The Sweet Under His Skin

by Portia Gray

  Now Clark had a third distraction and he was flapping arms and legs, almost a mockery of how freaked out he was. "What?"

  "Anyone else here?" Dillon repeated, slower.

  Clark looked to Bishop. "I can't understand him."

  Bishop cocked his head as Dillon snorted. "Really?" Bishop said. "He's speaking English."

  Quentin leaned over the back of the sofa, hand on the cushions to both sides of Clark, bringing his head closer to Clark's right ear. "Where's the wife, asshole?"

  Clark jumped and pulled away from him, eyes starting to roll and get wide. "No. No, she…she left me months ago."

  "Oh yeah, that's right," Quentin mused, grinning up at Bishop. "I think she partied with us once. The blonde."

  Bishop grinned. "Yeah. Fuck, she was hot, too. Sucked cock like a Dyson."

  "I don't know, she seemed kinda desperate," Dillon added with a shrug. "You can only hear how good you are in the sack so many times before it gets old."

  "You're trying to make me angry," Clark was muttering, mostly to himself. "She hated fucking, drove me nuts."

  "Her tight, wet cunt makes that a lie," Quentin informed him, close to his ear, elbows on the back of that sofa. "Not to mention the nail marks in my back, asshole."

  Clark was sputtering, hands up. "Look, guys, just tell me what you want. I really don't know why you're here."

  Bishop raised a finger. "That's a good question, Tarquin."

  Clark stilled for just a half-second, then he gave a nervous laugh. "I think you've got the wrong house."

  Bishop sat on the low coffee table in front of Clark, leaning forward, elbows on knees. "We know you proxy land claims for Reuben, you prick. Cut the shit."

  Clark rubbed his hands on his thighs, looking from Bishop to Dillon and back to Bishop. "Look, I can't talk about him. He'll kill me."

  Bishop reached into the back of his waistband, pulled out his Glock and set it on the coffee table next to him. "And just what do you think I'm going to do?" Clark swallowed. Quentin didn't see it, he heard it. "If we get word to Reuben that we've got someone that belongs to him, do we have your cooperation taking him out?"

  Now it was Quentin's turn to share a glance with Bishop and Dillon. He should have known: keep Jolene around for bait. Get her locked up and keep her in Portus Felix, because Bishop wasn't about to go after Thelma.

  Quentin was mostly annoyed that he was left out of this whole plan.

  "If you want, that I can do. Yes."

  Quentin met Bishop's look again. Bishop nodded, Quentin returned the gesture.

  "You're coming with us," Bishop informed Clark as he stood.

  "What?"

  But Bishop was already pulling out a cell phone and dialing. Clark made like he was going to stand and Quentin held him down by the shoulders as Bishop barked into the phone, "Flynn? Bring a van to—what's the fucking address here?"

  Clark said it hollowly. On some level he knew how completely he was fucked.

  It was a tense wait for the van with Bishop pacing, Clark hovering, unwilling to relax on the stiff sofa, Dillon leaning on the wall with his hands in his pockets and no one saying anything. It was almost a relief when Flynn arrived.

  They shoved Clark into the back. The bastard was so resigned to his fate they didn't bother restraining him in any way. As Dillon and Bishop headed for their bikes, Quentin grabbed Flynn's arm for a quick convo as he was opening the driver's door.

  "Hey," he said low, "were you reporting in to Bishop while you were watching the girls?"

  Flynn nodded, working the toothpick in the corner of his mouth. "Yeah. He asked me to send him a text every time they changed location."

  Quentin frowned. "Why?"

  Flynn shrugged. "I dunno. He was worried about them?"

  Quentin inhaled. "Okay," he said simply, walking away.

  "You didn't know about it?" Flynn asked, a little loud.

  Quentin turned back, motioning him to keep it down. "No, I didn't," he said quietly.

  Flynn's jaw froze. "Huh. I figured it was for you."

  Then why wasn't I the one getting the texts? Whatever. Quentin shook his head. "Nah, man."

  "Why you asking?"

  Quentin shrugged. "Just trying to figure out how the cops knew where Jolene was, that's all." Quentin turned and headed for his bike before he said anymore that might get him in trouble.

