Houston Callaghan: The Devil's Bastards MC

by Kendra Plunkett-Witt

  “It’s what I went to school for,” she shrugged. “I have a morning shift. I better get back to bed,” she looked to Houston. “You and I will have a talk before you leave this ranch.”

  Mom disappeared into the night towards the ranch house.

  “A talk with my mother. That scare you?” I half teased.

  “Your Mom is tough. But you haven’t met my Aunts. My Aunts put the fear of God into anyone,” Houston reached out and pushed a strand of hair back out of my face. I ignored the chills that shot up my arms and down my back at the simple intimacy of the act.

  “Ugh, helmet hair, even before all of this. I don’t even want to know how bad it looks,” I groaned, putting my hands to my hair.

  “It looks just fine,” he said and reached out and pulled me into his arms.

  At that I expected him to kiss me, instead he just held me close and tight. I rested my head on his chest feeling suddenly exhausted. His arms felt safe and secure against all the bad that had happened tonight.

  “You best get to bed darlin’.”

  “You want a lift to your bike?”

  “Na. We can get it in the morning. We will have to take a tractor out to haul the UTV back in anyhow,” he answered as he slowly released me from his grasp.

  “Goodnight,” I whispered. “Come get me if you all need anything?”

  “We will.” Houston stared at me for another long moment. “Goodnight Amelia.”

  I gave him a soft, tired smile and headed off the porch.

  “Amelia.”

  “Yes,” I turned around expectantly.

  “My gun?”

  I grinned and pulled the Glock from my jacket pocket and handed it to him. “I like my Henry better anyhow.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Houston

  I didn’t expect to get any rest that night, but that didn’t lessen the exhaustion any. We all took turns dozing and checking in on Tommy and Josẽ to monitor for concussions. My sister’s hacker had gotten the message through to me that there were no outstanding warrants for Tommy and the guilt ate at me as I mulled over my decision not to take him to the local ER.

  It was only a UTV accident and even if no insurance covered it, we could find a way to pay the bills. We always did. I trusted Susanne and her medical knowledge, but she was right, without the proper examination of his arm with an x-ray machine, she was basically providing 1800’s medical care.

  I felt violated, bested by a bunch of damn cattle rustlers. I had fought in street wars when I was younger. I had been in gang fights, gun fire exchanges, hand on hand combat. Callaghan’s were specialist in fighting like this. Modern day guerrilla warfare. Yet here I was, was feeling like a defeated general. Last night was bad and yet it could have been worse.

  Other crews, other patch members, used to wonder how I could fight with Destiny in my ranks. Having my back, being the gun at my side, and not wonder if she was sufficient in the heat of things, not wonder how I could handle keepings my focus and not worry about my kid sister.

  Growing up having helped Destiny learn to fight, seeing how quick and lethal she was of her own terms, I never questioned her. While I would take a bullet for my sister any day, I never felt the need to stand in front of her to protect her. Force her out of the fight.

  Now I wondered how Fabio handled it day in and day out as his bride was his President. The one who was first in line for fire. The wild child biker princess who carried more firepower than he did. The girl who grew up to be the woman who would never back down from a rumble, she would get in the ring with anyone and could take a hit as well as the ones she gave.

  I didn’t doubt Amelia’s ability with a gun. I bet she could take out a rattler ready to strike at twenty yards no questions asked. Probably she made a convincing stance when firing warning shots. But Amelia hadn’t shot to kill before. Hell, she hadn’t shot to wound before. Amid battle, she could lose her nerve.

  More than that, I wanted to protect her. Her body and her innocents. Taking a life wasn’t something someone ever got over and I wanted to spare Amelia the ghosts. Ghosts I had gotten used to waking me at night.

  I didn’t know how I would hold her back. Last night had happened because we had been unprepared. Our guard was down because it had been quiet, I had honestly thought we had seen the last of the rustlers. The feisty Amelia I had met in the dark bar and only grown to know so much more, wasn’t going to back down easily and sit on the side lines. The opposite was likely to happen, she would come back with a vengeance.

