by Debra Kayn
"Myself," he said.
The pain he'd inflicted with his answer showed in the men standing around him. Wayne never took his gaze off him. Thad shook his head. Chuck looked away from him. Glen's upper lip twitched, and he never lifted a hand to hide the spasm.
At the most important time of his life, they'd all been best friends. They'd grown up and became brothers and swore their lives to each other under the Notus Motorcycle Club patch. But, their relationships had gone beyond loyalty, and that's why he'd left.
"I'm not listening to his bullshit. I'm going to check on Gracie." Chuck took keys out of his pocket and opened the front door.
Wayne caught the door from closing and pointed at Rich. "Get inside."
Rich waited until Thad and Glen walked into the house, and then joined everyone. Without his motorcycle, his choices were limited. He'd rather each of them stayed behind four walls, protected and safe, rather than outside where Komoon could use them as standing targets.
All of the men, minus Chuck, stood at the edge of the living room in front of the stairs as if they expected Rich to escape to the guest room and were prepared to stop him. Needing his space, he walked over to the front window and leaned against the wall. From his position, he could keep an eye on Notus and see any sign of Cross outside the house if he appeared.
"We need to get Gracie out of here and over to Clara." Wayne heaved a sigh. "Everyone rode over on their motorcycles and her car is at my house."
"I can ride over, get her car, and come back and pick her up. She can throw a couple bags together with enough clothes for a few days." Thad smacked the back of his hand on Glen's shoulder. "We need to meet up afterward. I want to set everything in motion to protect the women in case this grows bigger before we can contain the problem."
Rich studied the group. They rallied around each other. He expected nothing less from them.
Glen looked over at Rich and then turned his back on him to speak to Thad. "You think he's bringing trouble down on Notus?"
Thad shrugged. "Don't know."
"We move forward. Set up protection today, and tomorrow, we'll get the women settled under Paxton and Pauly's watch. It won't hurt them to hang at Vavoom's. Lena can use the office at the bar to keep Avi away from the customers." Wayne lowered his voice, but in the house, Rich could still hear him. "I'm about ready to beat the fucking answers out of him."
"We need to move before one of us steps over the line." Thad rocked back on his heels. "I'll get the car. Someone needs to go up and tell Gracie to pack her bags."
Gracie walked down the stairs followed by Chuck. "I'm not leaving."
Chuck put his arm around Gracie's shoulders. "Sweetheart, you need to—"
"I'm staying." She shrugged off his touch and looked across the room at Rich. "I'll be fine."
Wayne took out his phone.
"Don't call her." Gracie's gaze intensified. "I'll be the one to call my sister later, and I'm not changing my mind."
Rich looked away. They all communicated with the comfort of knowing each other.
Nobody asked his opinion.
He peered up the street. If he got lucky, Cross would back off for the rest of the night.
The pistol tucked against his lower back more of a threat than Komoon.
He looked back at Gracie and caught her studying him. His chest tightened. At first, he'd taken her staring as leeriness. She reminded him of an abused dog, always lurking from afar, ready to retreat to the safety of her bedroom at any movement or sound.
Lately, the way she looked at him had changed. Why would she go against Notus and want to stay with him?
Chapter 12
Gracie shut the door of her bedroom and opened the purse at her side. Finding the prescription bottle she'd carried with her for four years, she opened the child-lock cap and removed one pill. She swallowed the tablet without water and closed her eyes, wishing there was a magical component that would stop the anxiety instantly.
She opened her eyes and read the bottle. The Xanax expired three years ago.
Her heart accelerated, and she put the pills back in her purse. After the first six months of being medicated to help her anxiety after the abduction, she'd gone cold turkey, believing that she could only get stronger if she faced her fears head on.
Knowing she couldn't always deal with life on her own, she'd leaned on Chuck to get her over the hard bumps that emotionally and physically crippled her. While there were days she struggled and even failed, she could clearly see progress in gaining enjoyment of her life back. A different enjoyment. One that was more hesitant.
She stayed aware of the dangers surrounding her. There were good people and bad people everywhere. Maybe there was something about her, in her genes, that made a serial killer go after her mom and then come after her. She worried about Clara and was thankful every day that her sister had Wayne. Someone big, strong, and intimidating to protect the only member of her family left.
She held on to her sanity knowing she had to keep Clara protected, see Chuck healed from his past, know Glen, Wayne, Thad received answers from Rich, and Notus Motorcycle club reunited.
She owed them all because they'd saved her.
She inhaled deeper, forcing herself to relax. There was someone after Rich. Everything made more sense now. That was why he spent all his time at the windows. The threat was real.
Rich had her pistol.
Her head pounded, and she walked over to her nightstand and removed her other pistol, putting it in her purse at her side. She would not let anything happen to Rich or herself, and if it took popping a pill to relax her enough she could breathe and stop the tunnel vision from happening, she'd do it.
An hour later, she remembered that with the threat of someone outside earlier and the arrival of Notus, she hadn't cooked dinner for Rich.
