The Sweet Under His Skin (25 page)

"Yeah? Where?"

"We're in that shithole apartment building over on Shepherd. But…ah, shite. I think you better come over."

Quentin smirked. "Having trouble with one skinny white kid?"

"Just get here 'ya bastard."

"On my way."

Black bikes were lined up outside the building so he knew he was at the right one. He cast a look both ways along the sidewalk at the front, but it was remarkably quiet. Which was nerve-racking considering this was a block off of the town’s center and one of the busier streets in Portus Felix.

One of his brother's was watching the front door, giving Quentin a silent nod and holding it open for him. "They're on the third floor," he muttered.

Quentin took the stairs two at a time, pushed through the third-floor fire doors and found two Dead Men kuttes in the hallway. Gage nodded his head into the room, and Flynn gave him a couple of raised eyebrows. "You ain't gonna believe this, man."

Quentin frowned, making his way into the fleabag apartment, finding himself in a small, cramped kitchen with sticky linoleum floor and a three-bulb fixture only putting out one-third of its potential. It stunk, Christ it stunk in here. The smell was acrid, like cleaning solutions set on fire.

He passed through the grim kitchen, stepping onto faded carpet that felt like gravel under his boots it was so matted up. A sagging couch took up most of the room, and standing in front of it smoking a cigarette was Dillon. He pulled the smoke from his lips, exhaled, and nodded his head to the hallway. "Confirm what's in that bedroom."

Fuck, what was with all the cloak-and-dagger theatrics? When did everyone stop telling him shit straight?

Getting supremely pissed off, he headed down the hallway and next saw Colton in the doorway of a room that had the windows well-sealed, the only light from a bare bulb overhead. A man had his hands tied behind his back against the wall, a sock shoved in his mouth. He was covered in scabs and bruises, and it didn't take a doctor to peg him as a tweaker. Quentin didn't recognize him, but he was scrawny, white, and had a black swastika on the side of his neck. Wearing only white boxers, he looked like he might top the scales at ninety-five pounds.

Colton tilted his head to the only 'furniture' in the room, a mattress shoved against the old-school radiator. A woman was handcuffed to it, arms over her head, which was resting on its side on the bare mattress, a small pool of thin vomit next to her face.

Not shocking on its own, until he recognized her.

"Fuck," Quentin muttered. "That's Arielle's sister."

Chapter
Sixteen

Arielle woke to the sound of two roosters crowing at different tempos, wincing. Right, she'd forgotten about Thelma's roosters.

It was two days after her final radiation treatment. Three full nights of restless sleep since her awful humiliation at Quentin's house and subsequent melt down in front of Aunt Thelma. Arielle honestly had no idea how she would go back to Portus Felix now, even if she had no choice.

She had to admit to herself at the very least that she was not okay. She could smile, joke with Calvin and help Aunt Thelma pickle beets all she wanted. Inside, deep down, she was not okay, and only she could fix it. She just had no idea how.

Arielle also owed Quentin an apology, but that was as appealing a thought as a quick dip in a vat of fire ants. She cringed to remember the things she'd said to him. God, she'd been terrible. And Aunt Thelma was right; it wasn't that he didn't care. It was because he did, and she'd really been a bitch about it. All because she couldn't deal.

She had no right to be so furious he stopped either; what he had given her had been absolutely amazing all on its own. And God knows he couldn't have been using her, he'd gotten nothing out of it. And it had truly been better than any other similar experience of her entire life. Yes, she'd been with men before, had orgasms before. But to be so overwhelmed by desire while trusting the person she was with without question? She had never been able to let herself go like that. Quentin made it okay, didn't make her feel ashamed of it. He just wanted anything else they did to be as special.

It brought tears to her eyes, to be honest. Remembering it right then, warm from sleep and even warmer from what she'd just been dreaming about, she nearly cried. Every night since then she'd been dreaming about him. And she didn't believe he want anything to do with her now, not with that dreadful hissy fit she threw.

Groaning at her embarrassing femaleness, she threw her covers off her legs and sat up, stretching out the stiffness of sleep and trying to push the thoughts of her neighbor from her head. She had five more days to sort herself out and plan an apology. And rest; she really needed to get her rest.

