Reprise (16 page)

His cock was aching. Fuck, it really hurt. But he pulled his hand free carefully, making sure she watched him lick her from his fingers. She quivered.

“The same,” he muttered. “You taste the same.”

“Harlon...”

“Don’t say anything. Stay right how you are,” he instructed, reaching into the back for his leather. Inside pocket, condom found. “You’re sure?” he asked.

She nodded.

“Wanna hear it, baby.”

“I’m sure. Please, Harlon.”

His name was what did it. She leaned back on the steering wheel avoiding the horn this time, and he sprung his tortured cock free of his jeans, pushing them down his thighs a bit, then grabbed her hips.

“Take your shirt off,” she whispered, her breathing still raspy.

He grinned and did as instructed, then pulled her into position. Her hands were all over him, and he’d never been so glad that Fritter and Jayce had kept up with weights. It kept him going back to show them up, and Mallory seemed quite enamored with his results.

“Say what you want, baby.”

“I want to fuck you.”

“Good.” He wrapped his arms around her back, pulled her against him, and then eased her down onto him. She let him do it, and he watched her face. That was his favourite part; the way her eyelids fluttered in the green glow of the dash lights, her head falling back as she held her breath, then moaned as he was seated deep inside.

He groaned, too. Damn, to be back with Mallory again. This was the gold standard for him. The best he’d ever known.

She started moving, and he used his arms to lift and drop her. She began whimpering each time she took him inside again, and her efforts to keep up stopped. He liked moving her, being in control even if she was on top. She remembered.

Her hands were braced on his shoulders, and they clutching tighter, nails scraping his skin, and he moved one hand to her bra, pulling the cup down under her breast. He groaned again, pulling her nipple into his mouth. Now a hand went back into his hair, keeping him there. Her nipples were very sensitive. She used to get turned on just by him looking at them.

“Fuck, Mal,” he mumbled around her skin, licking at her breast.

“Harlon,” she gasped it out.

Not another word was said, just gasping and moaning. When she started moving again he returned both hands to her hips, holding her up so he could surge up into her. Just an inch or so, but he did it hard, and it brought her over within seconds, crying out nonsensical things, leaning back away from him, back to the wheel again.

He pressed his hand to her lower tummy and kept thrusting, the change in angle a fucking revelation. Her head shot up, her eyes wide, mouth open, and she leaned back even further before crying out again, “Holy fuck. Holy shit, Harlon!”

He was smiling, watching her ride out another orgasm before the last one was totally through her. Her body clenched around him tight and that’s when he came too, roaring out in a bestial manner, eyes slammed shut, seeing fucking sparks on the backs of his eyelids.

In the quiet after, his breathing mingling with hers in a comfortable way, Tiny was at peace. Usually he was after a good fuck but this was more. In his hometown, with the only woman he’d ever considered “his,” blissfully enjoying the afterglow, this was something different. He could have had this all along if he hadn’t been such an idiot.

But now he was a Red Rebel. That wasn’t something to trade off for anything.

“We should go,” she whispered, just as there was a knock at the window.

She shrieked and scrambled off of him onto the other side of the cab, pulling her shirt across her chest. Tiny stuffed his cock away, yanking his jeans up and throwing his truck door open.

“Harlon!” Mal shrieked, and he looked back to see that someone was shining a light in the passenger side of the truck. They were trying to get in but the door was locked.

“Stay inside,” he growled and slammed the door shut, then blocked it with his body, turning to face the prick that had just scared the shit out of Mal.

He’d known it wasn’t a cop, but seeing three men in denim and Dirty Rats leather was decidedly worse. For the first time in a long time he felt fear, but it wasn’t for him. If they so much as touched her—

“You’re enjoying the mild weather I see?”

Tiny focused on the Rat with the Vice President patch on his chest. This was likely the ranking officer in the group. “We got a problem?”

The man smiled, revealing a few missing teeth. His scruffy beard was patchy, hair hung down lank and greasy. He had a nasty scar on one cheek that resembled severe road rash. “Check the aggression, grandad.”

Tiny bristled but didn’t give him an opening. He had to think about Mal.

“We know your crew,” the grease ball said, keeping his eyes on Tiny. “Red Rebels run product for Sachetti, right?”

“I don’t know who that is.”

He laughed, exchanging a look with a shaved-head Rat to his left. “This guy’s a fucking stone wall.”

“You got a beef? Let me get my friends and make it even.”

