The Sweet Under His Skin (49 page)

"It's two hundred-fifty dollars with the prosthesis," Arielle pointed out, running her hand over the turquoise satin. The lace trim was ivory. It covered her to mid-thigh with a generous slit up each hip. It came with matching white lace undies, barely enough fabric to count as real underwear. But it wasn't meant to be.

"So the fuck what? Make your man buy the next round of groceries. Trust me, he'll sign up to buy all your groceries and pay your bills if you're wearing this kind of thing to bed."

Arielle rolled her shoulders in, uncomfortable. "I don't want him paying my bills, that's not what we're about."

Jolene rolled her eyes; Arielle caught it in the mirror. "It's not like you're the type of person that'll make him buy you friggin' Louboutin’s shoes for fuck’s sakes. He eats his meals there, doesn't he?" Arielle shrugged. Jolene grinned. "He'll eat you up when he sees you wearing that." Arielle was back to blushing. "Or at least he'll eat you out."

"My God, Jolene," Arielle hissed, turning and smacking her arm.

Jolene was giggling. "You still fucking blush so easily. I kinda hope that never stops, sis."

Arielle successfully pushed her sister out of the changing room, waited until the curtain fell back into place, and turned back to the mirror.

The color was good on her, she had to admit. It made her skin look all
glowy
and sun-kissed, even though she hadn't sat out in the sun since before her treatments started. It really brought out her eyes, too. And it felt so nice on her skin. She imagined rough hands pawing at her with this on, almost rubbing it against her. The very thought of it made her warm, and she decided then and there she was buying it. As a gift to Quentin.

She changed back into her clothes, carried the prosthesis and the nightie out with her, and set the whole kit out on the counter. The lady at the register smiled, tucked it into a pretty pink paper bag, and handed it over. "It's taken care of," she said sunnily, and Arielle froze mid-way through taking the bag from her.

"What?"

"It's taken care of."

Jolene was leaning on the counter grinning. Arielle frowned. "How the hell did you afford that?"

"Not me, Arielle. I told Thelma how hot you were in it."

Arielle's mouth fell open. "She can't afford that either!"

Jolene scoffed. "Yes she can. She is not living large on the farm and you wouldn't believe what hippies will pay for free range eggs."

Arielle's mouth kept working. "Shit, she bought me lingerie?" The last word was whispered. It felt like they may as well go shopping for vibrators next.

Jolene rolled her eyes. "Grow up. She knows you're getting it regular now."

There went the blushing reflex. "Where are Thelma and Calvin?" she asked, smiling her embarrassed thanks to the shop lady and changing the subject.

"They went to grab us a table at the café," Jolene answered, holding the shop door for her and sliding on her shades.

"I'm actually hungry," Arielle realized, hand on her stomach.

"Excellent. I gotta say, last time I saw you, you were pretty skinny. You look better with meat on your bones."

Arielle grinned. "Thanks, Jolene."

"Is there any news on Reuben?"

Arielle was waiting for this. "No," she said with real disappointment. "All we know is that he's not in Portus Felix, he's still apparently in LA running the business there."

"How do your man and his friends know this?"

Arielle bit her lip. "I don't know how much I'm allowed to tell you."

Jolene gave a short laugh at that. "It's me he's after, sis. I'd feel better knowing how concrete this information is."

They'd stopped to wait to cross the street. Arielle studied Jolene, but she didn't seem anxious or eager for information. "They know someone who's a White Power dealer. He's got a few of his guys dealing for Reuben."

Jolene nodded. "Sounds pretty reliable."

"Of course it is," Arielle agreed. "These guys don't really appreciate competition."

"And where's your man headed today? Didn't you say he had a road trip?"

Arielle frowned. "Overnight to Woodbourne. Why?"

Jolene shrugged as the light turned and she started to cross the street.

Arielle left it at that, hoping her intuition was out to lunch. She decided then and there not to tell Jolene anything else about the club. It made her feel like a bitch, but she had to trust her instincts. She already felt regretful for saying as much as she did.

Thelma and Calvin had claimed a patio table outside of the Portus Felix Café. Thelma had coffee, Calvin was starting in on his root beer float. Arielle asked for something from their freshly-squeezed juice menu and Jolene asked for a tea. The tea made Arielle raise her eyebrows but she didn't say anything.

