Ashby Holler (13 page)

“She tell you about Otis?” Vinny asked in a near whisper.

“You know about that?” Sasha wiped her hand on her pants, a black stain remaining on her thumb and forefinger. “We spent fourteen hours alone in that truck, you didn’t think to tell me?”

“Chill. I just found out this morning. Big mouth Betsy.”

“You know, gossip isn’t the only reason they call her big mouth Betsy.” Sasha shook her head when Vinny’s wide eyes veered to her. “Or so I’ve heard.”

“I know. I found that out this morning too.”

The giddy look on Vinny’s face forced a chuckle from Sasha’s lungs. A light clicked on overhead, and her mother walked onto the porch.

“Finally awake,” Ellen said with full-on attitude. “Would you two like to join us now, or should we all keep waiting?”

Vinny jumped to his feet, and Sasha snickered. She rose from the bench, wiping her face clear. Her mother’s scowl wouldn’t burst her high, not yet. She kept her stare on Vinny’s back, clumping past her mother’s outstretched arm and into the clubhouse.

Chapter Fifteen

Sasha dropped into her chair. She nodded to Kev, raised her brow at Otis, then settled back. Her plan to avoid Dez lasted about two seconds. Like a joint to the flame, her gaze went to him, though he leered at her mother as she sat beside him at the head of the table.

“We’re gonna burn their shit to the ground.” Ellen lit a cigarette then poured a shot of whiskey. “Vinny, you’re with Kev. I want you two to douse their bikes and that ghetto bar they call a clubhouse in gasoline.” She downed the shot, slamming her glass on the table. “Me, Otis, and Dez will boost the rest of their semis. They still owe us a few.”

“Where do you want me?” Sasha asked, leaning forward.

“Here. Just relax, watch the place. You got a long run and you’re ridin’ solo. Rest up ‘cause I want you on the road at six a.m., give you time in case of traffic.” Ellen looked at the clock, grumbled, and then poured another shot. “It’s only eight. We still got five hours until we move out for Tennessee. Grab some grub; load up the pickups with gas cans and shotguns. Everyone cool with this?”

Everyone around the table nodded their heads, except for Dez, who snickered. “No. This ain’t no solo run. Sasha needs backup.”

Ellen turned, her glare hardening on Dez. “This was your plan.”

“Yeah, and I planned it so we’d be back in time to tail Sasha on the run.”

Tension seemed to build an electric field between the two, creeping into every inch of the room. Neither backed down, which made Sasha’s legs fidget.

“Do we need to take a vote?” Ellen seethed, her jaw clenched.

“No,” Sasha said, tapping her zippo on the table. “It’s a solid plan. Let’s get ready.”

“Good.” Ellen rose from her seat, ripping her glare from Dez. “Kev, Vinny, head down to Gussie’s and fill five or six gas cans. I’ll be in the big house if anyone needs me. Sasha, walk with me?”

“Sure.” Sasha hopped up and followed her mother from the room. “What’s—”

Ellen lifted her hand, stopping Sasha’s words. It wasn’t until they hit gravel and the clubhouse lights dimmed far behind them that her mother’s steady pace slowed.

“I called in my markers with every lawman from here to Albany. They’re on full alert.” Ellen stopped beside the lone semi, and her frosty glare melted. “You will have backup out on the road. You just won’t see them.”

Sasha nodded, dropping her smile from view. Fingers grazed her chin, and she flinched, raising her eyes.

“You didn’t think I’d let my girl head out alone, did ya?” Ellen reached out and patted the fender of the semi beside them. “This was your father’s favorite truck, the symbol of this holler. She needs to be protected.”

An invisible hand of stupidity slapped Sasha in the face. She had actually thought her mother was talking about her, not a ratty old truck.

“Right.” Sasha backed toward the garage, blinking away tears. “Important truck. I gotta make some phone calls. I’ll catch you guys before you leave.” She spun on her heels, making a beeline for the stairs.

Sasha gripped the railing and glanced back. Her mother glided up the hill, her outline blending with the darkness created by the big house’s shadow.

“God, I’m a freakin idiot.” Sasha took the steps to her room two at a time, but it wasn’t fast enough to shake the hurt. “And now I’m talking to myself again.”

Sasha slammed her door closed, sealing herself inside the sanctity of her room. The mess, the scent of stale beer and marijuana, stole the edge from her bones. Just as her tight muscles uncoiled, the door swung open and Dez stomped inside.

