it might as well
be an abusive man who was
willing to give me mind-
blowing orgasms than one
who just wanted to give me
reasons to wear concealer. I
gave him my keys from
where they sat on the
nightstand.

“You won’t…you won’t, like,
steal it or anything?”

Reign smiled, finding humor
in my panic. I’d have been
offended but that smile was
like a get-out-of-jail-free
card.

“What would I do with a
junker like that? I only need
two wheels. But I am gonna
see if we can’t get you
something new to ride around
in. Even if you decide to go
through with this fool plan of
yours to head to the border,
we’ll make sure you get there
as incognito as you can,” he
said, reaching out to stroke
my cheek. My eyes closed,
my head lolled against his
palm, the warmth of him like
a panacea for my fevered
mind. He rose, jangling my
keys.

“Don’t you run off on me,
now,” he said, and I thought I
could detect a hint of actual
worry in his plea.

“How can I?” I said,
gesturing to the keys he held
in his hand. He looked down
at them and smiled, laughing
at himself.

“I’ll come back ‘round later,
or see you at the bar,” he said,
leaning forward and cupping
my chin in his hand, our lips
meeting once again, tongues
just barely touching for one
soft, blessed moment.

And then he was gone, a shaft
of too-bright light appearing
in the room as he swung the
door open, then disappearing
as he shut it.

Do you know the tale of the
tell-tale heart?

As soon as I was alone in that
room, it was like that duffel
bag in the safe was the
beating heart plaguing the
narrator in Poe’s story. I fell
asleep, slowly but surely, to a
dull, imagined throbbing
sound emanating from the
safe. As though it were alive,
glowing and thumping
against the walls. Trying to
escape.

A metronome that lulled me
to sleep as much as it
frightened me.

It could have been my own
heartbeat.
 ~ 8 ~

“Give me a screwdriver,
Honey” Reign said, sliding
onto a stool in the tired
morning light of the bar. He’d
moved Gabriella’s car, loving
the smell of her that lingered
in the driver’s seat, and
walked the two blocks back
to the bar in a sort of
exhausted, lust-or love-struck
stupor. He hoped it was just
the former, prayed that it
wasn’t the latter. Honey
twisted her dishrag around
her hand, looking at him with
her eyebrows raised.

“Now what in the hell’s got
you out of bed before noon?”
she asked before turning to
pour out a very, very stiff
drink. Kid sure looked like he
needed it.

“Ain’t my bed. Got kicked
out,” Reign said, taking a
long swill from the drink and
smacking his lips together.
“Sure glad I didn’t brush my
teeth first.”

“You spent the night with
someone?” Honey asked,
more surprised than anything
else. “I thought that was one
of your rules, never spend the
night?”

“Yeah, well, the girl was so
good, I wanted to get it again
when I woke up. But we
never did get to sleepin’,”
Reign said, somewhat
bashful. He realized that he
was slipping back into a more
comfortable vernacular, and
thought about how much he’d
wanted to impress Gabriella.
Even after she’d let him do
whatever he wanted to her
body, some part of him still
wanted to impress her mind.
He kept his eyes away from
Honey’s as she looked him up
and down.

“You’re not talking about that
curvy piece what was in here
last night, huh? The one with
the shiner made her look like
damn Mohammad Ali?”

“That’s the one. C’mon,
Honey, that bruise was gnarly
but those hips…whew!”

“I like girls, too, Reign, but
girl like that means trouble.
The way she was clutching
that bag to her like it was her
baby…someone’s looking for
her, most likely,” Honey said,
idly wiping at the bar.

“Yeah, a cop,” Reign said
with a half-smile. Honey
stopped wiping the bar, put
her hands on her hips. “Her
hubby is Colorado PD.”

“You think that’s something
to smile about? You fuckin’
think that’s a joke? We ain’t
exactly selling flowers here,
Reign. Jesus, I though thirty-
year-olds were supposed to
have a little more going on
between the ears, but you
provin’ me wrong, boy,”
Honey said, visibly agitated.

“Aw, she’ll be movin’ on
soon, I reckon. She sure plans
to. Though I hope not too
soon…”

“Damn right she will be. I’m
kickin’ her out. We don’t
need that kinda trouble
around here,” Honey said.

“You’re not doing any damn
thing like it,” Reign said,
suddenly no longer playful.
Honey turned to him,
eyebrows raised, as he stared
at her. She felt ice plunge into
her heart. He meant business.

And she couldn’t exactly
argue with him, not with him
being the likely next
president of the Black
Smokes. Reign kept his eyes
glued to hers as he pulled out
a pack of cigarettes, rapping
it against the table. Two
coffin nails popped out and
he brought the pack to his
mouth, holding both between
his lips, never breaking eye
contact. With a flip of his
other wrist, he lit his zippo,
both cigarettes lighting at
once. He puffed on one while
grabbing the other, holding it
out to Honey.

“Smoke up,” he said. “And
don’t you walk around sayin’
you’re gonna kick people out.
We all been in that girl’s
place, you know. She needs a
place to hideout, this one is as
good as any. We’ll smell that
pig coming miles away. We
always do, don’t we? And
make sure you spread the
word that she ain’t here. We
never seen her. Never even
heard of her.”

“Uh huh,” Honey said, taking
the offered cigarette and
indulging in a long drag,
blowing the smoke above her
head, eyes closed as she tried
to shake the bad feeling that
was trying to settle in her
bones.

Women’s intuition, she
thought. Reign wouldn’t get
it, but she just had that notion
in her heart that this girl was
trouble. She seemed sweet
enough, and Honey didn’t
wish her any ill, but that
didn’t change the fact that
battered women with
mysterious duffel bags and
cop husbands were never
going to be anything but bad
news.

“Why don’t you drink with
me, Honey?” Reign said,
dropping his death glare and
offering a truce in the form of
one of his famous, knee-
knocking, panty-dropping
smiles.

Honey’d been down that road
before, most of the chicks
had, and knew exactly how
much of a man Reign was.
She smiled back, in spite of
her bad feelings, the affection
she felt for the savvy but
young biker beating out her
cynicism. Pouring them both
a shot of vodka, and a
screwdriver for herself for the
side, they made a toast to
damsels in distress.

“You ought to go have a chat
with her, Honey,” Reign said,
somewhat out of nowhere.
Honey scoffed. “No, really.
You know where her head’s
at better’n me, probably. And
she’s smart, real smart, like
you. She knows all about
these dead old philosophers.
She’d listen, if you wanted to
give her some advice, I think.
C’mon, you got something
better to do? Pretend like
you’re a bartender?”

“I am a bartender, Reign,”
Honey said with a roll of her
eyes, taking another drag of
the cigarette. “More like a bar
protector. If I weren’t here
dolin’ out the drinks, this
place would be dry in an hour
from you guys raiding it.”

“Aw, what a martyr we got
here. Well, whatever, you
don’t gotta do a damn thing
just ‘cause I suggest it.
You’re just a respectful
broad, is all, and that little
thing maybe needs to see
someone like you, who’s
been in her shoes, who’s
come out the other side.”

“You think this is comin’ out
the other side? That girl don’t
want this life,” Honey said.

“Neither did you, when you
first come here, did ya? But
what do you think comin’ out
the other side is? You ain’t
breaking any bones around
us, now are you? Nobody
giving you shiners anymore.
Anyone even try slapping
your ass and five guys’d turn
his knees to powder,” Reign
said, sipping his drink slowly.

“Fuck that, I wouldn’t need
five guys, you know damn
well I’d take care of ‘em
myself,” Honey said with a
chuckle and a smile.

“Damn straight. But you
came here cowerin’ at every
little thing, same as her.
Don’t forget that,” Reign
said, tapping his knuckles
against the bar, the sound of
his metal rings against the
wood echoing in the silence
of the morning. Honey
shrugged.

“Maybe,” she said, not
committing to anything. She
didn’t want to have to go talk
to this poor little girl. She
wanted this poor little girl to
get gone. But if it would
make Reign happy…it was
hard to let those eyes down.

Honey didn’t fancy Reign
like some of the younger girls
did, hoping he’d make her his
old lady. She didn’t want to
be anyone’s old lady. She
liked being everyone’s old
lady, choosing who she
wanted to spend the night
with…or not, when she
wanted to spend the night
alone. But she really, truly
liked the kid. He was a good
lay, and he had a good heart.
And he was rising straight to
the top. Always good to be on
the right side of a man like
that.

Reign slammed down the last
of his drink, smacking his lips
and sliding the glass back to
Honey, who caught it one-
handed.

“Refuel?” she asked,
grabbing the bottle of vodka.
Reign seemed to think for a
moment, his blue eyes toying
with the day’s possibilities.
His head hurt from being up
all night. The thing he liked
most about his life in the club
was that he could sleep in and
stay up all night.

Reign loved sleeping more
than almost anything else in
the world; he never got heavy
into uppers like some of the
other guys because he loved
the feeling of a pillow under
his head. He kind of wanted
to skip the next drink and
head back to bed. He wished
he could head back to
Gabriella’s bed, her head
nestled into the crook of his
arm, but his own bed would
do.

But, what the hell, it wasn’t
every morning that he felt as
good as he did that morning.
Another drink wouldn’t kill
him. There was plenty of day
left to sleep away.

“Line ‘em up, and one for the
most beautiful bar protector
this side of the wild West,” he
said, thumping his fist against
the bar. Honey favored him
with a smile and refilled both
their glasses just as the door
to the bar swung open and a
gigantic, booming groan
filled the room.

“GOTTA HANGOVER TO
PUT W.C. FIELDS TO
SHAME,” Cotton yelled as
the bar doors swung shut
behind him. Reign and Honey
turned to look at him,
amused. He swayed slightly
as he staggered up to the bar.

“You ain’t hungover, stupid,
you’re still drunk,” Honey
said, grabbing a third glass
and filling it to the brim with
vodka and orange juice. She
went to the small window that
separated the bar from the
kitchen area. “Hey Endo,
we’re gonna need some eggs
and bacon, stat. Triple
servings for starters. And
some hash browns, huh?”

“Comin’ up,” Endo, the
club’s resident chef, called
back. As the smell of cooking
food filled the bar, and the
morning began to grow late,
the bar slowly filled with the
same men who’d been there
the night before, each and
every one of them demanding
eye-openers and plates of
food.

It was another day for the
Black Smoke Motorcycle
Club, and, like every day, it
was as chaotic as you’d want
to imagine. Outside, bikes
revved and stalled as
hungover men parked them
willy-nilly around the bar.

God damn, but I love this life,
Reign thought as he listened
to Cotton wail along to a
Hank Williams song on the
jukebox. His planned early
morning nap kept getting
postponed. It was just past
noon. With no plans for the
day, the whole club was just
enjoying each other’s
company, like a family, the
family Reign had never had.
A family where you didn’t
get beat on unless you really
deserved it. A family that
laughed when you laughed
and cried when you cried.

Across the bar, Honey was
sitting on Endo’s lap as he
enjoyed a break from
cooking, sipping a beer,
sharing his cigarette with her
so that the butt ended up
smudged with lipstick. She
caught Reign’s eye and
winked. He smiled back, but
wished he could sit like that
with Gabriella.

The thought did more than
surprise him.

It scared him.

He’d need to sleep soon. He
wished he could slide into
bed beside that girl…clutch
her hips to him, press himself
against her ass, fall asleep in
the fragrant sea of her hair…

Meanwhile, she was
dreaming. Of nothing and
everything at once. All her
future and all her past,
swimming together in a
confused ocean of pain and
pleasure. The money
throbbed in the safe. The sun
rose and rose and then began
to fall. It was her first day of
freedom, and she was
sleeping, safe as she’d ever
be, safer than she’d been in
the five years under Jeremy’s
spell.

He would make sure she was
safe, no matter where she
went, he would make sure she
could sleep. As he left the
crowd behind, stumbling to
his quarters on the far end of
the property, he thought that
over and over again.

I’ll make her safe. She’ll
sleep safe. She’ll always sleep
safe and sound.

He didn’t know how. He
didn’t even know why. But
that was all he could think of.
And he meant to make it
come true.


 End of Part 1.

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2.
 Part 2

~ 9 ~

Her lips were parted,
welcoming him, his mouth
like sweet water flowing over
hers, down her throat. She
drank him like wine, the
fullest, richest merlot. His
fingers, roughed and
calloused but dripping with
the promise of boundless
pleasures, fell between her
thighs, pulling them apart.
They weren’t anywhere, at
least nowhere on earth. They
were somewhere still and
soft, and he pressed hard
against her, his manhood
throbbing against her,
slipping up and down her
parted sex, drenched already
as the head of his cock
stroked up and down, up and
down, again and again, until
she was panting and pained
with need.

She found his body, her arms
heavy and unresponsive, and
grabbed him towards her,
their mouths engulfed with
each other, the distance
between them sealed and
dissolved as he burst into her,
filling her up to her chest,
where her heart beat quickly,
brimming with pleasure, skin
almost liquid as they came
together in a perfect circle…

…you ain’t goin’ nowhere…

The music started suddenly,
from a distance, but soon
seemed to swoop down on
them, crashing them into
reality. She opened her eyes
and saw herself, alone, in her
kitchen, under the table, the
sound of things breaking
echoing through the house,
the chorus of the song playing
over and over again as heavy
footfalls approached her. She
felt fear, tasted it, her ears
burning as the lyrics
repeated,

…you ain’t goin’ nowhere…

…you ain’t goin’ nowhere…

…you ain’t goin’ nowhere…

like a taunting chant. She
knew the song. She knew it
well, liked it, but not now.
Now it was like an invitation
to her own demise.

She closed her eyes and when
she reopened them she was
holding the duffel bag. She
knew she had to hide it. She
knew what he would do if he
found it. The questions he’d
ask. And Reign was gone. He
wasn’t there to protect her.
She tried to open the fridge
but the door stuck hard. The
cabinets were packed. She
was exposed, and the song
was playing louder, the
crashes growing nearer, the
footfalls approaching faster.
She tried under the sink, but it
was all full of water that
poured out around her feet,
filling the kitchen quickly,
rising to her ankles.

She’d drown. She’d drown or
he’d find her.

She tried the kitchen door. It
opened, but she couldn’t
leave.

“You ain’t goin’ nowhere,”
the song played again, and
now she turned, and he was
in the doorway, in his
uniform, his face a monstrous
mask, his hands in fists. He
saw her. His eyes were wide
pupils, deepest black,
bloodshot and violent. His
voice became the song, and
he repeated the chorus, “you
ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

“Please, let me explain, I
need to explain,” she said,
panicking now, sweating, the
water still rising, now inching
up towards her calves. He
walked to her, impossibly
wide strides, growing taller
and taller with each step,
until he stood before her,
gigantic and radiating heat,
his hands coming to her
biceps.

The duffel bag fell to the
water with a splash.

The water was at her knees.

He was shaking her,
screaming, his words
impossible to understand. The
song had stopped. There was
just his voice piercing her
ears, rubbing against her
mind like sandpaper as he
shook her and shook her, and
the water was at her hips.
And then she was on her
knees, the water at her neck,
his cock hard against her
cheek, his hands around her
neck. The water rose. She
tried to breath and swallowed
water, choking as he shoved
himself into her, water going
up her nose, the money from
the bag now floating around
her, some sort of cruel irony
as she choked and tried to
breathe…

Gabriella woke up in a pool
of sweat. The room was dark,
she was gasping, desperate to
breathe. The song rang in her
ears. But she only awoke for
a moment, one moment of
shining reality, the fear and
pain taking a hold of her
entire self.

And then sleep rushed back
in, quickly, a sleep that could
only come from the direst
need for rest. Like an animal
making itself small to hide
from a prowling jaguar, her
mind curled up into itself and
turned off. She wouldn’t
remember that dream. She
couldn’t. If she remembered
it, remembered the utter
despair and desperation, she
would never have been able
to sleep again.

Her head rolled to the side as
her eyes closed once more.
Her body cooled down, the
sweat beginning to dry. The
sun crept upwards in the sky
outside, illuminating the
distant mountains in a haze of
dust and heat. The curtains
kept the sun at bay. The
duffel bag sat, anonymous
and unfeeling, inanimate, in
the safe. Nothing stirred in
the room except the sheets on
her chest, gently rising and
falling with her breath, now
steady and deep.

She didn’t have any more
dreams.
 ~ 10 ~

I’ve never liked hotel rooms.
That started even before it
became my job to clean them
up. And one of the things I
hate most about hotel rooms
is how dim they are, always,
when the curtains are closed.
Now, I know it’s because
they use special light-
blocking curtains for jet-
lagged folks who want to
sleep during the day, but it
gets to me. I guess it probably
gets to everyone, to some
degree.

Anyway, when I woke up
after that first night in Utah, I
had no idea what time it was,
and I was afraid to look at the
clock. I felt well-rested, and
hadn’t gotten to sleep until 8
that morning, so I figured it
was at least 4pm. I didn’t
know what I’d have to do to
get to sleep that night;
probably drink myself into a
stupor.

Or, if Reign was going to
come by again, he might be
able to help me get to sleep…

That thought, drowsy and
dreamy, jolted me awake as
soon as I’d fully processed it.
Reign. Utah. The money.
Jeremy. Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh
shit!

What the fuck was I doing
laying in this motel bed
thinking about some
motorcycle dude when
Jeremy was probably after me
by now, and I was probably
wanted by the police for
ditching that hotel room with
the body in it? How could I
possibly be thinking about
sex?

Everything came back in a
sickening rush. I let him take
my fucking car…I’m such an
idiot! Oh god, I’m such a
stupid, stupid idiot! I’ve gotta
get out of here!

All Reign’s lovely words and
heartfelt promises from the
night before now fell to the
floor, as useless as clothes
had been twelve hours prior.
It was like waking up from
some strange coma where I’d
been fully aware of what I
was doing for hours, but
which no longer seemed to be
real. There was no way I’d
done that. Any of it. Not the
drinking, not the cigarette,
not the sex, not the long hours
of talking afterwards. Not
only was that just not me…it
was fucking dangerous, and I
couldn’t be the sort of person
who engaged in that activity.

But what sort of person was I,
then? Did I even know?
Could I even answer that
question honestly? Not
really…I’d been Jeremy’s
person, his property, for so
long that I didn’t have my
own person anymore.

I jumped out of bed like I’d
slept through my alarm, the
same panicky heart-racing
feeling amplified by a
thousand. My eyes darted
around the room, seeing
everything but not making
sense of anything. All I had
were the clothes I’d worn to
work, my gym clothes, and
my uniform.

Thoughtlessly, I threw on my
jeans and the tank top I
usually worked out in; it was
form-fitting and a little dirty
but I didn’t care. I hadn’t
even stopped to put my
panties back on. Once
dressed, I felt a little better.
But I still didn’t have
anywhere to go, or any idea
what to do.

What had Reign said the
night before? He wouldn’t be
up until 9? That left…four
hours, I realized, finally
looking at the clock. Four
hours without my car keys,
with no place to go…

Maybe I can break into the
car and hotwire it, I thought,
then realized how stupid an
idea that was. For one thing, I
had no idea how to hotwire a
car. And, for another, if I just
waited a little while I could
just drive away with my
keys…but the waiting, that
seemed like unbearable
torture. I knew that just
sitting in the room would be
hard enough, with my mind
racing with constant thoughts
of Jeremy and the police and
all the trouble I’d be in.

Okay, okay, okay, I thought to
myself, closing my eyes and
willing my heartrate to go
back to normal, my racing
mind to slow down and be
logical. There has to be
something I can do…

As I focused on my
breathing, I was surprised to
feel myself actually calming
down. A word seemed to
emerge in my thoughts,
repeating over and over, a
word that I hadn’t thought of
in years. Something that I’d
picked up in college, before
I’d met Jeremy, taking a
course on Eastern
Philosophy. I’d been very
into meditation then, and had
latched onto ham-sah as my
mantra of choice.

But I hadn’t meditated in
years, at least not since before
my marriage. Life as
Jeremy’s wife had taken that
sense of peace and surety out
of me. Now, I almost wanted
to cry as I felt myself slipping
into a calmer state, the world
around me no longer spinning
dizzyingly out of control.

I control my own fate, I
thought, the words sounding
far-off in my brain. I can do
whatever I want.

It was so strange, to be in that
hotel room, in what was
arguably the most dangerous
situation of my life, and still
be able to find solace
engaging in a practice that I’d
dropped so long ago. But it
was just like everything else
that I’d felt since leaving
Colorado; I was coming back
to myself. I was indulging in
the things that made me who
I was. I was letting myself
meet myself again, brand new
and ready to leave everything
behind.

Let’s take a walk, I suddenly
thought, the words now sharp
and clear against the stillness
of my mind as I meditated.
My eyes opened on their
own, as though my brain was
yielding to some greater part
of me that knew best. Just as
my eyes seemed to open
independently of my telling
them to, my legs moved me
towards the door. As the
trance-like effects of
meditating wore off, I
glanced at the clock once
more and was shocked to see
an entire half hour had passed
by, though it felt like I’d only
closed my eyes for five
minutes.

Only three and a half hours
to go, I thought, banking
entirely on Reign’s promise
that he’d sleep until 9. I
should have gotten his phone
number, I thought, realizing
just how silly it was that I
hadn’t; I wasn’t planning on
risking my safety by turning
my phone back on and
potentially cluing Jeremy in
to my whereabouts, but there
was a phone in the room and I
could have used it to call him.

But this time, when I thought
about this lapse in judgement,
I didn’t feel like a worthless
piece of shit, which was
generally how screwing up in
any way made me feel.
Instead, I felt like a normal
person who’d made a mistake
and didn’t need to commit
seppuku over it.

I opened the door and
immediately had to shield my
eyes from the brightness
outside. It had been so dark in
the hotel room, my eyes
ached as I blinked into the
sun. The air was dry and hot,
the desert stretching out for
miles in all directions,
mountains ranging across the
distance. It was gorgeous,
really, with that sort of sad,
desolate beauty that only
exists amongst the sagebrush
and red rock.

The bar was circled entirely
by motorcycles once more, all
of them parked and gleaming
in the sun. A few men stood
outside smoking; they didn’t
seem to see me. For the first
time, I looked at the buildings
that made up the actual motel,
wondering how many other
people were staying there.
Judging by the lack of cars in
any of the designated parking
spots, it seemed I was the sole
visitor to the Ditcher’s Valley
Sun Lizard Motel and Bar.

The sign declaring the bar’s
name hadn’t been lit up at all
the night before, so this was
my first look at it. The sign
was well-worn and
weathered, the shoddy paint
peeling around the edges, a
cartoonish iguana clad in a
motorcycle jacket looking
googly-eyed onto the main
street. I walked towards the
road and shaded my eyes
once more, peering in the
opposite direction of the bar.

The town seemed to have
only the one street, and all I
could make out in the baking
heat was a glimmering
parking lot, what looked like
a gas station, and a building
that could have been a bank.
Assuming that my car was
parked in the lot, I made my
way towards it, no real plan
as to what I’d do when I got
there.

I was just following that idea
that had popped into my head
at the end of my meditation:
take a walk. It beat the hell
out of chewing my fingernails
off in the motel room, and I
wasn’t feeling up to the task
of going into the bar and
asking a stranger to tell me
where I could find Reign –
and my car keys.

The entire town was no more
than a mile long, and most of
the businesses seemed to be
shuttered and closed for good.
I thought about what Reign
had told me the night before;
that the club essentially
owned the town, including
the police force. I wondered
if the lack of economic
vitality was a result of the
club’s dirty dealings, or an
intentional façade to keep
outsiders away.

The small municipal lot
where my car was parked was
dusty and lonely; my little
Subaru looked out of place
amongst the old vans and
junkers that were its
neighbors. Past the lot there
was, indeed, a bank and a gas
station, as well as a small
grocery store, a repair shop, a
dinky police station, and a
library. A Harley store sat on
the very end of the main
street, after which there was
nothing but miles of desert
speckled with the occasional
shack, trailer, or one-story
house.

The side streets of the town
all seemed to go nowhere,
and the only other signs of
habitation were a series of
apartment buildings that
fairly towered behind the
grocery store. It was almost
spooky in the town; there
were few people out and
about, and everyone seemed
to be idling around with
nothing to do.

I wondered where the hell
people worked or what they
did; there wasn’t even a
movie theater. I assumed,
correctly as it would turn out,
that pretty much everyone in
town spent their nights at the
bar, and that the main source
of work was the club. Even
the sleepy gas station
attendant wore a leather
jacket bearing the name of the
Black Smoke MC.

I was floored by the fact that
an entire town could be run
by an illegal operation, fueled
entirely by drug deals and
criminal pursuits. It really
was like the Wild West; I
wondered if the FBI ever
tried to intervene in the club’s
activities, or even had
Ditcher’s Valley on their
radar.

Walking the town only killed
about half the time I needed it
to kill, and soon I found
myself wandering back
towards the motel, no wiser
for my stroll. Anxiety was
creeping in again. I wanted to
get gone, as soon as possible.

The fact that the town seemed
to be entirely operated by the
club didn’t actually help my
worries; if anything, it made
me more nervous. It meant
that if Jeremy found out
where I was, and came to get
me, I could be ruining
Reign’s life along with my
own. And if I was responsible
for bringing outside forces to
Ditcher’s Valley, I suspected
he couldn’t protect me from
whatever revenge the club
decided to enact.

Besides, the longer I thought
about it, the less realistic it
seemed to me that Reign was
doing anything but using me.
Girls like me certainly didn’t
get to attract guys like him
without an ulterior motive.
He was so handsome, he
could have any girl he
wanted, and the fact that he
chose me only meant that he
thought he could get
something out of me.

That’s the way it always is
with fat girls, I thought
sourly. We always have to
settle for assholes like
Jeremy, or get used by men
like Reign. I was being blind
and stupid to believe that he
actually cared for me and
wanted to help me. More
likely than not, he had
suspicions about what was in
the duffel bag, and meant to
get to it by pretending to be
interested in me. And if I
didn’t watch myself, I’d fall
right for it, hook, line, and
sinker.

But I still needed my damn
keys.
 ~ 11 ~

Reign was having the best
dream of his life. He’d had
some doozies before, but this
one was…spectacular. Mostly
because of who was in it.
That raven-haired, tan-
skinned, luscious woman
he’d been lucky to spend the
night with – and now lucky to
be dreaming of.

He was holding her by the
waist, their mouths inches
away from each other, their
eyes matched perfectly. Her
flesh was warm and inviting
under his fingertips, seemed
to crawl with life and
pleasure, and her face was
flushed with expectation. She
had her hands on his
backside, was pulling him
into her, his manhood
plunged into her welcoming
sex, where it throbbed and
throbbed with almost painful
desire.

They were in the bar, or a bar,
and she was seated on the
table before him, completely
naked, her large breasts
perfectly shaped and pressed
against his bare chest. He
thrust into her, spreading her
legs wide, making her eyes
seem to grow larger and
larger as he stared into them.

His whole being strained
forward into her, like she was
a vortex that led straight to
paradise. And she just felt so
soft, so warm, so wet and
loving and accepting of him
as he moved his hips back
and forth, impossibly slow,
feeling every rib and fold of
her pussy caress his cock,
releasing it only to pull it
back in deeper and deeper
each time.

“Reign, Reign, Reign,” he
heard his own name coming
from her throat, the words
taking the form of glowing
lights that surrounded his
head. She was so close, he
could feel her pussy
clenching around his cock,
could feel his body
responding in kind, his balls
churning and his thighs
buckling as he plunged into
her again and again, suffering
beautifully on the edge of
coming, wanting to stay hard
inside her forever, to feel this
awful bliss for every second
of every day of the rest of his
life.

The sounds coming out of her
mouth suddenly changed,
became short, sharp bleats.
Violent against his ears. Her
skin began to change, shift or
melt, into something like
fabric. She was going, she
was leaving him, she was
turning into…

“Gabriella,” he said, and his
own voice finally pulled him
from sleep. With a slap, he
silenced the alarm that was
bleating red, jagged beeps
throughout the room. And
with a groan he realized he’d
been holding his comforter,
that the only warm body in
his room was his own. He
looked over to the empty
space in his king-size bed.

Why did I buy a fucking king-
sized mattress if I always
sleep alone, he thought, bitter
and annoyed. He hadn’t slept
long enough. That was all. He
wasn’t mad because the
dream was just a dream, he
wasn’t mad about waking up
alone, he was just cranky.
He’d set the alarm for 8:45,
planning to keep his word and
meet Gabriella once more at
9:00. Now, he didn’t regret
this choice, but he did regret
staying at the bar so long
earlier that day.

Reign was not a man who
liked his sleep to be cut short.

But he wasn’t going to leave
that beautiful woman
hanging, either.

As he rose, shaking his head
as though he could knock his
hangover away, he thought
about what it might be like to
fall asleep and wake up
nestled close next to a
woman. A woman like her,
mainly, but any woman. The
other girls he’d slept with
recently didn’t make the idea
very enticing, but her…

What the fuck is going on
with you, man? You never get
this way over chicks. She’s
just your type, sure, but
there’s others like her, and
you’ll never get to screw them
if you settle down with her, he
thought, distraught by his
own heart’s hollow beating,
its sense of loneliness. This
was not a feeling Reign was
used to.

Not by a wide margin.

Reign the playboy, Reign the
hunk, Reign the drifter. Not
Reign the boyfriend, or,
worse yet, the groom. He
didn’t need an old lady to
take care of him. And there
was certainly no lack of girls
who were willing to give him
what he needed in the
bedroom. Even if those girls
weren’t exactly what he
wanted, and couldn’t really
give him exactly what he
needed.

No, he needed someone like
Gabriella…

Or no one at all, he thought.
It was good that she would be
going, after all. Once she left
town, he could get back to
being his old self, unfettered
by romance. His heart winced
at the idea of waving her off
as she drove down the road.
But he was sure he could buy
another night or two of her
company.

And he really would be
helping her. He already had
plans for that car of hers.
And, it would take some
string-pulling, but he knew he
could get her safe passage to
South America. Hustling
someone into Mexico was a
hell of a lot easier than
hustling someone out of
Mexico.

Another night or two, he
repeated to himself, trying to
make that wince in his heart
fade. It didn’t, only throbbed
all the harder. If he already
felt this way after one night,
did he really imagine it would
get better once he fell a little
deeper?

Maybe I’ll get bored of her,
he thought hopefully. Surely,
once he’d gotten a few more
chances to partake in the
pleasures she offered, he’d
lose interest and she would
just be someone he was fond
of, like a sister he’d be
willing to go out of his way to
help but who he no longer
wanted to screw seven ways
from Sunday.

He was surprised when even
that thought, which should
have comforted him, only
made him sadder. What did
she think of him, anyway?

The question hit him like a
runaway truck on a steep
grade in the dead of winter.

Since when did Reign give
two shits about what anyone
thought of him? Not just girls
– anyone? He was his own
man, he liked himself, as far
as he was concerned that was
the end of the story. No,
Reign didn’t like that
question at all. He didn’t
want to have to wonder what
someone else thought of him.
Even someone
special…which she is NOT,
he reminded himself.

But, really, what did she think
of him? Did she think he was
just using her? Did she have
feelings for him? If she didn’t
already have feelings for him,
would keeping up the
romantic aspect of their
friendship – if you could even
call it that – make her start
developing feelings for him?

And then would she think he
dumped her like a bag of
moldy potatoes?

Would she hate him?

Could she love him?

The minutes were ticking
away, and he was just sitting
on the edge of his bed, staring
down at his two bare feet like
they could provide those
answers.

You don’t care about those
answers, though, you care
about you, and the club, and
that’s it, he thought, but it
was becoming more and more
pointless. That voice in him
that wanted to preserve the
good thing he had going, that
desperately wanted
homeostasis, was getting
softer and softer, as though he
was walking down a long
hallway and leaving that
voice behind.

This new voice – the one with
all the damn questions – was
louder. And way more
obnoxious.

Reign looked at the clock
again. 8:55. Shit, he thought.
Where had ten minutes gone?
He didn’t want to be late –
yet another newfound
concern. Reign was never a
punctual man. Now, he’d
have to shower in the sink
and brush his teeth on the
toilet.

Groaning, still tired but
thankful for the gradual
waning of his hangover, he
got to his feet and headed to
the bathroom, where the
shelves were nearly bare
except for basics. Hangover
remedy (aspirin and tums),
shampoo, conditioner (he had
to keep up the health of those
long locks, after all), razor
and cream. Toothbrush and
toothpaste.

An image flitted in his brain
of the bathroom in the house
he’d grown up in. With a
mother and two sisters, the
family bathroom was girl-
central. Tampons, seventeen
types of shampoo, an arsenal
of body lotions and sugar
scrubs and exfoliators and
razors and loofahs. It had
been cluttered but…pleasant,
almost. All those bright
colors made the bathroom
seem lively, especially in a
house where “lively” usually
meant Dad was home and
drunk and screaming and
about to punch you in the
face.

He wondered what his little
bathroom would look like
filled with a bunch of some
woman’s beauty care
products…

Damn, Reign really hated the
things his brain was doing
recently.
 ~ 12 ~

After another hour and a half
of waiting in my hotel room,
clicking through the channels
aimlessly, all the peace of
mind I’d managed to gain that
afternoon had reached its
limit and I was back to waves
of utter panic. My fingernails
looked like some sort of
horrible art school exhibit.
My right eye was twitching
uncontrollably. My lungs felt
like I’d just run a marathon
from all the hyperventilating I
was doing. I was a total mess.

As soon as the clock struck 9,
I stood up and walked
mechanically towards the
door. Some part of my poor,
overworked brain expected to
open the door and see Reign
standing there. I cast a last
long look at the safe before
leaving; it still seemed to
throb or pulse with the secret
inside.

All that money isn’t going to
do me a damn bit of good if
Jeremy kills me, I thought for
the umpteenth time that day.
Most people dream of
happening upon that much
money, and it was certainly
my savior in terms of
escaping my marriage, but it
was a very heavy weight to
be carrying on my shoulders.

I didn’t know how much
longer I could possibly
support that weight.

At least, not without some
help.

I crossed the dusty parking
lot, temples throbbing with
each step I took closer to the
bar. Maybe you should just
stay in the room, I thought,
figuring that if Reign was any
sort of good he’d come
looking for me there once he
saw I wasn’t at the bar. But
another minute in that room,
staring at the TV without
actually comprehending
anything I was seeing, would
be an eternity in hell.

The bar was as crowded as it
had been the night before –
and even though I was no
longer clutching the money to
me like a baby, I felt less
secure than ever. After all, I
had to assume that word had
gotten around by now, if
Reign had made good on his
promise to tell everyone that I
was in their hands for safe
keeping.

I certainly generated far more
interest amongst the crowd
than I had the previous night,
with various people giving
me looks and then turning to
say something to their
neighbor, who’d also turn to
look at me. But, strangely
enough, even though this was
far removed from any sort of
crowd I’d feel comfortable
with, I didn’t feel that
awkward with all the eyes on
me. Mostly, I guess, because
the looks were more curious –
or even accepting – than
anything else. Also because I
was too damn scared of
everything else in the world
to give a hoot about the
patrons of the Sun Lizard
Motel and Bar.

I scanned the busy room,
looking for Reign, and didn’t
see him. But I did spot the
woman who had been tending
bar the night before, who had
rented me the room. She was
sitting at a table with another,
much younger woman. They
were leaning in close, talking
confidentially, but from their
shared smiles I got the feeling
that it wasn’t too serious a
conversation. I began to walk
towards her, since she was
the closest to an acquaintance
that I had in the joint.

I wasn’t noticed even as I
drew closer; the two women
were drawing closer, too, to
each other. I bit my lip,
rethinking my plan, as it
became clear that I was about
to intrude on something very
personal. The bartender’s
companion was a slight,
young blonde, and she
seemed enamored with the
older woman, hanging onto
every whispered word.

I slowed down my approach,
mind skipping somewhat; I
had – and have – no problem
with lesbians, but its
awkward barging in on
anyone’s make-out sesh,
especially someone like the
bartender, who hadn’t seemed
to like me very much the
night before to begin with.
But I didn’t know who else to
ask about Reign; I considered
just going back to my room
and waiting, but the idea
alone was enough to drive me
into a frantic state. I needed
answers.

Just as I was about to dart
forward and interrupt the kiss
before it happened, the two
women closed the gap
between them, their lips
meeting in a soft blur. Even
as a straight woman, the view
of two beautiful women
kissing deeply wasn’t wholly
lost on me.

Damn it, I thought, selfishly,
now it’s gonna be super
awkward.

What could I do? I was only a
few steps away from the table
where the women were
kissing, their mouths now
slightly parted, a faint pink
hint of tongue between them.
The bartender had her hand
on the younger woman’s
bicep and was stroking the
flesh there; to my surprise, I
seemed to be the only one
watching.

I’d have thought a room full
of dirty old biker dudes
would have been hollering
over the girl-on-girl action.
But nope. It was just me. Just
me being a weird creeper
watching two perfectly
consenting adults make out
while I stood around with my
mouth hanging open and my
mind shot to shit with worry
and stress.

I guess I knew they’d notice
me eventually; I just hoped
they wouldn’t notice until
they were done kissing. But
no luck; I watched as the
older woman’s eyes peeked
open and turned my way, as
though she’d felt me looking.
She pulled back from the kiss
quickly, and I saw the
younger girl’s head trailing
along, lips puckered, as
though looking for more.

“Can I help you?” the older
woman snapped, her eyes
now drilling holes into mine.
I flinched under her gaze. The
younger girl kept staring at
the bartender at first, with a
look akin to wonder, then
turned to me, her face a sort
of blank slate.

I don’t like to speak poorly of
other women, especially not
after what I’ve been through,
but the girl looked like more
like a bimbo now that I was
up-close and could pick up on
her vacant stare. Looking at
her reminded me, somewhat,
of times when I would lay in
bed next to Jeremy, or even
sit across from him at dinner,
and force my mind to go
blank. To avoid feeling
anything, I’d often choose to
feel and think nothing. The
girl had the same look on her
face as she stared at me. It
made me feel tremendously
sad, more than I’d felt since
leaving Colorado.

I decided to package that
feeling and hide it away for
the time being. There would
be hours and hours of driving
that I could spend trying to
unpack that feeling, and many
other feelings. Now, I needed
to get my shit together.

“I’m…I’m looking for
Reign?” I said, softly, still
shaken by the way the
bartender was looking at me.

“Well, do I look like him?”
She spat back, clearly
annoyed that her moment
with the blonde had been
interrupted. But it was more
than that.

“No, it’s just…I’m sorry. I
just really need to…he has
my car keys and…I just really
need to….” I muttered,
stuttering over my words,
eyes dropping to the ground.
There was a long pause as my
sentence trailed off into
nothing, before the bartender
spoke once more. Her voice
when she spoke sounded
softer, almost resigned.

Or possibly empathetic?

I figured that was too much to
hope for. When I looked back
up at her, head still lowered,
her face matched her voice:
softer, less angry, more
patient. She sighed.

