Shadow & Soul (The Night Horde SoCal Book 2)

by Susan Fanetti

  Faith looked around. Nothing but scrub and dust as far as she could see—until the horizon, where the San Bernardino Mountains rose up, still with just the barest cap of snow at their highest peaks. The sky was a vast, unbroken expanse of cerulean blue. She had to admit there was something beautiful in the near-perfect emptiness.

  “Studio,” she grumbled, unwilling to admit that there was a remote chance she’d consider this.

  He grinned, seeing that remote chance anyway. “Studio, right. Not a shop. Sorry.”

  Faith stepped out of his hold and turned back to the house. Very remote chance. “God, Michael.”

  “But it could be great. Look at that porch. I can build the garage exactly the way I want it. I know it’s rough inside, but…”

  “Rough? Holes in the walls. Exposed subfloor. Only one bathroom, and somebody stole all the fixtures. They probably carried all the copper out in the bathtub.”

  His grin faded away. “Faith. I can’t afford much. But I can work hard, and I can do almost everything that needs doing. What I can’t do, somebody in the club can do. You know they’ll all help. I know you see what things could be, not what they are. It’s like you’re trying not to see what this could be.”

  She was, and she didn’t know why.

  They’d had no luck finding anything in town. Part of it was their finances, which weren’t dazzling. Michael had some savings, but Faith really didn’t. What she’d earned from the playground commission would cover a down payment, but otherwise, she’d been living like most artists lived—feast or famine, and more famine than feast.

  Madrone was a pretty expensive place to live, and Michael didn’t want to raise Tucker in the kind of neighborhood there that they could afford to buy in. She agreed, of course. She was still living in her mother’s house, taking care of Sly and the kittens, but that was ready to go on the market. Michael hadn’t wanted to move Tucker more than once, so they had stayed with Hoosier and Bibi. They’d thought it would be just a couple of weeks. But Michael had gotten custody of Tucker six weeks earlier, and they were nowhere nearer to a real home solution.

  Until Michael had come over and picked her up, wanting to show her what he’d found. Now they were way out near Joshua Tree, looking at a foreclosed property that had been on the market so long that the ‘For Sale’ sign was hanging by a single hook, and the agent hadn’t even bothered to come out with them. He’d actually given Michael the code to the key box over the phone—which had seemed insanely reckless until they’d gotten out here and realized that there was nothing left to fucking steal. No copper wiring or pipes, no appliances, nothing.

  Even taking into account the theft and vandalism, it was a house that looked like it had never been loved. No one had ever been happy to live here.

  The exterior of the ranch-style house seemed intact, if uninspired. Putty-colored stucco, an indifferent asphalt-shingle roof, a long, Western-style porch across the full front. Somebody had built out the garage to be two more bedrooms. That expansion, according to Michael, had been done well, with solid HVAC and good insulation.

  She sighed. “You’re right. I can’t get over the lack. But okay, let’s go through again, and show me what you see.” She held out her hand, and he took it. First he kissed it, and then he led her back into the house.

  “Living room. Flagstone fireplace. Tuckpointing is solid, flue is clean. I can build some shelves on either side of it, like Hoosier has. We can put down hardwood—or probably laminate, but something nice.” He led her through, walking over the exposed subfloor. “Dining room.” He pointed out the wide picture window—which, at least, had glass in it. About the only thing the place had going for it was intact windows. And a low asking price. “Nice view. I can rebuild the fences, paint them. In the winter and spring, all that dead grass will be green, with a white fence and blue sky. And the mountains.”

  They moved on. “Kitchen. Huge blank slate. We can do anything we want in here.”

  Faith laughed, looking around at the apocalyptic disaster which had once been a kitchen. She didn’t need him to walk her through the rest of it again. One bathroom, four bedrooms, an extra room that was long and narrow, like a hallway to nowhere. She was going to say yes to this house. Michael’s outlook was so aggressively rosy, which was so new for him, that she just wanted to hug him and give him everything he wanted.

  “Where are we going to live while you make this my dream house?”

  He looked down at her and grinned. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. I can see it. We’ll make it ours.”

  “Excellent!” He grabbed her and lifted her off the ground.

  She cupped her hands around his face and kissed him. Before he could turn it into foreplay—no, she would not be fucking on this dirty floor—she asked, “So, where?”

  He grinned, and blushed lightly—sheepish, not angry. “Here?”

  “Oh, dude. No.”

  “It’s just June. I could have most of the work done by the end of the summer. Sherlock’s mom has one of those old pop-up camper things. He said it just sits on her driveway, so he’s sure she’d let it sit out here for a while, free of charge.”

  He’d already been planning all this, Faith realized. “You want me to camp for the whole summer. In the desert. In a construction zone. You know it can get to be a hundred and twenty degrees out here, right?”

  “We’ll be in town during the day, and it’s plenty cool at night. How about if I build your studio first? With AC.”

