by A. C. Bextor
“For now,” I tell him, leading him to the false impression that I want her.
I fucking don’t, but seeing his anger satisfies me. As I start to walk away, I don’t chance another look at him, but hear him pull out his chair due to the slamming of the metal as the legs hit the concrete floor with a slap.
Once I’ve passed the redhead sitting back at her spot with the money, I open the door and hear her asking where Dee Dee went.
I don’t have the time or patience to care.
Chapter Seventeen
It’s nearly two in the morning by the time I get back to Casey’s room. Before I went in search of Anna, I stepped outside to take a break from the chaos and catch my breath. The night air was chilly, and it did as I hoped it would. My mind was able to clear briefly while I reached into my saddlebag and pulled out the book Em wanted me to give Casey.
I tucked it behind my back and under my shirt to avoid the others who would happen to see and question. Viktor gave permission, so by all rights I should’ve been able to walk in and give it to her, but it wasn’t worth further hassle.
When I checked the messages from earlier on my phone, I found only one from Emma.
Emma 09:36 p.m. Be safe.
I texted back quickly, trying to remain focused. I couldn’t hang around outside waiting for her to answer, so I pocketed my cell and went back in.
After waking Anna in her room at the club, walking with her to get the key, and deciding not to talk to her about anything Viktor and I discussed, I’m finally in Casey’s room.
She’s sleeping.
Her back is to me as she lies on her side, facing the cement wall. I can’t see her body with any detail because it’s dark and the moon’s rays are hitting dead center, only around her furniture. I take a few seconds to appreciate the knowledge that, for now, she’s still safe.
Her old and worn cover is drawn up to her chin; her small, bare foot, which holds the fastened white strap, sticks out at the end of the bed. Casey’s not a tall girl, but the childlike mattress she sleeps on is too short for her growing body.
She’s becoming a young woman, Viktor’s words chime in my head.
Casey doesn’t move to turn around, so I assume she’s not only asleep, but sound asleep.
Not wanting to disturb her, I start to back up carefully, but stop when I see her body turn in my direction.
“Max?” she calls out. Her voice sounds only tired, not afraid.
“Monkey,” I whisper, stepping back into her room before I quickly turn to shut her door. I have no way to lock it from the inside and the way I left Hangar’s anger, and even Cilas’ disgust, I wish I had something to bolt the door.
Sitting up in her bed, I watch in the muted light as she moves her dark, tangled hair from her face. She rubs her eye then continues to adjust in her seated position.
“I didn’t mean to wake you,” I tell her. “I was about to go home, but wanted to check in.”
“Go home?” she replies, and this time her voice is laced with a hint of fear.
Moving toward her slowly, I take a seat at the end of her bed. The book at my back shifts and starts to wedge out of place, so I grab it before it’s able to fall.
“Not for good,” I assure. “Just for the night.”
Casey nods, staring at what I’m holding in my hand. With the bed on the cement floor, I stretch my legs, lean my back against the cement wall, and gently set the book in my lap. My legs stretch past the mattress, and I cross them at the ankles. I lean my head on the wall behind me, taking in the view Casey must see every day.
It’s sad and depressing, and I wonder how she has such a gentle spirit after living in solitude for so long.
“Do you remember your Aunt Emma?” I ask quietly.
Casey looks at me, tilts her head, and nods as I catch a shadow of a small, but sad, smile crossing her lips.
“She wanted me to give this to you,” I tell her, handing over the hardcover children’s book.
She grabs it from me and runs one hand over the colorful cover.
“She wants to see you again,” I comment and wait for her to talk. When she doesn’t, I ask, “Would you like that?”
The hand not holding the book moves to her face. I can’t see what she’s doing, but the swipe it makes under her eye tells me she’s catching a fallen tear.
“She loves you, Casey,” I tell her with sincerity, using her real name versus the nickname I coined her with weeks ago.
Casey’s gaze finally moves away from the book and back to me.
“Aunt Emma remembers me?” Her question, voiced with so much hope, causes me to smile in appreciation of her strength.
“She does,” I tell her. “You’re going to see her again soon,” I promise, knowing I shouldn’t.
“How? How will she get here? They won’t let me…”
I cut her off, visibly sensing her stress. “That’s for me to work out.”
“Will you tell her thank you for the book?” she asks, opening its cover and turning the pages one by one.
“You can tell her yourself when you see her.”
Taking in a breath, I see Casey’s excitement first, then hear it in her voice. “When do you think I can see her?”
