by Voss, Deja
“Gimme your gun,” I say to him sternly, as soon as I find it.
“Hey!” Morgan shouts, as he pulls his gun from his holster and passes it to me.
I shoot the lock off, the kickback from the pistol sending me flying across the cell.
“Boy, I had you pegged all wrong,” I say to Morgan. Brooks has her on her knees and I tower over her, shaking my head at how pathetic she is. “I used to think you were just stupid, but now it’s perfectly clear you’re also a cunt.”
“Jeez,” Brooks whistles. “Throwing c-bombs now?”
“Too far?” I ask.
“Nah. You want to punch her or something? I totally would, but my father raised me better.”
“Mine didn’t,” I say, laughing, kicking her square in the jaw. She falls on her back with a groan. “Shit, Morgan, I’m not even wearing shoes. If you’re gonna run with the big dogs, you’re gonna have to learn to take a hit better than that.”
Brooks picks me up in his big strong arms and I wrap my legs around his waist, pressing my lips to his, even though it hurts like hell.
“Esther, you’re bleeding from your mouth,” he says, pulling away.
“Sorry. I’m gross.” I am probably a sight to behold right now. I’m still wearing the green lingerie my dad scooped me up in, and I haven’t really assessed the full damage to my body because it’s been so dark in here, but if it looks half as bad as it feels, I’m sure I’ve earned some battle scars.
“You’re not gross,” he says, setting me down on the ground, looking over my entire body with the most loving eyes. “I just don’t want to hurt you. You’ve been through enough today. I want to take you home and take care of you, get you all cleaned up and let you rest, but I’m afraid there’s a lot of people waiting to see you first.”
“Guys, I was just kidding!” Morgan yells from the floor. “I was just playing a prank. I was going to tell the guys where you were all along, Esther. I was going to save you, I swear.”
“You’re really not pretty when you lie, Morgan,” I say. “But I will give you credit for saving me. If you wouldn’t have been so dumb and greedy, Brooks never would’ve found me. Where are we even?”
“Apparently your dad has a little secret stash bunker we didn’t know about. This place is loaded with contraband.”
“Where is my dad?” He hugs me tight again, burying his face in my hair, squeezing me so hard I can’t breathe.
“He’s being taken care of.”
Never has it come to this in the history of the Mountain Misfits. Never has one man committed such atrocities against the club. Maybe he could be forgiven for orchestrating my kidnapping, finding a way to justify his actions and saying it was for the greater good, but a stash house full of club property is an entirely different kettle of fish.
There are written rules about these things.
Written rules that we don’t even speak of because they never have been broken.
“We’re not doing anything until tomorrow,” Brooks says, as I sob into his chest. “You want to see him?”
All the torment, all the abuse I’ve suffered, even the last twenty-four hours of my life, and I still think of this cruel and disgusting man as my father. I still love him.
But he broke the club rules, and the club, well, it’s bigger than us. It runs deeper than blood. He sealed his fate by fucking us over.
“I’ll see him tomorrow in the shed,” I say. “Let’s get this bitch locked up. I want to go home.”
“You shot the lock off, dumbass,” Morgan says, her face bloody and her eyes wild.
“You’re right. I did,” I say, pretending like I’m shocked by that revelation. “Why don’t you just come on out with us, then? I’m sure everyone up top will be really happy to see you.”
“Please,” she begs, for nothing in particular except not having to be judged by a militia of her peers, who are likely wielding knives and guns.
“Stay down here for the night,” I tell her. “I’ll make sure nobody hurts you, but as soon as I call you, you better disappear. I mean it. No more contact with anyone. You better not ever come back up on this mountain again. Do you understand?”
“Why are you being kind to me?” she asks, tears running down her face.
“I guess it’s just in my nature,” I say. I know I don’t owe her anything, especially after she tried to double dick me over, but I also know my father is a master manipulator, and Brooks is perfect and gorgeous and brilliant and any woman would like have done the same thing in her situation.
“You ready?” Brooks asks me. His hand hasn’t left my body since we reunited. He takes off his sweatshirt and slides it over my head and he scoops me up in his big strong arms effortlessly. I don’t protest at all; I just enjoy the comfort of being held by him, every fear I’ve had about our life together and our future irrelevant right this second. “Let’s go home.”
We walk up a set up steps and out a door, into the darkness of the night. The cold air hits my face and I shiver in his arms, his sweatshirt not doing much in terms of covering my legs.
“Next time I get kidnapped, I need to remember to throw on some sweatpants,” I giggle.
“You’re never getting kidnapped again, Esther. You’re never leaving my sight.”
I can feel his heart beating through his chest. I know he’s upset, and I know my jokes aren’t helping. Olive and Sloan come sprinting at us full force from across the field as soon as they spot us, their faces streaked with tears.
“Why are you guys crying?” I ask. Brooks reluctantly sets me down as I squirm out of his arms so I can hug my friends.
“I don’t know,” Olive whines, brushing my hair out of my face, tracing her fingers over the wounds on my cheek. “You scared the shit out of me.”
Sloan is hugging me so tight I start dry heaving. “It’s ok, woman,” I laugh nervously. “Everything is going to be ok.”
