by Nicole Snow
She shook her head softly like she didn't understand.
“A baby, Rachel.” I hugged her tighter, moving her up against the wall. “I want to fuck a baby into your sweet womb. Something that belongs to just you and I, our love made whole.”
I started to kiss her, needling her neck with my stubble. Fuck, I needed this so much. I needed to breed, to feed my primal instincts firing on every cylinder.
She moaned at first. Then her hands came out. Her breathing was hot, but why the hell was she pushing back against my chest?
“Oh, Jack...wait!”
She pushed. Harder. I threw myself off her and lumbered backward against the sink.
“We can't do it like this! This is way too fast. We haven't even talked about this.” Her eyes softened when she saw the flames blow up in mine. “I mean, someday for sure, but this is sudden...I need some time to think about all this. I'm only nineteen years old.”
“You're nineteen and beautiful. Shit, look at those hips!” I pointed, starting to get a little flustered. “You're built to breed, baby girl. Better to start early and often. You want to be a mother, don't you?”
My cock ached, swollen and tense as those nipples on her pretty body. I moved forward and tried to kiss her again.
“No, no. I want it when I'm ready. Not like this! This is crazy!” Her dismissal echoed off the walls.
I peeled back, giving her some space. What the fuck?
“Look, I don't know what you're going through since those assholes killed your dad. I really do want to help you. I just never imagined you'd want this...it's one hell of a shock!”
“Excuse me for trying to repair all this fucking damage,” I said. “If Pop's death taught me anything, it's how short and precious this life really is. We can be snuffed out anytime.”
Fuck. That boner of a lifetime was starting to deflate, and my lust was being replaced with pissed off anxiety.
“Pop gave up his fucking life for us.” I snorted, unable to hold the anger anymore. “I've turned this club upside down to accommodate you when nobody else wanted to. Damn it, Rachel, you would've been torn up dog meat if it weren't for me and this club!”
“Don't you think I know that!” She screamed, folding her arms to cover herself. “You're out of control, Jack...”
“Maybe that's true,” I said. She had a point. “I'm not a very good President if I can't even get my own girl to fuck me. Out of control is fucking right.”
“It's not that and you know it,” she said, opening her eyes. “Being your old lady doesn't mean becoming your slave. And you haven't even made me that yet. If you come back from this battle tomorrow and do what you promised, then we'll see about having a kid together!”
Fuck this! As soon as the words were out of her mouth, I reached to the floor, scrambling for my clothes.
Rachel's face softened. She regretted the words instantly, but I wasn't going to hang around and wait for hollow apologies. Life's too short for regrets, and for all I knew my life was shortening by the second, if fate wanted me to catch a bullet or a knife tomorrow.
I stumbled around the room, clumsily throwing my clothes back on. I grabbed my cut and slung it around my shoulders without looking at her.
Point or no point – and yeah, she had one – I was past giving a shit.
I didn't want this tonight. Not before my brothers and I crashed straight into hell.
If I come back...
Her words stung. Deep. How could she love me if she didn't care if I wound up dead?
“Jack, hold up,” she said, coming out of the bathroom a minute later, wrapped in a towel. “I didn't mean to say that...”
Hold up? Is she fucking serious? I've been holding all damned night!
I paused. Forced myself to look at her. If this was really the last time, then I wanted to remember her like the angel she was. I wanted her to remember me like a warrior, not a reckless fuck with real pain shining in my eyes.
“Stay safe and sleep in my bed tonight if you want. I'm fucking out.”
She called after me again, but I wasn't hearing it. I slammed the door to my own room and headed for a cot in the storage room, next to the bar where half the Dickinson boys were sleeping.
Fuck it. I'd rather lie with distant cousins tonight, mere mortals, rather than an angel who'd suddenly forsaken me.
IX: Sky High Doubts (Rachel)
The roar of the bikes woke me up the next morning.
