Undeniable (17 page)

Silence.

“Fuck,” Preacher rasped. 

“Yeah.  Got my boys workin’ my connections tryin’ to find who bought it.  Not gonna be easy, doubt Frankie left a fuckin’ paper trail and grave diggers ain’t exactly forthcomin'.”

“FUCK!” Preacher roared.  He took the phone away from his ear and looked at it while Preacher cursed and yelled nonsense and broke everything, it sounded like, within a mile radius of him.  Turns out temper tantrums run in the family.

“Horseman,” Preacher rasped into the phone.  “Where the fuck is my baby girl?”

“Got her with me.  Got six of my boys.  She’s safe.”

“Good,” He barked, “Lemme talk to her."

Deuce glanced at Eva.  She was still out cold.

"She's sleepin'.  Don't really wanna wake her.  She's not to fuckin' happy 'bout what went down."

Mick snorted. 

"Understatement," Cox added.

“Yeah,” Preacher muttered.  “I bet."

“Preacher, we cancel Eva’s hit and Frankie's not buried within a week, I’m takin’ him down.”

“We’ll talk.  For now Frankie's locked up and I gotta hit to find.  Right now you just take care of my girl.”

"Preacher," He growled.  "Frankie's gotta go to ground."

"That's my fuckin' son in law you're talkin' 'bout!  This is family business and I aim to keep it that way!  Now shut the fuck up and get my girl home, or I'll fuckin' take you to ground!"

Preacher hung up.

Jesus.  Crazy.  All around.

☼☼☼

Groaning, I rolled over, gripping my head.  Where the hell was I?  Why did my head feel like the Incredible Hulk had been Irish Step Dancing on top of it?

I had…three beers?  Not nearly enough to merit a hangover of this multitude.

With one hand holdi
ng my forehead I reached around in the dark.  Okaaay.  I was on a bed with cheap scratchy sheets and nylon comforter.

Had Frankie and I gotten a motel?  Why would Frankie and I get a motel while on a run when there were MC's we could stay at?

"Frankie?"  I croaked, wincing as my own voice reverberated painfully inside my skull.

No answer.

I felt my way around the bed until I found the edge.  Carefully, so as not to jar my head, I swung my legs over the side and met with floor.  I cracked an eyelid.  To my left a small clock read two forty three AM.  I edged my way over and felt around until I found a lamp.

I switched it on.

Yep.  Motel.  Crappy one too.  Burnt orange walls and floral pattern comforters.  A carpet that had probably been new in the seventies and furniture that had seen better days. 

Shielding my eyes, I headed for the door.  The chain lock wasn't on so I grabbed the wobbly knob, turned and pulled open the door.

Deuce and Cox swiveled around.

I gaped at them.  Deuce took a step towards me.

I slammed the door closed and put the chain lock on.

Shit.

SHIT.

That asshole got Frankie arrested and kidnapped me.  No, he knocked me out and then kidnapped me!

The door slammed open a total of five inches, hindered by the chain lock.  "EVA!"

"Fuck off!"  I yelled then crumpled to the floor grabbing my head.

I heard the chain lock snap and the door hit the wall.   I heard heavy footsteps and then I felt myself being lifted agai
nst a large, warm body and
gently set back
down
on top of the uncomfortable bed.

"I need to go to the hospital," I whimpered.

"Do you?" Deuce asked, "Or are you just tryin' to get the fuck away from me?"

"Yes and yes!" I snapped.  "I don't often associate with fuckwads who steal my husband then pistol whip me!"

"Eva," He said evenly.  "I get you’re fuckin' pissed.  “But I didn't have much of a choice."

I snorted.  It hurt to do it but I did it anyway.

"Showed up at the party plannin' to take him out for what he did to Ripper, saw you there, didn't know what the fuck I was gonna do.  Frankie blindsided me outside, put a fuckin' gun to my head and started spoutin' crazy.  Only way I could get the drop on him was to tell him the one fuckin' thing in the world that would distract him from a kill.  You know what I had to tell him, dontcha?"

