Ashby Holler (11 page)

Chapter Thirteen

Dez

Ellen walked out of the room, closing the door, and Dez dropped his head into his hands. “Stupid, weak bastard,” he sputtered. Half his life had been wasted on fantasies of Ellen. What it might be like to have her. How great that dirty tongue of hers must feel on flesh. He never thought it would leave him so hollow.

He scanned the mounds of clothes, his somewhere among them. When spotting his jeans, he leaned forward and pulled them close. He fished through the pockets until he found a pack of smokes and a zippo.

As the flow of nicotine surged though his veins, he settled back against the dresser. Curtains blew in front of an open window, exposing the darkness beyond. The sky looked empty, cold, bleak. It never looked that way when he stared up at it with Sasha.

“Fuck! Sasha.”

It didn’t happen. He didn’t just fuck Sasha’s mother, in Sasha’s room. At least, he’d never admit to it. Anyone who said otherwise would end up with a mouthful of broken teeth, even if that person was Ellen.

Dez gathered the rest of his clothes, walked into the bathroom, and turned on the shower. His eyelids fought to stay open. It felt like days since he’d last slept, but he couldn’t crawl into Sasha’s bed smelling like two kinds of pussy.

After a quick scrub down, his head hit the pillow. One big lungful of Sasha’s scent and the world clicked off.

***

Sasha

“People!” Vinny exclaimed. “Did you know about this?”

Sasha gripped the steering wheel harder, mashing down on the gas pedal. “No. I thought we were getting coke or maybe heroin, but…Jesus.”

Vinny looked behind him, unable to see beyond the sleeper cab. “What kind of people?”

“I don’t know. They were Chinese or some shit. Twenty women and children.”

“Live cargo. You know what that means? As soon as we get back, Ellen’s gonna send us out to…where do they go?”

“Not the warehouse.” Sasha shook her head, the motor roaring as she pushed a hundred.

“You better ease off,” Vinny said, checking his side mirror. “We don’t wanna get pinched with this load.”

Sasha lifted her boot from the gas pedal, and the engine wound down along with the race of trees but not the pound in her temples.

Vinny lit two cigarettes, then passed one to her. “What do you think will happen to them?”

“I don’t wanna think about that. My stomach’s already twisting.”

“Still? Pull over.”

“Why?” Sasha glanced at Vinny, smirking. “What are you gonna do to me now?”

Vinny smiled, popping a painkiller in his mouth. “I wanna drive. You can sit back and chill for a while.”

“Awesome.” Sasha parked on the side of the road, hopping over Vinny’s legs as he slid into the driver’s seat. The truck rolled forward, and she sank back. A cool breeze tickled her skin, lulling her eyes to a close. She leaned against the broken window, breathing in the scent of wisteria and honeysuckle.

“I want you to stay on the compound.” Sasha closed the flaps of her jacket, wriggling into the seat. “Until this shit with Satan’s Crew simmers down.”

“In your room?”

Sasha peered over, attempting a scowl that ended in a smirk. “No. In your old room.”

Vinny answered, but his words fell under the thump of tires. The cab’s gentle rock stole Sasha’s senses, carrying her body into its swing.

***

Ellen

Ellen sprawled atop her king-sized mattress, satin sheets caressing her skin. She looked at the clock on her nightstand and grinned.

“Four a.m., closing time.”

She rolled onto her stomach and reached for the phone. Her finger spun the rotary, soft clicks singing in her ear. When the phone rang, she fought to suppress a giggle. Then Dante’s voice flowed through the receiver, sparking a giddy blaze inside her chest.

“Dante, are you waiting up for that shipment?”

“Fuck!” Dante’s shout streamed through the phone. “My chalkboard. You dirty cunt.”

“Language, sweetie.” A smile spanned Ellen’s lips. She could almost see the anger puffing his tanned face. “I took your route and the semi. You won’t be needing them anymore anyway. When my new rig shows up to make a delivery in a few hours, with my man behind the wheel, your brother is going to be so disappointed in you.”

