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Chapter Text

The Southern sun had begun to be devoured by the yellow sand of the New Mexico desert, and seemed to transfer the heat of its surface with it, hot on your bare feet. You practically danced your way into the Caledonia manor, arms and back aching from the heavy load you held over your shoulders. In your desperation for relief, you dropped the haul onto the hardwood manor floor, metal rattling from inside the crate. Hopefully everything was still intact.

Six months ago, you could have never imagined the position you were in. Life had been so different. You and your friends didn’t have a care in the world, just living by the little money you had earned from your part time jobs and odd gigs here and there. But you were used to living on so little money, it’s all you’d ever known. The company was good and the food even better, you were content. Still, you had an obligation to your family, who lived so many miles away. They needed the money, your poor grandparents who had recently became empty-nesters after having lived so long in the house you and your brother were raised in. They were far too old to work out in the fields but what little money they had was running dry and they had to sustain themselves.

Your grandfather wrote you, said he was going to have to find himself a job. The work in your little village was not suited for a man his age, and lord knows your grandparents didn’t have the heart to move into the big city, either. You had a duty, to repay the love and support they had given to you as a child and this was your chance to make good on said duty. So, when the opportunity came to you to move to America, you had eagerly taken it without a second thought. Your English certainly wasn’t the best out of your peers, but you were resourceful, had a resume that proved your work ethic, and were confident any money you made from working in America would see a return tenfold in the hands of your grandparents.

But the American Dream had long since been an illusion by the time you stepped onto the soil of the New West, however inviting it seemed. It was a region thirsty to revive the old, simple ways, but still felt fresh and new. It lacked the complexities of city life you had come to dread and embraced the communal culture you were so familiar with. It seemed the perfect place to settle, if only it had been as easy as you hoped.

Though you were dedicated to learning English, it didn’t come as easy as the other languages you were able to pick up before. It was so unlike your mother tongue, and most words were too foreign for your lips to make sense of. To make matters worse, your resume didn’t seem to impress most who came across it. The only jobs you were able to get were just as menial as the ones you had left behind. They paid better, still, and they money you earned was just enough for your grandparents to live on, but you spent many nights without food in your belly.

Fate was on your side, it seemed, when you managed to land a position at the Route 66 Diner. On the surface, it seemed like just another dead-end job and the only reason you had taken it up was out of pure convenience since it was so close to the little basement you had been living out of. Little did you know, all of the big names in town frequented the little diner while passing through the highway.

The New West was brimming with outlaws, country folk, statesmen, lawyers, and lawmen alike. Each and every one of them looking to make a name for themselves. Most failed miserably in their endeavors, but the few that succeeded came from humble beginnings. And none were too big for their britches to deny that the Route 66 Diner had the best apple pie in all the Southern United States - which was practically the only place in the world. It was the setting of many a celebration and much needed reprieve. And the sight of a pretty new face in town serving a delicious slice of apple pie was enough to get people talking. You were starting to build a reputation in town. It was not the kind of attention you were used to, Americans were far too brazen in their compliments and always wanted to pull you aside for what seemed like some unsavory affair, but you were able to maintain a professional yet accessible distance. This was exactly the opportunity you needed to begin your career in America.

That’s how you met Ashe. She was eye-catching, seemed so out of place among a group of rugged, rowdy men who downed burger after burger. But she sat pointed away from them, head in hand with a contemplative look. Dressed proper, in a tailored vest and ironed collar shirt, what as the hair on her head. A stark contrast to the deep blood red of her eyes. She hadn’t ordered anything, didn’t say a word to you. In fact, you were sure she hadn’t even looked your way. Yet after that day, you began to see much more of her. Drank her coffee black and would sometimes indulge in a slice of pie.

“Rough day, huh?” you smiled at her. She ordered her pie à la mode.

She sipped her coffee, brought a bite of pie to her mouth, “Ain’t no rest for the wicked.”

“You don’t seem so wicked,” you jest, but the awkward chuckle you return betrays you.

“You reckon that ‘cause I’m a lady?” she lifted one side of your mouth in a sly smile. Her voice was sultry, smooth as silk and flowed like water.

“I don’t know, it’s just hard to picture you so wicked with your fondness for sweets,” you were nervous, couldn’t help how wide your smile had gotten or the rose that bloomed on your cheeks. Yes, you could tell that she was dangerous, it was why you were so anxious around her. But there was a flutter in your chest when you looked at her. She was beautiful, strikingly so, and intimidating for it.

“You from ‘round here?” she puts down her fork and sat back, looking right into you when you shook your head, “Figured as much on account of…well, you don’t strike me as a local. Where ya from?”

“Oh,” you didn’t know if you should take her words as a compliment or not, “somewhere far from town. Just moved here not so long ago.”

She hummed and drew a low, “Welcome to Deadlock country,” seemingly to herself. Whatever she meant must’ve amused her, she took a moment to chuckle to herself.

Conversation died after that, but you were content in the silence. Glad to no longer have to entertain the small talk or flirtatious courtesies so expected of you. And as your shift continued, you had forgotten about your brief conversation with the silver haired cowgirl.

Your pay was decent, you hardly ever went to bed hungry and your grandparents were in a better state. They wrote you from time to time, always reminding you of how small their world was. Most places outside you little villages didn’t even own a mailbox these days. Your grandparents were not only old-fashioned, but too stubborn to even try to work a phone much less a computer. You were happy to hear from them, regardless. There’s something special about a handwritten letter from a loved one that had always managed to lift your spirits. Especially when enclosed were loaded praises over your filial piety and no longer any dreadful talk of work that always wrenched your heart.

It was the only thing you had to look forward to these days. Your socialization was limited to brief interactions with your landlord and chit chatting with waitresses on your meal breaks. To make matters worse, your gig at the Route 66 diner was starting to erode at your mental and physical well-being. Lugging around large platters with heaps of plates, filled to their brims with slabs of meat, pies, pancakes, waffles, and whatever other orders came through was beginning to exhaust your body. Worst part was, there was no running to and fro, no, you had to keep the diner from erupting into chaos and maintain an even yet swift pace. Terrible as it was, you could certainly manage that, and though the lifting was laborious, there weren’t many other jobs you could take up that were any less labor intensive. But there was one thing you could hardly stand to bare anymore, and that was the incessantly entitled patrons.

They couldn’t seem to keep a hand to themselves. What kind of mothers did they have? Raising these men no better than pigs the way they indulged endlessly their insatiable appetites. Waitresses were often seen on the laps and flirting with favored customers. Others would maintain a respectable yet tempting distance in an effort to entice them to keep coming back. That was not the kind of attitude you intended to extend. You tried, you really did, to set your own boundaries, keep conversation formal but friendly, give nothing more than a bashful blush to any suggestive remarks. But you felt a hand on your waist. And you snapped.

“Excuse me, sir, please don’t touch me,” you slide the platter, still littered with plates, onto the table and slapped the wrist of the man who seemed determined not to heed your request.

“C’mon, don’t gotta be shy with me!” he insisted, his greased, blond moustache covered his upper lip when he drew you a sly smile, “I’m a good payin’ customer as well as any man here. Don’t I deserve somethin’ for my loyalties?”

His table hooped and hollered with excitement but you were none too thrilled. You grabbed onto his wrist, and laid firm, “Get your goddamn sausage fingers off me, old man, or we’re going to have a problem.“

The words didn’t sound like yours when they left your lips, and a deeper part of you was appalled at having spoken to someone older to you so rudely. Only a month ago, you couldn’t even imagine speaking to anyone with any such words or nasty tone. But your coworkers and peers in America had taught you that you wouldn’t get through to anyone with a timid attitude, especially not with men like this. So you took note of how they spoke to unwanted attention and parroted it with little accuracy in pronunciation but just enough gusto to get the point across.

“Like it rough, do ya?” he grabbed your wrist, held it above your head, “think I should teach ya a lesson in manners, since you’re new here an’ all.”

You twist and writhe to release yourself from his grip, but no amount of struggling seemed to set you free. You could feel everyone’s eyes on you now, the air was thick and quiet, patrons anticipating the next move and staff staring in awe waiting for someone to interrupt. This guy must’ve liked the attention, you could tell by the way he was smiling at you, enjoying this display of power. There was no way in hell you were going to let him keep that smug grin of his without a price. You weren’t sure where you learned to do this, but instinct took a hold of you when you sent your heel directly into his shin. It must’ve hurt, he hissed and that smirk of his was wiped clean off, replaced with a predatory snarl. Like he was going to tear you apart right then and there.

And he certainly tried. He grabbed you by a fistful of hair and slammed your forehead into the glossy table, plates and silverware banging and jumping about. The blow rattled in your head and your ears rang from the pain. Hot blood rolled down your brow, you couldn’t hear yourself panting, but could feel your heaving chest. You could feel his presence behind you, with blind instinct, you struck his soft belly with your elbow with as much force your body could muster. A mist of spit or blood, perhaps a mixture of both, sprayed your back and you staggered yourself away from the table. Wanting to stop the bleeding from your forehead, you pressed your hand against the fresh wound.

The man lay on the floor, groaning. He was a lot weaker than you had expected him to be. Or maybe you were stronger than you thought. His arm swung suddenly to grab your ankle, but you were able to dodge him, though almost falling to the floor. Instead, another much stronger set of hands held onto your shoulders and pulled you away from the commotion.

“You out your goddamn mind, kid?!” Oh god, you’d really done it now. You could recognize that voice anywhere. Mr. Butler was the only yankee in town, as they called him, hailing from Northern New York and whose voice was distinctly different from everyone else you had met. He had hired you out of the generous virtue of his kind heart, seeing as you were brand new to the area with barely any sense to you. And he had made it clear in less than charming words that he found you pretty enough to work at his diner.

You were still trying to get your wits about you, could hardly comprehend what was happening or gain a clear image of your surroundings. All you saw were the open mouthes of girls and boys in tight fitting white and red uniforms and the sound of laughter and appealed gasps of seated gentlemen and ladies. Everything was still blurred, like you were dreaming. Much to your misfortune, that wasn’t the case, and before you knew it, you were sitting across your employer with his large brows knitted together in anger.

“I offered you this opportunity because I thought you were a good kid. Seemed to have a good head on your shoulders, and a pretty face to beat. But now look at you! Can barely stand to look at that ugly knot on your head. Not to mention all the trouble you’ve caused in my joint. No, I’ve had too many complaints about you mistreating my customers. You know that Mr. Harvey has been nothing but a loyal customer to us, and he’s a good man. No, this behavior is not the kind I endorse, we treat people right here and we don’t say anything but ‘yes’ or ‘thank you’ to the folks patronizing our business,” his words fazed in and out of your head, but it was clear to see where he was going with this.

You droned out the rest of his lecturing and were soon thrown out of the diner, told not to bother coming back and tossed your wallet and jacket with not another word. The pounding in your head didn’t quit, there was nothing else going on in your mind but the impulse to drink some water. But christ, you were in the middle of a desert, having just been thrown of the the only hospitable place in miles. And you felt your legs weaken, knees give in as you fell to the dusty linoleum flooring. You leaned your head against a metal railing, closed your eyes, pressed your jacket over your wound. The desert air was hot, made it hard to breath when you were already struggling, and you could feel your already tight uniform sticking to your skin. It felt like it was becoming part of you. In a way, it already had. Ever since you had taken that job, you reeked of grease and sweat. It seemed like that was all you were in that moment, just a pile of fluids.

“Hey!” a shrill sound, seemingly from miles away.

“Hey, kid,” another voice, booming and echoing in your head. Hey, kid, hey, kid, hey, kid…

Then, you were drowning, if only for a second, in an ice-cold splash. You heart picked you up and your eyes hurried open.

Ruby-red eyes met yours, and lips just as red lifted into a smile, “Rough day, huh?”

Another touch from a large, gloved hand reached for you, told you to get up. But you had to sit and stare at her for a while before attempting to lift yourself with the help of the metal railing. The man gave you a bottle of water, half empty, probably as a result of trying to rouse your consciousness. After one sip, you felt like it had taken away all of the moisture in your mouth. You downed the rest of the water, choking and gagging like a fish out of water.

“Christ, kid, take it easy,” he said, “Lookin’ like you’re drinking from a keg!”

He had a laugh at that but the woman was not amused. She brought a soft, silk handkerchief over the wound on your forehead, “You’re bleeding quick. Lee, taken ‘em back to the manor with me. If we don’t patch his head up, he’s liable to bleed out.”

Your eyes stung but you swallowed your tears. There’s no way in hell you were going to die here, not by the hands of some asshole who can’t keep his hands to himself, “Please, if you can help me, I’ll owe you my life.”

“Ain’t we got enough of these life pacts? C’mon Ashe, I’m starved and I been dyin’ to see Isabel all week!” Isabel, you knew her. She worked a few night shifts with you and was often called for by name. She was sweet and tended not to lean too much into flirtation, like a proper lady. Assuming you were going by the metrics established by the American South seemingly at random. It was her that taught you so much you needed to know about not only your job, but life in America in general.

“I-I know her. Isabel is my friend,” Was she? She was nice enough to say ‘hi’ to you in passing, but she was nice to everyone. You couldn’t really say that with confidence but this gentlemen didn’t really seem to care. The sound of her name was enough to capture his attention.

“‘Sat right? She ever talk about me?” my God he was like a puppy, but he certainly wasn’t the only one caught under her spell.

“Get your shit together, Lee. Gotta prove to your lady that you’re a good man, don’t ya?” she knew just how to play him, he was now eager to nurse you to safety as he hastily lifted you into his arms far too fast for your head to catch up. You would be embarrassed if you weren’t so desperate. He smelled like a bonfire with far too much bacon.

“Alright, kid, don’t worry. We’re gonna get you fixed up and ‘fore you know it, headin’ back here in no time!” you almost felt bad for him, having tricked him. He seemed like a big brute with a heart of gold in some places, if not a little dense for it.

It was your first time riding on a motorcycle and it was awful. Though the wind felt nice in the desert heat, the bike was far too fast for you to enjoy it without the rough winds beating against your skin. And you were already so anxious, being exposed like this at such high speeds seemed like a death wise. Like at any second a misplaced pebble could throw you off your seat and smash you into smithereens. And the thing roared like a beast, like a lion in an empty tunnel. This man seemed to love the sound, would gladly enable it any chance he’d get. You wouldn’t be surprised if he owned an album of “motorcycle ambiance” and played it as white noise while he slept.

As soon as the bike stilled, you pushed yourself off, shoving the man who rescued you into the dashboard, and vomited whatever little food you had in you. It was repulsive to any onlooker, but very cathartic.

“Get him inside,” you heard the woman order, and you were dragged by the fabric of your shirt into a large, wooded house. You didn’t see much of it, but it was so wide it seemed to stretch as far as the horizon.

The air was cool, floors polished and reflected the orange glow of chandeliers that hung from a ceiling that that must’ve been 10 meters tall.

You were rushed onto a cool, leather couch, the white haired woman sat by your side and examined your head again, “Took a mighty hit.”

Something wet made contact with the wound, assumably alcohol from the intense sting that made you cry out in pain, “Would you believe me if I said I won the fight?”

She laughed, gently patting around the rest of your injury, “Trust me, I’ve seen much worse than this.”

“I’m staved, Ashe. What we got to eat?” Spurs jingled as he paced around like a bored child.

“Ain’t I told you already? We ain’t got nothin’ here, not since Pitty up and left. Why you think we was goin’ to the diner, meathead.”

“Not so hard, please,” you say just above a whisper as she continued to mend your wound.

“Told you we shoulda just ate while we was there,” he mumbled.

“Go fix somethin’ up, you ain’t the only one hungry, you know. Bet you worked up an appetite, didn’t you?” she chuckled, wrapping a bandage around your head.

“Don’t know how to cook nothin’.”

“Well figure it out!” you jumped, she shushed you and pat your head, “S’alright, just settle.”

“Thank you for helping me, I don’t know what I’d do without your help,” you confess, looking towards the gentlemen to extend your gratitude. He wasn’t interested, intent on heading to the kitchen and fixing himself a meal.

“No need for any thanks. I’m sure you’ve got ways for payin’ me back for my kindness don’t you, sugar?” she gave you a smile that sent a shiver down your spine and pinched your cheek affectionately. You weren’t exactly sure what she was implying, but it unsettled you.

“Is your name really Ashe or is it just a nickname?” She had wrapped a bandage around your head that covered your wound and you must’ve looked like an idiot.

“Just a nickname, I guess. Don’t really go by anything else, though.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Ashe,” she didn’t seem to be interested in the pleasantries, instead lifted you off of the couch and led you into a wide dinning room. It was massive, glowing bright from the sunset that illuminated the room through a window three times taller than you were. You could stare at it forever, the way the scarlet bleed into a honey-colored sky that fell onto the crimson sand. It was so close, like you could touch it, like it was yours. Must be nice to live in a house like this.

Lee was a terrible cook. He made some sort of rice dish with tomatoes, eggs, and carrots. There was no seasoning beside a heavy amount of chili powder and black pepper. The carrots were firm and tasted like they had just come from the dirt. Chances were high that he didn’t even bother to clean them. But he was good company and told you about his one true love and how he was going to win her heart. Poor thing, if only he knew how many men were in his place and how little Isabel really cared for each of them. She was a woman that only belonged to herself and only cared for a man so long as they tipped well. But you were in no place to break his heart, so you indulged him until the sun set and the desert sand was black.

“You’re a long way from winning anyone’s heart serving meals like this,” Ashe sorted through her pile of rice, which was somehow both dry as a bone and far too moist.

“Well I ain’t no lady, my place is out there in the dirt and my girl oughta be back home sittin’ pretty,” he certainly had an image in his head.

“Thank you for the meal, Mr. Lee,” at least he cooked you a free meal, “I should be going soon, though. I’ve got some business to take care of.”

By business you meant going through the painful process of job hunting and breaking the news to your poor grandparents that the money wouldn’t be coming in like it used to. You were dreading it but the sooner you got to it, the sooner you’d be employed again.

“And how do you expect to be gettin’ home?” Ashe crossed her arms.

“Oh, if it’s any trouble I don’t mind to walk,” she fixed you up well and after eating you had enough fuel to take the trip.

“This ain’t none of my business…” Lee groaned as he stood and made his way out. The hair on the back of your neck stood up, like your body was preparing you for something. But you shouldn’t have been at ease in the house of the pair that had dressed your wounds and feed you a warm meal.

“Don’t reckon we’re done yet, I’m afraid. I told you I expect you to repay my kindness,” Ashe was looking into your eyes, but it was hard for you to maintain her gaze.

“Yes, yes, of course,” you knew healthcare in America would cost the same arm and leg that it had been tasked to heal and were apprehensive to image what it would cost you at the hands of a stranger, “I’m a hard worker, I can do just about anything you ask.”

“That right?” you seemed the catch her interest, she propped her boots on the table and lifted the brim of her hat.

“Yes, I’ve done farm work before so I can do heavy lifting and the like. I’m flexible, can fit into a lot of small places. I’m good with animals and kids like me, old people, too. Um, I’m pretty good in the kitchen, used to cook with my grandma and she’s the best cook I know-“

“What can you cook?” she asked earnestly, her face contorted in genuine concern. It was a look you’d never yet seen on her.

“Oh, plenty things. Asian food, Korean, Japanese, and Chinese cuisine. Um, I know a few Indian dishes, as well. A little bit of French. American food, of course-“

“Ain’t that funny, I’ve been lookin’ for a cook since my last one left. You’d think it’d be easy to find someone who knows their way about the kitchen, well it ain’t. Not a damn soul I know has been of any help and now we’ve been stuck cooking for ourselves. You’ve any idea how poor of cooks my men are? You’d pity me if I told you dinner tonight was the best I’ve had in weeks.”

“Well, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t be, today’s my lucky day. Found myself a cute little thing to fill up the spot,” she seemed very pleased, her feet swaying side to side in excitement, “What kinda pay you lookin’ for?”

“Pay?” you didn’t expect her to say that considering it seemed she wanted to solicit you for nothing at all.

“Yes, pay. Unless you’d rather I pay you nothin’ at all. Fine by me, saves a lot of trouble.”

“No, no,” you almost shout, your body sitting up trying to reclaim your words, “I’m just surprised, I thought you were going to suggest I do this to repay my debt to you.”

“Oh, of course, you still owe me a great debt. But I don’t intent to cash out on it yet. I can pay you triple of what that run-down grease shack you been workin’ at’s been payin’ ya. Along with room and board. And some new clothes. That jacket of yours is all dirty now, covered in blood after that little tussle.”

That jacket was one of the few things you had brought with you all the way from your little village. One of the few articles of clothing from your childhood that still fit you. It was apart of you.

“Please, let me keep the jacket.”

Ashe laughed, slapped her knee in amusement, “That’s what you took from all what I said? Christ, kid, we got a deal or not?”

“Yes!” you perked up in your seat, more than eager to take her up on the offer, “I will serve you to my best ability. Trust me, Ashe, I won’t disappoint you.”

It was the first time you had said her name and it had come out so naturally in your new-found confidence. Still, you had some apprehension concerning whatever Ashe might’ve had planned for you to repay your debt to her, but at least you could spare you grandparents any bad news. In fact, they would be thrilled to see more money coming in. What position were you in to decline this opportunity?

No longer did you have to deal with groping, sloppy men who looked at you the same they looked at a piece of meat. Ashe seemed to care, she nursed you and dressed your wounds. Sure, she has a clandestine way about her, but she was just a product of her environment. Any woman would have to be jaded and tougher than leather living in a place like this. Perhaps there was a lot more to learn from her than there ever was in the greasy kitchen of the Route 66 diner.

Chapter Text

When you discovered you were working for the Deadlock Gang, you didn’t quite know how to react. You’d heard about them, vigilantes of the gorge that revived the Wild West of old, stole from the rich and gave to the poor. But you never imagined you’d be working under them.

Yet, they didn’t seem like gangsters, they had always been so nice and never expected anything from you except to provide them with a good meal. You’d gotten to know them well after only a few months of having worked there. Lee and Ashe were practically inseparable, she would bark out orders and he would be the one to see them through. They reminded you of the relationship you had with your older brother, the way you would follow in his lead. It was something you cherished but was now long gone. In a way, Lee had filled that role for you, called you ‘brother’ instead of ‘kid’ once Ashe announced to the gang that you were part of the family.

Then you met the rest of the crew. Russel was closer to your age and always itching for a fight. He was hardly at the manor, called himself a ‘man of action’. But he’d always stop by for supper when the time came. Much to your dismay, he didn’t have many manners and would often chat with his mouth full of food. Still, you’d gotten along well with him and it was nice having someone around that you could see as a peer.

Luis and Russel were two peas in a pod and they’d often ride out together. He was the cool head that soothed Russel’s fire and had a voice that could calm a wild bull. Her often seduce you with some elaborate story that had you on the edge of your seat, partially because you’d have to lean in to hear him. Much like you, America hadn’t been his first home and you could relate to having to adjust to such a strange country.

And you met Laney, who saw to the pigs, cattle, and sheep at the ranch. A sweet girl with a missing tooth yet she still had the loveliest smile. You alway were sure to bring her an apple from the pantry to feed to some lucky horse. And Mike, a skilled mechanic but lazy as a panda who often spent his time sleeping in the sunroom after having drank too much beer. Then there was Jaime, who had the most beautiful face you’d ever seen on a man and who Lee despised for flirting with Isabel too much. But that was just his personality, it seemed, as he never spared you a conversation without some indecent remark.

There were plenty more Deadlock affiliates who made their way through the manor. The list seemed endless, but you were still closest to Ashe. She oversaw everything in the house, and whenever you weren’t busy in the kitchen, you were her personal assistant, running errands for her. More accurately, you were her personal butler, serving her tea, lighting her cigarette, messaging her shoulders whenever she was too tense.

It wasn’t so bad and it was a nice break from the kitchen heat, but you enjoyed your time with her most when she would have you take notes for her. She would lounge back in her large leather chair, the cigarette between her lips bobbing up and down as she orated her thoughts. Usually talking about the gang’s next hit, who would be best suited to go and what methods were best to preform the operation. She’d state her concerns over rival gangs and troublesome lawmen who couldn’t be paid to keep their noses clean. You learned a lot from being her note keeper, though you still carried concerns about being a criminal accomplice. The two of you had a brief conversation that did little to soothe your thoughts.

“Best get used to it. More folk than none out in this side of the country are part of some kinda gang. But Deadlock’s been reigning for longer than any of ‘em, and you’re in good hands,” it was a half-hearted attempt to reassure you.

“You don’t understand,” you pleaded, “I’m here on a work visa, it doesn’t take much for me to be deported. If anyone catches wind that I’m…working at a place like this, I could risk my life in the States.”

It wouldn’t be so appalling if the money wasn’t so good.

“Trust me, honey, you’ve nothing to worry about. If anything, we’ll just say you’re here against your will. That’ll get you off with nothin’ to your record.”

It could work, maybe. But you didn’t know the law, didn’t even know where to even start looking for any legal guidance. Even in the comfort of the lavish bedroom you were staying in, the thought that you might be caught in some criminal case kept you awake. Ashe could sense you’d been through a few sleepless nights, and explained to you exactly how you’d be protected by the law. The key to being considered an accomplice is proving that you had knowledge of the crime. Which you did, you were very well aware by now. But she had a few tricks up her sleeve to play the law in her favor.

“You ain’t ever gonna step foot on a crime scene. You’ll stay here, keep your head down, you’ll be fine. It’ll be damn near impossible to prove you’re an accessory to anything if you keep like that.”

It made sense, especially when she explained it to you. They’re looking for Jesse James, not Jesse James’ shoe shiner. So the nights weren’t so sleepless after that, rather you spent them wondering about the future. Looking at the new money in your bank account. It started with $20, then $50, then $100. Just looking at the number consistently rising made your heart swell. You’d never been thirsty for money, hadn’t even had the opportunity to develop a greedy bone in your body, but the security of having something for a rainy day was a breath of fresh air. And you particularly enjoyed sleeping on a mattress with freshly cleaned linens.

You were exposed to so many luxuries while working for Deadlock and pampered like a sacred cow. The room you stayed in was as large as the home you were raised in, fitted with a large wooden dressers and a delicate ivory vanity that seemed much to effeminate for your tastes but beautiful nonetheless. And the bed was wonderful, topped with a billowing maroon comforter and black velvet sheets. The pillows were a bit stiff but decorated with ornately weaved patterns. You’d never seen a more gorgeous thing in your life.