“I get it, I get it, I’m sorry.
My bark is worse than my
bite. But, sorry doll, Reign
didn’t leave her ‘til about
three hours ago. I expect he’s
still sleeping it off. That boy
might not show his face again
‘til morning. He didn’t leave
no keys with me, though,”
she said, turning away from
the girl now to sit facing me,
her arms folding across each
other on the table. I was
struck once more by her
beauty; she was older, but her
eyes had a fiery glow, her
face lean but full. She gave
off the aura of some sort of
Grecian warrior.

“Oh,” I said, processing this
new information. A part of
me, despite myself, was a bit
annoyed; he hadn’t just gone
home and gone to sleep? I
brushed the irritation away; I
was in no position to be
judging this near-stranger’s
habits or choices.

What was more pressing was
the fact that without my keys,
I was stuck there whether it
was safe for me to leave or
not. It was no longer my
choice; that scared me. I’d
lived without the option to
make my own choices for so
long, and it had been
intoxicating to order for
myself and choose to have a
drink or a cigarette. I didn’t
want to be left without
choices ever again, even if it
was under far different
circumstances than my
marriage.

The bartender was still
staring at me as my mind
turned, slowly. She didn’t
seem impatient, but she did
seem…calculating? As
though she was watching to
see what I’d do, or like she
was making a slow
judgement of me. I wanted to
impress her; I didn’t know
why, and I didn’t know how,
but I wanted this woman to
respect me.

“Do you know where he
lives?” I finally asked,
figuring that I could just go
grab my keys from him
without causing too much
trouble for anyone. Honey
nodded, but I could tell from
her expression that she didn’t
want to give up that
information.

“I do, and I could tell ya, but
I’d rather not. Though he has
taken quite a shine to you, I
don’t think he’d mind you
knowing where he lays his
head down. But he would
mind being woken up, and if
he didn’t take it out on you
he’d take it out on me. I don’t
wanna hear him in here
whinin’ about how I
interrupted his sleep by givin’
out his address,” she said,
ending with a halfhearted
smile, not remotely
apologetic.

“Well…I’m just….I’m
worried…I need my keys
and….”

“He comes in, I’ll let you
know you’re looking for him,
how’s that?”

“I just…” I felt myself
creeping towards the edge,
tears threatening to tumble
down my cheeks as I grew
more and more
claustrophobic in the bar. I
wanted to leave already, I
wanted to get back on the
road. Jeremy could be right
on my tail by then…

“Darling, you’ll be safe
enough here, you know,” the
woman suddenly said,
leaning forward. The girl
beside her seemed to fade
into the background as the
bartender focused all her
attention on me.

“And Rein is a good man.
He’ll take care of you. I know
you don’t have any reason to
trust me, or him, but we’re
your best chance right now at
getting away in one piece. I
don’t know your story, and I
don’t wanna know your story,
but I seen enough of girls like
you to know someone’s
looking for you. But he won’t
find you here, I promise you
that. We’ll make sure of it.
Now, Reign’s probably got
some scheme for helpin’ you,
I don’t know what, but you
oughta know you ain’t gonna
find yourself in better hands.”

I wanted to believe her. I
wanted to feel safe and sound
and easy and clean and free. I
wanted to, but there was so
much in me that was scared
to trust anyone. The woman
cocked her head and looked
me up and down, as though
sizing me up for a final
judgement.

“Name’s Honey,” she finally
said, sticking out her hand.
Automatically, without really
even thinking about it, I took
her hand. Her grip was firm,
her eyes never left mine. This
time, though, I didn’t feel like
some sort of prey in the eyes
of a predator. Her look was
far from welcoming, but at
least it wasn’t so…irritated.

“Gabriella,” I said, my mouth
moving instinctually. We
dropped our handshake and I
couldn’t think of a single
other thing to say, or do.

“Well, if you want to wait,
you can go on and have
yourself a drink. On the
house. Tell ‘em Honey said
so,” she said, now turning
away from me and back to
the waifish girl who’d been
waiting like a spectator
watching a tennis match. But
before I could turn around,
she turned back, though this
time she was looking just
over my shoulder, a smile
spreading over her face.

“Did you think I forgot about
you?” A voice suddenly said
from behind. A tired-
sounding voice that was
nonetheless immediately
recognizable, even to my
addled mind.

“Well, I never thought I’d see
the day where you got up
after…what? Three hours of
sleep?” Honey said, leaning
back in her seat, the girl
beside her once more
relegated to the sidelines.

“Some things are more
important than sleep, Honey,”
Reign said. Even before I
turned, I could feel his
presence like hands on my
body, his voice sending
delicious tingles up my spine.
I’m screwed if this happens
every time I see him, I
thought. I really never will
leave this place…

He looked as handsome on no
sleep as he had the night
before, his long black hair
messy and shagging over his
eyes. I’d forgotten how tall he
was, though, and as my eyes
ran along his lean figure I felt
another thrill, something
exciting and amorous waking
up inside me.

No, no, focus now, Gabriella,
you’re getting in over your
head because of everything
else that’s happening, you
have to stay focused, I
thought.

“I’m glad to see you,” I
stuttered, immediately
blushing and cursing myself
for not coming up with
something better to say to
him. He didn’t seem to share
my thoughts on the matter,
though, and smiled broadly at
me. Holding his hand before
my face, I was relieved to see
my car keys dangling from
one finger.

“I moved your car to…” he
started to say, but I
interrupted him, grabbing the
dangling keys from his hand
as though they were the
antidote to a poison coursing
through my veins. Just
holding them made me feel a
million times better; I was in
control again. No one could
keep me from leaving. No
one but myself, of course.

“I saw, thanks,” I said,
pocketing the keys and
keeping my eyes well away
from his. Every time I looked
at him I felt the same urge to
reach out and touch him, felt
my heart pounding in my
throat, wanted to believe
every word that dripped from
his perfect lips. But I couldn’t
let my guard down like that.
No matter how helpful he
seemed, both in practical
terms and in less-than-
practical terms, it would do
me no good to stick around
longer than I needed to.

“Still planning on going to
Mexico all by your
lonesome?” He asked, and I
detected a hint of
disappointment in his voice.
I’d thought that all our talk in
the bedroom had been just
that – silly bedroom talk –
and that he’d be through with
me. But now it certainly
seemed like he wanted to
make good on his promises –
or at least stall me from
leaving.

“I am,” I said simply, my
tone terse.

“Tonight?”

“Well…” I said, my eyes
darting around the bar. Honey
had turned back to her flirty
friend; no one seemed to be
watching Reign and I talk. I
hadn’t really decided whether
or not to leave that night. For
one thing, if I drove all
through the night, my sleep
schedule would wind up off
track and I’d have to find
someplace to spend the day.
Then again, it might be safer
to travel at night. But then
again, with less people on the
roads at night I’d stick out
like a sore thumb. But then
again…

“I get that you’re anxious to
leave,” Reign said, picking up
on my hesitation. “But if you
stick around, I’m pretty sure I
can get you into a new car
tomorrow. Well, not a new
car, but a different car. Clean
plates, registration, all that,
no problem.”

I bit my lip, still avoiding
Reign’s gaze. I knew damn
well that I wanted to stay for
another night. If only to feel
those feelings one more
time…assuming he still
wanted me, of course. And a
car would be an immense
help, would take a huge load
off my shoulders.

“Come here, sit down for a
bit,” Reign said, finally, after
a few moments had passed.
He reached out and placed his
hand gently on my lower
back, steering me towards an
empty table in the corner of
the bar.

His hand on me made my
brain blink out of
commission. I looked back as
Reign guided me; Honey was
watching once more, her
eyebrows raised in interest. I
wondered what she was
thinking, why she was so
interested in what was going
on between Reign and I. I
hoped I wasn’t stepping on
her territory in some way; but
she seemed to be perfectly
happy with the girl beside
her.

“You know, Honey is kind of
like a mother around here,”
Reign said, once more
picking up on my thoughts. “I
mean, not really, she’s more
like a…like a wife, or
something, to everyone.
Keeps an eye on us, out for
us. Takes care of her boys.
She’s got this sixth sense for
trouble, you know? So she
takes some warming up to,
that’s all.”

“Oh,” I said, taking a seat,
somewhat relieved to be free
of Reign’s gently pressing
hand, which had all but
eradicated my ability to think
or function.

“She’s a good woman,
Honey,” he continued. “A lot
like you, actually.”

“How’s that?” I asked, no
longer able to keep my eyes
away from Reign as he took
his seat across from me. God
damn, I still couldn’t believe
a fat girl like me had spent
the night with an Adonis like
him…not just spent the night,
but the whole damn morning,
too.

“Just similar,” he said,
clamming up on the subject. I
got the feeling he didn’t quite
want to go further out of a
sense of propriety; I supposed
that gossip wasn’t something
he was comfortable with.

“I don’t think she likes me
much,” I said. Reign
chuckled.

“She doesn’t like many
strangers much. We certainly
don’t call her Honey ‘cause
she’s so sweet,” he said.

“What’s her real name?” I
asked, suddenly curious about
how everyone around here
got their nicknames. I’d heard
enough strange names being
thrown around, and I didn’t
know the first thing about
MC culture.

“I don’t know, don’t care.
She’s Honey to us, and that’s
all that matters,” Reign said.

And what’s your real name,
Reign? How’d you get such a
regal nickname? Where did
you even come from…I found
myself getting lost in my
thoughts. Being around
him…I just wanted to know
more. Everything. I wanted to
read his autobiography.

“So…the car…” I said,
feeling a bit more stable now
that my mind and body had
gotten used to being around
him again. That initial shock
is a killer, I thought,
marveling at how dumbstruck
he’d made me. And how,
even now that I’d calmed
down, there was really
nothing that I wanted more
than to be closer to him.

“Yeah, so, we got a dealer
here in town, actually just a
ways out of town. He’s a
good guy, he’ll do an easy
trade-in for you, on the spot.
He’s legit, but he knows how
to keep his mouth shut under
pressure,” Reign said, leaning
back, one arm draped over
the side of the chair and the
other laying across the table.

“Well, I mean, that sounds…
that sounds fine?” I said, torn
between desire to stay, the
logic of what Reign was
saying, my instinctual urge to
leave as soon as possible, and
suspicion over the happy
coincidences that had led me
to this perfect situation. The
phrase “too good to be true”
came to mind.

“What you really ought to get
is a bike,” Reign said,
suddenly, a glint in his eye,
his smile spreading wider. I
scoffed.

“Are you kidding me? I’m
trying to keep a low profile,
not announce myself to every
town I go through. Besides,
I’ve never even ridden on the
back of a motorcycle before,”
I said. I knew he wasn’t being
serious, but the idea drove a
thrill of fear through me. I
was telling the truth; I’d
never been on a motorcycle,
they’d always scared me. The
thought of being exposed and
moving so quickly…it wasn’t
for me.

“Bikes are easy to ditch when
you need to. And people are
less likely to mess with you.
And, damn but it feels good,
girl. You don’t know what
you’re missing,” he replied,
the smile now planted firmly
on his face. He looked me up
and down, almost as though
he was judging whether or
not I was worthy of a
motorcycle. Clearly, it was
his whole life; you don’t go
around joining biker gangs if
you don’t have some love for
bikes. But it wasn’t a love I
could share with him. Not at
all. I shook my head.

“Really, though, you’ve never
been on a motorcycle
before?” he asked, the smile
fading slightly as he looked at
me, a more serious expression
in his eyes.

“Nope, never have and
hopefully never will,” I said,
starting to get a bad feeling
from the way he was looking
at me.

“Don’t be too confident about
that,” he said. “We’re taking
you out tonight.”

“Oh, no, really, I don’t….” I
started to say, panic fluttering
into my chest as I imagined
myself riding on the back of a
Harley. Not my cup of tea. I
didn’t care how damn
charming this guy was, and
how much he was promising
to help me, I’d be damned if I
let him coax me onto a death
machine.

“How can you know you
don’t like it if you’ve never
tried?” He asked, entirely
serious now. He had a point,
of course, but you could say
the same thing about a lot of
things. I’ve never tried raw,
rotten tuna, but I don’t have
to try it to know it’s not
something I want. I told him
as much, but it didn’t sway
him.

“Baby, you just gotta
understand. It’s not scary.
It’s…it’s freedom. Pure,
absolute, unfettered freedom.
You got the road in front of
you, the wind at your back,
you’re like a bird,” he said,
now leaning in close across
the table.

I jumped in my seat as I felt
his hand land on my knee and
pulse, sending a shockwave
through my body. I could
remember, all too well, what
he could do with those hands.
His palm slid upwards
slightly, rubbing my thigh
through my jeans. I wanted to
remain focused on our
discussion of how I was
going to get over the border,
but he was making it very,
very hard.

“You get that engine between
your legs and you feel so
powerful. You feel like the
whole damn world just opens
up for you. Like you are
doing exactly what God put
you on this earth to do. You
can’t imagine how good it
feels…” he said, his hand
now moving even further up
my thigh. My heart sped up. I
could hear his voice in my ear
as he leaned closer and
closer, tugging me towards
him like a rope across the
table, making me lean in
farther. He could have been
reciting the dictionary and I
would have been enthralled.

“The night sky above you, all
the stars, the cool air, baby,
you’re gonna love it, I
promise, you won’t believe
how much you’re gonna love
it,” he whispered, his face
now only inches away from
mine. He closed the gap
slowly, my eyes half-closing
as I let myself be lulled by his
voice and by his hand rubbing
me.

Our lips met, parted slightly,
and I tasted him like a fine
wine, sipping him slowly, our
tongues coming together in a
gentle waltz. Oh, God, but he
was a good kisser. I felt like
my head was lifting off my
shoulders, that my whole
body was full of warm lava,
slow-moving pleasure
rippling through me. He
broke away, the smile
returning to his face.

“I can’t,” I said, slurring my
words slightly, intoxicated by
him.

“I want you to,” he said in
return, his voice inviting no
arguments. I didn’t have any.
As much as I tried to fight it,
he had me wrapped around
his finger. I would have
jumped from the roof of the
bar if he’d asked me to. I just
wanted to be close to him
again, to wrap my arms
around him, feel him fill me
up in that wonderful way, the
heat of his skin against mine
making us sweaty and
sticking us together as we
twirled, naked, across a
bed…

His hand moved from my
thigh to my hand, grasping it
firmly.

“Trust me,” he said.

I nodded, felt almost like I
was outside of my body,
watching myself agree to do
this crazy thing that was so
“not me”. But, deep down,
some part of me wondered if
I really even knew who “me”
was. Maybe the “me” that I
should have been all those
years with Jeremy was the
sort of girl who would accept
motorcycle rides from sexy
men. Maybe that “me”
wouldn’t have found herself
in this situation in the first
place.
 ~ 13 ~

From across the crowded bar,
he watched them. No one
noticed him. People rarely
did. He was very good at
going unnoticed. Just another
rough looking dude in the
lawless desert, someone you
wouldn’t ask for credentials.
Tough enough to blend in,
with a pocketful of lies to
cover his tracks if anyone
started getting nosey.

He was aware of everything
going on around him, but his
focus was trained on the
couple – or at least, they
looked like a couple – in the
corner. The woman, dark-
haired, tan, and shyly
smiling; the man, tall and
lean and bold. They were
speaking close, like lovers,
but something about their
body language told him that
she was being talked into
something she wasn’t wholly
sure of. But that wasn’t
important; what was
important was the way the
man was looking at her, the
way he leaned into her, the
way you could almost feel his
desire to reach out and stroke
her cheek.

He was the man to get to, and
it looked like she was the way
to get him. The stranger
watched as the girl nodded,
agreeing to whatever deal
they’d struck. Reign, the
man’s target, was clearly
pleased as he fairly leapt from
his chair.

A moment later, he was
talking to the female
bartender, someone the man
had earlier pegged as a
potential tool in his game.
But it was clear that while
Honey had some place in the
club, and in Reign’s
affections, she was neither as
compelling or easy a target as
this Latina-looking
newcomer. The man watched
as Honey smiled and laughed
and disappeared behind the
bar, re-appearing with a
helmet and jacket.

Going for a little ride, the
man thought, taking a sip of
his beer. It was skunked. The
bar was shit. It was a wonder
that this club was still around,
if their bar was any indication
of their ability to keep their
shit together. He’d been
casing the place for a week
already and hadn’t been
served a single drink that
didn’t taste like the glasses
were washed in nail polish
remover. But, despite their
crappy bar-running skills, the
club had managed to spark
the interest – or ire – of the
man’s employer.

From what he knew, which
wasn’t much, the Black
Smoke Motorcycle Club had
recently moved into his
employer’s territory with
their trafficking business. The
man didn’t care much about
the details. They didn’t
matter. He was a hired gun,
that was all. He didn’t care a
whit about trafficking, human
or otherwise.

He knew, from his own
research, that the club he was
currently working for – the
Immortal Soulz – had a
reputation for roughing up
their “passengers”, and were
even involved in the sort of
trafficking that put fourteen-
year-old girls in especially
nasty situations. As far as he
knew, the Black Smokes were
a little more humane in their
treatment of illegal
immigrants. But he didn’t
care about who was the good
guy. He was gonna make a lot
of money by screwing with
the Black Smokes, and that
was all that mattered.

He had to find out more about
that girl. Judging by the
bruise on her face, and the
strange way she’d hugged
that duffel bag to her body
when she first came into the
bar (he was a very observant
man), she was running from
something pretty gnarly. And
anyone running from
something gnarly had a
weakness that could be
exploited. And if he could
exploit her weakness, he
could exploit Reign’s
weakness. It would have been
foolish to go straight for the
club’s aging president; he
could do just as much damage
going after the front-runner.

He knew her room number,
and he had a lock-picking kit
burning a hole in his pocket.
Not that the locks here would
cause him much trouble.
Most likely they were as
crappy as the beer.

He finished his drink just as
the girl and her beau left the
bar; he counted the seconds
as they passed. One minute,
two minutes, three. Outside, a
bike engine kicked up,
hummed in neutral for a
while, and then roared off. He
stood and slipped away,
inviting not a single curious
glance on his way out.

If he’d had a conscious, he’d
have felt bad about what he
was doing. He would have
thought twice before picking
the lock to her room,
perfectly, so smoothly that no
one would ever know he’d
done it. He’d have felt bad
rummaging through her
things to look for a wallet,
some identifying information.
He’d have felt bad once he
found the wallet and her ID
and memorized the
information on it. He’d have
felt bad breaking into the
safe, pulling down the duffel
bag, and seeing what was
inside. He’d have felt bad
putting it back, putting
everything back where it
belonged, and leaving
without a trace.

He would have felt bad about
all those things, but he didn’t.
He just felt confident that he
was about to come into a lot
of money. If not from the
Immortal Soulz, at least from
that jackpot the girl was
hiding in her room. She
certainly didn’t come by it
honestly – and even if she
had, who cared? Girls who
hid huge bundles of cash in
duffel bags in hotel safes
weren’t, generally, very
interested in going to the cops
to report missing money.
Maybe he’d leave her a wad,
if he was feeling generous.
Maybe he should just take it
now and hit the road…

But no, he knew it would be
better to wait. If he played
things right, he could get his
pay from the Immortal Soulz
and the girl’s money. Then
he’d be sitting real pretty.

In the meantime, he had her
name and address. That was a
good place to start. Hell, it
was a great place to start. He
hummed a little tune as he
left the room, clicking the
door softly behind him, and
headed to his truck. He didn’t
know why it had suddenly
come into his head, but he
liked it.

“You ain’t goin’ nowhere,”
he sang softly to himself as
he eased into the driver’s seat
and turned the key. He had a
lot of digging to do that night.

As he headed down the
town’s only road and back
towards the shack that was
passing for his basecamp
until the job was done, he
kept an eye out for the telltale
glint of a bike pulled off to
the side of the road. He had a
feeling that Reign had taken
his sweetheart out on a little
ride, and from the chemistry
between the two he figured
that ride was going to take
quite an interesting turn once
the girl had that engine
between her knees…
 ~ 14 ~

Ten minutes after agreeing to
Reign’s pleas to join him on a
bike ride, I was standing
outside the bar, the cool
desert air laying lightly on my
shoulders. I was nervous, but
not as piss-your-pants scared
as I thought I’d be. I was
holding a borrowed helmet in
one hand, and wearing a
borrowed leather jacket in the
other.

Both had been borrowed from
Honey, who had gotten
significantly drunker in the
time I’d been talking to Reign
and who was more than
excited to whip them out
from behind the bar and
present them to me.

She sure did like me a lot
more when she was
stumbling and slurring than
she did when she was tending
bar. But she wasn’t a sloppy
drunk, don’t get that idea. She
was only as drunk as
everyone else in the bar,
Reign and myself excluded.
She’d come outside with us;
the girl she’d been with
earlier followed her like a
silent shadow. I almost
wanted to talk to the young
thing, but she didn’t seem
very friendly anyway.

“When I first….when I first
got on a bike…shit, I was
like…I’m gonna die! But
then…then it was so fun, and
really…really just fucking…
something else, man, I tell
you what it’s…fuck, you’re
gonna love it,” Honey was
saying.

Reign had disappeared behind
the bar; I heard the telltale
sign of an engine kicking to
life. Moments later, he
arrived astride a bright,
shining Harley, shimmering
blue and almost throbbing
with power. My heart
clenched up like a fist. He
somehow looked even more
handsome with his helmet on,
which was ridiculous since I
couldn’t even see his face.

He let the bike stall and
beckoned me to come closer.
I did, slowly, anxiously,
rethinking my decision to go
along for the (literal) ride.
But now, with Honey staring
at me, I felt even more
compelled to go through with
it; I still wanted her to like
me, even if I didn’t know
why that would be something
I wanted. I just knew that
she’d probably start acting
like a bitch again if I proved
myself to be too cowardly to
get on the back of a
motorcycle.

And, dammit, I wanted to
prove it to myself, too.
Sleeping with Reign had been
one thing; for one, I’d been
drunk, which made it worlds
easier. For another, that had
been something my body
wanted. But almost no part of
me wanted to get onto the
bike, except for a small but
compelling voice in my head
that wanted me to do
everything. Just to try it. Just
to see if I could. Just to prove
that I wasn’t a coward.

With my heart in my throat
and my bladder threatening to
empty itself at any moment, I
swung one leg around the
humming bike and planted
myself into the passenger
saddle. The bike was
vibrating softly; I lifted up
my feet and leaned forward,
wrapping my arms around
Reign. Even through the
helmet, I could smell him,
musky and delectable. With
my body pressed tightly
against his and the slightest
shaking of the engine, I could
already tell what one of the
attractions of motorcycles
was.

The engine kicked up again
as Reign put it in gear, and
the pleasant warmth that was
spreading through me from
the vibrations was quickly
forgotten as I cried out. I
wanted to stop this now,
before it even started, my
brain screaming as I realized
that this was for real, not just
play.

But my cries were swallowed
up by the wind and the sound
of the engine as we suddenly
flew away from the bar, tires
hitting the road with a
gravelly thump, the roar of
the bike surrounding us like
four walls. The town melted
away in an instant, it seemed;
we couldn’t possibly have
been going the speed limit,
but no one was around to give
a damn.

As the road opened up into
desert, with the black
shadows of the mountains
bleeding upwards into a star-
filled night, I was awestruck
by the feeling. It was scary –
a little – but more than
anything it was…free. It was
like being let loose onto the
world, like the first time your
parents let you stay out all
night, like turning 18. It was
like winning the lotto: all
your cares erased in an
instant.

It was just me and the bike
and Reign and the whole
world of evening spread out
like a feast before us. A feast
made of miles and mountains
and air flavored with sweet
desert flowers. Even the
battery ram of noise in my
ears was a part of it. And the
feeling between my legs…

Well, let’s just say, I’d never
used a vibrator but I could
definitely see the appeal once
I felt that thrumming between
my thighs. My body shook
slightly with the bike as my
knees clenched harder around
Reign’s waist.

The sensation was half-
painful, actually, or at least so
intense that it blurred the line
between pleasure and pain. I
felt my hips moving slightly,
gyrating against the saddle, as
my cheeks flushed from the
feeling. And it was so
naughty, feeling myself grow
aroused from the sensation,
out there on the open road. I
thought about what it would
be like to be naked just then,
nothing in between me and
the vibrations, my hands
exploring Reign’s muscled
chest from behind…

“Need a little break?” I heard
Reign shout, and I realized
just how hard I was gripping
him. I was holding him like a
toddler afraid to get into the
pool.

“M…maybe,” I shouted back,
slightly embarrassed. We
couldn’t have been riding
more than ten minutes, but I
really was getting quite
overwhelmed. I wanted a few
minutes to cool down, in
more ways than one. Of
course, I should have known
that cooling down was not in
the cards for me that night.

Reign angled the bike off the
road, and I experienced a few
painful shocks to the tailbone
as he slowed down, the bike
bouncing slightly on the
uneven ground. My body still
tingled with excitement as he
turned off the engine and
removed his helmet. It was a
moment still before I
gathered the courage to unfurl
my arms from around his
waist and plant my feet back
on the ground.

As I dismounted, the world
seemed to shift and sway
around me, a feeling I could
remember vaguely from
horseback riding as a young
girl. My legs were wobbly
and a subtle ache in my
thighs mingled with a
throbbing sensation in my
pussy. A sensation that was
far from unpleasant. As I
pulled my own helmet off,
shaking my long black hair
out, I noticed the stars above
us were spread out like
thousands of twinkling
Christmas lights. The nearly-
full moon illuminated the
dunes and distant shapes. I
leaned against the bike and
sighed deeply. Reign came to
my side.

“So, what did you think of
your first ride?” he said with
a grin that told me he already
knew my answer. I returned it
with a grin of my own,
wondering if he could see the
fierce blush on my cheeks.

“It was…well, it was
something, Reign,” I
admitted. “I mean…you were
right….it’s like…it’s not like
anything else on earth!”

“Well, some things are
similar,” he said, his voice
dropping slightly. The lower
octave felt like a feather
tickling my ear. I knew that
voice already. I’d only known
this guy a day, but that voice
told me that I was going to
get to know him even better
by the time the next day
dawned.

And judging by the way my
body responded to his
proximity, the fluttering
feeling in my stomach, the
tingling in my pussy, I knew
that I was going to let him do
whatever he wanted to me –
my body wasn’t going to give
me much of a choice.

“Oh yeah? Like what?” I
asked, trying to sound
innocent. His eyes met mine,
his smile gleaming in the
moonlight, a half-grin that
made my heart race. I felt his
fingers gently reach out and
brush against mine. The
slightest contact was enough
to make my breathing speed
up.

“Well, I’ve always been
partial to watching beautiful
women enjoy themselves,” he
said, his fingers now tip-
toeing across my back, then
coming to rest on my waist,
his arm pulling me closer to
him. “That’s pretty damn
close, for me.”

He’d pulled me all the way
into him, our bodies pressed
together under the night sky,
his eyes boring into mine. My
face was lifted up to his, my
lids half-closed, hypnotized
by his voice, his words, his
eyes. My body was
overheating, a fire that
threatened to engulf me.

“Yeah?” was all I could
manage to say, and I could
barely even whisper it. But
we didn’t need words
anymore; Reign leaned down,
his lips meeting mine softly,
sweetly, my tongue slipping
into his mouth and meeting
his in a gentle swirl.

My eyes closed entirely as his
hand around me pressed
harder, as though we could
melt into each other. And I
did feel like I was melting as
he kissed me; first gentle,
then pressing harder and
harder until we were on the
brink of tearing into each
other, our tongues dancing in
a frenzy. I wanted to drink
him, to feel him entering me
everywhere, the smell of him
in my nostrils an aphrodisiac
of the highest order.

He broke away from my
mouth, eliciting a groan from
me, and began to kiss along
my jawline and down my
neck, his hands running up
and down my sides and
causing my stomach to flip
over and over again. His
breathe against my neck was
warm and welcome, and his
lips, though cracked, where
like fiery brands against my
flesh, marking me as his.

His hands settled on the
bottom of my shirt and began
to yank it upwards;
instinctively, I tried to stop
him, still embarrassed about
my figure even though he’d
already seen all of me – and
approved of it heartily. He
easily thwarted my attempts
to remain clothed and my
shirt soon lay on the sand,
quickly joined by my bra.

My breasts tingled, felt
heavy, as the cold night air
blew across them. Moving in
front of me and pulling me
towards him, Reign pushed
his knee between my thighs,
parting them slightly as his
lips continued to explore my
neck, moving from one ear to
the other in a torturously slow
crescendo of power.

My nipples, now erect,
pressed against the leather of
his jacket, the sensation
strangely satisfying. He
pushed his knee upwards and
I gasped as I felt it hit my
now-wet pussy, causing my
hips to automatically roll
forwards, my clit pressed
against the crease in my jeans
as I pressed myself against
his knee. My hands fell to the
belt loops on his jeans,
pulling him further toward
me, my slit begging for him
as he teased my clit, rubbing
his knee slowly back and
forth between my legs.

I felt him pushing me back
farther against the bike, until
I was almost pinned between
him and the seat. I worried
about the bike toppling over
from our weight, but had no
room in my fevered brain to
worry about it for too long. I
was too distracted as Reign’s
lips moved steadily
downward, towards my large,
full breasts, which begged for
attention.

His tongue gently traced a
path down my collarbone
before he glanced up at me,
his eyes deep and sexy, and
let his tongue flick over my
hard nipple. I moaned and
clutched his head as my body
gave in to the sensation, his
mouth teasing my nipples one
at a time, first flicking one
then the other, sucking and
nibbling on the tender buds
until I thought I would die
from the sensation. My pussy
was fully awake now and
dripping, my hunger for him
growing with each passing
second as he pressed his knee
against my sex, making my
hips move on their own
against him.

Finally, he lifted his head and
moved away from me
slightly, leaving me dizzy and
panting. I tried to pull him
towards me once more, the
weight of his body against
mine the only thing in the
world that I wanted. But he
resisted, his fingers now
finding the button of my jeans
and popping it open, his hand
slipping down my pants so
quickly I couldn’t protest;
with no panties between me
and my jeans, he easily found
my swollen clit, and I cried
out as he rubbed it, the
slickness from my slit a
perfect lubricant.

“Oh, fuck, Reign,” I moaned
as his hand turned, his thumb
now coming to my clit while
his fingers found my pussy
and pressed into it slowly,
making my thighs clench in
pleasure, the sensation only a
tease compared to what I
knew his cock could do to
me. I closed my eyes and
leaned backwards against the
bike as his thumb made slow
circles around my clit, which
jumped and throbbed with
each swirl, my heart
pounding away as my body
flushed with warmth. His
fingers gently probed my slit,
pressing against my pussy
walls, as though seeking
something.

When I opened my eyes
again, barely able to focus on
anything but the pleasure
building inside me, his was
staring at me with intent, his
look only driving me to new
heights, his gaze soft and
intimate but demanding at the
same time. His fingers curled
inside me and I cried out once
more as a brand-new
sensation plunged through
me, sparking up and down
my spine.

His thumb sped up its
attentions to my clit, now
circling it and then flicking
upwards over it as his fingers
pulsed inside me. I felt a
constricting feeling in my
chest, a pressure in my
tummy, as he leaned forward
once more and covered my
lips with his, my tongue now
desperate for his as the
sensation inside me rose and
rose.

His fingers pressed harder
and harder into me, my pussy
flowing with juices as he
rolled his thumb over my clit,
my ears ringing and heart
pounding as the pressure built
and built inside me until I
couldn’t take it anymore, I
thought I was going to break
in half from need. Pulling
away from the kiss, I could
only squirm and squeal
underneath him as he pressed
his body against mine, his
fingers never stopping.

“Fuck, Reign, I’m c-c…I’m
comminggggg,” I moaned as
the wave broke inside me, his
fingers pressing once more
against that place inside me,
my clit suddenly seeming to
vibrate with delicious release
as my muscles tore apart in
pleasure, my pussy dripping
and clenching around his
fingers as he held them deep
inside me, feeling me come
for him, my body bucking
and hips rolling, legs
threatening to buckle. He
covered my mouth with his
once more and he nipped at
my lower lip as I began to
come down, the slightest pain
only adding to my
reverberating pleasure.

“Just like that,” he whispered,
pulling his now-dripping
fingers from my pussy and
touching them to my lips;
thoughtlessly, mindless but
for pleasure, I wrapped my
tongue around them, tasting
my own juices from his
fingers, intoxicated by the
sensations that were now
fading away slowly, leaving
only more hunger in their
place.

I wasn’t going to be happy
with just his fingers. Not that
night. I clutched him to me
once more, then pulled at his
leather jacket, undressing him
savagely, like a wild animal,
until he stood before me,
shirtless, his muscles clearly
outlined in the moonlight.

He just looked so
delicious….I leaned forward,
letting my mouth find his
chest, gently tasting his flesh,
the slight sharpness of sweat
against my tongue. My hand
fell to his jeans, and I could
feel his hardness against his
zipper, his manhood straining
against the fabric. I rubbed it
gently, the mere thought of it
making my body alight once
more with desire.

“You don’t have to repay the
favour,” he said, looking
down on me with a hint of a
smile as my mouth moved
downwards, following the
tight line of his abs.

“But I want to,” I said,
looking up at him, dropping
to my knees as my mouth
continued its downward path.
I could feel the heat baking
off his body against my
flushed face. My hands
struggled with his belt,
shaking and confused with
desire.

I wanted his cock in my
mouth; I wanted to taste him
all the way down my throat,
to feel his hardness throbbing
inside me. I wanted him in a
way that I’d never wanted
any other man, not even
Jeremy in the beginning. It
was like I was under some
sort of spell, and the only
thing that could break it was
his cock against my tongue. I
finally managed to undo his
belt and yanked his pants
down, his enormous cock
popping out almost violently.
My hands braced against his
strong thighs as I rethought
my plan; he was just so big, I
was afraid to try and take
him…

A shiny dot of precum stood
out on the swollen head, and I
leaned forward, licking it
tentatively, tasting him flow
down my throat as I circled
the rim slowly. My hand held
the base as I sucked at the
head, preparing myself for
more; I let my tongue run up
and down the length of the
shaft, first the underside and
then the sides, feeling him
throb in my fist, his hands
burying themselves in my
hair.

“Gabriella,” he grunted, his
cock growing even harder as I
teased it, afraid to try and
take it all in. I wrapped my
mouth once more around the
head and began to slowly
inch myself forward, feeling
my cheeks puff out as my
mouth tried to wrap around
his massive girth, my airways
already constricted.

My body began to panic
slightly, as though I was
being suffocated, and my
eyes watered as I slowly
moved further down his shaft.
His hand in my hair clenched,
pulling gently on the strands,
a gentle pressure moving me
further forward. I felt myself
beginning to shake, my nose
desperately trying to take in
as much air as possible as his
cock hit the back of my
throat.

I willed myself not to gag, but
it was inevitable as his cock
pressed further down my
throat. My hand released the
base and came to his thighs
once more as I tried to keep
myself from falling over, my
body fighting between desire
and panic as he increased his
grip on my head and began to
thrust his hips gently against
my mouth.

I couldn’t swallow, couldn’t
breathe, could barely keep my
eyes open as he began to
thrust harder against me, my
throat massaging his cock as
he drove it into me. I could
taste more of his pre-cum
sliding down my throat as I
knelt helplessly before him,
the feel of his cock savagely
fucking my throat only
heightening my arousal.

But I could only take so much
before needing to come up for
air, and pushed myself
backwards. His hands
released their grip and I
gasped for air, saliva dripping
from his cock as my hand
stroked him from base to tip.
Moments later, my mouth had
found the head once more and
I was letting my tongue
stroke every inch of it,
circling the rim and lapping at
the tip as my hand stroked
him up and down.

“Yeah, suck my cock, baby,”
Reign moaned, and when I
looked up at him I saw
nothing but desire in his eyes.
Inspired, I took him further in
my mouth once more, my
head now bobbing up and
down on his cock quickly, my
tongue rolling across the
bottom of his shaft, tickling
the sensitive vein there.

He groaned and pulled my
head forward once more,
deep throating me again as I
clutched his thighs and
struggled to breathe, the
throbbing warmth of him in
my raw throat making me
hornier and hornier with each
thrust. As though unable to
control himself, he was
fucking my throat harder than
ever, his breathing rapid and
shallow. I closed my eyes and
let him pulse into me, his grip
on my head inescapable.

And then, suddenly, I was
airborne; with a shock of
sudden air to my lungs, he
pulled himself out of my
mouth and reached down,
lifting me as though I were a
twiggy supermodel and
seating me on the saddle of
the bike. His hands wrapped
around my waist, while mine
instinctively clasped around
his neck.

“I’m going to fuck you the
way you deserve,” he
growled, the words vaguely
threatening – but mostly just
driving me crazy with desire.
I wanted him to fuck me any
way he wanted. I wanted to
be his sex toy, his pleasure
doll, his slave.

His cock pressed against my
dripping slit, and I moaned
even before he entered me,
my pussy clenching in
anticipation. He slowly
pressed forward, his cock
tearing into me, ripping me in
two as I cried out in pleasure.

Reign lifted me slightly, his
hands around my ass, as he
entered me all the way, his
cock disappearing inside my
grateful slit, my hands around
his neck digging into his flesh
as my lips parted further for
him. My legs wrapped around
his waist, locking around him
and holding him in place deep
inside me. He began to thrust
his hips into me slowly, his
cock diving deeper and
deeper.

I groaned as he sped up,
fucking me harder, his cock
hitting every tender place
inside me, each stroke
inspiring shimmering
explosions of pleasure inside
me.

“Yes, Reign, yes, fuck me,
please, fuck me,” I moaned,
barely able to take it as his
cock slammed into me, giving
my pussy the only thing it
wanted, my whole life
reduced to a pinprick of
ecstasy that grew and grew
with each thrust. It was all I
wanted, forever, this, his cock
in me, filling me entirely,
massaging my pussy with its
hugeness, driving me closer
and closer to the edge…

A rush of warmth took hold
of my veins, and I felt my
toes curling tight to my feet,
as though struck with
paralysis. Reign moved
slightly, his knees bending,
and I felt his cock slipping
into my pussy from a new
angle, suddenly falling into
place, pressing against
something inside me that
buzzed and vibrated with
pleasure.

A wave swelled inside me as
he slammed his body against
mine again and again, hitting
that spot inside me over and
over, my eyes popping open
in delirious wonder as my
body seemed to set fire all at
once, a need more powerful
than anything I’d ever felt
rising inside me, a desperate
need that only grew with each
thrust.

My mouth opened in a silent
cry as he pulled me closer
and slammed into me once
more, a snapping sensation in
my brain as the wave broke
and cooled the fire in my
body, a steaming mist of bliss
suddenly releasing inside me
as I came violently against
him. My pussy squeezed
around his cock, sucking it
further inwards, my legs
clenched around him
painfully as my muscles
contracted, head to toe, the
world swimming before my
eyes as I came and came for
what felt like a thousand
years.

When finally I came back
down to earth, I was sitting
on the saddle once more,
Boon still inside me, now
pausing and panting and
looking down at me with that
cocky smile – he pulsed
inside me gently, still rock
hard. I couldn’t take it
anymore, though, my being
totally ripped apart by the
pleasure he’d already given
me. I wanted to taste him
once more, and this time I
wanted to taste all of him,
every last drop. I pushed him
away, his cock popping out of
me with a wet slurp. Sliding
from the seat and kneeling
before him once again, I
looked up pleadingly.

