The Sweet Under His Skin (52 page)

He linked his pinky in hers and shook. "Pinky swear."

"And like I said, I trust you. You're a smart kid. I don't like it, but there are some bad people after your mom and I want this gun to make us feel safer, not more in danger. But you have nothing to worry about," she hurried to tag on, internally giving herself shit. "We're all going to take good care of you, Peanut."

He nodded. "I know. And it's really cool that Quentin takes me to school on his bike."

Arielle winced. "Yes, that makes me a little nervous, actually."

"All the other kids think it's cool, too. And look!" He got up and went running for the living room, coming back with his backpack. He pulled out an envelope and opened it. "Next weekend is Dylan Green's birthday, and he invited me!"

With a growing smile, Arielle took the bright birthday invitation from him and opened it, fighting the urge to cry a little bit. He'd been invited to an actual birthday party. Only because this Dylan kid thought it was cool that he knew Quentin, but still…a birthday party.

"Peanut, this is awesome," she agreed, opening it. "What do we get him for a present?"

Calvin shrugged. "He always listens to music. I thought an iTunes gift card would be good."

"Really?" She was pleasantly surprised. "That's a very thoughtful gift, Peanut." He shrugged and pushed his glasses up.

Arielle frowned. "We're getting you new glasses. Well, we'll at least order them before I have to have more treatments."

"Okay," he said, standing up and reaching for the birthday card.

"Remind me to call the eye doctor on Monday, okay?"

"Can we afford it?"

Arielle gave her best attempt at a smile and reeled him in for a hug. "Don't worry about money, okay? That's my job. I'm sorry I made you worried about that."

While she smothered her nephew a loud rumble drew closer to the house and Calvin wiggled away. "Q’s back already?!" he shouted and ran for the door.

Arielle got to her feet. "Calvin, you don't know for sure who's out there."

"It's Quentin—I know his bike."

Arielle frowned at that but followed, stopping Calvin from just opening the door and peering out the peep hole first. It was Quentin. She could see him under the street lights, being greeted by…she guessed it was Flynn.

She backed away and let Calvin yank the door open, flying down the stoop and crossing the lawn diagonally to greet Quentin. "You're back early!" he shouted, coming to an abrupt halt in front of him.

Arielle put a hand to her heart as Quentin grinned down at him. She thought Calvin would throw himself at him in a big hug, then it seemed he had a second thought. That wasn't cool, after all. And Flynn was there. So Quentin held a fist out, Calvin bumped it, and Quentin mussed his hair. "Hey Charlie, how was your day?"

"Miss Mandy and Flynn taught Aunt Arielle to use a gun!"

Quentin gave Flynn a nod, then the gravel-voiced Dead Men headed for his bike. Quentin grabbed Calvin's shoulder and gave it a good shake, then followed him up the walkway.

Arielle was watching this with a smile, still waiting for it to kick in that this was insane to let this much madness into their lives with such great acceptance. But it didn't come. She was happy Quentin was here, that he wasn't spending the night anywhere other than next to her. She loved how he listened to Calvin prattle on with a smile, injecting and teasing him like Calvin was a long-time buddy.

And when he got to the bottom of the stairs and cast those blue eyes upward at her, she felt a thrill run through her and his smile widened. He dropped his bag at her feet, pulling her close by the hips and wrapping his arms around her, face in her neck to inhale deep as she immediately wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

Ten hours. He'd only been gone for ten hours and she was so relieved to have him back it was like a warm rush running through her.

"Baby girl," was all he said, muffled by her skin.

She grinned. "So silly how much I missed you."

He pulled back and rubbed his nose along hers. "I like that," he informed her with a quick peck on the lips. "Let's get inside."

"Okay," she agreed, taking his hand and turning for the door.

Calvin grabbed Quentin's bag and darted in ahead of them, tossing it on the floor next to the sofa and turning his attention back to the TV. Quentin shrugged out of his kutte, a term she understood better now. He folded it and placed it on the back of the sofa then flopped down on the far side of the couch from Calvin. Without asking she headed to the fridge, grabbed a bottle of beer, popped the top and brought it to the living room, holding it out to the rough and less-scary-with-each-passing-day biker who was as immersed in the television program as the nine-year-old next to him.