Reflex carried Sasha away from the angry man in front of her, and the stiffness returned. “What the f—”

“Where are you going? Who are you meeting up with?” Dez yelled.

He moved closer, and Sasha inched away. Her back thumped against the dresser, but she didn’t crumble. Her chin lifted, frost hardening her spine. “What do you care?”

“I wanna know where you are, when you’ll be back, what kind of danger you’re in.”

Dez stepped close enough for his chest to brush against hers, trailing sparks in its brief contact.

“Why?” The word barely made a sound, but Dez heard it. He had to have, with their lips so close.

“Because…”

Icy blue eyes pierced Sasha’s strength. She wanted to look away, gather her wits, but Dez’s stare held her prisoner.

“I…I’m your sergeant at arms. It’s my job to make sure you’re safe.”

The snicker that burst from Sasha’s mouth couldn’t be stopped, even if she wanted it to. “Right.” Her shoulder bumped against his as she walked to the center of the room. She had to be the most clueless person alive, yet everyone brought their shit to her. “For some reason, you think I have the answers.” Her arms rose then flopped back at her sides. “I don’t know shit! About anything, apparently.”

“Sasha—”

“Go ask your president. She might give you what you want.”

“She can’t give me what I want.”

Dez’s deep voice boomed right behind Sasha. She tilted back, and arms slid around her waist. Lips brushed her cheek, warm breath drawing her in. Those large, rough hands skated under her shirt, and she wilted against the solid body behind her.

“You’re what I want.” Dez wrapped his fingers around the collar of her jacket, sliding the leather off her shoulders. The jacket fell to the floor, and his lips landed on her skin. “All of you.” The light breath on the back of her neck came with shivers, which crawled beneath her flesh. “Every inch of you.” His fingers snaked down her pants, forcing a gasp from her mouth once he snuck inside.

Sasha spun, locking onto Dez’s kiss like a magnet. Every time she grinded against him, she hated herself a little more for liking it so much. This wasn’t a punishment, a lesson she needed to learn. It was a true connection, an electric vibe that pulled her deeper into its clutches.

Dez’s shirt dropped atop her jacket, and she bit the side of his neck. The moan that flowed from his lips, low and throaty, ignited a fiery blaze inside Sasha’s chest. She ran her tongue down rock solid pecs, beyond the ripples of his stomach. Her knees hit the floor, and her hand landed on the gun fastened to his belt. She pulled the Colt from its holster, her eyes drifting up. Every muscles turned to rubber once she spotted Dez’s half-smirk and the desire that drove his stare. The gun thumped against wooden planks, and Sasha unlatched Dez’s belt.

***

Vinny

The moment Kev parked the truck, Vinny opened his door. He walked from the pickup, peeking into the clubhouse. His gaze lingered on the flock of women who set out cold cuts on the bar, their long legs flaunted by tight little skirts. A nod and a wink later, he backed away.

Light shined behind Sasha’s curtain, and Vinny headed toward the garage.

“I wouldn’t do that.”

Vinny stopped on the first step, turning toward Ellen’s voice.

“Now’s probably not a good time.” Ellen pointed to her ear then up to the window.

Between an owl’s call, Vinny heard a long moan. He knew that sound. He’d pulled it from Sasha’s mouth the day before. His shoulders slumped, and he fought to keep his face straight.

“My brother up there?”

“Sorry, kiddo,” Ellen said with a light shrug.

Vinny plopped down on the stairs, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket.

“Looks like you’re used to your big brother sticking his fingers in your Kool-Aid.”

His smirk fluttered the zippo’s flame as he lit his cigarette. “Something like that.” He took a drag, glancing up to the window. “I used to hate Dez. Everything always came so easy for him, women, friends, respect. When he got sent away, I was happy, like the universe finally came to collect its fee for giving out too much awesome. It only took me two weeks to realize it didn’t come easy. He just made it look that way.”

“I don’t know,” Ellen said, sitting beside Vinny. “You might be right. Things do seem to come pretty easy for Dez.” She snatched the cigarette from Vinny’s hand, taking a quick puff. “And he likes to throw his weight, even when he knows it’s wrong. It’s gonna be hard without Chewy. The club really needed a level head and a firm hand. With that VP chair empty, there’s no one to keep our sergeant in check.” After another drag, she handed his smoke back.

“It’ll have to be Otis,” Vinny said.

“No. His duties as road captain are too important. I need someone else, someone I can trust, someone I’ve known for years.”

