Tough Love (The Nighthawks MC Book 6)

by Bella Knight

  “Zephyr,” said Nantan.

  They went back up for another run, then another. Nantan felt soreness. Some of the muscles he would use while riding a horse, others while riding a bike, especially leaning into a curve. But, he knew he would certainly be sore and achy because he was using his muscles differently. So, when they made it to the bottom of the run, he made the universal symbol for time out, touching his palm to his upright other hand.

  “Go ahead,” said Chayton. “Keyan and I want to race. I have been with a slowpoke too long.”

  Nantan made a rude gesture, and they laughed at him, took off their snowboards, and hiked toward the lift. He took off his snowboard, and trudged back to the rental to turn his considerable amount of equipment back in.

  He went back to the hotel, showered in lobster-hot water, and realized he’d had more fun that afternoon than in a long while. He went to the restaurant, got coffee and hot soup, and ate it by the fire in the lobby. He finished his soup, and they came and took it away. They brought him a carafe of coffee, and he read a book on his cell phone, something he hadn’t had time to do for ages.

  He actually got to the third chapter before Chayton and Keyan showed up, laughing. The waiter quietly brought two more cups and another carafe.

  “I suggest the baked potato soup,” Nantan said.

  “Excellent choice,” said Chayton. They ordered soup —Keyan had the tomato basil with a grilled cheese sandwich —and relaxed. Keyan went up to shower, then Chayton.

  Chayton came down again, hair dry and in a clip. He was wearing a thick, blue sweater and deep-blue jeans, which set off the soft red of his skin. He sat down next to Nantan, took out his phone, and they read quietly together. The waiter came by to replace the carafes, and brought jewel-toned blankets for their legs. They doctored their coffee, and read in companionable silence.

  “I’m hungry again,” said Chayton, in Sioux.

  “Let us eat,” said Nantan, in Apache.

  There was a seafood buffet, and they filled their plates. “I love crab,” said Chayton. “I love anything from the sea. I tried Los Angeles, but I prefer the res sometimes.”

  “Have you been to Vegas before?” asked Nantan.

  “Once,” he said, “I like it. Busy, noisy. Not my thing all the time, but okay in small doses.”

  Nantan laughed. “Not my thing. I love the ranch. Henry apparently started out with his father’s spread, and slowly bought more and more land. He’s added trails, the paddock, and now we’ve built two more barns and expanded the first one. We have taken two, entire, over-one-hundred-year-old barns and redone the insides. Inola rescues horses and she and Jeffrey retrain them. Henry, David, and I, we raise twelve teens. Vu —she’s one of our Owls. Bella and our friends rescued some older people from a nursing home. The kids —we help them get caught up and get their GEDs to get them out of high school. They are trained with me, Inola, and our friend Tito, who does construction. The kids rotate, and learn several trades, or they can get scholarships and get certificates, or degrees.”

  “That is excellent,” said Chayton. “It sounds like you’re very busy.”

  Nantan laughed ruefully. “I barely have time to breathe.”

  Chayton said, “I’m sorry. I will bring more work with me.”

  “In the beginning, it will be,” said Nantan, “then, once Henry and the teens get involved, they will get the job done. The boys will learn more, and the long, ugly, editing process begins.”

  “I excel at long, ugly, editing processes. I have a few screens that I can have up, and I’m great at splicing video.”

  “That’s fantastic,” he said. “Do you need help getting your Harley to the ranch?”

  “I’ve got a four-by-four and a trailer hitch. Are you sure you want me on the farm?”

  “We have a guest room downstairs next to where we get the vegetables ready for sale. The kids earn extra money. They may whine, but they like the money just fine.”

  “What do they do with it?” asked Chayton.

  “Most of it goes in the bank for when they go. They get some of it for spending money. Part of it is learning how to spend money responsibly.”

  Chayton laughed. “Not something they tend to teach on the res.”

  “No,” said Nantan. “They should, but they don’t.”

  “Thank you for letting me stay,” said Chayton.

  “Some room and board in exchange for getting a computer program up and running?” asked Nantan.

  “And a piece of the non-profit,” said Chayton.

  “Non-profits inherently don’t make any money,” said Nantan.

  “Maybe I can draw a little salary,” said Chayton.

