Neither This Nor That Box Set 1

by MariaLisa deMora

  Thorne stopped at the end of the bed, looming over the two figures on the mattress. “You fucking bitch. You’d jack with me just to do it, wouldn’t you? Jesus, what the fuck did I ever think you did for me?” He gestured with the gun in his hand, continuing his tirade, while Crissy moved towards Lewis, eyeing the ropes anchoring him to the legs of the bed. Beyond Sam, she saw his hands were cuffed together, the metal chain running around a spindle in the headboard.

  “I’ll kill him.”

  “No, you won’t.” Crissy didn’t know where the words came from, but she didn’t try to stem them as she fell to her knees at Lewis’ feet, fingers working at the knots, breaking fingernails off to the quick in her haste. Breaths coming fast, she said, “If you were going to, you wouldn’t have brought him here. You’d not be trying to impress on him how you’re so hot you can be fucked on the bed beside him. You’re just along for the ride.” She finished loosening one rope and shoved Thorne to the side so she could reach the other one.

  Her brain raced, trying to find a way to keep both Thorne and Sam busy while she got Lewis free. “Guy on the floor is the one you’re after, Thorne. He’s the one who was fucking Sam. He’s the one who wants your woman. Po’Boy would have bailed if they hadn’t tied him down.”

  She finished with the second rope, wincing as another nail tore free. “You sure Sam’s worth the trouble?” There was a groan from behind Thorne, and he turned away. Crissy kept her eyes on Sam, still trying to goad her away from Lewis. Taking a chance on something Thorne had mentioned, Crissy said, “I see a sad little girl trying to pretend she’s as good as her sister. Trying, and—sorry to say, honey,” that was directed at Sam, “—you’re failing. Never gonna be half the woman your sister is.”

  Sam’s face twisted in rage and she hurled herself down the mattress, knife in hand. Crissy fell to her back, hitting Sam’s belly with both feet and clumsily lofting her overhead to crash down next to the dresser. Back on her feet, she faced the taller and bigger woman, knowing only that Lewis was still handcuffed to the bed. He hadn’t moved, and his feet were chilled in a way that scared her. What if he’s… her brain again shied away from the thought.

  She shouted, “Get Po’Boy loose. He’ll help you deal with that guy, Thorne.” She shook her hands out to the sides, telling him the same thing she’d told Retro so many hours ago. “I got this.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Po’Boy

  He pulled himself up from blackness, clawing his way towards the voice he’d heard. Crissy. Crissy was here. She’d said his name, his club name, showing him she knew all of him. Then she’d uttered the most bizarre and yet reassuring statement. “I got this.” In that instant, he believed her. It didn’t matter what got thrown her way, she’d have his back. He remembered a moment in time months ago, on a run when he’d overheard a pair of men talking about Twisted’s Penny, one of them saying, “God, I’d give a fuck of a lot to have someone like that at my back,” and his thought at the time had been, “Wouldn’t we all?”

  “My dream woman,” he garbled, tugging at the restraints still holding his wrists in place over his head, realizing a moment later his legs were free. Pushing with his feet, he folded up next to the headboard and stood, balancing awkwardly on the shifting mattress as he surveyed the room from a half bent over position. The first thing he saw was the duo on the floor next to the bed, where Thorne was methodically beating a man’s head in with the butt of his gun, hammering hard over and over. “Jesus.”

  He scanned the room as he strained, pulling on the top railing of the headboard to dislodge it from the rungs holding the thing together. Crissy circled Sam in the open space between the bed and bathroom, and before he could do more than open his mouth they were grappling, the blade in Sam’s hand flashing in the lights. He bent his legs and heaved powerfully, hearing wood crack and break, cursing himself for buying quality furniture, then the rail finally pulled free and he let it slip out of the encircling cuffs, stepping off the bed and to the floor, nearly falling when his ankle tried to give way. He glanced over at Thorne. Exhausted by his efforts, the man had settled to one side of the body on the floor. With the blood and bruising, he had to look twice, but Po’Boy eventually realized it was Greg lying there.