She rubbed the chill out of her arms. Her breathing came easier, and the pressure in her head had eased. On the edge of her conscious, the guilt she should've had over-relying on medication to give her strength failed to bother her. The Xanax suppressed the emotion.
Walking out of her bedroom, she straightened the purse at her hip and slid her thumb under the strap that went from her neck, between her breasts, and to her side. Aware of Rich carrying her other pistol, she approved of the added protection.
He hadn't posed any threat to her.
He'd stepped forward and dealt with the mouse in the garage and went outside to make sure the man lurking behind her house never came near her. She walked into the kitchen and pulled out a package of pre-formed hamburger patties and a bag of frozen French fries. A meal any of the Notus members would enjoy and something she knew Rich would also eat.
She pre-heated the oven, put the skillet on the stove, and checked the screw on the window above the sink. All she had to do was concentrate on the task at hand. She was safe.
The meat sizzled. She opened the cupboard and proceeded to dress the buns while the hamburger cooked and the fries baked. The silence coming from the rest of the house concerned her. What if Rich had left while she pulled herself together?
Opening the oven, she flipped the fries, let them cook for a few more minutes, and then dished up the food. Instead of leaving it on the counter for Rich to find when he grew hungry, she carried his plate into the living room, checked to see if he was standing by the window, and then walked upstairs to search for him.
Unable to knock with both hands full, she said, "Rich?"
When no answer came after a few seconds, she looked toward the stairs. Maybe he'd disappeared into the garage and not his bedroom.
The door opened, and Rich stood in front of her, shirtless, disheveled, and sweating. She had to get him talking. That was her purpose. Once Wayne and the others understood Rich better, they could go on with their lives. Whoever was outside would leave, and she'd go back to her normal life—whatever kind of normal that would be.
"I brought you dinner." She thrust out her hand holding his plate.
; He stepped forward, closing the door behind him, blocking her view of his room. She moved back, giving him space.
Rich frowned, ignoring the food. "What's wrong?"
She looked down at the plates she held. Her hands no longer shook. Obviously, the Xanax still worked after the expiration date.
"Nothing." She handed his late dinner to him. "You better eat."
She left him standing in the hallway and walked into her bedroom, flipping the lock. She'd made two steps when Rich knocked on the door. Turning around, she unlocked the door to him.
"Leave your room unlocked." His gaze lowered to her waist.
She pushed her purse behind her. "No."
He reached behind his back and stepped toward her. Before she could move away, he grabbed the purse strap between her breasts and slipped the pistol she'd given him earlier back in her purse. "If you're scared of me, go ahead and shoot me if I step into your room. But, I want your door left unlocked."
"I can't." She could explain to him why keeping her door unlocked was impossible and yet the panic that would normally come at the thought of dropping one of her security measures never happened.
Her difficulty in breathing came from him touching her.
An excitement that she recognized from the time when she used to flirt, date, and have sex. She couldn't wrap her head around why she reacted that way now. With Rich.
He kept ahold of her purse. She gazed up at him. He was close. Too close.
His black pupils dilated, covering his gray irises, and intensified his gaze. From a distance, his eyes looked black but up close, they were rather dangerous looking. She swallowed hard. Dangerously sexy.
"Gracie." He wiggled her purse, caressing her hip. "If you don't keep the door unlocked, I'll take the pistol back."
She moistened her lips, unable to back away from him. He held her immobile without touching her body.
Her hand bumped his arm as she reached into her purse and took out the pistol. "You can have it."
His head cocked to the side and his gaze narrowed on her. He wrapped his fingers around the weapon and her hand. As the rest of his features hardened, he slipped the gun out of her hand and walked out of the bedroom.
He had no idea she had another weapon.
She stared out into the empty hallway. Warmth continued to heat her hand where he'd touched her. She had no connection to him. He wasn't her friend that she'd grown up with and lost during a monumental moment. She had no emotional investment to care about him.
But, she recognized his pain.
When she chose to lock the door rather than leave herself vulnerable to him, there was a flash of aching she understood before he shut himself off and left.
Chapter 13
Wayne's double car garage looked similar to how it was twenty-five years ago, and the sight took him back to a time in his life when he'd been happy. Rich refused to take a chair with the other Notus members around the desk, further showing that he was not one of them any longer. Instead, he looked at everything but the men as he digested the information they handed over to him.
A desk, couch, table and chairs, motorcycle parts, and shit collected over the years filled up the garage.
Notus Motorcycle Club worked with the St. John's Police Department finding missing persons.
Their purpose rocked him. The room backed up everything they'd said.
Maps spread on one wall with pins holding colored flags, filing cabinets, a computer system, profile pictures of men, women, children who had gone missing backed up the history of what they'd accomplished since he'd left them.
There was one picture that should've been up there. One woman who should be in the kitchen with the other ladies, laughing and gossiping. Thalia never deserved the outcome of her short life.
She'd been a free spirit, who deserved to live a fruitful life. His hands closed into fists. Her life was snuffed out in the worst way possible.
His gaze narrowed in on the cabinet and the numerous bottles of alcohol sitting on the top. He planned to take one or two of the bottles when the others let him leave. They wouldn't miss the drinks, and he needed something after going through the hell he'd gone through.
