Buried Treasure

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She's Alive

Three Tequila’s POV
Orlando, FL Chick-Fil-A

I felt like I was falling apart, and only my husband’s arms around me kept me from falling to the ground and screaming my pain.

I clung to Mongo’s chest, my face buried in his shirt, as Frank Donovan’s car drove away. “Don’t say anything, baby. I got you.” He slowly moved me over to one of the outside tables, setting our food down on the table. I set my banana shake down, and he guided me into his lap. I was shaking; the emotions rolling through me were more than I could take right now.

I’d watched Harleigh as she lay injured in the hospital room. I’d been helpless as they took her. I’d grieved for her when the Sons of Tezcatlipoca killed her. I buried a casket that only had her photograph and some of her treasures inside. Losing my sister and her husband was tough, but losing the girl that I loved like my own daughter? That almost killed me.

And now, in less than a minute in the back seat of a DEA agents car, my entire life had shifted. “She’s alive?”

“Not now, not here,” he told me. “Eat your lunch.”

He set me on the bench, and I opened up my sandwich before wrapping it back up again. “I can’t eat,” I said as I started to cry again.

“Drink your shake, then. Try and calm down, then I’ll take us home.” He unwrapped his three sandwiches and fries and dug in.

“How can you eat right now?”

“I’m hungry, baby. I think better on a full stomach.” I just drank my shake and tried to calm down. Mongo didn’t take long, and by the time I finished my drink, he was done eating. “I’ll put this back in the bag; maybe you’ll be hungry later.”

“Maybe.”

Mongo called the Club, letting Tripod know that he was on his way back. He got up and threw the trash away, then grabbed my food before helping me to my feet. It was like I was in shock; I saw and heard everything, but it was like it was happening to someone else. He handed me my helmet, and I put it on. I got on the Harley behind him, my arms automatically wrapping around his waist as I leaned forward onto his cut. He started the motorcycle and pulled out of the lot. “You all right,” he asked over the Bluetooth connection between us.

“I don’t know what I am right now,” I said. “Harleigh is alive?”

“Agent Donovan thinks so,” he said. “This whole time we thought the Sons had taken her because that is what they wanted people to think. The DEA didn’t do it, so it had to be Chase and Rori. Why else would they be in Minnesota?”

I didn’t know what to say to that.

Rori had joined the Ladies in our Chapter, and I loved that girl. Chase was a good man, and I loved him too. We had spent a lot of time together over the past few years, both here in Orlando and at their beautiful home on the North Shore of Lake Superior. How could they do this to me? The more I thought about it, the angrier I got.

“Hey, let me breathe,” he said. I loosened my arms; I wasn’t even aware I’d been squeezing him like that until he said it. “Thanks.”

I leaned my helmet against his back. “They knew. This whole time, THEY KNEW, and THEY LET ME SUFFER THINKING HARLEIGH WAS DEAD!”

“I know, baby.”

“How could they do this to us?”

“Do what? Keep her safe?” He didn’t say anything more until we were past the stoplight, while I just tried to sort through my thoughts. “Look, someone in the DEA gave Sean up, and the police weren’t going to keep her safe from the threat of the Sons. One rookie posted outside her room wasn’t enough, and they wouldn’t let the Club protect her either. Is it that unreasonable for Rori and Chase to figure she’d be safer with them, over a thousand miles away?”

“Maybe, but they could have told us!”

“I’m sure they were going to, but they almost killed a cop, baby. He overdosed on the sedative, and killing a cop in Florida will get you the electric chair. They couldn’t say anything; they had to disappear. It’s what I would have done.”

“Chase and Rori stood with me at the service, they CRIED with me and hugged me and the whole time they knew she was safe!”

He reached down and patted my hand that was around his waist. “The investigation is ongoing, and you know the Police Chief wants all of us in jail. Think about it for a moment. If you knew Harleigh was alive, would you have reacted as you did at the service?”

“Sure, I could act like that!”

“Not that convincingly,” he said. “Nobody who saw you could doubt you were grieving your niece.”

Dammit. Mongo was right, and that grated on me. “He said Harleigh was recognized in public, and that we have to tell Chase to keep her out of sight.”

“He also said we weren’t to trust phones or emails, baby.”

There was only one way. “I have to go see them, love. It has to be in person.”

He thought about it. “Shit. I can’t leave, you know the cops are going to follow me everywhere I go. You’re going to have to do it.” He stopped at a light and looked back at me. “You have to do it in a way no one knows you’re there.”

“How?”

He didn’t have an answer. We drove on in silence, finally arriving back at the clubhouse. He parked in his reserved spot by the door, and I off the bike. “Come on, let’s go to our room.” The Orlando police still hadn’t released our house, so we were staying in one of the guest rooms at the new Clubhouse.

I took off my helmet, then put a foot on the ground. I stepped off, having to hold on to the backrest just to stand. I was so emotional I couldn’t stop shaking, and I couldn’t let go or even stand up straight. I just stood there and sobbed.

Mongo gave up after a few seconds of waiting and swept me up into his arms. I was crying on his shoulder as he carried me in.

Bowlegs rushed out to meet us, her old man Tripod right behind her. They must have watched us drive in from the Club office, which meant they saw me break down too. “You all right, honey,” she asked as she held the door open.

