Resistance

by K Larsen

  * * * * *

  In the last week Pepper has spent all but two nights with me. We never stay at her place. I don’t push to know why, but on some level it irks me. We’d spent my patching-in night and most of the next day rolling in bed together, ordering take out for fuel or discussing the over-the-top method she used to get my attention. I’d laughed when she said she felt like she owed me “the male fantasy” to make up for friend-zoning me for so long. Of course it was a fantasy of sorts, what straight male doesn't want to see some girl-on-girl action? Truth be told, though, I’m more turned on by the fact that she's in my bed with me and told her as much.

  A lot of good things have started. She talks, not a lot, but enough for now. The love of dessert has been prevalent from the start but let me tell you, when a chick adds cheesecake to the bedroom, it’s mind blowing. I have half a mind to keep a slice next to the bed whenever she’s here in hopes that she’ll wake me up with a “‘dessert BJ” every time.

  Allie’s been over the last two nights so Pepper’s stayed at home. It’s been torturous and good at the same time. It allows us time apart to cool off. I don’t want to risk burning out too fast. I want her to keep opening up. To keep talking. She’d mentioned that Greta would be away for business for a week or so and that she wanted to hang out with her and get her workouts in before she left, so our schedules actually meshed pretty well. I have club business tonight and she has to work so our two-day dry spell is extending a third day. I’m really looking forward to this weekend, though. I want to take her to the Parlor for ice cream and maybe take a day trip with her on the bikes up into the mountains. I’m a total sap, thinking about ice cream dates and long bike rides. I want her on the back of my bike but I know she’ll want to ride next to me on her own. I’m not really sure which is hotter.

  I intended on driving home but I found myself steering the opposite way as I left the MC. It’s well after midnight and I’m a total creeper for what I’m about to do. I slow as Pepper’s house comes into view. I’m not even sure how I ended up here. It wasn’t a conscious choice. Slowing more, I let the bike idle. I feel like a total stalker watching her house. Why did I even come? Someone’s jacked-up truck is parked in her driveway. Who would be over at this hour? A knot forms in the pit of my stomach.

  Two lights are on that I can see from where I’m parked. I squint, trying to focus on the inside of the biggest window. Pepper’s long, black hair comes into view as she strides purposefully into what looks like the kitchen, her arms flailing, her face screwed up tightly. What the hell? A man appears behind her. Tall and broad and stiff in posture. Arms gesturing wildly. She spins to face him, leaving me with a view of her back. She points towards the door. The broad man slams his hands down on the counter, shaking his head no. Grabbing something next to her, she hurls it towards the man. I can hear the shatter of the item as it hits the wall. Not on my watch. Kicking the kickstand down, I hop off the bike and race up the steps to her front door. Blood rushes in my ears as my brain thinks up the worst scenarios possible.

  “Pepper!” I roar. Silence. Oh shit. “Pepper!” I pound frantically on the door. What has that asshole done to her? Taking a step back, I notice a window cracked and decide to go for it when I’m hauled backward and flung onto my ass roughly. Before I have a chance to look up, catch my breath, or figure out what the hell just happened, my arm is yanked up and back. I squeal in pain as I’m hoisted to my feet.

  “Shut up and get inside,” a burly, sandpapery voice orders. Not that I have much choice in this position. I’m pushed through the side entrance, into the kitchen. Pepper is on her hands and knees in a tiny nightie cleaning up glass and spilled liquid. Her face lifts, splotchy from crying, takes me in, and blows out an annoyed breath. I feel like an outsider instead of the hero.

  “Let him go, Bentley,” she commands. To my utter surprise, he does. I rub my arm gingerly and step away from him with a glare.

  “Pepper? Are you all right?” I ask, confused as hell.

  “What are you doing here, Sawyer?” she asks, pushing up from the floor with a dustpan full of glass shards. I look between the two of them. Nope. Still confused.

  “I...shit. I don’t have a good excuse,” I admit. Moments pass and I begin to feel more and more like an intruder.

  “You shouldn't be here,” Bentley grits out.

  “Who the hell are you?” I whip back.