  That wasn’t all that had kept me awake last night. It wasn’t even the feel of Amelia tucked close to my body when she was on the back of my bike or when I needed someone to hold on to, just for a little while. The way she wrapped her arms around me so tightly without question, with no demands. Let me rest my cheek on her head, taking in the smell of the hair she had worried over. Even when she was a hot mess, she was still just that, hot.

  No, it was something about the trucks from the field road that had me feeling off. They felt oddly familiar, which was a strange feeling since this was Texas as trucks were a dime a dozen.

  I had finally fallen asleep around four, which meant even if I wanted to, there was no five o’clock start time with Amelia. Instead, I hauled my butt to the big house around eight. Four hours wasn’t enough shut eye, but it was a start. Plus, Mrs. Charlon always kept a pot of coffee going in the kitchen no matter the time of the day, and I was counting on a cup.

  “Heard you had a rough night,” George said from where he was sitting at the kitchen table.

  “Rougher than I had hoped. Wish we could have gotten more than just scaring them off done though. A license plate would have been nice, although if they were smart, they would have stolen plates,” I got a coffee cup out and found relief in a fresh pot just finishing brewing.

  Charlon raised his eyebrow at the comment. If I wore a badge the old man wouldn’t think twice about noting ‘smart’ things a criminal might do. With me being a civilian, it made the ranchers thoughts jump straight to wondering about my vast criminal expertise. And fine, so I had swiped a plate or two in my day when need be.

  “Right now, I don’t know what to think. Amelia mentioned again she thinks this is personal.”

  “I think so too. I would never deceive you about my abilities to know a thing about ranching, but I know a thing or two about human nature and the dark side of people. I’ve spent years in the business of deterring crime with grey area methods,” I started as I sat down across from George at the table, wondering how many times Tate and his Grandfather had sat like this. It left me wishing I had been given the chance to have morning coffee conversations with either of my grandfathers or even Dad.

  “Those grey area methods are probably listed as crimes themselves,” George corrected, and I felt a small tired smile raise on my lips.

  “I plead the fifth. I know my rights.”

  George gave a “hmmph” and we both fell silent for a moment, drinking our coffees.

  “Eloise had to go into town for a bit. Susanne’s at work, but she has a half day at the clinic today where she fills in. She will be back to check on your boys around noon or so,” George finally continued. “Amelia’s in the back pasture, you didn’t miss her by much. She’s too head strong with this Houston. I would rather lose the ranch than lose a grandchild …”

  I felt him cut himself off before he said the word “again”. Tate might be alive and well but his relationship with the old man was non-existent, George didn’t want to lose Amelia too and he feared the rustlers might permanently take her away.

  George couldn’t see that losing the ranch would be what lost him his granddaughter. Walking away without a fight, making her give up. That would break Amelia, and even if she stayed by his side, she would never be the same.

  “I’ll do what I can to keep her out of it. But I make no promises. Amelia does what Amelia wants to do,” I shrugged like I had no interest in trying to rein her in. But I did, I didn’
t know what I would do if Tate’s little sister got hurt under my watch.

  We finished our coffee’s in silence and I finally put my cup in the sink and straightened my cut, noting that George only slightly glared at it. He was less bitter towards the leather every day.

  I slipped back out the back door and headed across the yard glancing over at the foreman house on the far opposite end of the yard from the bunkhouse. It sat a bit farther back, perhaps two or three house distances if they were on a suburb block from the main house in a dire attempt to give the foreman some privacy.

  But the foreman was Brad. Brad who appeared to be nowhere around last night. Brad who never came to the bunk house to see what the fuss was about when we rolled back in. Brad who didn’t come barging up to the bunkhouse looking for me this morning. The Bastards and friends were supposed to be protecting Homeland from rustlers, and though they hadn’t made it out with any cattle, we still failed by not catching them.

