The Sweet Under His Skin

by Portia Gray

  "So it seems."

  "Well she's important to Arielle and that's why none of this feels better until Reuben's been neutralized. We all want this prick and his asshole friends out of town. And if they're dealing in front of my girl's house, beating people up on her lawn, we need to get him gone. I need you for that, Bishop."

  "You got me, Quentin. You know that. Club tonight, okay?"

  "When?"

  "Seven. Mandy's doing supper before that."

  "How come?"

  "It's been a while. Maybe…maybe you should bring that girl."

  Quentin nearly laughed. Bishop was as good at 'pretending' as Quentin was. "Is this so the guys can meet her?"

  "What'd you think?"

  Quentin just shook his head. "We'll be there for supper."

  "Good. That gets rid of one headache anyway."

  "Later," Quentin replied and flipped his phone shut. After a few more moments of chilling his heels the door in front of him opened and Arielle stepped out. Her face was splotchy, eyes were red, but she gave him a smile anyway. Quentin got to his feet, reaching for her on instinct. "You okay?"

  "Yeah. She's up, tired, but…I think she's going to be okay."

  Quentin narrowed his eyes. "What'd she tell you?"

  "Not a lot. The usual stuff about how sorry she was. I didn't want to push."

  Quentin felt his lip curl. "She didn't tell you how she got to Portus Felix?"

  Arielle looked confused. "No. Why?"

  Quentin reached around her and pushed the door open, striding past her into the room like he had every right to be there. The sister looked up, frowned like she was trying to place him, then her eyes got wide and she held up both hands, palms out, pleading. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to come back here. It's not my fault, I swear!" At least she remembered that.

  "Quentin, what are you doing?" Arielle was hissing at him, grabbing his arm. "Don't scare her."

  "She ain't that scared of me," he assured her, not letting his eyes leave the sad sack in the hospital bed.

  "I'm sorry," the sister repeated, looking like she was about to start crying.

  As he stared her down he realized how much she and Arielle now looked alike. Thin—too thin—eyes looking much bigger than they really were. The biggest difference was that Arielle once again was bright-eyed and vibrant. The woman in the bed still looked…wretched.

  "Did you tell Arielle why you're here?" Now the girl just looked confused.

  "Quentin," Arielle cautioned.

  "Don't you think it's fair to warn her what you got yourself into?"

  Now Arielle's eyes went to her sister. "What's he talking about?"

  The lying thief looked confused, too. "I don't know," she said weakly.

  "Tell her about Reuben," Quentin advised, and he watched her face get even paler, if it was possible.

  "Who's Reuben?" Arielle asked, not to him, to her.

  "I…I can't…"

  "Tell me, Jolene. Are we in danger?" Quentin felt relief at that. Arielle was still capable of self-preservation.

  The sister's face crumpled and she covered it with both hands. "I'm so sorry, Arielle!"

  Now Arielle turned a panicked look on him. "I wanted her to say it," he explained gently. "Those guys that have been dealing? The ones that beat-up that guy in front of your house, roughed up Calvin? They all work for a really bad dude we're trying to find. He's a network meth dealer, he's got little operations all over Southern California. He's bad news, Arielle." Her eyes darted to Jolene, but there was no real help there. "Your sister owes him a lot of money. Then she tried to steal from him. So he sold her to a dealer he'd set up here."

  Arielle frowned. "Sold her?"

  "She was into him for forty grand. He felt he owned her. So he sold her and the dealer kept her for his own entertainment. He might have also pimped her out. But I don't know that for sure."

  There it was; sweet Arielle, who'd made pancakes and cried while he cut her hair that morning, finding out her sister was basically trafficked back to Portus Felix because she owed a drug dealer a little less than some houses are worth. He felt like he'd just thrown filth all over her.

  She blinked. A lot. Then shook her head. "No…" she whispered. "No, oh my God..."

  Quentin risked a look back at the sister. She was watching Arielle, biting her nails, tears running down her face, full-body sobbing.

