The Sweet Under His Skin (48 page)

Arielle nodded. "Thanks, Mandy."

There was another pause while they watched a bit more sparring that damn near ended with Quentin singing soprano, making them both bust out laughing. "Hey, Chuckles, that's one place a sportsman never hits a man, understand?" she could hear Quentin saying through his own laughter.

"So," Arielle wasn't sure how to broach this, but all living arrangements considered this felt important. "I know that the club is…an illegal organization. But, do the guys really condone…murder?"

Mandy's head snapped around. "Where you getting that from, hun?"

Arielle inhaled. "Quentin. Well, I heard it from my sister and Quentin confirmed it. He also said that if I had any questions I should talk to you. You living this life for as long as you have." Well, that didn't come out right. "I mean—"

Mandy put a hand on her arm. "I understand what you meant, hun. Don't worry, it takes worse than that to really offend me. But as far as the club goes"—she took a deep breath—"everyone's looking for a place they belong. Maybe our parents were not great at the parenting thing. Maybe we were orphans. Maybe we were abandoned by both or one of our parents. Maybe we made one mistake and everyone, society included, turned their backs on us. This is a place where all us misfits belong. It's a chance for the guys to have a home, family, jobs, money, and a place where they feel appreciated. When the good people turn their backs on you, there's not a lot a person can do to survive. We give them that life."

"And because that life sometimes skirts the edges of civilization extreme measures are needed?" she supplied.

Mandy nodded. "And you can't ignore the fact that some people just need more stimulation to be happy. Nine-to-five isn't for everyone, honey. And sometimes this life can be pretty damn fun." Mandy's eyes twinkled when she said it. "You like riding on the back of Quentin's bike?'

Arielle smiled. "Yes..."

"You like how ferocious he can be to protect you?"

She nodded, feeling sheepish now. "Yes."

Mandy leaned in closer. "He acts on basic instincts. It's primal. It's not all bogged down in good manners. Sterilized humanity. It's closer to how we're meant to be, honey."

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Protect what's yours. No one has any right to tell anyone else how to live their lives. As long as you're not infringing on anyone else's freedoms, what right does anyone else have to tell you how to live? What's proper?"

Arielle blinked. "I see. That's the outlaw part," she said, looking at Quentin.

"Damn right," Mandy replied. "And when those little compartments you convince yourself are meant to be your home start to feel cramped, someone has to come along and remind you how easy it is to breathe when you just…step outside."

Arielle pondered that. She's always had that feeling around Quentin; wild, unbridled man and the urgent drive to live that was completely alien to her. And refreshing. The danger he posed was what she wanted to feel, too.

She was bogged down. She'd never regret it, but her life went on pause the exact moment Calvin was born. She knew she'd have to be back-up parent, even if Jolene did get her act together. Even sober Jolene was flighty and scattered. Jolene would be the parent forgetting to pick up her kid from chess club.

Arielle was a serious person with a serious job who gravitated to added responsibilities. She wasn't a romantic. She was too practical for that.

Quentin made her life wonderfully messy and unpredictable. She'd never do that on her own; just enjoy herself. He made it okay, he gave her permission to let go and have fun and laugh and even have something as normal as sex with abandon. She didn't know how he did it, but he did. She knew it wasn't exactly romantic, but there was something in that that was intense and urgent and…well, close to romantic, anyway.

Furthermore, when she was really having trouble convincing herself the world was worth sticking around for, he convinced her it was.

"Uh oh," Mandy muttered, and Arielle realized the woman was grinning knowingly.

"What?" Arielle asked, her face growing warm.

"I know that look. I got that look at eighteen, when I met Bishop," Mandy recalled fondly. "So wild, could give a fuck what anyone thought. I mean, for an eighteen year old what's more dangerous than that?"

Arielle laughed. "I guess I'm a late bloomer."

Mandy's face grew serious. "Quentin cares about you a hell of a lot. The way he's fallen into this relationship mode with you has shocked the shit out of me, to be perfectly honest. I like seeing him like this. He's got some focus, some purpose. I can tell he's happy."

Arielle was looking down at her hands, uncomfortable again with how in her business people could get. But if Mandy was right, this wasn't her man's friend poking her nose in. This was a caring sister making sure her brother was going to be well taken care of.

