Reprise (25 page)

Her father went left instead, stooping to lower her to the sofa. She kicked off her boots and curled up again, pulling a throw pillow in close to her stomach. When she next became aware of anything, Harlon’s mother was crouched next to the sofa, her eyes red and swollen, and her sad smile didn’t reach her eyes.

“We’re here, sweetie,” Angelina Gray assured her. “Harlon’s on his way. I got hold of him. He’s rushing back.”

Mallory nodded, then sat up. The huge lump in her chest and throat was getting bigger. It was choking her. It hurt like a son of a bitch.

“Here’s some water, beautiful.” Mal looked up into Harlon Senior’s eyes, then noticed the glass in front of her.

“I don’t want any water.”

“How about something stronger?”

That surprised her too, but looking closer she saw that he was absolutely serious.

“Yes please,” she mumbled, and he left with the glass.

No one was talking. The house was full of people and no one made a peep. Her mother was on one side of her on the sofa, Harlon’s mom on the other, and her father was standing by the picture window, hands fidgeting at his sides.

He didn’t know how to handle this. He was lost, too.

Harlon Senior brought back a glass with something clear and amber-colored in it, about three fingers worth. She took a long pull, choked, and then did another. She kept what was left for later.

Harlon Senior set his weight down in the arm chair that his son preferred, which struck her as somewhat amusing, but she didn’t react to it.

She fell asleep at some point, on the sofa, still wrapped around that decorative pillow. When she woke again both Harlon Grays were at the front door, talking quietly. She struggled to sit up, part of her coming out of the numbness. She wanted Harlon to hold her, sob with her.

She struggled to her feet, and that’s when the men at the door noticed she was up. The older Harlon came forward, concerned.

“Mallory, sit back down. It’s okay, sweetheart.”

She shook her head and took a step to the man she’d been thinking of as her husband for a few months now. “Harlon—” she stammered, words as shaky as her knees. “Oh God, Harlon!”

He walked away. With barely a look, not a word said, he turned and hit the handle of the screen door with such force it made her jump, then he was off down the stoop. In the milky dawn light, supplemented by the light over the front door, his broad back was straight and his arms swung as he strode to his pickup truck and circled around to the driver’s side.

His father had gone after him, shouting something, but Mallory couldn’t hear it. Not really. She sunk to the carpeted living room floor, the lump behind her breastbone catching fire and starting to burn.

He walked away. He just...walked away.

Chapter Twenty

He pulled into the huge lot of a twenty-four hour mega Walmart sometime after the sun started coming up. He leaned over to wake Mal. She’d dozed off on the drive, not surprisingly. As he drew near he noticed the shine of tears on her cheeks. Jesus, she’d been crying.

“Mal?” He was alarmed and took her shoulder gently. “Mal, honey. Wake up. Are you okay?”

There was a sob and a gasp before she sat up straight, eyes wild as she searched for something familiar to orient herself. That something was him. He watched awareness come into her eyes, and she wiped her face with both hands. “Oh God. What the hell? I was crying in my sleep.”

“What were you dreaming about?”

She shook her head, dropping her gaze. “I can’t remember.”

He let her have that, and leaned back in his seat. “You want to get some clothes here? We haven’t been followed. And at least in Walmart you’ll fit in wearing pajama pants.”

That got him a begrudging smile, and she nodded. “I never thought I’d say this but I really want to put on some underwear.”

He did a body scan on her, cocking an eyebrow. “You’re commando under that?”

Now there was a slight color to her cheeks. “I was relaxing before bed. I don’t wear full gear to do that.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t stop then.”

She pushed her door open. “Don’t be an ass.”

He grinned and climbed out onto the concrete. The air had a chill to it, but they were closer to home now so the snow was about an hour’s drive behind them. Still, it was definitely December. He zipped his jacket up higher and fell into stride beside her.

“I think we’re past the danger zone now,” he shared when they were almost at the doors. “I was thinking of getting a room to catch up on sleep. I’m fading out.”

“I slept. I can drive.”

He shook his head. “Nah.”

Now she was smirking at him. “Still won’t let me drive?”

It wasn’t something he could adequately explain, but he never let her drive. Even in her own car. If he was with her, he was the one behind the wheel. She used to joke that it was the start of his need to be in control of at least one thing. Maybe she was right.

“We could both do with a bit of rest. First clothes, then sleep, then food.”

“Sounds good.”

He shadowed her through the racks as she selected a couple T-shirts, some of those stretchy gym pants, socks, jeans, and underwear. He also wouldn’t let her pay for any of it. She didn’t put up too much of a squabble, and he wondered if she was strapped for cash.

