Marlin's Faith: The Virtues Book II

by A. J. Downey

  We’d done everything together growing up; I think on a deep level it hurt my best friend that he didn’t share this with me too.

  “Thanks, Man. You don’t know how much I owe you for this.”

  “I look forward to meeting her for real this time.”

  “Just, you know, you gotta be careful sorta; she spooks real easy.”

  “I get it man, we’ll talk more when you get here.”

  “Could be a long stay depending on how things go…”

  Again he made a rude noise, blowing me off, “It’ll give us time to catch up some seeing as I haven’t exactly made the time to come down your way. I need a new foreman… bad.”

  “Hey, Marlin!” Radar called from the open doorway.

  “Shit, Bobby, I gotta go. I’ll see you soon. Get a six pack in the fridge.”

  Bobby laughed, “There’s always a six pack in my fridge in case you stop by. See you soon.”

  “Yeah, see you soon.” I hung up.

  Radar gave me a chin lift that indicated I needed to come inside for a piece of business or other so I stubbed out my cig and got up, stretched and made my way back inside.

  There was some more politicking to be done before we bunked down. I hated politics, but I couldn’t deny I had an eye and a practiced mind for ‘em. You had to back in the days under Mac. I think it’s why Cutter had put me up for VP. I never quite did fully understand that move but the Captain was a guy that was wise beyond his years and pretty fuckin’ fair. We followed him for a reason.

  The night was long, sleep was short, and we pretty much found ourselves riding for the courthouse at first light. We knew, thanks to Ruth’s lawyer guy, when the girls were going to be arraigned and we needed to be there. The lawyer was pretty much sucking the club’s last reserves bone dry, but it’d been a unanimous vote with the understanding among the club that more money was always easy to acquire. We had our ways; we just hadn’t had to resort to ‘em in a while. I guess we would as soon as we got back home, I was okay with that. I would work eighteen hour days for the rest of my fucking life if I had to, just to make sure Faith stayed free and could really put this behind her once and for all.

  Enough was enough already.

  Chapter 30

  Faith

  The courtroom was stark, and I couldn’t be near Hope. They seated us apart from each other, but when I saw them all in the gallery I didn’t mind so much. One side of the seating area was devoid of anyone, but behind the short wall that the defense table was in front of? Well, the first few rows of professional looking people in their suits and jackets, briefcases and file folders overflowing and in some cases spilling out onto the floor immediately gave way to densely packed benches full of bikers. The first two rows were familiar faces, from Florida, Marlin’s among them. His blue eyes searching each face in turn until his gaze landed on me. At that point, his stare became locked, though his expression was neutral and carefully guarded.

  Past the men of The Kraken were an even rougher looking lot, though the orange bandanas and yellow and white accent colors that I had grown so used to seeing, instead gave way to purple and gold. They wore their jackets and tee shirts but their leather vests, or cuts, remained conspicuously absent. I bit my lower lip and scanned the room. The bailiffs seemed tense and it dawned on me, that in here, they may not have been allowed to wear their cuts. It was clear that the police didn’t like the club, but I wasn’t sure why. They hadn’t done anything wrong, but then again I suppose it was like any other thing. The cops in the jail where Hope and I spent the night saw me as ‘whore’ and not even human. My sister, I guess they lumped in with the MC, which they were convinced was a gang… even though they didn’t act like one, at least not like any of the ones I’d grown up around in California.

  I didn’t know the difference, and I didn’t care about it either… I just wanted to go home and I was a little surprised that in such a short amount of time, that I felt like Ft. Royal was home.

  It’d only been a few months… two months? I’d lost track.

  “All rise…”

  I stood because everyone else stood, even though we were set apart in a little box to the side, much like a jury except the actual jury box sat vacant across the room and held more seats.

  I didn’t listen to the goings on, or the others as they each, one by one, stood and were led by a jailer to their lawyer’s side. Well, I didn’t pay attention to the first woman; the second was my sister as they were going in alphabetical order by last name. I paid attention to her.

