WALKER: The men of Whiskey Mountain

by Love, Frankie

  For a moment, I doubt Waverly.

  She told me this was her family. That this was her home and maybe she meant it.

  Jameson swallows as he runs a hand through his hair. Shame flooding his face. “I know it's fucked up. But it’s not just me. There's some sketchy stuff going on in Juno. Heard some guys were up here doing business looking for something or someone, I don't know. This may be Alaska, but the world is dead set on infiltrating us.”

  “What did you hear? What do you know?” I ask stepping toward him. Anger blistering on my lips.

  “Dude, I don't know anything. You know me. I fly around. I do what I'm told. People give me deliveries and I make them. I don't ask questions. That's the way it's always been. That's the way I live my life. I'm not up in anybody’s shit, so don't get up in mine.”

  I give Jameson a hard look. He grew up in these mountains, so I'll give him a pass because maybe he doesn't understand what running drugs really means. The costs. The toll takes not only on a person but a community, on a nation, on the world. It's part of the problem and I don't think he understands just how big of a part he's become. He's one step too close. He's where he shouldn't be.

  “I think someone said they call themselves the Makers.” Jameson shrugs as if this comment is inconsequential but it makes my jaw clench, my eyes narrow. Motherfucking Makers. The last thing I need right now is to deal with my family. I’ve avoided them finding me for a year, but it sounds like they’re onto me. I need to focus on Waverly. But now, the need to keep her safe is stronger than ever.

  “Be careful,” I tell him. “Watch your back and be careful and whoever these people you heard about or you saw, you keep me posted. You understand?” I point a finger at him, my heart pounding. “And don’t you realize the drugs you run still end up in someone’s hands? Ruining lives?”

  How close are they to getting to me? I don't want to know.

  “I’m sorry,” Jameson says. “I just got offered a lot of money for it, so I couldn't pass it up. If you want some shit to trade with this commune, I can help you with it. That's all. Just trying to help you get the girl.”

  “I won’t trade drugs.”

  “Then what are you going to do to get her back?”

  I lift my eyebrows. “Well, there's one thing I noticed about that commune. There are no children.”

  Jameson frowns. “Yeah, and what about it?”

  “It means there's one thing they probably need a lot of if they want to keep it that way.”

  Jameson smiles catching on. “You're going to go find a bulk order of rubbers?”

  I grin. “Yeah. I'm gonna find some condoms. Make sure those fuckers don't procreate.”

  10

  Waverly

  After Walker leaves, I know I’m in trouble. The women step away from me, except for Bellamy, the first woman I met here. She stays close. And for that, I’m grateful. I feel like I’ve been dropped into an HBO drama where overbearing men take what they want like it’s some post-apocalyptic horror show where I’m at the mercy of men I don’t want to know.

  “Why was he coming for you?” Father John asks. “Looked like he was angry you were here.”

  “I don’t know. I met him in town the night before I came,” I tell him honestly. “I didn’t invite him.”

  “You can invite anyone you like, Waverly,” he tells me, stroking his fingers against my cheeks.

  My spine crawls and I clench my teeth, now wanting to be touched by a man like him.

  “Why did you send him away then?”

  Father John frowns. “I didn’t send him anywhere. It was you who told him to go,” he says coolly.

  “But I thought, I didn’t want...” I shake my head, flustered, looking to Bellamy for back-up.

  “I asked him some questions, told him I didn’t want trouble. You are the one who told him the truth. That this is your home, that we are your family.”

  I feel sick at the way he’s twisting my words. I was scared, unsure of what the men here might do to Walker. I didn’t want my choices to hurt the man I craved. So yes, I told him to leave, but not because I wanted to.

  “Fine, if it’s so easy, then I want to go too,” I say. “Call me a plane, I want to leave.”

  Father John takes my hand in his and places a kiss on top of it. “No.”

  I wince. “No? But you just —”

  “You said we are your family. Family doesn’t run away when things are hard, do they?”

  I blink, remembering the way I ran from Jemma’s body.

