EDGE OF REASON

by Barker, Freya

  “Pretty crazy about the little rugrat myself.”

  “I love you,” she says, her hands framing my face as she brushes her lips against mine. “Now finish your dinner, so I can show you how much.”

  She doesn’t need to ask me twice.

  Jaimie

  It’s still dark outside when I wake up to the muted rumble of Trunk’s voice.

  I roll over and see his back outlined against the window, his phone to his ear, naked and beautiful. I’m not really paying attention to what he’s saying, but his mumbled, “See you soon,” spikes my interest. I prop my hand under my head and wait for him to turn around.

  “Sorry I woke ya. Was trying to be quiet,” he says when he sees I’m awake.

  “Don’t worry about it. What’s going on?” I ask, as he pulls on the jeans he dropped on the floor last night.

  My clothes are probably there somewhere as well. They all went flying last night when we made it to the bedroom. I ended up bent over my dressing table, his large form dwarfing me, our eyes locked in the mirror as he took me from behind. It was intense and quite beautiful, filled with raw emotion flaring between us.

  Afterward we let the air cool our heated, entwined bodies, lying on top of the bedcovers. We talked mostly about my day with the boys—he didn’t want to discuss his “royally fucked up” one and ruin our mood.

  “More club shit hitting the fan. I’ve gotta take off.” He digs through the single bag of clothes he was able to salvage from his house to find a clean sweater. I’d emptied out a few drawers for him, but haven’t mentioned those yet. Maybe this morning I’ll put his stuff away.

  “Anything I can do?”

  He sits down on the edge of the mattress and braces on his good hand as he leans over me. “You can be right here, so I can look forward to coming home to you later.”

  I curl a hand around his neck and pull him into a kiss, a deep groan forced from his throat when I slip my tongue in his mouth. I love the weight of his body resting on my chest, the brush of his sweater against my nipples.

  All too soon he pushes off me, both of us breathing hard.

  “Gotta go, baby. Honon’ll be here any minute, don’t wanna keep him waiting.”

  “I know.”

  “Dunno when I’ll be back, but I’ll be in touch.”

  “Okay, honey.”

  He leans down for another brush of lips.

  “Love you, James.”

  “Me too,” I whisper, smiling.

  Trunk

  “What happened?” I ask as soon as I get in the truck.

  It’s just four in the morning and the street is deserted at this hour.

  I hope Jaimie has a chance to get a couple more hours of sleep before River wakes up at his usual time. That’s why I hesitated telling her about Yuma going AWOL. She’d be up worrying if she knew we’re heading for the Moab Reds’ clubhouse to try and stop him from doing something stupid. Or to back him up if he already did.

  “Fuck if I know. He was already gone when I got to the hospital. Nosh said he was upset hearing Momma developed an infection yesterday afternoon. He spent a few hours by her bedside, not saying much. Then all of a sudden, he leaned over, kissed her, and walked out of the room. Nosh tried to stop him but couldn’t catch up. Fucker won’t answer his phone.”

  “That’s why you think he’s going after Chains.”

  “Yeah. Brother’s been fighting it. Guess knowing Momma is back on the critical list just set him over the edge. Fuck, I shouldn’t a let him go alone.”

  “Shee-it. Don’t do that, man. With everything that’s gone down, we all have more than one place we need to be at any fuckin’ given time. We do what we can.”

  He grunts in response, not quite buying into it.

  “How long a drive?”

  “Two and a half hours.”

  “And how long before you got to the hospital did he leave?”

  “About half an hour. Called Ouray right away, he sent some guys out to check his favorite drinking holes and this chick he’s been banging on the side at the apartments. Fucking wasted another twenty or so minutes to find out he hasn’t been seen. He’s ahead by at least an hour.”

  No need to point out Yuma could get into a fuckload of trouble in an hour, or that there’s no way we’d be able to catch up with him unless he gets a flat.

  “He riding or driving?” I ask.

  “Riding.”

  “Not too smart, not when he’s riding alone, he’ll be vulnerable and he’ll be obvious.”

  “Doubt he was thinking much.”

