13. Quinn
13
QUINN
I ’ve been to Outlaw cookouts with Ember a few times.
Once, when we were sixteen, shortly after my sister had started dating Smoke.
I’d lied to my parents; told them I was going to stay at Dawn’s house.
I remember the way Mel had changed her look, pulling on the skinniest of jeans and wearing a vintage Poison T-shirt that she’d cut and snipped to give it a deep V-neck and cropped look that revealed her belly button piercing.
My parents didn’t know about the bar with little diamonds on either end, but I thought it was the coolest thing ever.
She’d promised me that she’d take me to get mine done by the same guy who did hers the day of my eighteenth birthday and we’d keep it a secret together.
And I remember how Smoke looked at her when she arrived.
He paused, cigarette halfway to his mouth, looked her up and down, and smiled with approval.
So, it shouldn’t be right that I’m looking around the wide outdoor space at the rear of the clubhouse to see if I can see him.
To see if he might look at me that way.
“Girls,” Butcher says, walking towards us.
“Dad,” Ember says, hugging him.
It’s much more reserved than usual.
Like the two of them are strangers.
She told me a little of why things aren’t the best between them.
He tried to keep her and Atom apart, overstepping her boundaries and taking control of her life.
Something she deeply resented.
I understand her feelings.
But as someone with a dead mom and an absent dad, I’d give anything to have some semblance of family who actually cared.
“Hey, Butcher,” I say as he hugs me.
He smells of sandalwood and leather.
I’d never admit it, but I always thought Nolan Deeks was a hot older man.
Like one of the daddies I read about in my romance books.
With sharp eyes and even sharper cheekbones, and salt-and-pepper hair, I bet he could make any woman kneel at his feet if he called her a good girl.
“Thank you again for providing me with some…protection.”
The word sticks in my throat.
Even as I watched some friend of the club install new window sensors and door alarms and cameras, I was torn.
Grateful for the additional layer of security but hating that it’s even necessary.
Butcher taps my cheek.
“My job is to look after this town, sweetheart. And as Ember’s friend, you bounce to the top of that list.”
“Well, I’m grateful,” I say.
“Get yourselves drinks, and look out for each other,” Butcher says, and leaves the two of us to go talk to Wraith.
“Babe,” Atom says, snaking his hands around Ember’s waist from behind and kissing the side of her neck.
Ember grins, unabashed.
“Hey, sweetie.”
“Fuck, you always smell so good,” he says, burying his nose in the side of her neck.
His words are a little slurred, but it simply makes the burly enforcer seem almost…
playful. Not a word I’d usually associate with Atom.
“And you smell like ten shots of Kentucky Bourbon,” Ember says.
“Can I get you girls a drink?” he asks.
Ember holds up the cooler bag she brought.
“Put these somewhere no one else can find them and only pour them for me and Quinn.”
“What?” Atom asks.
He looks genuinely confused by the statement.
She shakes her head and grabs his hand.
“Never mind, my little drunken boy, I’ll come with you. Want one, Quinn?”
“Would love one.” Ember’s a wine snob.
She likes fancy unpronounceable wines from fancy places.
And she doesn’t like sharing with people who wouldn’t know a specialty wine from a ten-dollar bottle from the store.
When the two of them disappear into the rear of the clubhouse, I realize it leaves me standing alone in the lot.
Loud music plays as I continue to try and convince myself that I’m not really searching for Smoke.
It’s been a while since I saw so many bikers, outside of the ride outs they do that drive straight up Main Street past the bakery.
I touch my hand to my cheek where Butcher touched it.
While I’d never do anything with Butcher because he’s one of my closest friend’s dads, and I’d be too scared it would jeopardize our friendship, the touch lingered.
Show me a human being who doesn’t yearn for genuine connection, and I’ll show you a fraud.
It’s been too long since I had sex.
Even longer since I fell in love with someone.
In an alternate universe, I’m sure there’s someone falling in love with me at this very moment.