  “I don’t know. I’m confused,” I say. “I think I need a rest.”

  “Then I’ll join you.”

  “No,” I shriek. “Please. Leave me alone.”

  “That’s not how it works,” Father John repeats, this time more men are circling me.

  I give Bellamy a look that can only mean one thing: help.

  I close my eyes, the world spinning. My stomach rolls with fear. I didn’t come all this way to be forced on a man. Bile rises in my throat, and I lean over throwing up on the grass. My throat is raw as I squeeze my eyes, desperate for an escape.

  “Father John, I think Waverly must be coming down with something,” she says. “Maybe she could use a cool bath?”

  “Yes,” I say shaking, and it is no act. I’m shaking. “I feel faint.”

  Father John is unhappy about this, but grunts at Bellamy, telling her to take me away.

  When I’m safely in the woman’s house, Bellamy draws me a bath. “What’s wrong?” she asks. “Who was that man?”

  I swallow, not knowing how to explain Walker to her.

  A one-night stand.

  One night that changed everything.

  Changed me.

  “I shouldn’t have come here,” I tell her as I step out of my dress, sinking into the cool bathwater.

  “Then why did you?” she asks, reaching for lavender essential oil and adding it to the tub.

  “My sister wanted to come here… and I thought… maybe coming would somehow… somehow make up for the fact she died.”

  “Was it recent?” Bellamy asks.

  My lips trembles. I haven’t cried, really cried, over her. There hasn’t been time. There has only been running, as fast as I could. Getting away and praying for safety.

  It’s not safe here.

  “She died a few weeks ago,” I tell her, tears rolling down my cheeks. “And I had nowhere to go and I remembered this place. She wanted to come here so badly. Her friend told her to come here. Said it was like a promised land.”

  “Who is your sister?” Bellamy asks, frowning.

  “Jemma Jones.”

  Bellamy gasps. “Your sister is Jemma? I knew you looked familiar… I just couldn’t place you.”

  I nod. “Wait, are you…”

  Bellamy’s face crumbles, and she begins to cry hard. “Jemma died?”

  “You’re her friend? I thought the girl’s name was Marta.”

  Bellamy swallows, her shoulders shaking. “It was. I changed it when I came here. I needed a fresh start.”

  “And you were working with my sister? In LA? Why would you call this place paradise?”

  “It’s better than any life I’ve ever had. And yes, there are some parts that aren’t ideal, but then I just ask for some hash and zone out.”

  “Getting high to get through the day is not living, Bellamy.”

  She smirks. “For girls like me?” She exhales. “I don’t know where you come from, but me? I was living on the streets, got picked up by a pimp, and ended up as an escort. This? Living on a farm, not having to work? It’s heaven.”

  “But the men… Father John.”

  She nods. “Nothing is ideal. This is just better than any alternative.”

  “That sounds so defeatist… so… sad.”

  “Says the girl who ran away to the middle of nowhere.”

  “Fair enough.” I swallow knowing it’s true. All of us out here, in the wilds of Alaska, are hoping to carve out a bett
er life for ourselves than the ones we left.

  Bellamy sits cross-legged on the bathroom floor, tears still pooling in her eyes. “How did she…”

  “We were on a yacht. I just got hired the night before. I didn’t like the idea of my sister being on board alone. And this guy, they knew each other, brought in a bunch of coke and they… and she… she overdosed.”

  Bellamy covers her mouth and I sink lower in the bathtub, the words themselves sound so unreal. My life was never easy, but now it feels out of control.

  “The man, he was a monster… and he threw her overboard, Bellamy. We were in the middle of the ocean, and instead of giving her the respect she deserves, he tossed her away like she was nothing. Worthless. Not even worth a gravesite.”

  “You saw him do that?” she shakes her head, horrified.

  “They made me leave, go below deck, telling me I was acting hysterical. When someone finally opened the door, they told me what they had done. I knew then and there I needed to get away.”

  “Who was this man?” she asks, her eyes turning dark. “I’ll kill him.”