  “Still, it was an assault on a police officer; I’m not inclined to treat that lightly.” The judge said, and I felt hollow inside. Hope stood stoic and didn’t look surprised in the slightest.

  “Your Honor,” her lawyer began and laid out a very convincing argument, even going as far as to show the judge a video of our arrest on a cell phone, which the judge didn’t look at all happy about when she viewed it.

  “As much as I would like to grant Ms. Andrews bail, the best I can, and will, do is grant her an expeditious trial date. Given what you have there, I am certain either a reasonable plea agreement can be reached or any good judge worth their salt would acquit. I’m sorry, Ms. Andrews, but my hands are tied by law in this state.” The judge did indeed look sympathetically at my sister as she picked up her gavel.

  “Remand,” she said shortly and tapped the gavel’s rest and she seemed weary a bit.

  I stared at Hope wide eyed as she was led from the courtroom, right past the box I was sitting in. She smiled at me, dazzling and said as she passed in a harsh whisper, “It’s okay, Bubbles. The guys will take care of you. A few weeks and this’ll all be over.”

  Wait, a few weeks? Had she just said a few, weeks!?

  I shifted in my seat and kept quiet even though I desperately wanted to cry out, wanted to jump up and run to my sister and hug her and cry and tell her how sorry I was and that this was all my fault and that I’d failed her again, except I knew deep down in my heart of hearts I hadn’t. I had been so good by the side of that police car. I had done everything he’d told me to do and I had tried so very hard not to scream and not to cry. I had cried, but I’d held it in for the most part.

  Hope had taken it upon herself, knowing full well the consequences, to hit that evil bastard, landing herself in this situation. I watched the jailer lead my sister out of sight and stared blindly after her for long moments afterward. I didn’t hear anything being said, barely registered the gavel ringing sharply. When I turned, it was to see the men in purple and gold and some of The Kraken too, calling out, berating the judge and the lawyer for Hope not getting bail. Cutter stared after where Hope had gone too, a stony expression on his face and a glint of fury tempered with determination in his warm brown eyes.

  Marlin stared at me still, and I met his gaze. A spark, something real even as it was intangible passed between us and my rising panic at wondering what would happen to my sister calmed. Marlin was calm, Cutter was calm, both of them stoic and steady which meant they had a plan and if they had a plan the best thing I could do was hold on. The best thing I could do was stay calm, hold on, and do nothing to jeopardize whatever they had in place. I trusted Marlin. I trusted him and my sister Hope implicitly, so that meant I needed to stay calm, I needed to not fall apart, and so I simply concentrated on slowing my breathing using exercises Dr. Sheindland had taught me and waited.

  The roaring in my ears took much longer to subside than the men in the gallery. All it took was one word from Cutter for The Kraken to fall silent, as for the rest of the men, a heavy bald man, probably a few years younger than Cutter, said to knock it off and just like that, they did.

  The judge was not amused, you could tell by her expression, and I hoped that when it was my turn, it wouldn’t hurt me. I mean, she’d know I was with them. Not only did I still wear my riding leather, she’d watched Hope hit the deputy that’d been groping me, she’d seen me in the video.

  “Breathe,” Marlin mouthed
at me, and I resumed Dr. Sheindland’s exercises.

  “Faith Dobbins, one count failure to appear…” I shut out the bailiff’s droning voice as I was hauled to my feet by one arm roughly, by one of the jailers.

  The gavel made sharp reports again even as the gallery erupted in more than a little outrage, but the judge didn’t pay them any mind; she addressed the jailer and when I looked up, I could see why… it was one of the other deputies that’d been there when I’d been arrested. Thankfully, not the same one who’d put his hands on me.

  “Got my partner put on leave,” he breathed. “You’re going to pay for that,” he threatened though no one else could hear it over the judge, her gavel, and the men in the gallery. He led me over to the same lawyer who was taking up position at the podium built into the defense table and I blinked stupidly at him. He smiled and it was a reassuring one.

  “Just a few minutes more, they’ll take you back to the jail and process your release, I promise.”

