Edge Of Fear (Arrow's Edge MC Book 4)

by Freya Barker

  “I can deal.”

  “You sure?”

  I nod. “If you can deal when I get defensive, I can deal when you get protective.

  He pulls my body flush to his and wraps me tightly in his arms.

  “Good fucking answer, Fee,” he mutters right before he kisses me.

  Tse

  “How was the ride?”

  Ouray is leaning against the side of the clubhouse, smoking. It’s where he hides from Luna, who’s been hounding him to quit.

  “Good. Nice couple of days for it.” I shove my helmet in the seat and take the strap of my bag. “Red was asking where you were.”

  “I’m sure he was, never mind I told him last week I wasn’t gonna be there. He just doesn’t like my reasons.”

  I’m sure he doesn’t since he called Ouray pussy-whipped, but I’m not about to share that remark.

  Luna, who is an FBI agent, had to work and Ouray won’t go to rallies without his wife anymore. As far as I’m concerned that’s their business, although there was a time I might’ve agreed with Red’s assessment.

  “Everything quiet here?”

  He stubs out his cigarette in the sand-filled bucket and looks up at me.

  “Had a little scuffle in the boy’s dorm overnight. Ravi got into it with Maska. Hit him over the head with a crowbar.”

  “What?” I’m shocked, Ravi is a quiet kid but he’s not violent. He’ll avoid conflict if he can. “How’s Maska?”

  “He’ll have a scar he can brag about. Fourteen stitches above his ear. Damn proud of them too.” He chuckles.

  “Ravi?”

  “Looks like he’s about to bolt. Trunk’s been trying to talk to him, but he’s not saying much. Kid was sleeping with a crowbar in his bed. Remind you of someone?”

  Damn.

  We didn’t know much of Ravi’s history when he came to us, and he hasn’t shared, but I’m starting to get a better picture.

  “Where is he?”

  “Yuma’s old room in the back.”

  Swinging my bag over my shoulder, I start toward the door, my step a little heavier than normal.

  Lisa’s already back in the kitchen getting dinner ready, and the clubhouse is crowded with brothers grouped around the bar, a few of the kids working on homework at the big harvest table, and the rest of them crowded around the big-screen TV.

  I get called over by Paco, who tells me the tank and a load of lumber are being delivered to the building site tomorrow. I spend a few minutes talking, but refuse the beer I’m offered. I want to have a clear head when I talk to the kid.

  Tossing my bag on my bed to take care of later, I walk across the hallway. The door to Yuma’s old room is closed and I notice the key in the lock.

  “Like I said, he was ready to bolt.”

  I look up to where Ouray is standing in the doorway to his office down the hall. I nod my understanding and turn the key.

  At first glance I don’t see him. The TV is on and someone’s clearly been sitting on the bed. It’s not until I take a few steps into the room that I see him sitting on the floor underneath the window.

  “Hey, kid,” I say as casually as I can, keeping my eyes on the TV when I take a seat on the edge of the bed. “Just talked to Paco, he says lumber will be dropped off tomorrow and I was wondering if you’d wanna help out getting the framing for his house up?” I notice movement from the corner of my eye, but continue talking, “It’ll have to be after school, of course, and you’d have to get to your homework after dinner, but I could sure use a hand.”

  He puts a dent in my patience, making me wait a long time for an answer, but when it comes I breathe a sigh of relief.

  “Okay.” The mattress dips a little when he sits down beside me. “But am I not in trouble?”

  I glance over, recognizing the look in the kid’s eyes. Part defiance, part hope, and part fear.

  “Oh, you’re in trouble. Can’t whack a brother over the head with a piece of iron and not expect there to be some consequences. Unless of course there was a good reason why you decided to use Maska’s melon as a piñata.”

  I don’t miss the flash of a grin before his face turns surly again.

  “He was the one sneaking around in the middle of the night, I was in bed,” he says defensively, but at least he’s talking.

