Before Declan could offer anything, which he’d planned on, Goose turned to him and demanded, “What do you know about Fletcher and Keller?” Caspar growled. Goose shook his head at the club’s president and protested, “If he’s gonna fuckin’ sit here, he needs to bring something to the table. This is bullshit—he knows all our business—and now, so will Keller. And we don’t know shit.”
“We know ‘shit’ from Bishop,” Caspar pointed out. “Keller’s doesn’t do table meetings like we do. We’re in this together, whether you want it that way or not.”
Declan had known this would happen. Keller had as well, which was why he’d armed Declan with information to share on the MC and Keller’s newest shared rival…and the news Declan brought wasn’t good at all.
Another reason some of them wouldn’t trust him—no one was ever happy with the messenger. But still, he broke in with, “I can offer some information.”
Caspar nodded, his glare icier than ever, but not directed at Declan.
So Declan added, “We think Fletcher’s got more than the LoV on his side—apparently, they’re just his newest recruits. They’re pissed at Keller for kicking them off the compound and they went looking for revenge.”
“Keller shouldn’t’ve lost control of them,” Jeb grumbled.
“You weren’t there—you didn’t see what they did,” Declan told them, his voice as controlled as he could possibly make it. He didn’t dare look at Rebel, who’d been too hurt to notice much of anything, although he’d been told about the massacre.
“Right—we weren’t there. We were on our own compound, minding our own business, and somehow now we’re involved, because of Bishop and Luna. In my day, a woman wouldn’t get away with that shit,” Goose told him.
Caspar slammed a fist on the table. “Told you, that discussion’s closed, old man. Stop livin’ in the past and come into this world. Where I’m in charge.” His eyes flashed to Declan. “You know this connection for sure?”
“Word is, Fletcher ordered the LoV to carry out the plan—I don’t know whose idea it was originally.”
“Right—the LoV are suddenly gonna jump for him after being screwed by Keller,” Manny drawled sarcastically. “I mean, they’re stupid, but they haven’t survived this long without some smarts—I can’t see them getting into bed with Fletcher. I wouldn’t.”
Declan flicked a gaze at Manny. “He offered you enough money, you’d suck his dick.”
“Christ, Dec—so fucking unnecessary,” he heard Rebel mutter as Manny jumped toward Declan and Mathias snorted.
Caspar shook his head. “Wanna cut the bullshit.”
“Just making the point that there’s a price for everyone and everything,” Declan added smoothly. “Hoping Manny knows his.”
“You mentioned that the LoV aren’t the only ones helping Fletcher,” Baz said. “I want to know more.”
Finally, someone with good listening skills. Declan had liked Baz on sight—the guy was unassuming, which meant he was smart as fuck. It was always the quiet ones that everyone underestimated. “Keller thinks the Nomads approached Fletcher first. He doesn’t think Fletcher would’ve had the balls to try to take him down without major backup, and the LoV just doesn’t have that kind of power.”
And he waited for the fallout.
He wasn’t disappointed. Everyone started talking at once, except Caspar, who just watched the conversation, and Rebel, whose gaze Declan could feel burning through him.
“Nomads are a goddamned myth,” Jeb shouted over the din. “People been talking about them like they’re legends since I was a boy—since Lance’s father ran Defiance. I’m tellin’ you, if they existed, I would’ve seen them. Sixty years and not a sign.”
“Thought that was the point, that they didn’t show themselves?” Baz asked.
Jeb shot him a death glare. “Told you, boy—”
“Everyone’s got a voice here,” Caspar growled. “Heard the stories since I was a kid. Never met anyone who claimed to be a Nomad, unless they were phonies.”
Rebel glanced at Declan. “I don’t think legends start from nothing. There’s something behind the story—and it’d be stupid, in light of Keller’s worry, not to check into it.”
“Right—we’ll just do whatever Keller wants,” Goose said with as much sarcasm as he could muster.
