Watching me bashfully, questions clearly rushing through her delicate mind, she went to her little nightstand at the right of her small bed.
The room was quite bare. A bed. A lamp. A desk and one chair. Nothing on the walls. Personally, I felt it was depressing, but maybe it was just me finding the whole situation depressing.
Still observing me, Lacey approached with a book in her hand. When she handed it to me, I asked, “You got something on your mind, Pretty Girl?”
She looked up at me with a forming smile. She liked when I called her that.
Lacey nodded.
I smirked. “Err. Gonna tell me?”
After sucking on her bottom lip, she lifted her arms as if trying to explain they were confusing her. “They keep wanting to move… toward you.” Embarrassed eyes peered up to me before she quietly asked, “Can I hug you?”
Melt my motherfucking heart.
Stunned, having not expected such a huge leap, I sighed. “I would actually love that.”
Not sure how to go about it, she tentatively took a step closer to me. Her hands pulled at her sweatpants and sweatshirt, then timidly reached out.
I waited. I wasn’t going to screw this up and rush her, but my heart thundered for her touch.
At first, it seemed as if she was going to put her arms around my neck, which surprised me since she had always preferred to rest her head at my chest, but then she changed her mind and slowly tucked her arms around my waist.
It felt like a miracle. Maybe a small one, but it was epic to my soul.
Praying for the strength to not wrap her up lightning-fast and squeeze the ever-loving shit out of her from missing her so fucking bad, I stared up at the ceiling.
Elle’s voice rang in my head; you can make life any flavor you want.
I slowly let my arms, which were holding her book, rise to wrap around my Lacey. As soon as I did, she melted into me, admitting, “I knew you would feel good.”
Laying my head on the top of hers, my eyes sliding shut in delirium, I teased, “You’ve been thinking about me, Pretty Girl?”
Not letting me go, she nodded. “I even dreamt of you.” She giggled. “On a rusty merry-go-round. Isn’t that silly?”
I bit the side of my cheek to not tell her that merry-go-round was where we had our first vanilla shake together. “No. I don’t think that is silly at all.”
“Why do I feel I know you when I know that’s impossible?”
Not having a clue how the mind works—having no degree with such knowledge—Lynx had advised me not to say too much and to let the doc do his job. Now that she was actually hugging me, I bent the rules, thinking he was wrong. I couldn’t answer her questions truthfully, due to my Prez’s order, but Tate always finds a way.
“Maybe we knew each other in another life.”
It wasn’t a lie. We did. And now I was trying to lead us to a new one.
She gasped. “Wouldn’t that make for a beautiful story, Tate?”
I fought my heart from bursting. I fought memories. “It would be one of the best.”
“Oh!” She loudly whispered while releasing me. “Another ‘life’ reminds me of another poem I wrote!” She stepped back to lift my hands, quickly opening and flipping pages while I held her book. On a certain page, she pointed. “See?”
Parallel lives, side by side
Not knowing why, I want to hide.
Murky shadows, distant memories
Will they ever become one?
My legs tried to buckle. “Do you see shadows, L—uh, Pretty Girl?”
Suddenly losing her smile, she blew out air. Then… held up four fingers.
Four? I grabbed my chest and stumbled back. Oh no!
She rushed to me. “Are you okay?”
“W-Where do you see these shadows? Here? Are they here?”
“Well,” she winced before tapping her temple, “here, I think.” She explained, “I mean, that’s where Doctor Landon thinks they are because they stand behind him.”
Shutting the book, I spun around. “Where, baby? Where do they stand behind him?” I studied the whole room, still circling, scanning for the threat. “In here?” When seeing no ‘shadows’, I rushed to look out the window. “In the courtyard?”
When she didn’t answer, I spun around, positive the brothers had her.
They did.
Maybe not in a physical sense, but mentally? She was all theirs.
Writhing on the floor beside the window, in the corner of her room, terrified hands pulled at her clothing. Eyes slammed shut, her whole body was so incredibly tense, almost seizure-like, yet she didn’t stop moving.
