by M. N. Forgy
I miss her. The way she gave all of herself to me.
The smell of her hair.
The feel of her silky skin against mine.
I’m not about to give up on any of that. I will drag her across the states kicking and fucking screaming if I have to.
Love is an ugly thing, it changes you even if it’s for the worse. I was fine with the way I was before. Some could say I wasn’t human, but at least before Jillian I didn’t know what the hell I was missing. Now that I’ve felt what it’s like to have Jillian’s soft, warm body tucked into my arms at night, and her breath tickle against my collarbone while she sleeps...I can’t forgo that solace now that I’ve had it.
I will slay anyone who tries to step in front of that.
Even if that means neither of us are standing in the end.
Letting my head fall in my hands I exhale a breath. I knew my uncle was up to something the way he acted before everything went down. All he cared about was me pulling the trigger on Lieutenant Oaks, ending the life of the man who supposedly crossed him. Uncle Frank just kept repeating that if I did this, everything would fall into place. What I didn’t realize was he knew about Jillian and me, and he was teaching me a lesson, because that Lieutenant ended up being Jillian’s fucking father. He wanted to remind me of not only my oath to my club, but my place as his nephew. The job of being his bitch. I played that game before, I wouldn’t do it again. I won’t now.
I can’t get over that Lieutenant Oaks was Jillian’s father, how did she come from that piece of shit? I want to tell her everything about the man he was, but I’m not that big of an asshole. I can see she’s barely hanging on to reality by a goddamn thread. If she knew the truth about everything there is no telling how she would react.
She needs time to process one loss at a time, first the loss of her department. If I’m not careful I could not only lose her for good, but that stubborn spark that ignites deep inside of her.
“Hey, man. Why so bummed.” I glance up, finding a young hipster staring down at me. He has on some fisherman looking hat, blond hair spilling out from under it.
“Fuck off,” I growl.
“Hey, make peace, not war, bro.” He lowers his hand, offering me a smoking blunt. “Go ahead, you need it more than me obviously.” He chuckles.
I take it, and take a long drag off it. I hold the smoke in, before blowing it out into the night air.
It’s good shit, it smells of skunk with tones of earthy green. I’ve had better though.
“Names Ducky,” he informs, as he sits down crossing his legs.
I scrunch my face. “Ducky?”
“Yeah.” He smacks his lips together looking off into the night’s sky, not offering a reason why he might be named after a fucking duck.
“So, why ya so angry?” I take another drag from the joint, and ignore him. I shouldn’t be out here. I should be in there securing my face in Jillian’s space, letting her know I’m here to stay regardless of how hard she tries to push me away.
“I get it, not the talkative type.” Ducky interrupts my thoughts.
Exhaling a cloud of smoke, I hand it back to him and stand.
“Well, it was nice meeting you,” I tell Ducky, watching him scramble to his feet. “Thanks for the weed.” I leave not giving him a chance to respond.
It’s not because I’m a dick, well, I am, but that’s not why I am leaving. I just don’t trust easily, especially outsiders. Those who are not bikers, or know the code that I live by.
Stepping back inside, Jillian is standing in a towel in front of a cracked mirror. Her dirty blonde hair dripping wet, as she attempts to finger comb it into submission. Little beads of water slip down her back, and my dick strains against my jeans. It feels like years since I’ve been in that tight little cunt of hers. I want to bend her over that bed and fuck her while the old couple watches. My palms twitch to claim every inch of her skin, to have her moan against my neck and insure myself that she still belongs to me.
I hate feeling this insecure, but she did this to me. I hate being this messed up over someone…someone I threw everything away for and she doesn’t even realize that. If that isn’t love, or fucking romantic, then I’m screwed as far as women and relationships go.
“Dear, I have some clothes I was going to give our Leslie, but I just know she’d want you to have them. You look to be about the same size.” Mildred offers, pointing to a bag on the dresser.
“Oh, I can’t do that.” Jillian turns, shaking her head. She’s so humble, so nice that she would rather be in her bloody clothes that are stained with her father’s death, than take an offer of clean clothes from a little old lady.