Ashe had bought you a whole wardrobe, too, had fit the clothes exactly to your sizing. The process was uncomfortable, to say the least. When she ordered you to take off your clothes, you were too stunned to do anything but stare at her abashedly, not wanting to disappoint but not wanting to comply.

“Lord, you think I’m some kinda pervert?” she laughed, waving a hand in front of her face in amusement, “C’mon, I gotta get your measurements so I can get you dressed in some proper clothes.”

The thought of removing your bloodied diner uniform and potentially cleansing yourself from its greasy odor was freeing, and you happily obliged her. The cool material of a measuring tape wrapped around your bare waist, Ashe’s fingers poking in and out of the space between your skin and the tape. She had long, manicured fingernails that would poke you now and then, but they were curved so gently as to not leave a scratch.

Feeling her warm touch against your bare skin was a strange, foreign feeling that you hadn’t experienced since your own mother had dressed you as a child. You felt exposed, though you allowed her permission to your body, this was the most vulnerable you’d been with a stranger in your life. Whenever her hands would drift near, you felt some invisible pressure moving you away. It had taken you a bit to still, and even when you did, her touch would tickle you and make you squirm.

“Sorry,” you spoke in a whisper.

“S’alright. Not used to being touched like this, are ya?” she looked up at you from a seated position while she was measuring the length of your legs. Looking her in the eyes was a struggle and her gaze pierced right through you.

“No, not at all,” something between a chuckle and a heavy breath escaped your lips, “I appreciate all that you’re doing for me, I’ve never been treated so well.”

“Of course, honey,” the tape whipped back into the roll, snapping once it was completely inside, “You’re part of the family now.”

Right, they were a family. Not the kind of family you were familiar with, something more loose and undefined. So much so that you were able to become a part of it just by a chance encounter and crew deprived of proper food.

It had taken you some time to identify with Ashe’s idea of family. During the first couple months of your employment, you kept your head down and retreated into your work, just as she asked. But it was hard to deny Laney’s toothy grin and Russel’s enthusiasm. Not to mention that the gang had a big score coming up, and that seemed to unite everyone in the prospect of success.

Laney was packing away some butchered meats in the walk-in freezer, dreaming aloud about what she was going to buy if Ashe allotted her some funds from the job. She had her sights set on some fancy new yard equipment that looked closer to an airplane than a wheelbarrow. And you could overhear Russel and Luis debating while they browsing a catalog of guns and knives which ones belonged to who. Jaime even asked if you’d consider joining him for dinner if he could take you somewhere worth your time, whatever that meant.

For the occasion, Ashe and Lee were often meeting with each other at her office, and you were there jotting down notes as they planned their next moves. There was one night in particular during one of those evenings that couldn’t escape your mind no matter how hard you tried to forget it. It had been a particularly tense night, you were surprised that Lee left the office alive by the end of it. Ashe had been arguing that the group of men he chose for the ride weren’t suitable for the job, they were too reckless and never listened to a single command. But Lee insisted they were experienced enough to be trusted to work on their own. They’d been doing rides like this for years and had train robbing down to a science. Ashe wasn’t having any of it.

“Can’t put my trust in you for shit!” she yelled, “we got the whole gang’s neck on the line and you’re liable to waste it for no good reason!”

You cowered behind the safety of your notebook, Lee huffed in protest.

“There’s no sense goin’ into a heist with a bunch of headless chickens who’ve not a thought about what to do but shoot, specially not with a job big as this! Sure, I can see bringing folks like Connor and Luis along, but we got young folk like Russel who don’t got a thought in his head. I’d wager to say that’s big a risk as any.”

Ashe scoffed, lowering her voice when she spoke, “If that’s what you think of Russel, then you ain’t been paying any attention to that young man. There’s a reason he’s ridin’ in this gang with us and you know I’ve no tolerance for a man who doesn’t listen to orders. He’s a quick kid but he listens when the time calls for it.”

Lee laughed in disbelief, “C’mon, only one Russel listens to well is you, otherwise he’s wild as a bull! Listen, Ashe, you know well as I do he’s just like Cass-“

“He is not!” she jumped out of her chair, punctuated her words with a stomp on the hard, wooden floor, “I done told you I ain’t never wanna hear that name again long as I live!”

The room was quiet for a moment, tension palpable in the air and you were embarrassed to be a bystander. Lee sighed, hands slapped his knees as he stood, “Alright, let’s call it a night.”

He left the room. Ashe didn’t say anything, her jaw was tight with restrained anger. She had already been in a sour mood, but something Lee said had really provoked her, something with a history that she didn’t want to relive. You could sympathize with her in that respect, there were some things that should just stay in the past.

You put the notepad down and the flapping pages were enough for Ashe to turn her attention towards you. Her face was pink, almost red, and black streaks ran down her cheeks like ink. Your gaze met hers and you tried to let her know through that simple look that you were there with her.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she said, “like I’m some hopeless girl.”

In a way she was, and you were, too. Everyone had their own helpless girl trapped inside them. But you couldn’t say that, “I know I’m not qualified to speak on this sort of stuff,” you began softly, so as not to rouse her further, “but if it means anything, I think you’re right. About Russel. He cares and if he knows it’s best for the rest of us, he’ll listen. Lee said he’s wild, and it’s true, but he really does care.”

She looked away, hand hurriedly wiping her face, “I know the kind of people I let into this gang. Lee can’t see it, but I do. You do, too, don’t you?”

“I…” the answer was no, “I don’t have the kind of talent you do, but I trust you, Ashe. You’ve shown me nothing but kindness since I’ve been here, so I trust you.”

Her body twitched while she laughed and she smiled gleefully at you, teeth and all, she was beaming. The mascara lines that trailed down her face were smudged and left an ashy grey in their wake. She got off of the couch and made her way towards you, arms extended and inviting.

You put your hands in hers and lifted yourself from the small stool you’d been sitting on. You expected her to let go, pat you on the back, or something. You didn’t expect her hands to meet your waist and pull you closer to her so that your arms were bent upwards in an effort to separate yourself. But she was determined to keep you close, locking her hands together behind your back so the pressure kept you in place. Pushing her away would be too much, would be rude or considered overreacting. She just needed someone to console her, let her know that the future is a place you’ll reach together.

But it felt wrong being this close to her, so close you could feel the warmth radiating from her body and the sweet smell of vanilla from her perfume. Your arms were wedged between your two bodies and the position was awkward but by the way her eyes fluttered it was impossible to tell.

“Are you with me, boy?” she asked coldly, contrasting the way she was holding you.

“Yes,” you spoke with an eager conviction that was almost pathetic, “I’m with you.”

She put her lips on yours in what could hardly be called a kiss. The feeling of velvet lipstick was unpleasant and uncomfortably dry. You could smell it, the overwhelming scent of talcum powder. Your body was stiff and so were your lips but she tried to work you to relax by placing a gentle hand on the small of your back. It didn’t work. So she tried to fit her lips against yours, tilting her head and relaxing her jaw. But you didn’t want to give her access to your tongue.

Defeated, she pulled back, whispered in your ear, “Thought you was with me.”

“I am,” you sigh, swallowed, “I’m with you, I just-“

“Just not like that, huh?”

You didn’t know what to say. Ashe was beautiful, there was no denying that, and she doted on you, spoiled you. But you’d never though of her like…this. It’d been years since you’d ever even thought of this kind of intimacy with anyone and it terrified you.

“I’m sorry,” you moved your arms from their uncomfortable position and settled to wrap them around her loosely, “I’ve never done this before.”

“What?” she chuckled, “never kissed anyone before?”

A long time ago, you must’ve been 11 years old, barely even a teenager, a girl from your village asked you if you wanted to play a game. And she stole a kiss from your lips that had you so stunned you ran home crying and confessed to you mom like you’d just killed a man. That was your first kiss.

“Not like this.”

She hummed sympathetically and tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, “It’s alright, sugar.”

And two of you resigned to that. Never speaking a word of the incident. Never sent a suggestive glance or hushed voice. But you thought about it, and wondered if she thought about it, too.

The gang was getting tense in the weeks preceding the heist. Lee and Ashe were coming to some sort of compromise regarding who would be up for the task, but planning had been halted because of it and those who were coming along were cramming to prepare and those excluded were resentful for it. So you were busy trying to lift everyone’s spirits through good food.

Honestly you didn’t know what to expect with this heist business, didn’t know how likely it was for some people not to come out of it alive. Wondered if your real task was preparing a last meal for some unfortunate soul. And you were too afraid to ask.

The day of the heist was chaos. The manor sang with the ringing of spurs and heels against hardwood. And you’d never seen so many firearms in your life, you were so anxious that at any moment one could go off and send a bullet through your skull. For your own safety, you kept out of the way, resigned to observe them from the hallways and banisters.

Though you weren’t involved directly, everyone’s anxieties were high and you could feel your heart racing with theirs and your stomach doing flips. And that same bitter thought came through your head, about whose faces in the bustling crowd you may never see again. Lee, Russel, Luis, and some other familiar faces that you’d seen come and go but never stay. Even Ashe. She must’ve been on countless excursions and came back livelier than ever, but you couldn’t help your instinct to worry for her. You thought back to that night in her office, your stare fell to her lips.

“You got a feast prepared for us when we’re comin’ back?” Russel put an arm around you and squeezed your shoulder.

You smiled at him, “Sure, I think Laney caught some rats in the barn I can cook up.”

“Shit, still better that the sloop Lee was makin’ us,” he shook his head in disgust, “Is this the first time you’ve seen us head out?”

“Yea,” you nodded, “How often do you guys get together for something this big?”

“Last time was Plano. Think that was just before you came in. That’s when Prissy left, our old cook. It was messy. Some folk are still nervous ‘cause of it.”

“Really? What happened?” You’d heard about the cook that worked before you from a few anecdotes here and there. But never knew about the circumstances for her leave. From the sound of it, it must’ve been sudden.

“Weren’t there, but Lee was,” someone called his name and he gave you a curt nod before heading off.

When the gang was together, it was a sight to behold. Glossy black motorbikes reflected the sunlight, the golden Deadlock insignia shining on each and everyone of them. You recalled the night you met Ashe and rode with Lee on his bike. How dangerously fast it was and the feeling of being vulnerable to any unfortunate misstep. But seeing the smoke billowing from under the engines and the bikes roaring in unison, a curious awe overcame you. Now that you trusted the gang, maybe riding with them would be kind of fun, though horrifying. And the bikes took off one by one, like a line of ants in a sandstorm. They rode into the bursting orange of the horizon as the sun kissed the earth.

Strange to think that while you continued your daily routine at the manor that a firefight was going on not so many miles away. Your mind began to wonder about the gritty details, a thought creeped into your head, wondering if any innocent lives would be lost today. Engineers, trolley pushers, servers, passengers, anyone who could potentially interfere or would be foolish enough to try. You tried to drown out these kind of thoughts, they were much worse when you first joined the gang, still reluctant to have anything to do with the criminal business. But all the commotion brought them back to the front of your thoughts and it made you sick. The people you’d come to think of as family were all killers.

But it wasn’t fully true, people like Laney never killed, unless cattle counts and it does to some people but not to you. The gang needed that cattle to survive and in a way some people needed to die for them to survive, too. Living outside of the law required necessary evils to stay afloat. There was no point to dwell on it too much, you had a family back home to take care of and that was your priority. They had to survive just as well.

It was after midnight when the ground rumbled from the sound of engines roaring. You ran to the window of the manor like a child running down the stairs on Christmas morning. Peering through the blinds, you tried to distinguish faces through the bright headlights shrouded in the rising sand. But you couldn’t, so you counted the bikes to the best of your ability. None of it mattered when you saw clearly snow white hair and ruby red eyes.

Russel was the first to walk through the door, leaping through the doorway and pulling you into a hug. He was laughing triumphantly and it was contagious. Just outside you could hear the other men laughing, too. You told him you had to leave to prepare a meal and to tell you everything once you were at the table. It must’ve gone well.

In the kitchen, Ashe brought you up to speed. Overall, it was a bit of a mess, but Lee had brought some good men along that were smart enough to overtake the situation. You didn’t want to ask what that meant, but things turned out alright and that’s all that mattered. She promised to give you a bonus for the big meal you were preparing for so late at night and that would be great news to your grandparents.

You’d had all day to prepare a meal, and now you just had to cook the prepared food. A hearty, spicy beef curry served with sticky short-grain rice coated with the sauce. Alongside that was fried chicken and fried pork cutlets. Of course, you had to make Ashe’s favorite, sweet corn and chicken stew with biscuits tender to the touch. Then there was the dessert. Fluffy cinnamon rolls that had been proofing all throughout the day, making them perfectly springy. Buttery lemon bars with sweet citrus curd. Thick brown butter cookies packed with chocolate chips. And of course, the signature apple pie, courtesy of the Route 66 diner.

You’d grown used to carrying large platters over your shoulders by now and set the table with ease. The men were waiting just outside the kitchen, cigar smoke rolling in through the crack of the door. And when you called them in, they came through like a stampede. Must’ve worked up an appetite. Russel dragged you by the arm and sat you next to him, eager to talk your ear off.

“It was gold! Pure, raw gold. Never seen anything like it. And it looked so good you’d want to eat it, really. I dunno, something about it made me hungry,” he said in between bites of apple pie.

“They didn’t even try to follow you guys back here?” you tried to hide your concern but the question was too sudden and Russel replied with a dismissive scoff.

“You think we ain’t been doing this long enough to not get caught? Trust me, there’s a reason Ashe set up camp out here. And we’re smart enough not to keep everyone out here, spread out pretty far out in the country.”

“I guess my inexperience is showing,” you said, fiddling with the food on your plate.

“I’ve been in your shoes before, but you’ve nothing to worry about. We’ve got strict methods of doing things so they got done right,” he smiled at you through his eyes.

“So it was gold, right? I don’t think I’ve ever seen real gold before. Not in bars like they show in the movies.”

He hummed in affirmation after scarfing down a bite of chicken, “Craziest thing I ever saw, bullets were flying everywhere like locusts, everyone was screaming and that’s all you could hear. They don’t show you that in the movies.”

“Huh, was anybody killed?” you immediately regretted asking that question as soon as you spoke.

“Sure, some people, but they shot first and we did what needed to be done. That’s business, you know. Ah, shit, I’m not supposed to be sayin’ this kind of stuff to you, right?” Ashe wanted to make sure you didn’t know any dirty details about the gang’s business so it’d difficult to prove you as an accomplice and she warned the boys not say anything to you. But you couldn’t help your curiosity.

“Your secret’s safe with me,” you shoot him a wink and shared a laugh that felt strange considering to topic of discussion.

Echoes of stamping feet traveled through the dining room, breaking your concentration and you turned towards to the sound to see Ashe standing on the edge of the table, glass in the air.

“A moment of your attention, folks,” the room sat in quiet anticipation, “I am grateful to be spending this night with such a fine group, enjoying this amazing meal as we celebrate our victory tonight!” She raised her glass and the table shook in hollers and claps.

“Why, it weren’t but an hour ago we was runnin’ from the law hoping we’d make it back in one piece! But here we are, dining like royalty. And not a single man lost tonight, though Lee took a much needed blow to the head that might finally straighten up his senses.”

The crowd laughed, Lee along with them while jovially shaking his head. It seems like they’d long since buried the tension of the past month after today’s success.

“We’re free, men and women alike. Free from the laws that bind so many other folk and blind them to what real justice - real life - truly means. We ain’t only survivin’, we’re thrivin’. Now’s good a time as any to enjoy the riches that this life has to offer. That’s why I’ve scheduled a night of gambling, drinking, and debauchery for all of us on the Baton Rogue riverboat tomorrow night!”

Fists hit the table and everyone rejoiced, Russel giddily shook your arm and laughed among them. You smiled with them but were a bit apprehensive about what else was entailed in miscellaneous debauchery. But it was difficult not to cheer alongside Russel and the gang. And spending sometime outside of the manor sounded like bliss. Though the house was massive when you first arrived, it had seemed to shrink since your time being here.

Liquor flowed like water in the cups that night, and you were free to drink as much as you pleased. Beer was not your preferred liquor, but it came down much more smoothly than the bite from whiskey or bourbon, so it was your alcohol of choice just for tonight. It paired perfectly with the flavorful oils of the fried chicken, so much so that you drank more bottles than you could count. And the drunkenness hit you hard, your body felt weightless and lips could hardly manage to make words. You hung onto Russel for dear life as he led you out of the dining room.

“Y’alright,” he mumbled, struggling to lift you up, “less getcha t’bed.”

But you didn’t make it that far. The two of you collapsed on the living room coach, entangled in each other’s limbs.

Chapter Text

Dusk had settled like a mist haloing the ivory white American Beauty, a heavenly vessel tiered like a wedding cake and sprinkled with vibrant yellow lights that looked like fireflies from the dock. It was massive, like a mansion on the water. And by the way the passengers were dressed, it was just as luxurious. And you among them, though you weren’t so fond of the tight cummerbund that suffocated your waist. But Ashe insisted it made you look like a prince.

Indeed, this was the most royal you had ever looked, much to her point. The whole gang was dressed to the nines for the occasion and you’d never seen them so beautiful. Laney wore an emerald dress that complimented her auburn hair, which she had curled so tightly like a rag doll. The boys were in suits, uniform in every way except their vests. Russel’s white, Luis’s red, and Lee without. Ashe looked like the heiress she was, wearing a simple black dress that fit her like she were born with it, adorned with golden earrings and necklace. It was so minimal but nothing else would’ve suited her so well.

The city was beaming with Creole charm and modern technology, nothing like you’d seen since you moved in the little desert town in New Mexico. It was the picture of America you’d imagined since you were young, that was quickly squandered the moment you set foot on American soil. Though admittedly, you detested the hustle and bustle of a modern city, you could appreciate its convenience at a time like this, on a night that was meant for nothing more than frivolous partying.

A gentle touch stroked your arm and you turn to met Ashe, who wrapped her arm around yours, “Nervous?”

“Of course not,” you lie poorly through a smile, “Is it that obvious?”

“You look like a scared kitten,” she pinched your cheek endearingly, “It’s adorable.”

You give her a tight smile, “Thanks… You really know how to make someone feel special.”

“Oh, shush up,” she jovially slapped your arm, “You want me to tell you how beautiful you are? How lucky a lady I am to be sharing the evening with you?”

You shook your head as she laughed, holding back a smile of your own.

Inside the vessel was enormous, like entering the mouth of a whale. How did something this size manage to stay afloat? Velvet resting coaches lined the walls, the same style of furniture that decorated the manor and you wondered how many times the gang had been here before. Already passengers were line dancing arm in arm on the dance floor, a cacophony of string instruments playing along with them. You might’ve been inclined to join them given a few drinks.

As if Ashe had been reading your mind, she took you over to the bar, shelves lined with liquor in elaborate bottles. They must’ve been expensive by the way they were sculpted like statues. Lee and Laney joined the two of you, arms locked together. They looked charming together, like a picture perfect American couple. You wondered for a moment if there was anything there between them, but remembered how hung up Lee was over Isabel. What a shame.

“Everyone upstairs already?” Lee asked, ordering a beer for himself and Laney.

“Must be, haven’t seen most them since we made our way on the boat. Where’s your damn manners? Didn’t even offer to buy us a drink. Jack on the rocks, for the both of us. Thank you,” she gestured to you, “Think we can make him a full blown gambler by the end of the night?”

“Hope not,” Lee jested, “He’s the only gentleman left ‘mong the rest of us.”

“It’s far too late for you now, sweetheart!” Laney smiled at you, “Might as well enjoy yourself while you’re here. Oh, I’ve missed the river boat so much, why don’t we do this more often, Ashe?”

“‘Cause I always feel like I’m draggin’ around a bunch of ankle biters whenever we’re goin’ anywhere past the damn county line.”

“Like a field trip,” Lee laughed, “Like when we went out to the pumpkin patch when we was kids.”

“They used to take us to the petting zoo. Only it weren’t a zoo, it were just some old man’s farm and he must’ve had no more than two sheep,” Laney sighed.

You hadn’t the slightest clue what they were talking about, the words bounced back and forth in your heads and couldn’t latch onto any sort of meaning or childhood memory.

“Let’s get the rest of the boys down here, gives us an excuse to pop some champagne,” Ashe said, raising her eyebrows eagerly.

“Hell, good luck finding those boys. All them poker tables look exactly the same with all the folks in their black suits. ‘Sides, it’s too early to drink champagne. I need some real booze in me first.”

Ashe seemed to agree and the four of you had your own ceremonial cheers and you tried to keep the sharp liquor from spilling out of your lips. You coughed and covered your mouth with a fist trying to adjust to the taste as your eyes began to water.

“Bit too hard, huh?” Laney asked, patting your back sympathetically.

You sighed and cleared your throat, “It’s worse than drinking straight vinegar.”

“You’ve no taste, brother,” Lee shook his head in disapproval.

“I’ll remember that the next time I’m cooking you a meal,” you tease and stick your tongue out at him.

“Practice makes perfect, right?” Ashe slammed down another shot, “C’mon, don’t kill the party.”

Moments like these don’t come around often, do they? You took another shot, the taste just as bitter and stinging just as strong. But you didn’t cough, and that saved you some embarrassment.

“Look at that! He’s getting better!” Laney called the bartender over again and ordered a round for the four of you.

Drinking so much alcohol so quickly was a sure sign for disaster, especially so early in the festivities. The sun was still up and you knew the gang planned on partying all through the night. After the third shot, you could feel the signs of your body disconnecting from your consciousness. You looked to the other members of the table and tried to read if they felt the same. But they all seemed to be tanking it like champs.

“Ah,” you announced, “I’m gonna head to the deck for… a minute, maybe.”

They all laughed and you couldn’t help but join them, hiccuping lazily.

“Oh, you poor thing, can’t handle your liquor, can you? You’re so hopeless, honey,” Ashe seemed to be delighted at the sight of you like this, “C’mon, let’s get you some fresh air.”

You were thankful to have Ashe by your side as you tried to manage your way through the crowded ship. If she weren’t keeping you steady, you would’ve certainly made a fool of yourself by now.

Once you reached the deck, you unhinged yourself from her arm and caught yourself on the railing. You heard her scoff and say something about how rude you were, but your head was spinning and you needed the fresh air. The cool breeze and swaying water refocused your mind and your body relaxed against the metal railing. Alcohol always made you tired as a dog, even after the lightest drink. Your body was always eager to sleep, it seemed, and you leaned your head in your arms.

Long nails massaged your scalp in a sensation that was sending you in and out of consciousness, “You think you can ever get used to booze that ain’t beer?”

You hummed in response, lending nothing to her question.

“Yea, that’s what I figured.”

Lifting your head, you could see whatever remained of the setting sun ripple into the river’s current. The light was fading and the blue river waters were turning black, the only thing distinguishing it from the night sky being the light on its surface. Though your head felt like it was full of lead, you willed yourself to stand up straight and sober up.

You rolled your shoulders, ran your hands through your hair hoping to fix it, “Ugh, I’m sorry, Ashe. You’re always stuck babysitting me.”

She chuckled, “Looks like you’re ready to rejoin the crew.”

“Just a moment longer,” you leaned your back against the railing.

“Sure,” she pulled out a pack of cigarettes and put one between her lips, passed you a lighter, “Give me a light, sugar.”

Blood rushed to your cheeks suddenly and you could feel its red color bloom on them. After a few unsuccessful flicks, you finally worked the lighter properly and she took a drag. You watched as the smoke escaped her lips and bleed into the clouds. If you were alone, you might reach out and try to touch them but you knew you’d look like an idiot doing that. So you sat and watched, and when she had smoked it down to the butt, she flicked it aside and stamped it out with her heel.

“Let’s get upstairs. I’m itchin’ to get in on a game,” she grabbed your wrist and pulled you to follow her.

“You’re not going to rob me of all my money, are you?” there was a genuine concern in your voice.

“It ain’t robbin’ if it’s just a game, is it?” she pulled you up the stairs, they were narrow and rickety and seemed to have nails poking out at the seams.

“Spare me some sympathy…” you whined, struggling to keep up. She was giggling, probably at how pathetic you were, and you were giggling, too, for no other reason than it just felt like the right thing to do.

When you had made it upstairs, a few heads turned and looked at you, some telling you to quiet down. It was like Lee had already mentioned, men in black suits with their heads in their cards gathered around poker tables. You’d seen game rooms like this before - for chess, mahjong, go, even rooms full of PCs for video games - but none were on such a large scale. It seemed endless, smelled like cigars and felt. And you’d just interrupted their focus, like an annoying little brother. You apologized and went on your way, much more aware of your presence in the room.

A large hand waved from within the crowd, you were led in its direction and soon found Lee and Jaime were sitting together, eagerly waving you to join them.

“You recovered yet, brother?” Lee asked, pulling out a chair for you.

“How cute, poor thing can’t handle his liquor,” Jaime smiled and sent you a wink.

“Three shots in a row, no water. It was nuts. Any normal person would feel something after that,” you tried to reason.

“Drinking’s just not in your blood, I guess,” Ashe leaned back in her chair, “Deal me in, you keen to join?”

“I’ll watch a round, let me prepare before you bleed me dry,” you reply.

“Sure,” Ashe she placed a stack of chips in the middle of the table and gesturing for you to move in closer.

From your limited knowledge of poker, you could recall that it was a mental game, though the win condition centered on the value of a player’s hand. Cards of the same suit and in sequence were preferred. Pairs, three of a kind, and four of a kind were a rank under. Something like that? You still weren’t sure of the details, but a large part of the game centered around playing your opponents rather than your hand.

Lee placed another stack that doubled hers and the dealer began distributing the cards. One by one until each player had two cards face down. Jaime calls, seemingly reluctant to raise the bet. Then the dealer places down five community cards and flipped three of them, Jack of hearts, 3 of diamonds, 8 of spades. Everyone’s demeanor shifted, strategizing their next move. Ashe grabbed you by the bicep and dragged you over to look at her cards. Queen of hearts, 4 of clubs, and 10 of hearts.