Oh god.  "No," I whispered.

"Yeah," He bit off.  "That's when he decided to tell me about his hit on you.  Didn't know what the fuck to do at that point.  Thought if I let him go he was gonna fuck you up for fuckin' me and I knew if I buried him, you were gonna be next.  Didn't want either to happen, so here we fuckin' are."

"Go away," I hissed.

"Sorry darlin'.  Paid for this room and I plan on gettin' my money's worth."

"Go fuck yourself," I shot back. 

"Later," He said.  "Right now I gotta get a girl outta her muddy clothes."

He took my chucks off first then pulled my pants down my legs and lastly he lifted my shirt over my head, leaving me in only my underwear.   His eyes dropped to my breasts.  I watched as he leaned forward and lifted up his father's medallion.  He stared at it, his nostrils flaring.

"It's all his fuckin' fault," He growled.  Then he gave the chain a sharp tug and it broke. 

I sat up too fast and gripped my head.  "What are you doing?"  I cried.

Deuce was storming across the room.  He threw open the door and tossed the necklace outside.  "Get rid of that," He barked to someone I couldn't see then slammed the door closed.

"Shoulda never given it to you," He said roughly. 

My mouth fell open.  "What?"  I whispered.

"You heard me.  You been wearin' that piece of shit's tag for eighteen years now.   For eighteen years that fuckin' bastard has been hangin' round your neck and I'm fuckin' sick of it."

Tears burned in my eyes.  "But that was mine and you gave it to me and I loved it and I-

"Shut up," He growled.  "Reaper was a dirty fuckin' bastard who didn't care who he had to fuck, beat or kill to get his way.  No way in hell should I have ever given you somethin' that belonged to him."

My chin began to tremble.  What was he trying to say?  That everything that happened between us had been a mistake?  I couldn't handle this right now.  Not after today.

Frankie had always had problems, but to do this…to put a hit on me.  Me.  I’d given him everything.  Me, my love, my body, my life.  

I couldn’t comprehend it.  Or didn’t want to comprehend it.  Or couldn't.  I didn't know.

I’d known Frankie’s feelings for me had surpassed love a long time ago, if love was ever what he’d felt.  Frankie had convinced himself at a very young age that he needed me to breathe.  It was unhealthy for him, for me, for our relationship but I had thought I’d gotten him relatively under control.  I’d been dead wrong.

And it hurt like hell.

And now this.  From Deuce.

I rolled away from him and hugged my knees to my chest. My tears started out small, leaking out of the corners of my eyes and running slowly down my nose and cheek but once I let myself go, released the pent up anger and pain, regret and guilt, my tears turned in a torrential downpour.  I sobbed uncontrollably, h
iccupping, gasping for air as I rocked back and forth and cried and cried until my tears ran dry.

☼☼☼

When I woke it was light out.  I didn't remember falling asleep and I certainly didn't remember falling asleep in Deuce's arms.  I untangled myself from h
im and headed for the bathroom.  I was covered in dirt, my hair was a rat's nest and I had splattered blood all over me.  Not mine, Deuce's.   Tentatively I felt the side of my head.  I had a good size goose egg, it was tender and hurt to touch but otherwise I felt fine.

I took a long shower, standing under the spray until the water ran cold.  

Feeling numb, I wrapped myself up in a towel I headed back to the bedroom.  Deuce had thrown the sheet off him and rolled onto his side.  Wearing nothing but his boxers, the Hell’s Horsemen insignia tattooed on his back gleamed black against his tan skin.

He had to be nearing fifty now.  His short shadow of a beard was mostly gray; the gray in his hair wasn't as easily noticeable but it was there.  His body was every bit as impressive as it had always been, lined and cut in all the right places, his muscles still large and toned.  He was still beautiful.  The most beautiful man I’d ever seen and still the biggest asshole I'd ever met.

