Tough Love (The Nighthawks MC Book 6)

by Bella Knight

Bruiser put his arm in a lock. “You may be a doctor, but you are an ass, as your boyfriend said.”

  Keith finally quit struggling. Bella grabbed a cup of coffee, left Sunny the bar, and said, “Either you sit nicely and drink this, or wear it,” she said. Keith took a swing at her.

  She stood, ready to move back, but the guy on the other side caught the other arm. Bella poured the coffee over his head, and stepped back.

  “Make sure his former honey gets where he’s going, then take out the trash,” said Bella.

  “Fuck you!” said Doctor Keith, spitting out cold coffee. Bella turned and walked away.

  After they took out the trash, with the doctor swearing up a storm on the way out, Bella asked Bruiser about the house. “My brother Miko,” he said. “Smart, friendly, best at every fucking thing. Loved him. Hurt his back while he was working construction. I got him a desk job. He had surgery, got on pills. Those pills killed him. That’s a death house to me. Wanna sell it bad. Not my house, never paid for it. Half-willing to give it away. Cost me good money to fix it up. Don’t want to rent it out no more.”

  Bella explained about Ghost, Killa, and the Wolfpack helpers. “Sounds fucking fantastic,” he said, downing his can of Coke. “Give me an offer, or even some sort of down payment. We’ll get the key by the end of the week.” He wrote down the address and his phone number. “I’m ex-army. Not afraid of hard work. Two pregnant women, I’ll even set food in the death house to help clean up.”

  Bella shook her head. “We got Tito and a Wolfpack. It’ll be ready in a few weeks.”

  “Good,” he said. “Fuckin’ A. Great to get this off my mind.”

  She handed him another Coke. “I’m real fucking sorry about your brother. He sounds like a good guy.” She popped the top on a can for himself, and they touched cans, and drank. She said, “Gotta help Sunny. But, I’ll have our friend help you.”

  Cougar came up. “You givin’ our Bruiser free drinks?” she asked, as Bella filled up a tray of longneck beer bottles.

  “Absolutely,” said Bella.

  “Free drinks for him and Surfer Boy over there,” said Cougar, “For the rest of the night.”

  “That’s not necessary, Ma’am,” said Bruiser. “And Surfer Boy’s handle is Dirk. He’s got a wicked sense of humor, and carries a long knife.”

  “Well, then Dirk gets free drinks,” said Cougar. “You did real fine, sugar,” she said, her eyes glittering. She went to give him the good news.

  “She’s…” Bruiser started to say.

  “Sex on a stick?” asked Bella. He laughed. “Never seen her in anything other than leather. Sometimes red top and black pants, sometimes the other way. Woman flirts with anyone, man or woman types. Shit, bet she’d come onto a hermaphrodite.” Bruiser barked out another laugh. Bella sent a text to Ghost with the info, and got one back.

  “You wanna meet the ladies at one tomorrow at the house? They’ll give you free Sonic.”

  He laughed. “Can’t turn down free Sonic.”

  Bella sent a text back to Ghost. “We’re on,” she said. She put her phone in her pocket, and filled up a tray full of whiskey.

  “Great,” said Bruiser, then he got lost in the crush.

  “Sometimes you have to leave what you love for the greater good… but it still sucks.”

  4

  Slopes

  “A real friend will help you see the truth even if you refuse to see it.”

  Nantan was exhausted. Running around like a chicken was simply a part of his life —seeding, picking, deliveries, picking up things for the hydroponics or other segments of the farm, or for the teens. He refereed fights, separating the combatants. He worked with Inola and Henry to be sure all the teens circulated through all of their tasks, making it as routine as possible, with a little “beep-beep” on the cell phone signifying the next task. He got great joy out of watching them grow.

  Alo was absolutely amazing; Nantan would hold onto that young man with both claws. Alo loved turning what Nantan grew in the hydroponics barn, into feed. He’d perfected horse feed, and went on to perfect rabbit food. They ate lettuce and carrots, of course, but Alo wanted them to have a well-balanced diet.

