Satan's Property Page 6

A grin breaks across his face. “Now you’re talking.”

  We walk back in silence to the main building, Kalb now heeling calmly by his side. As we approach, I hear voices inside. I find myself wishing that I had more time with him before he’s swallowed up by his brothers. He stops before the front door into the lounge and opens it for me. As I step into the light, I find myself feeling self-conscious about my baggy clothes for the first time, wishing I looked a little prettier.

  The men still gathered at the table look up at my entrance with frowns that quickly disappear as Drifter steps inside. They all leap up from the table as their brother drops his bag. They run over to him in a pack. Flint wraps him up in a bear hug, lifting Drifter off the ground.

  I step to the side and see Kalb circling them nervously. I kiss my lips softly to him and he follows me into the kitchen. I close the door to give the men some privacy for their reunion. I sink to my knees inside the kitchen and rub Kalb’s ears.

  I realize my hands are shaking. I haven’t had that kind of a reaction to a man since, well, ever. Even Rooster, as handsome as he was, had to grow on me before I really got excited about him.

  Kalb’s comforting presence helps to calm me down. I get up to fill a bowl of water for him. I set it on the ground and he quickly starts lapping it up. I duck into the lounge to grab the remains of one of the chickens and think that I see Drifter watching me out of my periphery. A few of the other brothers have joined them and they’re all laughing together, patting him on the back, excited to have their brother home.

  Back in the kitchen, I pull some scraps of chicken together and put them in a bowl for Kalb. He starts in on them, and I sit next to him, watching him eat. Seeing him makes me miss Scout, but it’s comforting to have a dog around, too.

  After a while, I get up to clear the rest of the dishes from the lounge. When I open the door, Kalb spots his master across the room on one of the couches. Word has spread about his return, and he is now surrounded by his brothers. I notice Cherish sitting next to him, wrapped up in what he’s saying. Kalb worms his way around the bikers and curls up at Drifter’s feet.

  I can see that Drifter has a plate of food on his lap, so I clear the rest of the stuff. There are some leftovers, so I wrap everything up and put it in the fridge. I’m sure people will come in and pick it over. I pause by the fridge. I went from feeling so accepted to feeling now completely out of the loop. A burst of laughter from the lounge accentuates that feeling, and I quickly wipe down the counters.

  I grab the toiletry bag Liz brought for me and Hollywood’s jeans, and cross back through the lounge with my head down, jogging quickly up the stairs to my room. I sit down on my bed and put my head in my hands. Don’t give into self-pity, I think to myself, and straighten up.

  Taking Hollywood’s jeans in my hands, I thread the needle with string from the sewing kit. Focusing on a small task will make me feel better. The tear in Hollywood’s jeans is right along the inner thigh seam, and the fabric is so frayed that it’s difficult to work with. I double up the thread so that it will hold the heavy material and try to repair the rip. There are a couple other spots that look like they’re about to bust, so I reinforce those, too. I think I’ve gotten everything, so I replace the needle and thread in the kit and rub my eyes. They feel strained from working on something so small for a while.

  I realize how sticky and tired I feel, and think a shower would feel good. I’m not excited about getting naked in the clubhouse, but it seems like most people are downstairs anyway.

  Rummaging through the dresser and find an old towel, I undress in a hurry. My first item of business tomorrow will be finding something to cover up that little window in my door. I look down at the ankle monitor. They didn’t say anything about not getting it wet, so I guess it’ll be fine. I wrap the towel around me and grab the toiletry bag, then push the door open a crack, peering both ways down the hallway. All quiet on the Western front.

  I dash quickly over to the bathroom and into a shower stall. Gah. I really wish I had a pair of flip-flops or something to wear in here. Surely at least one of these guys is rocking a nasty case of Athlete’s Foot. I sigh, realizing that it’s my job to clean the bathroom. Gross. Cooking has its pleasures, but I don’t think I’ll find any in cleaning the mildew off these tiles. I turn on the faucets, and am not surprised to find pretty weak water pressure. The building looks pretty old—I can’t imagine the pipes have been replaced recently—and even originally, they probably didn’t put in the best for the people in a mental hospital.