“It’s been a rough time. She needs to rest,” Mongo said. “We’re going to our room, make sure no one disturbs us.”

“Sure, boss,” Tripod said.

“I’m here if you need to talk,” Bowlegs added. “All the Ladies are here for you.”

“Thanks.” He carried me up to our room, which was at the far end of the hallway. He set me on the bed; I removed my cut, T-shirt and bra while he was taking off my boots and jeans. I flopped back onto the pillow, turning onto my side as I hugged his pillow in the fetal position. Mongo was taking off his boots.

Now only in his boxers, he crawled into bed behind me and pulled me back to his chest. He held me as the stress and emotions of the day faded away. I felt much better when I woke up a few hours later, his rampant erection poking me in the back.

I smiled as I reached my hand back. Mongo had been my old man for twenty-five years, but he still managed to rock my world a time or two a week. My first trimester sickness was over, the second trimester had me horny as hell. His hand had found its way up to its favorite spot, cupping my right tit. He was sleeping soundly.

I moved my hand until it was encircling his hard length. He must have been having a good dream because he moaned softly as his hips started to move against me. I moved my other hand into my lace panties, running a finger over my rapidly moistening slit. I quickly built to a shuddering orgasm.

He woke to my hand jacking off his big cock as I played with myself. “What?”

“Fuck me,” I told him. “Fuck me hard, baby.”

I raised my leg and pulled my panties aside as I moved him towards my entrance. He reached an arm around my raised left leg, moving me to where he could plunge in. “Fuck you’re wet,” he said as he pushed deep inside me in a powerful thrust.

“Oh God, yes,” I said. He started moving in long strokes, his hips smacking my ass every time he bottomed out. “I need more,” I said.

He pulled out, then pushed me over until I was laying on my stomach, my legs trapped between his muscled thighs. He folded a pillow under my hips to take the weight off my bump. He lined himself up again, then pushed forward. “You’re so fucking tight this way,” he said as he drove all the way in.

“Pound me,” I begged him. “I’ll tell you if it’s too much.” My Obstetrician said sex was fine as long as it didn’t hurt. He held me down, his hands covering mine by my shoulders as his big body trapped me underneath him. I loved the feeling of being helpless under a strong man, so I loved this position. He started to drive into me with long strokes, his cock hitting my G-spot before it stretched me to the limit. I came hard, shaking under him as my greedy pussy squeezed him tight. “FUCK, yes,” I screamed.

He let go of my hands as he knelt back, pulling me up doggy-style. His hands held me helpless by the hips as he slammed into me faster and faster; I couldn’t think, I couldn’t hold myself up, I just gave myself to him as he fucked me stupid. I let out a scream as my orgasm came again, and this time, he was with me. Slamming as deep inside as he could go, he held on as my spasming pussy milked his cock of all he had.

When he finished, he held me tight to him as he guided me back down onto my side. He kissed my neck and cheek as we lay there, recovering. “I love you, baby,” he said.

“I love you too,” I said. He finally popped out, causing the mess to drip down my leg. I put my hand down and rolled out of bed, dashing for the shower. Our room had been the President’s office, so it was the only one on this floor with its own bathroom until we completed remodels. I jumped into the small shower stall, emerging clean five minutes later.

“How long will you be gone,” he asked.

“A few days, I don’t know,” I said. I pulled on clothes; jeans, boots and a Harley T-shirt. I grabbed a sweatshirt, that was the extent of my winter clothing. “Any ideas on how to hide my trip from them?”

“You can’t fly commercial, not if the Feds or the cops put an alert on your name in the system,” he said. “I suppose you could take a bus; you ought to get there in three days or so.”

“Amtrak?”

“The same thing, they check identification.”

“How much do you think it cost Rori and her people to rent that jet?”

“A lot,” he said. “Although…” He got up and went to the desk, where he had some of the reloadable Visa cards Chase had given him for the party. He pulled out a half dozen cards. “These have five grand on each of them, and we didn’t use them.”

“That should be enough for the flight and a shopping trip,” I said.

“I’ll have one of the Prospects drive you to the airfield. You can find a charter there.”

Four hours later, I was wheels up in a small business jet headed for Duluth. By nine that night, I had landed and rented a car. I put Rori’s address into my navigation system and drove north to Two Harbors before heading west. I recognized the area from the summer visits, though it looked much different in the snow. I turned onto the road, stopping short at a gate across the driveway. “PRIVATE PROPERTY, NO TRESPASSING,” the sign said.

“Shit.” The gate wouldn’t move, but I saw a call box to the side. I got out, freezing my ass off, and pressed the button below the speaker. “Hello? I need the gate open.”

“Ma’am, what is your business at Arrowhead Resort?”

“I’m Three Tequila; I’m here to see Canvas or Frame.” I started to jump up and down; it was way too cold out here. “Come on; I’m freezing my ass off.”

Nothing happened for about thirty seconds; then I heard a motor start, and the gate started to move. “Drive directly to her home, and have a pleasant evening, Miss Tequila.”

I put the car in gear and drove in. I’d been thinking about what I would say the whole way up, and I didn’t know if I’d kiss them or slap them when they opened the door.

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