DISCLAIMER: Characters of Veronica Mars, any recognizable dialogue, and the canon events of their storyline belong to Rob Thomas.

A/N:

Last year while writing Chapter 1, I could see the scenario play out in my head ... vividly. It was disturbing – and definitely would not have made it past network Standards & Practices. After multiple versions of this chapter, I have opted for a less graphic telling of the event.

I challenged myself to convey the scene while keeping some of the action "just out of frame" and leaving some moments "on the cutting room floor" – steering clear of precise description, toning down or altering some things.

WARNING: this chapter contains a sexual situation coerced at gunpoint by a voyeur.

If you prefer not to read that section, scroll down to [[ SKIP TO HERE ]] and then read the remainder of the chapter.

EXCERPTS from Chapter 1 that lead into this chapter:

Imagine my surprise when I'm standing in line waiting to get into this club … and a leather-clad arm encircled my waist, as a low voice whispered in my ear: "Just roll with me here, V. I'm your backup tonight."

After some time on the dance floor and faux making out where we were seated at a table, Weevil spotted one of the Fitzpatricks and decided it was time for us to make a quick exit.

Before I knew what was happening, he pushed open the door to the women's restroom. He quickly shut the door behind us and verified that we were alone. Easy to check. None of the stalls had doors.

As someone was turning the doorknob, he pulled me into the first stall. Pressing my back into the wall and pulling my one foot up to rest on the toilet seat, he stepped between my legs. His entire body was flush against mine.

When my eyes widened in surprise, he mouthed the words: trust me.

The person had come in, locked the doorknob, and moved the trashcan in front of the door. Then, he came to stand in front of the stall we now occupied.

Weevil pulled my head to the opposite side of his neck as he said to the guy, "My girl and I were looking for a little privacy. You mind?"

Chapter 10

Although Weevil was trying to block the line of sight between me and our unwelcome visitor, I managed to steal a glance. The guy was nearly a foot taller than Weevil and clearly spent his life at the gym. I was really hoping he would just turn and walk away in response to Weevil's request.

However, the guy said this: "Actually, man, I was enjoying the show out there so much that when I saw the two of you head back here … well, I was planning to watch."

Weevil didn't miss a beat. "Not gonna happen."

He still had a firm hold on me. I leaned into him and prayed that this would end well. So far, the only positive thing was that Weevil did not seem to know him – making him just a random creepy guy who might be on steroids, which was better than if one of the Fitzpatricks had followed us in here. But soon I would be asking myself: how much better?

"I'd like you to reconsider," the guy said as he pulled out a gun.

Correction: a random creepy gym rat who was armed. And now I found myself praying that he was not homicidal.

Then, he told Weevil to slowly empty his pockets and put any weapons on the counter. He said Weevil could have everything back when we were finished.

I took that as a good sign – he did not plan to kill us. However, there were still plenty of bad things that could happen.

He watched me intently while Weevil put a couple knives and other items on the counter. "Wow, your girl is really nervous. Isn't she?" Then, he spoke to me. "Is it me? Is that why you're being shy now? 'Cause on the dance floor, and then in his lap … you weren't shy at all out there."

Although he seemed to want a response, I couldn't find my voice with his gun pointed at me.

He rambled for a while. "I used to watch upstairs. Was happy to pay … you know, just to watch. But then, they took the girls away. And now …" His voice trailed off and he seemed to remember where he was. He shoved Weevil back into the stall with me. "I tell you what … I have a good imagination. I'm just gonna stand over here by the door and listen. I can get off just from the sound – you know, as long as you're man enough to make her scream," he said as a challenge. He turned to move toward the blocked door. "Keep in mind, I only need one hand to hold the gun. Don't go getting any ideas. When we've all gotten what we came for, I'll leave and you can have your stuff back. Everybody wins!"

Weevil pressed his mouth to my ear, whispering, "How good are you at faking it?"

When I didn't answer, he pulled back far enough to look in my eyes and know my answer. Okay, not the whole answer … which would be: Yeah, those rumors you've undoubtedly heard … well, I wouldn't know where to begin to fake an orgasm.

Our companion had unzipped his pants and was starting without us. "It's awfully quiet over there. Do I need to show you …"

Stroking the side of my face and tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, Weevil said to our not-so-friendly voyeur, "No, we got this. My girl's still just … a little shy. Let me get her warmed up and we'll be fine. No need for you to come back over here."

Then, he whispered to me, "My goal is to get us out of here safely. Looks like that means giving him a reason to blow his wad. So ... tell me what I can do to help."

I mouthed, "Help?"

He responded by placing his hand on my right leg which was still up on the toilet. He used his left hand to gently knead that thigh as his right hand ghosted down the left side of my torso, just grazing the side of my breast. This made me gasp softly.

