"Family of Blood"

[GrayOldFart]

The only sounds were that of a constant sea breeze and a fierce, Autumn surf crashing out of sight. "Oceanview", population 440, had been aptly named by its founder, although "Trapped" would have been just as appropriate. The town sat on an oval shaped plateau of about a thousand acres. To the west, cliffs dropped 100 feet to the Pacific Ocean. And to the east, equally tall cliffs cut it off from the rest of the world.

For its first 60 years, it had been accessible only to pedestrians and small carts, using a rope foot bridge that crossed to a narrow plateau to the south, and beyond that the rest of the world. A steel cable bridge built in the late 1800s allowed heavier vehicles, including that new invention, the motor car. And in 1942, when fears of a Japanese invasion loomed, a tunnel was blasted through the mountain allowing for the construction of an Army Lookout Station.

Ironically, the station had been finished the month of the Battle of Midway and the turning of the tide of the war. The vast investments which had been promised by the Army dried up almost overnight, and the completion a few years later of the freeway 90 miles to the east brought tourism to a slow crawl as well.

With the town's hopes of prosperity dashed, it returned to being a sleepy little burg for retirees, painters, poets, and dreamers.

Which made it perfect for The Family of Blood...

As if Satan himself controlled the weather, the ever present ocean breeze had gone ominously still just as the Harleys were entering the east end of the long, narrow tunnel. The roar echoed out of the basalt tube, exploding into the plateau; the young and old alike stopped what they were doing all across Oceanview to listen to the thunderous sound reminiscent of the trucks and tanks that had rolled onto the plateau three quarters of a century earlier, only to turn around and evacuate four weeks later.

The bikes emerge from the darkness of the tunnel in pairs, ten pairs in all -- some with two riders -- and a single Trike in the rear, heading right down Main at an ever decreasing speed. They eventually came to a stop in what the locals called downtown, twelve buildings flanking Main Street, half of which were empty and shuttered. The riders turned their bikes and walked them backward until each was pointing into the street and had their rear tires against the only section of curb in town, right before City Hall, the tavern, and the Oceanview Mercantile.

The man who had been in the lead pair throttled his motor, causing it to roar and expels the exhaust that had built up during the moment of idling. Each of the other riders repeated his action; in another time and place, you might have thought enemy tanks were rolling through your village. And then, almost in an instant, the engines were all turned off ... and the only sound left was that of the ocean and the wind.

 

[GrayOldFart]

Henry Barton -- "Hank" to anyone who wasn't a friend of his mother -- had heard the roar of the distant but approaching bikes even over the roar of the crowd sitting in the Sick Seagull watching the game. He'd only recently had a satellite with a 24/7 sports channel subscription installed, and ever since he'd had customers every night of the week. Unfortunately, a higher number of customers wasn't the same as a higher number of dollars spent; most of those in attendance had purchased one, maybe two beers which was good, but they'd also eaten at their own homes before coming downtown, which meant he had thirty pounds of defrosted chicken and jojos sitting in the kitchen that were going to go to waste.

He stepped over to the tavern's window and looked out; his stomach turned over instantly. His knowledge of bikers came from television and the movies, neither of which was known for portraying the community as angels. He saw them dismounting their rides and thought he should go outside and greet them.

But coming out of the bar was not the impression he wanted to give. Instead, he passed through the door behind the counter into the attached City Hall, pulled on his sports coat and took off his Oregon Ducks ball cap, and stepped out onto the sidewalk not as a saloon owner but as Oceanview's Mayor.

"Greetings," he said after the bikes had gone silent. The row of Harleys was spread to his left and right, but the only rider who made eye contact with him was the man at the end. As the man approached, Hank read Patriarch on the chest of his leather vest.. He recalled the dramatic hullabaloo concerning the President patch from that television show, "Sons of Anarchy", and assumed that Patriarch must be the equivalent with this motorcycle club. He stuck his hand out and smiled, saying with just a tinge of concern in his voice, "Welcome to Oceanview."

The man stopped before him, looking him over as if trying to memorize everything about him. Then, stripping the leather glove off his right hand, he took Hank's own. A shiver ran up the Mayor-bar owner's back; the rider's hand was cold -- very cold -- but Hank assumed that to be an effect of riding the Coast Highway on a late November evening.

"How are the jojos?" the man asked. When Hank' expression revealed his confusion, the man pointed to the hand written sticker on the Mayor's chest that said Ask me about the jojos! The man continued with bluntness, as if conserving words for a future conversation. "Food, drink, and shelter."

Hank hesitated for a moment, embarrassed over having his Mayor-Bartender dual personality revealed so stupidly. He pointed to each of the locations as he offered, "The Sick Seagull has a full grill menu ... there's little cafe down the street that'll be open at 5am for breakfast. The Oceanview Motel--" He chuckled. "It's probably empty, but even so, it only has five rooms--"

"Plenty," the biker said, his head turned to follow Hank's gestures.

"Good ... that's good then," he said, wondering what Mrs. Picket was going to think about having two down bikers under her roof. He jerked a finger toward the tavern, saying, "So ... I'll, um ... go put some chicken in the broaster, and ... should be ready in about twenty minutes."

When the biker didn't respond -- didn't even turn to look at him -- Hank backed a step, then turned and headed for the Sick Seagull. He was almost to the door when he heard, "Thank you."

He turned and found the Patriarch looking his way, and imparting a polite smile.

 

[GrayOldFart]

By the time Hank had returned to the tavern, the windows were crowded with his patrons and the television had been muted. He called out, "What the hell're you looking at?"

An older man turned with a shocked look and asked in disbelief, "Are you serious? The Hell's Angels are parked outside, and you're asking--"

"They aren't the Hell's Angel's," he said, shedding his mayor's garb.

"No!" a woman's voice called out after reading the back of the leather jacket of one of the nearer female riders. "They're the Family of Blood."

"Much better," someone laughed.

The entire group broke out in animated, concerned conversation over the town's visitors, but Hank ignored them and headed for the kitchen to put on the chicken. He was shaking jojos out onto a cookie sheet when suddenly the hullabaloo in the other room came to an abrupt end. He listened for a moment and still heard nothing. He shoved the trays into the oven and returned to the barroom to find his clambering patrons in total silence, back at their tables and bar stools as the last of the bikers was coming through and closing the door.

"Sit where you like," Hank called out, not knowing what else to say. "It'll still be a while, but can I get you something to drink in the mean time?"

One of the Oceanview locals sitting just across the counter from Hank mumbled, "A warm milk with a couple of Benzodiazepines in it...?"

Hank shot the man a dirty look as the woman next to him, his wife, began looking in her purse, saying, "But honey, sedatives shouldn't be taken without a--"

"Oh shut up," he growled low, "I was being sarcastic."

The man Hank had talked to -- briefly as it was -- took his time walking to the table in the furthest corner, looking at and smiling politely to each and every face in the tavern; while all around the saloon, the other riders were simply looking about. Once the man had taken his seat, the others did as well, with singles, pairs, and threesomes sitting all about the place.

Hank noted the discomfort of some of his regulars -- now seated just inches from the bikers -- but the only thought that came to him was to take their minds off his new patrons. He clicked a button on the remote, and the tavern filled with the sounds of the sports announcer reviewing a spectacular play that all had missed.



When he emerged from the kitchen fifteen minutes later with a rolling cart covered in chicken and jojo baskets and bottles of sauces, the Sick Seagull looked like a regular tavern on sports night ... sort of. The regulars were, for the most part, back to their own selves, cheering to the game on the television or ridiculing the referees' calls. They had returned to their beers and dinners and bowls of peanuts and popcorn and were, it seemed, having a very good time.

There were still a couple sets of eyes watching the bikers warily, and most of the others took quick glances at their new neighbors occasionally, too. But Hank thought that a great deal of the tension had worn away.

The Family of Blood members were a different story, though. They had all ordered drinks, but none had touched them; bottle and glasses sat exactly where Hank had set them, condensation rings building around their bases. And while their gazes shifted about the tavern with regularity, it was obvious to Hank that the bikers were studying the patrons of the bar.

Hank was anticipating that he'd be throwing out the chicken and jojos soon, along with the unfinished bottle of beer, but when he began sitting out the baskets before the dispersed bikers, they all eagerly set about consuming the food. Hank smiled, pleased, as he moved about, ending up in the back corner with the Family's Patriarch.

"Will you sit with me a moment, Mayor," the man asked, gesturing to the seat across from him. hank hesitated, not because he didn't want to, but because he had to consider whether the kitchen, with all of it hot oil cookers, was secure. When he sat, the Patriarch began asking questions about the town in a rapid fire method that reminded him of the last Tourism Magazine reporter who'd visited Oceanview but hadn't really wanted to be there. Hank answered the man's questions as briefly as he could.

"444 people in total, if you count the Sheriff Deputy, who has a room in back of City Hall..."

"They catch a bus in the morning and go out to the Crescentville school district, forty miles beyond the tunnel..."

"No, not much tourism. The kids all want Disneyland, the parent Las Vegas..."

"Lot's of social security checks, some pensions. Got a few artsy fartsy types who actually make a living from it. But no, no real commercial or industrial bucks flowing in..."

"Just the tunnel. The cable bridge is still up, but it's been closed for three decades..."

"No, cells don't work here. The people voted down a Verizon tower. Most everyone has a land line, and I have a satellite phone that the County pays for ... you know, emergencies and such..."

"A clinic, but the Doc only comes out every other week if if he's needed. The other week, we have an LPN ...or RN, I'm not sure."

"Nightlife...?"

That one caused Hank to laugh aloud. He gestured around the tavern to the dozen locals who hadn't made their exits and said, "This is Oceanview's nightlife. We only have the one tavern. The Mercantile closes last each night ... at 5 pm"

He laughed again. "No, at night ... this place is pretty much dead."

He noticed that the lips of the man across from widened just a bit at his last comment. He didn't think anything about it, but down the road, he would, of course.

"My name is Quinn," the Patriarch introduced himself finally. He reached into the leather saddle bag sitting on the floor near his feet and withdrew a cloth bag. He fished inside it, then withdrew a stack of used bills, mostly fifties and hundreds. He laid them out before Hank saying, "Please take what you need to cover our meal and drinks. Then, would you be kind enough to talk to the motel owner and see about renting us the entire place ... indefinitely."