  The water finally turns warm and I hang my towel over the side of the stall and step under the stream. God, it feels good. I stay there for a few minutes, not moving, just letting the water wash off the sweat and dust. I think I hear another shower turn on, but no one bothers me, so I take a small bottle of shampoo out of the toiletry bag and squeeze out a dime-sized amount into my palm. I want to make sure it lasts. I wash it out and shave my legs, if only to make myself feel better. I finish by scrubbing myself with body wash and then shut off the water.

  As I do, I hear a shower curtain rustling behind me. I freeze, trying to cover myself with my arms as I spin around. There’s no one there. I hear the noise again, and look down to see Kalb’s brown snout pushing the curtain aside with wet sniffs. I laugh, and grab my towel.

  “Trying to catch a peep, huh? You little pervert,” I laugh. But I stop in surprise as I see Drifter leaning against one of the sinks, grinning at me.

  He’s wearing only his dog tags and a white towel wrapped low around his hips, revealing the muscular v leading down to the bulge in his towel. His body is tanned, and all muscle. And he’s tall, maybe 6’2’’ or 6’3’’. He has a Marine Corps tattoo across his right pec, and I can see in a mirror behind him that his back is inked with the Satan’s Sons symbol. His hair is slicked back and falls past his shoulders, his scruffy beard is glistening with water droplets.

  “He’s got good taste,” Drifter says of Kalb. I blush.

  “Right...you’ve taught him to sit and stay, why not teach him to check out the naked girl in the shower?”

  Drifter laughs. I smile a little, pleased with myself. He’s leaning on one of the counters casually, as if he talks to half-naked women in the showers every day. For all I know, maybe he does.

  “Did the party break up already?” I ask.

  “I snuck out. Been a long day, and I understand they’ve got a helluva party planned for tomorrow. Was it you who fed him?” he asked, indicating Kalb with his head.

  “Yeah. Did you bring him back with you?” I ask shyly, tugging on my towel to make sure it’s wrapped securely around me.

  Drifter nods. “He started nosing around my unit, looked pretty emaciated. Once I started feeding him, he started sleeping with me every night. I just couldn’t bear to leave him there.”

  “I didn’t think they spoke Arabic in Afghanistan,” I say.

  He raises an eyebrow at me, surprised that I picked up on that little fact. “They don’t. I did a tour in Iraq, too. The word for dog in Arabic is prettier than the one in Pashto,” he says. “Would you mind helping me out with this?” he goes on, moving aside to reveal an electric razor charging on the counter. “I need a good shave.”

  “Sure,” I say, swallowing. I wonder if he knew I was in here, or if this is just convenient for him. “You want to grab a chair?”

  He smiles and fetches a chair and a pair of scissors. He sets down the chair and sits in it facing the mirror. I stand behind him and place my hands on his shoulders. A rush of excitement runs through my body as I touch him. His shoulders are broad, and solid muscle. Even sitting down, he comes up to over my breasts.

  “So, what can I do for you, sir? A high and tight?”

  He grins. “Fuck no. Never again. Just buzz it off. That was my last tour.”

  I take the scissors and gather his hair in my hand. I slowly cut across it and try to gather the hair as it falls.

  “You know someone over there?” he asks, s
taring at me in the mirror.

  “No,” I reply, “But my dad was a Green Beret in Vietnam.”

  “No shit?” he asks, looking impressed.

  I nod. I guess Drifter hasn’t gotten the story about me from his brothers yet. I’m conscious of him watching me in the mirror, but I keep my eyes down. I start trimming away pieces of hair, trying to leave an inch or so left to buzz off evenly. “How many tours did you do?” I ask.

  “Three. And now I’m home for good.”

  I finish trimming his hair and he runs his hand through it.

  “Turn around,” I say softly, and he spins his chair around to face me. He lays his hands on his thighs, and I’m struck by how intimate I feel with him. It’s so easy to be with him like this I bend toward him, hoping my towel will hold, and start to trim away at his beard.

