The Devil's Russian Beauty

by Ana Lee Kennedy

  Frank studied her for a long moment. Several expressions flowed through his midnight eyes, his mouth in a flat line and bracketed by soft lines. Daffi waited, fully expecting Frank would tell her to get lost, that he was turning her over to the deputies who were approaching, but he nodded and a genuine smile tweaked the corners of his lips.

  “Fair enough,” he said, then waved to the two officers getting out of the car. “Deputy Williamscot. What brings you out here so early?”

  “Morning, Frank. This is Deputy Sanders, who is new to the force. Could we go inside and talk?”

  Frank held the door open, and Phil ushered Daffi inside. He indicated that she should sit on the sofa, then he sat on its arm next to her.

  Once everyone was gathered, Deputy Williamscot said, “Three young people wandered into the office late last night in nothing but underwear. They told me that you”—he nodded to Daffi—“and an African American woman helped them escape from cages.”

  She couldn’t find her voice. It seemed to have actually vacated her body.

  The deputy withdrew a pad and a pen and held them ready to write. “What’s your name, miss?”

  It took her a couple attempts, but she finally managed, “Daffodil Anastasia Moscosky.”

  “Is Daffodil you’re real name?” he asked.

  “Yes.” She gulped. “How…how did you know I would be here?”

  “Your friend, Jess, was worried about you. She stopped on her way out of town to tell me all she knew about Ezra Smith and his activities. She was worried Ezra would find and hurt you. She wants to end his dealings in selling people into the sex trade.”

  The other deputy remained by the door, grim-faced.

  “All right,” Officer Williamscot said as he wrote, “tell me everything you know about the River Rebel’s human-trafficking activities.”

  “What’s going on?” a woman said in the doorway.

  Daffi looked up as she wiggled out of her jacket. The woman stared back at her in surprise, and Daffi recognized her as the tall blonde Frank had swapped for the crate of guns.

  “Luella, would you put on a pot of fresh coffee and make some snacks, please?” Frank asked. “We’re going to be here for a while.”

  “Who’s here?” Bernadette peered under Luella’s arm, where she leaned it on the doorframe. “Oh, hello, Deputy,” she said to Officer Williamscot.

  “Bernadette,” the deputy replied. “Nice to see you.”

  Bernadette met Daffi’s gaze and gaped at her. “Daffi? What are you doing here?”

  “Come back into the kitchen with me, honey.” Luella turned and nudged Bernadette away from the door. “Coffee and snacks coming up,” she called over her shoulder.

  “So, Daffodil,” Deputy Williamscot said, “start from the beginning and don’t leave out any details, no matter how small you might think they are. Let’s put Ezra and his partners behind bars.”

  * * *

  With Phil at his day job, Daffi spent the day up in his bedroom. Thankfully, he had a television and satellite hookup, so she found a couple movies to keep her occupied. Luella brought her lunch, consisting of a bowl of what was obviously homemade vegetable soup, a grilled-cheese sandwich and a cup of coffee with a couple packets of sugar and a small container of creamer, should Daffi want them. She said little to Daffi, only asking if she’d like to come downstairs and hang with the women, but Daffi declined.

  “I don’t think I’m ready for that,” she said. “I feel so…”

  “You feel like you’re the big elephant in the room?” Luella had asked with a sympathetic smile.

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay, I get it. Baby steps.”

  Relieved, Daffi settled in the glider chair to eat and finish watching an episode of Mike and Molly. Luella left quietly.

  But, as Daffi ate, her thoughts kept going back to Deputy Williamscot and his barrage of questions. He’d assured her she hadn’t committed a crime by dropping the victims off at the station, but she might have to come in later to identify Ezra once they picked him up for questioning. How she dreaded doing that. In fact, it terrified her. Ezra would know she was the one there behind the one-way glass, but she couldn’t tell the deputy anything about what Ezra truly was. Hell, she didn’t know what Ezra was, only that he was demonic in nature.

