by Brent, Cora
Finally he let go and led me to a group of chairs nearby, pulling me into his lap and examining me critically. He touched the swelling on my face and had to look away, not wanting me to see the ways his eyes welled. I took his hand and he noted the bandages, trying to choke down the sob which threatened him.
“Gray,” I said, stroking his face. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Tell me,” he said.
I described everything from the moment I discovered Winston sitting at the table to arriving at the hospital. He closed his eyes again with a painful wince when I described how Winston had ordered his son to kill me.
Grayson pushed my hair back and kissed me on the forehead. “Fuck, I should have been there.”
I curled closer against his chest. “You’re here now.”
“But he’s alive?”
“Yes. His injuries, even the gunshot, weren’t too severe.” A thought jarred me. “Do you think the police will show up?”
His laugh was hoarse and brief. “Not fucking likely. Fucker would have to explain assault and attempted kidnapping.” He paused. “So your daddy finally did right by you.”
“He did,” I said quietly. John Talbot had finally grown something resembling a paternal conscience. I remembered the cold way he’d informed Winston that if he dared to advance any further the next bullet wouldn’t be aimed at his arm. I had no doubt my father meant it completely.
I curled more closely against his chest. “Gray, I love you. With everything that I am.”
“I love you too, Promise.” He held my face between his hands and kissed me slowly.
“Mother Fucker!” Orion bellowed from down the hall. “Jesus Gray, you were like a bat out of hell.” A few hospital personnel stared at him, agog, as he thumped down the corridor like a leather-clad hulk.
Kira floated into his arms and he held her tight. “Don’t be a dick,” she scolded. “It’s been a rough day.”
Orion’s blue eyes fastened on me. He scowled. “You look like shit, girl. You okay?”
I nodded and Orion pointed to Gray.
“Couldn’t keep with this asshole, you know. He was hell bent on getting to you.” Orion grew more somber. “So how is he?”
Rachel appeared, rubbing the back of her neck. “Concussion and stitches. He’s conscious but they haven’t let us see him yet.” Her face broke into a sudden and stunning smile and when I saw where she was looking I knew the reason why. Casper’s embrace more or less crashed into her.
“Baby,” she said, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck and closing her eyes.
“Love you, cupcake,” Casper said gruffly.
Eventually the rest of the Defiant men trickled in as we awaited the opportunity to see Teague. Brandon patted me sadly on the head as if I were an injured kitten and then wandered off, looking for a vending machine.
Maddox sank heavily into a chair across from us. He rested his elbows on his knees and looked intently at Gray. “What do you want to do?” he asked with deadly seriousness.
Gray held me close. “We’ll talk about it later,” he said.
I understood what they were and weren’t saying. Maddox was letting Gray know that if the plans were to go finish Winston for good, he was game.
Of course Orion insisted on going in first to see Teague, who was conscious but being kept overnight for observation. He didn’t stay in there long and nodded to me curtly when he emerged.
“Get in there. He asked to see you.”
Gray squeezed my shoulder and held my hand as we made our way down the pristine corridor towards the room where Teague was being kept.
The first thing I noticed when we walked into the room was how small he looked, lying there on an ordinary cot in a hospital gown. Devoid of his leather and his tough posture, he seemed sadly vulnerable.
The second thing I noticed, however, was the penetrating glare of his dark eyes as he watched us approach. It wouldn’t do to feel sorry for Teague. He wouldn’t have it.
He waited until we were right beside him and then spoke directly to me.
“I should have managed to fucking kill him.”
“It was a cheap coward’s shot,” Gray said.
“Yeah,” Teague agreed and briefly touched his head where it was bandaged in the back at the site of the wound.
Gently I took his gnarled and weathered hand in mine. “Thank you,” I said softly.
I half expected he would toss me off and say something smart but he just turned his face away and said, “Take her home, Gray.”
Before Grayson led me away I leaned over and kissed his leathery cheek. Except for a suspiciously long blink, Teague didn’t visibly react.