It was at that very moment I knew Lynx was right. I had to respect her condition. I had to be as gentle as possible while having this girl in my care. I had to be so careful not to trigger any memories for which she wasn’t ready. It wasn’t time for her mind to remember. By the way she suffered in that corner, I doubted it would ever be.
I thought of Elle and how she kept calmly talking to me when my mind went on the fritz after learning about my biological mother’s death. Elle had distracted me with Lacey’s name and qualities. Since I couldn’t speak to who I truly was, a young man who adored her, I grabbed the second-best thing.
Putting her journal on the floor, I snatched the bag by the window and begged myself to sound as calm as possible. “Vanilla shake, here we come.” Sitting in front of her, I tried to ignore all her little tears dripping down her clenched face, and I inserted straws. “Nice and cold, smooth ice-cream.”
Her writhing slowed…
Trembling, I took a sip. “Oh yeah, this tastes so good. It’s a damn good thing I have two straws so I can share.”
Her breathing changed—calmed…
“Vanilla sugar treats. I bet this dessert could make for sweet sugar kisses.”
Her eyes opened…
She exhaled… Then looked around, somewhat confused. “Did I fall?”
I forced down sinking emotions as more vanilla shake slid down my throat. “No.” My voice wobbled even though I was smiling. “You just sat down to get ready for some of this.” I handed her another small miracle.
Having heavy conversations inside the rental home was understandable due to the subject matter and needing to keep details private, but it didn’t make me stop desiring fresh air instead of the stifling words being shared. It was late at night, but these bikers didn’t seem to be on normal schedules. If it was time for a community phone call, then that is what time it was—no matter what the actual ‘time’ was.
At the dining room table, which I was starting to suspect symbolized something they had back at home, we sat in our regular seats and listened to Justice over the burner’s speaker phone. “Due to being short on leads, I researched the last owner of Saint’s childhood home…”
Her calling me by my road name caught me off guard, yet also announced how much Lynx was in touch with his Austin club. He kept his officers up to date. Always. Had claimed it could be a safety issue if he didn’t.
“It was indeed owned by Saint’s father.”
Lynx’s brows rose. “Was?”
“Yes, sir. Now, it is owned by Tate Young.”
I choked. “Me?”
Needless to say, that was the absolute last name I expected. The present Stallions must have felt the same; all three men around the table went bug-eyed.
As if Justice was such a badass she could see us from states away, she replied, “Exactly. Not what I saw coming, either. So, this Road Captain dug deeper. The papers were filed by a lawyer.” She exhaled. “Tate, I’m so sorry. The lawyer’s name was David T. Young.”
My lips moved but made no sounds. And why was she sorry? Wasn’t there a chance I had blood family out there?
Lynx grabbed his chest. “David Tate Young. Am I right?”
“You are correct, Prez.”
Still trying to catch up, I was surprised by how sad Justice sounded. “David Tate Young… who has recently passed.”<
br />
Every time I learned more about my past, I learned more about a family that was already gone. Slipping into a numb state was becoming a regular event for me.
I barely remember asking, “Is Elle there?”
“No,” replied Justice, with a sympathy I appreciated. “The shit’s getting too thick to involve her this round. Make sense, kid?”
It didn’t. At all. But I let trust in these people lead the way. “I understand.”
“Prez,” advised Justice, “get him some fresh air. I can call back.”
Lynx sat there, too, his mouth covered and eyes staring at me.
All I could manage was a shrug in response.
He wiped the hand down his chin, neck, then rested it on his chest, tapping his fingers there. Somewhat lost in thought, he agreed, “Yeah, air and a beer.”
After standing on the back porch for a few, and after grabbing some beers, we all sat back down at the table. Numbly, I held up my bottle and said, “To an uncle who I hope was a good man.”
Three bottles clicked with mine.
Then, Lynx tapped the phone.
It barely rang before Justice answered. “Hey. Alright, this ride gets a little bumpy. We all buckled in?”
All eyes fell to me.
Nodding, I took a swig of beer. What else could be said? What was done was done, and I needed to get on with more shitty news.