  "We don't like drug dealers here," Quentin said, mostly for Jolene. "We're gonna get this Reuben guy to ignore Portus Felix in his grand plans. And if he won't we'll make Reuben disappear. But if we need your help, I plan on getting it without any hassle."

  Jolene looked terrified. Still. "He'll kill me."

  "He'll kill you either way," Quentin informed her levelly. "At least with us someone else is on the same side as you. So, are you gonna help us?" There was no answer.

  Arielle broke the silence. "Jolene? These people? Do they know where I live? Where Calvin lives?"

  That made the bitch drop her hands. "They took my stuff. You're in my address book. Since you moved I had to put you in there."

  Arielle took a shuddering breath, and Quentin reeled her in close to his chest before she could freak out. "Not gonna touch you, babe. I swear to God I'll kill them all before they can even get near you or Calvin."

  Jolene watched them, her tears drying up, something coming over her face. Quentin didn't bother trying to interpret it, he just held Arielle close and let her hang onto him until she felt better.

  When Arielle did pull away from him, she wiped her eyes and said, sounding incredibly angry, "Trust me, she's helping you. Because if she doesn't then I no longer have a sister."

  Chapter Nineteen

  All the relief of Jolene waking up, dissolved. Of course. Because nothing could ever be great with her around, shit had to fall apart, and she had to leave the world in ruins.

  What happened to Jolene had been worse than what Arielle had expected. And while it infuriated her that Jolene hadn't intended to tell her how much trouble she was in, Arielle also couldn't pretend to be surprised. All Jolene had to do to survive was lie and evade. Like a cockroach. Somehow she always survived. She still cared though, a lot. That was her little sister.

  At least the numbness of shock was alleviated by the ride home. Arielle had to admit she loved riding on the bike with Quentin. She'd always thought they looked so dangerous, but behind him, she felt absolutely safe. Moreover, something about how he was able to easily handle that loud, grumbling beast of a machine was incredibly sexy.

  Quentin pulled the bike into her driveway, killed the engine and waited while she climbed off before doing the same. "I'm sorry," he blurted suddenly as she was removing his helmet from her head.

  "What?"

  He shrugged. "I'm sorry I didn't just tell you the trouble your sister was in. I guess I thought she'd tell you the whole story."

  Arielle shook her head and handed over the helmet. "That's not her style. It's not your fault."

  "And I meant it when I said I'll protect you."

  She felt warmth bubble up in her chest and she was surprised to feel herself smile. "I know."

  His eyes ran over her, she knew him well enough by now to recognize that he was worried about her. Not drug-dealer-out-to-kill-you worried, more worried about her health. "What're you doing now?" he asked.

  "I think I need a nap. But first I should call Aunt Thelma and tell her Jolene's awake.I didn’t think to call before…"

  "Okay." He took her hand. "Listen, Mandy's having a get-together tonight. For dinner. We're invited. Wanna go?"

  She was perplexed by that. "Really?"

  He grinned, and she couldn't believe it but he actually looked sheepish. "I think the guys want to meet you. And…I want them to meet you, too."

  "How come?"

  "I've met your aunt. Your sister. And I certainly know Calvin. I haven't introduced you to my family. And that's my fault. I might need them to look out for you, and you should meet them."


  "These are the members of your club?"

  "Yeah. They're my family. They've got my back and if you're with me…they've got yours too."

  She took a deep breath, remembering the crew she'd seen the day Quentin was in trouble with the three drug dealers. "Are they dangerous…or are they like you?" He blinked a couple times, face blank, then threw his head back and laughed. She felt a bit annoyed. "What? Why is that so funny?"

  He shook his head. "You don't think I'm dangerous. I don't remember the last time someone told me that." She was perplexed. He titled his head, trying to be kind. "Remember what you told me? I beat up three drug dealers? Punched that prick out in his own house? And you still don't think I'm dangerous?"

  Arielle bit her lip. "I just meant, dangerous in general. Not just to people who probably deserve it."

  "We protect what's important to us," he admitted, running his thumb along her cheek. "And yeah, that's when we're dangerous."

  "So the bike thing…isn't a hobby. It's…for real."

  Quentin's face got serious. "Yeah. None of us are accountants or pharmacists Monday to Friday."

