by Marilu Mann
He pulled his jeans on, shoved his feet into his shoes and walked to the door. He turned to look at her again, knowing this was another sight he’d never forget. “I love you, Joie Landry. Take care of yourself and our baby,” he whispered toward her. “Take care of the old woman, of Kay too.”
Slade picked up his backpack and left the cabin. He went down the stairs slowly, looking around, making sure nothing was out of place. He hated leaving her like this, asleep, vulnerable. There was no real danger to her, the Pack wouldn’t come after her now that he was dead to them. The people around here would take care of her and Kay.
Slade made his way to the dock. He wouldn’t take the boat, she’d be stranded if he did. Unsure how deep the water ran here, he followed the bank until he found a place where the bayou narrowed. He made his way across it slowly, keeping an ear open for alligators and snakes, stopping every time he heard a noise in the water around him.
Eventually he made his way back to the cabin. Surprised to see a light on in the kitchen, he paused in the yard. The old woman appeared in the doorway as though she had been expecting him.
“What are you doing here, boy? Where’s Joie?”
“She’s okay.”
“You’re leaving us, aren’t you?” She stepped out onto the porch, staring down at him.
“I have to. I can’t stay here. Joie deserves more than me.”
“Joie deserves a lot of things, boy. Happiness most of all. For whatever reason you make her happy. You wouldn’t be my choice for her but you’re her choice.” The old woman crossed her arms across her chest, staring hard at him through the darkness. The light from the kitchen behind her cast most of her frame in shadow but he could see her well enough.
“She deserves someone who can take care of her.”
“You done that.”
“She deserves someone who can love her.”
“You love her, boy. You love her more than you’ll admit. Let me ask you this, just how far can you run before you run out of places to go?”
Slade stared, her words striking at him like physical blows. He shook his head, swallowed hard, then met her eyes. “I don’t know.”
Slade turned away from her, moving toward the carport and his bike. The old woman took another step toward him.
“You’re making a mistake, boy. You leave enough times you won’t have anyplace to come back to. Don’t make my Joie unhappy, boy. She done had enough unhappiness in her life.”
“She’ll be happier without me.” He pulled a key out of his backpack then straddled the bike.
“You believe that and you a bigger fool than I first took you for.” The old woman shook her head and turned her back on him. She went into the cabin, slamming the door behind her.
Slade stared back at the house, a muscle twitching in his jaw. He wanted to yell and scream. He wanted to kill something, really. He dropped his head for a moment, breathing deeply.
Getting off the bike, he rummaged around in his backpack until his hand closed on his keepsake box. He pulled the small box out, stared at it for a long moment then headed for Joie’s shed.
The cat hissed at him though the other animals cringed from him, shrinking back against the sides of their cages. Slade found a piece of paper and a pen. He wrote down the number for a savings account and instructions on how to access it. Folding the piece of paper, he opened the wooden box. The picture of his parents caught his eye.
Slade picked it up, staring at the happy family in the picture. Had he really been that kid? Would he ever see his own kid? Shaking his head, he put the picture back in the box then put the paper on top of it. He left the box on Joie’s workspace. Staring around, he realized the shed didn’t feel so close anymore. In fact, it felt like home.
Something rolled down his face but he ignored it. As he turned away, he caught a scent. Lilacs. Joie had left lilac water in the shed. Slade picked a small bottle up off a shelf and filled it with the fragrant water. He closed his eyes briefly, then opened them, capped the bottle and left the shed. He placed the small glass bottle carefully in his backpack then secured it to the back of his motorcycle.
Straddling the bike, he started it and took off down the gravel driveway before he could weaken any further. In just a short time he hit the highway, heading north and west. He’d outstayed his welcome here. It was time to move on.
* * * * *
Joie knew he’d gone when she opened her eyes. The cabin felt too empty, the silence too complete. She felt the tears gathering but refused to let them fall. “He’ll come back. I know he’ll come back.”