Hank's face went blank at the word indefinitely. He had been getting a little more comfortable with the bikers -- seeing them less as a gang and more like a club -- but Quinn's quizzing of him, followed by the declaration that they had no plan's of leaving soon worried him.

"Indefinitely...?" he asked timidly.

"Two or three days," Quinn clarified. "Four maybe. We're waiting for ... someone to contact us, and until that happens, we have no where that we need to be right now."

"Oh, of course," Hank said, feeling a bit easier now. He took up the money and fanned through it. He chuckled, then leaned to his left and tossed the entire bundle onto the table of a woman who'd been trying to be inconspicuous in her eavesdropping but, to Hank, had failed miserably. "Doris, will that rent them the motel for a couple of days?"

The older woman hesitated, then used a finger tip to spread out the bills so she could get a rough estimate of how much was there. Her eyes widened with delight as she answered, "Hell, boy ... that'll rent'em my own bedroom ... and me with it!"

She bellowed loudly, causing some other eavesdroppers to do the same. She stood, gather the money, and headed for the door, saying, "Gimme half an hour. Hell, there might even be mints on the pillows."

Quinn stood -- and all around the saloon, the other bikers stood almost in unison, the sound of stools twisting and wooden chair legs scratching the floor surprising Hank.

"We have things to do," Quinn said, adding, "With our rides."

The two exchanged farewells, and the biker thanked Hank for the meal ... which, unlike the others, he hadn't touched.

With their boots clicking across the tavern's hard wood floor, the entire MC funneled out behind their leader. One after another, the Regulars stood and moved to the windows to look out on the strangers. Conversation about the strange event began, accented by occasional laughs or comments.

"Did you see that hair...?"

"What was that tattoo...?"

"Aren't biker chicks supposed to be ugly and fat...?"

"How to I get arms like that? They were bigger than my thighs."

Hank took a last look at the bikers as they lifted their rides from their stands and fired them up. Those last two comments, and several that followed, made him look closer at the faces and bodies of the individual MC members.

It's true, he thought to himself. That has got to be the best looking group of outlaw bikers I've ever seen!

Each of the woman, while very different in body or facial style, was flawless, like a pack of leather-bound super models. And the men were all fit and athletic, whether they were short or tall, Bruce Lee-thin or Schwarzenegger-built. He couldn't recall ever having seen so many beautiful people all grouped together in his life, and that included all of those MTV reality housemate or runway model shows that he sometimes watched on the satellite channels when no one was around.

The earth cracked open again as, simultaneously, all twenty-one of the Harleys fired up. A moment later, Quinn pulled away from the curb, followed by the others, and disappeared from view as they headed down the street and around the corner for the motel parking lot.

With the MC gone, the faces at the window turned back to Hank -- and the questions flew!

 

[heartofcourage]

Maggie checked her watch one last time as she pulled her car into the drive of the bar, cursing her luck that she was so late. It looked like the place was packed and Hank was probably cursing a blue streak.

She was the best at conning those men that came for beer and free TV into buying as many snacks as possible. The college kids that came usually bought the cheapest thing on the menu, the truckers the most expensive, but they passed through less and less lately. Still, it looked like it would be a good night, she thought as she got out of the car, grabbing her purse and keys and hustling for the back door.

The Sick Seagull was a dive bar, but well kept. Still, she had begged Hank for years to update the space, but he was set in his ways. That seemed to be the story for much of Oceanview.

Maggie Donovan had run from the tiny little town the moment that she could. Both of her parents had died in a car accident when she was three, leaving her to be raised by her grandmother and Uncle. She had a good life in Oceanview, a bit sheltered, but overall decent. Still, she’d always felt the need to stretch her wings and fly far away. There was so much to see and so little time to do it. From the time that she was in 5th Grade, she had told her teachers that she wasn’t long for Oceanview.

She had graduated from Oceanview High at the top of her class and had gone one to culinary school in Los Angeles on scholarship. The big city was enticing and she’d lived her college life to the fullest. She’d dabbled in recreational drugs, shed her good girl life that she’d cultivated in Oceanview, and sewn her wild oats. She was the party girl, the one that people could depend on for a good time as well as the person they could depend on to make sure that everyone got home safely.

She’d also fallen in love with a handsome lawyer who had a high profile client list. She was swept up in the hot and heavy youthful lust that accompanied her first real love. Their marriage had been brief and explosive, leaving her licking her wounds back in Oceanview only a year after she’d said ‘I do’.

The tiny town that she’d left wasn’t the same that she came home to though. Oceanview had fallen into disrepair over the years she’d been gone. Many of the buildings in downtown had been boarded up due to bank foreclosures. Mr. O’Connell, owner of the local bank, had turned greedy and prayed on the people that were in desperate need of help. It had always been so beautiful downtown and now it was empty due to the vice of greed.

Crack houses had popped up here and there, more rampant in the woods than in the city itself. She had to turn away more crack addicts from the bar then she cared to remember. Then there had been the recent rash of robberies. Just the other night, Hank had leveled his shotgun at a tweeker that demanded the cash in the register.

Topping it all off was the serial rapist that had been striking at random for the past three months. Hank had insisted that he walk her to her car and that she call him when she got home. He didn’t want her out there alone, but Maggie had insisted that she was perfectly fine. Still, every creak and groan at her house made her jump and wonder if the boogy man was lurking. At least Grandma wasn’t alive to see how everything had crumbled around them. It would have broken her heart.

“Good old Grandma.” Maggie said to herself, pushing her long brown hair out of her face.

Grandma Barton had been a tough old lady that was no nonsense that loved her children and grandchildren immensely. She had run the local diner until her health took a turn for the worst and when she finally passed, Maggie took over operation of it. It was her pride and joy now, the one place where she could let her culinary juices flow. Many said it was the best place for a hundred miles and she was constantly striving to keep them coming and happy.

The Sick Seagull was just a side job. She filled in for Hank when he needed help on busy nights and it got her out of the lonely little house that she lived in. She had to admit that she enjoyed it, even if she’d never admit that to Hank. He didn’t need anything else to gloat over.

She was surprised when she entered the bar and saw him hustling back in the kitchen, a concerned and slightly surprised look on his face. “What’s up?” She asked, stashing away her purse and brushing the wrinkles out of her Sick Seagull t-shirt and jeans.

“Hank, what’s going on?” She asked as he bustled around the kitchen, jojos and chicken flying onto a cart in record time. She watched him with her hands on her hips, a frown furrowing her brow as he was soon pushing through the swinging door with a loaded cart.

She followed behind him, her eyes instantly settling on the bikers that were newcomers. So that was what had sent Hank into such a tizzy. No wonder, she thought to herself. They were pretty tough looking. A really good looking to boot.

“Beer here, Maggie!” One of the barflies announced and she moved down the bar to fill his glass, sliding it back to him with a coaster and soon working to fill the bowls of peanuts and popcorn.

Between the odd order of beer or more jojos, she kept herself busy but found her eyes glancing towards the biker that was talking to Hank. There was something about him, she decided, but she didn’t know quite what it was. When they all stood to leave, obviously sleeping at the local hotel, she felt her stomach do a strange little flip. They were staying? That meant that they would be at the diner for breakfast. Which meant that she would see them again.

All hell broke loose as their bikes started, the deafening rumble making the cheap decorations on the walls shake as they pulled off down the street and around the corner to the motel. Questions flew left and right as Hank tried to answer them like the budding politician that he was. She most definitely had her own questions when she was alone with him but for now it was all business.

 

[GrayOldFart]

September, 1988:

Quinn dropped the rose into the grave, watching it bounce upon the dark mahogany. He returned to the cemetery's parking lot and mounted his ride. He stood on the kick pedal and surged his weight down just as, all about him, 400+ riders did the same with theirs. The rumble of the Harleys shattered the silence of the early morning hours.


Today:

Hank opened the register again, looking at the bills in the left most slot of the drawer. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd had a hundred dollar bill in the register, let alone that many of them. He slammed it shut again, then headed into the tiny back office and tapped on the screen of his new tablet, bringing up the internet.

He was still figuring out how to use this thing. Oceanview wasn't exactly a testing ground for new computer technology; Hank was still keeping both his books and the City's on a PC with Windows 98 on it. But he'd been told you could find anything on the internet if you just knew how to look for it, so he typed in Family of Blood Motorcycle Club and waited for a response.

What he found was disappointing, a single news article -- an image of an actual paper newspaper story -- from 1988. It was a whole three paragraphs and stated, simply, that the FoB, as the reported called it, had buried their matriarch and disappeared into the night, with several chapters splitting off into different directions and, over the next several days, simply vanishing from the face of the earth.

He spent over an hour scrolling though pages of links, finding little more than photographs of men and women in the FoB jackets, or comments by people like "I met a biker with FoB" or "The Family of Blood" passed through town today..." But there was nothing concrete about them, and the second thing Hank had been told about the internet is Don't believe everything you read.

He flinched at a voice, and looked up to see Maggie standing in the office doorway. "What?"

"I said can I talk to you," she said, apparently repeating what he'd missed. When he asked about what, she stepped inside, jerked a finger toward the tavern door, and said, "About what else?"

He smiled, then chuckled. "Yeah, I'm sure we'll all be talking about this night for a while." He waved her inside and told her what he knew: they were waiting to meet someone some place -- he neither knew where or who -- and they needed a place to stay for a while and they had lots of money to spend.

"Oh," he added, tapping the edge of his tablet, "And no one knows any thing about them."

Hank didn't understand that at all. If they were an outlaw bike gang, they would have records and numerous articles written about them. If they were a recreational motorcycle club, they would have a web site, recruiting new members. They had neither.

"What do you want to know, sweet?" he asked, knowing that she was probably going to ask about Quinn himself. She may have thought she was being slick, but she'd forgotten about the beer advertisements on the wall that were mirrors with the brewers' logos on them. He had spied her more than once gazing at the man sitting across the table from Hank.

 

[heartofcourage]

Maggie folded her arms over her chest, listening to Hank as he gave her the most mysterious answer to her question. He’d always had a pension for the dramatic and his description of the news on the bikers was nothing less than dramatic. She gave him a small smile as he fiddled with his new tablet and then looked at her and asked her what she wanted to know.

She blushed, her cheeks turning bright red. It was obvious that he had caught her sneaking peeks from behind the bar at the handsome leader of the gang. She shook her head slightly, her lips opening and closing as he caught her off guard and she struggled to come up with the words that needed to come out.

