The Sweet Under His Skin (58 page)

T-bone flipped the phone shut. "Flynn and Bishop are coming with the van."

Quentin nodded. "Dillon okay?"

T-bone allowed a half-smile. "He's fine. He's pissed way the fuck off but he's fine."

"I can relate." Quentin shook Jolene. "How the hell are you not on every pharmacy's watch list by now?" Quentin grabbed her purse, yanked it off over her head and dumped its contents on the ground.

"Hey," she snapped, ducking down to grab her stuff.

Quentin yanked her back up standing and T-bone grabbed her other arm, still on his phone. "You think I'm shoving my hand in a junkie's purse you're out of your mind," he growled, looking down and kicking her things around, looking inside the purse and realizing there were no pockets so that was all she was carrying. He stooped to pick out a bubble-pack of pills with big words written on the back, seeing that only two pills were left out of sixteen compartments. He shook it in her face.

"This the shit? What you used to knock me and my brother on our asses? Arielle was worried Dillon was taking advantage of you. Isn't that fucking hilarious?"

She didn't answer. The smartest thing she'd done all day. He let go of her so she could gather her shit and shove it back in her purse. He kept the Dramamine.

T-bone helped Quentin herd Jolene back to their bikes, and she didn't make a squeak of protest. T-bone stood behind her, hands in his vest pockets, scanning the area, which was smart. Who knew how many people in this town were keeping an eye out for her on Reuben's behalf. Quentin was fuming so he could only glare at her, one arm in his tight grasp. He wasn't giving her another chance to make him run. He was done with exercise for the day.

"You got a lot of nerve," he repeated.

She looked surprised. "What? I'm running to keep Arielle and Calvin safe!"

He shook his head. "She doesn't just forget about you when you're not around. She worries about you and wonders if you're okay. And she should be focused on getting better and taking care of your kid. You gotta be the most selfish bitch I've ever met."

"Hey, I don't need to listen to—"

"Yeah you do," he snapped, and she shut up. Then again, this was his scary tone. "Because your family likes you too much to tell you this, but they're better off without you around at all."

Her lip trembled, but he was too pissed to worry about her fucking feelings.

"You really wanna help them? Let Reuben take you. Get rid of you. You'd be doing us all a fucking favor." With that he turned away, letting her go with a shove. If he looked at her any longer he'd hurt her, and he'd rather not for Arielle's sake.

Quentin caught sight of the black van heading their way, and he saw that Flynn and Bishop were in the front seat. He was clenching his hands into fists as they stopped. Bishop climbed out of the passenger seat, Flynn from the driver's side, and the sound of another bike brought everyone's attention around in time to see Colton pull up to their group as well.

No one spoke, which Jolene took for the sign of danger that it was. Flynn grabbed her by both arms, and she struggled with a pathetic, "No!" T-bone stepped up behind her and the two of them wrangled her in the back of the van.

Bishop stopped next to Quentin. "Mason’s Woods," he muttered. "We'll lock her in the abandoned warehouse. No way she's walking for help out there."

Quentin nodded, heading for his bike with a nod to Colton. He knew the warehouse, a few people had been kept there for‘interrogations’. Quentin and T-bone got ride-ready and followed the van, Colton falling in behind them.

It was a gorgeous day; sunny, not too hot. There was a slight breeze keeping things airy. A great day for riding, actually.

But Quentin was still fucking livid. He wished he could just beat some sense into this bitch. Honestly, the hurt she was causing his girl made him homicidal. His love for Arielle kept him from acting out on it. Jolene owed her sister even more than she realized.

The warehouse came into view finally, and Quentin, T-bone and Colton parked in a row next to the black van. Flynn yanked Jolene out by both arms, and her tears were streaking down her face. Her eyes were wild, scanning the group and landing on Quentin.

Surprisingly, she broke Flynn's hold and rushed him. "Don't let them kill me. Just tell them to let me go, please. I'll fuck off, I'll ghost and you'll never see me again."

Quentin frowned. "Relax. You have a purpose here," he mumbled, tossing her back Flynn's way. He got a tighter grip and yanked her back towards Bishop.

"They're going to kill me!" she was shrieking. "They don't need me! They have Clark to bring Reuben here!"

