Hi! Once again, thank you for the reviews, they really push me to keep on with this story. I apologize for the screwed up formatting on the last chapter, and hopefully this chapter won't have the same problem… because if the changes I made for this one don't work, I don't know what to do to fix it! Race horse names for reviewers is still on… ;) Also, the end of this chapter starts switching back and forth to two places at the same time, I'll try my best to keep it easy to read, but I just wanted to explain that first. So, enjoy!
Quinn settled onto the couch next to Murphy, not even bothering to stifle her groan of pain as she deliberately lifted one leg at a time to rest on the coffee table in front of them. Connor sat in the recliner to their left, one leg tossed over the arm of the cushioned chair, lazily clicking through the channels. Murphy, who had been making a grab for the remote from his brother, turned to look at her with a teasing grin.
"Oh c'mon lass, can't be that bad!" He taunted. Quinn rested her head back and sighed.
"If my arms didn't hurt so bad too, I'd slap you," she threatened, not even bothering to open her eyes.
"Thought ya did that ridin' kinda shit all the time?" Connor questioned between changing channels and shoveling a forkful of Chinese takeout into his mouth. The table in front of them was covered with an assortment of boxes and plastic containers, filled with a sample of practically everything the local restaurant had to offer. Quinn's eyes popped open and she sat up, leaning painfully forward to reach some delicious looking General Tso's.
"Not really, not anymore. I'm usually stuck at the farm taking care of the younger horses. Jude calls me in every once and a while to ride out if he needs me, but definitely never three days in a row," she grimaced. Murphy ducked forward and snatched the container she had been trying to reach, handing it to her with a sympathetic smile. Her eyes met his for the briefest of moments as their fingers brushed, and then flicked away, anywhere but his unwavering blue gaze.
"Hopefully Eddie will show up tomorrow then," the darker twin suggested, digging into his lo mein.
"Oh I hope not!" Quinn said quickly. The boys glanced at her and she flushed, embarrassed.
"I- I mean I just meant… I really love getting to ride and if Eddie came back I wouldn't get to do it anymore…" she trailed off. Connor gave her a smirk.
"Aye, we could tell ye were havin' a time. Kinda strange yer man hasn't come back yet though ya think?" Quinn waved it off.
"Yeah, who knows with Eddie. He's starting to ride in races too and he's listed on a few horses Friday night, so I guess hopefully he gets back before that," she shrugged. The brothers glanced at each other, blue eyes meeting and exchanging all the information needed with just a look or a nod. Friday night. They too were slotted to be "back in the saddle". Murphy cleared his throat and tried to sound nonchalant.
"Ya got any plans Friday night Quinn?" Her brown eyes flashed up, confused and maybe… hopeful? Murphy wasn't sure.
"Just have to help Jude out at the races, he has a few in to run. Why?" Another glance passed between the twins, the blond one giving Murphy a quizzical look. What is your excuse going to be?
"Jus' wonderin'. Figured Conn and I would jus' hang around here, if it's alright with ya," he shrugged. Quinn looked momentarily disappointed. Her eyes flashed back to the TV and she rubbed her thigh absentmindedly.
"Oh yeah. Sure. I'll be back late though."
"S'alright love. Take yer time. Conn and I will behave," Murphy grinned, trying to ignore the twinge of guilt about lying to her. Smecker had specifically said not to get her involved. She may think she knew who they were and what they had done, but she didn't need to know they were still doing it… yet.
He was hyperaware of the space between them, mostly because there barely was any. In fact, she had relaxed enough to let her leg rest against his. He knew she was aware of it too, in how she would run her hand down the length of her thigh, massaging at the sore muscles beneath and occasionally brush the length of his own, pulling her hand back as she did as though it was accidental. He moved his arm up to rest along the back of the couch, his shoulder resting against hers for a second, and when she didn't move away, let it settle there, and enjoyed the slight contact between them. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. Brown curls had yet again escaped from her loose ponytail and framed her thin face. Her eyes, so bright and alive when she had been up on the horses again this morning were distant and preoccupied, set in the direction of the TV but unfocused as she thought deeply about something. What had she been expecting when he had asked about her Friday night plans? A date? Murphy shook his head. He had slowly closed the door behind him after he had wished her a good night hours before, after he had trailed his finger across her high cheekbone and tucked a straying curl behind her ear. Her eyes had been cautious and dark, uncertain of what he wanted. He knew what he wanted. And he knew it was not a good idea.