  “Right. With a crowbar you stole from the shop under your blankets?”

  “Gotta protect myself.” He shrugs.

  I can almost hear the vault locking in place. Not much more I’ll be able to get out of him tonight, but I sure as hell am gonna have a chat with Maska.

  “Come on,” I tell him as I push to my feet. “Lisa’s about to serve dinner.”

  “I can come out?” he asks hesitantly behind me.

  “If you’re ready to apologize to Maska you can. Provided you’re not gonna take off, because boy, I’ll find you if you try.”

  I don’t look back when I open the door and walk out, but when I’m halfway down the corridor I hear his shuffling footsteps behind me. I head straight for the bar, signaling to Shilah for a beer. Only then do I look behind me to see Ravi had walked over to the group of kids watching TV. He’s standing in front of Maska, who is lounging on the couch, his fists clenched by his side.

  “Get him to talk?” Paco asks, sidling up to me at the bar.

  “Claims he was protecting himself, but from what is unclear.”

  I take a swig of my beer and keep a close eye on the interaction between the boys, in case they can’t keep it civil. Ravi nods sharply and turns away. He looks a little lost as he wanders toward the kitchen, where Lisa just pokes her head out the door.

  “Boy, you’ve got nothin’ better to do? May as well give me a hand settin’ that table, yeah?”

  Over dinner things look to have returned to normal, with Ravi quiet—as expected—and the other kids rowdy as usual. I stay for a few beers at the bar with my brothers until Shilah starts herding the kids to the dorm, Ravi with them.

  In my room I take a quick shower, turn on the news, and lay down on my bed, my phone in hand.

  Me: Get everything done you wanted to?

  I have to wait a few minutes before I get an answer.

  Fee: Just got back from Sandra’s with my last load of laundry and heading for bed.

  Me: I’m already there, although I’d rather be in yours.

  When she doesn’t respond through the next commercial break, I type out a less loaded message.

  Me: Work tomorrow?

  Fee: Heading in for eleven. You?

  Me: I’ll be up at the build first thing. An issue with a couple of our kids here, so I’ll probably stick around the club for dinner tomorrow, but will try to pop in after.

  I watch the dots bouncing for a long time, stopping and starting again, indicating she’s typing a response. I’m expecting a lengthy one and am surprised when it’s only one word long.

  Fee: Night.

  Huh.

  CHAPTER 11

  Sophia

  I WAKE UP when something brushes my cheek, only to shoot straight up when I find Tse sitting on the edge of my bed.

  “Morning.”

  His smile is relaxed, looking like he has every right to be here.

  “How’d you get in here?”

  He looks over his shoulder at the front door.

  “Wasn’t that hard. Your lock is pretty basic.”

  “You broke my lock?”

  The shock of waking up to him in my bedroom is slowly replaced with anger. The fact he’s grinning and doesn’t seem at all repentant only makes it worse.

  “Didn’t have to. It was easy enough to pick.”

  Pulling the sheet with me, I swing my legs out of the opposite side of the bed, wrapping myself up.

  “I can’t believe you broke in. Ever think of knocking?”

  Tse gets to his feet as well, and I hate that I notice he looks good in a white T-shirt and a pair of old work pants covered with paint stains.

  “Oh, I thought
of it, but had a feeling you might not answer, so I let myself in.”

  What do you say to that?

  Especially since he’s right, I probably wouldn’t have opened the door.

  Yesterday after he dropped me off, I started thinking about our earlier disagreement.

  I like him—a lot—but I’m not so sure someone with a personality as big as his would be good for me. Hell, I left home young because there was no room for me to be my own person. Then I met Dave, who was charismatic and charming, and he completely overwhelmed me. I’ve been able to be my own person for the past six or so years and I like who I am now.

  Someone like Tse, who already has issues with boundaries, could easily force me back into the shadows without intending to. The text exchange last night seemed to underscore that.