Bishop met Quentin's eye. "Oh yeah. Thanks for reminding me of that. Clark's a lot quieter."

Quentin would swear that time slowed down right then. Like a corny, clichémoment in a movie where you know shit is about to go very, very bad.

Flynn moved away from Jolene, which was weird and brought Quentin's attention to their president. Bishop's hand came up with a Beretta at the ready. Quentin shouted "No!" which meant Jolene was looking at him when the bullet went in one temple, ripped a hole through the opposite side, the light in her eyes went out and her body crumpled to the ground. All in slow, sick motion.

He heard Colton shout "Jesus Christ!" in a haze, like a radio with interference. There was a high-pitched whine in his head, maybe from the Beretta's discharge. He was rooted in place, staring at the pile of skin and bones on the ground with that long, dark hair spilling over her face.

Quentin's heart went into an abnormal rhythm. She looked like Arielle. Shit, she looked a lot like Arielle, didn't she?

When Quentin could meet Bishop's gaze it was unreadable. He was studying Quentin, gun down to his side now, like it was an experiment to see what Quentin was gonna do.

Quentin drew in a shuddering breath, finding that he'd also shoved both hands into his hair. "Fuck," he whispered. "Ah shit. What'd you do?"

"Fixed your girl's biggest problem," was Bishop's indifferent answer.

"Fuck," Colton spat out, nearly as upset as Quentin. "Is this how we do things now? Just take out a woman because she's an inconvenience?"

Quentin had wanted to do this a few times, but he knew he couldn't. And now he realized why. She looked like Arielle, and there was no way he could end her. He could never look Arielle in the eye if he did that.

"You okay, man?"

Quentin turned his head, and it was T-bone with a hand on his elbow, concerned. "I'm fine," he said, distracted. "I'm not the one with a bullet in my head."

"Arielle doesn't have to know," Bishop said as he wiped down the grip of the Beretta then handed it to Flynn. Flynn had gloves on and he tucked it into his waistband. "She got away on a bus. We couldn't find her, she vanishes and everyone assumes, correctly, that her shit life decisions caught up with her."

Quentin looked down at Jolene's body again. He felt light-headed. A sharp pain was in the middle of his chest. This felt like a fucking heart attack.

"Hole's dug right over there already," Bishop mumbled. "Flynn?"

"I'm on it," Flynn mumbled, and even his voice sounded perplexed. But in true, practical, Flynn fashion he crouched down and scooped Jolene up over his shoulder easily. Yeah, she weighed nothing. A husk of a person. Simple. Small sack of trash.

"I might be sick," Quentin shared, turning away and leaning over, hands on his knees. He closed his eyes, feeling a hand hit his back.

"You all right?" Colton asked low, sounding completely pissed. Quentin appreciated that for some reason.

"Yeah," he answered, straightening up and rolling his shoulders.

Colton nodded, gave him his space. Just like T-bonedid. Bishop came closer, his shoulder hitting Quentin's arm. "I trust your girl to keep her mouth shut about Reuben's step brother," Bishop said low. "Because if she doesn't…"

Quentin's blood went cold in his veins and he studied his friend's face. "You kidding me?" he asked, voice strained. "You're going there?"

"Keep your girl in line." Bishop moved away to the van again.

The lump in Quentin’s throat choked him as he felt his whole life change in just one moment.

His president was threatening to take the one thing he cared about more than his own sorry sack of skin.

And he had a strong feeling, he was going to have to choose between his heart and his duty.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Arielle touched up her lip gloss, smiling at her reflection in the mirror. She futzed with her wig a bit again, studying her side profile in the dresser mirror. She hadn't worn this little black dress in ages, and it was a bit big on her. But she liked the way the skirt clung to her hips and butt, and the Breakfast-at-Tiffany's neckline was the kind of cut that made her more comfortable.

She had on her three-inch stiletto heeled shoes, too. With complete make up, the wig in place and a spritz of perfume she was feeling almost…pretty.

The potatoes were boiling a bit before she roasted them. Once they were softened she melted butter over them with some lemon pepper and put them on a sheet and slid them into the stove. Steaks were swimming in marinade and she'd put them on the grill once the birthday boy got home.