Joie got out of bed, pulled on the t-shirt she’d dropped by the bed earlier, then wandered out into the kitchen. She put the kettle on to make some tea then went out the back door. The moon wasn’t evident though stars filled the sky. Crickets and frogs sang their nightly song.
She leaned against the side of the cabin with a deep sigh. Her hands moved protectively to her stomach. Less than nine months to go and she’d welcome her baby. Will Malcolm be back in time to see our child born?
Joie shook her head, banishing the questions. For now, she’d focus on eating properly, getting enough rest and taking care of herself. The miscarriage she’d suffered wouldn’t be repeated with this child. Her doctor had told her she shouldn’t have any difficulty having another child when she was ready.
She hadn’t even told Tante about losing the baby, only that Bill hadn’t wanted her to have a child, that he’d been opposed to being a father. Joie hadn’t felt the need to tell Tante that Bill had suggested an abortion when she’d first discovered her pregnancy. No sense upsetting her godmother when Nature had ensured there was no child to abort.
That suggestion had been the final nail in the coffin of their relationship. His unfeeling response when she’d lost the child had been the figurative headstone. Joie shoved those thoughts aside again as she moved back into the kitchen.
“No matter, little one. We’ll have each other, and your daddy when he comes to his senses.” Joie knew Tante Kay would worry about her when she discovered Malcolm had gone. There wasn’t anything she could do to avoid that.
Joie went back to bed, deciding to wait until morning to go back to the house. There was no rush, after all.
* * * * *
Early the next morning Joie opened the door to the kitchen to see Tante Kay sitting at the table.
“He’s gone.” Joie spoke as she came into the room.
“I know. He’s a fool.” Tante Kay moved around the table to hug her.
“He’s going to come back, Tante.”
“Now, child, don’t be making plans for that. That boy, he don’t know which side his bread’s buttered on.”
“He’s going to come back, Tante. I know he will.” Joie gently eased out of her godmother’s arms, smiling at the older woman. “Malcolm will come back to me and our baby. I just know it.”
Touching her godmother’s cheek, she moved to the stove. Joie started to pour a cup of coffee then thought better of it and moved to the fridge. She poured herself a glass of milk then winked at Tante Kay as she left the kitchen again.
Her shed was just as she’d left it, all the animals still in their cages. Something seemed out of place, though. She couldn’t put her finger on it until she moved toward her workbench.
Her sudden intake of breath was the only sound in the shed. Joie moved toward the small wooden box, annoyed to see her hand shaking as she reached out to touch it. She opened the box, read the note and instructions Malcolm had left for her then set the paper aside. She wouldn’t need that because he would come back.
She removed the picture with shaking hands then clasped it close to her chest. Tears threatened then but she wouldn’t allow them to fall. The gold medal to Saint. Blaise gleamed at her from the box, only the thirty-eight slug was missing. Not knowing whether to laugh or cry, Joie replaced the paper in the box then carried the box and the picture into the cabin.
She went straight into her own room where she found a pictu
re frame that held photos of her family. One side held a shot of her parents with her in the middle, on the other, a picture of her mother’s family. Joie removed the backing on the frame and replaced the picture of her mother’s family with Malcolm’s family photo.
She sank down on the bed, holding the frame in her hands, studying the two families. The smiling faces seemed to be delivering a message, that it was possible to find happiness, no matter how fleeting. She’d hang on to that thought until Malcolm returned. Of course, she’d have to give him hell when he first got back, but forgiving him could be wonderful.
Joie put the frame on her nightstand then stood with renewed determination. She had a lot to do—she’d neglected her herbs long enough.
* * * * *
A week later, Slade got off his bike in a small town on the border between Oklahoma and Texas. He was hot, tired and had a kink in his lower back from too many hours spent on the bike. He stretched briefly, easing the aching muscles in his shoulders and back.
Shouldering his backpack, he went into the bathroom of the gas station. Removing his shirt, he washed the dust and road grime from his upper body. He reached into his backpack for a clean shirt and caught the small bottle of lilac water before it hit the floor.
