Neither This Nor That Box Set 1

by MariaLisa deMora

  The mountains and hills of eastern Kentucky were tough on her truck, especially when fully loaded as she was now. Inertia was both a boon and bane, allowing her to slingshot over the top of the next hill more often than not, she just had to be willing to push the shit out of the rig on the roll down to gain the benefit for the sling part back up. Glancing to the other mirrors, her attention snagged for a moment on her passenger.

  Tyler Sawyer was the son of one of the CoBos, and a man she’d known for a long time. He’d never joined the club, never seemed to want to be far into the life, but had been around for enough parties that he knew all the players. After her first desperate attempt and failure at tracking Fiddler down, Penny bided her time for a bit. She took a month off, nursing her wounds, trying to regain both her strength and courage. Then, she’d reached out and activated her network outside of the CoBos influence. Ty being one of those connections she felt comfortable making.

  Moving back to the right-hand lane, she waited for a beat, letting the truck settle into the ruts, hands smoothly handling the big wheel. Eyes front, deliberately not glancing his way, she started the same conversation they’d been having for the past two days, ever since she picked him up outside of Wooster, Massachusetts. She’d covertly been trying to engage him in her mission nearly since she’d tracked down his number, surprised it had changed since they’d last spoken. Ty not giving it to her himself made her wonder if he’d been trying to pull away. Maybe without Bagger around, the cement of their friendship was crumbling. I don’t want to lose Ty, she thought with a shudder. Putting that aside, she asked, “So, Fiddler and Bagger served together overseas, right?”

  “Penny, we aren’t going to do this. Not now. Not ever. Might as well give up the line of questioning.” Tone terse, he cut her off when she started to interrupt. “Daddy would kill me if I dragged you into anything related to Fiddler. You know how protective the CoBos are of you, honey. I’ve told you too much already.”

  He really hasn’t, she thought. Only fed me parts that he thought had no value. He was wrong, so she had some of what she needed, but she knew he held a lot more in his head. How to turn him to her way of seeing things was the question, and she had one last angle to play. Something she had hoped to leave in the past. Something that would be hard as hell to talk through, but at least she was driving in challenging countryside, had something to occupy herself with. “Fiddler’s son. You know him?”

  “Penny—“

  Before he could get more than her name out, she cut him off with a fierce shake of her head and a harsh, “Shut it. You remember my hair?”

  He nodded. She glimpsed the movement from the corner of her eye. He would remember it, having pulled it at parties when they were kids, and laughed at her when it escaped its bonds once, tangling and snarling during a ride. A smile hit her lips, but she knew it wasn’t pretty. He’d extended an opened blade that day, offered to cut it off himself if she needed. Her hair had been something she was proud of, hanging well past her waist. “Yeah, I remember it. I didn’t want to ask, and the short looks really cute on you, but why’d you cut it?”

  “I didn’t.” She swallowed hard, heard the sound of the tires riding the edge of the fog line around a corner and smoothly pulled the semi back into the lane, correcting her mistake. She was walking an edge in the cab here, too, waltzing along a razor that threatened to cut her to ribbons. “Gollum did.”

  The breath he sucked in was agonized and loud, painful to hear and she nodded. “Yeah.” Just from the sound she could tell he knew what that meant. A year ago, she wouldn’t have. Hell, six months ago she thought she knew the darkness that lived in the bayous she called home. She had been wrong. “So you probably know what else he did, don’t you?” Turning the wheel in the other direction, she steered them around another curve in the switchback highway, taking them on down the road. Focused on her work, she muttered, “You know what he likes.”

  The curtains behind her seat swung with the movement of the truck and for a moment, she could have sworn she caught a trace of Bell’s scent. Felt the weight of his forearm on her shoulder, hand up beside her head, stroking and playing with her hair, not knowing how much pain that brought her. A simple, gentle caress meant to be comforting but reminding her with each movement how much she’d lost.