It’s her turn to make a move. She calls, probably to not arouse suspicion in the other players. Odds were good that a King of hearts and 10 of hearts were beneficial to them as well, but the value of her hand would be hard to beat. Still, it was anyone’s game, and Lee wagered to raise the bet, offering a stack of chips. Jaime raised it even higher.

It was interesting watching them play, trying to conceal as much of their own movements as they could while reading each other’s subtleties. Ashe didn’t seem different than her usual self, confident and relaxed. On the contrary, Lee was stoic and silent, focused on keeping himself unreadable and thinking of his next move. Jaime seemed as playful as ever, twirling a strand of hair and smiling when you looked over at him.

The dealer flips the forth card: jack of clubs. You hear Lee humming contemplatively as his eyes flicker between his hand, the table, and his opponents. Ashe calls again, playing it safe. Lee and Jaime had fed plenty to the pot, if she were to raise it, she might risk them folding and offering nothing more. Lee calls as well, potentially thinking the same. With a ten, jack, and a queen, it’s reasonable to think the table may all have strong hands. Jaime raises again, only contributing half as much as before.

Then the final card is flipped: king of hearts. Looking over at Ashe, she seemed just the same to the untrained eye. But you could notice the flicker in her eyes, like she was restraining a smile. You looked over to Lee, still stoic but a bead of sweat dripped comically from his forehead. Jaime was nodding his head beside him in either defeat or triumph, you we’re exactly sure.

Ashe called, of course. Lee met her with another call, Jaime did the same.

“What a set of cards,” Jaime said, nodding at the dealer, “How much they payin’ you?”

“Just doing my job, sir,” he met Jaime’s smile with his own bashful one.

“And it is much appreciated,” Ashe looked over at Lee’s focused expression and laughed.

“Well, folks, let’s see what you’ve got-“ the dealer stopped abruptly, like he had choked on his words. His eyes were wide as saucers as he stared right past you, over at the stairs. Suddenly, silence filled the room and chairs shifted to face that same direction. You turned to see what had caught everyone’s attention.

All eyes were on a tall, brooding cowboy. He must’ve been at least a foot taller than you, but his stature made it seem like he was twice your height, with shoulders wide and his glare dark and playful. He wore a burgundy coat with a trail down to his calves and a luxurious blue satin vest, a brillant suit that differed from the rest of the men in black and white. A smirk lifted his groomed mustache, he must’ve noticed by now that everyone stopped in their tracks at the sight of him. He was handsome, but there certainly was more to the reason everyone was so focused on his presence.

“Holy shit,” you heard Lee curse from over your shoulder.

To your surprise, he was walking over to your direction and seemed to have his gaze fixed on Ashe. You turned to see her face scarlet red and jaw clenched tight, she looked like she was about to explode.

“Miss Caledonia,” he spoke, voice deep and viscous like molasses, his eyes flickered to you for a moment of acknowledgement as he tipped his hat, “gentlemen.”

“Cole Cassidy,” she drawled slowly, “what a surprise to see you alive.”

He chuckled lowly, the sound reverberating through the silence, “Still as charming as ever.”

“You must still be as cocky as ever showin’ your face in public like this,” she said, “or just plain stupid.”

He shrugged, spurs ringing as he stepped closer, “Bit of both, I reckon.”

If looks could kill, Ashe’s evil eye could send any man straight to hell. But Cassidy was able to maintain her gaze with his own, his was a covertly sinister glare with taunting spark in his eye. It was impressive to witness.

He kicked aside the chair next to Ashe’s, “Texas hold’em?”

“You’ll turn right back around if you know what’s good for you, you rat bastard,” Ashe hissed.

Cole laughed again, much louder than the ruckus you had caused earlier but no one was fool enough to chastise him for it, “You said it yourself, Ashe, I ain’t got any smarts.”

“I didn’t say that,” she was quick to reply, “I said you’re dumber than a sack of rocks.”

“Ashe,” Lee whispered to her, “don’t make a scene here, it ain’t gonna be pretty.”

“You’d be wise to listen to Lee,” he said, taking a seat beside her, “best we keep things civil.”

She sent him a nasty glare, then looked over at Lee, “Fine.”

Concluding the first game, Ashe revealed her flush and the dealer pushed the pool to her seat. Lee groaned and Jaime sighed in resignation. Luis said nothing, just stared at Cassidy from across the table.

“Deal ‘em,” Cassidy spoke to the dealer, motioning his fingers to encourage him to move quickly.

Lee put a supportive hand on your shoulder and squeezed it, “This young man, as well.”

Your face burned red hot at the feeling of Cassidy’s eyes on you. You didn’t dare look his way in fear of how he or Ashe may react.

Just like before, everyone was dealt their hand one by one. But every movement was so tense, the dealer too was on edge, hand shaking just a bit. You felt bad for him, only being involved because he was at the wrong place at the wrong time.

“Looks like Deadlock’s been expanding, seeing as you’ve a few new recruits here. Business must be well. Don’t think I’ve had the pleasure, boys. Name’s Cassidy,” he tipped his hat again, this time looking directly at you and your heart was pounding. Like you were looking at something you shouldn’t be.

“Call me Jaime. It’s a pleasure, sir,” Jaime smiled that same slimey smile he had when he saw someone of interest, “I’ve heard so much about you.”

“All good I’m sure,” they shared a laugh and Ashe glared at Jaime.

“Luis,” a faint voice to your left spoke with not another word to it.

Just as you were about to introduce yourself, Ashe interrupted you and put an arm across your chest, “Don’t even give him the time of day.”

You furrowed your brow in concern and confusion. It felt wrong to ignore a stranger, but she must’ve had a reason to keep you uninvolved. Maybe to keep you out of trouble. You sank back into your chair and examined the cards in your hand. 3 of clubs and 8 of diamonds. Nothing promising.

“What’s the matter, Ashe, keeping that one to yourself,” you felt his eyes on you again and you tried to conceal yourself behind the two cards, “Aw, cute little thing, ain’t he?”

“That’s what I said,” you heard Jaime tease, “if only he weren’t so shy. Right Ashe?”

“Christ, the two of you,” she spat, “keep your fuckin’ mouth shut, Jaime.”

“Just an observation,” he mumbled.

Cassidy pushed a stack of chips and Ashe followed with another, then the game began. The dealer flipped the first three community card, 2 of hearts, 5 of clubs, Jack of hearts.

“So,” Cassidy said, raising the bet by sliding a stack of chips to the pool, “what kinda business y’all got this far east?”

“No business,” Lee replied, “just pleasure.”

“What a coincidence it is for us to bump into each other like this,” Ashe added, “small world, ain’t it? Call.”

“Must be God’s way of willing us to reconcile our differences,” they both spoke with feigned politeness that Ashe was teetering on the edge of. Cassidy, however, walked the line gracefully, he seemed to be in his element.

“Call, please,” you spoke softly as not to interrupt the conversation. Calling probably wasn’t the right play but you were curious to see how the game would play out.

“What’s a pretty boy like you doing in a place like this?” Your face burned bright red and you sunk further into your seat to avoid confrontation.

Ashe pushed her chair forward to conceal you from his vision, “What sort of business do you have ‘round here, anyway?”

Lee pushed a small stack of chips to the center, “Can’t we save the business talk away for another time. You know, maybe while we’re workin’.”

“Hush, Lee,” Jaime interrupted, “I’m sure we’re all curious to hear why Cassidy decided to join us this evening. Call.”

The dealer flipped the fourth card, 6 of diamonds. Maybe you had a chance yet.

“Came to town to collect on a payment. As luck would have it, I met some old friends,” he raised the stakes with another stack.

“As luck would have it, we met in a public location that we intend to keep in good favors with,” Ashe said, “Call.”

“Your turn, pumpkin,” Cassidy purred at you and Ashe shot a look over to him.

“You wanna take this outside?” she spat.

“Call, please…” you whispered to the dealer and he nodded. You were both in a similar situation, oddly enough.

“Don’t lose your cool, Ashe. I’m just teasin’,” he must’ve been smiling ear to ear at having elicited a reaction out of her, “Just being friendly.”

“Don’t talk to him, simple as that. And I ain’t gonna repeat myself, or we’re gonna have a real problem,” she said.

“Ma’am, please do not make threats at the poker table or I am going to have to report-“

“Shut the hell up,” Ashe and Cassidy said in unison. At least they could agree on something.

“It ain’t polite to ignore company,” he said.

“Call,” Lee interrupted, and he put a hand on your shoulder to whisper in your ear, “Don’t worry ‘bout neither of them. You’re alright.”

Ashe and Cassidy were still going back and forth next to you, but Lee’s reassurance soothed your conflicting nerves.

Jaime leaned over to you and Lee, “What’re you two chatting about? Call.”

“Mind you business, you’ve done nothin’ but add fuel to the fire,” Lee said.

“Do you know who Cole Cassidy is?” he asked you and you shook your head. If his name hadn’t rang a bell when he introduced himself, Jaime’s repeating it wouldn’t change that, “You ever hear about the Deadeye?”

“Jaime!” Ashe snapped and gave you a light slap on the head, “quite your gossipin’ boys, thought I taught you better than that.”

“Wah- I didn’t do anything!” another slap on your head, harder this time, “sorry…”

Jaime and Cole were laughing mockingly and Lee just shook his head in disapproval. The dealer flipped the last community card, the ace of spades. Rendering your hand useless.

“Aw, hell,” Lee moaned, “With all y’all yapping I ain’t even been focused on the damn game.”

Ashe tossed her hand, still faced down, “Looks like the nights been sufficiently spoiled.”

You displayed your hand on the table, “Did anyone actually win?”

Jaime laid his cards out, “Full house, two sixes and three twos. What’ve you got, Cole?”

You leaned forward to get a look at his hand and you couldn’t help but steal a glance. Most of his face was obscured by the shadow of his hat, but you could see his facial hair was well groomed and framed his lips pleasantly, and though his hair was wild, it fit his rugged appearance. His eyes met yours and a smile slowly grew on his face. Promptly, you returned back to your seat, not even looking at his cards.

“How the hell’d you manage to steal all the aces?” Lee asked.

“He’s always been a cheat, ain’t you figure that out by now?” Ashe retorted.

“Well, that ain’t any way to treat your guest,” the dealer pushed all the chips to Cole’s seat, his pile towering over Ashe’s, “How ‘bout y’all let me treat you to some drinks with all these winnings?”

Lee and Jaime promptly stood up at the offer and Cole did the same. They turned to you and Ashe.

“You comin’?” Lee asked.

You looked over to Ashe for direction and she returned your gaze with her own, “C’mon.”

You followed her and she went after the boys to the bar downstairs. The dance floor was now flooded with drunken dancers, tripping over their sloppy movements and yelling loudly over the music. Just beyond them was the bar, it’d be impossible to find a seat by now, especially not for a group of five. Ashe took you by the hand and snuck you through the crowd. Past the wobbling passengers, you could see the rest of the group sitting at a padded booth. With them was Laney, Luis, and Russel. Russel was sitting besides Cassidy, looking up at him like he were a God, eyes wide and head in hand. The two of you made your way to them, sliding in the booth.

“It’s always a fucking zoo down here at night,” Ashe sighed, “You better’ve ordered me some bourbon.”

“Ashe!” Russel beamed, “You didn’t tell me that Cole Cassidy was here, what the hell! Didn’t know ya were on good terms again!”

“We ain’t,” she rolled her eyes.

“Getting a few shot in will loosen her up,” Cole reached in his pocket and pulled out a cigar, put it between his lips, he looked you straight in the eyes, “Damn, ain’t got a lighter on me. Give me a light, darlin’.”

You’d developed a sort of Pavlovian response to the command, Ashe had trained it out of you after having to do it for her so many times. So you didn’t even think when you pulled out the lighter she had given you and lit the end of Cassidy’s cigar. It was only after the fact did you begin to realize, after you’d watched his cheeks hallow while he inhaled the smoke and let the rest escape through his smirk, after you’d felt your stomach flip at having been so close to him, that you’d notice everyone’s eyes on you. Particularly Ashe’s venomous glare.

She pulled you down by the collar of your shirt and you landed on the booth with a thud. You tried to elicit some sympathy from her by trying to look as sorry as possible without saying it, but that had really set her off.

“Sorry, Ashe, I didn’t mean to-“ she cut you off as she gripped you collar again.

“You’d best be quiet the rest of the night and not move a muscle,” she said.

“Easy on the poor boy, he’s just bein’ polite,” Cassidy took another puff of his cigar.

“I goddamn told you, you ass,” she slammed the table with a fist, then raising it in the air. Lee stood beside her to try to defuse her anger.

“C’mon, don’t make a scene here. Shit, anywhere else but here, they ain’t gonna let us back if you’re actin’ like this!”

“Swear to God if they let me bring a gun onto this boat, I would shoot you dead where you stand!”

Ashe’s shouting had caught the attention of nearby passengers and servers, hands full of platters of drinks. You looked around your table and caught everyone’s eyes on you. Jaime was an entertained grin on his face, Laney bashfully looking away, Russel with eyes wide open, Luis was the only one who didn’t seem to care. If you could, you would disappear. Melt into a puddle and sink through the floorboards and drown in the river below.

A suited man came over, belly round with a mustache greased and pointed, “Excuse me, ma’am. We don’t mind if you shout but there will be no brawling on this boat.”

Ashe crossed her arms and sat back down, not even acknowledging him. You weren’t sure if you should comfort her or just let her be. Extending an arm to pat her shoulder, she shrugged you off of her.

“Are you fuckin’ stupid? The hell do you think you’re doing, don’t you fucking touch me, boy. Only reason you’re here right now is ‘cause of me and you know it. Otherwise you’d be out starving on the fucking streets where you belong, you rat! Get the hell out of here!” she screeched.

There was no confusion in her words and it was all the confirmation you needed to take your leave. You stood and gave a curt bow to the rest of the table before disappearing into the crowd of onlookers, a few staring at you as you passed, and tried to find the nearest door to the deck.

The night was dark and the river was black. You admired the view. The day started out so pleasantly that you didn’t have any time to savor it, so you might as well spend some time enjoying the beauty of the river. As soon as Cassidy arrived, the night had taken a turn for the worse. But it wasn’t right to place the blame on him for that. Though seeing him did bring out the worst in Ashe, she was well aware of her actions. You didn’t want to admit it, but you were really hurt by what she had said. Sure, much of it was true, but somewhere deep in your heart you hoped she didn’t feel that way about you. The same way everyone who ever doubted you did. That you were just a street rat who couldn’t rise above your status. That you were always destined to be a failure.

And your heart sank at the thought that all this time that’s how she saw you. Had everything up to this point been a lie? She seemed like the only person in the world who was looking out for you, who gave you her heart and trusted you with it. Was it all just a ploy to use you? When she tried to pull you in for a kiss, why hadn’t she even thought to ask if you wanted it? She didn’t care to know how you felt. And the way she’d rather you just pretend you didn’t exist in front of Cassidy, like you didn’t matter.

You’d rather keep staring into the dark river until everyone forgot about your existence. Then this whole affair wouldn’t be so embarrassing.

“Enjoying the view?”

Your heart skipped a beat and you jumped to face the voice behind you. The cherry end of Cassidy’s cigar blinked from the drag and smoke pooled around his hat.

“Sorry, darlin’,” he said, “didn’t mean to scare ya.”

“It’s fine,” you didn’t know what to ask him first, “What are you doing here?”

“Came to check on you,” he said.

“Oh,” you expected more of an answer, “It might be best if you didn’t.”

“You worried about the ol’ ball and chain?” he asked, taking another puff, “She’s plenty occupied by your friends. Figured someone ought to look out for you.”

“You were in Deadlock?” you asked, curiosity taking over.

You could see the shine of his teeth through the shadow of his hat, “No one ever tell you about me?”

You shook your head. Cole approached you slowly, leaning against the railing. He was close, right next to you, and you felt like Ashe would come running through the door at any moment. Instinctively, you back up a step.

“Relax, I told you, you’ve nothing to worry about,” he extended a hand to you, “Promise I ain’t gonna get you into anymore trouble.”

You lift your heel, prepared to take another step if need be, “I’m sorry, Mr. Cassidy, but I don’t think that’s a promise you can keep.”

“That right?” he stood erect and bridged the gap between to two of you. He looked like a pillar of a man, like he was made of stone. You tried to match the intensity of his dark gaze, but it was impossible to maintain eye contact with him without revealing your unease.

“Not to say that you’re to blame,” you try to ease the tension, “I just…I hope you understand that as long as I’m around you, I’m not going to be in good standing with Ashe.”

“You’re still concerned about what she thinks,” he took a step towards you, “I’m out here because I’m concerned about you, not her.”

“Why do you care?” you didn’t mean to sound so dismissive but you couldn’t help but release the frustration through your voice.

He nodded, in a way that showed he understood how you were feeling, “I’ve been in your shoes before. I can already tell that you ain’t got a clue how in over your head you are, poor thing.”

“I’m sorry, Cassidy, but I don’t need your pity or your help,” you exhaled, “In fact, it’s probably best for us both to never speak to each other again.”

You were about to remove yourself, turn around and leave, but Cole gripped you by the wrist and turned you back around to face him. His face was level with yours and you could feel stray strands of his dark brown hair tickle your cheeks.

“I’m sure you have more ambitions than being Ashe’s errand boy, don’t you?” his voice rumbled in its low timbre, “I can give you much more than that.”

Stunned, you couldn’t muster a response, just stared up at him in awe. His face was always in a perpetual scowl, but there was an honest glint in his eye, the way they creased when he smiled, that almost tempted you to lean in closer. Maybe ask him to elaborate on what he meant. But he was a stranger to you, a stranger who was more than capable to take on the world by himself.

“I don’t think there’s anything I can do for you, sir,” you matched his low volume with a whisper and tried to wiggle yourself free from his grip. But he didn’t budge. He pulled you closer by the arm, his free hand set on the back of your neck and you froze. He pulled you in, your lips crashing against his and you could taste the malt liquor and cigar smoke on his tongue when he dragged it across your bottom lip.

You tried to break away with your free hand, pounding on his chest and muffling dissents into his mouth. But his hand squeezed the back of your neck harder, and you moaned at the pain, exposing your open mouth to him. His tongue swirled around yours, the feeling was repulsive and you tried again to pull your head away. But his grip was far too firm. So you let in, tried to relax the best you could and let him do what he pleased until he was done, otherwise you weren’t sure it would ever end.

And it did, when you heard the creak of the door leading to the deck and the light from inside the boat illuminating the both of you. That’s when the fight in you reignited, not wanting to be seen like this with Cassidy. To your surprise, he actually let you go and you almost fell back with the strength that you jerked yourself away with. You turned instinctively to see who came through the door and the sight made you want to jump into the river.

“Ashe, I-“ you didn’t even finish what you were going to say, she had already turned away back inside and you turned to Cassidy in angered betrayal, “What the hell is wrong with you?”

He leaned against the railing cooly, lighting another cigar, “Oh, don’t be so shocked, sweetheart. I didn’t do nothin’ neither of us didn’t want.”

You huffed in disbelief, “Wait, I thought you didn’t have a lighter?”

“‘Course I do, darlin’. Wouldn’t go anywhere without it,” he winked at you and not wanting to spend another moment with him, you left the deck and returned to the inside of the boat, searching for Ashe.

Chapter Text

You couldn’t breath. The air was dense and your panic smoothed you like a blanket. But your heart and body were determined to keep you alert, searching the room of people for that familiar head of snow white hair. Passengers were preparing to depart once the boat had stopped and the exits were packed wall to wall with people like sardines.

White streaks like mist peak through the exit door as a the fabric of a slim black dress leaves the boat, and the fire in your belly reignites. Your elbows push past disgruntled passengers, plenty threw curses your way, yet you were determined to reach her. It was shameless, and you can already feel the guilt of your actions catching up to you, but you had to reach Ashe and explain to her what had really happened between you and Cole Cassidy.

Once the fresh air of the dock hits you, it feels like a slap in the face. It was more than welcome, however, and helped sober your muddied thoughts. You catch a breath for a moment, scanning the crowd for anything, something. Then, you see a black dress swaying in the wind and you lift your eyes to catch her red ones. She scowls at you and continues to walk off, and you run after her, shouting her name to get her to turn around, notice you, maybe even stop and let you explain yourself.

Though she was walking, you could hardly catch up to her through the density of the crowd. There was no running through, only jumping and stomping over boots and heels to break through. Your frenzy must’ve been obvious, as the crowd had begun to part from your way and disperse before you. Scuffs and disgruntled words were sent your way but you didn’t care.

Once you were free, you ran as fast as you possibly could to stand beside her.

“Ashe, please,” your voice was hoarse and you panted frantically, “It’s not what you think, you know I’m not that kind of person-“

The heel of her shoe stabbed your toe and you screamed and keeled over in pain. The pain was intense, you could feel your blood running to bruise over your new wound. Even your ears hurt from the blow. But you stood and continued to limp pathetically alongside her.

“That’s fine, you can hit me. I probably deserve it,” you groaned in pain, “I’m sorry. The last thing I want to do is hurt you, I don’t even know that guy!”

“Couldn’t seem to keep your damn lips off him,” she retorted, pushing you away from her.

You almost toppled over, but managed to regain your footing, “Ashe, he made me kiss him. He wouldn’t let me go, he-“ you almost tripped over a stray pebble, “I’m serious, please. You know I’m not someone to do something like that.”

“Shut up,” she grabbed you by the collar with both hands, “shut your fucking mouth.”

She looked exhausted. Her face was a mess, red lipstick had smudged over the lining of her lips and black mascara streaked down her flushed, sunken cheeks. Her white hair like mist crowned her in wisps and made her seem taller than she really was. With the height of her heels, she stood a few hairs taller than you. It might’ve been embarrassing if you hadn’t been this short all your life. You reach up to hold her hand in yours sympathetically.

“Just-“ as soon as you spoke you could she her anger resurface, “I know you don’t want to speak to me, but I need to let you know what happened.”

“I don’t need to know shit,” she pushed you to the ground and walked off again.

You stood again and walked beside her, though awkwardly with the pain shooting though your foot, “Don’t let him get into your head. Cassidy is just playing some twisted game. He just doing this to get a reaction from you. He’s a jerk.”

“Yea?” she scoffed, “That the type you like? Ain’t never seen you latch onto me like that.”

“What?” you had to take pause to wrap your head around what she was saying, “Do you really think I would do something like that, after all we’ve been through?”

She stopped, turned to look back at you, “Don’t you turn this shit around on me.”

“Ashe,” you pleaded with her, moving closer so your body was nearly flush with hers, “You’re not to blame and neither am I, it’s-“

She crashed her lips against yours and you capitulated, leaning into her touch. Her body relaxed and her lips were gentle against yours. You closed your eyes and wrapped an arm around her waist but not pulling her closer in fear she might not want it. She did the work for you, setting the pace to her liking and you follow her at every step.

When she pulled away, you try to read her expression, see if she was satisfied. She looked back at you, almost as if she were trying to do the same. You wondered what she thought of you in that moment, if she was still thinking those things she had screamed at you in the riverboat or the sweet things she had said to you in the privacy of her office at the manor. Maybe a mixture of both.

Just like she always did, she led you by the wrist to follow her toward a remote area along the river that was still untouched by the city. Looking at it from the right direction, it seemed completely separate from civilization.

Her nails scratched your skin through the thin fabric of your shirt as she grabbed a hold of you. Ruby red eyes gleamed wet with tears threatening to fall, never had anger looked so beautiful as it had on her.

“I’m gonna fuckin’ kill ‘em,” she growled, punctuating her sentence with a frustrated shrill.

You just stared at her, heart pounding. Again, her nails scratched at you, pulling at the button of your shirt collar. You put a hand on her wrist, “What’re you doing?”

“Shut up!” she squealed, pushed you down to the ground. Had she always been this strong?

“I don’t understand, I-“ the sharp tip of her heel met with your side and you coughed heavily at the sudden blow.

“I made a fuckin’ family for you, for him, and what do I get out of it? Two damn ingrates. Y’know the worst part of it all?” she’s grabbing at your collar and your guilt does nothing to stop her, “I thought you were different.”

‘I am different!’ you wanted to say, wanted to muster the courage to tell her that she’s wrong but before you could respond, she had her lips on yours again. The chalky taste of her lipstick and the sudden affection had you attempt to pull away, but a firm hand on the back of your neck keeps you in place. Is this the kind of different she had in mind?

Before you could grasp what was happening, Ashe released you and let you fall to the damp earth. The nice clothes she had bought for you covered in mud. You reach out to her, grasping onto her heels, “Ashe, please. I didn’t mean to disappoint you, please don’t leave me.”

You weren’t sure if you wanted to risk anymore affection with her, but it seemed a better alternative than whatever else might happen. God knows she had been the best thing that happened to you since you stepped foot on American soil. She looked down at you, almost disgusted, a deliberate snarl on her face.

“Please,” you put your hands together and pleaded, “I made a mistake, please forgive me. Punish me if you have to, I’ll bear it if it means you’ll stay.”

You felt pathetic, begging her like this. Like you were begging for your life in front of a god, hoping that whatever punishment she could serve you would redeem your crimes. Would justify keeping you as her servent. And for some reason you though about Cassidy, as if he were watching from afar and the embarrassment was suffocating.

The ground rustled beneath her as she moved towards you, kneeling on the soft dirt, “Honey,” a hand soothed your back, grabbed a tuft of your hair and raised you from your kneeled position, “I intend to. But I ain’t leavin’ you. We’re family, I gave you my word.”

Relief allowed your heart to rest for a moment before she pulled you in for another kiss. Deep, her tongue invading your mouth. You were still trying to adjust to the feeling, the warmth and how her saliva mixed with yours. Your lips are wet, stained red by her lipstick. But you didn’t pull away, you wouldn’t dare defy her.

‘Family,’ you think, ‘doesn’t do something like this.’

But you desperately needed this. You needed a family, needed the support, needed the love that Ashe provided for you. Maybe not exactly like this, but you did feel loved and needed in Deadlock. You were there to serve them and protect them. Just as you did with your own blood, but Ashe’s love was unconditional like theirs was supposed to be, before they had banished you for not living up to their expectations of what you should’ve been. Even if you had to endure these advances she made on you, you would a million times over for everything she provided.

She latched her lips off of yours, slowly with intent, so she could see every second of her mouth leaving yours. You sighed a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

“Well, ain’t you a romantic,” she scoffed, “can’t even pretend to like it?”