  “True. What about the brothers?”

  “Riding.”

  By the time the Arrow’s Edge MC rolls into Norwood, not having the element of surprise might be too late to matter.

  “Ouray call on the Mesa Riders?”

  “Not sure. Dunno if he would. Not sure who they’d side with on this one. They still do a bit of business with the Reds.”

  “Maybe, but their president and his wife have this thing goin’ on with Yuma. You don’t think that counts for somethin’?”

  “Fuck, I dunno.”

  I know Ouray is riding, but I’m hoping he’ll have his Bluetooth turned on.

  “Talk to me,” he barks, and I can hear the loud rumble of engines in the background.

  “Did you call Red?”

  “Not sure it’s the right play,” he says.

  “I think you should try. They probably wouldn’t be in time to intercept him, but they might just get there before he turns up dead.”

  “Fuck.”

  CHAPTER 27

  Trunk

  “YOU ARMED?”

  I tear my eyes from the standoff we seem to be driving up on and look at Honon.

  “No.”

  “Grab the one from the glove box.”

  “And then what? Aside from the fact I’m not a big fan of guns and the only one I owned was taken from me in the attack, I’m likely to do more damage than good trying to shoot with my left hand.”

  “Shit.”

  The Reds’ compound is just south of town. A cluster of buildings set back from the road, about five hundred yards, with the only tree cover a row along one side of the dirt drive leading up to the steel gate. The north side of the compound is exposed, and on the south side a small cluster of trees borders the club. The entire grounds look to be surrounded by an eight-foot chain-link fence.

  It’s almost impossible to approach unseen.

  The driveway is lined with bikes and from the sheer number, it’s clear Ouray ended up calling in help from the Mesa Riders.

  I may not have a gun to join the impressive firepower assembled, but I’ve always been more effective with words than bullets anyway. Hope that still holds true as I get out of the truck and walk to the gate where a small group of men is clustered. Ouray is one of them.

  “…not fucking here!”

  I catch the last part of what comes from a sickly-looking older guy on the other side of the gate. My guess is that’s Tink, the MC’s president. He looks like he should be in bed hooked up to life support and not engaged in a standoff.

  “Fucking bullshit, Tink. I can see his bike from here.”

  I look where Ouray is pointing and spot Yuma’s bike lying in low brush on the side of the driveway.

  “I ain’t seen ‘em,” the old man stubbornly persists.

  “Don’t wanna do this, my friend,” Red, who’s standing by Ouray’s side, pipes up. “Things gonna get ugly in a hurry. I’m none too happy hearing your guys been doin’ business on my turf. You hear me? My boys are outright pissed.”

  “I don’t know anything about that,” he sputters.

  “Who’s the fuck is president here, Tink? Who’s holding the gavel? You want this for your club? War? Cuz that’s what it’s gonna be.”

  “Chains is running the day-to-day—”

  “Cancer make you a coward, Tink?” Ouray spits out. “You’re hidin’ behind that excuse a little too easily. You good wit
h the path Chains is takin’? Your club good with that?”

  I watch the three guys standing beside the old man exchanging glances. I’m guessing not everyone is good with it and decide to forge in.

  “Something happens to Yuma, you know there’s no getting back from that. Not for you, not for your club. Your guys know this? They realize flying the Moab Reds’ colors will be as good as wearing a bull’s-eye on their back?”

  “Who the fuck are you?” he spits, regarding me with pure disdain.

  “He’s my brother,” Ouray confirms.

  “He’s a fucking—”

  “Say it and I’ll put a fucking bullet between your eyes,” Ouray spits, pulling his gun on him.

  Instantly everyone goes on high alert, guns are drawn on both sides and the tension crackles. One wrong move, one twitchy trigger finger, and we’re all in a world of trouble.

  “Stand down, brother,” I mutter to Ouray. “No use spilling blood over my honor. Stand down.”

  After a long pause he finally lowers his gun. Everyone else seems to follow suit.

  “Clue in, Tink,” Red speaks up. “The man speaks the truth and you fucking know it. This gonna be your legacy to the club you helped build?”

