by Bijou Hunter
While I understand his worries, I won’t back down for my people. Pixie sees value in me. She just wants to love her blond bear. Pixie and the Yabos deserve to feel safe in the Woodlands, just as much as Bronco’s woman did months ago.
“How soon is the Village thing happening tonight?” I ask, changing the subject.
Lowell answers, “We need Elko to shut down for the night. Our people around town will have their eyes open for the Killing Joes. It’ll be easier for them to spot movement if the town is mostly asleep.”
“What do we do until then?”
“Stay here and plot,” Bronco mumbles, thoughts elsewhere. “We didn’t want this meeting at Rooster’s since our enemies might be watching the clubhouse.”
I frown at the thought of Pixie and her family sitting alone in my house until early tomorrow. Bronco notices something on my face.
“Aren’t they set up for the night? Plenty of food, know where the panic room is located, and how to use the stove.”
Bronco and Lowell smile at each other about that last part.
Cracking my knuckles, I look around. “What are we supposed to do until go time?”
“Why are you so restless?”
Sighing, I frown at the question. “It’s not as if I had a lot of time to plan for Pixie to move in. She just ended up there, and then her family came. We haven’t gotten used to each other or found a routine. People are always dropping by. I have tons of boxed crap in my house. The sooner we deal with the assholes, the sooner I can figure out how to live with my people.”
Bronco stops eyeballing me as if I’m a threat. “I remember when Lana showed up that first weekend. I wanted alone time with her but didn’t get it. Left me in asshole mode for a week.”
“Yeah, man, we remember,” Lowell taunts.
Grinning, Bronco watches me. “Tomorrow, you’ll do this party thing at the Woodlands’ clubhouse. Soon, we can kill whoever needs killing. Things will settle down. You’ll find a routine and see if you can make shit work.”
I don’t mention to Bronco how I’m never letting Pixie go. If she decides my house is no good, we’ll move. I don’t give a shit about my property or possessions. My only concern is to keep Pixie looking at me like she did last night when we fucked. For the first time in my entire life, I felt down deep appreciated, acknowledged, and accepted. I’m not giving her up for anyone.
But tonight, I can’t run home to Pixie. John Marks and the Killing Joes are a threat to our future.
In fact, I’m pumped—ready to kick asses, break skulls, crack bones. Violence would be a relief.
Rather than drawing blood, we plan and plot for a few hours. Then we eat pizza delivered to the house. Next, we plan more. I’m so bored that I smoke a joint to avoid losing my shit. The tension in the basement is palpable. The men expect me to prove myself to them again. After three years of living here, I’m back to square one.
Before Pixie, these men’s disapproval would have crushed me. But, right now, I’m far more interested in my future than whatever guilt they want to put on me for my past.
More than once, I text Pixie. Eventually, I also hide in the bathroom to call her.
“You sound strange,” she says, talking too loudly into the phone.
“It’s just how I sound on calls.”
“When will you return?”
“Probably not until early tomorrow.” She reacts to my words by inhaling deeply. Realizing she’s panicking about staying in the house alone for that long, I add, “You can order food if you run out.”
“There’s more than enough food.”
“But if you’re ever hungry, you can order a delivery.”
“But we’re not supposed to answer the door.”
“Oh, yeah,” I say, chuckling. “Thanks for remembering what I told you. But I can bring food if you’re hungry.”
“Stop feeding me. We already ate leftovers from the lunch delivery. We didn’t finish it all. You ordered so much.”
“I miss you,” I say since she seems agitated.
“I want to see you,” Pixie insists. “Can I come to where you are?”
“You need to stay at the house and protect your family.”
“What can I do to protect them?”
“Hit the bad guys with a rock. It worked on the Volkshalberd.”
I feel Pixie’s smile when she says, “I miss you too.”
“Bronco thinks everything should settle down in a few days. Like when you moved from the government apartment to the Village. Everything was very stressful at first. Then you found your pace. It’ll be that way in the house.”