  I was wrong about him, she reminded herself, turning the wheel back to true, straightening out for the next curve. Preparing, readying herself, she lined the truck up for the twisting turns ahead. She had refused to look at Bell after he came out from the sleeper, didn’t want to see him sitting in her seat to tug on his boots. Hearing the soft sound as his socked feet slipped into place. The gentle plinks of the chain on his wallet playing out along the edge of one of his guns as he retrieved his belongings. Looking out the side window, she had ignored the mirror, too, not wanting a glimpse of his beauty. Hoping it wouldn’t stay with her, would exit the truck when he did, leaving her alone.

  Swallowing back the tears that threatened to swamp her at the memory of his hand gliding over her head, the feel of his lips pressing momentarily to her temple, the tortured murmur of Bell’s final good-bye, she cleared her throat. “Gollum offered information in trade.”

  “Trade for what?” Surely he wouldn’t make her say it aloud. He knew what that bastard liked, everyone in southern Louisiana knew, his appetites were…legend.

  “Tell me about Fiddler and Bagger. What were they to each other before they came home?” So much was tied up in the time the men spent in Vietnam. So much of their shared history lost now because she couldn’t ask Bagger. “Jimbo was in their unit. He and Bagger stayed brothers, but Fiddler was out on his own. Leswayne, too. Why?”

  “What did you trade for the info, Penny?” The quiet question ate at her control until her hands were nearly cramping, holding onto what she could. “Penny. Doll. Please.” His voice broke, and she knew at that moment he had loved her once. Growing up, she hadn’t wanted anything to do with boys not in the club, but hadn’t found anyone with it that she wanted. Hadn’t found anyone out there in the wild, either, but she and Ty had been close friends once. “Tell me no. Tell me that’s not what happened.”

  There was a pull-off about a mile ahead. She needed to stop the truck and get out, check the brakes to make sure they weren’t overheating. She could keep doing this until then, and then fall apart for as long as she needed, as long as Ty didn’t try to help her. She needed answers, not analyzing. Pumping the brakes, she prepared to downshift, slowing the rig. “What did Fiddler do that made everyone hate him? Why was he pushed out, hung out on his own?”

  “Penny—”

  “My virginity, okay?” The shouted words startled her. Her own voice racketed around the cab, rebounding off every surface, striking back at her with bruising force. “You know Gollum, I’m sure you’ve heard how he likes that.” Rocking back into the seat with each word, she pushed through the pain. “I traded it for nothing in the end, because he didn’t give me anything. Now you tell me, what did he do?”

  “Raped and killed a kid. A little girl. Made her mother watch. Called it his own offensive. The Fiddler offensive. Made fun of the mother before he killed her, too.” That was about what she’d expected, but that wasn’t enough, not enough for a decades-long hatred to still be brewing between four families.

  “What else?”

  “He blamed a soldier. Got caught and threw the kid under the bus in a way the boy didn’t think he’d get out from underneath it. A private in Bagger’s unit.” Ty made a noise deep in his throat.

  She slowed the truck more, working the brakes and gearshift in tandem, drawing down their speed so she could pull into the wide graveled area on the side of the road. Rolling to a stop, she popped the parking brake, letting the truck idle as she listened, staring out the front windscreen.

  “Kid didn’t see any way out. Offed himself. He had a wife and son. Killing himself like that…Bagger was close to the boy. When he blamed Fiddler for the death, Fiddler laughed in h
is face.” His voice broke, and she knew he was going back there even before he opened his mouth. “Penny, why?”

  She knocked the truck out of gear with the heel of her hand and eased her foot off the clutch. Safely parked on the side of the road, now she needed to escape the cab. “Currency of the moment.” She shrugged on her hoodie, keeping her eyes downcast, not wanting to see his face yet. Not wanting to see what she knew would be there. “Supply is apparently lean. Demand”—hand to the door, she popped the locks—“is high. Be back in a minute.” Swinging out of the truck, she pulled the lever to open her equipment cubby and then slammed the door. Standing for a moment, she leaned heavily on the side of the truck, pulling in breath after shaking breath. He hadn’t made her relive it, not yet. She knew Ty, though; he wouldn’t give up. Knew she’d be hearing his questions drift down from the overhead bunk tonight, taking advantage of the quiet in the sleeper. She just hoped it wouldn’t mean he thought of her differently.

