by Debra Kayn
"I was young once, and on my own like Bree. I'd give you the money back if Bree proved she was eighteen years old, but I guarantee the little shit is still underage, and she's taking a job away from someone who needs it." The lady leaned closer. "Though she's going to grow up right quick after tonight. The ride carnies in tent town will age her overnight if you know what I'm saying. It's a shame, really, cause that girl still walks like a fucking virgin and I have no idea how she's held out this long. If she's smart, she'll hang out tonight amongst the carnival goers and stay far away from Bill and his cronies."
He left the woman standing by the trailer and jogged through the encampment to the field where he'd seen the tents the other day. The way Bree ran her mouth, teasing and tempting him, she'd find herself flat on her back with any other man she talked to like that.
At least twenty tents circled an open area. He walked the boundary, looking for any clue that Bree was inside one of them. Kicking the edge of each tent, he listened for her voice and ignored the empty ones.
When he returned to the spot he'd started, he looked around. "Where the hell are you, Bree?"
A kid, her age with a night off, could be anywhere. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his pack of cigarettes and found it empty. There were three more hours until the carnival closed. He'd run back to his bike, grab another pack of smokes, and scour every booth and square inch of the place until he found her.
The woman at the gate stamped his hand for re-entry. Parked an aisle away from the gate, he hurried between the cars and stopped at the front of his motorcycle. The pressure in his chest over losing Bree right after he found her eased.
Bree sat on the ground by his rear tire. Cross-legged and hugging a backpack to her middle, Bree had propped her chin on the bag and was fast asleep. He ran his hand over his face, caught in the mayhem of his thoughts at recognizing the girl sleeping and admiring the woman who sat beside his Harley.
He stepped closer and squatted, brushing a wild strand of her hair out of her face. Bree never stirred. Poor kid. She must be beat because she was fast asleep despite the noise and sitting outside with traffic going and coming all around her.
He tilted his head and exhaled, his decision made. He no longer had to wait for her to come around to accepting him. She came to him, and now he'd stop her from walking back through the gate. There was no way in fucking hell he would allow her to remain at the carnival.
Rubbing the back of his knuckles over her soft cheek, he cleared his throat. She let her head fall in the direction of his hand, pressing against his touch. He stroked her cheek with the pad of his thumb, following the curve of her jaw. She looked so young and innocent while sleeping.
"Hey, carny-girl," he whispered.
Her long eyelashes blinked to life and in a few short seconds, she recognized him in front of her, pushed her backpack off her lap, and threw her arms around his neck.
Aware of being in public where anyone could walk past and misinterpret the situation, he stayed hunkered down between the two cars and held her slim body, shielding her from anyone passing by.
"Take me with you, Battery," she whispered in his ear. "Take me to Montana. I want to stay with you and see the mountains."
He pulled her head out from the crook of his neck and cupped her cheeks. "Can you stay awake long enough I can get us away from here?"
She nodded.
He stood her up and grabbed her bag. After securing her pack with a bungee cord to the back of his Harley, he flipped down the passenger foot pegs. Keeping an eye out for anyone paying attention to him, he wound Bree's hair up on the back of her head and slipped his helmet on her, securing the chin strap. With her red hair out of sight, they'd bring less attention their way. As far as anyone would think, he could be a father taking his daughter home from visiting the carnival.
"When I start the bike, climb on behind me. Wrap your arms around my waist and hold on to my belt. Whatever you do, don't let go." He tilted her head. "We'll stop in about an hour and see how you're doing."
She nodded, catching her full bottom lip between her teeth.
He slowed down. The last thing he needed was Bree to panic and cause a scene. He'd have the cops on him within minutes. "I won't let anything happen to you, Bree. Okay?"
"Okay," she whispered and stepped closer to the motorcycle.
He sat the bike, started the engine, and lifted his chin for her to get on. Once he had her situated and made sure her hands had a good grasp on his belt, he rode off through the field of vehicles and entered the main road going to the interstate.
The wind dried the sweat in his hair, and his passenger plastered herself against his back. He'd push the miles for an hour, and then he'd stop for the night. His girl would need her rest before they hit the road tomorrow morning. In two days, if Bree rode fine and they had no problems on the road, they'd arrive back at the clubhouse, and she'd be safe.
He'd take care of her.
Chapter Four
Every muscle below Bree's waist ached. She stiffly walked out of the bathroom in the thirty-five dollar a night motel and aimed her body for the bed. If she'd had a choice, she would've skipped the hamburger and fries and sought a prone position an hour ago.
"Did the shower help?" Battery pulled down the thin bedspread and sheet on the bed.
"I don't know." She raised her knee to the mattress and moaned. "No. No, it didn't help. Every inch of my body hurts, even my nose."
Battery chuckled. "Tomorrow will be better."
She collapsed on the bed, face down, and found no energy to turn her head to the side. "Don't worry about me, I'm going to die now," she said, her words muffled in the pillow.
She'd suffocate and put herself out of her misery.
Battery had promised her only two days of riding and the trip had already taken four days on the road. She'd begged him to drop her off in Eastern Washington hours ago, and he wouldn't let her go. She even went as far as sneaking out of the bathroom at the gas station and forcing her sore thighs to walk a block until she spotted a bus stop.