He took the beer, caught her hand with his other one and yanked her down to his lap, kissing her cheek, taking a drink and turning back to the TV.

Arielle settled into him, sighing. It was contentment, honest happiness. A quiet night at home like a real family. Calvin had a, hopefully real, friend. She had new friends, who might be scary and possibly felons but they were still nice to her, and her head was resting on the shoulder of a man she was growing so fond of she couldn't stand him being gone for a few hours.

Perfect.

"Babe?"

She opened her eyes, surprised, to see Calvin and Quentin both looking at her. "Sorry," she mumbled, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. "Did I fall asleep?"

Quentin was smiling but he still looked concerned. "Time for bed, babe."

"Yeah, I didn't take a nap today." Quentin stood up with her in his arms now, making her squeak in surprise.

"You put yourself to bed at a decent time, Charlie. I'll make sure Aunt Arielle gets tucked in."

Arielle's fatigue was gone and her heart jumped at that, making her bite her lip as Quentin grinned at her and started down the hallway.

"I'll go to bed after this movie," Calvin promised, not looking away from the TV even as Quentin nibbled the side of her neck and made her squeal.

Arielle's head was thrown back, bottom lip between her teeth to keep quiet, and she ground herself all the way down onto him, her body shaking and trembling. His fingers bit into the flesh at her hips, holding her there so he could feel it work through her from the inside out. Quentin had finished seconds before, perfectly happy to watch her now.

As was her new tradition, when she was more under control she collapsed forward onto his chest, whispering a soft and happy "Q" before kissing him sweetly, her back easily accessible like this so he could run his hands all the way up to her neck. When they were alone she'd taken to crying out“Quentin” loudly which was even better.

"My girl's a liar," he said quietly with a grin, lips brushing hers as he spoke.

"What are you talking about?"

He sat up and flipped her to her back, making her gasp then giggle. "You told me you were tired."

She grinned as he kissed her again, he could feel it against his lips. "I was tired," she insisted. "But this negates tired."

He pressed a kiss to her throat then parted from her, headed into the attached bathroom to get rid of the glove and clean up, then returned to her room, pulling on his shorts. After the break-in he axed sleeping naked.

Arielle felt the same. When he came back to bed she'd pulled on that Dead Men T-shirt she'd stolen from his dorm, curling up on her side with the blankets to her hip, wig stowed away where he couldn't see that fucking Styrofoam head, watching him with a smile. The second he settled on his back she was stretched out along his side, hand on his chest, head on his shoulder.

"Colton called our lawyer for you," Quentin said softly, reaching out to turn off the bedside lamp. "He’ll go down to the station tomorrow to talk to Jolene. As far as anyone knows she'd been booked but no one knows what her bail was set at. So our lawyer will let us know that, too."

"Okay," she whispered. "Thank you."

"I'm sorry that happened with you and Calvin there. That sucks."

She nodded.

"Babe, can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"We think Reuben might know about the dealers that we got inside his network. Do you have any idea how they might know that?"

There was a pause. "No. Why would you ask me that?"

"Because no one else knows but you and Dead Men, babe."

There was a long pause, then she exhaled. "I…I told Jolene today."

His grip tightened on her, a subconscious reaction. "What?"

"I told Jolene, Reuben hadn't been seen in a while, and she wanted to know how we could be so sure. I told her about the dealers."

Quentin closed his eyes, took a deep breath. "When was this?"

"When we were walking to go for lunch. Just before she got picked up…"

He counted to five. "All right. Thelma didn't know, right?"

"No, absolutely not. I don't think she wants to know more than she does."

Quentin's mind was racing so much so that he didn't realize she'd stiffened in his arms until she spoke. "Shit, Quentin? Did I fuck up?" Judging by her voice she sounded close to tears.

He flicked the lamp back on, and she rose up on an elbow, pulling away from him. He didn't like that; it was as though she was afraid of him now. He rolled to his side, too, and held her by the chin with one hand. "Babe, I'm more worried your sister fucked this up. Did she call once she was taken in?"