  I brush his cheek with the back of my hand, and another bolt of electricity runs through me. I try to keep my breathing steady. It’s unnerving to be looking right at his face from so close, and I pointedly avoid making eye contact.

  The shorn hair falls into his lap. I straighten up and he brushes it off. He turns the chair back around, and I unplug the electric razor from the charger. I turn it on, and start moving in rows across his head. I quickly finish and place the razor back on the counter. I brush the short pieces of hair off his shoulders, trying to act businesslike, as though I’m just giving him a haircut in a salon. In a towel. But this whole situation is so friendly, so intimate. It’s like I’ve known him for years.

  He grabs my right hand in his as I dust him off. I freeze, my body reeling with delight at his touch. He stands up, pushing the chair back. Without taking his eyes off me, he pulls me a step closer to him. He tilts my face up so that I’m forced to meet his gaze at long last. The air rushes out of me. With his hair cut short, I can truly see how handsome he is. His eyes are light blue, popping boldly against his tan skin. He stares at me intently for a moment, giving me time to object. But I have no intention of doing that. He steps into me and lowers his lips to mine.

  Energy courses through me as our lips lock. He kisses me deeply, pushing me against the counter. I can feel his erection hard against my stomach, and my towel threatens to unknot itself as he presses himself against me. His roughly cut beard brushes against my chin, tickling and enticing me.

  He coaxes my lips open, and lets his tongue glide against mine. I push my tongue into his mouth, not thinking, just reacting. His hands are wrapped around the small of my back. I haven’t been kissed like this since—

  I pull my head back quickly, blinking up at him.

  “I’m married,” I gasp. He pulls his hands away and frowns at me.

  “You’re married?” he repeats, stepping back quickly. “Then what the fuck are you doing here?”

  “I’m sorry,” I say, frantically gathering my towel around me. Kalb trots over to his master with a whine, feeling the energy shift in the air. “I’m here because...because my husband traded me. Sort of. He’s the president of the Devil’s Army. I’m here until he proves that he can be trusted and they’re made into a support chapter. I—”

  “Jesus Christ,” Drifter groans, rubbing his hands over his freshly cut hair. “I thought you were a sweet butt.”

  “No. I’m just supposed to cook, clean, stuff like that,” I reply nervously.

  “Get out of here,” he says quietly, turning back to the mirror. He brings the razor to his chin, ready to trim his beard himself.

  I bite my lip, grab my toiletries, and head back to my room. I lean against the inside of my door as a rush of emotions hits me. What was I thinking? He’s a brother here, probably a high-ranking one, too. God, I hope he doesn’t tell the other guys. I don’t want them to get the wrong idea about me—thinking I’m open for business, that I don’t mind putting out to whomever wants a piece.

  There was just something different about Drifter, which I know sounds corny. I just liked the way he looked at me, with so much interest and desire; and weirdly, I didn’t feel like just a piece of ass, though I guess he probably thought I was one. Fuck, I hope Cherish doesn’t find out about that kiss. That would be a complication I don’t want any part of.

  I drag my chair over to the door and prop it under the door handle again, then unwrap my towel and dry my hair and put on the clothes I slept in last night. I’m just going to put it out of my mind, I decide. I close my eyes and try to drift off, but I just keep feeling Drifter’s hands on me. The way he ran his fingers through my hair to grip the back of my head, the smell of fresh soap on him, the bulge in his towel pressing into me. I could dream all night about unwrapping that towel. And that’s exactly what I do...

  Chapter Six

  I wake up with a start. I blink and look around the room, and the unfamiliar furnishings remind me where I am. I wonder when I will wake up and know where I am. I look at the clock. 7:30. I wonder what woke me up? Maybe it was just the unfamiliar feel of the sheets. I stand up and put on the clothes I wore yesterday. They feel a little grimy, especially after my shower last night, and I think that I’ll try to throw them in with the wash today. I stretch and pull the chair away from the door and head into the bathroom to brush my teeth.

  Maybe this is sort of what living in a dorm is like, I think. I always wished I’d been able to go away to college, but my dad was really set against it. God, he’d have a fucking heart attack if he could see me now. I find a hair elastic on the counter and pull my locks back into a messy bun. I put my toothbrush and toothpaste back on my dresser, then close my door and head downstairs.