Justice continued with, “Apparently, Tate’s father had his brother draw up a Will. It plainly states—”
“States?” Lynx asked, “How the fuck do you have a copy of the Will?”
“Because I rock at my fucking job, you dimwit. Questions?”
Smirking, he took another sip of beer.
She continued, “The Will reads that if anything were to happen to Saint’s father, the house was to go into a Trust—overseen by Mr. Young, of course, then be put in Tate’s name when he came of age.”
My stomach twisted. I could feel bad news coming like a slow-rolling collection of poisonous clouds were closing in on me.
“Justice.” Lynx leaned into his hands on the tabletop to get closer to the phone. “His birthday isn’t for another two months.”
“Correct.”
It’s pitiful, but I was almost shocked my birthdate actually hadn’t been a lie. Nothing else was what it had once seemed.
With a little anger, Dagger asked, “Then how does an underage young man own a home?”
“Well, the answer is a doozy but might actually make your boy smile.” She inhaled. “Kansas state law permits underage citizens to own property by the age of sixteen if married.”
Blink. Blink.
Justice sounded somewhat pleased. “Tate, you are legally married to Pretty Girl.”
It wasn’t a manly moment, but I literally gasped, my back hitting the back of the chair. “B-But, we never—”
The phone pinged.
Lynx tapped the screen.
Sure enough, there was a snapshot of a marriage certificate. After studying it, I proclaimed, “Those signatures aren’t ours.”
“Tate,” said Justice, “those signatures were possibly forged because you have, or had, some guardian angels working behind the scenes—”
Not sounding pleased, Vice grumbled, “Scared ones.”
Lynx sat back, clasping his hands behind his head to stare at the ceiling. “Yes, but afraid of what or whom?”
Justice said, “He was a lawyer. He knew how to have the law protect him and his kin.”
Dagger rubbed the back of his neck. “Lynx, that fucking snout of yours gives me chills.”
“What?” I asked.
Dagger asked me, “Well, if you’re afraid, who do you call?”
I shrugged. “No one. Just survive.”
He winced. “Jesus, kid.” Then he shook his head to clear it of dark thoughts. “Okay, most people call the cops.”
“Oh, yeah, them. Sorry—”
Without moving, Lynx eyed me.
I quickly corrected, “Not sorry.”
Dagger chuckled. “Damn straight, Stallion Prospect. You are only sorry if we tell you you’re sorry.”
It was odd, but I actually smiled, appreciating them reconfirming their claim on me—making sure I knew I belonged somewhere. That was needed. My world was shifting so fast it felt like I was constantly experiencing earthquakes, not sure of where to step or who to run to.
Lynx sat forward again. “So, maybe this lawyer knew police couldn’t help him, so he finagled this house into his nephew’s name. But why?... Any more info on this house explaining its importance?”
“So far? No. Not even the dollar amount makes all the hassle worth it. From what I can tell, Tate can only get about a hundred and forty Gs for it. But hey, a little money in this young couple’s pocket is better than none, I suppose.”
A hundred and forty grand being ‘a little money’ was a telltale sign of what they considered ‘big’ money.
Lynx tapped his forehead, mumbling, “Think, motherfucker. Think—” He went still. “Justice, if Tate were to die before his eighteenth birthday, where would the house go?”
“Probably in a mess of probate and then to… Ah, shit. Next of kin.”
Lynx slammed his hand to the table. “His uncle was trying to keep Tate alive.”
Dagger’s mouth fell open. “And if Tate were to die, the house goes to his wife.”
“My uncle knew of Lace?” I was so confused by all that everyone was comprehending. I didn’t even have a chance to adjust to Lacey being my lawful wife.
Vice nodded. “Somethin’s in that house, boys.”
“Yep,” agreed Justice. “But what and where is it hidden?”
“Holes.”
Everyone looked at me.
I shrugged. “As a little boy, I remember there were a bunch of holes in the backyard, all around the pool.”
