Kaeden

by Naomi West

  “Fuck,” I snarl, going even crazier when I see that my cock is covered in her come, thick and white, sliding down the length of me. “Fuck! Take it! Take it hard!”

  “I am, baby! Oh, I am! I am! I want your come! Please, baby! Please!”

  “On your fucking tits!” I roar, my balls beginning to ache just as much as my prick now.

  “Yes!” she screams in reply, quickly pulling off her tank top.

  “Now! Fucking now!”

  I pull out and she turns to me, her cute face staring wide-eyed up at me as she pushes her pert breasts together. I stroke my cock, aiming it right at the place she’s made for me, those perfect tits squashed and red. I come right on them, big fucking loads of it, which slide down between them into her belly and then finally to her cunt. Then I stumble onto the bed, because if I don’t, I reckon I’ll fall down right where I stand.

  Fiona lies back.

  We stay like that for a while, the smell of sex and come in the air, the sound of our breathing the only one except for the noises of nature outside. I will myself to get up and leave, but my defenses are down now. I feel them crumbling away, my body feeling hollow after emptying myself on her. It’s been days of watching her in those sexy pajamas, doing nothing because she kept scowling at me. I ought to’ve fucked her every goddamn day if this is what it feels like afterward: peace, like the end of a long, honest day’s work.

  “The club is my family,” I say, the words just coming out. “I have to save it, Fiona, because they’re the only real family I’ve ever known. Sure, I guess I’m not the closest guy in the club, the best brother, but … the fuck am I supposed to do, eh? I … But I need …” The words constrict in my throat. Every instinct I have tells me to leave the room right now, before I say something I’ll regret. Then she places her hand on my chest and smiles. That smile is worth it, I realize. “I need you as well,” I tell her, the effort depleting me even more.

  “Do you mean that?” she asks softly, sliding her hand up my chest to my neck, and then, finally, my face. She runs her fingers over my cheek. “Really?”

  I turn to her, smile myself. “Yeah, I do. I really do, but … It doesn’t mean I can just abandon the club.”

  “I wouldn’t ask you to,” she says, smile growing even wider. “I just needed to know I actually meant something to you, you know? To know that after this madness is over, there’d be something left. We still have that date to finish.”

  I grin, and then laugh. It’s the sort of laugh I’ve only ever heard from other men. It’s almost carefree. “I guess we do, yeah.”

  “But finish it soon, please?” she whispers. “I want to see what we can be when you’re not at war.”

  “Me too.” I nod, sitting up. I feel more invigorated than I have since we came here. Then I go into the next room and check my latest lead: a printed piece of paper with a photograph of a street on it, and then one word written across the top in dark red letters: Help. I found it earlier today at one of our abandoned businesses, left on the counter like a gift.

  “I have to go,” I say, as I pull on my pants.

  It might be a brother.

  20

  Fiona

  When Kaeden leaves, I lie there for a while longer, almost falling asleep at times. But as soon as my eyes get heavy enough to drop me into oblivion, horrible images of Reaper jab into my head like nightmares. I snap upright and then go into the small adjoined bathroom; calling it en-suite would be a disservice to en-suite bathrooms. I clean myself up and then change into fresh pajamas. Opening the laptop, I try to pick up where I left off. If there’s one thing that’s been good about being locked up in this cabin, it’s my word count. I’ve got 13,305 new words already.

  I try to continue the scene where I left off but it’s like my fingers don’t want to move. I keep thinking about what Kaeden said, about what I said in return, and wondering if this is really going to turn into something meaningful. I know one thing for sure; whenever I think of him, even when I was giving him the cold treatment, my chest floods with a warmth I have never before experienced. It’s like the most powerful drug in the world.

  I stand up and go into the next room, pacing around to no particular purpose. Even if it has helped my word count, staying here is doing little for my sanity. I’ve learned every nook and cranny of the small, box-like cabin, each groove in the wooden walls, the way each floorboard creaks and whines. I go to the front door and try the handle, which is locked as always, and then I go and get the piece of paper I’ve used the last few times; I slide it under the door and shove it with my shoulder, hoping. He hasn’t left the key in there yet, but he was in a rush and … the key lands with a papery thump. I slide it back under the door, lifting the key to the weak bulb light.