“I-I like it, I do,” you looked at her with furrowed brows through the loose strands of your hair hoping she believed you, “I’m just…not experienced.”

“Strange, most boys don’t take so long gettin’ used to this,” her fingers unhooked with the buttons on your shirt, “what’s wrong with you?”

You could tell she was playing by the tone of her voice, wanted to provoke you or lighten the mood. And you might’ve played along if you weren’t frozen in fear at her hands touching your chest through your unbuttoned shirt. No doubt she could feel your rapidly beating heart. Hell, you could hear it. Pounding in your ears like a drum.

“Ashe,” you spoke before your mind even knew what it wanted to saw, not enough time to filter your thoughts. But she listened and raised her head eagerly, it was almost cute, “We shouldn’t do this. Not here.”

“As good a place as any,” she pushed on your chest and you wanted to beg for mercy, “just lay back and let me take care of you, boy.”

The way she talked to you, like you’re a dog. It’s not far from what you were to her but you’d fight like hell before you’d admit it.

The air was hot and damp just like the dirt you were laying on and you were already starting to sweat. She trailed her fingers against the curve of your body and all you could do is stare and wonder what she was going to do next. And when her hand grabbed you by your hip and the other went to untie the cummerbund wrapping your waist, panic stuck you again.

“I -“ you started and she paused to look up at you with an irritated glare, “I, I don’t know, uhm, I’m probably really bad at this.”

“I told you to relax, didn’t I?” she asked, fingers maneuvering around the button of your pants.

“Yes!” you yelped, “Yes, I’m just nervous, what do I do?”

Her brows knitted together in an annoyed confusion, “Seriously? You’re a man, just sit there and enjoy yourself. What I’m givin’ you is a gift.”

You slammed your head against the dirt, almost hoping it would be enough to render you unconscious. But it wasn’t, and you were perfectly aware of the band of your tight dress pants chaffing against your skin. And when her fingers looped around the elastic of your underwear, you rose yourself on your elbows and put a hand on top of hers.

“Ashe,” you started again, she sighed and cupped your face.

“Relax. Just you and me,” she said.

“What about,” you swallowed, “protection? Is this safe?”

“Don’t need it. Never wanted kids, so dealt with that a long time ago. Now,” she freed your erect member out and watched as it sprung against your stomach, “no more waitin’.”

You let your head fall to the ground in defeat and squeezed your eyes closed, praying to whatever God will listen that no one find you here. The sound of rustling fabric and discarded clothes flooded your thoughts. The second you felt Ashe’s bare thigh against yours, you hips twitched nervously. Strange, you felt the desire to flee and leave, but something in your core was longing, anticipating what was going to happen next. You hated it and tried to choke the feeling down or to deny it somehow but you could do nothing besides moan lustfully when you felt the warm grip of Ashe sinking down onto you. The sensation gripped your mind and body completely and you had lost your inhibitions, moaning and gasping at every movement.

“Attaboy,” she sighed, grinding into you, “Not so bad, is it?”

You couldn’t say anything, completely breathless and enthralled by the feeling between your legs. You opened your eyes and looked up at her. She was still in full dress, the small fabric of her white cotton panties lay beside you, but you were mesmerized by the lust glazing her eyes. She seemed completely in her element, owning you for the moment and using your body for her own pleasure as she bounced up and down on you, breast bobbing with her. And she looked gorgeous, like a goddess the way the moonlight captured all her best features.

She moaned breathily as she arched her back and spread her legs, pushing you deeper inside of her and you grabbed at her thighs for purchase. But she slapped you as soon as you made contact, so hard it stung and reddened the skin, “No touching.”

“Ashe,” you whimpered desperately, grabbing at a tuft of your own hair to relieve the tension at your core.

“You want me, baby?” she purred seductively and you nodded eagerly, “Beg for it.”

“Please, please!” you reach out to her, fingers grazing just above her thigh, “God, please, I need to touch you.”

She laughed, satisfied and grinded her hips into yours as she lowered her body, “Good boy, go ahead.”

Frantically, you squeeze the soft flesh of her thighs, moving the part of her dress aside to feel her warm skin. You dared to move your hands closer to the wetness that pooled over your legs, but she removed your hands and placed them back on her thighs. She laughed and hummed, enjoying the sight of you desperate for her body.

“More, please,” you begged again, “I need more.”

She bit her smiling lip, trying in vain to conceal her giddiness and leaned down again. Closer, this time, her breasts against your chest and you couldn’t help but stare at the plumpness, “Use your words, baby. Tell momma what you want.”

“I-“ you choked on the loss of warmth from your dick as she bent forward, “I want to touch you. All of you.”

She sank back down on you and your eyes rolled back into your skull. Your hands were shaking eagerly, awaiting her command. It hadn’t been long ago when you denied her a small kiss on the lips, but now you were completely at her mercy, willing to do anything just to touch her. She must’ve known it, too, as she pondered what she wanted to do with you now.

“Sit up,” she ordered, and you obeyed. She perched herself up in front of you, grabbing you by the tie and pushing your face into her collarbone. You stared up at the softness of her chin, using all your self-control to keep yourself from diving between her breasts. But she was gracious to you, lifting them up out of her dress so they were cupping your cheeks, “Make me feel good and I might just let you cum.”

Not a second thought entered your mind as you popped the nipple of her breast in your mouth, your hips rutting against any part of her body that you could. She was laughing hysterically and moaning in turn as you nipped and sucked at her breast.

“Like that?” you asked in attempt to confirm you were doing what she wanted, trying to please her enough to ensure your own release. The question seemed to send her as she tugged mercilessly at a tuft of your hair. She stuffed her breast back into her dress and stood in front of you. You wanted to cry having been denied her.

Gripping your hair, she forced your head in between her thighs and between her dripping sex. She didn’t have to tell you, instantly you were lapping at her juices like you hadn’t had a drink in days. Once you were sucking and licking circles on her clit, she pushed you farther into her, rubbing herself on your face. Your dick was twitching against your stomach and leaving a string of precum in its wake.

“That’s it,” she spoke with mostly breath as she was working up her orgasm, “that’s a good boy.”

Suddenly, her thighs wrapped around your neck and she arched her back. She shook and groaned while tugging at your hair and your mouth had overflown with her orgasm. When she pulled back, you had grown increasingly aware of the sticky moisture covering the lower half of your face. You were panting with her, though not from exhaustion, still blind with lust.

“Well,” she sighed, picking up her discarded underwear and wiping dirt from her dress, “That’s much better…”

You wiped your face with the back of your sleeve, chest still heaving. She looked down at you and gave you a pat on the head. She moved closer, and you were anticipating her forcing your head between her legs again. Instead, she placed her muddy heel between your thigh, and you spread your legs instinctively.

“Good ahead,” she said, “Cum.”

For a moment, you just stared up at her, mouth open like an idiot. Then, you realized what she wanted you to do. You wrapped your fingers around your throbbing member and started pumping into your hand. Briefly, you felt embarrassed, pathetically displayed in front of her, tasked to get off without any help from her apart from the her own beauty. But the shame quickly became lust and you were soon on your hands and knees desperately jerking yourself as you neared orgasm.

It was explosive and the sensation of Ashe’s heel digging into your thigh had you seeing white. In that moment you felt everything all at once and your heart was pounding, but not in anxiety like it so usually does. But in ecstasy, and it felt good. It felt amazing.

You collapsed back onto the dirt, fully spent and satisfied as you lazily redressed yourself. Everything was hazy, your senses dulled, you hadn’t even noticed Ashe’s heel had left your thigh. And in the next instant, your mind became sober, like a switch was flipped. There weren’t any energy left in you to panic, but shame showed it’s ugly face again. You had never paid any mind to dirt before, but you grew ever more conscious of how filthy you were as you lay on the ground. You wanted to fall into the river ahead of you, wash yourself clean. Even if it meant you might drown.

“Hey,” fingers snap in front of your face.

“Huh?,” you propped yourself on your elbows and sat up, “Sorry. That was-“

“Get up,” she offered you a hand, at least, and you took it to rise to your feet.

“Thanks,” you meant that in more ways than one, “How are you feeling?”

“What? Let’s head back. You should clean yourself up,” already she was walking ahead of you and you followed, trying to wipe yourself clean as much as you could. But the mud had deeply stained your clothes.

“First time I get some nice clothes and they’re ruined,” you try to lighten the mood, “Do you think you can forgive me?”

“Need some new clothes, huh? Guess it gives me an excuse to drag you back into my bedroom,” she hummed smugly.

You bit your lip, contemplating the many emotions plaguing your mind. Predominantly, you still felt the thrill in indulging in Ashe’s desires. There was something forbidden about it that excited you. But then you thought about all the repercussions of your actions, what those closest to you might think and what might happen if things go astray.

The walk back to the boat was quiet and you spent most the time sifting through your thoughts. Ashe was probably doing the same, though you couldn’t possibly imagine what was on her mind, considering all the events of the night.

The rest of the gang was huddled in a group by the dock, most of the passengers were long gone. As soon as you stepped foot onto the creaking wood, Russel was running up to the both of you.

“Where’ve you guys been? We’ve been here all night!” he wrapped his arm around your shoulders but quickly pulled away, “Ugh, what the hell happened to you?”

“Oh, I just fell,” you prayed he would believe you.

The rest of the gang followed him and Lee pulled Ashe to the side. Already they were deep in serious conversation and you hoped there was no mention of you.

“I can’t believe I got to meet Cole Cassidy in the flesh,” Russel was smiling from ear to ear, “Did you get to see him?”

“Yup,” that was the last thing you wanted to think about.

“He’s the reason I wanted to get into Deadlock, y’know,” he kept going, “heard so many stories about him growing up. He’s the best shooter in the west, probably in the world.”

“Do you know why Ashe doesn’t like him?” you asked just above a whisper.

“Ain’t too sure, Ashe don’t really talk about it. Rumor has it he left the gang ‘cause he got too hotheaded, shot a couple lawmen that got on Deadlock’s tail too hot. Ashe and Cassidy got into a fight and he went lone wolf. Some folks say that they used to be sweet on each other. Ain’t too sure about that one. Honestly, dont think she’s the type to go for a man like Cole. I mean, look at you,” Russel patted your shoulder.

“Wait, what do you mean ‘look at you’? What did I do?” you asked.

“C’mooon,” he drawled, voice slurred with drunkenness, “You’re just her type, I see the way y’all look at each other. Attached by the hip, too!”

“Hey, hey, hey, quiet down, man,” you put an arm over his shoulder and pull him away from the crowd, “It’s not what you think.”

“Really? Then what were y’all so busy doin’ tonight, huh?” he whistled suggestively and you slapped the side of his head.

“It’s not like that, seriously. I was just drunk and she was helping me sober up, that’s it,” you sighed.

“Yea, must’ve really worked, you sound like you haven’t had a drink all night,” he chuckled and hiccuped, “Don’t bother ‘bout it. Ain’t a big deal.”

“Yes, because it’s not like that,” you try to assert.

Heels stomped on the wooden planks of the dock and everyone turned to Ashe and Lee’s direction.

“Got some news, folks,” she motioned for everyone to gather around her, “Lee, you wanna start?”

Her hands were on her hips and her face was tense. Whatever stress relief she had gotten out of you hadn’t lasted long.

“Sure,” Lee began, “I’ll get right to it, ain’t much a speaker like you, Ashe. Cole Cassidy’s comin’ back to the Gorge.”

Gasps and groans escaped the gang’s lips and you didn’t have to guess Russel’s reaction. You could even feel the boards jumping up and down from his excitement.

“He’s gonna be coming back to Deadlock?” Laney asked.

“Not as far as we know, but it looks like he’s got some business on our turf. But seein’ as he was part of the gang and he is…the man he is, we think it’s best we stay on good terms. So, we got plans to invite him to dinner, hopefully maintain a civil relationship. Well, that’s it. Ain’t nothin’ more to it. Just be on your best behavior and thing’ll be peachy.”

You understood why Ashe seemed so on edge and you felt for her. It must be difficult to have to face someone you hate, much less having to seek their favor.

“Holy shit, what if he joins the gang again?” Russel whispered in your ear.

You didn’t want to ignore him but you were stunned. It wouldn’t be long before you would have to face Cole Cassidy again. Even worse, you would have to cook for a meal him. How could you be on your best behavior if he was going to try to tear a rift between you and Ashe? He had almost cost your relationship with her entirely. But it was clear there was some merit to having him as an ally or Ashe wouldn’t even entertain the thought of inviting him over. If it was for the best, then you would have to give it your all whether you liked it or not.

“Come on, let’s move,” Ashe motioned for everyone to walk ahead of her, “Hope y’all enjoyed yourself tonight. Got a lotta work ahead of us.”

She put an arm out in front of you to keep you in place. Once everyone was ahead, you expressed your concerns.

“I can’t believe you’re inviting him to dinner,” you confessed.

“You think I’m doin’ this outta the kindness of my heart? No, I don’t want him around any less than you,” she sighed.

“I hope you still don’t think that, ah,” you struggled to find the words, “that I wanted to-“

“Drop it, we’re even now,” she squeezed your shoulder then dropped her hands to her hips, “Just like before, keep your head low and you’ll be fine.”

“Understood,” you nodded, stuffing your hands in your pockets and walking alongside her. The gang in front of you still gleamed from the excitement of the boat ride. Russel and Laney were practically galloping and Luis and Jaime were laughing among them. All except Lee who seemed somber and stoic like he was still trying to maintain his poker face. Cole had recognized him, then, and you wondered how the past had affected him, too. You couldn’t help but feel deeply unsettled at having met Cole Cassidy, like you had just stirred awake a sleeping tiger.

Chapter Text

Heat radiated from the heart of the kitchen worse than the arid desert during midday. The air twice as stuffy, too, when preparing a meal of this scale. Sweat perspired on your skin as if you’d just come in from the pouring rain. The elements of the kitchen were gruesome when pushed to their limits like this. But that’s what you were paid for and you were paid well.

Most days weren’t this intense. In fact, you would describe your job to be among the easiest of all those you had taken before. Tonight, however, reminded you of why Ashe had placed such an important emphasis on your role. When the whole gang was together, they made an army and they had twice the appetite. Still, it was the perfect excuse to keep you tethered to the kitchen and away from the commotion of tonight’s dinner.

Once Ashe had decided to host Cole Cassidy, word spread fast among the lips of Deadlock members and townsfolk alike. And anyone who was allowed access to the manor was going to make sure they were going to be in attendance. Faces you’d never seen before came and went, each one tattooed with the insignia of the gang displayed on whatever body part was exposed to show it. Strange, Ashe had never branded you like them. Even Laney had a tattoo of her own, however small, on her wrist. She hadn’t even discussed it with you, and you certainly weren’t going to remind her of it.

You’d seen the gang in anticipation before, they were plenty excited the day of the big heist, but this was different. Word of Cole Cassidy’s arrival had varying effects on the members, the younger recruits were waiting with bated breath to see the infamous gunslinger and co-founder of the Deadlock gang in person. They had all heard the stories about him, he was a local legend. Russel had told you a few he heard in his youth. He was a one-man army, able to stand his own during a standoff with the best shooters in the country, in the world. Contented with the most powerful lawmen and kept them under his influence. Like a small town king.

The older members of the gang weren’t so thrilled, however. They were probably well aware of what Cole Cassidy was capable of, just as you were. The kind of power he held was only treasured by a certain kind of man. One who intended to wield it as a weapon. Controlling and manipulating others in less than pleasant ways. You’d seen it yourself. He wasn’t the legendary hero others had so highly lauded him to be.

It wasn’t your business, anyway. Your only concern was to keep your head low and bellies feed. Ashe was very particular about that, especially once the arrangement was set. She had on edge since Lee and Cassidy had met with each other. As she put it, Cassidy had apparently been pleased to hear that he was welcome at the Manor and graciously accepted the invitation. Something about his immediate acceptance must’ve unsettled her, and to her point it would be fair to assume he had some sort of ulterior motive. But as long as Lee had returned in one piece, that’s all you cared to know about.

Yet you couldn’t help the way your stomach dropped once Lee informed you when Cole arrived at the manor that night. You were already in the middle of preparing for the meal when he opened the door, not even stepping in and speaking in a mumbled whisper. But you didn’t need him to tell you. The manor was so silent in pregnant pause that you could hear a pin drop. Even you were starting to feel the anticipation, though safe you were in the confines of the kitchen.

Then, a cacophony of voices erupted when the doors had opened. Even past the many doors and hallway separating you from the crowd, the noise occupied even the kitchen. You could hardly distinguish a word of what they were saying, voices muddled in the noise. Still, Cassidy’s voice stood out among them and you couldn’t help the chill that ran down your spine at having heard it. It was instantly recognizable, that deep, thick draw and your mind drifted back to the night on the riverboat. Those empty words he tried to lure you with. It was almost tempting, had you not been so experienced in dealing with slimy men, you might’ve taken him up on the offer. But he was like just the handsy men you’d served at the Diner, and you were far too familiar with what their intentions were.

There might’ve been a time when you would fall for the empty promises and sweet nothings from a man of his status, feigning concern and offering guidance. A time when you didn’t know any better and had known no evil. Maybe America had left you jaded. Or you were finally growing up and realizing how ugly the real world was. Either way, it was best to err on the side of caution when dealing with a man like Cole Cassidy.

Luck be on your side, you’d have nothing to worry about tonight. And once the party had made its way to the dinning room, you could their conversation while busy at work. Ashe hardly said a word, which must’ve been a good thing. If things went awry, she would be screaming someone’s ear off. The rest of the gang did the talking and Cassidy seemed to enjoy the attention from what little you could gather. His booming laughter echoing through the walls whenever Russel or some other admirer would beam praises at him. That same rumbling laughter you had known well just a few nights ago. A yearning feeling tugged at your chest, feeling you were missing out on the fun. You would be lying if you said you wouldn’t love to hide yourself among the crowd and enjoy a night of feasting with the gang. But this was what Ashe wanted, and it was for the best.

The night was otherwise uneventful, at least for you, and soon enough you had been sufficiently smothered in grease and sweat. It was repulsive and though it wasn’t true, you felt caked in oil. You just wanted to grab something to eat for yourself, take a hot shower, and fall right to sleep. Then, you’d wake up to prepare breakfast in the morning to the same massive crew. To make matters worse, Ashe decided to come check up on you before rallying to rest of the troupe out of the dining room.

“Jesus, it’s hot in here,” she fanned herself with her hand, “you’re a mess.”

“You don’t have to tell me that,” you scoff, “It’s like a sauna in here.”

“Smells good though,” she dipped her finger in a bowl of icing you had leftover from dessert, “worked your ass off tonight, boy.”

“How did it go?” you asked.

“Only time will tell. Rome wasn’t built in a day, but seems most folks had a good time. Guess that’s good for something,” she walked over to you, tucking a string of hair behind your ear.

“Seems like no work and all play in the gang these days. Except for me, of course,” you jest, smiling at her.

“Oh, poor thing,” she teased, “Must be tiresome to do some work for once.”

“Hey,” you moaned, resting your head against a nearby cabinet, “Tonight I’ve worked enough to count for the labor of ten men.”

“Don’t know who you think you’re talking to, sugar, but you ain’t gonna get any sympathy from me,” she patted you on the cheek, “Be a doll and clean up for me, won’t you?”

“Where’s Lee? Russel? I could use the help,” your legs were numbing at the mere thought of having to clean up after yourself.

“Where the hell do you think? Russ’s clung to Cole since the moment he walked in, like he’s a fuckin’ God. Starting to get tired of him,” she tutted, “And Lee, well, you’re a big boy, ain’t ya? Folks been working hard around here, even Russel. They’re due for some relaxin’.”

“Sure…” you rolled your shoulders and went back to work as Ashe left to join the gang.

You had made a huge mess, though you had tried to make an effort to clean as you cooked. But the chaos of the kitchen was impossible to manage by yourself. You would be at it for hours, from the looks of it. Well into the night as the roar of drunken gang members dissipated into scant chatter as you kept at work. Not a single recognizable voice was among them. It must’ve been an hour since Ashe had left, and you leaned an ear against the door to discern her voice in the crowd. A hoarse, gruff mumbling voice that sounded like Lee’s, a softer voice with rhythmic drawl, hushed, deep chuckling, all men. That was all the confirmation you needed to set your washcloth aside and take a much needed break.

You grabbed a plate of food for yourself before slipping out of the kitchen and donned your old jacket, the one you had asked Ashe to keep when she first welcomed you to the gang. She had insisted on getting it tailored, or at least fixing up the hole at the shoulder. But you found it endearing and told her as much. It’s frays and tears told the story of your youth you didn’t want to forget. Sure, it was a bit tight on you, but it was comforting. Like a close embrace.

Once you made your way to the back porch, you couldn’t help but stare into the desert night. It welcomed you like a sleeping wolf. So serene, beautiful, calm, but the threat of danger still loomed under its still sands. You’d seen the kind of creatures that lived among them. Spiders and bugs larger than your hand, venomous snakes that threatened to bite if you wandered too close. Even in the sun-less sky the climate was brutal, chilling you to the bone even with your jacket on, though thin it was. But you felt security on the wooded porch of the manor, where you could enjoy the view of stars peppering the sky like diamonds.

What a shame you couldn’t enjoy your meal while it was fresh, you’d really outdone yourself this time. Hopefully it was enough to impress Cassidy, enough for Deadlock to gain his favor if such a thing were possible considering his muddled past with Ashe and what had transpired at the riverboat. It would’ve been nice to be able to sit at the table with all your friends, sit next to Lee while he stuffed his face and praised your cooking. To chat with Russel and Luis about their excursions
and what they had planned for the next one. To enjoy the familiar comfort of Ashe’s smile from across the room.

You felt alone, then. Reminded of the separate world you had lived in, so apart from theirs. Sometimes it felt like you were close enough, that you could relate to them, but it was never true. There was always an invisible barrier that separated you from the rest of the gang. They lived in a world so cold and violent, but once they were at the manor they had left that all behind. It was a place to rest, a much needed haven. That was the world that you lived in.

Ashe knew as much, she tried to keep you apart from it the best that she could. In some ways you were thankful for that, you didn’t have to experience the lows of their business. But you wanted to bridge that divide, still. For them to really mean it when they call you their family. And tonight had really displayed that distant gap for you. You wanted more than anything to sit at that table with them, but you weren’t capable. Weren’t able to endure the unsettling feeling of Cole Cassidy’s dark gaze.

So immersed in your thoughts, you didn’t hear the jingling spurs behind you, “You interested in some company?”

You jumped, a fork full of chicken almost falling from your mouth. Speak of the devil, Cole Cassidy stood over you, his tall figure and broad shoulders eclipsing the minuscule light of the porch lamp. He was the last person you’d imagined would be standing before you in this moment.

“Oh, Mr. Cassidy. Sorry I didn’t get a chance to greet you earlier, I’ve just been so busy,” you smiled nervously, “I was just about to head inside, actually, still have some work to do. Excuse me.”

You attempted to make your way past him, but his arm gripped the railing in front of you to block your path.

“With all that food on your plate? A growing boy like you oughta eat more than that,” he smiled down at you, the corners of his eyes creasing and their color darkened.

“That’s okay, I stopped growing a long time ago,” you tried to joke, hopefully relieve the tension but your voice cracked, exposing your fear and you cleared your throat to correct it.

His grin grew wider and somehow more smug, “How’d a little thing like you manage to do all that work? Must be well trained.”

You gave a breathy chuckle in response, “Just doing my job, sir.”

You though back to the dealer at the poker table, he had said the same thing. How lucky he was to be able to return home to his family, disengage from Cole Cassidy entirely. But you were stuck here, serving him.

“And what does that entail, exactly?” he winked at you, laughing to himself, “Sit with me for a while. I could use the company.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” his smile turned and his eyes squinted into a scowl, “I just, I’m sorry, I would love to but I have a lot of cleaning to do. I’m sure you could have the company of anyone else-“

“I weren’t askin’,” he led the way, motioning for you to follow with two fingers. Your feet moved without you commanding them, your heart speeding. The last time you were alone with Cole Cassidy had been disastrous. Ashe said she gave you her word, you were family, but who knew how good her word would be if she suspected you were fraternizing with the man she hated most in this world, as she put it.

Cole took his seat on a wooded bench on the edge of the porch, his arms extended along its back rest and legs crossed, “Sit.”

And you did, being sure to keep enough space between the two of you, sitting straight back wouldn’t make contact with his arm, “Mr. Cassidy, I-“

“I like when you call me that,” he pulled a cigar from his pocket and tossed a thick, metal lighter onto your lap.

You picked it up and inspected it. It was large like Ashe’s but didn’t have the Deadlock logo engraving her’s had. Just an ornately scripted “C”. Fitting. You flicked the lid open, capitulated Cole’s unspoken request and lit the end of his cigar.

“Thank you,” he said with feigned authenticity, “No need to be shy, darlin’. Reckon you broke we the ice with each other quite some time ago.”

Oh, God. Looks like he wasn’t going to afford you the dignity of forgetting that night.

“I think we both know why you did that,” you scoffed.

“Do we now?” you could feel his gaze on you but you continued to stare into the desert night, “And why was that, exactly?”

“Well,” you started, hesitant to be so transparent, “you and Ashe seem to still have it out for each other, I’ll just say that.”

“Really? Hmm, don’t seem to recall it the same way,” a puff of smoke left his lips as he spoke, “To be honest, the way you were lookin’ at me during the game. Well, thought you was gonna get on your knees for me right then and there.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you fiddled with the lighter still on your lap.

He laughed, loud and resonant. You felt bad for whoever was staying in the bedroom above, “Must be nice lookin’ as pretty as you do. Most folk wouldn’t get nearly as far. Can see why Ashe is so partial to you. I’ll bet you don’t do nothin’ but what you’re told, right, sugar?”

He punctuated his words with a flick of his cigar, taunting you. Somehow he must’ve known that was Ashe’s favorite pet name for you. Maybe he picked it up from the night on the riverboat. Something stirred in your gut, then, and you laughed to soothe yourself.

“Well, she’s partial to everyone in Deadlock,” you knew it was futile, and probably counterproductive, to try to debate him, but you couldn’t help defending your honor.