  So no, I wouldn’t have opened the door, and yet here he is, in my bedroom, breaking down my boundaries.

  I turn on my heel and without a word dart into the bathroom, locking the door behind me.

  Fifteen minutes later when I walk out, he’s no longer in my bedroom, but I can smell fresh coffee brewing. Even though it’s only eight in the morning, I get dressed for work, taking my time, and secretly hoping he’ll have to leave before I’m done.

  No such luck, when I walk into the small living room, he’s standing by the window, drinking coffee.

  “You made coffee.”

  He turns and sets down his cup before walking right up to me and folding me in his arms. I’m instantly enveloped in his earthy scent, his strong hold, and his calming energy. Without thinking I slip my arms around his waist and burrow in.

  “There she is,” he mumbles, resting his chin on the top of my head.

  He makes it hard for me to remember all the reasons why this thing between us isn’t a good idea.

  “I’m scared.”

  His arms squeeze a little tighter.

  “I’m gettin’ that.”

  We stand like that for a bit, arms around each other, when he speaks again.

  “Asked you yesterday to take me as I am. Shoulda clarified that goes both ways.”

  I rub my cheek against his chest.

  “We’re so different.”

  “Yeah, we are, in a lot of ways. I’m sure there’ll be times we butt heads, but that doesn’t mean I wanna give up before we’ve even tried.”

  It’s my turn to squeeze him back.

  “I’m a coward,” I say by way of apology.

  He leans back, forcing me to look up at him.

  “Nah. Wasn’t that long ago I had my own doubts.”

  “What changed?” I ask, my heart thudding in my chest.

  “Nothing, other than realizing my doubts had little to do with you and everything with me.”

  For a man who at first impression seemed a player—shallow—he sure puts me to shame. He shows a lot more insight and depth of character than I would’ve given him credit for. Thus proving how true his words ring for me as well.

  This isn’t about him; it’s about me. About fear of my own weakness, instead of trusting my strength.

  I unwrap my arms and lift my hands to his face, pulling him down so I can reach his lips. Then I rise on my toes and apologize with a kiss.

  _______________

  It’s not even nine when I park in my slot behind the restaurant.

  My car is the only one there.

  Mandy, who’s taken over the early shift for Bernie, won’t likely be here before ten since most deliveries are scheduled later in the morning.

  I glance to the edge of the parking lot but there’s no one there. Maybe that extra police presence Detective Ramirez promised is proving to be a deterrent.

  I get out of my Jeep and head for the back door, my key at the ready. Before I step inside, I turn and wave at Tse, who followed me in a beat-up pickup truck filled with tools. He insisted on following and didn’t seem to care he’d have people waiting for him at the building site. Since I knew there’d likely be no one in this early, I didn’t argue.

  Nor did I object when he said someone would be there at the end of business every day. The club owns the restaurant, they can do whatever they feel is necessary, and truthfully, I’m relieved. I wasn’t looking forward to walking out at night to a dim parking lot by myself.

  The first thing I do in my office is turn on the monitor with the camera feed. Then I spend the next half hour or so going over Sunday night’s print-offs and the deposit slip Mack prepared, entering all the numbers into my online software and my ledger. Call me paranoid, but even with the entire accounting system computerized, I still like to keep a paper file as a backup.

  I focus my attention on the monitor when I notice movement and watch the Clover Produce truck pull into the parking lot. A little early, it’s not even quarter to ten. I watch as the driver backs up to the rolling delivery door at the other side of the bin, the back of the truck no longer visible to the camera. Guess I should go let him in since Mandy’s not here yet.

  Heading through the kitchen to the storage room beside the walk-in cooler, I hit the button to lift the door. The driver is already rolling up the loading door at the back of the truck.

  “Morning.”

  He turns around at the sound of my voice, eyebrows raised.

  “Where’s Mandy?”

  “She’s not here yet. I can give you a hand.”

  “I’ve got it,” he grumbles, turning his back.