  “Michael…” He was nuts, but she couldn’t bring herself to tell him no. He was just so happy, and it looked so good on him.

  “Tucker would love it.”

  She punched his shoulder. “Oh, that’s so unfair!”

  He smiled, utterly without shame. Still holding her aloft, he bounced her a little. “C’mon. It’ll be awesome.”

  “What if I’m pregnant?” They’d been trying since she’d had the implant removed. Morning sickness and camping didn’t seem like they’d mix.

  “If you’re pregnant, I’ll work double time to get it done as fast as I can. I’ll get everybody to help.” He leaned in and brushed her nose with his. “If you want, we can stop trying for a while.”

  She wasn’t sure she wanted to do that, but it bore some consideration. “You are crazy. But I must be crazier. Okay. We’ll camp.”

  He laughed, loud and wide open, and squeezed her harder. “God, I love you!”

  “Remember that when I’m a sweaty, miserable bitch.”

  “You couldn’t be a bitch if you tried.”

  Oh yes, she could. But she didn’t disabuse him of his optimism, because he was kissing her again, thoroughly, with clear intent. When he went to his knees and laid her down, she didn’t object. She hooked her legs around his hips.

  The floor wasn’t that bad.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Demon loved waking up like this—morning sun pushing off the night chill, slowly at first, making the canvas sides of the camper lighten and glow. Before he’d opened his eyes, that glow seeped into his head and made him smile.

  The sounds of the desert dwellers beginning their day or ending their night—he liked that, too, and lay every morning still and quiet while the desert had its shift change.

  Faith had been freaked out at first by the cries and yips of coyotes at night, but they never got too close. They’d have to be careful, though, if they ever got the animals he hoped they’d get—like chickens. He’d have to make sure the coop was strong and secure.

  At the piercing shriek of a hawk above, getting an early start on the day’s hunt, Demon opened his eyes and peered up through the mesh skylight, hoping to see.

  “Morning,” Faith’s sleepy murmur made his cock, already thickened with morning wood, twitch. He shifted his gaze downward, to where she lay next to him, on her side, her hand on his belly.

  “Morning. Sleep well?”

  “Yeah. It was weird without Tucker here. Was it weird?”

  “Yeah, it was
.” Tucker was spending the weekend at Bart and Riley’s. This weekend was the last push to get the house done enough to live in, and the whole club was coming out to help make it happen. But they’d fucked three times last night, as enthusiastically as they’d wanted, after weeks of furtive grapples and stalled attempts while he slept on the other side of the camper. So Demon couldn’t quite say he wasn’t glad Tucker was having a likely awesome time with his friends.

  Remembering their wild night, while he was already rock hard and Faith was lying naked at his side with her hand very low on his belly, Demon groaned. And then he remembered that Tucker was still having a likely awesome time with his friends. Away.

  Demon didn’t even feel guilty about being glad for that.

  Okay, maybe a little.

  But then Faith moved closer, right up against his side, and her hand moved lower and curled around the base of his cock, and Demon forgot about guilt entirely.

  She rose up onto her elbow and loomed over him, and he pulled the cover off and let it drop to the floor. With one crooked arm under his head, so he could see, he put his other hand on her back as she took him into her mouth.

  He could watch this now. Not only could he, but he loved it. She’d pause every once in a while and look up at him, smiling, and there was something in that moment of eye contact that he never saw any other time. He’d never figured out what it was, but it made him feel loved, and it was hot as hell.

  It was all hot as hell, and he’d realized not long ago that he’d done something really shitty to her—in his mind, anyway—by even making any kind of connection between what the woman who loved him, the woman who was now his wife, did when she gave him head and any other vaguely similar experience he might ever have had. Those experiences weren’t even in the same galaxy as this.

  Now, he could simply feel—her lips, her tongue, her breath, her hands, the caress of her hair over his skin. She was gentle and firm, knowing exactly what touch, and when, felt best to him. She took her time, not simply getting him off, but loving him.

  “Oh fuck.” He was close. She hummed appreciatively at his utterance, and he said it again. She liked him to talk. It was getting easier to give her that.

  He really was close. His gut ached and clenched, and he bucked his hips. Still taking her time, she eased off of him, leaving him behind with a flick of her tongue over his glans. She knew this, too—he preferred to finish buried deep inside her, with her body all around him. And he liked to hold off as long as he could. Being brought to the brink like this was exactly what he wanted.

  She looked up with that sweet, private smile, and he grabbed her and rolled her over, settling between her thighs and drawing a beautiful breast into his mouth. She cried out and arched as he sucked, trapping her nipple, hard and tight with her desire, between his tongue and the roof of his mouth.

  “In me,” she breathed. “Oh, please, Michael, I want you in me.”

  Letting go of her breast and taking her mouth instead, he shifted and gave her what she wanted. Demon sank deep into her, and she brought her legs up, crossing her ankles on the small of his back. They moved together, neither frantic nor indolent, but simply in sync, every part of their bodies fitted together perfectly, gliding together, until her need overtook her. She tore her mouth from his with a gasp and began to move out of rhythm with him.

