by Brook Wilder
“You need to come with me,” Prescott said to Della, ignoring Kate entirely.
Della’s reaction was far from comforting. She moved closer to Kate, her face pale and her expression nervous.
Prescott held his hands out to show he meant no harm.
“I told you before that I won’t hurt you, and I meant it. If you come with me, I won’t let anything happen to you. No one will hurt you. But I do need you to come with me. It’s important.”
He looked into her eyes so she could see his sincerity. An array of expressions played across her face, but he thought she might be considering it. He was so close to nailing Al that he could almost taste it.
Della felt Kate pull again on her arm. She had no idea what was going on, or how her life had taken such a turn for the strange.
And dangerous.
How could this have happened? She was nobody.
Kate was still pulling on her arm, and Della gave in. A part of her believed Prescott when he said he wouldn’t let her be hurt, but she also knew she’d be crazy to go with him now.
“I’m sorry, but it’s late, and I, uh… we have to go,” she mumbled.
When Kate pulled her out the door, she half expected Prescott to follow. He didn’t.
They made their way home quickly and quietly. Kate didn’t let go of Della’s arm until they were safely inside their apartment with the door locked behind them. As soon as the deadbolt slid into place, Kate was on Della.
“Who was that?” she demanded.
“I tried to tell you. His name is Prescott. He found me earlier, wanted to ask me about the accident.”
“How did he know you were there for the accident?” Kate asked, her voice shrill with fear and nerves.
“I don’t know. He wouldn’t tell me how he figured it out. He told me all he wanted was information, so I gave him a vague answer.”
“I can’t believe this,” Kate said, running her hand through her hair. “I can’t believe this. You were right all along. We’re in danger. They know about us. Oh my God, does he know where we live?”
“I don’t know,” Della said. “Maybe. But I don’t think Prescott is dangerous.”
“Oh, please,” Kate scoffed. “You were the one who was terrified of every motorcycle you saw.”
“I know, but… Prescott didn’t strike me as dangerous. I felt like he was genuinely concerned for my safety, like he really just wanted information. And the campus police didn’t seem bothered by him.”
“Della,” Kate said, reaching up to massage her forehead. “You are so naïve. The cops were probably too scared of him to say anything. You don’t know these guys, what they do… This Prescott guy is a criminal. Plain and simple. Trust me when I say he’s far from innocent.”
Della understood Kate’s side of things. A part of her even agreed with her roommate. After all, she’d felt the same things about Prescott when she’d first seen him. Still, it was hard to convince herself not to trust him. There was something in the way he’d looked and acted, the gentleness of his touch when he’d shaken her hand. The situation just didn’t feel as black and white as Kate was making it out to be.
“Just stay away from the biker,” Kate said, sounding tired. “You’ve got other problems right now anyway.”
Della pulled her thoughts away from Prescott to focus on Kate’s words.
“What do you mean?” she asked, frowning.
“Simon,” Kate said, draping herself over the couch dramatically. “I don’t know what you said to him, but he’s on a rampage.”
“You were the one who told me to be straight with him!” Della said, exasperated.
“I know, because you couldn’t spend the rest of your graduate career with him drooling on your shoulder. But he’s way more unhinged than I thought. I’m starting to worry about what he might do.”
“Maybe I should go with Prescott after all,” Della said, trying to keep her tone light. “He protected me from Simon once already, and he promised to keep me safe.”
“Don’t even think about it,” Kate said, pointing an accusing finger at Della.
“Don’t worry. I was joking.”
Even as she said the words, Della wondered if she wasn’t perhaps a little bit serious about the idea. Prescott was obviously stronger than Simon, and he was much more accustomed to fighting. With him at her side, she wouldn’t have to worry about the creepy stalker from class.
It was an awfully tempting thought.
She said nothing else to Kate that night, just went to her room and got ready for bed.
But the idea of finding Prescott lingered in her mind.
CHAPTER FIVE
Prescott slammed his drink down on the table and leaned forward, staring into the glass. A week had passed already, and he was still kicking himself for letting that girl slip through his fingers. His one witness. The person who could help him avenge his father’s death.
“Take it easy,” Shaft said.
“How can you say that?” Prescott asked. “This is bullshit and you know it.”
“It is bullshit,” Shaft agreed, “but you can’t drink your troubles away. You need to stay sharp.”
“She knew what had happened, Shaft. She’d seen it.”
“She told you that?”
“No, but I think she would have. If her freaking roommate hadn’t walked in on us, I would have had the whole story. She was seconds away from talking.”
“Or she really didn’t see anything,” Shaft mused. “You said yourself that street was dark. I believe you that Della and the roommate were there, but they’re outsiders. They probably didn’t even understand what they were seeing.”