“Family, huh,” he took another drag, taking a pause to exhale, “Y’know, wasn’t always keen on the whole ‘family’ aspect of things. But I’m startin’ to see it now. Pretty little thing you can order around, clean up the place, make a nice meal. Fuck ‘em when you please. Sounds like a good deal to me.”

“Very nice,” you toss the lighter onto the bench with a thud, “Is this what you dragged me out here for? Are you trying to intimidate me?”

“Don’t get cute with me,” he lowered his voice and its bass rumbled, “You’re not meant for this business. We both know that you don’t got the guts to get your hands dirty. Tell me then, pretty boy, what did you get hired for?”

The change in his tone was harsh and you had to take pause at both the shock of it and the meaning of his words. The obvious answer you had for him didn’t seem like what he was looking for. Clearly he was implying Ashe had sought you out for something more than just being the gang’s cook. And to his credit, most of your days weren’t spent with your head down in the kitchen. They were spent in Ashe’s office, tending to her needs. But what business was that of his? You didn’t owe him any answers. Yet you couldn’t help to wonder why he was curious and where he was going with his line of questioning. He knew a lot about your situation, it seemed. Maybe even more than you yourself did.

“I’m not sure,” you said under your breath, not even sure if he had heard you.

“Oh, bless your heart, darlin’,” he almost sounded sympathetic, “Take my advice, sweetheart. Get the hell outta here soon as you can, else Ashe’ll eat you alive.”

You hummed, still unsure what to say and how to read him. There was something covertly sinister about Cole Cassidy that made it difficult, maybe even impossible, to trust a word he was saying.

“Thanks for the advice,” you replied, “I’ll think about it.”

You were praying that Ashe wasn’t anywhere around eavesdropping on your conversation. Of course you wouldn’t think about it, you owed your life to her and she had been nothing but kind to you. Your relationship wasn’t perfect and a bit confusing, sure, but she cared and provided for you unlike anyone else in your life and you would stand alongside her.

Cole’s large, gloved hand swallowed your shoulder and lifted the torn fabric of your sleeve so that the exposure was covered. You turned over to face him and saw a look that you couldn’t couldn’t discern on his face, “I’ll be seeing you tomorrow at breakfast, you hear me?”

You look to your lap again, shameful that you were giving into his demands. You had been entertaining him from the moment you saw him. Was this really the best method to keep out of trouble? Odds were that Ashe wouldn’t be happy seeing you at the table for breakfast considering she was the one who instructed you to keep to yourself, stay away from the very man you were sitting next to. But you wanted to join them and celebrate among with them. They were your family just as much as hers, right? And you could manage cooking all the while. It was perfectly reasonable.

“Maybe. I’ll ask-“ you jump as Cole slapped his hand down onto your shoulder. It was sudden, and it felt as if he was restraining his strength but the blow was still strong.

“Get some rest, I’ll see you tomorrow,” he rose, flicking the butt of his cigar into the sand and sauntering away. You just stared at him, even after he was inside his presence still remained.

The end of his cigar was still simmering, smoking in the sand, specks of ash fizzling away. Like it was gasping for air. On the night of the gang’s big heist, their bikes dissipated into the horizon, flaming engines swallowed by the billowing smoke and sand. Just like that, only this time much closer. You could pick it up, feel it in your fingers and smell the smoke that still lingered. Cole had made an effort to bring you closer and something about that had touched your heart in a way you had been asking the gang to do for months. But they never had. Even Russel, who was so close to you and you could consider a friends, he held no power to defy Ashe and bridge the distance between the two of you.

But why? Logically, if Cassidy wanted to sink his teeth into anyone in the gang, you were the worst option. You had no power, no influence, and you were completely oblivious to the sort of ‘business’ he or Deadlock conducted. It would be much easier for him to sway on if the younger recruits who was already so infatuated and indoctrinated by the tales they had been talk of the notorious Deadeye to devote themselves to him wholeheartedly. You had nothing of value to offer him, yet he still seemed intent on pursuing you for no good reason.

Unless he thought you were the easiest to manipulate. In which case, maybe he had a point. You had hardly made an effort to deny his advances, at least nothing earnest enough to keep him at bay. And you submitted to his requests, entertained his demands and spoke to him in nothing less than polite words. He must’ve mistaken your kindness for weakness. But he would be remised to assume as much, plenty men before him had. Even that old man from the diner who would’ve beaten you to a pulp if you hadn’t been so resourceful. No, you weren’t less of a predator than him, Ashe, or anyone else who might have their back up against a corner. If he thought he was going to take advantage of you, then his arrogance would be his folly.

So you would join them for breakfast tomorrow, not because he had commanded it, but because you wanted to. Sure, he had elicited the idea and perhaps incited your newfound courage, but it was yours nonetheless. You had decided it for yourself, and at the end of the day, you would be the one in control of your own actions.

Chapter Text

Cool metal slid between your fingers as you played with the lighter, that ornate ‘C’ engraved in your sights. Cassidy smoked big, fat cigars that wafted a faint enchanting sweetness like cinnamon. Ashe smoked thin cigarettes that came in packs and reeked of bitter nicotine. What drew either of them to the vice, you couldn’t be sure. The stress of the job, something to take the edge off. Maybe. The culture of the business certainly didn’t dissuade them from it, either. Heavy against your limp hand, you drift away to sleep with the lighter nested in your palm.

And just as fast as you fell into your dreams, the ringing of an alarm lifted you into consciousness. Drowsy, still soggy from your slumber, your body automated into your routine and began to doubt if you should’ve rose early at all. If you had slept in, you wouldn’t be able to join the gang for breakfast, but you’d get some much needed rest. And prevent whatever drama you might be causing.

The kitchen was still a mess from last night and you had your work cut out for you, more so now that your body was uncooperative. But you defy yourself, despite the protests from your weakened limbs and mind. And despite you resolve, your mind flinched at the though that Ashe might really kill you when she sees you outside the kitchen. But that wouldn’t be the worst thing you’ve done. You’d made a nasty transgression not too long ago and she didn’t seem to hold it against you so viciously. Something about this transgression was worse, though. But was it so bad that the two of you couldn’t talk it out? Maybe she’ll have you clean the barn or do some other dirty work for the gang, whatever gruesome punishment that might justify yourself. Surely she wouldn’t actually kill you. Right?

Thick heels clicked on hardwood and you gripped onto a washcloth for dear life. Shit. The door swung open and you refocused yourself to cleaning the stained marble countertop.

“You’re up early,” she was already dressed and her face made up, “Didn’t get to cleanin’, huh?”

“It was a long day,” you didn’t look up.

“I don’t like a dirty kitchen, makes the house smell like a fuckin’ trash bin. Look at me when I’m speaking to you.”

You straightened your posture and tossed the washcloth into a bucket, giving her your undivided attention.

“The hell’s got you so sour? Didn’t get enough rest, princess?” she mocked, leaning against the doorframe.

“Ashe,” you sighed, “I’m exhausted. I didn’t have any time last night to eat a thing. Do you think I could-“

“Not enough time? I give you all the free time in the world, even grant you the privilege to plan your own schedule. Most folk here would kill for that. But I respect you, and good cooking is all about timing. Gotta chop the meat in time to stew it, gotta stew it in time to serve it, gotta serve it in time to see the men off and such. Now you’re crying about not getting a meal? God forbid I give you any freedom, you ain’t have any idea how to use it properly,” she scoffed incredulously.

By the tone of her voice you could tell she was not the least bit pleased with your performance. Fuck, how were you going to spin this?

“I’m real sorry, Ashe. I really screwed it up yesterday. I know that. But I’ve learned from my mistake and I’ve got everything set for today, minute by minute. Just let me eat with you guys, I’ve managed my time enough for that. Just breakfast.”

She laughed, examining her manicured nails, “Oh yea? Sure, it’s just breakfast, right? Then it’s lunch. Then someone got in your ear about ridin’. Seen it before. You’ll be dead in a week.”

“You’ve never felt that way when I’m with you and Lee,” you spoke aloud before censoring yourself, “and you know just as well as I do that I have no interest in…that stuff.”

“What, you wanna join us for breakfast do you? That ‘cause you’re growing sweet on ol’ Cole Cassidy, that it?” her voice lowered and she arched an eyebrow at you.

“I just want to sit and eat at the table with the rest of you and not squatting in the back like a dog. But if you really insist, I won’t go.”

“Insist,” she hummed, “Insist. Far as I see it, you’re the one insistin’.”

She left, clicking heels echoed in the empty dining hall.

There was nothing for you to insist upon. All you wanted was to have a seat among them, and you were hardly at all interested in making an appearance just to bare witness to Cole Cassidy. The thought hadn’t even slipped your mind. Unless you take into account the fact that he was the one who suggested you join them in the first place. Then, maybe Ashe wasn’t completely wrong. Was he playing you like a fiddle? Tugging on just the right strings to hear his favorite song? Had you been just a pawn in his scheme to undermine her power?

There wasn’t any need for him to play these games, he had just as much influence as Ashe did, perhaps more. He was a free man, without allegiance to any man or affiliation but himself, yet he was allowed entry to the manor. Entry that no other civilian or even some Deadlock members had permission of. He had left the gang to rot in his glory yet he was still welcome with open arms and served like royalty. All because of some history and tales that might not have had a word of truth to them as far as you could gather from anyone who had recited them to you. No proof, just hearsay that had been orated often enough to have been no more than fiction. He was glib-tongued, could convince a blind man that he had the vision of an eagle and with the capacity of evil to do so.

And what a fool you were, eating out of his palm like a good little dog. Yet you still felt the pressure of denying him, felt it even more firmly than that of disobeying Ashe. Because you knew her and had seen what she was capable of, felt that she revered you as family, knew she saw you as human. You had no such connection with Cole, he was a stranger to you. There was something he wanted from you, whether it was to toy with Ashe was just speculation, however valid it may be. And what exactly his goal was, there was no telling. Shamefully, it felt like a compliment that someone of his status wanted to include you, someone from the inside. Having his back you would surely make others see you as one of them judging by the way they respected and feared him. It was just unfortunate that he had to be your ticket in.

He had stolen a kiss from you the first night you had met, on full display for Ashe to see and he seemed to know exactly the effect it would have on her. You recalled the grip he had on the back of your neck, the way his fingertips curled into your throat and forced your mouth open for him to take advantage of. If that was how he treated you when you were on his good side, you’d dread to see how he acted if you went against him. How much did Ashe know about his wiles? She must have suspected something, judging by the way she was so cautious to have you near him.

Footsteps stamped about the house as it stirred to life with the early morning. And the kitchen, though hotter than the sun, smelled amazing. Everything was coming together, and you set to preparing the table for the meal. More plates and silverware than you had the patience to count, vats of soft, scrambled eggs and rolls of sausages with rolling steam sat as the centerpiece. Freshly baked bread and thick slabs of pork belly. A platter of fruits, oranges, apples, grapes.

The door to the dining hall opened and you jumped, panicking at the thought of a crowd of hungry gang members rolling in. Worse yet, Ashe stepped through the doorway, face blank.

“Hey,” you set down a plate of cabbage, “You feeling alright?”

“Yea,” she closed the door behind her and began pacing over to you, “you?”

“I…” you began, facing her and trying to read her eyes, “I hope you don’t think that I’m not loyal to you.”

“You know I’m just looking out for you,” she rested a sympathetic hand on your arm, “It was you who didn’t like the idea of Cassidy showing up here. Looks like you got a different tone now.”

“Yea, I know,” you look away bashfully, “Things seem better now since last night, don’t they?”

She hummed in response, trailing her hand up your arm and squeezing your shoulder, “You don’t think I see all your hard work, do you?”

“No, I mean, yes. I mean, you do, of course,” you breathed a shaky laugh.

Her fingers gripped your chin and her gaze deepened, “That’s right. I do. More than you’ll know.”

With her other hand, her slender fingers wrapped around your wrist and forced your arms around her waist. Just like she had done when measuring your body, when she hadn’t yet stirred desire into you. Now, you would be lying if you said you didn’t like this and your body was already beginning to respond very eagerly to her attention. But it seemed entirely the wrong place.

“You’ve been such a good boy. I think you’re due for a treat, honey,” she purred and you almost pinched yourself but you were far too deep in her trance to move a muscle.

Her hands roamed over your body, sweeping across your chest and grazing over the curve of your waist down to your hips. You stared at her smug smile, willing yourself to keep your hands off of her and your eyes level with hers lest they trail downward. You were almost panting with fervent desire. She chuckled and the vibration ran through you cruelly.

Your lips met hers, who made the initiative you couldn’t say, but her tongue was like velvet. She pulled you away after just a taste, slapping your ass playfully before looking to the tightness in your pants.

“Why don’t I take care of that for you, sugar?” she chuckled and cupped your erection. The pressure melted you to her touch and a moan cried from your lips.

“Right now? Here?” apprehensively, you leaned into her touch.

“Hush now, don’t you worry,” without thinking, you framed her waist with your hands and she promptly slapped them away, “No touching.”

A rattle and a creak signaled the opening door and Ashe immediately pushed you away, fixing herself. You hid yourself behind a chair and fumbled about with a set plate to seem preoccupied.

“Good mornin’,” a thick growl of a southern drawl spoke. Cole Cassidy. You wanted to kill him now more than ever.

You hummed in reply and Ashe folded her arms, sent him an irritated glare, “Must be starved comin’ in here so early.”

“Just wanted to pay my little friend a visit,” you saw him wink at you in your periphery.

“Well, look at that,” she turned to you and huffed, “Y’all been gettin’ real close, haven’t ya?”

“Oh, we’re just best of friends,” you mumbled, still pretending to set the table

“That’s right,” Cassidy sauntered further in the room, his height towering above the both of you “Don’t mind I’ve gotten close to you favorite pet, do ya?”

She huffed a laugh, “Not at all. Glad to see you’re enjoying my company, Cole.”

“Might keep ‘em for myself,” Cassidy took a seat at the center of the table, “Looks like table’s set and full of food. Let’s get the rest of the company and get breakfast on.”

You protested, “I just have to set a few more plates-“

“Why not, let’s get the gang in here,” Ashe asserted, already walking towards the hall where men sat like hungry wolves awaiting their meals.

“Wait, just two more plates.”

“You’ll be fine,” she opened the door and yelled to whoever could hear, “Breakfast’s on!”

Voices traveled through the hall and before you could make your way to the kitchen, a stampede burst through the door. Men of all different shapes and sizes took their seats about the table, those flanking Cassidy being the first to be occupied. You hurriedly set the remaining plates and took your own seat among a group of men you were apprehensive to dine with. A chattering crew all donned in leather to your left and some silent young men, maybe a few years older than you, still in sheer linen sleepwear sat at your right. Jaime was with the younger crew and you waved to him, glad to see a familiar face. He didn’t pay you any mind, not even a nod.

Just as you were about to fill your plate, and hand tugged at your shoulder. You turned, meeting the grin of a rough-looking gentleman with long black hair and a scraggly beard to match its length, like a swashbuckling pirate.

“Can I help you?”

“You’re the cook, ain’t ya?” he was clearly a smoker, must’ve been a nasty habit of his by the gravel in his voice.

“One and only,” you spoke in a mumble, hunger souring your mood.

“Aw, damn,” he leaned back and looked over to his friends, “Well, looks like you was right, fellas!”

They chuckled among themselves like a pack of hyenas and a few of them passed around cash to each other. Whatever they were doing was none of your business, however much it involved you. Looking out onto the table, you spotted Laney with a few of the girls of the gang, a motley crew ranging from her soft features to Ashe’s harsh ones. You could understand why they sat among themselves if the rest of the male company of the gang was as unsettling as the one beside you now.

Russel and Luis were together, of course. Next to Cassidy, of course. Where Russel was chatting his ear off nonstop, of course. He hung off of him like a parasite. But he looked so handsome, though, slicked back and clean-shaved, groomed to impress. You’d never seen him put any actual work into his appearance, even at the riverboat he had no interest in taming his looks. Lee had his face buried in a plate of food, always enjoying a meal like it was his last. You saw even saw Mike a few seats next to him, still drunken off the hush of morning.

How Ashe managed to preside over this massive crew, you could never comprehend. The vastness of the dining hall was completely devoured, cramped even worse than the night before their latest heist. Equally as impressive was how Cassidy seemed to cast a spell over all the many guests of the manor. Even the company next to you discussed him in hushed whispers. You didn’t catch much of what they were saying, but they seemed almost fearful that someone might hear them.

The sluggish company to your right was much more jovial, however. Jaime had his arm around one of the men, whose toned arms hung out of a tight tank top. You caught his gaze for a moment and he winked at you, whispered something in the man’s ear. They laughed and you turned away.

“Here’s good cookin’,” the man next to you spoke, though you weren’t sure if he was speaking to you or himself, “haven’t had a good meal in too damn long.”

“You should come by more often, then,” he laughed at your reply, which became a whooping cough.

“Hell, boy, if I time enough to spent in a place like this, wouldn’t ya reckon I would?” he shook his head and dug his face into his plate. Just like Lee.

“What do you do out there?” you sounded like an idiot, you were well aware, must’ve looked like a fool to everyone around who could hear you. Even the other man to your right scoffed. But you were curious, couldn’t help it and didn’t care to.

“Ain’t sittin’ pretty like the trophy bitch of Deadlock, that’s for damn sure,” he chuckled and those nearby did too. You nodded in response and went back to your plate. So that’s what they thought of you.

“How long have you been in Deadlock?” there was more you wanted to know, and you didn’t mind appeasing the man’s ego to get what you wanted.

“Shit, been fightin’ my whole life. In ‘n outta gangs, but Deadlock rules ‘em all. Even if you’re in the Diamondbacks, ya might as well be workin’ under Deadlock. ‘Cept wage’s are hell and law treats you worse than dirt. At least we’ve some respect here.”

“You seem like you know a lot about the business,” you studied his face and could see his features soften.

“Damn right. All my life’s been here, the wild country’s in my blood. You want in? Sure, some folk ain’t built for it. But you’d be surprised. Seen boys smaller than you fight like a brute, men twice your size too, with the spine of a jellyfish. Ever kill a man before, kid?”

You paused, a bit disturbed by the question, “I fought someone once.”

He smiled, wide and yellow, “Ya win?”

“I don’t think I lost,” you take a bite, renewed after having eaten, “I guess you can consider that a win.”

“Don’t misdoubt it. Most fights there ain’t no winner but those who leave with their lives. No such thing as winnin’.”

In that case, you would’ve certainly lost if not for Ashe and Lee coming to your rescue. You hummed in response, the man was strangely endearing and seemed to have a story to tell. You listen to him talk among his friends while you ate. They talked about nothing of significance. Booze, cards, bikes, women… The only time they had said something of interest was in whispers.

A thump on the back of your chair has you turning to see Russel standing over you with his thumbs looping through his jeans, his hair beginning to fray defiantly from its slick confines, “Hey.”

“You ain’t even greet me, you little punk,” the man next to you turned to Russel.

“Hell, Mr. Holden, ain’t even seen you!” he shook your shoulders, “Cassidy wants to see ya.”

“Cassidy?” the man, Mr. Holden, turns to you with an incredulous look, “Hell’s bells, boy, you get around dontcha?”

Russel let out a laugh, you weren’t quite sure what Mr. Holden was implying, “Why?”

“Let me take your seat. Haven’t seen you in so long, old man! Surprised you still able to keep up in your old age,” The man couldn’t have been any older than 40, you wouldn’t classify him as old but he had some years on the man at the table. He and Russel were full into conversation and you rose from your seat. Sure enough, Russel’s chair was empty and Luis had his eyes on you expectantly as you walked around the table.

“Yo,” you give him a curt nod and he responded with his own. You took your seat next to Cassidy, who was in listening to a blonde haired man across the table monologue about his times as a young gunslinger.

“Don’t nobody knew what hit ‘em when you was ridin’, Cas. Weren’t no more than 15, I reckon. Whole country ain’t even known was born to them the devil himself!”

Cassidy hummed lowly in response, took a sip of his coffee, “Was a fine day, that day.”

“Robbed the whole city blind in less than a week!”

“Was a fine week,” he smiled.

“Shot a whole squadron quicker than them could even blink,” another gentleman interrupted, “Called you the Deadeye, still got the newspaper clippings!”

It was embarrassing, like listening to a group of schoolboys recount the adventures of their favorite superhero. Cassidy didn’t say much, didn’t have to say anything, but his presence was radiating and the eyes of those around him shimmered in excitement. You turned to him to study his face. He must’ve felt your eyes on him and returned your gaze.

“Russel said you wanted me,” you felt shameful stealing his attention.

“I do want you,” his grin widened in a way that made you shiver, “But that’s not why I called you. You have something of mine.”

“Oh,” you reach into your pocket and hold out his lighter, “Lucky I held onto it.”

“Keep it,” he wrapped an arm around the shoulder of your chair and you shifted forward.

“Really? But…I’m not sure I’ll get much use out of it,” you thumb over the engraving.

“You will,” he said, “Come outside with me. I need a smoke.”

You look over across the table at Ashe. She was lounging, legs crossed and resting on the table. The brim of her hat hung low over her face. A woman you didn’t recognize seemed to be talking to her.

“Ok,” you conceded and Cole rose from his seat and led the way, back to the porch, same as last night. He could’ve taken you to the front of the manor which was much more hospitable. Fortified by brick and mortar and accompanied with metal benches that posed no risk of stabbing those who sat on them. The back porch was falling apart at the seams, nothing more than half-rotted wooden planks that separating the desert earth from the housing.

He held the door open before you, doffed his hat. You were reluctant to walk ahead of him and examined his face for a moment. He squinted his eyes and furrowed his brow at your pause, darkening his gaze until his eyes were burning into yours. You froze for a moment. You could almost see the fire set in his eyes. Wicked with intent, an intent you did not want to reveal. So you dragged your feet through the exit, into the dry desert heat.

Reaching into your pocket, you pull out your newly gifted lighter. It’s lid was heavy and fought you as you flipped it to expose the spark wheel. A large hand covered the small of your back. You flinched at the touch and immediately backed away.

“Please don’t touch me,” his eyes were predatory and you felt like a rabbit trapped in his snare, feeling suddenly exposed.

He didn’t protest or grab you. Instead, he withdrew a cigar from his pocket between his two fingers as if he were to bring it to his lips. He flipped it the other way and extended it to you.

“No,” you shook you head adamantly. You hated smoking, never knew how to take a proper drag and did not have any interest in learning.

“You really wanna test me?” he lifted the cigar to your lips and you could already taste the wood and spice when you pursed your lips around the girth. A calloused hand engulfed your wrist and brought the lighter up with it.

You gripped the cigar with your teeth as you spoke, “I don’t know how to do this.”

He lifted the corners of his lips and gestured to the lighter, commanding you to ignite the flame. The spark wheel left a rusted stain trail on your thumb as you lit the end of the cigar. You sucked, nothing coming from it but the taste of wet paper. Then, the smoke filled your mouth, bleed down your throat, triggering your gag reflex. You coughed, grabbing at your throat and the cigar flew across the porch, Cole’s laughter and your frantic coughing transcending the tense silence.

“What the-“ you coughed, “I can’t- What is that?”

“Taste nice?” he laid his hand on your back again, petting you.

“It’s -“ another cough, “No, I don’t like it.”

“Best get used to it,” he hooked his fingers into the collar of your shirt and lifted you to stand erect, “Pick it up.”

“What? No,” you were panting. The cigar lay on the sand-dusted wood planks.

Balling a fistful of your shirt in his hand, the tightened fabric crushed your chest, “That cigar’s worth more than you, boy. Pick it up.”

He released you and you collapsed to the ground. You rose on your knees and looked up at his face, barren of any emotion other than fiery demand. You reached for the cigar, still smoking, and rolled it on your fingers, waiting for his next order. But he said nothing, and instead grabbed a tuft of your hair. You were praying that Ashe would come to save you, interrupt Cole and banish him away from your life forever.

Fingers lifted the cigar to your lips and a tear rolled down your hot cheek as you took another weak drag. A cough fought back the smoke from your lungs and you crushed the cigar with a fist. Your eyes were wet from shame and overwhelm. The grip in your hair was released.

“Didn’t tell you to smoke it, did I?”

You look up at him through bleary eyes and shook your head. Your throat itched. A rattling came from his belt and your chest was heaving in panic when the barrel of his revolver sat between your eyes.

“Cassidy, please,” you lifted your hands meekly, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

“Didn’t know what?” he asked expectedly.

“I thought- I didn’t realize-“ you stammered as you struggled to think clearly with a gun pointing to your brains.

Only for a moment he moved the barrel to tap at his thighs, “Put ‘em here.”

You weren’t sure what he meant, but instinct told you he wanted you hands on his thighs and you complied, though confused, “Please, Mr. Cassidy.”

“I like the way you beg, boy,” he spoke low and gruff.

His thumb cocked back the hammer of the pistol. Your heart pulsed in your throat and sobs choked your pleas, “Mr. Cassidy, please, I’m so sorry. I’ll pay you back for the cigar, any way I can. I’ll do anything, anything you want.”

He hummed, voice lightening as if in approval, and it seemed that way when he withdrew the pistol. You released a moaned sigh, fingers gripped Cole’s thighs, thick like tree trunks. But the revolver was still in his hand. He raised his arm and your wide eyes begged his dark ones for mercy. In a motion swifter than you could block, the blunt metal pistol struck a blow to your forehead and nothing remained but blackness.

Chapter Text

Your head, your wrists and ankles, pulsed and swelled and sent a stabbing pain all through your body. You tugged, and examined that you were bound by the hands and feet to a chair. Naked except a pair of underwear that conceal the only dignity you had left, body slick with sweat. It was difficult for you to think clearly, you felt like you were being cooked alive in some large, wooded oven.

This room was dark, illuminated by nothing but slivers of light that broke through the cracks of wood. It was a tool shed, that much was certain by the instruments hanging from the walls and on a lone workbench. You pulled and twisted in the tight ropes, only managing to chaff and peel at your raw flesh.

How long had you been here? Minutes, hours, maybe days. The heat was suffocating, such was that of the desert that you can come to be acquainted with, there was nothing quite like it. Then, were you still at the manor? Was this Ashe’s way of punishing you? Or was Cassidy the one up to this? Cassidy. That’s right, the last thing you remembered before you woke up was his pistol against your skull. A pang pulsed from the wound in your head, a cruel reminder. The thought of him disrobing your unconscious body was nauseating. Whatever the reason for your being here, the sharp objects were a loud enough message to spell trouble for you. This was not a place you wanted to be in your current state.

