Emma

Drifting in and out of sleep, I dream of my sister.

Ruth was perfect and everything that my parents wanted in a child. She had blond hair, her eyes were blue like mine, she spoke quietly, sang beautifully and never had to study for her A’s. To top that off, her faith was unwavering. She never questioned one of Father’s sermons. She would have been so easy to despise if she hadn’t loved me so very much.

Ruth was three years older than me and the only times she ever raised her voice to our parents was in defense of me. Truly, I think my parents were horrified by my uncontrollable red hair, added to that I went from being a colicky baby to a child wont to laugh at all the wrong times and the only one in the family with a mischievous side. While school wasn’t a struggle for me, I was much more likely to bring home B’s than A’s and insisted on running track and cross country rather than join the choir.

While Ruth would go and sit in Father’s church to find her clarity and peace, mine came when I was running. The God I believed in understood; if he had created me, how could he not?

Hoping to slide into another dream of Ruth dressing me up like her doll, comforting me, or swimming down in the river with me; I keep my eyes tightly closed until the truck stops and Jasper opens the door. Moving to get up, he gently slides from under me and rubs one of his large hands over my arm.

“Just get more rest. I’m going to drive for a bit, Darlin’.” He looks down at me like he wants to say more and I know I should ask questions, but I’m just too drained right now.

Moving a curl off my face, he smiles and closes the door again. His smile is beautiful. I hadn’t even registered what he looked like until now. The only impression I had of the men who picked me off the roadside was that these were the two largest men I’d ever seen. Jasper was lean to Gunner’s hulking body, and only slightly shorter. Some time passes before Gunner gets into the passenger seat and I study his face.

A Greek tragedy. His dark, closely trimmed beard covers a large jaw, his nose looks to have been broken a few times, and crossing down the side of his face is a wide scar with rough edges. He turns to watch me as I study him.

“See anything you like, Baby?” He smirks at me. I gasp, knowing I shouldn’t have been staring but still surprised to be called out like this.

“How did you get your scar?” I ask. Staring at me a moment longer, he says ‘Afghanistan’ before turning back around.

“Couple more hours and we’ll be home, Emma.” Jasper interjects. I flinch at the word ‘home’, I won’t be. Not ever again.

“Where are we heading?” I ask, still lying on the seat as he left me.

“Our MC is right outside of Rowansville.” Jasper responds.

“MC?” I have no idea what that means, Gunner immediately laughs.

“Motorcycle Club, Baby.” He grounds out in that deep voice of his.

Embarrassed and surprised, I decide to just go for it and ask my next question, “Um, what state are we in?”

They exchange a look before Jasper replies, “Idaho,” Looking at me in the rear view mirror.

“Huh, never been here before.” I quietly calculate how much money I can spend on a motel until I can get on a bus. “Is there, like, a bus stop or motel or anything there?”

“Let’s get you better first, then we’ll worry about that,” Jasper replies, causing Gunner’s head to whip around to look at him. “We have a medic, well he was a medic when he was in the military, and does good enough to check you over.”

“I’m fine, I don’t need…I can’t stay” I sputter.

“Why can’t you stay, Emma? Where do you need to be?” Jasper refuses to let this drop.

“Enough, Jasper. Thank you helping me. I’m so sorry I can’t repay you. Maybe someday, but not now.” I’m trying to keep my voice strong, God knows I feel anything but.

“Lady knows what she wants, Jas,” Gunner weighs in on my side. “Best just let her be.”

Jasper doesn’t say a word but from the tightening of his jaw, I can tell he doesn’t plan on letting this be. Closing my eyes, I’m firm in my resolve to keep moving. I’ll find a small town somewhere in the Pacific Northwest, stay under the radar; then maybe, apply for my teaching license and get on with my life.

Jasper

The next couple hours go by in relative silence, broken occasionally by Gunner’s farts. The big guy’s been popping Imodium every hour since he bought it, so I can just imagine how he feels.

Our probation periods into the MC overlapped a bit and one thing I always appreciated was him not turning into a dick the minute he got patched. Frank and some of the other older guys could find some really creative ways to put us ‘probies’ through the wringer and encouraged Gunner to do so when he patched in ahead of Connal, Pocket – who later became Vice, and I.

