Reprise

by C. D. Breadner

  “My club? No, we don’t.”

  “Would you tell me if you did?”

  “That’s the kind of thing I’d tell you. We sell pot. Regular, run of the mill stuff.”

  “Oh.”

  “But that’s all I’ll tell you, Mal.”

  “Okay.”

  It fell quiet, truly quiet, and just when he thought he’d be able to nod off she spoke again.

  “Why did you say those things? Why did you run me off like that, after your father’s funeral?”

  Shit. His chest squeezed and it had nothing to do with his lungs. “Mallory—”

  “That really hurt. I mean, that was almost more cruel than when you walked away the night Angelina died. It was totally uncalled for.”

  As much as she was gutting him, he loved the strength in her tone. She was being honest and also not letting him get away with his own bullshit. Even at her most uncertain she’d known when she was being fucked with, and she had no problem speaking up. He’d always liked that about her. “It was,” he agreed. “I just...fuck. I don’t know. Having you there, in Cleary with me, in my folks’ house...it came back. And not for the reasons I left the first time. That was pure chicken shit cowardice. I was all in, but not really. I was over my head. Not ready for any of it. Doing the right thing kept me there. And then I couldn’t look at you. I was so...upset. And it wasn’t even that I blamed you. I just couldn’t...I couldn’t be there. And then it was just an excuse to be gone for good.”

  She sniffled and he silently cursed himself for making her cry again. “Why’d you come and get me then? Talk about mixed messages, Harlon.”

  “Loved you, Mallory. Always will.” His voice broke as he said it. Apparently realizing his own mortality made him a fuck of a lot more honest. “I know I hurt you, and the fucked up part is that I don’t want anything else to hurt you.”

  “Only you’re allowed to do that?”

  He winced. “That one cuts, honey.”

  There was more rustling of the bedding and he could imagine her turning over to face away. After a moment she just said, almost to quietly to hear, “Good.”

  -oOo-

  Four hours’ sleep and Tiny woke feeling as recharged as he got these days. Mallory slept on as he padded across the matted carpet to the bathroom and turned on the fan to cover the noise. After a much-needed piss he turned the taps on and climbed under the spray, sighing as the hot water hit his skin and brought him the rest of the way awake.

  The motel soap smelled like old oatmeal but he figured it was good enough for now. The tiny little pill stuck to the center of his palm as it worked it across his skin, scratching the entire way. The shampoo was made by the same company, and as he was working it into his scalp he allowed a moment to reflect on where he’d found himself.

  Finding out Mallory had been in danger sent him into a tailspin. He could be an asshole and say stupid shit and do fucked up things all he wanted, but she was part of him. In his blood. Even if they’d originally been together for—what, a year and a half?—that redhead had more staying power than anyone or thing that had followed. Did he want her protected? Yes, he did. There wasn’t hesitation to go and get her out of Cleary.

  Of course he’d go get her.

  And now what? He was whisking her off to Markham, to do what? Live at the clubhouse with him until they figured out what the Rats had in mind? Or keep her with him for good?

  He’d said those ugly things that morning back in Cleary to keep her away. And now he was bringing her into his home.

  He leaned forward and not-so-delicately slammed his forehead against the tile wall. Fucking idiot.

  The metal rings made a horrible screeching sound as the shower curtain was pulled back. He jumped, hands up in fists by reflex, then he let his arms drop.

  Shit. Mallory. Hair down, completely naked, looking like he’d always remembered her. Maybe she would always look twenty years old to him.

  Her eyes came to his, and she stepped over the edge of the bathtub.

  “I...” he cleared his throat, wondering why the hell it felt like he was fucking blushing. He faced the shower head again. “I’m done anyway. Got it all warmed up for you.”

  Her hands pressed to his back, then her chest filled the space between. He closed his eyes, and when he felt her lips press to between his shoulder blades, he held his breath.

  Down below, his cock was hard and throbbing already.

  Light as a feather her palms slid down his back, around his waist and up his stomach. This, of course, pressed her breasts even tighter against him. An involuntary groan rumbled from his throat, and her hand ran down his stomach, eventually brushing his erection. It was like a jolt of hot want, and when her hand wrapped around it and began stroking he let his head drop back, moaning loud enough to echo.

  Desire had never been an issue in their relationship. This had always been perfectly functional.

  “Mallory,” he was mumbling, hearing his breathing deepen. “Oh God, Mal. That’s good.”

  She made a little sound in the back of her throat, a sigh. Jerking him off in the shower wasn’t going to be good enough. And shit, he was so close as it was.

  He reached down, circling her wrist in one hand. She let go, and he turned. She blinked against the spray of the shower as it bounced over his shoulders. He moved forward, herding her to the back of the tub as he did. She kept her eyes up on his, even as he lowered himself to his knees. He made sure to linger over her breasts, lavishing attention on both rosy points with his tongue until she was whimpering.

  Once he was kneeling she looked down at him, her cheeks flushed red. Her breathing was labored, too. He loved seeing her like that.

  With both hands he parted her thighs, hitching one knee and pulling it over his shoulder. She made a sound of surprise, but braced her back on the tile. When he knew she was stable he leaned forward to nuzzle between her legs, her hairless skin smelling warm and like Mallory, just closer. More private.