She set the table with two complete place settings, a champagne flute at each one. She didn't expect him to drink champagne, but she was sure going to. He could have beer. A salad was already set out. And she was wearing dessert under the dress already.

When the bike pulled into the drive Arielle's heart sped up. Yeah, she was giddy about this. And she didn't really care if it showed.

The storm door opened as she lit the two taper candles in silver holders on the table and shut off the overhead light. Then she retrieved a beer from the fridge and headed for the archway. She leaned against the wall as he opened the inside door.

Arielle felt a slight bit of concern flare up, such was the expression on his face. She worried about what else had happened now, but she pushed that away. It was his birthday, she'd take his mind off whatever it was. After all, he would have called if they found Jolene. Maybe that's why he looked like that; he felt he'd let her down.

"Hey, honey," she said casually as he shut the door and his head came up. Whatever had been worrying him seemed to pause as he looked at her, his eyes tracking down and back up her form.

"Arielle. You're all…dressed up. What's going on?"

As she approached she allowed a small smile small and held up the bottle of beer. "I thought it was your birthday."

He blinked down on her, then allowed a trace of that wild smile she loved. "Babe," he said softly, taking the beer from her and pulling her close with his free hand. His face came to her neck and he breathed in deep.

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders. "You okay?"

"Mmm," was his answer, pulling his head back. The smile still wasn't as big as she expected.

She moved her arms down to wrap around his ribs, under his arms. "Good. I hope you're hungry."

That worrying smile stayed in place. "Definitely," he said softly, playing with her hair. Even though it wasn't attached it still felt nice. "I can't believe you made me supper. You should be taking it easy."

She shrugged. "This isn't really hard work. And I wanted to do something for your birthday."

He kissed her forehead. "I better go clean up then. Try to at least be in the same zip code of hot as my girl is."

She giggled as he kissed her again, then he turned her and pushed her away with a swat on the ass. She started the grill, slapped the steaks down and took to watching them in the light of the bare bulb next to the patio door. When they were nearly done warm hands slid around her hips to clasp on her tummy, tugging her back into a warm and fantastic-smelling body. She could feel that the kutte was gone. It was just Quentin with her, and that's what she liked best.

"Smells good, babe," he said softly, close to her ear.

"Good," she answered, giggling as his hands began sliding over her, the dress shifting easily because of the satin underneath.

"What’re you wearing under this?" he asked, lips on her neck.

"That's for later," she replied, smacking at his hands as they tried to pull up her skirt. "It's for later!" she chastised as a squeal when he didn't relent.

He stopped his roaming hands, giving her a tight hug. "Arielle," he whispered, and it almost sounded like a thank you. She stilled at that, wondering that he didn't seem entirely himself.

"Go inside. These are done. Go sit and have another beer."

"You got it, bossy."

Arielle turned off the grill, set the steaks on the plate she had waiting and carried them inside. She plated a steak and potatoes for each of them while he watched her from the table, leaning on his elbows and drinking his beer lazily. She felt his gaze and it was making her twitch in a good way.

She set a plate in front of him and he grabbed her wrist tight, pulling her down for a kiss. "Thank you, babe," he whispered hoarsely, and she thought he was going to cry again.

She perched on his knee, putting her hand to his cheek. "You deserve it and more," she assured him with another kiss. A shadow passed over his eyes, and she frowned as he shook his head and suddenly smiled.

"Like, whatever's under this dress," he said on a grin, running a hand up her thigh. She caught that hand on another giggle.

"I told you, that's for later."

"Do I get to unwrap it?"

"Of course."

After another long pause where Quentin looked at her like he'd never seen her before, her kissed her again slowly and softly. Before he could get her all worked up she darted off his lap and returned to the seat next to him. She poured herself some champagne and they set to eating.

Quentin was quiet, and Arielle wrote it off to emotions. She felt terrible that people didn't cook nice meals for him. That something so simple touched him like this. Like she needed that soft spot she harbored for Quentin Bayle to get any bigger.

He told her how good everything was. Kept thanking her repeatedly with long looks and half-smiles that weren't as wide as normal. For most of the meal he even held her hand while they ate.