Carla scrambled out of the door, fumbled with the keys to lock it behind her and held her head as a horn honked two streets over. Today was the day she was supposed to convince Maurice that the shipment was lost forever and to get him to push the gas pedal on the next one, and she was going to be late. Great, just great.
“Hey, Carla!” a friendly voice called from the driveway next to hers. “You okay? You don’t look so good.” She turned to face Elle, and instantly groaned at her bright eyed and bushy tailed friend.
“It was a late night last night. I may have had one drink too many.”
“Oh, hungover?” Elle said with sympathy, but Carla could see the censure shine in her warm brown eyes. She didn’t take it personally. That was just part of who Elle was. “It’s okay,” she waved it off and climbed bleary eyed into the truck, “I’m fine. See you later!”
Elle gave her a return wave but Carla didn’t see it.
Damn it. It wasn’t that she’d had too much to drink last night, it was those sugary sweet cocktails that Hot Wheels had insisted on ordering for her instead of her customary whiskey. It didn’t matter how much of them she drank--and she’d only had two--they still left her with a pounding headache and a roiling stomach.
That’s not the reason you overslept though, a tiny voice whispered and Carla tried to silence it. But she knew it was the truth. She had spent most of the night tossing and turning, unable to fall asleep because of him: Joel. Thoughts of him had tormented her until dawn had first started to peek above the horizon and when she had finally fallen asleep, he’d been there in her dreams. Kissing her, holding her, and doing a whole hell of a lot of other things that had her wet and wanting when she’d woken up an hour after her alarm had gone off.
She drove as quickly as she could, grateful that the farm wasn’t far and, within thirty minutes, she pulled into the long drive. Carla glanced down at the clock and gave a mental cheer. She still had five minutes to spare.
She quickly parked, ran to clock in, and was surprised to see Maurice already standing there, tapping his foot impatiently, obviously waiting for some information from her.
“You’re late,” he snapped, and she glanced at the clock on her phone again just to double check.
“Actually, I’m right on time,” she said, trying to keep her voice level. If she was going to pull this off she knew she needed to keep her emotions in check.
“Well, you’re usually here earlier than this.”
“I know. I had some errands to take care of this morning,” she said casually, refusing to give him any more excuses, and she sure as hell was not about to tell him that she’d been running late because a certain sexy biker had haunted her dreams all night.
“Well?” he said again, this time a question as he stared at her with those beady, lifeless eyes of his that made her skin crawl.
“Well, what?” Carla said, trying to keep it cool as she walked to the nearby growing table, full of its precious seedlings. It made it easier when she wasn’t looking at him. When her hands were busy.
“Don’t play games with me Carla! You won’t like the outcome. I told you to get the shipment back, or else…” he trailed off, once more hanging the ambiguous threat over her head.
“I…I think the shipment is gone, Maurice. I tried to track it down, but…I’m pretty sure it’s already across state lines.” Her lie made heat sweep up into her pale cheeks, but she kept her head down.
“Fuck that. I don’t believe you. You’re lying to me, Carla, and I don’t like people who lie to me.” He was suddenly so close that she could smell his fetid breath as it sawed in and out. Rage and impotence muddled his expression, twisting into something even more terrible. “You know what I think? I think you were in on it. I think you were in on the whole thing. You sold me out and I’m going to do everything I can to prove it. You’ll have a lot of fun in prison, Carla. People don’t take no for an answer in prison.”
She jolted back in shock at his words, but it was the venomous look in his eyes that had true fear running like ice through her veins. She opened her mouth to say something, anything to defend herself, but her vocal chords were frozen.
“You still have a chance. I’m a reasonable man, Carla, I really am. But the cops are involved now. They’re investigating the missing shipment and they’ll find it, but you still have a chance. Just get it back and all of this will go away. Do you understand?” he asked, still so close that she could see every broken capillary on the ruddy skin of his face, could see the way his pupils dilated at the fear and pain he had caused, mixing with a sick lust that made her stomach knot.