“I always knew he was dangerous,” Sloan whispers in my ear. “I just never wanted to hurt your feelings by talking shit on your dad. I’m sorry. I should’ve done more.”
The crew has gathered around us in a circle, standing around nervously with their hands in their pockets.
“We all should have done more,” a voice I haven’t heard in ages says. I turn to look at my brother Goob, and I feel like I’m going to start crying as I take off running into his arms. “I’m sorry, Esther.”
“Everybody, stop,” I say, looking around at my family, my friends, my brothers and sisters of the Misfits. “We can’t do anything about the past. All we can do is get excited about the future. Things are about to change for all of us. I appreciate you guys, but tomorrow is going to be a hard day. Let’s go home and get some sleep.”
I hug everyone and say my goodbyes while Brooks hovers over me. The lights from the four-wheelers fade into the darkness, and it’s just the two of us left standing in the field.
“That goes for you, too, Brooks. The past is over.”
“Almost,” he says somberly. I know he’s worried about tomorrow. I know it hurts his heart thinking about what has to be done. “You don’t have any shoes,” he says. He picks me back up and carries me through the woods, and I breathe a sigh of relief when I see the light shining through our kitchen window.
Chapter 41
Brooks:
I don’t know how she’s acting so calm, nonchalantly grabbing a few bottles of beer from the fridge for us, wandering around the house in that green lingerie, talking to the cat, her body covered in bruises and her face covered in blood.
She keeps making idle chitchat with me, asking about ‘what do you want for dinner tomorrow?’ and ‘can I paint the kitchen yellow?’. It’s weird. It’s making me uncomfortable. I’m mentally wiped and on the verge of a nervous breakdown, trying to process everything that happened today, and she’s damn near tap-dancing through the hallways. She comes down from the bedroom with a pair of shorts and a t-shirt on, her red hair thrown up in a sloppy bun, and grabs the keys to
her truck off the countertop.
“Where are you going?” I ask her.
“We need a comforter. I have one in storage. I’m just going to go grab it.”
“Babe, we have one in the spare room. It’s going to be ok.”
“I just want to go get this other one real quick; I’ll be right back.”
“Esther,” I say, blocking the front door with my body. “It’s four in the morning. It can wait.”
Her hands are trembling, and her jaw begins to quiver. She’s fighting back tears.
“Let me go,” she roars.
“Hell no,” I say, grabbing her wrist.
“I can’t do this,” she shouts.
“Can’t do what, Esther? Don’t you love me?”
She begins bawling loudly. “I can’t let you see me weak. I need to be alone.” She looks up at me with tear-streaked cheeks before quickly turning away. “This is not what you signed up for.”
“You’re not weak,” I tell her, hugging her tight to my chest. “And this is exactly what I signed up for. I’m going to take care of you, Esther. I’m going to protect you and love the hell out of you. When you break down, I’m going to fix you, and you’re allowed to break down.”
“Come on,” I say, grabbing her hand and leading her up the steps.
I sit her on the edge of the bathtub and begin to run the water.
“I don’t need this,” she says, staring off into space. “You don’t have to do this.”
I slide her shirt off over her head and stare at those freckles on her shoulders, the ones I love so much.
“You’re a good man, Brooks. You shouldn’t have to fix anyone. You deserve so much better.” I press my lips to her collarbone, breathing in the sweet smell of her hair, her skin, it’s all so perfect to me.
“You can’t save me,” she whispers. “I’m my father’s child. I only know how to hurt.”
I stand her up, sliding her shorts down and helping her step out of them. I feel the bathwater, making sure it’s not too hot, and I help her in.
“I’m a whore,” she says, as if she’s challenging me, searching for some last-ditch effort to push me away. Instead, I grab a washcloth and begin to dab away at the scratches on her face. She winces in pain.
“Sorry,” I say, holding her chin in my hand. “I’m not trying to hurt you.” She looks off into the distance, trying to stay as still as possible.
“Do you feel better now that you got that out of your system?” I ask. “I guess after all you’ve been through today, you’re entitled to a temper tantrum.”
“I’m not throwing a tantrum. I’m just speaking the truth.”
“Esther, I’ve known you my whole life. I’ve loved you my whole life. There is nothing you can do or say to scare me away.”
“You just feel guilty, Brooks. That’s why you’re doing this. You think you let me down, but you didn’t. I chose this life.” She pushes my hand away from her face.
“You’re absolutely right I feel guilty. I feel guilty I didn’t tell you how much I love you sooner. I’m not here to save you. You don’t need saved. You’re a good person. You’re strong. You’re perfect. I’m only here to support you and love you, no matter what decisions you make, as long as they’re your decisions. Not your father’s.”
“I don’t want to be a whore anymore, Brooks. I’m trying so hard. I’m just scared. I’m scared of what will happen to the club.”
“You’re not a whore. You used your assets to protect the people you love the only way anyone ever taught you how to. That’s loyalty. That’s the Misfit way. You don’t have to do that anymore, though. Everything is changing, Esther.”
She reaches for my face, running her fingers through my beard, and I gently kiss her lips, trying not to agitate her bruises.