He tells me he loves me, calls me his good girl, and he fucks like…
well, one of Cherise Sinclair’s Masters of the Shadowlands .
In the here and now, that never seems to happen to me.
Maybe I should just go home and start a reread instead of putting myself out here.
Except home, for tonight, is still Smoke’s house.
And being back in that bed will remind me of how it felt to wake up next to him this morning.
It’s all I’ve thought about all day.
How strong he felt. How warm his body was.
How I shivered when his hands touched me.
“Quinn, hey.” William “Taco” Bell waves as he walks towards me.
“Didn’t know you were coming with Ember. It’s good to see you.”
He’s a regular at the bakery on a Sunday.
Always comes in for the same order: two apple fritters, a loaf of sourdough, and an extra-large coffee with three shots of caffeine.
“Seems like quite the party. How long has it been going on for?” I ask.
He hiccups and then, rather charmingly, uses his fingers to count.
“Seven hours. You want some ribs? I swear they’re the best you’ve ever tasted. Not sure what Catfish puts on them to make them taste so sweet.”
“I’m good right now, thanks. But maybe I’ll take you up on the offer later.”
He smiles and lets his eyes drop to the sweetheart neckline of my sundress.
“Yeah?”
Just at that moment, I catch sight of Smoke, over by the wall, in deep conversation with a club girl.
She’s wearing tiny denim shorts and a top that looks more like a bra.
It bolsters my resolve, and I look back to Taco.
“Yeah.”
“Can I get you a drink?” he asks.
I try to focus on Taco’s nice smile.
Straight white teeth.
And…
She has her hand on Smoke’s bicep.
My gaze has drifted away from Taco and I’m back on Smoke.
He’s drunk. Sloppy.
And despite everything, I’m worried.
Taco turns his head and looks where I’m looking.
“You know, my money is on Isla becoming his old lady, because she’s into exhibitionism as much as he is.” Then, he glances back to me.
“Wait. You’re staying at his house right now, right? Are the two of you…?”
He’s into exhibitionism?
My clit throbs at the very thought of watching the muscles in his bicep flex as he jerks off in the shower.
I can’t imagine what it must feel like to have sex with him…
publicly.
I shake my head.
“No, there isn’t a two of us.”
We kissed.
That’s all it was.
An angry kiss in the garden.
And he crawled into bed with me because he was drunk and confused.
And then, he asked me to leave.
I recall Smoke’s words from earlier, that both were mistakes.
Taco reaches out and touches the ends of my hair.
“Well, that’s good to know. You know, it’s not safe for an unattached woman to walk around a biker party. Unless you’re wearing a property patch, you’re fair game.”
“Is that so?”
He nods.
Too late, I realize Smoke has ambled over to join us.
He puts his arm around Taco’s shoulder.
“You’re fair game?” His eyes hold mine as he asks me the question.
“No woman is ever ‘ fair game .’ I believe with my whole chest that a woman’s right to bodily autonomy and to say no is sacrosanct.”
He grins and turns to Taco.
“You hear that? She’s not fair game.”
Taco shrugs Smoke’s arm off his shoulder.
“Fuck off, Smoke. I was just talking to her while you were over there planning the thousand ways you’re gonna fuck Isla right here in the yard once all the old ladies and kids have left.”
Smoke shoves Taco away, but in his drunken state, he stumbles too.
“Who I fuck is of no concern to you.”
Taco huffs, straightens his cut, and reaches for my wrist, slipping his fingers around it.
“And who I fuck is no concern of yours.”
I snatch my wrist out of his grip, and ignore how it didn’t feel like how Smoke did it when we argued.
“I want no part in the pissing contest. And I am not just some object either of you gets to fuck.”
Butcher steps in the middle of the two of them.
“Go inside and find Ember, Quinn.”
But my feet are frozen to the ground as he shoves a hand on both Taco’s and Smoke’s chests to push them apart.