Uncapping the bottle, he took a deep breath. For as long as he lived he’d associate that scent with Joie. He recapped the bottle and shoved it far down in the bottom of his backpack. Raking his hands through his hair, he pulled it back tightly against his scalp in a short ponytail.
Gas for the bike, hunger and thirst, all things he could take care of here. He’d spotted a bar next to the gas station and hoped they had some decent food there. A beer would taste good after eating dust all day too.
He left the bathroom and wheeled his bike up to the gas pump. He filled the tank then went back inside to pay. A few minutes later he entered the bar. Cigarette smoke, whiskey and stale beer were the first scents to greet him. Slade wrinkled his nose slightly, trying to shut out as much of those scents as he could.
He moved through the room and found a seat at the bar itself. His skin prickled as he slid onto the stool and he glanced around quickly. His gaze stalled on a shadowy figure in the back of the bar. He narrowed his eyes as he inhaled sharply, then he shook his head on a huff of breath. What in the hell is Micah doing here?
Slade ordered a beer and picked up a menu, ignoring the man in the back of the bar. He felt more than heard Micah’s approach, turning his head to meet the possible threat. Micah ignored him as well, sliding onto the stool next to him and putting a half-empty coffee cup down in front of him.
“What are you doing here, Slade?” Micah’s voice came out lower than normal, his gaze fixed on the bottles that lined the back of the bar.
“None of your fucking business.” Slade’s voice was just as soft. It was obvious Micah didn’t want anyone to know they were talking.
“Don’t tell me you were stupid enough to leave Joie.” Micah glanced at him briefly then turned his attention to the dartboard where two men lazily competed.
“What I do or don’t do is no concern of yours, Micah.” Slade caught the bartender’s eye and ordered a burger and fries.
Micah tapped his coffee cup and when the bartender filled it, he turned so that he leaned against the bar. “If you left her to raise your child alone, you’re an idiot.”
“Fuck. You.” Slade picked up his beer, sipping it slowly.
Micah’s attention suddenly became focused on the doorway. Slade glanced at him then at the man who had entered the bar. His trouble sense clanged again. Is Micah about to attack a human? This might be worth watching.
Slade moved slightly so he could see the man who now walked toward the pool tables in the back of the bar. Micah reached into his pocket and pulled a piece of paper out. He studied it for a moment then glanced at the man again. Shoving the paper back into his shirt pocket, Micah finished his coffee then tossed money on the bar.
“What are you up to, Micah?”
“Just stay out of my way.” Micah got to his feet and Slade turned so that he could keep the other man in sight. Micah’s prey, and there was no other word for him at this moment, lined up a pool shot.
Micah moved quietly around to the other side of the room. It amazed Slade that he could move that silently. Almost as though he faded into the background. For a man who stood well over six and a half feet tall and weighed over two hundred pounds, that was quite a feat.
As Slade sipped his beer again, he could feel the grin stealing across his face. He could almost feel the fight brewing. Not sure what the other man had done to incur Micah’s wrath, he was still anxious to see them go at it.
Micah now stood almost directly behind his quarry. The other man still hadn’t noticed him. Slade caught movement from the side and left the barstool before he even realized he was moving. One of the other men in the crowd wasn’t as unobservant as the man bending over the pool table.
Slade didn’t know if he was reaching for a gun or a knife but whatever it was, he wasn’t going to use it. Slade wanted to see Micah fight. He wanted to see a fair fight.
Micah waited until the other man had finished his shot before stepping closer to him. The one Slade had his eye on pulled a switchblade out of his vest pocket and moved toward Micah. Slade and Micah moved at the same time. Micah grabbed the end of the pool cue just as Slade clamped his hand on the wrist of the man with the knife.
Micah yanked his prey against his chest, pulling the pool cue out of his hand, then shoved the man facedown on the pool table. Slade held fast to his man, bending his wrist backward until the man went to his knees. Micah spared him a brief glance then ducked as the man on the table came up swinging.
