The Nomad Series-Collectors Edition

by Janine Infante Bosco

  We ripped each other apart.

  Rocco takes a seat in the pew, wraps his arm around my wrist and pulls me down next to him. I’m about to punch him in the shoulder when I realize everyone else has taken their seats, and the mass has begun.

  And a beautiful mass it is; one that centers on Uncle Vic’s love for his family. His sins are forgiven, his crimes forgotten. He’s with his maker now waiting for the love of his life to one day join him.

  The same mantra continues at the cemetery as everyone takes turns saying goodbye. Anxiety builds as the crowd thins and the time for me to face my family draws near. By the way I stick to my brother’s side you’d never know we fight like cats and dogs. Rocco’s not a big source of comfort, big surprise there, and I search the cemetery for Stryker. I find him standing off to the side with the rest of the leather clad men.

  Disappointment grips me like a vice as I watch the men he’s surrounded by stand beside the women in their life and I realize Stryker hasn’t even acknowledged me in front of them. He lifts his head and his eyes meet mine just as my brother proves he’s got no problem throwing me in front of a bus. Grabbing me by the shoulders he shoves me in front of him and into Aunt Grace’s open arms.

  “Gina,” she says, shock evident in her voice. “Sweetheart, thank you for coming.” She cocks her head to the side and smiles faintly. “Wow, you look so much like your mother.”

  “Thank you,” I reply, feeling like a complete tool as the ridiculous words flee my mouth. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  She squeezes my hand.

  “Thank you,” she whispers as she continues to hold my hand and looks over her shoulder. “Adrianna,” she calls.

  Shit.

  “You remember your cousin Gina, don’t you?”

  I force a smile and turn as Adrianna steps to her mother’s side. She’s prettier than I remember her. The newsfeed from the bomb did her no justice at all, probably because she was bloodied and covered in soot. But even without a stitch of make-up on and big black sunglasses shielding her red-rimmed eyes, I can tell she’s beautiful.

  “Of course I do,” she says, sliding her sunglasses on top of her head. “It’s been a long time. It’s good to know you haven’t forgotten you have a family.”

  I hear Rocco mumble something and I go to elbow him in the gut when another voice sounds beside me.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” Stryker says.

  I forget whatever I was about to say and watch as Adrianna turns her attention toward him, her gaze softening slightly as he nods at her.

  “How’s your wrist?”

  My eyes immediately fly back to her and watch as she lifts the black sleeve of her dress and exposes a cast.

  “Coming along,” she answers.

  “I’m going to say my final goodbyes,” Aunt Grace announces.

  “I’ll come with you,” Adrianna immediately responds. “My wrist will be fine and so will my sister and her husband thanks to you.”

  Stryker simply nods, shoving his hands into his pockets.

  “I hope you won’t be a stranger, Gina,” Aunt Grace says, leaning forward to place a kiss on my cheek. Then she looks behind me at my brother. “I know you won’t be,” she tells him. “Buy yourself a tie, Rocco; your uncle would be pissed.”

  Yeah, we’re definitely the misfits of the family.

  “I’ll do that,” he promises.

  Aunt Grace and her daughter make their way back to the coffin perched on top of the hill and everyone watches as Grace Pastore says her final goodbye to her eternal love.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Rocco says, grabbing my arm.

  I turn to Stryker as he shoves his hands into his pockets and takes a step back.

  “What about you?”

  “I’m going to ride back with the club and then I’ll check on you later,” he says.

  “Right,” I reply, biting the inside of my cheek as I glance down at the bikes lining the curb and the men laughing around them.

  “Shit,” Stryker says, and I follow his gaze as Rocco starts for the president of his motorcycle club. “I’ve got to go,” he mutters. “I’ll see you later, pretty girl.”

  I don’t get the chance to say anything because he’s hot on my brother’s heels. Rolling my eyes, I cross my arms against my chest and start for my brother’s car.

  Fuck him, let him hitch a ride on the back of Stryker’s bike.