Arielle shook her head. "No, no calls and no missed calls while I was out." He cursed under his breath and sat up, feet on the floor, reaching for his jeans. "What are you going to do?"

"I have to call Colton. See if he can find out that she's still actually locked up." He wrestled his cell free of his jeans pocket and flipped it open.

"Will the club hurt her?"

Quentin turned sideways on the bed, meeting Arielle's searching glance head-on. "Babe, we ain't gonna hurt her. But if she did something stupid she'd in danger."

Arielle bit her lip and her brows came together as Bishop answered the cell. "Better be good," was the president's greeting of choice this late at night.

"I might know how Reuben found out about our little Lowriders’ spies."

"How?"

"Arielle told her sister about them today, right before the arrest."

"Goddammit."

"Think you can find out if she's still locked up?"

"I'll try.”

"Keep your phone close. If she's loose you're the one going looking for her. Your girl talked, you find the fucking sister." Then he hung up.

Quentin's jaw clenched, then he snapped his phone shut.

Arielle spoke body language fluently. "I'm sorry. I got you in trouble, didn't I?"

Quentin slid his hand around the back of her neck to pull her close for a quick kiss. "Nah, babe. If your sister talked, she's the one that got me in trouble."

"Shit," she hissed, nearing tears. "I messed up."

"Arielle," he said firmly. "Don't worry. For all we know she's in lock-up and the Lowriders’ guys are loose-lipped. Right?" He didn't feel certain about this, but he didn't like her crying over this shit.

"I told her, then I immediately knew I shouldn't have. Shit. I'm so stupid."

He pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her, which she didn't do in return. Her palms were covering her face while she cried, and he fought down a violent urge to wrap his arms around her sister's neck and squeeze.

Quentin fully believed that junkie ratted out the Lowriders’ men. She was probably hoping to erase some of her debt with that Intel. Then what? Reuben would send someone post her bond so she could go back to him? Then she'd owe him even more money? Then, knowing her, she'd run. And not in a clever way, either. She'd run in a‘sit at the bus station in full view all night waiting for the first bus to leave’ kind of way.

His cell rang, and as he reached for it Arielle pulled away, curled up with her legs to her chest and rested her forehead on her knees. He was rubbing her back when he answered.

"Bishop?"

"She's fucking out. Released just before the cashier left for the day. Some guy in jeans and a sweatshirt, hat, nondescript. She's out there with Intel and we have no fucking idea where she is."

Quentin was nodding now, getting to his feet and reaching for his clothes. "Okay, okay. I'm going out looking for her. I'm starting at the bus station."

"You find her you call me and bring her to the clubhouse. She'll be locked down there so she can't pull any more stupid shit."

Quentin inhaled, casting a concerned look at Arielle. "We don't know that she actually told anyone, Bishop."

"Yeah? That makes me feel better. Thanks, Quentin," he snapped before hanging up.

Quentin closed his phone with a quiet "Shit," then pulled his shirt on and sat on the edge of the bed. Arielle was still in a protective ball.

"Babe?" he asked softly.

"Yeah?" she replied, not looking up.

"I'm gonna find her before Reuben gets her, okay?"

"Okay."

"Babe?" No answer this time. "Arielle, you didn't mess up. We'll get Jolene and we'll make sure she's safe, okay?"

"Okay."

He stood up, leaned over to kiss the top of her head. "Hey," he whispered, making her look up at him. "None of this should touch you, remember? This is gutter shit, and you're one of the good people."

"Am I?"

He brushed his lips on hers. "Absolutely." Then he headed down the hall, made sure Calvin was safely tucked in, and left the house as silently as he could.

The soft sound of the television woke her gently, and immediately Arielle knew she was still alone. She turned her head to the side, where Quentin usually slept, and sure enough, the bed was empty. She sat up stretching, looking at the clock. It was ten in the morning; she'd really slept in today.

Shoving the blankets off her legs before standing, Arielle covered a yawn with one hand and pulled on some flannel pajama pants before heading down the hall to the living room. Calvin was spread out on the sofa, immersed in television. She frowned when she saw a very young Jack Nicholson and an incredibly young Dennis Hopper on the screen, then realized he was watching Easy Rider. No surprise there, at least it was edited for TV.