Gunner wouldn’t interfere with what they did, that wasn’t his place, but he wouldn’t give in to them egging him on either. His example stuck with us and while probies get some shitty assignments, the four of us have stayed away from adding to that.

Emma’s sleep has become more and more restless the closer we get to home. She’s making a bit of noise back there but neither of us move to wake her, there’s no way to fight her demons until we stop.

Going first to the clubhouse, I tell Gunner to send our medic, Roy, out to my house.

“You sure?” He asks, looking back at her. I only nod. “You have any furniture there yet?”

“I got a mattress for the bed you built, then there’s that couch that was left behind.” I had purchased an old house and a few acres about a year ago and I was slowly working on restoring it. Slow being the operative word.

Gunner and Vice were good for specialty work but it would take a while before the house became something to be proud of. I have my room at the clubhouse and that’s been good enough in the meanwhile.

“Hey! If Roy is half in the bag, tell him to come out at first light, ok?” I call out as he walks away, from the sounds of things inside, it’s a possibility.

“Yeah, I’m sure he’ll appreciate that.” Gunner deadpans as he lights a cigarette and swings his duffle over his shoulder before heading into the main entrance.

Pulling back on the road, I head to my place; cursing myself as I go. I know I don’t have any food there so will have to take care of that after I get her settled. Not even sure if I have toilet paper; and women tend to be particular about that.

I pick up my phone and dial the oldest probie. “Yeah,” He screams after picking up. “Oh, Pres, what can I do?”

“You sober?” I bark.

“Yeah, Rod said I couldn’t drink this week.”

“Good. Get a pen and paper, go someplace you can hear me.” After the background noise dies down, I rattle off a grocery list and directions back to my house.

“Um, Pres, I hate to ask, but I’m a little short right now?” He mumbles, clearly embarrassed. 

After confirming that Vice is there, I tell him to get the money from him; next I text Vice to approve it. Knowing it’ll take Probie a good hour to get to the twenty-four hour mart and back out to my place, I concentrate on the best way to proceed with my unexpected and, somewhat, unwilling houseguest.

Starting with our bags and the purchased items from the gas station, I make a trip inside the house. Turning on what lights there are, I do a quick walkthrough making sure there are no surprises. Back outside, I work to slowly slide her out of the back seat and into my arms. She barely stirs and unfortunately, her skin feels hot to my touch.

Halfway through the doorway, Emma screams and lurches away from me. Nearly dropping her, I make sure her legs are down and hold her under her arms, hoping I’m not aggravating her cuts. “It’s alright Emma. You’re safe here.” Her eyes are wild with terror and fever but she finally makes eye contact with me, gripping my arms she nods her head; all while trying to control her breathing.

“I don’t feel good, Jasper. I should go.” She says so softly I can barely make out the words.

“You’re safe here, Emma. Do you understand?” She nods slowly, looking around.

“It’s not a murder house, is it, Jasper?” She whispers back to me.

“WHAT?!” I bark out.

“It’s empty and there’s a tarp on the floor over there!”

I have to laugh, she has a point.  Fever or not, she’s pretty funny. “Laughing doesn’t inspire confidence right now, Jasper.” She says while basically swaying on her feet.

I try to stop laughing, but the little frown she gives me does me in. She tries to slip past me, back out the door.

“No, no, Darlin’!” I gasp, still chuckling. “I’m sorry, it’s just that you actually look like a murder victim right now.” Her blue eyes widen, standing there in my flannel shirt that dwarfs her body she stares at me. Half of her face swollen and bruised, her unruly hair covered in mud, and skin pale from the fever her body is fighting.

“It isn’t fair you’re so beautiful,” Emma says right before she faints. Catching her before she hits the floor, I carry her through the house to my bed.

Easing her down, I remove her shoes and her leggings. I’m sure there will be hell to pay for that later, but I’m desperate to see if there are any signs she suffered further abuse. Leaving her panties in place, I see nothing other than more bruising similar to the belt marks on her back. As she said, there doesn’t seem to be any broken skin and her white cotton panties seem clean. And sexy as fuck, over her firm ass.

Shifting her to her side and placing a pillow behind her back; I go and get a cool cloth for her forehead, plus aspirin and water for when she wakes again. I leave the bathroom light on and take another look at her in my bed before I go to wait for my Brothers.