  "And some of the things you've done for the club put you in jail?"

  "Yeah."

  Arielle studied his face, how it stayed firm and decided on what he was telling her. If there was anything he'd lie to her about, it would be this. And he wasn't lying. He wasn't hiding it.

  She nodded. "Okay. What time is supper at?"

  "Arielle, babe? It's four o'clock." She sniffled, rolling to her side and looking over her shoulder at the intrusion on her nap-time. Check that, sleep. There was no 'nap' to it, she had been right out. Quentin was sitting next to her hip on the edge of the bed, and when she rolled over he squeezed her shoulder. "You okay?"

  She blinked and rubbed her eyes, nodding. "Yeah. I really conked out."

  "Would you rather stay home?"

  She groaned, rolling onto her back. "No, I want to go. I just need to wake up."

  He grinned quite suddenly and she found herself grinning back. "You're fucking cute when you're sleeping," he shared, leaning over to kiss her cheek. And that, of course, made her blush.

  "I guess I should get ready," she said through a yawn, covering her mouth.

  "Okay. I'll be right out in the living room." The bed shifted when he stood again, and she stretched before getting to her feet, too.

  Arielle was rubbing her face as she made her way into the en-suite, flipping the light on. Her own reflection surprised her; she'd gone to bed with the scarf on, but it came off somewhere. She'd forgotten about shaving her head.

  She ran her hands over her scalp, wondering how the hell one accessorized with no hair. Arielle splashed water on her face, put on a bit of eye make-up and mascara, lip-gloss after a second consideration of her appearance. Then back to her bedroom to find something to wear.

  She had never been one to agonize over 'fitting in'. Then again, she was so obviously normal and bland and average that it just sort of happened. Quentin and his friends operated in circles well outside of what was considered average. So would they even care if she blatantly didn't fit in?

  She pulled on dark-wash jeans, which used to fit like a second skin and now required a belt. That was alarming; relegating herself to pajamas had made it easy to ignore the severity of her weight loss, apparently.

  She pulled a button-down blouse with a black and gray plaid pattern to it off a hangar. Thelma had generously brought over a bunch of her dress scarves months back and from the pile Arielle selected a black one with silver thread in it. She tied it around her head, knotting the ends over her shoulder like a ponytail. She rolled up the sleeves of the shirt and put on a silver bracelet she found in her jewelry box she'd forgotten about.

  Something about trying to put together an outfit on purpose made her feel…better. More like herself. She found Quentin in the kitchen, flipping his phone shut and turning when he heard her. His smile was wide and real. "Damn, you take no time at all to clean up."

  She blushed, again, and let him kiss her cheek. "No hair to worry about," she reminded him.

  "You're gonna be okay to eat? Still riding the high of that morning blunt?" She punched his shoulder. "Hey, ouch." It was amusing that he would play wounded. "Let's get my girl all sorted, then you'll be ready to meet the guys."

  Arielle didn't know what dinner at Mandy's would be like. The men standing around Mandy's house and yard were absolutely what she imagined seeing, but that's where her expectations ended.

  No matter how little they looked alike, there was a uniform to them that went beyond their leather. They all had ruler-straight spines, walked and moved with a deceptive casualness that you just knew meant they were anything but 'at ease', and had the same edge to them that marked them as being outside of society that Quentin had. Underneath that, their characters were completely different.

  The man that had terrified her when she first met him all those months ago was called Flynn. And he had a coffin tattooed on his neck, which was intriguing. Flynn gave her the same up-and-down he had the first time she saw him, but he shook her hand and nodded with a very gruff, "How you doing?" that didn't seem to need a response.

  Gage was the one with the crazy snarl of gray hair that matched an equally grizzled beard. He just shook her hand with a muttered and slightly sarcastic "Charmed," before returning to his conversation with the one called Dillon. He was massive like an Olympic wrestler. His greying hair had an unwashed appearance, but he took her hand and to her surprise kissed the back of it while saying, "Lovely to meet you."