  Brad was a ballsy dude. Since I had been on the ranch, he used any excuse possible to get up in my face. Brad had to know that I could break him in two in a matter of seconds. But he also seemed to know that Amelia kept me at bay. He was right, as much as I wanted to destroy him, Amelia kept me back with just a look. No one, and I mean no one, held that power over me. Not my brother, not my uncles, aunts or Destiny.

  The driveway to the foreman’s house wrapped around the back and curiosity got the better of me. There was no sneaking around, the foreman house was in the ranch yard and I had been all over it already. But there was something I wanted to check out.

  My stomach dropped, and the anger boiled over. Sure enough, Brad’s ride was a dark colored extended Chevy diesel.

  That doesn’t mean anything, I scolded myself. There were probably fifty of those trucks in Laredo alone. Just because Brad drove one like the rustlers, didn’t make him the person stealing cattle.

  ‘Course, we have already decided it was likely someone with an ax to grind against George…’

  I forced myself to walk away from it. Not to jump to rash conclusions. But God, I already wanted to pound the prick for how he talked to Amelia and treated the rest of his family. I may have grown up on the wrong side of the tracks so to speak but even in my rough living family I knew better than to speak to elders like that. Aunt Kristy and Aunt Stella would have had my hide.

  I was still fuming to the point that I didn’t see Amelia walking across the yard. “Houston. Hello. Earth to Houston! What’s wrong?”

  “Sorry Half-pint, nothing more than already is. A little sleep deprived.”

  “Hell, for me that’s become the normal,” she said falling into step. “I sent out one of my regular hands for the UTV this morning with the tractor, but I can give you a lift out in the truck to get your bike.”

  “I appreciate that. And the rest of your day looks like?”

  She sighed. “Spend it wishing that last night had gotten us anywhere closer to knowing who the hell was doing this. But other than that, the normal. Check fences, check cows, haul water, pray for another rain.”

  “At least you have your routine.”

  “You don’t have one, do you? A routine that is?”

  “Not really. Routine isn’t my thing.”

  “What did you do with your days before you came here? How is it you manage to pack up and just rush to my aide? You work the oil rigs part year like Tate to just fuck off the rest of the time?”

  I wished. “I have fingers in a few different pies. Let’s me play the more silent business partner role mostly. When I have to I swoop in, straighten the messes. I tend to the Bastards; the nomads are easy-going but occasionally there are issues that need to be ironed out. I hold Church when I need too. Typically, once a month or so. There’s a ride minimum but with the Nomads I don’t enforce it that hard unless it’s called into question.”

  “Still seems like you have big gaps in your calendar. I suppose women fill those?”

  It was a casual enough question. A little teasing in her voice, but I knew that Amelia expected an answer. It would be what she assumed but not the one she would want to hear. As charged as things had been with us, it was clear that she wouldn’t want to hear that a week before she came into the bar I had been wrapped up with some redhead who blew into town. The month before that I was in San Antonio with a tattoo artist, before that back in Louisiana with a Cajun girl I spent time with on and off. Before that I had been shacked up with a pair of college seniors in Dallas…

  No, Amelia wouldn’t want to hear that, but it might be what kept her away from me. And no matter how much I hated it, keeping her away from me was what was best for her.

  “Women come and go. I take what I please to keep me entertained.”

  “I would of thought nothing less,” she said flatly as she opened the driver’s side of her door.

  Usually Amelia caved and tossed me the keys. Today she was holding her ground. Oh boy, it had worked, she was irked.

  ***

  Amelia had spent the day being short but just shy of pissy. While it was what I had hoped to achieve, I didn’t expect to be so bothered by it. Still I stuck it out next to her as we worked silently through the days chores.

  I walked back into the bunkhouse late in the day. Ready to crash for hours on end. Speedy and Sticky had done rounds today, but they didn’t have enough help to ride around the clock with Josẽ and Tommy on the injured list. We would have to do the best we could with what we had.

  It was Wednesday already, I had to ride out for Sweetwater and the wedding Friday morning. With a Bastard event of that magnitude, it would be hard pressed to find anyone I trusted to come and help in my absence.