“Will you come in my
mouth?” I asked, knowing
that it wouldn’t be a hard
thing to get him to accept. His
hands returned to my hair.

“Only if you swallow every
drop,” he said, his voice
dripping with sex. I nodded,
all too eager. Who are you,
even, I wondered vaguely.
When did I become the sort
of girl who’d beg to swallow
someone’s cum? It didn’t
matter; I fucking loved it.

Taking his cock in my mouth
once more, I could taste
myself on his shaft, my juices
making it glisten in the
moonlight. He moaned and
pulled my head forward until
my nose hit his stomach, his
entire length throbbing in my
throat once more, already raw
from the first time but happily
accepting more.

I could feel my own juices
dripping down my thighs as
he thrust inside me once
more, his demanding grip on
my hair holding me in place
as he fucked my mouth. I
could feel his cock straining,
and as my hands came to rest
on his thighs I felt the
muscles there shifting and
tensing. I looked up at him,
his mouth set in a snarl that
somehow managed to make
him even sexier.

“Fuck, Gabriella,” he
growled, and his grip
increased even more, his
thrusting deeper and faster,
my throat clenching in a
panic around him, my eyes
running with tears as he
pistoned into my throat.

I heard the audible slap of his
balls against my chin as he
tore into me, his thighs
releasing in a sudden ripple,
my throat gagging as the first
of his warm, wet cum hit the
back of my throat. I struggled
to swallow; he pulled out
slightly as the second spurt
filled my mouth and I
swallowed, feeling it burn my
raw throat in the best way.

Burst after burst of warm cum
filled my mouth and
disappeared down my throat,
musky and salty and
strangely satisfying. As his
cock shuddered and released
the final stream of his seed, I
leaned back and let it roll
across my tongue for a
moment before gulping it
down.

“Holy shit,” Reign said, his
body crumpling slightly. He
reached down and pulled his
pants up, then knelt down
beside me. I was too
overwhelmed and exhausted
to do much beside sit back on
my haunches, not caring a bit
about the sand that was
getting everywhere.

“You know, you’re really
something else,” he said,
staring right into my eyes
with a strange look. It
seemed…vulnerable? I could
only shrug and smile.

“I…I’m just me. I’m just a
girl. A silly girl,” I said.
Reign sat down beside me,
his hand tracing up my side,
his eyes following his hand.
He seemed like he was seeing
a woman for the first time in
his life and couldn’t believe
that I actually existed.

“You’re…well, just don’t sell
yourself short,” he finally
said after a long moment, his
eyes coming to rest on mine. I
blushed; the way he was
looking at me was not unlike
the way a starving man might
look at a mega-loaded club
sandwich. I looked up at the
sky, my heart feeling stranger
and stranger the more we
maintained eye contact.

“Look at all those stars,” I
said with a sigh, my flesh
contended, my soul not
gripped with anxiety for the
first time in a long time.
Reign was silent. After a
minute, I looked back at him.
He was still looking at me.

“Yeah, just look at ‘em,” he
said, but he never took his
eyes from mine.
 ~ 15 ~

Tell me about yourself, he’d
said.

There’s not much to tell,
she’d said. And he’d pulled
her closer.

Of course there is. There’s,
what, 25 years to tell me
about?

Nice guess, but I’m 27, she’d
said with a laugh. The sand
had been prickly but warm
and soft underneath them.

Even better. Two more years
to tell me about, he’d said.
She’d giggled. He liked that
sound.

Well, my mom was Italian
and my dad was Puerto-
Rican…

And so she’d talked. For a
long time, but not long
enough, in his opinion. He
wanted to hear every detail.
He wanted to know the color
of the dress she’d worn on
her first day of grade school.
He wanted to know the first
concert she ever went to. He
wanted to know the name of
her kindergarten crush, the
color of her college
roommate’s hair, how she
liked her coffee.

He didn’t know why he
wanted to know all those
things, but he did. He was
hungry for them. Starving, in
fact. Desperate like a mutt
gnawing scraps from a bone.
Her black hair spread across
the sand like gleaming
ribbons in the moonlight. It
reminded him of a poem he’d
heard once, a long time ago.
Look for me by moonlight,
watch for me by moonlight,
I’ll come to thee by
moonlight, though hell should
bar the way.

It was getting colder as she
spoke, and her voice was
drifting, downward, as though
she were on the verge of
sleep. He would have slept
there with her, covered her
with his cut and kept her
warm until the morning sun
washed the valley in blazing
heat. He would have slept
with her anywhere. A gas
station bathroom, the back of
a truck, a jail cell, anywhere,
he would have held her and
listened to her breathe and
slept beside her through the
whole long night.

But why sleep on the ground
when he had a king-size bed
waiting for them in his room?

And so that was where he
brought her, both their bodies
spent and aching from their
ecstasies on the sand. And
now she was sleeping beside
him, and he was awake,
staring into the darkness of
the room and wondering
about her dreams.

You’re going down the rabbit
hole, his mind said, a
warning. He didn’t care. He
wasn’t afraid. He could deal
with this like he’d dealt with
everything else in his life. His
way.

Well, not everything else in
his life…

He didn’t want to think about
that now, though. Not with
her in his bed. He didn’t want
any memories sullying his
bed when she was in it.

Besides, memories were just
memories, they couldn’t hurt
him anymore. They weren’t
his father’s fists. They
weren’t his sisters’ tears.
They were just figments,
ghosts, spectres.

Or, they would be that, as
long as she didn’t ask any
questions, and he didn’t have
to give any answers. But she
would ask questions. Of
course she would. She was
smart, lively, he could see it
in her eyes, her desire to
know more and more about
everything around her. She’d
listened to him talk about the
club, about his life, but soon
she would want to hear
everything.

And he wasn’t ready to talk
about it. If he lived a million
years he wouldn’t be ready to
talk about it. He shut his eyes,
the darkness of the room
suddenly feeling heavy,
cloying. It was only darker
with his eyes shut. The
darkness wasn’t in the room,
it was inside him.

He sighed and rolled over,
reaching out to latch onto her
soft, plush hip. She can’t stay
here, he thought. She’s too
good for this place.

The thought made him want
to scream. He finally had
this…this…whatever this
was. This thing that he didn’t
know he’d needed. But he
couldn’t keep it. He couldn’t
keep her. She was too pure,
too smart, too good for the
club. Too good to spend her
life like Honey, or like the
other old ladies, who waited
through long nights with their
hearts in a vice because they
didn’t know if their men
would ever come home.

But he couldn’t go with her.
This was his home. His life.
His whole life. He was next
in line. He couldn’t leave the
club, his family. The poem
came to his mind once more.

But she loosened her hair in

the casement. His face burnt
like a brand
As the black cascade of
perfume came tumbling over
his breast;
And he kissed its waves in the
moonlight,
(O, sweet black waves in the
moonlight!)
Then he tugged at his rein in
the moonlight, and galloped
away to the west.

Reign was tired. He wanted
to sleep. But he couldn’t.
Reign, the man who would
sleep anywhere, anytime,
couldn’t sleep. Because when
he woke up, it’d be morning,
and he’d be one day closer to
losing her.
 ~ 16 ~

Honey rolled over, the
sunlight beginning to filter
through her lidded eyes. A
rare day off; it seemed she
spent more time in that damn
bar than she did in her own
apartment. She was slightly,
though not entirely, surprised
when her hand grazed soft
skin in the bed beside her.

Peeking through her eyelids,
she saw the girl she’d brought
home last night sleeping like
a princess, on her back, lips
parted slightly, one arm
thrown above her head and
the other resting lightly on
her chest. Honey smiled, tried
to remember the girl’s name.
She’d drank quite a bit the
night before, but things were
starting to come back to her.

Honey had never thought of
herself as gay, but she also
never really liked labelling
herself. Sometimes, she saw a
girl that just needed to be
kissed, and then next thing
she knew she’d be waking up
just like this. She let one of
her hands travel downwards,
parted the lips of her sex and
dipped a finger in, feeling the
residual wetness from the
night before.

It must have been a very good
night, she thought sleepily,
only a little sad that she could
only remember bits and
pieces.

That’s what mornings were
for.

And weren’t these mornings
so much more beautiful than
all the other mornings of her
sad, long life? Certainly
better than all those mornings
she’d woken up unsure if she
could get out of bed for the
pain in her back. The
mornings she’d pee blood
from a kick to the kidneys.
The mornings she’d lay,
trying not to breathe, praying
and praying and praying that
he just wouldn’t wake up this
time. That he’d stop breathing
and she could slip away,
finally safe and free.

She’d come to Ditcher’s
Valley a long time ago – at
least ten years, maybe fifteen,
maybe more. She looked
good now, but she’d been a
real piece back then, even
with a face that was more
bruise than not. Short red
hair, bright green eyes, a
body to kill for. She’d been
all alone for the first time in
her life, having jumped
straight from a drunken
stepfather to a drunken
husband.

All alone except for the baby
she’d been carrying. The
reason she’d finally got the
courage to leave. The baby
that hadn’t made it past four
months in her belly, but that
she still loved in her deepest
heart. The baby she thanked
every day for giving her the
reason to leave. She’d been
distraught when she first
miscarried, but time and years
and perspective had left her
with only a dull ache that
would throb at strange times,
like an old wound that you
only remember when it rains.

Honey owed the club
everything. They’d taken her
in, hadn’t asked for anything
in return. The aging
president, Charcoal, had
taken pity on her and given
her a place to stay, a job at
the bar. And she hadn’t even
needed to prove herself by
shacking up with half the club
– of course, she did,
eventually, wind up doing
just that, but only on her own
time, on her own terms.

She was lucky, so lucky, and
she reminded herself of this
as she gazed at the girl beside
her in bed. She wondered
about this girl. She was a
local, one of those girls
who’d probably stay in
Ditcher’s Valley another five
years before she realized
there wasn’t any kind of life
for her there, that being
someone’s old lady wasn’t
actually the best thing that
could happen to you. Good
for her, Honey thought,
imagining the girl waking up
in a better place and a better
time.

It was too late for Honey to
think of herself doing
anything different with her
life. And she didn’t really
want to do anything different.
She wasn’t like this girl, or
any of the other girls who
hung around the club. She
was just as much a member
as any of the dudes, if not
more.

She even had a cut, even
though her boys didn’t like
her getting her hands dirty.
All she had to do was tend
bar, keep a weather eye out,
and take care of her men.
Hold their hands while they
moaned over some girl who’d
run off, pour a stiff drink after
a funeral, sing along with
whatever drunken tune they
picked on the jukebox.

Keep a weather eye out, she
thought to herself, still half-
sleeping, the phrase sticking
in her mind. Why? Something
seemed wrong that morning,
a nagging feeling that she had
seen something the night
before, something important,
but that she’d forgotten.

Georgia, she thought to
herself, the name drifting up
to her from her subconscious.
That was the pretty girl’s
name. She frowned, eyes still
closed, and tried to push the
nasty feeling away. It wasn’t
the girl’s name she was
forgetting it was…something
else. But it wouldn’t help her
hangover one bit to obsess
about something that she’d
either remember or not
remember.

And probably it was just a bit
of the hangover itself;
whenever you black out like
that you always wake up
feeling a little sour. Besides,
there was a beautiful girl in
her bed, and Honey didn’t
want to think about anything
besides that. She rolled over
slowly, letting her hand fall to
the girl’s waist. Georgia
moaned in her sleep and
rolled over onto her side.

Perfect, Honey thought,
pressing herself against the
girl’s warm body, her hand
gently stroking her hip. She
didn’t care if the girl woke up
then; it was nice enough to
just lay in the bed, sleepy and
relaxed, breathing in the
smell of her shampoo,
drifting off to sleep once
more with soft skin against
her…

But, as luck would have it,
Georgia seemed to be waking
up as well. She stirred again
in her sleep, pressing her ass
against Honey’s mound, then
taking Honey’s hand from her
hip and grasping it to her
chest as though it were a
teddy bear. Honey stroked the
smooth skin of the girl’s
breast, loving its roundness
beneath her palm, letting her
thumbs roll gently over her
nipple, which grew slightly
hard at the touch.

The girl moaned and Honey
pressed herself tighter
towards the sleeping figure,
craning her neck slightly to
let her lips fall on the girl’s
neck and behind her ear,
gently kissing the warm flesh,
appreciating the soft
humming sound the girl made
in response. A giggle, and
Georgia turned her head
towards Honey, eyes still
closed, a sleepy smile across
her face.

“That feels good,” she said,
slurring her words a bit.

“I like the way you taste,”
Honey whispered back, her
mouth moving against
Georgia’s ear. A shudder
from the half-sleeping girl
was her reward. Honey
propped herself up on her
elbow, hand still fondling the
girl’s breast, and began to
kiss along her cheek, softly.
The girl’s smile parted
slightly as Honey leaned over
and let her lips flutter over
the girl’s, just barely touching
her lower lip.

“Mmmm,” Georgia moaned,
rolling over with a sigh and
opening her eyes at last.
Bright blue and bleary, the
girl’s eyes blinked slowly a
few times before settling on
Honey, who was now leaning
over the girl’s prone body,
one hand gently kneading her
breast. Honey rolled over
further, positioning her body
above the girl’s, crouched
above her with her knees on
each side of her body.

Honey sat up, admiring the
view beneath her. Her own B-
cup breasts, still perky and
full, were prickled with
gooseflesh from suddenly
emerging from the warmth of
the covers, and the hair on her
arms stood on end. The room
was chilly with the air
conditioner running at full
blast, and the girl’s skin was
prickling as well.

Honey gently traced her
fingers down Georgia’s sides,
from the sides of her C-cup
breasts to her hips and back.
The girl moaned once more
and bit her lip, Honey’s
fingers leaving trails of heat
down her flesh. She leaned
down and their lips met
again, hungrier now, their lips
parting and tongues meeting
in a delicate but passionate
dance. Honey’s sex, already
wet from the night before,
pressed against the girl’s soft
mound, her downy hair
tickling Honey’s flesh.

Honey let her lips move
downward, across Georgia’s
collarbone and towards her
breasts, the nipples now hard.
She gently flicked at one
nipple with her tongue, letting
her hand rest on the other
breast, rolling the other nipple
between her fingers. Georgia
moaned and squirmed
underneath her, one hand
coming to the back of
Honey’s head and pressing
forward as though demanding
more. Honey was happy to
oblige, her tongue licking and
sucking softly at each nipple
in turn, then gently nibbling
them, causing the girl
underneath her to arch her
back and groan hungrily.

Honey could have spent
hours enjoying the taste and
feel of the young girl’s
breasts, but she wanted more,
and began to lead her lips
even further downward, her
hands resting on Georgia’s
waist firmly, pinning her
down. She dipped her tongue
into her belly button, drawing
a giggle from Georgia, who
released her grip on Honey’s
head and sighed as Honey’s
warm mouth licked and
kissed down her stomach
towards her now-glistening
sex.

Honey pressed her knee
between the girl’s upper
thighs, and she let her legs
part, revealing her slit and
engorged clit, both radiating
heat. Honey traced her fingers
up and down her inner thighs,
making them quiver, enjoyed
watching Georgia’s slit
dampen further with
anticipation.

She licked her lips, then
dipped her head and ran her
tongue along the length of the
girl’s wet lips. Georgia
shuddered, moaned, her hips
bucking forward slightly.
Honey’s long, soft tongue
travelled over each tender
fold of Georgia’s lips, tasting
her sweetness, before coming
up to flick her red clit,
another appreciative groan
from Georgia spurring her on.

She circled the clit gently
with her tongue, feeling it roll
and buzz underneath her, felt
Georgia’s hands in her hair
clutching and pulling her
closer. The girl was
squirming now as Honey’s
tongue lapped at her clit,
exploring every angle, before
moving lower once more to
taste her slit, her tongue
darting inside quickly.

Honey let one of her hands
move to her own sex, her
arousal growing with each of
Georgia’s ecstatic moans. She
slipped one finger into her
own wetness, feeling her
pussy clench around it. She
brought her tongue back to
Georgia’s clit, now flicking it
faster and harder. Georgia’s
legs clenched around Honey’s
head, her hand pulled her
tighter, and Honey knew she
was approaching a climax.
She brought her finger, still
slick with her own juices, to
Georgia’s slick entrance and
pushed it inside slowly.

“Oh, fuccck, yes, please,” the
girl moaned as Honey began
to pump her finger in and out
of her wet cunt. She pressed
another finger inside, her
tongue still dancing over her
clit, and began to fuck the girl
harder, curling her fingers
inside, searching for that
special spot that would make
the girl crumble.

She let her teeth fall over
Georgia’s clit, just slightly,
and felt the girl’s spine
straighten and stiffen from
the sensation. Her fingers
soon found their target, and
Honey moaned into Georgia’s
sex as she began to pump
harder, the girl’s movements
now becoming erratic as she
squirmed and clutched
Honey’s head to her clit.

“Please don’t stop, please,
please don’t stop,” Georgia
moaned, panting, as Honey
massaged her pussy with two
fingers, bringing her other
hand up to Georgia’s breast
and gently kneading it from
below.

“Oh, fuck, yes, I’m
gonna...oh fuck!” Georgia
screamed, her young voice
breaking the air, and Honey
felt a flood of juices running
over her fingers into her
waiting mouth, Georgia’s
pussy clenching tightly, her
thighs shaking with pleasure
against Honey’s ears.

Georgia’s hands were almost
digging into Honey’s scalp as
she came, her hips rising into
the air and thrusting slightly,
flesh feverish and tingling.
With a gasp, Honey brought
her mouth away from the
girl’s sex, licking the sweet
taste of her from her lips,
watching as the girl twitched
and panted, lips parted, eyes
half-closed, a bloom of
radiant pleasure across her
cheeks.

“I’ve never been with a
woman before last night,”
Georgia said in a whisper,
looking up at Honey like she
was a goddess.

“It’s fun, isn’t it?” Honey
said with a smile, crawling
upwards to kiss her on the
lips once more, languidly
now. Honey felt the fire of
want pulsing in her sex, but
there was no rush. She gently
pushed a lock of Georgia’s
blonde hair from her
forehead, then let her fingers
trail down her blushing
cheek.

“You know….last night….I
didn’t…I didn’t…you know,
return the favor,” Georgia
said, seeming nervous. Honey
chuckled.

“I didn’t even remember, to
be honest. But it’s never too
late…” she looked down,
eyebrows raised, and saw the
girl’s face flicker with worry.

“Don’t worry, it’s easy,” she
cooed, rolling onto her back
beside the girl, who leaned up
onto her elbows. Honey
snaked one arm around
Georgia’s waist and pulled
her tight. The girl bit her lip,
brought one hand tentatively
towards Honey’s mound. One
finger slipped between her
slightly parted lips, exploring,
running along her clit and
down to her wet opening.
Honey moaned and closed
her eyes, letting her head fall
back.

“Mmmm, that’s a good start,”
she said. Buoyed, the girl let
her fingers linger, back and
forth, tracing the inside of
Honey’s lips. She leaned
forward, kissing Honey’s
neck, tasting her. She
mirrored Honey’s approach,
trailing her lips downward,
but bypassed Honey’s breasts
completely.

Honey moaned as Georgia’s
warm mouth grew nearer and
nearer to her aching pussy,
parting her legs wider.
Georgia’s fingers were
playing delicately with her
clit, as though afraid of
touching it too hard. The
sensation was like thousands
of feathers gently pricking at
Honey’s flesh: beautiful
torture. She wanted to grab
the girl’s head and force it
downwards, but she was
patient. As Georgia’s tongue
dipped below her belly-
button, the girl re-positioned
herself between Honey’s
parted thighs.

“Taste me, sweetheart,”
Honey whispered, feeling the
girl’s hot breath against her
clit. She reached down and
gently tugged at one of her
blonde locks, encouragingly.
Georgia looked nervous but
curious as she looked down at
Honey’s exposed mound, her
fingers now stalled in their
roaming.

She leaned forward and
gently kissed Honey’s clit,
making it jump and quiver.
Honey thought she might
break in two from the way the
girl was teasing her, holding
back, making her wait. If she
didn’t know better, Honey
would have thought the
torture was on purpose. She
whimpered, her hands gently
combing the girl’s hair,
putting the slightest pressure
on the back of her head.

With a rush of electric
pleasure, Honey’s efforts
were rewarded as the girl
tentatively stuck her tongue
out and ran it along Honey’s
clit.

“Oh, yeah, baby, just like
that,” she cried out, and
Georgia repeated the move,
lapping at Honey’s clit as it
strained forward from its
hood. As though inspired by
Honey’s reaction, she began
to lick faster, experimenting
with different speeds and
angles, now circling it, now
flicking it gently.

Honey felt her blood turning
slow and molten as her desire
rose, her pussy begging for
attention, her face enflamed.
She hadn’t realized how
horny she was until Georgia’s
tongue began to lick her
sensitive button, how it was
so tender it almost hurt as
Georgia rolled it between her
lips and hummed against it
playfully.

“Oh, baby, that’s so good,”
Honey moaned
encouragingly, hoping the
girl would take it a step
further. Her hopes were not in
vain. Bolstered, Georgia
pressed two fingers against
Honey’s dripping slit.

“Can I fuck you like this?”
Georgia suddenly asked,
pulling her face away; Honey
looked up and couldn’t help
but smile at the worried look
on the girl’s face.

“Please fuck me just like that,
baby” she said, her hips
automatically raising as her
body cried out for
stimulation. She raised her
hands to her own breasts,
pinching her sensitive nipples
as she moaned, Georgia’s
tongue once more finding her
swollen clit and lavishing
attention upon it.

Honey felt her thighs
quivering around the girls’
head, felt her body heating up
one degree at a time, her
nerves dancing and snapping
inside her. With a satisfied
groan, she felt Georgia push
her two fingers inside
Honey’s pussy, as deep as the
knuckle, and began to stroke
her inside, gently thrusting
back and forth. Honey’s hips
arched, and Georgia’s fingers
plunged further into her cunt,
her tongue never leaving
Honey’s clit.

“Fuck me, yes, baby, oh fuck
me,” Honey moaned, wanting
the girl to never stop, feeling
her pleasure rising and rising
inside her like a ship on a
tremendous wave. The girl
began to fuck her harder,
faster, her fingers darting in
and out while her tongue
lapped and sucked at her clit.
Honey kneaded her own
breasts, tweaking the nipples
violently, her muscles
straining to the point of
snapping as pleasure engulfed
her.

The wave crested, broke, and
Honey felt herself trembling
as her legs snapped shut
around the girl’s head, her
silky hair against Honey’s
thighs like a cool compress to
her skin as she bucked and
came underneath the girl’s
tongue and around her
probing fingers. Honey felt
her orgasm shaking her body
to its core as she peaked and
then slowly fading, leaving
her buzzing and humming
with pleasure. Releasing her
thighs, she sighed happily and
let her head roll back further
against the pillow.

“Oh, girl, you’re a natural,”
she said. Georgia giggled and
wiped her mouth as she
pulled away and crawled up
to join Honey in the bed.
Honey extended her arm,
inviting the girl to nuzzle into
her. She did, and Honey let
the sweet smell of Georgia’s
hair fill her nostrils. She liked
this girl quite a bit. She hoped
she’d stick around. If she did,
Honey would take good care
of her, make sure none of the
men roughed up her heart. If
they did, she’d always be
welcome to come heal in
Honey’s bed.

As she drifted off once more,
listening to the gentle
breathing beside her, the
sunlight streaming in over
them, illuminating their soft
curves as they lay in the bed,
Honey’s mind lagged once
more, tripping over that
unsettling feeling that had
plagued her upon waking.

With a sudden start that
shook Honey’s whole body,
her eyes popped open.
Somehow, it didn’t disturb
the sleeping figure beside her.
She remembered now what
she’d see the night before. A
stranger, though not a
stranger, really. He’d been in
the bar for a few days…she
hadn’t noticed anything odd
about him at first but…but
last night…

Yes, last night. He’d done
something odd. She’d noticed
him first staring at Reign and
the little thing he was trying
to help, then again, when she
was outside after Reign had
rode away. She’d seen the
man slinking off towards the
motel. But he wasn’t a guest.
There were only three people
even staying at the motel, and
he wasn’t one of them. And
he’d been headed straight for
room 7.

Honey’s stomach flipped. She
cursed herself now for having
drank too much, for being too
wasted to notice just how
suspicious all that was. She
could sense trouble a mile
away, but it had been sitting
right in her own damn bar
and she hadn’t done a thing
about it. There was definitely
something up with that
stranger, and it definitely had
something to do with that
Gabriella girl.

I told Reign she’d be trouble,
Honey thought, her
contentment draining away as
she tried to put all the pieces
together in her mind. The
duffel bag, the bruise, the
girl, the stranger, Reign…

She’d need coffee if she was
going to start working on
whatever this was. Loathe to
leave the comfort of her bed,
not to mention Georgia’s
pleasurably soft flesh, she
groaned and sat up.

Some day off, she thought
sourly, but her irritation was
just a façade concealing a pit
of worry that was growing in
her belly. This wasn’t good.
Not at all. Not at all…
 ~ 17 ~

He was very pleased with
himself. He wasn’t the sort of
man who generally liked
patting himself on the back,
but this time he’d really
outdone himself. Of course,
he wasn’t too proud to tip his
hat to luck, which had set him
up real pretty this time.

It was lucky that the girl had
found her way straight into
Reign’s arms. It was lucky
that she was running from a
situation that he could use to
his advantage. He was lucky
that her husband seemed a lot
more concerned with finding
his wife than figuring out
how she’d gotten the balls to
get away. He was lucky that
the cops, the rest of the cops,
were only curious about her
possible involvement in the
hotel murder – they hadn’t
yet gotten to the point of
putting out a warrant or
asking too many questions.

He was lucky in all sorts of
ways. And he was a man who
knew how to get the most out
of his luck.

He sat outside the small,
wood-sided house. Cute digs,
he thought, noting the happy
“welcome” sign hanging on
the front door. He also noted
the garden, which looked like
someone had recently cared
for it, but not for a few days.
The guy inside that house
definitely wasn’t the
gardening sort, nor did he
seem like the “welcome” sign
sort. He seemed like the sort
who’d throw a punch as soon
as he found a good reason –
and that reason could be any
reason at all.

He didn’t think that the fact
that this Jeremy guy was a
cop would impede his
mission. This guy wasn’t the
sort of cop who did it for
noble reasons, protecting and
serving and all that. No,
Jeremy was just a good old-
fashioned bully, and a police
uniform gave him the
authority to bully people on
behalf of the great state of
Colorado.

He wouldn’t find it part of his
duty to report the man to his
buddies on the force. He’d
probably be happy as a pig in
shit that the man had found
him and was offering his very
particular services. A one
way ticket to Find-Your-
Wife-ville. If the guy wasn’t
pissed off enough about the
girl running off in the first
place, he was sure to blow his
top once the man told him
about her little romance with
Reign.

The man opened his car door
slowly, in no hurry. He was
re-calculating how much he
stood to make off this whole
fiasco. His payment from the
Immortal Soulz, what he
could take from the girl’s
safe, what he could weasel
out of her husband as a
finder’s fee. He’d make
enough off this one gig to
coast him through a few good
years in Costa Rica.

And if anyone had a problem
with him after it was all said
and done, be it the police or
the club or the husband, good
luck finding him. The man
could go ghost better than the
best of them. He’d done
enough of his own research to
know that the Immortal Soulz
were savvy, but nowhere near
his level of savvy. If they
were, they wouldn’t have
hired him in the first place,
would they?

Climbing the brick steps
leading to the front door, the
man noticed the curtains
shifting slightly. On the
lookout, he thought with a
grin. Yeah, the guy inside
was probably pretty desperate
to get his hands around his
no-good, shit-for-brains,
unappreciative wife.
Specifically, her neck.

Before the man could even
knock, the door creaked open.
A strong, pale, masculine
face appeared in the crack. It
looked drawn, as though he
hadn’t slept in days, fueled by
coffee, but still strong and
determined.

Almost psychotically
determined.

“What do you want?”
growled the man in the door.
His eyes shot from side to
side, as though trying to see if
there were other people on his
tiny stoop.

“Are you Jeremy Tunnock?”
the man asked, unfazed by
the crazy look in his subject’s
eyes. After a long pause, the
face in the door nodded, and
the eyes settled on the man,
examining him up and down.
The man tipped his hat, trying
to hide a sardonic smile.
Guys like Jeremy were
suckers for signs of respect.

“My name is Silas, and I
know where your wife is,”
the man said simply, flatly.
The face in the door shifted;
the eyes grew wide, the chin
trembled a bit before setting
in a firm grimace, the sunken-
looking cheeks puffed out
slightly, turned reddish.

“Where is she?” Jeremy
demanded, his voice rough as
sandpaper.

“I rather think we have some
things to discuss,” Silas said,
taking a step closer. Jeremy,
in turn, stepped back slightly,
but made quick work of
opening the door all the way.
He stepped to the side to let
Silas pass and stuck his head
out, looking both ways,
before closing the door once
more.

The living area was as cute as
the outside, but seemed dark
and dim. None of the lights
were on, and the curtains
were drawn. Throw pillows,
tea cozies, framed
photographs. Evidence of a
happy wife, happy home.
Trust not too much
appearances, Silas thought.

“How do you know where my
wife is? Who are you?”
Jeremy demanded, arms
crossed, boring holes into the
back of Silas’ head as he
turned around in the living
room, taking note of all the
little details. When he was
satisfied about committing
the important things in the
room to memory, he finally
met Jeremy’s gaze, the
benign smile on his lips a
stark contrast to Jeremy’s
deadly scowl.

“I’m a man who finds things,
does things, for other people,
when they can’t do it
themselves. And I happened
upon your lovely little
Gabriella on a job. I thought
you might be interested in her
whereabouts, and what
exactly she’s been up to
there,” Silas said patiently.
“Shall we discuss this over a
drink? Like gentlemen?”

“Just tell me where she is,”
Jeremy demanded, his voice
so cop-like it almost made
Silas laugh. Authority hadn’t
scared Silas since he was still
eating cereal with a Kermit
the Frog spoon. As he’d
expected, Jeremy was the
type to throw all his punches
at the first bell. If Silas didn’t
manage to get this guy to
understand exactly who was
in charge of the situation,
he’d likely pull out his
Colorado PD-issued gun, and
then Silas would have to
wrestle it from him and shoot
the poor sap. Silas didn’t
want anything as messy as all
that.

“Well now, I don’t blame you
for being impatient, but I
really think we ought to try
and discuss this in a civilized
manner. I’m willing to tell
you everything I know – for a
small sum, which we can
work out over a nice cold
beer,” Silas said, clasping his
hands around his back and
standing up tall and straight.
He felt a thrill as Jeremy
automatically mimicked his
actions, straightening his
spine and dropping his arms,
clasping them in front of his
waist. But Jeremy didn’t
verbally respond to the offer,
and after a long pause Silas
decided he would need to
crank the engine a bit.

“I can’t say I pegged you as a
teetotaler, but no matter. It
doesn’t have to be a beer. A
nice cold lemonade would…”

“Shut up,” Jeremy snapped,
losing the cool he was trying
very hard to maintain. Men
with quick tempers hated
nothing more than when their
anger was met with placidity.
It made them feel foolish. “I
don’t negotiate with…with…
with whatever you are.”

“There’s a first time for
everything, my good man.
But, if you want, I’ll leave
right now and leave you to
your own devices. Best of
luck to you, friend, in finding
your precious wife,” Silas
said, unclasping his hands
and heading to the door.

“Wait,” Jeremy said, his
voice cutting through the
room quickly, as though the
idea of Silas leaving without
giving up the goods incited
panic in his heart. Or, more
likely, his dignity, Silas
thought, smiling as he paused
with his hand on the
doorknob.

“Whiskey,” Jeremy said,
sounding deflated, which was
exactly how Silas wanted him
to sound. “On the rocks or
neat?”

“Neat, if you would be so
kind,” Silas said, turning back
to face his newest client.
 End of Part 2.

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3.
 Part 3

~ 18 ~

Silas looked over. Pale, red-
haired, lanky Jeremy sat
white-knuckling the door
handle with one hand, his
other hand clenched in a fist.
He’d been sitting just like that
since they’d left Summit
County. He looked ready to
do some serious business: a
total overhaul of his wife’s
pretty face.

Silas smiled. He felt a sort of
wicked pity for men like
Jeremy, middle-school bullies
who grew up to be twenty-
something bullies, who would
just turn into middle-aged
bullies, until their train came
into the station at a nursing
home, all alone, bullying the
nurses who had the
unfortunate job of giving
them sponge baths and
wiping the shit from their
asses.

Jeremy would experience a
few blissful minutes of blind
rage while he was unloading
onto his wife, then he’d feel
as empty and angry and
unsatisfied and small as
always. Guys like him were a
dime a dozen; Silas had come
across many an incarnation of
Jeremy in his line of work. A
few women, too. People who
needed Silas’ skills to find
their favorite punching bag,
or who wanted to be tough
but were too damn stupid and
weak to get the job done
themselves.

After Silas had managed to
calm Jeremy down over two
glasses of whiskey, the cop
had started in with the bullish
questions. Silas had answered
them as vaguely as he could,
which was very vague,
indeed.

Who was he? Just a man with
a knack for finding people.

What was he doing at
Jeremy’s house? Well, they’d
already gone over that, hadn’t
they?

How did Silas know about
Gabriella? He’d come across
her on a separate job and
wanted to save Jeremy the
trouble of finding her himself.

How had he found out where
Jeremy lived? A knack for
finding people meant finding
any people. Even cops. Even
people who didn’t know they
were being looked for.

When it finally came down to
talk business, Jeremy had
been cagey, suspicious. Hell,
he was still cagey and
suspicious. But who cared?
At the end of the day, he’d
taken the deal Silas had laid
on the table. A hefty sum, for
sure, just to track down a wife
who’d had some good
reasons for leaving in the first
place.

What had really sealed the
deal, though, when Jeremy
had been on the fence, his
face wavering from pure
desire to find Gabriella and
frustration at needing Silas’
help in the first place, was
Silas’ admission that
Gabriella wasn’t just hiding
from Jeremy; she was
recruiting for his
replacement. A hint at what
she’d been up to in the few
days she’d been gone had
been enough to push humpty-
dumpty off the wall.

And all the king’s men
wouldn’t keep Jeremy from
emptying his bank account to
get his hands on the man
who’d been plowing his wife.
Making her smile. Putting
some life into those sad, dead
eyes of hers. Kissing away all
the cuts and scrapes Jeremy
had left on her little heart.
Doing for her what Jeremy
could never do in a million
years, even if he’d wanted to.
Which, maybe, he did.

Silas had a lot of time to think
on the ride, since Jeremy
wasn’t much for talking. He
was thinking about what
made the cop tick. Maybe,
just maybe, the poor kid was
in such sorry shape because
he wanted Gabriella to love
him – but didn’t know how to
make her. That almost –
emphasis on the almost –
made him sorry for the sack
of shit. Whatever.

Silas didn’t feel bad for
Jeremy, not really. Just like
he didn’t feel bad for the girl
they were on the road to
catch. He didn’t feel bad for
anyone, except for himself
when things weren’t going
his way. Which, fortunately,
was a rare happening. For
example, the way he was
playing it now, he was going
to be able to get whatever he
wanted for a few years to
come.

His thoughts drifted away
from Jeremy and returned to
his new favorite hobby:
counting up the amount of
money he’d be driving away
with in a few days. And
where he’d go with it. And
what he’d do. Maybe buy
himself a nice little thing to
entertain for the night, take
her to some fancy dinner,
then give her his special
brand of tough love in a five-
star hotel.

Maybe he’d skip the girl and
go straight for the border by
way of the Florida Keys, hop
on a ship to Turks and Caicos
and get properly toasted on
primo Caribbean hash and
rum on the rocks. He smiled,
forgetting all about the man
fuming beside him. Silas
never indulged until he
finished the job at hand; he’d
go months without a drop of
alcohol (unless the job called
for it, as this one had), a toke,
a snort of white lightning, a
warm pussy on his lap, or any
other indulgence.

Then, when payday came
around, he’d stock a
reasonable amount away and
blow through the rest like a
tornado rolling through the
Grain Belt. He’d saved a nice
little nest egg for himself, but
he was getting tired of going
from job to job. He liked his
work, but he liked not
working even better. This gig
right here…well, he’d have
enough to save for a rainy
day and a nice, long, multi-
year vacation, as well.

He was humming again,
unconsciously. He only
noticed when Jeremy brought
it to his attention, the cop
snapping his head around
faster than a nasty
schoolmarm who’d seen one
of her students passing a note
in class.

“What the hell are you
humming?” Jeremy snapped,
eyes narrowed. Silas didn’t
turn to look at him. That
would only taunt the bull, and
Silas knew the best matador
was the one who made it out
of the ring alive.

“Just a little tune been stuck
in my head for a few days.
You know it? Goes like this?”
Silas hummed louder, the
song that had been playing in
his head recently, an old
Dylan tune called “You Ain’t
Going Nowhere”.

“I know it. That’s one of my
favorite songs. Gabriella’s
too,” Jeremy growled, but the
growl sounded forced and
sad. Jesus Christ, kid, you are
one sorry piece of shit, Silas
thought.

“Does it bother you, buddy?”
Silas asked, his tone neutral.

“I’m not your buddy, and yes
it does. Very much so,”
Jeremy said, now looking
back out the passenger side
window. Silas noted, out of
the corner of his eye that his
client’s hand had unfurled, no
longer a fist. Now he sat his
hand on his knee, palm-down.
Silas guessed there would be
some distinctive crescent
moons carved into Jeremy’s
palm from the way he’d been
clenching throughout the
whole trip.

He wondered how long it
would take before Jeremy
went back into Rambo-mode.

Not long, he guessed. And he
was right; fifteen minutes
later, that hand was a fist
once more, whiter and tighter
than ever. Silas kept his vocal
chords quiet, but the song still
played in his head.

…buy me a flute and a gun
that shoots
tailgates and substitutes
strap yourself to the tree with
roots
you ain’t goin’ nowhere…
 ~ 19 ~

“Well…I mean…it’s got four
wheels and an engine…I
guess that’s really…all I
need?” I chewed my lip as I
stared down at the little
junker that the old man had
proudly driven around the
corner and parked before me.

I couldn’t tell if it was the
color it was because of the
rust, the dust, or because it
was supposed to be that color.
A very faded and half-
unreadable logo indicated that
the car had, at one time, been
a Ford, though I doubted the
company would be willing to
take ownership of it in the
shape it was in. The tires, at
least, looked new-ish. A
dented passenger-side door, a
missing handle on the back
driver’s side door, and a
crack in the rearview that
would put a plumber to
shame completed the perfect
aura of “total shit” that the car
gave off.

“Ayup, it’ll run ya where ya
need to go, but she ain’t no
looker, that’s for damn sure,”
Frankie, the dealer, said,
finishing with a healthy spit
of chewing tobacco juice onto
the desert dust.