  “BOYS!” Pepper shouts, drawing our attention to her. “Sawyer, follow me.” She turns and stomps out of the kitchen. I follow Pepper down a dimly lit hall to a bedroom. She walks me inside what is clearly her room, motions for me to sit on the bed with her, and turns to me.

  “I need you to wait here. I’ll come get you in a minute,” she says sternly, not giving up anything.

  “I think maybe I should just go,” I mutter while dragging a hand through my hair roughly.

  “Too late for that,” she laments, standing. “Just...just wait, okay?” she asks. She leaves, closing the door behind her.

  Everything feels wrong. I get up and pace. Her walls are a gray color and her bedding a soothing blue. Everything spa-like and calm, but I don’t feel calm at all right now. There are no family photos, no friends depicted anywhere on her walls or her dresser. Clothes lay strewn on the floor and the bed looks as though it’s been slept in. Is that her boyfriend? Oh fuck. What the hell have I gotten myself into? Gripping her dresser for support, I see a note resting on the top, catching my eye.

  “Eyes open. Escaped. Coming for you.”

  The choppy lettering looks like my handwriting, a man’s handwriting; maybe it’s that guy’s out in the kitchen. How did things get this gnarly this fast? I haven’t had time to think, to work any of this out. I stumble backwards until the backs of my knees hit her bed and I lie down. Stretching my arms behind my head to relieve the tension growing in my shoulders, my hand connects with cool steel. I flip over, gripping it, and pull it from under the pillow. A pistol. Heavy and dangerous. A gun, under her Goddamned pillow. Who is Pepper? Emotions whirl around deep in my gut. Allie pops into my mind and I can’t shake the feeling that Pepper has indeed been warning me about herself for good reason. Clinging to the gun, I’ve decided I’ve had enough. Who keeps a pistol under their pillow? Storming from her room, I stomp down the short hall, their murmuring voices growing louder as I approach. I quiet my steps and my breath to listen better.

  “I won’t do it. I won’t sit back again and watch you try and kill yourself,” he grunts.

  “That’s awfully dramatic,” Pepper drops sarcastically.

  “Is it? Jesus, I watched you almost drown in bourbon once before and now you’re adding drugs to the mix?” he grits.

  “Pot, Bentley. I hardly think that’s a death sentence,” she quips. So the drugs thing is new. Somehow that sets my mind at ease just a bit. I agree with him, though, it seems like she’s ruining her life purposefully.

  “Oh so the X was just a onetime deal?” he asks. I can hear the caustic tinge in his tone.

  “How do you even know about that!” she squawks.

  “Honey, I’m ATF, and you’re you. How did you think I wouldn't know about it?”

  I can hear her feet drag along the flooring and she huffs but otherwise remains silent. It feels as if time has paused.

  Tick tock.

  I’m about ready to step out from the shadows when he speaks.

  “And this Sawyer guy?” The sharp intake of his breath is trenchant. “I knew this would happen but why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Bentley, please. I’m just...we’re just friends.” At the word friends my gut sinks. A bilious noose tightens around my chest. I truly am a fool.

  “Mags, you’re allowed to move on. Start a life. WITSEC isn’t a death sentence.” He sounds defeated and tired. Like this conversation is nothing new between them.

  “I...I don’t know what to say,” she whispers as my head spins. What have I stepped in to?

  “There isn’t anything to say.” His
tone is harsh, accusing, even. “We need to clean this up. Get your story straight,” he clips, all business.

  WITSEC? WITSEC!

  Pieces are falling together and not in a good way. Little did I know things would get so crazy so quickly. Who is she? I step out from the shadows, still clutching the gun. Instantly Bentley draws his weapon and aims at me. The gun clatters to the floor as my hands rise upward, stunned.

  “Pepper?” I croak.

  “Bentley, for fuck’s sake,” she snarls. He withdraws his gun, setting it on the small kitchen island. He doesn’t withdraw his glare. What the hell did I do to him?

  “Who are you?” I ask, voice faltering. Her face morphs into so much defeat it tears at my insides.

  “I’m Pepper,” she says and sighs.

  “WITSEC. Gun. Cryptic note. Mags?” I grind out, anger bubbling.