  The four men were playing cards at the kitchen table and pizza sat on the stove when I walked in.

  “I swear Houston, if Tommy’s cheating, I’m going to put him out of his misery,” Sticky grumbled. Sticky had a habit of taking things that didn’t belong to him, hence the name. But he also had a reputation for sticking a spare ace up his sleeve. Had it been the old days he would have been shot, but Sticky wasn’t a good cheat and card games with this crew were usually for no more than drinking money, meaning he usually made it out with no more than a black eye on occasion.

  “I have a concussion, I get a free pass,” Tommy argued back and tipped back his longneck.

  I was in no mood to deal with this bullshit tonight. “Mop up the blood. I’m in no mood to clean,” I grumbled before turning to Speedy. “Anything?”

  “Nothing worth reporting. Dez got back to you. Tire tracks are generic. Nothing special about them, standard for both the vehicle makes that we already had established.”

  “Shit.”

  “Sorry man. I know you’re taking this personal,” Speedy said and glanced down at his cards before folding.

  “I don’t like to lose, and these common rustlers are making us look like fools for not being able to catch them.”

  “So, we start knocking a few heads together. Eventually someone talks,” Josẽ tossed another couple of chips in the pile and called.

  “I don’t even know who’s head to start knocking. They could fence these cattle in a hundred different sale barns, direct buyer, slaughter house. The possibilities are endless,” I muttered grabbing a beer from the fridge.

  “Most of those places are legitimate though. They need paperwork. Probably only a small percentage deal with sellers who don’t have the papers to match the brand those cows wear. Some of those cattle stolen are purebreds and registered at that. If they want top dollar they will need some well forged documents,” Tommy offered and they all stared at him. “What? It’s not my first paycheck earned on a ranch.”

  “Who do we know that are excellent forgers?” Speedy asked. We knew the theft rings, illegal armory dealers, drug pushers, pimps, and their share of bookies. But aside from the occasional new identification papers, forgery was typically a white-collar type of a crime and that wasn’t usually in our wheelhouse.

  I shoo
k my head. “Amelia and George already put out word to every cattle barn and stock dealer in several hundred miles. They see anything with Homeland brand or George Charlon’s signature and they call back here. Anyone who gives a shit about needing documents won’t be doing business with them.”

  “I know a guy who might know a guy. Bunk mate on my last stint. If it’s hot he knows who’s fencing. We are in Texas, he might know who deals in bad beef,” Sticky spoke up and I gave him the nod and he left the card table to make the call.

  “How are you two today?” I asked turning to Josẽ and Tommy.

  Josẽ shrugged. “Sore as shit but other than that fine. I’ll be ready to go by Friday. Might not be A fuckin’ plus, but I’m the best you going to get right now.”

  I didn’t doubt that. “Tommy?”

  “Susanne drug me to the clinic today. Got some x-rays done. It’s not crushed, just a clean break just below my elbow. It will heal within a few weeks. But my heads better. I won’t be able to use my left arm, but my gun hands my right. I’ll be out there with Josẽ. I need to track down the asshole who did this. He embarrassed me. Break my fuckin’ arm on a damned UTV. I’ve bitten men’s ears off in brawls before, I don’t fall down like that,” Tommy’s voice was stubborn, but I was glad that Susanne had dragged him out. He seemed much more comfortable on whatever painkillers he now had. I didn’t ask if they were obtained by Susanne and legal channels or if the Jones boys had stepped out for a pharmaceutical run.

  I motioned Speedy to the back porch. Speedy and I hadn’t always been the closest but over the last year or so, I had learned that the other biker could be trusted to do discreet diggings.

  Besides Tate and now Alec, there was only one other Nomad I would turn to besides Speedy, and Scottie was older than my dad and uncles were. Closest thing to a grandfather I would ever get, and the old man didn’t like to fight the fight anymore. He just wanted to toe that retired line as close as he could. Club business wasn’t his forte unless club’s life blood had been shed. Or Destiny asked.