  She shivered and finished her soup, the broth rich and thick. She hadn’t ever had anything so good. A memory rose unbidden. Her mother had tried to make a go of it with just the two of them in a shitty, cockroach-infested apartment. For a month, they’d lived on dented and discounted cans of soup and day-old bread her mom had purchased from a corner grocery. But, after that month passed, the money her mother had stolen from a biker was gone and they were faced with living on the street or returning to the outlaw gang they’d left. She wished she could go back in time and bring her mother here, save her from the horrible death that had claimed her. Tears stung Daffi’s eyes.

  She pushed the memories aside and focused on her sandwich.

  A knock on the door about an hour later startled her. Bernadette poked her head through the doorway. “You doing okay in here?”

  “Yeah, I’m good.”

  “You know, no one here is going to give you any grief. There are a few members who have come from other MCs.” Bernadette’s auburn hair glowed with golden highlights in the weak afternoon sun streaming through the window. She was stunning.

  “I know I apologized before, but I really am sorry about the fight,” Daffi said.

  “Don’t worry about it. I’m sorry for insulting you that day.” A sheepish expression crossed her pretty face. “Sometimes my mouth shoots off before I can stop it.”

  Daffi snorted, half amused. “It wasn’t what you said about my tat and me being a walking billboard for a vacation that pissed me off.”

  “No?” Bernadette crossed the room and sat on one corner of the bed. She held something in white tissue paper.

  Daffi shook her head. “No, it was the fact it reminded me who forced me to get the tat and why.” She ate the last bite of grilled cheese, then set her bowl on the little plate with the spoon and placed the dishes on the end table nearby. “I was passed to the Wraithkillers by another gang. The second-in-command briefly took me as his ol’ lady, then later tossed me aside. He said he would take me to the Bahamas, that we could have a nice weeklong vacation there, get away from the club life. Like an idiot, I believed him. It was just a bullshit story to dazzle me. When he didn’t follow through with the promise, I was hurt. We got into a fight. So he decided he’d have the club’s tat artist ink my back as a way of giving me the Bahamas forever and also showing me who was boss.” She glanced over at Bernadette, who wore a flabbergasted look. “Don’t feel sorry for me,” Daffi added quickly. “It could’ve been much, much worse.” She shrugged. “But now I’m here, so I’m hoping to start over.”

  “I’m glad you have a healthy outlook on everything,” Bernadette said. She held out the tissue-papered item. “Here. I thought you might want this back now that you’re here with us.” Pulling the wrapping away, she revealed the colorful shawl.

  “Oh…” Delight burst into an inferno of happiness in Daffi’s chest. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” Bernadette replied, her grin infectious. “And now it’s perfect weather to wear it.” She rose and walked to the door. Turning, she said, “When you’re ready, we’ll all be there for you. None of us judge. None of us will say anything bad against you. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my short time here with the Werewolves of Rebellion, it’s that everyone here understands what it’s like to be different. We all know that desire to belong too. Don’t hide up here too long.” She opened the door.

  “Bernadette?” Heart pounding frantically, Daffi hoped she spoke her next words without stammering all over herself.

  “Hmm?”

  “Thanks for…your friendship.” Once Daffi said the words, a sense of finally fitting in somewhere settled over her. The feeling buoyed her,
and she smiled, her heart flailing.

  “Although we started out rocky,” Bernadette said, “were are friends now, for which I’m glad.” With that, she stepped into the hall and pulled the door closed.

  Bernadette was glad to call her a friend. Overcome with emotion, Daffi burst into tears. All the years of being used, physically abused, and mentally, emotionally and spiritually drained crumbled like warming ice bergs to crash, then dissolve forever. For the first time since she was eight years old, she allowed herself to have hope—real hope—and she actually believed she might have a home here with these people, friendships that would be strong, plus, if she were really lucky, a relationship with Phil, a man whose soul whispered to hers. She cried long and hard, cried until her soul was cleansed and exhaustion took over. Finally, she rose and riffled through the top drawer of Phil’s dresser, where she found some clean, folded hankies. Hiccupping and trying to calm herself, she wiped her eyes and blew her nose a couple times. Daffi returned to the chair and got comfortable again. Through watery eyes, she stared down at the glittering pond where yellow and orange leaves floated on its surface. The soft sounds of the television commercials in the background shifted to the theme music of an X-Files rerun. Peace enveloped Daffi, and, finally, sleep claimed her.