There was a crack exposing some light from behind you and your wiggled the chair to move toward it. It was poorly built, and when you put an uneven amount of weight on the legs, they trembled nervously. Still, you shifted toward to exposure and you were just close enough to be blinded by the sunlight. Nothing but yellow sand with scarce blots of greenery. You could have easily have been in the very backyard of what you considered home just as well as across the desert.

The home you once knew in your childhood was so far from this, a distance you couldn’t even comprehend. Seas apart, mountain ranges past, and beyond any horizons you never knew. And here you are in a bear’s den, exposed like a skinned deer. Where was your family now? Were your grandparents resting content with the money you hoped would repaid the debt of your birth? What would become of you in this tool shed? How bitter, how terrible it would be if you returned to them less than a man than you had been when you left them. Or not to return to them at all.

You hear a familiar sound, one that filled the manor so frequent that you were all but numb to it until now. The ringing screamed out when a boot kicked through the door and light bursted through the room like an angel in the night. It was blinding, flooded your vision. You didn’t have to see, however, to know who was there before you.

He left it open as he continued inside, deliberate steps and not a word spoken. Your eyes fluttered as you tried to adjust to the sudden lighting. It was harsh, felt like the sunlight was lashing at your naked body. You could feel Cassidy‘s eyes on you, with an intent you could not know.

“There you are,” his voice low and thunderous.

Your throat was dry and sore, you didn’t say a word. He walked to the workbench, which seemed to host a variety of knives and hand-held tools. Thick and thin, large and small. He lifted a bowie knife and unsheathed it. The light bounced off the metal as he inspected it until the gleam pierced your eyes and you sucked your teeth and looked away.

“Hope you’ve plenty rest.”

The humor in his voice was offensive, he was toying with you. Your muscles tightened and you gave him no acknowledgment. The metal tip of the knife nipped at your arm as he flirted with slicing you open, the metal was soothing against your hot skin.

“Give me some energy, boy.”

You rolled your head over, defiantly staring back into the onyx of his eyes. But the corners of his lips lifted gleefully like admiring a shiny new toy. His teeth shone like pearls beneath his groomed mustache and it was difficult for you to deny the charms of his smile, even now that he had intent to harm you.

The knife dipped into the simple of soft flesh in your inner arm. You yelped and writhed violently in your binds, the sound of dripping blood filled the room.

“Don’t confuse me, son,” he had to raise his volume over your screams, “I ain’t soft on you yet.”

He withdrew the blade and blood pooled at the dip. Reactionary tears rolled down your cheek but you kept your face stoic.

“What do you want from me?” you hiccuped, the itching in your throat making you cough.

“Shame it’s come to this,” the bloody tip of the knife hovered over your lips and the liquid dripped onto you, “Shoulda took my advice, this ain’t gonna end well for you.”

You whimpered involuntarily, blood on your lips fell onto your tongue and your disgust overwhelmed whatever little control you had. To think you were at the mercy of this man, who seemed to take some joy at your suffering. Was this it?

“I have a family,” you tried to appeal to his sympathies, if ever they existed, “If it weren’t for them, I could care less what you might do to me. Please, they rely on me to survive.”

He pulled back, set the knife aside on the bench. As he stood, the golden skin of his shirtless form glistened like a star and he seemed almost divine save for the dark hair covering his body. A few scars settled on his torso, though not enough to distract from its allure. There must’ve been plenty avenues in his life that would have diverged him from walking down the path of this violent business and you wondered why he hadn’t taken them.

“Anything else you want me to know? Got a wife and kids back home, your mama dyin’?” he laughed.

“What do you want, then? To kill me, is that it?” you were getting delirious in the heat and frankly irritated, “Have your fun, then.”

“Ain’t simple as that,” he started toward you, wrapping around to stand behind you, overlook you, “Already told you, you’ve something of mine and I plan to take it back.”

“What? All this for a shitty lighter? I never wanted the thing, you can take it and throw it in the ocean for all I care.”

He scoffed, “Thick, ain’t ya?”

He looked down at the knife that he had rested on your shoulder, almost as if admiring the crimson soaking the blade. It dripped down your shoulder and pitter-pattered drops ran down onto the floor. Blood still drained from the open wound on your arm, flowing in streams down the chair arm. Your head was light and heavy.

“Ever play hangman?”

You hadn’t but didn’t like what the name implied. Choking back a sob with your trembling lips, you shook your head. The knife was wet and painted your neck when he pressed it against your aching throat.

“10 chances. If you can answer me, you’ll get to live. If not,” he pulled back, the delicate skin under your neck splitting, “Well, let’s hope you’ll live.”

You hummed lightly, trying not to touch the blade against your new wound. Though it was a small scratch, it stung worse than the gash in your arm. Your reply seemed to satisfy him and he pulled back the knife.

“Gotta warn you,” he rounded the chair to face you with his towering figure, “there’s a catch.”

Your skin was starting to go pale and your heart throbbed like a bass drum. But you still had enough vitality to retain awareness, though you almost wish you hadn’t. Cole brought the knife down just above the knuckle of your index finger.

“Ten? Is that what you mean?” your eyes went wide.

“‘Fraid so,” his expression was blank from what little wasn’t obscured from the shadow cast from the light beaming on his back.

Bile reached your throat and your eyes welled wet with tears, again. You tugged at your restraints but they were impossibly tight and seemed to tighten even more at every movement like a boa constrictor. The pain of your wounds suddenly flared and you feared just exactly he wanted from you that you might be so reluctant to be maimed.

“I’ll tell you whatever you want to know,” you tried to contain your panic but your vocal chords trembled like a choir.

He raised a hand to cup your chin and took the knife away from your finger as he leaned over you. Sweat dripped and tickled your already slick body. He bowed his head and tilted your chin upwards so that your eyes could meet. He looked hungry, wolfish. Excited, even. His eyes smiled while his lips turned downwards. His fingers slid down to the frame of your throat.

“San Juan,” he lifted a brow curiously, “that name mean anything to you?”

It was clear what he was asking you to do now. All that time you had spent as a notary for Ashe. He was demanding that you betray her. But this proved a problem to you beyond that of your allegiance to Deadlock. The information he was asking for was deep in the archives of your mind, information you had tried earnestly to forget. It would have no use besides to incriminate you. Until now, that is.

“Yes,” you answered hurriedly, “I know the name. She sent men there from time to time.”

The sweat of his palm bit your cut as he wrapped it tightly around your throat. It’s pressure had you gasping for air, “Don’t toy with me, son. Tell me all you know.”

You struggled to catch your breath when he released you, “I think,” you panted, “Stash- Something about- She kept saying a stash- Or maybe sash. Don’t know.”

He hummed.

“It sounded like it was tucked away somewhere,” your memory was still hazy, “So maybe it was stash.”

You tossed you head back in both defeat and contemplation. You had just committed the greatest sin against the most power gang in America. If you weren’t dead by the end of this, you’d surely be executed by them. But there was no use thinking about that, you had to get out of here alive. Your task now was to contrive some lie good enough to convince Cassidy, good enough to satisfy whatever he was already seeking.

“Might get to keep your fingers yet, boy,” the words music to your ears and finally your body relaxed. He pulled back, but the knife was still snug in his hand, the hilt seemed almost carved with the curve of his hand in mind. You wondered how much more he wanted to know and how much longer still you would be able to keep up.

“A man by the name Wilkes. Tell me about him.”

You gripped tightly the wood grain of the chair arm with your fingertips. Feeling it’s roughness, the stray splinters nipping at your flesh. It was perhaps the last time you would feel anything again with those fingers.

“Yes,” your voice was breathless as you tried to conceal your fear, “I heard that name.”

“Oh, honey,” he pouted mockingly, lasciviously.

You jerked and thrashed about and the chair buckled and jumped like a wild mare. You panted, frenzied and desperate. Tears wet your cheek, disappearing into your sweat-glazed body. But all your senses had been numbed, tunneled solely on survival. Just a mumbling deep voice and a firm grip on your hair were there only external stimuli you would allow breach that. You closed your fists, trying to keep your fingers close to you as possible. Protected like a turtle in a white-knuckled shell.

“Easy,” he tugged your head back.

“No, I swear,” you were sobbing, bordering on wailing, “Just give me a moment to think. Cassidy.”

He paused. You must’ve touched a nerve. He unraveled his fingers but kept his hand against the back of your head. His thumb pet the top of your head, his eyes flickered while he examined your face. It felt hotter somehow than the ravenous desert sun. He leaned further down, his dark hair hanging over you. You could smell cigar smoke that always stayed with him.

“I wouldn’t lie to you,” you lied.

His lips curled like a fox, you might’ve just given him the perfect excuse to kill you. His hand trailed down to cup your face again, his fingers squeezed and lifted your cheeks.

“Of course,” he teased, “I know you’d never lie to me, darlin’.”

His fingers dug deeper and ached your cheeks. You thought he might crush your skull, slowly like crushing a grape with two fingertips. Then he unclasped his hand. To your relief, your face was still intact though you could feel the throbbings of bruises forming in oval shapes on your face.

“But you been good to me so far. So how ‘bout this,” he put a finger on your lips, “I’ll give you some time, boy. But when I next see you and you ain’t nothin’ to say. I’ll kill you.”

Your heart sank and your situation became too real when he proclaimed directly his intention. He said it, he would kill you. And you had nothing to tell him but lies. Lies that would surely catch up to you if he ever even believed them, which he surely wouldn’t. He stood and the air cooled. He looked over at you again, his eyes trailed over your body, only looking you in the face before turning and closing the door. Everything was dark again, the faint sound of whistling as he walked away.

How long would he be gone? Forever, you hoped. Even if he were to leave you here to starve to death or burn alive, it would be a better fate then to die by his hand. Now that he was gone, though, you could plot your escape. You shifted your weight and felt the chair buckle and shake. It was either poorly built or older than you, probably both. If it weren’t for your bound feet, you’d smash it against the wall. But in your current state, you had no agency of your body. You would only need to free either your hands or feet, but you couldn’t do anything without getting past that first step.

The shed stored all sorts of sharp objects that might set you free. Better yet, the bench on which several tools lay was just as decrepit as the chair you were tied to. You shuffled over a few inches toward it, exhausting the little energy you had. But you couldn’t give up or your life was forfeit. With all the force you could muster from your legs, you thrashed about and managed to move a bit closer, almost tipping over in the process.

You lifted yourself best you could from the chair and could distinguish knives, scalpels, screwdrivers, wrenches all splayed about. A stray scalpel lay in the corner of the table and you aimed your sights on it as you shuffled over again. You were close enough to take action, and you braced yourself before throwing your body against the wood.

You cursed, splinters cut your skin and blushed the egg of your shoulder. It was a harsh blow that hardly moved the scalpel an inch. If you could use the chair to initiate the blow, you’d be in a much better state and you felt like an idiot for not thinking of it before. So you pivoted for the proper angle and pushed back. By the sound of it, it was much more impactful and you pushed again. The wood scratched against your back but it was far more tolerable and you kept on pushing. Pushing, moving forward an inch, pushing again, forward, push. Forward, push. On again for what seemed like half an hour but could’ve easily been five minutes. Until you heard the sound of a metal hit the ground.

Elated, you turned to find that it hadn’t been the scalpel that fell, but a screwdriver that must’ve rolled off. It didn’t matter, it would do the trick. Now, you had to find a way to get the damn thing in your hands. Your best bet was to fall onto your side and try to grasp it. It’d be awkward, you’d have to use one hand, but it was your only shoot.

You tipped the chair left and right, moving it a bit to get the right angle. You fell to the floor with a crash, almost having fallen to the opposite side but it seemed like God was with you in that tool shed. Your hand flapped like a fish in search for the screwdriver and you were able to reach the handle with your fingertips. With some strain, you held it in your palm and faced its other end at the ropes of your binds. Your wrist contorted in all sorts of uncomfortable fashions to saw or pierce the frayed material away, but it seemed to be in vain. Nothing would give.

Now you’d really felt a fool. If only you kept at it until you dropped the scalpel, there was no way for your plan to fail. But in the throughs of the moment, you were satisfied enough with the screwdriver only to find it would do nothing for you. Still, you had to keep at it, there was no use retracing your footsteps, you couldn’t if you tried. You stabbed at the rope with what little strength you could muster. After a few minutes, the grip of your binds was loosened just a bit for you to wiggle upwards. If you continued at this pace, you might be able to move it completely vertically and free yourself.

Frantically, worried about running short of time, you stabbed at the rope. Wedging it between frays if you could, moving the screwdriver up and down like you were scrubbing at a stain. You tried again to move your wrist. And it was working. You could feel it giving way. So you kept at it and sure enough, you loosen it enough to free your hand. It was a terrible sight, swollen red and purple, but so beautiful was the feeling of being free again. You wouldn’t be able to reach your feet just yet, so you went about cutting the binds of your other hand which was a much faster process.

With both hands free, however bruised, you raised your torso upward and sawed away at the rope around your ankle. It was awkward and exhausting, you had to hold your body upwards and onto the chair for purchase while you tried to cut away at the rope with a blunt edge. And it took a good amount of time and effort, too much time, to let you free. The other ankle was just as a long and tedious venture but soon enough, you were able to completely remove yourself from the chair. You hobbled about like a doe breaking into its long, lanky legs.

You almost jumped in joy when you finally stood, but your bruises ankles wouldn’t allow for it. It was probably best to save your energy for fleeing, or whatever was the come next. You leaned over to gaze though a crack in the wall and the yellow sand peered right back at you. The sun was beating directly down onto its surface, not a shadow in sight save for a few brown pools. And you could already feel the heat in the shade of the shed.

At least you had some weapons at your disposal. A saw, chainsaw, a machete, and some other impractical instruments hung on the walls. Cassidy wasn’t armed when you saw him. He wore nothing but a pair of work pants, maybe he didn’t use his gun in his own home. You’d heard of stranger rules.

The serrated edge of a saw might help save you time and energy when cutting though tougher surfaces. Good for cutting through wood, bone, maybe cacti. But a machete was a much better weapon for swift blood-letting. And as far as you were concerned, Cassidy was a bigger threat to you than any elements of nature.

With a machete in hand, you opened the door just a peep. Your eyes were blinded by the light of the sun reflecting from the sand like snow and you had to cringe away for just a moment. It was a barren desert. Hardly any vegetation to speak of. Just across from you on a tall dune was a small pueblo hut, the only hospitable shelter you could see as far as the horizon stretched. From your position, the only viable option was to make a run for it, go as far as your legs could take you. And the worst option was to sit here idle waiting for Cassidy to kill you.

You took one more look around to confirm you were safe, or at least safe to the naked eye. Then you sent it, emerging from the shed and into the sunlight. The fire hot sand was enough to send your body into a rush and you practically galloped into the sandy void, the blade of the machete nipping and blushing your shoulder as you held it close. It felt like you were walking on the sun’s surface, like your feet were boiling at every step. But a primal joy erupted in your core and for some odd reason, you were smiling. Laughing. Like a boy at play, though you were anything but.

The air was dry and rubbed against your already irritated throat. Your lungs struggled to keep up with your feet, and you could feel your body begin to fail with every step. But you had to keep going, at least until the lodging was out of sight. So, your feet kept pounding at the sand, a trail of dust flying behind you. Once the sight was clear, you changed your direction to climb a steep dune, one you could hide behind and rest for a bit. Soon as you started climbing, your foot sank into the sand and fell when you put any weight to it. You tried again, using your arms and legs this time, but they were completely devoured by the loose sand and an avalanche poured onto your wet body.

There was no use trying to mount it and you collapsed anyway. Your skin was bright red everywhere. Sand stuck on the drying blood of your open wounds and you hoped their stinging wasn’t a sign of infection. How many other people had been victim to that knife? You examined the machete. Telling from the hilt, it was old but the blade had been maintained well. You couldn’t remember if the other tools has been like it in that shed.

Suddenly, it had occurred to you that if you hadn’t closed the door to the shed, Cassidy would surely know by now that you were gone. And you couldn’t remember if you had closed it or not. Maybe he was too preoccupied with something else to even notice. But there’s no way. Anyone keeping another human prisoner would be constantly paranoid that they might escape. Surely you had closed the door, or else you could hear him trailing you.

You were in dire straights now. The sun was sucking away what little hydration you had left and you could feel the pangs of hunger kick at your heart. You could see every muscle of your starved body and the curvature of your ribcage. Hunger was familiar to you, growing up the way you had, but it was always a fearsome beast that you tried with all your effort to outrun in your adulthood. And since you had met Ashe, you hadn’t worried of its return. Now, however, it’s come back to hunt you.

There was nothing around, save for the cacti and small creatures that were twice your speed or entirely unappetizing. And you were not desperate enough to eat a bug just yet. You forced yourself onto you feet, calloused and sore, and wobbled awkwardly toward a short bush of a cactus that sprouted small yellow fruit like baby pineapples. It was completely alien to you, as if it were native to the deserts of Mars. But there was something appetizing about the soft yellow fruit nestled on top, like they had been served to you on a prickled green platter.

You plucked one off with little resistance and it smelled like nothing when you lifted it to your nose, it’s surface a bit waxy. You were hungry, but still cautious. Still, there was no way now to know if taking a bite would leave you dead or vomiting the last of the food still in you. But it could just as likely be your savior. The flesh was soft and you easily split it open with your thumbs, revealing a pit full of tiny black seeds like ants. When you lifted it to you nose again, there was a sweet citrus scent that cleansed your soul. It was so inviting, you threw all caution to the wind and took a bite.

It was tart and you sucked in your teeth, but it was wet and the seeds were crunchy and pleasant for it. The texture of a kiwi with the citrus more akin to a lemon. You plucked another one from its seat and took a bite. It stung your chapped lips but it was the relief you had been looking for. You sucked on the insides of another one, taking in as much juice as you could. Your shoulders slackened and for the first time in what felt like too long you finally relaxed, really relaxed, like when taking a bath. Even the heat of the sun was comforting. And soon you had eaten the whole nest.

How long did you have to rest? Cassidy could be on your tail by now and you’d be none the wiser. If you wanted to rest, you couldn’t do it here. Not out in the open like this. So you stood up again, knees buckling, and set a slow pace before running at a full sprint. If you could find another dune to hide behind, you could rest for a short while. Though your problems wouldn’t stop there. The desert heat was debilitating, but if you could keep yourself hydrated you could manage it. The desert at night, though, was a different beast. It could easily dip below freezing and without a fire, you’d fall to the elements with your naked, malnourished body. And a fire would expose your position, Cassidy would be on you like a moth to the flame.

You could rest, then set on finding some shelter, but you couldn’t continue exhausting your body like this or you would surely be dead regardless of temperature. Ultimately, you’d have to find some kind of shelter, or build something yourself. How you would do that, you had no idea with the scarce materials of the desert.

A sandy hill was coming up in the waves of heat before you and your spirit lifted your feet to approach it. You sped faster than your body could keep up, almost tripping along the way on loose pits of sand. You wrapped around its edge and found it was conveniently hooded with a casted shadow. Beneath the shade, your skin had some relief from the venomous sunlight that had left it sore and red.

You closed your eyes, caught your breath. The sand was soft but still firm enough to hold his shape when you rested your head against it. The desert was still, not a breeze or scurrying creature to worry you. Your eyes half-lidded could hardly make out the horizon, it’s shapes blended like watercolors. Soon, they were flooded with black and you sank into rest.

Who knew you were out here? Was there any witness to your kidnapping? And was there anyone coming to your rescue? You couldn’t depend on anyone but yourself now. But there was no option to fight. You were far too weak and armed with a melee weapon against the best sharpshooter in the West, so he was claimed to be. Worse yet, there was hardly a place to hide out here. But you’d be damned if you didn’t try.

A ringing like a bell invaded your thoughts. You swatted around to bat off any flies or bugs that might’ve made the sound. But it kept on. It wasn’t in your ear, you could tell as it was growing louder, like approaching you from a distance. You shot up, eyes widened. The sound of metal against metal, ringing of spurs. And it was right behind you.

If it wasn’t Cassidy, it was another man who would stumble on your naked, bloodied form and take you for crazed killer. Probably shot you on sight just the same. You gripped tightly the hilt of the machete and sat on your haunches, ready to pounce at a moment’s notice.

It continued and grew louder, your knuckles paler in turn. Trailing you directly. Closer and closer. Ticking like a clock. Mechanical. Calculated. It’s close enough to be right behind you and your hands were shaking in fear of what might happen next. You lift yourself and set the blade in position. Then it stopped. The desert still again.

“You got guts,” his voice caused your whole body to tremble, “Didn’t think you’d make it this far.”

You body responded before your mind could process what was happening and you fell limply against the dune. The machete rested against your body, though your grip on it weakened. His boots shift against the sand as he walked around the dune, sand falling like dust when he stepped through. You froze, eyes on his like a wounded doe.

“Forgot one thing,” he lifted sand from his boots as he walked your way. He stood over you like a pillar, his gaze obscured by the brim of his hat. He had a cigar between his lips and of course equipped with a holstered pistol, “Gotta cover your footsteps.”

You hadn’t even thought of that, but it was so obvious when he said it. And now you were caught for your neglect. At least you had some thrill before you met your end, you could appreciate the blessing of life for a while before it ended. There could be worse ways to die. Even if your body would be fed to the wolves, at least you could contribute somehow.

“Up, boy,” he pat his thigh.

Your breath shook as you tried to contain your sobbing. A few tears spilled and you had to hold yourself with two trembling arms to keep from breaking down completely. You sat on your knees and kept your head down. Cassidy kneeled, his much larger form towering over yours. His hand rested on your head again and he tilted it from one side to another, like he were examining it.

“Shame,” he hummed and you hiccuped.

How could have every possibly hoped to outrun him? Outsmart him? You could never. You bowed your head and shut your eyes defeated. But you didn’t hear him reaching for his gun. Instead, he got up to his feet and you felt his thigh touch your head. He stood over you, his boots right next to your knees. A hand in your hair forced you to look up and you could barely see him through bleary eyes. He was expecting something of you, and the both of you waiting in patient silence.

“P-please,” you stammered, your voice was hoarse, “I can make myself useful to you. Anything you want.”

You thought you saw his cheeks lift in a smile, though you couldn’t be sure, “That so?”

“Yes,” you whispered, “Ashe took me in because she knows how useful I can be, if-“

He threw his head back in laughter as if you had told him the best joke he had ever heard, “You’re funny, boy, I’ll give you that. Got a talent for makin’ me laugh. Ain’t enough to let you live, though.”

You put your hands on his thighs like he asked you at the manor, “Cassidy, please. I can cook for you, clean for you, fix around the house. I can get you that stash in San Juan. Whatever it takes, but I won’t be any use to you dead.”

The leather of his glove scratched your scalp as he ran his hand through you hair, “Look at you, like a dog.”

He was amused, his voice drawn out and taunting. Your face was red hot and level with the swell in his pants. If your cheeks weren’t already sun-burnt, they’d grow just as bright red. Your wet eyes began to clear and your mind sobered a bit from drunken fear.

“I’ll be a dog for you,” you whispered lowly to rid your voice of its hoarseness.

He liked that, you could tell by the way he twitched and a spark of hope ignited your heart. God, you would have to debase yourself and throw away your dignity, but you might live yet.

His hand gripped your hair, again, as it often did, and he bridged the gap between you and the throbbing of his groin, “I ain’t got no use for a dog.”

You pulled back just enough to speak, “You can use me.”

If you could just make it through this, somehow you could break free and get yourself out of here. Out of the country, vanish from his sights. To hell if it meant returning poor to you grandparents, your life was worth more than that, than this. Just pretend like this was a dream and you could bare it, no matter how humiliated you might be right now.

Cassidy looked down at you, eyes squinted. No longer the amused grin he had while torturing you in that shoddy tool shed. He was serious now, and you had to plea your case.

You hooked your fingers over his belt buckle, looking up at him for approval. He tilted his head, smiled and tongued his lips lustfully. A glint in his eyes told you all you needed to know and you unlatched the metal from its chamber. Your hands were shaking as they pulled down the zipper, though you tried willing them to still, you were so nervous you could feel your chest thumping against his thigh. You still weren’t even sure if he wanted this or if he was just toying with you. If he was just going to pull out his pistol and shoot.

But he didn’t. And you were so close that you could smell his sweat. His underwear contained him tightly with an outline that didn’t seem to end. He was big, in every measure. You looked up again to see his teeth latched on his cigar and eyes watching you lazily. What did he want?

Was it that obvious? You reached up to hold the outline of his cock and hesitantly stroked him though the fabric. He made no reaction, seemed entirely unfazed by it. Though you were anything but. The feeling had you panicked and almost sent you to tears again. But you swallowed a lump in your throat and looped a finger around the waistband of his underwear. Again, nothing, no reaction. You pulled, slowly, tried to make some room for his cock to free by a hand in your hair kept you in place and it sprung out right in front of you, hit you in the bridge of your nose and it felt like a punch to the face.

You’d never seen anything like it in your life. Veins popping out eagerly and the head wet with anticipation. He was big, you’d already known from the way he strained against his briefs, but seeing it like this was a different sensation. You stroked the length with one hand, the other holding it steady. Impatiently, he pulled your hair back and pinched the bridge of your nose. You opened your mouth to breathe and abruptly met with the taste of his salty skin. Your jaw opened wider than you though possible when he pushed inside your mouth and he growled.

He was big, all you could feel was the ache in your jaw. Drool dripped down your chin as your mouth tried to the best of its ability to accommodate him while you gagged desperately. Your head was pounding from all the abuse you had gone through, dehydrated, hungry, wounded. And he was draining you of all you had. All you could do to send him your wrath was by digging your nails into his thighs, which only seemed to satisfy him further.

He set a brutal pace, keeping your head firm and thrusting his hips into your mouth. You closed your eyes, didn’t want to think of the taste of his cock or the sound of your gagging and his balls slapping your chin or how you felt your jaw might unhinge from your face completely. And tears fell, you didn’t want to feel them, either. All you had in mind was what you might do once this was all over.