He moved his mouth to my neck and whispered, "Good," before he began to kiss slowly from my collar bone up toward my ear. Then he added, "You're gonna have to give him more than that, though. And turn up the volume."

My body was starting to respond – oh, who am I kidding? It wasn't starting; it was continuing. It had started when he came up behind me in line, continued when we were dancing, and escalated while I was in his lap. And this creep had been watching us. I realize it's a public place, but it felt like an invasion of privacy. It made me feel dirty ... and yet ... at the same time, I was incredibly turned on – by Weevil, not the creep's presence.

The guy seemed satisfied with my moaning and heavy breathing for a minute or so, but then became frustrated again. "Seriously, man. If you don't know what you're doing over there, I can take care of her for you. She obviously wants it." He continued on from there, but my mind was too busy to hear him.

I was becoming increasingly concerned that the guy would come into the stall. He didn't seem like he'd pause long enough to put on a condom – so my brain was spinning scenarios of pregnancy and diseases. But mostly, it was the mere thought of him touching me that made me want to vomit.

My overactive imagination must have caused me to tense up, because Weevil kissed my cheek just in front of my ear and said softly, "Stay with me, V." Then, Weevil growled at him, "No, thanks. We're good." His eyes pleaded with me. So did his words, softly spoken: "What do you want me to do?" His left hand still firmly on the raised leg, he moved his right hand to the inside of that thigh, stroking the skin with his knuckles.

There I was again – lost in those dark chocolate eyes.

He had told me a couple times tonight to trust him – right now his eyes were saying it again.

He had offered me help – and his eyes were communicating that as well.

As he slid his left hand up the back of my thigh and continued under the back of my skirt, I felt his breathing change. Hell, I felt the atmosphere of the room change. It was like when he was leading on the dance floor – all I had to do was decide whether or not to follow.

The knuckles of his right hand continued up the inside of my thigh until he reached the edge of the fabric. His fingertips traced back and forth as he whispered, "Do you want me to do this?"

My eyes had fluttered closed just before I whispered hesitantly, "Yes."

His breath tickling my ear, "Gonna need a more definitive answer than that."

A moan escaped my throat as I stated more emphatically, "Yes."

Still whispering, he said, "Now, look me in the eye and tell me that." Then, he leaned back so he could see my face.

Opening my eyes, I met his steady gaze and playfully begged for the benefit of our audience, "Please."

"I told you I like it when a girl says please," he said and then crossed a boundary into territory neither of us had planned on exploring this particular evening.

I bucked against his hand as he stroked a bundle of nerves that – until that very moment – I did not even know I had. Sensations started to collide with one another. I felt like I would burn up from the inside out.

"Oh, God!" was the first thing I cried out. I'm really not sure what came out of my mouth after that.

My arms had been hanging at my sides. Now, my palms slammed into the wall behind me, my fingers splayed out and then desperately clawed, trying to grab hold of something, anything. I was breathing heavily and moaning incoherently. Apparently, it was enough to make the armed man happy, because there were no further complaints.

At some point, my hands found their way from the wall to Weevil. One hand clamped onto his shoulder for stability and leverage; the other felt at home on the warm skin on the back of his head and neck. When his hand stilled momentarily, I caught my breath before he continued.

What had been surges of sensation now became a hunger like none I had previously known. I felt like I was teetering at the edge of a waterfall for a few incredibly frustrating (but at the same time, delicious) minutes. When I finally went over, pleasure came crashing – wave after exquisite wave, pulsating around his fingers. My head flew back and stayed against the wall until a flash of white light passed behind my eyelids.

[[ SKIP TO HERE ]]

And as amazing as all of that was, I don't think anything could compare with what I saw when I brought my head forward and opened my eyes again to look at Weevil. I moved both my hands to hold the sides of his face and just gazed at him as I came down from a high for which I had no comparison.

The expression on his face was a combination of elation and satisfaction. I don't think I have ever seen anything so beautiful – though you probably don't want to tell a gang leader that he looks beautiful.

Just as I moved to kiss him, the sound of a zipper reminded me where we were.

The creep slid the trash can aside and opened the door. He muttered his thanks as he let the door slam behind him.

That was enough to bring us both back to reality. Weevil slowly moved his hands to my hips and placed a kiss on my forehead. Then, he stepped away.

The loss of contact was almost more than I could bear. I leaned my head back against the wall and turned my face away from him as I straightened my clothing.

Still facing the back of the stall, I heard him picking up his things from the counter. I could tell that he placed a knife in his boot and the remaining things back in his pockets.

I felt, rather than heard, when he stepped toward me.

He stroked my arm with his knuckles as he said, "Sorry, V. We should go." When I turned to look at him, he said again, "I'm sorry."