“Oh, well, I wanted to know…” She trailed off, flipping a piece of dark hair out of her eyes as she looked down at him. “I wanted to know if you needed me anymore? I got the broilers turned off and cleaned and there’s only about two or three of the regulars still out there. I told Sandy if he wanted something else to drink, he could get it himself and he knew where to put the money.”

Hank would shoo her off in a few moments and insist that he walk her to her car. She would always protest, saying that she was old enough to take care of herself, but he would never take no for an answer. Maggie did have to admit that it made her feel like someone out there cared and it was a really good feeling.

Maggie stepped from the bar office, saying goodbye to the last few barflies that were sticking around. “Remember to tip Hank well.” She said over her shoulder as she slipped into the kitchen and grabbed her purse and keys.

Hank was there, like a loyal dog, ready to make sure that she got off safely. Her old beat up red Civic was waiting like usual under the only security light in the parking lot and she unlocked the door and threw her purse into the passenger’s seat. Leaning against the open door, she looked at Hank and smiled.

“Come by the diner for breakfast tomorrow morning. I’ll pack you a lunch for the day and you can share it with whoever’s on duty at the jail tomorrow.” She had taken care of Hank since Grandma had died and she took great pride in making sure that he was well fed.

His eyes light up under the dull yellow light of the parking lot and she laughed, shaking her head. “I’ll even throw in a slice of Grandma’s cherry pie just for you.” She leaned over the door and kissed his cheek before she slipped into the driver’s seat and her engine came to life.

She waved to him as he shut her door and she glanced in her rearview mirror for a moment, her reflection catching her off guard. She had changed since she’d come back from Los Angeles and usually avoided all mirrors. A few pounds had made her look a little swollen, her blue eyes still sparkling brightly from a delicate face. Her once dyed blond hair was now its natural brunette, hanging loosely around her shoulders. It had grown long and she hesitated to have it cut. It really was her best feature.

Shaking her head, she moved the mirror back into place and pulled out of the parking lot, passing down the street and glancing in the parking lot of the hotel to make sure that the biker’s were still there. A few were milling about outside the rooms, but it seemed they were there to stay. She smiled at the thought and turned down her street to head to her lonely little home.

 

[GrayOldFart]

(OOC -- This is kind of long. Sorry. They won't always be like this.)



Hank was conflicted about baby sitting Maggie each night like this. On one hand she was an adult woman, capable of taking care of herself; she'd gone off to the big city, gone to college, married. On the other hand, there had been some assaults recently -- Rapes! he reminded himself, using a stronger term than the lack luster Deputy had used -- both in Oceanview and in the rural community beyond the tunnel; and the rise in drug related crimes in both areas was staggering.

Money, he thought to himself. It all comes down to money. The economy goes to hell, the money leaves, people get desperate or -- in the case of the meth labs popping up in the woods beyond the tunnel -- people see opportunities, and a community dies. Hank had been voted in Mayor three years ago on a platform of crime prevention and city restoration. But, in the end, it failed because ... it all came down to money, and when the Great Recession hit, there was no money in the County Sheriff budget for a full time Deputy, and there was no one interested in investing in Oceanview unless the crime was under control.

He looked around the now darkened town and found himself conflicted over yet another issue. Everyone knew that lighting deterred criminals. He recalled Portland, Oregon, to the north installing a thousand street lamps up and down what had then been a crime ridden Burnside Boulevard and seeing a 60% drop in crime in those immediate neighborhoods. But the Oceanview residents has shot that idea down in a heart beat. It would have been expensive, and it would have killed the night sky.

Hank took a dozen or so steps beyond the building's edge, getting out of the street lamp, and looked up into the sky. It was full of stars. The light pollution in Oceanview was minimal, and while you had to go beyond the tunnel and into the forest to be able to see the stars that identified the true nature of the Milky Way, you could still see far more here than in the cities inland.

Keeping the town dark was probably inviting to the criminal element plaguing Oceanview, but Hank knew that saving the night sky would be worth the sacrifice in the end. Something would change to save his beloved home. Wouldn't it?



They watched the old, red Honda cruise by, its driver staring at them as she passed, then turned as one and entered the last of the motel rooms to stand with anxious expressions before Quinn.

"I know what you are going to ask--"

"I don't think I can handle another basket of fried chicken," the woman cut Quinn off with a playful, begging tone. "Please, Quinn ... let us ride."

He sat back in the old, worn chair. He looked around himself and recalled his surprise upon entering. The rooms were actually small, individual cabins, a single main room -- bedroom, sitting area, and small dining area -- with a kitchenette and bathroom at the rear. There were washer and dryer hookups in the bathroom, but the spaces for the appliances were empty. The furnishings, while cheesy and very dated, were in good shape and well cared for; there had been no dust or cob webs or carpet stains as Quinn and his Family discovered at most of the out of the way motels they had held up at in the past.

"I like this place," he said, looking back to the trio. "And we need a place to..." He let the thought fade. They needed a quiet place where they could live and prosper ... which meant doing exactly what they wanted to do ... what he was preventing them from doing. He rolled his head in a way that she knew so well, and she practically jumped for joy as she crossed the room to give him a peck on the cheek. He stuck a finger up in her face, saying, "Remember the rules. Don't ruin this for us the first night."

"Of course!" she answered, kissing him again, this time fully and passionately on the lips before staring meaningfully into his eyes. "I promise."



Yuli Green jacked a shell into the 12 gauge's chamber and stepped out onto the porch of the cabin. His dogs had gone crazy a few minutes earlier, howling and growling as if a pack of wolves was running through the property. He'd quieted the loyal animals down in time to hear ... motorcycles...? Not just motorcycles, but the unmistakable sound of Harley Davidsons. There weren't any Harleys in Oceanview, or out here in the National Forest, where Yuli was homesteading illegally ... while cooking his meth and growing his pot.

He listened closely, but the night had gone quiet again. Except for the whining of the dogs, which told him he was not alone. He remembered a recent trip to Klamath Falls, remembered seeing a motorcycle cop on a Harley. They wouldn't come up here looking for crack on one of those! In the dark of night?

Minutes passed, and the dogs began barking again. Yuli wasn't the type of man who was typically scared by the unknown. It was the known -- the cops, his competition, his skittish buyers -- that scared the crap out of him at times. But staring into the pitch black of the forest, listening to the six mutts as they pulled at their chains...

He set the shotgun aside and, one by one, let the dogs loose. Each immediately sprinted away from the camp trailer into the black, howling as they went. He had just released the last dog when the first, out in the night, gave a pitiful yelp ... and went silent. One by one, the dogs whined or yelped or barked in a fashion Yuli simply didn't recognize ... before going silent.

He was shaking so hard when he picked up the shotgun that he was afraid to put his finger on the trigger and maybe shoot himself. The night seemed to have gotten even darker, scarier, and colder without the dogs to protect him. What the hell could be out there? His mind went back to the wolf idea, maybe bears; but the sound of the Harleys kept coming back to him.

"Hi."

Yuli leaped straight up a few inches, spinning in absolutely fear at the sound of the female voice behind him. Without even thinking, he pulled the trigger of the 12 gauge, but she had already seized the barrel and moved it aside; the blast exploded a cheap, stainless steel smoker, sending pieces of half dried venison all of the beaten down dirt patio that surrounded the camp trailer.

The woman jerked the gun away from Yuli, tossing it with ease over her shoulder and into the darkness. She stepped forward into the lantern light spilling out from the 20 foot home-on-wheels window; her face and neck were covered with blood, and as she smiled to the man, her teeth ... they were ... were they...?

Yuli didn't have a chance to decide as he felt himself grabbed from behind, spun around, and--

He screamed as something bit him in the neck, the pain flooding his entire body in an instant. The pain didn't last long, though, fading away almost as if he was being anesthetized, and after a moment -- still totally conscious of his surroundings -- he felt himself slump into the arms of ... it was a man ... and then, it was two men, one on each side, each biting him in the neck ... and then ... he felt someone grab a handful of hair and pull his head back a bit ... until he was looking into the eyes of a woman ... that woman ... that beautiful woman ... lightly bleached hair, curls every where ... deep, dark eyes ... perfect skin ... she was like an angel ... except ...

His last conscious thought was of one of the men pulling his head back and giving a deep, satisfied sign, just as the women leaned over his shoulder and sank her fangs -- Yes, those teeth ... they were fangs! -- deep into his neck. A moment later ... he was unconscious ... and a moment after that, he was dead.



The sun broke through a gap in the trees, illuminating the camp trailer. The reflection struck the woman in her eyes, waking her. She sat up and stretched, then flicked an ant off her bared breasts. She slapped the nude ass of the closest man, saying, "Get up. It's dawn."

The third man was the first to rise, parting his legs a bit, lifting his arms, and stretching with a mighty grunt that almost echoed through the woods.

The woman laughed, reaching out to flick a finger at her fellow MC member's member, laughing, "Put that thing away before you take someone's eye out."

"It's just not the same," the third man said, already beginning to don his clothes. "Don't get me wrong, baby. I love fucking you. But--"

"We need someone new," she said, finishing his thought without showing even a touch of offense at his comment. She began redressing, too, saying, "Quinn won't allow us to ... mingle with those coast people until he's had a chance to check everything out."

"You mean check her out," one of the guys said, chuckling. When the female of the trio looked up, oblivious, he clarified, "The woman behind the bar ... the owner's niece. You didn't her checking him out, or him checking her out?"

The woman stood and turned away, going silent for a long moment. The two men looked between one another and donned solemn looks. Finally, the one who'd begun the death of the meth cook stepped up and said, "C'mon ... you knew he wasn't going to make you Matriarch. He didn't turn you himself. His queen ... she has to be someone he turned personally. You know--"

He didn't have a chance to finish his statement as the woman spun quickly in place and slammed a fist across his face, sending him flying back to the ground. After he'd recovered and looked up to her, the three of them laughed loudly together ... then got on their bikes and rode...

 

[heartofcourage]

3am always came too early for Maggie. Her alarm sounded, telling her that it was time to get up and get moving. Slapping her hand against the button, she rolled out of bed and moved like a zombie to the bathroom. A quick shower made her feel more like human and a quick swipe of mascara and lip gloss made her look more human.