The pace quickened, and instead of spearing you with his whole length, he gave short thrusts to your lips. You looked up at him, hoping he would finish soon, and soon as you did, you could feel the salty, warm flow of his cum down your throat. He was so deep inside of you, you had no choice but to swallow it. You’d never seen him smile so brightly as he did in that moment. Finally, his cock pulled out of your mouth and he dressed himself so swiftly you could’ve missed it in a blink. Yet here you lay, naked.

For a moment, you just stared up at him, still doubtful that you might leave with your life. His breath was heavy, his broad chest heaving. You wanted to roll into the sand dune and sleep forever, hopefully the cold night might freeze you to death.

“You show me that stash in San Juan, I’ll let you live.”

You nodded.

Chapter Text

The sky turned a dark gray, the darkest you had ever seen it and you had felt much the same. You were practically crawling behind Jesse, sun beating on your naked back and tearing apart your open wounds. The sand was heavy, dragging at your feet. When you finally reached the hut, you sank onto the soft carpet. Under normal circumstances, the indoor temperature was hardly tolerable, now it felt cool and soothing.

Cole walked ahead, paying you no mind, didn’t seem to think anything of your being here and completely without concern. You could see why. The house was barren like it was abandoned though the conditions were still livable. So far from the comforts of the manor. A soft ball hit you in the face and the fabric unraveled onto your lap. Your clothes.

“Meet me outside.”

“Can I have some water?”

“Get dressed and meet me outside.”

He left. You took the opportunity to examine the small space around you. The walls, terracotta orange, bordered by wooden beams. An acoustic guitar lay dormant against the fireplace. Deeper inside, the kitchen was tiny with a couple of loose tin pots and a matching coffee mug. But the sink seemed clean enough. He lived a very bare-bones life, probably didn’t stay long enough here to make it a proper home.

You drank handfuls of water from your palm until your dizziness was satiated. You splashed some on your wounds, first your wrists and arm. Grit still stung your nerves and had you gripping tightly the countertop but you still kept at it, trying to clean the wounds at your ankles and throat next. In a few seconds time, you rummage through the cabinets of the kitchen in searched for something to mend yourself and found nothing. You put on your clothes fast as you could, finding your torn jacket among the pile that you didn’t recall wearing when he took you. You put the thought aside to quicken your pace lest you irritate your captor.

But you weren’t ready just yet. There’s a hall just to the left of the entry room leading to a bathroom. There was no way a man in Cassidy’s profession didn’t have some kind of wrappings, something to bandage an injury. You rummaged through the drawers and sure enough you found cotton pads and gauze. Sloppily, you wrapped them around your joints and neck until they were secure. It felt nice, you were finally starting to feel normal again though you looked half alive through the dusty mirror.

An open door across the hall exposed the bedroom. Dark, windowless. Peaking inside, you could see more weapons, rifles, pistols, knives. What kind of man houses an arsenal in his own bedroom? A monster, someone who enjoyed taking another person against against their will. You could kill him. Take a rifle, shoot him, and run off. If only you knew where you were.

You left the house. Beyond the flat yellow plains was a tree of billowing clouds, rain fell like darts veiling the dunes behind it. And there in front of you was Jesse, lounging on his motorbike, black and shining like the shell of a beetle.

“Took you long enough,” he adjusted himself and unlatched the bike rest, “C’mon, we’ve got ground to cover.”

You were still hungry and weakened. Tired. Sore and sensitive. But you walked on.

“You don’t have a car?”

“What I’d need a car for?”

“It’s better for driving with company.”

“I don’t ride with company.”

“Where am I supposed to sit?”

“Got a seat right here.”

Like when you rode with Lee. But you didn’t want to sit next to Cole, especially not that close. Especially not when he gave you that smug smile. You could smell his thick cinnamon scent, and when you wrapped your arms around his waist, his muscles were hard as stone. The engine roared and you thought twice about holding onto him tighter.

Your body snapped like a rubber band when he took to the road, heart leaping from your chest and you did end up holding him tighter, gripping onto his chest for dear life and you could feel it vibrate in what was either laughter or an effect of the roaring motorbike. He drove fast, God was he fast, you couldn’t open your eyes without them watering. Yet it seemed as if you were sitting in place, the terrain remained the same for miles. You could only tell the time had past from the settling sun and your rumbling stomach.

After some time, signs of civilization popped up along the road, all made from the same run-down wood as the tool shed you’d been kept in. You couldn’t tell if they were shops or lodgings, neither of which you’d want to enter. The land became more verdant, full of life now and your shoulders slackened. If your next stop was somewhere in town, you might be able to slip away among the crowd, never to be seen again.

Weird, you swear you’d seen that building before. And the gas station after that, where had you heard that name? It sounded so familiar. Your heart rate quickened, thumping against your chest and you tugged at Cassidy’s sleeve, trying to call him over the engine. If he heard you, he made no attempt to show it. And his arm stayed firm, you didn’t dare to tug too hard lest his grip on the handlebars wavered. The green road sign ahead read in big bold white letters “Route 66 Diner - 5 miles”.

The bike purred to a stop in the sand-dirt lot. Your face was hot and your water-filled belly threatened to vomit all of its contents.

“Cassidy,” you grabbed his jacket again, “We shouldn’t be here. If Ashe hears I’m here with you, she’ll kill me. Kill the both of us.”

“No doubt,” he knocked your hand off him and rose from the seat.

“I can’t go in there,” you stayed.

“If you keep up like that, I’ll make sure of it,” he was already walking away from you.

You trailed behind him and put a gentle hand on his arm, “Let’s just head straight to San Juan, whatever business you have here can’t be as urgent.”

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about my business.”

Helplessly, you followed him through the glass doors, their cheerful ringing notifying the staff of your arrival. You shifted behind his towering form in hopes no one would find you.

“Hell’s bells, do my eyes deceive me?” a woman dramatically announced from behind the counter, “Why, could it be? Cole Cassidy!”

He wafted his hat, “It’s a pleasure, darlin’.”

The pet name made you recoil. Heels clicked against the linoleum floor rapidly one after the other, loud as bullets. Her arms almost whipped you in the face as she embraced him tightly.

“My, how do you manage get more handsome each time we meet?” you recognized that voice.

“No need to flatter me, sweetheart,” he kissed her hand and you consider turning around and leaving all together.

“Oh, and who is-“ her eyes met yours and you waved bashfully.

“Hi, Isabel.”

She huffed, “Oh no, dear, you’ve got no business coming back here.”

“Something wrong with my guest?”

“Oh, no, not at all, Cassidy. Any friend of yours is a friend of mine! Oh, just…let me fetch Mr. Butler,” she scurried off, disappearing behind the flapping kitchen doors.

“I told you,” you crossed your arms.

“Let’s find ourselves a seat,” he led the way, slid into an empty red booth.

You sank down, trying to conceal yourself and hoping to disappear, “That old man is not going to be happy seeing me here. You’ll get banned, too, you know.”

“That right?”

“Yes, and then Ashe will hunt us to the ends of the earth.”

“Sure.”

“Whatever he tells you, I didn’t start anything,” you could see everything out the window, the sky was getting darker and evening was approaching, “I just don’t like when people touch me.”

“Don’t seem to mind much when I do,” he winked and you turned away, finding Mr. Butler with Isabel headed your way.

“Cassidy! What a honor to serve you, sir!” his lips twitched when you caught his eyes, “Unfortunately, I am going to ask your friend to leave. We don’t welcome ingrates here, you see.”

You would gladly leave if Cole would let you, “Now, I’m sure we can settle this like gentlemen. What say you, son?”

“Like a gentlemen’s duel?” you tilted your head and considered the idea.

“That’s not what he’s saying, you fool” Butler took a seat next to you, Cassidy’s booth not able to accommodate another man, “Sir, you know I treat you well and plan to always pay you proper regard, but I’ve rules.”

“And what would those rules be? A coffee, darlin’,” he sent Isabel off with a smile and she covered her giggling with a delicate hand above her mouth.

“Well, I do not tolerate my staff abusing the customers, first and foremost,” he glared at you in disgust.

“You would have done the same in my shoes, sir,” you countered.

“I would certainly not!”

“If that man put his hands on you, you would’ve pulled out a pistol and shot him dead. I showed him some mercy, at least. More than I can say for you.”

“There will be no blood spilled in my name.”

“You would gladly spill the blood of your employees if it suited you, sir.”

Isabel placed a steaming cup of black coffee to the man across the table who you had forgotten about in your anger, “I’ve known you to be nothing but generous, John, and I’ve known this boy to be nothing more than a rascal.”

“Indeed.”

You huffed, holding tightly onto your aching stomach that growled at the scent of savory sausages and sweet pancakes.

“Entertain me for a moment. As a generous man, you expect something in return. I’d wager I’ve been quite generous to you, haven’t I?”

He hummed and stroked his chin.

“And I have no intention of doing otherwise. Unless you would deny me of that, of course.”

“Of course.”

“This young man is in my company. You wouldn’t deny me my company, now would you?” Jesse rose the cup to his lips cooly.

“Lord, no, Mr. Cassidy. Oh, good lord, I would never!” the pitch of his laughter rose frantically.

“Good. And I’ll be sure he behaves himself,” he raised his eyebrow to you, “Apologize.”

“What? What for? If anything-“ he gave you a look you didn’t want to challenge, “I’m sorry.”

“I hope you have learned your lesson, boy. Do let me know if there is anything else you need, sir. I will be happy to dispose of any issues that may concern you,” he shoot you a look and went on his way.

“You were a good boy,” he praised you, then waved a hand over to Isabel, ordering a menu.

“Don’t talk to me like that,” Isabel dropped off the menus and turned on her heel to serve another table, “I’m not a dog.”

“Sure changed your tone,” he winked at you and you sank back down the booth, “Get whatever you want, we’ve still a ways to go.”

You perked up out of your slumped position. The menu was laminated, small font front to back that described all sort of cuisines, but most of them rarely ordered from. You knew what was good, well you could assume based on how often they had been ordered during your employment. But you’d never actually tried anything besides the apple pie considering the conditions they’d been cooked under.

Now, though, you were desperately hungry and the scent radiating through the diner was torturous. Isabel was soon standing at your table, smiling sweetly at Cassidy who motioned for you to order. Grilled cheese platter, extra fries, chocolate chip pancakes with a side of bacon and hash browns, no ketchup please, and a coke. You smiled at her wide eyes giddy like a child in a candy shop.

“You sure got an appetite. And for you, darlin’?” she imitated his accent and bit her lip.

“Just a slice of apple pie for me, sweetheart.”

You leaned your head down on your arms while they continued flirting with each other and soon enough you heard Isabel’s heels again.

“Feels nice getting the royal treatment for once,” you sighed, “They treated me like cattle when I worked here. Now I’m eating like a king. For free…”

“Don’t get too comfortable, princess.”

You ignored him, resting your eyes while eagerly awaiting your meal. The thick, white plates clanked against the glossy table top and woke you from your short nap. You grabbed the nearest plate and savored a bite of thick, buttery toast. Isabel flirted with Cassidy some more, you went on with your meal. She left, having to attend to some others guests. You felt Jesse’s eyes on you and he smiled. Less sinister than usual, almost sweet but still as if he had some ulterior motive you couldn’t seem to grasp.

You gorged your destitute stomach with carbs and grease, bite after bite. Usually you wouldn’t be so bold, you once had some dignity, had some manners, rules. But those meant nothing to you now, you’d had to forfeit them to survive.

“He hit me first, you know,” you cut a slice of pancake and slathered some butter on it, “I was just defending myself. How’s it my fault he couldn’t take a punch? I didn’t even hit him that hard, honestly. Probably should’ve picked on a girl if he was that weak.”

“You’d rather sick that bastard on some poor waitress?Thought you were more of a gentleman than that.”

“No, not like that, I just mean… Don’t dish it if you can’t take it. He probably wouldn’t last against a waitress, either. Not that I implore he try.”

He said nothing.

“But I guess he did get me pretty good. Might’ve died if it wasn’t for-“ Ashe. Fuck. She was going to kill you, “We should head out soon.”

“Soon as you’re finished,” his apple pie was going cold, untouched on the table.

“You’re not gonna eat that?” he pushed it over to you and you gladly took it, though you were stuffed full like a pig ripe for the slaughter, “What’s the point if you’re not gonna eat it?”

He chuckled, and you ate until you couldn’t have possibly taken another bite. Cassidy placed a handful of bills on the table and the two of you left to pay. Isabel was pulling on his sleeve, asking him when he’d be back to see her and he said he was a busy man. That he was. The sky darkened to an ashy gray and small brown dots speckled the sandy lot. You were hesitant to keep on going, not sure how the bike might fair in this sort of weather, but Cassidy seemed entirely unbothered, so you went along. He ought to know better than you about these things.

The rain started soft, even on the speed of the road. Cassidy was warm and under the spell of a good meal, you were falling asleep against his pillar of a body. Would you die if you if you fell asleep here? The answer was obvious once you posed the question, but it was so peaceful and your body was craving rest. A thick pebble of rain hit your hand, hard. You shot up and covered your hand behind Cassidy’s jacket, feeling his soft skin beneath the cotton of his shirt, though his muscle was still hard as marble. And he smelled so nice. He really was an attractive man, you hate to admit.

Rain poured like daggers against whatever exposed skin you allowed it to touch. It irritated your already sensitive skin and you hold on tighter. But Jesse kept going. It didn’t rain here often, it was probably an annual occurrence, but it was like any other day the way he maintained his speed, his composure. He slowed into a little town, nothing but one-story buildings, a general store, another diner, a bar.

A small crowd surrounded a motel/inn (the sign didn’t specify which one) and Cassidy parked in the lot. It was modest, you were pleasantly surprised to find the roof managed to sustain under the rain, though there were a few leaks. Drops of water into buckets sang a melody that might appeal to anyone without ears, but you were forced to endure it. Cassidy shook the rain from his hat.

“One bedroom with a cot,” he passed a stack of bills to the brunettes behind the counter and she was swift to retrieve a set of keys.

“A gentleman will be out shortly with your cot, sir. Here’s your change.”

“Keep it,” he took you by the hand and took off.

You twisted your hand from his, “You’re sleeping on the bed, right?”

“You really gotta ask?”

“Right,” you sighed. Whatever, you could cut your losses here. At least he fed you. And let you live.

The hall was loud and you heard a number of sounds you didn’t want to know the origin of. And your room was snug in the middle of it. You almost wished you still held Cassidy’s hand for some sort of comfort. Once you inside, you were eager to shed your drenched jacket. It was sure to leave some water damage on the already decrepit dresser and you might’ve felt some grief for it if you weren’t so tired. Cassidy too tossed his heavy, wet leather jacket onto the wood.

The bed seemed soft, though the blanket was much thinner than the one in your bedroom at the manor. It was probably much nicer than the cot that had not yet arrived.

“Can I get the shower first?” you tried to fix your wet hair in the vanity mirror, you saw him approaching you and his hand gripped the back of your neck. You stiffened and cringed away when his body came closer. His free hand turned you to face him, his eyes that same dark hunger you had seen countless times before. Soon there was nowhere for you to back away to, you hit a wall. His lips were dry against yours, plump and moist after your body had been rejuvenated.

You raised your hands against his chest and pushed lightly, trying to signal him to break away but of course he didn’t. He squeezed your neck and you moaned in pain, allowing him entry. This was a familiar position for you, one he seemed to enjoy. But now you were alone and there was no one here to interrupt you. This wasn’t some kind of game anymore and you feared what he had planned for you next.

Your lips parted and he balled your shirt. You put a gentle hand on his wrist and to your surprise he actually softened. It took you a moment to regain your thoughts, too stunned to speak for a second.

“What are you doing?”

He gripped you tighter and threw you, wet clothes and all, onto the bed. You said his name again, his knee came between your legs and he leaned over you. His body was so large compared to yours and the bed sank under his weight. If you wanted to, he could probably kill you with his bare hands with little effort.

“I’m making good on our arrangement.”

You put your hands on his chest, “Wait.”

His lips crashed into yours and your head dipped into the bed. You protested, moaned into him. Your fingers hooked into his shirt and you tried to get his attention, get him to stop. You couldn’t seem to get enough air in your lungs with him on top of you.

Your lips popped when he lifted away, “Cassidy, wait.”

He tasted bitter from the coffee and wet strands of his hair fell onto your face when he was this close. His chest was so firm, you were still amazed by it even after having touched him as many times as you had. You wiggled, pushed, pulled. But only he decided when he wanted to break away. And when he did, you always tried to get a word in.

“What do you want?” your wet clothes were sticking to you and you both wanted to take them off and keep them on.

“It’s better if I show you. Now, settle,” his hand was like an anvil on your chest, seemed more determined to keep you in place and leaned down to whisper in your ear, “Take your clothes off.”

Your heart raced. This is the last place on earth you wanted to be. You didn’t even register the command, only concerned with what it implied about his intent. That didn’t seem to matter to him as he took the initiative to unbutton your shirt and his lips immediately took to your clavicle. His rough beard pricked your skin as he sucked. It was such a sudden and forced sensation that you couldn’t contain the sounds that escaped your mouth.

The hand on your chest now wrapped around your waist, holding you flush against him. Even through the rough denim of his pants, you could feel him hard and massive. This would be a much more painless experience if he just wanted to use your mouth to get off, but it seemed like he wanted more than that. You stroked the muscles of his arms, let your head fall back for a moment and tried to capitulate to his pleasure. Maybe then he might listen to your requests.

His shirt was cold against your skin, but his body was warm and so was his tongue as he kept bruising your skin. You could already feel the marks he left throb from the affection, no doubt they’d end up sensitive by the end of this. But you relaxed, let him take the reins. He was rough the way he handled you and you almost preferred it that way. It kept you from enjoying this.

He dropped you onto the bed, eyes roaming over your bare chest. Through his dark beard, his golden skin flushed a bright pink. It was almost cute.

A hurried hand tugged at your pants, still tight against your body from the rain. They fought him back but his effort wasn’t in vain. He managed to expose your hips, enough for him to loop his fingers around the waistband.

“I’m a virgin,” you lied, tried to plea with him through furrowed eyes to think twice about what he was doing.

He chuckled, “Terrible liar, you are.”

“I’ll suck your dick,” the words came out so pathetic from your lips they didn’t sound like your own, “Anything you want. I just- You’re just…very big.”

He smiled but kept tugging at your pants.

“Please, Cassidy,” he paused, arched his eyebrow curiously, “You’re so handsome, you could have your choice of lovers. You don’t want me, I don’t have any experience. Shit. You’ll tear me apart.”

You spoke by the end of your pleas but your cries fell off deaf ears regardless. Suddenly, and in one swift motion, your pants feel to your knees and Cassidy tossed them aside. You were straining against your briefs, not such much out of desire but rather from the attention you were receiving. Biology be damned, Cassidy noticed and his smirk widened, thumb stroking your inner thigh while he closed the gap between you lips again.

“Be good for me, darlin’. Else I really will tear you apart.”

He pulled down the last remaining fabric keeping your dignity, let it fall to the your ankles. Limply, your underwear dropped to the floor and you were completely naked under this mountain of a man. His hands held your hips, thumbs digging at the bone, a warning for you to keep still. So you did, though your lips were trembling and eyes became teary. You heard him groan while trailing kisses up to your cheek and your legs twitched. It was a deep, guttural sound, something like a growling bear. You wrapped your arms around his chest and tried to find some comfort in all that was happening.

He was still dressed in his chilly, dampened clothes and your exposed body began to tremor. You felt hot and cold all at once, your heart was pounding. The scruff of his beard left your skin raw but whenever he pulled away you feared even worse what he might do next. Then, his lips kissed yours before releasing his grip on you altogether. His belt rattled and slithered away as he discarded it. You didn’t know what to do with yourself when his hands weren’t on you. You tilted your head back, closed you eyes.

Ashe was so soft on the night at the riverboat. Viscous and curt, demanding, but her body sang a different tune. Her long nails raked through your hair, and things were simple. Simpler than now, at least, when you knew she looked fondly on you and you had done the same to her. You weren’t fraternizing with her sworn nemesis, exposing the secrets she had shared with you. Entrusted to you.

“Cassidy.”

He pushed you further onto the bed, his hand to your side and other raising your leg. You could feel him moving, every time his thick length hit your thighs, thunder rippled through your body. He was right there and you didn’t have to guts to look.

“Cassidy.”

You lifted your hands up to his chest. His heart was beating, too. He always seemed so cool-headed, untouchable, but he was a man just like you, though it was almost impossible to imagine. His large hand cupped your chin and turned to look into your eyes. He was emotionless, glazed and half-lidded. His wet shirt flapped against you, chilled you to the bone.

“Tell me what to do.”

He stroked your cheek with his thumb, gently like petting a sleeping puppy. A stray tear sank into the dimple his fingers left. Fuck. It would be a miracle if you could walk the next day.

“Turn over.”

You bit your lip, trying to compose yourself and dug your fingers into his arm. Begging he might take pity on you.

“It’ll be easier on you.”

“Is it going to hurt?”

He hummed, like he was contemplating your question, and he squeezed your ass, “Depends. You gonna be a good boy?”

You nodded, panicked.

“Say it.”

“I’ll be a good boy.”

He laughed, “Oh, that’s cute. But you know what I want to hear, sweetheart.”

Bold of him to assume you had any idea of what you were doing, “Yes, sir.”

He tutted, pat your cheek, “That’ll do, I’ll have you trained real soon, darlin’. Best you turn around now. Like I said, it’ll be much easier on you.”

You trusted him. You had to. How long had he thought of you like this? Maybe as early as the first night yet met. No, he had his eyes set on you from the very beginning. He loved the power it gave him to have Ashe’s favorite pet lay down for him and do whatever he wanted, he was going to ruin you for anyone else. You were just a pawn in his twisted game. Hopefully you could make it out alive, but you’d have to deal with this for the meantime. Whatever, let him have his little power trip. You’d be long gone soon as he tired of you.

At least he gave you a pillow to rest your head on. And you knew it was going to hurt, why were you stupid enough to ask him that? All it got you in return was more humiliation. Even with just his finger, you felt so hot, so tight. When he pulled out of you, you yelped, clutched onto the pillow. How people volunteered to do this out of pleasure was beyond you.

“Tiny thing, ain’t ya?” he chuckled, rubbed your back before pushing inside of you again.

You tried to relax, really, you knew it would be better if you did. But how could you? Completely naked, exposed to the last person on earth you wanted to see you like this. And here he was, invading every inch of your body. Fucking you with his fingers, making you moan and gasp at every touch. Free to squeeze and spank you to his hearts desire.

Gradually, after abusing you with his fingers, your body was adjusting to the feeling. You were able to control your voice, even when he scissored you with his thick fingers. It still hurt, especially when he pulled out, but it was becoming bearable. At least you could grind your dick against the mattress for some sort of relief.

Cassidy must’ve been getting impatient judging by the way he was trying to stuff you, trying to stretch you enough to take his dick. Probably trying to get you moaning for him again. But you were getting better and for a moment you thought you could bare it, maybe retain your dignity and deny him the pleasure of having complete control over you.

When the wet tip of his cock finally speared you, your jaw dropped and a yelp escaped your open mouth. His hand gripped the back of your neck to stabilize you and you tried to do the same by digging your elbows into the bed and hugging the pillow against your face like you were begging for it’s attention. He pushed you further into the mattress as he kept forcing his thick cock into your ass. There was no way in hell he could fit inside of you, even if his fingers accommodated the girth, they couldn’t account for his length.

But nothing was going to stop him from trying, even when it seemed like he couldn’t go in any further, he kept pushing. Any sounds he might’ve made were completely muted by your frantic cries. The room was filled with your moans and cries, you called him name, pleaded for him to be gentler, stammered some other curses and prayers in your native tongue. But your fate was entirely out of your hands now.

And he wasn’t even fucking you yet. When he finally sheathed himself fully inside you, your mind was completely empty besides the sensation of his cock filling you to your limit. You tried your best to brace yourself for him to pull out, but you felt it in places you couldn’t have possibly prepared for. He was so deep in you that your body forfeit whatever remaining control it had. Your mind was blank, your eyes rolled in the back of your head and your cock was twitching in a pleasure you hadn’t expected to feel.

“Like that, did you? Don’t worry, baby, I’ll take good care of you.”

The sound of his voice drove you crazy, it’s hoarse, deep purr that you hardly paid any mind to before was intoxicating now. His cock pumped inside of you for a second time, the size still brutal and unforgiving. But he was able to fit it in smoother this time, faster. He leaned his weight onto the bed and tested your limits with a few swallow thrusts that had you moaning like a whore. Sounds you’d never heard come from your lips before.

It hurt like hell but your dick kept twitching excitedly and soak the sheets. Cassidy rocked into you slowly, going in deeper and pulling out further little by little. You felt like you were on fire, your whole body was red hot, flustered, sweat sticking you to the bed. It must’ve taken him ages until he was able to pump in and out of you at a steady pace, your body moving and mattress springs creaking in time with his hips. But he was still going easy on you, he hadn’t even started yet.

He took your hips in his hands and arched you into the mattress, made it seem like you were weightless even with your legs dangling in the air. You heard him spit before pushing himself in deeper until his whole length was inside of you. A bead of sweat fell from your brow, your fingers dug harder into the pillow. Fuck. You couldn’t hear anything above your whining as he set a faster pace. It was so hot, worse than the desert sun, worse than anything you felt before, so much worse now that there wasn’t any pressure on your dick. It was torture, he was going to split you in half and you were too weak to do anything to stop him.

Once he prepared you enough to pump his cock in and out with tolerable resistance, he let you fall to the bed and repositioned himself, arms on either side of you. Wet slapping sounds filled the silence that your weakened voice couldn’t. Then you heard him chuckle, felt it through your body, saw his sick, smug smile in your mind. A reminder that this wasn’t for you, that whatever pleasure you might be deriving from this was only because he allowed it. Because you were good for him.

An idea struck your already short-sighted mind, determined in its chase for pleasure. You might be able to get something out of this yet.

“Cassidy,” you tried his name again, no longer begging for mercy but moaning in pleasure. You heard him groan and his cock throbbed inside you.

“You’re so,” a string of moans followed when he rolled his hips, “You’re so big. Cassidy.”

He laughed again, slapped your ass so hard the pain rang through your whole body and you couldn’t hear a word of what he was saying. Then he pounded into you brutally, your face fell to the pillow and wet it with tears and saliva. You bit down as hard as you could to contain your screams. Your knees shook at the force. He was strong, you knew he was strong, but the way his body completely defied the will of your own was a strength you couldn’t comprehend.