"Thanks Mandy. He's…he's really good to me. Not what I expected when I first met him."

Mandy's smile widened. "I bet."

"I just hope this stuff with Reuben ends soon. I can't keep Calvin here for too long. It's not a place for people to really live in," she said carefully.

"They'll clean it up," Mandy assured her with a pat on her leg. "And when the hair grows back in, you should really consider keeping it like this." She nodded upward to Arielle's wig. "It's hot on you, honey."

Arielle grinned. "Thanks, Mandy."

Chapter Twenty-Seven

"Stay where Flynn and T-bone can see you," Quentin repeated for about the eighth time in three minutes. "You got the Taser, right?"

Arielle, sighed, rolling her eyes and stopping on the front stoop. "Quentin, yes. I do. And there's an RPG in the trunk of the car, too. And Calvin's packing."

He felt himself grin at that, leaning forward to touch his mouth to hers quickly. "Smart ass."

"You like it when I'm a smart ass," she quipped back, and he felt a thrill run right through his pleasure centre.

"Yeah I do," he admitted, reaching around her and pulling her closer by the ass with both hands.

"Quentin, I have to go—"

"I know," he cut her off, leaning his head down for a real kiss, deep, wet, with tongue. As annoyed as she was with him she immediately softened her posture, fitting against his chest perfectly with a sigh. It made him grin against her lips.

"Damn you," she muttered when he lifted his head, and he gave both cheeks a squeeze.

"Just worried about you and Calvin, babe."

She nodded. "I know. But don't your badass sources say Reuben is back in LA?"

He nodded. "Reuben is. His asshole minions are everywhere else."

"We've got bodyguards," she reminded him softly, and it killed him that she was bothered by how much he worried about her. Like it was an inconvenience for him.

"Let one of them sleep on the couch tonight," he requested softly. This was the first night they were apart since he'd actually claimed her as his woman. "I wish I was coming," he admitted softly.

"You're busy," she reminded him, hands running up his shoulders. "And you freak Jolene out a bit."

There was a reason for that. Arielle's sister might be five weeks sober but only two of those were conscious and sober. Arielle was hopeful, so he didn't dare crush that but the junkie made him skittish, especially when she came to Portus Felix to hang out and have lunch with his girl and Calvin. He didn't play polite to hide this. Every time the bitch was around he gave her a good dose of stink-eye to keep her good and twitchy.

"Call for anything, babe. I'll turn around and come right back."

"Okay," she gave him that, rising up on her toes to kiss him. "No skanks. Don't get hurt. Don't get caught."

He had to grin. Sweet Arielle was adapting to outlaw life a little better than he'd expected. He watched her bound down the steps to her car. Both her and Calvin waved goodbye and he lifted his hand as they pulled away, then kept an eye out as Flynn and T-bone followed her on their bikes.

Arielle was heading back to chemo in a few days, and she wanted a nice afternoon out before that. It was just a lunch out and some shopping in Portus Felix, and asking her to lock herself away seemed cruel after putting her through nearly a week of clubhouse life.

She didn't like it there, and he didn't blame her. The obvious function of the crawlers and the complete lack of privacy wore on her, and as word came that Reuben seemed to be getting further and further away it was harder to justify putting her through it.

Calvin had loved it, though. The crawlers fawned all over him, making sure he had snacks anytime he wanted, and his ring time with Quentin and a few of the other guys seemed to give him a lot of confidence, too. Being surrounded by the bikes and guys really agreed with him. It made Quentin nearly get all weepy when he saw his brothers take the kid in like someone's little brother.

The idea of this outing still gnawing, Quentin watched the convoy as long as they were in sight, then locked Arielle's front door before heading down the walk to his bike.

The Dead Men were going on a trip to Woodbourne to meet the leader of the Black Disciples gang. The street thugs were
pissy
about Dead Men's apparent soft line on dealing in Portus Felix in light of the momentary truce with the Nazi Lowriders.

It would be a late night, possibly spent passed out at one of Dead Men's favorite roadhouses. Hence the additional security overnight for Arielle, in case Quentin wasn't back.

