Truth and Lies (White Wolves MC) Page 2

  "You glow enough for the both of us," he replied with a smile. "Get your cute little ass in her. I want some lovin'."

  "Hmm," she moaned, and climbed down to sit beside him, handing him a beer and setting the two extras on the deck behind them.

  The foaming water felt divine and the heat was building up nicely.

  "Are you really forty?" she asked.

  "Are you really twenty-three?"

  "Twenty-four," she corrected.

  "Well, I'll really be forty in November, yes. Does that bother you?"

  She leaned against him. "I wouldn't care if you were a client of Larry's," she told him, referring to his elder-law practice. He laughed and she continued, "Seriously lover. You do it for me in every way I've ever wanted, and in a few I didn't even know existed."

  He put his arm around her and drew her close, "I'm happy to hear that, because you rock me baby. You really do."

  They sat for some time just enjoying each other’s presence, and then he asked, "You really have ten grand to buy a bike with?"

  "Well, yes, but it will be much better once the Shelby is sold. I should get at least twenty for it, don't you think? It's in great shape, runs like it is new, and it's a true Shelby, not a knock-off."

  He nodded. "I'm not really up on the resale value of those, but after seeing it, I don't doubt you will at least recoup your money with some to spare."

  She sipped her beer and asked, "Don't you think I should get a bike? I love riding with you."

  "So you're planning on hanging with me for a while then?"

  She looked at him. "I thought that was a given, lover. Hell yes I'm planning on sticking with you. You'll have to get some of your men to drag me out of here at this point if you want me gone. And they better be wearing their armor, because I'm not going quietly."

  He smiled and kissed her forehead. "I'll shoot the first one that tries."

  "I noticed you didn't bring your gun on the trip. Are you thinking it's safer now?"

  "No. John had his, and mine is in the saddle bags."

  "Oh," she sighed.

  "Not going to be safe for a while, but let me worry about that part of the story."

  She snuggled against him and laid her head to his pecs. "Alright. I'll bow to your ancient wisdom and vast worldly experience in such matters. I'll focus on making you a happy man with my sexual wiles and youthful energy."

  "Sounds like a perfect arrangement to me," he said with a nod.

  "Me too," she agreed. "You ever have sex in this thing?"

  "Tried a couple of times, but the chlorine content doesn't help the lubrication factor."

  "Oh," she said disappointedly. "It looks so romantic in the movies." She put her hand down on his thigh and then found his cock. Taking it in her hand she began stroking him with slow, sure affection. "God I love your cock, lover."

  "Yeah?"

  "Oh yeah. I could lay around all Sunday morning just sucking and stroking you, and feeling the sunshine on me through the window. Pure heaven," she purred softly.

  "Lucky for me, then, because it is Saturday night." He grinned.

  "Yep, you are one lucky man," she agreed. Then she asked, "If you knew then what you know now, would you still have taken me home?"

  "Yes," he told her without hesitation.

  She sat up a little to search his eyes. "Even knowing that I wouldn't be able to tell you everything for this long—things you probably should have been told from the start?"

  "Yes," he said with the same assuredness.

  She eased back down beside him. "Then I'm far luckier than you lover."

  After thinking and mustering up the strength in her gut, she said, "I think its time though that I tell you the whole of it. You deserve that. Hell, you deserved it when you met me."

  "We have time, baby," he told her, rubbing his hand down her arm and pulling her close.

  "No Elias. It's not about time. It's about you, and what you deserve from me. I keep waiting for the right time, but it’s not something that exists. It's never going to happen. I'll never be ready to lose you."

  "You aren't going to lose me Chelsea."

  "You don't know—"

  "Then, you are right, it's time. Because I want to get past this. I hate watching you torture yourself with this, and nothing I say seems to help."

  "I'm sorry," she murmured.

  "It's not a fault thing, baby. People only have the experience they have. Yours tells you one thing and mine tells me another. There is nothing wrong with that. You know, two people can have different views on something without one of them having to be wrong."

  She thought about that. "I've never put that together before."

  "Few people do. That's why they fight so much," he said, and then he took a long pull from his bottle, set it aside, and picked up his second beer.

  "Let's take the beers into the shower, and then let's talk," she offered. "Before I lose my nerve again."

  In the shower she got on her knees and sucked her lover to climax, grateful that the streams of water hid her tears from him.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Elias spent a long time drying Chelsea off with a fluffy towel, exploring her body. He was hoping that this act of intimacy and affection would calm her down, but he could feel her becoming even more tense. He sighed inwardly, and decided to let her be. In a few hours, he would be able to show her that she was more important to him than anything in her past, but there was no way to ease her mind and heart right now. He would just have to wait and let her discover his commitment to her on her own.