  With tongue, teeth, and suction he toyed with her, listening to her noises, knowing when she was close and backing off to keep her right on the cusp. When she’d had enough of that she buried both hands in his hair and held his face to her, her hips writhing. Her cry was thin but high and it echoed around them. He was grinning as he leaned back, then gazed up the soft curves of her body. Her eyes were closed, head to the side, catching her breath. Gorgeous.

  He stood, ready to hook those legs around his waist and press her against the wall she was currently collapsed against, but he hadn’t really wandered in here with a rubber.

  “Edge of the tub, behind the curtain,” she mumbled, eyes opening now.

  He grinned. “How’d you know you were going to get lucky?”

  One of her eyebrows cocked. “Me? I always get lucky when I want to.”

  He chuckled and pulled the edge of the plastic curtain back to find a wrapped condom right where she’d said. He had it on in an instant, then was back against her warm, soft and now slippery body.

  Her arms came around his shoulders, her face tilting up to accept his hungry kiss. Her tongue rolled and slid with his, and such was their routine that he was back inside her without registering her legs wrapping around him or the fact that he’d pressed her to the wall. It was just...home.

  No one had ever felt better than this.

  “Oh God, God. Harlon.”

  He loved the sound of desperation in her tone, how it wrapped around his name like a plea. Her hips were working with his, their dance perfect.

  “God Mallory, I’ve always missed this.”

  She whimpered.

  “No one’s ever been half as perfect.”

  “Harlon.”

  “Don’t know what I was thinking leaving you. This is the only place I should have been.”

  “Harlon!”

  He buried his face in the side of her neck, wincing as her nails cut into his shoulders and her body tightened up. Just like that she came undone, crying out so loud it rung in
his ears. But he loved it.

  “You’ve always been the one for me,” she whispered, right in his ear. “I know that you got scared. I even forgave you for it. But don’t ever hurt me like you did this last time.”

  “I won’t,” he breathed, pulling back to gaze in those eyes. “As long as I can, I’ll take care of you.”

  Her brow furrowed, but then he was back to thrusting into her and her eyelids fluttered. He knew he’d ended the conversation with that so he concentrated on her body, the way it cushioned him, the grip she had on his cock. It took only a few more minutes before she was keening out his name and he was groaning against her neck again.

  In silence they untangled, and he moved her to the front of the tub to get her shower time in. Outside the shower curtain he got rid of the condom and rinsed off in the sink.

  The humidity was thick in the room, and as another damn coughing fit took over he struggled to keep the sound of it down. Phlegm filled his mouth and when he leaned down to spit his back protested. Damn, he was getting old.

  The deep red hitting the bowl of the sink was a shock. It was only then he could taste the blood.

  In a panic he turned the cold tap, rinsed the blood from the sink and stooped further to fill his mouth. He rinsed and spat twice.

  Thank God that had happened now, not in the shower. Having Mallory see that would be disastrous.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  After her quick shower Mal braided her wet hair, toweled off best she could with the thin motel linens and went through the plastic Walmart bags she’d left in the bathroom the night before. Clean underwear, right out of the Hanes package, yoga pants, and a T-shirt under her hoodie. She still looked ready to do housework but at least she was put together and felt human again.

  Before opening the bathroom door she paused, suddenly feeling unsure. Letting Harlon whisk her off to safety was easy to do. He’d done it before, then he’d left her behind.

  God, she was twenty again and wanting to believe him. She wanted that more than anything. She was smarter than this. She’d been swept up by thugs who’d killed those kidnappers and then handed her over to Harlon’s care. That was the man on the other side of the door now; the kind that had friends that shot people for the good of others.

  Well, that took care of that concern. She had no choice, and not just because she was scared of Cleary. She wasn’t going to be looked after by a bunch of bikers for however long. But...here she was, letting a biker take care of her.

  So she was either stupid or enjoyed the kind of heartbreak that Harlon Gray could dish out.

  As she left the bathroom he was sitting in one of the fake leather chairs, gazing out the window at what was a gray and overcast day. When he turned to look at her he grinned, and it crinkled the skin at the corners of his eyes. “Hey,” he said, his voice deep and warm.

  It softened her uncertainty, which only proved how stupid she was.

  “I was thinking we should eat. The restaurant on the main floor does a good breakfast.”

  She glanced at the alarm clock’s digital display. “It’s almost lunch.”

  “Yeah, but we just woke up. And after a shower like that I feel like bacon and eggs.”

  Now she did blush, and it was a ridiculous reaction but mentioning things like that always made her blush. Which he knew. Only him, though. Any other man she’d been with could bring up an escapade and she’d just laugh.

  “That does sound good,” she mumbled, setting down her white trash luggage on the foot of her bed.

  He chuckled, and that made the blush worse. That chuckle tickled the inside of her stomach as surely as his beard tickled the skin.

  “Then we can hit the road. We’ll be arriving in Markham before dinner.”