The sound of the door opening broke him out of his reverie and he and Connor both tensed, ready for anything. Smecker slid in from the darkness, beaming his arrogant smile, one eyebrow cocked at the sight of them. Quinn swung her legs off the table and set her carton down, smiling as she managed to hobble toward him and wrapped him in a hug. He patted her back awkwardly, but his smile softened slightly, looking at her in amusement.
"I should've died a long time ago, you're much nicer to me now," he teased and she rolled her eyes.
"Even though it didn't help your attitude any," she shot back, motioning him toward another chair on the other side of the couch. He settled into it, folding his legs and slouching down, elbows resting on the chair's arms and fingers knitted together. Murphy moved over slightly, giving Quinn much more space than she'd had before. She settled in with another barely muffled groan of pain.
"Now don't go getting all awkward on my account Murphy," Smecker practically purred. Quinn's face flushed and Connor's laughter almost made him choke on his spare ribs. "So how goes everything?" he continued, ignoring the squirming embarrassment of his sister and the barely perceptible pink tinging the darker twin's cheeks. Connor however was not one for ignoring his brother's discomfort, and the shit eating grin never left his face as he answered.
"Oh we're gettin' right cozy here, I'd say. Good arrangement fer all of us," he enthused.
"How are you getting around? Do you have a car?" Quinn cut in, trying desperately to change the conversation. Both Smecker and Connor practically sighed in defeat, sad to let the fun be over.
"Of course. I park it here and there and walk the rest of the way." Quinn's brow furrowed, concern etched across her features.
"Why don't you just stay here Paul, I have an air mattress or I could get a cot or something…" Smecker smiled at her sadly.
"I can't Quinn. I'm not alive, remember? It's hard enough for me to cover my tracks to come visit you. I can't stay." Quinn looked as though she wanted to argue, but dropped it. Do I really have my brother back, after all this? She couldn't stop the bitter thought from coming. Her brother didn't seem to notice her worried expression as Smecker turned his attention to the boys. "So everything's getting on alright I take it?" His tone was expectant. Connor and Murphy's blue eyes met again, a barely perceptible nod from both of them. Connor spoke.
"Oh yeah. Just settlin' in ta the routine, helpin' Quinn around the barn, and leavin' her to do all the hard work at the races Friday night," he winked at her. Smecker nodded.
"I'm sure you'll find a way to… entertain yourselves… Friday night." His remark and the consequent knowing looks between all the men went unnoticed by Quinn and they settled comfortably into silence, turning their focus to a rerun of Friends while their minds wandered elsewhere.
Two episodes passed with only the occasional laugh and remark about the show, when Smecker finally stood.
"I'm gonna head out for the night," he said, glancing at Quinn as she rose from her seat as well. "You boys want to join me for a smoke before I go?" Yet another quick glance between them before they nodded and replied with affirmatives. Smecker turned to face his sister, wrapping an arm around her.
"I'll be back soon. You be good," he said, giving her a knowing wink that made her drop her eyes to the floor, or anywhere that wasn't in Murphy's general direction. She elbowed him and he laughed, already headed outside with the boys not far behind. Connor turned and gave Quinn a cheeky wink of his own, and she swore her face was on fire.
The door clicked shut behind them and the brothers pulled out their cigarettes and lighters simultaneously, dangling them between their lips and covering the flame with tattooed hands. Smecker lit his own and took a long drag, and hauled two folded pieces of paper from his back pocket, handing one to each of the twins.
Connor and Murphy unfolded them carefully and studied the faces on each, committing them to memory. They were color print outs, probably from some FBI database that Smecker had figured out how to hack without being caught. The names and physical attributes were listed, along with a list of charges that extended to the bottom of the page. Smecker gave them a look, one eyebrow raised.
"In case you were wondering, none of those charges stuck. None of the major ones anyway. Typical gangsters with money bullshit, slipping right through the justice system. Figured that was what made them perfect for your… attentions," He said, practically purring the last word. Connor blew out a cloud of smoke.
"Little more refined than Roc's method of findin' hits, eh Murph?" His dark haired brother nodded quietly, flicking the ash of his cigarette. Rocco had relied solely on his knowledge of mob doings and experiences to tell them about hits, no fancy print outs and typed up reasons to end their evil lives. Drug trafficking. Arms trafficking. Murder. The printed words burned into Murphy's mind and the smug face of the Serb practically grinned back at him, confident, cool, unafraid. The looks in the men's eyes made Murphy feel something, a slight hum of energy that buzzed inside him, and he knew Connor felt it too. Smecker gave them a few more details, saying he would pick them up Friday night at seven. Both twins nodded.