It had done her no good.
Battery rode up and told her to get on his motorcycle. There was no one around to plead for help. Even if she got away from him, where would she go? Being underage and having no proof of identity, she'd never be able to rent a motel room on her own.
She was tired.
Her body hurt.
She was dying. And, Battery had no sympathy for her aches and pains she'd developed from riding on the back of his motorcycle. He'd even laughed.
"Breathe, Bree. You're going to live." Battery smoothed her hair back from the pillow and turned her head.
She gasped for air. "I'm never leaving the bed. Just pay the front desk on your way out and leave me in peace."
"We're not staying at the motel tonight, so don't get too comfortable," he said.
The mattress dipped beside her. She couldn't even fight Battery off her if he tried anything creepy. Though, she doubt he would try something with her. They'd slept in motels for four nights. Her in a double bed. Him in a chair.
Every time she woke, panicked at finding herself in a strange place and then remembering her decision to go off with a stranger without telling anyone where she was going, she'd caught Battery wide awake watching her. If he was a creeper, he was a patient one waiting until he got her back to his house.
"Can't we stay?" she mumbled.
"We only stopped to eat, shower, pick up some liniment for your muscles, and give your butt a break from the bike seat." He nudged her arm. "Put this stuff on the back of your legs and ass. Rub it in good. In an hour, we leave. We're almost home, and I want to be there before it gets dark."
"Battery," she said, keeping her eyes closed. "There's no way I can even reach behind me to put lotion on the backside of me. My arms don't work."
"It's not lotion. It's liniment."
"Whatever." She yawned, and even her cheeks hurt. "I'm sunburned all over."
"All rig
ht, your call, carny-girl. I'm going to rub this into your legs for you. Don't scream or I'll stuff your sock in your mouth." His hand landed on the back of her thigh.
She gasped and then moaned when her muscles tightened in shock. "That's cold."
"It'll warm." He made long sweeps of his hand from the back of her thighs to below her calves.
Several minutes passed with Battery soothing her leg muscles and indeed she warmed, or the liniment warmed. She could no longer tell or care. She only wanted him to continue and never stop.
As if half her body slept, her mind wouldn't shut off from the way he made her feel. The area between her legs beat at a different rhythm than her heart the closer his hand came up on the back of her thighs. Startling, almost shocking, and yet wonderful at the same time.
"Bree?" said Battery.
She lay there without saying a word or opening her eyes. Maybe if Battery believed she slept, he'd keep giving her a massage.
"I know you're awake," he said.
"Don't stop," she whispered. "Please."
"We need to get the liniment rubbed on your ass. That's where the aches are coming from and going down your legs." He lifted his hand off her. "Can you do that?"
Could she? Did she want to?
"No," she said, stretching her toes and groaning.
Battery exhaled. "I'm going to pull your shorts down and leave your panties on."
"Um." She lifted her head and blinked her eyes open. "You can't do that."
"We're getting on the road, and I'm not putting you back on the bike unless I know you can sit the seat."
"I get that, Battery. I do." She sighed and mumbled. "But, I'm not wearing panties."
He growled. "Is there a reason why not?"
"I only own three pairs. We've been on the road four days. You do the math. There's no way I'm going to put on dirty underwear. I'd rather go naked." Her shoulders tensed, adding on to the misery of her sunburn, and to her horror, her voice trembled.
"Sh...," he said, babying her.
She sniffed, hating how she had to look stupid in front of him. It's not like she planned ahead. It was either stay at the carnival and let those living in the tents make a game of her or leave with Battery. She chose him. At least she stood a chance against one man.
The mattress shifted. "Your shorts are big enough. I'll reach up through the legs and rub some on you."
"Don't touch anything important," she said, burying her face back in the pillow.
"You don't have anything important yet," he said, continuing to grumble words she couldn't understand.
She held her breath at the warmth of his fingers working their way under her cutoffs. Squeezing her legs together, she turned her head and sucked in air, suddenly wide awake.
"Ho. Lee. Shit," she muttered.
His palm cupped her left butt cheek, and his fingers kneaded the muscles on her ass. "God damnit, will you relax? And, watch your mouth."
"I'm trying," she snapped. Battery only had five fingers on one hand, and yet it felt like he had twenty and they were all active and going in different directions.
"Try harder." He grunted.
She rolled her eyes behind her lids at the same time he hit a tender spot that brought her head up and had her looking over her shoulder at him again. "That hurts. I thought you were supposed to make me feel good."
"Why don't you shut up for five minutes. This is going to hurt before it gets better." His gaze stayed on her backside. "I need to loosen up your muscles, and if you don't relax, it's not going to do the job of making you feel better."
She propped her chin on her hands and stared at the headboard of the bed. Oh, no problem. She'd lay here in a creepy motel with a man she knew nothing about and continued to let him put his large, rough hand on her ass. There was nothing wrong about that. At all.