Prescott finished off his beer. He usually appreciated his best friend’s ability to keep a level head, but right now it was pissing him off. Della knew way more than she was letting on, and Prescott was sure of it.
“Listen,” Shaft said. “We don’t have to drop the witness idea entirely, but I want you to think twice about going back to this girl. No one’s going to like the idea of you bringing an outsider into club business. I don’t even like the idea, and I’m on your side.”
“They’d bring her in if they knew what she knew.”
“What you think she knows,” Shaft corrected.
Prescott just gave him a look. Shaft raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.
“Just do me a favor and slow down a little, okay? The Varangians are swearing up and down they had nothing to do with this kill. That might lead somewhere. You might not even have to bring in a witness.”
“Fuck that,” Prescott growled. “I swear to God, Shaft, I’m going to get that girl to talk. And when I do –”
His rant was interrupted by a new arrival in the room. The last person Prescott wanted to see – Smilin’ Al himself. He walked right over to where Prescott and Shaft were sitting.
“Mind if I borrow Prescott for a minute?” he asked Shaft, punctuating the sentence with one of his signature smiles.
“Sure,” Shaft said, shrugging.
He picked up his beer and left the table. Al slid into the vacated chair and looked at Prescott with an expression that looked like it was trying for sympathetic. Prescott silently cursed Shaft for leaving him alone with this psycho. His body went tense all over, and he had to fight the urge to break Al’s jaw right then and there.
“How are you holding up, son?” Al asked.
Prescott bristled at being called “son” by the very man who had killed his father. He nearly said as much, but bit his tongue at the last second. Angry as he was, he knew better than to start something with Al right now. Maybe Shaft had rubbed off on him a little bit, but he took a deep breath and responded calmly.
“I’ve been better.”
“I can imagine,” Al said, still playing the part of the concerned father figure. “I know it must be hard for you right now. I was hoping you’d understand that’s why I’ve been diverting your responsibilities. You have enough to deal with right now.”
Out loud he said, “I understand.”
“I’m glad. Like I said, it’s in your best interest to take a step back right now. But it’s only temporary. Everything will go back to normal soon.”
Bullshit.
Prescott nodded, not trusting himself to respond out loud anymore. He was gripping his beer glass so hard he feared it might break. That would be problematic.
“I’m here if you need to talk,” Al said.
His phone rang at that moment, and he pulled it out of his pocket. Prescott listened intently to the conversation, but couldn’t hear what was being said on the other end.
“Hello? Yeah… You sure?” Al turned his body away from Prescott as he spoke. “Is the information good? Okay… yeah.”
Al hung up the phone and turned back to Prescott, smiling for all he was worth.
“Do me a favor and get everybody together. We need to have a meeting.”
Normally Prescott would have hated to jump up at Al’s bidding, but at this point he was glad to get away. He left the table as quickly as he could without looking like he was running away. He would never allow Al to see how much he got to Prescott. If Prescott was being honest with himself, the older man scared him a little bit. He always had.
The meeting started up a few minutes later, with everyone around the table. Prescott was sitting next to Shaft. He looked around at all the familiar faces, his brothers, and wondered how many of them would stab him in the back at Al’s bidding. Shaft was right that he had to play this smart, but he hated sitting still and doing nothing.
“Right,” Al said, standing in Charles’ old spot at the head of the table. “We’ll get right into it. The Varangians are denying responsibility for Charles’ death.”
There was a small upset at this, angry grumbles and threats against the Varangians. Al nodded along, but also motioned for silence.
“Obviously this is bullshit,” he said. “We all know they’re guilty, whether they admit it or not. I want you to know that we’re not going to stand for this. No matter how long it takes, I’m going to get revenge for Charles. That is my promise.”
Prescott stared at the table. His fist was clenched so tight, his knuckles were turning white. This bastard was standing there, in Prescott’s father’s place, and lying to everyone. It made him sick to his stomach.
The meeting continued, but Prescott didn’t hear a word of what was said. He could guess at it anyway. Al was going to use this murder to fuel his crusade against the Varangians. He was going to carry out the plans that Charles had wanted to put on hold. It all made sense now. Killing Charles got rid of the opposition, and pinning it on the Varangians gave them the excuse they needed to take over the Canadians’ territory. It was all falling into place, wrapped up in a bow for Al, since no one would stand against him.
No one but Prescott.
He wasn’t going to let this lie. He was going to fight to his last breath. It was going to come down to him to truly avenge his father’s memory.
As soon as the meeting was over, Prescott was out the door. Shaft tried to stop him to ask where he was going, but Prescott ignored him. He went out to his bike, started it up, and rode off. As he rode, he imagined killing Al in various, gruesome ways. His thirst for vengeance quickly melted into a new thought. A face swimming into his mind, beautiful and beguiling.