  I’m taking the fucking Maserati home.

  stryker

  I spent the whole fucking day pretending like I didn’t know Gina. Like I don’t know how she feels wrapped around me, like I don’t own her fucking eyes. Then her brother goes running to Jack and I take off behind him like a fucking chimp.

  I’ve been around the MC life long enough to know how most brothers operate, long enough to know I’m not like most of them. Most, not all of them flaunt their pussy for every man to see. Hell, some of them get off on trading their woman for a taste of someone else’s. Then there are the brothers that find that one woman that turns them upside down and they go and claim her, give her a property patch and tell everyone else to back the fuck off.

  That’s not me.

  Never has been.

  Being mine means exactly that.

  I don’t share.

  I don’t put on a display.

  As long as I know who I belong to and she knows where she belongs every night that’s enough for me. No reason to shout it from the rooftops. If someone is stupid enough to make a play for what’s mine, then they better have a fucking army of soldiers behind them.

  Keeping Gina to myself wasn’t a premeditated thing. It was just my thing. Besides, the club was already in a state of disaster, dealing with the repercussions of Victor’s hit on the G-Man, I doubt anyone gives a flying fuck who I’m with every night.

  Jack’s concern lies with Victor’s family and he doesn’t give a damn about Rocco or the sister he doesn’t even know he has. The club’s not in the market to protect Gina from a threat Rocco seems to be the only one who thinks exists.

  To be honest, I wasn’t really sold on Gina being in any danger.

  Sure, it was a possibility but not a legit one until Victor died, and now that the man is buried and Rocco is in charge, it’s a more realistic option to believe any of Rocco’s new enemies are out for blood.

  Before today it was about Gina.

  All about Gina.

  And me wanting to be the guy close to her.

  I used the bodyguard gig as an excuse.

  Then in the middle of a war zone I spot the one thing that might hold merit to Rocco’s case.

  Vladimir Yankovich’s business card.

  I don’t know why Rocco knew the name, but it was no coincidence finding that card in the Bastards' clubhouse.

  Now, to figure out what all that means—that’s a whole different ball game.

  One I’m playing by myself.

  Batter up, Stryker.

  “Jack, I need a word,” Rocco calls over Jack’s shoulder.

  Slowly, I watch my president turn around, acknowledging the gangster as he gives him the once over.

  “We have nothing to discuss,” Jack tells him.

  “It’s about the bomb,” Rocco replies.

  He gave me a name and nothing else. Now this motherfucker wants to lay his shit bare? I inch closer as Jack chuckles.

  Not a good sign.

  “Thanks, but we’ve got everything under control,” he dismisses, turning his back to him.

  I cringe as Rocco reaches out and grabs a hold of Jack’s arm, holding him back. Jack pulls his arm back, spins around and gets in Rocco’s face.

  “Don’t you ever put your fucking hands on me again, not unless you want me to cut them off—”

  “I don’t think the Corrupt Bastards sent that guy into your clubhouse with the bomb. There’s another enemy moving into our harbor and our streets and his name is Vladimir Yankovich. I have reason to believe he was working with the Bastards. Now, I think we
can shut him—”

  “Hold it,” Jack interrupts, throwing up a hand. “First, what happened to my club isn’t your concern. I don’t give a fuck about your theories, and I sure as hell didn’t ask for them. Second, you made a mistake assuming there is a ‘we’ here,” he growls, waving a finger between them. “My alliance was with Victor. That alliance follows that coffin into the ground today. The Satan’s Knights are done with the mob.”

  “But—”

  “And they say I’m the one with failing ears,” Jack grunts. “We’re done here. Good luck, boy, you’re sure as hell going to need it.”

  Rocco doesn’t get a chance to change Jack’s mind when his daughter screams out declaring Reina’s water broke. And I don’t get a chance to grill the son of bitch for keeping me in the dark because the shit got crazy real quick after that.

  Real fucking quick.

  -Twenty-four-

  Stryker

  Dead on my feet one would think I just pushed out the kid born today. Hospitals are shit. They’re full of politics, sickness and death, but then something like today happens. An innocent life is born to the world and all that ugly fades away. There’s hope, and it’s found in the cry of a newborn child.