  “Mister Jeffries, go ahead,” the judge ordered.

  I could see why his suit was so expensive. He was good, he was really good. Before I knew it, he had launched into explaining that I was still in treatment. He even had documents to back it up, handing them through the bailiff to the judge. Copies of records from both a doctor whose name I didn’t know and Dr. Sheindland. The first doctor had supposedly treated me in Kentucky for heroin withdrawal, as well as a host of other physical problems as a result of being held captive, before I’d joined my sister in Florida to receive treatment from Dr. Sheindland. When the judge had asked what Dr. Sheindland was treating me for, he summed it up rather succinctly by stating I was being treated for ‘a host of mental trauma as a result of a textbook case of human trafficking.’

  It made me ill just thinking about what he was saying, but it was the truth. He wasn’t lying, and I couldn’t deny or argue any of it and in this case, the truth, finally and really did set me free. The judge ordered me released on remand and the lawyer filed several motions, which essentially notified the court of his intent to handle both the charges of supposedly skipping my bond, and the initial prostitution charge without my need to be present, as the trauma of the last day or so left me in dire need of returning to Florida and treatment with my doctor.

  My head was spinning, everything was so confusing, and I am sure I was getting some of the finer details wrong, but I didn’t have time to think about it because they were taking me away. A different jailer; a woman this time, and Marlin was standing and calling out that he would be there and then I was out the door waiting in a long line of seats three people down from Hope. I was trying to relearn how to breathe, my sister leaning forward and back trying to see me, calling out that it was going to be okay, as the anxiety attack swallowed me whole and the floor rushed up to meet me.

  I blinked open my eyes to a paramedic, or EMT? There was a difference wasn’t there? I remember Charity telling me there was a difference and to try not to get them confused; it was considered rude…

  “There she is! Hi, Baby! How you doing? Better now?” The woman of the pair was patting me on the back of the hand.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “Had a little panic attack is all, you’ll be alright.” She smiled brightly at me and I nodded.

  “I get them sometimes,” I admitted.

  “I don’t know why, Baby. You’re free! You’re gonna be going home as soon as they take you back to the jail and get your things.”

  I looked around, “My sister, where’s my sister?” I asked.

  “Oh Honey,” the male of the team said, “They had to clear the hall when you fainted, it’s protocol. You feel like you need to go to the hospital?”

  I shook my head, “No, I just want to see my sister.”

  Paperwork, a lot of paper work and people standing and milling about, a lot of questions and finally, finally, they led me to the van to be transported back to the jail. I hated it the first time, and this time wasn’t any different, only this time… I rode in it alone. Except I wasn’t alone. I could hear the roar behind us. A distinct sound, that many motorcycles, riding in a pack. I could hear them and they stayed with me, all the way back to the jail.

  It was comforting, knowing that I would never be alone again.

  Chapter 31

  Marlin

  She’d fuckin’ fainted. They’d let her lawyer know, let him go back, but hadn’t let any of us back there to see her. They’d rushed the prisoners back off to the jail and let medical people do their thing; the lawyer had stood off to the side and reported everything to Cutter. She was okay, a panic attack, she was refusing to go to the hospital, a county van, windowless… follow it, now, yes now, we’d started the bikes and trailed it all the way back to the fuckin jail.

  They had her processed and out the fuckin’ door in thirty minutes flat. Some kind of fuckin’ record if you asked me. Maybe her fainting dead away had been good for something.

  She stepped out into the bright afternoon sunlight and shaded her eyes and I went to her, pulling her tight against me, kissing the top of her head, hating the stink of institution in her hair. She was trembling, but being so brave.

  “They wouldn’t let me see Hope,” she uttered brokenly, “I mean I saw her, but they wouldn’t let me talk to her or say goodbye. They said visiting hours weren’t until Saturday.”

  Fucking assholes, and here I was going to be one by whisking her away; shit.

  I put an arm across her shoulders and led her gently to the bike where all my brothers were sitting astride theirs; baking in the fuckin’ finest heat and humidity Louisiana had to offer.