  It was Monday. Which meant Calvin was at school, so Arielle was on her own. Quentin was tied up at the clubhouse, more than usual it seemed. But she didn't know what was usual when it came to his life.

  Yesterday saw her spending her time cleaning the bathrooms and doing all the laundry in the house. Quentin hadn't been back since he took Jolene off, and he wasn't answering her calls. After about five unanswered tries he'd finally called her back and said they were busy. He assured her Jolene was still okay, taken care of. Now it was noon and she'd cleaned the kitchen, vacuumed the whole house, and started a pot of stew already. Arielle was glad her energy was returning. Kinda sucked that she was heading back to chemo on Wednesday, though.

  It was in this pacing, bored state of mind she realized that Jolene was still at the clubhouse and likely only had the clothes she'd been wearing when she showed up here, beaten and terrified. Maybe they'd found something else for her to wear, but she likely needed stuff. The clubhouse was an extended man-cave, and even with Mandy there running things Jolene was likely missing the necessities and unwilling to ask for them.

  So Arielle went through her closets, finding a few items she hadn't worn in a while, and tossed them in an overnight bag. Then she drove to the pharmacy—her bodyguard was T-bone today—dutifully following her and holding the shopping basket for her. T-bone was actually a great partner for this. Plus he was pointing out the suspected carcinogens in most drug-store grade shampoos and body products for her.

  She didn't miss how T-bone had texted the second they got to the pharmacy and then again as they were loading the bags into her trunk. Arielle was just going to accept that, until Reuben was sorted out, her life was not entirely her own. If it meant her and Calvin were safe that was fine with Arielle.

  The clubhouse lot was half-full of bikes. She parked close to the entrance, then headed to the trunk to pull everything out. T-bone was quick to her rescue, saying emphatically, "I got it, Arielle."

  She backed off and let him grab everything, then shut the trunk as Mandy's voice made its way to her. "I was just about to call you."

  Arielle turned and smiled, accepting Mandy's hug. "What about?"

  Mandy's head jerked towards T-bone. "I was gonna ask if you had any clothes for her."

  Arielle smiled. "Great minds think alike."

  "How you doing?" Mandy asked, falling into step with her while also seeming to lead the way to the clubhouse. It was an impressive skill.

  "Good. I hated seeing her like she was. I hate it when she's high anyway but…scared and messed up is worse."

  Mandy nodded, then put an arm around Arielle's shoulders. "Listen. I know this is hard to get used to, and the constant monitoring seems weird I'm sure, but we mean well, hun. I talked to Bishop, and he just wanted to know where your sister was the entire time she was in our town. He asked Flynn to do that."

  "I know," Arielle cut in. "I think I get it. I just wish I knew who told the cops where Jolene was."

  Mandy nodded sympathetically. "I know. But this dealer's got people all over town helping him from behind the scenes. You won't believe who the guys picked up as an accomplice." Arielle had a feeling she did know, but she kept her mouth shut on this one.

  Inside the clubhouse Arielle removed her sunglasses and Mandy snapped her fingers at a crawler that Arielle recognized as Towel Girl. Or Brittany, as her name turned out to be. She was always the nicest to Calvin.

  "Where's Jolene?" Mandy asked, all business.

  "Dillon's room," Brittany replied with a grin.

  Arielle balked a bit and Mandy snorted. "There's a shock," the older woman muttere
d. It sounded like it really wasn't.

  "Mandy," Arielle said, and something in her face gave away a bit of panic because Mandy was already smiling.

  "No one's forcing her to do anything, hun. But from what I saw last night your sister might have been a bit charmed by Dillon."

  Arielle shook her head and resigned herself to following Mandy. "That sounds like my sister," she admitted. "Was she drinking?"

  "She's stone sober right now. Well, when I saw her this morning she was."

  Mandy knocked on a door in the hallway, waited for a quiet "Come in" then pushed her way inside. Arielle followed, finding herself in a room much like Quentin's. Her sister was in the bed, sitting up and pushing her messy hair out of her face and rubbing her eyes. She had a big black T-shirt on.

  "Are you okay?" Arielle asked, sitting next to her on the bed.

  Jolene's eyes tracked T-bone as he set everything down on the floor inside the room and left the three women, shutting the door on his way out.

  "I'm fine," Jolene said, covering a yawn.