“That bag?” I point toward the one I think she’s referring to. I’m not so nice, I’ll take those clothes and put them on Jillian if I have to. A piece of me hopes she’ll fight me so I can put them on her. My dick twitches with excitement.
“Yes, that one,” Mildred confirms.
Striding toward it, I grab it and toss it at Jillian. She glares at me, her eyes red from crying.
“You can’t run around in that bloody uniform, you’ll draw attention.” I inform her, trying to keep my tone soft so I don’t upset her more than I have. She yanks the bag open and looks inside.
“Are we leaving after I dress?” Her eyes peek up at me from under her wet bangs. Her cheeks red from the hot shower.
“Just put something on for the night. We’ll leave in a few hours, we need sleep.”
Clutching the bag, she purses her lips, and steps back into the bathroom.
Jillian
DROPPING THE TOWEL, it pools at my feet. I reach into the bag and pull out a white button up blouse, and pull it over me. It’s big. How Mildred thought we were the same size is beyond me. It’s three sizes too big, fitting as a nightgown, but it’ll work for a few hours of sleep. It’s actually pretty comfortable, even if the cuffs of the sleeves hang off my fingers by at least two inches.
Tossing the bag on the counter, I stare at my reflection in the mirror. I hate that we’re staying here, but the bags under my eyes disagree. Zeek has never steered me wrong before, and as bitter as I am about everything happening, I do love him. He said he loved me before, but I lost sight of that after everything that happened. Him picking me over his club speaks volumes, reminding me of the reason why I fell for him in the first place. I may not understand what happened with my father, but he was right about my department being as dirty as they come. If I want to live to prove my innocence, I’m going to have to get with the program and stop being such a pain in the ass. Even if that means I’m going to have to get my own hands dirty to do so.
My heart strikes with fear just thinking about it, fear licking up my limbs.
Shaking unclear thoughts from my head I kick my bloody clothes in the corner then grab my badge that I had set on the counter before showering, my finger thumbing it. I used to think it held so much power before. Just holding it up to a civilian you’d instantly get a look of respect. Now though, this badge doesn’t have any power. It’s just a piece of metal. I shove it in the bag, not wanting to look at it any longer. I saunter out of the bathroom and notice Zeek has a chair propped up against the front door, his head leaned back. The couple on the bed are rubbing at their wrists, and eyeing Zeek like the Devil. Well, Donald is, Mildred looks like she wants to comb his hair while she tells him all about her life.
I climb into the bed, and scurry under the over-starched covers.
“If you’re smart, you won’t try anything,” Zeek rasps. He has one eye open, his hand grasping a gun sitting on his knee. Slowly I look at the couple, and they glance my way, neither of us sure who he is talking to. “Sweet dreams.” Zeek smiles, flipping the light off behind him.
Sitting in the dark I watch him. He’s leaning back in the chair, his head lolled back with his feet kicked up on the dresser. His boots are untied, and his shirt is sticking to his toned chest from sweat. I shift in my spot, becoming aware of how uncomfortably hot
I suddenly am.
His chest rises, as he nibbles on his bottom lip soundlessly. His facial hair has grown. I like it. A lot, actually. His eyes are closed, sealing off the deep hardness in the pools of his irises hiding the transparent anger outlining his face. The light pouring through the edge of the hotel curtain casts a glow along his body, illuminating beads of sweat that have formed on his skin. With the gun in his lap he looks just as insane as he does sexy. The emotions rising in my chest are unsettling as I look at the man I am so in love with. I hate him…I think?
However, I’d do anything to have him in bed with me, the scruff of his cheeks rubbing against my shoulder as he pulls me close. Of course I’d pretend like I hated it, but secretly I need him more than anything right now.
Isn’t that ironic. The only cure for my heart being broken is the one who caused the damaged.
One of his eyes pop open, and my stomach drops with the realization that he caught me ogling him.
Quickly I turn and toss the sheet over me. My heart pounding. Now he knows I’m conflicted, I saw it in his eyes, even if briefly. He knows that I want him…
Fuck!