The motel was one he’d stayed at before while working long hauls. The carpet, paint, artwork and furniture hadn’t changed in twenty years but it was exceptionally clean and well kept. Plus the bedding went through upgrades on a regular basis, and the blackout blinds weren’t made for messing around. They knocked out the light like nothing.

The room had two double beds. She disappeared into the bathroom first, so Tiny locked the door, drew the curtains and sat down to toe off his boots. His back was weary, and on the drive he’d started to feel like he might drift off. Hence his need to take a breather.

There was a time this trip would have been no sweat at all, but he could feel his stamina flagging. He needed regular sleep, and that had never been a usual thing for him. He pulled off his T-shirt, stood and let his jeans drop, then pulled back the covers on the bed closest to the window. As he was settling into the sheets the bathroom door opened on the heels of the sound of a flushing toilet.

Mal appeared in one of the T-shirts and a pair of simple cotton panties. He could tell she was braless. She was pulling her hair into a ponytail low at the back of her head. Her breasts pulled at the cotton covering them and his cock filled out instantly.

Fuck, he was still so tired.

Mal turned off the bathroom light and climbed into the other bed while he flicked the light off.

“Good night,” she said softly, followed with a giggle.

He smiled up at the ceiling. “Good night, honey.”

The sound of traffic on the highway was a soft whooshing, and his own heartbeat seemed even louder than normal. Now that he was in bed, he couldn’t sleep, all because of Mal’s magnificent tits. His cock still hadn’t eased, and he tried to close his eyes and sleep but the air felt too thick, too awkward.

“Thank you for coming to get me. I don’t know it’s necessary to take me all the way to California—”

“It is,” he cut her off gruffly. “I’d...I’d rather have you close enough to keep an eye on.”

“Okay.” She sounded so young and unsure he was whisked back twenty-some odd years to when they first hooked up. “Thank you.”

“Your friend, with all the outstanding debts. He do a lot of shit like this?”

“No.”

“There’s a video of you giving your bandmate CPR. What was he on?”

She exhaled and the bed shifted, so he knew she was turning to her side. “He tried this orange Oxy. His girlfriend gave him too much.”

“On purpose?”

“Yeah.”

“Why’d she do that?”

“Well...I was fucking him.”

Well. That was interesting. “You were?”

“She always suspected. Then he was acting weird and pretty much put to rest all doubt.”

“Where’d they get the Oxy?”

She sighed. “I don’t know for sure.”

That was okay. He knew where Sunshine came from in Cleary, but she didn’t need to know the bikers that had given her sanctuary were behind that. “Any other weird drugs in town?”

“There’s the meth. Oh, and the pot is weird.”

“The pot this friend of yours bought?”

“Yeah.” She sniffed. “It’s fucked up stuff. I tried some once with Hal—that’s my lead singer.”

“You tried that shit?”

“Yeah. I didn’t know what was in it. It was a pure blackout night.”

His hands tightened. “And this guy fucking gave it to you?”

“I don’t think he knew what it would do.”

Bullshit
. “If I ever see him I’m kicking his fucking ass.”

“Harlon—”

“I mean it. He took advantage of you.”

She fell quiet again. He hoped she was considering what he said.

“Harlon?”

“Yeah?”

“Your club...do they sell stuff like that orange Oxy?”

“My club? No, we don’t.”

“Would you tell me if you did?”

“That’s the kind of thing I’d tell you. We sell pot. Regular, run of the mill stuff.”

“Oh.”

“But that’s all I’ll tell you, Mal.”

“Okay.”

It fell quiet, truly quiet, and just when he thought he’d be able to nod off she spoke again.

“Why did you say those things? Why did you run me off like that, after your father’s funeral?”

Shit. His chest squeezed and it had nothing to do with his lungs. “Mallory—”

“That really hurt. I mean, that was almost more cruel than when you walked away the night Angelina died. It was totally uncalled for.”

As much as she was gutting him, he loved the strength in her tone. She was being honest and also not letting him get away with his own bullshit. Even at her most uncertain she’d known when she was being fucked with, and she had no problem speaking up. He’d always liked that about her. “It was,” he agreed. “I just...fuck. I don’t know. Having you there, in Cleary with me, in my folks’ house...it came back. And not for the reasons I left the first time. That was pure chicken shit cowardice. I was all in, but not really. I was over my head. Not ready for any of it.  Doing the right thing kept me there. And then I couldn’t look at you. I was so...upset. And it wasn’t even that I blamed you. I just couldn’t...I couldn’t be there. And then it was just an excuse to be gone for good.”