Vinny’s mind drew a blank. Other than Kev, there was no one besides Sasha.

“I’m talking about you, stupid.”

“What?” Vinny lurched back, shaking the rail. “From prospect to VP in a week? The guys will never go for that. I wouldn’t get the votes.”

“I can get the votes.” Ellen leaned closer. “Would you get my back, no matter what?”

“Ellen,” Vinny flicked his cigarette across the lot and grabbed her hand, “you’re like a mother to me. Even if I were still sweeping the floors, I’d have your back. No matter what.”

“And Sasha?”

Vinny’s neck crooked, but he stopped himself from looking up at Sasha’s window again. “Sasha isn’t always…in tune with reality.”

Ellen chucked, nudging Vinny with her shoulder. “You’re good people, Vincent Archer. I knew it the first time I saw you. Knee high to a smurf, no front teeth, tryin’ to say, ‘Yes, ma’am.’”

Vinny rubbed his lip, hiding a grin.

“The girls laid out one hell of a spread.” Ellen rose to her feet, stepping toward the clubhouse. “Why don’t you come grab a sandwich?”

“In a bit. I wanna hang out here, give ‘em both the guilt trip when they come out.”

“That’s my boy.” Ellen slanted forward, narrowing her eyes. “No talk of this VP business, to anyone. Got it?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Vinny said through a smirk. Ellen grinned then walked down the gravely slope.

Vinny leaned back, elbows propped on the step behind him, and stared at the night sky. Clouds drifted overhead, flashing glimpses of stars between their thick swirls. His chest felt like those clouds, heavy, ominous, except he couldn’t sail away on cool winds.

Floorboards creaked overhead as the bathroom door slammed. Vinny sat up and lit another cigarette, honing his disappointed leer.

Chapter Sixteen

Sasha

Sasha rolled onto her back, sinking into the mattress. Her fingers shook, lips numb; but somehow she controlled her breathing from running wild. When Dez’s eyes fell to her, she looked away. His stare pierced her nerve, judged her every move, and added to the stockpile of shame she already carried on her shoulders.

Her arm twitched, but she kept that palm from slapping her forehead. She should hop up, say something quirky, and then rush out of the room. That’s the routine. Her mind knew. She was just waiting for her goddamn body to catch up.

“Come here, you,” Dez said, drawing her back to his chest. His strong arms held her body tight, lips tickled her neck, and that pesky layer of humiliation blew to tiny bits of tingles.

“We should go before someone comes looking for us.” Her words sounded right, yet they felt so wrong. The last of her willpower teetered, and those hands traveling along her skin didn’t help.

“Just let me live this dream a little longer.”

“Dream?” Sasha peeked over her shoulder, tearing Dez’s lips from her back.

“Yeah. One thousand nine hundred and ninety-eight nights, I dreamt of a soft bed and a beautiful woman. This is much better than my imagination.”

Sasha turned in Dez’s arms. His eyes hit her again, but her immunity must have built up because she didn’t shy away. The heat Dez’s body generated felt too good, infiltrating her with the most pleasant burn. She withered against his solid chest, kissing him softly. Her tongue snaked along his top lip, bringing him in as she pulled back. “Dream’s over. Time to wake up.” Sasha pushed off Dez’s chest and climbed from the bed.

“Harsh,” Dez mumbled, sinking into the pillows.

A shirt snagged Sasha’s footsteps, Dez’s shirt. She scooped it off the floor and tossed it at his face.

“Way harsh,” Dez said without moving a muscle.

Sasha smirked, grabbing her clothes on the way to the bathroom. Once shut inside and surrounded by unshared air, she felt free to exhale. Not bad. She was only about fifty percent spaz.

Two minutes flat and she was dressed, teeth brushed, bandana tied atop her head. This time, waves of hesitation didn’t force her back. She lifted her chin and strolled out of the bathroom. Dez greeted her with a lit cigarette and leery expression.

“Vinny’s outside,” Dez said, pointing to the window. “Just sitting on your bottom step.”

“Fuck. Really?” Sasha maneuvered to the window, peeking out.

“You said nothing was going on. I’m not trying to move in on my brother’s girl.”

“I ain’t no one’s girl.” Sasha hurled a glare, tripping over a mini-mountain of clothes on her way to the door. “He’s probably just…just wait here.”

Sasha pulled open her door, stepping onto the landing. “Hey, Vin.”

Vinny stood and curved to stare up at her. Hurt shined in those baby blues, gleaming even in the low beams of moonlight.