  Alpacas were a little tougher; he had to perfect his Spanish which was primarily Western Spanish. Talking to South American vets on Skype proposed a challenge. They spoke differently, and he had to learn vet speak. Alo stuck with plant-eating animals; he didn’t want to have to grind up chickens to make dog food.

  Alo gave a cut of his profits to Nantan for growing the food, then he sold his feed. He started making serious money. After getting his GED, Alo decided upon horticulture, and started taking his “baby” courses online —Math, English, Spanish, World History, and Biology.

  Nantan talked to Henry; Alo moved into one of the vacant apartments at the “sorting house.” It was what they called the place where they cut and packaged the food for distribution and delivery. He got free room and board, and some spending money, in exchange for continuing to work his shifts in the hydroponics barn. Alo did this gladly.

  A scruffy, angry boy named Van showed up to take his place. Ajai showed him the ropes, and Alo helped him start to study. Van would simply sit and glower at everyone for days at a time. He did the work, just not willingly or well. Henry told him to shape up or he would be sent back to his res. He did so, with even more glowers, because he had nothing to go back to. His mother was dead, his father long gone, and he had been sleeping on friends’ couches.

  Nantan told his sons and the other teens that his counseling would eventually work to get at the root of his problems, which was primarily neglect and anger over losing his mom. He told them to treat him with sunny smiles and love, which would drive him crazy. It worked; they acted as if he were sunny, loving, and helpful, thanking him when he actually helped, and ignoring him when he didn’t. This confused Van so much that he began helping. When he finally laughed at game night, everyone stopped for a moment to marvel at the sound. Ajai and Alo were proud; they kept the other teens from killing Van until he changed.

  Henry suggested Nantan and Alo create an online horticulture course. So, they partnered with Susan Chalgar, a botanist at UNLV, to create a hydroponics course. So, now Nantan and Alo were recorded by the teens as they explained all the equipment, the plants from seeds to harvest, and how to keep up with the massive growing operation.

  Two other reservations had set up their own hydroponics plants with either grants or casino money, and periodically they would buy entire “rugs” of the seed-treated cloth in order to have the dazzling array of heirloom plants. The ones Nantan sported. He also had a brisk trade in rare heirloom seeds; Lily had gotten the packets printed and they came out beautifully. Since Nantan had brought in the original seeds, he could sell any he liked, and the profits went into a retirement account Lily set up for him. Including an account for the boys’ education and for their day-to-day needs, as well as paying off his horse that much quicker.

  He had no plans to leave, but the cash was needed on the farm. The teen Wolfpack ate like… well, wolves. Despite an entire walk-in closet attached to the sorting room, one devoted to clothes that no longer fit the fast-growing teens, they went through shoes at an alarming rate.

  Nantan grew little limes and tangerines and was working on lemons, but couldn’t keep up with the juice needs of growing teens, either, let alone the chicken, beef, and pork. Horses and ponies were rescued and sold to good homes for the cost of feed, vets, and boarding, and some money was left over for the next rescue. However, there was never enough money for that, either. The vet bills alone were astronomical. Nantan was proud that they were able to grow their own horse feed.

  Nantan missed Juan; his gentle demeanor, his laugh, his kiss, his touch. He got it, he really did. He didn’t have enough hours in the day to do what he did, and now he had two growing boys. They fought like alley cats, but if anyone dissed the other one, they both came out like porcupines, ready to defend the other. Nico was espec
ially sensitive to perceived —most often misperceived, slights against his brother Tam. Nantan patiently explained that Tam had to learn to stand up for himself, and that Nico’s protectiveness of his brother, while admirable, needed to be dialed down.

  Nico loved to read and to play ball; the teens became a steady stream of pitchers and catchers so he could learn to both catch and hit the ball. Tam was painfully shy and quiet. Ajai helped him with his schoolwork. Both boys were behind at least two grades, but they leapt forward with food, sleep, academic help, and love dumped on their heads at every opportunity.

  Nantan was lonely. He was surrounded by people, and had to take long rides on a horse or a Harley to get away. All he wanted was a man in his bed, someone to share his life with. Someone who could add hands and heart to such an insane, busy life.