  It was among his favorite moments of their sex, when Faith turned inside herself, so overtaken by the demands of her own body that she could focus on nothing else. There was a power in being there with her, helping her achieve what she needed, that he’d felt with only her. Still on the brink himself, he sped up to match her gyrations, driving hard into her until every breath she let go was a grunting cry.

  The camper was rocking; he could hear their few dishes rattling in the tiny cupboard. Even in the extremity of their need, Demon could spare a proud smile for that.

  She bit down on his shoulder and raked her nails across his back, and he felt her spasms embrace his throbbing length. While she was lost in the haze of her climax, he let his own need have him.

  Yeah, he was definitely glad Tucker was having a likely awesome time at Bart and Riley’s.

  ~oOo~

  Connor nodded. “Aye.”

  “That’s unanimous, then. I’ll contact La Zorra and tell her that we’ll pick up the eastbound route, too.” Hoosier looked at Demon. “You sure, Deme? I know you need the scratch, but I want to make sure you’re all in.”

  Demon sat forward and looked Hoosier straight in the eye. “I’m in, Prez. It’s more than the money. I’m tired of sitting on the outside.”

  “Fair enough. I’ll be glad to have you on these runs.” Hoosier turned to Nolan and Double A, sitting near the end of the table. They’d been sitting at the table and voting with the SoCal charter for nine months. Demon had come to find himself surprised at reminders that they were members of the mother charter. “This expansion ups the risk, fellas. You know Show is asking after you. If you’re ready to head home, it’s a good time. If you’re not, then it might be time to talk about changing that Missouri patch out.”

  “All respect, Prez, and I won’t speak for A, but neither works for me.” Nolan sat up in his seat. “I won’t give up my patch, but I’m not ready to leave. Missouri is my home, but this is where I need to be right now.”

  “This about what happened to Isaac?” Lunden had been attacked and nearly killed in prison. He and Len Wahlberg had retaliated, and both of their sentences had been extended.

  “They opened his throat, Prez. That was Santaveria still at us from the grave. La Zorra is taking his remaining men down—including the Castillos. I want in until it’s over. If you’ll still have me.”

  “She’s the wife of the man who killed your father.”

  “I’m aware. David Vega ever shows up again, then I’ll have some work to do. But he did what he did on Santaveria’s orders. I want every man still working for that name.”

  “That’s a vendetta, son. Dangerous.”

  Nolan didn’t answer. After a moment, Hoosier nodded and turned to Double A, sitting at Nolan’s side. “And you, A? You been hurt twice in our business. You ready to go home?” Hoosier was smirking, though, as he asked. Everybody at the table was. Double A and Coco had a regular thing going on—regular enough that she was off the roster.

  He smiled and looked down. “I’m with Nolan. I’m good here for a while.”

  “Well, boys, you’re an asset to this table. But you’re not ours to keep, and you don’t want to transfer. So let’s put a date on this loan. Your family wants you home. End of the year at the latest—and I mean whether or not we got the Castillos tied up tight. Any objections?”

  Nolan looked like he was going to object, but he eventually shook his head.

  “Alright, then. We’re adjourned.” Hoosier struck the gavel on the marred surface of the Night Horde SoCal table, and the men went out to party.

  ~oOo~

  Demon checked a side mirror on his bike for about the thousandth time and saw Keanu not far back, driving the club van. Good. He pulled onto the ramp that would lead him home, checking again to make sure Keanu had taken the exit—not that he hadn’t been to their place dozens of times by now.

  He checked again when he turned onto their dirt road. He didn’t relax until he’d pulled up next to Dante and Keanu had parked next to him on the new gravel driveway in front of the new, three-car garage. Then, as he always did when he got home, he took a minute and just looked.

  His home. What had been a sad, dilapidated, puke-brown house was now a vibrant terra cotta home with turquoise trim. He’d given Faith a cockeyed look when she’d shown him the paint cards, but it worked. And inside? Fuck, it was perfect. Not fancy—and not quite finished—but perfect.

  There was still work to do, but he’d promised his old lady—his wife—that she’d have a house by the end of the summer, and he’d made it happen. He’d gotten the studio done first, too—also as promised. With AC.


  Good thing about the AC—the summer had been the kind of hot that made special news reports. But Faith hadn’t gotten pregnant yet—they hadn’t stopped trying, exactly, but sleeping in a camper with a toddler hadn’t made for a lot of opportunities—so she hadn’t been overly uncomfortable, and the nights had been cool enough to need blankets. They’d made a campfire and cooked out every night as soon as the sun went low, and then, when the cool rolled in, they’d put Tucker to bed in the little camper and sat outside curled together under a blanket and stared up at the glittering, magnificent desert night sky.

  Tucker had thought they were on a vacation all summer. So had Demon, to be honest. It had been the best summer of his life. All of his free time spent with his family, building their home.