Sasha opened her mouth, and Vinny turned his back, walking away.

“Nothing my ass,” Dez shouted from behind her. “What the fuck, Sasha? You playin’ me?”

“No!” She spun, nearly face planting Dez’s wide chest. Panic sent her legs into a backward scramble, and Dez grabbed her by the arms.

“The stairs,” Dez said, a tremble cracking his voice.

Sasha glanced over her shoulder at the steep set of stairs that she almost fell down trying to untangle from her own web of lies. Dez pulled Sasha close, backing them toward her room.

“I swear.” She slid her hands up his chest, stopping him mid-step. “We’re just friends.” His grip on her arms tightened, and she racked her brain for a distraction.

“Vinny’s just pissed about the run, about what’s in the back of that truck.” Her words just flew out, hanging in the air. If she could reach up, pluck the words from existence, and cram them back into her mouth, she totally would.

“What’s in the back of that truck?” Dez asked, his clutch loosening a tad.

“I can’t.” Sasha wiggled from Dez’s grasp, and he latched onto the front of her coat. Leather wrinkled under his fist, squeezing her chest. “Dez.” She looked at his hand then straight into his eyes.

The second Dez let go, Sasha scurried back though her gaze remained locked on his hard stare. “Please. Don’t push this. You have no idea what my mother is capable of. If you ask too many questions, piss her off, you’ll disappear.”

His face changed, a skeptical type of fear flooding over the rage. Sasha crept closer, slapping on one of those glares that worked so well for her mother. “It’s best to just mind your own business ‘round here.”

Dez walked out the door, the thump of his boots echoing over a concert of night critters.

She stepped outside, watching Dez tear-ass toward the clubhouse. If he had half as many brains as muscles, he’d take her advice. If not, she’d be watching that impressive body drop down the cellar.

***

Sasha never made it off her bottom step. She took up residence in Vinny’s spot. His scent was long gone, but a bitter sadness still clung to the air. She counted the cigarette butts piled at her feet, almost half a pack. Vinny must’ve been sitting there awhile.

The sound of gravel crunching and giggles interrupted the tranquil rustle of leaves, and Sasha looked at the clubhouse. A trail of women glided off the porch, piling into a sedan. Even in the dark, their bright clothes glimmered. Sasha’s view of long legs and high hair ended when Otis walked toward her.

“The girls were asking about you.” Otis handed her a beer then leaned against the railing.

“Guess it’s a good thing I stayed out here then.”

Otis uttered a low groan as he slumped against the railing. “I thought we had a talk about this anti-social bullshit.”

Sasha picked at the label on the ice-cold bottle in her hand. “I did what you said, slutted around.”

“Oh yeah. Did you find the magic cock?”

Sasha shrugged, taking a sip. “Maybe.”

“So, which Archer brother is it?”

The entire staircase shook as Sasha spun to face Otis, gawking.

“Think you’re slick, don’t ya, girl?”

“Okay, smartass. You tell me, which Archer brother is it?”

Otis chuckled, pulling a joint from behind his ear. “Knowing you, you’d go for Dez, even though you belong with Vinny, just ‘cause you like to touch the fire.” His zippo sparked to life, its glow masked by the gray smoke rising around it. “I think you were safer when you just fucked chicks.”

After a second of silence, Otis crouched down. His stare turned hard, locking Sasha’s eyes with his. “You better not drive a wedge down the center of this club.”

He handed her the joint then walked away.

***

Sasha stepped inside the clubhouse, happy to find the place empty. Voices trailed from the backroom, and she snuck closer, peeking through the cracked door. It was almost like old times, when she’d spy on club business as a child, except Vinny wasn’t huddled at her side. He was sitting at that glossy table, next to her vacant chair.

She turned toward the pool table, cluttered by sawed-offs and revolvers. In near silence, she loaded the guns while listening to her mother’s edgy tone.

“…you two will ride with Otis. I’ll go with Dez. When you hear the semi’s start, light the fires. Vinny takes Dez’s Ford and leads. Kev, you bring up the rear in Otis’s pickup.”

“We should head out.”

Dez’s voice snapped Sasha’s spine straight. She tried to pinpoint the feeling in her chest, spawned by his deep rolling tongue, when the door tapped against the wall.

“Sasha. Well-rested, I hope,” Ellen said.

Sasha clicked the barrel of a shotgun closed and placed it on the pool table. “As cherry as pie. Can I talk to you?”

