The Land of Rabbits: Long Shot Love Duet (Book One)

by Aven Jayce

  “Yep.”

  “I’m a horrible influence.”

  I smile and take his hand, feeling just the opposite. “I make my own decisions. You haven’t swayed me in any way, if anything, you’ve opened my eyes. There’s a difference.”

  He stops and guides me closer, starting to finger comb my hair.

  “Are you trying to make me look pretty for the witch?” I tease.

  He grins and reaches under my collar, taking my gold heart necklace out from underneath the fabric. “You are pretty.” His hands move behind my neck, his fingers working to unhook the chain.

  “Hey.” I place my hand over it so it’s not removed. “What are you doing?”

  “I didn’t see you wearing this down by the river.”

  “I didn’t have it there. I got it from my room when Nadine was making us breakfast.”

  “You should hide it.”

  “Why?”

  “Roxanne’s an ass about stuff like this. We’re not allowed to have any personal items in view. You can keep it, just don’t flaunt it. That’s what bothers her the most. She said it causes too many fights within the group. She wants us all to have the same things—food, shelter, and clothing. No identities. No personalities other than the ones she assigns us.” He puts the necklace in the pocket of my duffle bag and we keep walking.

  “My mom gave me that. I can’t lose it.”

  “We’ll hide it on the grounds, maybe out by the barn.”

  I nod. “So what else do I need to know?”

  “The retreat should be quiet today since it’s the beginning of the week. Mondays and Tuesdays are dead time. It’s when we take care of the grounds and the main building, upkeep and maintenance. The employees here don’t just fuck, they clean the pool, mow the lawn, trim the bushes, and cut the wood for the fire pits.”

  “And all that work is in exchange for food and a place to sleep, no cash at all?”

  “And a hot shower and an open bar. It’s fair. No one ever complains about not getting paid. It’s like having a parent care for you and you’re assigned chores.”

  “Except we’re not twelve.”

  He laughs and looks back, hearing a car door slam.

  “I bet that’s Trent.”

  “Let’s keep walking. I don’t want to see that jerk.” I glance over my shoulder down the winding drive, unable to see if it’s him. “What else?”

  “Well... when we’re not working, we can use the weight room, the pool, read, or hang out and talk.”

  “No TV, movies, stuff like that?”

  “No devices of any kind.”

  “What about my cell?”

  “No, you’ll have to get approval from Roxanne to make a call. Tell her you have to check in with your family and she’ll let you use the retreat’s phone, as long as she can listen in.”

  “For fuck’s sake, really?”

  “It’s not a big deal to any of us. We don’t have any of that stuff to begin with.”

  I send my aunt a text, saying we made it and that I’ll call in a day or two. “What if I hide my cell and tell her I don’t—”

  “Trust me. Give it to her when she asks.”

  My head turns when I hear Trent’s voice. “How’d they beat us?” he asks.

  “Your cousin’s car is shit, that’s how. And on top of that she drives like she’s a fucking old lady,” Dylan says.

  “At least she gave us a ride, dickwad.”

  “Hey, you up there, did you hitchhike?” Dylan calls to us. “Must’ve.”

  “Bad timing,” Quinn says under his breath. “I can’t believe my brother actually tagged along. What ‘til he meets Roxanne.”

  “You think she’ll hire him?”

  “No question. She’ll love him.”

  I look up the dirt drive and back behind us. “I don’t remember it being this long from the main road.”

  “That’s because you were in a car last time.” He squeezes my hand, ignoring the razzing remarks from Trent about being controlled by a pussy. “Are you nervous?”

  “About the cops? The pimp? Being here? The assholes behind us? Yes... but not like I was when we were in the restroom at the gas station. I thought I was gonna pass out from fright. I feel better now that we’re out of Albany.” I stop to slip off one of my sneakers, brushing a couple of stones off the bottom of my sore foot.

  “Shit Addie, you’re bleeding.” He bends down, lifting my foot. “Fuck, you’ve got like three blisters. You should’ve told me.”

