by A. J. Downey
“How old are you anyways?” Donnie asked.
“Thirty.” Ashton murmured.
Donnie snorted. “Bull shit!”
Come to think of it, Chris had let her right on back here, I would have checked her ID and made sure she was eighteen… Fuck that lazy fucking fuck! Of course Dragon had been with her, so that would have pretty much put a stop to any questions. Chris knew better than to question the big man. Dragon my not be as tall but the fucker was built like a brick shit house and Chris, for a stoner, was a twig by comparison. Ripe for the snapping.
“Last December.” She affirmed. Donnie looked at her, and I mean really looked at her this time.
“What happened to your face?” he asked. Eyes narrowed. Ashton averted her eyes, staring up at a piece of stencil artwork I had framed up on the wall, the mat had several holes cut for photos of the piece alongside it, show casing four of the stages. Before, stencil, line and shading art and finally the finished colored piece.
I watched Ashton and wondered if she was going to answer.
“My ex-husband happened.” She said simply and I was proud of her. She’d said ex. Not ‘my husband happened’ but ‘my ex-husband.’ I wanted to cheer.
“You tune him up yet?” Donnie asked me.
“Naw.” I said and went back to work on him.
“Call me you want a hand.” He said. Ashton looked a mixture of awed and horrified but remained silent. Her golden eyes were haunted and I sighed. She was still afraid but hopefully given enough time that would fade.
I finished Donnie up, slathered his tat and bandaged it.
“Two hours, take off the bandage. If it’s stuck, soak it in water. If you shower, avoid getting it directly into the spray for a while. Keep it moist, make an appointment in three weeks for any touch ups.” I said.
“Thanks man.” Donnie got up and we clasped hands. He pulled me into a man hug and slapped my back.
“See you around, pay Chris on your way out.” I said.
“Will do.” He picked up his hat and put it on backwards over his closely shaved head.
I cleaned up quietly while Ashton looked on.
“Uhm dude, I think your counterman is passed out.” I looked up, Donnie was standing at the entry way to my space and he didn’t look happy. I scowled and got up, stripping off my gloves. I cursed, low and heated and saw Ashton flinch out of the corner of my eye. I put a lid on my growing anger fast and stalked out front.
Sure enough Chris was leaned back as far as his chair would go, eyes closed, mouth open, drooling on himself. I kicked his converse all-stars out from under him and he crashed backwards.
“What the fuck man!” he spluttered.
“What the fuck is right douche bag!” I growled at him, “I’m tryin’ to run a fuckin’ business here!”
“Dude, chill out. It’s not that serious bro.” he picked himself and the chair off the floor. Ashton ghosted up along the wall, I caught her out of the corner of my eye. I resisted the urge to beat the fuck out of the little prick.
“Dude, you’re fucking fired.” I grated. “Get your shit and get the fuck out.” I crossed my arms and glowered.
“Seriously!?” Chris laughed, the fucker actually laughed.
“I would do what he says.” Ashton said gently. “I know that look.” I grimaced inwardly.
Chris looked at her, probably for the first time that night and he backed down immediately.
“Sure, yeah, what the fuck ever man.” He got his coat and slammed out the front door. Donnie looked at Ashton like she’d done an interesting trick. She was blushing.
“What?” I asked.
“Dude, she’s smart.” Donnie said with respect.
“I know that but I’m missing something here.” I frowned.
“I’m sorry, that wasn’t very nice of me to do after all you’ve done for me.” Ashton looked stricken.
“What’d you do?” I asked.
“She let dimwit think you did that to her face.” Donnie grimaced.
I blinked with surprise and rewound the entire exchange in my brain. I started laughing.
“Yeah, he obviously doesn’t know me very well. C’mere Sweetheart.” I crooked a finger in her direction and she pushed off the wall.
I sat her down in the vacant office chair.
“How you paying man?” I asked.
“Plastic.” Donnie handed me his debit card.