  No time to consider it now, he heard a feminine shout, and heart in his throat turned to see Crissy leap backwards, her hand lifting to cover a growing red stain on her shirt. Without thinking, Po’Boy sprang at Sam as she lunged forwards, bringing his arms over her head, gripping her face and skull with his hands and twisting fast, the sickening feel of bones popping in his grasp overshadowed by the clench in his chest at the extensive bruising on Crissy’s face. She’s hurt. He dropped the now still Sam to the floor, then stepped over her to get to Crissy, meeting her in the middle and cupping her face in his palms. “Baby doll,” he whispered, staring at her. She looked up at him, her eyes tracking across his face. “What the fuck happened?”

  “You weren’t…you were…I thought you were dead.” Crissy gasped for air, and he pushed away, kneeling so he could look at her side. A shallow slice across her ribs meant it was panic taking her breath. He rose and curled himself around her as best he could. Backing away from where Sam’s lifeless body lay, he positioned them near the wall so she couldn’t see Thorne and his grisly companion.

  They’d stood like that only moments before Crissy pushed back. Po’Boy lifted his arms and released her, and she began cataloging the slices Sam had laid in his skin. Each touch of the blade had been a threat of greater damage, as Sam had asked the same question again and again. “Where’s Sabrina?”

  Crissy finally satisfied herself, folding into him again. That was all it took, even in a room with two bodies, exhausted, sickened by what Sam and Greg had tried to do to him, their coarse jokes bringing back memories of his stepfather, all it took was the feel of Crissy for him to start getting hard. Tipping his head down, lips to her ear, he told her, “Missed you, honey.”

  Naked as he was, she couldn’t have missed how his cock was aimed her direction, and she laughed, a bare tinge of hysteria bleeding through as she said, “I feel ya,” both meanings of the words making him laugh, too.

  “Lemme get free and then I gotta make a call.” He looked down, seeing her face tipped up. He watched as she bit her bottom lip, letting it slide slowly out from between her teeth, knowing it was her tell that she was thinking hard about something. It’s gonna sink in eventually. He’d killed a woman in front of her. Forget it was to keep her from getting hurt worse than she did, forget the things Sam had done to him. I’ll be a monster now. Taking one final look at her, he dipped his face close and brushed his lips across hers, side to side, pressing firmly, kissing her. “Proud of you, honey.”

  She pulled back and her gaze focused on him for a long moment. “I thought you were dead. I wanted to…” Her eyes narrowed and she hesitated a moment. “…to kill her.” Po’Boy rested his cuffed arms on her shoulders, wrapping his fingers in her long hair and tugging her head backwards as he swooped in for another kiss. “I did.” Her lip curled, lifting in a silent snarl and he felt her heart pounding. “I do.” Pushing against his chest, she shoved back and he lifted his hands, letting her slip away. “Jesus.” The look in her eyes was wild, whites showing all around the iris and she stumbled as she backed away. “God, I fucking want to kill her.” Without another word, Crissy whirled and seemed to see Sam’s crumpled body for the first time. Freezing in place, her hair slid across her shoulders as she angled her head down and to the side. Thorne rose to his feet and Po’Boy looked at him, seeing Crissy’s head come up, too.

  “She goners?” Thorne toed Greg’s leg, pushing it an inch or two and then letting it settle back into place. “This one, too.” He looked around the suite for a moment, then back at Po’Boy. “How you wanna handle this?”

  Crissy moved, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a phone. Po’Boy lunged but was too slow and she’d dialed before he could reach her. Expecting to hear her giv
e out the address to the 911 operator, he was shocked into stillness when instead she greeted someone he never imagined. “Retro, you said to call you if I needed anything. Well—” She looked around the room and then back at Po’Boy as she finished. “—I kinda need something.”

  ***

  Wrench

  “Brother,” Wrench greeted Retro tersely, glaring out the front window of the condo. He heard Pony rustling through things behind him, recognized the flapping of plastic as he shook out another garbage bag. “Whatcha got for me?”

  In the minutes since getting home, Wrench had texted Retro for details of his contact with Crissy, getting a brief message back to hold on. He had also reached out to Twisted, catching only wind as he rolled over to voice mail. In fact, every contact he’d attempted had been a bust, and he was beginning to wonder if there was more going on than he expected. Pony told him not to be paranoid, because if there was shit going down, they would both have received a call out.