I'm not sure what he was apologizing for. I'm not sure that he knew. But all I could say was, "Don't. Just don't." I shook my head. "Don't you dare apologize."

I walked over to the sink, looked in the mirror as I washed my hands. Then, I smoothed my hair with damp fingers and blended away the smudges under my eyes. I turned around and gestured to the door, as if to say: Let's go.

He checked the hallway, which I assume was clear because he reached a hand back for me. I have a vague recollection of him pulling me down the hall and out a door into an alley. We half ran, half walked about a block until we got to his bike.

We rode a short distance before he pulled over to make a call – something about getting my car. A couple minutes later, one of the boys pulled up beside us and Weevil handed him something. After that, we rode for a while more.

When we stopped, he helped me off the bike. I was shaking pretty badly. I had been trembling against his back the entire time we were riding. I guess a double shot of adrenaline will do that to you.

I started to walk toward the water. He followed me in silence. As I sat down on the sand, I finally realized we were at Dog Beach.

He took off his leather jacket and put it around me. Then, he sat behind me – one leg on either side of mine – and wrapped me in his embrace.

I leaned back into his chest, allowing myself to be supported by him. Every few minutes, a shudder would run through my body and his hold would become more firm. I'm not sure how long we sat there before the shuddering seemed to provoke tears. They seemed to come from a place so deep … I wasn't quite sure what I was crying about.

Weevil's words were gentle, as if he did not want to startle me. "Remember after I saw Logan kiss you? That talk we had? You said I was scaring you. Now I know how you felt." He placed his lips on my ear. "I need you to talk to me, V."

There was so much that needed to be said, so much he still didn't know. And I had no idea where to start.

I watched as light reflected from the moon played on the waves. It was beautiful and soothing – quite a contrast to the harshness of life.

"Not sure you'd want to hear what I'd have to say." Leaning forward to rest my head on my knees, I mumbled, "I'm not sure I want to hear it."

Before Weevil could reply, the sound of engines arrived in the parking area. After he turned to look in that direction, he said, "I'll be right back."

A couple minutes after I heard the motorcycles leave, Weevil was sitting with me again.

"They brought your car."

I reached out my hand, now realizing what he had handed off before coming here. "My keys?"

He shook his head. "I'll drive you when you're ready to go."

"Why? Because I'm being an emotional girl?"

"It's not a girl thing. Besides, I had them take my bike."

I just nodded at that. We sat quietly while he waited for me to talk.

"I'm not sure where to start."

"Start anywhere. Just talk to me, V."

I continued to stare out at the water as I let the thoughts in my head stream out of my mouth. "I tell my dad most things – not everything, but most. Not this. Maybe I would tell Mom – if she were around. Even if Lilly were here, it would be weird to …" My voice trailed off with my thoughts. "I'm not left with many options. I recently told Wallace some stuff, but I haven't known him that long … it's not so much an issue of trust with him. More that … well, it's a lot for a new friend to handle." I dropped my gaze and played with the hem of my miniskirt. "There's all these thoughts and emotions rolling around inside … like I'm ready to explode, like I've got my finger in the dam. I'm not sure what happens if I let it go. The pressure might release smoothly and steadily. Or I might shatter in the process. I'm not sure I can deal with that." I turned to look at him. "If I can't deal with it – how would you deal with it? Why would you?"

He did not hesitate before replying, "We'll deal with it together. All of it. Together."

After a long moment, I proceeded to explain – nearly coherently, but not at all linearly – that although the night I was with Duncan had technically been consensual, I was still having difficulty with it for a couple of reasons. Reminding him that: 1) There was a very real possibility that Duncan and I were siblings. And since I had shredded the DNA test results, I was not sure at this point what the truth was. Adding that: 2) The only thing I knew for sure was that I could not remember that night. And well, regardless of whether the memory of that night would be good or bad, it had to be better to actually remember losing one's virginity – right?

He didn't respond at first. He just held my hand, stroking the back of it with his thumb. Finally, he said, "So, then …?"

"Duncan and I never … not when we were dating, anyway. Sex wasn't part of our relationship. This whole thing has my emotions so tangled." I turned to look at him for a second before looking away again. "Tonight was … a new experience for me. Look … I know my reputation, but I haven't even dated much since Duncan."

"Veronica." He dropped his head and then looked up at me. "I'm s—"

I cut him off. "Don't. I told you earlier. Don't apologize." Looking into his eyes, I tried to find the words that would communicate what I was feeling. "The … uh, circumstances were less than ... um, but the experience itself? – that was …" I leaned toward him, my shoulder against his chest, "… amazing. I'm not sorry it happened. I know that might sound strange after what I've been through, including everything tonight."