  “Voila,” I mutter, laughing quietly.

  I head outside into the setting sunlight. The forest really is beautiful, untouched by people except for this cabin. I walk around for a little while, just enjoying the way the ground feels against my bare feet, and end up at the car around the side of the house. It’s filled with junk: locked metal containers, ammunition, pieces of printed paper, odds and ends. And then, in the footwell of the passenger seat, I spot the box with about a dozen cell phones in it. I’ve never wanted to talk with Jocelyn more, an idea that seemed impossible until now.

  I open the car door and reach inside, grabbing the first cell phone I lay my hands on. Then I go back to pacing around the forest, walking carefully so that I don’t stab my feet on the twigs and small stones that litter the forest floor. I turn the phone on and try to remember Jocelyn’s number. I go on trying to remember it for a while before I tap my head and call myself an idiot; I’ve got it saved on my laptop.

  Sitting in the bed with my ankles crossed and dry leaves clinging to my pajama pants, the phone rings on loudspeaker. Four rings, five rings, six, seven … and then Jocelyn’s voice, breathy and panicked.

  “Fee?” she squeals.

  “Hey, JJ. How’re you doing?”

  She giggles madly. “How am I doing? Are you kidding me? How are you doing? Are you okay?” She’s out of breath. She pauses for a moment and then demands, “What are you doing, more importantly? You do know that it’s been four days, don’t you? Ha, ha!” The laugh has an unsteady quality to it, but I guess I can’t blame her after everything that’s happened.

  “I’m just sitting around trying to figure out my life,” I say, giggling, a nostalgic feeling falling over me. How many times have Jocelyn and I talked like this? “How about you, though? Are you safe?”

  A pause, and then, “Oh yes, I’m safe, as safe as can be. Don’t worry about me. What about your man?”

  “What about him?”

  “Is he … okay? What’s he doing? Keeping you safe, I hope!”

  “Yeah, yeah, I’m okay. I’m just glad you’re all right. Listen, JJ, I need to tell you that I’m sorry. Like, really, really sorry. Remember when you asked me not to tell everyone at school about you chickening out getting that tattoo, and then I told Rachael Slope and she told everyone and you hated me for a week? Well, multiply how sorry I was for that by a million and you’ll get some idea of how sorry I am for this.”

  “Okay, okay, you don’t have to keep saying it!” She laughs again, but sort of shrilly. I guess I can’t be too surprised. The last thing she ever expected was to be kidnapped because of me. “So where are you hiding out? Some mansion?”

  “I wish,” I mutter. “No, we’re in the middle of the forest somewhere. Are you busy, JJ? Because I’m going kind of crazy here trying to figure me and Kaeden out.”

  “You know you can always talk to me,” she says.

  “I bet you think I’m an idiot for worrying about stuff like this after everything?” I ask, with more than a hint that maybe I am just that: an idiot. Surely I shouldn’t care about petty stuff like this, but I can’t just turn that part of my mind off either. I really do wish it was that simple.

  “No,” she says hurriedly. “Don’t be s
illy. When have you ever known me to call you an idiot?” There’s a smile in her voice.

  I cross my legs and sit on the bed with my back against the wall, the same way I used to sit when Jocelyn and I would spend hours gossiping about everything and nothing. “Well, it’s like one minute he loves me, really loves me. I’m certain he’ll tell me he loves me or something similar to that. I know it’s silly to expect him to say that so soon … and then at other times it’s like I’m not even here, or that I’m an inconvenience to him. I guess I understand that as well. I just need somebody to understand.”

  “I understand,” she says at once, and I believe her. “But you know what men are like, Fee. They’re never simple. When have you ever known a man to just come out and tell you how he’s feeling, to spontaneously share what he wants with you? It’s just not in their nature. Men are like hibernating bears. They will come out of the cave, but you better have some honey for them.”