  So the phone in his hand ringing was a relief, and he wanted to cut directly to the chase, no time for niceties. “Tell me you got something.”

  “I got a lot, brother.” Retro didn’t delay but what he had to say was so far from reassuring, Wrench found himself having to fight to hold onto his stillness. “You were in the wind, Po’Boy was in the wind, kinda expected to find the two of you together, but that’s a no-go, obvo. Your gal, Crissy, she’s smart as fuck. I talked to her to see if she knew who’d been going in and out of your place. She did, and damn, the woman’s a force when she’s tweaked, brother. Does not bode well for you.” Wrench made a noise and Retro got the hint, putting them back on track of whatever he knew. “I didn’t have it installed in time, but need you to know I’m aware you’re in your place because I can see you. Wave at the kitchen, we got a camera in there.” Wrench whirled and stared into the kitchen, seeing a small, black oval attached to the wall above his cabinets, not something he’d installed, and not something which was present the last time he’d been home.

  “What the fuck?” He gaped. “Who the fuck did that? Why?”

  “Yeah, it was clear someone was heading in and out of your place, so Twisted and Ace wanted to see if we could find out for certain who it was. Whoever it was would avoid the guy we parked in the lot, so they were clearly not wanting to be seen, which meant we all wanted to see them even more.” Retro paused. “I can get you the footage, but from what I’ve heard this afternoon, it’s a moot point.”

  “Jesus. Where’s Crissy? That’s what I fucking texted, man. I got some kind of bullshit here, and it looks like she’s tied up in it. We got red, too, brother, and that’s got me on edge.” He could hear the anger building in his voice and tried to tone it back. “You got a point, then make it fast.”

  “Crissy was there, and was taken.”

  Those six words stole the breath from his body, and his chest heaved, futilely trying to suck in more. Retro was silent through this and Wrench glared at the camera, knowing the man could see his reaction. “Shoulda led with that, brother,” he finally gritted out between clenched teeth. “Tell me what I got to go on, because from the looks of things, if taken from here, she’s in a bad way.”

  “She’s good. Swear, Ty.” The compassion in Retro’s voice nearly broke him, and he closed his eyes, twisting his neck and angling his chin down and away from the camera. “Swear, brother. I was moving heaven and earth to find her, coming up absolutely dry. Then about forty minutes ago, she called me for a fucking clean-up crew.”

  “Where is she?”

  “Orleans. She’s in New Orleans.” Wrench was already striding towards the door. “She’s at Po’Boy’s place down there…y’all’s place. I got a crew on the way.”

  “I’ll be there in twenty.” Wrench slung a leg over his bike, Pony’s presence barely registering.

  “It’s thirty-five miles, brother.”

  “I’ll be there in twenty,” he repeated, then disconnected and shoved the phone into his pocket, the roar of bikes next to him pulling his attention. He looked over and saw not only Pony, but all the other CoBos and IMC members in the complex had mounted up, ready to ride. With a nod to Pony, he started his bike, the back wheel spinning for a moment then catching, propelling him out of the lot.

  Fifteen minutes later he led the string of bikes into the underground parking, angling his into the first open parking he saw. Kickstand down, he had stalked through the doors before the columns had fully even entered the space. Moving up the stairs two treads at a time, he rounded the landing to see the door at the top propped open. Wrench hadn’t paid much attention to the vehicles in the garage, but given the number of vests he saw milling in the hallway outside Po’Boy’s suite, there must have been a half a dozen bikes he hadn’t noticed. Giving Twisted a chin lift, he pushed past the man and into the room, sweeping the area, gaze locking on where Po’Boy stood with his back to the door, IMC vest in place on his shoulders, arms wrapped around Crissy, her hair the only thing visible.

  Across the room in a handful of steps, Wrench didn’t pause, didn’t give any headspace to who might be there, who might be watching, or who might give him shit for what he was about to do. He found he didn’t give that first fuck, because after the past weeks, after agonizing over a decision he’d known was wrong only minutes after making it, he needed to have his partners in his arms, needed to have his hands on them. Pressing tight to Po’Boy’s side, he wrapped his arms around both of them, and when Po’Boy lifted his head, Wrench captured his mouth in a hot, wet, and very deep kiss, with tongue, in front of God and everyone.