"Aye. Not sure what time Quinn'll be home though," Connor said, glancing at Murphy, who shrugged.
"Dunno. She didn't say." Smecker waved it off.
"Either way, she'll be fine. Just don't want her worrying about it. Once it's over and done with, she can't," he smirked. That nagged at Murphy. They could lie at first, and then tell her what really happened when they got home? He knew there would be more hits. They couldn't hide it forever. Smecker saying his name snapped him out of his thoughts, and he met the older man's teasing gaze.
"Murphy… you be careful with her. I want you here to protect her in case her relation to me puts her in danger. And not breaking her heart would be nice too. Got it?" Murphy tried to smile and nod, as if it was nothing, but he found it forced. Connor knew it. He could tell by the way the blond twin didn't even offer to tease him.
"Alright then. See you boys Friday night," Smecker practically sang, heading down the steps and disappearing into the night.
.xxx.
The days passed by too quickly for Murphy's liking, and probably for Connor's too. They spent their mornings between the track and Jude's farm, watching Quinn work with the horses, cleaning stalls, hauling hay, and fixing fences or anything else that needed mending. With the attitude of Quinn's new horse, that list seemed to include something new every day. The mare's attitude had gotten no better as far as Murphy could tell, watching as Quinn clipped her into the aisle every morning and night to brush and fuss over her, murmuring kind words and dodging swift kicks and snapping teeth.
"She doesn't mean it though, look. Before she was trying to kick me, and now she just kinda does it out of habit," Quinn explained, smiling as she ran a brush down the mare's gleaming black hide. The horse stood patiently now, ears more often listening intently then pinned to her head in anger, but her back foot would raise up and sweep out to the side in a very controlled and forcibly slowed down motion. Quinn would laugh and keep brushing, spending at least half an hour playing around with her before and after letting her out to the pasture for the day.
"Good girl, Wicked," she'd croon, and the black horse would flick her ears uncertainly. Murphy and Connor would watch skeptically, certain that the horse would crush Quinn the second she turned her back.
"Wicked, huh?" Connor grinned as he and Murphy went past, hauling buckets. Quinn shot him a look.
"Yeah… that's her name. That's what I'm going to call her."
"I can think of a few names for 'er," Murphy grumbled, stepping out of the way just in time as the black horse launched a well-aimed kick in his direction.
"Uh uh girly! Cut that out!" She scolded sharply, and the mare shook her head at the girl. Quinn sighed. "I talked to Jude the other day about her. I guess he talked to a few people from the farm she was at. According to them she wasn't on that many hormones to speak of, she had just always been a handful. They just couldn't do anything with her. Her one start she was disqualified for savaging another horse…" The boys warily kept their distance, leaning against the barn walls.
"Fer what?" Connor questioned. Quinn looked embarrassed.
"Savaging… it's when uh, basically they attack another horse, during a race. Like she just reached over and bit the other horse."
"While running." Murphy said flatly.
"Uh yes… right around the final turn of the race… I guess…" She trailed off sheepishly.
"Jaysus. Does she ever take a fuckin' break?" Quinn just smiled, and continued her brushing, stepping to the side as a back leg lifted and swung out, slightly slower than it had when directed at the boys.
.xxx.
There was a tension in the air. Murphy, Connor, and Smecker could all feel it, inside the car and between them like a sharply honed edge, every single one of them on pins and needles. This was it. They were almost into the city, and with every mile closer the feeling grew until it was almost suffocating. They would open the windows, lighting cigarettes and letting the smoke flow out, ripped away by the wind of the car hurtling down the highway, but the tension remained. They did not speak.
Entering the city was a blur and suddenly they were there, right outside the seemingly abandoned building on the edge of town, in a neighborhood cops rarely visited and for good reason. According to Smecker the Serbs would be meeting here to receive a delivery of guns, which they would inevitably sell to some other gang or well-paying buyer.