“Okay, this is how you do this…” I showed her how to run the credit card and how to do all the paperwork involved, at least the bare bones of it.
She quailed at first but picked it up pretty quickly. Donnie left and I smiled at her. This might work actually. I’d have to put some more thought into it.
“Come on Sunshine. I’m starving.” I went back to my station and showed her where the break room was. She sat with me and I shared my food with her. The woman could cook.
“Are you the only one who works here?” she asked.
“Naw. The rest of the guys are doing a show at the convention center this week. I own half of this pace with a buddy of mine.” Her eyes widened.
“Oh.” She took another small bite of her food.
“Found an apartment today.” I said and she looked up sharply, I was graced with two smiles in one night.
“Where at?” she asked.
“Not far from the clubhouse or the shop so it’s pretty ideal.” I said.
“It’s a two bedroom so you’ll have a room of your own.” She leaned back in her seat and I tilted my head, looking at her.
“What’s the matter Babe?” I asked.
“I really don’t have the words to say thank you for everything you’ve done for me.” She murmured.
“Just live.” I told her. She cocked her head and looked at me curiously.
“Get away from him, get a divorce, just live a life.” I put my hand on the small table between us. She looked at it plaintively.
“I’m scared. I’m his property, he’s not going to let me go without some kind of fight and he’s cold, calculating, he doesn’t fight fair.” Her voice was toneless, desolate and saturated with too much of her ugly reality for my tastes.
“Then we fight, and we fight dirtier.” I said. Her hand crept up over the edge of the table and she put it within touching distance of my own.
“I’m not very good at fighting.” She said, shifting in her seat.
“I think you’re better at it than you realize.” I said, thinking back on what she’d told me… full ride scholarships as a foster kid weren’t easy to come by. Living under her monster ex’s roof for over eight years as his punching bag wasn’t a walk in the park either.
I went the last bit of distance and covered her hand with my own.
“You got people in your corner now Babe. Think about it.” I gave her hand a squeeze and heard the door chime out front. I got up and left her in the break room. It was my next customer. Some chick wanting a butterfly on her hip. I told her to come on back and asked Ashton to watch the front. She slipped into the desk chair Chris had been in not an hour before and I took my client and her guy back to my work space.
Ashton rang them up like a pro after having only been shown how to do it once and when they left she turned to me, golden gaze far too serious.
“I want to fight,” she murmured and I gave her a good hard look.
“Okay Babe,” I told her. “We start tomorrow so we gotta get up early.” She nodded and I went back to my station to clean up. I was proud of her. The next client went smoothly and I finished ahead of time but I had a walk in right before the shop was supposed to close. Ashton said she was game to wait so I put a few extra bones in my pocket and did what the chick wanted. A little flower on her ankle.
We rode back to the club house, Ashton pressed tight against my back which had my cock pressed tight against my jeans. We slept soundly and in the morning I was woken by her crawling back up onto the bed, a cup of steaming strong black coffee in her hand. She held it out to me.
“What time is it?” I groaned.
“A little after seven.” She said softly.
“What the fuck Ashton?” I asked and she went very still. I cursed myself when she slipped off the bed, putting distance between us.
“You said we had to get up early.” She reminded me gently.
“Shit.” I swore softly. Partly because she was right and I was being an ass, partly because I was sporting some serious morning wood and her sitting there in my shirt wasn’t helping any.
“I’m sorry.” She whispered and I shook my head, my hair brushing along my shoulders. I scrubbed my face with my hands and sat up, putting my back against the scarred wooden headboard.
“Nothing to be sorry about sunshine. You’re right and I’m up.” I looked her over.
“Breakfast is in the kitchen… I hope oatmeal is all right.” she picked up her caddy of shower supplies.
“It’s perfect…” I said leaving the rest of my thought silent… What I wanted to say was It’s perfect, kind of like you, but to be honest, that kind of scared the hell out of me. I shouldn’t be thinking those things. I took a hefty swallow of coffee and she nodded once and slipped out the door.