“Frankie, you’re shitting me.
You think a girl like this
wants to be seen in this
beater? Now, I saw some
shiny little pieces back there
when we were coming down
the road, don’t you tell me
you can’t do us better than
this,” Reign said, his arms
folded. He stood beside me in
his cut, a term I’d only just
learned. I had no idea how he
kept it on in the oppressive
heat, which seemed to crack
everything in sight. I’d take a
sip of water and immediately
feel it evaporate on my
tongue.

“Short notice? Clean plates?
Full reg? For a trade-in? I’ll
do you good, you know that,
but I ain’t tryin’ to put myself
outta business,” Frankie said,
mimicking Reign’s posture
and drawing himself up to
seem taller than he really
was. The two men stared into
each other’s eyes; I fidgeted,
arms behind my back.
Finally, though, Frankie’s
shoulders slumped and his
eyes and arms both dropped.

“Okay, okay, Reign, yer a
good customer, I tell ya what,
I’ll see what all I gots back
there for the little Miss,”
Frankie said, another glob of
chewing tobacco spit flying
from the side of his mouth as
he turned away and got back
into the old rust bucket,
driving away with a clatter
that could have raised the
dead. Not ideal for discreet
passage anywhere.

“Thanks,” I said, looking up
at Reign gratefully. I’d
doubted that the car even had
air conditioning, and in heat
like this that was going to be
a must.

“No problem. I told you I’d
take care of you. Frankie’s a
good guy, but he’ll always try
to get one over on you if he
can. He knows better than to
try and screw with me too
much, though,” Reign said.
“But if I hadn’t been here,
you’d have taken that hunk of
junk?”

I shrugged. I wasn’t much for
haggling. And my ability to
stick up for myself in any sort
of situation had been
gathering dust ever since I’d
met Jeremy. I probably would
have taken the deal, just to
avoid the conflict. Reign
shook his head and reached
out suddenly, hooking his
inner elbow around my neck
and pulling me in close. It
was too hot to be that close to
him, honestly, especially in
all that leather, but it felt
good all the same to smell
him, to feel his breath against
the top of my head.

“You gotta get better at
stickin’ up for yourself,
dollface. You can’t be
waltzing around on your own
with fear in your heart. That’s
a recipe for nothing good,” he
said, his jaw moving against
my scalp. I pulled away,
feeling my body screaming
for air. I couldn’t remember
ever being so damn hot in my
whole life; the day before, I’d
slept through the worst of the
heat. Now, it was just past
noon and the sun was high
and beating down
relentlessly. This desert life
would take some getting used
to…

No, it’s not, because you’re
leaving, soon, I thought,
surprised at the way my mind
had acted like I was staying
there. That still wasn’t the
plan, no matter how much I’d
taken to Reign. He was, after
all, just a man. There would
be other men. And I didn’t
need a man right then,
anyway, did I? I’d had
enough man over the past five
years to last me a lifetime…

But I couldn’t ignore the
twitch of pain in my heart
when I told myself all that.

With a sudden roar, I heard
an engine kicking to life from
the parking lot behind the
little office building, and
moments later I had to shield
my eyes from the sun’s glare
as a bright, shiny, red car
pulled around the corner. This
car was like Tom Cruise
compared to the old Ford’s
William DeFoe. It was an
older model, for sure, but it
had been well cared for and
looked brand new. I had to
smile and suppress a giggle;
imagining myself speeding
down the highway in this
little red cruiser seemed way
too idyllic. This one was a
Ford, too; a Mustang to be
exact.

“This more your style, hun?”
Frankie said, pulling up
beside us and letting the
engine idle.

“Perfect, Frankie, way to
deliver, my man,” Reign said,
turning to me with a huge
grin on his face.

“But…it’s a little…flashy…
isn’t it? I mean…it’ll draw
attention, maybe,” I said, eyes
roaming back and forth over
the humming car, drawn to it
for its obvious style and
charm but worried all the
same. I needed something
like a Honda Civic or
something that was a dime a
dozen; not this eye-catching
little number.

“Gabriella, you’d draw
attention in a Kia minivan,”
Reign said with a laugh.

“I’m serious, Reign, I don’t
want to make any waves…”

“Baby, if you’re gonna get
caught, it won’t be ‘cause
your wheels are too good.
Trust me. Besides, would
your ex ever imagine you’d
find yourself in something
like this? The dick’s gonna be
looking for you in something
like that old jalopy Frankie
just tried to sell ya, or a
goddam black sedan. Hidin’
in plain sight, babe, that’s the
name of the game,” Reign
said, clearly enamored with
the car for his own reasons. It
was pretty cherry, with the
gleaming sunlight caressing
the curves and making it look
like a little red bullet.

“You want somethin’ basic, I
think I gotta couple I could
show ya. Toyota Tacoma,
that’s pretty basic…” Frankie
started to say, scratching his
white beard, which was long
enough to reach the collar of
his shirt. He didn’t look like
any used car salesman I’d
ever met before; but, then,
nuclear families looking for
something to take their kids
to soccer practice probably
weren’t his typical clientele.

“No,” I said, the word flying
from my mouth quite
unexpectedly. I did want this
car. It was sexy, and cool, and
I could just imagine how it’d
feel to gun down a lonely
desert highway with the top
down, headed south, to
freedom. “I’ll take it.”

“Atta girl. Whooee, damn,
Frankie, where was this baby
last time I needed a getaway
car? You been hiding ‘er in
the shed or something?”
Reign said, taking a step
closer to the car to inspect it.

“Just got ‘er couple days ago.
Took a look under the hood
and told the guy the tranny
was fucked, gave ‘im 700 for
it. But I’ll let ya in on a little
secret; tranny’s fine. Whole
damn thing is fine. You’ll get
another hundred thou out of
her, that’s for damn sure,”
Frankie said, shutting off the
engine and stepping out of the
car. Reign and Frankie
convened at the front of the
car as Frankie popped the
hood; while the men
inspected the engine,
murmuring and pointing and
nodding, I ran a finger along
the side of the car.

I realized, rather suddenly,
that I hadn’t owned my own
car in – well, not since before
college. I’d sold my high
school car to help pay tuition,
and the car that I’d been
driving had been a “gift”
from Jeremy: meaning, it
wasn’t really mine, and he’d
sometimes threaten to take it
away if I did something he
didn’t like.

And now that “gift” was
going to take up permanent
residence in this old man’s
used car lot, amidst the ever-
twirling dust, baking under
the sun, slowly decomposing
until it was as shitty and
worthless as that first car I’d
been offered.

Good riddance.

I smiled.

Things were starting to feel
more and more real to me –
like it was finally, finally
setting in. I had a new life. A
brand new life. A better life –
a life of clear blue water and
sandy beaches and all the
nachos I could eat and
margaritas by the barrel and
sexy swimsuits and learning
to tango and a brand new
vintage Ford Mustang and a
sexy new lover…

That last thought ended the
train with a crash: I don’t
want a sexy new lover, was
the next thought, far more
dismal than the ones that had
come before. I looked over
and could see just the top of
Reign’s raven-haired head
over the popped hood; I
wanted him to be my lover.

But I’d just met him…

I shouldn’t feel that way…

I mean, it made sense. I was
smart enough to know exactly
why I was feeling that way; I
was on the rebound, in a lot
of ways. And he was there,
and he was sexy, and he
wanted me…and from the
looks he sometimes gave me,
the way his eyes would stare
into mine as though I was
water and he was dying of
thirst, he wanted me for more
than just a tumble in the hay.

But I shouldn’t give in to
those feelings. They were
false. If I gave into them,
stayed with him somehow,
brought him with me to
Mexico, I’d wind up
unhappy, because this wasn’t
real love; it was just lust,
with a hint of hope for
something more. I was love-
starved, desperate. I wanted
to love him because I thought
he’d be able to love me right.

But that didn’t feel right,
either. It was what I knew
had to be true: it was the only
thing that made sense. People
don’t just fall into fairytale
love stories in Utah.
Especially not a girl like me,
and not with a guy like him.
We were from two different
worlds, two different
universes. Three days was not
enough to say you loved a
guy.

But…

But…

Doesn’t it fucking feel like
you were meant to meet?

It sure fucking did.
 ~ 20 ~

Honey looked and looked, but
she couldn’t find that fucking
guy anywhere. Not in the bar,
not loitering around the
motel, not in the grocer’s or
the gas station. She told
everyone she saw that if they
caught sight of a stranger, tall
and dark and anonymous,
they should waste no time
letting her know.

Her word carried a lot of
weight around Ditcher’s
Valley, and she knew that if
anyone saw anything, she’d
know in a few minutes. No
one asked any questions,
either. Club business was
club business, and club
business was the only thing
keeping the crappy little town
from being swallowed into
the earth.

She paced around her little
room, air conditioner blasting
to keep away the noontime
heat, and ruminated on what
she’d remembered that
morning. She’d ushered
Georgia, the girl she’d woken
up next to, out the door with a
flood of excuses and
promises to call. Promises she
wasn’t really sure she’d keep,
promises she didn’t really
care if she kept or not. That
girl wasn’t important in the
long run; Honey might be
fond of her, but more
pressing matters needed
attention.

Who was that man? What did
he want with Reign’s new
girl? What did he want with
the club? He didn’t look like
a member of any of the other
clubs in the area; he didn’t
have the air of a member. Of
course, he could just be a
good imposter, but she had
the nagging feeling he was a
hired hand. And she had
learned that her nagging
feelings were pretty accurate.

Maybe it’s just her hubby
looking for his wifey, she
thought hopefully. But that
didn’t exactly mean that they
were out of the woods; Reign
could still be in deep shit, and
if Reign was in deep shit, the
whole operation was in deep
shit.

Truthfully, Reign had been
acting like president ever
since Charcoal had hit his
60th birthday and begun to
slow down. Charcoal wasn’t
even in town; he was in
Cancun with his old lady,
celebrating their thirty year
anniversary with a month-
long vacation. Reign had
been the go-to man while the
club’s president was away.
What was that adage? “Cut
off the head of the snake…”

Honey considered making
some tea, or at least a
sandwich, to settle her turning
stomach and calm her nerves.
As though the hangover she
was fighting wasn’t enough
to deal with…

A sudden knock on the door
inspired first surprise, then a
jolt of fear. She pushed the
emotions away, knowing she
was just getting ahead of
herself, and looked through
the peephole. Endo was
standing in the hall; she
opened the door for him,
stepping aside to let him
through.

“Jesus Christ it’s hot today,”
he said, spreading his arms
out wide as though to absorb
more of the cool air inside the
apartment.

“What the hell are you doing
out of the kitchen? It ain’t
both our days off,” Honey
said, shutting the door behind
him with a glance in both
directions, making sure no
one was lurking in the
hallway. She hated feeling
this nervous and jumpy; it
reminded her all too much of
how she’d felt when she’d
first left her husband, afraid
at every little sound.

“I’m on break. Can’t a guy
take a break to check in on
his favorite gal? And ask
what the hell she’s been
doing telling people to call
her about a mysterious
stranger?”

Honey scoffed and crossed
her arms across her chest.

“C’mon, give up the goods,
little darlin’. You see a
stranger you fancy in the
bar?”

“Far from it,” Honey said,
debating whether or not to fill
Endo in on all the details. He
was trustworthy, of course,
and she didn’t have much to
tell him, anyway. Her boys
trusted her instinct; he’d
believe her if she said she just
knew something was up. But
if she told Endo, it might get
around, and the last thing she
wanted was a bar full of
violent men looking for
someone to beat the shit out
of.

She’d learned that lesson
once before, when she’d told
someone she thought that a
kid from out of town was
spying on the club. The kid
she’d been talking about had,
in fact, been spying on the
club; but a different kid had
gotten what the spy had been
due. Some of her boys, on the
lookout for a “strange young
guy”, had seen someone
fitting that rather vague
description and unloaded
their worst on the poor
innocent kid, while the actual
spy had already skipped
town. She still hadn’t
forgiven herself for that.

But if she swore Endo to
secrecy…

But, of course, there were no
secrets in the club. At least,
not those sort of secrets. The
upper echelons had their
secrets, of course, and
members always had some
side-girl or hobby that they
didn’t share with their
brothers (Honey knew, for
example, that Road Rash
loved painting watercolor
landscapes, and hadn’t told a
soul), but anything that
involved the club would get
circulated pretty quickly.
Even Endo, who Honey loved
more than almost any of her
other boys, was prone to
drunkenly spilling the beans.

But she felt so shitty, she
didn’t care, she just needed to
get it off her chest. Her
pounding headache wasn’t
helping her think logically,
either. She told him the whole
story, what little of it there
was, and waited for a
response. Endo scratched his
beard thoughtfully.

“Yeah, yeah, ok, I think I
know the guy you’re talking
about. I thought he was just a
man on the run from his wife
and kids or job or some drug
fiend or something. But if
you think something more’s
going on, I bet it is. The
question now is…what do we
do? I sure hate to think that
little girl’s gonna get dragged
back to wherever she came
from,” he finally said.

“Who cares about her?”
Honey demanded,
immediately realizing that, as
much as it surprised her, she
did. She would feel awful if
Reign’s little girlfriend got
hurt or killed by her cop ex-
husband. Not so awful that
she wouldn’t get over it, but
pretty bad all the same. The
girl was so jumpy, but
seemed sweet, had a real
genuine smile…it was hard to
not feel a little empathy for a
girl like that. And Honey had
her own reasons for caring
whether or not the girl made
it to Mexico and safety. Endo
shot Honey a knowing look
and she threw her hands up
and nodded.

“Okay, okay, yeah, we’re not
the bad guys, right, we care
and shit. So what do we do?”

“That’s the question of the
hour, pretty baby. Let’s
discuss it over a drink? You
look like you could use a
Bloody Mary or two,” Endo
said, reaching out and pulling
Honey into his arms. She had
to laugh; Endo almost always
made her laugh just by
looking at her or touching
her. He just made her happy.
He didn’t quite chase away
all her bad feelings, but he
certainly made them a little
better. And a Bloody Mary
sure sounded fantastic. Better
than fantastic, even. It might
help her think a little clearer,
too, if it helped shake away
her hangover.

“Who’ll man the kitchen?”
She asked, still concerned
about the bar’s welfare when
it was her day off and when,
in fact, no one would
complain too much if the
kitchen closed for the night.
All the better to get drunk on
an empty stomach.

“We’ll get that little shit-
eating recruit in there, he’s
supposed to be something of
a cook,” Endo said, beginning
to gently rock Honey back
and forth in his arms. His
beard scratched at the side of
her face.

“Alright, you pour, it’s my
day off,” she said through a
tight-lipped smile. She
shouldn’t be smiling. She
should be worrying. But it
was hard to worry in that
moment, with a nice drink to
look forward to and one of
her favorite biker’s arms
wrapped around her.

She’d keep an eye out in the
bar, she’d stop herself from
drinking too much.
Everything would be fine.
She was sure of it.
 ~ 21 ~

My god, but she looks good in
this thing, Reign mused as he
watched Gabriella’s long
black hair fly out behind her
in the rushing wind. The
smile on her face was a rare
one; true and unrestrained, a
smile he’d only seen once or
twice so far.

Too bad she’s gonna use it to
hightail it to Mexico, he
thought sourly. He’d
inspected the engine and
every inch of the car before
letting Gabriella drive it off
the lot; he’d noticed her slip a
couple extra hundred into
Frankie’s hand when they
shook on the deal and thought
it was cute.

It also told him a little more
about what Gabriella might
be trying to hide from him.
Not that he cared. He didn’t
care about money; he had
plenty. He’d have given her
some, if she hadn’t already
told him she had some. He
would give her more, if he
thought maybe she needed it,
but apparently that wasn’t the
case.

“Hey, take this road,” he said,
pointing to a dirt road that
veered off from the long,
lonely street.

“This car handles like a
dream,” Gabriella said,
clearly enamored. It had been
written all over her face as
soon as she slid into the
driver’s seat. She was in love;
with the car, of course. Reign
didn’t dare hope that she
might be in love with him,
too. Not that it mattered, not
that it mattered, he had to
keep reminding himself of
that.

The car barely bumped over
the dusty, uneven road as it
wound into the desert.
Gabriella leaned forward and
squinted, apparently catching
sight of their destination
through the ever-rising sand.

“Where are we going?” She
asked, turning to him for a
moment before putting her
eyes back on the road. She
was a safe driver. Of course
she was a safe driver. It made
him happy to know he didn’t
have to worry about her
getting overzealous in her hot
new wheels and running
herself into a ditch.

“A mirage,” he said with a
smile. She looked back at him
quizzically, but he only
grinned at her slyly. They
rode on, the radio playing
loud, a classic rock station.
Stevie Nicks was singing
about how players only love
you when they’re playing.
The sky was so blue it almost
hurt to look at. A bird’s eye
view: red convertible, brown
dust, a black-haired, sun-
kissed couple exchanging
playful glances. Other lovers,
under other circumstances,
would have been picturesque
in their excitement over
something new and amorous.

As the dust began to clear,
Reign watched Gabriella’s
eyes twinkle slightly. Their
destination was becoming
more vivid, less of the haze of
heat to obscure their view. An
oasis if there ever was one:
the road ended in a ring of
tiny but strong trees and
bushes, all centered around a
small lake, the water
greenish-blue from the
reflection of the sky.
Gabriella turned to Reign, a
smile on her face as big as the
desert itself.

“What is this?” she asked.

“A lake,” Reign said.

“In the middle of the desert?”

Reign shrugged. Who knew
how long it had been there,
where it came from, how it
formed? In the heat of the
day, the oppressive monotony
of the desert sand, it was a
gift from God. Cold, clear
water, perfect for swimming
off the midday sweat.

“Can we swim in it?”
Gabriella asked, brow
furrowing. “Is it, like,
polluted or, like, have weird
algae?”

“Algae yes, polluted no. But
we can swim in it; everyone
does. The algae is just around
the edges.”

As the car pulled up to the
little lake, which was only
about half the size of a
football field, Gabriella
peered in earnest at the still
pool.

“I don’t have a bathing suit,”
she said, turning back to
Reign, who grinned boyishly.
She blushed, knowing that he
knew that as well as she did.

Reign loved seeing her blush.
He wanted to make her do
that all the time. He wanted to
do lots of things to her, and
for her, all the time. But he
didn’t have “all the time”: he
had now. And now he was
going to do his damn best to
show her everything he
wished he had “all the time”
to show her.

“Last one in,” he said,
shedding his jacket and shirt
quickly before dashing
towards the water, kicking his
boots away even as he undid
his belt and threw his pants
off to the side. Gabriella
clasped her hands to her
mouth to stifle a laugh;
handsome as he was, he still
looked hilarious, his pale butt
nearly gleaming in the strong
sun. He splashed into the
water with a bellow, turning
to her, his manhood exposed
for only a moment before
disappearing under the water.

Even that little glimpse,
though, was enough to get
Gabriella’s mind turning with
memories of what she’d
already experienced – and
fantasies of what she might
experience in the future. She
walked slowly towards the
water, still nervous about
exposing herself to him. He
floated on his back in the
water, eyes closed, a serene
smile on his face.

“Water’s fine, baby,” he said,
craning his neck to look at
her as she stood uncertainly at
the edge.

Gabriella gulped. He’d only
ever seen her in the dark…
what if he didn’t like what
she offered in the full light of
day?

“If you don’t come in, I’ll
throw you in,” he said,
playfully threatening. He
turned over in the water, his
chest now facing her as he
tread water.

“Is it deep?” Gabriella asked,
desperate to stall.

“You think I won’t do it? I’ll
do it,” Reign said, now
beginning to stride towards
her, the water parting before
him.

“No, no! I got it, I get it, I’m
getting in,” Gabriella said, the
idea of being thrown into the
lake the only thing worse than
the idea of shedding all her
clothes in broad daylight in
front of this way-too-
handsome-for-her man.
Blushing, she kicked her
shoes to the side and turned
around.

“Aw, come on,” Reign
groaned, and Gabriella shot
him a look over her shoulder.
With a deep breath, she shut
her eyes and threw her shirt
off, letting it land near
Reign’s jeans. Like a band-
aid, she thought, knowing
that the longer she took to
expose herself the more
ashamed she’d be.

In a moment, she was
undressed, still with her back
turned to Reign. He didn’t
mind the view one bit; her
luscious hips opened up onto
her wide, inviting bottom,
plump and edible. Her long
black hair hung to the middle
of her back, and when she
turned to look at Reign again
over her shoulder he watched
as it waved and slid like silk
over her skin. He felt his cock
twitching as he imagined that
hair cascading over his chest,
suffocating him with her
scent, each strand tickling
him from head to toe…

Gabriella was bolstered when
she saw the way Reign stared
at her naked body. It made
her feel like Venus in the
oyster shell. She turned and
waded into the water, her
tanned skin glistening in the
sun and heat.

Reign let his eyes eat up the
sight of her; she was perfect,
every curve and inch of her
inciting a riot in his nerves,
his cock throbbing to life as
the water parted before her.
She gasped then giggled as
she waded further, the water
lapping up to her delicate sex,
the blush in her cheeks only
making her more attractive.
She eased herself further in,
the water slowly covering
her, much to Reign’s
consternation. She paddled
over to him, the relief of the
cool water evident on her face
as she smiled and closed her
eyes.

“Told you it was nice,” he
said as she got closer. She
laughed, the sound like
tinkling bells to his ears. It
was all he could do not to
grab her right then.

Gabriella felt the heat that
had taken up residence in her
skin slipping away as the cool
water enveloped her. She cast
short, furtive glances at
Reign, still ashamed of her
nakedness. His hair was wet
and clung to his forehead and
neck, like a frame for his
handsome face. Droplets of
clear water clung to his beard.
His lips were parted, his
mouth full and moist, her
own tongue darting out to lick
her lips, instinctively,
wanting to be nearer to him.

Her body felt weightless, her
nipples tight and hard from
the sudden cold of the water,
her pussy awakening as she
let her body relax. The water
seemed to warm up the closer
she got to Reign. Or maybe it
was her imagination, her own
body temperature rising as
she felt that magnetic pull
towards him, his torso
gleaming and shimmering,
his manhood hidden under
the rippling water.

The thought of it, though, was
enough to increase the blush
on Gabriella’s cheeks tenfold.
They were close now, close
enough to touch; Gabriella
felt Reign’s eyes on her, the
distorted view of her body
beneath the water’s surface.

When she thought she
couldn’t stand another
moment under his gaze, the
heat and promise of him
making her almost pained
with wanting, he leaned down
and laid a soft kiss on her
lips, light and fluttering, like
her heart as it raced beneath
her ribs. Gabriella closed her
eyes and moaned into the kiss
as Reign’s arms came to
encircle her; she found she
could stand in the water, on
her tiptoes, and stopped
paddling, letting herself be
drawn into his embrace.

Reign’s fingertips picked up
on each inch of her body as
they made contact, sending
back thrills of energy to his
mind as he drew her in, her
face tilted upwards to meet
his lips. She tasted like salty
desert dust and cool water all
at the same time, her lips full
and soft beneath his.

He felt a humming moan
escape her lips, felt the
vibrations roll through his
body, making him want her
even more. He raised one
hand to her throat, gently
taking hold of it and tilting
her head back as his lips fall
to her jawline, kissing
alongside her chin and
towards her ear, then down
her long, slender neck. Each
kiss made him want the next
one more, seemed inevitable,
inciting little shudders from
her body and cries from her
mouth as she closed her eyes
and lost herself in the
pleasure.

Gabriella felt Reign’s kisses
like feathers against her flesh,
tickling her down to her
pussy, filling her with a
tingling need for more. She
felt her eyes roll back, a
feverish heat in her body, her
desire rising up and
threatening to overcome her.
No one had ever had this
effect on Gabriella; she had
always been so demure, so
shy. Now, with Reign, she
wanted to be dirty, she
wanted to be taken wantonly,
she wanted to beg for it.

“I want to feel you inside
me,” she said, suddenly,
shortly, the sound of her own
voice surprising her. Reign
growled against her, dragged
his teeth against the tender
flesh of her neckline, his cock
springing fully to life at the
sound of her voice. He
gripped her tighter, one arm
around her back, the other
cradling her ass; she could
feel his hardness pressing
between her thighs, squirmed
in his clutches, heart beating
heavy now as her own desire
reached a peak. “Please, fuck
me.”

“Not until I’m ready,” Reign
said, his voice a snarl, his
mouth buried in her throat,
his fingers digging into her,
sending fireworks to her brain
with each pressure point. She
felt her nipples graze his hard
chest and moaned, arching
her back, wanting more.

Reign pulled back slightly,
their eyes locked as he
brought one hand to her
chest, his thumb just grazing
one of her nipples as he took
hold of her breast. She
moaned as he massaged her,
his fingers now coming
together to tweak her nipple
gently, drawing her closer,
her body asking for more. He
responded by pushing her
back, keeping her in a state of
need, the sensation of his
fingers playing with one
breast, then the other, a slow
and delicious torture.

“Please,” Gabriella moaned,
her eyes closed in pleasure as
Reign’s head dipped low
once more, his lips taking the
place of his fingers, closing
over her erect nipple and
flicking it gently with his
tongue. His hand favoured the
other nipple as his tongue
danced over the hard nub,
sucking it inwards, feeling the
slight shaking of Gabriella’s
begging body as he kept her
at bay.

Suddenly, Gabriella felt
herself lifted as Reign
grabbed her waist, raising her
halfway out of the water, her
clit pressed against his
stomach. His mouth still
hovered over her breast, his
tongue darting forward to lap
at her nipples as her clit
ground against his hard torso.
She shivered, the fire between
her legs roaring, moaning as
he took her nipple between
his teeth, giving it the
slightest nibble, making her
clutch him closer and tighter.
Her pussy, wet with desire,
rubbed into his ribs as his
hand came up to fondle her
breast; she felt weightless,
airy, dizzy with desire.

And, just as suddenly as he’d
lifted her, he let her fall, her
clit screaming with need for
stimulation. She landed on
her tiptoes once more, and
Reign spun her around, now
grabbing her from behind, his
hard cock pressed against her
plump ass, just barely
grinding between her thighs.

His hands came to her breasts
once more, kneading them, as
his teeth grazed her earlobe,
his hot breath entering her
there, seeming to sweep away
any thoughts in her brain that
weren’t entirely devoted to
her lust. She moaned and
pressed her ass against him,
feeling his hardness, wanting
it more and more with each
passing second.

“Reign…” she murmured,
reaching behind her to clutch
his body closer, spreading her
legs as best she could while
standing on her toes. He
entered her quickly, slipping
into her wetness with a groan,
her pussy welcoming him as
though it had waited an entire
lifetime. She whimpered as
he held his cock deep inside
her for a long, lurid moment,
his hands pressing into her,
their bodies glued together in
the cool water that gently
rippled around them.

Reign let one hand gently fall
across her stomach, her flesh
jumping as his fingertips
trailed downwards. He found
her pussy and parted the lips,
her clit straining forward,
begging for his touch. He
drew one finger across it,
slowly, and pumped into her.

“Oh, fuck,” Gabriella
moaned, her head lolling
backwards against his chest
as her body sang with
pleasure. His tongue snaked
around her ear as his finger
circled her clit, his hips now
thrusting against her ass, his
hard cock massaging her
pussy as it tensed and
clenched around his shaft.

“Yeah, baby,” Reign moaned
into her ear, his cock
throbbing as her cunt
enveloped it, her wetness
tickling every nerve, her
pussy sucking him back in
greedily with each thrust. He
rolled her hard clit under his
fingers, feeling the blood rush
to her sex, her panting a
metronome keeping the pace.

He wanted to feel her come
on him, wanted his dick to
swim in her juices, wanted to
watch her buck and writhe in
his arms. He sped up his
attentions to her clit, pressing
harder against the tender
button, even as he thrust
harder and deeper into her.

She struggled to stand in the
deep water, and he walked
her forward until she stood on
her feet, her chest now
exposed above the water,
heaving and glistening. She
was thrusting against him
now, her body hungry for
him, her pussy almost
vibrating around his cock as
he plunged into her, faster
and harder with each stroke.

“Come for me, Gabriella,” he
growled into her ear, and she
felt the reverberations all the
way down to her clenching
toes. His fingers on her clit
sped up, and she felt jagged
darts of pleasure shredding
her mind into pieces, her
fingernails digging into his
skin, her muscles stretching
to the point of snapping as his
cock stroked her pussy over
and over, digging into her
most sensitive being, driving
a bubble of pressure into her
stomach that built and built
with each second.

She panted, eyes closed tight,
mouth open, until she felt him
slam into her hard enough to
rock her body forward, and
like a key turning in a lock
she came, his fingers
pinching her clit, sending
shockwaves of pleasure
through her body as her
muscles rippled and gave in
blissful release.

Reign felt her pussy clench
violently around his cock, felt
the flow of warm juices
spilling forth from her,
bathing his cock as he
plunged into her again,
holding her tight to him,
feeling the head of his cock
being massaged by her
vibrating cunt. With a groan
he felt his balls churn and the
deep satisfaction of his cum
spilling into her, filling her
womb with sticky, warm
seed.

His body shuddered against
her as he came for what felt
like forever, her pussy
milking the cum from his
cock, each spurt of his seed
hitting her rippling walls,
mixing with her juices, filling
her. The sound of her
moaning through her climax
only made it better for him,
only made each twitching
release seem to last and last.

His teeth bit down on the soft
flesh of her shoulder, one
hand clutching her breast,
pulling her close to him,
while the other rubbed gently
at her clit. It was too soon
when he felt the last of his
cum burst from his shaft, and
the gradual softening of his
cock began.

He stayed inside her as long
as he could, eyes closed, the
feel of her pussy still gently
contracting a warm glow of
pleasure. Finally, he slid from
her, the cold water shocking
in comparison to her heat. He
didn’t pull away until she
shook and her knees seemed
to buckle. Then, he released
her, only to feel her clutch
him against her, Gabriella’s
hands desperate and hungry
on his back. Sweaty,
overheated, they stood in the
water, which could never
have been cold enough to put
out the flames between them.
 ~ 22 ~

Silas’ plan was convoluted,
but to him it seemed easy as
pie. He assumed – from
snippets of overheard
conversation – that little
Gabriella was planning on
ditching Ditcher’s Valley in
short order. He’d already
convinced dear Jeremy to
wait until the right moment to
strike – a hard task, to be
sure, but one he’d handled
with admiral tact.

It was a good plan. Not a
perfect plan, but then again
there was no such thing as a
perfect plan. Silas had been
down enough roads to learn
that. Like that rap song said,
you can plan a pretty picnic
but you can’t predict the
weather.

But all Silas had to do was be
patient, be alert, be cautious,
and be smart. And he already
was all those things. Even if
he couldn’t pull it all off,
chances of his own demise
being a part of the catastrophe
that would ensue were slim.
His biggest asset, greatest
skill, was the ability to get his
ass to safety before it ever felt
heat from the flames.

He might leave a lot of bodies
in his wake, and he might end
up no richer than he’d started
out, but he’d live to work
another day. And his was not
the sort of industry where you
could write a Yelp review.
His clients got the references
he wanted them to get. As far
as anyone could ever know,
he’d never even been in Utah.

A good plan, indeed, Silas
thought as he pulled his truck
off the highway. They were
halfway to Ditcher’s Valley.
He wanted a milkshake and a
hamburger.

“Where are you going?” His
passenger demanded.

“Hungry,” Silas said gruffly,
not in the mood for
conversation.

“I’m not paying you to stuff
your gob,” Jeremy said,
matching his tone. Silas shot
him a look.

“We’re in no rush, copper.
We have to wait until your
little lady leaves on her own.
I told you that when we made
the deal,” he said.

“Well, sure, but what if she
leaves before…”

“I’m hungry, and you’re
hungry, too. And you better
not be so fucking impatient
once we get there, son. If you
try and sneak off and find her
yourself, you’re only gonna
find yourself in a world and a
half of hurt. I can promise
you that, son,” Silas said.

“I can fucking wait. I’m the
one paying you, don’t forget
that. And I’m a goddam cop.
One wrong move, I make
some calls, you’re toast.
Don’t underestimate me,
prick,” Jeremy shot back.

Silas didn’t say anything, just
pulled into the first drive-thru
fast food joint he saw at the
end of the highway’s exit
ramp. Evidently, Jeremy had
moved past fuming and was
thinking a little clearer. That
wasn’t very good for Silas,
but it wasn’t terrible, either.
He just wished Jeremy would
stay in his little rage bubble.

He also hoped the girl would
leave town tomorrow; the
longer they had to wait, the
more impatient his client
would become. In his plan,
the biggest unknown was this
volatile man beside him. One
wrong step on Jeremy’s part
and Silas would have the
unfortunate need to kill the
guy.

He didn’t mind killing, he
just hated how messy it was.
He didn’t need Jeremy to get
Gabriella; he could catch her
and beat her up himself. It
might even be better for Silas
if Jeremy wasn’t there to
whoosh Gabriella back to
Colorado; live bait was
always best. But Jeremy still
owed him half his fee, and he
wanted that money. And he
didn’t want to have to wash
blood out of any of his stuff.
It was so hard to get out.
 ~ 23 ~

I lay in the backseat of my
new car and sighed, one hand
resting happily on my
stomach, my head on Reign’s
still-naked lap, my hair
running all over his thighs.

It was still hot.

And what we’d been
indulging in only made it
hotter.

God, I couldn’t stand to do
anything but close my eyes
and hum along to the radio. I
couldn’t think about anything
except the blue sky and my
tingling body. I didn’t want to
think about the past, and I
was even less excited to think
about the future.

Somehow, all my desire to
keep heading south had
slipped away. I mean, I still
knew I had to, but that
pulsing drive, that need to get
away, my fantasies about life
across the border, were gone.
Perhaps for good. I hoped
not, because if that
compulsion to get the hell
away from Colorado
disappeared, I might never
leave.

I might, foolishly, believe
that Reign and his friends
really could keep me safe. I
might believe any promises
he could make, I might
believe anything my brain
wanted to tell me in order to
hold onto this happiness – the
first of its kind I’d ever found
in my whole long, sorry life.

Already, as I lay there with
my eyes closed, I found
myself letting silly nonsense
fantasies dance into my head.
About having little biker kids,
about laying in bed with
Reign on lazy Sunday
mornings, about setting up a
life for myself out here
amongst the sage and sand.
Silly, silly fantasies that
tugged and almost clawed at
my brain, demanding
attention when I knew that
they were impossible.

Reign was running his hands
through my hair, tickling my
scalp in the most delicious
way imaginable. I felt drunk
with oxytocin, giddy and
giggly. Reaching up to stroke
his broad chest, I let my
mouth speak without my
mind’s constant commentary.

“Where are you from?”

There was a pause; Reign’s
hands stilled in my hair. But
it was only for a moment.

“North Carolina,” he said,
and his voice hinted at a past
he didn’t want to discuss, but
which he’d tell me about if I
wanted to hear it.

And, God help me, I did. I
wanted to know everything
about this stranger who’d
opened me up, taken my heart
in his hands and squeezed it
until it beat again, who’d
brought me from the sad state
I was in when I arrived in
Ditcher’s Valley to this
blissful, sun-soaked moment.

“That’s a long way,” I
murmured dreamily.

“Sure is.”

“Why’d you come here,” I
asked when it became
apparent he wasn’t going to
answer me. His body
stiffened under my back. I
realized that I was pressing
him; perhaps more than he
was comfortable being
pressed. Likely, he wanted
me to shut up and stop prying
and just accept the moment
for what it was.

But I was a student of
philosophy, even after all
these years, and questions
came out of me before I
thought twice about asking
them. It hadn’t been that way
with Jeremy; with Jeremy,
usually, the less I knew the
better. But now I wasn’t that
woman anymore. I was
someone new – or, rather,
someone old.

“I had to get out of my
house,” was his response,
vague as could be. I could see
the signs to stop talking clear
as daylight. But what did I
do? Did I respect his privacy
and move on to other, lighter
subjects? Of course not.

“Why’s that?”

Another long pause.

“My father killed my sister,”
he finally said, and like a
bullet going through me I felt
regret and shame and shock
and awe, all at once. Good
job, Gabriella, you wanted
answers? You got them. Now
you know. Happy?

I wasn’t happy. The way he
said it…like he was ripping
out a piece of himself and
handing it to me because I’d
told him to. He could have
not answered. He could have
said he didn’t want to talk
about it. But he’d said it,
boldly, baldly, putting it out
there like he had nothing to
lose. Because I’d asked him.
And I got the feeling he
didn’t want to lie to me, or
keep things from me. Well,
that had become clear enough
as we sat there, both rigid
now, suddenly uncomfortable
in the heat.

I leaned forward, sitting
upright, our bodies making a
smucking sound as they
separated. Turning my head
towards him, I saw his eyes
fixed on me but full of an
awful sadness. Full of an
awful memory. A great and
terrible weight had fallen on
the day: everything, from the
sky to the sands, seemed
pregnant with desolation.

“That’s what happened,” he
said finally, with a short nod
of his head, as though I’d
called him a liar.

“That’s horrible,” I
whispered. “How old were
you?”

“I was seventeen. She was
twelve. He was a bastard,”
Reign said, looking away
from me with a sharp turn of
his neck. He gazed off into
the distance. “And I just left.
Hopped on my bike and rode
away. I left my other sisters
and my mother there with
him. I haven’t spoken to them
since.”

The silence was as thick as
the heat around us.

“I didn’t go to the funeral,”
he said.

“Well did they…did they get
him? Your father? Did they,
you know, catch him?”

Reign shook his head.

“He lied. My mother, she…
she was too afraid to even tell
the truth. They said she fell,
that they just found her like
that at the foot of the stairs. It
was a small town. Everyone
knew, but no one wanted to
talk. I should have. But
instead I ran away. Like…”

Another long pause as his
brow furrowed, as though he
were looking for the right
word, even though I could see
that the word he was looking
for was well within his grasp.
It was a word he knew well.

“Like a coward.”

I wanted to shake him and tell
him he was wrong, that he
wasn’t a coward, just a kid, a
scared kid, and that he
couldn’t blame himself. It
was his father who was to
blame, not Reign. Not Reign
and not his mother. But
something told me other
people had said the same to
him, with not much result.
Still, I had to try.

“I don’t think so,” I said
meekly.

“I know. No one does.”

“What was her name?” I
asked after another minute of
silence had dripped by. Time
had slowed to a crawl. I was
thinking of Jeremy, and my
own family, and Reign as a
teenager…

“Miranda,” he answered
quickly. Saying her name hurt
him, you could see it in his
eyes.

“I’m sorry, Reign,” I finally
whispered, meaning it with
all my heart. It killed me to
see him looking so haunted. I
reached up, touched the mark
over my eye, which had faded
some but still felt tender to
the touch. So that’s why he
was so eager to help…

“Just come here,” he said, and
reaching out grabbed my
shoulders, pulling me back
against him. One arm snaked
across my chest and down my
stomach, holding me by the
waist. His face buried into my
wild black hair. I felt his
heartbeat against my spine.

