Ashby Holler (21 page)

Chapter Twenty-Five

Sasha

Sasha squeezed her way to the bar. Misty’s arms flopped around her neck.

“You’re back,” Misty slurred, wobbling on those high heels. “Candy’s awesome.”

“Yeah. How many shots did she give you?”

“All of them,” Misty snorted, leaning to the side.

A snicker broke Sasha’s scowl for half a second, then her glare rolled to Candy.

“What?” Candy said in a cute little huff. “She wanted to play quarters.”

“Awesome,” Sasha grumbled, fighting to keep Misty’s hands off her body. A high-pitched laugh drew her gaze. Through the sea of faces, Sasha spotted her mother in a corner chatting it up with a bunch of locals. If that woman looked her way, it’d be a fitting end to this fucked-up night.

“Dance with me, Sasha,” Misty breathed into Sasha’s ear, the words laced in one hundred twenty-five proof Kentucky whisky.

“Sure. Come on.” Sasha slipped her arm around Misty’s waist, guiding her toward the front door. She looked back at the corner, and Vinny inched through the crowd, blocking her mother’s view. Her eyes must’ve screamed thank you because Vinny nodded, flashing that mischievous smirk she loved.

Once outside, Misty took a deep breath. Her clutch on Sasha’s neck tightened, much like a noose.

“It smells so good here, like freedom,” Misty said, practically shouting. “Where are we going? Did you want to dance under the stars again?”

“No. Well, yes, but not right now.” Sasha ushered Misty from the porch and toward the garage.

“Ooh. We’re going back to your room. Are you gonna show me some more
new
things?”

Sasha chuckled, moving Misty’s hands from her body to the step’s railing. “Maybe in the morning, once you’ve sobered up.”

“You’re such a gentleman, except you’re a woman. You’re a gentlewoman!” Misty flung a smile over her shoulder, teetering on the edge of a step.

“Careful.” Sasha gripped onto the unsteady woman’s hips. “Just a few more steps.”

“I wish you were a man. I’d run away and marry you.”

“I’m gonna remind you of that tomorrow,” Sasha said, snickering.

“Okay!”

Sasha inched onto the landing, her hand sliding up the curve of Misty’s waist. She reached for the door, brushing Misty’s chest. Misty’s lips glided along her neck as she ran her hands down Sasha’s sides.

“I had fun tonight,” Misty said, flashing those dangerous eyes. “I knew every day would be like magic with you.”

“We’ll see how magical you feel when you’re praying to the porcelain God.”

Misty giggled, and Sasha pushed open her door. Before she could click on the lamp, Misty wiggled out of her top.

“Yes! I can breathe.”

The leather skirt flew through the air, landing on the dresser, and Sasha looked away from the stretch of bare skin just within her grasp. “Do you want a t-shirt?”

“No.” Misty dropped onto the bed, wrapping herself in the blanket. “I’m good.” Her words came out in one long roll, trailed by a giggle.

Sasha turned on the light in the bathroom, shutting the lamp by her door. “I’ll be right outside, having a smoke.”

The music lulled, and a soft snore erupted from the pile of blankets on the bed. Sasha backed away as drum beats kicked up again, growing louder with the blow of the wind. When her door creaked shut behind her, about a hundred and ten pounds of stress lifted from her shoulders. A momentary lapse of bliss, so light and free. She should soak it in, latch onto every shred of peace before chaos breezed in to claim it.

The flame of Sasha’s zippo flickered as she plopped down on her top step, lighting a cigarette. Across the lot, two figures leaned against the trailer of her father’s truck. A red cherry glowed from the joint that passed between them, cutting through the night. Vinny strolled toward the big house, one chick tucked under each arm. He looked at the stairs as he passed by. It felt like he was staring right into her eyes, even though shadows cloaked her in darkness. Sasha didn’t move a muscle, and Vinny didn’t break his stride toward the big house, not that she expected or even wanted him to.

