Chapter 9 – Zeb
Chapter Nine
Zeb
She sleeps a few feet away from me with quiet, heavy breathing.
I can’t sleep. It’s not the body that bothers me.
I spoke to Ethan Shaw and my contacts in the Irish mob.
The guy who followed Janelle was a random lurker known to the area, a level two sex-offender who recently got off parole.
I’m relieved that there won’t be anybody looking for him, but it wouldn’t matter.
Ethan assured me that I wouldn’t have to worry.
My biggest concern right now is bringing Janelle across the country and keeping her out of trouble until we get back.
I’m sure she won’t run to the cops now, but she might change her mind when she sees our loaded crates of weapons, or if she witnesses any violence that gets out of hand.
I can’t think of a way to keep her tame and out of trouble.
Leaving her with Ruger is far out of the question. It’s not that I worry about his lust for human life – although I am fully aware of it – but the thought of leaving her anywhere that she might get away or have something bad happen to her bothers me. My drive to keep her close is strong.
By the time the sun rises, I haven’t slept more than a couple hours, but Janelle slept through the night without a hint of disturbance.
The loud gurgling from the motel coffee maker wakes her up.
Janelle groans and pulls the pillow over her head.
She reminds me of the sexy black women who I served with in the army.
She’s a little less mean. I’m guessing she’s not as religious because most Northerners are disturbingly secular.
That’s fine. I love God enough for both of us and maybe if I took her to church with me, I could change her mind.
“Good morning.”
“No…” Janelle murmurs, pulling the pillow tighter over her head.
“I let you sleep for four hours. We have to leave, cupcake.”
“Do not call me that.”
“Just trying to wake you up,” I say, setting Janelle’s coffee on the table next to where she sleeps. “Come on, ma’am.”
My coffee finishes and Janelle raises a sleepy head from the pillow, a mat of curls stuck to the side of it. I feel like I’m seeing something secret that I shouldn’t. She touches the side of her head and groans.
“I look a mess,” she grumbles, reaching blindly for the coffee. Her eyes are half-closed as she struggles in the dim light – I only have the bathroom light on out of respect for her.
“You look perfect.”
She looks over at me with a strange sadness on her face.
“Thanks. But you don’t have to flatter me.”
“I’m not,” I tell her, watching her slowly.
I’m experiencing something downright bizarre internally.
As I watch Janelle sip that coffee, I have this bizarre sense that I could watch her do this for the rest of my life.
That if I woke up each day and Janelle was there in bed, even if she hadn’t slept with me, there would be this sense of peace.
The feeling makes me gawk at her, and she pretends not to see until her first few sips of caffeine.
“I can feel you staring at me.”
“Sorry.”
I’m not completely, but it’s the right thing to say in this situation and I don’t want her getting mad at me before we’re miles away from Boston and in a much safer position.
“Thanks for making me coffee,” Janelle says, a chill returning to her voice. I can all but see yesterday’s events rushing over her as she takes those first sips and adjusts to being awake.
“Once we get to the Midwest, I’ll get us someplace nice where you can shower.”
“Thanks,” she says, easing her body out of bed and rushing off to the bathroom.
She’s handling business on her own which tells me something about the adrenaline in her body and how much of it there is.
You learn to watch for the little details of stress and shock, depending on your position in the armed forces and the kinds of situations they toss you into.
“Worried about the cops?” I ask her when she gets back.
I notice that she washed her face and tried to braid her hair so it was less messy.
I popped a Zyn in my mouth and got to work with the hundred-fucking-thousand group chat messages I have to respond to thanks to the club members and this West Coast business.
“Yes.”
“Don’t. I took care of it.”
She gives me a disbelieving look. “Right. For nothing in return.”
I try not to get too pissed off that she’s all suspicious of me. There’s nothing I’ve done to warrant this level of distrust from her, but I suppose she got cheated on and part of her believes that all men are partially responsible for the violation of trust committed by the one.
“Maybe I want loyalty,” I tell her with a half-smile. Janelle is still stern. I can’t figure out how to get past her walls, not like I should want to.
“Get me back in one piece,” she says. “Then you can have some loyalty.”
“Ready to leave?” I ask her.
She shrugs. “Do I have a choice?”
I’m just happy I don’t have to drag her onto the bike.
Last night, Reed dropped off a spare helmet at the front desk, so both of us can ride safely.
Ruger, Zayna, and Oske are all staying at Oske’s trailer, and it’s much safer and easier for us to defend a base on Indian territory than anywhere else.