We lay like that for a long
time. Billy Joel wondered if
his girlfriend was right, if he
was crazy. Led Zeppelin
offered to give someone a
whole lotta love. Paul Simon
talked about all the ways you
could leave your lover, and
Cream basked in the sunshine
of someone’s love. And then
another tune started. A
familiar one. Not familiar in
the way all the other songs
had been, because everyone
knows them and has heard
them a million times.

Familiar to me in a way that
could only be described as
intimate.

I didn’t know why, but it
struck fear so deep into my
heart that I could actually feel
the cold sweat as it pushed its
way out of my pores. My
airways seemed to constrict; I
was being strangled! But
there were no hands around
my neck…I desperately
breathed in through my nose,
could barely take in enough
air to speak. My nails dug
into Reign’s thigh as my body
stiffened and went rigid,
flashes of nightmarish
violence bursting in my skull.

From somewhere that seemed
very far away, Reign called
my name, shook my
shoulders, asked what was
wrong, what was wrong. I
couldn’t respond. My tongue
had swollen, filling my entire
mouth.

Pick up your money,
pack up your tent,
you ain’t goin’ nowhere…
 ~ 24 ~

“Why now? What happened
in the car? Jesus, Gabriella,
you could at least…” Reign
said, his brow furrowed, eyes
barely concealing a feverish
need for her to take back
what she’d said. He’d never
told anyone about his sister,
except for Honey, and the
moment he did, his confidant
was ditching him.

Well that’s what you get, his
mind told him. That’s
payback for letting Miranda
down, for letting them all
down, for not protecting them
the way you should have. You
don’t deserve to have
someone like Gabriella.

But even as his mind told him
that, in the least sympathetic
of tones, he couldn’t just roll
over and give up and let her
go – not just yet. Gabriella
stood before him, shaking,
eyes wide and ready to brim
over with tears.

“I…I don’t know, I can’t
explain it, Reign, I don’t
know, I just…I have to go.
Now, tonight. I can’t…not
another…I have to…”
Gabriella tripped over her
words, her anxiety making
each syllable crash into the
next. She was shaking all
over, her fingers looking like
they were power-typing in
mid-air.

After watching her park
haphazardly outside her room
and dash back and forth with
her few belongings, including
that signature blue duffel bag,
he’d managed to convince her
to come to the bar and pick
up some food for her trip –
she hadn’t eaten since that
mega-bacon cheeseburger the
night she’d arrived.

Now, he almost regretted
dragging her into the dirty,
dingy bar – it wasn’t exactly
an ideal location for their
goodbye. He didn’t want her
to remember him as the guy
in the bar who kissed her
goodbye while their shoes
stuck to the floor and
boisterous, hairy men shouted
in the background.

“Please, Gabriella, one more
night and I swear, I’ll…”

“No! Reign, no! No more
nights! You…you can….oh,
god, I have to go. Come with
me,” Gabriella said. The look
on her face as she blurted out
the last part told him that she
was as surprised to be saying
it as he was to have heard it.
She bit her lip, her eyes
falling still for once on his
face. He reached out, stroked
her arm, and shook his head.

You can’t, you know you
can’t, he thought, visions of
his brothers flashing through
his head. For some people,
the time came to make a
choice between their family
and their love. For Reign, that
time was now; it wasn’t his
“real” family, but it was the
realest he’d ever known. He
wanted to go with Gabriella.
Wanted it so hard his teeth
felt like they would crack
from how hard he was
clenching his jaw. He wanted
it so hard that he could feel
the wanting inside him, the
way a heroin addict wants
their smack.

But he couldn’t, and that was
the royal bitch of it.

She nodded, understanding in
her eyes, and took a deep
breath. Closing her eyes, she
seemed to steady herself. His
hand lay on her forearm,
fingers gently stroking the
skin, the warmth where there
skin met as comforting and
homey as a fireplace roaring
in the middle of winter while
a storm blew outside. She felt
like home, when he touched
her.

And now, with her leaving,
he got the idea he’d feel
homeless for a long time.

When Gabriella opened her
eyes again, Reign knew that
she hadn’t changed her mind
– and wouldn’t. He could
argue more, try to persuade
her to stay, but he’d be
wasting his time and hers.
Better he accept it, bade her
well, make sure she made it
to town limits at least. He
dropped his head.

“Okay. I get it. But wait, half
an hour, please?”

“Reign, I’m not…I’m not in
the mood…” Gabriella said,
sounding half ashamed and
half frustrated. He had to be a
bit amused; she thought he
wanted to get one last bone
session in before she left? Far
from it. If he touched her any
more than he was then, he’d
have to hang himself after she
left.

“No, I have some things for
you. I got them early this
morning while you were
sleeping. They’ll…they’ll
help,” he said. “They’re at my
place though. Will you wait
for me to come back?
Please?”

Gabriella nodded, her eyes
now filling with tears,
seeming even deeper and
wiser than they usually did.
Something about the way that
salt water pooled above her
lower eyelid made her eyes
sparkle. It broke Reign’s
heart to see her cry, but he
had to admit she looked
beautiful doing it.

If you stay with me, I’ll make
sure you’ll never cry again,
he thought, wanted to say,
kept inside his throat. He
turned from her, exiting the
bar quickly. As he turned, he
watched her collapse into a
stool, her elbow hitting the
surface of the bar with an
audible smack. She lay her
head in her palm, her black
hair forming a curtain around
her face. On the far side of
the bar, he saw Honey
watching them with interest.
She couldn’t hear anything,
but Reign bet she knew what
was happening. Endo was
looking over, too.

Great, glad you fuckers
caught the damn matinee, this
is a one-time-only
performance, he thought
bitterly, pushing the doors
open. Anger was growing
inside him alongside the
sadness, and the feeling of
loneliness that had already
taken root in his heart in
anticipation of what it would
feel like to watch Gabriella
drive away. He trotted to his
apartment behind the bar,
willing himself to keep his
emotions in check long
enough to see her off with a
forced smile on his face. She
probably felt bad enough, he
didn’t need to make her feel
any worse by acting like a
child.

In his apartment, the cool air
that usually brought
immediate relief from the
desert heat offered no salve
for his pain. He gathered the
few items he’d managed to
gather in the short time
Gabriella had been in
Ditcher’s Valley. How long
had that been? How long had
she been there? Two days?
Three days? How had she
made him feel this way in
such little time? He, who
used to brag about his lone
wolf nature, who thought
he’d never need a woman
around to make him feel
whole, had let himself fall
hard over the short course of
three days.

It seemed impossible. It
seemed like something that
only happened in cheesy
romance novels. But there he
was, living proof.

And damn, did he hate it.

Gabriella’s face was not the
one looking back at him from
the passport and driver’s
license he held, but it was
close. The face on both
documents was much more
Latina. But it would do. It
would pass. It was the same
fake passport, the same fake
driver’s license, that the club
doled out to illegal
immigrants who could afford
the luxury get-into-America
package.

The names were different, but
the pictures were the same.
Gabriella was so much more
beautiful than all those other
women, Reign felt
irrationally ashamed to be
giving her the forged
documents. But they’d have
to do; he hadn’t had enough
time to get her to sit for a new
picture.

The phone he’d bought was
the same model, style, and
carrier as his own. Commonly
known as a burner phone, and
most often associated with
shady figures hanging out in
alleys, handing out free
samples of low-grade black
tar heroin to anyone who
copped a dimebag. But it, too,
would do. It would have to.

He flipped open the screen
and quickly added his number
to the contacts list. At least,
his current number. Soon,
probably, he’d find himself
with a new burner, a new
phone, and then she wouldn’t
be able to find him. He found
her burner’s number on the
packaging and entered it into
his own contacts. Same story,
though. Eventually, she’d get
a new phone. She’d have a
new life. They’d never cross
paths again…

The thought was too painful
to dwell on, and he let it pass
through his mind quickly,
without lingering. His heart
felt like it was in a vise, and
every moment that passed
brought him closer to losing
her, tightened the screws a bit
more. It would be better to
just get it over with. The
waiting to lose her – that,
surely, was the worst of it.

It had to be. Didn’t it?

He left his apartment, trotted
back to the bar. She hadn’t
moved, was sitting behind her
veil of hair at the bar. Didn’t
even look up as he drew near.
Honey and Endo were still
acting like they had front-row
seats to the hottest concert of
the summer, though when he
shot them a knowing sneer
they got busy looking
elsewhere.

He wondered what Endo was
doing outside of the kitchen;
as far as Reign knew, he was
supposed to be on lunch duty.
But it didn’t matter; being
next in line to lead the club
meant Reign knew about
what happened at the bar but
wasn’t required to give a
damn about the day-to-day
operations. He knew his
interest lay mostly in his
irritation over Endo and
Honey acting like they had
the right to peek in on this
private moment.

He lay his hand on
Gabriella’s shoulder and she
jumped. When she looked at
him, he saw only fear in her
eyes. That was worse than the
tears.

I’m gonna go kill her
husband, he suddenly
thought. I’ll go to Colorado
and I’ll kill him and then she
can come back to me.

You’re gonna do that like
you’re gonna set fire to the
bar, the rational part of him
said. He knew he would do
nothing of the sort. It was one
thing to harbor a slave;
another thing entirely to
lynch the slaver. He didn’t
need to make any waves
outside of Utah, not for
himself and not for the Black
Smokes. His duty and his life
were one in the same. She
was his heart, but that had to
take the backseat.

“Oh,” she said as he lay his
gifts out on the bar.

“The phone can’t be traced to
you. Neither can the ID’s.
They’ll get you where you
need to go, baby. And I’ll
make some calls, and get you
a contact down in Juarez. My
number’s in there,” Reign
said, pointing the phone,
which Gabriella held, staring
at it like it was some sort of
strange alien food. She
nodded, though. He reached
out to her again, this time
taking her chin between his
fingers and lifting her face to
his.

“You can call me whenever,”
he said, keeping his eyes on
hers although they wanted to
look elsewhere. It hurt so
much to look into those eyes,
but it would haunt him
forever if he decided this was
the right moment to take the
easy way out. “Say it. Tell me
when you can call me.”

She croaked out something.
He smiled, shook his head.

“Say it, baby.”

“I can call you whenever,”
she finally said after taking a
deep, shaky breath. She
closed her eyes, opened them
quickly when he gave her
chin the slightest shake. She
looked like maybe she was
trying to smile back, like she
was trying to be brave. That
was a good idea. She’d need
to be brave.

“I don’t know how these
things happen, baby. I ain’t
ever felt anything like this
before in hella years. And
three days was all it took.
Damn, they say these words
are hard to say but…shit, I
never knew how right they
were,” Reign said, forcing a
chuckle. He was telling the
truth; there were women,
many women, too many
women, who’d wanted to
hear those words, and to
whom he’d said them. They’d
rolled right off the tongue,
easy as pie, and he hadn’t
mean them in the slightest.

Now, when it was true, when
it was all he could feel, when
it seemed like every speck of
dust and drop of water on the
earth had been put there just
to bring him to Gabriella’s
arms, he couldn’t say those
words. They caught in his
throat, threatened to choke
him if he didn’t swallow. Or
cough them out.

“I love you,” he finally
managed, and watched as her
face flit from joy to sorrow to
joy to sorrow -- tossing and
turning from one to the other
at breakneck speed. She
opened her mouth as though
to say something in return,
but he wouldn’t let her.
Instead, he leaned in, met her
parted lips with his own, and
took all of her in that one
moment. It seemed to stretch
out forever and end too soon
all at the same time, their
tongues meeting briefly, one
last breathless embrace.

And then she was gone.
 ~ 25 ~

The truck slowed to a crawl
passing the motel and bar. A
gleaming red Ford Mustang
sat in front of room 7. So she
got new wheels after all, Silas
thought, happy he’d thought
to double-check. He’d
assumed something of the
sort had happened when the
car that had been parked
outside her room had
disappeared the second day
she’d been there.

Of course, it was possible that
the Mustang belonged to a
new guest – but he knew
enough about shitty motels in
shitty towns to know that if it
was empty and the staff had
the choice to clean a dirty
room and put someone new in
it or not clean the dirty room
and just put newcomers in a
different room, the latter was
the most likely.

There was still a little risk
that she’d already skipped
town, but Silas was confident
enough she hadn’t not to risk
going back into the bar to
wait for her to show up. He
was done spying; he’d been
there too long anyway, and it
would only draw more
attention now that he’d
skipped a day of pretending
to be a barfly.

“That’s where she’s staying?”
Jeremy demanded.

“Could be. Could be in her
new beau’s room now,” Silas
answered noncommittally. Of
course, it was true. She was
probably keeping her stuff in
the motel room and lounging
in bed with her biker stud at
that very moment. Reign was
probably tickling her in all
the right places, making her
squeal like a pig. The image
amused him, especially
considering the fact that the
fuming, jilted husband beside
him was probably thinking
the same thing with
considerably less good
humor.

“Shut up,” Jeremy grunted,
and Silas bit back a smile. He
hit the gas and sped off past
the bar. If he’d gone a little
slower, if he’d rolled past a
few minutes later, he would
have seen Gabriella dashing
from the bar to the Ford. He
would have seen Reign
follow her outside and stand
watching from the wooden
porch as she peeled out of the
parking space. He would have
seen her pull up beside him,
their eyes locked, their
mouths closed in solemn
understanding.

As it was, he missed all that,
but it worked out for him. If
he’d seen all that, he would
never have had the time to
put his plan in action the right
way. He’d have to make
something up on the fly,
something Silas was quite
capable of but preferred to
avoid whenever possible.

When he did see that car
again, they were a mile or so
ahead of her. He narrowed his
eyes, squinting into the
rearview, and muttered “shit”
under his breath. Jeremy, who
had nothing to do but listen to
Silas’ breathing, picked up on
it, his head snapping towards
Silas.

“What?” Jeremy demanded.
Silas rolled his eyes, favored
Jeremy with a condescending
smile.

“Nothing,” Silas said. “Just
looks like you won’t have to
do much waiting, after all.
Looks like the girl’s on the
move.”

He nodded towards the
rearview mirror even as he
sped up, breaking the speed
limit without a whit of
concern. Jeremy had just a
glimpse of bright red on the
road behind them before it
was blotted out by the dust
rising around the truck’s tires.

“Are we ready? Shit, are we
ready?” Jeremy asked, lifting
himself up in his seat, his
eyes widening. Go ahead and
have your little shitfit, kid, but
don’t fuck this up for us, Silas
thought.

“We’re fine. I’m just gonna
put a few more miles between
us. But you’re gonna have to
be quick with that spike strip.
You look strong enough,”
Silas said, hoping his voice
would be enough to calm the
cop down. He only needed
Jeremy to help him with the
spikes that would rip
Gabriella’s tires to shreds;
after that, Jeremy could go
full-on psycho.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jeremy said,
now seeming eager to please.
Silas could get used to this
side of Jeremy. A few
minutes later, the road was
nearly enveloped by a fog of
sand and dust, and the red
Mustang was nowhere in
sight. Silas veered off
quickly, coming to a sudden
stop on the side of the road.

“Now,” he barked, and
Jeremy hopped to it. Musta
been a great student at the
Academy, Silas thought,
noting how suddenly attentive
and obedient Jeremy had
become. A great clanking
clatter from the bed of the
truck as Silas got out told him
that they’d have no trouble
getting the spike strip on the
road before Mrs. Policeman
could catch sight of them. He
watched Jeremy trot across
the road, spreading the strip
as he went. Silas leaned
against the truck, a wicked
smile on his face. This job
was even easier than he
thought it’d be.
 ~ 26 ~

It had gotten mighty dusty
mighty quick. Stupidly, I
turned on the windshield
wipers, but they did nothing
to dispel the blowing dust.
Leaning forward, I squinted
through the haze.

As the dust seemed to settle a
bit, I noticed something
glinting on the road before
me; in the hazy heat waves
baking off the tar, it was
impossible to tell what it was,
and to be frank it didn’t really
make me think twice. I wish
it had. When I look back on
everything, it’s one of the
things I can’t seem to stop
fixating on: if I’d slowed
down, if I’d realized, if I’d
been more aware…

Reign says not to beat myself
up about it. No one in my
position would have done
anything different. They
make those things specifically
so that you can’t tell what
they are. They wouldn’t be
very good tools if anyone
could just tell they were
there.

But you can’t help what your
brain decides to latch on to
when it comes to regrets.

At any rate, I didn’t slow
down. I didn’t know what
was coming. Even when I got
closer and saw the truck
pulled off to the side of the
road; what did I know, then,
about who was waiting in that
truck? Why would I believe it
was anything except a guy
checking his voicemail, or a
family of three consulting a
map?

I just sped on, feeling low and
like crying despite the image
I was putting out into the
world: I looked like Thelma,
or Louise, driving off to
freedom with the wind in her
hair. I felt like hell.

Though, to be fair, I can’t say
I didn’t also feel a little bit
better by virtue of being back
on the road; the directionless
terror and anxiety that had
taken up residence in my
stomach seemed to be abating
with each mile I put behind
me. But Reign’s smile kept
flashing in my mind, and with
it I’d feel something new (and
awful) in my stomach.

A falling feeling, like a dream
you know you can’t wake up
from, a dream where you’re
tumbling headfirst into
nowhere with nothing to stop
you or slow you down. All I
knew was that I was leaving
behind the first thing that had
made me happy in years, and
I was leaving it behind for a
future that was uncertain at
best.

But all those thoughts would
be cut short soon. Does it
sound crazy if I say that it
was almost a relief when I
heard the awful popping
noises, and suddenly felt my
new car skidding, veering
wildly? At least it was a
respite from my thoughts, of
Jeremy and Reign and
everything in between. I only
felt fear, mortal fear,
temporary fear.

In a panic, I clutched the
steering wheel, reality still
elusive, my mind fixated on
nothing but keeping myself
from turning the car over and
being crushed into the dirt.
What the fuck, I thought as I
heard the terrible screeching
of metal against pavement,
my car slowing even as it slid
across the dusty road, my
heart falling as the panic was
replaced by a sense of
hopelessness. I still thought
that it was just bad luck; a flat
tire caused by some act of
fate, a way for the universe to
punish me, a sign that nothing
would ever be easy, nothing
would ever come cheap.

The Mustang finally came to
a screeching, painful stop – in
the middle of the highway. I
was done. I hunched forward,
my forehead meeting the
front of the steering wheel. I
bet you’ve found yourself
doing the exact same thing at
some point or another:
groaning, two hands still on
the wheel, rubbing your
forehead against the leather,
back and forth, hoping that
when you come back up and
open your eyes and look
around everything is,
somehow, better.

Of course, sticking your head
in the sand has been proven
to work zero times out of ten.

At least there’s whoever’s in
that truck, I suddenly
thought, happy to at least not
be all alone. I heard the sound
of slamming doors from
behind me. I was so thankful.
I was so stupidly, naively
thankful that I wasn’t going
to have to try and push my
car off the road by myself,
that maybe someone would
keep me company while I
waited for a tow truck in the
blaring heat. Maybe they
could help me put on the
donut that had come in the
truck, and I wouldn’t need a
tow at all…

“Looks like you’ve got
yourself a bit of trouble,
miss,” someone said. Not just
someone. I knew that voice. I
knew that voice when it
yelled, when it whispered,
when it cursed, when it said
“I love you.” I knew that
voice better than I knew my
own.

My heart went cold, my
blood stopped flowing, and
my stomach packed a bag and
took a flight straight up my
throat. My mouth felt dryer
than the air around me. No,
no, no, no, I thought, unable
to lift my head from the
wheel, trying frantically to
tell myself it was just a trick
of my addled mind. I knew it
wasn’t, but it was all I could
do to keep myself from
pissing my pants.

It was impossible. It couldn’t
be. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t
fair, it wasn’t fucking fair! He
couldn’t be here! He couldn’t
have found me, and he
couldn’t have fucked up my
car, and he couldn’t be
standing beside my
passenger-side door, and he
couldn’t be there! If he was, it
just meant that I was destined
for misery, that I would never
have a good thing in my
whole entire life, that I must
have been some sort of awful
in a past life and was paying
for it now.

There was silence for a long
moment. A silence that felt
heavy, full of things that were
going to be said, full of words
waiting to be screamed. There
was only one way to confirm
what I knew to be true, or to
prove that I was just
experiencing some sort of
desert psychosis. Slowly,
with my breath still trapped in
my lungs, as though if I
didn’t breathe it would stop
happening, I began to raise
my head.

I didn’t make it very far.

My forehead hit the steering
wheel again, this time with
the help of a strong grip on
my hair. I heard a crunch as
my skull met the leathery
surface, and my last thought
before everything fell into a
world of painful red flashes
was that I’d been asking for
this. Maybe since I’d left,
maybe since I’d married him,
maybe since the day I’d been
born, I’d been asking for this.
Pain unfolded inside me like
a snake that had been waiting
to strike. The world
dissolved. After that, there
was nothing but pain.
 ~ 27 ~

Silas grimaced. The sound of
flesh hitting flesh seemed to
ricochet off the endless sky.
From a distance of about
fifteen feet, he watched as his
client unleashed his rage, in
earnest, on the girl. He’d
pulled her out of the car by
her hair as she screamed and
kicked, and now held her
against the car door as he
screamed obscenities and
continued to assault her pretty
face.

Silas wished, vaguely, for a
cigarette. He felt unusually
uncomfortable watching the
violence before him;
typically, nothing bothered
Silas much. He’d killed
enough men – and women –
on his own, in brutal enough
ways, to be immured to
watching anyone suffer. He
could sit through a snuff film
with a large popcorn and a
soda and not feel squeamish.

But he felt a little bad for this
one. The metal on the side of
the car must have been hot
enough to scald, which was
bad enough without having
your husband give you a five-
finger talking to. Her face
was starting to look a bit like
hamburger meat, blood
smeared across her cheeks
and bubbling around her lips,
opened in a soundless
screech. He looked at his
watch; Jeremy had been
going at it for two minutes
now, and his wife was
starting to slump against the
side of the car, the strength to
stand being siphoned away.

“Think that’s enough,
partner?” Silas asked, raising
his voice to be heard above
the sound of Jeremy’s fists.
The cop didn’t seem to hear.
Silas walked forward; the cop
caught sight of him and raised
his face, a snarl across his
mouth, splatters of his wife’s
blood on his lips.

“You want her walking and
talking enough to keep
making you dinner, don’t
ya?” Silas said, his tone
normal now as Jeremy’s arms
ceased their wild flailing.
Jeremy turned to him,
panting, and slowly wiped at
his brow with his forearm.
His eyes were inhuman, his
face sweaty and red. He
mumbled something
unintelligible, but clearly
malicious. But he kept his
hands away from Gabriella,
who had crumpled to the
ground, still shielding her
face, shaking and
whimpering.

“Alright,” Silas said, walking
closer. Jeremy seemed to be
deflating, his shoulders
falling, his breathing
becoming steadier. “Let’s get
her in the truck.”

“In the truck? I’m driving her
home,” Jeremy said, his voice
strangely soft after all his
screaming.

“We still have a few details
of our arrangement to work
out, if you recall,” Silas said,
his eyebrows rising. His gaze
settled on Jeremy’s eyes,
which were fading fast.
Jeremy, in turn, looked down
at the cowering Gabriella. He
seemed like a different person
than he’d been just moments
before, a flicker that could
have been regret coming over
his eyes. Silas walked
towards the two figures and
bent down before the girl,
who was emitting a series of
puppy-like noises. He
reached out for her, meaning
to lift her, but Jeremy pushed
him away.

“Don’t touch her. I’ll do it,”
Jeremy growled, looking
protectively at Gabriella.
Silas wasn’t surprised, and
backed away with his hands
up.

“Just don’t dally. The sooner
we get this over with, the
sooner you can take her
home,” Silas said over his
shoulder.

“What about the car?” Now,
Jeremy sounded completely
drained, the question falling
to the ground flatly.

“What about it? I don’t care
what happens to it. Do you?”
Silas really didn’t care about
the car. He knew that if it was
registered, it sure as hell
wasn’t registered in her name.
And only a few people would
be able to recognize it,
anyway. And if Reign found
it and recognized it? That
would only work in Silas’
favor: it’d get him all riled
up, make him lose focus, help
convince Reign that she
really was in deep shit. Reign
might walk right into Silas’
arms without the need for
anonymous packages and
ransom letters.

“I guess…I guess not but…”

Silas turned, impatient, and
snapped his fingers. Jeremy
flashed him a look of rage,
but didn’t seem to have the
energy to protest.

“Trust me, porky. I’m a
professional. Get the bitch in
the truck,” Silas said, his
patience dwindling quickly.
He was getting nervous about
his client; something about
the way Jeremy was looking
at his wife told Silas that he
was regretting his actions,
that he thought he’d gone too
far, that he was softening up.

Silas didn’t need Jeremy to
soften up. He needed the
exact opposite, if the plan
was going to go off smoothly.
It would do Silas no good to
have some bleeding heart
husband hanging around
making a mess of things.

To his relief, Jeremy bent
down and picked up his wife,
who was beyond rationality
and only kicked and fidgeted
weakly against her husband’s
superior strength. As they
walked towards the truck,
Silas could see Jeremy’s
mouth moving, but couldn’t
hear what was being said in
hushed tones. As they neared,
he could hear the lilting rise
and fall of Jeremy’s voice, as
though he were singing her a
lullaby.

Fuck me, Silas thought with a
roll of his eyes. We’ve got a
softy here.

And wasn’t that just Silas’
luck?

“Where should I put her?”
Jeremy asked, tearing his
eyes away from his wife’s
brutalized face long enough
to give Silas a big, stupid,
questing stare.

“In the back,” Silas said,
nodding his head to the bed
of the pick-up. She wouldn’t
mind riding in the back; she
was half-dead as it is. “And
get those spikes off the road,
too.”

As Jeremy carried her back
and then returned to the string
of spikes, dragging them off
the baking pavement, Silas
saw his opportunity. He went
to the car, pretending as
though he was admiring the
fresh paint, and grabbed the
duffel bag, which was
conveniently located right
under the passenger side seat.
Jeremy was so distracted with
situating Gabriella somewhat
comfortably in the back of the
truck he barely looked up as
Silas trotted back, opened his
door, and threw the duffel
bag behind the seat.

“What was that?” Jeremy
asked, coming now to the
passenger side door and
opening it wide. He seemed
hesitant to get into the truck,
as though he couldn’t figure
out why he’d ever gotten into
it in the first place.

“None of your business. No
questions asked, remember?”
Silas said with a sneer.
Jeremy was too rattled to
debate. He slid into his seat
and slammed the door shut,
cradling his head in his
hands. Silas clucked and
shook his head. This bully
was starting to bully himself.
The poor fool’d gone too far.
Silas could tell; he’d reached
that point, rare but real, where
one human stands back and
looks at what they’ve done
with eyes stripped of pride,
anger, desire.

He had it coming, this
moment of self-doubt and,
probably, self-loathing.

Silas turned the key and the
truck kicked the life. Driving
alongside the road until
they’d passed the wrecked
Mustang then hooking a wide
U-turn, Silas headed back
towards his little shack.
Home sweet home, until he
fully earned his paychecks
and could get himself a
mansion in Sao Paulo.
 ~ 28 ~

“Honey, I feel like there’s
something wrong,” Reign
said, tipping his half-empty
glass back and forth on the
bar. His anger at her had long
dissipated, replaced by more
sadness than he felt could
possibly be held inside one
human.

“Sure. You miss ‘er. That’s
what’s wrong,” Honey said,
keeping herself busy by
wiping down the counter.
She’d wiped that thing a
million times in her life
behind that bar, and it always
needed more wiping. She
sighed. Some day off, she
thought again.

After a few drinks with Endo,
which had helped her think
through the details of what
she knew and what she felt
about the stranger, she’d been
an unhappy witness to
Gabriella’s departure. Feeling
the call of duty, knowing that
Reign needed her but
wouldn’t come to her unless
she was pouring his drinks,
she sent home the girl who’d
been covering her shift and
donned her old, dirty apron.

“No, something else. I just…I
just feel it,” Reign said, and
his voice sounded defeated.
Honey’s heart went out to
him. She bit her lip, keeping
her face away from his. He
might look at her and see
what she was thinking. What
she knew. He didn’t need to
know anything about it; it
would only make things
worse, and more dangerous.
Better he thought she was
flying high and free all the
way to Mexico.

“Leave the intuitions to me,
babycakes,” Honey said. She
wished Reign would just get
properly drunk, have himself
a good bawl, and wake up
feeling fresh and new and
ready to fuck some other girl.
Lord knew there were enough
of them hanging around. But
Honey had seen their
goodbye; she knew that it was
going to take more than a few
half-assed performances by
the ladies of Ditcher’s Valley
to rid Reign of the pain in his
heart. Poor kid.

“You think she’ll be okay?”
Reign asked, his voice not
quite hopeful but at least not
as pathetic as it had been
sounding.

“I got a feeling she’ll be just
fine. Now drink up. The
faster you get drunk, the
faster you get to forgetting
her,” Honey said, really,
really wishing that Reign
would give up the ghost and
start taking shots like all the
other men did when some girl
ran off on them. The less
space he had in his mind for
rational thought, the better off
he’d be.

“I don’t feel like drinking,
and I don’t feel like
forgetting,” he said sourly,
shoving his glass towards her.
She caught it one-handed and
sighed.

“Ok, fine. You wanna
remember her. So remember
her. Tell me what you’re
gonna miss, I’m all ears,”
Honey said, stretching her
hands out and looking
straight at him. Their eyes
met and it took everything in
her not to flinch. She didn’t
want to lie to Reign. She
hated lying to her boys. But if
she told him what she really
felt, he’d likely do something
damned stupid, and it’d be
her fault. She needed Reign’s
blood on her hands like she
needed her ex-husband back.

“I don’t know. I don’t wanna
talk about it, either,” Reign
said, his head slumping.
Honey was relieved that she
didn’t have to put on that
“everything’s okay” face
anymore, but she also worried
about the soon-to-be
President. He didn’t look
good at all.

“You don’t wanna drink
about it, you don’t wanna talk
about it, what do you wanna
do about it?”

“I wanna…shit, Honey, I
don’t know. Maybe I’ll go for
a little ride,” Reign said.

“Maybe that’s a good idea,”
Honey agreed, shaking her
head and resuming her
endless bar-wiping. “But
keep your mind on the road.
You remember what
happened to Bull.”

“How could I forget?” Reign
said. It was too easy to lose
yourself in thoughts and get
yourself killed; that’s what
had happened to Bull. Reign
didn’t plan on ending up like
that poor sap.

Honey watched as Reign got
up from the bar, moving as
though his whole body was
made of lead. She wished she
could take the weight off his
shoulders, but there was
nothing she could do, and she
knew it. She could only hope
that he’d leave what ailed him
on the road. And that with
Gabriella gone, there
wouldn’t be any worries
about the mysterious man or
her cop husband or any other
trouble she could have
dragged in.

Reign let the door swing shut
behind him and looked up at
the star-filled night. He
remembered a similar night,
only a day ago, when he’d
made Gabriella buck and
come for him, then held her
on the cooling sands. Only a
day ago, but it seemed like a
lifetime.

He cursed the memory. He
cursed her husband, for
driving her into Reign’s arms
and then driving her away.
He cursed her, for bewitching
him and then leaving. He
cursed the night that seemed
so cold and empty without
her voluptuous warmth at his
side. He curse the club, for
keeping him from following
her. He cursed Honey for not
convincing her to stay. And
he cursed himself for falling
in the first place, for letting
himself slip just long enough
to get hurt worse than any
physical beating he’d endured
growing up.

With a roar and a screech, his
tires turned the dust and he
was gone, riding into the
empty night, wanting to feel
as empty as the miles and
miles before him. Empty, at
least, didn’t hurt.
 ~ 29 ~

“Are you really sure you need
it?”

“That’s none of your business
is it, partner? We agreed on
this long before I handed you
your wife on a silver platter.
You don’t want to be the sort
of man who goes back on his
promises, do you?”

“What if I paid you more?”

“Well, for one thing, it’d help
if you paid me the rest of
what you owed me at all. And
if you wanna give me a nice
bonus for doing such a stellar
job, I won’t say no. But we
agreed on that toe, and I’m
taking that toe,” Silas said,
his eyes glinting with
annoyance.

He did not like the way his
client was looking from his
shivering, gagged wife to
Silas and back again.
Gabriella had finally stopped
screaming through the dirty
rag that stuffed her throat; her
eyes, wide and wild, were
glued on Jeremy.

As well they should have
been; in a twist of irony that
anyone could admire, the man
she feared most had suddenly
become the only thing
between her being the proud
owner of ten toes and losing
one of her little piggies. But,
really, nothing Jeremy could
do would save her or her toes;
Silas needed one, and he
always got what he needed,
one way or another. He
clicked the razor-sharp shears
in his hand idly.

“C’mon, I don’t know what
weird fetish you have but…”

“And it’s none of your
business what weird fetish I
have. I’m taking one of those
toes, and you can’t stop me,”
Silas said, growing weary of
the conversation, which had
already taken up too much of
his time. He stepped forward
to Gabriella, who let out
another strangled shriek.

Jeremy stared at his wife as
Silas grew closer to her; she
was shaking her head wildly,
her eyes pleading with him,
begging him to help. Her
swollen eyes, black and blue
and steadily looking worse.
He’d done that to her. He
could remember doing it. He
could remember what it felt
like. It had felt so good. Now
he felt…almost guilty.

All those other times, he’d
been right to hit her. She’d
deserved it. She’d deserved it
this time, too. But maybe
he’d gone a little bit
overboard. It looked like her
nose was broken, and two
huge cuts on her face would
need stitches. Not that she’d
get them. Not professional
stitches, anyway. He couldn’t
exactly take her to a hospital.
But he wasn’t altogether inept
with a needle and thread, and
he figured he could make do
as well as any ER scrub.

The shears glinted in the sad,
dusty light of the shack.
Gabriella was kicking her
bound feet uselessly,
hopelessly. Her eyes never
left Jeremy’s. He closed his
eyes, but he could still see
them in his vision, calling to
him, begging him to stand up
and, for once in his life, take
care of his woman. Because
she was his woman. His. And
no one else’s.

And that meant that Jeremy
could do whatever he wanted
to her, but no other man
should lay a hand on her. Not
in friendship, not in love, and
not in violence. It was wrong
for him to let Silas do that to
her. Determined, and putting
on his best Colorado PD face,
he stepped behind Silas and
laid a heavy hand on his
shoulder.

“You better listen to me now,
buddy,” Jeremy growled.
This Silas dude seemed
tough, but how tough could
he actually be? And it wasn’t
like Jeremy needed him
anymore; Silas had handed
Gabriella back to her rightful
owner, that was all. He’d get
his money. Jeremy thought of
it as a reward for finding an
errant puppy. That was the
extent of what Silas was
owed, and Jeremy was going
to enforce it. Just like he
enforced law on the streets
and obedience in his home.

Silas felt the cop’s hand settle
on his shoulder. Something in
his chest bubbled up, grew
twice its size, threatened to
burst. He did not like being
touched. Not from behind like
that. And he did not like
being called buddy,
especially not in a tone of
voice like that.

Silas made a snap decision.
He rarely made such
decisions, but when he did he
trusted the instinct. Turning
on his heel, he felt the
satisfying crunch of metal on
flesh, heard the sound of meat
being ripped, saw Jeremy’s
eyes like two broken saucers
before him. Silas forced the
shears, lodged deep into the
cop’s abdomen, to open up,
spreading the hole until it
gaped like the mouth of hell.

Jeremy’s lips opened in a
soundless cry, his hands
falling to his gut. Silas
withdrew the shears, now
bloodied and needing a
cleaning. That was a shame.
Hot, red blood began to
spread across Jeremy’s shirt,
right in the center, his
stomach ripped open, pain
dancing through him like a
fevered ballerina. He’d never
known such pain.

Blackness flooded his eyes,
and his head spun, began to
detach from his shoulders. It
was as though he could look
down and see himself, his
hands desperately but
uselessly clutching his open
flesh as if he could hold the
wound closed even as his
blood poured from him,
dripping onto the ground. He
saw Gabriella, her eyes
closed, tears streaking clear
paths across her bloodied face
as she fell to the side and
heaved with sobs. Silas
before him, looking idly
down at the shears, then back
up at Jeremy expectantly.
Waiting for him to fall down,
pass out, and die.

Jeremy didn’t want to give
him the pleasure, but he had
no choice. First, he crumpled
to his knees, now staring up
at the devil who’d did this to
him, hating the feeling of
kneeling before Silas almost
as much as he hated the
feeling of his life leaving his
body. He didn’t want to die
like this, in this submissive
pose, like he was about to lick
his boots.

Perhaps this is what you
deserve though, Jeremy’s
mind flickered, the thought
completely blindsiding him.
He crumpled next onto his
hands, then onto the floor,
where his blood pooled
around him, filling the room
with the smell of metal. He
didn’t have many thoughts
after that. The room spun,
then disappeared, and then
everything disappeared, even
his thoughts. Life pulsed
through him once, twice,
three times…and then
stopped. As suddenly as his
life had begun, it was over.

Silas shook his head, looking
around for a rag to wipe his
shears on. The body count
was rising. He hated cleaning
up after killings. He briefly
considered getting rid of the
chick now, before she could
cause any trouble. Mostly just
because it’s easier to dispose
of two bodies at once than
one body twice.

But he figured it would be
more helpful to have her alive
in case of emergency. If none
of his other little gifts to
Reign would compel him to
come save his damsel, her
voice just might. He didn’t
worry about the other half of
the money Jeremy owed him.
He’d search the wallet, take
what he found. He’d make
out like a bandit regardless.
This was better, anyhow. He
never fully trusted the cop to
keep his trap shut to his
buddies on the force.

Gabriella stared at her
husband’s lifeless body,
unable to breathe or swallow
or do anything. He had been
her last hope. Now she was
locked up with this maniac
who wanted to cut off her
toes. And kill me, too, she
thought, her mind growing
hazy the more she looked at
Jeremy, his hands, once so
full of violent energy, now
limp and shapeless, blood
pooling around and between
his fingers.

My husband is dead, she
thought from somewhere far
off. I’m finally safe.

Silas didn’t see it, but as
Gabriella fell away into her
own mind, passing from
consciousness to
unconsciousness like a ghost
passing through a wall, she
was laughing.
 ~ 30 ~

Reign saw a dark shape
emerging before him on the
highway. It looked like a car,
parked sideways across the
road. As he got closer, he saw
that that’s just what it was.
And as he got closer, his heart
began to speed up even as his
bike slowed down. It was a
red car. A convertible. Tires
shredded. Marks on the
pavement, illuminated as his
headlights got in range. He
knew that car.

His hands trembled as the
bike rolled to a stop and he
placed his feet on the ground,
reaching up to remove his
helmet. What happened, he
wondered, mind racing with
awful possibilities. Whatever
this was, it wasn’t a natural
hazard of the road. Those
tires were more than popped;
they were destroyed. All of
them. And who would leave
the car right in the road?

Someone who didn’t have
time to call a tow truck.

Or didn’t care.

It was Gabriella’s car. And
she wasn’t in it.