“Nah. Leave them to their pretty women. That one looks like she might be enough for all of us. Even if she is a bit past her best before.”

Tiny stepped forward but two sets of hands held him back. With a grunt he shook them off and they stepped back. Interesting.

“I said relax. Don’t give yourself a heart attack. I got a message for your president.”

Tiny swallowed hard. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. We moved into this county with a special blend of pot, it’s got something in the mix that moves through your county by another Rat chapter.”

Tiny frowned. “You sure you should be spreading that around?”

“Just listen.” Now the guy had lost a lot of his aggression. He almost seemed reasonable. “We were patched over six months ago, when this pot suddenly arrived and they needed someone selling it.”

“What’s in it?”

The guy licked his lips, eyes darting around. If he was a tweaker this would all have to be taken with a grain of salt. “You know that orange Oxy you got in Cali?”

“Yeah.”

“The ingredient in that. Thebaine.

Tiny tensed. He knew that name, of course. Movement of the synthetic opiate had been causing them grief in Markham for over a year now. “Yeah, I know about Thebaine.”

“It’s in the pot. Makes the high intense, makes the pot a lot more addictive.”

Tiny swallowed, flicker of anger snaking up his neck. “That shit’s dangerous. People take it with booze or anything else stronger and could kill them.”

The guy nodded. “That’s the problem. They’re sloppy with how they doctor it.”

“Really? Drug dealers with slipping standards? Your customers know what you’re adding in there?”

With a look to his SAA the vice president in front of Tiny shook his head. “Nah. They just crave it.”

“That’s shitty. Pot’s nothing. Thebaine is pretty hardcore.”

“Not as hard core as the chapter pushing us to move this shit.” The guy moved a bit closer, but his aggression was completely gone now. “We want out. But the only way to do that is by dying, and I don’t care enough about pot to die getting rid of it.”

“How else are you getting out of it?”

“Changing patches. Finding a club with the kind of backing that keeps a Mexican drug cartel from retaliating.”

Tiny surveyed the men that had, at first, seemed so menacing. Now he saw men who were pleading; their posture, their eyes, the way they shifted foot to foot. He saw bikers, sure. But in all his days wearing a patch he’d seen men who could give a shit if they lived through the next day. These were not those kind of men.

These were men like the Red Rebels. They did what they did for themselves and for others as well. A brotherhood of the road, a reason behind their enterprises. Not just an excuse to get violent and break laws.

These were not Dirty Rats, just a small club stuck in the middle of a bigger problem.

“You asking to patch over?” Clarity was absolutely necessary.

“Yeah. We know you have a nomad chapter now. Wondering if a Montrose chapter was a possibility. No need to cut us into any of your work, we don’t want it. All we want is that patch and the distant threat of Michael Sachetti keeping other clubs the fuck out of our town.”

Tiny had to nod. “I’ll take it to Jayce. We’re leaving in the morning—”

“Ask him tonight. We don’t need any immediate turn around, but we want to know if we should plan for a change. We’re armed, the Rats are good about that anyway.”

“I’ll see if we can call in a vote tonight then. Left some of the club back home.”

“Sounds good.”

Tiny offered his hand. “Tiny Gray.”

“Odell Davidson. Guys just call me O.”

They shook, then Tiny was introduced to men named Babe, Yank, Jock, Nan, and Ben, who didn’t seem to have a road name but it was obvious his patch was fresh. “This the whole club?” He knew the answer. No one here was wearing a president’s patch.

O shook his head. “There are a few more. Three for sure will fight the patch over, but we got another two that’ll back the change.”

“Your president?”

Now the men shifted their feet again. “Transplant from Dirty Rats’ Vegas chapter. It was a hostile takeover.”

Tiny shook his head. “Shit man, that sucks.” And it would. It was easy to use violence and fear to cow a group of men in their home community, full of people who meant something to them.

“We can take care of him on our own. All we need is a mother chapter’s endorsement.”

This was a complication, and just as Tiny’s brain cramped on the possible problems they could be bringing up he had another though. “You’re making bank selling pot in Colorado? Isn’t it legal here?”

The men gave a laugh that eased even more tension. “Like we said. This stuff is stronger, enhanced, and a hell of a lot more addictive on account of the Thebaine. Government pot can’t really touch it, and no one’s really worried about having it in their house.”

Tiny nodded. “I’ll go to the hotel right now, talk to the Prez.”