  A few weeks before Thanksgiving, the boys went away with half the teens to a coding “hackathon,” where they locked themselves in a computer center in a hotel for three days to create a company, complete with adult proctors. Relieved, Nantan slipped away in a rented four-by-four to go to Arizona. He met the Apache-Sioux Council that oversaw the boys at a steakhouse near the Hon-Dah casino.

  Little Bill, Keyan, and a third man rose to meet them. “Chayton, this is Nantan,” said Keyan. “Chayton is my brother.” The new man had Keyan’s nose and eyes, but fuller lips, and a waterfall of iron-straight black hair that went down to his waist. Nantan shook their hands, and they sat.

  “How was your trip?” asked Little Bill, in his gravelly voice.

  “I had the intelligence to rent a Jeep, so the snowfall did not cause me any trouble,” said Nantan. “I see the ski resort is doing well.”

  Little Bill nodded. “We are having an excellent ski season so far, with early snow.” They ordered coffee, steaks, baked potato soup, and vegetables. “So, how are the boys?”

  Nantan pulled up the latest pictures on his cell phone, including those of them learning both Sioux and Apache. He handed it over for them to see.

  “I was able to order some Sioux books, and we did some YouTube videos, but I would like for us all to learn better Sioux. My mother and grandmother taught me Sioux, and my father and grandfather, Apache. We should not lose any of our languages.”

  “That is excellent,” said Chayton. “We also have an Apache grandmother. I can help you teach both. I hear you are writing a computer program?”

  Nantan nodded. “We started with Apache, because I know that one best, but I would like to get the Sioux program done as well.”

  “I think I can help you with that,” said Chayton. “I will go to Las Vegas, and I will help you with both. I can live on the res, or I can pay room and board, if you have a room available.” He smiled. “I began teaching Sioux on the res in South Dakota. I taught Sioux, then I learned Mandarin and went to China. I got a master’s degree in education there, then I got a job teaching Apache here. I just got replaced by an Apache woman.” He smiled. “It’s okay, she’s from here. She gets first choice. Anyway, I need a job. I can teach Mandarin online in Vegas, and work on this computer program.”

  Nantan smiled. All four men sipped their coffee for a while when it came, reveling in the warmth, after doctoring it with sugar or cream, as they liked it.

  “I would welcome such a generous offer,” said Nantan. “Perhaps, if we work well together, we can add you to the non-profit my friend Lily set up for me. We can make native study materials.”

  Chayton tapped his finger on his lips. “I agree,” he said. “That could be an excellent business. The Navajo have their own university program. We need more language immersion schools. But, a lot of res kids live in remote areas where it is hard for them to go to any school. My degree is in curriculum design, so that would be a fun project for me.” Their soup came, and they ate hungrily.

  “You do realize,” said Nantan, “that this is a non-profit, and that a salary may not be forthcoming. Perhaps we can get a grant from the wealthier nations with casinos.” He cut his eye over to Little Bill, who laughed.

  “Well,” he said, “I can ask the council. You’ve got a lot of the Apache done. So, that would be good. I heard you told Bodaway you were Sioux. Why?”

  Nantan nodded. “I wanted him to hear his language, know that he was with his own people. I hoped to calm him.”

  “We knew you would not kill him,” said Little Bill. “I was pleased that you were released from custody so soon.”

  “We were all in California on a ride at the time he was murdered,” said Nantan. “It was foolish to arrest me without first determining where I was at the time of the murder.”

  “You take the boys on rides?” asked Chayton.

  “Nantan here is a Nighthawk,” said Little Bill, cutting up more of his steak.

  “I have a Harley,” said Chayton. “Very impractical in the mountains. I am an Iron Knight.”

  Oh wow, thought Nantan. Iron Knights are mostly police and ex-military. “Excellent,” said Nantan. “Perhaps you might want to become a Nighthawk.”

  “Perhaps,” said Chayton.

  “The adoption is almost final,” said Keyan. “I will push it through. You should have all the tribal paperwork in three days. Will you stay here tonight?”

  “I can stay the full three days,” said Nantan. “The boys are at a coding marathon.”

  Chayton’s eyes lit up. “Excellent!” he said. “They can help. They will learn more by teaching it to others.”