***
HOLLOW BROWN EYES plague my dreams. Blood pouring over my vision as I continue to run through my viscous nightmare.
“Jilly Bean, I want you to know I love you. I know I don’t say it much, but I do. When you came into our department, I hoped a new leaf would turn for our workforce. I want you to promise me you’ll keep that spitfire that burns so bright inside you.”
“Dad.” I cry out, my hands clutching his chest.
He dissolves in my hands, falling to the desert floor before sifting away with the wind.
“Nooo!” I sob, trying to grab the ashes.
“Jillian!” The voice of the Devil booms from behind me.
I clench my eyes shut, trying to will it away. A hand mimicking a scaly demon clamps down on my shoulder. “Jillian! Wake up!”
My eyes pop open, and Zeek is holding me in his arms tightly. My borrowed shirt soaked with sweat, my hair everywhere.
Quickly I shuffle myself backward till I nearly fall off the end of the bed. Zeek stands abruptly, and runs his hand through his hair as he looks downward. His posture and frame mimicking someone in pain, or sorrow.
“Sorry, you were crying out like you were in pain. I tried to wake you up and you clung to me like someone was chasing you or something. I couldn’t help but comfort you.” His voice is deep, and throaty with sleep. Fuck how can he be so attractive this early in the morning?
“You okay, honey?” Looking past Zeek, Mildred is undoing her rollers, looking at me with worry. Donald sipping some coffee behind her. Glancing at the clock on the bedside table I spot the cuffs, Zeek must have taken them off of them. Which means I’m about to be placed in them, I’m sure.
“Yeah. I’m fine,” I croak. My heart beating so fast my vision blurs. I close my eyes, trying to erase the blurriness, before reopening them. Zeek is giving me a sideways glance, his fingers wringing each other. Only, he isn’t looking at my face. He’s looking downward. Following his stare, I notice I have my legs open, the shirt not covering nearly enough and my pink lace panties are on full display. Shit. At least I don’t have my period panties on, I guess. Shutting my legs quickly, I swallow hard.
Warmth floods my lower half, and my nipples perk. I like that he’s looking, that he wants me.
Zeek winks, a devilish smile fitting his face. His playboy demeanor is sexy, but I can’t help but roll my eyes.
“Not being a pain in your ass doesn’t include sex,” I inform curtly. Sliding off the bed I head into the bathroom to get dressed.
I just need time to process everything before I go climbing back on Cock-a-saurus Rex.
***
“WE NEED ANOTHER CAR,” Zeek informs, looking out the corner of the curtain.
“Sonny, I know I’m just an old man, but my wife and I drove across the country to see our daughter and I think we’ve been more than compliant.” Zeek looks over his shoulder, eyeing the old man. “All I ask is, please, don’t take our vehicle.” The old man looks down, before grasping his wife’s hand.
Zeek looks at me, and I try to convey everything I’m thinking by the look on my face. “Please don’t take their car.” Zeek nods, and looks out the window.
“I’m not taking your car, old man.” Zeek pulls out the cuffs from his back pocket and strides toward me. My heart sinks, even though I’m agreeing not to be a pain, he’s still putting them on me. Surprising me, he grabs the sheet from the bed and tears two pieces of material from it. Taking my wrist, he wraps the torn sheet around the sensitive skin to protect it from the metal rubbing it raw. The gesture is simple, yet speaks volumes about his respect for my well-being. His eyes never leave mine, as the metal clinks into place.
Grabbing onto the chain linking the cuffs, he pulls me behind him.
Walking out the door, the morning sun is barely rising.
“Good luck!” Mildred hollers as Zeek shuts the door. He looks around the parking lot, the only other vehicle a rusted old Volkswagen van. Its blue paint chipped revealing an ugly orange. The windows holding neon green curtains.
“Looks like we’re taking the stoner’s ride.” He yanks on my cuffs, and marches toward the ugly van.
Opening my door for me, like a gentleman, the smell of pot and body odor is overwhelming.
“You’ve got to be kidding me?”