  "Are they…are they taking good care of you?" Arielle was scared to hear the answer.

  Jolene gave a small smile and squeezed Arielle's hand. "I'm fine, Jolene. They're leaving me alone, I feel like I'm in a fortress here."

  "No one's…making you do things you don't want to?"

  Jolene's smile got wider. "What’re you talking about? Are you asking if they're assaulting me?"

  Arielle shrugged. "I don't know. You're in Dillon'sroom, I just—"

  Jolene's laugh cut her off. "I was bored. I didn't feel like being alone. The scary one's a bit intense for me but Dillon…" she shrugged. "I like his face. He's been nice to me. And he was a great lay."

  Arielle's face immediately got warm and she realized Mandy was still there when the woman laughed. "Christ, are you two sure you're related?" Mandy sputtered. Arielle shook her head, feeling a laugh escape as well.

  "Don't worry, big sis. I'm leaving your man alone, swear to God. But his friends are fair game."

  Oh God, she used the plural: friends. "Leave T-bone alone," she mumbled. "He's one of my favorites."

  Jolene laughed. "Too nice for me, Arielle."

  "All right, you two are on your own. Have a good visit," Mandy declared, heading for the door. When they were alone again Arielle turned back to Arielle, who was lounging up on the headboard, clearly perfectly comfortable in this room.

  "So what else, Arielle? Where's Calvin?"

  Arielle sighed. "It's Monday, Jolene. He's in school."

  "Shit, that's right."

  "I'm bringing him by after. He learns how to box with Quentin most days."

  Jolene looked surprised, then grinned. "He does?"

  Arielle nodded. "It's kinda sweet, actually. There was a bully at school and…Quentin said he should know how to defend himself. And I don't think Calvin would run around starting fights so…I said it was okay."

  Jolene was still smiling. "Wow. I really like that."

  "Me too," she replied. "Well, I bought some changes of clothes. I stopped at the pharmacy and picked up shampoo, a tooth brush, stuff like that."

  "Thanks, Arielle." Jolene said, throwing the overs off and getting up. "I was sick of this shirt."

  "I even got some regular old Hanes underwear for you."

  "And that's why you're the best sister ever." Jolene crouched next to the bags T-bone had set down. "And deodorant! Thank God!"

  Arielle's stomach was in knots over everything that had gone down and where they were and all the circumstances shaping her day-to-day life. Yet Jolene, who was in immediate danger, was stoked about toiletries.

  This was life.

  "I'm going to go look for Quentin," Arielle said, standing. "Enjoy your shower."

  Jolene grabbed her in a big hug, the smell of cigarette smoke wafting over them both. "You're the best, sis."

  "Yes, I know. Do you know where the guys went?"

  Jolene shrugged, carrying a plastic bag to the bathroom. "Dillon is in the bar, I'm pretty sure. I haven't seen Quentin."

  Arielle nodded and left her sister to get cleaned up. Then she went looking for the man she'd really been missing the night before. She always slept better with Quentin next to her.

  "Gonna head home, see Arielle," Quentin told Mandy.

  Mandy smiled, stopping in place. "She's here. Visiting her sister."

  "She is?"

  Mandy squinted across the lot. "Bishop's still got the guys reporting in on her."

  Quentin nodded. "Yeah, I know. I mean, if I ever want to know where she is I guess I can ask him."

  Mandy patted his cheek. "Tell me, hun. Should we be getting jealous of them?"

  Quentin laughed at that. "Nah, you kidding? My girl's got all this coming home to her every night."

  Mandy smiled and accepted his kiss on the cheek as he passed. He looked back once he had the clubhouse door open, but she was still standing in the same spot, staring across at Bishop.

  "You all right?" he called out.

  She nodded, then gave him a smile over her shoulder. "Just my imagination, Quentin. Don't worry."

  He nodded and watched her continue on her way, then headed inside. As soon as he saw Arielle round the corner from the hallway he felt himself grin. He loved it when she wore tank tops and those faded jeans. When she saw him she smiled, just a little.

  That was even better.

  "Hey, babe," he greeted her, stepping close and sliding his hands up her back to reel her in. He lowered his mouth to hers but she just gave him a quick peck and moved to step away. He tightened his grip. "Hey, what's going on?"

