Merrick: Harlequins MC

by Olivia Stephens

  “You could take classes nearby,” Damon said.

  Cassie nodded. “I got online in Breaker's office and looked some things up already.”

  “You know this might not be an easy life,” he said. “You know that there are going to be some…rough patches.”

  “Rougher than what we've already dealt with?” she raised an eyebrow.

  Damon shrugged. “Maybe. I don't know. I just don't want you walking into this with your eyes closed.”

  “They're wide open. And I don't want to be anywhere else.”

  Damon smiled and kissed her again. He didn't believe in happy endings, but if they did exist, he thought he was the last person who deserved one. But maybe, just maybe things really were going to be okay.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Cassie stood at the stove cooking breakfast for the guys in the clubhouse. She smiled at Damon as he walked in and gave her a small smile and a wink before opening the refrigerator and grabbing a small bottle of orange juice. She focused on the hash browns and bacon that were cooking, making sure to not burn either.

  “What's for breakfast?” Damon asked.

  “Breakfast burritos,” she said. “Since nobody seems to be a big fan of sitting around and having a meal together, I opted to make something portable.”

  “Oh, I'm a big fan of enjoying a meal as a group,” Breaker said as he sauntered into the kitchen. “Especially breakfast. Love breakfast food.”

  Damon smiled, kissed Cassie on the back of the neck and gave her butt a small squeeze before taking a seat at the table with Breaker. Though the kid didn't stay here very often, he was always here early on in the day. He got started on his tasks and responsibilities long before most of the club rolled out of bed and shook off the hangover most of them were nursing. He was a good kid and he was one Damon liked a lot.

  Cassie sat a plate down in front of each of them that held a heaping breakfast burrito that was bursting with things like egg, bacon, sausage, and salsa. Damon leaned over the plate, inhaling deeply and could tell there was a lot more to it than that. If it tasted anywhere as good as it smelled, he was going to be a happy man.

  “Babe, this smells amazing,” he said.

  Cassie blushed at his use of the word “babe.” They hadn't been together for very long – and she wasn't even sure if what they had constituted being “together” in the relationship sense of the word, but she liked the direction things were going. Ever since the night he'd saved her from Andy, Damon had changed – in a way. He was still gruff and sometimes quick to anger – though never with her – but he had also been gentler and more attentive to her. It seemed to her that the walls he normally kept around himself had come down where she was concerned. And rather than fight it, he'd kept them down.

  Breaker nodded. “Yeah, it really does. Thank you for breakfast, Cassie.”

  She turned and looked at the younger man. Though a rough and tumble biker – sort of – Breaker was always pretty well neat and clean. He wasn't the grease monkey sort. His specialty was in computers and, though a full patch member of the Dragons, he served the club in a different way. He wasn't one of the guys out there stomping ass – though Cassie had no doubts Breaker could take care of himself if it came to it – but he was busy protecting them using his brain and his computers.

  The two men laughed and made small talk as Cassie continued making breakfast. She knew there were a couple of others who'd stayed in the club overnight – Carl, the president of the Dragons among them – and that there would likely be a few more who straggled in and were hungry.

  Cooking for the club, sort of playing den mother to them, gave Cassie something to do. It helped take her mind off of the terrible situation she was in. Of course, things with Damon were great. And they were headed in a good direction, but outside of that, she was just coming out of an abusive relationship, she hadn't finished school, had no job or marketable skills, no prospects, and no idea what she was going to do with her life. She'd talked with Damon about going back to school, about chasing her dream of being a veterinarian one day. Strangely enough, it had been bonding with Breaker's dog – a white pit bull named Danny – who'd rekindled her passion for it. Damon had encouraged her to do just that – but the thought of actually doing it scared her. It had been so long since she'd been in school and Cassie didn't like the idea that she'd be the oldest one in class. It was a lot to think about. A lot to consider.

  Damon walked over and gave her a quick peck on the lips. “Thanks for the burrito,” he said. “Gotta split. Things to do.”

  “See you later, then,” she replied.

  “Believe it.”

  She smiled as she watched him walk out of the kitchen and into the garage. His bike roared to life and he pulled out of the club's compound. The sound of his bike faded into distance as Carl strolled into the kitchen. “Something smells damn good,” he said as he took a seat at the table.

  “Good morning,” Cassie said as she set a plate heaped with food in front of him.

  Cassie gave Carl a deconstructed burrito – everything on the plate with the tortillas on the side. She had learned that he wasn't an eat-and-go type of guy. Carl liked to sit and eat and actual meal. And ever since she'd arrived and had taken up the den mother role, Carl and Breaker liked to sit and talk about sports, politics, or any number of mundane things. But they also liked to discuss club business over breakfast. For Cassie, it was a fascinating, if sometimes scary, inside look at the way the Dragons operated.

  Breaker cleared his throat. “There's something you need to know, Carl.”