  When he tore his lips off Po’Boy’s, he heard the familiar low, rolling chuckle which made his dick get hard every time, Po’Boy muttering, “Damn, baby.”

  A hand cupped his jaw, and he looked down to see Crissy’s eyes were lifted to meet his. A deep bruise had spread to cover most of her jaw on one side, purple and black warring for space under her skin. Even with that she lifted to her toes and kissed him hard, sweeping his lips with her tongue, diving inside when he opened for her, battling back as he took control of the kiss, finally breaking it with a series of soft lip brushes, finishing with his forehead resting against hers, both of them panting for breath.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Po’Boy

  Penny shook her finger in Po’Boy’s face and he clicked his teeth at her like a snapping turtle, threatening to sever one at the joint if she left it too close. She stood beside him at a folding table, both their hands nearly covered to the wrist in a mixture of flour and cornmeal. Across the way he watched as Crissy bumped Wrench with her hip, scolding him quietly for sneaking one of the small hushpuppies she’d just taken out of the fryer. Half the members of their two clubs had been out running trotlines last night, hauling in enough channel and blue catfish to feed the more than one hundred people expected at the fish fry today.

  Not a celebration, that wasn’t their way. No, this was just another party.

  At least to the outside world.

  Po’Boy looked around, noting who was in attendance, and who was not. Ain’t no easy roads. He and Wrench both knew there’d be bullshit to deal with, in and out of their clubs. Clubs, he thought with a wince, was area number one where there was a known discontent because of them being what they were to the other. He knew eventually one of them would have to make a leap unless something more radical happened upstream in the Caddo Hobos and Incoherent. It wouldn’t do to have a house divided, not when it came to club business, and them being high-level officers made that a long sight more challenging.

  Not today, though. Today was about brotherhood and friendships, with Twisted hosting members from at least a half a dozen clubs who crossed alliance lines. Still, the missing faces were noted.

  It had been three weeks since Wrench claimed him and Crissy in a way no one present could mistake. Po’Boy had heard the story a dozen times, and it had grown in the telling, as was the way of things. How Wrench had torn out of his condo like the devil was nipping at
his heels. About the hundred-mile-an-hour ride across the causeway, Wrench’s bike weaving in and out of traffic, uncaring of protocol, willing to leave everyone behind if it got him to the suite a half a second earlier. Of the walk of fame, Wrench reportedly shoving Retro’s cleaners out of the way to get to him and Crissy. Wildman had summed up the kiss in a handful of words that made Po’Boy roar with laughter. “Coulda made me gay, man kissed me like that.”

  I’m a lucky bastard.

  A bump at his shoulder pulled his gaze down and to the side where he saw Penny grinning broadly up at him. “Fish ain’t gonna bread itself.” She reached out, grabbing a handful of raw fillets and dropped them into his bowl of the flour and meal mixture.

  He smiled, enjoying how easy that expression was to call up these days, and bumped back. “Better watch out, Twisted gonna breed you any day.” She flushed, the rosy coloring flooding her cheeks and quickly looked down. “Oh, fuck me. He already did.” Remembering their earlier conversation, he dropped his voice and asked, “You okay with that?” Red curls falling around her face, she mumbled something, and he jostled her again. “Yousa, don’t fuckin’ try and bullshit a bullshitter, it don’t never work, doll. Tell me true, you okay with that?”

  “I didn’t know what to think at first, was…shocked.” Head down, she focused on where they were working the squares and rectangles of the sweet meat through the seasoned breading, gaze following his hands when he reached out for more fish. “Took me a week straight to pull up the courage to tell him.”

  Deftly flipping the pieces onto the growing pile of fish ready for the fryer, he asked, “What’d he say?”

  “Wasn’t what he said that convinced me.” Angling her head up, she looked at him from the corners of her eyes, looking a little coy and pleased with herself. “Apparently, my Mr. Bell likes the idea of me being pregnant.” Her meaning clear, Po’Boy couldn’t contain himself, he threw his head back and roared laughter, Penny trying to shush him, her attempts entirely unsuccessful.