  Friendly guy, obviously not much of a morning person.

  Instead of unloading our supplies, he appears to be rearranging the rear of his rig, every so often glancing my way. Maybe he forgot to load our order?

  “Everything all right?” I ask, taking a step closer.

  There is no answer as he keeps his back turned and I’m about to repeat my question when I hear running footsteps outside.

  Mandy comes charging around the side of the truck, her face flushed.

  “I’m so sorry. Traffic accident blocked the road and I was—”

  I stop her with a raised hand and a smile.

  “No worries, I happened to be in early.” I indicate the driver in the back of the truck. “I think he’s still looking for our order anyway.”

  “I’ve got it right here,” the driver says, putting a hand on the stack of boxes near the door.

  What an ass.

  The order was right there the whole time.

  Tse

  “Grab me another coil of nails from that box, will ya?”

  Ravi, who’s been here since I picked him up from summer school again, rushes to the back of my truck.

  Paco is the only other guy left here, working on the opposite end to help me brace the framed front wall until the beams go in. That work is supposed to happen next week, along with a start on the roof trusses.

  If working on the Habitat for Humanity project taught me anything it was that many hands truly do make light work, as long as everyone works together well. Jed was here with a crew of three for most of the week, along with Paco and myself, and some of the other brothers popped in for a couple of hours here and there to lend a hand. It’s the only reason we were able to get the exterior walls framed and up in five days.

  “Thanks, kid.” I reach down and grab the coil from Ravi. “Last one, then we’ll head back to the clubhouse. I bet you’re hungry.”

  “Starving,” he grumbles, and I bite off a grin.

  Not much later I’m lifting the compressor and nail gun into the back of the pickup, while Ravi hauls over the ladder. Until the structure is up and sealed in, we’ll have to contend with lugging tools back and forth.

  Paco looks to be done on his side as well and is loading up his truck.

  “Why don’t you get in?” I tell Ravi, taking the ladder from him. “I’ll be right there.”

  I secure everything in the back of the pickup with a couple of straps and walk over to Paco.

  “Plan on being back here tomorrow?”

  “Yeah. Yuma said he’d bring the Bobcat from th
e compound and I’m hoping to get the foundation for the garage dug up. Nothin’ but sun in the forecast the next couple of days, so with a little luck the concrete can be poured.”

  “I’ve got plans tomorrow, but I can help out on Sunday. At least part of the day.”

  “That’s fine. You sticking around tonight?”

  This weekend is the big rally in Pueblo and traditionally some of the local clubs stop in Friday night for a cookout at the clubhouse and head out in convoy in the morning. The Arrow’s Edge has passed on that rally for a few years now, but has continued the traditional cookout.

  I won’t be there. I’ll stop in for a shower and head out again.

  “Nah, I’ve got shit to do.”

  Paco chuckles and shakes his head.

  “Lemme guess, at the Backyard?”

  I don’t bother denying anymore. Every-fucking-one in the clubhouse seems to know where I am when I’m not there, which has been every night this week. I swear these guys spend more time gossiping than the local sewing circle.

  “Damn right,” I confirm. “And if you were smart, you wouldn’t waste every night at the clubhouse either.” I walk away and toss a casual, “Later,” over my shoulder.

  “Can I come all day next week?” Ravi asks when I get behind the wheel.

  “What about summer school?”

  “Today was the last day.”

  “No shit?” I twist in my seat and catch the grin he tries to hide by tipping his head down. “So how’d you do? Did you pass?”

  “Yeah.”

  I flick the bill of his ball cap.

  “Nice work, kid.”

  I start the truck and do my best to avoid the potholes in the drive down to the road.

  “So can I?”

  “Weren’t you supposed to be working on a car with the other boys this summer?”

  He’s suddenly quiet and when I glance over, his face is turned to the side window.

  “Hey, Ravi.” I nudge his shoulder, but he shrugs off my touch.

  “I wanna work with you.”