Gray kept his arm firmly around me and I was grateful for his strength. Now that Teague was settled in and the hospital staff was regarding the motley collection of bikers with increasing suspicion, we began to drift out. I opted to ride home on the back of Gray’s bike.
I had forgotten all about how the door to the Airfloat was ripped from its hinges in the battle with Winston. Grayson let out a low whistle when he looked at it and peered inside the trailer to see a general state of disarray as a result of my physical struggle. With Mad’s help, he managed to get the door to the point where it was serviceable. I sat quietly at the table and listened to the two men speaking in murmured tones.
Gray gave me a worried look when he returned indoors. It was brutally hot, of course. He took his shirt off and grabbed a towel from the bathroom before sitting across from me and taking my hand.
“You hungry?” he asked.
I shook my head. “I ate from the vending machine.”
“You want to talk, baby?”
“No.” I looked at him pointedly. “I want to forget. For now.”
He understood. Grayson collected me in his arms and brought me over to the bed. I let my fingers roam over his hard muscles, reveling in their solid authority beneath my bandaged hands. He reached under my shirt and touched me gently. Suddenly I couldn’t get undressed fast enough. I wanted to push away the hot hell of the day and lose myself in him.
“I love you,” he said with emotion as he eased down my panties.
“Hurry,” I responded, reaching for his belt. “Hurry.”
I twisted my body underneath him, trying to urge him along to the same frenzy. I guided him in, wanting him to give it me hard. I told him so and he answered with a smile and a deep thrust which I welcomed. We moved together in blissful sync, Gray managing to be both tender and demanding at the same time. As I let the pleasure roll up through my core and absorb my senses completely it occurred to me to marvel over the perfection of this basic natural act. I’d grown to adulthood without ever understanding the power of physical touch. It was hedonistic. It was glorious. And coupled with the story of the heart it was everything.
“I love you, Grayson,” I told him. “I love you, I love you.”
Chapter Twenty Five
The next morning I awoke before Gray. I slid out from underneath him carefully, kissing away the frown which briefly touched his sleeping face as he felt me slip out of his arms.
“Sleep, baby,” I whispered in his ear, touching his face lovingly before I searched out something to wear. He had been up most of the night alternately pacing or restlessly sitting at the table as his fingers absently toyed with nearby objects. I knew occasionally he had ventured outside alone and stared angrily into the darkness.
I was worried. I remembered the brief conversation with Maddox at the hospital yesterday. When I tried to discuss it with Grayson, he shushed me and kissed my forehead.
The coffee I made was still scalding hot but I sipped it anyway, glad for the startling jolt it brought as it rolled down my throat. I wanted Winston dead. There were few things which would give me greater satisfaction that to know that he would never draw another breath. Gray had warned me about the power of anger and hatred. And last night whenever my eyes would open in search of him, I saw
how he was forgetting his own words.
Yes, I wanted Winston dead. Or if not dead, at least reduced to something which had no control over other human beings.
No, I would never sacrifice Grayson to achieve it. Not his freedom, certainly not his life. If Grayson and the Defiant men descended on Jericho Valley they wouldn’t be confronted with a handful of resistors. They would be met with a small army.
There had to be another way.
I flexed my hands and toyed with the bandages covering my cuts. The light outside was still gentle this early. The staccato call of a nearby kestrel echoed through the thin walls of the trailer.
Feeling a little restless myself, I slipped on a pair of shoes and resolved to take a short walk. I was not going to allow yesterday’s events to permanently warp my peace of mind. I left a note for Grayson and, almost as an afterthought, I grabbed the rifle from beside the door. As I paused and listened to the sound of Gray’s even breathing, I spotted a piece of paper on the counter by the sink. I had looked at it dozens of times over the past few weeks and still did not know how to make use of the information it contained. It was the forum conversation Orion had printed. I folded it carefully and placed it in the pocket of my shorts.