  Quentin pulled her hand out of his grasp, stepping in front of her while saying sarcastically, "Yeah yeah, so fucking debonair. Asshole. Hands off." It made the very large man laugh, giving her a wink before replying to Gage's recent comment.

  Mandy greeted her with a half-hug while rushing around her warm, crowded and bustling kitchen. Colton was leaning on the counter, not helping, but he offered Arielle a smile and a nod when he saw her, then pulled the blonde girl next to him away from the island to face her, while he made introductions.

  "Can I help with anything?" Arielle offered before anyone could tell her how good she was looking or how glad they were to see her up and around.

  "Nope," Mandy quipped. "In true Quentin fashion, you both arrived in time to eat."

  "Damn, she's on to me," Quentin sounded like a foiled villain but without looking she knew he was grinning.

  The outside door next to the kitchen opened, and Bishop entered. Arielle felt her guard go up again as he shot a glance her way, then smiled at Quentin. "You got the girl to come, good for you."

  "Arielle, you remember Bishop?"

  She nodded before Quentin finished. "Yes. Good to see you again."

  Bishop slid an arm around Mandy's waist to kiss her neck before letting her go to work on the meal. "She's so polite, isn't she?" he said to Mandy, who just smiled at Arielle.

  "Her Momma raised her right," was all Mandy said then, holding out a bowl of salad. "Can you put this on the table, hun? We're ready to eat."

  Arielle was next to Quentin on the sofa, tucked under his arm cradling a cup of tea close to her chest, entertained by whatever bullshit Flynn and Dillon were trading back and forth, but all Quentin could hear was her laugh. It lit up her whole face and had easily charmed his brothers; every single one of them.

  Colton appeared in the entryway from the kitchen, tapping his watch. Quentin caught it and nodded, giving Arielle's shoulders a squeeze. "Time to go," he said close to her ear. "I'll drop you at home, then I gotta head to the clubhouse."

  "Oh. Okay." She let Mandy take her mug and held Quentin's hand as they left the house under an avalanche of farewells to Arielle, then headed for his bike.

  Quentin handed over a helmet and absently asked what he was dying to know without really asking. "So? That's my family."

  She grinned back at him, fastening the chin strap. "I think I like them."

  "Really?" He faked confusion. "Becaus
e I'm pretty sure they hated you."

  "Really?" She didn't believe him, she was still smiling.

  "Yeah. Couldn't you tell?"

  "No."

  He swung a leg over his bike, then stopped her from doing the same by putting a hand on her hip. "They're crazy about you. I knew they would be." She dropped her eyes and fucking blushed at that. He knew his grin got bigger and he leaned over to kiss her cheek. "Let's get you home, babe." He hated the feeling of her heat leaving his back as she got off the bike in her driveway. She unfastened the helmet and was handing it to him and he surprised even himself by saying, "Might as well take it inside with you."

  Her grip tightened on it. "Oh. Okay." Even without knowing his world she seemed to realize he was saying she was the only one he expected to have on his bike with him. And she knew that was a big deal. "When you're done, will you come back here?"

  He nodded. "Yeah, I'll go home after."

  "No, I mean…" her cheeks got pinker and he realized what she was asking. "Can you come here after?"

  His back straightened, his chest feeling bigger. "Yeah, if you want."

  She nodded. "Yeah.Yeah I want…"

  Quentin felt lightheaded, he had to roll his shoulders to keep from jumping up and down. "Okay. I'll see you later then."

  She nodded, paused, then leaned over, hand on his thigh for balance, and kissed his cheek. Without meeting his gaze she turned and headed for the front steps of her place. He waited until she was inside, returned the small wave she gave right before she shut the front door, and let himself grin then.

  There were few moments that had him feeling like a teenager again. His life was a long list of been-there-done-that by this point, but Arielle Taylor made him feel like a kid.

  He was last to arrive at the clubhouse, nodding at the few Nomads lingering outside before passing through the door to Dead Men's hallowed halls. His brothers were already seated around the table, and as Quentin took his seat he caught them all staring.

  "What?" he snapped. There was quiet as they exchanged looks, and Quentin got the suffocating feeling they'd been talking about him.