Raw: The Ultimate Mc Collection (37 page)

“Lacey!”  I yelled, but she didn’t stop.  She was sobbing, screaming, her hands flailing in the air.  I grabbed her arms, calling her name again, but she wrestled against me, lost in her own horrific nightmare.

I held her arms. She was strong, really strong, but I was stronger, and I held her arms down, her fist still clutching the broken shoe, as she tried to break free.

I gripped her tightly, and I did the only thing I could think of to do.

I kissed her.

I pressed my lips against her mouth firmly, roughly, silencing her screams.  She fought against me, trying to push me away, but I held onto her arms, my lips still pressed to hers, until at last, she relaxed, the fight fading from her limbs, and I loosened my grip.

I pulled away, looking into her eyes.

“It’s me, Lacey.  It’s Riot.  You’re safe now, sweetheart.”

She looked up at me, her face streaked in blood, and she blinked hard, and shook her head.  The darkness faded and the light returned to her eyes as she realized it was me.

The Lacey that I knew and loved had returned.

Loved.

The broken, bloody shoe fell to the ground and she wrapped her arms around me, crying, sobbing, her whole body shaking violently.

“It’s over,” she whispered through her tears.  “It’s really over…”

EPILOGUE

The Gods, Grace, Lacey, Cherry and Tiff huddled around the television set, all eyes and ears intently focused on the news.

“I’m Diana Trudeau, with KATU News.”

The Gods began hooting and hollering, pushing Slade off the couch.

“There’s your girlfriend, Slade,” Thorn teased him.

“Shut the fuck up!” Slade growled, standing back up.  “It was just one fucking night, and you’ve got us fucking married already!”

Slade and Diana had hooked up after meeting at the motel that day.  After all the shit that went down, Slade invited her to come back to the clubhouse.  Half to make sure that what she was going to be reporting wouldn’t jeopardize Solid Ground at all, and half to see what she was like in bed.  He had succeeded on both counts.

“Today, police reported that former Mayor of Seattle, Monty Patterson, has been implicated in a string of sex-trafficking operations throughout the West coast.  The woman police were looking for earlier, Lacey Carrington, has been questioned and released.  Sources say Ms. Carrington confessed to killing Mayor Patterson in self-defense, and the DA has declined to press charges or comment on the case any further.  Reporting from Portland, I’m Diana Trudeau.”

Ryder turned off the television.

“And, that’s that. Good job, Slade,” Grace said.

“I aim to please,” he said, arrogantly throwing his arms behind his head, and his feet up on the coffee table.  “Haven’t had a woman complain yet.”

“Oh, please,” Riot said, his arm thrown around Lacey’s shoulders as she leaned her head on his shoulder.  “You wouldn’t hear them if they did, you’ve got your head so far up your own ass.”

“Fuck you, Riot, don’t make me embarrass you in front of your girl,” Slade replied.  “You’re due for a beat down.”

Two weeks had passed since Lacey had killed her mother and collapsed in Riot’s arms.  They had been inseparable since then.  Lacey had been badly shaken, spending most of her days and nights recovering in Riot’s bedroom, but she was starting to come around again and return to her usual self, and slowly opening up to her new family.  The envelope with her new identity lay unopened in her room.

A grand jury had decided against indicting her on either Monty’s death or her mother’s, writing them both off as self-defense.  The other two guys the Gods shot were chalked up to being in the wrong place at the wrong time.  The cops were being generous as a favor to Grace.

“Yeah, sure, bro, whatever,” Riot replied to Slade.  He turned to Lacey, his eyes lighting up every time he looked at her.  “Let’s go for our walk, babe.”

Hand in hand they walked out into the darkness of the Tillamook forest, their steps falling into sync, the warmth of their bodies as close as they could get.

Their nightly walks had become expected, quickly becoming a ritualistic study in the constantly changing dynamics of a new relationship.

Riot had learned quickly.  He could read Lacey easily, knowing when to fall back and let her lead, or when to grab her hand confidently and show her the way.  Tonight, they followed a familiar trail side by side.

When they reached the creek, they hiked alongside it, climbing over rocks and ducking under fallen trees, until they reached Riot’s private spot.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of coming here,” Lacey said, turning her smile up to her rock, her Riot, as he pulled her into his strong arms.

He leaned down, brushing his lips against hers, the heat rushing forth, his cock twitching in his pants, just like it did every time he touched her.

“I hope you never do,” he replied.

“I don’t think it’s possible,” she whispered.

The silent swoosh of two pairs of wings brushed past them.  Oliver and Olivia landed on a wet rock beside them, patiently waiting for the affectionate petting that would surely come.

Lacey reached down, her fingers sliding through their feathers as they cooed and blinked at her.

“They’re so beautiful,” she whispered.

“So are you, Lacey,”  Riot said, his eyes tender and full of love.

“You are so kind to me, Riot,” Lacey said, standing up and wrapping her arms around him.  “I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you.”