  If he knew of the man she took to her bed a month ago, he would have a far different opinion. Knowingly taking someone like Bell to bed, letting him initiate her into sex in a way she wished to God had been her first time. But then again, if she’d known it could be like that, she might not have survived. If she’d known that it could be that sweet, that tender, that rich an experience, she might not have lasted following her single night with Gollum. The two encounters were so different, so far apart on a spectrum of anything, she couldn’t even relate them.

  Gollum had been all about pain. So excited at the prospect of popping her cherry, knowing who she was and knowing he was the first to get into her pants, he nearly didn’t make it through putting on the condom she’d insisted on.

  She’d insisted on the blood tests with the ER doctor the next day, too, and he’d been a lot more accommodating than Gollum, not taking any persuading. Better safe than sorry, she’d told him, and he nodded as they both had watched a nurse wrap her bicep with a strip of rubber.

  At the time, Gollum working over the top of her seemed to take forever. Gave the impression it would go on for her whole life, seconds ticking by so slowly she could have sworn the clock broke between each one. The silence between each stroke had filled with his foul breath rasping in her ear, deafening her. It wasn’t until she was with Bell that she knew it had been blessedly fast. One and done, and he hadn’t spent any time inside her.

  What came after was different. Probing her body with whatever pleased him, tearing at her in ways that left damage behind. Him hitting her, holding her braid wrapped around his hand to haul her back to her knees following each swing. Neck wrenching sideways, trying not to fall, she'd known instinctively that would be the worst possible thing she could do. Anticipating each swing, each blow, she’d still been surprised when it landed. Time after time. After time.

  The terror rippling through her when he'd pulled the knife from his belt had been primitive. A trademark of the Vicar’s Wrath MC, it was massive, broad and long, nearly a machete. He’d brandished it in front of her face, laughing when she cried out in panic. She’d never claimed to be strong, never claimed to be fearless, but kneeling naked in the harsh light of day in front of a madman, she’d plumbed the depths of her fear, saw it running, flashing brightly along the keenly honed edge of that blade.

  With one wild sweep, he had severed the braid at her scalp, dangling it in front of her like a trophy. She’d heard that he had his woman use the hank of hair to make a get-back whip for his bike, but since they didn’t run in the same circles, she hoped she’d never know for sure. Then he’d threatened to mark her. She lifted her hand, fingering the barbell threaded through her eyebrow. I took that back at least, she thought. Memories of Bell swept through her, and with eyes closed she thought, I took that back, too.

  With a sigh she dug in the equipment cubby, pulling out her flashlight. Time to check the brakes, time to verify everything was in proper working order. Something she could control, as long as she paid careful attention.

  ***

  “Why didn’t you call sooner, Penny?” As she knew he would, Ty started talking to her as soon as the lights went out in the sleeper. He couldn’t let the topic lay dormant and would keep digging around the edges, trying to understand the dimensions of what he knew pained her. Ty’d want to make it better. He’d want to sort it for her if he could. Wrap her in cushions of his care and erase the pain, not knowing Bell had already been there, easing things with his own brand of care. That was until he took it all away, proved to her she wasn’t worthy of the tenderness he’d shown her. Ty will be the same, she cautioned herself, digging until he’d categorized the depths of the mess she’d made of her life, then walking back to his world and out of hers, leaving her to sort through the mounded, muddied remains, the scars on her soul no longer covered by gentle memories.

  They were just west of Memphis, and she’d stopped for a quick nap before driving on to the Dallas area where her load was bound. Fully dressed, she was resting on top of the covers, a light blanket thrown across her jeans. Bare feet and shoulders, she had on a soft, well-worn camisole. A favorite, and after a day like today, comfortable and comforting were needed. When it was time to drive again, if she were chilled, she could pull on a flannel or sweater over what she had on.

  Ty continued talking, and it felt a little as if he were lecturing a little sister when he said, “When you knew what happened to Bagger, you could have called when you learned what happened.” Oh, no, he isn’t going to go there, she vowed.

