The Sweet Under His Skin (50 page)

Completely at a loss, Quentin pulled out his phone again, flipped through the contacts and placed another call, crossing his arms across his chest and keeping his back to everyone, scanning the parking lot they were waiting in while he waited for his call to be picked up.

"Yeah?"

"Mandy?"

"Everything okay, hun?"

"I got a bad feeling. Can you do me a favor?" Dillon chuckled and shook his head while Quentin outlined the favor to Mandy, who seemed more than pleased to pay Arielle a visit. "And Mandy?" he added before she could disconnect.

"Yeah?"

"Keep this between the two of you. No need for Flynn or T-bone to know why you're there."

There was a pause. "What's going on in that head of yours, Quentin?"

"How'd they know where she was, Mandy? All the places in Portus Felix those girls went today. No one knowing who Arielle is, much less her sister. And Portus Felix PD rolls up because they see her sitting at a patio table?
I
didn't even know what her plan for today was."

Mandy exhaled. "I'll keep it quiet. But I gotta tell Bishop once he gets home."

"I'm talking to him, too. Don't worry, beautiful."

"Stop calling me that. I said I'd do what you asked."

He laughed at that. "Thanks Mandy."

"Take care, hun."

Dillon was studying him while he put his phone away. He shook his head with a tsk. "Not sure what all that implies, Quentin."

Quentin's eyes slid back to the two bosses, now shaking hands and heading back to their brothers.

"I mean it Quentin," Dillon hissed, voice low. "You're implying one of us turned that girl in."

"I know that," Quentin returned, shooting his brother a look. "Who else would do it?"

Dillon exhaled, angry, but Quentin knew his brother wouldn't rat him out. Not yet anyway.

Before reaching them Bishop stopped, having pulled out his cell phone. He read something on the screen before shoving it back in his pocket. Quentin's eyes narrowed, then he slid on his sunglasses to hide the fact that his poker face was fucking terrible. Bishop stowed the phone away when he was done reading and made his way back to them.

"Just got a message from Flynn," Bishop shared, quiet and serious. "Arielle's sister got hauled in by Portus Felix PD."

"I know, Arielle called me," Quentin offered offhand.

Bishop nodded. "Flynn said they're back at Arielle's. At least she'll be locked up, one less headache."

Quentin's head was spinning. He remembered Bishop reading a text before the meet with the Disciples, then excusing himself to make a call. It was right there, plain as day.

Quentin watched Bishop's face as Colton outlined how he wanted the meet with the Mexicans to go. He was listening, but he was also trying to piece together why Bishop would turn Jolene in. Just for safety? So he'd know where she really was at all times?

Or was she just bait?

Quentin didn't like this suspicion; didn't like thinking of his brother or his prez this way. It made his stomach turn. The club had been his entire life.

"Let's get the hell out of Woodbourne," Bishop was suggesting when Quentin rejoined the conversation. "When we hit Shanksville we'll fill you guys in on what the Disciples knows about Reuben."

The way the Black Disciples were eyeing them up caused him to agree with that plan. Quentin headed to his Dyna. Before he could swing a leg over Dillon grabbed his arm. "Bishop turned her in?" Dillon’s voice was low and reasonable.

Quentin knew Dillon saw it too, he didn't imagine it. "I think so."

"Why?"

Quentin shrugged, fastening his chin strap. "Bait?"

"We weren't in on that," Dillon assured him. "I heard nothing about it."

Quentin nodded. "Thanks, man."

Dillon wordlessly headed to his own bike, and Quentin wished Dillon had drawn a simpler, cleaner, and entirely different conclusion so he could get rid of this sick feeling in his stomach. Their president was keeping things from them.

What else was he hiding?

Arielle answered the knock on the door while Calvin was in the backyard pulling his bike out of the shed. He was only allowed to ride up and down the street where their bodyguards could keep an eye on him. Surprisingly Flynn seemed to really dig the pink bike.

As the front door revealed Mandy on the stoop Arielle had to smile. "Hi, Mandy," she greeted her, pushing open the screen door.

Mandy caught it and stepped inside. "Hey, sweetheart. How you feeling today?"

Arielle shrugged, leading the way into the kitchen. "Good, I guess. Fevers are further apart, nausea is long gone. How are you?"

