Into the Storm

by Susan Fanetti

  ~oOo~

  After the girls were asleep together on the fold-out sofa in the suite’s living room, Show jumped in the shower. Shannon pulled on a deep blue silk nightgown, with lace trim and slender straps that crisscrossed over a low back—sexy, but full length, in case of wayward children. She’d bought it at the mall, while Show had the girls off for a pit stop. She got into bed, thinking she’d read on her tablet, but her mind was busy with thoughts of the day with the girls, so she set the tablet on the nightstand, hugged one of the pillows close to her chest, and lay on her belly. Since she was a little girl, she’d preferred this position when she had big thinking to do at bedtime.

  They were good girls. The day had gone much better than she’d expected, or even hoped. She wasn’t sure how to talk to little girls, so she didn’t even try. She just talked to them like women, and that seemed to work. Iris was open and friendly right away. Rose took longer, but she was never hostile. Just shy. Shopping had been the right choice. The girls had enjoyed helping her pick things out, and picking things out for themselves, and the salon stop had been inspired. She hadn’t had a really good shopping trip since she’d left Tulsa, and she’d let her credit card out for a run today. Keeping Show’s paws off his wallet had been a challenge, but she’d pointed him at the girls, suggesting he spend his money on them.

  She’d started to doze when Show came into the room with a towel wrapped around his waist. Staying where she was, she opened her eyes. He locked the door and dropped the towel. Oh, she liked that view. He saw her watching him, and his cock rose to attention. Oh, she liked that view better.

  “Hey, hon.”

  “Hi.”

  “You tired?”

  “Not too much.”

  “That’s good.” He got onto the bed and stretched out behind her, leaning over her back. She loved the broad, warm weight of his chest on her body. He brushed her hair off her shoulder and kissed her there, his curled fingers tracing a soft line down her arm. “What you wearing?”

  She grinned, looking over her shoulder at him. “This old thing?”

  “If you’ve been holding this back from me, we’re gonna have to have a talk.” His hand was on her side now, smoothing the silk over her hip and thigh. Reversing course, he brought the nightgown up with him, baring her ass.

  “Nope. New today.”

  He hooked his huge hand around her thigh and pushed it up, opening her. She’d been wet since he dropped the towel; now she moaned and squirmed under him.

  “What about the girls?” She wanted this, but she didn’t want to upset the girls and undo the good day they’d had.

  “Door’s locked. Guess you’ll just have to be quiet.” His hand moved up her thigh and pushed between her legs. She gasped as he slid his fingers into her. Lying on her, his mouth on her shoulder, his beard gently rasping at her skin, Show pumped his fingers into her until she thought she’d explode. She tossed to the floor the pillow she’d been hugging, realizing a beat too late that she could have used it to muffle her cries, and rolled more fully to her stomach, coming up onto her elbows so she could move with him, flexing her hips against the rhythm of his hand, bringing him deeper.

  “Oh, God, Show. I need you.”

  With a feral sound deep in his chest, he took his hand away and pushed her flat on the bed, moving fully on top of her, mounting her. He shoved her leg even higher and grabbed her hips in his rough hands. And then he was inside her, deep and hard and fast, and she barely held back the scream.

  He groaned and let her take most of his weight. She was pressed into the mattress, until he shifted them slightly off center, slid his hand under her nightgown and caught her breast, flicking his sandpaper thumb over her nipple. He rose up onto his other elbow and moved, thrusting solidly, steadily into her. She felt his wet hair tracing spirals over her skin as he rocked back and forth over her. She heard his increasingly strained breath, the low grunt of every exhale. He pulled at her nipple suddenly, and she cried out.

  “Shh, hon. Shh. Gotta be quiet.” He pulled again, and she bit back the sound that leapt up her throat. She heard him chuckle. He was toying with her, trying to make her need to scream. She really wished she hadn’t tossed that pillow aside. She tried to pull another one down, but he was holding her too firmly.

  “Fuck, Shannon. So good. Come on, hon.” He sped up, and she could feel him grow even harder inside her—he was getting close. So was she. Each thrust went deeper, faster, fuller, drawing her closer and closer to ecstasy. She couldn’t hold back her cries much longer, and she was losing the ability to care.