Quentin climbed on his Dyna and headed for the clubhouse, pulling into a spot as Dillon arrived as well. He pulled his helmet off as Dillon did the same.

"Ready for a sleep over?" Dillon joked, raising his eyebrows. "Seems a long way to go for a pillow fight."

Quentin snorted. "If their smart, Disciples would just take the deal they get and shut up. They get good trade in Woodbourne, it's not like they ever expressed interest in dealing in Portus Felix."

Dillon shrugged. "Until they heard someone else was. They kept away from our marketplace out of respect. Their likely pissed." That did sound logical. "Who's staying with the woman?"

"Flynn and T-bone," Quentin replied falling into step as they crossed the lot to the clubhouse. "Kinda hoping we're back tonight. I think Flynn makes her uncomfortable."

"I'm sure Mandy will be over to visit," Dillon said. "They seem to be fast friends."

"Yeah. Which scares the shit out of me."

"Mandy's friendship will be important if she's gonna be a part of all this," Dillon reminded him. "You don't get along with the QueenBee—"

"You're out of the hive, yeah, I know."

Quentin did appreciate Mandy taking Arielle under her wing. Anything Arielle was scared to ask him Mandy had likely already answered. But it also bothered him that Arielle might be censoring what she talks to him about.

Quentin wanted to be the one that handled all the shit for her.

They waited a minute in the clubhouse doorway to allow their eyes to adjust to the darkness within, then headed for the clubhouse where the rest of the club were already assembled. A few last minute reminders were barked out, and Quentin absorbed the tension between Colton and Bishop.

Colton hated all the drug inroads this was creating. It wasn't a secret that Bishop wasn't against the idea if the price was right, even if this was just a ploy at the moment to coax Reuben to Portus Felix.

They may vote, but Dead Men wasn't exactly a democracy. Yet even Quentin had to admit that drugs were an uncomfortable industry. It was competitive, expensive, and when you start bringing Mexican cartel-connected guys around a town like Portus Felix, it wouldn't take much for the locals to start getting twitchy. And there goes the uneasy truce between Dead Men and the civilians.

Bishop saw the money, though, and made no bones about admitting it. The money would be nice. The thrill would be guaranteed.

Quentin wondered if all this shit was worth it anymore. The thrill wasn't calling to him this time; his thrill was very different now. She had huge blue eyes, lips the softest he'd ever known, smelled of flowers, and always whispered his name when she came. That was the only thrill he was really interested in. And she was a hell of a lot safer to chase after, too.

That realization hit like a lightning strike, and it didn't make him feel claustrophobic. It damn near made him grin.

"No matter what you're feeling on this," Bishop snarled, eyes scanning the brothers assembled to accompany him, "Disciples have to stay an ally. Their our biggest buyer. We can't lose him. So today the focus is on kissing some ghetto ass, and tomorrow we meet the Latin Kings and reinforce the fact that they are not welcome to peddle their shit in our town. If it seems like that one might go bad, I'll let the Mexicans in on the real reason Reuben's men are being tolerated more than before."

As each member filed out, Dillon raised his eyebrows to Quentin. "Lovely day for a road trip, isn't it?"

"Oh God, Arielle. Cut the cute act and buy it. It's hot on you," Jolene exclaimed, exasperated.

Arielle's face turned pink, she felt it happen. "Jesus, Jolene," she muttered, trying to push her sister out of the changing room where she'd burst in on Arielle, since the‘door’ was just a curtain.

"Look at you, Arielle. You look sexy," Jolene insisted, turning Arielle bodily towards the mirror.

They were at a lingerie boutique, a fancy one that also offered prosthesis-friendly lingerie for survivors like Arielle. The shelf-bra built into it was brilliant; it snugged her one breast up to be quite perky, and the prosthesis could fit into one side of the other to fill the front completely. The cutlet was exactly the same size as the breast she had, and the only thing missing was the fact that double-cleavage was impossible. But the scoop neck was too high for that to be obvious.

"Stop looking at your chest, check out your legs, Arielle. And your ass, God it's so fucking cute."

Arielle turned redder. "Keep your voice down."

Jolene was ignoring her, staring at her silhouette in the full-length mirror. "You have to buy this."