They were shitty tires, her
phone didn’t have service,
she walked to get help…

But why wouldn’t she walk
back to town, in that case?
There wasn’t another place
for miles, and he hadn’t
passed her on the fifteen
miles between town and here.
Reign pulled out his own
phone, the same carrier and
style that he’d given
Gabriella. He had plenty of
bars.

This was bad. This was very
bad. Reign trembled, and
thought, surprisingly, of his
sister.

Not another, he thought, the
idea bringing a kink into his
jaw as he grit his teeth. I
won’t lose another woman I
love.

He didn’t protect his sister.

He wasn’t going to make the
same mistake twice.

Something awful had
happened to Gabriella, and he
wasn’t just going to leave her
to her shithead ex-husband’s
devices. Not like Miranda.

Kicking his bike back to life,
Reign hooked around and
sped back down the road; if
ever there was a time he
needed his club’s help, it was
now. He’d have every man
scouring the town and
everything in a hundred-mile
radius, and by sunrise she’d
be safe. It had to be so. He
couldn’t imagine the
alternative…it wouldn’t be
right. He wasn’t a good man,
but he couldn’t be so bad as
to deserve this again.

The bar came into view, and
he peeled off the road,
parking his bike randomly off
to the side. His stride as he
walked across the porch and
into the bar was the stride of a
leader, a man with a mission,
someone who would accept
no argument or denial. He
carried this same aura with
him, and everyone knew
when he entered. Heads
turned; half-drunk, the
gathered members of the
Black Smoke Motorcycle
Club rose to greet him, all
feeling his determination.

Honey put down the glass of
beer she’d been filling from
the tap, the head foaming up
as she stared at Reign,
anxiety rising like bubbles in
her throat. I should have told
him, she thought suddenly,
knowing from the look on
Reign’s face that there could
only be one explanation.

Something had happened to
the girl, and Reign had found
out. Somehow, that little bike
ride he’d taken had brought
him straight to the conclusion
that something was dreadfully
wrong with Gabriella. And
Honey was the only one,
besides Endo, who might
have a clue about the
particulars.

“Boys, get ready to ride,”
Reign said, his voice
ricocheting through the bar.
There was no hesitation as the
men gathered around their
soon-to-be-leader, ready to do
whatever he asked. Reign
looked over the sea of faces,
all looking back at him with
respect and loyalty.

“We’ve got a damsel in
distress, boys,” he continued,
still shouting although
someone had already thought
to turn the jukebox down.
“That girl, y’all know the
one?”

The crowd nodded en masse.

“She’s in some kinda trouble
now. I ain’t sure what, but her
car’s fifteen miles outside
town with no wheels. Taco,
Rifle, you two go get that
shithead dealer’s tow truck
and have him help y’all get it
off the road and somewhere
safe. Don’t need no law
getting involved now and
mucking everything up.
Everyone else, spread out,
and start combing every inch
of this earth for her. I ain’t
pussyfooting around here,
boys, if she ends up dead, or
hurt, that’ll be on us. We’re
gonna find her, and we’re
gonna make sure whoever’s
out to get ‘er gets his due.
You got it?”

Another general nod.

“I want most of y’all headed
out to Colorado. Damn ex-
husband might have her. He’s
got a badge, so be careful if
you gotta lay him out.
Everyone else, head towards
Salt Lake. I don’t have no
clue what kinda time they got
on us, but you best believe
you’ll be speedin’ tonight,”
Reign said, finishing his
orders with a bark. He looked
out at the crowd, a General
sizing up a troop. These men
would find her, he was sure
of it. They had no reason to
give a shit about Gabriella,
but they’d do anything for
Reign.

“You boys do me proud,
now,” he said, and the men
responded with a unified
holler, raising their fists in the
air and shouting the club’s
name into the rafters. Reign
held his stance, arms crossed
across his chest, as the crowd
broke around him, streaming
out into the night. The sound
of motorcycles revving soon
filled the air, and in the
deafening roar Reign felt his
unease, which had settled
while he was taking charge,
threatening to overwhelm
him.

Honey watched from behind
the bar. Endo had slipped out
with the rest of the men,
apparently unwilling to bear
witness to what was surely
about to happen when Honey
told Reign what she knew.
Which she had to. If
Gabriella had disappeared
without a trace, if someone
had cleared the road before
Reign got there…

But if “if’s” and “but’s”
were candy and nuts we’d all
have a merry Christmas,
Honey thought, remembering
one of her late mother’s
favorite sayings. She couldn’t
keep this from Reign
anymore. She couldn’t live
with herself, couldn’t live
with the club, knowing that
she could have helped him
but kept her mouth shut out
of fear.

Reign’s downcast eyes
eventually made their way to
Honey’s. He walked towards
her, slow and seeming
defeated, especially compared
to the way he’d entered, the
way he’d spoken to the men
as though he were Zeus.

“Honey…” he began, but
Honey hushed him with her
admission, blurted out like a
seventh-grader’s crush at a
slumber party.

“I think I know what
happened to her,” she said,
and watched as his eyes grew
wide. He waited for her
continue, but the words
seemed stuck in her throat.
He rapped his knuckles
against the bar, impatient. “I
saw someone…I saw
someone last night…
watching you two and…and
when you went for the ride,
he went to her room. That’s
it, Reign, that’s all I know
but…”

“And you didn’t think to tell
me? You didn’t think I might
be interested in knowing that
sort of thing? What the fuck,
Honey? You’ve got one
fucking job at this fucking
club, and it’s to tell me when
shit like that happens. Holy
fucking shit, you watched her
leave! You watched me say
goodbye to her, and let her
drive off…”

“I’m sorry! I didn’t have time
to…”

“Don’t fucking give yourself
excuses, Honey,” Reign’s
voice grew low, his eyes dark
and narrow, hate pulsing
through them. Honey shrank
under his gaze.

“You could have called,
texted. You didn’t say
anything because you wanted
her gone. Because you’re a
selfish fucking bitch, and you
didn’t want some other girl in
here getting attention.

You wouldn’t even smile at
her, Honey, you’d barely talk
to her. You, of all fucking
people, treated her like dirt.
You came here totally fucked,
and this club took care of
you, and now you’re all high
and mighty and can’t fucking
return the favor?

I tell you what, you old bitch;
if anything happens to
Gabriella, it’s on you. Her
blood will be on your fucking
hands. And I’d like to see
how much you get to whore
around when everyone knows
you could have done
something to save her, and
you didn’t.”

Reign had never spoken to
her like that. Hell, no one had
spoken to Honey like that
since she left her husband.
Tears filled her eyes, his
words clattering in her head
painfully.

“Reign, it’s not like that, I
was worried about you…”

“My ass, Honey. You were
worried about yourself, and
losing your special little
position in the club. I swear,
Honey, if a single hair on her
head…”

“Please, you have to…”

“Shut up. Just shut up. I don’t
want to hear another word out
of your lying mouth. You
better just fucking go home,
Honey. There won’t be
anyone to serve tonight,
‘cause we’re all going out to
find the girl that you let leave.
You let her put herself in
danger.

And it coulda been you, ya
know. All those years ago,
someone coulda done the
same to you. The difference
is,” Reign said, and now his
eyes glinted, like he knew he
was about to say something
that he couldn’t take back.
“The difference is that no one
would cry if you’d died,
Honey. No one gave a shit
about you. They just pitied
you. They still pity you. Old,
washed-up bitch. I love
Gabriella. No one’s ever
loved you, and no one ever
will.”

With that, he turned on his
heel and stormed out of the
bar, leaving her alone, Patsy
Cline singing softly on the
jukebox, the bar quiet and
lonely and dim. She picked
up a dishrag idly, needing
something to do with her
hands, and began to wipe at
the bar. Her bar. It was her
bar, after all, right? After
everything Reign had said,
wasn’t it still Honey’s bar?
Or did it belong to the club,
like everything else? Was
there anything on this earth
that Honey could truly call
her own? No man, no woman,
nothing…

She felt the phantom pain in
her womb throb, as it did at
certain times, as though
reminding her that the only
thing she’d ever actually had
for herself was gone. Outside,
one final motorcycle kicked
to life and took off. And then
Honey was alone. Really,
truly alone. For the first time
in a long time, she felt that
the earth was a cold and
lonesome place, and that
she’d always be alone on it.
No one’s ever loved you, and
no one ever will…
 ~ 31 ~

I could still feel it. It was
gone, but I could still feel it
when I wiggled my toes. It
didn’t help to look down, to
get the visual feedback that
told me I didn’t have a pinky
toe on my left foot anymore.
I’d read about phantom limb
syndrome before, but it was
interesting to experience it for
myself. I say “interesting”
instead of “terrifying” or
“awful” because everything
else was so terrifying and
awful that losing a toe was
relegated to the diminutive
role of “interesting”.

The pain wasn’t even so bad
compared to my thirst and
hunger and the constant
constriction of the binds that
tied my feet and wrists
together. The man who’d
taken me – the tall, dark
stranger – had taken care to
dress the wound properly,
while I was unconscious from
the pain.

I guessed that was mostly a
way to occupy time. I got the
distinct feeling that he didn’t
plan on keeping me alive
forever, so saving me from
sepsis was not much of a
priority. It probably also
saved the floor from needing
another washing.

I’d watched, numb and dumb,
as the man had mopped up
Jeremy’s blood and dragged
his body outside. I don’t
know what he did with it,
only that he wasn’t gone for
very long before he returned.

Speaking of things I didn’t
know, here’s a nice list: how
long I’d been there, when the
last time I’d had water was,
how the man had known
about the money in the duffel
bag, or what had happened to
my Mustang, or any of the
things in it, like the passport
and the ID and the cell phone
with Reign’s number.

I was slowly starting to not
know other things, too. My
own name. The words to my
favorite songs, which I’d
been singing in my head to
pass the few hours I was
awake each day. The man,
nameless and essentially
faceless, seemed rather
patient. He’d sit in silence,
back to me, for hours at a
time, only rising and facing
me to give me another
injection of the drug that
knocked me out. I guess I sort
of came to see him as a kind
of savior as much as anything
else: he bestowed onto me the
only solace in the world I
could have, which was sleep.

Those few hours I was awake
each day were blurry at best,
shot through with a constant
anxiety and ever-increasing
claustrophobia from the way
he’d confined me. He never
changed the rag that he’d
shoved into my throat, and
my tongue was raw and
scratched from rubbing
against the rough material.
My nostrils worked double
time to make up for the air
my mouth couldn’t suck in.
The rag was soaked through
at first with my own spit, but
as I grew more and more
dehydrated it dried out as
well.

I’d lost track of anything that
wasn’t right in front of my
eyes. My time with Reign
seemed like a distant
memory. My life with
Jeremy, even more distant.

There was just the darkness
of sleep, the pain of waking,
the fear, the silent and
solitary man with his back to
me, sitting patiently,
endlessly patiently, waiting to
kill me or set me free.

And the longer I was there,
the more I felt sure the latter
would never happen.

This is how I die, I remember
thinking. This is how
Gabriella dies. At least it’s
exciting. At least it’s worth a
story in the paper.

And when I wasn’t thinking
about my own mortality, I
was putting my brain to even
less use. If I’d never let Reign
talk me into staying that extra
day, if I’d decided to stay
even longer, if I hadn’t pulled
off in Ditcher’s Valley, if I
hadn’t taken the money and
run, if I hadn’t gotten the job
at the hotel, if I hadn’t
married Jeremy…
 ~ 32 ~

Reign stared at the desk, the
items arranged in a neat row
on the wood surface. His
arms, laying on the table,
created a perfect frame.

A photo.

A lock of hair.

And a toe.

Three days, three gifts.

Poised in the center above the
collected evidence of
Gabriella’s kidnapping was
the note, almost humorously
cliché with its cut-from-
magazine letters and words.

Come alone.

Amidst the directions for the
drop-off and the demands,
those were the words that
stood out the most to Reign.
Because, of course, he
couldn’t go alone. He
wouldn’t risk his neck like
that, he wasn’t stupid.

Except, maybe, he was
stupid, because he wanted to
go alone. The sane, safe,
logical thing to do was bring
some of his brothers, have
them wait at a distance for the
all-safe and storm the
stronghold, kill the bastard
who’d taken her, and ride off
triumphantly into the sunset.

But what if that didn’t
happen? What if, instead of
coming away the victor, he’d
come away with Gabriella’s
blood on his hands because
he couldn’t follow simple
damn directions?

It had been three days since
he’d sent the club out to scour
the countryside for Gabriella,
but they’d all returned empty-
handed. The following day,
the picture had shown up in
an unmarked envelope
slipped under Reign’s door.

The picture…Reign winced
as his eyes fell on the poorly-
lit Polaroid. Gabriella’s
beautiful face was bruised
and beaten, bleeding from
wounds that clearly needed
treatment, her mouth forced
open by a gag that seemed to
cut into the sides of her lips.

Her eyes were half-open, but
nothing in them said that she
was alive in her mind. She
looked dead behind those
eyes. Her black hair stuck to
the sides of her face. When
Reign first saw the picture, it
took everything he had not to
tear it into a million pieces
and running screaming onto
the road. It had hurt him as
though it was his face that
had been brutalized.

And then the lock of her dark
black hair. Plaiting a dark
red love-knot into her long
black hair: the lines from the
poem had rung in his mind
once more as he’d fingered
each strand, tied together with
a light blue ribbon. He’d even
held it to his nose and
smelled it, hoping to inhale
the slightest scent of her. But
all he’d smelled was pain and
violence and fear.

And then the ghastly toe, a
pinky toe, cut clean from the
foot. He’d dropped it when he
opened the oddly bulky
envelope, which had come to
his P.O. box, no return
address. And then he’d been
sick, not even making it to the
bathroom.

Now, laid out before him, the
three little souvenirs taunted
him, told him there would
never be another woman like
her, that he would never save
her, that she would suffer and
suffer and then be lost to him
forever.

Unless he did what the letter
said.

Reign wasn’t much for
following orders. He hated
anyone telling him what to
do; this was no exception.
But if it was the only way to
get Gabriella back…

He lowered his head, eyes
shut tight, knowing that each
second that went by was a
second that he needed to
make a decision. The letter
said that it was to happen at
8:00 pm that night. It was just
past 6. It wouldn’t take him
long to get to the location
described; he knew it all too
well.

Oh, was it irony, or a cruel
joke? The place Gabriella’s
captor demanded they meet
was the very same oasis
where they’d last enjoyed
each other, where he’d told
Gabriella his darkest secret,
where she’d come to the
sudden and surprising
decision to leave.

Fuck, Reign thought, his
hands shaking on his lap.

Reign was not used to feeling
like this: indecisive, fearful.
Usually, he was the one
telling everyone what to do.
Usually, he was the one
making people quake in their
boots. Usually, he knew how
to twist the knife just right to
get what he wanted.

Now, he was on the other side
of that equation, and he didn’t
like it one damn bit.

He wished, not for the first
time, that Gabriella had kept
driving. They’d both be safer
than. She wouldn’t be bound
and gagged and near death in
a sadistic stranger’s clutches,
and he wouldn’t have this
hole in heart that threatened
to swallow up everything else
inside him, like a vortex. He
wouldn’t be sitting in that
chair, the silence of his
apartment broken only by the
constant rattling of the air
conditioner.

With a start, he jumped from
the chair, letting it fall behind
him in his rage. He strode to
the air conditioner and, with a
single mighty push, dislodged
it from the window. It fell to
the ground with a crash that
would have been satisfying if
anything could have satisfied
him.

She probably doesn’t have air
conditioning, he thought, his
anger taking control of his
thoughts. So why should I get
to have it?

The heat seemed to burst into
the room from the open
window, and soon Reign was
sweating in his jeans, still
standing in front of the
window and staring down at
the now-demolished air
conditioner. His mind had
gone blank. There was
nothing left of him, only
anger and need and guilt and
desperation.

He’d do anything.

And if that meant dying,
alone, in the desert, then so
be it.

He’d get her back, he’d get
her safe. He’d go alone. He’d
bring the money. He’d do
whatever that fuck wanted
him to do. It was his only
choice, and her only chance.
He stormed into the kitchen
and grabbed the box of Raisin
Bran from the top shelf of his
pantry. Setting it down with a
thunk on the counter, he
fished inside, cursing the
jagged edges of the cereal
against his skin, until his
fingers grasped the gun
hidden inside.

He kept it there for safe
keeping, had another stashed
under the bed and a third in a
safe in his closet. But this one
was his favorite, his lucky
Smith and Wesson. Fully
loaded and ready to go. He
held it against his chest,
fingers wrapping around the
trigger lightly. He felt better
holding his gun.

He wasn’t going to fuck this
up. Not like Miranda. He was
going to be the hero for once
in his sick little life, and
nothing was going to stop
him.

Not even himself.
 ~ 33 ~

Silas listened to her moaning.
It didn’t annoy him. He’d
shut his brain off, pretty
much, after doing away with
the cop. As though
remembering that he was out
of milk, a little chime in his
brain reminded him that the
body was still buried under a
very loose covering of dirt. It
would need better hiding
soon. Or not. It was hot as
shit, the body was probably
reeking to high heavens.
Better to just burn the shack
to the ground when he was
finished. Nudge Jeremy’s
lifeless corpse towards the
flames and let it all go down.
Ashes to ashes and all that.

As for the girl, she might as
well have been bound and
gagged in another state for all
the mind he paid her. Twice a
day she’d wake up and moan
for a while and, after an hour
or two, he’d give her another
sleepy shot and she’d go back
to la-la land. If anything, he
was doing her a favor by
keeping her under.

If she was awake, she’d just
have to deal with the pain and
the knowledge that her future
was uncertain at best. Of
course, he wasn’t going to tell
her that hope was futile; he
was at an impasse,
philosophically, about
whether she’d be better off
knowing that she was going
to die or whether that little bit
of hope that she might live
would sustain her.

It didn’t matter to him, but it
was an interesting thing to
ponder.

As the night began to creep
over the landscape on the day
that everything was going to
come to fruition, Silas felt an
unusual strain in his
temperament. Almost as
though he were nervous. It
was good to be alert and
aware of possible downfalls
in a plan of action. It was not
good – or comfortable – to be
nervous.

Especially not for Silas, who
couldn’t even tell you the last
time he felt anything close to
worry. Why should he worry
when he’d done far worse
things, and done them with
considerable less care? This
job was so easy compared to
many of his others…yet he
felt a nagging unease.
Perhaps it was merely the
amount of money at stake; it
was one of his biggest
payouts to date, and being so
close and yet so far (to
borrow the cliché) wasn’t the
worst reason to have a bit of
rumble in one’s stomach.

Sighing, he stood and turned
towards the girl, whose eyes
grew wide as she stared at
him. The shadowy light in the
little cabin ensured she could
never confidently ID him, but
that didn’t really matter,
considering she’d be dead in
a matter of hours. He walked
towards her and then
crouched down onto his
haunches, watching sense
flicker on and off in her big
green eyes.

She was a pretty one, he had
to hand it to her. Reaching
out, he brushed a strand of
hair from where it stuck to
her sweaty brow, the most
contact he’d had with her.
She cringed, eyes tearing,
filling with fear and disgust.
He thought when all this was
done he’d look for a girl like
her to spend a night or two
with. It’d give him a sick sort
of pleasure, which was the
best sort of pleasure in Silas’
book.

He reached into his shirt
pocket, bringing out a needle
with a half dosage of the
knock-out juice he’d been
pumping her with. No need
for a full shot this time, since
she’d be dead before opening
her eyes again.
 ~ 34 ~

Honey watched out the
window of the bar as Reign
threw his leg over his bike,
sitting straight and tall on the
seat, then kicking the engine
to life. She bit her lip, an
empty, gnawing sensation in
her gut. When had she last
eaten? It seemed like days.
She hadn’t had an appetite
since Reign’s royal dressing
down.

In fact, this was the first time
she’d caught sight of him
since then. He’d gone full-on
hermit on the club, accepting
visitors to his apartment but
not coming down to the bar
since the search for Gabriella
had turned up nothing.
They’d kept searching, sans
Reign, but no one had found
hide nor hair of her or her
captor.

He looked bad. Drawn and
pale, he looked like he hadn’t
eaten in days, either. Or slept.

Where is he going, Honey
wondered, brow furrowing.
As though, deep down, she
didn’t kind of know. It could
be that he was just tired of
sitting around, needed some
time on the road, wanted to
do his own sweep of the area.
But she’d seen his face when
he got on the bike. It was the
face of a man who’d made a
decision, a decision that
hadn’t been easy to make.

He was going to get her.
Somehow, someway, he’d
found her, and was going to
get her.

Or he was leaving for good.

Either way, he was going
alone.

And that, Honey knew, was a
bad, bad, bad thing for him to
do.

She wanted to step outside,
stand in front of him, block
his path and knock some
sense into his skull. But she
couldn’t bear picturing what
he’d say to her. Not after the
verbal whipping he’d given
her only a few days ago. She
would never be able to look
him in the eyes again…

He sped past the window, not
noticing her as she stared
after him. Turning onto the
main road, he went left,
towards town. Honey moved
quickly, pulling open the
drawer under the cash
register. It was still there. Of
course it was still there. No
one knew it was there except
her and Endo, and neither had
had to touch it in years. Now,
as she picked up the gun and
tucked it into the waistband
of her jeans, Honey prayed
that it would still fire. She
didn’t have time to test it out.

The bar door slammed shut
behind her. The evening was
growing dark, the moon and
the sun sharing the sky,
purplish light beginning to
blend the distant mountains
together in a haze. Honey
strapped her helmet on and
adjusted the gun once more.

She’d show him that she
wasn’t what he thought. She
knew he’d said what he’d
said out of anger, but she also
knew just how true some of
what he’d said was.

But there was always time to
change.

She’d learned that a long time
ago.
 ~ 35 ~

Reign pulled up to the still,
small lake fifteen minutes
early. The darkling sky
reflected on its mirrored
surface, the moon standing
out whiter and brighter as the
sun fell. He spit onto the dust,
lit a cigarette with fingers that
shook. He cursed his shaking
fingers, willed them to be
still.

From under his jacket he
pulled a worn, black billfold.
Inside was all the money
Gabriella’s captor had
demanded. In the distance, he
thought he could see a
blowing tornado of dust
coming his way, but couldn’t
be sure it wasn’t just his eyes
playing tricks on him.
 ~ 36 ~

I dreamed I was on a ship
rocking on a stormy sea.
Bumping, painful, the
wooden boards of the ship
battered me again and again.
My eyes winked open, saw
bright blue and pink above
me, and I felt the hard, dusty
floor that I lay on moving.
My eyes closed again and I
was back on the ship, a slave
ship now, and I was chained
to the wall, unable to move.

Above me, awful laughter
and the sound of heavy
footsteps echoed. Was it
Jeremy up there? No, no, he
died, my dreaming mind said,
but the words meant nothing.
It was Jeremy, or it was a
stranger, it was someone
awful. Reign wasn’t there.
He’d never be there again. I
was being taken to a far away
land, where I’d never see
anyone I loved ever again. I
cried for myself, for him, for
the life I could have had. In
real life, tears slipped down
my cheeks as the truck
bumped down the dirt road.
 ~ 37 ~

Silas leaned forward, looking
for the telltale marks of a
bike’s tires on the road, but it
was getting too dark, and
there was too much dust. He
checked the rearview; clear.
Of course it was clear. Why
was he so edgy? No one
would be coming. Reign
wouldn’t risk his pretty little
lover’s neck like that. And if
he did, he’d be dead before he
could call for reinforcements.

Silas was good at this. There
was no reason to worry.

So why was he worrying?
 ~ 38 ~

Honey kept a distance from
Reign. And, when an old
pick-up turned onto the
otherwise vacant highway
from what looked like a road
to nowhere, she slowed even
further, keeping her distance
from it as well. Her heart
pounded under her cut. She’d
always been comfortable
behind the scenes. The gun
felt awkward in her
waistband. Everything felt
just the slightest bit awkward.

But hell, Honey could deal
with feeling awkward. It was
better than feeling useless.
 ~ 39 ~

The man smiled as he stepped
from the truck. Reign did not
return the smile, but stubbed
his cigarette out on the
ground, planting his heel on it
firmly. He looked at the man
from head to toe, trying to
discern where he was hiding
his weapons. He couldn’t see
any obvious bulges in his
clothing, but he knew damn
well this bastard hadn’t come
unarmed.

If ever a man looked like sin,
it was the man who walked
slowly, confidently, towards
Reign. A full mustache and
beard hid the lower half of his
face, and his eyes were black.
He wore a Stetson, but Reign
could tell the man was
balding. The man was skinny
as a rail, tall and lean to the
point that he looked like he
might blow over in the wind.
But those eyes told Reign
everything he needed to
know.

“Where is she?” Reign
demanded, and the man
stopped his advance. His
hands were empty, and he
made no move to reach for
anything on his body.

“Back of the truck, friend,”
the man said, a smile
spreading across his face that
made Reign’s stomach turn
over. His fingers itched to
grab the gun he was hiding,
but he steeled himself,
keeping his emotions in
check. If this could be
finished with no one getting
killed, that would be okay.
Reign would love to put a
bullet between the man’s
eyes, but not if it risked his
own life – or Gabriella’s.

“I’m not your fucking
friend,” Reign said, extending
the hand that held the billfold.
“It’s all here.”

“Well, mighty kind of you,”
the man said, walking
towards Reign once more.
The wind picked up; it was
almost entirely dark out now,
and Reign’s heart thudded
with the increased danger that
the night held. Less visibility
was never a benefit during a
scene like this.

He held back the urge to leap
forward and beat the man into
the ground as he pulled the
billfold from Reign’s hand.
They were so close now,
Reign could smell the stink of
the bastard’s unwashed body,
could almost taste how vile
and cursed the man’s smile
was. He kept his eyes fixed
on the man’s. No trouble,
asshole, don’t you give me
any trouble, Reign thought,
hoping the stranger knew that
Reign wasn’t just some
ordinary dick with a soft spot
for a pretty girl.

The man opened the billfold,
glanced at the contents, and
seemed satisfied.

“Looks good, partner,” the
man said, looking back up at
Reign with that awful smile.
The smile seemed to fill his
eyes, too, his entire being a
vessel for all that was terrible
in the heart of man.
Somewhere in the distance,
Reign thought he heard a
motorcycle engine. He
pushed the thought away, also
pushing away his desire to
unload his lucky Smith and
Wesson right into the
asshole’s smiling face.

“I’ll go get the little Misses,
huh?” The man turned. Now
would be your chance, Reign
thought, his mind still
screaming at him to kill the
bastard. But he was so close
to having her back – and he
wasn’t going to fuck this up.
He’d promised himself that.
He meant to keep that
promise.

“By the way,” the man said,
stopping in his tracks half-
way to the truck and turning.
Reign watched the man’s
hand slip inside his jacket as
his torso twisted; in a
moment, Reign had pulled the
gun from his waistband,
flicking the safety off, finger
curled around the trigger.

A brilliant crack whipped
through the night, so loud it
almost rippled the still waters,
and Reign fired; a plume of
dust rose from the ground.

The ground seemed too close.

Something wet was crawling
down Reign’s stomach.

Why wasn’t the guy on the
ground?

Why was the ground so
close?

What was that – pain, pain,
sudden and sharp and filling
him with the sour taste of
blood, and the ground got
closer and closer until his
nose hit the dirt and he
realized he’d been too late.

He heard, as he struggled to
remain conscious, the crunch
of boots against the dust, the
sound of a gun being cocked,
and soon he saw the boots
before his eyes.

He couldn’t lift his head;
everything suddenly doubled
in his vision. He strained his
eyes, trying to look upwards,
felt a violent ripping in his
chest as a cough rattled him,
more blood dampening the
earth around him, and above
him, in the center of what
little vision he had left, the
gleam of the barrel of a gun.

He thought, vaguely, as his
mind slipped away, that if he
kept looking, he might see the
bullet slide down that barrel,
might watch it close the
distance between him and his
own death, and wouldn’t that
be fitting…

Another sharp blast in the
night and Reign shut his eyes
tight, looking for the tunnel,
the light that was promised at
the end of it. But it was all
black. Of course it’s all black,
his mind said, the thought
strangely clear against the fog
that had taken reality’s place.
You don’t get to go to heaven.

Reign thought he heard a
thud. He thought he felt a
whoosh of air against his
face, dirt spiraling around his
fingers. But those were all
impossible things, because
dead men can’t hear thuds or
feel dirt.

Death is strange, Reign
thought before it all went
black.

Honey let the gun fall to the
ground with a strangely
substantial clatter. She
wanted to fall to her knees,
she wanted to throw up.
Instead, she walked, unsteady
and stumbling, towards
Reign’s body, the blood that
was beginning to surround
him.

Beside him lay another body.
She watched the other body’s
chest. It didn’t move. She
could barely do the same for
Reign, but she forced her
eyes to focus on Reign’s cut,
willing it to rise and fall.

And it did.

It was only when she saw it,
when she knew he wasn’t yet
dead, that Honey let herself
collapse. And it was only for
a moment; hands digging into
her pocket, she pulled out her
phone.

“Endo, I need you and
anyone you can gather, right
fucking now, and get that
fucking doctor out of bed, we
got a real fucked situation
here…”
 End of Part 3.

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Epilogue.
Epilogue

His hands? Whose hands?
They were pulling, my hair,
or everything, pulling me
apart like… and then the cage
– not the cage again, I
couldn’t take the cage, not
another second, oh God, not
the cage, please, please, not
the cage, I was screaming but
it didn’t matter, they were
just laughing – laughing at
me, at my pain, I couldn’t
breathe, and they were
laughing so hard…

I woke with a gasp. The
nightmares – they were
persistent, to say the least.
Beside me, Reign stirred, rose
onto his elbows, reached over
and brushed the hair from my
sweating brow.

“Baby,” he murmured, half-
sleeping, rolling over to face
me.

“It was just…” I started to
say, closing my eyes as the
terror wilted inside me.

“I know what it was,” he said,
and his mouth closed over
mine, his hand falling to my
mound, parting the lips gently
and stroking my clit. I
moaned into his lips; he knew
this was the one thing that
could calm me down, get me
back to sleep after one of my
nightmares.

And boy, was he ever happy
to oblige.

His finger dipped lower, my
pussy immediately
awakening at his touch. He
moaned his own appreciation
at my wetness; the dream still
had my heart racing, but now
it raced from pleasure, as
well. Pulling his mouth away
from mine, my head dropped
back onto the pillow.

His mouth travelled down the
length of me, my body naked,
nerves sparking with each
kiss he planted on my breasts
and stomach. My body
shuddered, thighs parting for
him as his head disappeared
under the light sheet.

I felt his fingers move from
my clit, down to my open slit,
pressing inside me just as his
tongue darted out to lick my
swollen nub. The adrenaline
from the nightmare carried
over into real life, made his
tongue on my clit feel that
much better, my flesh
crawling with sensitivity,
with pleasure, as he lapped at
me.

His fingers inside me pulsed,
probed, seeking that place
inside me as his tongue
circled my clit, then flicked
over it. His lips closed them,
sucking it between his teeth,
my body responding
immediately, hips thrusting
upward.

“Reign,” I whimpered as his
fingers plunged downward,
finding their target and
pressing hard, a dam breaking
in my pussy as his tongue
enveloped my clit in a warm
bathe of ecstasy. He knew
everything that made me
squirm, could make me come
in seconds, but he would
always draw it out, keep me
on the edge, perched on a
cliff of pleasure, begging to
be released.

He liked me to beg.

Now, he kept his fingers
pressed lightly against that
sacred spot inside me as his
tongue circled my clit, over
and over again. My hands
found his hair, fingers
digging in to his scalp,
pressing him forward,
needing him to give me the
satisfaction I knew was
waiting for me.

“Please, Reign,” I begged,
pleading into the pillow, my
thighs shaking as they
clenched around his head. He
pressed harder with his
fingers inside me, taking my
clit between his teeth once
more, only just slightly
grazing it, and with a cry in
the night I came, rolling
waves of bliss washing over
my addled mind, calming me
even as it brought my soul
back to life.

This is real, I thought, this is
real, nightmares are not, this
is real.

I panted, still shuddering, as I
came down from my climax.
I let my thighs fall to the side,
releasing Reign’s head. He
licked tenderly at my juices,
his tongue lapping up from
my slit, before crawling up to
lay beside me.

“Baby,” I moaned, grabbing
him tight to me. “Do you…?”

“Mm-mm,” he said, and I
knew that he’d already fallen
asleep again. I smiled,
nuzzling my head into his
chest, eyes closing, the last
wisps of horror from the
dream blowing away like
strands of a spider’s web. I
could sleep again, now.

They didn’t happen every
night, the dreams. A few
times a week. They were
horrible, they felt like they
ripped me to shreds each
time. But I’d wake up, and
Reign would wake up, too, as
though he could sense my
dreams. Lord knows little else
wakes him up. He can sleep
through an earthquake. But
when I jolt out of a
nightmare, shaking and
sweating, he’s up in seconds,
and pressing me back down
to the bed, touching me in
every perfect place, washing
away the dream with pleasure
I could never have imagined
before I met him.

I wondered, as I listened to
his heartbeat, felt the rise and
fall of his chest, when they
would end for good. When
would I be free of the terrors?
It had been a year already…

It had taken long enough to
quit jumping at the sight of
my own shadow. Hell, it had
taken long enough to find the
courage to leave Reign’s
apartment. It wasn’t just the
aftershock of being beaten
and captured. Jeremy was
dead, the man was dead, and
both their bodies had been
disposed of somewhere in the
desert – where and how was
never disclosed to me. Not
that I really wanted to know.

So if I wasn’t messed up
enough from my personal
ordeal, I was in a constant
panic about someone coming
to look for Jeremy, or for
coming to finish that man’s
dirty business. But months
had helped to heal that
wound: when half a year had
gone by with no queries into
my ex-husband’s
whereabouts, I finally had to
calm down and realize that I
might actually be free. Free
from him, free from worry,
free.

My hand found the scar on
Reign’s torso. I traced it with
my index finger, thanking
God for the millionth time
that he was still alive. My
man, I thought, and the words
were like a lullaby. I let my
mind drift, holding him tight,
willing him to be safe for the
rest of our days. I had come
so close to losing him once…

He snored softly. The sound
was music to my ears. You
should be freaking out about
your paper, my mind told me,
wanting to occupy itself with
something other than my
worries about Reign’s safety
and my desire to be rid of the
nightmares.

I should have been worrying
about my paper, after all.
After enrolling in an online
Master’s program, I’d found
myself happily absorbed in
the old routine, the old
comforting feeling of
research and reading. It had
been Honey’s suggestion,
actually, and it had been the
best thing anyone could have
suggested. I nuzzled closer to
Reign, re-thinking the
premise of my paper, letting
the thoughts swirl and collide
in my brain, percolating the
ideas that would emerge
fully-formed once I started
writing.

But my mind kept drifting
back to him, as always. His
chest under my cheek rose
and fell, rose and fell. The
wind shifted outside, blew in
through the open window, the
desert winter still warm.

Beyond the window, I knew
without looking, you could
see the jagged mountains in
the distance, the Rockies that
I’d driven down so many
months ago with nothing but
the clothes on my back and a
bag full of cash. They were
constant, the landscape never
shifting, a reminder of where
I’d come from, how different
everything was now. I loved
them for that. But I preferred
the landscape of Reign’s
muscled chest, the slope of
his chin, the peaks of his ears,
the river of his hair. He was
my mountain. He was my
home. And I wasn’t goin’
nowhere.
THE END
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 Flip the page to start
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- Meg Jackson
 Rough Love

~ 1 ~

The last thing I remember
before my life ended is
smiling. That sounds like a
nice last memory to have, but
you don’t know me – or at
least, you didn’t know me
then. When I smiled back
then it was for one of two
reasons: I had bought
something shiny and new, or
I had done something bad to
annoy my father.

I was not a nice person back
then. I guess I’m still not a
very nice person. I don’t
know if everyone has it in
them to be a nice person; I
just know that it’s never
worked out for me. For me,
being bad has worked
wonders. For me, being bad
comes natural.

Of course, there are degrees
of being bad. There’s the sort
of bad that comes from
genuinely wanting to do harm
to others; I’m not that kind of
bad. I just like to get what I
want; that’s what I’m used to,
and that’s what I expect. Or,
at least, that’s what I used to
expect.

That’s why I remember
smiling: it’d been a great day.
Not only had I scored some
new Prada shoes, I’d also
managed to piss of my dad by
shopping at Saks, which was
a client of one of his biggest
competitors.

My dad runs one of the most
exclusive and successful
marketing agencies in the
United States; he’s got
Bloomies, Nordstrom,
Benneton, Harry Winston,
Tiffany’s. Most of the big
names on Fifth Avenue are
under contract with Pop’s
agency.

But Saks is contracted to
Dad’s rival agency, and he’s
told me time and again that
he doesn’t want me using his
money to support the
competition. So, of course, I
shop there whenever I can.
Because he gets the credit
card statement at the end of
the month, and because I
know that he’d never cut me
off, no matter how much I
push his buttons. He may
want to, but he doesn’t have
the heart to. He’s not that
kind of guy.

No, he’s the kind of guy
who’ll do everything else he
can imagine to make your life
miserable: ruining
relationships, squashing
hopes and dreams, all with a
smile on his face. The
backhanded compliment is
his forte. The pat on the head
that says “I know you can’t
do anything productive, I
know you can’t survive on
your own, I know you need
me” is the most affection he
can give. I guess he’s not a
nice man, either.

So I do what I can to get back
at him, in little ways. Looking
back now, I can’t even
consider myself being that
bad – after all, the only thing
I was doing was shopping for
expensive crap and trying to
make Dad angry. That’s like,
the sort of “bad” that a
teenage girl is. I wasn’t a slut,
I didn’t party all the time, I
never graced the pages of the
tabloids with a martini in my
hand, coke under my nose,
and a new boy on my arm
every week.

But Dad always made me feel
like a bad girl. So that’s what
I considered myself. Now, of
course, I guess I’m more of
what you expect from a bad
girl. But how that all came to
be starts on that day as I
walked into my apartment,
smiling as I locked the door
behind me.
 ~ 2 ~

“Juliana,” I remember calling
out as I entered the
apartment, bags in hand.
“Juliana, can you make me
some coffee? Then come see
what I scored at Saks…
you’re gonna have a cow, I
swear, you can even try them
on!”

Juliana was my maid, but also
my best friend. Really my
only friend. You know the
stereotype of the poor lonely
rich girl? That was pretty
much me. My only confidante
was a woman I had to pay to
keep around.

When I heard no response
from Juliana, I called out her
name once more. Turning
around to face my apartment,
I remember my heart
stopping. The coffee table in
the living room was
overturned; the couch
cushions were on the floor,
and a broken vase was
leaking water all over the
carpet. For some reason, I
remember thinking the water
will ruin the rug. Pretty
shallow, right? But that was
the first thing that popped
into my head. I don’t know
why, but it was.