"Feeling better?" Thelma greeted her in the kitchen. It was misleading. She was still kinda short with Arielle over their standoff in the bathroom. Arielle was trying to make amends but Aunt Thelma was tough.

"I'm fine. You need help with anything today?"

"Nope, get your rest dear," she sang out before the patio door banged shut behind her. Arielle winced. Thelma still wasn't talking to her. Great.

The house was completely silent. She knew Calvin was likely hard at work feeding chickens or something. Or shelling peas. All the stuff that used to get delegated to her and Jolene when they were little.

It was funny, but coming here had her thinking of Jolene a lot. The room she was staying in was the room she and Jolene had always shared. Aunt Thelma hadn't changed a piece of furniture since then, so it was like a time capsule of sorts. This place swam with so many memories of her parents and her sister that it was honestly hard to breathe at times.

Shehad barely taken a moment to worry about Jolene since she'd last vanished. Arielle was used to the disappearing act by now. The first few dozen times it happened she'd lost sleep wondering what that crazy woman had gotten herself into. Now she just…waited for her to show up out of nowhere or a stranger to call saying she was dead.

And now, instead of worrying, here she was remembering the time they snuck out when Thelma was sleeping to chase glow-bugs. They took Mason jars with them and headed out at something like one in the morning. Thelma had gotten up for a drink of water, found them gone and called the Sheriff's department. They'd had dogs tracking them and everything. Two little girls in nightgowns, showing up in a clearing, faced with barking dogs, clutching glowing jars and nearly pissing themselves because they were in so much trouble. That had been Arielle's idea, not Jolene's.

She smiled at the memory, then covered her mouth and gave a sob. Oh God, she had no idea where her little sister was. Where her thoughts of Jolene were coming from she had no idea, but her heart froze in its place and she had to gasp to breathe, tears in her eyes. So when the phone rang she sobbed, covering her face with both hands and she knew. She just knew.

It rang three times before she got there. Her hand was trembling, and when she picked up the receiver she had to close her eyes for composure. "Hello?"

"Is this Thelma Reece?"

"No, she's out in the yard. Can…" she swallowed,"…Can I give her a message?"

"Is she related to a Jolene Mackenzie Taylor?"

Her knees gave, and luckily the phone was mounted on the wall next to a vinyl padded kitchen chair, because she just barely made it to the edge. "Yes," Arielle said. "I'm…I'm Jolene's sister."

"Your sister was just rushed to the emergency room at Broken Hill Hospital in Portus Felix."

She was already sobbing so it couldn't get worse for the person on the other end to understand her. "Is…is she going to be okay?"

There was a pause. "She's been admitted, she's in intensive care."

"Okay," Arielle mumbled, wiping her eyes and sitting up straighter. "Thank you. We're on our way."

She hung up the phone, waited a moment to stop crying, wondering if the darkness that surrounded her would ever desist, then stood and headed out through the screen door into the rear yard, eyes scanning for a sign of where Thelma might have gone. She caught sight of her in her long red skirt and bright yellow blouse, carrying a bucket towards the chicken coop.

Arielle started her way, arms wrapped around her stomach, her heart hammering like she was all-out sprinting to catch her. When she was half-way to the chickens she started shouting for her, and even if she was weaker than usual her tone carried far enough to alert Thelma something was wrong.

Thelma set the bucket down and headed her way, terse expression and annoyance now gone. "Arielle? Honey? What in the world is wrong?"

That's when Arielle realized she'd started crying again. "The hospital... in Portus Felix... just called," she blubbered, taking a gasping breath between words. "Jolene's there... She's in... ICU. We have to go."

Thelma was a rock for her right then. "Okay, hun, you go back to the house, get ready. I'll go get Calvin."

Arielle was nodding and heading back to the house, trotting slightly until she didn't have the breath for it and walking rapidly the rest of the way. She headed upstairs, changing into a loose-fitting navy dress and her white cardigan, adding her bra for comfort's sake. She grabbed her purse, tossing her pills inside in case they were there for the night, then heading to the room Arielle and Jolene's parents shared when they'd visit Thelma. She went through the nightstand for Calvin's inhaler, couldn't find it, decided he likely had it on him, and grabbed the book he'd been reading, shoving it in her purse in case he got bored.