Grabbing her keys and her purse, she hurried from the house to her car. She sighed in relief when the engine roared to life. There had been a few mornings this month when she’d had to call the police on duty to give her a lift because the car didn’t wish to be bothered that early in the morning either.

Pulling up in front of the diner, she turned on the lights and got to work in the kitchen. Her cook, Sam, would be in around 5 to cater to the breakfast crowd. She started the prep and popped in her famous pies to bake. She made the usual pies with cherry and apple. During the fall, she would make pumpkin and pecan. She had been having a craving for chocolate lately and decided to indulge that craving by making a chocolate silk pie. It would be part of the daily special and she was sure that it would be gone before the lunch crowd appeared.

The diner crowd was always predictable. When she opened at 5, she’d see the first shift factory workers that would come in for breakfast and coffee before they made their way to the power plants on the other side of the tunnel. At 6, she’d see the third shift workers looking for something to fill their bellies before they headed home for some much needed sleep. 7 would bring the normal old men that would fill the back three tables to talk about football, politics, and the weather.

It she was lucky, she’d catch some of the truckers coming through the tunnel around 8 before the families came in to feed their kids and wives before they headed off to parts unknown. Then the whole cycle would start over again for lunch and the place would bustle until 3 when she would shut it down and head home for some shut eye.

Maggie glanced up as the front door jingled and she smiled at Sam as he made his way back to get the grill fired up. “Morning, Sam.” She called as she finished the pies and put them to cool on the order window. “Go ahead and put in an order for some chicken salad sandwiches and fries for Hank when he comes in. Should be here around 7 for breakfast.”

A man of few words, Sam nodded and acknowledged that she’d said anything at all. She patted his shoulder and moved into the dining room, filling out the special board that touted French toast for breakfast and chicken salad for lunch, along with the rest of the full menu.

At five, she opened the doors for the workers and was pleased to see a full diner. It was busy and the smells of bacon and eggs filled the air. Much of the morning went by the same and she was busy taking orders, busing tables, and checking people out at the register.

It was around seven that she heard the door open and she lifted her eyes, pausing when she saw the mystery man from the bar the night before saunter in with a few members of his biker gang. She felt her mouth go dry, her palms grow sweaty, and she quickly wiped them on her apron before she grabbed a few menus and made her way towards them.

“Hey there!” She said brightly, her eyes catching his. A shiver raced down her spine as their eyes met and she held them for a long moment before she glanced towards an empty table. “Have a seat and I’ll be back in a moment to get your order.”

 

[GrayOldFart]

Quinn's Cabin
2am:

The door opened slowly and a young pretty face peeked in. A wide, toothy smile spread at the sight of Quinn standing naked before the bathroom mirror drying his sculpted body. She entered quietly, following the line of nail heads barely visible in the old wood floor with her bare feet to stay atop the beams and decrease the chances of squeaking. This was one of her enhanced abilities: stealth. She crossed the cabin's main room, stepping left to avoid the light that would have cast her shadow near him; then right to prevent him from seeing her in the mirror. When she was just a foot from him, she paused, gripped the knife tighter, and struck.

Quinn spun quickly and in a single movement, snatched her in both strong hands, lifted her from her feet, and slammed her roughly against the mirror, cracking it down the middle. She dropped onto the bathroom counter, her breath surging forward in a grunt of pain before ... recovering ... and bursting out in laughter.

Quinn shook his head, smiling, then pushed her thighs apart and moved in between them. He pulled her hard against his quickly swelling manhood. He grasped a fist full of hair and twisted her skull to get to her neck. He kissed her roughly, touching his fangs to her skin but not biting her.

"One day, father," she said, her breathing still labored. As he began unbuttoning her blouse and pawing at her full, firm breasts, she warned, "One day, I'll be too fast for you, and--"

"And what, Lara?" he laughed, pulling her head back to look into her eyes. "You can't kill me."

"All I want to do is draw blood!" she said, feigning a tone of disappointment, despair. She fought against his grip, trying to move her face to his. When he finally relaxed his grip, she met him in a fierce kiss. When their lips parted, she repeated in a seductive whisper, "Draw blood, father..."

They hurriedly stripped the clothes from her lower body and made hard, passionate love. They came together -- they always came together, as sexual empathy was her other enhanced ability -- and held one another tightly until long after the euphoria had waned.



3am:

Quinn stood on the porch of the cabin, the lights inside and out extinguished. He'd heard a sound -- an alarm clock, he was sure -- and he was intrigued with who might be getting up at a time when the latest of night owls and bar flies were just going to bed.

He glanced back to the beauty soundly asleep atop the covers of his bed, despite the chill in the air and the lack of clothes on her body. The cold did not bother Lara. It didn't bother any of the Family. They didn't get cold, they didn't sweat -- at least not from heat -- they didn't get sick, they didn't get aches and pains. At least, not so long as they had adequate nutrition.

Quinn could remember less than two years earlier when this was far from the truth for Lara. At barely 18, she'd already been on the streets for five years, whoring herself for money, drugs, or a dry place to sleep. She was dying of AIDS and so weak that Quinn doubted she could survive the Turning. She did, of course, and never let a day go by without making sure Quinn understood the gratitude she felt for him.

Quinn, of course, enjoyed all of the capabilities that his Family members did, a bit at least. It was, after all, from him that they came. Oh, he might not be a stealthy or strong or quick as some of his Kin, but he didn't need to be. That was what Family -- a diverse family -- was for.

Quinn turned back to survey the streets and buildings of Oceanview. Just as Lara had her stealth and sexual empathy, he, too, had his abilities, one of which was night sight. Looking up and down Main at 3am for Quinn was like looking up and down the street at high noon for a mere human. He could clearly see the details and read the signs of each of the dozen or so buildings lining Main; could see the pair of feral dogs eating out of a spilled garbage can two blocks away; could see the owl passing overhead with a large rodent in its talons. And, turning back toward the source of the earlier alarm clock, could see the beautiful woman leaving her home and sitting down into the driver's seat of the beat up red Honda.

He hadn't caught her name earlier that evening as she filled flagons of beer and wiped down greasy tables, but it had seemed obvious that she was more to the Mayor than just a bar maid.

Quinn watched her from the darkness as she drove down the street and pulled in front of the diner. A moment later, the interior was illuminated and the woman got to work. Quinn stood there in the doorway, watching the doings without twitching a muscle ... for three hours. There was something about that woman -- something he'd detected at the tavern, something he could feel but couldn't put a finger on -- that told him she was destined to be the next member of the Blackwater Family.

He flinched suddenly, grasping at the back of his arm with a slight cry. He pulled his arm away to find blood, then looked up to see a delighted Lara holding her knife out before her Patriarch, her Maker, her lover.

"Blood!" she said, laughing. "Told you, someday. All I needed was for your little head--" She jabbed a finger toward his crotch, then toward his face. "--to be overwhelming the big head."

She shrieked in surprise as he rushed inside, slamming the door behind him, and chasing her still nude form about the little room. She leaped the furniture like a deer clearing hedge rows, but was eventually caught ... and made love to once more...



Quinn knocked and opened the door to the cabin nearest his end unit. He looked about, finding six bodies scattered about the bed, love seat, and deeply cushioned chairs, still sound asleep. He found one, however, very awake and sitting at the little kitchen table, staring at a laptop computer.

"Speak to me," Quinn said, knowing his meaning was clear. "What we're you able to learn?"

"The tavern has an unsecured wifi signal," Ursula answered, not looking up as she continued to tapped her fingers at the keyboard. "It's weak, but I was able to get on. We're okay."

Quinn's face scrunched a bit. The answer was a bit vague for his tastes. "Can you clarify a bit?"

"I checked the State and Country law enforcement sites," she said, finally looking up at him, "as well as the local radio and television web sites. No mention of missing persons, let alone bodies found in a canyon. Like I said ... we're okay."

Quinn thanked Ursula, closed the door, and headed down the boardwalk ... toward, of course, the diner. One MC member after another emerged from their cabins, and by the time he'd reached the door of the small cafe, half of the Family's 26 members were behind him.

They got the same shocked look from those in the cafe as they had the night before at the tavern ... only a bit worse. This crowd wasn't already half tipsy from 32 ounce drafts, and there were a great many women with children as well.

Quinn left smiling, nodding, and greeting the villagers to the others; his attention fell immediately upon the woman behind the counter, filling her hands with plastic covered menus and moving forward to greet them.

“Hey there!” She wore a bright smile, but Quinn thought he sensed nervousness -- perhaps tension -- in her tone. “Have a seat and I’ll be back in a moment to get your order.”

As if to verify his unspoken concern, Lara -- standing behind her Patriarch -- tugged on his leather jacket and whispered, "That one's about to cream her panties over you, father."

Quinn ignored his Kin's crude -- but likely accurate -- statement and returned Maggie's smile. The Family dispersed, taking booths and counter stools in practically the same groupings as they had the night before in the tavern.

"Why can't I have pie," a little girl at a table near Quinn's booth was asking her mother in a whisper. She cast her eyes toward a pair of local men sitting near -- and staring at -- a pair of the MC's leather clothed members. "They have pie. Why can't I have pie...? Cherry pie."

"Because they aren't three months behind on their mortgage," the girl's mother growled low, talking more to herself than anyone else. She slathered some jelly over her daughter's toast, then -- thinking no one was watching -- slipped three or four individual jam containers into her purse. She jabbed a finger, saying, "Finish your toast. You love strawberry."

Quinn looked to John, his Sergeant at Arms -- who'd also seen the small time theft -- and gave him a knowing expression. It was an unfortunate fact that in times like these, when family's were struggling to make ends meet, to make their house payment, to feed their children, or put gas in the tank ... things were looking up for the Family of Blood. Quinn knew that here in Oceanview, he would find people -- desperate people -- who would serve the Family in ways they normally wouldn't in exchange for what Quinn and his people had to offer.

When Maggie stepped up to Quinn's table, John gave her the order; Quinn simply stared into the woman's face, studying it, trying to figure out what it was that was drawing him to her so strongly. When John was done, he glanced toward his Patriarch, who nodded softly. John said, "And we need a pie ... cherry pie--"

Out of the corner of his eye, Quinn could see the little girl at the table perk up.

"I see it's cheaper to buy a whole pie than in slices, but ... we don't really need a whole pie." John glanced at Quinn again, then looked to the little girl and asked, "If you mommy said it was okay ... could you help us finish out pie?"