It felt good to be outside. The morning air was still fresh and I breathed in deeply. I heard the rustling of small creatures scrambling with anxiety as I drew too close to their cozy dens in the brush.
The crunch of my own footsteps on the parched ground was startlingly loud as I made my way past the quiet trailers. A flicker of movement caught my eye and I realized the garage adjacent to the house was open. Orion was inside, shirtless and frowning over his bike.
Orion saw me approaching but didn’t pause or smile politely or do anything else which was customary. But then, Orion was far from a usual man. Which was why I needed to talk to him.
“Kira ain’t up yet,” he said irritably by way of greeting as he tried to wrench a bolt on the front wheel.
“I was actually wondering if I could speak to you.”
“Fuck!” Orion cursed when the wrench slipped. He still didn’t look at me. “You are speaking to me.”
I swallowed and took the piece of paper from my pocket. As I unfolded it with care, Orion finally looked up and grabbed it from me without asking. He scanned it briefly and then stared at me, waiting for me to talk.
“What should I do?” I asked the Defiant Motorcycle Club leader.
Orion pointed to the paper, leaving a smudge of black grease. “Figure out who the fuck this is.”
“The Faithful Cooperative? I thought-“
“No!” he said with exasperation, shoving the paper under my nose. “This fucker, this guy who calls himself ‘Formerly Faithful’ and seems to have all this shit figured out.”
I snatched the paper back and stared at it, musing. Orion was right. Whoever this was had insider information and seemed eager to expose it. The date on the post was only two months past. “I could go back to the page and see if there’s any contact information for this user.”
Orion had already returned to his bike. “So why the hell are you still standing here? Hey,” he called as I started to walk away. “You can use Kira’s laptop. Last I saw it was hanging out on the dresser. Don’t worry about tiptoeing around in there quietly. Nothing wakes that girl up until she’s damn well ready to wake up.”
“Thanks,” I muttered, heading into the house as Orion unleashed another explicit torrent of abuse directed at his tools.
Kira looked positively angelic as she snored lightly in a tangle of bed clothes, her arm curled protectively around her still flat belly. I touched her hair briefly, smiling over this sweet picture of my friend and she sighed vaguely in her sleep.
Once I had the laptop open on the kitchen table I quickly found the page of the original forum conversation. I clicked on the ‘Formerly Faithful’ user name and was relieved to find a Yahoo email address. I created a new address of my own, called it ‘AlsoFormerlyFaithful’ and typed out a message.
After I hit the ‘Send’ button I sat there for a moment, staring at the computer screen and thinking about people, and about a place. In the search bar I typed in ‘Jericho Valley’ and clicked on ‘Images’.
Emotion welled inside of me as I looked at photos of the place as familiar to me as the back of my hand. From a distance it looked so bucolic and sweet. And, I admitted, sometimes it was. An outsider would only see quaintly dressed women and children in a beautifully serene setting. Nothing of the underlying ugliness was visible.
The house was still quiet. Orion was presumably still messing with his bike in the garage and Kira was still sleeping soundly. I looked in the refrigerator and was pleased to discover it was well stocked. After a thoughtful perusing of the pantry I realized there were enough ingredients to concoct a version of my mother’s applesauce cake. I got to work and found the industry of being active helped settle my mind.
By the time Kira wandered sleepily into the kitchen, the cake was in the oven and I had my hands in a pile of suds as I scrubbed the mixing bowl.
“Sorry,” I said, drying my hands and gesturing to where her laptop still sat on the table. “Orion said it was okay and I didn’t want to wake you.”
She yawned. “Of course it’s okay. What are you making?”
“Applesauce cake. It’ll be ready in about 40 minutes. Kira, you all right?”
She grimaced suddenly, looking green, and then lurched toward the sink, making loud retching noises as her stomach emptied. I held her long blonde hair out of the mess as she moaned, sinking to the floor.
“It’s good,” I told her, smiling and mixing something together in a glass.
“Good?” She glared at me.
“It means your body is brimming with the necessary homes. Here, drink this.”