He traced the side of my face with his fingertips, his hand coming to rest on my jaw. His thumb stroked my bottom lip as his gaze alternated between my eyes and my lips. Then, just when I was sure that he had no intention to, he kissed me. With such tenderness. It was as if he was attempting to remove the sting of every hurtful experience I had ever had.

Finally, he tried again to explain, "What I meant … I don't know how to say it … that I wish I could change the bad things that have happened to you. You deserve better than the shit you've had to deal with, V."

"And you don't?"

"We're not talking about me."

"Why not? You're better than the hell storm that surrounds you. You know that, right?"

He shook his head, but seemed to know I wouldn't let him off so easily. "Keep telling me. Maybe I'll believe you … someday."

We continued to sit there on the beach in each other's arms for at least another hour.

I flinched as I started to doze off. "Mmm." I snuggled into his shoulder before saying, "We should probably get going."

"Yeah. You're probably right."

We stood and brushed off the sand. I tried to give his jacket back to him, but he placed it on my shoulders again.

As we approach my car, he began to tell me what he had been able to find out.

"I had planned to tell you when I saw you tomorrow. But I guess that would be today now, wouldn't it?" He unlocked and opened the passenger door for me to get in. Then, he walked around to the driver's side door, which I had leaned over to unlock. After he started the car and turned down the volume of the radio, he continued. "I checked with some people I know and they recognized the guy in the photo. Couldn't remember his name. Even when I told them the name you had, most didn't recognize it. He hasn't been seen around town for a couple years."

"Anything else?"

"A while back, he was connected to a crime boss in Vegas, but decided to start his own business. Pissed some people off in the process. A few of them were more than happy to tell me what they thought. At some point, he met someone from Neptune who talked about the town, the college, the beach – the beautiful people with money to burn. Also talked about guys crossing the border to TJ for a good time. They decided to supply the product here, where there was demand. They owned the bar and operated out of the upstairs. Sounds like they initially got linked up with the Fitzpatricks for the drugs to keep the girls … compliant. The Fitzpatricks must have found out what was going on and that they weren't being cut in on profit they felt they were entitled to. Word on the street was that they were behind the anonymous tip that led to the upstairs operation of Club Mojo being busted."

"My research shows that they are connected to the current owners."

"I heard that too. That's why I had my boys following you and why I showed up there tonight." He paused and then added, "When the Fitzpatricks took over the club, they started dealing drugs out of the place."

"Yeah, there was a drug bust there about a year ago."

"If you believe the perv in the bathroom, they are no longer running the upstairs business. But they are more than likely still running drugs through there. And who knows what else. The Fitzpatricks have a variety of business interests. Almost none of them are legal."

As he pulled up to my apartment building, I was processing everything I had found out. "So … Angela disappeared around the same time as Gil – possibly together. Gil is most likely not his real name. He was connected to Club Mojo prior to the other girls being found there – which means she could have been there at some point even though she was not there at the time the FBI rescued the others. Oh yeah – and the Fitzpatricks could be involved."

He had parked my car while I was still talking. He left the radio on. The station was currently playing a ballad sung in Spanish.

As I finished my rambling summary of the investigation to date, I added a random thought. "I like this. I don't think I've heard it before, but … mm … it's beautiful. Sorry, I got distracted ... translating the lyrics."

He just smiled at me as we listened to the final chorus of the song. When it had finished, he turned off the car.

Pulling out his phone, he hit a button and speed dialed someone – I assumed it was Felix. "Hey, gonna need that ride now. Mm-hmm. Half hour? Yeah. Thanks." The phone clicked shut as he said to me, "Do me a favor? Don't go taking on the Fitzpatricks by yourself." After I nodded my agreement, he shook his head as he asked, "How many times do I have to tell you to call me when you need help?"

"Apparently, a few more times."

"Maybe the problem is … we have different definitions of when you need help."

"Maybe we do." Seeing the wordless warning in his eyes, I said, "I'll try not to put myself in harm's way ... unnecessarily."

"I would greatly appreciate that, m'lady ... seeing as I'm rather fond of you." He sighed as he leaned over to give me a slow deep kiss that seemed to last for days. Then, he asked, "Walk you to your door?"

It turned out that my bodyguard could be quite a gentleman. Not exactly your standard issue 'knight in shining armor,' but a girl could get used to this kind of thing. Even if I don't consider myself a 'damsel in distress.'

As we stood on my welcome mat, he gave me a quick kiss and asked, "Am I still going to see you later?"

"Text me after you get some sleep. We'll make plans," I said before yawning.

"Since I spent the past couple days on your investigation, those plans will need to include help with an English assignment and reviewing for a math test."

"That can be arranged." I took my keys from Weevil and found the one that would open my door. He waited until I was inside with the door locked before he walked away.

A/N:

Thanks for reading! Until next time ...

~Jen

5 April 2017