“And don’t worry about your girl,” O assured him. “We know her, we got nothing against her. She’s civilian. That’s one rule we kept from our old bylaws. Nothing touches civilians that they don’t bring down on themselves.”

With an understanding nod Tiny shook O’s hand again. “Appreciate that. And I believe you.” He did, too. At least sixty percent believed it. Mal was still staying in his sight until he was out of town, though.

Without much more discussion the Dirty Rats of Montrose dispersed on foot. They headed towards the same narrow trail that Tiny had driven to get here, which explained how he hadn’t heard six bikers sneak up on the truck.

He waited until they were well away then pulled open the truck door. The dome light came on, showing Mal half turned on her seat, shirt closed and straightened, biting her lip. Her hair was still down. “What happened?”

He pulled his T-shirt back on over his head, then with a grunt he climbed behind the wheel. “Nothing. It’s fine.”

“What the hell did they want?”

Tiny started the truck. “Mal, you gotta trust me that it’s fine.”

“Tiny—”

“There are things we’ll discuss and thing we won’t, baby. Don’t push.”

There was a gulp as she started him down, then she sat back in her seat. “Okay. Take me home.”

“Gotta make a stop first.”

“What?”

“I need to go see Jayce.”

“Harlon—”

“Mal, this is what we’re doing now.” he slammed the shifter into drive. “I don’t want you alone until I know those guys won’t hassle you.”

“Why would they?”

“Just trust me. I’m going to make sure you’re okay.”

She wanted to argue with him, and half of him kinda hoped she would. She used to argue about everything. Instead, she pulled the seatbelt across her chest. He took that as agreement.

Chapter Thirteen

Harlon parked at the curb of the only hotel in town, and Mal undid her seatbelt. The evening had certainly taken an unexpected turn. Going for a “drive” with Harlon had absolutely led to where she’d expected it, and not a single part of her was sorry for it. Then the truck being surrounded by a bunch of bikers had really knocked off the afterglow.

Now she followed Harlon up the concrete steps to the second level of the Cleary Motor Inn. He headed for a room right where the two wings branched off, not saying a word. Truth was, she was a little bit scared of him at the moment. He’d never used the tone he’d used in the truck before coming here, and while it was intimidating it also made her believe him when he said it was for her own protection.

He rapped on a door, then waited, casting her a look. She tried to smile, knowing it missed the mark, and his arm came up to drape over her shoulders. With a tug she was tucked under his arm and her hair caught in his stubble as he kissed the top of her head. “Sorry, baby. This won’t take too long.”

With that simple statement her trepidation melted. She leaned into his side, letting her eyes close, just as the door opened.

The man she’d met called Jayce was standing in the doorway in just jeans and a snug-fitting white beater. He had a small pink teddy bear in one hand, totally killing the otherwise badass vibe of his variety of ink. “What’s up?”

“Need a word. Club business.”

Jayce nodded and backed up, looking into the room. The blonde woman named Trinny was standing in the doorway to the bathroom, that cute blonde kid in her arms, wrapped in a bath towel. The ends of her hair were wet and sticking to her neck, a clear indication they were messing with bath time. The little boy was sitting in the middle of one of the two double beds, hand-held video game vastly more important than anything else going on.

“We’ll head next door,” Trinny said, sounding tired.

“Trin—”

“No, I know. Club business.” She didn’t sound particularly upset, but that statement spoke volumes about her level of annoyance on the subject.

She grabbed a scrap of flannel off the foot of one bed, muttered “JJ, come,” and then squeezed past Jayce in the doorway. “I’ll send Buck over,” she said on the way.

“You should follow her,” Harlon said quietly. “This won’t take long.”

Jesus, talk about feeling like an interloper. “No, I can wait in the truck—”

“Mal, go with Trinny. Please, give me some peace of mind.”

With a sigh she backed off and followed the little wisp of blonde woman who had moved two doors down, yet even though it seemed she didn’t expect to be followed she held the door for Mal once her knock was answered. The little boy moved to an arm chair in the corner of the hotel room without looking up from his game, and as Mal stepped inside behind him Gertie was standing at the door smiling, taking the little girl from Trinny.

“Meeting of the minds next door,” Trinny mumbled, and the bathroom door opened. “Buck, you’ve been beckoned.”

When the dark-haired man smiled Mal felt herself smiling as well. Jesus he reminded her of her Harlon all those years ago. He kissed his wife on the cheek then without a word headed for the door.