"You know me. If I breathing I'm scheming." Mandy stepped into the kitchen, casting her eyes over the space. It made Arielle remember the spacious and gorgeous kitchen at Mandy’s place. Her little kitchen was cramped and worn but clean. "This is a cute house," Mandy mumbled, toeing a chair out to an angle then sitting, her purse on the chipped vinyl table top. "I've only really seen your entry. And your bathroom, come to think of it."

"Thanks," Arielle said wryly, remembering the woman helping her when she got sick. "It's the best I could afford." She reached into a cupboard, asking over her shoulder, "Coffee?"

"Sure, thanks."

Arielle poured out a cup from the carafe, the fresh pot started for Flynn's caffeine fix. "You take anything in it?"

"Nope, unleaded works for me." Mandy took the cup with both hands and sipped while Arielle sat across from her.

"So, what can I help you with?" Arielle asked after a moment.

"I'm here to help you. Quentin called and asked me to come by."

Arielle frowned, surprised at how quickly Quentin had called Mandy and how rapidly the woman had jumped to. "Really?"

Mandy set her mug down, opened her huge purse and pulled something familiar out and set it down on the table.

It was a hand gun. A gray one with a black grip. That was all she knew about guns. Arielle imagined she'd stare at a severed limb or a unicorn or tarantula the exact same way. "What is that?"

Mandy smiled, pushing it closer, the muzzle pointed towards the sink, away from both of them. "It's a Colt Pony. 38-calibre. Magazine holds six rounds. It's peppy. Might look small but it's loud enough and kicks back pretty good."

Arielle was still open-mouthed, eyes locked on the foreign object. "I…what's it for?"

Mandy leaned forward on the table on both elbows. "Quentin called me, hun. He told me about Jolene getting hauled in. He's worried you're being watched, thinking someone knew where you were today because you were followed. He's Dead Men, he cares about his girl, he wants you armed."

Arielle got up, standing behind her chair now. "I can't have that in the house. I'm sorry, I know this is very generous but…I've never lived in a house with guns."

That took Mandy by surprise. "Where the hell are you from?"

Arielle pretended not to hear that. "There's a nine-year-old in this house. And I'd never touched one of those things until the night that guy broke in. And even then I was in shock and Quentin had to shove it in my hand. I had no idea what I was doing."

Mandy frowned. "You never fired one of these before?"

Arielle just shook her head, holding one arm by the elbow, a defensive gesture not unlike tucking herself into a ball. She just happened to be standing.

Mandy took another sip of coffee and Arielle could tell her gears were spinning. "I got an idea," she finally said, putting the mug down with conviction.

"Am I going to like this idea?"

Mandy didn't answer. She stood and crossed the kitchen floor smoothly, always seeming to walk like she owned whatever space she was in. Arielle wished she had that much confidence.

"Flynn!" Mandy shouted out the back door. "We're taking a road trip." Arielle actually felt panic. "Don't make that face. You know who my husband is," Mandy shouted to the yard, then let the screen door bang shut and turned back to Arielle with one hand on her hip. "Bring the kid. He should know this, too."

Now the panic went full-blown. "No, absolutely not. Calvin is not learning how to handle a gun."

Mandy's look softened. "Arielle, it's better he at least sees it in action. Imagine him finding one and not knowing anything about how they work."

Calvin likely understood the physics of a firearm better than anyone else in the house. The science of it, anyway. That wasn't the point, though. Arielle had been doing everything she could to make sure Calvin's remaining childhood years were as normal as possible.

Bikers hanging around wasn't normal. Seeing guns every day wasn't normal. Being roughed up by adults wasn't normal. Telling him he had to keep a break-in and a dead guy on the living room floor a secret certainly wasn't normal.

Control was lost, the airplane was crashing, and all Arielle could do was grip the armrests.

Mandy put her hand on Arielle's shoulder, bringing her back from her own hyperventilating-from-worry state of mind. "Hey, honey. I can tell your boy's not an idiot. He's not going to pull a gun to impress his friends. And he won't play with it because he doesn't recognize it. You tell him not to and he'll listen, I'm sure. But disclosure is how you really avoid accidents."

Arielle knew that was sound advice. The truth was she was scared of guns, scared to even learn how to hold them, and she didn't want Calvin to see how worried she was over anything. She wanted him to think life was fine. And life wasn't fine if Aunt Arielle was packing in her fucking handbag.