While John was watching the girl, Quinn's attention had gone to the girl's mother. And while he'd had a hard time reading Maggie, he had no trouble reading the immediate gratitude in the woman's eyes. Quinn knew what that meant to a parent, not being able to give your child what they needed, deserved, or simply wanted. He'd learned that in 1782, when his father sold his pony to settle a tax debt. He'd learned it again seventeen years later when he himself, then the man of the house, had to surrender the last of the family's properties to the fledgling US government as a penalty for his deceased father's support of King George during the War of Independence.

Quinn hated to see that expression in a parent's eyes, or the other side of it in their child's. It was just a piece of pie, but at this moment, it was something wonderful that a moment earlier had been far out of reach. Just a piece of pie, Quinn thought, making eye contact with the woman and giving her a friendly smile. Just a piece of pie today. But ... I'm sure we can find something else you need ... something more valuable ... something ... that you will be willing to give something valuable for in return.

Quinn's eyes dropped to the nape of the woman's neck, and he could almost taste her from here...

 

[heartofcourage]

Maggie scurried away from the bikers, moving quickly and efficiently to serve drinks to all of the new comers. She cast a few side long glances in the direction of the patriarch of the gang. He was a handsome man, one that definitely got her pulse racing. He looked a bit like her ex-husband and the felt heat rising to her cheeks as she had some very naughty thoughts.

Shaking her head clear of the images, she grabbed her order pad and a pen, hustling back to the table to take the order. The man that had caught her attention was quiet, leaving it to a very charming man, who introduced himself as John, to make the order. It was like they were feeding an army from the amount of omelets and French toast that were put down on the paper, but she would gladly give them anything that they wanted. They seemed like a decent group of people and she welcomed them as long as they didn’t cause a ruckus.

She didn’t miss the way that the handsome man was staring at her. She had the urge to write down her phone number on the ticket like she’d seen in so many romantic movies, but thought the better of it. She most definitely didn’t want to seem desperate.

Her attention was drawn as John stated that they wanted a pie. Cherry pie, to be exact and when she watched them turn to the table behind them, a soft smile came to her lips. Tessa and her little girl Megan were having a hard time since her husband had left. They were frequent visitors to the diner and Maggie had turned a blind eye more than once to the stolen condiments and bills that were just a little short.

“How about some ice cream with that pie? It’s homemade vanilla.” Maggie said with a smile as Megan’s eyes grew wide and her smile was absolutely stunning. Tessa looked like she was about to cry and she silently nodded her head as Maggie wrote down the order.

“And coffee for all of you. I’ll be right back.” She said, giving the mystery man one last glance before she hurried behind the counter to get the coffee pot and drop off the order for Sam to start on.

A dull brown mug was placed in front of each biker and soon they were full of coffee, steaming and fragrant. She obliged a few of them sugar and cream, smiling at each with the same warm smile that had won over the hearts of all of her regular customers.

Finding a moment of lull, she popped behind the counter and grabbed the sack of food that she’d packed for Hank before she made her way back to Tessa’s table. “Hey, Tess, I had an order that never got picked up. It’s chicken salad and it’s enough for you and Megan for dinner if you wanted it. No charge. I’d just have to throw it out anyway.”

It was a lie but the way that Tessa looked at her, she would have thought that she had given her a million dollars. It had been hard to see a woman like Tessa reduced to scrounging for money and food, but she was a good woman that was sometimes too proud to ask for help.

“Oh, Maggie, you don’t have to do that.” Tessa began as she was already taking the bag and placing it beside her on the bench. “Let me give you a little something extra for breakfast…”

“No, ma’am. I’ll only take the usual $3.” Maggie said, her hands on her hips as she looked down at Megan as she nibbled on a piece of toast. It didn’t matter that the food had cost a little more than that. It never really mattered to her.

 

[GrayOldFart]

Duplicate post. sorry

 

[GrayOldFart]

Quinn sat through breakfast in silence, his gaze shifting between Maggie and the Blackwater Family. He enjoyed watching the beautiful waitress because ...well, she was beautiful. And, of course, there was something still undefined about her that intrigued him.

Watching the Family, however, wasn't enjoyable; it was agonizing. Quinn hadn't lifted a fork, but he was sure that Maggie's cooking -- or that of the man beyond the divider -- was the best to be found for miles. He could see it in the eyes of her other diners.

But, for the Family, it was no substitute for what they really needed. The vampires needed to feed, and bacon and eggs, regardless of how good it tasted, wasn't a suitable substitute for what the Family of Blood bikers needed.

Going without was hard on the FoB members. Their enhanced abilities would wane, leaving them vulnerable ...human being vulnerable, at least. If they went long enough without the proper sustenance, they would become weak, then ill, then lapse into comas ...and eventually die. It wasn't a pretty picture. Once when he and a brother had been trapped in the wilderness by a freak snow storm, Quinn had watched the lesser vampire die ...starve to death, before his eyes. There had been nothing Quinn could do. Over a two month period, unable to leave the cave they had luckily found, Quinn had just watched the man whither ...and die.

He would never let that happen to another member of his Family again ...ever. Even if it meant killing every person in this town to feed and then cover the gruesome act. He and his Kin of the time had had to do something similar to that three quarters of a century earlier, and Quinn had no desire to do so again. But if, like then, it took three dozen human lives to keep just one of his family members alive, he would make that decision in a heart beat.

Quinn attention set fully upon Maggie as she talked to the woman with the little girl. She was kind and loving to them, but he could sense in her words and tone that if the woman had refused the free meal, Maggie probably would have stuffed it in the woman's purse with the growl, Take it or else.

Quinn smiled -- and suddenly it came to him, the thing that he'd been seeing in her. True compassion ...empathy ...love and care for her neighbors ... and at the same time drive of purpose. A slight smile spread across his lips as Quinn.

She's perfect, he thought to himself. Just what I'm looking for.

Quinn had the Family; he had his Kin. But he had no Queen. For almost 34 years, he -- and the Family as a whole -- had been without a Matriarch. Oh, there were plenty of female vampires to be had -- a slight smile spread as Quinn thought of the word had, and recalled the previous hours' incredible sex -- but a Matriarch was more than just another vampire with breasts.

Quinn could remember the words of his former Matriarch -- his Maker and his Lover -- when she described herself and her success in leading what would become the Family of Blood MC in just two words: Benevolent Dictator. She had been one of the most caring and compassionate people Quinn had ever met. He still remembered their involvement in one of the very first Habitat for Humanity roof raisings in the late 1960s.

Four weeks later, trapped in the mountains by a Sheriff's patrol investigating a killing -- ironically having nothing to do with the FoB -- she ordered the annihilation of an entire family of innocents to feed the Blackwater vampires and give them the strength to escape.

Quinn watched Maggie work and wondered whether she had the strength to order such a heinous act as that. He doubted it very much. At least ... today. Things change.

He waited until the cafe owner was in the kitchen before he stood and headed for the door. He stopped at the table nearest the door and leaned over it, whispering, "You'll take care of that for me, Lara...?"

His more frequent than not lover looked past him to Maggie, then back up to him with a knowing smile. "Of course, father."

Quinn looked back over his shoulder again, catching Maggie coming out of the back and meeting his eyes for a flash before he turned and departed, followed by a handful of his Kin he'd gestured to follow.

Lara studied the woman with her hands full of food for a moment, then stood and -- just as Maggie was heading toward the back again -- stepped directly before her and smiled broadly, the public smile that was sweet and innocent and hid the tips of the upper fangs.

"Maggie, yes...?" Lara asked, reaching out to lay a hand upon the diner's owner/operator. Instantly, she felt goose bumps rise upon Maggie's flesh. "Can I talk to you?"

Lara's smile widened even further as she felt the woman's heart race, a reaction to the sudden surge of adrenaline filling her veins. Lara treasured her ability to not only understand a person's sexual wants and desires and understand what it took to fulfill them; but also to, as she sometimes described, simply get y'all hot.

It didn't matter whether you were male or female, and if you were the latter it didn't matter whether or not you'd ever in you life even considered having sex with another woman. There simply was no escape from the heat your body would suddenly create at meeting Lara.

"My father..." Lara began, nodding a head toward the door her Patriarch, Maker, and -- unknown to Maggie -- Lover had just departed through, "is kind of shy, despite the image people have him. You know, outlaw biker and all. He, um ... wanted to know if you would like to have dinner with him tonight, but he wasn't sure how to ask."

She was, of course, lying. Quinn could very well have walked up to Maggie and talked up a storm. But having Lara do it ...well, there was practically no way to say no to that girl, Quinn knew.

"Eight o'clock...?" she asked. Then looking about herself, added, "Here? I'll cook."

 

[GrayOldFart]

Earlier:

John looked up to the opening door, finding Quinn looking inside for Ursula.

"Speak to me."

Ursula gave the Patriarch the update on the response -- or lack thereof -- by Authorities to the Family's last feeding. When he left, John's sister looked to him and asked, "Was that odd to you?"

"Meaning...?" John asked, rising to head for the door and join Quinn for breakfast. He presumed Ursula's inquiry instead of waiting for clarification, explaining, "I think Quinn likes Oceanview. I think ... I think he's considering staying here."

"We've only been here half a day," she said with a surprised tone.

John shrugged as he left, finishing with a humorous tone, "Father knows best."

"Cute, she said, shaking her head as the door closed.



At Breakfast:

"That one's about to cream her panties over you, father," Lara said just a foot in front of John.

He laughed aloud -- quick and short, not wanting to sound disrespectful -- then cleared his throat and fell in behind Quinn, joining him at a corner table. Almost before he sat down, the woman in the next table over locked eyes with John for a moment, then smiled nervously.

Again, for the umpteenth time in his life, John wished he had some sort of enhanced empathy like some of his Siblings and Kin had; the woman, who he'd learn was named Tessa, was attractive and shapely and not wearing a wedding band. It had been quite a while since he'd enjoyed sex with a human; it had been even longer since he'd enjoyed sex with a human that he didn't feed from and/or kill even before his orgasm had begun to wane.

The next few minutes were very telling. Tessa glanced about the cafe at its new patrons often, so when her eyes came to John, he couldn't know whether she was eying him in particular or just as yet another surprising biker in a small town diner. John saw the mother steal the condiments, remark about her mortgage, take the offered meal with obvious gratitude, even joy.