  I took her personal effects from her and slowly put her back together a piece at a time as we made our way. First I stopped her and slid her sunglasses on her face to protect her from not only the blinding fuckin’ light beating down on us, but the retina scorching light beaming back up at us from the white cement we traversed to get to the parking lot’s curb.

  Next I slipped her slim wallet back into her jacket pocket and when we got to the bike I helped her finish suiting up, getting her back into her chaps while she stood shaking from her nerves being wracked so bad, I could almost believe they’d put her back on that stuff were it not for her clear gaze back at the courthouse that’d screamed that she was putting her life in my hands and she trusted me with it.

  Last thing I did before mounting up and taking off with her was to get her back into my rag, zipping up the form fitting leather over her already zipped jacket. It was hot as fuck and the wind wasn’t going to do too terribly much to cool us, but I wanted her safe. Especially knowing what me and the guys were about to pull.

  “Mount up, let’s get the fuck out of here,” Cutter said, and didn’t sound at all happy about it. Not that I blamed him; if Faith were still in there, I’d’ve been sleeping out here on my bike.

  We got moving, falling into formation and headed for the highway; only when the boys went to get on heading east, back to the heart of the city, I broke off and went west. Faith gave a surprised shout, her head whipping in the direction where the rest of the boys had gone but I caned it, twisting down hard on the throttle, the bike jumping beneath us and startling my girl right into what I wanted her to do. She held on tighter, held on for dear life, as I blasted up the onramp and into the flow of traffic, making for home at breakneck speed. I wanted this fuckin’ state in her goddamn rearview for good.

  A couple three hours into the ride the sky looked threatening, so I pulled off on the side of the freeway and under an overpass. Just as I suspected it would, it started to rain; a thundershower one of those short cloud bursts more common Florida. They only lasted about twenty minutes or so, so I decided to let it pass before we continued on. There was no sense in us being soaked and really no point in digging out rain gear, unless it lasted longer than I thought it was going to. I rolled us to a stop and I shut off the bike. She got down, the roar of the rainfall outside our shelter, coupled with the traffic still passi
ng by made it deafening.

  “Waiting out the storm!” I shouted, and she simply stared at me. Her eyes wide and her hands trembling lightly where they rested at her sides. I stepped into her space and took off her helmet and mine, setting them on the bike’s seat before cupping her face in my hands. I smoothed my thumbs along her jaw, luxuriating in the feel of her hair across my fingers as she stared mutely up into my face.

  I didn’t speak. There was something here, something magic about this moment and I didn’t want to ruin it by talking. She stared up into my eyes with that perfect trust from the courtroom but the hurt was still there in the way they shone in the dim light under here. I dipped my face down to hers and kissed her, a light brush of lips, a query, asking if it was okay that I do so when really, I felt like it should be a desperate plea for her not to be pissed at me for taking away any choice she had in the matter of her stayin’ near her sister.

  Her breath brushed my face, slight and relieved. She kissed me back, her lips moving carefully, tentatively, over my own. I pulled her into me and she molded so perfectly against my body. Her kiss tasted like forgiveness even though I’d yet to voice an apology. It was difficult to explain… While I was sorrier than she could know for not giving her the choice, for swooping in like the barbarian I could sometimes be, and just whisking her away… I wasn’t sorry for doing it. It’d needed to happen. She couldn’t stay; she’d have unraveled completely inside a day. Hell, she was still trembling, still likely to come apart in my arms right here, right now, on the side of the road.

  She clung to me, as much to take shelter from the storm and traffic whizzing by as anything else and I let her. I would be her shield for a lot more than that. The kiss deepened, becoming a wild, passionate thing, that left me with a raging hard on in my jeans and leather that I couldn’t do anything for. We broke apart, naturally; her aquamarine eyes hooded and her body language much more relaxed than it’d been before. As if I’d somehow calmed her with my touch. It was a good feeling. Like I’d reached the pinnacle of what it was to be a fucking man.