  The starch seems to leave the old man’s form as he slumps under the weight of the truth.

  “Said there’d be no bloodshed. You’re sittin’ on a prime location, Ouray. Secluded, lotsa space, perfect for a trainin’ and storage facility. Fuckin’ waste ‘a good money if y’ask me. Was just gonna apply a bit ‘a pressure to get ya to play along.”

  “You call fuckin’ shootin’ up my clubhouse and injuring two ‘a my men and gettin’ Momma almost dead, a bit of pressure? There were fuckin’ kids at the club, Tink!”

  I watch as one of the guys has to move fast to hold the man up. The younger guy turns to Ouray. “He was here. Yuma.”

  “Shut up, Son,” Tink sputters.

  “No, Pops. We’re done. This is done. You let Chains drag this club down long enough.”

  “As touching as this family moment is between you and your pops,” Red says with a hefty dose of sarcasm. “You’re wastin’ time, Rooster. Where’s Yuma?”

  “Chains took him down. Shoulder shot.” I grab onto Ouray, who looks like he’s gonna draw again. “Taped him up, tossed him in the back of his truck and took off.”

  “Where the fuck to?”

  “How the fuck am I s’posed ta know!” Rooster fires back at Ouray.

  “He’s got a place two miles south ‘a here. You can see it from the road. White, run-down, single story with a large standalone garage,” Tink says, sounding tired. “Watch ya backs. His two closest brothers took off after him on their bikes. He won’t be alone.”

  “You best pray my brother is in one piece and breathin’,” Ouray hisses at Tink before turning on his heel to where the rest of the brothers are standing by. “Saddle up, boys!”

  Twenty-five or so bikes rev up and tear out, Ouray leading the pack, before I even get to the truck where Honon is waiting for me. While he turns the truck around and follows the guys, I quickly shoot off a text to Jaimie who should be awake by now.

  Jaimie

  River blesses me with a rare opportunity to sleep in, waking me an hour later than usual.

  Heading over to his room, I hear sounds coming from downstairs. Mom, I’m guessing, and probably Ezrah, since his bedroom door is open and the bed is empty.

  River is making efforts to climb over the side of his crib. Something I’ve caught him doing twice before. Wonder how long it’ll be before he gets out on his own.

  He’s all smiles and stretched arms when I walk in.

  “Don’t look so innocent, Little Man. I see what you’re up to.”

  “Ma-ma-up-bah,” he babbles, keeping up a steady stream of gibberish interspersed with the occasional recognizable word.

  I have him changed and dressed in short order and lift him on my arm to take downstairs. Mom is putzing in the kitchen and Ezrah sits at the table, his head bent over one of the sheets I printed him out. He’s concentrating so hard, the tip of his tongue pokes out between his lips and he doesn’t even notice us.

  It’s not until River cries out, “Rah!” pumping his legs to be let down, Ezrah looks up.

  “Morning, kid.”

  “Hey,” he mumbles, but a tiny smile tugs at his mouth.

  “You guys slept in,” Mom says from the kitchen.

  “Morning, Mom. Sorry about that.”

  “Don’t apologize, sweetheart, you probably needed it.” I narrow my eyes at her, looking for evidence of teasing, but if she is, she’s hiding it well.

  I tuck River in his high chair. “Ezrah, can you keep an eye on him while I grab a coffee?” Without a word, he moves to the chair right next to River, who immediately resumes his chatter now that he has a new audience.

  “Where’s Trunk?” the boy asks when I serve River his strips of toast and sit down to eat my own.

  “He got called out early this morning. Something happened at the club.”

  “What happened?”

  At the tone of his voice I glance up. He looks concerned. “Not sure what, buddy, could be anything. He said he’d be in touch.”

  Mom, who seems to sense the tension coming off Ezrah, strikes up a casual conversation updating me on a friend of hers in Denver, who is recovering from surgery. That leads to her asking if I’ve already scheduled River’s doctor’s appointment for his checkup.

  “I haven’t. I should give them a call now.”

  “Is he sick?” Ezrah wants to know.