  “Fuck,” Bentley grits, running a hand through his hair. “Time to sit.”

  He brushes past me into the dark living room, switching on a lamp. Pepper follows suit and I’m lost in the chaos. My thoughts swirl like a tornado. Can I do this? Should I do this? Is it time to cut and run? I can’t form a solid thought. It's odd. There's how you feel, and then there's how you think you should feel. I need, no, want answers. I want to know what the hell I’ve unwittingly gotten into.

  “Sit, Sawyer,” Pepper orders. So I do.

  “Magnolia was my name. The gun is registered to me and I can’t sleep without it. The note is from Bentley.” She jerks her thumb at him. Understanding dawns and I suck in a sharp breath.

  “Clara was right. You lied to her, to me.” My mind races back to dancing together at the bar. The gunshot sound.

  Her face.

  Terror.

  When she took care of me while sick. Calm. Her playfulness at the Cascades. Memories, all conflicting, run rampant.

  “Mags, or rather Pepper, is in the Witness Protection Program. She didn’t lie. Her name is legally Pepper Philips now. And simply divulging this information could cost her her safety,” Bentley cuts in, looking pissed. So now I’m putting her in danger by demanding the truth? Please. This asshole is riding my last nerve.

  “Why are you in WITSEC? Who’s coming for you?” I ask. I’m concerned for her now. The anger and betrayal I felt is now changing, shifting into care and concern.

  “Can’t share that information,” Bentley snaps.

  “Maybe you should let her answer,” I snap back.

  “Boys, come on. It’s late. I’m tired. So tired,” Pepper says, her voice full of regret. Her hair hangs in long falls over her shoulders and catches the lamp light just so. It almost looks like a halo around her head but she’s no angel.

  “I don’t do secrets,” I state. I won’t. I can’t.

  Can I? After Clara, I have to wonder if there is any relationship that can be successful where secrets reside.

  “They aren't secrets. Don’t you understand? I can’t tell you. I would, Sawyer. I would. I want to, I want to let you in.” Her face falls and she sniffles. “Bentley, you should go. Please. Think about your job. You’re not supposed to have contact with me.” Interesting. He stares at her, nostrils flaring. “Bent, you aren’t a marshal. You aren’t my contact. You need to go. I won’t let you ruin your career because of me.”

  “Screw you,” he grinds out as his body jerks and anger rolls off him as he stands. Without a word he’s to the front door, swinging it open and striding out, slamming it behind him. The picture on the wall rattles with the force of the slam. Headlights flood the living room as he starts his truck up. Pepper shoves out of her chair and stares at me. Silence engulfs us. She pinches the bridge of her nose. Her white nightie clings to her curves in a way I can’t seem to ignore even though, right now, I should. I should have more questions. I should walk out. I don’t want to, though. I want to stay and find out what might be between us. I want more answers. It’s obvious I’m not going to get them right now.

  I lick my lips and stare at Pepper just to intimidate her. I know Bentley is watching from the driveway. The shudder she emits is just what I wanted for a reaction. I know it makes Bentley want to smash through the living room window and grab me by my throat. I need to stake my claim, though. Jealousy is an ugly thing. I’d know.

  I’m to her in three long strides, mind made up. I want nothing more than to kiss her, to hold her. I need to feel her. She stumbles back a step at my approach. Her face registers surprise when she notices her feet aren’t on the ground anymore. When my lips crash down on hers my skin sizzles in every place where our bodies touch. I gently slip my tongue between her lips and I can feel her tremble in my arms. Tilting my head, I deepen the kiss. Her lips are soft like cashmere. She winds her arms around my neck and threads her fingers through the hair at the nape of my neck, pulling me closer. I tear my lips away from hers and look into her eyes. The headlights fade as Bentley finally pulls out and peels rubber on the road, signaling his departure.

  “What's wrong with having a little faith in what you're feeling in your heart? Why be so afraid?” I ask. I set her down softly, but keep a strong arm wrapped around her waist, crushing her to me from chest to hips. Her smile. I feel it in my belly. Her caramel eyes are the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen but when they’re warm and her lips turn up into a smile, making her whole face warm, it’s almost too much to take. Her face falls as she lets my words sink in.