Lynx delivered that evil grin that always gave me chills. “I got a suspicion it’s in plain sight. Feel me?”
Dagger grinned, too. “Right under a nose, where no one is looking.”
“Umm,” I raised a hand, “why didn’t my uncle come and get me?” No one answered, so I turned to the one I knew wouldn’t fail me. “Lynx?”
Lynx’s mischievous grin faded. “The only reason I would sacrifice one of my family members is to save the majority.” He looked back at the phone. “Justice?”
I could hear fingers typing away as she said, “On it.” Click. Click. Click… “Ooh, there was a recent divorce. Wife, two kids, all back to wife’s home country of Switzerland.”
“How recent?”
“Only months before Tate and Lacey’s marriage and Mr. Young got the house into Tate’s name.”
“Jesus,” sighed Lynx. “He even shipped his family out of the country? Who was he afraid of?”
Justice sneered, “Whoever it was, the fact that he died only days before you found Tate is way too coincidental.”
Lynx’s eyes slid shut. “They found out.”
“Wait!” I asked, my nerves suddenly on fire. “How did he die?”
“Home burglary gone wrong, according to this report.”
Dagger, paling as if already knowing the implications, said, “We don’t believe it’s an accident.”
“What?” I asked. “Are you saying that an uncle I just found out I even had, has not only passed, but he was murdered because of me? And after all his sacrifices, I almost died anyway?”
The room suddenly got hot and humid. Every set of eyes looked everywhere but at me. Maybe the truth was too morbid to speak out loud, so they kept in their thoughts that, by the expressions of disgust, were making them ill.
“Fine. All this may explain why my brothers had been so determined to end my life, and possibly Lacey’s since they knew she was next to get the house, but then why were her own brothers ready to take her down, too? This all feels so… meaningless—” Devious brown eyes from gruesome memories suddenly had my skin crawling.
Lynx’s voice lowered, “Wh
at is it, kid?”
I fought my souring stomach. “Jarod and Jake,” I swallowed bile, “both have brown eyes.” It was one thing to put me through Hell, but a whole other to involve my Lace.
“Who?” asked Justice. She hadn’t been asked to research Lace yet.
I fought to not vomit. “Lace’s brothers. Their eyes don’t match your gene theory. Brown. Her mother’s; hazel. Her dad’s; blue.”
As Lynx stared at me, a weighted silence hung in the air. It was finally broken when he slammed the bottom of a fist to the table. “There! There is the connection. I don’t know what it is, but it’s there. Justice?”
“You got it, bro. Just need some of the info on Lacey.”
My heart picked up pace. “Uh, she never had a driver’s permit or license. Her brothers convinced her mom she didn’t need one. I can tell you her address and birthdate and anything else I know.”
“Got it. Okay, I will dig up what I can. Before I go, anything else you want to discuss about the house? Like selling it out from underneath those assholes?”
“The question is,” Dagger said, “do we rattle that cage?”
Again, I was confused, but Lynx added, “That’s what I was thinking. I prefer to let things lay where they are until I know what we’re up against. My gut says there is more to learn.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Telling Lies
The next day, I tried to sleep in but heard male voices talking. Since the topic was me, I felt it was only right to get up and do anything I could to help this growing debacle. Vice’s back was to me as he sat on a stool, facing the kitchen, asking Lynx and Dagger a question when I walked into the living room. “Doesn’t that marriage certificate make it legal for him to claim his wife? Get her out of Serenity?”
Sipping his coffee, Lynx noticed me. Swallowing, he lifted his cup. “Mornin’, Pup.”
I took a stool next to Vice. “Good morning. Is he right? Could I get her out?”
Dagger handed me two refrigerated probiotic capsules Elle had me taking every morning. She had claimed all the antibiotics I had recently been on killed some ‘good’ bacteria in my stomach. Since all her care had been working impressively, I asked no questions and did another bottoms up. She instructed me to down them with water, but since I had been denied certain indulgences during my life, Dagger always gave me a full glass of orange juice for the pills.
Hostile Saint (Steel Stallions MC Book 1) Page 15