  “They’ll heal. Besides, what were you gonna do, carry me?”

  “I would’ve figured something out... I could’ve packed the back of your sneaker with leaves or maybe some moss.”

  “Quinn.”

  “Hmm?” He helps me back into my sneaker, tying it loosely before we start walking again.

  “I also feel better because of you. You’re the first guy I’ve ever met who I think I can trust. And you put me first. I’ve never felt that. I’m used to people thinking about their own needs before mine, most of my exes were that way. You even stood up to your brother when he called me a bitch. It shows how much you care.”

  “I do care.”

  “Fuck, look at that place,” Dylan says, catching up to us.

  I turn and see Afterglow ahead, its giant windows ablaze, the black metal and red cedar exterior enveloped amongst tall pines.

  “It’s like a lighthouse, leading us to shore,” I whisper.

  “Lighthouses also warn of danger,” Quinn adds.

  “True.”

  “You guys are pathetic.” Trent speeds past us, knocking Quinn forward with a punch to his shoulder. “Let’s go. I want a beer and a fucking burger. I can smell ‘em cooking on the grill.”

  “Bro.” Dylan grabs Quinn’s shoulder, hanging back with us. “Trent said this bitch who owns the place hits you. What’s that about?”

  He shrugs. “She gets off on it. No big deal.”

  “Like, some BDSM shit or something?”

  “No, it’s all one-sided. I figured out early on it was a way to keep the job without sticking my dick in her.”

  He shakes his head, then walks faster to catch Trent. “I’ll never understand you, buddy.” He calls back... “An all-star athlete in high school and a good-looking kid who only let one woman touch his cock... I guess two now... it’s sad. I don’t think you’re an Ellis. You’ve got Mom’s blood in you more than Dad’s. Fucking pussy.”

  I wait until he’s out of earshot before I say, “He’s an ass.”

  “Yeah. I can’t argue with that.”

  “Why do you even talk to him? To either of them?”

  “Because he’s my brother... and I guess because I don’t have anyone else.”

  “You do now.”

  We step up the concrete stairs, my hand sliding along the iron railing, my face lit by a black iron chandelier hanging from large timbered beams sheltering the front entrance. I start to sweat and an immediate fear hits me as I enter the retreat. My heart’s in a sprint and my throat’s so tight it’s hard to swallow.

  I separate from Quinn, dropping my bag and sitting in a leather chair off to the side, close to the corridor leading to the rooms. Maybe it’s the fact that I’ve been awake for two days straight, or the fact that I haven’t eaten since the toast this morning, or the thought that I killed someone that keeps creeping back into my head, but something’s making me dizzy. My ears are popping. My legs are tottering. My feet are stinging. Quinn’s voice is muffled. Fuck.

  I lower my head between my legs, gazing at the hardwood floor.

  “You okay? Need some water?” Quinn asks, getting a nod in response.

  His feet disappear, returning a minute later, handing me a glass. I lift my head and thank him with a weary smile.

  “You need to sleep. It’s been a long fucking day.”

  “Two days,” I correct him, finishing the water and placing the empty glass on a
side table.

  “Maybe taking some deep breaths will help calm you down.”

  The office door behind the front desk opens and Roxanne walks out. She looks like she’s posing for a photo shoot—one hand slinking up the doorframe, rising high above her head, the other unbuttoning her blouse—her body language full of desire when she catches sight of Dylan.

  “Shit,” Dylan grumbles.

  Her blouse hangs open to flaunt her big tits. Giant tits. I forgot about those things.

  With a lick of her finger, she circles her nipple, bringing it to erection. “Well looky what we have here.” She struts over to Dylan, her raspy voice still hanging in the air. “What did you bring me, Tyler? New meat?”

  “Tyler?” Dylan looks at Trent.

  “It’s my name here, get used to it.”

  “I asked for Quinn, but he’s even better,” she says.

  Dylan rubs his hands together, widening his stance to present his body to her. “Yeah, I’ve got a big piece of meat for you. I could use a good fuck that isn’t interrupted by these two douchebags.” He glares at us.