  She probably believed that he didn't know she was crying in the shower as she sucked and stroked him, but he noticed. It felt like she was kissing him goodbye, not preforming an act of love. He could see her shoulders shake with her silent sobs as well.

  After they were dried, he went to the kitchen and got them fresh beers, then sat up in bed with her and waited, letting her choose her time, and her words. He was a patient man. Always had been. Even as a child he was skilled at waiting things out, letting them reveal themselves before acting.

  "I went to jail for muling drugs across the border," she began at last. "I had a girlfriend who did it, and she made a lot of money, so I decided to try it as well. She set me up with her buyers, and for almost two years it was a good thing. It's how I was able to buy the Shelby and several other nice things. All of those are gone now."

  She took a drink. "Anyway, I got busted, and I went to jail. I got out on a reduced sentence with probation for two years. Considering the crime, it was a minor slap on the wrist, really. I was really happy with the deal my lawyer was able to get me. But then I met my probation officer and things changed fast."

  "Mr. Stewart, that was his name. He introduced me to Tomas and told me that I was going to be working for him while I was on probation, and if I didn't help him, he would claim I'd violated probation and send me back for the rest of my five years. The thought of being in real prison for five years scared the crap out of me. Now, I wish I would have taken the prison instead.

  "I thought I was going to be helping Tomas with busting drug dealers. You know, like an informant or something. Shake my ass, get some information, and pass it on to him. It didn't sound so bad in my head, though it did scare me a little. But, that wasn't what they had planned for me."

  She paused then, and then said, "I need to tell you about me before I tell you about him."

  Elias nodded but remained silent, letting her tell him what she could, and how she could.

  She took a deep breath, as if she was about to go under a strong current for a long time, and then said, "At first, it was just Tomas. He told me in so many words that my body was his, and he would use me as he pleased, when he pleased. I was still thinking then that I didn't want to go to prison, and hell, it was just sex. Wasn't like I was a virgin or had any real hang-ups about it. That changed, though. Over the next several months, things changed a lot, and he scared the crap out of me. It wasn't prison any more. I was
scared for my life around him. He was violent and brutal, and just plain mean."

  She looked up at him. "Have you ever met someone who was really mean? The kind of mean that kills small animals and beats on kids? That's the kind of mean he is. Psychotic mean. I learned really fast that my life had no value to him at all. It wasn't even a question. It was just a fact. There was nothing I could offer him to keep him from killing me if he decided he had no use for me, and the longer I was with him, and the more I learned about what he was doing, the less value my life had. I mean, I was a liability knowing those things, not an asset. It was to his benefit to end me, not keep me. I realized after only a few months that the only reason he really had for keeping me alive was the hassle of training someone else to do the running for him."

  She looked down at her hands. "So I did what he told me, and couldn't find any way out of it," she said, and took a drink of her beer. Elias noticed that her hand was shaking badly.

  "Like I said, it was just him at first, and then Mr. Stewart would come over sometimes and they would both use me. It wasn't sex. They used me. Just used me. They didn't care about me at all. I wasn't even a person to them. Just a pussy, an ass, and some tits. A month later Tomas began giving me to other men. Business partners, and some of his cop friends. They would come over for poker, or drinks, and he would have me in lingerie if he was feeling good, just naked if he wasn't. Five, sometimes six of them would have me throughout the night. Anyone who wanted me would just take my arm while I was walking through the room serving them drinks, and take me back to the bedroom or just bend me over the table right there in front of the others. There were no rules, no boundaries, and I was never asked or given a choice about what they did to me. They just did what they wanted and didn't care if I screamed or was in pain or anything. "I didn't dare object either. I was already shown what would happen to me if I did.

  "After that, it just got worse. Anyone who knew Tomas began learning I was fair game. I would make a run for him, and the buyer I met up with would fuck me in his car or against a wall in his office. They didn't even ask or anything. They just pulled up my skirt, pressed me against a wall and fucked me until they were done. Sometimes one of them would decide to keep me for a while, and pass me around to his friends. The first time that happened I thought Tomas would get mad at him, but he didn't. He didn't care at all. All he cared about was that I made the delivery. What happened to me after that wasn't important."

  She continued to talk, spilling out forms of humiliation and degradation Elias couldn't fathom. Men, groups of men, women, acts of entertainment, forced lesbian shows, bondage, whippings—the acts continued to grow worse, and Elias found his patience with the world in general growing very thin.

  She talked for more than an hour. Sometimes she would give details, sometimes she would pass over things, but at those moments he was nearly grateful that she didn't tell him. His fury was boiling inside of him like never before, and genocide was starting to sound like a good idea.

  Her voice was monotone after fifteen minutes, and then just dead after that. Near the end of her monologue she began playing with her hair, and then running her fingers through the long strands and sniffing at it.