"Aunt Thelma," Arielle admonished when the waitress left to get their drinks. "You shouldn't have bought this for me."

Thelma shrugged. "It's a gift."

Arielle shook her head. "For what?"

Thelma smiled. "Quentin's birthday."

Arielle felt her blood still. "Crap. When's his birthday?"

Thelma was shocked now. "You don't know when his birthday is?"

"When is it?" Arielle repeated.

"How do you not know when his birthday is?" Jolene asked.

"When is it?" She repeated, getting annoyed. "Did I already miss it?" Shit. Worst…girl friend? Lover? Worst old lady ever. Shit.

"It's on Tuesday," Calvin piped up. "I don't know what to get him."

Arielle's pulse went back to normal. "Oh thank God."

Aunt Thelma had heard Calvin. "Honey, maybe you could make him something."

Calvin made a face. "That's such a girl thing to do."

Arielle tweaked his ear. "Don't say that like it's a bad thing." Calvin grinned at her. "I'll take you shopping, Peanut," Arielle promised. "I have to find something, too."

"Don't buy him anything. Just wear that," Jolene advised.

Arielle covered Calvin's ears. "That's not a present. I hate to even tell you this but he can have me anytime he wants me. What does a nightie have to do with it?"

Jolene snorted. "Wear it and you'll see."

Arielle shook her head and uncovered Calvin's ears. "I have to figure something out."

"Just make him supper," Thelma advised. "Something special. Get some wine. I'll take Calvin for the night."

"That's a school night," Arielle reminded her.

"So what? He'll just have to get up earlier. No problem. Right, Peanut?" Calvin shrugged. So easy going. Her treatments started up again on Thursday. That was a really good idea, actually.

The waitress was coming back with their drinks when it happened.

The nice family shopping day came to a grinding halt when the Portus Felix PD police cruiser pulled up to the curb. Like most people who weren't involved in criminal activity on a daily basis, Arielle, Thelma and Calvin ignored them. But Jolene went on alert, body tight immediately. That's what caught Arielle's attention.

"Jolene Taylor?" The voice was authoritative and stern, so all four heads turned as though they were all named Jolene Taylor.

"Yeah?" Jolene asked.

"Please stand and put your hands behind your back."

Thelma and Arielle stood with her, while the police officer held a hand out to placate them. "Ladies, please, return to your seats."

The officer was young with dark hair, strong jaw, and he smacked of law enforcement from his posture to his hair cut. They both sat, leaving Jolene on her feet, linking her hands behind her, looking as upset and contrite as Arielle had ever seen.

"What's happened?" Arielle asked, Jolene's lack of denial all she needed to see.

"You're under arrest for contempt of court, failure to appear."

"Jolene," Thelma whispered, sounding so disappointed.

The cop continued with the Miranda rights, leading Jolene through the tables to the sidewalk. Arielle stood and followed, listening the whole way. The cop stowed her little sister in the backseat, shut the door and came back to Arielle, hands on his belt. "She's also got warrants in Washington and Crescent City—petty theft, possession, that kind of thing," he told Arielle. "I had to pick her up. We had a tip phoned in that she was down here."

The officer nodded his farewell and circled his cruiser. Arielle waved at Jolene as the car pulled away, her sister returning it with a little finger roll that was pretty out of place.

"Shit," Arielle whispered.

"Everything all right?" a gruff voiced asked behind her.

Arielle turned to Flynn. "They arrested my sister," she said.

Flynn's jaw twitched as he nodded. "Call Quentin."

"But she's going to jail—" and that's as far as she got.

"Call Quentin first. She's just as safe in lock up as she would be here, trust me." With that Flynn was pacing back to his perch on his bike, T-bone right behind him.

Arielle took her seat again numbly, meeting Thelma's gaze as she put her arm around Calvin. "She'll be okay," she assured her nephew with a kiss on top of his head. Again, he just nodded.

"Will she?" Thelma asked.

Arielle shrugged. "She'll be locked up. Reuben can't get to her there, I'm sure."

Thelma sighed. "Good God, that child…" she let it go at that, shaking her head.

Arielle squeezed Calvin to her side again. The only thing that really nagged her right then was how the hell they knew where Jolene was. Her sister was in Portus Felix for all of an hour and a half, and no one here knew who she was.