It dawned on me that she didn’t know what I had planned and that she was ready and willing to go along with whatever I said at this point. That took a hell of a lot of balls for someone in her position. I finished off the coffee in three long gulps, got my ass out of bed and found a vacant shower. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t take an extra-long one to relieve some of the… tension… being near Ashton of the sunlit eyes caused me.
I dressed in a newer looking pair of light jeans, my usual boots and a white crew neck tee. I pulled on a black and red checkered flannel with the sleeved rolled tight above the elbow and pulled my hair into a pony tail. I tucked my digital camera into the breast pocket of the flannel and went out to the common room.
I found Ashton out near the kitchen and looked down at her. She was polished in her white sundress and sandals, her long hair French braided tightly down her back. Her fading bruises still stark against her pale skin.
“How are we doing this?” she asked, placing a bowl of oatmeal in front of me when I sat down. She sat across from me with her own.
“We’re going to the cops. That way you can tell them you aren’t missing, and then we’re showing them these.” I turned on the camera and flashed through photos of her injuries when they were fresh. She paled.
“When did you take these?” she asked.
“After Doc sedated you, before he patched you up.” I said quietly. She looked like she was trying to swallow one bitter fucking pill. Finally she nodded.
“Thank you for thinking ahead.” She murmured.
“No problem.” I said, tucking the camera away.
“How is this fighting dirty?” she asked.
“What’s the only thing your husband cares about?” I asked quietly.
“His image.” She responded immediately.
“Yeah?” I asked. I saw her eyes light up as what I was proposing dawned on her.
“He’ll kill me for sure.” She murmured.
“He’s gotta go through me and probably the MC first babe.” I said and she stared at the table top.
She was scared. I could see it all over her face. The woman was an open book that way, but finally she looked up, eyes misting with tears and she nodded. I borrowed Dragon’s truck to take her. He and I had discussed at length involving the cops ad we both agreed it was the best course of action. We’d put it to a vote and had barely eked out a yay vs nay on suspending our other operations until this blew over.
Doc had swung the vote like I knew he would. Still we had one more run in the next few weeks, something we’d worked too long and too hard on, so we would go through with that one. I’d worry about it when we got there though.
I pulled up in front of the sheriff’s department and went in with Ashton. She went to the front desk.
“Can I help you ma’am?” The deputy asked looking from her to me and back to her.
“Yes my name is Ashton Granger,” she said gently and followed it with, “… and I’m not missing… I’m hiding.”
God damn she was a fighter all right.
Chapter 8
Ashton…
“You say you took these when?” the detective was speaking to Ethan, not me but still, I could feel my pulse throbbing at my temples. I felt hot and cold at the same time, and my chest was tight. I could barely breathe…
“Friday night, just after I found her.” He grunted.
We had stuck completely with the truth with only one minor embellishment. Rather than explain why Ethan hadn’t taken me to a hospital, which truth be told, I didn’t even know why… we’d said that I had begged him not to. We’d been here over an hour, the detective in charge of my missing person’s case going over every detail of our story forwards and backwards. I felt ill. I felt like I was a suspect, rather than a victim even though I really didn’t want to be either.
“I just want my driver’s license, birth certificate and social security card.” I said finally, “Then I want a divorce attorney and to walk away from this whole ordeal.” I looked the detective in the eye.
“You can’t know what it’s like living with him.” I said. Tears spilled hot and fresh down my cheeks and I didn’t bother to wipe them away.
“You understand your husband has to be notified you’ve been found.” He said.
“Yes but do you have to tell him where I am?” I asked.
“No…” the detective drawled.
“Then please don’t.” I said.
“You understand that you wasted a lot of people’s time and valuable police resources by not coming forward sooner, don’t you Mrs. Granger?” he asked, and I didn’t at all care for his tone. Ethan didn’t either.
“That’s it, we’re done.” He said standing.