“Keller’s not a paranoid guy,” Caspar said firmly. “He’s run a good, strong compound for a long time, been head of a mafia before the Chaos. Don’t get to his position in life without knowing shit.”
Declan nodded in Caspar’s direction. “Nomads are supposed to have some kind of mystical thing going on to be invited to join. Not necessarily a legacy thing. Family members not born with that were often killed if they couldn’t be gotten rid of early, before they had any idea they were Nomad-born.”
Caspar nodded. “Heard that too.” It was Mathias who asked the next question, signing, and waiting for Caspar to translate. “He’s askin’ if you’ve ever seen or met a Nomad personally.”
Declan debated the question internally, but only for a split second before saying, “No.” Which was a complete fucking lie, but telling this table the truth would open up a can of worms he was never planning on opening.
Never.
Caspar didn’t believe him—Declan could tell. Rebel probably doubted him too, as well as Mathias. But the ones who counted—Goose, Harvey, Jeb and Hammer—they believed Declan.
Mathias was writing something now, slid it toward Declan even as he signed and Caspar translated what Declan read.
N’s…up for E?
Translation: Nomads up for extermination? And since the extermination was a government-based thing, Declan answered honestly, “I don’t know,” because he didn’t ask Keller. He didn’t want that burden, and Keller didn’t want him to have it either.
Chapter Eleven
As full of information as the meeting had been, it was also a complete and utter clusterfuck. Rebel tried to process everything Declan said, veered between being grateful he could spend time one-on-one with him, going over all the details again…and being really fucking pissed that Declan hadn’t told him all of this ahead of time.
Should he expect special treatment? Fuck yeah. And he’d share that with Declan, when he found him. Because the guy had lived up to his reputation this time and disappeared like a ghost after they all walked out into the darkness. One minute Dec was next to him, and the next, gone.
Rebel looked around as casually as he could and came face to face with Hammer.
“What the fuck are you doing, Reb?” Hammer asked. “After everything we’ve been through.”
“I don’t know what you’re looking for me to do, man. Caspar asked me to room with Declan. I didn’t tell the guy to give Kev directions to Keller’s. I don’t have ties to Keller’s.” Rebel’s voice rose with the frustration, mainly what he felt toward Declan at the moment.
“Rebel, why don’t you and I take a walk,” Goose said, suddenly the voice of reason as he stepped in as if to separate him from Hammer.
Hammer had been a damned good friend of his since childhood. “That’s a good idea.” He couldn’t help but turn to Hammer and say, “I’d never fucking let anything happen to a member of this club. If you don’t believe that, I can’t help you.”
He walked with Goose, and Charlie, Goose’s oldest son, trailed behind them.
“He’s always got my six,” Goose explained to Rebel. “Expert marksman.”
Rebel nodded numbly. “Thanks for getting me away from Hammer back there. I know what you’re going to say—”
“No, you don’t, Rebel. You think you know, but you’re not thinking clearly. Maybe it’s because Bishop and Mathias have turned your head, the way they have everyone else’s since they’ve arrived.”
“They didn’t bring the changes, but they helped us deal with them.”
“Maybe. Or maybe they fucked things up good when they decided to rescue Jessa.”
Rebel knew
that was the truth, but… “I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same thing in their position.”
“You would’ve, because you’re Defiance. You have the club’s best interests at heart. They didn’t. They were thinking of themselves, not the group. Doesn’t make them bad guys, Reb…just makes them not Defiance.”
“Mathias is Defiance. Bishop’s as close as it gets.”
“And Declan? He’s a fucking killer,” Goose pointed out.
Rebel wanted to argue the semantics of that, explain that Declan was an assassin, and that there was most definitely a difference, but Goose wouldn’t give a shit. “They have Bishop and Luna and we have Declan. Checks and balances.”
“Screw that.” Goose spat tobacco on the ground a foot from where they stood. “Mark my words, the killer’s gonna bring trouble to this place. We don’t know that Keller’s not going to order a hit on us, or on Caspar, especially.”
Rebel’s gut nodded, but Goose didn’t need an answer—not when he was on a roll.