  She nodded. As far as things had gone recently, spending part of December in California shouldn’t be seen as a hardship. Truthfully, this did feel safer than Cleary. No one was kidnapping her. Actually, her captor in this instance had given her amazing sex in the shower just minutes ago. Sex that she had gone in and asked for.

  He lent her his phone to call work, then Matt. The bakery folks were understanding, told her to take a few days. They’d heard of something happening the night before, but there weren’t a lot of details. Matt was properly worried but he promised to cancel the gig at the bar that night.

  Harlon checked them out of the room, with a lot of knowing gazes from the desk clerk since they’d only been there less than six hours, and her new threads were stowed in the truck. Then Harlon took her hand and led her to the diner.

  Walmart yoga pants or not, that made her feel like something precious.

  He held her hand while she slid into a booth then he sat across from her. He turned their mugs over and handed her a menu, eyes on his own laminated sheet as he did so.

  There was no way she could avoid staring at him. As much as it sucked that they hadn’t had these past twenty-nine years together, she had him now. And she liked it.

  “You know what you want?” he mumbled, looking up and catching her examination. “What’s wrong?”

  “I just...I want this to be the real thing. The you that is here right now...I want that to actually be you.”

  He smiled, crinkling the skin at the corners of his eyes, showing off perfect teeth. “It’s me, honey. This is me, not scared. Realizing I want you with me, rather than me hurting you.”

  “You were scared for me last night.”

  “Yeah, I really was.”

  Honesty. She liked that, too. He’d had that with her before. He’d say what was on his mind and in his heart. It was usually her that had trouble opening up, but he never had trouble with that, either. Like he knew her thoughts anyway.

  “I’m glad you came for me.”

  He grinned again and she smiled back, just as the waitress arrived with a steaming carafe of coffee. Tiny nodded to their cups and the waitress filled both then moved on.

  Tiny tapped her menu. “Decide what you want honey. We gotta get on the road. You made that shower a little too long.”

  She made a noise of protest which made him chuckle. He’d always been bossy, but thinking back on that shower she really didn’t mind letting him get away with it.

  The next pass the waitress made they ordered their bacon and eggs, then settled in to wait for their food quietly. He caught her hands in his, thumb running over the back.

  “I don’t know how to work this,” he said softly, eyes on their hands. “You in Cleary, me in California. But however long and however often we get to be together...I want to be with you. Like we were.” Now his eyes came up and her breath caught. “Some of my best days, honey. I want to have more of them, however we make that work.”

  Her grip tightened in his. “Okay.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. We can figure out...something.”

  “Good.” He sounded relieved, then he leaned to one side and dug in his back pocket. “Sorry. That’s the club phone.”

  She nodded and took a sip of coffee, rather than letting her fluttering heart turn her into a ridiculous mess.

  “Tiny,” he grumbled, sounding like he did around other people. It almost made her choke on her coffee. “What? That’s tonight?”

  She frowned.

  “Shit. Right. I forgot.” He rubbed his brow and sighed heavily, then dropped his hand and caught her eye. He smiled. “Yeah, we’ll be back by then. I guess I’ll miss all the decorating, with the old ladies bossing me around?”

  She took another sip of coffee as he ended the call. “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah. I just...I forgot it was decorating day at the clubhouse.”

  “Decorating day?”

  He smiled again. “They put up a tree and decorate for Christmas. A family affair.”

  She frowned. “What’s the date?”

  He did the same. “I don’t know. The twenty-second?”

  “Is it really?” She winced. “Shit. I’m not ready for Christmas at all.”

&nb
sp; “What do you usually do?”

  “Well,” she sighed, flipping her braid back over her shoulder. “Usually the people who own the bakery downstairs invite me over for supper on Christmas Day. Then the next day the hotel bar usually has a big party, and we play that. It’s a big drunk, and then the band usually gets shitfaced after that, too.” His smile had faded while she spoke. “What?”

  He shook his head. “Nothing.”

  “No, what was the look on your face?”

  “Nothing, Mal. I just realized your mom’s been gone a little while and your dad...”

  She swallowed hard. “Why? Have you been spending all those Christmases past with your family? Because I haven’t seen you around town.”

  His back straightened and the smile was gone. “Yeah, I spend Christmas with my family in Markham. Every year.”

  She shrank back at his sharp tone. “Sorry.”

  “No, shit.” He rubbed a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t pity you. That’s really...hypocritical.”

  “I’m not saying my life is great but, it’s what I’ve got.”

  “I love my life,” he said, sounding like an apology. “I really do. My brothers are my family. But I admit, when I’m falling asleep after turkey and pie and all that Christmas baking, I think of you and Angie. And how great all those Christmases would have been.”

  Again with the nose prickles. “Me too.”

  “She would have been—”

  “Twenty-eight,” Mallory finished.

  He let out a deep breath. “Shit. We could have been grandparents.”

  She sniffled and had to grab a napkin.

  “Shit, sorry Mal. I’ll stop talking.”

  “I think that all the time. She could have had a baby of her own by this point.”

  His eyes went to the window, to the view of the parking lot. There was water in his eyes too, and she had to look away.

  They were quiet until the food arrived, and they ate without talking, too. Then when they walked quietly to the truck he took her hand again, his grip tight.

  -oOo-