Ashby Holler (14 page)

Chapter Seventeen

Ellen

Ellen slouched against the passenger door, glaring at Dez. Her fingers drummed the tight jeans that clung to her thighs, jaw clenching.

“What?” Dez said in a short, rough tone.

His eyes didn’t leave the road ahead, which only fueled Ellen’s temper and sparked her desire. “What was that shit you pulled in the meeting?”

“What shit?”

Finally, for the first time in sixty minutes, Dez glanced her way. His harsh eyes, probing her body, melted her stiff muscles.

“You challenged me at the table.”

“No, I didn’t.”

Ellen snickered. The lost look plastered on Dez’s face was too funny not to enjoy. Such a dumb bastard, hurling his power without even knowing it.

“Wait,” Dez said, followed by a sarcastic chuckle. “You mean that Sasha shit?”

“Yeah, that Sasha shit. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear you set me up.”

“Set you up,” he muttered.

“You laid out that plan with me then shot it down in front of the club. It’s a pretty tired cliché, even for you. You’ll have to be more creative if you want my seat.”

“You need to slow your roll, woman. I didn’t challenge you. If I had, you’d know about it. And if I wanted your seat…”

Dez glanced across the cab of the pickup, slinging a leer that could pierce flesh. “I’d do something a little more permanent.”

Ellen sat up straight. A smirk crept onto her lips, and she chewed it back. It took mountains of self-control to keep from jumping in his lap and fucking his brains out while zooming eighty miles an hour down the freeway.

“I am sorry, though.” Dez shifted in his seat, almost like he felt the pressure of her stare. “I might’ve spoken out of turn. I just thought…one of us would go with the cargo.”

“There you go, thinking again.” Ellen scooted closer, almost catching a whiff of his bullshit. Always the perfect toy soldier, obedient and silent, until Sasha came into play. Then his face changed. Love or lust? A few games and she could find out.

“I get it,” Ellen said, sliding her finger down Dez’s arm. “You’ve been away for a while. It’s tough to fall back in the swing of things.” She took his hand, guiding it between her legs. “There’s still time for a proper apology.”

Dez yanked his hand from her grasp, slapping his palm on the steering wheel. “Stop fucking around.”

“Why? Because I’m not Sasha?”

His eyes flew to her, laced in different levels of fear.

“No. Because you’re my president. The other night was a fluke. That shit can’t happen again.”

“So club members shouldn’t fuck each other. Is that what you’re saying?” Ellen turned toward Dez, her brow raised. Watching him squirm under her paw was more fun than riding him, for now.

“Ellen…” Dez shook his head, his grip tightening on the steering wheel.

“Right. I’m hearing ya.” Love. It seeped from his body like a noxious fume. “Dull as a box of rocks.”

The truck veered onto a ramp, heading away from lanes of traffic, and Ellen reached under her seat, fishing out a long chain.

“What’s that for?” Dez asked.

Ellen stopped fumbling with the strand of linked metal and looked at Dez. “I’m gonna have your brother chain the front door shut before he lights the fire.”

“You said the place cleared out by two a.m. Why lock an empty bar?”

“I might’ve been a little off on my times. Probably more like three-thirty, four.” Ellen leaned back, her glare locked on Dez. “Now that I think of it, the place is usually jammin’ at this hour.”

“Yep. That sounds about right for you.” Dez chewed on a smirk as he glanced at Ellen. “Don’t worry. I warned Kev and Vinny this might happen before we left, figured you took care of Otis.”

That smug half-grin on Dez’s face sparked Ellen’s temper. She should be the one smiling. He just handed her a stone inside the glass house they share.

“You can’t keep your big ass from making waves, can you?” Ellen said, managing to keep her voice at an even keel despite the anger brewing inside her chest.

“What’s in the back of that Peterbilt?”

Ellen nearly choked on the rage that climbed up her throat. Heat prickled her skin, and her lungs pumped the wall of her chest. She rubbed her nose, her hand landing on the vial inside her pocket.