Her stomach retched, and she flicked the cigarette over the rail. No drugs, whiskey, cigarettes. For what? She wasn’t going to keep the creature that grew inside her, the tiny piece of life that thrived with her heartbeat. A baby, her baby.

Sasha pulled a pack of Lucky Strikes from her pocket, staring down at the cigarettes that poked out from atop the soft pack.

“Fuck!” Sasha shoved the cigarettes back into her pocket, climbing to her feet. Tomorrow would be a better day to think about this baby problem, or maybe the day after. She opened her door, greeted by a loud snore, and walked inside her room.

***

Dez

Dez heard fragments of the conversation around him. Something about Whitesnake or maybe a Corvette. He didn’t know, didn’t care. His mind had wandered to Sasha’s
friend,
and that’s where it stayed.

“Hey, Dez.” Otis snapped his fingers, pulling Dez from his own jagged thoughts and dropping him in a crowded clubhouse. “What do ya say, man?”

“Ah…” Dez looked at Otis, who waited for an answer to his unheard question. “I don’t know. Whitesnake is kinda faggy.”

“No,” Otis chuckled. “I asked if you wanted to go for a walk, burn one.”

“Oh, shit. Hell yeah!”

The crowd parted when Otis strolled through, nearly crashing around Dez as he followed. It had always been that way for Otis, even back in the day. The man held a certain glare in his eyes, brutal, vicious, but to Dez it was the look of an old friend.

“It’s been a day, huh?” Otis said, leading Dez from the porch to a patch of trees. “The vote, this party,” he lit his zippo, puffing on a joint, “Sasha running around with that blonde.”

Dez froze solid, only his head tilting toward Otis. “Who is she?”

“Who? The blonde?” Otis passed Dez the joint, shrugging. “Never seen her before. Don’t look like Vinny knows her either. Strange, the timing, with everything going down lately.”

For years Dez had known Otis, yet he still couldn’t crack the man’s cryptic tones. This could be a warning. Sasha could be in line for another beat down or worse, the cellar. He’d drag his blade across Ellen’s neck before he’d let that happen. Otis’s too if it came down to it. If he played this just right, he might get something useful from this conversation.

“Did Ellen recognize her?” Dez asked, straining to sound nonchalant.

Otis grinned, exhaling a stream of white smoke. “I haven’t talked to Ellen about this. She forgets what it’s like to be young and stupid. Hell, she might’ve been birthed full grown and evil.”

A snicker floated on the cusp of escape, but Dez didn’t let it out. A light grin would suffice; keep the poker face.

“But Sasha…” Otis looked at the leave-strewn ground, and a hint of sorrow peeked from behind his mask of confidence. “Sasha never had a childhood, wasn’t allowed to make mistakes. Now that she’s strong enough to stand up for herself, she’s making up for lost time. It’s a shitty reason to put a bullet in someone or give up on them.”

Dez hit the joint, using its smoke to hide his smile. “I hear that, and I’m glad you said it.”

“Yeah. Well, I’m glad I’m not the sergeant at arms,” Otis said, snatching the bone from Dez’s fingers and taking a big hit. “To have to stay up all night, watching and waiting in case the stranger on our compound tries anything. That would suck.” He handed Dez the joint, backing away. “I would help out if I knew anything about any of this, which I don’t.”

“Hey,” Dez called out.

Otis stopped and Dez nodded. “Thanks, man.”

“Don’t mention it,” Otis said with a wink. “Seriously.”

***

Ellen

Ellen stood in the doorway of the clubhouse, watching the last car drive off the lot. The quiet seemed to rumble, louder than the music it replaced. These seconds, when a stillness gripped the valley, were a special treat in her wild life. There was no one around to look at her for answers. In the silence, she could pretend people weren’t depending on her decisions for their survival. It was a rare opportunity to be herself, the woman who gazed up at moonlit clouds and smiled, the person stopping to smell the light hint of mist flowers in the air. That’s who she was.