“Is it bad that I still love my father?” she asks, looking me in the eyes.
“Babe, I still love your father, in some fucked-up unhealthy way. He might have killed my dad, but he also made me into the man I am today. And without him, there would be no you.”
She pulls my face to hers with a fury, her tongue exploring my mouth with an intense hunger, bathwater splashing all over the floor.
“Are you going to get in here with me?” she asks.
“That bathtub is barely big enough for you, and you’re half my size. Why don’t you get out and get dried off and I’ll go get your comforter out of storage.”
“Fuck that comforter,” she says, smiling as she stands up. “I’ll just use you if I get cold.”
“I’ll never let you get cold.” I wrap her up in a fluffy towel, carefully drying every inch of her body, pretending like I don’t notice the bruises all over her. Those can wait until tomorrow. Sorting out all this mess can wait until tomorrow. Tonight it’s just me and her.
She reaches for the bottom of my shirt, tugging it off over my head.
“We don’t have to do this, you know,” I tell her calmly, not wanting her to feel obligated after such a stressful day, even though being inside her right now is the only thing that I want. Feeling her here with me, showing her how much I worship her body. I crave the closeness more than anything else.
“I know, but I want to be near you,” she says, pulling at the button on my jeans.
“You are, Esther. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Shhh,” she says, helping me out of my jeans. “Make love to me, Brooks.”
Chapter 42
Esther:
He scoops me up in his arms without another word, and I’m certain he can feel my heart pounding through my chest, pressed up against his, filled with this burning desire to be as close to him as I possibly can be and never let him go. The reality of tomorrow can wait. The rest of our lives can wait. Right now, the only man I see is him, and the only thing I feel is his flesh pressed up against mine, his muscles flexing as he lays me down on the bed.
He drags his beard down my neck, down my breasts, taking my nipple in his mouth, and my back arches. I reach for his hard cock, lining it up with my mound, greedy with desire, using my hips to take him in.
He growls in my ear, driving into me harder and harder, taking my body with reckless abandon, grazing my throbbing clit as he pulls in and out. My whole body shudders, my core contracting around him. I cry out loudly as I cum, digging my fingernails into his corded back, holding him inside me until he grunts, smashing his lips into mine, filling my mouth with his tongue as his seed fills my womb.
His eyes look over my face lovingly, and tears of joy roll down my face, knowing that this man that I’m looking up at is my one and only. It’s time to take my own advice. The past doesn’t matter.
It’s time to take my own advice. We can worry about the future tomorrow.
Right now we are good. We are free. We are perfect. He rolls me on top of his chest and pulls the sheet up over us, our hearts beating together as we catch our breath.
Not a word needs to be said.
I press my ear to his chest and drift off.
* * *
I don’t know how I’m supposed to be acting right now. The only thing I know is that I’m glad I have Brooks by my side to keep me steady. The entire crew is gathered in the clubhouse, and Trixie and I are just nervously twittering around, filling up coffee cups for the guys and trying to avoid any sort of conversation about the looming situation.
“Esther, sit down,” Gavin says to me, watching my hands shake as I pace back and forth. “You’re giving me anxiety. Why don’t you just go home?”
I know my dad is locked up in the butcher shed. I know exactly what fate he’s going to suffer. It’s in the laws, it’s in the book; it’s the Misfit way.
“Let her alone,” Brooks says to him. “She’s not hurting anybody.” He knows it’s important for me to be here today. I need to face down my demons just as much as anyone else in this room does, and who is my brother to take that away from me?
Heat stands in the doorway, not moving, his eyes bloodshot, and his hand over hi
s mouth.
“Come here,” Trixie says to him, and she wraps him in a warm embrace while he starts to cry. He’s always been a sensitive but fair man, which is what makes him such a great chaplain of the club. Him and my father go way back. They were both around when the Misfits was first established by my grandfather, and their relationship has always been special, even if it was just because they were thrown together by the club. “You smell like death,” she says to him.
Everyone shoots her a glare.
“Shit,” she mutters. “I mean, you smell like farts and cigars.”
Nobody wants to say out loud what the possible outcome of today could be. We are holding our first official “court” against another member of the club in Mountain Misfits history, and the bylaws don’t dance around the fact that crimes against your fellow brothers could result in blood, violence, and even death, depending on the severity of one’s actions.
“Did you talk to him?” I ask Heat. “Did you see him?”
He nods.
“I’m so sorry, Esther,” he says, his voice wavering. “This should’ve never happened to you.”
“I’m fine, really.” Sure, the bruises on my face hurt, and the fact that I still have no idea why my father kidnapped me or what he planned on doing with me makes my stomach turn, but these guys aren’t responsible for any of that. Just like they weren’t responsible for my fate before. “This day is not about me and my father. This is about a man who deceived our patch and stole from our club. The club that we’ve dedicated our entire lives to protecting. He put you all in danger for his own gain.”
Brooks squeezes my hand. I squeeze his back, partly in appreciation, partly because I can’t keep down my nervous energy. I know that what I’m saying is what I believe is best for the club, but in my heart, I still feel more. More anger, more rage, more sadness. I just don’t want to show that, especially not when it comes down to a fair trial for my father.