“There are so many things I could have your little brother do for me. As his president and somewhat of a surrogate mother, he just throws blind faith at me. And my daughter. God, she’d be devastated if she knew you stuck your dick in me.”

“How’d you get to be such a vicious bitch?”

Ellen smirked then grabbed a shotgun from behind the seat. “The luck of the draw.”

***

Sasha

Sasha sat on the steps of the clubhouse, puffing on her third joint. Headlights turned onto their dirt path, stopping at the locked gate. The flood of lights cut out, and Sasha grabbed the shotgun beside her.

While creeping into the shadows, she lifted the barrel. Candy ducked under the gate and scurried up the driveway. Her heels wobbled on tiny pebbles, arms out to grasp invisible rails. Sasha chuckled. Just that one sight was enough to take the edge from her bones. She lowered the gun and stepped from the darkness.

“Whoa! Don’t shoot.” Candy stopped short, lifting her hands up in front of her chest.

“For real?” Sasha leaned the gun against the porch and returned to her spot on the steps.

“What’s up with the sawed-off? You sounded really upset on the phone.” Candy inched closer, glancing around. “Is everything all right?”

“Nobody’s here. You can come sit down.”

“Nobody?” Candy wormed toward the stairs, peeking through the open door. “Not even Otis?”

“They’re all out on business. How’d you get here?”

Candy sat beside her, their hips grazing. When Candy batted her green eyes, Sasha dropped her gaze.

“I stole my mom’s car,” Candy said softly.

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

The look on Candy’s face reflected fear, but the girl shrugged. “It’s no big. She booted up right before you called. Probably won’t wake up for a while anyway.”

“I didn’t mean for you to come here. I just wanted to hear your voice.”

“I know. You said that on the phone.” Candy reached for Sasha’s hand, stopped short, and then scooted away. “What’s wrong? You’re acting weird.”

Sasha moved back, taking in the vision beside her. Somehow, those lips had gotten fuller, stomach tighter, legs longer. “I’ve had a bad week, that’s all.”

Candy took a deep breath, then grabbed Sasha’s hand. Sasha pulled away, but the girl had one hell of a grip, or maybe she didn’t struggle that hard.

“And you called me,” Candy said, gliding her thumb along the back of Sasha’s hand, “to make it all better?” The smile that followed those words could light the world on fire. “I can do whatever you want to make it all better.”

It would be too easy, too right, to fall into Candy’s arms. Gliding her tongue along that smooth skin could only do harm, and not just to her sorry excuse of a heart, but to her entire club.

“Can you just sit here with me, pretend to be my friend?” Sasha asked. It was possibly the most pathetic request she had ever made.

“Well, that’ll be a cinch.”

Candy latched onto Sasha’s arm, cuddling tight, and Sasha let her weight fall to the girl’s side. Evil saturated her soul. She feared it might spill over, but Candy stayed attached to her arm. The town’s distant glow fought to claim the dark sky, and they sat in silence, feeding off each other’s misery.

***

Vinny

Vinny squirmed in the passenger seat of Otis’s truck. He looked at Otis sitting tall behind the steering wheel. If only he could absorb a fraction of the strength his road captain reflected, then he’d be a fraction of a man. At least he wasn’t the only one. By the sound of Kev’s tapping foot, which thumped louder the closer they got to Satan Crew’s bar, the guy needed a double shot of strength. Vinny turned, glaring at Kev in the backseat of Otis’s four-door pickup. “Dude, stop kicking my seat.”

Otis killed the engine, and Vinny turned back to scour the road ahead of them. The truck coasted to the side of the road, creeping to a stop behind Dez’s pickup, and Vinny rolled down his window. From beyond thick bushes, music streamed from a small bar. A motorcycle rumbled over the muffled beats of speakers, and Vinny ducked low.

“Heads up, Kev,” Otis said, slouching down.

Kev lay across the back seat, cocking a shotgun.