“Where’s that dirty mouth of yours, boy? Don’t get shy on me now.”

He spoke so casually like his cock wasn’t tearing apart from the inside out. Like you weren’t a pathetic, screaming mess beneath him. You tried to speak, but could only sob whenever you opened your mouth. Your dick was sore after having chaffed against the linen sheets and Cassidy seemed to be nowhere near finished.

He leaned over you, lips at the shell of your ear, and rolled his hips slowly into you, deeper than he hit before, so deep a tear streamed down your cheek. Then he kept at it, pumping in at an angle that hit directly at your core. You could hear everything, now. His uneven breathing, hummed moans and hoarse purrs. And you wanted more, you pushed your ass against his hips, arched your back for him and called his name softly so you could hear his breath hitch at the sound.

“That’s it,” he grabbed your ass and slapped hard, “You like it when daddy fucks you?”

You tensed and suddenly everything made a lot of sense. Things you didn’t see before became clear. Of course he wanted you to call him daddy. He slapped you harder, then squeezed his hand around your bandaged throat.

“Answer me.”

“Yes,” you choked.

“Say it,” he let go.

“Yes,” you moaned, “Yes, daddy.”

“Good boy,” his voice bounced and laughed as he praised you like a dog performing a trick, ruffled your hair.

He went faster, harder than before and you couldn’t keep up. Didn’t think it was possible to take this much pressure but somehow you were still alive. Your lips were dry and throat sore. Your face was wet, lips and cheeks. Your dick and your ass were burning, Cassidy had spanked you so hard that the pain would flare whenever his hips slammed into you.

You were so tired, drifted in and out of consciousness, yet you couldn’t sleep. The pain burned a fire all through your body and it wouldn’t let up. His cock was sliding in you with less and less resistance, but he had stretched you around him ruthlessly in the process. And he kept getting faster, to the point he had to hold you down with both arms to keep you in place. His thumbs pressed down hard enough to bruise the dimples on your back. You didn’t have enough voice anymore to holler, just weakly gasping by the time his movements became more sporadic.

And his grip on you released, and at last your skin could breathe when he rose from on top of you. Deep, slow thrusts. Then you realized. Fuck. He couldn’t.

“Please,” a hard thrust pushed you forward, “Not in-“

He groaned loud and deep when he came, the warmth streaking and pouring from inside of you. You let your eyes close and tried not to think about it too much. There wasn’t much you could do now. At least it gave some lubrication for his dick to come out without much harm. You heard the metal of his belt and zip of his pants as he dressed himself. The thought itself of standing in the state you were in was an arduous effort. Your legs were lame, ass red and sore and broken, head pounding, ears ringing, dick throbbing. Asshole didn’t even get you off.

A towel draped your shoulders and a cigar hung from Cassidy’s lips, “Gonna go out for a smoke. Get yourself cleaned up.”

Asshole. Fucking ass. The bed was much softer when he left, though you could hardly enjoy it. As soon as you tried to change your position, you felt your whole body aching. Your legs were twitching when you put the slightest bit of weight on them. So you let them dangle limply, and tried to endure the pain while you stroked yourself. It was disgusting, an act of pure animal instinct that you couldn’t suppress. If you make this quick, you won’t have to think about it too much. But the pain felt so much better when you were stroking your cock. You could endure it, at least.

Ashe in the muddy river side in her black dress. Her silky white hair, that perfume she wore, her sharp nails. She felt so good, every inch of her she allowed you to touch. You wanted to touch her again, feel her. Even a shitty motel like this would feel like heaven if it were just the two of you. Like that. Again and again. If you could turn back time, would you erase that night? Even if it meant killing that moment, you’d never had met Cole Cassidy. You wouldn’t be here, fucked raw just to have a chance at living. You’d be at the manor with Ashe. You give anything for it.

Faster, you limply stroked yourself until your hips twitched and bucked. The only thought on your mind Ashe’s body, how she felt when you were inside her. The way her nails dragged across your hair, it gave you goosebumps. She could have you, all of you. You’d do anything to win her back.

But you were the one who sold her in the first place.

Fuck, whatever. She was so soft and warm. You just wanted her to fuck you again. And she tasted so good. You’d get on your knees for her. Anything to make her happy. Your legs shook when you came, streaks flooding your sunken stomach and settling around your belly button. And you sat there in your filth, spent and used. Completely ruined.

The doorknob rattled and you panicked. But almost instantly you settled. What was there to worry about? You had no dignity left. The scent of smoke poured into the room with ringing spurs. You lay sullen on the bed, eyes fixed to the ceiling. Your hair stuck to the sweat on your face.

“Had yourself some fun while I was gone?” a thud as something large feel to the floor.

He used the towel next to you to wipe your face, then massaged your shoulders. You sighed, leaned into his touch.

“Ashe is going to kill me.”

“Might,” he wiped as much cum from your stomach that the towel could hold, but you really made a mess of yourself. You just wanted to disappear.

“Are you going to kill me?”

“Just sit tight, son.”

You closed your eyes and let him handle you. It might’ve been a nice gesture if he wasn’t the one that put you in this mess. If anything, he should be thanking you. You gave him a free pass to grope and pet you. But the warm towel was so nice and it tickled in all the right places but it hurt like hell to laugh. And you were clean. Well, not really, but clean enough. The sheets were still wet and smelled like sex, it wasn’t the best of circumstances but your body didn’t mind, at least Cassidy cleaned the cum leaking from your ass. Maybe he wasn’t so bad.

He lifted you in his arms, laid you so your head was against the headboard and tucked the tear-soaked pillow behind you. You might’ve thanked him and he might’ve kissed you gently on the temple or you might’ve been dreaming at that point. Might’ve been confusing it with another memory. Everything was muddled.

Water dripped from the shower head in the next room, softer than the pouring rain outside. Tomorrow you’d be headed to San Juan, looking for something you had only heard of in passing. It meant nothing to you. This might be your last night alive. You could leave right now. Knock on someone’s door and ask for help. Go to the front desk maybe. Yea, you could do that. Get your clothes and-

Cassidy’s body hit the bed and shook you from your thoughts. He smelled nice and warm. He gave you that cozy feeling, like the night you and Russel were drunk as skunks and crashed on the couch. He didn’t seem like the man you knew. You reached an arm out to him and he caught it, put it back against your chest.

“Rest up.”

“Okay,” you smiled and sank back into the pillow, “Hey, Cassidy?”

“If you keep botherin’ me, I’ll throw you on the cot,” he growled.

“Sorry,” you whispered, “What’s in San Juan?”

He paused, “You’ll find out soon. Get to bed.”

Chapter Text

Warm, rippling water tickled your ears and bobbed your head like a buoy. The current rocked you gently, lifting your toes above the soft earth at the apex of each wave, then dipping you back down. Though couldn’t stay afloat, you didn’t panic in the soothing sway of the tides. You were flying, free as a bird. The winter air billowed steam from the water heat and obscured your vision, but you could still see the fortress of rock around you, holding you safe in its arms.

Somewhere on the shore, two voices were laughing in harmony. A woman and a boy. He’s running, you can see his shadow cutting through the mist. He jumps, arms wide and swallows his mother in a desperate embrace. She cradles him and you can hear her voice in a sweet tune, singing a lullaby, rocking him gently.

You hissed, the water turned ice cold. Panicked, you turned the knob fast as you could to shut it off. A massive shadow darken the stained shower curtain and you lifted it to find Cassidy leaning against the sink, faucet running.

“What the hell, man?” you reached for a towel and covered yourself.

“Hate to ruin your little spa day, sweetheart, but time is money.”

“You’re, you-“ you hushed your curses and hurried out of the shower.

He approached you with heavy steps, wrapped his thumbs around your towel and you put your arms up against his chest. Two fingers pinched your chin and moved your head side to side, inspecting your scars and bruises. You hissed when he stretched your neck, that injury was so tender.

“Ow,” you grabbed his wrist and he lowered, brought his face down to yours.

“I want you dressed and ready. Be a doll and don’t waste any more of my time.”

“Do you have a pen and paper?”

He pushed you out of his hold.

“Please, Cassidy. I’ll-“ you swallowed, “I’ll be good, do anything you want. I need to write a letter.”

He laughed, “Like Hell I’m lettin’ you write a damn thing. Christ, boy. Count your blessings while you got any.”

“Wait, Cassidy, are you going to let me go? After we-?”

The door slammed and your body was sore again, burdened by gravity. If it was any consolation, at least you were clean, even if the motel soap left your skin dry as a bone. You struggled getting your clothes on every step of the way and could hardly lift your limbs. Each step you took, you wobbled like a lazy penguin, had to take pause when you were able to lean your weight against anything that could hold you. The halls were full of a strange sort of people, and with your pathetic limp, one might think you’d fit right in.

When you managed to make it to the lobby, Cassidy was already at the front desk, saccharine smile on his face while chatting with the clerk. She was fanning herself with a pile of papers and giggling at whatever nonsense he was spewing. If only you could rip them out of her hands, steal a pen from behind the desk. Well, then you’d have your letter.

You walked past them, out into gravel road. You groaned at the idea of having to sit on that hellish bike for who knows how long. You could hardly sleep comfortably last night, any weight on your ass was insufferable.

A large, gloved hand squeezed your shoulder and Cassidy walked past you, much faster and in wider strides. You sagged behind him, groaning when taking your seat. He laughing softly at your expense. He knew you would have to hold him tight, moan in pain right in his ear to relieve your pain and he’d feed off your suffering like the incubus he was.

The engine reeved and you took off. Adjusting to the speeds of the motorcycle in itself was a challenge, but it was brutal in your state. And the desert land remained the same. Stale, barren, littered with tumbleweeds and thorn bushes. Hardly hospitable to most forms of organic life save for venomous bugs and snakes.

And it’s like this for miles out, so much so that the sight of a thick trunked tree with stretched branches teeming with green leaves was like a landmark. The ground, too, was blooming to life. No more dead browns and yellows, but vibrant greens, oranges, even pinks. The land rose to form the beginnings of raised land, its peaks low as if it were too tired to reveal themselves to the morning sun. You rode along as they grew, gradually becoming tall enough to call themselves mountains.

It had been ages since you’d seen mountains like these, dwarves of those that nurtured you as a child. They were real, honest to God mountains, reached up to the heavens and tore through the sky, the clouds fell like ghosts at their peaks. You would help your grandfather hang portraits of the landscape, picked specifically the one that hung in the bedroom you shared with your brother.

You must’ve stared at it every night as a boy. Tracing the ink lines helped you fall asleep on hungry nights, searching each flat land to find the unoccupied space which your family now claimed. Like you were apart of the history painted onto canvas, apart of the legends that your grandmother whispered in your ear before she sent you to bed.

And yet here before you was a living legend, Cole Cassidy. Brave, chivalrous, strong in measures far beyond that of any normal man. Turns out there’s merit to never meeting your heroes.

Then, a sight that stunned you, took the wind from your breathe. A long, slithering lake, bright blue in the lush green valley. A hidden jewel nestled deep in the desert. There was a garden of yellow flowers, smiling daisies, like a cottage fantasy. You stared at the diamond water as it glistened in the low sunlight, fading away as you drove past. It would’ve been nice to stop there, sit a while.

The mountains stretched for miles more and you chased them until you met their tail. A large, jagged chip of land towered at its end. It was huge, but that was its only thing impressive about it, it was otherwise wholly unattractive. Its jagged edges made it seem brittle to the touch, like it was from some volcanic aftermath, and just as lifeless.

Cassidy slowed to a halt and had to elbow you off of him as you struggled to leave the seat. You followed him, though it was difficult given your condition, still limping like an injured doe. Luckily for you, Cassidy always kept a relaxed pace. He stopped at a certain spot that seemed completely innocent, just like the rest of the ground around it. But it seemed to interest him. He whistled, gestured for you to come to him.

Upon closer examination, you saw the dirt was slightly raised, unsettled. He really had a good eye. You felt his hand pulling you down to the ground and your stomach sank. Was he really going to do this right now? You fell onto your knees, looked up to him. He had a pensive look like there was something on his mind, but he wasn’t looking at you. That’s a good sign.

He threw down a knife, bright steel staring back at you, “Dig.”

“Are you serious?” you picked it up, “With this?”

He looked down at you.

“You’re out of your mind, there’s no way-“ the blunt metal of his revolver hit the side of your head.

“Get to work.”

Fuck you. A lighter flickered and Cassidy walked off. You unsheathed the knife, stuck it into the hard, dry dirt. How deep did you have to dig? Only one way to find out. Even before you put yourself to work, the heat was starting to get to you, and you weren’t exactly appropriately dressed, either. Still, you’d rather endure the heat than the effects of the sun on your bare skin.

Your tight jacket restricted your digging, resisted too wide of movements. You used the sleeve to soak the sweat from your forehead, stabbed the ground to loosen the soil, wiped away as much dirt as you could. Stabbed again, wiggled the knife. It split the ground in two and you used your fingers to open it wider. You cringed, feeling a phantom pain at your core.

You like it when daddy fucks you?

No no no no no. Don’t think about that. You punished your blush response by bashing your head against the rock, hoping it could wipe your memory of last night. You hit the dirt again. Crossed an X in the ground, then a t, then ran the knife around in circles like you were painting a masterpiece. You kept at it, wiping away whatever need to be discarded with your hands. You must’ve looked like a little kid digging holes on the beach.

Not the case, unfortunately. You were just a grown man digging up a some sort of stash, in which lay something you hadn’t the faintest idea of, at the command of the worst man you ever had the displeasure to meet. A man you let violate you in every way imaginable. You didn’t even have the guts to curse him. Why were you so scared? A bullet to the head might be a better fate than this.

Dirt caked your nails, your clothes were a dirty mess, the tear on your shoulder opened wider. You were slick with sweat, the hilt of the knife was slipping from your palms like wet soap. Grit filled your lungs and blinded you. You wiped your face, sand sticking to your skin, some fell into your eyes, blinking rapidly.

You’re only a foot into the earth when your arms started to give way. Your hands were shaking, arthritis swelled your joints, and fingers scratched by the abrasive dirt. You must’ve been at it for hours, but you had hardly made a dent.

That afternoon was eternal, you could only tell the time by the high-noon sun beating on your back. You fell against the rock, covered your face with your sleeve. Large, black-winged birds with naked heads circled the sky above you. Buzzards, calling to each other. They’re muddled by the heatwaves but their screams are so loud you can’t seem to hear anything else. It’s so hot. So hot.

Their screeches turned to roars, like lions and they thinned into black pencil lines in a whirlpool. But the sound wasn’t coming from above, it’s right ahead. In front of you was a giant herd of ants, crawling over to you. Cassidy stood above you. When did he get here? His thumbs hooked around the loops of his jeans. Motorcycles. Deadlock Rebels. White hair cascading in the wind. Ashe. Lee was right behind her. Farther back was Luis and Jaime. You tried to see if you could recognize anymore, but you don’t.

You went to stand but Cassidy’s boot kicked you back to the ground. Ashe stopped her bike, you wish you could run into her arms. She’s so pretty and your heart was soaring. But Jesse stood above you like an impossible obstacle.

Quiet. This isn’t your fight.

“Cole,” her voice was divine.

“Elizabeth,” Elizabeth? That was her name? This whole time…

“Let the boy go, Cole. He’s no use to you,” you wanted to run to her, beg her on your knees to forgive you, beg her to hold you.

“Don’t think so, Ashe. He’s stayin’ with me.”

No, no way. There is no way in hell you’re staying with this monster. Not while Ashe was here. Not while she could take you away.

“Well then, you ain’t leavin’ with that cache.”

“That so?”

“Give me the boy and you don’t gotta leave here empty handed. Else we can settle things the old fashioned way.”

Cassidy chucked, spat “I’d be glad to.”

“Don’t make this ugly. Have some respect for the dead and back away from this.”

Cassidy’s heel dug deeper into you, its edge piercing your skin and you yelped. You grabbed his ankle, tried to give him the same pain you were receiving by digging your nails into denim, only to find his smile tighten.

“Don’t you put a finger on that boy,” through gritted teeth she growled at him and reached for her gun.

Faster than you could blink, Cassidy drew his pistol, shot the rifle from her hands, shattering it into smithereens, the butt fell to the ground. The gang reacted in turn, everyone drawing their weapons and aiming directly at the man next to you, standing right above you. Lee’s brows furrowed, nostrils flared. You see other men with that same expression, others with the same fear as you. Cassidy was relaxed, not a single muscle tensed. His lips were always turned down when his face was at rest, but now his eyes gleamed, smiled.

“God damn it!” Ashe shrieked and punched the dashboard, “God damn you, you bastard! I’ll shoot a hole in your head and hang it on my mantle!”

“Welcome to try,” he opened his arms and walked forward. What the hell was he doing? He’s raving mad. But impressive to watch, he was so tall, like a statue that shrunk all the figures in the horizon and his shoulders stretched just as far. To be a man strong as Cole Cassidy would make the world yours.

Hundred of guns aimed at him, but none with a finger on the trigger. Cole stopped in front of Ashe’s bike, arms wide and inviting. She glared at him, like she could kill him with just her sights. She swiped the severed butt of her rifle from the sand with a grip that she’d much rather have around Cassidy’s throat. You were too far to hear what she said next, only a few words. You tried to read her lips but they hardly moved, she spoke with a firm tongue. The only sign of tensions softening being Cassidy’s lowering arms. He spoke, then glanced back to you, smile on his face and eyes salaciously half-lidded. If only you knew what he was saying, you might not still be cowering in fear with all eyes on you.

Ashe slammed down the lacquered wood and stomped her way towards you, sand rising in her wake. Cassidy this effect on her whenever she was out of her element and he in his, which seemed to be about anywhere he went. Her eyes went everywhere but you, commanding you to rise as she lifted you by your jacket. She kept a hand on your chest, gazed fixed at the hole you dug.

“Lee! Get ‘em a shovel!”

She must’ve been ashamed of you, couldn’t even look at you. And you couldn’t blame her, you had committed the cardinal sin in any criminal organization, you ratted her out. To make matters worse, you had disgraced her, made her look like a fool, stained in her reputation. You should thank the stars she was generous enough to keep you alive. You sat in silent shame, mesmerized by the sound of footsteps shifting in the dirt. Lee handed you a shovel. You thanked him and promptly started digging.

You put your back into it, despite resistance from your aching body. You stumbled, struggled to stay standing, but determination managed to keep you up. Sooner this is over, the sooner you can get out of here. Assuming you don’t die, of course.

“Didn’t need to rough him up like that. He’s just a goddamn boy.” Ashe spoke from a distance.

“You spoil him too much, can’t get soft in this life,” you could faintly hear Cassidy. His voice was distinct and full of humor.

“Never meant for him to get involved. That was your call, not mine. And you ain’t taking him back.”

“Ashe,” he drew slow, “you oughta know I ain’t one for followin’ rules.”

“You son of a…” her voice flattened into a snarl.

It was a much faster process with the shovel. That little dent you made when you were digging with the knife? You were able to double that ground in half the time. Finally, metal met metal with a clashing thud, you tossed your head back and rejoiced.

Cassidy walked over in a hurried pace, probably trying to make sure Ashe got the memo that he was going to be the one who got his hands on whatever lay in that case. She pursued him and surfaced the case, sand streamed and drifted in the wind. She unfastened the latch and let its contents fall. All sorts of jewelry tumbled onto the ground, reflected the sun like mirrors. Rings, pearl necklaces, elaborate brooches. They must’ve been worth a fortune.

You stepped back, embarrassed to even be witness to treasures as opulent as these in your pathetic condition. This is what they were after. But they just watched as smaller pieces rolled by. No one went after them. Thousands of dollars sent off into the breeze. The ground shook as Cassidy walked towards an emerald broach he had his gazed fixed on since it dropped. He drew his pistol out and shot it. You shrieked as a sting hit your cheek. Blood spilled from the wound. Ashe’s eyes shoot at you.

“I’m fine,” you choked.

“Get him patched up. Let’s ride out,” she turned to Cassidy, who was already walking to his bike.

It felt odd seeing him go. Yes, you wanted to leave him for so long, thought of this moment since the day he had taken you away. The last thing you expected was the emptiness you felt in his absence.

Leather hit your shoulder and Lee was silent while he mended your new wound. Wiped up the blood with a piece of gauze and taped it to your face. It was crude but effective. Ashe spat out a litany of orders to the crew, called them all one by one, name by name. Cassidy lounged on his bike, leisurely puffing clouds of smoke into the dry air, the peaks of his cheekbones shining with sweat. His cool, honey eyes caught yours and for a moment you thought he might not be so bad.

Lee said something to you, something about Jaime but the heat made your head foggy. He knocked you in the temple.

“You hear me? I said you’re ridin’ back with Jaime.”

You rubbed your head, nodded. Jaime glared at you, less than thrilled at the arrangement. Babysitting. He didn’t look at you, shame must’ve spread quickly through the ranks. At least, you could enjoy some silence without the raw fear of death at your feet. And you just might never had to deal with Cole Cassidy ever again.

The bike engine sang a soft vibrato, vibrated your chest, a soothing hum. A deep, low growl. The sun sat warm on the back of your neck, warm like the heat of Cassidy’s breath when he was on top of you. Why couldn’t you get him out of your head? That night had seemed like play to him, everything did. Always laughing, smiling, like everything was going according to his plan. Always were his desires being met. Ashe couldn’t deny him, the gang couldn’t deny him, not Mr. Butler. Not you.

Jaime drove slower, much slower than Cassidy and even Lee, plenty of time for you to enjoy the view, though it was agony sitting for so long. San Juan was the most beautiful you had seen the desert. At least you had some room to sit, didn’t have to press against his back in fear you might fall off. A luxury you didn’t imagine was possible until now.

You didn’t even try, just let him walk all over you. Like the doormat you are. Even if he did feed you a good meal.

You jumped as the bike creeped to a halt on the rocky soil, in the middle of nowhere. You called to Jaime but no response. His face was red and glistening. Jaime. His legs swung off the seat, pushed you by the sleeve off with him.

“The hell?”

“Why you? You…you can’t even shoot, can’t even ride a bike. You’re nothing, nobody. Why do they want you?” A vein sat at the center his forehead like a blue worm.

“Get your hands off of me,” you dug your nails into his skin. He hissed and pushed you away. Everyone seemed to think they could push you around these days.

“What the hell does Cole Cassidy see in you, huh? Ashe, I can see. But Cole Cassidy?”

His face was beet red, his jaw was tensed and bulging. So different from how you’d ever seen him before. He used to be so cool-headed. You shuffled back until your heel hit a stone and almost tripped you.

“What, you think you’re hot shit ‘cause you’re pretty, that it? If you didn’t look like that, you’d be dead. You just gonna sit there like a little bitch?”

“Hey, quit it,” your hands were shaking. How difficult was it to just drive you home?

“Oh, I get it now. Cassidy don’t like you!” he laughed historically, head back, “You’re just too much a bitch to put up a fight! Just a slut who-“

Your foot met his stomach and you could feel your ass tearing, the burning shot up to your stomach. Bile rose to your throat, somehow you kept it down but your knees wobbled and you fell with him.

“You little punk!” Jaime lunged at you, landed on you with his hands balling your shirt, “I could kill you, end this right here.”

You spat in his face and managed to hit his eye. His open palm clapped your cheek, the bandaged softened the blow that was already weak in his disoriented state. You were able to toss him off of you as he rubbed his soiled eye.

“I’ll show you a fight, asshole!” you inhaled sharply as you tried to stand.

“Oh, that’s rich, rich,” he wobbled to his feet, hand covering his eye, “Put up or shut up.”

“What, you’re too scared to start a fight? Oh no, you’re too scared that mommy’s gonna get mad at you,” you taunted him with an exaggerated pout.

“You look stupid.”

“Yea, well you are stupid. And you sound stupid. If you knew anything about Cassidy, you’d know there’s nothing to be jealous of.”

“I’m not jealous of you, moron,” he spat.

Terrible liar, you are.

Get out of my fucking head.

“You’re not convincing anyone.”

“He coulda had me all this time. Why you?”

“I don’t know what you want from me. Take it up with Cassidy if you’re so curious.”

“Did you really fuck him?” his tone lightened, curious.

“No,” your eyes stung. Don’t cry, for the love of God.

“Wow. You really did,” he giggled like a schoolgirl, “How was he?”

“Shut up, take me back. Just take me back,” you shuffled toward the bike, Jaime jogged ahead of you, backwards to catch your reaction.

“Does he have a big cock?” he smiled wide.

“I didn’t sleep with him!” it might be worth it to spit in his other eye if you didn’t rely on him to drive.

“I feel bad for you, kid. He’s going to dump you on the nearest street corner soon as he’s done with you.”

“Good!”

His chest was hard when you pushed him, he swayed a bit but resettled himself and swung at your jaw. Your teeth clashed, muscles pulsed. But you’d taken harder hits than that. You pulled back when he went to punch you again, he tried to close the gap with a lunge, but missed terribly and stumbled to the ground. You ran behind the bike for cover, picked up a rock the size of an egg. Jaime was rushing over to you, anger and mania in his eyes and you threw the rock square between them.

“What the fuck?!” he fell to the ground and held his head in his hands.

You squatted behind the bike and rose up to get a good look at him writhing in pain, “Asshole!”

He deserved it. Jaime was still trying to regain his footing with a hand over the fresh wound. All because of some stupid crush. You had to pity him.

“I’m sorry,” you swallowed, “Let’s just go home. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know, let’s just go.”

“Suck a dick. I’m gonna kill you. Fuck!” he twisted his foot on a loose stick.

You ran over and kneeled by him, “If you break your leg, we’re both gonna die out here. You can kill me after we’re home. Ow! What’re you doing?”

He squeezed the soft flesh of your inner arm between the knuckles of his fingers, “Death by a thousand pinches, it can kill a man if you do it right.”

“What? You should stop seeking advice from whoever taught you that. Stop it!” you looked over at his foot and he moaned when you moved it but the bone was still in tact, “You’re such a baby. C’mon.”

He got up and as you took him by the arm, mumbling curses under his breath. You pointed to the bike and crossed your arms. He mounted it and started the engine and you took your seat behind him, it’s quiet hum filling the silence.