The Sweet Under His Skin (44 page)

"Don't," she sputtered to herself. "Don't let them do that. This isn't high school for God’s sake."

A soft knock broke through her own sniffling misery, and she set all her stuff down on the dresser before trying to look normal. On a deep breath she yanked the door open. Of course, it was Mandy looking very concerned.

"Arielle?"

"They weren't being mean. They didn't know I was there. I shouldn't eavesdrop," she immediately started rambling.

"That doesn't matter," Mandy said gently, pushing her way into the room and shutting the door. "You don't run from them, hun. You walk around here head high knowing that you're no crawler, you're someone that a Dead Man cares about. They have to respect you. Which means you make then respect you."

Arielle exhaled, dropping to the edge of the bed. "I just found out what a corpse crawler is, Mandy. Today. After I got here. It's a lot to absorb."

Mandy sat next to her. "I know it is. You're from so far outside of all this I'm surprised you're here at all. But I'm glad you are."

Arielle smiled but doubted it reached her eyes. "Thanks."

"Crawlers hope to catch a Dead Men's eye. They all want to be old ladies, forgetting that the way to a man's heart is to not let him anywhere near the pussy until he's good and hooked." Mandy raised her eyebrows like she was sharing a good old-fashioned girl-talk truth. Arielle just knew she was blushing again. "Crawlers think by impressing them in bed they'll end up with them. We all know men want pussy that they think they trained. As in, unplowed field." Again, trying to bridge a friendship that was miles from what Arielle knew what to do with.

Arielle got up and headed for her tea. "Sorry. I'm making you uncomfortable. I'm being blunt because that's what it takes to deal with these biker whores. They need to know their place. And you do not want them trying to one-up you with Quentin. They think they can get to you that easily, they will make it a sport, hun." Arielle took a sip of her tea. It was still too hot. "Believe me," Mandy said, getting up and heading for the door, pausing with her hand on the knob. "Keep Quentin happy and you'll have nothing to worry about there. From what I see you've got his cock wound around your little finger."

Mandy left at that, the room suddenly much more comfortable. Arielle took another sip of tea, then carried the mug with her to the bathroom. She shoved the plug in the drain and started running some water, squirting her body wash into the stream to make a bubble bath. Then she went back to make sure the door was locked.

She'd had plenty of learning for the day.

"You really think we can trust this prick?" Dillon asked, squinting behind his shades across Portus Felix Desert.

Quentin shrugged, eyes on the two body guards the Nazi Lowriders' president, Dante, brought along. "Can't trust him, no. But he's a business man. That shit on the streets killing people makes his business tank, too. No reason for him to fuck us over, really."

Dillon made a sound of derision. "Makes my skin crawl, getting in bed with that lot."

Quentin ground out his cigarette, then picked it up and tossed it in a garbage can. There were in a nice place, after all. "I just want this Reuben prick gone."

They both watched Dante and his guards continue to
powwow
with Bishop, standing strong with Colton and Gage at his back.

"So…you're taking things with this girl seriously then," Dillon broached casually, inhaling a deep draw on his smoke.

"Jesus Christ," Quentin snarled. "What is with all the fucking chick talk lately?"

"Just curious."

"Do something constructive with your time and knit me a fucking scarf."

"Quentin, you can't be surprised that we're all a bit gob-smacked that a girl has you all tied up in knots. A regular girl, a cute, innocent, sweet as honey girl—"

"I know how great she is, cut that shit out."

Dillon laughed again. "Just hope she's still as mad for you when all her problems go away, that's all."

"What the fuck's that mean?"

Dillon made a face of indifference, shrugging. "You're doing a lot for her, Quentin. You're proving you're a good man by being all things for her. Protecting her, taking care of her while she's sick. Helping with the kid. Straightening out shit with her sister."

"You have a point, right?"

"I'm just saying, once her sister's shit is sorted, she's out of harm's way and on the road to good health, going back to work"—he shrugged—"she still gonna want you around?"

Quentin felt a lump in the middle of his throat that sunk down to the centre of his chest.

"Hey, don't sweat it brother." Dillon slapped his shoulder. "She's a lovely girl, she truly is. I'm just saying that paying the power bill and school recitals are a poor substitute for someone making dead bodies out of the people who want to hurt you. That's all."