I popped out of bed, and nearly tripped in my rush to run to the garages. But the sounds were fading before I'd even gotten my socks on.
Jack and the rest of the club rocketed away without even saying goodbye. I'd slept in his bed, stupidly inhaling his scent as I cried myself to sleep, wondering where right and wrong ended with the insane breakdown we'd had last night.
Later, in Frannie's car on the way to Fargo, I still thought about it.
“What is it, girl? I know something happened between you and Jack.” Frannie kept pressing me during the drive.
I wouldn't say anything. I just shrugged, staring off into the dusty summer landscape, sulking through my emotions.
“I'll live. Really, I just want to get this crap over with.”
Frannie looked over and raised an eyebrow. “You and me both. Whatever happens out there with the boys today, you'll be on his mind. Count on it.”
You can say that again, I thought.
Actually, I was sure Jack would have a lot more on his mind today than our stupid encounter. Seeing his handsome face in my mind made me want to cry and laugh and scream at once.
God, what if something really happened to him? Why did I have to lose my brain-to-mouth filter last night, and spit out the very worst?
Fight or no fight, I'd die inside if he didn't come home safe. I stared at the skeleton crew riding alongside our SUV to guard us. They were mostly older brothers from Dickinson and other charters who wouldn't fare well in the big fight.
Did any of these Devils from afar have old ladies? Did their women survive watching them going off to war and coming back time and time again? Did they give their men families, if only to have a piece of their man to hold onto forever, even if the unthinkable happened?
I closed my eyes and tipped my head against the lukewarm window. My stomach was churning all different kinds of violent, and I'd heave if I didn't stop letting the ride meld with my emotional venom.
“We almost there?” I whispered, turning back to Frannie.
“Yeah, we are. It's a decent place. Business has been good in spite of all the craziness. The club's putting us up at a good hotel.” She paused. “Seriously, Rachel. Take some time to relax and look after yourself. There's more to life than boys. Putting love on hold and sorting out the old lady stuff later isn't gonna hurt you. If it's meant to be, it'll happen. Don't you worry.”
“What if I don't get a chance to smooth things over?”
She squinted through the sun, studying the worry on my face. Very slowly, Frannie smiled.
“Jack always comes back safe. I've seen Buddy ride into danger and come home more times than I can count. You just get used to it after awhile. These men are tougher than you give them credit for. Count on it.”
I blinked at her use of Warlock's real name. It reminded me that he, too, was a real person like Jack, a man who loved the private life with his old lady when club business didn't call.
I smiled. Sage words from a wise old lady.
A few miles outside the city, we pulled in for gas. Frannie shut the ignition, stopping herself before she popped her door.
“Stretch your legs and grab a coffee. It's on me. Just don't go too far.”
Coffee sounded nice after a drive that felt longer than it really was. I stepped out into the balmy afternoon, yawned, and stretched.
Frannie stayed behind filling up the truck while our small guard checked their bikes. Half the guys went inside for a bathroom break or smokes. I was almost inside the gas station when something past the window made me
stop.
“Holy shit. Isn't that...”
It couldn't be.
My legs moved, pushing me on. The woman who looked way too much like Rita wasn't at the register anymore by the time I made it inside. I stood near the snacks, furiously scanning the whole gas station.
What the fuck? Was I hallucinating? If I wasn't, where had she gone?
I took one look at the man behind the counter. He gave me a confused nod. I just turned and ran, heading behind the corner.
Maybe she'd spotted me and taken off to the restroom.
If there was even a tiny chance of having it out with that whore, I wanted it. If it weren't for her, none of this shit would've happened.
Jack's father would still be breathing, and he wouldn't be freaking me out with insane demands. Slut Rita and Blondie needed to pay, and making them would be so, so sweet.
I rounded the corner and jumped. Rita was standing right there, as if she'd been waiting for me. When she saw me, she smiled, and pulled me into her with those long, vicious nails.
I went nuts. Biting, scratching, anything to break this vile ambush.