“Might as well take a seat,” Trinny told her, laying out a pair of cute pink flannel pajamas on the room’s only bed. “Sounds like they might be calling in for a meeting.”

“I hope everything’s okay,” Mal said, parking her ass on a chair at the small table next to the room’s window.

Gertie handed a very naked and sleepy little girl over to Trinny, who started tucking her into her PJs. “No point asking. They won’t tell you anything anyway.”

“I don’t need to know anything. They’ll keep us safe.”

Trinny gave Gertie a look that suggested she thought her friend was soft in the head but said nothing else. She got her daughter ready for bed and tucked her under the covers then sat across from Mal.

On the floor next to the bed was a car seat, baby Davie passed out inside, oblivious to the world. Gertie checked on her son then sat at the third chair. “Makes me wish I was drinking. Hanging out with the girls again.”

Trinny shook her head. “No, you don’t. You’re doing great, Gertie.”

“Yeah.” She rested her chin in her hand, eyes going down to her son. “It’s getting easier every day.”

“So, now that you’re at our mercy, Mal. It’s time for the grilling.”

She looked up, startled, catching the slightly evil glint in Trinny’s eye. “What?”

“We need to know your story.”

Mal laughed. “I really don’t have a story.”

“You stood up and sang at Tiny’s father’s funeral,” Gertie pointed out. “You’re not a random person from this town.”

“Knuckles knows her,” Trinny went on, talking to Gertie. “Which means Tiny introduced them before we all got here.”

“And they must have hung out because Knuckles decided he likes her, too.”

“That’s right.”

Mal had to laugh but she kept it down. “I’m not interesting, honestly.”

“You have a lovely voice,” Gertie said softly, her smile so wonderfully genuine Mal felt instantly close to her because of it. “You made me cry.”

“Thank you. I’m in a band. We play most of the week at the bar downstairs.”

“Have you ever recorded anything?”

“No. Sang back-up on a few albums back when I lived in Nashville. Closest I got to being ‘discovered.’”

“This is all interesting, but how do you know Tiny?” Trinny broke in.

“That’s rude. We were talking.”

Trinny ignored Gertie and rolled right on. “You and Tiny spent the time between dinner and just now together. And I know the look of a woman who’s been good and fucked.  So what’s the story?”

“Jesus Trinny, you’re worse than Jolene.”

“Someone’s gotta pick up her slack.” Trinny ignored Gertie’s stricken look to that. “How do you know Tiny? I mean, I heard you call him Harlon so you’ve known him quite a while.”

“I knew Harlon back when I was...I was only twenty when I met him, actually.”

Trinny’s eyes got wide. “Really? Here in Cleary, then?”

“Yeah. It was a lifetime and a half ago.”

“I can’t imagine Tiny that young,” Gertie mused, eyes wide. “What was he like?”

Mal shrugged. “A lot like he is now. More closed off. He seems a lot more...expressive now.”

There was a pregnant pause and then the two women cut up into “trying to be quiet” giggles, doubled over and clutching their stomachs. Gertie’s eyes were even filling up.

Mal was startled. “What did I say?”

“He’s
more
expressive now? Jesus, that’s hilarious.” Trinny shook her head. “Does Buck have any beer in here?”

“Couple of bottles in the fridge.”

“Do you mind if I have one?”

Gertie waved a hand. “Go ahead. Bring Mal one.”

“So if Tiny’s all expressive with you now, we definitely need to know the history there.” Trinny passed a beer to her and she took it without really thinking. “You knew him, what? Fifteen years ago?”

Mal had to laugh at
that,
opening the beer. “Well, thank you for
that
. But it was almost thirty years ago. And I was sure he was going to be the man that I married.” She took a sip of beer, then froze. Both women were staring at her like she was an alien. Again. “What?”

Trinny tilted her head. “The part where you said you were going to marry him.”

It never occurred to her that Harlon might have mentioned her somewhere in his new life, but this confirmation that his friends knew nothing of her and their tumultuous story gave her pause. She couldn’t decide if it was good or horrible.

“Why didn’t you get married?” Gertie asked, her eyes wide like she was watching a romantic but tragic movie.

“It just...didn’t work out.” She had no idea if she should be sharing this. Harlon had kept her a secret all this time, and if he didn’t want her known amongst his friends that was fine with Mal. Even if it did sort of hurt.

“No, that won’t cut it. Why didn’t it work out?”

She swallowed another mouthful while Trinny’s question hung in the balance.