And I loved him still.  That had never changed.

I made a quick phone call to the motel office and then another to Tiny, telling him when and where to pick me up and then I climbed back into bed beside Deuce.  Lying on our sides, face to face, I stared at him.  God I missed him.  Especially lying awake at night, thinking about all that could have been but would never be.  It all revolved around him.  If I could go back in time and take back what I had said about being his old lady I would.  I would have become his old lady, stayed away from the club, done whatever he wanted.  Been happy because I would have had him.

But it hadn't gone down that way.  And there was no going back from the deci
sions I'd made over the years.

Without thinking, just feeling, I pushed him gently until he rolled onto his back.  Then I pulled down his boxers, touching him gently at first, holding him, stroking him, once again familiarizing myself with his body. 

When it came to Deuce, my body took control, my body and my heart.  My brain was always on a permanent vacation in his presence.

I took him in my mouth and he groaned in his sleep, shifted a little, but kept on snoring.

When he was full and ready, I straddled him and slowly took him inside my body.  I trembled as he stretched me and let out a shuddering moan.

His hands went to my hips and his eyes flew open.

“Hey,” I whispered.

"Fuck," He said hoarsely.

I bit my lip.  "Do you want me to stop?"

"Fuck no."

"I'm so, so sorry about last night," I whispered.

"Eva?"

"What?"

"We’re good babe.  Don't need to explain
."

“Deuce?”

“Yeah?”

I clenched my sex around his.  “Gonna fuck you now.”

He inhaled sharply.  “Babe.  Yeah.”

☼☼☼

Deuce stared down at Eva.  Lying on her back, naked, sleeping beside him.  He ran his hand from her neck to the dark curls between her thighs a
nd back up again.

“Not lettin’ you go this time darlin’,” He whispered.  “Chain you up, fuckin' drug you if I have too.”

It was crazy and he knew it, he just didn't care anymore.  He was sick of thinking about her all the time, wondering what she was doing and if she was thinking about him.  He was sick of aching for her.  He was sick of this fucking game they played, running into each other, fucking or fighting and then taking off.  He wanted more.  He needed more.

He pulled his Horsemen chain over his head and trying not to disturb her slid it over hers. She should have never had his old man’s tag; she should have had his.  She should have had him.

Then he pulled her close, tucked her head under his chin, tossed his leg over hers, and fell asleep.

When he woke up, she was gone.  Again.

For three weeks, I had been home.  For three weeks, I had been meeting with the club's lawyers and lawyers all over the city, none of whom could get anything done as quickly as I needed it done.  For three weeks, I had been begging Chase to take a look at Frankie’s case, to use the dirty connections I knew he had, that his family had, that they'd all used to worm their way into the positions of power they were in.  For three weeks, Kami had been trying to threaten Chase into looking into Frankie’s case.  So for three weeks, I’d been going out of my mind.

My nerves were shot.  Frankie was losing it.  Every visit to Queensboro to see him left me reeling.  His grip on reality had become non-existent; I had never seen him this bad before and I couldn't do a damn thing without legal help.  I needed Chase and I needed him badly.

The morning Kami called me informing me that Chase had finally agreed to meet with me I practically fell out of bed and nearly killed myself dodging Manhattan traffic
getting to the 35th floor of
Martello Tower
,
where the law offices of Henderson, Freder
icks and Stonewall were housed.

"Mrs. Fox-Deluva?"

I stopped my anxious foot tapping to Janis's, Me and Bobby Mcgee and yanked my ear buds out.  "Yeah?"

"Mr. Henderson will see you now.”

I had only been inside Chas
e's office once before
when he had first made partner and wanted to show it off.  It was every bit as opulent and extravagant as his home was.  The office itself was huge, plush carpeting, wall-to-wall bookshelves, a cozy seating area, a mini bar, and a private bathroom complete with a shower.  His desk was dead center, solid oak, large and imposing with two leather wingbacks for clients.