Concealed Force

Chapter 19

Laura was glad that Alyssa waited until well past noon to pick her up, and that there was apparently no point in doing a laundry round as almost everyone was out. Reid had left at lunchtime with most of the men, and the courtyard was nearly empty of bikes. So Laura and Alyssa went to the kitchen instead, which was a huge, high trailer parked against the barbed-wire fence.

She needed time to recover a little, as she was sore all over. Where her legs had been pressed apart, where Reid had sucked on the skin of her neck and breasts, and of course the area between her legs was tender. He'd said he was scared of hurting her, and she supposed he'd been right to be worried. But it was a glorious kind of hurt, and she savored every mark, every memory.

Reid had woken her in the night, pressing kisses along her spine, apologizing for not being able to let her sleep. And he'd taken her like that, on her stomach, cheek pressed to the bed, working his fingers under her hip, until his hand was wedged under her, making lazy circles on her clit. She'd come, screaming his name into the pillow.

"Brownies," Alyssa said now. "That's what we should make. The boys'll be needing some comfort food when they get back."

She found bowls and scales and began measuring out the flour, chatting while she worked. There was something big happening today, something which required a sugar hit. She seemed to have a good idea of the club's schedule and Laura was interested to know who kept her informed.

"You pick stuff up," Alyssa said. "They're not as good at keeping secrets as they think. That meth lab they've got locked down? All the girls know where it is, or at least which direction."

"Oh yeah?" Laura said, pretending to be busy greasing the baking trays. "What do they say, then?"

"Oh, you know..." she put on a gruff voice. "Heading out east. Heading to the turnpike..."

Laura laughed at the impression and left it at that, knowing that to push for any more information would make her nosy in Alyssa's eyes. And she didn't want to spoil this. It was fun baking together, like real friends; Alyssa dabbing melted chocolate on Laura's nose and laughing till she cried. Laura throwing flour at her in retaliation till the air was powdery. They'd just taken a third batch of brownies out of the oven when there was a shout.

The sun had gone down and the lights of bikes and SUVs blinded Laura briefly as they swung through the gates. Laura finished cutting up the cooling brownies and arranged them in plastic boxes, half aware of the noise in the courtyard: men shouting to each other, someone being summoned and directed. She listened for Reid's voice, feeling a fluttering in her belly at the idea of him.

"Girls?" A wild-haired biker called. "Get these cleaned up." He dropped a few bags of clothes at the trailer steps, and she and Alyssa left the brownies on the serving hatch and dragged the bags over to the laundry room.

"Holy shit," Laura said, opening one of the bags. "Blood." There were jeans, t-shirts, underwear, all sodden, or crusting with dark red and rusty marks. There was a meaty smell of iron that turned her stomach.

Alyssa looked up. "Must have been a big fight."

"Fight?"

"They thought it might come to that."

Laura stared at her. A fight. Reid had been in a fight, one that had left the clothes bloody enough that they were just a lump of red fabric. And he hadn't said anything, hadn't warned her.

"So are these... whose clothes are these?"

A shrug. "Whoever was in the fight. Our guys."

"But is it their blood, or other people's?"