“Soon,” I answer, reaching over and touching her knee.
“She stopped coming,” she says, her words coming out like a confession. “She used to come and we would talk, but she stopped.”
“She did,” I confirm. “But it wasn’t because she wanted to.”
“How do you know my Aunt Em?”
“We’re friends,” I half-lie, definitely not wanting to explain to her the dynamics of a healthy adult relationship.
“I miss her.”
Sensing the need for a subject change to lighten the mood, I point to her book and ask, “Do you want me to read that to you?”
“No,” she answers quickly. “I can read it tomorrow.”
Her voice sounds tired so I start to stand, thinking I should go and let her rest. Before I’m about to move from her mattress, Casey’s arm darts across the bed and she grabs my wrist. I stop in place, startled by her gesture, and look down at her fingers wrapped tightly around me.
Instead of speaking, she sets the book down and crawls over to me. She positions herself under my arm and wraps hers around my waist. I only react when she’s finished moving and then only to adjust to hold her tighter.
We sit in silence for a few seconds before she says, “Viktor says someone is coming to visit me tomorrow.” My heart beats quickly, already knowing what he’s planning. “He says he’ll take care of everything.” She stops talking, her face lifts to mine then she asks, “Where am I going?”
“I don’t know, sweetheart. What else did he say?”
“I heard him and Anna talking. He likes Anna.”
“He does,” I confirm, pushing her head in to my neck and resting my chin on the top of it. “He likes you, too.”
She nods. “He gave me more pencils. Colored ones. And paper.”
“That’s nice,” I tell her, but my mind pictures Viktor, sitting behind his desk, making claims to Casey and having no right to do so.
“I like them. I’ll draw something for Aunt Em.”
Kissing the top of her head gently, I reply, “I think she’d love that.”
Just as I’m about to tell Casey to get back in bed, the door to her room opens. Hoss stands on the other side of it. I can’t see his face, and I’m ready for his possible anger. Yet it doesn’t come.
Casey’s head rises in the direction of the door. She’s no longer holding me, rather she’s clutching me tightly to her. Her fingers begin digging into my shirt and her arms begin to shake. I’m not certain if it’s the cut he’s wearing, the unexpected visit, or just Hoss himself that scares her.
Surprisingly, I hear him murmur quietly, “She’s a good kid.”
“What’s up?” I ask Hoss as he stands to watch us from the door.
“Anna said you were wit
h Casey. Thought you and I could have a talk. You gonna be around a while?”
“Yeah,” I tell him. I thought about leaving and going back to Emma, but after being with Casey, I’ve changed my mind and will accept Hoss’ invitation to stay. There’s enough room on this compound for a person to crash for a few hours.
“She doesn’t look like her mother,” he comments, nodding toward a still-nervous Casey in my arms. “Nothing like her.”
“She does,” I tell Hoss. “She looks like the Dee Dee I remember.”
“People change,” he returns. “Happens to all of us,” he adds with a hint of regret in his tone.
“I’ll meet you outside in a few minutes.”
Hoss nods to me then steps outside and closes the door behind him. His reaction to seeing me with Casey shocks me.
Looking down into Casey’s hair, I ask, “You okay?”
She answers with only a nod.
“You know him.” I already know she does, but would like her to know she can talk to me about him if she needs to. “Does he bother you?”
“No. He doesn’t ever talk to me.”
“Do any of the men wearing vests talk to you?”
“No. I mean, some do. Cilas can’t.” She stops and if it weren’t so dark, I would swear she’s smiling. “But I don’t think he talks to anyone. Not even Anna.”
This conversation isn’t one she should be having before going back to sleep, so I stop it from continuing.
“Get back under the covers,” I instruct after kissing her quickly on the head once more. “I’ll stop in tomorrow. Maybe you can read me the book.”
“You like Winnie the Pooh?” she asks with hope while looking up at me.
“I don’t know Winnie the Pooh,” I reply.
I’m close enough to her to see her eyes widen, and a shy grin coming to life. “I thought everyone did.”
It’s a small feat to see Casey smiling at my expense, so I let myself enjoy it before advising, “Get some sleep, monkey. I’ll be back tomorrow.”
As I’m starting to stand, Casey begins to situate herself back under the covers. I don’t make further move to touch her, but instead head for the door.
Before I’m out of it completely, I hear her say, “Goodnight, Max.”
“Goodnight, monkey,” I reply before closing it behind me.
Hoss is standing against the wall, looking to the ceiling as I pop the lock back in place then test it to be sure. His hand comes out, palm up. It’s his way of asking for the key.