“Can I go to the grocery store and look at vegetables?”
“Tomorrow, I’ll take you.”
“Can Mama come and look too?”
“Sure.”
“I’m afraid to sleep alone in your room,” she says, and I can imagine the fear on her face.
“Then maybe you can sleep downstairs with your family. There are two beds and a couch.”
“But where will you sleep?”
“I’ll crash in my bed when I get home,” I explain softly, wanting to calm her in the way she’s always willing to do for me. “If you want to come up, there’ll be room. If not, that’s okay. I plan to spend a thousand nights with you, Pixie Yabo.”
“I miss you,” she says again. “I want Mama, Dove, and Future to get to know you. And for you to know them. But everything conspires against us.”
“Soon, our lives won’t be about bullshit and enemies. We’ll spend every day together. I promise.”
I imagine Pixie smiling at my words. She falls silent, likely forgetting how I can’t see her. Or she might have accidentally put me on mute. Finally, she tells me goodbye.
Hearing her voice and knowing she misses me eases my tension more than the pot. I gear up for whatever might happen tonight.
In theory, the fireworks will send the Village into chaos. They’ll run around like headless chickens, possibly shooting blindly into the woods. None of that matters to me.
My concern is Roadrunner and Gak. Despite what I told Bronco, I bet they’re not here alone. I went over the numbers with Conor earlier, and there are six remaining members of the Killing Joes Motorcycle Club. Even if a few met violent ends in the last few years, I suspect the two Coles—Bloody and Redbeard—are in on this deal with Marks. They tended to follow Gak around like useless, angry toddlers.
Tonight, when the fireworks go off, and Marks thinks he’s under attack, he’ll call for help. Will Roadrunner respond? Or is he smart enough to smell a trick?
At twenty before midnight, the first group of Conor’s surveillance drones silently hovers over the Village. Bronco and Lowell are nearby in a van, keeping tabs on our club brothers spread out in the area.
I stick close to Conor in a parking lot a block from the entrance of the Village. We’re hidden in the darkness when I light the fireworks. Then I attach them to another drone, which Conor quickly flies over the center of the Village.
On a screen, I study the surveillance footage from over the Village. Only a few lights can be seen in the otherwise dark area.
Conor’s main drone tilts to the right, allowing the fireworks—ready to pop—to land in the center of the community. He flies a short distance and then leans the drone to the left. Another batch of fireworks hits the ground.
“What if the fuses go out?” I ask Conor in the darkness.
As if answering me, the fireworks wake up the night. On the night vision footage from the drones, we watch the Volkshalberd rush panicked out of their tents. As quickly as they bolt into the night, most hurry back inside. Only a few men with guns run toward the front gates.
Located close to the Village’s entrance, Drummer messages about the activity there. “Six guys. Weapons. Walking the outer perimeter of the Village.”
While the young men check for threats, the drones scan the area inside the Village. There isn’t much movement. I wonder how many Volkshalberd silently hope Ma
rks will die in this attack, so they might finally get fed.
The thought of Pixie in that place hurts my heart. All these months, I avoided imagining how shitty her life was at the Village, especially after we locked them inside. Feeling too guilty over her suffering might lead me to doubt Bronco’s decision. My loyalty to him won out.
“How long do we wait?” I ask Conor as we hide behind the sandwich shop.
“Fireworks go off, Marks calls the Killing Joes for help, and they agree to drive over. How long do you figure that’ll take?”
“Thirty minutes, tops.”
“Bronco will likely wait another thirty minutes to an hour. If the Killing Joes don’t show up, Mark didn’t call them, or they’re not his bitches. Either way, Bronco knows something new.”
After twenty minutes, we accept the Killing Joes aren’t coming. But Conor isn’t ready to leave. I suspect he’s afraid to miss an important detail. He thinks too hard about shit. That habit will trip him up when he’s the guy making all the decisions.
Of course, if I were him and these men were connected to my dad’s murder, I’d want to wait all night, too.