  He shifted again and found the best spot, and she couldn’t be quiet anymore. “Oh! Oh! Yes, there, oh God, yes!”

  And then his hand was over her mouth. It was coarse and hot and covered half her face, and she thought it was the sexiest thing he could have done in that moment. She screamed, her mouth hard against his palm, feeling the spasms of her release throughout her entire body, to the very roots of her hair.

  He came right after her, doubling the pace of his thrusts, murmuring “Fuck yeah, oh fuck yeah,” against her ear.

  Holy God, that was hot. She’d never liked the guy coming from behind until Show. She hadn’t liked the lack of control, the way it had made her feel anonymous. But with Show it had been different from the first. She never felt anonymous with him. He did want a lot of control in bed, always. She had to negotiate for it when she wanted it. But with him, she didn’t mind. It had bewildered her at first. All of her feelings about Show had bewildered her at first. Eventually she realized that it was trust. She just trusted him. Instinctively.

  And she never came harder than when he was behind her. With Show, she liked letting go.

  He pulled out gently and lay at her side, his chest heaving so hard he was moving the bed. She rolled to face him, her own breath returning in hard gasps.

  He brushed her hair from her face. “Damn, woman.”

  She smiled. She felt sated and happy. He resettled himself, sitting up against the headboard, and pulled her to snuggle on his chest. They rested quietly like that until their breathing returned to normal.

  Tracing her fingers over his hard belly, feeling content and sleepy, Shannon murmured, “It was a good day. I like your girls.”

  He kissed the top of her head. Then he asked, his voice very low, “Hon, do you want more kids?”

  Her lazy, dreamward thoughts crashed to a halt. They’d never talked about this. It was a thing people were supposed to talk about before they got married, but with their histories, Shannon had just assumed the answer. They were getting married in a couple of weeks. Unless this conversation she hadn’t been expecting went very badly. She sat up and faced him.

  “No. I’m almost forty, Show. I missed my chance.”

  “That’s not true. Not if you don’t want it to be.”

  “I do, though. I don’t want to start this late. I never had the right life, and now it’s too late. For me, it’s too late.” She swallowed and asked the really scary question. “Do you want more?”

  He shook his head. “I would have said no.”

  Oh, God. She flinched at that, hearing doom coming, and he reached out and took her hand. “I’m okay with no, hon. I understand. I’m almost fifty. I’ve just been thinking about it lately, and it would have been nice to have a child with someone I loved like I love you. So if you want, I’d be okay with yes, too.”

  What he was saying eased her fear and broke her heart at the same time. There was no way they’d have found each other if they’d lived different lives, but still the specter of missed chances felt like a pall over the moment. If she’d met Show when she was in her twenties. Hell, if she’d been with Show in high school. If he had been her baby’s father. Would her choices have been different? Could they have had a happy life together all those years, a family? It was silly to even wonder, but she did, and her eyes went blurry with tears.

  He saw, and pulled her back to his chest. “Hey, now. I didn’t mean to sca
re you. I am happier than I’ve ever been, just as we are.”

  She wrapped her arms tightly around him and cried.

  He held her close, stroking her hair. “Shannon. Hon, I mean it. I only need you.” The concern in his voice had weight.

  Fighting to gain control of herself, she nodded. When she could speak, she said, “I believe you. I’m just sad I didn’t know you before. When it wasn’t too late. You’re The One, Show. I wish I’d found you when we could have had all of it.”

  He didn’t answer. He simply held her in his strong, steady arms.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Bart walked around the table, dropping file folders in front of each member of the Horde. Show picked up the folder in front of him and opened it. The face stared back at him—familiar, but Show couldn’t quite place it. He thumbed past the first eight-by-ten photograph and saw that there were several more with different faces.

  Back at his own seat, Bart opened his folder. “These are the actors cast in the movie, working title is just ‘Signal Bend’.” He lifted the photograph from the top of his folder—the same one at the top of Show’s, and apparently all the others. “Tanner Stafford, playing Isaac.”