Time wasn't on my side. She held on for the few seconds she needed.
I barely heard the van door sliding open next to me. Suddenly, Rita's scrawny arms weren't pinched around me anymore. They'd been replaced by two pairs of burly man hands.
I tried to scream. The man was fast. He covered my mouth with one palm, yanking me into the open black van with his partner.
“Toodles, bitch,” Rita called after me with a smile. Then her face went cross. “Hey! Any of you fucks going to give up my money?”
“Follow us to the house,” one of them said.
They threw me inside and the van door slammed shut. A man's shoes were underneath me. I kicked, and screamed, but the figure in the seat forced me up by the hair, once more covering my mouth.
“Welcome home, little girl. Did you really think I'd give up after your scruffy little shit of a boyfriend busted my lip?”
Dad's voice. Adrenaline overflowed into my system. I blacked out before I saw his evil smiling face.
“Wake up.”
I used to purr at those words, whenever they came from Jack. This time, I jerked awake in my old bed. Tough leather straps held my arms to the bedposts.
Dad hadn't changed a bit in the eternity since I'd been away. He leered over me, pacing up and down my bed like a tiger.
“You've been a very, very bad little bitch. To think, I once felt guilty about turning you over to the Skulls.” He sighed in that haughty way that made my blood boil.
“Bastard!” I spat. “Why haven't you turned me over to them? Why am I home?”
He pointed a stiff finger at me, trembling with rage. “Don't. Please don't make me stuff your mouth shut too, honey. I should wash your dirty little tongue with soap and put a muzzle on it. I'm graciously giving you this chance to see if we can have a civilized discussion.”
Hate flooded out my eyes as I watched him approach. He sat in the old rocking chair that had always been in my room.
At one time, it supposedly belonged to my mother. I think he left it there as a ghostly reminder, one more sterile artifact usually filled with way-too-clean stuffed animals. My toys, dresser, and neat little desks had always been arranged just so to remind me how alone I was, and how much I needed his all knowing hand.
“I'm going to give you something very special, Rachel.” He paused. Disappointment lined his face when I didn't indulge him by asking what. “My admission. I made a mistake with you.”
“We're way past fucking mistakes, Dad.” I was past surprise with this brute.
“Watch your mouth, you little slut.” He flexed his hands on the wooden armrests, bobbing the chair slightly. “Don't be stupid. I'm not apologizing. My mistake was giving you over so carelessly to those gross thugs, but I don't regret it. They wanted to ruin my career.”
Oh, what a shame that would be!
I stopped jerking at the restraints. Whatever was going to happen, the bastard had me locked down tight. He was just waiting for his little triumph to sink in, until I turned on the waterworks and melted on my knees.
I vowed that wouldn't happen. I'd been through more in several months than he had in all fifty years on this planet.
I was too hardened now to cry. I had no response for him except grim silence.
“Say something. I need to know you aren't going to fight me.”
I shook my head. I wasn't giving this asshole anything. God, I wanted Jack – even if thinking too about him would bring on the tears.
“Why are you such an asshole?” I finally asked.
He'd had it. I closed my eyes as he rushed to me, stiffened his palm, and slapped me across the face.
I started laughing, even as the fierce heat blazed on my little cheek.
“That's it? I've had club whores who hit me harder than you, Dad. Too bad it took me almost twenty years to realize what a limp fisted control freak you are.”
He shook his head. The rage I saw foaming in his eyes told me he wanted to do a lot more than hit me. But something held him back, and it wasn't love or kindness.
He was devoid of those qualities.
“Whore, yes. That's the right word for you. I know you've probably given some greasy biker scum your sweet virginity, but it's of no consequence.”
Curiosity softened my anger just enough to look up. What the hell was he talking about?
“No? I thought that mattered so fucking much to your business partners...”
Another crack across my jaw. This time, much harder than before. Raw heat jumped to my brain as the pain registered.