  I shake my head. “I’m not sure. I think his name was Jamie. James? I don’t know.”

  “Whoever he is, he can’t get away with this.”

  “It’s over, Bellamy. He’s too dangerous.”

  “No, it’s not too dangerous. We can call the cops and—”

  “No!” My voice is more forceful now; adamant that we don’t contact authorities.

  Because he may have killed my sister, but I have something he wants. Badly. And if the cops find it, my hands are too dirty. I may not be a sinner, but I never said I was an angel either.

  “I can’t believe she’s gone,” Bellamy whispers.

  “Me either. She was my only family.”

  “Then who was that man in the plane?”

  I bite my bottom lip. “That was Walker.”

  “And he is?”

  “He’s the person who’s going to rescue me.”

  “You need saving?”

  I wipe my eyes. “No. I just need him.”

  11

  Walker

  My bush plane is filled to the gills with as many rubbers as I could fucking find. It would be funny if it weren’t all so damn sad. The fact I have to con my way back into my girl’s life.

  But the night we shared was real. I know that with all that I am and I’m not about to let her walk away from it before we get a chance to give it a shot. Give us a shot.

  So, I’m going all in.

  When I land the plane on the middle-of-nowhere island I know I may be leaving empty-handed — but yesterday, when I looked at her angelic face, I knew she was the kind of purity I need to wash me of my sins. The kind of woman I need to make me the man I’ve always hoped I might be one day.

  She is my one day.

  Wavy.

  When I get to the compound, I see the white farmhouse and the chickens clucking and the women in their prairie dresses, I fix my eyes on finding her. Before I do, those same fuckers are up in my grill, questioning me as to why I’m here.

  It’s hard to focus on the men before me because people are fucking with abandon everywhere I look. There are mattresses on the green grass and groups of people are having sex right out in the open. Loud and wild and no one seems to care that everyone can see. Did Wavy have sex like this? An innocent girl like her would get swallowed whole at this place.

  I don’t waste time. Not when I know just how damn precious it is.

  “I’m here for Waverly,” I tell them. “I’m prepared to make a trade.”

  The man scowls. “Trade? We don’t buy and sell women.” He has a thick beard, like mine, but that is where our similarities end. He’s a lean man wearing blue jeans, moccasins, and a leather vest, no shirt. Chest hair and leathered skin. He may not be strong, but it’s clear he has the allegiance of everyone here. Men like him are dangerous. They don’t carry guns. They use mind control to get what they want. I won’t let him take a damn thing from Waverly.

  “Then let her walk,” I challenge. “Let her come here and tell me she doesn’t wanna go.”

  “She’s sick in bed,” he tells me. “She’s in no position to go anywhere.”

  Sick? Immediately, I’m on high alert. What did they do to her?

  “Let me see her,” I say.

  “Why should I?”

  Behind him, a woman speaks. “Because Waverly is his wife,” she says. It’s a woman I recognize from yesterday. She speaks with certainty. “He’s trouble, Father John.”

  “I’m not trouble—” I start.

  But she raises a hand, cuts me off. “Waverly and he got in a fight. It’s why she ran up here. You tell him to go and he’s just gonna get law enforcement involved. You want that?”

  “Who do you think you are, Bellamy? Speaking to me like this way?”

  Bellamy licks her lips, steps toward the man, running a finger down his chest. “I think you know who I am, Father John. I’m yours.”

  My heart pounds, listening to this exchange. “Look, I need to see her.”

  “Or what?” John asks, taking the wrist of Bellamy and pulling her to him.

  “Or, I will take her forcefully.”

  Bellamy whimpers. “Let me give you what Wavy can’t,” she moans. “Please, Father John.”

  I feel sick, watching this exchange, a grown woman — a beautiful woman — degrade herself for this man.

  But it works and he grunts something, telling someone to go get Waverly.

  “You said you had a trade?” he asks me.

