Rebel Wayfarers MC Boxset 3

by MariaLisa deMora

  Boot leather scuffed on gravel, and a moment later Spider said, voice low and soft, “Watch, she’s gotta tell us what happened.”

  “Give her a fuckin’ minute.” His snarled reply was followed by the sound of leather on gravel again and from the corner of his eye, he saw Spider hadn’t moved away, was just shifting from foot to foot. Fuck.

  Mela had phoned Juanita with a story about being stranded, and even without him being there, Juanita, knowing how Watcher would want it handled, had immediately run to the barn, calling for help. Spider had mobilized the men, getting a location from Juanita and then heading out. Not urgently, because Mela hadn’t been up front with everything. By the time Spider got to the station, she’d opened up to Juanita, which meant Watcher had gotten two calls: one frightened out of her mind mama bear, and one slightly confused member who couldn’t locate his target. That slightly confused didn’t last long, because Spider already had a bad feeling, and finding out Mela was hiding tipped him straight to pissed.

  Watcher stood tall, eyes pressed closed, memorizing the way his child of the heart fit in his arms. My baby girl, don’t matter she ain’t mine. His words echoed his thoughts. “My baby girl. Strong as you need to be. Pull it together, honey.” And for him, she did, sucking in a hard breath that stuttered in a dozen places, then was pushed out in a trembling stream. Her arms tightened around him, and he cradled the back of her head, pressing her cheek to his chest. “Don’t gotta move, honey. Just tell me what happened.”

  All she’d told Juanita was her bike had been stolen, and she’d confronted the man doing it. She’d run when he’d pulled a weapon and hid in the bathroom. But it didn’t explain her extreme terror. And it didn’t explain her not coming out of the bathroom when Spider and the boys got on the lot. If anything, she should have run to them, knowing they spelled safety no matter where or what was going on. The fact she hadn’t made Watcher’s gut twist, and he was dead certain something more had happened.

  Mela trembled violently as she breathed his name, “Papa.” Every other noise ceased for Watcher, until all he could hear were her indrawn breaths as she struggled for control. He’d never seen her like this. Not even right after her rescue, when she had been wary but not scared out of her mind. Slate. Ruby. He ran people through his mind who she might talk to, but kept coming back to her being his girl. Gotta be me.

  Lips pressed to the top of her head, he whispered, “Ain’t nobody hurtin’ you, Mela. Spider and the boys got us, honey.” Maybe acknowledging his own dependence on the men would reinforce her belief they were absolutely as trustworthy as she already knew. Had always known. “They got us, so you can give me whatever is tearin’ at you, honey.”

  “Edwardo.” She flinched as she said the name and Watcher realized it was because his arms had tightened around her reflexively. He hadn’t forgotten her story about facing the man down who had put hands on her sister. Hard to ignore something which invoked two very different but profound emotions like puffed up pride and a dangerous rage.

  “Edwardo stole your bike?” She nodded. “He touch you, honey?” Watcher marked that every muscle in her body, already tight, tensed even more. Her cheek scrubbed against his tee, a slow up-and-down she had no way of knowing held the exact same result as an emperor’s downturned thumb. “He hurt you, my Mela?” Her quick headshake freed the breath stuck in his lungs.

  “Edwardo?” Spider’s voice was hard, and Watcher looked up to see Spider making a face like he’d tasted something bad. “Edwardo Suches?”

  Mela pushed against Watcher’s hand, pulling away only as far as it took to angle her eyes to where Spider stood, two feet away. Watcher felt rage rolling off the man and wondered what she’d confessed to Spider in the months since Bella’s senior prom. “Si,” she whispered, “su nombre es Edwardo Suches.” At her reverting to Spanish in this setting, Watcher tightened again, because it was another thing that spoke to her level of fear.

  “Boss.” Spider seemed to rip his gaze from Mela’s face up to Watcher’s with effort. With a jerk of his head, he indicated the back corner of the lot. “Talk.” When Watcher shifted Mela to his side, intending to bring her with him, Spider stopped him with a quick, vicious shake of his head. “No.”

