Legacy - Night Horde SoCal 3

by Sarah Osborn

  Luke shrugged and turned to Samson. “You got a minute?”

  Samson glanced at the clock. “I've got ten.”

  ~ oOo ~

  All it had taken was a look from Samson to get the couple to vacate the sofa in the corner of the room. “What d'ya need, son?” He stretched his legs out in front of him and scanned the crowd. “Clock's ticking.”

  Across the room, Lottie was talking to Emma and his mom. “I went to see my dad.”

  Samson raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

  “I dunno why I thought it would help.”

  “Help how?”

  Luke shrugged. “I dunno.”

  Samson pulled a pack of smokes from the inside pocket of his cut. “If you ask most of the patches here, they'll tell you that the club offered 'em something that was missing from their lives. And most'll tell you that that something is a family—a sense of belonging. Ain't many of us had nice, comfortable, stable upbringings.” He chuckled and tapped his forehead. “And most of us are pretty fucked up. You've got a family, Luke. You got good folks, great sisters and a beautiful wife. Not sure the club will give you anything you ain't already got, but it could cost you everything.”

  “I do want to wear a patch.” The only place he'd ever felt like he really belonged was here in this dirty old clubhouse—and in Lottie's arms. “But...”

  “If you have any doubts, son, you have to say now.” Samson lit his cigarette and nodded to where the women in their lives were standing. “I love the club, it's been my life for more years than I care to remember, but it ain't been easy on my girls, and if I had an ounce of decency, I'd've hung up my cut a long time ago. For what it's worth, I think you'd be an asset to The Freaks. You've got a good head on your shoulders, with just enough of that Taylor crazy to give you an edge. But you're young, and Lottie's younger.” His expression softened as he spoke his daughter's name. “She wants to see the world, Luke. She needs to spread her wings. Let her fly before you shackle her to this life.”

  Luke knew of Lottie's dreams. The small bookshelf in their apartment was crammed with travel books, and her eyes lit up when she talked about visiting the Medina in Marrakesh, or the Catacombs in Paris. More than anything, he wanted to dive in the Black Sea with her, or surf on Bondi Beach. But there was the small matter that they were so broke they couldn't afford to put gas in her car, and he couldn't see that changing any time soon.

  He sighed. “I know what she wants, Samson. But right now, we ain't even got enough cash to get us out the state. Spike says if I patch in, there a chance to earn. I'll...”

  “There are plenty of reasons to patch in, son, but money shouldn't ever be one of 'em.” Samson leaned forward and rested his forearms on his thighs. There was something about his expression that chilled Luke. “You wanna earn? Work overtime. Cuz, trust me, kid, every dollar the club makes is hard earned.”

  “You think I should walk away?” Ever since Samson had offered to be his sponsor, Luke had battled with that question.

  “Depends on who you're asking. The Freak in me knows that you've got what it takes, an' loves the idea of Tiny's kid wearing a patch. But as Lottie's dad...” Samson shrugged and looked up as the senior patches headed into church. “It ain't what I want for her.” With his hands on his thighs, he pushed himself to his feet. “So, what's it gonna be?”

  ~ oOo ~

  As soon as the first of the senior officers headed toward the church door, Lottie slipped out back.

  Behind the building, accessed by a fire door, was a narrow alleyway that led to a patch of neglected land flanked on all four sides by old warehouses. Her dad had told her that it was consecrated ground and no one dared to build on it. As a kid, she'd hang out there, trying to summon ancient spirits. It was a disappointment to find that it was just the subject of legal shit, as three of the buildings claimed ownership. But as the area declined, and businesses closed down or moved away, this little oasis of green in a desert of concrete and steel thrived, and the lack of ancients didn't detract from its beauty.

  She had no fear as she wandered along the alleyway. Not only was the entire area covered by security cameras, but this was Freak turf, and for her was probably the safest place on the planet.

  She knew that Luke wanted to prospect, and she understood why. The Freaks were more than just a bunch of guys who rode Harleys; they were a family. But brotherhood came with a price. It wasn't just how many hours you spent in the saddle, or paying your club dues every week. It wasn't just a matter of turning up to runs and parties.