  “Who?” She looks around, seeing us off to the side.

  In her black two-inch heels and skin-tight jeans, she gestures with a finger to come closer. The four of us form a line, shoulder to shoulder, facing her large exposed breasts as she paces.

  She stops in front of Dylan, sizing him up, doing the same with Quinn, then continues to saunter before us while we stand in silence.

  “Brothers?”

  “Yep,” Dylan says, cracking his knuckles. “Only I like to fuck.”

  She releases a wicked laugh and slides her hand down his chest, stopping over his dick.

  “Take it out.”

  He takes off his shirt, drapes it over her shoulder, unzips, and places his hands on the back of his head.

  “Work for it,” he says.

  “My, my.” She reaches in his jeans and pulls out his semi-erect cock, giving it a stroke.

  “It’ll be double that size in a minute. Good enough?”

  She studies his tat then brings him forward by his dick, directing him to turn around.

  “Nice body. You’re definitely Quinn’s brother... fresh out of prison?” she asks. “Tats like that are from behind bars. Straight black, no shading... what did the guy use, a paperclip?”

  “Pen.”

  “Does the break in the necklace mean bad luck?”

  “It means my mom split. No need to mix superstition with the rosary.”

  “A religious boy?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “Sometimes when? For holidays?”

  “I’m religious when God’s my last chance.”

  “At what?”

  “Life.”

  “Mm-kay... any sort of infections? Hepatitis? AIDS?”

  “Fuck no.”

  “Hmm, you don’t seem the type to care.”

  “Neither do you, and if you’re not gonna suck the beast in your hand, tuck it in.”

  She squints at his assertiveness, stroking his length until he’s fully erect before clutching his nuts. He lurches forward, unable to disguise that he’s in serious pain.

  “Don’t. You. Dare,” she warns. “Being defiant under my roof will get you nowhere.”

  “Cut the shit. Can I stay, or what?”

  She releases him and walks over to Trent, holding his jaw and turning his head, examining his damaged face. “What happened to you?”

  “Just a fight.”

  “You two in trouble?” She walks over to Quinn, fingering his busted lip. “If the police are involved, I don’t care, officers show up here all the time. They’re not coming for you. Not if they want to be called out in the papers for visiting my retreat in the past. No one’s stupid enough to raid my place for a couple of homeless kids... but if someone else is after you, I need to know.”

  “No one’s after us,” Trent says. “It’s cool. We were just drunk.”

  “Is that right, Quinn?” She cradles his chin, checks his face, then spins him around, noticing the claw marks on the back of his neck. “Tyler, if you lie to me again, a broom handle’s going so far up your ass it’ll come out your ear, now answer my fucking question. What the fuck happened? You’re walking into my home, beaten, lying, bringing two extras along.” She approaches me and seizes my neck. “And what the hell am I supposed to do with you?”

  I tighten my lips, trying to remember why I thought this would be a good idea.

  “What? Everyone’s mute? Speak up if you want to stay.”

  “I-I’ll... I’ll do whatever you want. I’m a good cook, I can clean the rooms, give me a job and I’ll do it.”

  She grips my hair and yanks my head back, my eyes wide when her hand slithers under my shirt. “Tell me why the fuck you’re here. Answer me!”

  I’m set free, right when Quinn’s about to attack.

  “Tyler.” She marches over with an open palm. “Give me your gun. I know it’s on you. You can have it back when you leave. And if any of you have cells or weapons, take ‘em out.” She snatches his gun and cell then grabs mine from my hand, slamming all three on the lobby desk. “You can stay.” She points to Trent. “Show your friend to my room then get cleaned up.” She turns to Dylan and tosses him his shirt. “Shower when you get into my room then get in my bed. Stay erect. Your cock bringing in money isn’t only about its size. Prove you can use it and you can stay.”

  They leave the lobby, laughing like this is all big fun. Assholes.

  “And Quinn, prep for me in the basement.”

  “What? I just got here. Why?”

  “Your punishment for leaving. I don’t want it to happen again.”

  “You fired me.”