I jerked my hands, kicked my legs, and smashed his thigh with one knee so hard I was sure he'd bruise.
“Bitch!” He crashed backward, stabilizing himself on the wall.
Guess he regretted not tying down my legs too. Shame I couldn't reach his nuts.
“Stop using that language, Rachel, or I really will gag you. I ought to anyway. You're here to realize you have no more say in anything that happens. You're not my daughter anymore. You're my whore to trade away for the best deal I can get. And this time, I'm not being blackmailed.”
“Who?” I don't know why the question slipped out. Did it matter?
“The Skulls and I are finished. Whatever dirt they've got on me soon won't matter. Your friends are seeing to that today. The Mayor's Office knows plenty.” He gave me that nasty smile, as if I was supposed to be proud of him.
No, Dad. The days of pretending to clap like a pet monkey at your stupid speeches are over.
“A very wealthy businessman from out West has promised to finance my Congressional campaign next year. It's wonderful, Rachel, we'll both be leaving this dingy little town. I'm advancing my career by light years as soon as the voters give me their approval.” He shook his head with a smile, relishing his inner narcissist. “You'll be going to my benefactor's private dungeon in Seattle. Tomorrow. As for me, I'll be finding the best condo in Bismarck I can afford, and then DC. Big money goes a long way.”
“The Devils are going to kill you,” I said softly. “I don't know how or when, but they will. You want my congratulations? Okay, fine. Congratulations on signing your own death warrant.”
Dad stared at me for a long time, his eyes narrowed. His fingers twitched. He had to be thinking about choking me, slapping me, or maybe something a lot worse.
He'd always given me looks that were more than fatherly since I hit puberty. I quietly prayed he wasn't even sicker than I thought.
“I thought you might say something stupid like that.” Another of his trademark sighs. “It seems I won't be able to convince you how defeated you really are alone.”
He turned toward my bedroom door. “Bring her in!”
The door popped open, and one of his mercenaries entered, with Rita behind him. Finally, he'd done something that surprised me.
I never thought he'd let a genuine whore into his perfect home. B
ut there she was, glowering over me, chewing that nasty grape gum.
“Bitch!” Rita spat sickly sweet purple juice all over my face.
One, two, three long jets of grape spit.
I pinched my eyes, ignoring the gross feeling. Too bad I couldn't ignore that stomach churning smell too.
“Skank!” I fired back.
Big mistake. The bitch's hands were on my throat, digging in deep. Her long fingernails really hurt, way more than the pressure from those bony fingers.
“Don't ever call me that again, you cunt. You ruined my fucking gig – my club!” The death grip increased, cutting off my air supply. “It's too late for me and the Devils. But you know what? I want you to remember all the shitty names you called me when you're down on some mattress with your new master, feeling his cigars scorching your tits while he fucks you raw. Remember, little bug, that I did this. I helped squash you.”
I coughed. Jesus, I couldn't breathe, my whole field of vision blurred.
“I helped introduce your dear old Dad to his new partner. Knew all about this guy from my old days in the underworld. You think you're hot shit just because you gave a badass MC Prez your cherry. Well, little bitch, you're going to learn all about how depraved and dirty sex can really be with your new owner.”
She laughed. Dad stood behind her, watching with glee.
I thought the bitch was going to make me black out. Honestly, it would've been a mercy, but Dad intervened at the last second.
“That's enough,” he said coldly. “Our friend wants her shipped off tomorrow. Wouldn't be very nice to give him a girl with claw marks all over her neck.”
Rita let go. She showered me with one last stream of spit.
“Aw, come on. Richie likes beat up girls. It's no skin off his back, Mister Mayor,” she purred.
“That may be, but I'm sure he likes to...decorate his girls himself.” Dad reached into his pants and pulled out his wallet. He fished out at least five Benjamins and pressed them into Rita's sticky, nasty palm.
The whore squealed happily. “Pleasure doing business with you! If there's anything else you ever need...”