  Looking at Jack as he walks into the waiting room with a grin from ear to ear, I see it, the beautiful. The shit that makes you forget the ugly and the cruelty that surrounds us. It was there in his eyes, eyes that are dark and usually full or torment manufactured by his illness and the death of his son, were full of joy.

  It was nice to see.

  Real fucking nice to see.

  But now I’m fucking exhausted and desperate to catch a couple of hours of shut-eye. I head to the motel, park my bike but never dismount. Never even drop my kickstand.

  As much as I want to close my eyes I want to close them seeing Gina next to me.

  Fucked.

  That’s what I am.

  I peel out of the seedy parking lot and drag my ass back over the fucking bridge to Brooklyn.

  To my pretty girl.

  It’s late when I knock on the door. Not sure if she’s sleeping, I reach behind me to pull out the keys I duplicated from her key chain when she swings open the door wearing nothing more than my t-shirt.

  There’s that too.

  The beautiful she brings to the world.

  “Oh it’s you.”

  Until she opens her mouth.

  Flipping her hair behind her ears, I spot the gash on her forehead. I reach out but she immediately spins around and starts for her apartment.

  “Whoa,” I say, closing my hand around her wrist, dragging her back to me. “What happened to you?”

  “Nothing I can’t handle,” she says, pulling her arm free. Seeing the fire in her eyes and the sass in her pretty features, I shake my head.

  That shit won’t fly sweetheart.

  “That wasn’t the question.”

  Reaching for her again, she swats my hands away but I grab her and pull her toward me. Pushing her hair out of the way, I inspect her face for more injuries.

  “Five seconds.”

  “Or what?”

  “Don’t test me, pretty girl.”

  “I got into a car accident,” she says flatly.

  “You don’t have a car.”

  “I robbed one.”

  Jesus fuck.

  “Come again?” I ask, narrowing my eyes as I lead her into the apartment, closing the door behind me I let her go.

  “I couldn’t stay at the cemetery anymore. I needed to get out.”

  “So you robbed a car?” I ask incredulously, swiping a hand over my head. “I thought you were going home with your brother.”

  “I was until he decided to hang around the cemetery with your boss,” she seethes, cocking her head to the side as she crosses her arms underneath her perky tits. My t-shirt inches up her thighs and I lose my fucking head for a minute, forgetting all about her little game of Grand Theft Auto as I lick my lips wishing I had her pussy on my mouth. I bet that would get her to lose the attitude.

  “Should I have asked you for a ride?”

  I lift my head, shake my head clear and narrow my eyes at her.

  “You could have.”

  “Bullshit,” she hisses. “What would you have told your motorcycle buddies?”

  Ah, there it is.

  “Forget it,” she insists. “It doesn’t matter. It’s over and done with it.”

  “Let’s get back to you robbing a car from a cemetery,” I grunt, trying to find my patience. “Whose car did you crash?”

  “Relax it wasn’t any of your people,” she sneers, turning her back to me.

  “Gina, shut it,” I order, grabbing the hem of her t-shirt and pulling her to me. “Now, I don’t know what the fuck got your panties in a twist but I can’t fucking fix it if you keep this shit up.”

  She spins around, poking her finger into my chest.

  “I’m not your dirty little secret.”

  “The fuck you talkin’ about?” I holler.

  The old man downstairs starts pounding his cane on the ceiling, ordering us to take it down a notch. I wonder when she throws my ass out if he’ll come outside with a cup of coffee like he did the other night.

  She pushes my hands away from her and takes a step back, lifting her glossy eyes to mine.

  Shit.

  Tears.

  Fuck me.

  “Baby,” I start, stepping closer to her but she shakes her head.

  “No, please don’t,” she pleads as she stares up at the ceiling fanning her eyes. “I hate this,” she whispers.

  “I can juggle,” I blurt, watching her eyes come back to mine and the tears roll down her cheeks. I mumble a curse and walk closer. “I’m so fucking good I won the fifth grade talent show. I miss football on Sundays. In fact, a perfect Sunday would be you and I in bed all day watching the game and fucking in-between. You got plans this Sunday?”