  I nod and wave him down to my plane. Before walking away, Bellamy tells him she will be waiting in his bed. He grabs her tits, kisses her hard and presses his hand between her legs. Her dress bunches up and touches her pussy. She closes her eyes and I swear she says a prayer. “Spread your legs and get ready for me, you little slut,” he tells her, and she nods obediently before walking away.

  The entire thing is a goddamn disgrace, but I bide my time knowing I need Waverly in my plane before I can do any damage.

  Turning to me with a grin, he says, “That’s what you should have done. Your wife wouldn’t have left you if you’d put her in her place.”

  “Don’t fucking talk to me about women,” I seethe. I’m ready to shoot the bastard down for the way he spoke to that girl.

  John just laughs and I show him my goods. “Boxes of condoms?” he asks incredulously.

  “Figured your sex commune could use them.”

  He snorts, laughing hard, slapping his leg. He reeks of pot and sex and I’d like to fuck him up right here and now.

  Instead, I shove a box to his chest.

  By the time I unload the goods, I’m getting anxious. I haven’t seen Waverly yet.

  But there isn’t any reason to worry.

  There she is, a vision in white, with long hair blowing in the wind and the breath of fresh air my cold heart craves.

  She is the girl I always needed, and she might not have a clue. I will show her she’s my one and only if it’s the only thing I do.

  “Walker?” she asks her eyes wide and her voice hushed like she’s seen a ghost. Or maybe the answer to a prayer. An answer she didn’t expect to find or receive, but here I am and I’m not going anywhere unless she’s under my wing, letting me fly her to safety.

  “Bellamy says this fucker is your husband,” John says. “That why you’ve been such a frigid bitch?” he laughs like this is something funny, but I’m done playing nice. I draw back my arm and slam my fist against his jaw not giving a shit that it’s a low ass blow he didn’t see coming. He deserves it. And more. So much more. But his jaw is bloody, and my girl is here, and I need to go.

  I can’t look back.

  “Get in the plane,” I tell her. She has her backpack and I toss it in the carrier compartment and when John comes for me, I push him off, gun in hand. “Don’t make me shoot.”

  His eyes go wide, scared, but mine are as icy as the glacier peaks of thi
s goddamn gorgeous state. I don’t back down, instead, I lean in. To his fear.

  “You best watch your back, because if I hear of more shit going down here, there’ll be hell to pay.”

  I jump in my plane, my knuckles are bloody, but I don’t care. I turn on the engine and leave the dock, the propeller spinning as fast as my fucking heart.

  Once in the air, with the danger behind us, I look over at my girl. Waverly.

  “What did you do?” she asks. “To get me?”

  “I did what needed to be done.”

  “Thank you,” she says, wiping tears from her eyes.

  “That girl, Bellamy, she seems to be the one to thank.”

  “She told Father John I’m your wife?”

  My jaw tightens, I refuse to smile though, hell, those words sound pretty damn good. “Something like that.”

  “I can’t believe it worked.”

  “He doesn’t want an angry husband getting the authorities involved.”

  “They should be involved,” she says. “What’s going on up there… it isn’t good, Walker.”

  “Then why did you send me away yesterday?” I ask eyes on the sky. My priority is getting Wavy to my cabin in one perfect piece.

  “I was scared, Walker,” she says. “Scared you might get hurt. I wanted to protect you from them.”

  I reach for her hand, wishing I could pull her in my arms here and now. This will have to do for now. “Waverly, don’t you worry about that.”

  “It’s what I’ve always done. Protect the ones I love.”

  The word hangs between us. Love.

  I don’t know what she means by it, but I know what it feels like to hear. Feels fucking good.

  “That’s not your job, Wavy. To try to protect me.”

  She pulls my hand to her lips, kisses it. “Thank you,” she says. “For saving me. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”

  I stiffen. “I don’t want you to think you owe me anything. That’s not why I came. To get something from you.”

  “But what if I want to give you something, Walker?” she asks, her hand moving between my thighs, my cock hard and aching. She runs her hand up and down my thick shaft. “What if we make a trade as you did for me.”