  If any member was asked, they'd say the same thing: Things were different now. They were legitimate businessmen who did good work for charities. Lottie grinned to herself, and sat on the lowest branch of a fir tree. Sure they were. No one was forced into illegal activities—some members earned straight, she was sure—but Luke was Tiny's kid, and her dad wanted to be his sponsor.

  Lottie understood, but she wasn't sure she'd be able to live with his decision.

  A figure emerged from the shadows and walked toward her. The space was only illuminated by the moon and she couldn't, at first, make out who it was, but she wasn't concerned. She'd have triggered the alert when she'd opened the fire door, so she'd expected someone to come out and check that she was okay.

  She hadn't expected that someone to be Luke, though.

  “Hey.” She stood and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Thought you'd be in church.”

  He shook his head and kissed her. “Not this time.”

  EPILOGUE

  “Pops! Are you asleep again?”

  Deke grunted and opened his eyes as his youngest granddaughter scrambled onto his lap. “Nah. Was just resting my eyes, Pumpkin.” He chuckled as a creased sheet of paper was thrust under his nose. “Another picture. You're getting to be quite the artist, why don't you ask...” He breath caught in his throat as he remembered. “How about we see if we can't find a spare piece of wall to pin it on.”

  Deke would, if asked, say that he loved all three of his grandkids equally, and he was immensely proud of his grandsons. But his little Tansie was the apple of his eye. Smart beyond her six years, and with a perpetually sunny personality, it was impossible to be down when she was around. Unlike her brothers, who resembled their dad, Tansie was fair-skinned, with a mass of honey curls and a smattering of freckles over her snub nose. She was as cute as a button and the image of how her mom was at that age. His chest tightened. Emma too, he guessed.

  Tansie giggled as he rubbed his beard across her cheek, and slid off his lap. “We can put it in the bathroom. There's loads of wall in there.” She dimpled and held out her hand. “Do you want me to help you up?”

  “Think I can manage, Pumpkin.” He grabbed his cane and pushed himself to his feet. “You sure you want your art in the bathroom? It might get kinda soggy.”

  Tansie looked around the living room. “There isn't room in here or the kitchen. Maybe I could have Grandma's studio, Mom said...”

  “No!” Tansie flinched and Deke took a breath and forced himself to smile. “Maybe. I'll talk to your mom about clearing it out.”

  His granddaughter had a way of looking at him sometimes. “It's okay, Pops. Mom said you probably wouldn't want me to use it.”

  “It's fine, Pumpkin. As soon as it's cleared out, you can have it. There's little enough space here. I'm just being a selfish old man.” Story of his life, really. Lottie and Luke wouldn't have had to cram themselves and their kids into a trailer in the yard if he'd admit that he couldn't take care of this place anymore and get an apartment in the city.

  As Tansie rummaged in a drawer for some thumb tacks, he headed for the bathroom to find the perfect spot for her latest masterpiece with a rueful grin on his face. It was kinda ironic that it was for him that his nomad family had finally laid down some roots—for now, at least.

  He'd always known that Lottie would want to fly, and she hadn't proven him wrong. For fifteen years, she and Luke had traveled the world, somehow managing to
raise a family, and documenting their adventures in beautifully illustrated books. Until two years ago, the kids had never set foot in a classroom, but had gained their education everywhere from the plains of Africa to the cities of Europe. They'd crewed a yacht from the UK to the Azores. Worked for a charity that provided motorcycles to health workers in developing countries. Had taken part in more protests and occupations than he cared to remember. They'd lived in squats in Europe, and had been deported from Australia.

  Samson grinned as Tansie handed him the tacks. His daughter and son-in-law were determined that the world would be a better place for their kids, they were true outlaws. And he couldn't be prouder.

  Tansie stood back and admired her handiwork and giggled. “You can look at this while you poop.”

  “I sure can, Pumpkin.” Deke ruffled her curls. “Let's go and see whether there's any of that cake left.”

  “Mom said we aren't to have any till after dinner.”

  “Then we'll have to be extra sneaky, won't we.”