Slade felt his eyes glowing as he watched Micah fight. He’d never seen anyone move that fast in human form. Micah fought much the way he did. Street fighting, jabbing and punching at the most vulnerable points on the human’s body. The one difference between them was that Slade could tell Micah pulled his punches, not inflicting as much damage as he could have.
Another man took a step forward and Slade growled at him. The other man froze as Micah subdued his prey, holding both of the man’s wrists in one hand as he reached into his front pants pocket for a strip of plastic. Slade froze. Plastic handcuffs? What the fuck is he doing with plastic handcuffs?
“Bond Enforcement,” Micah rasped loudly, pulling the same paper out of his shirt pocket he’d had out earlier. Slade had never heard Micah raise his voice before. It sounded really odd. Shaking his head, he saw the cops in the doorway. Unsure how long they’d been standing there, he released the man he’d been holding. The guy got to his feet then moved slowly toward the back door, his gaze focused on the cops.
Slade backed up a step or two himself, not wanting any attention thrown his way. Micah spoke quietly to the two police officers, showed them the paper again then yanked his prisoner up off the pool table. Slade grinned at the man’s black eye, bloody nose and swollen jaw. Micah spared a quick glance at him then answered another question posed by the cops.
The two cops left with Micah’s man and Micah started toward Slade. He stopped a foot away then held out his hand. Slade stared at the outstretched hand for a moment then slowly extended his own.
“Thank you. I didn’t see the guy with the knife.” Micah shook his hand then released it.
Slade spoke quietly, his attention on Micah’s face. “You’re a bounty hunter?”
“Part-time, yes.”
“You track humans.” Slade couldn’t stop the grin from stealing across his face. It seems he and Micah had more in common than he’d ever imagined only Micah operated on one side of the law while he’d always been on the other. His work for Tonio had involved tracking humans and making them pay. Micah did much the same thing.
“I track the worst criminals whether they’re human or shifter. That one,” Micah jerked his head toward the door, “raped and killed three children, kidnapped another one and would have killed h
im but the kid got away. That man escaped from jail in New Mexico about two weeks ago.”
“How did you get into that business, Micah?”
“You looking for a job, Slade?” Micah smiled then and it was almost enough to shock him into immobility. Slade had never seen Micah smile.
“No. Just curious.”
“Long story. Not one I care to share right now.” Micah turned toward the bar. “Your food’s here.”
Slade turned toward the bar, following Micah. They slid back onto their barstools and Micah caught the bartender’s eye. “Water.”
Slade picked up the greasy burger and bit into it. Nowhere near as good as Joie’s cooking but what the hell, he was hungry.
“What are your plans, Slade?”
“Don’t have any.” Slade spoke with his mouth full, not looking at Micah. “Just looking for some place to be.”
“Let me ask you a question, Slade. How many times can you reinvent yourself before you forget who you are?”
Slade froze. How could it be that Tante Kay and Micah had asked him much the same question? He swallowed the bite of burger, his appetite gone and his stomach threatening to toss the food right back up. He picked up his beer, sipped it then faced the other man.
“What?”
“You’ve never stuck with anything in your life, have you? Running has become a pattern with you. Haven’t you ever wanted a home?”
“The Pack was my home.”
“No. The Pack was a tool. You used them and you know it. Your home was with Joie. Your place was with her and the child she’ll bear.” Micah picked up the glass of water the bartender had set in front of him. He drank most of it before setting it back on the bar.
“Don’t you want to see your daughter, Slade?” He finished the water and put the glass down as Slade continued to stare at him. Slade shut his mouth with an audible click of his teeth.
“Dau…” Slade’s eyes widened as he stared at Micah. “How could you possibly know that?”
Micah simply let his mouth curl up into a slight smile. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card. Tossing it onto the bar, he waved his thanks at the bartender for the water before facing Slade again. “Give me a call in eight months, prove me a liar.”