Light cut through the trees, beaming in front of Dez’s truck. Chrome shined as a motorcycle rolled out of the driveway and turned onto the street.

Vinny sank below the dashboard, loud chops of exhaust thundering by. “Fuck,” he said, peeking his head up.

“There’s a shit-ton of motorcycles in that parking lot,” Kev said, leaning into the front.

“Then I guess you better grab two gas cans.” Otis turned, staring at Kev.

“Oh. Right.” Kev hopped out, pushing the back door to a close in a soft clunk.

“Lose the jacket.” Otis glanced around then opened his door. “You’re a walking ad for Ashby Trucking.” He picked a handgun off the seat and climbed from the truck.

Vinny peeled off his coat, taking a deep breath. His heart raced, a slight tremble invading his fingertips. It didn’t make sense. He’d done much worse than light a few fires, yet a chill crept through his insides.

He stepped into the humid night air, eyeing his crew. It only took a millisecond to realize why spiked knots twisted his chest. No Sasha. He’d never done a job without her. That’s what was missing, her energy and the smirk that told him they were unstoppable. Vinny shook his mind clear, grabbed a gas can from the bed of the truck, and walked toward Dez.

“You good?” Dez asked.

“Yeah,” Vinny said, faster than he wanted. That should’ve pissed him off. He didn’t need to be coddled, like a child, but it actually felt nice to know someone gave a shit.

Ellen shoved a jumble of chain in Vinny’s arms then tucked a padlock in his pocket.

“I want you to chain the front doors shut before you gas the bar. Got it?” she whispered, glaring up with those callous eyes.

“Got it.”

Ellen looked at Dez, and he pulled a hunting knife from his belt. They crept along the trees, down a thin driveway, Otis glued to Ellen’s side.

Vinny glanced at Kev, as if seeking a command to follow. Kev must have heard his silent plea because he nodded, gesturing for him to move.

Vinny took light steps, keeping his head low. Ellen’s arm hit his chest, rattling the chain in his grasp. He looked up as Dez skulked behind a man, his knife glinting in the streetlight. Dez dragged the blade along the man’s throat, guiding the body to the ground, and a woman jumped up from her knees. Her mouth opened wider, to scream, and Dez thrust his hand over her lips.

“Shh.” Dez lowered his arm slowly then pointed to the street with the tip of his blade.

She got maybe two steps before Ellen jammed a long knife in the side of her neck. Ellen caught the woman by the hair before she could thump to the ground.

“Idiot,” Ellen said, as quiet as one could growl. She aimed her blood-tipped knife at Dez’s face, dropping the woman in her clutch.

“C’mon,” Kev whispered, nudging Vinny’s arm.

Vinny walked alongside a row of motorcycles, trickling gas atop high handlebars and deep seats. The chain clinked when he stepped up to the front door. Laughter echoed from behind the thick wood, music all but bursting from its seams. He set the gas can down and slid the chain through both handles. In his mind, the jingle of metal blasted louder than a jet engine. He expected a horde of seething bikers to erupt from the bar and stomp his face to mush, but the lock snapped shut and nothing happened.

The scent of gasoline stung his nose, wiping the smile from his face. He glanced back, into an empty parking lot. Not a crewmember in sight, just the shuffle of footsteps around back.

Vinny grabbed the gas can, dousing the wood beside the front doors. Guilt never showed up. He backed away, splashing the landing, and didn’t feel shit except relief.

Kev jogged from behind the building, and Vinny followed him to the street, trailing a stream of liquid death.

“I got the whole perimeter,” Kev said through pants. “And they’re in the trucks.”

“I’ll light it up.” Vinny pulled a zippo from his pocket, gliding his thumb along its smooth case. The ignition of a diesel engine gave off a loud click right before the motor roared to life. Not many people knew the little quirks of a semi-truck. Most people didn’t spend countless nights watching big rigs roll in and out of a gravel lot, but he did. So he held his breath, waiting for the key to turn and the ignition to click.