"Shit," Quentin muttered, staring down at his feet, feeling sick.

"I'm sure I'm off base," Dillon offered, like that might help.

Quentin gave him a sideways eyeball. "Yeah."

The convo across the desert broke up, and Quentin and Dillon were back as attention as Bishop approached, lighting a half-used smoke.

"What's the word?" Quentin asked. "They know the guy that broke in?"

"Oh yeah, that's Reuben's step-brother," Bishop confirmed.

"Shit," Quentin hissed.

"He and Reuben don't get along. Unfortunately his dad, Reuben's step-father, is quite fond of his son. He's also a trusted confidante of a known Mexican drug supplier, heavily connected to a drug cartel."

"Fuck me," Quentin covered his face with both hands, digging his fingers deep into his eye sockets. Christ, he fucked this up.

"So what's the plan?" Dillon wanted to know.

"Dante's letting Reuben recruit two of his trusted guys as dealers. They report back on who Reuben actually fucking is, and we go from there."

"You trust him?" This from Dillon again.

"For the moment, yeah."

"Any help is welcome," Gage cut in.

"So for the time being we watch Aunt Arielle and that kid like hawks. We're sure the aunt is off Reuben's radar?" Bishop asked.

Quentin nodded. "Jolene swore she didn't keep that address on her, was pretty sure she never even mentioned her aunt. Can't see why she would, it was Arielle she said could pay off her debt."

Bishop shook his head. "Stupid bitch. All right, let's head back to the clubhouse. I wanna do random patrols looking for dealers, too. Not to bust it up, just to keep track of how many there are and where they are, keeping an eye on their operations," Bishop said, leading the way to their bikes.

At the clubhouse Quentin headed right for his room, locking the door behind him. His bed was empty but he heard splashing from the bathroom and felt a grin. She was in the bath.

He left his kutte on the bed and knocked on the door with a knuckle, then pushed it open just as Arielle curled herself up, drawing her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around her legs. If it wasn't so humid she'd likely be blushing again.

"Hey," he said, closing the door behind him. "How you doing?"

"Good. After the nap I woke up and really wanted a bath."

He knelt next to the tub, elbows on the edge. "So this is why you smell so good."

She grinned. "Is that what you smell on me? My body wash?"

"Flowers and sweet, babe. That's what you smell like."

She looked away, resting her chin on her knees. "How was your…wherever you went?"

"Uneventful," he answered, wishing he could crawl in that tub with her. "Hey, everything okay?"

She shrugged. "Yeah. Just trying to absorb everything and…adapt."

He grabbed her around the back of the neck and leaned her towards him for a kiss. But with the taste of her and this smell so deep in his head he couldn't just give her a soft peck. He had to taste her completely, his tongue sliding into her mouth to tease her, bringing out the softest moan that made him hard instantly. He pulled back, then tilted the arm holding her neck to see his watch.

"Shit," he mumbled.

"What?"

"School's out in fifteen minutes. Not enough time."

She gave the shy and embarrassed smile as he stood, his eyes trying to see more of her in that murky water. "Damn," he was muttering as he left the bathroom and his dorm room.

He was almost through the clubhouse when Mandy's voice stopped him. "Hey Quentin. How's Arielle?"

He frowned. "She's having a bath. Why?"

Mandy paused. "Did she say anything?"

He shook his head. "About what?"

"Nothing," Mandy said brightly.

He narrowed his eyes. "Mandy? What's going on?"

"Nothing, hun. I like that girl, though." Before he could wonder what Mandy had done now she wasoff and running again. "Where’re you going?"

"To get Calvin from school."

"Want to take mine?"

"Nah," he laughed. "I'm thinking…the Dyna."

"Shit, Quentin. You better be careful."

"Always."

Quentin watched the flood of little people evacuating Portus Felix Elementary, finding Calvin in the group eventually. He was walking alone, hands holding the straps of his backpack. When he saw Quentin his face lit up and he was grinning like mad, which made Quentin crack up.

Then as he kept an eye out, a kid crossed Calvin's path and knocked him right down. Totally on purpose.