  I giggle again, feeling more carefree than I have in ages. For a moment I can forget about the cabin and the constant threat of violence, the memory of Reaper, and the panic in my chest. “I guess you’re right. I just gave him some honey though, and he charged out of here like a madman.”

  “Charged out?” she snaps. “Where?”

  I don’t reply for a long time. There’s that strained quality in her voice again, like she’s standing at the edge of a large drop and is struggling to keep her balance. “Just work,” I mutter. “Why?”

  “Oh, no reason.” She laughs, but it sounds forced. I’ve heard Jocelyn laugh more times than I can count; I know the difference between real laughs and fake ones.

  “It’s okay if you’re angry with me,” I tell her. “I’ll understand. I put you in a horrible situation. I know that. You can yell at me. You can tell me how you really feel. You don’t have to play these games with me.”

  “What games?” That laugh again. “I’m just talking to you, Fee! Don’t be so silly!”

  I swallow as it hits me; they got her again. Those bastards got her again! I’m about to ask her if I’m right when I realize that they might kill her if I do; they might kill her if I hang up the phone. But surely they’re tracking the cell-phone signal. Can they do that, or is that just something that happens in movies?

  “Okay,” I say. “I know, JJ, I know.”

  “So what’s this cabin like? Is it north or south of the city?”

  “I don’t know,” I lie, pacing around the room now, hating myself for not making Kaeden bring her here where she’d be safe. “I have to go now. Kaeden’s just come in with a whole load of weapons.”

  “A whole load of weapons?” she hisses, almost screaming now. “What do you mean?”

  “Just a duffle bag full of military-type stuff, JJ. I don’t know. You know I’ve never been that into guns. Lots of grenades and mines and things like that. I think he wants to booby-trap the cabin, make sure it’s safe. He’s going to get started right now. Now he’s telling me I shouldn’t be sharing that information; he looks pretty pissed!” I force out a giggle, the carefree feeling draining from me like liquid from a punctured bladder. “We’ll talk soon though, yeah?”

  “Yeah,” Jocelyn says. “Okay, Fee. And be careful, okay?”

  “I will. You be careful as well.”

  I drop the phone and stamp on it. Big mistake. All I get for my efforts is an aching foot as the plastic jabs into my heel. I take it outside and fall to my knees, searching for a big rock. Finally I find one and smash it to pieces, struggling to lift the rock over my head and bring it down with the right amount of force. Once the phone is smashed I run to the car and get another one, turn it on, and frantically search the contacts. I pray that Kaeden has put his number into the phone, but he hasn’t. I check the others: nothing.

  “No, no, no,” I hiss, going back to the cabin. I could run, make a break for it in the trees, but what if they’re not coming here and then Kaeden returns and does something stupid when he finds me missing. What if—

  Then my choice is made for me. From nearby in the forest comes the growling sound of motorbikes, more than one of them, bumping down the forest road. I guess I spent too long checking the phones. I curse and run into the cabin, slam and lock the door, drag the table across, and pin it against it. Then I run around the cabin, looking for something to use as a weapon. Kaeden’s guns are in the car outside, I know, locked in those metal containers. I drag my fingernails down the side of my head, struggling to catch my breath.

  “No!” I hiss. “Fuck! No!”

  There’s nothing except the fire poker, which I lift up and hold over my shoulder like a baseball bat. I stand just beyond the barricade like that, ready to swing and yet knowing that I won’t be able do a thing with it, not if they have guns … which they will.

  The motorcycle engines die and a heavy knock comes at the door. “Little pig, little pig. I’ve already warned you not to make me huff and puff, but you never listen, do you?” The door crushes inwards under the massive weight of Reaper’s boot, scattering the barricades like a child’s building blocks. I can hardly see him because the motorbikes have their glaring lights on, almost blinding me. The giant silhouette takes a giant step forward and Reaper grins from ear to ear.

  “So,” he says, stepping around the table. “It looks like your man Silence really is the biggest fucking idiot in the world, eh? Put that thing down before I lose my patience.” He casually aims a sawn-off shotgun at me. “It’d be a shame to ruin this lovely cabin with all that red mess.”