“I was just chatting with Quinn,” Taco says.
“Smoke’s the one being a dick.”
Smoke huffs a laugh, then grips his crotch.
“Least I got a fucking big one. Guess you were at the back of the line when God was handing ‘em out, yeah?”
I roll my eyes, but as I do, Taco lunges for Smoke, even as Butcher tries to push them apart.
Smoke’s laughter barks through the yard, before a visceral yell when he takes a blow to his burns.
“Jesus,” I say, leaping in front of Smoke just as Butcher throws his hand out again to push them apart.
It connects forcefully with my cheekbone, enough to send my head sideways and me stumbling to the floor.
My hip hits the ground first, and I throw out my hand to stop my skull from cracking on the concrete.
Words collide around me.
Shouts. Yells to stop.
Someone reaches for me, but I shake them off for a second while I get my bearings.
When I look up, I see Smoke, features ferocious, mouth curved in a snarl, wild eyes…
all focused on Butcher, while Atom holds him around his ribs.
Smoke must be in absolute agony with that much pressure on his burns.
Or so drunk he can’t feel a thing.
Butcher has his hands raised.
“It was an accident, Smoke. Stand the fuck down.”
Wraith offers me his hands.
“Let’s get you up off the ground.”
I take them both, and he helps me to my feet, but my attention is on Smoke.
I don’t know how I feel it, but I can sense the roiling turmoil inside him.
The confusion and regret and shame and everything else that pours out in his actions.
Somehow, I’m caught up in the push and pull.
What he believes he doesn’t deserve.
What he wants.
“You okay?” Butcher asks when I pass him.
“I’m fine,” I say over my shoulder.
My eyes are on Smoke as he shrugs out of Atom’s hold.
“Are you okay?” he asks, his hand touching my cheek gently.
Where Butcher’s touch was nice, Smoke’s makes my body come alive.
Every nerve ending stands to attention, aching for a moment of his heat.
I place my palm on his dressing, so gently that I can barely feel the fabric of his T-shirt brush against his skin.
“I think you’ve had enough to drink.”
He shrugs.
“Maybe.” His hand slides from my cheek to my throat; he cups it beneath my chin, his thumb running up and down my skin.
“It’s killing me.”
There are so many ways to interpret that sentence.
But in any interpretation, I can’t leave him alone to face it, whatever it is.
“Where’s his room?” I ask Atom.
“You should probably leave him to his brothers,” Butcher says.
I place my hand to my cheek.
“Because you’re doing such a good job of it?” I glance over his shoulder to Taco.
“I’m sorry you got caught up in whatever this mess is.”
Taco nods.
“You come find me if it becomes too much of a mess for you.”
“I’ll tear your fucking hands off if you so much as look at her again,” Smoke says with a snarl.
“She’s not coming to find you.”
“I’m not some tree you can pee on like a dog and call your own.” I turn to Atom.
“His room?”
“Come on, brother, let’s get you to bed,” Atom says, sliding Smoke’s arm over his shoulder to prop him up.
“Watch his injury,” I say.
“Hey, Quinn. I’m sorry for that,” Butcher says.
“It’s okay.”
As I move to walk behind them, Ember hands me my wine.
“You might need this. And we’re two doors down from Smoke. Knock if you need us.”
Atom does most of the heavy lifting to get Smoke onto his bed and stripped out of his boots and denim.
I’m glad, because Smoke was less than helpful, lying there like a lump of coal.
“You need anything?” Atom asks finally.
“You hit the ground pretty hard.”
As I rub a hand gently over my hip, I catch sight of my cheek in the mirror, where Butcher made contact.
“Maybe some ice and a cloth.”
“You got it. For what it’s worth, I’m fucking worried about him, Quinn. And for whatever reason, you seem to be his anchor right now. I don’t know what this is between the two of you, but…I’d sure appreciate it if you don’t leave him until he’s able to weather this storm on his own.”