Brett enjoyed the breeze that encircled his skin, a sharp contrast to her scorching flesh that teased him. She had grown sufficiently moist during her petting, and slid her smooth legs over so that she could straddle him and take him inside her warm folds.
Leaning over him, she moved in slow motion, waiting for his desire to be ignited and persuade him to take the lead. She did not have to wait long before he grasped the roundness of her rear end and lifted his hips to push himself inside her in short quick thrusts. She could feel him hitting that special spot within her as she held herself up in a position between lying and sitting and her eyes rolled uncontrollably as her body trembled.
She clawed at his shoulders as her limbs shook, the weakened tickle in her hands confirming he had finished her with ease. There had been few men to ever do this for her. She realized this as she stared down into his green eyes, unable to move, feeling the heaviness after being slaked.
Brett had finished himself almost as soon as her tremors began, and lay stroking the length of her back, meeting her stare without remorse. My fallen angel, he thought to himself as he held her, the only woman I’ve ever cared to own.
Soon, the cool air became too much, and the pair worked their way between the sleeping bags, snuggling against one another for warmth. Tori lay in the crook of his arm, stroking the few hairs that dotted his broad chest with her left hand.
An older man, Brett would be near fifty best she could determine. He had been a cohort of Red and Eddie, and she wondered exactly when, how and why they had met. Trying to be casual about the question, she put it to him in a gentle whisper, “So, you were an old friend of the guys?”
Reaching up with his right hand, he caught her wandering fingers and laced them with his own. Holding her hand against his chest, he deliberated his words, suspecting gleaning the information to be the real reason she had lain with him so readily. “Men like Eddie an’ Red Farrell don’ have frien’s.” Rubbing his thumb along the crease of her hand, he waited.
Tori lay still for a moment, listening to the thump of his heart inside his chest. She found the sound comforting, like the nights she had lain next to Henry in the darkness of Brazil. Before any man had touched her; before she knew what the world was like.
Allowing him to keep her hand, she pushed herself up onto her right elbow so she could stare into his face. “You don’t trust me, do you?” Her tone flat, she assumed she was correct in her assessment.
Meeting her gaze, Brett continued to take his time in responding. “I knew th’ men that raised you. I can’t say that I have much faith in what you say an’ do.” Seeing the pain flicker across her face before she squashed it, he clarified, “It ain’t yur fault, ya know. They did it t’ you. Made you cold… calculated. It served their purpose.”
Staring at his lips, “And what exactly was their purpose?” She asked the question, but she already knew the answer. She wanted to hear what he would say. I want to know how much he knows.
“I know who you are, baby girl.” His response surprised her, as that was not where she thought her words would lead. “They formed their plan almos’ as soon as we hired on with Th’ Organization. Twenty-one, twenty-two years ago now. It took almos’ a year for him to choose you. We rode together back then, but things were busy an’ we needed more guys.”
“I volunteered to head up a new group, put together th’ crew that rides with me now, what’s left of ‘em. That way the Dragons could hold up in Brazil while they trained you, only comin’ north when th’ seasons were right.” He toyed with her hair that hung over his hand behind her, caressing the warm flesh of her bare back.
“Who am I then, if I might be so bold?” She still didn’t even know her own name, so if he chose to lie, it wouldn’t matter. He didn’t, and the utterance brought a flood of new memories streaming into her crowded brain.
“Yur name was Nikki. Nichole Peters. Brian Peters changed his name to Madson when he became famous. He… is yur brother.” He spoke the words quietly, revealing how he had known which tree to shake to locate her. “Fortunately, I knew Eddie sent Michael Anderson, Henry’s brother, to watch him. Smart man Eddie was. Always planned ahead. He knew he might have to use Brian someday, in case you needed a li’l encouragement somewhere down the line. Tha’s why he didn’ take you ‘til it was jus’ you, and yur parents.”
“And how did he do that?” she asked quietly, not sure she really wanted to hear any more. My God, he knew everything, even before I told him what he wanted to know, she recalled the day she arrived in Ohio, and the night he had interrogated her.
“You don’ remember?” queried, surprised she had forgotten. “Think hard, baby girl. Tell me what you know.”
Frowning, Tori pulled her hand away, turning her back on him in the darkness. Clutching at the thick cloth in front of her chest, she suddenly wished she had gotten dressed; being naked next to him had grown uncomfortable.
Brett let her lie for a moment in her half curled position, giving her time to relax. Eventually, he spooned up behind her, laying his arm across her body in a protective manner, his face lying against the hair that covered her ear. Gripping her tightly, he breathed warm air across the side of her face and waited.
Bit by Bit
“I’ve been getting memories back for a while. Bit by bit. Should have known I would eventually have them all. Were you there? The day they took me?” She trembled beneath the covers and he tightened his arm around her.
“No. I knew th’ plan, but I had work t’ do, gatherin’ guys t’ form th’ Scorpions.” He nuzzled her ear as he spoke, enjoying the scent of her.
“I remember my brother. I remember us playing together, or rather me chasing after him. He was always telling me to go away. I hated that.” She sighed deeply at the memory, Brian never wanting her around, even when they were kids. She scowled, almost certain his name wasn’t Brian, either. At least, that’s not what I called him.