"Quentin wants you to be safe. You already know what lengths he'll go to for you," Mandy continued softly, pushing a lock of hair behind Arielle's ear. "You're his girl in as many ways as you can be already. And if he's your man, this is something you need to learn. I'm sorry this crap has soaked into your life, sweetheart, but if you're going to reap the benefits of the club's protection you gotta have our backs, too."

Arielle frowned. "I haven't told anyone anything—"

"I'm talking about the ability to pitch in and make a few people disappear, honey. If this baddy is coming for you or any one of us, there's a lot of goodwill owed to someone who pulls the trigger and ends that threat." Mandy smiled. "I'm not threatening you, Arielle. This is how it works. Now let's go. I know a quiet place where we can pop that cherry and show you how to defend yourself and Calvin."

Arielle stepped back, taking a deep breath. "What do I have to do?"

Mandy's smile widened to a grin. "I know a place where we can have a little target practice, make sure you're comfortable handling it and loading it."

Arielle closed her eyes, questioning how she managed to get herself into this. "All right," she relented as the screen door to the patio swung open.

Flynn followed Calvin into the kitchen. Calvin looked pissed; he'd clearly wanted to ride his bike today. "Where are we going?" Calvin whined.

Arielle sighed, putting her hand on top of his head. "We're going on a little trip with Mandy."

"Mandy? What’re you doing?" Flynn asked dangerously.

"What'd I tell you about looking at me like that?" Mandy quipped back. "Quentin called. Wants Arielle packing with nothing lacking. But she's a complete virgin to this, so we're taking her to a range and showing her how to use a gun."

Calvin's head shot up to look at Arielle. "We are?"

Arielle sighed. "Quentin thinks it's a good idea, Peanut. And with some of the friends your mom has looking for her, he might be right."

Calvin's excitement faded. "Are we in danger?"

Shit. That was what she was worried about.

Arielle crouched in front of him, holding both his hands. "You're a smart kid, I can't lie to you, Peanut. You know what happened here when that man tried to take your mom. Imagine if Quentin hadn't been here." Calvin bit his lip. "Exactly. Now this worries me a lot, Peanut. But I'd feel better knowing I can keep you safe, all right?"

"Okay," he agreed, very seriously. Mature. Grown up.

"Do I need to worry about you wanting to play with a gun when I'm not here? Take it for a bike ride and accidentally take out one of Flynn's kneecaps when it falls out of your pocket?"

Calvin let a smile slip. "No," he answered, implying the question was stupid with his tone.

"You better not, kid," Flynn snapped, and Arielle looked up in time to see the scariest biker of the bunch actually smiling.

Mandy crossed to her purse. "We're going to Mason’s Woods," she said, stowing the handgun back in her purse and swinging the bag over her shoulder. "You coming with us?"

Flynn lost the smile and returned Mandy's glare. "I got a choice?"

Mandy smiled and shrugged. "Not really."

“Then, I gotta make a call first—”

“No you don’t,” Mandy said, sternly.

There was a weird, tense standoff going on in her kitchen, and Arielle was confused. Mandy looked much sterner, and Flynn looked like he was wrestling with something mentally. That was also when Arielle realized Flynn had been on that cell all day, obviously reporting to someone where they were.

Her unease grew, and with another glance at Mandy she was hoping that the woman wasn't making trouble for anyone else. To break the stare-down Arielle stood and patted Calvin's shoulder, the tension thick and getting to her. "You have to use the bathroom before we go?" Arielle asked Calvin

"Yes," he answered and ran for the hallway.

When he was gone Arielle turned back to them. "If Flynn has to tell anyone where we're going, I want to know why." Mandy looked surprised, and Flynn just gave her that dead-eyed stare. "I mean," Arielle rushed ahead, "I understand you guys always wanting to know where Jolene is. But we know where she is. Where I am is irrelevant."

Mandy blinked at her once then let her eyes slide to Flynn, who met the look.

"Bishop said to report if Arielle left the house and where she goes," Flynn said, clearly annoyed at having to put together such a long sentence. "I don't question why. I do it. Quentin would lose his shit if anything happened to her."

Arielle nodded. "I understand that. Does Quentin know about this?"

Flynn bit down on the toothpick that was perpetually wedged in the side of his mouth. "I don't know. He wasn't there when Bishop asked me to do this."