"I'll be right around the corner up there waiting," Smecker was saying, pointing to a dimly lit area about a block away. Murphy and Connor nodded, digging through the bags to assemble their guns, and load up on anything else they might need. It was a pretty simple operation so it seemed, and they had decided to forego all the fancy shit that either one always accused the other of wanting to bring (rope or a huge knife, if Connor had to think of an example). It was just ski masks, ammo, and their Berettas. The silence was deafening as they waited, slunk low in the seats and looking to the outside as if they were merely a parked and abandoned car. A sleek Jaguar emerged from the darkness, black as the night itself. It slithered into the alleyway between the two warehouses and came to a stop, its angry red lights dimming into darkness as the engine cut. Two suit clad figures stepped out, not even bothering to look around before they slammed the doors and headed to the building on the left. The first one pulled what must have been a key from his pocket and worked at the door's lock, while the other stood back, putting his hands in his pockets as he waited. The first man's dark cropped hair set him apart from the shaved head of his companion, since both were about the same size. Josif Kovak. Vuk Milic. Murphy could see the printed names in his mind, the boss and second in command of the slowly growing Serbian gang. The two men slunk inside the warehouse, leaving the door slightly ajar.
Another vehicle pulled up, this one a dark Suburban, and parked directly behind the Jaguar. Connor counted four men climbing out and popping the hatchback, each of them helping haul wooden crates out of the back and inside. The remaining crates were unloaded from the huge vehicle and all of them disappeared inside. Six men. Easy. Murphy and Connor smiled wolfishly and tucked away their weapons. Smecker turned and gave them a sideways smirk.
"Be safe. I'll see you soon." The boys opened the car door and headed off into the night.
.xxx.
The paddock was loud and fast paced, a bustle of noise and activity and excitement. Quinn led her charge, a tall narrow bay named Contorted Mind, through the wide aisles to their assigned stall. Race five, position three, not bad and from the looks of the rest of the field, this one had a chance. She clipped the horse into the ties and hung the bridle on a hook in the stall, setting the bucket she had been carrying down in the corner and digging out the various equipment. Between her and one of Jude's other grooms there were six horses racing tonight, she was responsible for three. The other two, a young slightly built gray named Lady of Sign, and a tough little brown mare named Princess Pipi had already run in the first and second races and had been bathed and taken back to the hot walker to be cooled out. The fourth race was out there now, and she had about fifteen minutes to get this one ready and out to the track.
Jude was there suddenly, smoking one of his ever present cigarettes and leaning against the wall. She glanced up at him and nodded a hello, leaning over to start taking the wraps off the horse's dark legs. He ran a hand through his graying hair.
"Eddie still hasn't shown up," he said.
Quinn tossed the last leg wrap into the bucket, wiping her hands as she reached for a different set of wraps to wind around the horse's legs.
"What are you going to do?" She asked, pulling the stretchy material tight enough it would give the tendons and ligaments extra support.
"Figured I'd just put you on," Jude said nonchalantly. Quinn's fingers grappled for the sheet of cloth she had just dropped, successfully unraveling the whole thing so that she had to rewrap the leg.
"Uh, what?" Jude grinned.
"You've been to jockey school, all your paperwork's set, I'm sure you can handle one race right?" Quinn's heart hammered in her chest at the thought of it.
"I'd love too but I'd have no idea…" he cut her off with a wave of his hand.
"It's the amateur rider's race. You can time a workout. You can at the very least hang on for two minutes. Seventh race, Blackmoonwhitesky. Head into the jockey's lounge to change up and weigh in. I can handle this guy." And with that he pulled her up from her frozen crouch by Contorted Mind's front legs and gave her a gentle push toward the locker room as she tried to protest.
The time went by too fast. One minute she was being weighed in on the scale, making the balance tremble with her shaking. The next she was seated on a bench watching the races with the other jockeys, dressed like them but feeling more out of place than she could've thought possible. She looked down at her shiny black boots and white breeches, the fitted royal blue jacket with a white diamond on the front and back, Jude's registered colors. When the voice over the intercom announced for the seventh race jockeys to head out, she thought she was going to throw up. She staggered to her feet and followed the other jockeys out, fastening her helmet and clenching her whip.
Jude met her in the ring adjacent to the track. Quinn smiled weakly when she saw him and she followed him over to Sky, a sturdy built gelding who plodded along lazily. She had exercised him before, and it had been more of a work out on her part. She giggled nervously at the thought.