  No one’s in the lounge, but there are a bunch of empty beer bottles and plates out from last night, so I clear everything and wipe down the tables. I don’t need to get started on breakfast for a while, so I just empty the dish washer for now. I look out the window over the sink and decide to explore the property a little. I head out the back door and feel the sun on my face. There’s a little breeze, and the temperature is probably in the high 60s. It’ll be a good day for a party. I head out toward the back of the property, walking briskly. It feels good to stretch my legs. I see the stone wall about fifteen feet ahead of me, and don’t want to push it.

  I can’t see any other buildings around, just some trees and underbrush. I pass by the garage and see that next to it there’s a huge patch of uneven ground, as though there used to be another building there. I keep walking and see the fire pit by the side of the main building, and then come to the paved road that cuts across the front. The metal gate is still open, and it looks like I can just walk out. I wonder how far I would make it if I just ran out. Everyone’s sleeping, so it might take them a second to figure out what’s happening. I’m sure the place is rigged with cameras though. I’d maybe make it a half-mile if I was lucky, I think.

  I head back around to the rear of the building again, completing my circle. I stop short when I see Drifter opening the back door, releasing Kalb outside. He runs several paces, then sticks his snout in the air, sniffing the breeze.

  I stick my fingers in my mouth and whistle for him. His head jerks to the side and he runs toward me, mouth open and tongue hanging out. I squat and open my arms to him, then break away at the last second and run off. He barks excitedly and chases me. I double back and try to fake him out, shifting left and right, and he jumps up excitedly. I finally run toward him and he jumps up and licks my face.

  “Oh, thank you,” I laugh, scratching his ears.

  “So you’re a cat person, then?” Drifter says dryly as he walks toward us. Kalb drops off me and runs toward his master. Drifter picks a stick off the ground and tosses it sidearm. Kalb runs off after it. I smile at him.

  “You’re up early,” I observe.

  “My internal clock’s a bit off. Jet lag. What’s your excuse?” he asks.

  “Just the unfamiliar bed, I guess,” I tell him.

  “So. You’re Ox Avery’s daughter,” Drifter says, crossing his muscular, tattooed arms.

  “Someone filled you in on my l
ittle predicament,” I say, holding my hand up to shield my eyes from the sun behind him, trying to get a look at his expression.

  “Flint’s got good things to say about him. When did he pass?” Drifter asks. Kalb returns with the stick and drops it at Drifter’s feet, who picks it up and tosses it again.

  “About three years ago. He was on a run. It went bad,” I say, feeling the familiar tightening in my throat that happens whenever I talk about my dad. I turn my back on Drifter to watch Kalb run down the stick. Drifter nudges my shoulder.

  “Come on,” he says, and starts walking along the perimeter of the wall. I follow him and Kalb trots after us, stick held proudly in his mouth. We walk in silence.

  “What’s that?” I ask, pointing to the upturned ground by the garage.

  “There used to be another building there. It was razed before the county sold the land to us. Would have been too much room for us to keep up with anyway. No one wanted to buy an old mental institution, so we got it pretty cheap,” he says, with a devilish grin on his face. “We were looking for a larger space than our last clubhouse. Flint’s been a great leader. We’ve expanded a lot.”

  I love the way he talks to me as an equal, taking for granted that I understand how a club functions. He goes on to tell me about how they moved in to the space a few years ago, and how’s he’s been in and out of club business while he’s been on his tours.

  “Is that why you’re still living here?” I break in.

  “That a knock about my age?” he grins.

  “Maybe a little,” I smile back. He looks to be in his early thirties, and it’s hard to picture him living in this outlaw frat house for much longer.

  “I’ve actually got a house in escrow. Bean checked it out for me while I was overseas, and I’m just waiting for it to be finalized. I want to do some construction on it before I move in.”

  “With Cherish?” I ask softly. He glances at me sharply.

  “Why would you think that?” he asks plainly. I can’t tell if he’s bemused or annoyed.