Blood in the Water (Kairos) (19 page)

“Then why’re you hidin’ out in here?”  He asked, confused and a little angry as to why she didn’t feel safe in this clubhouse, of all places.

“I’ve never really met the Rabids before, and I’ve got to say, those guys make me nervous. I don’t think I’ve ever even seen their patch before.  I’m gonna have nightmares about that.”

Paul pulled her up with him and turned her around to face him.  She was pressed against the counter and framed in his arms, but no longer so close to making him come in his pants.  He knew what she meant; the patch of the Rabid Dogs resembled a shaggy hell hound with jagged teeth in a slavering mouth and blank holes where the eyes should have been.  It was appropriate for the members of the club, who all looked pretty rough around the edges one way or another.

“You don’t need to worry about those apes.”  He said seriously.

“Is this your idea of giving me room?” He didn’t mind her changing the subject. He was happy to see the cheeky, coy smile lighting her face up and more than happy with the way she was grinding her hips against his obvious hard-on.

“You need room?”  He wondered if the kitchen door had a lock on it.

“No.  Didn’t before. Don’t now.”

“Good.  I like to hear that.”  He all but growled.  She had been expecting a kiss, but he caught her lower lip between his teeth first and pulled slightly.  Her response was electric. She looped her arms around his neck and pulled herself up and as close to his body as she could, as their contact turned into a rampant kiss.  He could feel every inch of her down to her knees, and he knew that if he put his hands on her ass she would hop up and wrap those long legs of hers around his hips; then they wouldn’t care if the door was fucking locked or not.

Ashleigh was the one to pull back.  “You should probably at least mention somethin’ to my dad before you fuck me in front of the microwave.”  Her voice, throaty with lust, caused Paul’s cock to twitch.  Given her extremely close proximity, that involuntary spasm brought a moan from Ashleigh.

“Hmmm.  I suppose so.”  Paul was nuzzling her neck, thoroughly enjoying the way it made her writhe.  He had been preparing to talk to Samuel anyway if this was going to move forward.  “I’ll talk to him tomorrow.  I’ll make time while were on the run.”

Any response she might have made was lost as his mouth descended on hers again.  It was only when Paul came to the conclusion that if they didn’t stop that he really would be fucking her in front of the microwave, and that she wasn’t showing any signs of calling time, that he broke the kiss and stepped back. 

He stole a swallow of beer from the bottle on the counter before he could speak.  “See you back out there?”

“Or not.”  Ashleigh hitched her shoulders and turned back to her magazine.  He didn’t miss the way she waved her ass for his benefit as he left the kitchen.  He shook his head.  That woman was every inch her mother’s daughter and was probably going to be the death of him.

Paul went straight to the bar to get another beer.  He may as well toast his imminent demise.  Sinatra handed him a bottle almost before he’d reached the counter.  Jimmy was perched on a stool, a glass in his hand and a bottle of Jamieson in front of him.

“Paul.  Son.  How’re you gettin’ along here?”

There was a slight slur to Jimmy’s words that worried Paul some, especially as he detected the double meaning behind them.  Whether it was the whiskey or not that gave Jimmy the courage to broach such a subject in a room thick with Priest patches Paul didn’t know, but such carelessness made him think even less of the man.

Paul glanced around surreptitiously.  There was no one nearby from either club.  “No progress.  No opportunities that I can see yet.”  He had no idea if Jimmy recognized that he was stalling.

“Okay, son.  Keep looking.  Maybe work the Mexican angle.  But I’d like to hear something soon.”

Paul’s blood had turned to ice at the seemingly drunken brazenness of Jimmy’s approach.  It showed in the terseness of his tone.  “I thought there was no time limit in this?”

“There isn’t, but my patience isn’t endless.”

Paul nodded and walked away, swiftly.  Those were not Jimmy’s words that had just come out of his mouth.  Paul knew for certain now that someone else was pulling Jimmy’s strings.  Something was even more deeply wrong with this whole situation than he’d even understood to begin with.  He was shaken.  That man, whom he’d once pledged his loyalty to, was out to get him killed.  He was more than happy to sacrifice Paul to whatever purpose he was serving.  Paul badly needed to spend some time with people he could trust, but he wasn’t all that sure who he could point to in the room at the moment and know that for a truth.  He headed in the direction of the pool table, aiming to join Chiz, Dizzy, Crash and Rabbit.  Rabbit looked like he was getting on with everyone just fine, but then that man could have made friends with a brick wall.

As Paul approached, Rabbit called out.  “Come on, then.  Let’s see your ink.  These fellas’ve been tellin’ me it’s somethin’ pretty special.”

Right at this moment Paul felt pretty good about showing that sign of commitment and dedication to the Priests.  He slipped his kutte off and laid it over the cushion of the pool table.  Rather than just lift up his t-shirt, which would have been awkward given the placement of the ink, he pulled it up over his head and off.

“Go hard or go home, eh brother?” was Rabbit’s laconic response to the large piece of artwork.

Paul was grinning in response, an expression which only grew when he saw Ashleigh walk out of the kitchen.  He figured she’d come out to leave.  The night was turning raucous.  Kong already had his dick out; Leah had her mouth around it, her head bobbing away between the big man’s thighs.   That girl was so skinny compared to Kong’s bulk that it was a wonder she didn’t break after a night with him.  The Priests were showing their hospitality by deferring to their visitors when it came to the girls and most of them had taken advantage of that generosity and had hooked up.

The only one who hadn’t yet was Garfield.  He’s set himself up at the bar with a bottle of Jack D and appeared to be chatting with Tag.  As Ashleigh passed him, Garfield hooked his arm out and around her waist.  Whatever he said to her caused her expression to turn furious.