  * * *

  Anxious to finally see Daffodil after a long day of hauling coal, Phil parked his pickup out of the way next to the workshop, then jogged to the house. He found the big storm door shut—another reminder that winter was just around the corner—and shivered as a chilly evening wind caressed his ears before he got the door open and entered the warm sunporch where Luella and Puppy were sliding the storm windows down.

  “Cold weather’s coming,” Puppy said to him.

  “Yeah, it sucks,” Phil conceded. “Can’t ride my bike much now, and during the afternoons that still grow warm, I end up having to peel off layers of clothes at lunchtime or I suffocate.”

  Luella giggled softly. “You sound just like Beastman.”

  “Your woman is in your bedroom,” Puppy stated as she sprayed glass cleaner on a pane Luella had just lowered. “Bernadette talked to her for a little while today, but your girl won’t come downstairs.”

  “Can’t say I blame her,” Luella chimed in. “After what she’s gone through with outlaw gangs, I can only imagine her fear.” She glanced over her shoulder at Phil. “I took her some lunch up, though, and some coffee.”

  “Thanks, Luella,” Phil said, warmth flooding him. “You’re a good she-wolf who takes care of the clan better than some mamas do their kids.”

  “Hey, I love everyone here,” she replied and lowered another storm glass. “If we don’t support one another, what do we have? Nothing, that’s what.”

  He nodded and climbed the two steps up into the kitchen, where he found Bernadette at the counter opening canned biscuits and placing them on baking sheets.

  “Hey,” she said.

  “Hey, yourself.”

  “She’s been waiting for you to get home,” Bernadette told him. “She’s fragile, Phil. Be there for her.”

  “Trust me,” he replied with conviction, “if she’ll let me, I’ll always be there for her.”

  The dazzling smile Bernadette offered him had him grinning back.

  “Supper’s in about an hour!” Luella shouted as he headed out of the kitchen.

  Phil took the staircase two steps at a time, desperate to reach his bedroom and lay eyes on Daffodil. Upon reaching the door, he threw it open. She sat in his glider chair. Instantly, she jumped to her feet and launched herself at him. Phil caught her in his arms, swaying gently to and fro for a long time with her clasped tightly to him.

  Finally, he asked, “Do you want to stay here tonight or go back to my cabin?”

  “Your cabin,” she mumbled against his jacket. “I want to be with you, just talk and get to know each other without interruption.”

  “Sounds good.” Pride swelled in his chest that she wanted to be with him so much. He hugged her tighter, and she hugged him back. “Let me get cleaned up and we’ll go down for supper, then afterward, we’ll drive over to my place.”

  “Okay.” Reluctantly, she pulled away and returned to the chair.

  He shut the door, then found clean shirts in the dresser. Tossing a smile her way, he left the room and headed to the bathroom, where he quickly washed up, changed his undershirt and T for clean ones, and dumped the dirty laundry into the hamper. Finished, he collected Daffodil from his bedroom and led her downstairs.

  The stricken expression on her face tugged at Phil’s conscience. He hated to subject her to so many strange people at once, but it was the only way to introduce her to everyone. Frank pulled out a chair for Daffodil next to where Phil always sat in the dining room. Bernadette, Luella and Beastman sat across from them in their usual places. The supper progressed quietly—probably because Luella had warned everyone upon penalty of death to behave themselves—and Luella and Bernadette kept Daffodil in conversation about safe topics from fashion to her work at the courthouse. Phil hoped the aroma of apples and cinnamon permeating the house meant Luella had baked either her apple pie or apple crisp for dessert.

  “Do you like working in the auditor’s office?” Bernadette asked Daffodil.