Prescott turned his bike in the direction of the college campus.
Della was dreaming of a long, empty road. She felt a little disoriented, but not scared or nervous. Because she had nothing better to do, she started walking. Just picked a direction and walked.
Suddenly the roar of a bike filled her ears, and Della turned to see Prescott approaching on his motorcycle. He pulled his bike up just ahead of her on the road and swung around to look at her. He didn’t say anything, just waited. Della went to him, noting the tight t-shirt under his leather kutte.
As soon as she was close enough, he reached out and pulled her to him. His lips came down on hers and his hands rose to cup her jaw on either side. She kissed back eagerly, parting her lips for him so he could explore her mouth with his tongue. He made a hungry noise in the back of his throat and pulled her onto the bike with him.
Della couldn’t remember what she was wearing, or if she was wearing anything at all. She could only feel his hands exploring her body, pushing at fabric. Maybe she was in a dress, and maybe she was wearing a shirt and jeans. Dimly, she could feel moisture pooling between her legs.
There was a sound of tearing fabric, and suddenly she was naked from the waist up, with Prescott pushing some material off of her. Her breasts were bared to him, completely exposed. Rather than cover herself, she allowed his gaze to bore into her. His dark eyes drank her in for a long moment before he leaned down and began sucking and licking the sensitive flesh of her neck. Della moaned as his thumbs found her nipples, tracing circles around them, making them grow hard.
It didn’t seem strange to Della that they were both naked now. Prescott’s muscles were taut and enticing. He was looking at her with a fiery passion, watching her as his fingers traveled up her thigh to her throbbing lower lips. Della sighed appreciatively as he began to stroke her. He put an arm around her to hold her steady as he leaned forward and captured one of her nipples in his mouth. Her need grew as she felt him suckling at her breast. She reached up and held his head against her, sighing and moaning as his fingers continued to work their magic below.
His hard erection was apparent where it rested against her body. She knew she should take care of him like he was doing for her. As soon as she thought it, their position on the bike changed. She was sitting with her back to the handlebars, and he was in front of her. Reaching out, she wrapped her hand around his thick shaft, stroking it. He leaned down and began nibbling her ear as she stroked him, nearly distracting her from the task.
She was so wet now, she didn’t think she could hold out any longer. Prescott seemed to sense that. He pulled her hand away from him and drew it up above her head, leaning her back against the handlebars. Della thought it would feel uncomfortable, but it was just like lying on a mattress. She opened her legs for him, more than ready to feel his hardness inside her. Prescott got hold of her other arm first, so he could hold both hands in one of his above her head. In this position, her breasts were thrust upwards toward him in a perfect display. He took a moment to kiss and lick them, then leaned over her. His gaze was more intense than ever. She felt him nudging between her legs, seeking entrance. She closed her eyes, preparing for the delicious feeling of him entering her.
That was when she woke up.
Cursing her luck, Della blinked blearily as reality sank back in. She was alone in her room and aroused beyond belief. Why couldn’t that dream have lasted just a little bit longer?
Della reached down to probe between her legs and her fingers were instantly coated in her own juices. With the dream fresh on her mind, she began to stroke herself. Closing her eyes, she tried to remember how Prescott’s fingers hand felt in the dream, touching and caressing her. In the dream, he had not been a hungry predator looking for easy prey; he had been making love to her.
Della remembered the feel of his thick shaft in her hand, the sensation of him suckling her. She continued to pleasure herself as she focused on the dream version of Prescott, trying not to think about how the dream would never become reality.
When she came, it was to her memory of Prescott’s eyes, hot and hungry as they looked at her. Her body shuddered, satisfied for the moment. Della felt much better, though she was a little wistful. It would have been nice to come with Prescott, draped in his arms.
Lying back in bed, she allowed herself to come down from the orgasm. She considered going back to sleep, but it was already morning. The sun was shining, and, like it or not, she was awake. She had to get up and face the day eventually.
Della got up reluctantly and went into the bathroom to brush her teeth and cl
ean up. She splashed some water on her face and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. It was early enough that she figured she could get in a quick jog before breakfast. She’d missed a couple days recently and figured there was no better time to get back into her exercise schedule.
Dressed in a sports bra, tank top, and sweats, Della set out. She did some quick warm up exercises and then started at a brisk pace, heading toward campus. The air was cool and refreshing. It helped wake her up the rest of the way and cleared her head. She also felt a lot of the tension that was left over from the past few days disappear.
No more distractions, Della thought.
Kate was right about Della needing to get back into the dating game. Della did find herself craving some male company every now and again. Especially after this morning. But now wasn’t the time. It was nearing the end of the semester and she needed to concentrate on passing her classes. Prescott was out of her life, and she would only need to deal with Simon if he became a problem again. For now, she was free to focus on her studies.