  It was pretty hard for six foot four of ex-biker and a six year old who couldn't stop talking to be sneaky, even if Lottie didn't have eyes in the back of her head. She didn't even turn as they stealthily approached the cake tin on the kitchen table. “I know what you're doing. I told you, Tansie, not before dinner, and you, Dad, should know better.”

  His daughter had insisted that the reason they cooked and ate in his house was due to a lack of space in the trailer. And while there was a ring of truth in that, Deke suspected it was just her way of keeping tabs on him, and making sure he ate. She probably had a point: he didn't have much of an appetite these days, and he had to force himself to eat.

  Tansie pouted and sighed theatrically. “But I'm starving.”

  “No you're not.” Deke grinned at his daughter's frown. She always got a bug up her ass about food. “Children in Africa are starving. Your dad's on his way home, so you won't have to wait long. Why don't you read your school book to Pops?”

  Tansie rolled her eyes. “They only have baby books at school. I'm gonna go and see what Joseph and Emile are doing.” She poked Deke on the thigh. “You coming, Pops?”

  ~ oOo ~

  His grandsons were doing what they always did: Fixing the latest damage on one of their old dirt bikes. Lottie hadn't exactly been thrilled with the idea of her fourteen-year-old twins tearing up the countryside at every opportunity. But Deke had promised that he'd make sure they knew what they were doing, and Luke had thought it was a great idea, and got one of his own.

  The boys were Hell raisers, though. Of that there was no doubt. They were as different as night and day; Joseph was the joker, with a quick wit and smart mouth. He was impulsive, easily led, and usually the one who got into trouble. Emile was quiet—the thinker of the duo. It was usually him who was behind whatever scrape they got themselves into, and Deke was sure it was his brains that prevented them getting caught more often. But one thing they had in common was that no fucker was going to tell them what to do.

  Deke pushed open the workshop door and frowned at the assembled tools, scattered across the floor. “I'm gonna pretend I ain't seen your grandaddy's tools treated like that. Pick 'em up. Now.” Joseph opened his mouth to argue, but a poke in the ribs from his brother silenced him. Deke grinned and eased himself onto an old dining chair against the wall, as they wordlessly did as they were told. His grandsons were almost permanently on report, but they would never talk back to their pop. “How's it coming?”

  “Good.” Joseph grinned. “I reckon it'll run better than before.”

  “Yup. It's a well-known fact that dents make 'em go faster.” Deke stretched his leg in front of him. “You do know that if either of you break something, you mom is gonna blame me.”

  His grandsons laughed, and he had to swallow a lump in his throat, as memories of his brother pushed their way into his consciousness. Deke Samson had always been a man who looked forward, but now the only direction he looked was back. He missed Tiny—he missed everyone. And he envied them all.

  He guessed he was a lucky man. He'd lived a life of his own choosing, had been loved by a woman he didn't deserve, and was surrounded by his family, whom he loved more than life itself. But it wasn't supposed to be like this. He'd dodged the reaper on mountain passes, and while staring down the barrel of a gun. And despite a less than healthy lifestyle, he remained in rude health as, one by one, the people he loved passed.

  Deke closed his eyes as Tansie chatted to her brothers. Every day, he ate and drank, he laughed and enjoyed his grandchildren. But every night he prayed to whatever was out there that this day would be the last, and that finally, he could be with Emma again.

  “Pops?”

  Deke opened his eyes, and mentally, shook himself. “What d'ya need, son?”

  Emile glanced over to the Indian languishing under a plastic sheet in the dimly lit corner. “Can we strip down your old bike when this one's fixed?” Before Deke could formulate an excuse, he continued. “You promised, Pops. You said when we got good at fixing bikes, and we're good now, we know what we're doing.”

  Why the hell not? It wasn't as though he was ever going to ride it again. “Not unless me or your mom supervises. That ain't no ratty ol' dirt bike. That bike an' me have done a lot of miles together. Don't reckon there are many states we ain't crossed. An' if it's treated right, it'll do a lot more.” He was pretty sure the boys didn't want to him him drone on about his glory days, but at least they had the decency to pretend to look interested. “First an' last bike I ever rode, wouldn't like to see it wrecked, but it should be ridden.” He chuckled. “Carefully.”