  “I said go to the basement.” Her arm shoots toward the hallway leading to the back of the retreat. “Move it!”

  “What about Adlyn?”

  She smacks him on the back of the head, but he doesn’t budge.

  “Why did you come back here if you’re going to act this way? You’ve been a nasty boy since day one.”

  “How much money have you lost with me being gone?”

  “It doesn’t matter. I’ll hire a professional if it comes to that.”

  “Sure, hire a guy, but what’s he gonna say about the way this place runs? Don’t treat me like I’m dumb. What you just said goes against your entire concept of Afterglow. You won’t be bringing in the huge profits if you start paying your employees. You’re talking shit.”

  She takes a step closer, a long-nailed finger tapping his chest. “If you recall, you were a complete failure your first month. I kept you on because of that face.”

  “Yeah, but then I became godlike to these women. They want me, not a new hire. I’ve got the upper hand. Adlyn stays.”

  She pinches his nipples and twists, bringing him to his knees in an instant.

  “Son of a bitch!” He grabs her wrists, causing her to squeeze even harder. “Fuck!”

  “Are you trying to cut a deal?”

  “Yes. Damn it.” He pants. “I am!”

  “If I have to wait a month or two for another boy to learn your skills, I will. It’s better than your mouth. Now buck up, or get out!”

  He pulls back, rubbing his chest. “Face it Roxanne, I’m talented. Good luck finding my replacement.”

  He rises, standing tall with his hands behind his back, fighting for us to stay, acting arrogant and using every reason he can think of to turn this in our favor. “My brother will make up for ten men, he’ll be your best fuck yet, and I’ve got the patience and the hands for the massages.”

  “Great. I still don’t need her.”

  “Fine.” I pick up my duffle bag and toss Quinn his pack, walking to the door. “We’re leaving. We’ll find someplace else to go, like west. Far west. All the way to the fucking ocean.” I reach my hand for his, but he doesn’t move. “What?”

  “It’s been a day sin
ce... we shouldn’t be walking the roads for a while.”

  “Quinn, we don’t even know if—”

  “Exactly. We don’t know, so let’s stay out of sight.”

  I drop the bag, and lower my head, hoping Roxanne will take pity on me... although I’m sure she won’t.

  “What?” I sigh. “What do I need to do?”

  Her lighter flicks... once... twice... and I hear a long inhale. Seconds later, there’s a rapid exhale and a short cough coming from behind the desk—the air is filled with pot smoke and the scent of spicy cologne. That’s not Roxanne.

  I look up, seeing a guy about my age taking off a black sport coat. He lays it on the counter next to a smoldering bowl; his heavily tattooed arms and muscular chest are outlined with a fitted grey tee. Handsome, except for his mutilated earlobes which are easy to spot, sticking out like a sore thumb beside his chiseled jawline and straight white teeth—an extreme blemish amongst beauty.

  He swaggers toward us—not a walk but a swagger—his shiny black oxfords sounding like tap shoes on the wooden floor.

  Both he and Quinn are the same height and build, one running his ringed fingers through his light blond mop, swooping it to the side and back, the other scratching the top of his short brown hair. Amber eyes scrutinizing spaced-out blues—poverty in the company of wealth.

  “What are we dealing with?” His thunderous voice echoes through the open two-story room.

  “One’s a return, the other’s new,” Roxanne says.

  He pulls out a gun from the back of his jeans, using the barrel to scratch his neck before racking the slide and pointing it at Quinn.

  “This your wife, girlfriend, sister? What?”

  Quinn steps back and the guy steps forward, following him until his back hits the wall. “She’s my girl.” He speaks quickly, raising his arms and surveying the gun.

  “You won’t get it out of my hand so stop looking at it.” He grins like mad. “Did Roxanne ask you to go into the basement?”

  “Yes.”

  “So why aren’t you down there?”

  “I’m not leaving Addie until I know she can stay.”

  “Protective... I like that.” He lowers the gun. “That’s good for a relationship, but not for my business.”

  “Your business? Who the hell are you?”