  “And,” said Nantan, “it might be helpful to have an Iron Knight around.”

  “Picked up on that one, didn’t you?” asked Chayton.

  “I assume there’s things you can’t tell me,” said Nantan. “Just don’t ever put my children, or anyone at that ranch, in danger.”

  “I won’t,” said Chayton. “Thank you for understanding.”

  “I’ll introduce you to Wraith,” said Nantan. “You may have some things in common.”

  Chayton smiled. “Valkyrie,” he said. “A fine woman.”

  Nantan didn’t know how to ask, so he decided not to. “She sent me a text. I told her I loved her. She sent me back a laughing face.”

  “She thought you were kidding?”

  “She knew I was. Her man’s name is Saber.”

  Chayton raised his eyebrows. “I’ve heard the name.”

  “Also, I prefer men,” said Nantan.

  Chayton looked right into Nantan’s eyes. “That’s interesting,” he said. “So do I.” He took a deep breath, then said clearly, “One more thing. I was born female.”

  Nantan took a sip of his coffee. “It’s good you discovered who you are.”

  “Is that going to be a problem?” asked Chayton.

  “With what?” asked Nantan. “Would you prefer to not be who you are?”

  Chayton shook his head. “I must be who I am.”

  “Then,” said Nantan, “There is no problem. I must be Apache, and Sioux. Some wanted me to be one, some another. But, I am both.”

  “As am I,” said Chayton. He smiled. “Dual nature.”

  “We all have them,” said Nantan. “Male, female, Apache, Sioux. The important thing is to find balance, and to be who you are.” He smiled. “Would you like more drawn butter?”

  Chayton smiled. “Yes, thank you,” he said.

  They lingered over slices of key lime and chocolate silk pie, and decaf. “What would you like to do tomorrow?” asked Nantan.

  “Well,” said Chayton. “Want to learn to ski?”

  Nantan laughed. “Bunny slopes again?”

  Chayton smiled. “I can teach you. If I can teach English in China, then I can teach you to go down a bunny slope without falling on your ass.”

  “Actually,” said Nantan, “I’d like to do more snowboarding. Less chance of falling on my ass.” Chayton laughed.

  After dinner, they sat in the lobby, drank honey tea, and read in the lobby, occasionally laughing at what they read. Nantan read a mystery, Chayton a so-called “beach read.” It was about a woman, a brother, and a dog. They read little bits to each other.

  Nantan smiled at Chayton. “I’ve got an early morning, it would seem.”

  Chayton stood. “I do, too. Let’s go to bed.”

  He stood, and raised his eyebrows. “Separately or together?”

  Chayton laughed. “Not so fast.” He leaned forward, and gave Nantan a feather-light kiss on the lips. “One day at a time, one moment at a time.” It was a quote from the book he had been reading.

  “One moment at a time,” Nantan said in Apache. Chayton laughed, and they walked toward the elevator.

  Nantan took off his boots and the rest of his clothes, and got into his soft yoga pants and long-sleeved Apache shirt, keeping on his warm blue socks. He slid into the bed. He was shoc
ked, stunned, and sore. He winced, and laughed at himself. Chayton was right. He could barely have survived more than a single kiss between himself and Chayton, with all his soreness. He considered getting off the bed and getting some ice, and he laughed ruefully at himself. He felt like an old man. He saw Chayton’s face in his mind, and he slipped into sleep.

  The boys sent snippets of their code. Nantan read it in the morning, and was surprised that he could understand what they were doing. It was a specialized e-reader program for textbooks that included links and multimedia. He then stumbled into the shower, pounding himself with hot water. He shaved, then took the elevator downstairs to breakfast.

  As he suspected. Keyan and Chayton were already there. He grunted at them, and they smiled at him. He ordered coffee, and swallowed some ibuprofen with it. Chayton openly laughed. Nantan pretended to glare daggers at him. The brothers laughed at him again. He snorted, ordered bacon, scrambled eggs with cheese, and a biscuit with butter and honey. He ate like a horse, while Keyan and Chayton joked with each other about childhood running, bad teachers, and long, over-involved games they used to play until the sun went down over the mountains.

  Finally, Nantan’s eyes were open. “Let’s go snowboarding,” he said.

  Keyan laughed. “I’m going skiing. With a partner. And she’s here.”