By then she heard Thelma coming up the stairs. "Arielle, honey? You ready to go?"

"Yes," she responded, meeting her aunt in the landing.

"Okay. Come on. She's going to be fine. Let's go."

On the trip to Portus Felix Calvin was upsettingly quiet, watching the world pass by the truck windows as Thelma drove. Arielle kept him tucked into her side, under her arm, her cheek resting on the top of his head. She told herself repeatedly there was no point worrying until they knew for certain what had happened. It was a hard sell, but it was keeping her calm.

The hour stretched terribly long, but as soon as they hit Portus Felix town limits the truck was at the hospital in an instant. Thelma dropped them at the doors, Calvin and Arielle heading in while she searched for a parking spot.

They found ICU with the help of a nurse and directions on the walls. Passing through a set of double doors it struck Arielle that now they were in the very quiet part of the hospital, which meant this was serious. No visiting families hanging around, no TVs in the rooms.

At the desk a nurse told them where Jolene was, pointing with a pen. They followed the stark white corridor, turning a corner. Arielle halted when she noticed someone standing outside a door, completely at odds with the clean, sterile white walls and floor. Dressed in black, a crazed shock of black hair on his head and stubble on his face. Quentin's face turned their way just as she realized who it was.

Her sister was in intensive care, who knew what for. And in spite of all that she still had a momentary thrill seeing him, which immediately faded to humiliation. The last time she'd seen him she'd said ugly things right after he'd…well…It was amazing how embarrassment and shame can overshadow what was really important.

"Q!" Calvin cried, pulling away from her hand on his shoulder and rushing at their neighbor, nearly climbing him with dexterity she didn't realize he had.

"Hey, buddy," Quentin said, terribly quiet, hands on Calvin's back, letting him hang off of him and hugging him in return. "Missed you, Chuckles."

Calvin was crying. It was silent, but Arielle could tell by how he was shaking. Quentin rubbed his narrow, bony back, giving him a squeeze and finally making eye contact with her.

She held her breath. Just one look into those bright eyes smiling back at her, and all the darkness that weighed down on her vanished. After a moment he nodded, which she mirrored back. She made her way towards them at a regular pace, arms around her middle again.

"Hi," she said, voice small and unsure.

"She OD'd," Quentin said, and Arielle was wishing he hadn't said that in front of Calvin but…Calvin would know eventually. "We found her in a dealer's apartment."

Arielle nodded, surprised that he had been somehow involved again with her sister's stupidity. She stood there as he held her nephew, able to comfort him better than she could. At least with this drama it was only about eighty-percent as awkward seeing him as it normally might be.

"We've been watching the room," Quentin continued. "These aren't good people. And she owes them a lot of money, Arielle."

Her stomach sank. It wasn't bad enough her sister was unconscious, she was also in danger from outside forces? Then she absorbed that he'd been watching the room, protecting Jolene when he certainly didn't have to.

"Come on, buddy," Quentin said, tone much more friendly with Calvin. "Let's find the doctor, see if she'll let you see your mom. Yeah?"

"Okay," Calvin sputtered, wiping his eyes as Quentin set him back on his feet. Calvin's face was red, likely from embarrassment for crying in front of their neighbor. Quentin didn't seem to care, he just held a hand out which Calvin grabbed onto. Then they set off together, in the opposite direction than she'd just come from.

Feeling strangely out of place, Arielle leaned against the wall, listening to the soft beeping and hissing of life-support equipment.

The kid's grip on his hand was almost painful, not that Quentin would admit it. Quentin was hurting in a different way; all because of Aunt Arielle. Again.

He really didn't want her away from him. No matter what he said or how he behaved, he didn't want her anywhere other than right by him so he could keep her safe. And not just to fuck her, which was the real kick in the head. If that had been the case he wouldn't have thrown her out of bed the other night for anything. Which had to mean he'd missed her.

Not to mention she looked great, too. When she saw him she blushed, likely on account of what happened the last time they'd been alone together. He knew he was absolutely remembering the smell of that soft skin deep in his head, the sound of her whimpering his name, the way she trusted him enough to get into his bed. The feel of everything she let him touch. And only him.