The next thing I thought was
HOLY CRAP I GOTTA GET
OUT OF HERE. Obviously,
something was wrong. I
grabbed the door handle
behind me, but before I could
make my getaway, I had
another thought: Juliana. My
heart pounded as I realized
that she would have been
home when all this happened,
that if there was a struggle, it
was because someone hurt
her.

I wanted to just leave; I
wanted to just bolt out the
door and down the hallway
and call for help. But I
couldn’t leave my only
friend. Not if she was hurt
somewhere in the apartment.
I closed my eyes and prayed
that it was a simply burglary,
that whoever was in here was
gone, and that Juliana was
holed up in one of my many,
sizable closets, intact and
alive. Opening my eyes
again, I took a deep breath
and released my grip on the
doorknob.

There wasn’t a sound in the
apartment; no hint that
anyone was in any of the
rooms. Not a cough, not a
whisper, not a breath. I
started to pull my phone out,
meaning to call the police
while I searched for Juliana,
but remembered that it had
died while I was shopping. I
have got to stop leaving the
house without a full battery, I
lamented before realizing just
how serious the situation was.

If someone really was in the
house…well, I didn’t want to
think about it. For a moment,
I considered leaving again,
asking a neighbor to use their
phone to call the police, but
then I thought of poor Juliana
again, scared and alone – or
hurt. The thought made my
heart ache, and I knew I
couldn’t leave the apartment
until I knew she was safe.

Thinking quickly, I opened
and shut the door loudly. I’d
already announced my
presence, so if anyone was
still in the apartment they
already knew I was there. But
I hoped that by making it
sound like I’d seen the
damage and left, it would
conceal my presence. I kicked
my shoes off quickly – if
there was someone still
around, the clack of stilettos
across the hardwood floors
would be a dead giveaway
that I was still there.

I was only wearing a short,
light dress because of the
brutal Manhattan summer,
and I felt exposed in my own
apartment as I tiptoed
towards the living room and
hallway. At the living room, I
tried not to look at the
overturned furniture; I didn’t
want to see if there was blood
anywhere. I couldn’t bear it.

I looked down the hallway;
there were four doors, two on
each side. One side had a
closet and my bathroom. The
other had my room and
Juliana’s room. The kitchen
was at my back as I stared
down the hallway; the kitchen
was small, so one glance had
told me that there wasn’t
anyone there. Gathering up
every ounce of courage in my
body, I began to walk down
the hallway. I strained my
ears, listening for any sign of
life. Pure silence. The first
door I came to was the closet;
I grabbed the handle and
didn’t even give myself time
to count to three before
yanking it open.

Empty. Except for mounds of
shoes and piles of expensive
clothes, nothing. I breathed a
sigh of relief, even though my
heart was still pounding out
of my chest. I turned around
to face the door to Juliana’s
room. I always told her to
keep it locked because it was
her room, not mine, and even
though it was my apartment, I
wanted her to feel like she
had a private space. I prayed
that it was still locked.
Reaching out for the handle, I
closed my eyes and turned.

Locked. My heart skipped a
beat and I started to feel safer;
two down, two to go. I
hesitated, not sure whether to
try the bathroom or my room
first. The momentary
hesitation allowed all my fear
to flow back into me and I
stalled from panic.

Sure, the first two were clear,
but if I was a murderous
lunatic I’d probably hide in
the main bedroom, or the
bathroom. If Juliana’s door
was locked I wouldn’t be able
to get in, and what sort of
hiding place is a closet you
can’t even stand in
comfortably because it’s full
of shoes?

I knew I couldn’t just stand in
the hallway forever, that I had
to either leave or try the last
two doors. I didn’t give
myself time to consider
anymore and lunged for the
bathroom door, throwing it
open. I stifled a gasp as I
looked inside. The shower
curtain was shaking slightly
and I could see bright red
streaks on it. My heart
pounded through my chest as
I stared at the red marks.

This can’t be happening, God
no, this can’t happen to me,
oh God Juliana, I have to get
out, I have to call the cops,
thoughts raced through my
head like brutal gusts of
wind. I stepped back slightly,
then thought about Juliana,
scared and alone in the
shower, hearing me but
unable to speak, bound and
gagged, knowing that I’d left
her.

I suddenly wished I’d thought
to grab a knife from the
kitchen. I berated myself for
my stupidity and looked
around the bathroom for
some sort of weapon. The
only thing I could find was a
plunger. I picked it up and
held it tightly, feeling the
rough wood handle in my
palms; it wasn’t much of a
weapon, but it made me feel
better anyway. I tiptoed
towards the quivering curtain.
As I got closer, I heard
sniffling noises and knew that
Juliana had to be in the tub.

“Juliana?” I whispered,
approaching the curtain and
reaching out with one hand.

“Mmmhm unhhmmm!” was
the response, and the distress
I could hear in the muffled
voice was like a shot of
bravery. I threw back the
curtain; Juliana was tied up
and gagged, a cut bleeding
profusely on her forehead.
Her eyes shook with fear as
she looked up at me. I bent
down and undid the gag
quickly.

“Juliana, what happened?!
Did someone break in?” Even
as I spoke I saw Juliana’s
eyes fill with terror, fixed just
above my head, behind me. I
didn’t even have time to turn
around. I didn’t even feel the
blow to my head. I fell over
onto my side as the world
began to spin and blur. From
somewhere far, far away I
could hear Juliana screaming.

“Miss. Serena, no!”
 ~ 3 ~

When I woke up, the first
thing I felt was nauseous. I
wanted to throw up
immediately and struggled
upwards; I was lying on my
back, but found that when I
tried to raise myself I
couldn’t move. It was dark; at
first I didn’t realize why, then
I felt the cloth around my
face, the way my breath felt
hot and heavy against
whatever material was
covering head.

My brain was pounding, and
it felt like a train was roaring
through my head. I couldn’t
think straight. It was like I
was sensing everything at
once, which was almost like
sensing nothing at all. The
bag around my head. The ties
around my wrists. The ties
around my ankles. The
rumbling, shaking sensation
underneath me.

It was all like some sort of
terrible nightmare, where it
could feel so real yet still be
fake. I mean, it certainly
couldn’t be real. I was Serena
Kascade, daughter of Max
Kascade, of Kascade
Marketing Solutions. I lived
in a high-rise on west 81st
street. I had just bought new
shoes.

But real it was, nonetheless. I
was tied up, blinded, and
stuffed into the back of a
moving vehicle like an
unwanted carpet. My maid
was tied up in a bathtub with
a gash on her head, and
someone had attacked me
from behind. This was reality;
probably the most real thing
that had ever happened in my
long life of being spoiled
rotten and never knowing
hardship.

For a fleeting moment, I
wondered if this was
punishment. For being so
lucky, for disobeying my
father, for being ungrateful.
That thought was soon
replaced by more utter panic.
My heart was racing at a
million beats a minute and
my stomach churned. I
thought I might actually piss
myself.

I had to do something,
because I felt like I was
dying, so I did the only thing
I could think of. I screamed. I
screamed bloody murder, my
voice raw from dehydration
and panic. Screaming
produced exactly no results.
There wasn’t a sound, aside
from what I recognized as a
car moving down a road.

I screamed again. No one said
anything, no one told me to
shut up. Nothing. That scared
me even more than I would
have been had someone
thrown a shoe at me and told
me that they’d kill me if I
made another noise. Then, at
least, I would have heard the
voice of whoever did this to
me.

As I opened my mouth to
scream a third time, the
moving sensation and sounds
ceased. I hesitated as I heard
the slamming of car doors.
From outside, I could hear,
very faintly, the sound of
voices. They drew nearer, and
as I lay still in my binds I felt
new fear flowing through me.

“Yup, she’s awake again, I
heard ‘er screaming bloody
murder back there,” I heard
someone say from outside.

“Ah, well, it’s too risky to try
knocking her out again, a
little thing like that, one more
blow to the head could kill
her,” another voice said.

“You’re crazy, Gunner, you
wanna try and get a
struggling female out of the
back of the truck and into the
room? She’ll fight like hell,
it’s easier just to send her
back to la-la land,” the first
voice responded. The voices
were very close now, and I
felt tears springing into my
eyes as the fear settled in.

“Aww, what is it, Ace, you
afraid of getting a little
bruised up? She’s tied up
seven ways from Sunday, no
way she can put up much of a
fight. Besides, you wanna
explain a brain-dead hostage
to the rest of the club? She
ain’t worth shit to us if we
leave her needing life support
just to drool for the next sixty
years.” The second voice was
very, very close now, and I
heard someone pulling on a
latch, then the sound of a
trunk being opened.

I realized for the first time
how hot I was as I felt the sun
blaring down on me. I turned
my head towards the heat,
hoping some light would
shine through. No luck; it was
darker than dark. Pitch black.
I wanted to die.

“Sorry about the knocker,
doll. No easy way to get a
bitch to come home with
you,” I heard the first voice
say with a chuckle.

“Shut up, Ace,” the second
voice said, sounding
exasperated. In my panic, I
didn’t know what to do.
Scream again? Try to talk to
them? My body answered for
me; I felt rough hands
grabbing at me and I
shrieked.

“Jesus! That’s an ear-
splitter,” the first voice said.

“Of course she’s gonna
scream, wouldn’t you?” The
second voice was much
closer, and I could tell that
the owner was the one who
was currently lifting me out
of the trunk. I could feel how
strong he was; he didn’t strain
at all at lifting me, even
though I’m a fairly large girl
– not fat, per say, but
definitely well-endowed
when it comes to my breasts
and hips.

Still, he lifted me quickly,
without any hesitation, like I
weighed no more than a teddy
bear. I felt him begin walking
as he cradled me in his arms,
and I didn’t even realize that I
was still screaming until the
first voice spoke again.

“Goddam, will you shut up,
lady? Giving me a headache
with that shit.” Good, I
thought, I hope your head
explodes. I kept screaming,
and trying to struggle, but my
hands seemed like they were
tied to my ankles so I had
almost no way to move;
besides, the man who was
carrying me had a strong grip,
and no matter how I struggled
it didn’t seem like he was
having any trouble keeping
his hold on me. Eventually,
my breath simply gave out
and I didn’t have the strength
to scream any more.

By that time, I could hear
more voices in the distance.
As they grew closer, I could
tell they were all male, but I
couldn’t understand what any
of them were saying. The
tone changed gradually, and I
began to make out snippets.

“...got ‘er…”

“….put up a fight?”

“…good on ya boys…”

“…always trust Gunner to
deliver…”

“…shame to hurt something
so juicy…”

The voices became clearer
and louder with each step,
then began to fade away. As
they faded, I could hear the
first voice fading, too, as
whoever it was began talking
to the main crowd.

“Yeah, she didn’t put up no
fight. Had to clock the maid
but she’ll be fine. Easy peasy,
nice simple operation…”

I don’t know what switch got
flipped in my brain at that
moment, but it was like I
remembered all of a sudden
that I was a human being with
the ability to communicate
with other human beings in
words, not just screams.

“Where are you taking me?” I
said from within the bag
covering my head. The pace
seemed to slow ever so
slightly.

“You’re gonna be staying
with us for a little while, doll.
Try not to worry too much.
We’ll take good care of you,”
the voice said. It was gravelly
and rough, but sounded
young.

“Who are you?” I asked,
spirited by the response to my
first question.

“If I tell you that, I’d have to
kill you,” the response came,
but it sounded like it was said
with a smirk. Still, it was
enough to make me shudder
and plant a cold stake of fear
through my heart. The pace
slowed further, and I felt the
grip relaxing as whoever was
carrying me released one arm
to reach for something.

I knew, somewhere deep
inside, that if I had a chance,
this was it. Never mind being
blinded, never mind being
hog-tied, my only instinct
was to try and escape. I
squirmed violently and felt
the grip loosen even further;
then I felt myself falling, and
a heavy, thudding pain as I hit
the ground.

It was only then that I
realized the true stupidity of
my actions. Where, exactly,
was I planning to go without
the use of my arms or legs? I
heard a slight chuckle from
above and I felt myself blush,
even though my face was
covered.

“Well, that was a valiant
effort,” the voice said. I heard
a door swinging open, then I
was lifted once more into the
air and carried through the
doorway; the man carrying
me let me down gently onto
what I could feel was a cold,
hard, dirty floor. I heard a
light buzzing above my head;
the heat didn’t seem to
penetrate wherever I was, at
least not to a degree. It was
warm, but not stifling like the
air outside.

I wish I could describe the
utter shock I felt when the
bag was suddenly lifted from
my eyes; it wasn’t just that I
was forced to accept that it
was all finally real, not some
hideous prank. It wasn’t just
where I was. It wasn’t just the
fact that the person who was
doing this to me would let me
see him. It was the fact that
the person doing this to me
was, without a doubt, the
most handsome man I’d ever
seen in my life.

He was tall and lean, but with
ripped, muscular arms. His
face looked dirty, and he had
a short, stubbly beard
underneath a well-shaped
nose and two piercing blue
eyes. His short dark hair
looked wind-swept and
unkempt. He wore a leather
vest with a tight black t-shirt
underneath, dirty jeans and
old-looking boots. He
towered over me, a powerful,
intimidating man, in his early
thirties. I barely even
registered the dingy room as I
stared up at him.

“Welcome home,” he said.
He smiled slightly as he
looked down on me. Then he
reached into a pocket and
pulled out a switchblade;
flicking the knife out, I felt
cold panic race through me.
He took a few steps towards
me and I tried to scuttle
backwards but could barely
move in the restraints.

“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna
cut ya,” he said with a smirk
as he bent down over my
vulnerable body. I closed my
eyes tightly; I could feel the
warmth of his body as he
reached around me, and even
through my fear I could smell
the thick, masculine scent of
his sweat.

I felt a sudden release and
heard a slight snapping sound
as he cut the rope that was
holding my ankles and wrists
together. I kept my eyes
closed until I could feel him
moving away, then I
experimented with moving
around. My wrists were still
tied together, as were my
ankles, but at least I could
stretch out slightly. I realized
for the first time how sore I
was from being so restrained.

“We’re gonna have to keep
those one for a while, miss.
Until you prove you can be
trusted. How long that’ll be is
up to you. Of course, you
could be outta here by then.
Depends on how much your
Daddy decides to cooperate,”
he said. Somewhere in my
mind, his name jumped out at
me; I remembered his voice,
and the other voice I’d heard
calling him Gunner.

“What does my Dad have to
do with this? What am I, a…a
fucking hostage? And who
the hell are you? I know your
name, you know, Gunner,” I
said, suddenly finding my
fear replaced by anger. I
stared up at him, trying to
throw daggers with my eyes.
He just smirked.

“Your Daddy owes us some
money for some work we did.
He’s gonna have to pony up
if he wants you back safe and
sound. So, yeah, I guess you
could say you’re a hostage.
More like collateral, though.
And that’s not my name. And
I wouldn’t care if you knew
my name. Why do you think I
took that bag off your head?
Your Daddy knows who we
are, he knows what we want,
and he knows that if he goes
to the police, or you go to the
police…well, let’s just say we
won’t give him another
chance if he does anything
like that,” Gunner said
through his grin.

I couldn’t maintain eye
contact at that point; my mind
was swimming with
everything that had happened,
and I felt tired, and worn out,
and sore. My head throbbed
and my stomach was still
nauseous. My limbs ached. I
looked around the room; it
looked to be some sort of
unused storage space. There
were metal shelves lining the
walls, a single light on the
ceiling, and no window.
There was only one door; the
one we had come in through.
In the corner, I saw a dingy-
looking mattress and a sheet.

“Am I supposed to sleep on
that?” I asked, shuddering at
the idea of laying down on an
old, mildewed mattress that
had been through god knows
what.

“It ain’t the Ritz, princess, but
it’s better than the ground.
We coulda kept you hog tied
in the trunk. Try to remember
that. I’ll be back in a little
while with some food for
you. And we’ll have someone
come look at that head of
yours. Just keep your chin up.
Your Daddy will have you
out of here in no time, as long
as you ain’t been bad lately,”
Gunner said, turning towards
the door.

I thought about how I’d
smiled about pissing Dad off
right before it had all
happened and felt a pang of
guilt – then a pang of fear.
What if Dad didn’t pay up?
What if he just didn’t care?
Or felt relieved? He’d never
cut me off while I was alive
but…

…but what if he didn’t care if
I was alive or not?
 ~ 4 ~

I must have fallen into a deep
sleep at some point after
Gunner left; when I woke up,
I was lying on the mattress,
my head was bandaged, and
there was a sandwich and a
bottle of water on the ground
next to me. I wondered how
they expected me to eat the
sandwich with my hands tied.

I sat up and squirmed slightly
in my ties; to my surprise, I
found I had much more room
to move my hands about. My
wrists were tied to each other
with a long piece of rope,
instead of crossed over each
other like they’d been earlier.
It was easy to untangle
myself at that point; I just
pulled my legs through my
arms so that my hands were
in front of me instead of
behind. I picked at the top
slice of bread; peanut butter
and jelly. I scoffed; they
expected me to eat kids’
food?

The moment after I had that
thought, I realized just how
silly it was. They could
expect me to do whatever
they wanted me to. They
were in charge now. The
thought chilled me to the
bone. I couldn’t eat, even
though I was hungry. I simply
sat, staring at the plate. Then,
suddenly, I heard the door
open.

“Have a good sleep, doll?” It
was Gunner, again. He
entered loudly, making it
clear that he meant to wake
me. I didn’t say anything, just
stared at him. Even though I
hated him for keeping me
caged up like an animal, I
couldn’t deny the powerful
attraction I felt to him. Which
was strange, for me, since I
rarely felt that way towards
men; I’d had boyfriends, of
course, and I wasn’t a virgin,
but I almost never saw a man
who made me feel the way
Gunner made me feel.

There was something about
his face, his build, the raw
smell of him, that burrowed
past all my rational thought
and ignited something inside
me. I pushed the thoughts
away, determined to be angry
and defiant. Gunner had
brought a plastic folding chair
in with him, and he set it up
not too far from the mattress.
He sat down in it and stared
at me.

“Let’s have a chat,” he said.
What in the world could he
want to chat with me about?
“We’ll be notifying your
father soon. That we have
you. It’s been a day and a
half, you know, that you’ve
been in here. Sleeping. That
knock on the head left you
with quite a bump. Sorry
about that,” he said
cheerfully.

“I’m sure you are,” I said
back, scowling. I considered,
briefly, trying to use my
newfound semi-freedom to
rush him, somehow hit him
with my still-tied hands, but I
realized instantly how foolish
that would be. There was no
way I could fight him off.

“Oh, come now. I’m not such
a bad guy. I’m just doing
what’s best for my boys.
They look to me, you know, I
gotta take care of them. But
I’m not so bad. Your Dad
thought that, anyway, when
he hired us to take care of a
little work problem he was
having. Your Dad…now
there’s a cold-hearted man for
you. If I told you what he
asked us to do…well, you
wouldn’t want to hear such a
thing about your dear old
Daddy. I’ll spare you the
details, sugar,” he was
smiling again.

“I don’t care what my Dad
did or didn’t do. It’s got
nothing to do with me,” I
said, almost spitting the
words out. Gunner kept
grinning, but I saw his eyes
flick over my body. His
expression changed slightly
as he did so, and I could see
his gaze lingering on my
chest and my exposed thighs;
I was still wearing the short,
thin dress I’d had on when he
kidnapped me, and I suddenly
felt very exposed.

“I’m sure. But that doesn’t
change the fact that your
Daddy owes us a pretty
penny, and we need you to
help us get it. Which is why
I’m in here having this chat
with you today. I need some
of that pretty hair of yours.
And I need you to do
something else for me,” he
said, his eyes returning to
mine.

“Like I’d do a goddam thing
for you,” I said with disdain.

“Well, I’ll take the hair no
matter what. And if you do
what I ask of you, I promise
to remove those binds. You
are gonna be the star of a
little video. We want you to
tell your Daddy how much
you love him and how much
you need him to save you.
Holding today’s paper. Say a
few nice words to your old
man, in exchange for full use
of your arms and legs. If you
wanna refuse, well, I guess
we’ll just have to make do
with a video of you
screaming while we mark up
your pretty little body. The
choice is yours,” he said
coolly.

I stared at him, my heart
heavy with fear. This was all
too real; but it was obvious I
didn’t have much of a say in
the matter. I nodded, eyes
filling with tears.

“That’s a good girl,” Gunner
said, smiling at me and
standing up. “I’ll be back real
soon and we’ll get started.”

As he left the room, I
returned to staring at the plate
with the sandwich on it. I
knew I’d made the right
choice, that was obvious, but
it felt weird to have been
given a choice at all.
Moments later, the door
swung open again and
Gunner entered, holding a
pair of scissors, a newspaper,
and a camera on a tripod. He
silently set the tripod up so
that it was staring at me. I
squirmed, suddenly very
uncomfortable.

Gunner walked up the
mattress and handed me the
newspaper.

“Showtime, doll. Hold this up
and say some nice things
about how you love your Dad
and need him to rescue you.
Then I’ll cut you loose,
okay?” Gunner said matter-
of-factly, as though it were
the most normal thing in the
world to film your hostage. I
nodded. He walked back to
the camera and pushed a
button; a red light came on.
“Action!”

I held the newspaper out in
front of me and racked my
brain, trying to think of what
to say. Nothing came to me.
It was like my mind was a
blank slate. I opened my
mouth and began to speak,
but I couldn’t say anything
more than “Hi, Dad.”

“You’re gonna have to say
more than that, doll,” Gunner
said from behind the camera.
I shot him a glance and then
looked back to the camera.

“Hi, Dad. It’s, uh, it’s me,
Serena. I’ve been kidnapped
and, uh, I guess they need
money, so, like, can you, uh,
pay them?” Gunner looked at
me from behind the camera,
one eyebrow raised. He
pushed a button on the
camera again and the red light
disappeared.

“You gotta do better than
that, honey. Come on, say
something nice to your
father,” he said. I tried to
think of the last time my
father and I had said
something nice to each other.
I couldn’t remember the last
time I’d told him I loved him,
or the last time he told me he
loved me.

“I don’t know if I can,” I
admitted, looking down at my
lap.

“You better find a way, doll,”
Gunner said. I looked up at
him and was surprised to see
sympathy on his face.

“My dad and I…we don’t
uh…we don’t really get along
too well,” I said shyly. I was
amazed at myself for opening
up to him so candidly; I’d
never really spoken to anyone
about my relationship with
my father before. His face
softened as he looked at me.

“You’re not the only one,
doll. But we think your
Daddy will warm up to the
situation if he could hear
you…”

“But I don’t love him, and I
don’t care about him!” I said,
interrupting him. I bit my lip
after the outburst, surprised to
hear myself speak the words,
and even more surprised that
this would be the situation
that caused me to speak them.
Here, in this dingy, dirty, tiny
little room where I was being
held captive, I was finally
faced with something I’d
tried to avoid all my life.

“You don’t mean that. I
thought that too, one time.
But you gotta understand, you
feel that way now, but it’s
different when they’re gone.
You love him. He’s your
father,” Gunner said. He
looked slightly pained as he
spoke, as though he were
remembering something. It
made me curious. He looked
down for a moment, then
back up at me.

“Besides, you ain’t got no
reason to hate him. He’s
given you damn near
everything you wanted,
hasn’t he, princess?”
Gunner’s tone was different
now, colder, and his eyes
looked hard and angry.

“So what? Having stuff
doesn’t make you happy, you
know,” I said back, my own
anger rising.

“You just don’t know how
bad you have it. So Daddy
didn’t give you enough hugs
as a kid? Some of us wish our
Daddy’s never touched us at
all,” he retorted, and I could
see the rage in his eyes. He
suddenly pulled up at the
bottom of his shirt; I saw a
thick, red scar across his lean,
muscled torso. I stared at it
for a moment until he pulled
his shirt down.

“Did…what happened?” I
asked, unable to keep the
question from my lips. I
wasn’t sure what was going
on; was this some kind of
weird therapy session? I
could tell that Gunner was
just as taken aback as I was
by his actions; he looked
down at the camera, a
puzzled look on his face.

“I don’t…I don’t know why I
did that. Forget it. Just look at
the camera. And try to say
something nice,” he said, not
meeting my eyes. The red
light came on again and I
pulled my eyes away from
Gunner towards the lens.
Gathering my wits, I tried to
think of what to say that
would please him.

“Hi, Daddy, I’m really afraid
and I want to come home. I’m
sorry about everything.
Please help me. I…I need
your help,” I said, quickly. I
couldn’t bring myself to say
that I loved him, and I needed
to get it over with fast, before
I lost my nerve and clammed
up again. I looked to Gunner,
who was still looking down.

“Is that okay?” I asked.
Gunner shot me a brief glance
before turning off the camera.

“It’ll have to do,” he said
roughly. He strode over to
me, scissors in hand. Before I
could even process what was
happened, I felt the ties on
my wrists and ankles
released. I flexed my limbs,
more grateful than I’d ever
been to have control over my
body again. I was keenly
aware, though, of how close
Gunner was standing to me.

Looking up at him, I could
feel his eyes travelling over
my body before falling on my
face. He had a strange,
confused look. He reached
out, gingerly, and pushed
some of my hair away from
my face. His touch felt
surprisingly warm and gentle,
and it made my heart pound a
little faster. I was aware,
again, of the nagging feeling
of attraction that I’d been
burying underneath my anger.
I knew nothing about him,
and in fact, I had every reason
to squirm away from his
touch, but something inside
me wanted…more.

Then, Gunner grabbed a
section of my hair and
quickly snipped it off. I broke
away from him at that point,
jarred out of my daze by the
snipping sound. Gunner stood
up straight, looking down on
me.

“Seeing how things go, we
might have you make another
little video tomorrow. Until
then, eat up. You’ll get
breakfast in the morning, but
nothing else tonight. Sorry,
just that no one will be
around to feed you,” he said,
an apologetic tint to his voice.

Then he turned around
quickly; I noticed the insignia
on the back of his vest for the
first time then. It was a
picture of a snake’s hissing
face surrounded by thorns;
above the face were the
words “Rattlesnake MC.” I
noticed, too, the same
insignia was tattooed on
Gunner’s forearm, above the
wrist. He picked up the tripod
and vanished out the door
without another word spoken
between us.
 ~ 5 ~

What the hell just happened?
Why in God’s name did I
show her that scar, say those
things? This is just a job – a
very, very, fucking good-
paying job – what the hell is
wrong with me? I keep
looking at her and seeing…
Jesus, what am I even
thinking? She’s just a dumb
little rich girl. She could
never…stop it. Just stop it. In
a few days we’ll get the call
to bring her home and that’ll
be done with. I’ll never see
her again. Out of sight, out of
mind. Stop thinking about her
legs. Stop thinking about her
eyes. Stop thinking about her
lips. Stop…thinking…about…
her.
 ~ 6 ~

The next day, I was awoken
by someone new. A tall, fat,
older man was holding a plate
of eggs and toast in the
doorway; he entered the room
and set them down in front of
the mattress, where I was just
getting my bearings.

“Eat up, buttercup,” the man
said with a dirty grin. I
scowled up at him and didn’t
touch the food. The peanut
butter and jelly sandwich lay
untouched on the plate from
the night before. “Aww, you
gotta keep your energy up
somehow, darling. And going
on hunger strike ain’t gonna
do nothing for ya anyway.
Not here.”

“My name is Serena,” I spat
back at him. I contemplated,
for a split second, making a
run for it. But looking at the
gigantic man, I knew I’d
make it about two steps off
the mattress before I was
caught and tied up again. My
limbs were still sore from
being tied. I didn’t want to go
through that again. And, I
thought, this couldn’t last
much longer. No matter how
much I pissed Dad off, he’d
never leave me in here.

“Suit yourself, Serena,” the
man said. I recognized his
voice, then, as the other man
who had been in the car. Ace.
He turned and walked
towards the door.

“Have you…have you heard
from my Dad?” I asked,
realizing that this might be
my only time to get
information. Ace didn’t stop
walking, but called back to
me over his shoulder.

“Nope,” was all he said
before letting the door slam
shut behind him. I stared at
the two plates of food. My
stomach hurt from hunger,
but I couldn’t imagine
actually eating anything these
monsters gave me.

One of the worst things was
the boredom. There was
nothing to watch. Nothing to
read. No way to tell time.
Just…total nothing. I counted
sheep, trying to sleep away
the hours. I tried to recite
song lyrics to myself. I tried
to remember the plots of
movies. I tried lots of things.
But I was still bored.

Which probably explains why
I was actually happy to see
Gunner come in with the
camera again that day. It was,
at least, something to do. He
set the camera up in silence,
then moved towards me,
throwing me a newspaper.

“We’re doing another one.
Don’t worry about making a
speech. Just…don’t worry
about it,” he said. He was
acting very distant, much less
friendly than he’d been
before. I wondered if he was
upset about the day before,
then realized I didn’t need to
wonder about the motivations
of a lunatic biker dude who’d
kidnapped me. The red light
came on the camera and I
held the newspaper up,
looking straight at the lens.
The red light turned off.

“That’s good enough,” he
said, walking towards me to
retrieve the paper.

“Wait, please, can you leave
it? I’m so bored in here,” I
said, looking up at him. He
hesitated for a moment.

“Yeah, well, I guess it could
get dull. I don’t see why not.”
His eyes flicked down
towards the plates of food.
“You’re not eating.”

“Do you really expect me
to?” My response made
Gunner smirk slightly.

“I guess you’re right. You
might get hungry though.
You never know,” he said. He
lingered, not saying anything,
just looking at me.

“So…what is this anyway?
You guys are like a gang?”
Gunner scratched at his short
hair, studying me. I was
making conversation simply
because I knew once he left,
it would be just me and the
newspaper for the next
however many hours.

“You could say that. We
provide certain…services.
We stick together. We’re a
family,” he said candidly.

“I…I wish I had more of a
family,” I said, blindly trying
to keep the conversation
going.

“Yeah, well, you got money,
don’t you? Just buy yourself a
family,” Gunner replied with
a smirk.

“That’s not really how it
works,” I said, looking down.

“Well, I guess I know that.
Where’s your Ma at?” I was
thankful that Gunner seemed
interested in talking, but
curious about his intentions.

“She did when I was really
young. Dad never remarried.
All I’ve got…all I’ve got is
Juliana…do you know how
she is?” I’d been trying not to
think about what could have
happened to her – looking at
Gunner’s tough exterior, it
wasn’t beyond belief that he
would have done
something…unspeakable to
her.

“Don’t worry. Your little
maid is just fine. We didn’t
rough her up no more than a
cut on her head. In fact,
Juliana is probably with your
Dad right now. We told her,
in no uncertain terms, to go
straight to him – no police, no
nothing. She seemed pretty
willing to follow orders, once
we told her what we’d do to
you. For a maid, she cares a
lot about you.”

“She’s my only friend,” I
admitted, looking up at
Gunner shyly.

“Poor little rich girl,” he said,
picking up the tripod. “Eat
something. It’s not gonna
make it any better for you
being hungry.” He shot me a
final glance before turning to
leave.

“What you said yesterday,
about your father,” I said
quickly, not even thinking,
just desperate for him to stay
a little while longer, “I’m
sorry. That sounds rough.”
Gunner stopped but didn’t
look back.

“It made me who I am today.
I’m grateful,” he said roughly
before opening the door and
disappearing into the blinding
light of the summer day
outside.

The next day, the same things
happened. Ace came, bearing
breakfast, followed by
Gunner with the camera. A
newspaper, the red light. We
talked again. Longer, this
time. I told him about
growing up in Manhattan and
how lonely it could be. He
said that being part of his
group was what gave him
strength and purpose. It
wouldn’t matter what they
did, as long as they were
together. I told him about
Juliana. He told me a story
about crashing his motorcycle
on the highway. Then he left,
and I was alone again, trying
to sleep and reading the
paper, waiting for another
day.

That’s how it was every day
for the next three days. Every
day, Gunner came in, filmed
me holding the paper, and
we’d talk. He’d taken to
sitting on the chair he’d
brought his first day. We’d
talk about nothing, mostly,
but I savored every moment,
because it meant I wasn’t
alone.

And as much as I hated
Gunner for keeping me
locked up, I was also starting
to enjoy his company. He was
funny, and smarter than his
poor vocabulary would have
you believe. And he listened
– he listened very well. The
third day, he brought in a
bucket of water and a sponge
and said I should wash up
after he left.

“Haven’t you…don’t you
know when this will all be
over?” I asked him that day
as the conversation came to
an end. I felt comfortable
asking at that point; we’d
shared a surprising amount
with each other. But as soon
as I asked, his eyes grew
cold. Staring at me, he shook
his head.

“It’s over when I tell you it’s
over,” he said. His voice was
harsh. I felt myself shrinking
inside, more hurt from his
tone of voice than what he’d
actually said. It wasn’t until
after he’d left that I started
asking myself questions: had
Dad not sent the money?
What was everyone waiting
for? When would this be
over?

I started to wash myself with
the water he’d brought in; it
felt amazing to clean myself
off after five days in a dirty
room in the full heat of
summer. The questions
dissolved as I cleaned myself
up, feeling like a real person
again for the first time in
days.
 ~ 7 ~

“You spend a little longer in
there with her every day,
Gunner,” Ace noted when
Gunner returned to the bar.
They both looked out towards
the shed where Serena was
being kept.

“Yeah, well, we wanna return
her in good health. That
means mental health, too.
You can’t keep someone in
solitary like that. Not a
spoiled little girl like her,
anyway. She’d break like a
china doll.” Ace narrowed his
eyes as Gunner spoke. They
were alone in the bar, the rest
of the Rattlesnakes off on a
ride.

“Just don’t you go getting
your heart mixed up. Few
days now, she’s going home
to her Daddy and you’re
staying right here. She’s a
pretty thing, sure, but she
ain’t pretty enough to get you
all heartbroken when she
leaves,” Ace said. Gunner
turned to him quickly and
shot him a glance that meant
business.

“You don’t go around telling
me what to do, Ace. I didn’t
become president here for
nothing. I know what I’m
doing,” Gunner growled. Ace
threw his hands up in
surrender.

“Just some advice from an
old man.”

Gunner stared off at the shed.
He could feel his heart
tightening as he thought
about releasing Serena,
sending her back to her lonely
life in the city. Losing her.
The pain of the thought
turned quickly to anger. Who
was she to make him feel any
kind of way? Just some bratty
little bitch with a fat wallet.
She had no claim on his heart.
 ~ 8 ~

The next day, things were
different when Gunner came
in with the camera. He wasn’t
smiling, he wasn’t talking, he
just threw the paper at me,
turned the camera on, and
then turned the camera off.
As he picked up the tripod, I
stood up.

“What’s wrong?” I asked,
wondering if things had
somehow gone sour in the
situation, if it meant
something…dangerous for
me.

“Nothing’s wrong,” he said,
making his way towards the
door.

“Is it my father? Did
something happen?” I asked
desperately, needing
something to go on. He
dropped the tripod and spun
around, staring daggers at me.

“There ain’t nothing wrong. I
told you that. Don’t ask me
questions. You ain’t in charge
here,” he growled, anger
emanating from him. I
withdrew slightly, then felt
my own will push me
forward.

“You know, you don’t have
to be so mean like this. I
don’t know what happened
between yesterday and now,
but…” I was in the middle of
speaking when Gunner
rushed me. I screamed as his
body hit mine, sending me
backwards towards the wall; I
had no choice but to fall
backwards towards it.

Gunner slammed me against
the wall, hard enough to
make the metal shelves
quiver slightly. He grabbed
my wrists in one time and
held them above my head as I
struggled; his face was inches
away from mine, and I could
feel his hot breath on my
cheek.

I could also feel the heat
radiating off his tight,
muscled body as he grabbed
my hip to stop me from
struggling. Looking into his
eyes, which were clouded
over with anger, I felt that
wild, raw desire throbbing in
the back of my head once
again. Not wanting to bring
myself to admit it, I took the
opposite route by spitting in
his face.

“What are you going to do
now, hurt me?” I spat.
Gunner was unimpressed by
my bravado; he let go of my
hip just for a moment, to wipe
my spit away from his face.
When he put his hand back to
still me as I fought, I realized
(with disdain) that I’d missed
the feeling of his skin against
mine in the brief lapse.

“I don’t need to hurt you,
doll. I don’t need to do a
damn thing to you. I just need
your Daddy’s money. That’s
all I need you for, all I want
you for, and once I get it you
can go back to your rich bitch
lifestyle,” he said in a low,
grumbling voice. Despite
myself, I felt my heart falling
as he spoke.

I was enraged, of course, by
the whole situation, but I’d
hoped, somewhere deep
down in myself where I could
barely even admit it to
myself, that Gunner might
feel something more for me
than just being his captive for
ransom.

I turned my face away but he
showed no signs of releasing
me, even though I’d stopped
struggling. I could feel his
body pressed against mine
and noticed with alarm that I
could feel a hard bulge
against my flesh. The feeling
frightened me, but it also
incited that strange desire that
I’d been trying to fight. I felt
my heart begin to speed as he
remained close to me, the
feeling of his breath tickling
my neck, my body
responding to the sizable
hardness I could feel against
my thighs.

“Then let go of me, and leave
me alone,” I said, turning
back to him, hoping that he
couldn’t read my face.

“I can’t,” he said, his voice
strange and somewhat
strained, as though he were
trying to hold the words back
but couldn’t.

“Why’s that, Gunner?” I
said, still trying to put up an
angry front even though I was
slowly getting lost in his
intense stare, which no longer
looked as cold as it had at
first.

“Because that was a lie,” he
said sharply; I barely had
time to process the words
before I felt his lips on mine.
My eyes opened wide in
surprise; his lips were
chapped from riding, and I
could feel the scrape of his
stubble against my chin. But
my surprise faded as I felt
myself melt into the kiss,
giving in to the desire that I
had fought against for so
long.

His tongue probed my mouth,
dancing with my own tongue
as I kissed him back. His grip
on my hip increased and I felt
his body pressing against
mine. I could feel his hard
cock through his jeans as it
pressed against my exposed
thighs and was amazed at the
length; I couldn’t see it, but
boy could I feel it.

Gunner broke away from the
kiss and began kissing my
neck, tracing his tongue along
my skin and making me
moan. I wrapped my leg
around his, wanting to feel
him even closer. I could feel
my pussy growing wet as he
released his grip, pushing my
dress up around my hips
roughly.

He tugged on my panties and
I unwrapped my legs, letting
them fall to the floor. He was
still holding my wrists above
my head, but I felt his other
hand gently trace my thigh
upwards towards my exposed
pussy. I moaned as he found
my wet, dripping slit and
press a finger inside me.

“You’re so wet,” he
whispered in my ear, sending
shivers through my body as
his hot breath snaked around
my ear.

“What’re you gonna do about
it,” I said in a low voice that I
could barely recognize as my
own; I was amazed at my
own response to the crass
statement, and it seemed to
surprise Gunner, as well. He
pulled back abruptly and
looked me in the eye. His
blue eyes were wild with
desire as he held me against
the wall.

“I’m going to fuck your
brains out,” he said, snarling.
The animalistic look on his
face turned me on even more
than the bold promise.