“Maybe she doesn’t want to discuss this.” Gertie stopped when there was another knock at the door. She opened it to admit Rose, who was wearing a sweatshirt and flannel pants that she still managed to make look like negligee.

“The man wants me with you guys,” Rose said around a yawn, closing the door behind her.

“Pull up a part of the bed,” Trinny instructed. “You won’t wake Libby.”

The tall woman moved with impossible grace to the side of the bed, sank down on the side and leaned back on the headboard, legs out in front of her. The blonde girl fussed a bit, but rolled into Rose’s side and put her head on the woman’s thigh. Rose smiled and stroked her hair. “What’s the big thing? What’s happening now?”

“Big enough they won’t tell us anything,” Trinny said. “But we’re working on the secret life of Mal and Tiny at the moment.”

Rose’s eyes got wide and she looked instantly awake and revived. “Oooh. This should be interesting.”

“Just spill,” Gertie advised. “She won’t stop until she’s satisfied.”

“I don’t know. If Harlon didn’t tell you any of this it obviously doesn’t matter—”

Trinny interrupted. “That probably means it really
does
matter, actually.”

“They always keep the important things secret,” Rose agreed. “Tank said when a guy doesn’t talk about a woman to the group it means she’s important.”

“Don’t scare her, guys,” Gertie begged. “I like her.”

Mal smiled at that.

Trinny shook her head. “This is
Tiny
. The man of no words and no talking. No smiling.”

Gertie scoffed. “Tiny smiles.”

“Only when Mal’s around,” Rose said slyly, her smile a little too knowing.

Shit.
“We got involved,” Mal started slowly. “And...I got pregnant.”

They waited, and she left it at that.

“No fucking way is that the whole story.”

“Trinny!”

“No, fuck that. Sorry Gertie, but my kids know not to swear and Davie ain’t at that point yet. But there’s more to all this than that sad little sentence. There was a baby? What happened?”

There was no way she was getting away with not giving them more information, so Mal decided to bite the bullet. She had no idea why, but these strangers seemed like the kind of women that were either on your team or not, and being honest was likely a good way to get on their good side. “My parents were not happy. I mean, I was twenty. But unwed and pregnant was not their vision for me, so...they kicked me out.”

“Shit,” Gertie whispered, hand on her chin like she was shocked. “I’m so sorry.”

Mal waved a hand in dismissal. “Harlon took over then. He moved me in with his parents, then bought us a house.”

Trinny blinked. “
His
parents took you in?”

“Yeah. The Grays were amazing to me. His mom became my birth coach, his dad was our realtor. We ended up moving in right across the street from his folks, but even that didn’t seem weird. He drove truck, he was working a lot when I was pregnant and he didn’t want me alone.”

“Well damn,” Rose chuckled. “I never would have expected that from Tiny.”

“I didn’t either,” Mal admitted, settling in her chair more comfortably. “I think it was during that pregnancy that...I really fell in love with him. And I think that’s when the same thing happened for him.”

“But...what happened? You aren’t together.” Gertie’s eyes were wide, still lost in the plot of that movie.

“I had the baby late at night.” Mal swallowed. “Tiny was out of town. He hauled ass to get home for it. He just made it in time.”

“And the baby?” Rose asked, hands running over her belly.

“A daughter. She was perfect.” When she swallowed it was like she’d taken too big a mouthful of bread. It hurt. “Angelina Anabelle.”

-oOo-

“You did good, honey. So good.”

Her eyelids fluttered at his voice, and his hand tightened on hers. She licked her lips and turned her head to the side, the lights doing a hazy dance as she did so. Her mouth rushed full of saliva and she slammed her eyes shut as the urge to throw up ebbed away.

“You okay?”

“Water,” she croaked. Jesus, she was so parched.

“Okay, one sec.”

There was rustling next to her, and when a plastic cup’s rim was pressed to her bottom slip Mal gratefully parted her lips to let the water in. She took a good swallow then turned away.

“You get enough?”

“Yeah.”

The cup made a tapping as it was set down. Then her hand was taken in two large, dry ones and brought up. Harlon’s beard scraped the back of her hand as he kissed it. “You wanna see her?”

Her? Oh yeah, the baby. That’s what was going on. Holy shit. They don’t mess around with the drugs in the hospital. As soon as she remembered where she was and why, her body let its state be known. Her top half normal, the bottom feeling like it’s swollen to three times its normal size. So uncomfortable.