“One of these days, I’m gonna cut up that pretty face of yours,” Dante said in a near growl. “That way, everyone can see you for what you really are.”

“You say the sweetest things. Have a good night, Dante.” Ellen hung up the phone, swinging her feet to the floor. After strolling to her closet, she laid a halter-top and a pair of jeans on her bed. She glanced back at the nightstand and the small pile of white powder beside a little silver straw.

“Gotta stay on the ball.” Ellen hurried forward, cutting out two thick lines. “Gonna be a long day.”

Her hair fell in a circle around her face as she bent, like a silky cloak to hide her depraved deed. Tiny silvery granules disappeared as she snorted, pumping life into her tired veins. Her head snapped up, and she exhaled before heading back down to take another round.

As she leaned against the nightstand, her palm fell atop a large hunting knife. The blade slid from its sheath so easy, its weight a comfort in her hand. The sight of her glare reflected in the smooth metal shocked her. So harsh, bloodshot, wired. Those eyes weren’t the ones she remembered, wrinkled and steeped in hate.

Ellen thrust the knife back into its sheath, turning to dress.

***

Sasha

Sasha could hear Vinny fidgeting around the cab of the semi and the light hum of tires rubbing road, but she held her eyes shut.

“You alive?” Vinny asked, nudging Sasha’s arm.

“No,” she said, swatting his hand away. A hint of daylight snuck in, and she yanked her jacket over her face. “Fuck. It’s morning, again.”

“We’ll be home in ten minutes.”

“Good. I can’t wait to stretch my,” her knees cracked as she uncurled from the seat, “ah, my legs. God.”

Vinny’s chuckle pulled Sasha’s leer.

“You look better,” he said, glancing between her and the road. “Your color, at least.”

Sasha stuck her middle finger in the air, moving it in front of Vinny’s eyes.

“Yeah, yeah.” He shoved her hand back. “By the way, you suck at ridin’ shotgun. I ran out of smokes two hours ago.”

“You should’ve woke me, stupid.” Sasha pulled a pack of cigarettes from her pocket, lighting one for Vinny then herself. “That’s, like, an emergency.”

“Ahh.” Smoke flowed from Vinny’s mouth, circling the air before it zoomed out the window. “I hope we get a few hours turnaround. I’m wiped.”

“I can take the load myself,” Sasha said, leaning against her armrest. “There’re twelve gauges of backup under the seat.”

“We have a jacked shipment of slave people going God knows where, and you think you’re ridin’ solo. Ha!” Vinny shook his head, puffing on his cigarette.

“See,” Sasha bobbed her finger his way, “and I was trying to be nice, but fuck you, bro. You can suffer.” Her words came out between chuckles, and Vinny laughed.

Air whooshed from the brakes, the truck rounded a sharp bend, and sunlight shimmered off their dented gate.

“Home sweet home,” Vinny said, turning onto the compound. He pulled past the blackened heaps of twisted metal, parking across from the garage.

Sasha cracked open her door, pausing at the sight of her mother. A long breath slowed the pound of her heart as she closed her eyes. The darkness provided a temporary release. Orders weren’t barked in her face when Sasha was hidden behind closed eyes; friends weren’t killed while Sasha lingered in the depths of her mind. Just memories of soft skin, red hair, and sweet giggles. Her door flew open, but she stayed in a daydream of wandering fingertips.

“What are you doing?” her mother damn near barked, blowing her happy thoughts to bits.

Sasha looked to the driver’s seat. It was empty. Her head rolled to her open door and right into her mother’s irritated glare. “Where’d Vinny go?”

“Up to the house. You’ve been sitting here for five minutes. Are you on something?”

“There are people chained in the back of this truck.”

“Really, Sasha? You’ve chosen
now
to sprout a conscience?”