And John knew he was going to get to know this woman. At least ... he knew he was going to try. He'd never been a very charismatic man -- he didn't have Lara's come and fuck me magic -- but he was ruggedly handsome with a muscular, rock hard bod' that the women seemed to slobber over. Of course, they were usually the wrong women, but a normal male human's point of view. But ... John wasn't a normal male human, was he?

Tessa and her girl, Megan, had seemed overjoyed by the pie, which was, of course, the reason John had offered it. After Quinn departed, John remained, trying to be inconspicuous about his undue attention toward the needy parent and her child.

He glanced around for eavesdroppers and prying eyes, and when again Tessa looked his way, John leaned closer toward her table and reached out his right hand, saying with a smile, "John. How's the pie?"

 

[heartofcourage]

Tessa McGuire

http://files.myopera.com/Varunsange...ful-ladies-3-17-10-Love-Couples-lovers-lo.jpg

Sitting in that warm booth watching her daughter enjoy a piece of cherry pie was about the best feeling in the world to Tessa. Even when all the bad things in life happened, she still had Megan and the little girl was a ray of sunshine in her dark life. Never did she think that at 22 she’d have a five year old and a failed marriage.

Her husband, Jimmy McGuire, had run out on the both of them for a bleach blonde junky that was obviously a much better lay. She’d never bothered to find out where he was nor had she asked for child support. They were much better off with him gone from their lives.

She had grown up in Oceanview and had dropped out of high school to have Megan. She was also forced to marry Jimmy who had been a one night stand after a football game. He was a handsome man, one who was still boyish and charming, but he had never loved her. Five years was a long time in hell, she thought to herself as she brought her nearly empty coffee cup to her lips.

She was startled as the man who had ordered them the pie leaned over and offered her his hand. She looked over towards Megan who was watching them intently before she took his hand and returned his smile.

“Tessa. Maggie always makes the best.” Tessa answered diplomatically as they shook. “Megan’s always been a fan.”

Megan nodded her head enthusiastically, her blonde curls bobbing as she wiped off her sticky lips. The little girl’s eyes were bright and cheery as she watched the hulking man talk with her mother. Her mother seemed a little less gloomy speaking to him. That made her incredibly happy.

“Well, John, thank you very much for the pie, but I certainly can’t let you pay for it all on your own.” She said, turning in her seat to her purse to fish out the last five dollar bill in there. Pay day was a week away, but she was certain that she had enough rice and beans at home to give Megan full belly.

The crumpled bill was pressed into his hand and as he tried to give it back, she shook her head and pressed it back. “Please, just take it.” She said, her voice a whisper and wavering. “Please.”

Tessa hated that everyone in Oceanview already saw her as a charity case. Working at the local filling station in the evenings brought her minimum wage but it took her away from Megan and it never seemed to be enough money to get ahead on her debts. She didn’t want to be the person that asked for handouts, but it seemed that everyone in town already saw her that way.

“Megan, say thank you to John. We need to get going.” She said after the crumpled bill finally stayed in his hand and she turned to gather her bags.

“Thank you, Mr. John. The pie was super yummy!” Megan beamed as she slid off the booth and stood next to him.

 

[heartofcourage]

Maggie Donovan

Every change she got Maggie allowed her eyes to stray towards the handsome man that seemed to be watching her every move. Quinn was his name, she had learned that while serving the breakfasts to the biker’s gang. They were nice people, corgial and thankful for the job that she was doing. Of course, it all made her think twice about judging a book by its cover.

She dipped back into the kitchen, picking up an order for a group of regulars. Her arms were laden with dishes when she stepped back into the dining room. Her eyes caught the retreating figure of Quinn and she felt her heart stutter for a moment. He was leaving so soon? It was disappointing, but she quickly shook it off and went about her job.

“Here you guys go. If you need anything else, let me know.” Maggie said with a wide smile as she placed the plates in front of the men that had taken up a front booth. They were fishermen who were in early after a morning of bad luck. “And the coffee is brewing right now. I’ll get you guys some mugs when it’s ready.”

She turned to head into the kitchen once more when she pulled up short and found herself face to face with one of the women that had come in with Quinn. She was blocking her path into the kitchen and then a hand was placed on her arm, rooting her firmly in place. Maggie shivered and felt goose bumps rise on her skin. A strange reaction, she thought to herself.

“Sure.” Maggie said in her soft voice was the woman asked if she could talk for a moment. Then the woman dropped a bombshell on her. The handsome Quinn wanted to have dinner with her that night! Maggie opened her mouth and then closed it again, the words not forming as the woman went on to set a time and a place.

“H…here?” She asked, glancing in the direction that Quinn had just left. “Well, I don’t know. I’m suppose to work at the Sick Seagull tonight. I mean, it’s flattering he wants to meet me, but…”

Her excuses sounded lame even to her. She took a deep breath and nibbled on her lower lip for a moment, worrying it as she thought about going on a date with the handsome man that had captured her attention since he arrived. She hadn’t been on a date since she divorced her ex. It had been so long since she’d been out there like that and she didn’t know if she could take the rejection.

“Tell him eight thirty and I’ll be here.” She said finally, coming to the conclusion that she most definitely was going to meet him.

 

[GrayOldFart]

Tessa stood, and John stood with her, almost as an extension of her own self. It might have seemed gentlemanly and chivalrous -- standing to respect a departing woman -- but he'd actually done it to inconspicuously block her way out of the cafe, for John wasn't ready for his lust interest -- for his feeding interest -- to leave him quite yet.

"Maybe..." His voice trailed off, because John really had no idea of what it was that he'd planned on saying to her. He looked to Megan and caught her bright, lively eyes looking up at him. Children looked at him -- looked at the FoB members -- and saw interesting people in funny clothes on loud, cool bikes; but adults saw them much differently, particularly a man like John, who looked like he'd just finished working out in the prison gym for eight to twelve years. He looked back to Tessa -- and realizing that his barricading of the aisle hadn't been a subtle as he'd wished -- smile and stepped aside, saying quietly, "Can I buy you lunch today, Tessa? You and your little girl, if she doesn't have school."

He'd been so close to adding Please...? but hadn't wanted to sound desperate. In one sense, he was desperate. He'd fed just two days earlier, so nutritionally, he was set for a while. But ... he so yearned for the passion and fulfillment that only came from a donor -- a willing partner in feeding -- and this moment with Tessa was the closest he'd been to that possibility in ... well, years.

John was no idiot. He knew what his chances were. He had to attract her, woe her, bring her to his bed, make her yearn for him no matter his idiosyncrasies ... then expose to her his greatest idiosyncrasy -- "Oh, by the way, I'm a vampire" -- and hope she didn't freak out, causing him to kill her and orphan her little girl.

A shiver climbed his spine at the thought of this going wrong. John had had failures during his vampire life; they all had. He tried not to think about them; tried not to think about the innocent lives he'd destroyed. The last thing he would do is intentionally hurt Tessa or Megan. But ... he had needs.

She had needs, too. John hoped that hers would lead her to be a willing partner in him fulfilling his. There's always hope.

 

[GrayOldFart]

“H…here?” Maggie questioned, adding, “Well, I don’t know. I’m suppose to work at the Sick Seagull tonight. I mean, it’s flattering he wants to meet me, but…”

He wants ... to suck ... your blood! Lara thought, her inner voice speaking in a corny Transylvania vampire accent.

Lara had been turned at 18 just two years earlier, so her teens had been during the time of Twilight. And yet she'd never seen any of the movies nor read any of the books. She'd been too busy selling her body on the streets for shelter, meals, and -- during a really bad stretch -- drugs. She'd spent many a night in sleazy hotels next to passed out Johns, watching Bela Lugosi movies on AMC and Turner Classics. She smiled at the thought of Quinn in a tall-collared cape, leaning over a fainting Maggie and sinking his fangs into her neck as bats flew all about them and lightning cracked in the back ground.

“Tell him eight thirty and I’ll be here,” Maggie said.

Lara released her grip on the cafe owner's arm, pleased. She couldn't know whether Maggie's acceptance had been because of the enhancement ... or simply the woman's interest in her Patriarch. It didn't matter, of course; Lara had done what she was supposed to have done. She smiled, repeated the time, turned, and was gone, giving her farewells to some of the FoB members still devouring their meals ... their stop gap measures as they waited for Quinn to let them feed as they needed to...

 

[heartofcourage]

Turning to exit the diner, Tessa gasped as she came face to face with John’s broad chest. She glanced up towards his handsome face and felt a blush cross her face as he stared down at her and asked her to lunch. She didn’t know what to say. He was certainly a handsome man, one that she most definitely was interested in, but she was still a little shell-shocked over her ex-husband and the ordeal he had put her through.

“Oh, well, that’s a very nice offer…” Tessa said softly as Megan tugged at her skirt. She turned her gaze from John to the little girl that was looking up at her with a pleading stare. She sighed softly and shook her head, shushing her daughter before she turned back to John

He was a man that looked like he would love and leave a woman in a heartbeat. She didn’t know if she could take another broken heart and then there was always Megan to worry about. Her little girl was her entire world and she wouldn’t do anything that would hurt her.

“How about dinner instead?” Tessa asked, looking at the man with a small smile as Megan let out a squeal of joy. “Megan and I have some things to take care of this afternoon, but we’re free this evening.”

Tessa smiled at him as she handed the bag of extra food to Megan, pulling a pad of paper out of her purse. She wrote down her address and phone number in her scrawling script, tearing it off the pad and passing it to John.

“If you can’t find it, give me a call.” She said softly, her heart hammering in her chest at the prospect of her first real date since her loser husband back in high school. “Come on, Megan. We have to get going.”

 

[GrayOldFart]

John watched -- ogled -- Tessa as she headed out of the diner. She had been unbelievably beautiful sitting there across from him, just her face and front profile visible to him; and now, staring at her shapely backside, he realized that he was becoming hard as a rock.

He pulled his eyes from her and noticed some of the locals staring at him; some wore knowing smiles while others wore disapproving glares, but regardless of their expression, they all turned their eyes when "Big" John locked eyes with them.

He flinched as a hand grabbed one of his hard, muscular buttocks, and turned to find Ursula staring at him with a smile.

"Remember," she reminded. "Quinn's approval first."

"I know that," he growled quietly.

"And he's not going to be happy that you picked a woman with a small child," she warned.