“That day, the day it all happened, we took him to some place with a green barn. Our grandparent’s place I think. I remember I wanted to stay there, but he wouldn’t let me. So we left. Afterwards, I was crying. I never liked not getting my way, and I was trying to make my parents feel bad about not leaving me at the farm.” She paused, the thought of them coming to her, the pictures she had seen in Brian’s study awakening a clear image of them in her mind.
“We stopped at a diner to eat. Mommy and daddy were trying to console me.” She spoke sharply, almost angry at the recollection and the pain its return had brought her. “They promised me a treat. But I wanted more. Our food had arrived, and some guys came in… guys in leather and boots. One of them touched me on top of the head as they passed behind my chair. I remember looking up at him. It was Red…” her voice trailed away, lost in the surging remembrances.
Not having any fear of the large man above her, the young girl had looked up at him and smiled. As soon as the two men were seated, her mother had insisted they had to leave, immediately. She never specified why, and Nikki’s father had been irritated, but willing to do as she requested.
Realizing they were leaving before she would get her bribe, Nikki grew angry again, loudly throwing a tantrum when they placed her into the back seat of their car. Pulling her favorite bear out of her bag, her mother twisted around from the front as her father drove, trying to quiet her and stop the flow of shrill shrieks.
Talking to her daughter soothingly, something out the back glass had frozen her face in fear, and Tori had ever since been haunted by the scream that escaped her mother’s lips the instant before the car was struck and spun off the road. That’s what she had dreamt so many times over the years. Her mother’s expression of horror, the scream, and the image of the fire after she had been pulled from the wreckage and placed on the motorcycle as shots rang out.
Nikki sat, straddling a bike and facing the man who carried her. She had dropped her bear, and leaned over to peer under his arm to find it, lying on the ground a short distance from the b
urning shell of their car. Clinging to the stranger, she had cried loudly, the wind of the bike scaring her as her long hair whipped around her shivering body.
She had no idea how far they had ridden. She only knew they stopped in a gas station and she was taken into the bathroom by one of the men. She later realized that it had been Eddie Farrell, who stripped her and gave her a new set of clothes to put on. Nikki had been upset at being made to remove her beloved dress, and wanted no part of the pants and long sleeved shirt that were placed before her.
Eddie laughed loudly as he grabbed her arms and forced the shirt over her head. Getting the pants onto her in a similar manner, he finished with a loud grunt, “Now, your new name is Tori. Tori Farrell. If anyone asks, that’s all you are allowed to say.” He poked her in the chest as he spoke to accentuate the word you, and must have thought she would be afraid of him, but on the contrary, she was pissed.
“My name is Nikki. Nikki Peters. Nichole Peters.” She had no fear of calling him wrong to his face, and he slapped her, the sting causing her eyes to burn. Tears running down her face, the argument continued for some time, his blows growing more incessant as he struck her on the arms and chest, and then legs, trying to drive his point home.
Eventually, another man pushed his way into the tiny room to inform the group’s leader that their display had become public knowledge; the attendant could hear their confrontation going on from outside. His blood boiling red across his face, Eddie had pointed to the girl, “You better fix this, or we’ll have to dump her.”
Something about the way this man had looked at her as Eddie went out to take care of the nosey clerk moved the little girl. His eyes were a deep chocolate, his hair a mix of sandy blonde and deep brown with glistening curls.
He knelt down on the bathroom floor in front of her, his words calm in his thick gruff voice, “Listen now, baby girl. You gotta use yur new name. If you don’, things’re gonna end badly fur you. I’m gonna take care o’ you if ya let me, but you can’t make Eddie mad like that. He’ll take you away from me if you do.”
Silently studying the gentle giant for a moment, the tears still dripped from her quivering chin. Standing, he reached over and grasped a handful of brown paper towels from the metal box on the wall. Wetting them in the sink, he washed her tiny cheeks. Staring at her crystal blue eyes, he soothed, “See, now that’s a good girl. I’m Henry. Henry Morgan.” He offered his hand to her and she shook it fearlessly.
A moment later, Eddie came back to the door, informing his group mate it was time to go. “Are we leavin’ her body here or is she comin’ with us?”
Hearing his tone, Tori reached to grasp Henry’s fingers as he replied, “Naw, man, she’s good. Jus’ needed a bit o’ persuadin’.” He smiled down at her upturned face and led her out to his bike, where she sat in front of him, facing him so that she could cling to his chest with his jacket wrapped around her as she rode.
Tori awoke the next morning in the early light of dawn, Brett still gripping her tightly, as he had held her while she cried herself to sleep. She felt so broken lying next to him, this man who had known the truth about her all these years, and done nothing about it. She felt angry at him, but in the end, what choice did he have?
Pushing back against him, she began to stretch, and he released his hold on her, allowing her to roll onto her back and face him. She had shared her memories with him, all that she had from the day her parents had died. She felt connected to him, tied in the sharing and the pain it had released, calming her somehow. Staring into his eyes, she waited patiently for him to decide his next move. When he stirred to kiss her, she parted her lips, equaling his fervor.