At one a.m., Bronco finally orders everyone to head home. By then, my ass is cold and numb from sitting on the asphalt. I get to my feet and stretch out the kinks in my back. Even in the darkness, I notice Conor’s obvious disappointment over the Killing Joes’ no-show.
Once the drones are stored in his SUV, I split off from Conor and return to my quiet house. In the kitchen, I warm up food and fish out a brownie edible from the fridge. I need to stay relaxed, so I can sleep. Between work and that party, tomorrow will be another pain in my ass.
While I eat in the dark dining room, I study the security footage from the cameras around the house. Fairuza and Future sleep in one basement bedroom. In the other, Pixie and Dove share a bed with my honey over the blankets and her sister under them. The doors on both rooms are shut. I bet they’re locked too. I smile at how seriously they took my instructions.
Though I love seeing Pixie stretched out and peaceful, she’d feel damn good against my body. I hunger to taste her lips, including the ones between her legs.
I shiver at the thought of eating her out again. Soon, life will settle down. Then the opportunity to fuck my honey will no longer feel like a prize at the end of an obstacle course.
PIXIE
Dove is already awake when I open my eyes. Her pale blue eyes glow at the sight of me. We share a smile and then kiss our two fingers and press them against each other’s lips.
“Do you think I will be allowed to try the pool today?” Dove whispers as we climb out of bed.
“Yes. I will ask Anders for the buttons to open the gate. Then we’ll swim.”
“Do you think he’ll be angry?”
“Why would he?” I ask, taking the kitchen knife located on a side table and preparing to open the locked door.
Last night, my family remained wary. We finally moved down to the basement and locked ourselves into the bedrooms. I didn’t think I could sleep, but the mattress was so comfortable. Waking rested, I’m worried about Anders’s fate, though.
I step into the basement hallway and swing around the weapon. Dove watches me with wide eyes. When I realize no one is around and how silly I must look, I glance back at my sister and laugh. She giggles behind her hand.
Mama’s door is already open, and we find her on the couch with Future. My brother feeds from her breast, though she has little milk to offer, and he mostly wants comfort.
“Shall we head upstairs?” I suggest.
I lead Dove and Mama upstairs while Future sucks fruitlessly at her breast. The sun brightens the family room and kitchen. I pause to admire the beautiful house Anders built it for himself.
Dove hurries to the back doors, where she lifts her face to the sun and exhales joyfully. Mama smiles at my sister’s reaction and then sets down a curious Future. While I open the fridge and pour milk into a baby cup, Mama digs out the leftover food from yesterday.
“Did Anders come home?” she asks, using the microwave.
“I don’t know. Once everyone has food, I’ll sneak into Anders’s room and check on him,” I say and then gasp. “Would you like to eat breakfast outside?”
Mama and Dove smile, feeling overwhelmed by the enclosed space. Soon, they’re out at the table on the back patio. Future brings a few toys with him and then sits in the kid chair that he initially hated but now knows belongs to him. My family’s faces wear such beautiful smiles when I leave them.
Soon, I hurry to see the man who brought joy to their lives.
As usual, Anders sleep on his side with his long limbs pointed downward. He appears comfortable yet cold. His tanned skin—wearing not a stitch of clothing—is covered with ink.
I study the mostly black tattoos along with a few colorful ones. I find names of people and places. Pictures of dogs and motorcycles. There are skulls, guns, and knives. On his back, a winking woman smiles at me. His skin tells the chaotic story of a tragic life. Anders hid his scars under pictures with little meaning.
How can the winking woman be important when she isn’t in his life? She was just something to have drawn onto his large body. The tattoos hide the man he was taught to hate long ago. They don’t tell a coherent story of Anders Van Der Haas. Nothing in his life made sense. There was only violence, rejection, and confusion.
When Anders visited me and sat in the grass, he craved peace. But even when he said nothing, I could hear the noise in his head. The past and present crashed together like two cymbals, deafening him to his future.