He didn't respond to that, instead just watching as the late arriving vampire found a seat with some of the others and waved for a menu. She was right, of course; Quinn had to give the signal that it was time to eat. But, the man had been sitting right there across from him as he'd ordered the pit. He had to know that John was making a play, yes?

The bell over the door rang, and Cliff, Sarah, and Rollie entered. If he hadn't already known that Quinn had let them feed the night before, he -- like everyone else -- would have known just by the pleased expressions upon their faces. The inseparable trio -- in order, Quinn, Ursula, and John's Kin -- ambled slowly into the cafe, trading greetings with their fellow FoB members and with local alike.

As she walked past John, caressing a hand across the front of his body a bit closer to his crotch than was acceptable in polite public, he whisper, "You have blood in your hair."

She reached up to where his eyes indicated and felt the sticky mess in the curls close to her scalp. She leaned in asking, "Want to wash it for me?"

He shook his head, smiling in disbelief, swatted her firm ass, and headed out. On the street, he caught sight of Lara and Quinn across the street and joined them. They had serious expressions on their faces as he asked, "Something going on?"

Quinn glanced back toward the diner, then down the street; a Sheriff's Department police cruiser was parked directly in front of City Hall, and on the curb beside it were Hank -- in his Mayor's garb -- and a Deputy, whose attention was fully on the row of Harleys parked neatly before the Oceanview Motel.

"Do you think they know about the Threesome?" Lara asked, glancing to the windows of the diner.

"No," Quinn answered in his typical short and to the point fashion. "Someone called."

John studied the man with the gun and badge for a moment. His inherent instinct told him a lot about the man he'd never met. "He's a duty bound man, Quinn. Takes his job seriously. Good with that .44 on his hip ... the shotgun in the cruiser, too. He's killed before ... more than once."

"How can you know that?" Lara asked, doubtful. She'd only been with the FoB for two years and still had no idea of the experience John had in situations of conflict and combat.

"It's in his eyes," John answered. "In his posture. Body language, little girl."

He smiled as Lara curled a lip at him and stuck out her tongue. She was about to suggest she go charm the man -- she hadn't had a Lawman since the Vice Squad Detective back in Las Vegas -- but when she turned, Quinn was already walking down the street.

"Where's he going?" she whispered.

"To make a friend," John responded, "Or find out if we'll be moving on before sundown."

(OOC -- I'm not going to post for any of these characters until the dinners tonight. Feel free to post their beginnings and I will jump in as appropriate.)

 

[heartofcourage]

At 3 Maggie was twisting her key in the lock of the diner, a smile on her face after a good day. More money had been made that day then she’d seen since she took over the diner when her grandma had passed away. It was in no small part due to the bikers and their enormous appetites. She wondered how people so beautiful could pack away so much greasy food.

A bag of leftovers was loosely held in her hand as she crossed the street to the town hall, smiling at the receptionist just inside the door as she made her way to Hank’s office. He was on the phone, but she put the sack on his desk, taking a piece of paper and writing him a short note.

Hank,

Here’s something for dinner. Not going to be at the Seagull tonight. I have a date.

Love you, Maggie

She slipped the note under the bag and kissed her uncle’s cheek before she slipped out of the office. She had her sights set on a short nap and then a nice, long shower. Then she would have to find something in her closet suitable enough for a date with the mysterious Quinn. She hoped that she had at least one nice dress still left from her college days somewhere in the dark recesses.

As she slid into the front seat of her Civic, she made a mental note to dig through her closet the moment she got home. A silly smile was on her lips as she drove past the motel and she caught sight of all the bikes still lined up in a gleaming row. It would be a very interesting night



Tessa was running around her home, one hand trying to push in a blue dangle earring while the other grabbed toys off the living room floor. “Megan! I told you to pick up your toys!”

She felt bad for snapping at her daughter, but this date with John felt incredibly important to her. She had pulled out an old black dress that she hadn’t worn in forever, took special care with her hair and makeup, and even slipped into a pair of heels. Megan had even been dressed in her best outfit, her long blonde hair braided away from her cheery face.

Speaking of Megan, the little girl came sheepishly into the living room to take the Barbie Dolls that her mother was holding for her. “Sorry, Mama.” She said before she turned to hurry back into her room.

Tessa sighed as she watched the little pink skirt disappear around the corner. Calm down, Tess, she told herself as she stepped into the kitchen and checked on the soup that was bubbling on the stove. It was a meager vegetable soup but with the sandwiches that Maggie had given her that morning, she felt good about her chances impressing John that evening.

The sound of a loud thunder coming down the street made her heart stop. It seemed that her time with him was drawing closer. She prayed that everything would go fantastically that evening and nothing out the ordinary got in their way.

 

[GrayOldFart]

City Hall
3pm

"No, sir, they haven't been any trouble at all."

Hank up to see his niece entering the lobby of City Hall and quickly lifted up the phone receiver, removing it from the speaker function. This was City Business, and although -- in such a small town -- just about anything confidential that was of importance was eventually public knowledge due to the rumor mill, Hank didn't want this getting out until absolutely necessary.

"In fact, they have been anything but trouble," he continued. The arrival of the motorcycle club had been a boon to the town's economy: the Oceanview Cabins were full, the Sick Seagull had had its best night since New Years Eve, the diner had been packed for breakfast for the first time in his own memory, and bikers were milling about Oceanview, spending their money at the Mercantile, the gift shops, and more. Hell, Hank had even seen a couple of them entering the laundromat, which -- with only two washers and dryers -- meant it was having a great day as well!

"No, sir," he continued, "the problem is ... no one knows anything about these people. Don't you find that strange...? Yes, sir... Yes, sir... No, the County sent a Deputy out this morning, and he was very helpful, but he had nothing to tell me that I didn't already know. An online article spoke of..."

He hesitated as Maggie leaned in and kissed his cheek. He smiled to her; he wanted to chat with her about the strangers in town, but it had taken him almost six hours to get someone of importance on the phone from the State Police Gang Task Force.

He waited for Maggie to reach the lobby again, then leaned forward and snatched up a page he'd printed from the internet. He read, "The article is about the motorcycle club's founder, a woman named-- Yes, sir. A woman ... Eloise Blackwater." He looked to the page and paraphrased, "Eloise Blackwater, age unknown but thought to be around 60, died New Years Eve. Locals-- Excuse me...? Oh, sorry, 1988. Locals in the town which bears the name of the deceased's family, claim that as many as a thousand Club members rolled into town on rumbling Harley-Davidsons for the midnight funeral--"

He stopped and asked with a surprised tone, "Don't you find that odd, sir? A midnight funeral...?" He listened for a moment, then returned to the article. "Um, let's see ... rolled into town ... then--" He set the page aside, picked up another, looked it over, then set it aside as well. "Then ... they just left. The news article says they headed off into the night ... and Blackwater, which apparently was the home of the FoB's first chap-- Excuse me...? Oh, FoB ... Family of Blood."

Hank laughed, then said, "Yes! Family of Blood! Do you see my concern now. The Hell's Angels ... the Outlaws ... Sons of Satan ... and now the Family of Blood..." He listened for a moment. "Yes, sir. Yes, sir. I would appreciate that very much, thank you... Yes, I'll wait for the email. Thank you."

He hung up the phone and looked across to the man sitting in the corner, wearing a sharp, expensive suit and a bowler cap that made him look like John Steed from The Avengers. He shrugged, saying, "He's gonna look into it and get back to us."

The man in the corner stood and shrugged his shoulders. "Nothing more we can do until then, I suppose."

The man turned to leave, but Hank spoke quickly, "But ... um, the contracts...? Are we...?"

The Man in the Bowler turned back and raised an eyebrow questioningly toward the little town's mayor. "The contracts? You have a motorcycle gang potentially taking--"

"Club," Hank corrected quickly. "The State Police said they aren't considered a gang unless they have a criminal past."

"And these men and women have, apparently, no past," the man pointed out. "Which, to my investors, is ever worse than a known criminal past. Henry ... it is the unknown that presents the greatest risks to business ventures such as ours. Until we know more about your ... club ... the money will remain in the escrow account ... and we won't be signing any contracts."

He gave Hank a moment to respond, and when Oceanview's Mayor didn't he bid him good day and left.

Hank moved to the window and stared out upon the town. He could feel the disappointment -- the anger -- welling inside him. He'd been secretly working on this deal for nearly three years now. It was going to save this town. Oh sure, he'd have to convince the City Council to use eminent domain to claim some of the property, but in the long run, it would be good for the town.

And ... it was going to make him rich!

He snatched up the lunch bag his niece had brought him and saw the note.

Hank,

Here’s something for dinner. Not going to be at the Seagull tonight. I have a date.

Love you, Maggie
​

Date...? Maggie didn't date. Since she'd returned to Oceanview -- since her divorce -- she hadn't seen anyone that Hank was aware of, and as the local bar owner and primary bartender, if there was something to be known -- if there was gossip -- he was certain to know about it.

His stomach turned over as a though entered his unprepared mind. She wouldn't be...? No. Really? One of the bikers...? He chuckled. He couldn't even imagine Maggie going out with one of the FoB members. And then...! Then, he remembered her questions about ... Quinn, yeah, Quinn. She wouldn't be thinking about...?

He shook it off. Maggie wasn't about to go out with one of these men. Hank called his receptionist in to discuss the City Council meeting that night and ask her to keep an eye on the fax and email for news from the State Police.

Then, he took his lunch to the park adjacent to City Hall -- along with a bottle of a local dark brew which he poured into an empty energy drink can -- and sat out to enjoy the mid-September afternoon.

^^^^^^^^^^^^​

The Oceanview Cabins
8:30pm
John checked his appearance in the bathroom mirror, then chuckled. He was wearing his best clothes, and yet he looked no different than he had when he'd asked Tessa out that morning: black muscle shirt, tight fitting blue jeans, heavy steel toed boots, and his leather jacket and dark sunglasses sitting on the bed behind him. The only difference was he was showered, clean shaven, and smelling like the perfume counter at Macy's.

Half of the world's women would have been creaming their shorts at the sight of him. The other half would have been scooping up their small children and running for the Sheriff's Office.

He finished dressing and headed for the door, coming up short with his hand hovering over the door knob. He listened for a moment, then rolled his eyes as he realized that what he had heard -- the family footsteps of the Patriarch -- had ceased ... directly before his cabin door. He turned the knob and pulled the door open, finding himself staring down into his brother's concerned face.