  A gorgeous Apache woman strode into the coffee shop, all legs and jeans, with long hair and a fierce stride, flashing eyes and a mouth full of laughter.

  “You did well,” said Nantan.

  “I know,” said Keyan. “Bly,” said Keyan in Apache, “this is Nantan.”

  “The grower of heritage plants,” said Bly. She leaned over and kissed Keyan. “I have ordered some of your plant packets.” She looked at Keyan. “Mmm, skiing,” she said. Keyan laughed, threw bills on the table, and let her drag him away.

  “Wow,” said Nantan.

  “I know!” said Chayton. “My brother has always attracted the ladies. Sometimes, more than one at the same time. And, they all know about each other, and they don’t mind.”

  “So, he’s poly,” said Nantan.

  “I do not know this word,” said Chayton. “Many?”

  “Polyamorous. Many lovers.”

  Chayton laughed. “Yes. He has been this way since high school.”

  “Well,” said Nantan, snagging another piece of bacon. “People are what they are.”

  “I grew up on the res,” said Chayton, “With my amorous brother. I was born female. But, I knew, and so did my brother, that I was male.”

  “Yes,” said Nantan. “I have heard it is sometimes like that.”

  “So, I went to learn to be a teacher. First, our mother died very early from cancer. I tested positive for the BRCA1 gene. So, it was easy to get my breasts and ovaries removed. Then, I went to China, and in between contracts I changed my body while I taught in Thailand. Then, more China, and back to the res. I only had a temporary job, so now I can explore my second love, coding educational books.”

  Nantan finished his coffee. “My story is very boring. I was born on the res, got a scholarship, took a degree in horticulture, decided to specialize in hydroponic farming, and now I am doing well.” He put some money down for the check, and so did Chayton. “Let’s go snowboarding, shall we?” He downed his coffee and smiled.

  Chayton stood. “If you can stand it. You are walking like an old man, Nantan,” he said. Nantan growled at him, and Chayton threw his head back and laughed.

  Moving On

  Skuld met Ghost, Killa, and Bruiser at the condo. It was on the second floor just three streets over from Ghost and Killa’s place. The wind whipped down off the mountain, and everyone except Ghost had their leather jackets on tight. They went in a locked door, with a code. Skuld approved of that. He took them up an elevator; Skuld liked that too.

  “Shit,” said Killa. “That be good.” They went down a hallway, and there was another code to get into the door.

  There were broken windows, torn-up beds, broken chairs, holes in the walls. The smell of alcohol and more than a whiff of pot was strong.

  “Dem threw some wild party,” said Ghost. Skuld and Bruiser both took out their weapons, and gestured for Ghost and Killa to be silent.

  Ghost got out her little knife, and Killa her bigger one. Skuld took the right, Bruiser the left, in that eye-speaking military language that people tended to have. They burst into the bedroom, and Killa and Ghost heard a high-pitched groan that topped off in a scream.

  Killa and Ghost strode forward. A junkie was laying on the torn-up bed, needle still in the vein. He was a thin guy, with a sandy beard and wild eyes. Killa, Ghost, Skuld, and Bruiser all holstered their weapons.

  “Who are you?” asked Bruiser, his voice ice-dangerous.

  “Bruno. M—M-Mark’s friend. He g-g-gave me the code, man. We used to party.”

  “How did you get in?” asked Bruiser.

  “He g-g-gave me his code. To bring him stuff.”

  “My brother died, in the other bedroom, doing the shit you’re doing right now. You wanna explain one more time what you’re doing in MY DEAD BROTHER’S HOUSE?”

  Bruno tried to come out of his nod. His wild eyes were terrified; his brown eyes eaten up by black pupils. “I… we used to…”

  Bruiser reached down, grabbed Bruno’s ear, and dragged Bruno out of the bed, then out the door. Bruno’s high-pitched whining was like a siren.

  He threw him out, then said, “You will never come here again. Ever. And get fucking clean. There’s a Salvation Army place on the bus line. Go.” Bruno laid there; shaking, sobbing, the needle still in his arm. It fell out as he laid, confused.

  “Get up,” said Bruiser, his voice a menacing whisper. “And take your needle with you.” It took three tries, but Bruno managed to grab the needle and put it into his pocket. He grabbed a wall, and lurched toward the elevator.