“Prove it,” I said, matching
his stare, still amazing myself
with my own bravado. I’d
never been a big fan of sex,
and never felt a desire like
this before. There was
something in the way he
looked at me, how much he
wanted me, the fact that he
was so wrong, that turned my
will to jelly and drove me to
the brink of sanity.

Gunner pulled my crossed
wrists down over his head, so
that I was holding him by the
neck.

“Hold tight, doll,” he
growled, then suddenly I felt
myself lifted into the air.
With my back pressed against
the wall and my arms around
his neck, Gunner supported
my weight with just one
hand, using the other to unzip
his jeans. I wrapped my legs
around his waist; I could feel
the head of his throbbing
cock around my slit and my
pussy was actually aching
from need. I moaned and
grabbed him tighter, pulling
him towards me by his neck,
as he slipped into my soaked
pussy.

I could tell he had a long cock
from the bulge I’d felt, but I’d
had no idea just how massive
it was. I could feel my pussy
stretching around it as he
pressed into me; it was like
nothing I’d ever felt before.
He slowly began thrusting
into me, holding me with two
hands now as I clung to him
and tried to comprehend the
sensations pulsing through
my body. I could feel his
cock deep inside me,
penetrating me farther than
I’d ever been before, hitting
something deep and low
inside my pussy that felt like
heaven with each thrust.

I felt my face beginning to
burn as he pumped into me,
each stroke causing my heart
to race faster and faster. I
couldn’t help but cry out each
time he pierced deep inside
me.

“Oh, oh, fuck, oh fuck
Gunner, fuck me, please, oh
god,” I groaned with each
thrust. I could feel the heat
radiating throughout my body
and a rising pressure inside
me as he began to thrust
faster and faster. Each stroke
was building the pressure
more and more, and I opened
my eyes wide in disbelief.
Gunner was grunting and
pressing into me quickly now,
his huge cock stretching my
pussy to its limits. I clenched
him tighter to me.

“I want to feel you come on
my dick,” I heard him
whisper into my ear, but
could barely process the
words before I felt a strange
tension take hold of all my
limbs. I was burning up at
that point, and I felt like I was
going to explode from the
pressure emanating from my
pussy.

“Gunner, I…fuck….I
think….I think I’m commm-”
I started to say but never
managed to complete the
sentence as the tension in my
limbs turned to waves of
pleasure. Like a fever
breaking, I felt all the blood
in my body cool suddenly as I
shuddered and cried out in
ecstasy; my pussy clenched
and pulsed around Gunner’s
cock as he slammed deep
inside of me, holding me
tightly to him as my body
shivered and shook on his
dick, ripples of electricity
flowing through me as I
came. I dug my nails into his
back through his shirt, unable
to do anything but clutch him
to me and pray that the
feeling would never end.

As the tide of pleasure began
to ebb, I felt my body relax
and I realized I was panting
heavily. I could still feel my
pussy vibrating slightly
around Gunner’s still-hard
cock as he held it deep inside
me.

“That’s a good girl,” he
whispered into my ear, then
suddenly released his grip on
me. I stumbled as my feet hit
the ground and landed
crouched down, Gunner’s
massive cock gleaming with
my own juices right in front
of my face. I looked up at
him, still enflamed with
desire. He began slowly
stroking his cock and I
realized that he wasn’t
finished with me.

Looking at his engorged dick,
I knew what he was
expecting. I was struck with
fear; did he really expect me
to be able to take all that in
my mouth? Even as the
thought went through my
head, I felt myself gravitate
towards his cock, the thought
of his dick in my mouth
turning me on in a way I’d
never known before. I hated
blowjobs, usually, but
something about the idea of
licking my own juices off
Gunner’s cock had my heart
racing once more.

I raised myself on my knees
and looked up at Gunner as I
slowly took the head of his
cock in my mouth. I rolled
my tongue around it slowly;
he groaned and when I looked
up I saw his head thrown
back. His pleasure inspired
me and I took more of him
into my mouth, running my
tongue along the wide vein on
the underside of his cock as I
slowly bobbed up and down.

I took a little more each time,
but I wasn’t even halfway
down when I felt his cock hit
the back of my throat and
make me gag. I grabbed the
bottom half of the shaft and
started pumping slowly, using
my own saliva to lubricate his
dick. I began sucking what I
could of his cock earnestly,
taking in as much as I could
and rolling my tongue along
it as I moved back and forth.

I felt his hand on the back of
my head, controlling my
pace. The whole sensation,
Gunner’s cock in my mouth,
his hand on my head, drove
me crazy, and I found myself
grabbing at my own pussy as
I sucked him off.

My fingers found my clit and
I began rubbing it wildly,
making fast circles around it.
Each circle incited miniature
shocks of pleasure throughout
my body. I’d never
masturbated before, but it
came as naturally as my first
orgasm had moments ago. I
found myself torn between
my own pleasure and giving
Gunner’s cock proper
attention. Looking up at him,
I saw that he was looking
down at me and smiling. He
lowered his other hand to my
head and grabbed it roughly.

With one hand on the base of
his cock and one hand
rubbing my clit, I was
actually grateful when
Gunner started mouth-
fucking me, using me as a
toy, thrusting his massive
dick into my throat. I could
feel that same tension
beginning to rise in my body
as I rubbed my clit faster and
harder, relishing the feeling
of Gunner’s cock in the back
of my throat and his strong,
rough hands guiding my head
up and down his shaft.

After a few moments, I could
feel a change in his pace, and
could feel his dick throbbing
and straining in my mouth. I
closed my eyes as he pumped
into my mouth, holding my
head halfway down the shaft.
I could feel tears form as I
gagged on his cock but it only
served to make me even
hornier as I felt heat flowing
through my body.

He pumped his hips against
me, the head of his cock
entering my throat again and
again as I began to shake. I
could feel myself getting
tense all over and knew I was
going to climax soon;
suddenly, Gunner pulled my
head even farther down the
shaft.

“Fuck yes,” he moaned, and I
felt hot spurts of cum hitting
the back of my throat. That
was enough to send me over
the edge and I resisted the
urge to bite down as another
orgasm ripped through me,
sending jittery bursts of
energy and pleasure to every
inch of my skin. My clit
jumped and throbbed
underneath my fingers as
Gunner unloaded what felt
like gallon of cum into my
willing and eager throat.

I swallowed heartily, lost in
my own climax, and could
only gasp when he finally
pulled out, trailing a few
drops of cum onto my face
and cleavage. I collapsed onto
all fours, still shaking
slightly. It wasn’t even two
seconds before I felt Gunner
pulling me to my feet.

“That’s the only time you
should kneel before me,” he
said, his eyes piercing mine.
If I had had time to worry
about being used for a one-
time lay, the way he looked at
me then would have chased
all those fears away.
 ~ 9 ~

“You WHAT?” Ace cried in
Gunner’s face.

“I couldn’t…I couldn’t
fucking help it, Ace. I haven’t
felt this way towards a
woman in...goddammit, I
can’t even tell you!”

“So you go and sleep with
our hostage? She polish your
knob real good? And now
you want to make her one of
us? You’re out of your damn
mind, Gunner. You can’t do
this; she ain’t cut out for it.
She’ll go squealing first thing
once you let her out. She’ll be
running down that road like a
bat out of hell. You done it
this time, Gunner. I knew we
should never let anyone your
age in charge. Dammit!”

“She won’t run, and she
won’t tell, once we tell her
the truth!”

“Oh, the truth. The truth will
set you free, huh? The truth
will make that bitch shut up?
You got a funny notion of the
power of the truth, Gunner.”
Ace was pacing behind the
bar. “I need a fucking drink.”

Ace poured a generous glass
of whiskey for himself.
Looking at Gunner, he
sneered and poured a second
glass.

“You can stop this now. It
was one time. You can let go.
Let someone else film the
damn videos. Fall out of her
life. Make her forget you.
Never see her again. We can
make that happen,” Ace said,
rubbing his head after taking
a long drink.

“Ace, I can’t do that. I…I
love her,” Gunner said,
swilling a good portion of his
own glass. Ace looked at him
and shook his head.

“You are a damn fool,
Gunner. You figure it out
then. But just so you know, if
that…if that bitch brings us
down, we’ll throw you to the
flames and save our asses.
‘Cause that’s exactly what
you’re doing to us right
now.” Ace slammed the rest
of his drink before picking his
helmet up off the bar and
heading towards the door.
“You figure out something
good, boy. For your own
damn sake.”

Gunner stared into his glass,
swirling the brown liquid
around and around. He
looked up, watery-eyed, and
took a long sip. Then he
looked out towards the shed.
 ~ 10 ~

It was a full day before I saw
Gunner again. At first, I felt
certain he would come back
and let me out. Then, as time
passed, I grew nervous. What
if I’d been wrong? What if
this was a one-time thing?
What if I’d just allowed
myself to be used by the very
person who was holding me
captive – like Stockholm
syndrome? Eventually,
amidst alternating waves of
anger and sadness, I fell
asleep.

The next day, I woke up
alone in the room. I knew that
it should probably be about
time for someone to come in
with food; I’d started eating
after the third day, when the
hunger pains got too much for
me. But the hours just
stretched on with no visitors,
no food, no Gunner. Until
eventually, I heard the door
open.

“I have something I need to
tell you,” Gunner said as he
entered the room. He sat
down heavily on the plastic
folding chair set in front of
the mattress. I looked up at
him and could see pain and
confusion in his eyes. It
scared me; I knew that he
wasn’t about to tell me
something good.

“You…you can tell me,” I
said cautiously.

“It’s about your father,” he
said slowly. I felt a jolt of
panic run through me. My
father? Was he dead? Was he
sick? Was he not going to pay
the ransom? I waited as
Gunner sat, silent, apparently
deep in thought. Every
moment that passed was like
an eternity.

“He’s not going to pay the
ransom, Serena,” he said,
finally looking at me with
honesty in his eyes. Okay,
okay, don’t panic, it could be
okay, he could be saying that
they’re going to let me go, he
wouldn’t hurt me, okay, I
thought as my breathing sped
up and my heart raced.

“Are you going to kill me?” I
asked, blatantly. I figured it
was really the only way to go,
to ask straight out. He was
silent for a moment, studying
me.

“No, Serena. We’re not going
to kill you. Your father is not
going to pay the ransom
because there is no ransom.
We didn’t take you as a
hostage. The job that we did
for your father? This is it.
This is the job. He paid us to
take you. To scare you. Into
obeying him, I guess,”
Gunner said. Each word
washed through me like
water.

I couldn’t even begin to
understand what they meant,
couldn’t process what he was
telling me. My own father
had me kidnapped? He
wanted me to suffer in this
dirty little room, sleep on a
moldy mattress, fear for my
life? He hired someone to
bash me on the head, to hurt
Juliana? Gunner studied my
face, watching my reaction.
He must have noticed as my
confusion gave way: first, to
relief, then to sadness, then to
anger.

“Why would he do this to
me?” I cried out as tears
began to fall, unbidden, from
my eyes.

“He said you needed to learn
a lesson. We don’t ask
questions. We just take the
cash,” Gunner said.
Suddenly, my anger took
over.

“And you? You knew this
whole time? This whole time
we were talking, and I
confided in you, you knew?
You knew and you didn’t tell
me? How could you – how
can you sit here and tell me
this so calmly? Like it’s good
news? I trusted you!” I
screamed at him, standing up.
Now I was looking down on
him, my fists rolled into balls
of rage. I could see the way
my words hurt him but didn’t
care. I didn’t care about
anything in that moment.

“I know, and that’s why I’m
telling you now. We were
supposed to release you in
two days, and you were never
supposed to know,” he said. I
began to pace back and forth,
seething. I felt betrayed and
horrified – both by my father
and by Gunner. “But,
Serena….”

“Don’t. Just don’t…just…
please…” I said, my words
and thoughts breaking down
as I looked at him. I felt my
anger begin to slip away as a
tired sort of sorrow filled me.
I sat down on the mattress
and held my head in my
hands. Gunner got up from
the chair and came to sit
down beside me. He put his
arm around my shoulder and
pulled me close to him.
Despite everything, his hand
on my shoulder still filled me
with comfort, and desire.

“I’m not mad at you, I’m just
so…so hurt…” I said
between sniffles.

“I know,” Gunner said, and I
felt him rest his chin on the
top of my head. “I know.”

We sat in silence for a long
while, Gunner holding me as
I thought about what I’d just
learned. Eventually, my
thoughts were drawn away
from the past and towards the
future. Looking up at him, I
couldn’t help but ask.

“What happens to me now?”
Gunner looked down on me,
his eyes soft and warm.

“Now, we are going to leave
this room. I am going to take
you next door; I live right
here, right next to this shed.
You are going to take a
shower. You are going to lie
down in a real bed, with real
pillows and real blankets.
That’s what’s going to
happen now.” The thought of
taking a hot shower and
laying down in a bed made
me cry again, but this time it
was from happiness. I didn’t
care what would happen to
me after all that. I just needed
something to hold onto in the
moment, and having some
semblance of humanity was
enough.
 ~ 11 ~

Gunner led me out into the
blinding daylight; I blinked
rapidly, my eyes
unaccustomed to sunlight,
only the single bulb of the
shed where I’d been kept.
When I could finally focus, I
saw that we were in a sort of
dirt parking lot; there was a
large building, a bar, with
beer signs on the windows,
with many motorcycles
parked out front. There was
no sign of life except the
distant, soft din of men
yelling and laughing inside
the building.

Gunner led me around to the
back of the bar; there was a
staircase leading up to a door.
I supposed he lived above the
bar, to keep an eye on
everything, and be available
at all times. I figured him for
the leader.

Gunner’s room, beyond the
door, was small but cozy. The
walls were painted a dark
green, and there wasn’t much
furniture: a bureau, a
loveseat, a desk. But the bed
was gigantic and looked like
something out of a catalogue,
with beautiful wooden posts
and an old quilt for bedding. I
was shocked at the contrast
between Gunner’s hard
exterior and the room he
chose to live in: I was
expecting empty liquor
bottles everywhere, cigarette
burns on the carpet, and
posters of chicks on bikes.

“The bathroom is right
through that door,” Gunner
said, pointing. “There should
be towels and everything. The
only shampoo is for men –
sorry, I didn’t have time to go
get something for you.”

“It’s sweet to even think
about it,” I said. To be honest,
I was rather unnerved by the
whole situation. To go from a
grey room and moldy
mattress back to civilization –
it was very overwhelming. I
stood awkwardly in the
doorway, trying to get my
bearings.

“It’s okay. Go ahead,”
Gunner said, pulling me
inside by the hand. He led me
to the bathroom and opened
the door. “You’re safe here.”
I looked up at him as he
spoke and knew he was
telling the truth.

That shower was, hands-
down, the best shower of my
life. I’d never felt so dirty,
and I’d never felt so clean as I
did afterwards. I almost felt
like singing while I washed
my hair, but I refrained –
Gunner was being nice, that
didn’t mean he needed to be
subjected to my less-than-
ideal singing voice. As I
stepped out and wrapped
myself in a towel, I realized
that the only clothing I had
was the dress I’d been
wearing for the past week,
and I didn’t want to put it
back on.

I poked my head out the door
to ask Gunner if he had some
clothes I could wear, but he
was nowhere in sight. I
panicked; I was still
traumatized by the whole
ordeal, and my mind raced
with awful possibilities.
Throwing the bathroom door
open, I called out for him.

The room was small, with no
kitchen or other rooms except
for the bathroom, so I don’t
know what I expected, but he
wasn’t there. I stood in the
center of the room, clutching
the towel to me, on the verge
of tears as horrible scenarios
played out in my head: he’s
going to have the whole club
come up and rape me, he left
and they’ll kill me, he went to
go get my father and HE’LL
kill me…

I heard the doorknob turning
and nearly grabbed a lamp for
protection; when Gunner
appeared in the doorframe I
felt all my fears vanish. He
took one look at me, though,
and must have known how
scared I’d been. He rushed
towards me, taking me in his
arms.

“I’m so sorry, Serena. I just
went to get you something to
eat,” he said. Standing there,
in the middle of the room,
with his arms around me,
feeling the heat from his body
and smelling the sweet, sour
sweat from his neck, I began
to get aroused.

It was probably aided by the
adrenaline that had been
coursing through my body,
but I clutched him to me and
allowed myself to get lost in
my desire. I kissed his neck,
tasting the sweat, and then
again, and again. Gunner
suddenly broke away, holding
me at arms length. His eyes
were deep and hungry.

Suddenly, he ripped the towel
away from my body, leaving
me entirely exposed. I stood
silently as his eyes roamed
over my curves, his gaze
turning me on even more.
When his eyes finally met
mine again, they were
demanding.

“Lie down,” he said, his voice
rough and gravelly. Without
waiting for me to respond on
my own, he grabbed my waist
and threw me onto end of the
bed; still staring into my eyes,
he pushed me hard, onto my
back. As I bounced back onto
the mattress, I watched him
unbuckling his belt and
unzipping his pants, revealing
his semi-erect cock, still
massive even though it
wasn’t fully hard.

I didn’t have long to admire,
though; the next thing I knew,
Gunner was on top of me,
kissing my neck and earlobes,
sending shivers throughout
my body. He slowly began to
kiss lower and lower. As he
traced my collarbone with his
tongue, I felt his rough,
calloused hands on my
breasts, gently kneading them
and fondling them. The
feeling of his cracked palms
against my erect nipples
made me moan; soon, Gunner
was kissing my breasts, his
lips avoiding my nipples,
which were begging for
attention.

“Oh, please,” I moaned, not
even sure what I was begging
for. Slowly, Gunner’s kisses
drew nearer and nearer to the
center of each breast, until
finally I felt his lips fall on
one of my nipples while he
gently twisted the other. The
sensation made me cry out
and I could feel my pussy
dampening as he slowly
sucked and nibbled on each
breast, one at a time, using
his fingers to play with the
other nipple, tugging it gently
and rolling it between his
calloused fingertips.

Each time the rough fingers
would be replaced by his soft,
warm tongue I groaned in
ecstasy. I never wanted it to
end, but eventually Gunner’s
mouth trailed even further
down, planting kisses along
my quivering torso, each one
making my stomach jump as
his stubble tickled my
sensitive flesh.

Gunner kissed and licked his
way down to my legs; he
spread my thighs, massaging
them with his hands, and
hovered above my glistening
pussy. Gunner’s hot breath
was enough to make me
moan as his lips drew near to
my engorged clit; I could
almost feel the nerves there
jumping as he approached. I
squirmed under his hands and
my body strained towards
him, but he simply drew back
and looked up at me with a
wicked grin.

“Good things come to those
who wait,” he said, his voice
rough and gravelly. Still
looking up at me, he began to
kiss the insides of my thighs,
moving his lips from one to
the other as he slowly made
his way back down towards
my pussy. The scruff on his
face tickled my tender,
excited flesh with each kiss
and I bit my lip, trying to
restrain my desire to simply
grab his head and pull his
mouth onto my clit.

Slowly, so slowly, I could
feel him get closer and closer;
my clit was throbbing from
need when he finally reached
his tongue out and licked it
gently, causing me to cry out
as the heavenly sensation of
relief flow through me.
Gunner began licking my clit
gingerly, rolling it around
with his tongue and
occasionally flicking it
roughly. Each sensation was
like daggers of pure ecstasy,
and my thighs closed around
his head automatically.

As he teased my clit with his
tongue I felt him press two
fingers against my moist slit;
they slipped in easily, and he
began to probe my pussy
slowly. I was squirming at
this point from the constant
stimulation on my clit. I felt
his fingers inside me slowly
curl into a sort of beckoning
motion and a jolt of heat
rushed through me as he
pressed hard against
something inside me. The
feeling was deeper and more
pleasurable than anything I’d
ever experienced before as he
massaged the spot, driving
me to cry out.

He began licking my clit
harder, more earnestly, and I
could feel his tongue moving
swiftly around and over the
sensitive button, driving me
closer and closer towards
climax. Heat was rushing
through me like a wild fire
and I could feel myself
growing tense; he was
massaging the spot inside me
harder, now, and each gentle
push against it made me want
more.

Without thinking about it or
even realizing it, I grabbed
the back of Gunner’s head,
pulling him closer towards
me. He pressed hard with his
fingers against my pussy and
at the same time I felt a sharp
shock as his teeth gently
grazed my clit.

“Oh god, oh fuck, please
don’t stop, please…” I cried
out, my thighs pressed around
his head, clutching him to me
as he licked me into a frenzy;
finally, when I thought I
couldn’t take another
moment, I felt his teeth graze
my clit again as fireworks
exploded inside me and the
tension that had been building
finally released in a wave of
pleasure.

My limbs turned to jelly as all
the muscles in my body gave
way to the searing delight that
was coursing through me as I
came. I felt my pussy tighten
and then relax around
Gunner’s fingers, the feeling
fading slowly as my orgasm
subsided. I relaxed my grip
on Gunner’s head and he
crawled upwards towards me,
his hard cock exposed and
trailing along the sensitive
skin on my thighs. I smiled
up at him, panting, as he
supported himself over me.

Leaning down, his lips met
mine and we kissed. I could
taste my own juices in his
mouth as our tongues met and
swirled together, every nerve
in my body still alive and
craving more of him. I could
feel his hardness pressed
against my soaked slit. I
grabbed his hips and pulled
him down towards me,
gasping as the head of his
enormous cock entered me,
stretching me once again with
its massive size.

Gunner groaned as he felt his
dick welcomed by the warm
wetness of me, and
immediately thrust his cock
deep inside me, grabbing me
around the torso to draw me
closer to him. I cried out at
the sudden entrance, my
pussy still sensitive from the
orgasm that had just ripped
through me. Gunner began to
pump, slowly, into me; our
eyes locked and I could feel
his intensity as he thrust into
me. Lost in the blissful
sensation of his throbbing
hard cock inside me, I could
only close my eyes and moan
as he sped up, each stroke
coming in deeper and harder
than the one before.

I could feel the now-familiar
heat creeping into my fingers
and cheeks, gaining speed
and intensity with each pump.
I could hear our bodies
smacking together with each
powerful thrust, and the smell
of his sweat filled me with an
animalistic desire. I grabbed
his hips again and clutched
him to me, but Gunner
suddenly grabbed my legs
and pushed them upwards,
towards my chest. With my
knees bent between us, I felt
Gunner’s cock drive even
deeper into my pussy, hitting
places I’d never even known
about.

My eyes popped open at the
intense new pleasure and my
head rolled back against the
pillow. I could feel the
pressure rising inside me as
he slammed into me, rapidly
pumping his cock into me and
driving me closer and closer
to orgasm. Looking up, I saw
Gunner staring down at me,
his eyes burning with desire
and passion.

That was the last thing I
remember seeing; a moment
later, I heard Gunner let out a
wild cry and drive into me
furiously, one last time. I felt
his hot cum hitting my pussy
walls and the sensation was
too much: my legs shook
furiously as another orgasm
ripped through me, tearing
my senses to shreds and
sending waves of white hot
electricity throughout my
body. Gunner unloaded shot
after shot of hot, thick cum
into my pussy, each new
burst adding to my own
orgasm as my pussy milked
his cock.

I felt like my body was being
stretched to the limits of
pleasure until finally, like a
storm subsiding, I was left
panting, tingling, and
overwhelmed by bliss.
Gunner collapsed on top of
me as I let my legs fall. I felt
his hot breath against my
neck, and could taste the
sweat dripping off him. He
kissed me tenderly behind my
earlobe, making me sigh and
shudder.

“I love you, Serena,” he
whispered. My heart was
pounding from the amazing
sensations and from those
words I’d wanted to hear.

“I love you too, Gunner,” I
whispered back. He rolled off
me and lay on his back, eyes
closed. I turned on my side
and threw one leg over his,
my arm across his torso.
When I woke up, he was
gone.
 ~ 12 ~

“She’ll do it. Trust me. If you
trust me at all, you’ll trust
her,” Gunner said, addressing
the room full of men. Some
looked back at him with
scorn, others with admiration;
the remainder looked unsure,
or indifferent. Ace, standing
beside Gunner with his arms
folded across his chest,
peered out at the men with a
glare that dared anyone to
challenge what Gunner was
saying.

“She’ll just take the money
and run. That’s all broads
want,” one man said from the
back of the room.

“What money? We already
got paid for the job. This is
extra. If she decides to keep
this money and skip town,
well, that’s no loss to us. But
we stand to make it big if she
doesn’t,” Gunner responded
stoically.

“What if she squeals?”
another voice piped up.

“She’ll be with me the whole
time. No time for squealing.
And it’s not like we haven’t
put ourselves at this sort of
risk before. We have a plan
for shit like that, if it goes
down. Any more doubts?”

The men shifted and looked
at each other, no one sure
whether or not to object
further. After all, he was their
president. Gunner turned to
look at Ace.

“Any objections?” he asked;
the two men stared at each
other, neither backing down.

“You’re the boss,” Ace
finally said, still not breaking
eye contact. Gunner nodded.

“Soon, then. I need two men
to come with us. Ace, of
course. Anyone else?”

“I’ll go,” said one of the
younger men, who was sitting
near the front.

“Alright. Meet me in front of
the bar tomorrow at nine.
We’ll leave then.”
 ~ 13 ~

This time, when I realized I
was alone, the panic was less.
I still panicked, but it wasn’t
as bad as it had been in the
past. He’s just getting food,
he’s getting me some clothes,
he’s getting himself a drink…

When the doorknob turned, I
covered myself in the quilt,
worried that it might not be
him. But it was, and as soon
as I saw him I felt relief flow
through me. But when I saw
the look on his face, my
distress returned. He looked
worried.

“What’s wrong?” I asked,
sitting up straight. He looked
at me and smiled
unconvincingly. He threw a
plastic bag onto the bed.

“Thought you could use some
new clothes,” he said.
Opening the bag, I saw a
short black dress and nothing
else. Panties and a bra would
have been nice, but I was in
no position to complain. I
smiled up at him with
gratitude, but his face had
resumed its gloomy look. He
approached the bed, sitting
just on the end.

“Please, something’s wrong.
Tell me,” I said. The shower
and bed had been good for
the night, but now I needed to
know what was really going
to happen.

“Serena, I need to know if
you really love me,” he said,
not looking at me. I bit my
lip. Did I? I’d only just met
him but…

“Yes. I really do,” I said, not
giving myself time to
question my emotions. He
looked at me with a mixture
of hope and fear.

“You need to know. I can’t
leave. This is my life. If you
want to be with me, you need
to…you need to accept this as
your life, too. No more 5th
Avenue shopping sprees. No
more Daddy paying your rent.
No more maids or fancy
parties. We lead a rough life
here. It’s dangerous. Men get
hurt. Men get killed. It ain’t
pretty, and it ain’t easy. I
want you to be my old lady,
but…you need to be able to
handle it,” Gunner said, his
eyes fixed on mine. I nodded.
I knew what he was saying,
though I’ll admit I didn’t
quite understand it entirely.

“Serena, if you want this, if
you want me, if you want to
be my old lady…you have to
prove it,” he said. My heart
dropped. Prove it? How? Was
he going to make me do
something? Kidnap someone?
Kill someone? Rob a bank?
How far was I willing to go to
be with him? For the first
time, I realized what his life
was really like – and I wasn’t
sure I could handle it, after
all.

“Prove it….how? I can’t…I
can’t, like, kill someone,
Gunner,” I said. I was
relieved when he chuckled.

“Of course you couldn’t, doll.
I would never ask you to. But
what I’m asking you to do, it
could…it could hurt,” he
said, the chuckle disappearing
from his voice. I gazed at him
inquiringly. He sighed.

“I need you to go to your
father. I need you to confront
him. And I need you to take
something from him,
something he holds dear.
Something pricey would be
best,” he said. In spite of
myself, I laughed.

“That’s all? Gunner, I’ve
been thinking about how to
get revenge on my dad since
you told me about this whole
thing. No problem,” I said,
overjoyed at the prospect. He
still looked grim, though.

“You may think it’ll be easy,
but when you’re there…it
may be hard, that’s all,” he
said, concern in his voice. I
took his hand and held it in
mine.

“When?” I asked.

“Tomorrow morning. We
leave at 9am.”

“Shall I wear my new dress?”
I asked, coyly. He smiled at
me and leaned in, kissing me
deeply. Breaking away, he
snatched the quilt away from
where it was covering my
nakedness.

“I’d rather you wore nothing
at all,” he growled. Without a
word of warning, he had
stood up and flipped me over
onto my stomach. Unlike the
other times, I wasn’t ready,
although his touch was still
enough to ignite hunger
inside me. From behind me, I
could hear him unzipping his
jeans.

“Is this what it’s going to be
like? Whenever you want me
you’re just going to take
me?” I asked, wiggling my
ass in the air playfully. I felt
his rough hands on my ass,
gently massaging the cheeks,
and the strong grip made my
pussy moist. He slapped my
ass sharply, a quick, stinging
pain that was replaced almost
immediately by warmth; he
followed it up with another
quick slap and I groaned.

“You’re mine, now,” he
growled, leaning over to
whisper the words in my ear.
Just as he finished speaking I
felt him slam his cock into
me, filling me completely
with just one thrust; my body
exploded with sensation, my
pussy contracting with the
sudden impact. I cried out as
he began to fuck me roughly,
his hands still gripping my
ass and kneading it roughly.

His cock drove in and out,
deep within me, and I thought
about being Gunner’s
woman, his toy to use
whenever he wanted. The
thought brought with it a rush
of desire and I began to thrust
against him, matching each
stroke. He sped up; I could
feel my blood rushing
through my body, my heart
pumping faster and faster as
he used me.

“Oh god, yes, fuck me, fuck
me, Gunner,” I cried out,
each thrust bringing new
warmth and tension to every
muscle in my body. I felt him
release his grip on my ass and
reach around to rub my clit; it
added new sparks of pleasure
to every stroke, his fingers
abusing my clit roughly, his
callouses jarring the sensitive
flesh. I could feel him
straining behind me as he
pumped faster and deeper, his
breathe heavy and panting.

Then my world burst into a
million pieces as he gave my
engorged clit a sharp pinch; it
released a tidal wave of
pleasure inside me. I felt like
my blood was made of pure
sugar as it rushed to deliver
the tingling ecstasy of my
climax to every part of my
body. Gunner groaned and
slammed into me, hard,
releasing spurts of cum into
my clenching pussy. I could
feel the warm, sticky liquid
filling my pussy, bursting
deep inside me as my pussy
milked the last of it from his
huge cock.

Gunner pulled out rapidly,
while I was still coming out
of my orgasmic black-out. He
grabbed my shoulders and
pulled me up so that my back
was resting on his chest.
Turning my face towards his,
he kissed me softly for a long
time. When he pulled away I
couldn’t help but sway, my
body exhausted and yet
wanting to feel his lips on
mine forever.
 ~ 14 ~

The next morning, I stood
outside the bar in the short
dress, a gentle wind whipping
around my legs. There were a
few burly, tough-looking men
hanging around but none of
them paid me any mind.

I watched as Gunner, Ace,
and a younger man walked
towards me, holding helmets.
Gunner held an additional
helmet, as well as a leather
jacket. He tossed both at me.

“Wait…we’re taking a…a
bike?” I asked. I’d never been
on a motorcycle before, and
the thought scared me. Ace
chuckled and rolled his eyes.
Gunner just smiled.

“We’re bikers, Serena. And
soon, you will be too. No
time like the present to get
used to it,” he said through
his smile. I was nervous, but I
knew this was no time to
back down. I put on the
leather jacket, noting the
Rattlesnake insignia on the
back. It made me feel
welcomed, and I thought
about what it might be like to
be a part of a family like this;
unconventional, obviously,
but maybe just what I needed.
I popped the helmet onto my
head and looked out through
the visor.

“Damn, but if she doesn’t
look cute in all that,” Ace
said, shaking his head. He
wasn’t smiling, though.
Gunner laughed and began
walking towards one of the
bikes parked outside. I
followed, still nervous. He
climbed on and patted the
seat behind him; I hesitated,
but I knew that I had to do it.
Climbing on, I held tight to
Gunner’s waist and closed
my eyes.

As the motorcycle kicked into
gear and we pulled out of the
parking lot, I was surprised at
how good it felt. The
vibrations of the motor
seemed to fill my whole
body, and with my pussy
pressed up against the leather
seat the feeling was quite
pleasurable indeed. I blushed,
even though no one could see
me, to think about what those
vibrations were doing to me.

As we headed down a dirt
road, I wondered, not for the
first time, just where we
were. The answer became
obvious once we hit a main
thoroughfare; we were about
two hours outside of
Manhattan, in a town on the
Hudson. I knew from the
vacations I used to take to a
nearby ski lodge.

For the next two hours, it was
like being in heaven and hell
at the same time. The
vibrations were intense, but
they also made me very sore.
It was different than anything
I’d ever experienced: the
wind blew my hair out, made
my dress fly up, made me feel
free. I could suddenly
understand why these men
loved their bikes so much.

I was almost disappointed to
see the Manhattan skyline,
because it meant the ride was
almost over. But I pushed my
disappointment away and
instead focused on the
mission. What was I going to
say to my father once I saw
him? I tried to rehearse a
speech in my head but
couldn’t. I would have to
wing it. As we drew nearer
and nearer to my father’s
uptown apartment, I began to
feel a dreading, sinking
sensation in my stomach. I’d
been excited, but now I was
nervous. Facing my father
always made me nervous; and
now, I had good reason for it.

Finally, the building came
into view. The three bikes
parked on a side street and we
dismounted. I turned to look
at the men, but they didn’t
move.

“Aren’t you…aren’t you
coming with me?” I asked,
wanting their support.

“You’ve got to do this on
your own, doll,” Gunner said.
“But we’ll be waiting right
here for you once it’s done.”
He grabbed me and pulled me
into a deep kiss. It made all
my fears vanish; for the
moment, anyway. Releasing
me, he stared deep into my
eyes. “You can do this.”

And with Gunner’s faith, I
knew I could.

I breezed through the lobby;
my father owned the whole
building,and the doorman and
security knew me. I was
confident getting on the
elevator and pushing the
Penthouse button. I was
confident up until the 14th
floor. Then my knees began
shaking and I swore I was
going to throw up.

The numbers increased
slowly, giving me lots of time
to panic and worry. Closing
my eyes, I steeled myself; I
remembered the feeling of the
motorcycle humming
between my legs, thinking
about how much I’d changed,
how much stronger I was
now. I wasn’t a little girl
anymore, and it was time to
face him.

Finally, the elevator pinged
and the door opened. I
stepped into my father’s
apartment, noting with
disdain the overdone
mahogany and leather décor.
I called out to him, but heard
no response. Michael, his
butler, popped his head out of
a door.

“Serena? What are you doing
here, my friend?” I loved
Michael, we’d always gotten
along and he practically
raised me. But this was no
time to play catch-up.

“I need to talk to my father.
Now,” I said, striding towards
him. He must have seen
something in my eyes,
because he pointed to my
father’s office without a
word. I grabbed hold of the
doorknob, took a deep breath,
and burst in.

The look on my father’s face
when he saw me was
priceless. It told me
everything I needed to know.
I didn’t have any hesitations
anymore.

“I know what you did,
Daddy. I know you had me
kidnapped. I know you had
me locked in that room. For
what? To teach me a lesson?
I…”

“Serena, I, I…” he
interrupted, but I wouldn’t let
him.

“No, Dad, shut up. I know
what you did. You wanted to
teach me a lesson; well I’m
here to teach you a lesson
instead. A lesson about what
happens to a girl when you
give her everything she wants
except your love. What
happens to her when you
abuse her emotions her whole
life. What happens when you
go too fucking far. I’m here
to collect what’s mine,” I
said, seething. He looked
back at me, anger rising in his
face.

“Nothing’s yours, Serena.
Everything in this apartment
is mine. And everything in
your apartment is mine, too.
You don’t know…”

“Then I’ll just take it. I don’t
need you to give it to me.
You don’t deserve any of
this, you coward,” I said. I
wasn’t going to let him get a
word in edgewise. He looked
like he was ready to boil over
with anger; no one ever
talked to him like this. But
behind that, he looked…
afraid.

“Your little plan backfired,
Daddy,” I said, approaching
his desk, “you’re not getting
me back safe and sound and
oh-so-grateful. You’re not
getting me back at all. I’m
leaving this city, and you’ll
never hear from me again.
You’re not to contact me, or
try to contact me. Or I’ll tell
this whole damn world what
you did to your own
daughter. And then you’ll
never get Saks as a client.”

I was at his desk now, and I
ran my finger along his prized
possession: it was a gold-
plated, diamond-encrusted
watch that he kept sitting on
his desk like a trophy. I knew
he’d paid a few hundred
thousand dollars for it, a
thank-you gift to himself. It
was something he had always
forbidden me to touch, the
pride of his life, the thing that
he looked at every day to feel
better about himself. It was
like a physical representation
of the only thing he’d ever
succeeded at: making tons
and tons of money.

I saw my father’s eyes trail
down to my fingers as I
stroked the watch in its
holder.

“Which are you afraid of
losing more, Dad?” I said,
snatching it up. The look of
panic in his eyes as he saw
me grab the watch answered
the question for me. “I
thought so.”

With that, I turned around,
proud that he could read the
insignia on the back of the
leather jacket.

“S…Serena! You turn around
this instant! I won’t stand for
this! I won’t, I swear to God!
You get back here right now!
You think I won’t call the
cops on you? I’ll call the
whole damn National Guard
on you, you little bitch!” I
heard his voice slowly fading
as I strode out of the office,
down the hall, and to the
elevator. Pushing the “down”
button, I prayed it would
arrive quickly. My legs were
starting to shake and I wasn’t
sure what I would do if he
caught me before I could get
on the elevator.

The elevator pinged almost
immediately, to my great
relief, and as I walked in and
turned around, pushing the
lobby button, all I could see
before the doors closed was
my father’s angry, befuddled
face as he tried to catch me.
Behind him, Michael stood
trying to hide a grin. I smiled
back at him just as the doors
finally closed; faintly, I could
hear my father beating his
fists against them and crying
out.

The time in the elevator gave
me another chance to panic,
but I closed my eyes and
counted to ten. He wouldn’t
call the cops, and if he did?
He’d have to explain to all his
clients and business partners
why he’d set his daughter up
to be kidnapped. That sort of
thing would land him on the
front page of every paper in
the city. He’d never risk it. I
only opened my eyes again
when the elevator doors
opened to the lobby. I almost
ran out, not wanting security
to have a chance to catch me.

Once outside, I sprinted
around the corner to where
the bikes were parked.

“Go, go!” I yelled, holding
the prized watch over my
head. Ace and the other man
quickly donned their helmets
and jumped onto their bikes;
Gunner, though, merely stood
with his arms open. As I ran
into his embrace, smelling the
musky scent of him, I almost
collapsed from relief.

“Well, I’ll be fucked, she’s
the real deal,” I heard Ace say
from his bike. Gunner pulled
away and stared into my eyes.
I could see pride and love on
his face. He smiled.

“I knew you could do it, doll.
Now let’s get.” He held out
my helmet and I put it on;
jumping onto the back of his
bike, I relished the feeling of
the saddle between my legs.
And that’s the last thing I
remember before my new life
started.


THE END
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Meg Jackson