“What is it?”
“Wheat germ and milk. Yeah, I know it tastes bad but it’ll help.”
She swallowed reluctantly and made a face. “Promise? Can you picture a baby in this place? With these guys?”
I sat next to her. “Why not?”
She shrugged miserably and I realized that the question had been weighing heavily on her mind.
“Hey,” I poked her in the shoulder. “You grew up this way. And you’re pretty fucking fantastic.”
She wiped a tear from her eye. “Yeah,” she smiled slowly. “I am pretty fucking fantastic. Shit, why the hell am I crying?”
“Hormones again, honey.” I handed her a dishtowel and she blotted her eyes.
A shadow passed by the door and I saw Orion, once again silently listening. His face though, was gentle in the way it was only gentle when he looked at Kira. He stared at her as she wiped her eyes. Then he shifted his gaze and gave me a slow nod of acknowledgement before silently withdrawing.
Kira hauled herself up to the chair and squinted at her laptop.
“Is that you signed in? You’ve got an email.”
I whirled around and clicked on it with shaking fingers. It was probably nothing. It was probably spam.
“Hello Promise. My name is Alice Carter but I was born Alice Bastian. My mother, Martha, was the sixth wife of Stuart Bastian, cousin of Josiah. We fled the world of the Faithful twenty years ago when my mother discovered Josiah’s horrifying plan to marry my fifteen year old sister. We found refuge in Phoenix. We were lucky. I am now a reporter with the Arizona Times and have been working for years to publicly expose the depraved world of the Faithful. As long as the Faithful Cooperative exists, supported by a deep well of money and power, the horrors of which I am sure you are well familiar will remain. I would love to meet you, Promise. Call me. Please.”
Kira, standing over my shoulder, had read through the message more quickly and I felt her eyes on me as I finished absorbing the words. The phone number was a 480 area code, the Phoenix area.
“Do it,” she said, reaching over to the counter and grabbing Orion’s phone. She saw my hesitation. “Don’t think about it. Just do it.”
/>
But I was already dialing the number.
A woman’s voice answered. “This is Alice Carter.”
“Hello Alice. This is Promise Talbot.”
***
Alice was very talkative. In fact, she was downright pushy. I supposed such qualities suited her in her line of work but I was a little taken aback when she informed me she was getting in her car at that very moment and making a beeline for Quartzsite.
I paused, not terribly sure how the men would take to a brash city reporter. Kira saw my hesitation and waved it off.
“Fuck ‘em,” she mouthed with a grin.
After I told her I could be found at the Riverbottom Bar just outside town, she told me to expect her in two hours.
As I handed the phone back to Kira I heard Grayson burst through the front door frantically calling my name.
“Dammit,” he said, grabbing me in an irritable hug, “I was fucking worried.”
“I left you a note,” I told him.
He crossed his arms in agitation. “Yeah, a note. Look I’m not gonna be too keen on letting you wander the fuck around for a while.”
“Letting me?” I squeaked, growing genuinely angry at him.
“Oh boy,” Kira muttered, backing away.
“You can’t tell me what to do and when to breathe, Grayson.”
His dark eyes narrowed furiously. I crossed my own arms and gave him glare for glare.
Suddenly he sighed and looked sullenly away. I went to him and wrapped my arms around him, kissing his chest. I knew Gray loved me. I knew he had been horrifically worried for me yesterday and his fear had not evaporated. But he also had to understand that I was not going to be held captive to terror over what might happen and who might be lurking around the next corner. It wasn’t living.
“Gray,” I started to say but he wrapped me in his arms and stroked my hair.
“No,” he said. “I’m an asshole.”
“You are an asshole,” agreed Orion, who had joined the party unannounced. “Barging into my house with your dick hanging out.”
Gray scowled at him, looking down. “My dick is not hanging out goddammit.” But he had thrown on a shabby pair of pants in haste. And neglected to close them. Kira glanced down pointedly and raised her eyebrows at me with a smile.