  21

  Kaeden

  It doesn’t take me long to realize which street the picture is of; I’ve been riding these roads a long time now, and I ride over to this one as quick as my bike’ll take me. Part of me worries that that prick Reaper is trying to set up a trap again, but there’s no way he knows where we are. I’ve taken every precaution, done every check. I haven’t been followed or tracked, haven’t used the burners anywhere within five miles of the hideout. We’re all good.

  I stop at the end of the street. Down the ways, one of our old business—a strip club—has the windows and door bordered over as though it’s shutting down. I go around to the rear of the building with my silenced pistol and get ready for war. If he wants to mock me, fine, then we’ll fucking have it. Maybe he thinks he can set a trap for me this time, instead of using me as the distraction, but if that’s the case, he’s shit out of luck. After everything with Fiona, there’s no way I’m not returning to her.

  At the alleyway at the rear of the building, covered in graffiti and the waste of the customers—beer, needles, that sort of shit—I creep toward the exit. I’m almost there when I spot the older fella leaning against the wall, a cigarette dangling between his lips and his rifle slung over his chest. He’s asleep, I realize in shock, his blood-red tattoo of a three-headed beast—bird, snake, lion—shifting on his sagging neck. I shove my gun against his forehead and then nudge it, waking him.

  His eyes go wide and his hands dart for his gun.

  “No,” I say, ice-cold. He must get the meaning of my tone because he drops his hands pretty damn quick.

  “What do you want?” he growls.

  “I want to know what’s going on here, old man, that’s what. Who left me that piece of paper, eh?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” the man protests.

  “Maybe you don’t. And to be honest, I haven’t got the time or the patience to get the truth about it out of you. But tell me this—and don’t lie now, because I’m getting short on patience—what’s going on here? You running drugs, guns, what?”

  “We’re keeping that girl prisoner,” he whispers, his eyes going all glassy. Some men just can’t handle a gun to the head.

  “What girl?” I snap.

  “The one called Jocelyn.”

  “What?” I snarl, furious with myself. “Are you fucking kidding me?” I should’ve made sure she was safe, but what with the whole club takeover … “Right, here’s how it’s
going to go. You drop that gun right now.”

  “Are you going to k-kill me?”

  “Just drop the fucking gun, asshole.”

  He does as I say. As soon as the weapon hits the concrete, I slam him across the jaw so hard I send him sprawling to the ground. His head slams into the wall and he slides to the floor. I kneel down and check his pulse. He’ll live. Might have one motherfucker of a headache when he wakes up, but I reckon that’s getting off lightly. I take the rifle and position myself at the rear door, and then kick it open and scan the room quickly.

  The hallway is empty, but the lights are on. Ignoring the smell of sweat and something else, I creep down, checking each room. I check the main office and the girls’ room, full of ceiling-high mirrors, and then end up on the main floor. With the room silent and the main overhead lights blaring, the place looks more like a hospital than a strip club. It’s empty, too, just like last time … except for Jocelyn tied up in the middle of the room, with one fella standing over her.

  He turns to me, aims his weapon—my bullet splits his head into two and he drops to the ground before I can even say one word. I don’t even mean to shoot him; it’s just a reflex that happens when a fella aims a gun at me. I go to Jocelyn and take the rag from her mouth. She’s crying fitfully, her whole body shaking with the tears.

  “I know, I know,” I tell her. “It’s a hell of a thing. I get that. But I need you to calm down now, all right?” I kneel down next to her. “I want to end this shit, Jocelyn. Come on, you know me. I’m your friend’s man. That’s me, all right? Calm down and think; did you hear anything that might be useful, anything at all—”

  “She shouldn’t have called me!” she suddenly screams, bringing her hands to her face like she wants to tear her skin off.

  “What?” I mutter, confused. “Who called you? Do you know where you are? Do you know what’s happening?” Sometimes folks get so disoriented after a thing like this that they don’t even remember their own names. There was a brother we rescued once who swore he was there on purpose, that he’d let them tie him up, that this was all some big joke. Poor bastard. “You’re safe now,” I tell her. “You don’t have to—”