A jolt of surprise nearly robbed the air from Sasha’s lungs, mostly because she had no idea her mother even knew what a conscience was. “You put me in so much danger.” Sasha narrowed her stare as she climbed out of the truck. “Do you even know who met me at the dock? The Call of Death. I spent all of last summer killing those motherfuckers for Felix.”

A laugh, that’s what her mother offered. “Looks like your shit’s starting to pile up. Oh relax, this was a one-time thing.”

“No, it’s not. They expect me to be there every six months for the same kind of pickup.” Sasha anticipated shock, disbelief, maybe a fraction of concern, but all she saw were money signs in her mother’s eyes.

“Guess you got your new route after all,” Sasha said, leaning against the slightly melted fender of the truck. “Do I even want to know who our clients are?”

Pebbles crunched under Ellen’s fidgety boot, her stern eyes low. “The Lazzari Family, out of New York.”

“That’s Italian mafia!”

“Yeah,” Ellen said, as if it were no big deal.

“We don’t go that far east. You said it’s trouble.”

“I’m mending fences, expanding our horizons.”

“Do our horizons include your biker boy-toy?” That one got a reaction. Watching her mother’s feathers ruffle left such a warmth in Sasha’s chest until that glare returned with a vengeance.

“Have you been following me?” Ellen asked through gritted teeth.

“Maybe.”

Ellen jabbed Sasha’s chest, and Sasha scurried back.

“You never could mind your own fucking business, girl.”

“You
are
my business.” The sudden growth of backbone surprised Sasha more than her mother, who gasped. This temporary lapse of courage would fade, but while it was here Sasha planned on rolling with it. “This club, my life. It’s all tied to you.”

“That’s how you knew where their warehouse was,” Ellen said with wide eyes. “You followed me.”

Sasha looked away. She should’ve seen this coming. A person could only shove so many skeletons into a closet they’re hiding in before pieces got loose.

“This is so typical of you,” Ellen said in a sneer. “Did you see your mommy doing some naughty things and lash out?”

“Stop it.” Sasha shrank down, eyeing the steps that led to her room.

“There’s that childish temper again. You never think, you just do. That’s the reason we’re trafficking people. It’s the consequence of your firebomb escapade.”

A shiver ran through Sasha. She crossed her arms, held tightly onto her sides, but she couldn’t shake the chill left by the truth of her mother’s words.

“You know,” Ellen said softly, almost in sorrow, “I’m getting really sick of waiting for you to grow the fuck up.” She backed away, gesturing to the garage. “Get some rest. You’re on the road again first thing tomorrow. And take a shower; you look like shit.”

Sasha stood under warm rays of sun, a fire raging deep inside her gut. She looked away from her mother, who was strolling toward the clubhouse, and stared at the long white trailer of the truck beside her. She thought about the starving, sweltering people locked within breathing stale air and all the bullshit that led to this end. It wasn’t the right path. This wasn’t the club’s vision, her vision.

Sasha turned away from the gentle breeze, the chirp of birds, things you couldn’t experience while trapped inside a tractor trailer, and hurried up her stairs.

***

Vinny

Vinny leaned against a marble column of the big house and watched Sasha cower under Ellen’s glare. The door opened behind him, and Otis stepped to the edge of the porch.

“What’s all this?” Otis asked, pointing to the two women far across the lot.

“Sasha never backs down,” Vinny said, keeping his gaze straight ahead. “Six-foot bikers, Mexican gangsters, but she crumbles with Ellen. I don’t get it.”

Otis snickered. “What would you do if Ellen got in your face like that, poking her finger at your chest?”

Vinny sank against the wide pillar. If Ellen ever barked at him like that, he knew exactly what he’d do. He’d run and hide behind Sasha.

“That’s her president and mother.” Otis turned toward Vinny, tapping an unlit cigarette on his zippo. “She’s extra hard on Sasha. She has to be. It’s how you mold a leader.”