“Sit down Mr. Howard.” The detective said sharply and I stood up.
“I would like to speak to your superior.” I said softly and that shut him up.
“Mrs. Granger…” I huffed out a breath. If I was going to learn to fight, I supposed now was as good a time as any.
“No. We are quite done detective. My husband has been keeping me prisoner in our home for the better part of the eight years of our marriage. He has beaten me, he has taken…” I stumbled over the ugly truth, “He has taken me by force, and you… you stand there affronted when I finally escaped him over attempting to find me when I didn’t wish to be found? I don’t think so. Send in your superior officer. I am done with your admonishments and I refuse to take your corrections.” I dropped into my seat, chest heaving.
At no point had I risen my voice. I had not yelled, I had not screamed though every fiber of my being wanted me to, yet still I felt as if I had run a marathon. I swallowed and clutched my hands together in my lap to quell their shaking. Ethan was looking at me, concern etched upon his face until he turned to a very pale and very speechless Detective Olurund and said.
“I think you better do what the lady asks…” and amazingly, things went much more smoothly after that.
I filed charges through a detective in the domestic violence unit and was told if there was anything that I needed to retrieve from my home with Chadwick that a Sherriff’s Department detail would accompany me that afternoon to do so. I had stated that I would like that very much and a time to meet had been appointed for four o’clock. Ethan had guided me out of the building, a fat sheaf of papers riding in his back pocket. We stepped out of the dimly lit police station into the warm sunlight yet I remained chilled to the bone.
I had done it. I had stood up for myself, so why did all I want to do was fall apart screaming and crying onto the sidewalk? I didn’t understand…
“Ashton Baby what’s wrong?” Ethan knelt down in front of me to bring us eye to eye.
“I don’t know…” I murmured and my voice sounded far away even to me.
“
You did it babe and I am so proud of you so what’s got you down?” he asked. “Tell me what you’re feeling.” He gripped my shoulder lightly and his warm, clear eyes snapped into focus.
“I feel…” how did I feel? Lost, angry, confused sure, but also fierce and proud and even a little elated but looming beyond all that… scared. Scared about how Chadwick would react, would he let me go? Would he try to kill me? Would he put on his angel’s mask and make me out to be a raving lunatic? I stared into Ethan’s silvery blue eyes and felt so terribly guilty that he had become my lifeline in all of this. I must have spoken all of these things aloud because he smiled and said to me,
“Don’t you worry about any of that, I knew what I was signing up for and I’m here, aren’t I? Truth be told, there’s no place I’d rather be. Now c’mon, I’m not going anywhere on you. We gotta go back to the club house. We’re bringing some reinforcements to go get your stuff.” He took me gently by the hand and we went back to the truck.
As scared as I was about what was going to happen to me, I believed in what Ethan said whole heartedly. He was here and he wasn’t going anywhere. Don’t ask me how I knew that those words above all others carried weight, but they did.
We drove back to the club house in silence, hands linked, resting between us on the old pickup’s bench seat.
That afternoon in what Ethan had called “colors” but was really just him, Doc, Dragon and Reaver in their motorcycle club vests came out. The old pickup, with me and Chandra in it, was escorted by four motorcycles, two in front and two in back through the rich suburban neighborhood I had lived in with Chadwick.
Dragon and Ethan were in front, Doc and Reaver followed up behind. A county Sherriff’s cruiser sat in front of the gate when we arrived. I got out of the truck and went to the key pad. I punched in the five digit access code and the gate rolled aside. I had seen Chadwick punch it in often enough to know it was his birthdate. 52781.
Chadwick and our head of security, Maynard, was waiting at the top of the drive. His hazel eyes smoldered as I got out of the truck, knees turning to jelly. He strode towards me. I plastered myself flat against the truck and threw up my hands in defense as he started screaming at me but Ethan was suddenly there as were the two Sherriff deputies, a man and a woman, placing themselves between me and him.