Anders doesn’t know what he wants. Maybe he never will. I imagine him as an old man. Will he still follow people he doesn’t trust? Can he ever know comfort in his own body? Or will he always feel as if happiness passed him by?
I lose track of myself when I see him this way. Panic fills my heart. Anders’s story is too painful. He needs a lifetime of love, yet I only met him recently. I can never provide everything he deserves.
My zeal to make up for lost time pushes me to climb over him and cover his face with kisses. I can’t help myself. This handsome man has known so much pain, but his heart still reveals sunshine to those like me.
I worry Anders might complain about me waking him, but his arms wrap around my body. Eyes barely open, he waits until my lips land on his. Then he deepens the kiss. I rest against his hard chest and let him feel my warmth. Can he ever get past his broken heart long enough to know how much I love him? Based on his smile when our lips part, I think maybe he already does.
“I’m sorry to wake you. The temptation was too strong,” I whisper, nuzzling his cheek with mine. “I missed you.”
Anders’s hands grip my ass, and I feel his erect cock-penis against my bare leg. I pull free and climb out of bed before hurrying to shut the door. I return just as quickly and yank free of my shirt and push down my shorts and underwear.
I’m surprised by Anders’s relieved expression. Did he think I was planning on abandoning him?
“Now, we're both naked,” I say, crawling back into bed and kissing him.
His arms wrap me snugly against his body. We wrestle for control, but he obviously wins. With his size, it’ll never be a fair fight. Especially since I can’t use my only attack move on him.
Anders sucks at my throat and then my right nipple before moving to my left. He rushes to be inside me. Yesterday, I said we could have sexual intercourse once he returned. But then he stayed out too late, and I slept with Dove. I think maybe he worries he won’t get to enjoy my body if he doesn’t hurry.
His big fingers enter my pussy, thrusting like his erection soon will. Moaning, I tug him closer, so I can kiss him. I spread my legs wider, showing him that I want him. Anders doesn’t always believe words, but he knows body language. Mine is screaming for him to find relief inside me.
Anders lets out a painful sigh as his cock works its way into my body. I stroke his chest, careful with my nails against the many sca
rs hidden among his tattoos. One day, no secrets will remain between us. I’ll know every inch of Anders. How to make him sigh, moan, and do that thing where he grits his teeth.
“That was too quick,” he says, kissing me after his body finds relief. “I don’t think you came.”
“People in the outside world keep score too much.”
Anders smirks. “I can get you off now.”
“I feel like you want me to say yes.”
“I want you to say what you feel. No lies between us.”
Stroking his soft hair, I admit, “I would rather eat. I was hungry when I woke up, and everyone is eating outside. I planned to only check on you, but then I saw you sleeping naked. You looked so wonderful that I couldn’t wait to touch you.”
Still sleepy, Anders forgets to hide his feelings behind the exterior of a hard, violent man. He shows me how much I mean to him. In his stormy eyes, I witness his hopes and fears.
Caressing his face, I sit up in bed. He wants more sexual intercourse, which would be fun. But not right now. First, I want to eat and play in the pool. Mostly, I hope the five of us can enjoy the quiet house before the rest of this community starts ringing the bell and forcing their way inside.
ANDERS
Breakfast outside goes well. I order myself a real meal since leftovers won’t cut it. While I eat, Pixie has her family strip down to their underwear to go swimming. On my phone, I add suits to my list of crap they need.
Future keeps trying to drink the water in between splashing and clapping. Fairuza finally takes him into the house after he starts shivering in the mild weather. Pixie and Dove remain in the water longer. They seem amazed by every little thing. Every few minutes, Pixie waves at me. I love seeing her so happy.
After they shower and dress in warmer clothes to deal with the chill they caught during their swim, we hang out in the living room. The women want to go shopping, but I nix that idea. With so many enemies currently in Elko, the trip will have to wait.
The Yabo ladies don’t complain. Instead, Pixie does cartwheels around the family room to entertain her brother. Fairuza cleans an already-pristine kitchen, seeming unsatisfied with the work by the maids who just left.