“Don’t you know, babe?” he asked, his gruff beard rubbing against her cheek as he pulled her in close.

“Nope,” she replied, nestling into his body.

“Everybody deserves love like this. It was just meant to be. Everything you went through. Everything I went through. All the hell, the pain, the heartache, all the days of being lost in a sea of misery, it all led us here. To this moment, to this day, to this forest.”  He bent his head to kiss her, their lips melding together perfectly, and then he stomped on the ground, his black leather boots packing down the earth below it. “It all led to this solid ground beneath our feet. No more sea of misery, babe.”

“Do you think it was all worth it?” she asked, pulling away slightly, staring back into his smiling eyes.

“If it means I get to spend the rest of my life with you, then yes.”

Oliver and Olivia grew tired of watching them, their white spotted wings swooshing through the air as they took flight, leaving Riot and Lacey alone in the dark forest.

“I thought they’d never leave!” Riot said, as he pulled off his boots and ripped the shirt from his muscular torso.  Lacey laughed, joining him, knowing exactly what was coming next.

“Race you to the waterfall!” he said, as he began running away from her.

The moonlight shone down on them, the sounds of the forest filtering through the trees, as they leaped over rocks and raced their way to the fall.

Riot always won this game, each time greeting Lacey wearing nothing but a smile and that thick, always present beard, the rest of his clothes discarded along the way.  

“You always win!” she complained, as he took her into his arms again, his cock hard and throbbing between them.

“I know,” he laughed. “And look at my prize…”

Their heads bent together, their gentle kisses turning passionate, as the roar of the waterfall behind them drowned out the songs of their lovemaking, the misty water clinging to their hair, the pain of their pasts drifting away like a fallen leaf being carried away on the surface of the water.

***THE END***

☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

PROLOGUE

School sucked, as usual.

I shivered in the cold, my bare arms covered in goose bumps, as I slowly made my way back to the trailer park.  I walked on the sunny side of the street, trying to gain what little warmth the sun provided on this bitterly cold day.  Midwinter in Oregon rarely saw the sun, so today was a welcome exception.

I yawned, and wondered if the trailer would be quiet enough for me to get some sleep tonight.  I figured that wasn’t likely,  but my body still craved just one night of peaceful sleep.

I was way past pretending to make an effort at learning anything in school.  By now, my teachers knew that the only reason I even showed up was for the free lunch.  Luckily, they seemed to take pity on me, and they didn’t push me too hard.  As long as I didn’t end up fighting anyone that particular day, they let me come and go as I pleased.

And fuck if I didn’t try everyday not to, but every now and then, some jock decided he needed to try to impress some chick, and they’d come looking for me - the outcast, the misfit, the poor boy with the fucked-up parents - the easy target.

In the beginning, I was exactly that.  But over the years, after getting beat up one too many times, I started fighting back.  And with each fight, I got better and stronger.  First, I’d get in one lick, then two, and then after a while…well, they just stopped fucking with me for the most part.

I guess it’s more fun to fuck with the guys who don’t fight back.

It was just as well.  I had enough violence in my life.

I walked through the broken gate of the Tall Pines Trailer Park, which, ironically, accomplished the unlikely feat of not having one goddamned living tree in the whole fucking trailer park.  I wasn’t surprised.  I was convinced by now, after having lived there for the last two years, that the Tall Pines Trailer Park was a place where one went to die.

There wasn’t a whole lot of living going on there, that was for fucking sure.

I walked past Old Lady Ruby’s trailer.  She was the manager, and her trailer was surrounded by planters filled with cheap plastic flowers.  I never understood why she didn’t just plant real flowers, but whatever.  I didn’t understand a lot of what went down in this place.

Ruby’s old hound dog, Hank, lay in front of her doorstep, and when I passed, he twitched an ear my way, but didn’t even bother to raise his head.

“Hey, Hank…” I waved at him as I walked by.  He looked about as miserable as I felt.

My steps slowed as I approached our trailer. I never knew what would be waiting for me. 

Dad’s car was gone, just like every day.  He worked as much as he could, even though he hated it with every cell in his body.  He was a dockworker, leaving the house every morning before dawn, and usually coming home late at night, drunk and miserable, after getting his fill with his work buddies at the bar.

I reached our trailer, and hung my head in shame.  It was a white, small, dirty little tin shed with wheels.  The smallest and ugliest in the trailer park, and that was saying something.  It wasn’t a small feat winning the ugliest trailer in this hell-hole.

I took a deep breath, and opened the door, climbing the little stairs that led inside.  Hank Williams’ voice greeted me, my mother singing along, her whiney squeal butchering the lyrics and melody.

Which meant she was drunk.

No surprise there.  The half-empty bottle of whiskey stood on the kitchen counter, never far from reach.  She stood in the kitchen, stirring a pot of soup, and I was surprised to see her dressed.   Most days, she didn’t bother changing out of her dirty cotton nightgown.  She had even combed and curled her hair, and from the lipstick-stained cigarette dangling from her fingertips, I could see she had put makeup on.