“If your old man was here, Caspar would be listening more, at least keeping his distance from Declan. In the meantime, it’s up to you, Rebel.”
“To do what?”
“Stick to the killer like glue. Don’t leave him alone for a second, because you need to protect Caspar. Because he won’t protect himself.”
“That was the plan,” Rebel said hollowly, trying not to flush when he thought about how close he’d been to Declan even an hour earlier. Truth was, he had no clue where Declan was now.
“Mark my words, the guy’s trouble. Your old man never would’ve let you get involved with him,” Goose promised before he walked away.
Rebel’s cheeks burned and he was glad for the darkness. Goose couldn’t have known his involved comment would hit home the way it did, and Rebel hated himself for being so worried about that. In reality, he was concerned for Declan, his safety…and for a decision Caspar made that seemed to be dividing the club.
“Sorry, Reb.” Charlie spoke then, obviously hadn’t followed Goose, but rather, stayed behind to try to explain. “Look, Dad’s fucking nuts,” he admitted. “But fuck me, I can’t shake the what ifs. What if he’s right? We didn’t send Bishop in to destroy or assassinate Keller. We have honor. We don’t operate the way Keller does…and we know how he operates. You’ve seen the retaliation against him, firsthand. That doesn’t happen unless what Keller did to them was equally bad.”
Rebel countered with, “Bishop and Mathias may be new here, but they’ve never let us down. They have better survival instincts than most. They trust Declan.”
“Doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t keep an eye on him. You think they’re not doing that to Bishop and Luna?”
No, Rebel knew they were. “I told Goose that I’d stick with Declan—make everyone here feel more comfortable.” He understood the fear and distrust. If it’d been anyone else from Keller’s, he wouldn’t be this adamant, but Declan would never hurt Defiance. Not the way Goose and the others thought.
This was Rebel’s family. Declan knew that, and he also had respect for Bishop.
Charlie nodded. “You trust him. But do you trust the man he works for?”
“Not entirely,” Rebel admitted, when the answer was really not at all. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust what Bishop said, but Keller—his compound—were both seductive. Smoke and mirrors. He had a hard time deciphering any sense that they cared about right and wrong.
Granted, so did the entire world these days, including their own goddamned government. And because Keller was working for—with—the government, that took things to a whole other level. Rebel sometimes wondered if Keller had something sprayed in the air over the compound to keep everyone singing the compound’s praises.
Then again, Keller’s compound did deal with their own share of violence, as Goose’s kid pointed out. Rebel had been caught in that crossfire, a place he never wanted to be again.
Because of Declan…and Keller. Fuck.
Chapter Twelve
Declan wasn’t back at the tube when Rebel got there. He prowled around for a while, until the alarms rang and the hail started coming down almost immediately.
So much for fucking early warning.
“Such bullshit,” he muttered as he yanked the tube door open and descended underground. Halfway down the ladder, he caught sight of Declan. He had a towel wrapped around his waist, and he was still damp from what must’ve been a most recent shower. He also swayed slightly as he walked, still holding a mostly empty bottle of moonshine. Rebel reached up and locked them in, checked the perimeters, set the alarm, unable to settle in.
Declan noticed. “Dude, you’re soaked. Take your shit off before you do that.”
Rebel wanted to remind him that the LoV had accomplished a lot in a far worse storm than this, but it wasn’t the time to bring that shit up. They had enough between them. “Where the hell’d you go after the meeting?”
“Needed to clear my head.” Declan seemed unconcerned as he used a second towel to rub his hair dry. “You need a towel?”
“No.” Rebel kicked his shoes off and yanked his shirt over his head. “Seriously, where were you hanging out? With Kev? Or Mathias?”
“You jealous, Reb, or just checking up on me?” Declan teased, then paused. Frowned. “Fuck. You are.”
“Dec—”
“It’s okay. Can’t fucking believe this is where we are. I shouldn’t be surprised.”