He totally invaded her personal space. There was never any privacy at the foster homes she stayed in. With four to eight other foster kids in the house, she always shared a living area, even though the social workers had a rule that she was to get a bedroom to herself. After she turned twelve, rules and codes no longer seemed to matter. The state's main goal was to find a home where she'd last longer than six months. It never happened.
At the carnival, she lived in the fifth wheeler with Delilah, and there were always people coming in and out of the trailer. She should be used to someone looking at her. It was the touching that set her on edge. She never let others touch her.
Highly alert to what Battery was doing the last four days, she'd finally offered to have sex with him to find out if he'd accept. He'd turned her down flat.
In fact, he got angry and refused to speak with her until she went to sleep. She sighed as his hand eased the soreness and she finally relaxed a little.
"Other side," muttered Battery.
That time, she was ready for the coolness of the liniment, the shock of his hand, and the relief that would come with his touch.
"How long did you say it'll take to get to your house?" she asked, laying her head back down on the pillow.
"About an hour. We only need to get over the pass and into Montana and then it won't take long." His husky voice sent a quiver down her spine.
She arched up into his touch and exhaled to calm the butterflies in her stomach. "I'm nervous."
"About what, carny-girl?"
Her muscles relaxed. She loved when Battery called her that name. While the nickname reminded her of how he viewed her as a child, there was something sweet in the way he lowered his voice, and it went all gruff as if he only wanted her to hear him.
"Going home with you. I don't know you, the area, or what I'm walking into, and that's a little scary," she said.
"You know enough." His hand flattened out, and his fingers stopped digging into her muscles.
"Do you have a girlfriend?" she blurted.
"I have lots of girlfriends."
"That's sick." She twisted her upper body to look at him. "Do you have sex with them all?"
His gaze came off her ass, and he removed his hand, rubbing the stuff he put on her into his palms. "What I do and don't do is none of your business."
She grinned, remembering her lecture about men dying if they don't have sex. He obviously was still alive. "If you were my man, I'd never let you have sex with another woman. I'd have rules."
"Why don't you concentrate on moving around and keeping your muscles loose and save your sex talk for someone who cares." He stood from the bed.
She sat up and stretched, testing out her muscles. "What's your real name?"
He frowned and for a few seconds, she thought he wasn't going to answer her, and then he said, "Dave. David Thurlow."
David Thurlow. She rolled his name around on her tongue, liked it, and said, "How did you get the name Battery?"
He raised his brows. "Ever hear of assault and battery?"
Her eyes widened before she could stop them. "Yeah," she whispered.
"It'd be too much of a mouthful, so I'm just Battery." He turned around.
It would've been nice if he told her that from the start. She blew out her cheeks and slowly let the air out. Now she was going to Montana with a non-creeper who had done bodily harm to someone.
She shook off the thought. The only feeling she got from him felt nice. He wouldn't hurt her. "Um, Thanks for putting that stuff on me. I think it's helped,"
He grunted.
She watched him put the tube of liniment away in his bag. "Can I ask you something else, Battery?"
He glanced at her and tied off his bag. She took that as permission and decided to try and pin him down for an answer. Maybe she could prepare herself for what would happen when they arrived in Montana. "The more time we spend together I've decided I really like you, and I know I've teased you about having sex, but do you ever think you might want to...you know, have sex with me later once we get to know each other more?"
"What I think is you need to put on your shoes and get your ass outside
and on my motorcycle so that I can take you home." He picked up his bag, grabbed her backpack, and walked out of the motel room.
She rubbed the inside of her thighs. He sure tried hard never to answer her questions about sex.
She wasn't looking forward to the last stretch of highway. Though she had to admit that her body felt ten times better than when she walked into the room to refresh from the long, hot, dusty ride.
"Shake a leg, Bree," roared Battery from outside.
Her stomach quivered, and she grabbed her shoes, slipping them on her bare feet. For how much she wanted to live on her own, she couldn’t stop the excitement every time Battery went out of his way to take care of her.
She'd never had a man single her out and pay attention to her.
Outside, she climbed behind Battery and put on the helmet he made her wear to be safe. He started the motorcycle, and she wrapped her arms around his waist, grabbing for his belt. Her legs protested the wide span to curve around his body and she leaned against him, letting him be her cushion.
He rode out of the parking lot. She watched the side of the road until the grass and trees blurred, then she let herself imagine what it'd be like when she arrived at his place. She had no idea if he lived in a small house or a mansion. Maybe he even had a dog.
She'd never had a pet before.
She'd never had an older man who wanted to take care of her, and the state wasn't even paying him to keep her at his house.
Her pulse raced. She wasn't unaware of the dangers. She knew about Chester molesters, good touch/bad touch, and stranger danger. She'd broken all three rules and nothing bad happened to her yet. So far, Battery seemed harmless.
She knew nothing about him except he was gruff and refused to put up with a lot of things. The female cashiers at the gas stations seemed half frightened and half excited when he walked in to pay in cash. It made her angry because Battery was with her.
She worked herself up into worrying about the end of their trip. No longer able to pretend the motorcycle ride was a fun way to waste time. She was moving in with him. He had a life, maybe even a job. Where would she come in once they reached his house? Would he send her away like all the other foster parents?