  “I don’t have faith in life,” she answers brokenly, “and I can’t answer your questions. They aren’t secrets being kept from you, they’re questions that have to stay unanswered. Please, Sawyer, I’m doing this to protect you.”

  “You think I need protection? From you? Pepper, I promise I would never let you do anything to harm me or yourself. I will protect you from all your demons, real or imaginary.”

  She sighs, resting her head on my chest.

  “I still can’t tell you anything.”

  “I don’t know if I can live with that. But for now I’m willing to try, on one condition.”

  Her face lights up with delight as she clutches my arm.

  “Shoot.”

  “Stop the drugs. Bentley’s right, it’s like you’re trying to kill yourself.”

  Her face blanches and her eyes snap shut while she inhales.

  “All the dangerous things make me feel alive. Just for a little while. It’s like a flash flood of feeling something. Without that, life just seems corrosive. We’re all headed for the grave anyways.” Her words scorch my heart. I can’t imagine having such a bleak outlook on life. Although, if I did, I suppose I’d want to get baked daily, too. Or worse.

  “Pepper.” I search for something to say but she shakes her head, suggesting this portion of the conversation is over. She scrutinizes me in silence as we both eye each other.

  “I will stop everything but my bourbon if it makes you more comfortable,” she announces sincerely. Relief sweeps through me. It’s a start.

  “Fair enough,” I chortle at her conviction. “I mean, we all have one vice in life. I’m not asking you to do anything but show some moderation.” Leaning down, I cup her face and kiss her lightly. She kisses me back tenderly, but with a deep, underlying passion. I need her to be lying down in bed with her legs wrapped around my waist. Before I do something stupid, I turn towards the front door. It’s definitely my time to leave.

  “Stay,” she says.

  “What?”

  “Stay the night. Please.” Her eyes are innocent and pleading with my own. How could anyone say no to her?

  “I’m not sleeping with a gun under the pillow.” I arch a brow at her. She titters passively but stands, motioning for me to follow her.

  “Fair enough,” she chirps, allowing a small smile to grace her lips.

  Chapter 19

  Truths

  I lie down on the bed next to her. She sets the pistol on her nightstand, kills the light, and rolls to face me. My eyes adjust to the semi dark room. The nearness of her body makes my body sizzle, and th
e warmth from her body makes me woozy. This day has been too long and too dramatic for me but there is so much that needs to be said.

  “Pepper,” I start. My voice sounds dry and crackly. She sighs.

  “I know. This is why I push you away,” she answers.

  “You don’t have to, though. Things make a little more sense now that I know you’re in witness protection.”

  “Do they, though? Because I wouldn’t have been able to tell you that if tonight hadn’t happened. My life is all lies, Sawyer. I’m in danger, maybe. I've been struggling. I don't know how to live a normal life. I don't know how to move on. I want those things, but as you can see it's almost impossible to forge true friendships or relationships when you're living a lie. I don't want to memorize a cover story. To pretend to be someone else. The guilt eats at me, Sawyer. It eats me up knowing that you have this whole, complete life and that to have me in it means concealing who I actually am. It hurts. It reminds me that I can't have what I want. That I can't have what you have." Her voice is furious with regret.

  “Don’t say that. You can lie about your life all you want but it doesn’t change the truth about who you are as a person. It doesn’t change your soul,” I whisper into her ear. She inhales sharply, body wooden, but stays silent. “Tell me a truth,” I say quietly as I bring her hand up to my mouth and gently kiss the inside of her wrist. She mewls slightly but doesn’t reject the idea.

  “I’m lonely,” she admits.

  “We all feel that at some point but loneliness is not a permanent state. I’m here, Pepper,” I promise.

  “I’ve been so lonely. So out of control. I’m still so angry about things,” she whispers like it’s a shameful secret to feel those emotions. She rolls, burying her face in my chest, wrapping her arms around me. “Sawyer, your lips are so warm, so intoxicating. You taste like a fine wine and all the best life has to offer.” No tears fall but her breathing is ragged. I hold her firmly to me and keep my mouth shut. It seems she needs someone to listen more than she needs someone to talk. I stay quiet.