"He doesn't have much of a chance, but he'll take care of you, just stay out of trouble. You need to calm down right now, because you can't panic out there. You got it?" He spoke firmly and she let out a shaky breath. She could do this. She had done this before, back at jockey school. She could time a horse's workout. That's all it was. Just in front of an audience, with seven other horses. He gave her a leg up onto the tiny saddle and she snapped her goggles down over her face, as he led the horse to the track entrance, Sky starting to pick up a slow jog. Quinn stood in the stirrups, and Jude turned to put a hand on her knee.
"Be safe. I'll see you soon." He unsnapped the lead rope, and she cantered off toward the starting gate.
.xxx.
As soon as the guns were in their hands they felt it. The metal was alive, pure power, surging through their arms and their bodies, every single fiber and sinew and nerve on edge like a taut wire, humming with energy. A deep calm washed over them and their blue eyes met as they strode out into the night, headed toward the door that had been left ajar. They were no longer Connor and Murphy. They were one, a single being, both truth and justice and God sent damnation. They were the Saints.
.xxx.
The reins in her hands were a line of communication, a two way conversation, connecting his mouth to her fingertips, each of them exchanging information with a tug of the wrist or a toss of the head. She could feel his excitement starting to grow as her nervousness seeped away and her heart resumed its place in her chest and not her throat. She collected him into a rolling canter and moved with his slow, powerful strides. They were one, horse and girl together, both in tune with the other's thoughts, both speed and grace and power. They were ready.
.xxx.
Their backs rested against the cold stone of the warehouse wall, listening for anything from the other side of the door. Connor peered in and motioned to his brother, slipping in through the opening and letting their eyes adjust to the dim room. Tall stacks of metal shelves as far as they could see, all bearing huge boxes of who knew what, and in the distance the gruff and heavily accented voices. They headed toward the sound, further back into the warehouse toward a dimly glowing light. They could hear the men laughing. Murphy ducked down to crouch behind a row of metal scaffolding, peering through the gaps between the boxes.
"Ah hurry up, I got to get home, the bitch is waiting," Josif was saying. One of the nameless gun dealers snorted.
"I don't have that problem," he grinned. "Picked up a nice little blond straight out of the Russian's private stock. Expensive, but never gives me any trouble." Josif smiled at that.
"You'll have to give me your connections, Vuk and I both would be very interested." Murphy could feel his blood burn as they talked. This was why they killed men like these. What if that girl was Quinn? His fist clenched at his side and he felt Connor's hand on his shoulder, turning him. The blond haired man's eyes were cold as he met Murphy's.
.xxx.
The starting gate loomed in front of her, a tall metal contraption with a narrow slot for each horse. Some of the horses were already loading in, the rest circling around as they waited. Sky didn't care too much about being boxed in if she remembered correctly, some horses were nervous wrecks when they were crammed into the gate. She circled him still, waiting her turn.
"Ah look at that, a nice piece of ass in our race," the jockey on the eight horse whistled, grinning wickedly at her. His friend, trying to calm his own horse and look her up and down smiled as well.
"Make for a nice view… too bad I won't ever be behind her." Quinn could feel the heat rising in her cheeks and she stared at the ground, trying not to be rattled. She pushed Sky forward, pressing him into the constricting metal of the gate. The door closed behind him. Murphy wouldn't have let them talk to me like that. The thought of Murphy forced her gaze up, to glare haughtily at the two men, who were now loaded in slots to her right. Her brown eyes were cold as she met theirs.
.xxx.
The silence was suffocating. The barely audible sound of paper shuffling as cash was counted out. The occasional cough of one of the gun traders. Murphy's pulse roared in his ears. Connor's breathing was quiet but quick.
.xxx.
The hot summer air was stifling. The last horse loaded. Time stood still. A horse acted up, rattling the metal cage. Quinn could hear Jude's voice, over the sound of her beating heart, telling her she'd be OK. Sky flicking one ear back, listening to hear, waiting for her cue.
.xxx.
Smecker's voice, telling them how these men had escaped all charges. The final stack of cash handed over. Murphy cocking his head toward Connor, both waiting for their chance, lips moving in a silent count.
.xxx.
Quinn shifted her weight, lips moving in a silent prayer, waiting, eyes closed. Sky, still listening.
.xxx.
Vuk murmuring a thank you in his heavy accent. Shaking hands. Two pairs of blue eyes met, one single thought, one single purpose. Now. They exploded out from behind the metal bars.
.xxx.
The distant murmur of the crowd. The tinny voice of the announcer. Quinn closed her eyes, waiting, ready, feeling Sky bunch beneath her. The gates crashed open. Quinn opened her eyes.