  Surprised, Show looked down at the face again. The photo was black and white, but it looked like the coloring might be right. He didn’t look big enough to play Isaac, though. Or rough enough. Show looked over at Isaac, who met his eyes and shrugged. They didn’t have say over casting.

  Bart lifted the next photo—a very pretty, delicate young blonde. “Riley Chase, playing Lilli.” Now Show was shocked. This girl was too young, too fragile to be their Lilli. Again, he looked at Isaac, who was shaking his head.

  Everybody at the table was reacting to the idea of the dainty blonde playing the Italian, ex-military, thirty-five-year-old Lilli. Isaac dropped the photo onto his pile. “Yeah, she’s pissed. Nothing we can do about it. Move on.”

  Bart said, “Lilli’s the biggest female role. They wanted a name in the part. Somebody who’d pull audiences in.”

  Show had no idea who the girl was. “She’s a name?”

  Bart was incredulous. “You don’t know who Riley Chase is? The star of—never mind. She’s famous. Trust me. And seriously smokin’ hot.” He set the photo of the blonde aside and held up the third photo. Show already knew that had to be him. That one, he thought, they got close enough. Another face he recognized but couldn’t quite place. Somebody who ended up in secondary action roles, he thought. World-weary. Battle-scarred. About summed him up. Bart confirmed it: “Douglas Warness, Showdown.”

  He continued through the list. Show noticed that there was writing on the backs of the photographs; looked like resumes. A few of the faces were familiar, but nobody he was all that interested in. He wasn’t all that interested in any of the movie shit, now that they’d approved a script.

  But Bart was excited. “Here’s why you care about these. The studio is sending the actors here so they can get to know us. They’ll be here at least a week, maybe longer. They’re supposed to shadow us—especially Isaac, Show, Lilli, and, well, me. But we’ll all have shadows for a least a couple of days.

  “Fuck this shit.” C.J. shoved his chair back and stood. “I’m done.”

  “Sit down, Ceej. Now.” Isaac’s voice was deadly low. The room got quiet and still. C.J. stood where he was and stared at Isaac.

  “This is bullshit, brother,” the older man spat. Isaac just stared. The standoff lasted for several long, chilling seconds before C.J. yanked his chair around and sat back down.

  Isaac relaxed slightly and looked around the table. “We voted the movie deal. We’ve voted every step of the way. This is the will of the club. You will have a shadow, and you will cooperate. Keep your eye on the big picture, brothers. There’s a reason we’re doing this.”

  “Selling out.” Christ, C.J. was spoiling for a fight. Show could feel Isaac’s frustration tipping over to rage, and he leaned forward.

  But Isaac managed to keep his cool. “Okay. Any other business?” There was none. Isaac struck the gavel, and the Horde pushed away from the table.

  “Ceej, Show, Len. Hang around.” Show and Len had known to expect this, even before C.J.’s outburst, but Ceej was surprised. He froze halfway out of his chair, and it took a moment for him to decide to sit back down.

  When it was just the four of them, Isaac said to C.J., “I want to put you on the new bar, because you’ve got the best handle on our books.” The club had bought a shuttered restaurant and were working on turning it into a new bar for the town, a place the tourists and overnighters could go for a quiet drink, keeping them clear of Tuck’s. Isaac had opened today’s meeting with an update on that project, which was stalling over permit trouble. “But I need somebody who can work with the state, deal with the building permits, and then the operating permits, and I need somebody who will take Shannon’s list of candidates to manage the place and get serious about hiring a manager. But I need somebody who’s working for the club. Is that you, Ceej? Can you follow the will of the club?”

  C.J. looked fit to spit. “Sick of you questioning my loyalty, boy.”

  Show saw Isaac’s fists clench at the word “boy,” and tried to will him not to rise to the bait. C.J. was a lot of talk. He was old, past seventy, and didn’t have too many years left on a bike, Show thought. He relied on bluster to reclaim the badass he’d once been.