  Staring at his brother for a long moment, Watcher nodded and bent his knees, putting his face near Mela’s. He wanted to be all she could see, wanted her to understand how treasured she was, that she was safe. “Gotta talk to Spider, but I’ll be right back, honey.” Her fingers twisted tighter in the fabric of his shirt for a second, and he watched her gather herself. Eyes slipping closed in a slow blink, a shallow breath followed by a deeper one, and then she stared at him as she released him, empty hands falling to her sides as they closed into fists. He watched as the men shuffled in, protectively surrounding her, and he nodded as he swept the group with a glare he hoped each knew was a sign of trust. Turning, he followed Spider, letting him decide where to stop and turn so they could get on with whatever it was he needed to say.

  “Suches is Lalo.” Those words hit Watcher like a punch in the stomach, and he struggled for a moment to remain upright. Lalo was the rabid bastard Watcher had run out of his territory more than once, had been president of the Las Cruces Diamante charter until Watcher laid that chapter to waste. Diamante, the bastard club that left destruction and death everywhere they landed. Lalo had been after his little girl, and he hadn’t known. Fuck. “Lalo had his hands on our girl.” Spider kept talking, shaking his head. “Forget the fuckin’ bike, he had his hands on our girl. What the hell was she doin’ out here, boss? We gotta know.”

  Teeth clenched together, Watcher ground out the admission, “Hands on both our girls.” The jerk of Spider’s head told him Mela hadn’t shared about Bella’s experience with Suches. “Mela told me months ago, but she said he’d cleared the county, moved out east.” Watcher ran his fingers through his hair, brutally gripping and tugging hard. “Fuck. She was pumped because she’d taken care of him. Taken care of business. She said the way she put him down in front of his boys, no way he’d come back. And a boy,” he bit out the word harshly, “wouldn’t come back. Lalo, however—” Watcher shook his head. “—he’s one sick motherfucker.”

  “We gotta know more, boss. She’s gotta give us everything.”

  “How the fuck did I not know his name?” Spider didn’t answer. Watcher turned to look at Mela where she stood. Frozen in place like a pillar, she wasn’t moving, even as his men milled around her. “I need to get her home. Get her safe. I won’t do it here.”

  Mela dropped her head, eyes to the ground in front of her and he could almost see her trembling where she stood. Gotta get my girl home. “Let’s roll out. She’ll settle by the time we get home.” Spider’s hand fell on Watcher’s shoulder and he gripped hard, pulling Watcher’s attention away from Mela for a moment. Distracted, still focused on what he’d just learned, Watcher muttered, “I’m gonna call Juanita, let her know Mela’s safe. Let’s get our girl loaded up with some sugar. Hit the store for me, yeah?” Spider nodded, and walked away, headed to the convenience store portion of the station.

  Five minutes later they were on the road, and an hour after that, Juanita was curled up in their bed, curved around a cried-out and sleeping Mela as Watcher again hit the road, his destination and plans driven by rage.

  ***

  On a dirt road just outside Tulsa, Watcher stood staring as flames licked up the sides of a building. Smoke billowed from the peak of the roof. He glared, waiting, making a satisfied sound when the fire blistered the paint off the wall, the word “Diamante” disappearing. Wish those fuckers would do the same, he thought, finally turning away. Sixteen men stood behind him, two additional ones on their knees.

  “Where is he? You know who I’m after. Everybody fuckin’ knows I want Lalo.” Not trusting himself to get closer, Watcher stood, fists to his hips, looking at the men on the ground. He gave them an offer he hoped they’d accept. “Alter your fate, you talk to me. One chance.” He
swept one hand out, indicating the fire behind him, watching the men’s faces turn to look, then swing back to him. “Need to take it. Fuckin’ club’s ash. City by city, we’ll scour it from the fucking earth. Give me Lalo, even a scent of his trail, and you can walk away.”

  The two men, arms bound behind them, glanced at each other. One shook his head as the other one nodded. Without looking at Watcher, the one on the left asked, “Safe harbor?”

  Was it worth taking them in and protecting them against any blowback from their club. Fuck yeah. “Yes.” A creak came from the building, then a window exploded and with fresh oxygen to fuel it, the fire roared, heat pounding at Watcher’s back.

  Illuminated in the leaping flames, he saw fear on the faces of the two men, resolve on the sixteen.