  Bruiser changed the door code once he was sure Bruno was gone. “Sorry, ladies,” he said, to Killa and Ghost.

  “He not member this when he get to the bottom flo,” said Killa. “He be dead in a yeeah.”

  Bruiser’s face was a mask of anger and grief. “I know. Once they fall a certain way, no one can get in and get them clean except themselves.”

  “I get it,” said Killa. “Yo body want da hit, yo brain want da hit, you know it stupid, but you get anudda hit.” She sighed. “My sista, my mama. Brudda got out, he in da Marines.”

  Ghost patted Killa’s back. “When he come back, we sho’nuff show him de house. Now, we get two houses. He be so happy for ya.”

  Bruiser’s stone face softened. “I am so sorry you saw that,” he said. “Addiction doesn’t care who you are. Can take anyone. My brother was doing real-good. This place was nice. I helped him get it. He worked his ass off for it. Got it paid off.”

  He sighed. “I need to get rid of this. Something great went horribly wrong. He fell. He could have been killed in the fall. Some dumb fuck hit him with a two-by-four when they were on the second floor. Sued, got money, paid this place off. Had surgeries on his back. He…” Bruiser looked around the holes in the walls, and the beer-soaked floor. “He would have wanted to die in the fall, I think, rather than the hell he went through later.”

  Killa rubbed his back. “Ya been through too damn much.”

  “Word,” said Ghost.

  Skuld nodded. “We all have our own addictions. Some kill faster than others.”

  Killa nodded. “Word.”

  Bruiser wiped his hand over his face. “Let’s get this done,” he said. “Damn thing’s paid for, just want to unload it.”

  “Give you ten thousand,” said Ghost. “Have it now. Give you mo’ at the end o’ da month. Another ten.”

  “Worth more than that,” said Skuld. “Be fair to the man.”

  “You want da hundred thousand, ya gotta get ten a month fo’ ten months.”

  Bruiser waved his hand. “Twenty thousand will get me a new bike.”

  Killa and Ghos
t looked at each other. “Whatcha want?” asked Ghost. “We build ‘em from kits, put together what ya want most.”

  For the first time, Bruiser smiled. It was a hint of one, but a smile nonetheless. “I’ll e-mail you the specs. Got a sweet ride planned.” He took a sticky note out of his pocket, and wrote down both the outer and condo door codes. “Witness, Valkyrie,” he said.

  “Bruiser gets a top of the line Harley from a kit, built to as close to his specifications as they can get. In exchange, Killa and Ghost will take this condo. Do you all agree?”

  “Yeah,” said Killa and Ghost, together.

  “Absolutely,” said Bruiser.

  “Shake,” said Skuld, holding in her hand. They all shook, including Skuld. “Have to go to the courthouse, sign the paperwork, pay a dollar. Did this already with a Valkyrie this year. Let’s go; I’ve got a ride tomorrow.”

  Killa and Ghost quickly looked at the two mangled bedrooms, with headboards smashed into the walls. The two baths, needing lots of glass replaced. The kitchen, with its fairly new appliances. They hadn’t thought to destroy that.

  “Tito gonna be busy,” said Killa.

  “Word,” said Ghost. They went out, and the door shut tight behind them.

  The lock engaged, and sang a little tune. It wasn’t until they were out of the elevator that Killa and Ghost recognized Macy Gray’s, I Try. They went out into the cold sunshine, and Skuld let the way.

  Tito surveyed the scene with Skuld. Ghost was making her miniatures in order to pay him, and Killa was ordering the kit that would turn Bruiser’s dreams of a touring bike into reality. And, Skuld knew the story.

  “The punch list is long, but it isn’t as bad as it looks. Repair the walls, take out all the destroyed furniture, rip up the carpets.” He pulled up a section. “What I suspected. Good hardwood under here. Idiots. Anyway, punch list. Lights replaced. Check for more damage. Throw out most of the furniture; there are really good consignment shops we can shop in, for nice stuff for you two.”

  Willow and Ajai looked around. “Furniture is shit, ‘Early American Boy,’” said Ajai. “We’ll start looking at the consignment shops.”

  “It’s a rental; Ghost and Killa will fund the furniture shopping. Just don’t go crazy,” Skuld informed them.