  Carl chewed thoughtfully. “What is it?”

  Breaker cut a quick look at Cassie and cleared his throat again. “I've been doing a little poking around since the night that – the night Cassie came to stay with us.”

  Carl looked at her and she saw a look of concern flash through his eyes. But as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone again. One of Breaker's jobs was to monitor the local cops. And being as talented as he was with computers – Damon had once described him as a Hall of Fame level hacker – Breaker had access to anything and everything he wanted. If he wanted information, there was nothing stopping him from getting it.

  “Go on,” Carl said and took another bite of food from his plate.

  Breaker looked distinctly uncomfortable sitting there. He kept shifting his eyes over to Cassie and clearing his throat nervously. Whatever he wanted to say, he was afraid to say it in front of her.

  “It's okay, kid,” Carl said. “She should be here for this.”

  Cassie looked at Carl, not understanding what he meant or why he thought she should hear what Breaker had to say. While they did discuss some club business in front of her, they also made sure to discuss the more private, sensitive matters after asking her to leave or going into their meeting room and closing the door behind them. That Breaker was so nervous and Carl wanted her to stay made Cassie more than a little apprehensive about it.

  “Okay – well – I've been reading some memos from inside the department,” Breaker said. “From McReed specifically. There are questions being asked about Andy's disappearance.”

  Carl took another bite, looked away, and chewed slowly, as if processing the information and developing his strategy. Carl was a very deliberate, very thoughtful man who rarely reacted out of anger or emotion. He looked at something from all sides and formed his opinion before acting on anything. Cassie thought it was one of his greatest strengths as the club's leader.

  But to hear Damon talk, it was also one of the biggest reasons some of the more hot-tempered members of the Dragons wanted to force him out. Some of these guys were hot heads who wanted to do nothing more than go off halfcocked and kick some ass. They didn't like that Carl kept them on a leash. They seemed to forget that Carl – though sixty years old – could still kick some ass. But he wanted to be smart about it. Which, to Cassie, is exactly what a good leader should do.

  “What are they saying?” Carl asked.

  “M
cReed is practically begging his superiors to open a missing person's case,” Breaker replied. “Says he'd been in regular contact with Andy about Cassie and is concerned that he's suddenly fallen off the map.”

  “And what are his bosses saying?”

  “They're reluctant,” he replied. “But they say if he can come up with some evidence, they'll look into it.”

  “How does this tie into the club?”

  Breaker cleared his throat again and gave Cassie a quick glance before returning his attention to Carl. “Because Andy had been talking to McReed about her. Andy was trying to convince McReed we kidnapped her.”

  Carl looked at Cassie for a moment and sighed. He pushed his plate of food away and leaned back in his chair. “I guess we need to expect McReed to be stopping by at some point soon then,” Carl said.

  “I think we'd be smart to prepare for that, yeah.”

  “Thanks, kid.” Carl stood up and looked at Cassie again. “Come on, get some air with me.”

  She looked at Breaker, the nervousness in her face plain as day. He gave her an apologetic look as if trying to tell her he was sorry. She gave him a smile and a small shake of her head, trying to reassure him, to make sure he knew she didn't blame him. Cassie turned and followed Carl out to the back deck. She crossed her arms over her chest and hugged herself tight, knowing that the goosebumps on her arm weren't there because of the temperature alone.

  There was still a chill in the morning air as she walked outside and she shivered. Carl leaned against the railing and fished a cigarette out of his vest pocket. He lit it, took a deep drag, and exhaled a thick plume of smoke. “Cold?” he asked.

  Cassie shook her head. “I'm fine.”

  “Looks like we've got a bit of a problem,” he said.

  “I'm sorry.”

  He took another drag and looked at her. “What are you sorry for, Cassie?”

  “I – I'm sorry that it seems like my being here is causing problems for you and the club.”

  Carl blew a plume of smoke into the air and nodded. “It's created a few wrinkles, that's for sure.”

  “If you need me to split, just tell me. It's okay. You've done a lot for me already.”

  He pierced her with his eyes, his gaze intense. “I need you to tell me something and I need you to be truthful about it. Got it?”

  Cassie nodded and felt the knots in her stomach tighten painfully. “Got it.”

  “Where is Andy?”

  Cassie shook her head. “I don't know where he is, Carl. I swear it.”

  “Uh huh,” he said. “And the night he followed you out of here and into the woods. What happened?”

  Tears welled in Cassie's eyes and she looked down at the deck. “He – he tried to kill me, Carl. He found me walking along that stream. He wrapped his hands around my neck and started to strangle me. If Damon hadn't showed up when he did, I'd be dead right now.”

  Carl sighed and nodded, his eyes fixed on something in the distance. “And Damon? What did Damon do to Andy? I don't imagine Andy stopped strangling you just because Damon asked real nice.”

  The tears, fat and warm, rolled down her cheeks. “Damon shot him. Killed him.”