  “Adken, Florida. Just outside Tallahassee. He’s in Adken. That’s where the officers all go.”

  ***

  “Nothing.” A report he did not want to hear came through the speaker and Watcher skimmed the group in the room with his gaze. “If it was Lalo, he’s gone to ground, brother.” Mason sighed, the sound audible over the phone. “You get anything from Estavez on Lalo’s family down there?”

  “Same from his side of the bridge.” Watcher stared at the wood of the table that lay beneath his hands. “Lured her out there with the promise of a job.” He squinted his eyes, trying to control a tic in one lid. “Answered a fucking personal ad she’d posted, wanting work as a motherfuckin’ photographer.” He reached up, rubbing at the jumping muscle. “She got to the place and saw it was a shutdown plant. Put it down as a scam, started to roll home. Stopped at the gas station for a drink. He jumped her before she got off the bike. She got one in on him, clocked him upside the head. He’d have had her, though. He’d’ve had her, Mason.” The thought made him sick. Didn’t happen, hold to that, he told himself. “But the dude with him pulled Lalo off. I’m thinkin’ Chismoso, but don’t know if I’m right. She scrambled into the bathroom and locked the door. Keys were in her bike, so he just got on and rode away. Didn’t even need a fuckin’ trailer. There was nothing but her in a four-by-four room to show anything happened.”

  “I’m surprised there’s no security at the station. Bet there’s something.” Mason sounded thoughtful. “Gotta be. Want me to get Myron to take a look at the area, see if there’s anything techy he can find?”

  “Be appreciated, brother,” Watcher muttered, raking fingers through his hair, picking up the phone and taking the call off the speaker. “Thanks for takin’ my call.”

  “Watcher.” Mason hesitated, which got Watcher’s attention in a way that caused the hair on his arms to stand on end. “You know Rebels stand with Soldiers, yeah?” Watcher made a gesture, watching as the room cleared, the door closing on a questioning look from Opie he ignored.

  “Yes.” Watcher kept his response to a single word but made a firm statement. Still as much a commitment as anything he’d ever said to this man.

  “You wearin’ my support patch, brother.” This wasn’t a question, but Watcher treated it as such, giving another affirmative. Mason continued, “You know I’m open to other options. Not something we’ve discussed directly, but I wanted you to know if it’s on your mind, you can talk it through with me, brother.”

  “You’re talking about me dropping my center and charter, picking up the Rebel colors.” He knew his tone was sour, because his mouth filled with saliva merely considering closing the doors on the Southern Soldiers.

  Mason took a breath, and his voice was rough when he continued. “Watcher. Brother. Way the world is these days? There is definite strength in numbers. I never would have believed it ten years ago, but here I am, having sat at the table with five club presidents, watching as they ashed their charters. It’s not been without bumps, but the benefits outweigh. Scales definitely tip in favor of both groups each time. Chapters retain their own personality but adopt the larger culture. Which you and I know won’t even be a blip if we get to that point between us. We want the same things, Watch.” His voice was strained, and Watcher listened with growing intensity. “We believe in the same things. Club.” Mason paused, and Watcher finished for him.

  “Family. Honor. I know. I get it, Mason. I just can’t see it happening right now. I got too many irons in the fire—”

  Mason interrupted, “Exactly why this is when we need to discuss it, brother. Because Soldiers do not have to stand alone. Let me in, let me help. Let me give you what you need, and we both become stronger.”

  “I’ll think about it, Mason. Best I can do.” Watcher reached up and pressed a fingertip against the twitching muscle. “Best I can do.”

  “All I can ask, brother. I’ll drop a note to Myron now, get him dialed in on where the shit went down with your girl.” A pause, then Mason said, “If I’ve learned anything over the past few months, I learned when I feel it, I need to say it. Love ya, brother.”

  “Pussy.” Watcher laughed, leaning back in his chair. “How’s your boy?”

  “He’s good, asshole. Chase is doin’ good. Talk soon, yeah?”

  “You got it, Mason. Talk soon.”