"It's been over two months since you landed in St. John's jail." Wayne paused and only continued when Rich looked at him. "We've given you time to sober up and protection while you regained your strength. Now it's time for you to explain what you're doing here and what kind of trouble you brought down on Notus."
Wayne hadn't changed a bit. He'd always been a bossy son of a bitch and impatient. He never let things go until he could wrap his head around what stared him right in the face. It was his way, or he'd fuck with whoever disagreed with him until he got his way.
Answers weren't what Notus needed.
Rich planned to leave after he made sure no retaliation would come down on Notus. To fix his current problem, he needed to inform them of what they were up against if they refused to let him leave.
"Since you've got cameras at Gracie's house, I'm sure you're aware that Komoon Motorcycle Club wants me dead." He shrugged. "Give me my motorcycle, and I'll hit the road. The Komoon member who has been following me will leave St. John's. You won't see him again."
"And, that way we won't see you again. Is that what you're saying?" said Chuck.
He scratched his beard. He'd like to be anywhere else but standing here in front of them. "I never planned to come back."
Glen frowned. "Ever?"
He let his silence answer the question.
Thad, sitting on the edge of the desk, quietly asked, "Have you ever given a shit about us? About my folks? About Thalia?"
The muscles in his shoulders and arms tensed. "Leave her name out of this."
Thad leaned to the side and took his wallet out of his back pocket. He watched Thad for any movement that he'd attack. When he'd left, his relationship with Thad had stood on shaky ground.
He'd lost the woman he loved, and Thad had lost his sister.
Underneath the anger and the mourning after Thalia's murder, there were unanswered questions directed toward him. The police had planted doubt in everyone's head. Law enforcement and the detectives questioned his integrity and his emotional connection to Thalia.
Thad straightened his arm and held out a picture toward Rich. "This is Avi Thalia Bowers, my daughter."
Rich's chest compressed, and he stonewalled to hide his reaction. The baby sat smiling at the camera, but it was as if the little girl could see every secret, every emotion, every memory inside of him. He looked away. Of course, Thad went on with his life and found love, happiness, a family.
Rich had wished that for his friend. If Thad hadn't found everything he deserved, Rich would've been disappointed.
"Remember when we were around sixteen and we rode our motorcycles up to Rocky Butte Point, and we talked about what we wanted in our dream girl? I told you that I wanted someone who treated me like a fucking king and I knew without a doubt that it wouldn't matter what I did or what I said, she'd never turn her back on me." Glen unwrapped a piece of gum and put it in his mouth. "I found her. Her name's Ingrid."
There were more details in that conversation, all those years ago, if he remembered right. Glen had wanted someone younger and innocent. He wanted to teach her how to fuck because he regarded himself an expert in that area after taking some high school chick's virginity. Rich stared at Glen, wondering if the rest of what they'd talked about had come true, too.
Glen had wanted a blowjob every morning. Dinner on the table every night. He wanted a princess he could put on a pedestal and take care of.
"I lost you. Later, I lost my parents." Chuck's mouth hardened and he looked around the room. "We've all lost people—"
"That's life, right?" The pressure in Rich's head pounded against his skull. "People come, people go. We worry about ourselves, and if we're lucky enough to find someone to share a short part of the time we're alive, we're considered lucky. You've all got your lives you feel like
sharing with me for fuck-knows-why, and you expect me to what? Tell you nothing has changed? To wear the fucking patch and hand over my life?"
"Yeah," whispered Wayne. "We want you back. Not only for today and not because we've got you chained to a house. You took an oath, brother. You wear the patch. You're a part of us."
Rich stared straight ahead. "Like I said before, I had no plans to come back to St. John's. Since I'm not in the position to leave without my motorcycle and I'm not going through each of you to get it back, you're going to have to decide how you're going to handle the situation. Komoon won't back down until I'm dead. I'm not going to hand myself over. You can pass me to them if that's what you need to do and we can all be done with this shit, or you can give me back my motorcycle and let me go. I can take care of myself. If I'm gone, Komoon won't come after Notus."
"You know what we'll do. We swore to always protect each other." Wayne pulled up the sleeve of his shirt and patted the Notus Motorcycle Club tattoo. "You wear the same promise tatted on your skin."
He rubbed the back of his front teeth with his tongue. Everything he'd done from the time he was six years old until now at the age of forty-six had been for Notus, for his MC brothers. His loyalty toward the club had never wavered despite his separation.
The day he'd left St. John's without a word, he'd rode out of town because of the four men standing in the garage.
He protected them with his life.
It was a small price to pay to make sure each one of them could go on to find contentment, a woman who owned their hearts and come to terms with the death of Thalia. To have a baby by the sweet name of Avi Thalia. To be standing here as a club, tight and loyal. Everything they'd achieved came about because he'd left so they could go on.
Ultimately, Komoon Motorcycle Club stripped him of his promise to the outside world, but they could not kill his loyalty to Notus.
Chuck lowered his chin and looked at Rich. "Everything about Notus is in your blood, brother."