Empty bottles scattered across the floor as Ellen moseyed back inside, the tip of her boot grazing a different brand of drained beer with every step. The Tasmanian devil could’ve tore through this clubhouse and she’d never know the difference. Perfect time to break in a new prospect. Good thing Kev had an unending hoard of cousins, all dying for a spot at her table.

Ellen clicked off the light in the backroom just as the phone on the wall rang. Her hand hovered over the receiver. The phone’s loud ringing filled the room, lifting the hairs on her arms. Another ring vibrated her palm, and she lifted the phone to her ear.

“Finally alone, baby girl.”

“Dante? What the—”

“You think I can’t see you,” Dante’s voice boomed through the phone, “standing there in that little red skirt, white boots to your knees. You know I love that tube top on you
.
”

“Where the fuck are you?” Ellen asked, clutching the receiver.

“In your living room. From here, I can see into your clubhouse window, your daughter’s crap-shack, and some guy is fucking a screamer down the hall. Did you know one of your men just parked his pickup behind the clubhouse and is watching Sasha’s door?”

Ellen slammed the phone back on its hook, storming into the night. Her heart pounded. Gravel crunched under her boots as she tore across the lot, past the garage, and up the hill. On its own, the front door of her house cracked open as her foot swept the porch step. Anger spread heat through her body and carried her feet faster. It wasn’t until after she crossed the threshold that fear slowed her steps.

Floorboards creaked as Ellen crept inside. Not one light shined on the bottom floor. The only sound was a soft flow of music from Vinny’s room. Ellen inched down the hall, and a hand cupped her mouth. An arm slid around her waist, pulling her into a firm body and squeezing tight.

“Umm. You smell dirty, baby girl.”

Ellen fought the quiver in her bones, biting into the skin that covered her lips.

“Ah. Bitch!” Dante yelled, pushing her away.

Before Dante could grin, Ellen grabbed him by the shirt and shoved him against the wall. “What did you do?”

Dante clutched onto Ellen’s hips, pulling her close. “Nothing. Yet.”

A smirk lit Dante’s dark eyes, which made Ellen’s heart pound. She fell against Dante’s solid body, wrapping her arms around his waist. “You cut it close at the bar. If I had shown up five minutes sooner, you’d be roasting in hell right now.”

“I bet you would’ve liked that,” Dante whispered, skating his tongue along her neck.

“Come to my room.” Ellen pushed off Dante’s chest, took him by the hand, and headed toward the stairs. He caressed the arch of her back as they walked. His touch, spreading icy tingles along every inch of skin it grazed, lulled the revulsion of what had to come next. She had to kill him. The things you love destroy you unless you wipe them out first. A few more nights lost in his strong arms, then she’d kill him.

Ellen flipped on her bedroom light, dropping onto her bed. Dante gripped his belt, shutting the door, and her teeth dug into her bottom lip. Such large hands. They should be clutching her body.

“Come here, honey,” Ellen said, patting the mattress beside her.

“Why? So you can stick a blade in my back.” Dante smirked, leaning against a tall dresser. “I should come over there and fuck you, since I took the knife from under your pillow.”

Ellen slid her legs over the side of the bed, looking at the nightstand.

“I got the handgun from your nightstand too,” Dante said, holding a smug leer. “And the shotgun in the closet and the machete under your mattress. Is all that for me, or do you make friends everywhere you go?”

“I don’t need all those weapons for you. You’re not that scary.”

“You haven’t seen my best side yet.”

“Oh, I think I have.” Ellen climbed off the bed, flashing a grin.

“That shit with Ashby wasn’t nothing. If you fuck me over—”

“Dante.” She reached out, but he pulled away. “Okay, I’ll admit it. I did consider slitting your throat tonight, but every time I look into your eyes, I…I already let you take out half my crew. When are you gonna trust me?”

“When the rest of your crew is dead, like mine. Tell you what.” Dante pulled her handgun from his pocket, loading a round into the chamber. “I’ll get the ball rollin’. Take care of the guy downstairs.”

“Wait!” Ellen latched onto Dante’s wrist, hurrying in front of him to block the door.