“It’s either this, or the old couple’s car.” Glancing at him, I can’t help but furrow my brows with anger.
“Don’t you think you’ve terrorized that couple enough?”
A smirk slowly spreads across his face, and his hand rests on the van next to my head.
“Baby, I’ve only just begun. That shit back there, that was mere child’s play compared to what I’m capable of.” He narrows his brows together. “Now get in the fucking van.”
I don’t know if I’m turned on, or horrified. Biting my tongue, I turn and get in.
Glancing around the van, it’s lined with orange shaggy carpet, and has food everywhere.
Zeek shoves empty chip bags from the driver’s seat, and climbs in.
“Fucking moron.” Zeek thumbs the keys in the ignition, starting it right up. I shake my head, and cross my arms. Who just leaves their keys in their car? Seems a lot of people do out in the middle of nowhere.
“How long till we get there?” I yawn, ready for this trip to be over. Ready for everything to be over with so I can go back home. To my mom, my house, and my cat.
“Seeing as we gotta take the backway, and we’re in this piece of shit, who knows?” He stills, catching my attention. “Just so you know, the only reason I didn’t kill that couple and take their car…was for you.”
My nostrils flare, as I take a shallow breath in, my eyes never leaving his. Who the hell is this guy, and why do I love him again? “I would have killed them any other day, but whether you realize it or not, you’re changing the way I see things.”
Who the hell is this guy, and why do I love him again?
My mouth opens, my mind racing with thoughts so fast I can’t grab one to reply back with so I turn and look out the window.
Maybe there’s hope for us after all…
CHAPTER FOUR
Jillian
AN HOUR LATER I END UP falling asleep. The same dream of the Devil’s hand clamping on my shoulder returns. The rough, reptilian hand slithers down my chest, and fondles my breast. Its sharp claws shredding my shirt, it’s rough skin coarse against my sensitive nipple. I sigh loudly, Zeek’s name ripping from my chest. The scaly hand applies pressure, its talons digging into my flesh pouring warm blood down my abdomen. Pain ignites throughout my body like I’ve never felt before, and a shrill cry erupts from my throat, as it tears into my chest, grasping my heart in the heel of its palm.
Crimson spills from my mouth as the hand leaning over my shoulder takes my heart with it.
“Jillian!” A horn honks
, and I jump awake. My body soaked with sweat, and my chest heaving for air. I glance over at Zeek, who is halfway out of the driver’s seat, worry stretched across his face. “What the fuck?” he growls.
“I—I had a bad dream.” I pant, rubbing my forehead. Shaking his head, he situates himself back in his seat. “It was nothing. Don’t worry about it. How much longer?” I ask, my voice muffled with fear.
“Well, I am worried.” He exhales a deep breath. “We’re almost there.”
Sitting up in my seat, I grab a bag of chips that hasn’t been opened, revealing three other unopened bags underneath it.
“Fucking stoners,” Zeek chuckles, grabbing a bag of Cheetos. “They get the munchies,” he continues, a boyish smile fitting his face. I try not to laugh, but I fail, and a small smile breaks through. “Ah, she smiles, finally.”
Kicking my feet on the dash, I open the bag of sour cream and onion.
“Don’t get used to it. Baby steps.”
We sit in silence, well, mostly silence. The chomping of chips, and the crinkle of the bags the only noise.
“Look in the glovebox for some pain relievers or maybe he’ll have some pot left over.”
“Really, you want me to look for drugs?” I can’t even hide the amount of sarcasm in my face.
“It’s weed, the Indians used it for healing and shit. Hell, it comes from the ground, like fucking flowers and shit, it’s natural.”
“Flowers? Really? I don’t see anyone sitting around smoking lilies,” I smart.
“I’m sure someone has tried it before, and if it made you feel like weed did, people would be smoking lilies, I’m sure.”
I roll my lips into a thin line to stifle my smile.
He pulls on the homemade tourniquet on his arm, the white rag nearly soaked with blood. Swallowing, I sit up and open the glove compartment. He’s not wanting it for the thrill of getting high, he’s in pain.
He was shot trying to save my ass.