  “No,” Mom volunteers. “It’s just a regular checkup for babies. He’ll probably need a needle.”

  Ezrah’s eyes grow big. “Needle?”

  “His immunization. It’s to protect him from getting sick.”

  “Oh.” He doesn’t look very convinced, and I wonder if he’s ever had his shots. Before I can ask him, though, he has his head bent over his paper again.

  I wipe River down, who’s managed to get crumbs all over himself, before taking my stuff into the kitchen. “Mom, you’ve got him for a bit? Left my phone in the bedroom.” She nods and I take off upstairs.

  When I pick it off the nightstand I notice a few messages from Trunk.

  Trunk: Sleep well?

  Trunk: Not sure yet how long I’ll be but will let you know.

  I smile. Wasn’t long ago he would disappear days at a time without a word, making me wonder whether he’d forgotten about me, but it appears I don’t have to worry about that anymore. I quickly shoot one back to let him know I did, followed by a heart. But before I can locate the pediatrician’s number, the phone rings.

  This time I check the caller before answering. It’s Jasper Greene.

  “Don’t tell me there’s someone else outside my door.”

  His cheerful chuckle settles the knots that are twisting in my gut. “Hey, Jaimie. No. No one out there. I’m just calling to give you an update. That phone number you gave me is for a prepaid phone. Those are hard to trace because they don’t require personal information. I was waiting for the call records from the provider, hoping they’d give some insight, when I had a light-bulb moment. I called the detention center, they tossed Sutherland’s cell this morning, and found a phone hidden in his mattress.”

  “How the hell did he get a phone in there?”

  “Trust me,” Jasper informs me. “You don’t wanna know.” My all-too-vivid imagination comes up with a few scenarios, none of which are particularly appetizing. “The phone matches the number that called you. They also found a few other things that will put him in solitary for a nice chunk of time.”

  “Do I wanna know what?”

  “Probably not. Good news is, he’ll be very closely monitored—have no or very limited interaction with other inmates—and for the time being, will be restricted to only visits from his lawyer. At least until they’ve done a full investigation on how those things ended up in his cell.”

  “Does
this mean it’s over?”

  He pauses before answering. “That would be nice, but I think it’s premature to think so. The first box and the phone call he could’ve done from jail, but not that second delivery. And certainly not the vandalism to your house or the attack on Trunk, provided those are all connected.”

  I was afraid of that. I’d give anything for this to be over, but to be honest, I don’t know if my ex is the kind who will ever give up.

  “We won’t rest until we get to the bottom of it, Jaimie. We still have those phone records, they may tell us something.”

  “Thank you, Jasper. For letting me know. I appreciate it.”

  After ending the call, I take a few minutes to shake it off before I call River’s pediatrician and set up an appointment for mid-July. I sure as hell hope we’ll be able to leave the house by then. I’m about to crawl up the walls.

  “You got more a these?” Ezrah asks when I come downstairs.

  I can hear Mom in the laundry room. Dropping my phone on the counter, I walk over to take a peek at the sheets I just printed off for him yesterday. They’re all filled out neatly, and from a quick glance the answers look correct.

  “Wow. I’m impressed. You’re really smart, Ezrah.” There’s no missing the surprise followed by pride on his face.

  “Easy,” he says cockily, making me grin.

  “I see. Well, then it’s good I printed off some sheets at the fourth grade level as well. They’re upstairs next to the printer in my bedroom.”

  He doesn’t need to be told twice, he’s off like a shot up the stairs. River comes waddling up, grabbing onto my jeans to be picked up. I just lift him in my arms when I hear a soft knock at the side door.

  Wondering if it’s Ollie or Joe, I pull aside the blinds. Shocked, I quickly unlock the door and pull it open.

  “Oh my God. What happened to you?” Blood runs down from his hairline and he looks near tears as I wave him inside. “Who did that to you?”

  I can hear Mom’s sharp inhale when she comes out of the laundry room. “Oh dear.”

  “Mom, can you get the first aid kit from my bathroom? Sit down, Matt,” I order the boy, putting River down before turning to the kitchen to grab some towels and bowl of warm water. “How did you get here?”