"I won't feed on her, Quinn," he said without needing prompting. John wasn't Quinn's Kin; John had been turned by Eloise without the Patriarch's involvement. But loyalty bond or not, he respected Quinn more than he respected any other person on this planet. After a moment, he could sense the question Quinn was about to ask and answered it without prompting, too. "Yes, I ... I plan to feel her out."

"She has a child?"

John knew that Quinn knew about Megan; the question was not a question but a reminder of the effect of getting involved with entire families.

"She is what we look for in donors, Quinn," John explained. "She's without a husband ... she's financially strapped ... she's a small town girl-- woman, excuse me. I can't--"

He stopped as Quinn held up a hand in a polite gesture. "I trust that you will make the right choice, John."

And with that, Quinn patted the man on his muscular upper arm and turned away. John watched the Patriarch depart -- heading for his own date, he'd learned from Lara -- and turned the opposite direction.

It was a short ride to Tessa's home ... made longer by his taking the longer loop around the tiny town. John needed a moment to consider the evening before him. He couldn't have any idea what lie ahead. For all he knew, Tessa was a major slut and they'd be fucking on the couch before the silverware hit the table. On the other hand, she might be a prudish country girl who will have not only her daughter there but a girl friend -- maybe even the neighbor couple -- to provide her social support ... and ensure she didn't get gang raped by a pack of biker criminals.

Megan...? John hadn't even considered Tessa's daughter. If he showed up and it was just he and Tessa, that would bode well for his chances of getting laid. But if Megan was there ... well, Keep it down and in your pants tonight buddy.

He perched the bike on its kick stand and strode up to the porch of the little old home. When Tessa opened the door, John's eyes fell to her body and widened; and down below, his dick came to life with thoughts of its own. She was beautiful, and in a little black dress and heels, her shape -- and those wonderful legs -- just made the big vampire think of...

"I won't feed on her, Quinn," he remembered saying just minutes earlier. His smile waned just a bit -- then at the sight -- and sound -- of little Megan bounding around the corner, his lips widened again. He looked to Tessa, offered up a bottle of red wine, and said, "Thanks. Thanks for inviting me."

^^^^^^^^^^^^^​

Quinn stepped into the diner, hearing the bell over his head and wondering whether eating at a diner with the owner and operator was considered a date or not. There didn't seem to be anyone there, and he couldn't help but wonder whether Maggie had changed her mind.

He was actually expecting her uncle -- or maybe even the Sheriff Deputy he'd talked to that morning -- to step out, greet him, make it known without words that Quinn was being watched, and then leave, only to go across the street and watch the action through the cafe's windows.

He turned to see if the half-tall curtains that were normally used just to keep the sun out of diner's eyes were pulled shut. They were on a couple of the tables ... but, he noticed, not on the ones that gave the Sick Seagull and the Sheriff's cruiser -- parked half a block past city hall -- a good view of the majority of the diner. Quinn couldn't help but wonder whether that was strictly coincidence or something Maggie -- or Hank, or the Law -- had set up by design.

He turned to an unexpected sound, and there she was ... more beautiful -- and inviting -- than he'd seen her before. Not knowing at all that he was mimicking his Sergeant at Arms, Quinn held up a bottle of red wine and said, "Thank you for meeting me Maggie. I promise you an evening you won't soon forget."

Quinn's comment wasn't meant to sound sexual; in fact, it didn't even occur to him that it might be taken that way. He simply had a great deal on his mind, a great many things to talk to her about. He wanted to learn all about her, about her life, about her dreams and desires; he wanted to get to know her, and he wanted her to get to know him.

More than anything, he wanted to know whether she was what he'd detected in her: a strong, compassionate woman who, given the chance, could take the role of Matriarch -- of Queen of the Blackwater Family -- and lead it into the future, should anything ever happen to him.

Quinn missed Eloise. He missed her strength; he missed her knowledge. She had held the Blackwater clan together for more than a century and a half. Quinn had taken her place as head of the Family, but he knew that he hadn't replaced her. The Family had lost a great deal with Eloise's death. If something were to happen to Quinn -- her first child -- the FoB would lose even more.

Quinn needed to find a suitable Matriarch for his Family soon. He needed to prepare her for the responsibilities. He had waited too long already. He wasn't going to wait any longer. Maggie would be the Family's Matriarch -- would be his Queen -- or ...

Well ... there was no or...

 

[heartofcourage]

Maggie

The red Civic skidded around the corner of her street and Maggie cursed as the engine stalled. She was always running late and now it seemed that her little hunk of junk wasn’t about to cooperate with her. She beat her palm against the steering wheel as the car jerked once and then slowly started to die.

“Nooo!” She howled as she coasted to the side of the road and the little car sputtered. “Fuck.” She said beneath her breath as she thought about all the work she’d just done on her appearance. It was about to be ruined as she hiked down the street to open the diner for her date.

A dark cloud settled over her mood as she grabbed her purse off the passenger seat and threw on her black velvet shrug over the top of her little black dress. Glancing at herself in the rearview mirror once more, she nibbled on her lip and thought that it was really the best that she could do. Her hair was styled into its natural curl, left loose about her shoulders and her bright eyes highlighted by mascara. A deep red lipstick was the only other makeup she dare wear that evening, not wanting to seem too desperate when she finally got to have a moment alone with the mysterious Quinn.

She stepped from the car and slammed the door, locking the piece of crap with her keys as a police cruiser pulled up alongside her car. She glanced up, her heels clicking on the sidewalk as she made her way to the window that was rolling down and a familiar face greeted her.

“Car troubles, Maggie?” Buck asked, the Sheriff tipping his sunglasses down his nose and looking her up and down with a short sniff.

“Yeah. Do you think you could have one of the guys from the tow yard take it back to my house, Buck? I’d give them a call myself, but I’m already running late and I have to get to the diner.” She said, glancing down the street to where Lara was already waiting at the door for her to open the place up.

“I’ll give them a call, but let me give you a ride.” He said, unlocking the doors with a flick of his finger and motioning her to the passenger side.

Maggie let out a short little sigh, knowing that if she turned down Buck her uncle would be all over her the next day about the rapist that was on the loose and how she shouldn’t have been walking downtown in a short little dress attracting all the wrong attention.

“Really, Buck, it’s less than a block. I can walk…really.” She said, sliding into the cruiser as he pushed his glasses back up his weathered face and grinned at her before he pulled down the street smoothly.

She wouldn’t put it past Hank to have sent his right hand man to keep tabs on her after reading her note. Maybe she shouldn’t have told him about her date. She would have thought that her uncle would be happy that she had finally moved on from her ex-husband. Another sigh issued from her lips as she smoothed out the hem of her skirt, the cruiser stopping in front of the diner a few moments later.

She glanced out of the glass and noticed Lara giving her a wary glance. She was quick to exit the vehicle, a smile of apology on her face. “I’m really sorry. My car died down the way and Buck gave me a lift.”

She unlocked the diner door, flicking on the lights so that Lara might get to work on dinner. She glanced around the inside of the café as she placed her purse on the Formica table top of the nearest table, the sound of pots and pans clattering sounding in the kitchen.

“So, you having that date here?” Maggie nearly jumped out of her skin when Buck’s voice sounded beside her. She spun on her heels, looking at him with wide eyes as her hand pressed against her throat to stop the hammering of her heart.

“Not that it’s really any of your business, but yes, I am.” She said.

She watched him walk towards the windows that were being blocked by the long, black curtains she’d installed to keep the morning and afternoon sun from blinding her customers. He opened the ones that overlooked the Sick Seagull and turned to look at her with a smug glance. Tipping his hat once, he wished her a good night and exited to the sound of a tinkling bell.

She should have known that half the men in Oceanview would be meddling in her love life. Poor little Maggie needed protecting. Well, she was starting to get really tired of it. She moved around the front counter and into the kitchen, gathering some plates and cups from the dishwashing shelf.

“I’m really sorry, Lara. I didn’t mean to frighten you with Buck. My car really did break down and I didn’t know he’d be so insistent to drive me down here.” She said, balancing her armload as she turned back into the diner, gasping when she saw Quinn standing there looking incredibly dark and handsome.

She nearly dropped the plates in her hands, a smile and a blush upon her face as he held up a bottle of red wine and thanked her for meeting him.

“The pleasure is all mine.” She said, juggling the plates to a nearby table and setting two places. Trying her hardest not to stop and simply stare at him, she set up two coffee mugs and thought how pathetic her little attempt to make a romantic setting was.

“I guess it’s wine out of coffee cups. Dinner off the finest cheep china I can afford.” She laughed softly at her own joke as she finally let her eyes linger on Quinn, taking in his ruggedly handsome face.

Her mouth went dry just looking at him while other parts of her very traitorous body grew damp. She squirmed under his gaze and felt her face heat up as she motioned absently towards his empty seat. It was a weak attempt to break the spell that she was under, to put them both on equal ground.

“Go ahead and sit. Tell me a little bit about yourself.” She said as she took the other seat, listening intently as she waited for him to start talking.

 

[heartofcourage]

Tessa

Tessa opened the door the instant that she heard his heavy boots on the front steps. She leaned against the doorjamb and gave him a grin as his eyes roamed across her body. It was obvious that he liked what he saw and she was relieved. She so desperately wanted to make a good impression with John. She gave him a sultry look, her best seductive moves on display as Megan came bounding down the hall and ruined everything.

Sighing, Tessa turned and looked at her daughter as she stood beside her and waved at John. “You’re very welcome.” She said as she took the offered bottle of wine and moved into the house to allow him to enter. “Make yourself at home. Dinner is almost ready.” She said over her shoulder as she moved into the kitchen to dig through her catch all drawer for the bottle opener that she hadn’t used in forever.

“Hi, John!” Megan said brightly, standing there in front of him in her pink dress and white shoes, her eyes looking up at him with wide childlike excitement. “Mommy got me all dressed up for tonight. We’re eating soup and sandwiches and then she says we get to finish the cherry pie! There might even be ice cream. Do you like ice cream? My favorite is chocolate, but we don’t have any.”

She was talking a mile a minute in the way that only children could, completely undeterred by the look that her mother was giving her from the kitchen door. Tessa silently apologized to John with her eyes before she turned back to the task of uncorking the bottle.