“I’ll just…I’ll keep trying. I’ll keep trying, Maurice,” she stuttered, hating the stammer in her voice, hating that he could make her feel so out of control and ,as he nodded, moving as if to take a step closer, she ducked around him and headed straight for her truck. She didn’t turn around. She didn’t look back. Carla just got in, started the engine, and drove. It wasn’t until almost an hour later that she realized she wasn’t driving home. She was heading straight for the clubhouse.
*
Joel looked up as the door opened. It was still early enough that most of the crew was passed out, sleeping off whatever copious amounts of alcohol had been consumed the night before. But not him. He had to oversee flipping the weed and he had to do it with a clear head. He cursed because that clear head seemed to flee the moment he saw Carla walk in to the clubhouse.
“Carla?” he called out and she practically ran towards him. It was apparent that something was wrong. It was written all over her pale face, the tear-stained look in her blue eyes, the way her lips trembled as she came near. She didn’t stop and shock made him throw his arms around her as she barreled into him. He held her for a long moment as she drew in deep, shaky breaths and, despite himself, he nuzzled into her hair, feeling the silken strands tickle his face as her scent wound around him. It was unique, rich and earthy and edged with something sweet, like caramel, so much like her it made his chest ache. Finally, back under control, she pulled back and he instantly regretted the loss.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know where else to go,” she said, her voice full of unshed tears but what sparked his anger was the fear he saw lurking behind her sapphire eyes.
“Tell me what happened,” he commanded, leading her to a chair and he could see her transform as he took control, could see the way she calmed even more, the fear receding just slightly. It was enough, for now.
“I went to work, like we planned. I told Maurice that the shipment was lost. That we would have to send out another. He knew,” she looked up at him, her blue eyes drowning and lost, “somehow he knew I was lying. He told me…he told me that the police were investigating, and that I would go to prison. He said–”
“Fuck.” The word shot from his mouth, interrupting her as he slammed to his feet. If the cops were looking for the shipment it would only be a matter of time before they tracked it back to the Cruiser’s. This changed everything. All their careful planning. All the preparation. It was all shit now.
“I’m sorry, I…I’m sorry, I didn’t know what else to do. He threatened me, he said if I found it first he would just forget everything, he would call the police off. I’m so sorry.” She bit her lower lip hard to keep them from trembling and her eyes were squeezed tight against the onslaught of tears that threatened when Joel turned back to her. He was by her side in an instant, kneeling down until his face was even with hers.
“Open your eyes,” he ordered, but she shook her head. “Open them. Now, Carla.” Finally, she did as he commanded and he felt her tear-stained look shatter through him.
“This is not your fault. I’m pissed that the cops are involved, it complicates things, but I’m not angry at you. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“But I told you that I could do it. That I could handle it, and I couldn’t. I failed.”
“No, you didn’t,” he said, forcing himself to soften his tone, and wondered for the hundredth, for the thousandth, time why her feelings mattered so much to him. “You did everything right. It just didn’t work out. Shit happens. We’ll just have to adjust.”
“But, I–.”
He stopped her words with a finger against her lips.
“Stop,” he said, his tone shifted, growing harder, firmer, more dominant and not brooking any arguments. Her eyes widened over where his finger was, but she remained silent and he felt that familiar thrill flash through him. “Listen to me, and listen good because I’m not going to say it again, and I don’t want to hear another word of it come out of that sweet mouth of yours. It’s not your fault. Shit just got fucked up. And now, we’ll deal with it.”
Joel stared into her eyes, refusing to let go, refusing to drop her gaze, keeping it trapped in his. Slowly, he slid his finger away, unable to resist the small caress as it passed her bottom lip, slightly swollen from her teeth marks.
“Now, repeat what I just said.”
“It’s not my fault,” Carla said, tentatively, and, with a deep breath, continued, “Shit just got fucked up. And now, we’ll deal with it. Together.”
He had just gotten over the instant heat that flashed through his body when she’d said the word ‘fucked’ but as her last, extra word registered, that heat changed and spread through him with a warmth that wrapped around his chest and squeezed.
He gave her a piercing look, fighting to get his body under control, but finally he nodded. “Together.”