She sniffled and he silently cursed himself for making her cry again. “Why’d you come and get me then? Talk about mixed messages, Harlon.”

“Loved you, Mallory. Always will.” His voice broke as he said it. Apparently realizing his own mortality made him a fuck of a lot more honest. “I know I hurt you, and the fucked up part is that I don’t want anything else to hurt you.”

“Only you’re allowed to do that?”

He winced. “That one cuts, honey.”

There was more rustling of the bedding and he could imagine her turning over to face away. After a moment she just said, almost to quietly to hear, “Good.”

-oOo-

Four hours’ sleep and Tiny woke feeling as recharged as he got these days. Mallory slept on as he padded across the matted carpet to the bathroom and turned on the fan to cover the noise. After a much-needed piss he turned the taps on and climbed under the spray, sighing as the hot water hit his skin and brought him the rest of the way awake.

The motel soap smelled like old oatmeal but he figured it was good enough for now. The tiny little pill stuck to the center of his palm as it worked it across his skin, scratching the entire way. The shampoo was made by the same company, and as he was working it into his scalp he allowed a moment to reflect on where he’d found himself.

Finding out Mallory had been in danger sent him into a tailspin. He could be an asshole and say stupid shit and do fucked up things all he wanted, but she was part of him. In his blood. Even if they’d originally been together for—what, a year and a half?—that redhead had more staying power than anyone or thing that had followed. Did he want her protected? Yes, he did. There wasn’t hesitation to go and get her out of Cleary.

Of course he’d go get her.

And now what? He was whisking her off to Markham, to do what? Live at the clubhouse with him until they figured out what the Rats had in mind? Or keep her with him for good?

He’d said those ugly things that morning back in Cleary to keep her away. And now he was bringing her into his home.

He leaned forward and not-so-delicately slammed his forehead against the tile wall.
Fucking idiot.

The metal rings made a horrible screeching sound as the shower curtain was pulled back. He jumped, hands up in fists by reflex, then he let his arms drop.

Shit. Mallory. Hair down, completely naked, looking like he’d always remembered her. Maybe she would always look twenty years old to him.

Her eyes came to his, and she stepped over the edge of the bathtub.

“I...” he cleared his throat, wondering why the hell it felt like he was fucking blushing. He faced the shower head again. “I’m done anyway. Got it all warmed up for you.”

Her hands pressed to his back, then her chest filled the space between. He closed his eyes, and when he felt her lips press to between his shoulder blades, he held his breath.

Down below, his cock was hard and throbbing already.

Light as a feather her palms slid down his back, around his waist and up his stomach. This, of course, pressed her breasts even tighter against him. An involuntary groan rumbled from his throat, and her hand ran down his stomach, eventually brushing his erection. It was like a jolt of hot want, and when her hand wrapped around it and began stroking he let his head drop back, moaning loud enough to echo.

Desire had never been an issue in their relationship. This had always been perfectly functional.

“Mallory,” he was mumbling, hearing his breathing deepen. “Oh God, Mal. That’s good.”

She made a little sound in the back of her throat, a sigh. Jerking him off in the shower wasn’t going to be good enough. And shit, he was so close as it was.

He reached down, circling her wrist in one hand. She let go, and he turned. She blinked against the spray of the shower as it bounced over his shoulders. He moved forward, herding her to the back of the tub as he did. She kept her eyes up on his, even as he lowered himself to his knees. He made sure to linger over her breasts, lavishing attention on both rosy points with his tongue until she was whimpering.

Once he was kneeling she looked down at him, her cheeks flushed red. Her breathing was labored, too. He loved seeing her like that.

With both hands he parted her thighs, hitching one knee and pulling it over his shoulder. She made a sound of surprise, but braced her back on the tile. When he knew she was stable he leaned forward to nuzzle between her legs, her hairless skin smelling warm and like
Mallory
, just closer. More private.

With tongue, teeth, and suction he toyed with her, listening to her noises, knowing when she was close and backing off to keep her right on the cusp. When she’d had enough of that she buried both hands in his hair and held his face to her, her hips writhing. Her cry was thin but high and it echoed around them. He was grinning as he leaned back, then gazed up the soft curves of her body. Her eyes were closed, head to the side, catching her breath. Gorgeous.

He stood, ready to hook those legs around his waist and press her against the wall she was currently collapsed against, but he hadn’t really wandered in here with a rubber.

“Edge of the tub, behind the curtain,” she mumbled, eyes opening now.