“We’re getting ready to move out.”

“It’ll be quick.”

Ellen dipped her head toward the backroom then strolled inside. Sasha followed, slamming the door closed behind her.

Before her mother could flash that irritated glare, Sasha stomped forward. “You’re totally zooted out.”

“You better back up outta my face, little girl.”

Sasha inched back half a step, lifting her brow. “What the fuck?”

“That’s right, Sasha. What the fuck?”

“You’re losing your shit, making crazy decisions. Last month, you tell me we’re merging with Satan’s Crew, ‘combining our interests,’ and now we’re, what, wiping them off the map?” Sasha tried to hold back, but her tongue wagged too fast for her brain’s liking. “Did your boy-toy rub you the wrong way?”

The slap came as expected, though much harder than Sasha remembered. Blood soured her mouth, and she took a full step back.

“I swear, if you had an ounce of common sense, you’d be dangerous. Stupid little bitch,” Ellen said on her way to the door.

***

Once taillights faded down the mountain, Sasha hurried toward her mother’s house. Those huge white columns gleamed brighter the closer she got, inciting the urge to flee in the opposite direction. Seventeen years of torment dwelled inside that house. It was a place where a woman she loved shredded her heart with sharp, hate-filled words. Since moving above the garage, Sasha hadn’t stepped foot within the walls of the big house. She swore she never would, though tonight she’d make an exception.

The second step of the porch squeaked, just as she remembered, and the door, as always, was unlocked. Sasha walked inside, bright light stinging her eyes. Pictures hung along the foyer, a couple in love and their child in pigtails, but she kept her head low. No point in looking at the past. It wouldn’t be returning.

She strolled through the parlor, sliding her fingers across the dust-ridden baby grand, and into the kitchen. Not a thing had changed. Pots hung above a wood-burning stove, herbs lined a little shelf, and the tile floor glistened. So many nights, she scrubbed that ceramic on hands and knees with a toothbrush while her mother listed all the things she hated about her. This place felt like home and hell all wrapped into one.

After flinging off a shiver, Sasha grabbed a milk crate from the corner. “Leave women and children in the back of a truck to starve. Fricken inhuman.” She loaded boxes of cereal and bags of chips into the crate, grabbing two gallons of water. “Coked-out train wreck of an operation.”

It took two tries with her foot before she figured out,
You put down the water to close the front door.
Her mother was right. Not a drop of sense had pooled in that brain of hers. She stormed down the gentle slope, eyes fixed on the cargo doors of a semi’s trailer. The crate thumped at her feet, and she fished a key from her pocket.

When the ridges slid into the padlock, Sasha froze. Her mind screamed no. It wasn’t her mother’s wrath or Otis’s disapproval that stunted her task. It was the dread she felt about what lay beyond that door. After a deep breath, she popped the lock. Metal hinges screeched as the door swung open, revealing only shadows. Sasha leaned closer, hit by the stench of piss and shit. A clink of chains echoed from within, and she eased back.

The second she lifted a jug of water, hands broke through the darkness. Blood-tipped fingers clawed the air, reaching toward her. The cries and moans ricocheted in her ears, soaking into her core. It left an ugly stain, bright enough for all to see. Her legs fixed to run, but she forced her spine to stiffen. She rolled the water inside the trailer then lifted the crate of food.

A woman crawled into the dim light, her face bruised, hair matted with brown clumps. She could’ve been any age, impossible to tell under all that filth and misery, but her blue eyes sparkled like those of a sunny teenager.

“Help…me.”

Sasha gasped, stumbling back. Words that she could understand made this nightmare very real. Women, children, human beings sat chained in the back of her truck. The boxes rattled against the crate in her grasp, and she looked down to see trembling hands.

“Help. Me.”

Within the woman’s twisted face, Sasha glimpsed what could be her future. Bound in the dark, left in her own filth. That would be her fate if she saved these people.

“I’m sorry.” Sasha placed the crate on the edge of the trailer. “I…I can’t.” Her gaze dropped, and she pushed the crate inside. Groans, chains, a soft whimper, they all drowned under the hammer of her heart’s beat. She clicked off the switch for compassion, engaging the autopilot. A means of survival, which carried her though childhood. Just turn it off.

After she slammed the metal door closed and snapped the padlock, Sasha shook a cigarette loose and slid it between her lips. A gust of frosty winds stole the flame of her zippo, and she dropped her arm, trudging toward the clubhouse.