How the hell had they found her?

Arielle's eyes cast over Calvin's head to see Flynn and T-bone lounging on their bikes, and suddenly she had a really, really bad feeling.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Quentin's cheek twitched and his toe kept tapping on the concrete, his eyes on the men of the Black Disciples who had their eyes on him and his brothers. Their respective leaders were having a chat about twenty yards off, backs to their crews.

This was annoyance, plain and simple. Dead Men sold guns to the Black Disciples. They paid for their guns. That was the extent of this relationship. All this ass-wiping was chafing him.

"Cut it out," Dillon muttered under his breath and Quentin stopped the tapping. "It's hot, my back hurts, and that fucking noise is the last thing I need."

"Sorry," Quentin mumbled back, standing up straight and crossing his arms, looking at his feet.

"She's fine," Dillon drawled for the eightieth time.

"Yeah, I know," he shot back, pacing now. "Just makes me nervous with that sister of hers around."

When Quentin's cell rang they all jumped, even the Disciples’ were reaching for their waistbands. Jesus, talk about wound up.

"That's a cell phone," Quentin assured them, reaching into his back pocket. "I don't have a gun that fucking rings when it goes off all by itself for fuck's sake," he mumbled. His heart seized when he saw it was Arielle's burner calling, and he wasted no time flipping it open. "Arielle?"

"Hey—you okay?"

He had to smile. "I'm good, babe. You called me, remember?"

She gave a soft laugh. "I know, I just didn't want to launch directly into my family drama."

"What is it?" Heart clenched again.

"The cops just picked up Jolene. She had outstanding warrants, also a failure to appear contempt of court or whatever they call it. They just took her away."

He frowned. "Shit. Really?"

"Flynn told me to call you." Quentin sighed, rubbing his eyebrow. Fuck. "I can call someone else—"

"No, no. You did good, babe."

"Okay," she answered, and he realized then how scared she was for her bitch of a sister who really didn't deserve her worry. "Hey, you and Calvin okay?"

"We're fine. We were…we were just sitting down to lunch."

Yep, she was way too fucking normal for all this and worth so much more. "It’s okay, Arielle. They'll hold her at the police station for a while, which means she's in a cell on her own. No inmate shanking, I can guarantee it."

"Okay," she repeated, sounding a narrow margin better about that. "That's what Flynn said."

"If they set bail before I get back to you, let me know how much it is, okay? And don't go bail her out on your own."

"All right."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

She still sounded off. There was something else bugging her. "What else is wrong, babe?"

"Well…they knew who she was. They knew where we were. They pulled up right next to the caféand just walked up to our table. How can that be? She's been gone for…weeks." That was a good question. "Sorry, I know you're busy. I'll just stay close to home until you're back."

He shook his head. "Stop apologizing for everything, babe. I'm glad you called. Bishop’s tied up right now, but as soon as I can I'll ask him to help. All right?"

"Okay," she replied eventually. "Quentin…this isn't my world. I'm totally lost here."

He smiled. "Good thing I know how scumbags operate, babe."

She laughed. "Yeah."

"Go home. Stay safe. Keep Calvin close."

"Okay."

"And keep one of the guys in the house."

"I will."

"Take care, babe."

"You too, Quentin."

He was grinning when he hung up, even through his concern. Dillon raised his eyebrow and let out a puff of cigarette smoke. "Was that phone sex? Sounded shite."

Quentin shook his head and stowed the burner in his back pocket. "They picked up Arielle's junkie sister on warrants. She's freaked."

"Pulled over for speeding or what?"

Quentin shrugged. "Nah. Cops knew where they were. Walked right up to them as they were about to have lunch."

Dillon's cigarette froze before he could inhale again. "Cops aren't that smart, Quentin."

He nodded, squinting to where Bishop was standing. "I know. Someone turned her in."

Dillon brought his arm down, his nic-fit forgotten. "Shit. Who knew where they were going?"

Quentin shrugged. "They didn't have an itinerary. Only Flynn and T-bone are there."

"Someone's watching her," Dillon deducted. "Your girl."

Fuck, he didn't know if he wanted to be right or if he wanted Dillon to be right. Because Quentin felt Flynn or T-bone ratted Jolene out. And the only one who seemed to have a problem with Jolene and Arielle was Bishop.