  “You’re crazy,” she whispers.

  “Yeah, I am. You are too. So what do you say about Sunday?” I raise an eyebrow, taking her hands in mine.

  “I’m sorry,” she sighs. “I’m having a shit day.”

  “Yeah, I got that much,” I tell her, kissing the cut over her eye.

  “I crashed Rocco’s car,” she groans, burying her face against my chest.

  “Does he know?” I ask, breathing in the scent of her shampoo as I walk us toward the couch. Sitting down, I pull her onto my lap and against my chest.

  Where she belongs.

  “Yeah, the bastard is making me fix it. At the rate I’m going I’ll never get that Chloe bag. Do you know how much parts are for a Maserati? The fucker has insurance too. He’s just being a dick because I took the car without his permission.”

  “Who is Chloe?”

  She giggles against my chest as I lift my shirt from her body and slide my hands underneath.

  No bra.

  “Stryker.”

  “Gina,” I murmur, caressing her bare back as she lifts her head from my chest and looks up at me.

  “I’m a girl.”

  “Thank fuck for that.”

  She smiles as she reaches out and touches the dog tags around my neck.

  “Sometimes I pretend I’m not. Sometimes I pretend I’m not wired like every other girl in the world and think I’m immune to the feelings and insecurities girls have. But they come with the boobs and I’m not always able to shut them down. Today the girl I keep buried won.”

  I don’t have the slightest fucking idea what she’s saying but I nod my head because that’s what I’m supposed to do, right?

  “I hated that we were both at the same place pretending like every night we’re not here like this,” she admits. “I like you, Stryker; I like you a whole lot. I didn’t expect to, didn’t even want to, but I do.”

  “Good, because I’m fucking crazy about you.”

  “What’re we going to do about it?”

  “Why do we have to do anything? Why can’t
we just be what we are?”

  “Because I don’t know what we are.”

  “You don’t?” I lean back and cup her face with both my hands as I stare into a sea of green. “Who do you fall asleep with?”

  “You,” she whispers.

  “Who takes care of your body?”

  “You,” she breathes as I drop my hands and lift the shirt over her head, baring her naked body.

  “Who’s the first person you should’ve called when you got into the accident?”

  “Rocco?”

  “Me.”

  “Who’s got you, pretty girl?”

  “You,” she says with conviction.

  “That’s right. I’ve got you, crazy girl feelings and all. I’ve got you,” I murmur as I wrap my arms around her frame. “You belong here, in these arms and to the man they belong to.”

  “I lied.”

  “About what?”

  “I am the girl that falls easily,” she rasps.

  “Fall, pretty girl,” I tell her as I ignore every fucking fact I know about myself.

  I forget I’m a drifter.

  I forget I’m not the sticking type.

  Not the loving type.

  “Got my arms open to catch you,” I promise her as I bend my head and take her mouth.

  Fuck it all.

  I’ve got her.

  For now.

  I’ll worry about tomorrow, tomorrow.

  Tomorrow comes real fucking soon and after I take her to work, I head to Pipe’s garage and call the towing yard that towed the Maserati last night and have them bring it to the garage. Gina didn’t like the idea I was taking control of the situation and I’m getting the feeling the girl never had a damn person in her life ever take care of her. If she had, then it wouldn’t be so foreign for someone to offer to help her. It wouldn’t be such a fucking chore for her to accept without believing she was showing signs of weakness.

  The cops finally gave us full access to the compound and Blackie had a cleanup crew go in to clear out whatever couldn’t be salvaged. It will be awhile before we can rebuild since the club is in the red, and for now we’re using Pipe’s garage as our new chapel.

  Cobra put legs on the fucking table and sanded the bitch down. It’s sitting in the middle of the garage under a lift waiting to be used, but with baby Parrish’s grand entrance Jack put shit on hold until he could get his boy and his wife settled in at home. His hearing is still on the fritz and the stubborn prick refuses to wear a hearing aid so whenever he decides to hold church we’ll all be screaming.