  “Yeah, I thought somethin' like that went down.”

  “It's not his fault, Carl,” Cassie said. “He was protecting me.”

  “When he should have been protecting the club,” Carl snapped.

  Cassie jumped at the harsh, icy tone in Carl's voice. She kept her eyes pinned to floor, unable to meet his furious glare.

  “But now it looks like that burden is shifting to you, Cassie,” Carl said. “And I need to know – what are you going to do to protect this club when the shit starts raining down on us? Because believe me, it is going to start raining down soon.”

  Cassie finally looked him in the eye and scrubbed the tears from her face. “I'll do whatever I have to do,” she said, her tone firm. “You had my back and I'll have yours. I swear it.”

  Carl crushed the cigarette out beneath his boot. “I hope so, Cassie. I hope so.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  “Let's take a ride,” Carl said.

  Damon looked at him questioningly, but didn't say anything. It wasn't often Carl went out for a pleasure ride these days, so he figured the older man had something he needed to talk about. Or just something he needed to say and get off his chest. And given the fact that he was taking a ride away from the club to say it, Damon figured he didn't want anybody else overhearing what was on his mind. He knew Carl well enough to know that whatever it might be was a serious matter – which probably meant it wasn't good.

  They rode through the winding, tree-lined roads for a good half an hour when Carl pulled to a stop on a shoulder. Damon followed suit, shut off his bike and put the kickstand down, waiting for Carl to make the next move. The older man reached into his saddlebag and pulled out a six-pack of beer.

  “Come on,” he said.

  He led Damon down a seldom-used path that cut through the forest. The sun was high in the sky, but there was still a bit of a chill in the air. The birds chirped in the branches high above them and the trees were a riot of color. It was one thing Damon had to admit he loved about the area. He wasn't as cultured as some people, wasn't much of an art or wine aficionado, but he could appreciate things like the beauty of nature.

  Carl stopped at the bank of a small river and took a seat on a log, motioning for Damon to join him. He took a seat next to the older man and took the beer Carl offered him. He popped the top and took a long swallow, waiting for Carl to speak his piece. But the older man waited and didn't say anything for several long moments. He had a faraway look in his eyes as he stared out at the river, seeming content to enjoy the scenery and a cold beer. But the longer the silence went on, the more uncomfortable Damon grew. It told him there was something big weighing on Carl's mind and if he had to guess, Damon would have said it had something to do with Cassie.

  “I've always loved it out here this time of year,” Carl said.

  Damon nodded. “Me, too.”

  “Not enough people stop to just enjoy nature. It's a beautiful thing.”

  “Yeah.”

  Carl finished off his beer and opened a second one. Damon was growing a little impatient. He knew it would all come out soon but Carl was just dragging it out. Damon was never one who liked to delay things. If there were something he needed to deal with, he would rather get it out into the open and deal with it rather than play games and keep the other person guessing.

  “So, what's on your mind, Carl?”

  “You know, when I first took over this club,” Carl said, “they were a rowdy bunch. Brawlers. Violent. Killed people. Got themselves killed. They were running guns and running drugs and being stupid about it. Half the club was locked up and the other half was a hair's breadth of getting themselves locked up. I really didn't know if the Dragons were going to make it. I knew if I wanted the club to survive, we were going to have to get smarter. Do some things differently. Do everything differently.”

  Damon didn't know the full history of the club. He didn't know Carl when he first assumed the club's presidency. “And you did it. You brought the club back from the brink and now it’s flourishing.”

  “Because we were smart about things,” Carl said. “We stopped the ass-stomping mentality and got ourselves off the cops' radar. For the most part. We flourished because we started doing business differently. We were smart about it. And we've all benefited from it.”

  “I agree.”

  Carl sighed and took another swallow of beer. He stood up and walked to the edge of the water. After a couple of moments, he turned around. “And you're puttin' it all at risk, Damon,” he said. “You're puttin' all of us at risk.”

  “What are you talking about, man?”

  Carl looked at him and Damon could see the anger behind his eyes. The older man lit a cigarette and exhaled the plume of smoke with an irritated sounding breath. “You really gonna try to play me like that, m
an?” Carl asked.

  Damon shook his head. “Seriously. What are you talking about?”

  “Cassie,” Carl said, his tone hard as steel. “Or, more specifically, her former husband, Andy.”

  Damon felt the knot in his stomach tighten as a shot of adrenaline surged through him. The night he came back to the club after killing Cassie's ex, he hadn't specifically said he'd done it. But it seemed to be pretty clear, if unspoken. Damon was worried because he didn't know what had happened or what was going on. As far as he knew, since that night, things had been good. “What about him?” Damon asked as he shook a cigarette out of his own pack and lit it.

  Carl's shook his head and chuckled. “Did you know our good friend, Detective McReed, is practically begging his bosses for permission to come rattle our cages?”