  She sighed. "My sister was in Dillon's room."

  Quentin frowned. "Yeah, I know. She was all over him last night. I saw it."

  Arielle tilted her head and looked up at him, clearly upset. "She's really vulnerable, Quentin."

  He sighed. "And an adult, Arielle."

  "Your friend took advantage of her."

  Quentin set his jaw and stepped back. "Hey, wait a minute there."

  "Do you think she maybe felt obligated?" Arielle quipped back.

  Quentin scrubbed his face with both hands. "Look, babe, I don't know how to tell you this. You've got this memory of your little sister being an innocent, but, babe, I mean this, she ain't. That girl wasn't even fucked up on anything and she was in his lap more than anywhere else in this place. She had a room to herself, she didn't have to be out here with us."

  It was true, too. Quentin stayed the night mostly to wait for the plan on how Clark Davidson was going to be of use to them. A few beers turned into tequila turned into him falling asleep on the sofa. He felt bad, but he also didn't want to call Arielle and let her know he wasn't coming home in case she was sleeping.

  Shit. He should have called this morning, but he got distracted. Just more proof that he was shit and the club stuff when having a life of his own, and shit as the life-of-his-own stuff when involved in club business.

  "And you were alone last night?" she asked, voice small like she was scared of the answer or the reaction to her question.

  Quentin set his hand on the bar, raising his eyebrows. "Arielle, you gotta stop worrying about that shit. There hasn't been anyone else since you, I swear to Christ."

  "Sorry," she replied, looking at her feet, hands sliding into the back pockets of her jeans and forcing her chest outwards.

  Fuck, focus man. "Don't be sorry. Just stop asking me that."

  She took a step back. "I'm just on edge with all this surveillance. And everyone telling Bishop my every move. I don't like that, Quentin. If you want to know where I go and when I get home I'll happily call and tell you. I don't like this."

  He nodded. "I know. And I didn't know about it."

  "Did you ask Bishop why he's doing it?"

  Quentin shook his head. "Nah. I asked Flynn, and he was told to report to Bishop where you girls went on Saturday. No explanation, and it's really not up to us to question things."

  Ariel
le crossed her arms. "Can you ask him why?"

  Quentin met her eyes, his guilt hitting hard again. "Yeah," he said softly. "When I get a moment alone, I'll ask him. But until this Reuben stuff is done—"

  "Is that when life comes off pause? This mythical date when a drug dealer I've never met finally fucks off?" she was getting shrill and it made him frown, then she was stalking to the door.

  He caught up with her eventually, getting hold of her arm as gently as he could. "Hey, talk to me, babe. What's going on?"

  Arielle wiped at her eyes, and he was pissed off she wasn't talking to him but upset enough to actually cry.

  "I can't read minds, babe."

  She sniffed, looked up and finally went soft on him again, tucking her face into his chest and wrapping her arms around his waist. He hugged her back, kissing the top of her head and rubbing circles on her shoulder. "Arielle?"

  "I'm pissed off. I wanted a few nice, quiet days before…before Wednesday."

  His grip tightened a bit. "I know, Arielle. I wanted this wrapped up weeks ago. You know that."

  "It's not your fault." She let him hold her for a while, then asked, "Did you pick up Clark Davidson?"

  "Yeah. He's tied up in the ring." He studied her for a moment, believing her next run of treatments had her worried. Hell, he was worried, too. He hated that she was going to get sick again. "Okay, babe. I'll get Calvin for you today."

  She shook her head. "No, Calvin's got a project he wants me to help him with. It's a surprise."

  Quentin frowned. "What?"

  She sighed and looked away. "I can't tell you. It's a surprise."

  "For who?"

  "For you."

  "Why?"

  She became exasperated, slapping both hands down on his chest. "For your birthday. Don't let me wreck it any more than I just did."

  Quentin had no answer. His hands were on her shoulders and he had to swallow, gather his thoughts. "Charlie's making me a surprise birthday thing?"

  Arielle smiled, watching his face. That's when he knew he probably looked like a total sap. "Yeah. He's so excited. So…leave us until about six tonight?"

  Quentin's very guts went all mushy on him, and he felt himself smile and pull her in for a tight hug. "I'll stay away until after supper. I'll nap here for a bit."