  Nantan laughed. “We have many coders. They can all help.”

  “So,” said Keyan, nudging his brother, “we can get the paperwork to you, and go down to the court. Is there someone you can call to get a court date?”

  Nantan wiped his fingers on his napkin, whipped out his cell phone, and made four texts. He put the phone away.

  “I’ll be given a date when the court calendar can be accessed,” he said.

  “How soon do you think?” asked Keyan.

  Chayton laughed. “Let him get a text answered, brother,” he said, in Apache, except for the word “text,” which was translated as “message.”

  He laughed, and said in Sioux, “You know I am too fast. Always the runner.”

  “I remember running faster than you on many occasions,” Chayton said. “I was the wind, and you only a breeze.”

  Keyan punched his brother lightly on the arm. “You were faster, but I was better,” he said. He switched back to English. “We both got All State.”

  “Third,” said Chayton. “I was first.”

  “Only because you are a year younger.”

  Chayton snorted. Nantan’s pocket buzzed. He took out his phone. “I have one week,” he said. “Wraith pushed just a little, but the judge and the social worker are both eager to finish this as well.”

  “Then, let’s celebrate,” said Little Bill. “Then, you can bring the boys up here to ski.”

  “Bunny slopes,” said Nantan. “I have never tried to ski, but I can snowshoe. I want them to learn both.”

  “They will want to snowboard,” said Little Bill. “And, they won’t want to leave the slopes when they get on.”

  “Then I must learn to snowboard,” said Nantan. He pulled out his phone and looked up his account information. Then, he looked up the prices for a ski package for multiple kids. “How much for twelve kids and two adults?” He sighed. “Three adults at least.”

  “Well, we’ll figure that out,” said Little Bill. He took out his phone and sent a text. “The Paiute are our friends. Surely we can come up with something.”

  “Good,” said Nantan, and he finished his steak.

  Nantan checked into his hotel room. His pocket vibrated. “Court date moved up. Five days.”

  “Excellent,” he replied. “Thank you, Wraith.”

  “Nothing but the best for our Nighthawk friends,” replied Wraith. “Besides, both Judge Tyers and your social worker want this stuff off their plates. The boys are fine and healthy, and both the Apache and Sioux are happy, so whatever.”


  “I love you,” he sent, with a little kissy face. He got an emoticon back of a laughing coyote. He thought that was appropriate. He sent a text to Little Bill and Keyan, with the good news, then fell into an exhausted sleep.

  Keyan and Chayton met him at the snowboarding hill for his first lesson, with a rented board, snowshoes, snowboard pants, coat, gloves, helmet, and a visor, that Keyan carefully chose.

  “The idea is to crouch,” said Keyan.

  “The idea is to not fall down,” said Chayton, correcting his brother. “It is about balance and speed. We’ll go on a small hill, you’ll fall in the snow a few times, then you’ll get the hang of it.”

  “Let’s get this falling over with,” said Nantan.

  They taught him to turn his snowboard perpendicular to the slope, to lean back, and to put the weight on his rear foot. As well as go slow, and to turn his body. It actually gave him quite a thrill to move, and to learn to turn.

  He wiped out a few times, but he soon learned how to redistribute his weight and make turns with both his heel and the edge of his toe. It took him a while to learn how to stop and start. Finally, he was no longer falling into snow. He didn’t move quickly, but he could get down the snowboard “bunny hill” with no problem.

  “You ready for the ski lift?” asked Chayton, with laughter in his eyes.

  “Yes,” he said, “I will be the wind,” he said in Apache, making Chayton chuff with laughter, just like a puma.

  Chayton walked like one, graceful even with snow boots, coat, and pants on. They caught a lift, and Chayton got Nantan settled before swinging himself up with him. They plopped down, getting the straps on the boots, as Keyan dropped down next to them, putting on his own board. They went down; Keyan first, laughing into the icy wind, as Chayton and Nantan went down more slowly.

  “You are the wind,” said Chayton, laughing at his slow pace.

  “I never said I was a fast wind,” said Nantan.

  Chayton laughed again. “Breeze,” he said.