"Hey!" Quentin shouted, already moving, hooking his sunglasses on his shirt and pointing. "I saw that." Calvin picked himself up, dusting grass off his hands as Quentin reached him. "You okay, Charlie?" Quentin had Calvin by the shoulder as the kid brushed grass off his knees.

"That’s him," Calvin said quietly. "That's Brady."

The Brady kid was staring up at Quentin, luckily looking absolutely terrified. "Did you do that on purpose?" Quentin asked. Brady was frozen in place and mute. "Where's your dad?" Quentin demanded.

The kid's eyes shot to the line of cars parked at the curb, and a man was already circling his pick up and looking their way. Quentin cracked his knuckles.

"Hey!" The guy shouted. "You got something to say to my kid?"

He didn't see the kutte until he was close enough for Quentin to clock his reaction to it. It made him falter in his quick stride, but he eventually recovered and stepped forward, grabbing his kid and raising his chin.

"Your kid needs to apologize to Calvin," Quentin suggested. "He just shoved him down."

"That kid punched my son," the father shot back.

"That's true. He knows that was wrong. He's been punished and he ain't doing it again unless he's defending himself. Which I'll make sure he knows how to do," Quentin added, voice low, grinning in a way he knew probably made him look nuts. Asshole swallowed, Asshole Junior backed up another step. "He also told me you both called him names. Now, it's been a long time since I've been around kids, so forgive me my ignorance, but," Quentin put his hand on Asshole's shoulder, ignoring how the guy flinched. "Isn't it kind of a pussy move to call a little kid names? I mean, adult to adult. I hear about that kind of thing and I start to wonder what kind of fucking issues a guy has to have to run down a kid like that. Jesus, talk about Small Dick Complex, am I right?"

Asshole swallowed again. "That won't happen again."

Quentin moved closer, hand still on Asshole's shoulder. "I know it won't. Because you're all but pissing yourself right now. If I hear that kid called him anything other than Calvin, or he comes home with a hair out of place, you and me got a date." Quentin slapped his flannel-covered chest. "A demonstration on how men settle their shit. Yeah?"

Asshole was nodding and dragging his shit-stain kid back with him to their vehicle. Once they were inside the cab Quentin checked that Calvin was okay to find him staring up at him in complete awe. He had to struggle not to laugh.

"Let's go get a root beer float," he suggested, hand on Calvin's shoulder as he led him to his bike. "Don't tell Aunt Arielle. About anything."

"I know it tastes disgusting, but it's really good for you and I think it'll help," T-bone said apologetically, handing her a glass of another concoction that looked exactly like baby vomit.

"Why is this one yellow?"

He grinned, excited to have someone to tell this to, apparently. "Just read an article on turmeric. India's cancer rates are incredibly low, despite the pollution people live in day to day. They're doing studies into diet and the turmeric used to make curry yellow is a cancer-fighting super spice. Not that it's a spice. It doesn't taste like anything, actually."

She sniffed the glass. It smelled just like the one she'd made for herself. That wasn't comforting. "No offense T-bone," she said. "But I'm downing this like Buckley's cough syrup."

That got her a laugh, but she was already chugging that evil brew with her thumb and finger pinching her nose tight. When it was gone, flooding down her throat like a downpour of mud, she handed the glass back and grabbed the glass of water on the counter. That made it better, and T-bone was still smiling at her once the water was gone and she could hold a straight face again.

"You know I'm already dying, right?" she croaked out, pouring herself another glass of water.

T-bone laughed. "It's good for you. Do you like pomegranate juice?" He held up a more appetizing-looking tumbler of purple liquid.

Arielle shrugged. "I have no idea. I live with a nine-year-old. I thought juice only came from oranges and apples."

"You better not be talking about T-bone's juice," Quentin made his presence known in the kitchen with a loud, caustic declaration before snagging her up in a tight hug, his face to her neck while inhaling deep.

She had to smile. He always smelled her when he hugged her, and that made her heart flutter every time. "Where's Calvin?" she asked his shoulder, since he apparently wasn't letting her go.

"Outside," he answered, bringing his head back to quickly touch lips to hers. "With Dillon."

"Why?"

He pushed her hair back over behind her ear, careful not to handle it too roughly since it wasn't really attached. "He's gonna teach him how to throw a punch. No big deal."