  After the call disconnected, Watcher sat for a long moment, staring at dust motes swirling through streams of sunlight coming in the window. Mason was right, and wrong, in the same breath. Combining the two clubs would give them both a wider base of resources, which in a numbers game was critical. But killing Darrie’s dream? “Not happenin’,” Watcher muttered, hearing his phone buzz. Looking down, he saw a text from Myron asking for location specifics on the area which needed scrutiny. “Not happenin’ today.”

  ***

  Juanita

  Juanita picked up her phone as it vibrated again with an incoming call. Watcher was sitting in the living room, muttering to himself, and she smiled at his loving and irritated tone. That smile fell away when she saw an international number on the display, and knew there was grave caution in her own voice when she uttered a single word in greeting. “Hola?”

  An unrecognized male voice responded, his tone brusque when he demanded, “Watcher.”

  “Que?” She was ready to throw the phone, slippery in her suddenly sweaty grip, fear grasping at her belly.

  “Watcher,” a pause, then, “por favor, señora. Watcher.”

  She moved to the doorway and the moment Watcher caught sight of her face the expression on his changed, hard lines creasing his forehead, jaw suddenly tight. “Is that her?”

  Who he was talking about, she didn’t know, but the voice definitely wasn’t female so she wordlessly shook her head, holding out the device. He took it from her and barked a questioning, “Yeah?” A pause, then, “Lemme speak to him then. What the fuck is up? I’m waiting for a call here.” Another pause and Juanita sagged against the countertop with his next words. “Estavez, what do you need?” Watcher’s face paled and his gaze cut across her, unseeing, focused on whatever Raul was saying. “Yeah? What about Lalo?” That wasn’t a name she knew, so this had to be club business. But why would Raul call on my phone? Still, it couldn’t be about anything else so she began turning away, prepared to return to the sink when Watcher made a sound far down in his chest. Dragged out of him, it was pain filled and raw, and she whirled back in time to hear him push out a single, fierce word through tightly clenched teeth. “Where?”

  The next moments were frustrating because he didn’t take a moment, only ended the call, threw her phone toward her, uncaring of her fumbling attempts to catch it and was gone from the doorway. Phone clutched to her chest, she followed him, seeing all the things he kept inside him exposed. He was furious and frightened. Dios. Anger. Fear. So much fear. Phone to his ear, he waited but a moment, then in a voice vibrating dangerously on the edge of control, said, “Mason, Lalo’s got my daughter.”

  Pressing her fingertips to her lips, she held herself rigidly. Our Bella. Juanita flinched as rage slapped through the air in the room, Watcher’s fury was palpable as he gritted words out between clenched teeth. “Estavez got a
call. They’ve had her four days, Mason.” He scrubbed at his face with a palm, hair on his head already standing up from fingers raking through it. “Four damned days.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “My baby.” Corded muscles stood out in his shaking arms, tension evident across his entire body. “Mason, after Utah…”

  Watcher was silent a moment and seemed to be listening to Mason. His phone dinged, and he pulled it away from his face, tapped a button and suddenly voices filled the air. “—address, phone, a list of friends, car license and registration—” … “—wouldn’t dare do anything to her, Watch. No—” … “Jesus, fuck me. Where’s Mela—” … “to focus on where—” The words and questions overlapping so she couldn’t follow a single thought to a conclusion, but Watcher seemed to be able to decipher the need because he began firing back rapid answers.

  “Myron, texting Spider, he’ll get you what you need. Her apartment is on-campus—” Juanita made a noise and Watcher lifted his head, looking at her. He barked, “What Juanita?”

  “Off.” She shook her head, taking two steps closer so the men on the phone could better hear her words. “Her apartment is off-campus. It’s in a small building on Wyoming.” She gave the address and followed with Bella’s phone number, then without being asked gave her birthday. Keeping her eyes locked on Watcher’s face, she knew her lips were trembling when she gave a physical description of their daughter.

  The man’s voice on the phone was soft, encouraging when he said, “That’s good, Juanita. Really good. If I give you my phone number, can you text me info on her friends and their numbers?” She nodded, and Watcher answered for her.

  “She can. She will.” Snapping each digit, Watcher gave the man her number, and only a moment afterwards, there was a vibration at her chest where her hand still clutched her phone. She didn’t look, didn’t move. Couldn’t, watching as she was to take her cues from her husband. Her precious daughter’s father.