  “You will not blame me for this.” Her words were firm, tone unyielding, and he made a quiet noise of dismissal. “Don’t start down that path, Ty. I knew what I was doing. Knew the cost. That’s mine. You can’t have it, can’t take it, and I won’t give it to you if you begged. It’s done. Over and done. But you”—she swallowed, feeling her lips trembling and praying it didn’t show in her voice, speaking into the shadows of the curtained bunk—“don’t get to judge me.”

  “I wasn’t,” he said quickly, and she snorted. “I wasn’t,” he denied again, and she wondered if he’d do it a third time. Before the cock crows, she thought, bet he will. Turning to her side, she shoved her hands under the pillow, that action bringing memories of Bell to the forefront. His quiet confidence giving him easy mastery over her fears, she remembered how he led her to where she needed to be to respond to him. Gave her permission to feel, to take pleasure, to move beyond heinous acts he didn’t have any knowledge of. Pulling her along with him, not afraid to show her what she gave him back. Empowering her even as he took her body. An intense connection she had never known could exist.

  Twisting her head, she pushed deep into the pillow, sniffing and trying to fool herself that she could still smell his spicy scent. She must have made a noise, because, like Peter, Ty denied his own actions a third time. “I wasn’t, Penny. I’d never judge you for that, doll.”

  WWBD? She wondered this, nearly breaking into an asinine giggle. Bell would tell it straight, make sure Ty knew she was okay, and then give him the tools to move on. “I got my question to Gollum through a man called Scorch. He isn’t a Vicar’s member, but he knows men in several chapters. I met him at a bar shooting pool one night. Purely chance.” At a noise alongside the truck, she rolled onto her back, listening carefully.

  “I didn’t believe in chance, not at first, but he checked out.” The noise stopped, and inside the truck was so still and quiet, she listened to herself breathing for a moment. “Told him what I wanted to know. He said he had a line on a guy who’d be in the way holding that knowledge. I didn’t know at the time it was Gollum.

  “Took a couple of weeks to get to where we were talking specifics.” She curled her lip. “I didn’t know what kind of a hornet’s nest I’d be stirring up but wanted…no, I had to know. Bagger was dead, the man who was a second father to me. Saw my mom suffering because her big brother was gone. I couldn’t stand it, Ty. I needed to get to the bottom of who hated him so much they’d kill him like that.” Ty tur
ned over above her, the movement gently shifting the truck’s chassis.

  The noise from beside the truck came again, and she sat up, pushing the curtain aside to lean into the front compartment. Using the mirrors to look down either side of the truck, she saw there was a figure near the driver’s door, barely visible in the reflective surface. Her breath caught in her throat. “Be still,” she hissed to Ty, knowing he wouldn’t know what she meant. “Ty, be quiet, we’ve got a visitor.”

  As she watched through the mirrored image, she saw the figure moving. A man, closing in on the door. He passed out of sight and then came a soft hammering on the door, reminiscent of a night not long ago. Crawling out of the sleeper, she settled into the seat with her knees bent and, already knowing in her gut what was waiting for her, she leaned over and looked outside. That beautiful face looked up at her. The one she saw every night in her dreams, dreams where she roused to waking with an empty ache between her legs. His distinctive beard, sharp cheekbones framing his gorgeous eyes, hair hanging around his face, casually tucked behind one ear. No smile, no change in expression, no indication of what he expected, he stared up at her. Bell.

  With a fluid movement, he gripped the grab bar beside her door and swung up onto the steps bolted to the fuel tank. Never breaking their locked gaze, he leaned in, mouth inches from the barrier separating them, his breath fogging the glass with each ragged exhalation. With his chest heaving as if he’d just run a marathon, tension was written in every line of his body. He looked just as she remembered. Exactly as he did in her dreams.

  The truck shifted, and he felt it at the same time she did. Penny watched as what had to be rage swept over his features, then Ty’s voice came from behind her and that rage on Bell’s face washed away, replaced by a murderous anger. “Oh, hell, no. This shit isn’t going to keep coming at you, Penny. Club business isn’t yours.” Heat hit her as Ty leaned across her, finger to the window control, the electric motor in the door humming as the window lowered. “Just get the hell off her truck, asshole. You do not get to—“