  He doubted either would really want to ride it—both were speed freaks—but he liked to think that at least one of them would take it for a spin once in a while. And they were showing promise as mechanics. It was in their blood, he guessed.

  The workshop was their domain now. Deke grinned, it was good to see it in use, and to hear the sounds of power tools and the revving of engines again. Even if the goddamned music they listened to did give him a headache.

  ~ oOo ~

  Dinner, as usual, was a noisy affair. Only Deke remained quiet as his family shared their news and talked over one another. He had nothing to offer, and sometimes his brain struggled to keep up. Emma would have loved this, though; she'd always wanted more kids, and would have thrown herself into their lives with gusto.

  He pushed his food around his plate with a sigh. It was rare that the whole family got to sit down and eat together. Luke was running a bar in Aberdeen and worked long hours, and although Lottie stayed at home to take care of him and her kids, she volunteered at a homeless shelter in Seattle once a week, and ran photography workshops or gave talks on their travels to local community groups. The boys had struggled with the discipline at school at first, but seemed to be settling in now, and had a large circle of friends who took up a lot of their time.

  He loved that his home was filled with love and laughter, and although he had no idea what they would do after he was gone, he kind of hoped that they would stay.

  “Are you okay, Dad?” Lottie touched his arm. “You're very quiet.”

  “I'm fine.” He smiled and patted her hand. “Not hungry, though. I'm gonna go and have a smoke.”

  The sun was low in the sky as he made his way to the bench at the bottom of the yard. There was no part of this little house that wasn't full of memories. Parts had changed recently; the Princess house was gone and a modern trailer stood in its place, and a sunroom had been added to the back of the house. But Emma was still everywhere and, sometimes, Deke forgot, and would catch himself searching for her.

  He rarely spoke of her—it was too painful to say her name out loud—but when he sat at the bottom of the yard, he did talk to her. And sometimes, he felt that she heard him.

  Losing her was, without question, the most painful thing he'd ever experienced. There had been no warning, and no chance to say goodbye. Emma had complained of a headache and gon
e to bed early, and when he'd joined her, less than two hours later, she was dead.

  An aneurysm, they'd told him. She hadn't suffered, which was some comfort, and in some ways he was glad that she'd gone first; he'd hate the thought of her going through what he went through—was still going through—but, God he missed her.

  They'd scattered her ashes here, and Lottie had planted a wildflower garden in her mom's memory. Deke eased himself onto the bench that Luke had built for him, and lit a smoke. “Hey, baby girl.” He bent and plucked a yellow daisy. “I'm not having a good day today. The world is moving too quickly, an' I can't keep up. The kids talk about things I don't understand, Lottie an' Luke are still trying to save the world, an' it breaks my heart that they ain't gonna succeed. Even the fucking club has more accountants and lawyers than patches these days.” He chuckled. “Mind you, those fuckers in suits are more deadly than any of my brothers could've been.”

  Deke took a deep breath. “I'm so tired, baby. My body hurts all the fucking time, an' I think my mind's starting to go—sometimes I forget that you're gone, an' when I look at our grandkids, I can't remember their names.” He took a long pull on his cigarette. “Reckon I'll eat my gun 'fore I let myself go the same way as Beth. It broke my heart, watching her end her days waiting for Tiny to come home. Kinda glad you were spared that, Emma. It ain't easy having your family disappear in front of your eyes.”

  “I've told Tansie that she can have your studio. She's got real talent, just like you. You'd love her, baby girl, she looks at the world the same way you do. An' the boys.” He grinned. “Reckon they'll be wearing patches by the time they're twenty. Lottie worries about 'em, but they'll do good, I think. There's a lot of Tiny in both of 'em, but there is in Luke as well, an' he's turned out just fine.”

  “I miss you so much, Emma. I miss your laugh. Reckon I miss that most of all.”

  Deke swallowed and fell silent. The long shadows were preventing the last of the sun from warming his bones, but he wasn't ready to go back into the house. It was peaceful, with just the birdsong and the clucking of the girls to break the silence, and talking to Emma always made him feel better. He closed his eyes as a wave of contentment washed over him.