Oske isn’t too familiar to me. It’s not my nature to trust in Indians, but Gideon gave me a good punch to the mouth one time after I said something out of pocket about her, so I guess I ought to change my mind if I don’t want the shit kicked out of me.
I suspect she might have some kind of blood relation to the Shaw family, although I couldn’t speak to the specifics.
As far as I know, she’s never cheated any of us out of any money and even if she’s not a Christian, I appreciate her putting us up at her place with barely any notice.
Janelle doesn’t bother asking precisely where we’re going.
She’s quiet, scared out of her mind as she hops on the back of my motorcycle.
I can feel how scared she is by the way she clings to me, even if I haven’t started the bike yet.
The sound of my motorcycle breaks through the quiet morning.
The noise causes her fingers to sink even more tightly into my torso.
Her body presses up against mine as she straddles the bike like an old horse.
The engine vibrates to life and I can feel her head leaning against my back as Janelle braces herself.
I kick up the stand and set my legs up on the footpegs before we take off out of the motel parking lot, leaving Boston behind.
The first couple hours of the drive, Janelle holds me so tightly that I can barely breathe.
I try to go slow enough not to scare her, but the point of being on the back of a bike like this is all the speed.
She has plenty of clothing on – I let her put on a thick hoodie and a pair of sweatpants before climbing on the back.
Our first stop has to be for gas. I pull over and Janelle practically leaps off the back of the bike.
She takes the helmet off and shoves it against my chest.
“What is wrong with you?!”
This didn’t go well for her, I’m guessing. I catch my helmet and try to give her some space to unleash. Janelle’s hands ball up into fists and she yells at me with pure, unmitigated anger.
“I was screaming at you to slow down!”
“If we went any slower, the cops could have caught us.”
“Screw you, Zeb,” she says, lowering her voice to a gritty, angry tone. “I could have died on the back of that death trap and you could have gone a lot slower or listened when I called your name.”
I never heard her, which is obvious, but feels like a bad time to bring it up considering how mad Janelle looks. Her hair flies around her face madly because my helmet messed up her little braids. She’s pissed. But she also looks sexy as fuck.
“I didn’t mean to scare you.” My voice comes out in a muttering, stammering mess. I don’t understand how easy it is for Janelle to reduce me to this when I’ve killed men twice her size before.
“Well you did!” she yells at me. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”
“I can’t go any slower.”
Her face twists into more disgust. “Men are all the same.”
What? This pisses me off, but I can’t say anything about it, because Janelle turns on her heel and dismisses me like I’m an annoying hanger-on and not her goddamn ride out of here. “I’m going to the bathroom…”
Janelle storms off towards the gas station entrance.
“Do you need any money for a treat?” I ask her as she walks away. My throat tightens as Janelle waves me off dismissively again. Her attitude should offend me, but I’m totally stuck in place watching Janelle’s sizable buttcheeks swish away from me. She’s got an incredible ass, I can’t ignore that.
I would follow her except… Janelle standing there yelling at me got my dick ridiculously hard.
There is definitely something wrong with me.
The blood drains from my head immediately rushing to my cock when Janelle curses me out and even if she says that she doesn’t want a treat, I wait for her to disappear into the gas station and head inside to fill up the bike’s gas tank and get her the sweet treat she claims she doesn’t need.
By the time Janelle comes out of the bathroom, she looks thoroughly disturbed, but I have a treat for her and a full-tank of gas. The only thing that would make me happy right now is emptying my dick somewhere.
“Would it kill some people to flush their turds?” Janelle mutters with a disgusting look on her face.
“Bad time to offer you a protein bar?” I take it out of my pocket, expecting Janelle to turn it down, but she softens enough to snatch it from me.
“Thanks,” she says.
“I thought you might be hungry.”
She looks up at me in disbelief. “I’m surprised you considered me at all.”
I don’t know what to say to her, so I grunt out an answer. Janelle takes a bite of her protein bar and after chewing it thoroughly, she kisses me on the cheek. Maybe she wasn’t angry so much as she had low blood sugar. I’ll keep that in mind the next time she crashes out.
“I don’t know if I can get on the back of that thing again.”
“I’ll go slower this time,” I lie through my teeth because frankly, I just need her to get on the back of that motorcycle so we can make it all the way out West. When we get to Chicago tonight, we’re going to switch over to the old Route 66 highway where members of our motorcycle club control most of the highway.
We’ll be a lot safer there and maybe I’ll convince somebody to send out a truck or a car so that Janelle doesn’t lose her shit every time we have to ride.
“I don’t believe you,” she says.
“Come on, Janelle. We’ll make better time the faster we get moving.”