Ashleigh wasn’t dressed like the sweetbutts.  They were all in shiny spandex that barely covered their crotches or their tits, easy access all round.  Ashleigh was wearing jeans and some sort of long sleeve, floaty white top that she had tied in at her waist with a wide leather belt.  She looked classy, and the very opposite of anyone that Garfield should have laid hands on.  But all that barely registered in Paul’s mind, he was already half way across the room.  What did register was that Tag should be putting Garfield straight and he was sitting there with his fucking mouth shut, letting his president’s daughter get manhandled.

“Let her go.”  Paul knew his voice had dropped to low and dangerous, the tone that no one wanted to be on the receiving end of, especially if he had a weapon handy.

“Finders keepers, Shark.”  Garfield leered. 

Paul had seen the bourbon in Garfield’s eyes.  He had no problem taking him to the ring right the fuck now, and he would claim this night back in blood at some point, but he didn’t want to frighten Ashleigh if he could help it.  “No, brother.  She’s Sam’s daughter.  She ain’t pussy.”

Garfield cocked his head and looked at Ashleigh, then Paul, then back again.  “She your pussy?”  He asked, still scrutinizing Ashleigh.

“She’s not yours.”  Paul grated.

“I asked if she was yours, brother.”  Garfield replied without looking away from Ashleigh.

Paul looked at Ashleigh.  He could see in her face that she was angry, but in the set of her body that she was scared.  She raised an eyebrow at him; she was waiting on his response, too.  Fuck it, he was all in anyway.  He wasn’t going to be a pussy about it.  She was his fucking woman.

“Yeah, she is.”

The hush that had been rapidly descending on the room as people turned and tuned in to the altercation became a blanket of complete silence.

“Sorry, brother.  No one said anyone was off limits.” 

He released Ashleigh with an exaggerated flourish.  She came straight to Paul’s side.  He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her in close, but it was only when he felt her tuck her body into his side, against his bare skin, that he realized his t-shirt was still clutched in his other fist.

“Well now you know.” 

Garfield nodded; Paul knew he’d received the message that he was on notice.  Paul shot a look at Tag, who paled visibly.  Paul didn’t say a word, but he knew that Tag had received and understood his message.  He would bleed at Paul’s hands.  As Paul turned and guided Ashleigh to the pool table, he caught the expressions of the men standing there, and he thought maybe it wouldn’t only be his fists that would be drawing blood from Tag.

As soon as he was close enough, Dizzy slapped Paul on the shoulder that Ashleigh wasn’t tucked under.  At that gesture the conversations restarted and the noise level in the room amped up again to its previous level.

“I’m sorry, brother.”  Rabbit said.  “I kinda feel like I should apologize for him.”

“Don’t.  He’s grown.  He owns himself.”  Paul gritted out.  He was still pumped up on the adrenaline from the confrontation and seething with the need to make someone hurt, but he was not going to relinquish his hold on Ashleigh for that reason, and not the night before such a long run with trouble brewing on the horizon.

“Tonight’s not the night for him, brother.”  Dizzy said soothingly.  Paul knew he and Dizzy were of the same mind about Garfield.  “But do you wanna make the little shit bleed or should I?” 

Paul knew Dizzy was referring to Tag.  “If you wanna pull rank, I’m good with that.  As long as the retard learns he should’ve stood up for her.”

He knew that Ashleigh wasn’t upset by the way they were discussing her as if she weren’t there, or that if she was she wasn’t going to kick up a fuss, because she cuddled into his body a little more.  He tightened his grip in response.  She had her arms around his stomach; her sleeves had ridden up so that it was bare skin to bare skin.  The adrenaline was receding and he was beginning to have difficulty concentrating. 

Dizzy looked Paul in the eyes and then glanced behind him in Tag’s direction.  “I’ll do it.  I leave it to you; I think maybe you’d kill him.”

“I wouldn’t mean to.”  It was only half a lie.

“I’m sure you wouldn’t.”  Dizzy responded dryly.

Paul had just about had enough of everything for the night.  There was only one place he wanted to be right now, and the clubhouse wasn’t it.  He looked down at Ashleigh.

“You ready to leave?”

“Whenever you are.”

“Good.”  He squeezed her shoulders and turned to the other men.  “Be seeing you boys in the morning.”

“Bright and early, yeah.”  Chiz piped up.  “Don’t be over sleepin’ now.”

Paul didn’t dignify the jibe with a response.  He nodded to Crash, who nodded back, seemingly unconcerned with anything accept Tag’s failure to uphold his responsibilities.

“Go easy on him, darlin’.”  Rabbit addressed Ashleigh with mock condescension.  “He’s an old man.  Not used to swinging from chandeliers and shit.”

“I’ll take care of him.”  Ashleigh said, tilting her head to look up at Paul with a wicked smile.

“Oh I just bet you will.”  Rabbit laughed.

Paul snatched his kutte from the edge of the pool table.  Keeping Ashleigh under his arm, he headed for the door.  He had no intention of releasing her while they were still in the clubhouse, not tonight.  He wanted the message to be loud and clear.  He would put his shirt on outside.

He looked over to Dean as they passed.  He was standing with Fletch where they had been watching Annabelle attempt tricks on the stripper pole.  Dean did not look happy, but whether that ire was directed at him or at Tag or at Garfield, Paul couldn’t tell, and he didn’t much care.  If Dean had an issue with him being with his sister, he could take it up with him in the ring.  Fletch nodded, but it was Ashleigh that he saluted with his beer bottle.  Judging by the fistful of Leah’s hair he was still clutching, it looked as though Kong may have been completely oblivious to the whole episode.