  “It’s an okay job.” After stabbing a piece of steamed broccoli, Daffodil added, “I’d prefer something more interesting, though. Data entry is boring, especially the basic version I do there.” She shrugged and stabbed another floret. “Besides, Ezra expects me to give him information on the elderly who have mineral rights monies coming to them. He then sends someone to intimidate them and force them to pay the River Rebels for so-called protection from rival gangs.”

  One of the toddlers at the other end of the table burst into tears. His mother rose and went into the kitchen with him. Her low, soothing words to him seemed to calm the room too.

  “There aren’t any rival MCs around here,” Frank stated, “except for maybe the Wraithkillers, but their thing is making and selling meth or trafficking guns, not extortion.”

  Daffodil sipped from her glass of cola. “Exactly. But most of the elderly don’t know there aren’t any rival gangs. They see your MC members and the Wraithkillers and don’t know any different.”

  “Fuck,” Frank whispered.

  She jerked and looked at him.

  “No, it’s okay,” Frank told her. “I just didn’t realize this was going on too.”

  “Might as well tell your deputy friend about it,” she replied, her gaze serious. “If Ezra is going down, the more information the law has about him, the sounder their case will be.”

  “Are you willing to testify should they nab him?” Phil asked, concerned. “You’re biting off a lot if you do.”

  “I’ve already reached Fuck-it Mountain. Ezra will come after me for helping those people escape the other night, so what difference does it make whether I blow the whistle on him for extortion too?”

  The entire dining room fell silent.

  Daffodil glanced around. “I just don’t want to bring trouble to your MC or its community.”

  “We’ve dealt with a lot worse,” Beastman stated without looking up from his plate. “Kicked major RR ass during their attempted Claiming and Maiming.”

  “He’s right,” Luella said. “We always overcome.” She tapped the napkin next to Daffodil’s plate to get her attention. “We support one another here. You’ve found a good home, if you want it.”

  “I do.” She paused as she forked the last of the mashed potatoes on her plate into her mouth. Once she’d swallowed, she said, “I really do, but I still think I should hang out at Phil’s cabin until it’s safe to come back here. I don’t want anyone to get hurt because of me. Ezra and the newer prospects aren’t typical outlaw bikers. They’re…”

  Phil wanted to smooth the worry lines away from her eyes and from around her mouth, give her comfort so she wasn’t so haunted by what she’d seen. She swept her pale green gaze around the end
of the table in a way that said she was taking in their faces to keep them safe with her, as though she’d never see them again. He shivered.

  “They’re what?” Beastman prompted.

  “Evil.” She reached for her glass again. “Pure evil. And I don’t mean that they just do bad things. Ezra and his men aren’t human.”

  At that, clinks and clangs erupted in the dining room as everyone dropped or put down their eating utensils.

  She glanced around again, then hung her head, focusing on the last of her chicken and noodles.

  “She knows what many of the River Rebels are,” Phil explained. “What many of us are.”

  “So when you say evil,” Frank began, “what exactly do you mean?”

  “Demons or devils or…” She shrugged, then wiped her mouth with her napkin. “I’m not sure what you’d label Ezra as, but he’s quite powerful and in more ways than one.”

  “We haven’t had church in a while,” Frank said, looking at Beastman, then Phil, “but maybe we should notify all our members and hold church tonight about this Ezra dude, alert everyone that they should keep an eye on Daffodil and so that we all have Phil’s back since he’s…” He set his fork down and sat back in his chair. “Are you taking Daffodil as your ol’ lady?”

  Phil wanted to—oh, how he wanted to—but he wasn’t going to insist Daffodil accept him as her old man. He turned to her, hoping he didn’t appear too eager, but she smiled back at him with obvious hope in her eyes.

  “I’d like to,” he began cautiously. He didn’t want to go to fast and scare her away. “But we need to get to know each other for a while before we’re both sure. Right, Daffodil?”

  “Yes,” she said, then a giggle popped out of her. Pink suffused her cheeks and she half hid her face behind the napkin.

  Everyone around them chuckled and laughed at her reaction.

  “If you prove that you’re here to back us,” Frank said, “we’ll protect you no matter what.”

  Tears shimmered in her eyes. Phil draped one arm around her shoulders and drew her against his side.