  “You stop threatening to walk out of the Keep in session, and I’ll feel better about your loyalty. You tell me now that you’re in, even when the vote goes against you, and I’ll believe you. You can’t make me that promise, then you need to put your patch on the table.”

  “I’m in. This club is all I got, and you know it. Give me the damn list.”

  Isaac nodded, apparently satisfied. “Thank you, brother. Bart will get you the list.” He relaxed back in his chair and grinned wickedly at Show. “Alright then. We have a groom to inebriate, make sure he’s good and hung over for tomorrow. Let’s get to it.”

  ~oOo~

  They tried to get him drunk, but it wasn’t so easy to do. Show, who’d tried hard to stay drunk for about a year, knew very well how high his tolerance was. And he had no intention of being hung over for his wedding. So he drank carefully and waited out his brothers. Eventually, everybody but Isaac and Show was shitfaced and neck deep in a girl or two—maybe three, in Len’s case. It was hard to tell how many bodies were in that tangle on the couch.

  Shannon was staying at the B&B for the night. She wanted an unassuming wedding, but she did want to make an entrance, and she wanted him to see her for the first time tomorrow when he was waiting for her with Reverend Mortensen. He had no idea what she would be wearing, but he was sure she would be beautiful.

  He was staying at the clubhouse—because of the booze, and because he didn’t want to be in the house without her.

  A crash of thunder rocked the building a little. Shit—was it raining? He got up from the bar and went to the front door. Yeah—it was coming down in angry, opaque sheets. There’d been nothing in the forecast. Fuck. He pulled his cell out and texted Shannon. It was too late to call; he didn’t want to wake her if she was sleeping.

  Raining hard. Sorry, hon. Creek will flood. They were supposed to stand at the creek for the ceremony.

  About a minute later, she replied. It’s okay. We’ll do it in the gazebo.

  As he was reading that, another came through.

  First time I ever saw you.

  He wasn’t sure what that meant. He started to call her, and got another text.

  I’ll marry you in the kitchen if I have to. But please don’t puke at our wedding.

  He laughed and replied. Cold sober. Give or take.

  Her reply: :) Love you. Miss you. See you tomorrow.

  She was alone tonight, which is what she’d wanted. Lilli, Beth, Connie, and some other town women had taken her to Springfield for lunch, but she wasn’t interested in more than that. No bachelorette party, no wedding shower
. Show felt lonely for her, but he hadn’t pushed the point. She’d said it was what she wanted, and he believed her.

  He was still standing near the front door. Isaac came up behind him and hooked his arm over Show’s shoulder. “Tryin’ to make your getaway, brother?”

  “Nah. Just checking in.” Isaac pulled on his shoulder, and they walked back to the bar.

  ~oOo~

  It stormed hard through the night, but by morning it had passed, and the sky was blue and dotted with white, puffy clouds. The rain had burned off some of the late-August humidity, too, and the day was fine. Everything was soaking wet, though, and the creek had topped its banks, as Show predicted. So he was standing in the gazebo next to the good Reverend, Isaac at his flank.

  Fewer than twenty people were there for the wedding—all the Horde, the B&B staff, and the feed store staff. Shannon wanted small, and small she got. Her uncle was too ill to travel, and Holly would not yet hear of the girls returning to Signal Bend even for this, so the only family present were all wearing black leather. And whatever Lilli was wearing. Lori Mortensen was on Gia duty inside the inn during the ceremony.

  The barbecue was another story, with the whole town coming, and setup for that was already underway. Show could hear the vague sounds of people milling about on the front grounds. Every now and then, somebody would come around the building for a peek at what was going on in the back, but they respected their wish not to have the town tramping all over Lilli’s fancy garden.

  Lilli came through the back door, wearing a pretty blue dress with thin straps over her shoulders. Show had never seen Lilli in a dress, but she looked lovely, her long, dark hair loose down her back, caught off her face with a clip. She walked down toward the gazebo unaccompanied by music, and she didn’t carry any flowers. That seemed fitting, actually. The thought of Lilli holding a bouquet of posies was a little absurd. She stepped up into the gazebo and stood across from Show and Isaac.