Moving above her, Brett separated her legs and made his way between them, taking her easily in the morning chill. The sleeping bag spread over them, their bodies meshed and collided while neither uttered a sound. Tori stared into his green eyes as he moved above her, her hands taking in the breadth of his strong shoulders and muscular chest. Gripping his warm red curls, she pulled his mouth to hers and kissed him eagerly, holding him until he had been satisfied, and they were ready to begin a new day.
Stubborn Women
Michael could tell something was wrong with her. He had been coming over for a couple of hours every other day or so for over a week. So far, he had cleaned up the yard, mowed the grass, and made sure all of the trees and shrubs had water. There had also been a large rosebush in the back that had long since been dead, and it took him the better part of a day to dig it up and remove it.
The first day he had arrived, Marge had given him another list of reasons she did not need his help. Ignoring her, he had settled on the outside chores, focusing on them until she trusted him enough to let him inside.
Going back into the house, she had pretended he wasn’t there, or tried to, cowering and peeking at him through windows until he had had enough of the work and the July heat, and headed home.
The second day, she had felt a little bolder, taking up a seat on the back steps to watch as he dealt with the weeds and grass out back. When he pulled off his shirt to combat the rising temperature, she had to admit he was a good looking man. She was after all old, not dead. Taking her time, she made her way into the kitchen to fetch him a glass of ice water, and gave him a small smile when he thanked her for it.
Tilting the container to drink it, his muscles rippled beneath the flesh on his chest, and she caught a glimpse of the small motorcycle hiding in the hairs there. Underneath it, she could scarcely make out the letters, T-O-R-I.
Noting her staring at the spot, Michael ran his hand across it anxiously, thinking about his wife and the day they had gotten their matching marks. Taking the empty glass from him, Marge moved slowly as she made her way back up the steps and into the house without further comment.
A week later, he warmed a chair at her small kitchen table, staring at her as she slowly washed the dishes, wondering how to approach the subject. Rising, he picked up the cup-towel and began to dry the plates as she placed them in the drainer. Together they finished the small task, and he hung the rag over the edge of the cabinet as he commented, “So, what did the doctor say?”
Turning, she gave him a surprised look. “What doctor?” she demanded incredulously.
“The one you need to see,” he stated matter-of-factly, looking down his nose at her.
“Oh, is that how it is. You cut my grass, you think you can tell me what t’ do now?” she stared at him straight on, her blue eyes flashing.
“Someone needs to,” he remained steadfast, “You’re not well. I can see it. Does Trish know?” Seeing the angry look that fluttered across her wrinkled features, he surmised the answer to be no.
The older woman turned and shuffled her way into the living room, to sit on the ancient sofa and rest.
Following her, Michael recalled how she had looked the day he and Tori had first arrived at the house. It’s a real shame how quickly she’s gone downhill. Helping her to find her seat on the cushion, he then knelt down in front of her, gazing intently at her face and waiting for her to give him a straight answer.
“Don’ no body have time for an ol’ woman like me,” she huffed at him. “Now, you go on, do whatever it is yur here fur, an’ jus’ let me have a rest.” Her southern drawl sounded tired, and she breathed heavily, even after she had finished speaking.
Leaving her, he made himself busy cleaning up the room and assessing the staircase. Determining it would need some repairs, he inquired if she had a tape measure.
“All Georgie’s tools are out in th’ shed, in th’ back,” she wheezed as she waved her hand in that general direction.
Leaving her for the few minutes it would take to retrieve a few items, Michael slipped out to the small shack and gathered up a handful of equipment. Back inside, he measured the slats that would need to be replaced, as well as the length of the case for a new railing. Jotting down the information, he planned to head to the hardware store before returning home.
Noticing how she watched him, he only shook his head. He had known his share of stubborn women. Hell, I married one. He knew what to do about it, though. Nothing. Just do what you gotta do, and she’ll come around.
Once all the measurements had been taken, he made his way back over to his elderly neighbor to assess her condition. She appeared more normal, the color returned to her pudgy lips. She managed a smile, inquiring if she passed inspection.
Michael grinned, “For now, yes. You need any help getting upstairs?”
She gave him a shake of her short white waves, “No, son, I’ll make it jus’ fine. You go on, get home wit ya. I’ll see ya in th’ mornin’.”
He noted she assumed he would return the next day. And of course, he would. She had become more than just a distraction. She genuinely needed him there, even if she couldn’t admit it. Stubborn women, he muttered to himself has he exited through the screen door, careful not to let it slam behind him.
Things in Motion
Tori found herself thinking about Sir Isaac Newton and his first law, the law of inertia. Things in motion stay in motion, unless acted upon by an unbalanced force. She had put her plan in motion; her desire to take out the Scorpions and bring peace to her life once and for all.
Her hidden needs had been an unbalanced force, but she had learned to control them and used them to her advantage. In the end, her plan moved forward, almost better than she could have hoped. The group completely trusted her, Brett ever watchful of their actions towards her. She could tell he had feelings for her. I own him in fact, the thought made her smile, and between him and Enrique, she knew she was well guarded.
A New Life Series - Finisher Set Page 10