  "That's what I became," she finally said at the end of her speech, and then added, "I'll get my things out of the bathroom and go to my room now."

  He looked down at her. "Why?"

  She froze and then stared back up at him. "Aren't you going to let me stay here at least?" she asked with a shaking voice and tears in her eyes.

  Then it clicked inside Elias' mind. To her the only options for him at this point was to throw her out, or let her live in the guest room. Being with him now simply wasn't a reasonable choice for him to make.

  Then her eyes went a little blank. "I'm sorry that my hair smells. I can't seem to get it clean. I've tried everything. Shampoo, soap, dish soap, laundry soap. I can't get the smell out."

  "Chelsea?" he asked gently.

  "He just shot her, you know. She wasn't doing it right. He made me finish him off. I do it right. I felt the splatter on me, but I didn't think it was so bad until I looked in the mirror," she told him. Then she added, "Sorry about the smell. I can't seem to get my hair clean. I should get my things now."

  "I want you to stay Chelsea," he told her softly.

  "Alright, I'll be in the bedroom when you need me."

  "No, baby, I want you to stay here."

  She shook her head slowly. "I can't get the smell out of my hair."

  Elias spent enough time in Afghanistan to know the signs of PTSD when they were as obvious as this. "Just stay here for a little longer, then you can go, alright? I'll help you get your hair clean."

  She nodded, her voice distant. "He just shot her. Just shot her."

  Elias reached over and picked up his cell phone and thumbed up Doc's number. After two rings Doc picked up. "Doc? I need you. It's Chelsea. She's having a break down. PTSD. Can you come?"

  "On my way. John will give me a ride," she told him without hesitation.

  "Good. You better bring Larry, too. He'll probably need to know about this."

  "Will do," Doc said, and hung up.

  "She wasn't doing it right, so he shot her," Chelsea said. "You have to use your tongue or it’s not right. I should go now."

  "No baby, you should stay with me just a little longer. Hang in there for me Chelsea, I'm here. I'll take care of you."

  "Do you need a blowjob?"

  "Not right now."

  "Alright. I can't get the smell out of my hair."

  She cycled through the same thoughts over and over, about her hair, someone getting shot, asking if he needed a blowjob, and then would come back around to telling him she should go to her room now. He was near tears from frustration by the time Doc, John, and Larry came into the room. She didn't seem to realize they were there. Her eyes were dead, unfocused, and her voice a wavering monotone.

  Doc came to the bed, telling the men to wait out in the living room. She had a bag with her. She took Chelsea's pulse, felt her head, and then with a small flashlight checked her pupil response. "How long has she been like this?"

  "About fifteen minutes before I called you, she fell into this state." Elias reported.

  "Good; I'm glad you called so quickly. She's got it bad. I'm going to have to give her something to get her to sleep."

  "I should go to my room now," Chelsea said to her. "I can sleep in there. I'm fine. Do you need something?"

  "No Chelsea, I'm fine," Doc told her.

  "I can do women you know. It's okay," Chelsea assured her.

  "I'm fine, Chelsea," she said, as she fixed up a needle. "What brought this on, Elias?"

  "She was telling me about her life with Tomas. God, Mary, she's been through some serious hell," Elias told her.

  "We'll talk out in the living room, then. Let's get her some sleep. Physically, she's alright. I'll stay here tonight. If she wakes up like this, we'll have to admit her to the hospital," Doc told him, and then added, "You know, she is far enough gone that she may not come out of this soon. Could be several weeks. I believe you when you say she's been through hell."

  "I can't get the smell out of my hair," Chelsea said, running her fingers through the strands.

  "It's alright, darling. I'm going to give you a shot now, and then we're going to put you to bed. Just get some sleep. We'll take care of you."

  "Do you need a blowjob?"

  Doc put the needle in, and plunged. Chelsea's eyes flickered for a moment, and then her body went slack.

  "I can't get the smell…" she said in a tired voice, and then she was out.

  Elias eased himself out of bed and laid her down, covering her with blankets. Doc watched, checked Chelsea's pulse, and then followed him out of the room.

  In the living room Larry was pacing, and John was sipping on a beer. The big man looked worried. Both of them turned as Elias and Doc joined them.

  "How is she?" Larry asked.

  "Not
good. Definitely a PTSD meltdown." She turned to Elias. "Get yourself comfortable, big guy. You have a story to tell."

  Elias nodded, and then walked to the kitchen and got a fresh beer. After some thought, he poured himself a double whiskey and downed that before he came back to the living room.

  Elias told them Chelsea's story. The three of his guests listened, with varying degrees of awe, horror, and rage in their eyes.

  "I think, when she told me that she had no doubt that Tomas would kill her, that what really happened was that he killed another girl right in front of her."