Rebel caught him in a strong-armed embrace and Declan didn’t struggle away. At least not that hard. “Dec, baby, I’m doing this to satisfy some of the older generation. They’re suspicious. I can’t blame them. And really, this gets us what we both want—more time together.”
“In your closet,” Declan finished flatly.
Rebel pressed his forehead to Declan’s. “Come on, man. You said you wouldn’t—”
“I said I’d give you time. Time doesn’t mean forever.”
“What’s your problem?”
“The longer you don’t say anything, the guiltier you’re going to look when this all comes out. And it will come out,” Declan said, without a touch of threat in his tone. “Even though we’re innocent, we’re going to look guilty as fuck. I mean, hell, they’ll never trust me. But if you keep us a secret, then you’re guilty by association.”
“I’m screwed either way.”
“An excellent way to look at it.” Declan’s eyes flashed misery, then he proposed, “I could give you the best kind of screw if you let me.”
“You already do,” Rebel told him seriously.
“It’s not the same as being able to touch you, so don’t fucking placate me,” Declan warned.
But Rebel would, knew how to melt Declan’s anger, his defenses. Even now, the fire in Declan’s eyes was more lust than anything. “Come on, Declan. Let me make it better. You know I can.”
“Only if I’m chained to you, right? And if we can keep it all a secret.”
“There are reasons, beyond me wanting to keep my personal life personal,” Rebel said. Declan crossed his arms and waited, a this is going to be good expression on his face as Rebel began to explain. “If I’m with you, then they can’t accuse you of shit.”
Declan rolled his eyes, assassin turned petulant child. “All for my own good, right? You gonna spoon-feed me my veggies too?”
“Not telling the MC I’m gay—or fucking you—doesn’t mean I don’t trust you, or that I’m ashamed of you or me. It means you’re my personal business.” Rebel’s eyes flashed. “And if Luna was being pushed to reveal her personal life…”
Declan threw his hands up in the air. “You hid behind Luna forever. That’s the difference. You can’t be that thick not to realize that.”
“We can’t all be as out and proud as you. Oh right, you don’t go around announcing it either.”
“I would if you were open to it,” Declan told him, then relented. “Like I said, I understand secrets.”
They were nowhere…and everywh
ere, again. They were together, not just in the same compound or tube or bed…they connected, more strongly than before. They were more than the sum total of their shared secrets.
*
“I get it—I don’t belong here,” Declan said finally as the silence stretched between them, heard the bitterness in his voice that he couldn’t have hid if he’d wanted to.
“You belong with me—we know it. Can’t that be enough for now, Dec?” Rebel asked. “Because this is about safety too.”
“We were never safe. Never will be.”
“You’re always safe with me, and you know it. Let me prove it to you, over and over.”
“Fuck you,” Declan told him petulantly. If Rebel wanted him, he’d have to fight for it tonight. But Rebel was up for it, blocked Declan’s drunken punch easily. “Fucking hick moonshine shit this MC serves.”
Rebel gave him a half smile and encouraged, “Keep going. Get it all out.”
Declan could’ve let it go, but after the moonshine and the rejection, Declan realized he wasn’t going down easily. “What’s the real problem, Reb? Does Defiance thing I’m going to blind you somehow…put you under some goddamned Keller spell?” Declan tilted his head. “I can’t deny I like the idea of you wrapped around my finger, but only in bed. I don’t need a yes-man in my life. Don’t need, don’t want.”
“Good, because you don’t have one. Except when I’m inside you,” Rebel growled, and that’s when Declan knew he was utterly and completely done for…at least for that night.
Rebel lunged, caught him easily and pushed Declan down on the bed with dizzying speed. Declan was on his stomach, his towel ripped off, his arms pushed up toward the headboard—and bound before he could protest.
“Fucking asshole,” he muttered, and Rebel just chuckled, no doubt keeping a tally of Declan’s offenses. He’d make Declan pay for each and every one of them, and right now, Declan hated knowing that he’d love it, each and every time.
Temperance (Defiance #4) Page 8