After placing it in his hand, he pulls himself off the wall and stands in front of me. “Don’t get attached to any of those girls, Max.”
“What?”
His head nods to the side and Casey’s closed door. “Casey’s special. She’s Dee Dee’s daughter, but the rest of ‘em aren’t around long, as you’ve probably already figured out.”
“She’s a sweet girl,” I admit.
“She is, but she’s also club property.” His tone is defensive. I wonder if he already knows what Viktor’s up to.
I don’t allow the vile words to come out, choosing instead to ignore his statement and what it’s meant to remind me of.
Hoss turns in place and puts the key in his pocket. I follow as he starts to walks down the hall toward the exit. The area around us is bathed in silence.
“How’d it go with Viktor?” he asks, his curiosity piqued.
“He’s pissed about the fight,” I lie.
“Figured he would be. I wasn’t totally surprised he asked for the meet. That it? That’s all he wanted?”
Again, I lie. The suspicion in his voice is enough to keep me quiet. “Yeah. He told me a little bit about where he came from.”
Now it’s Hoss who lies. He’s not letting on about Ursa, her relationship to Viktor, or her son, Hangar. “He comes and goes.”
As we continue down the long hallway, we both stop in our tracks when we see Dog round the corner in a quick-paced jog. Iron comes next, not far from his heels.
“What the fuck’s goin’ on now?” Hoss asks me with a frustrated exhale.
I don’t look away as I stand in place. Iron’s face is set hard, and Dog looks scared.
“I don’t know, but you’d better find out.”
Dog approaches first, he stops in front of Hoss and takes a breath before informing us both, “Hangar’s off the reservation, Hoss.”
This isn’t news, Dog.
Prompting Dog to continue, Hoss curses quickly. “Fuck, what’s he done now?”
“After you took off, he demanded Cilas play another hand in Max’s place. Ci said no and we all agreed Max won without cheating.” He takes a breath then continues. “We tried to get him to stop pissin’ off the big guy, ‘cause we all know Cilas could kill him with one hit if he wanted to.”
“Yeah. And?” Hoss agrees, but is losing patience. His hand motions for Dog to keep speaking just as Iron walks up to his side. “Go on, damn it.”
“Ci agreed to do it. You could tell he was doin’ it to get one up on Hang.”
“Fuck,” I utter, already seeing where this shit is going. None of it’s good.
Iron pipes in from beside Dog, skipping what’s happened and offering the end result. “Hang’s not good. Cilas won. Hang went nuts, so Cilas fixed it so he wasn’t talkin’ anymore.”
“Fuck me,” Hoss hisses. “Where’s he at?” Hoss asks, concerned for his son.
“In his room, I think. Cilas is livid. After we got Hang out, Cilas started flippin’ shit over. We barely got him off Hangar. Could’ve killed him, Hoss. It’s bad.”
“Find Wick,” Hoss commands. “Have him get some of the kids and clean what needs cleaning. Get Dee Dee to tend to Hangar. I’ll be there soon.”
“One more thing,” Iron interrupts before Dog can turn away. Dog’s face drops again, this time more so than when they arrived.
“What?” Hoss clips.
“I don’t know if he was tryin’ to piss Cilas off or what the fuck he was doin’, but Hangar mentioned getting a prize, and it wasn’t bragging rights.”
“What the fuck was it?” Hoss clips.
“Dee Dee’s kid.”
“Son of a bitch,” I snap out in frustration.
“That won’t happen.” Hoss turns in his place to assure me.
“Or he said he’s goin’ after Anna,” Iron finishes on a whisper. “We all know how close Cilas and Anna are. It could be he was tryin’ to rile him up, but wanted to let you know.”
“Okay, okay. Do as I told ya and get it square. I’ll handle Hangar.”
Both of Hoss’ men nod before turning around and taking off down the hall again.
“Fuck, I’m tired,” Hoss says, more to himself than to me.
I can’t disagree with him. He looks exhausted and not from sleep, but from this life. His body, although shorter than mine and fat, also appears worn-down. His eyes, which I remember were once blue, are yellowed and sunken back. His hair is the worst, needing a good cut and wash. He’ll never be a clean person, but he’s become worse over the short weeks since I’ve come to know him better than I ever had.
“You ever think of retiring?” I inquire, right as he starts to walk in front of me.
“Every fuckin’ day, Max. Every fuckin’ day.”
Chapter Eighteen
After Hoss and I entered the room where Cilas unleashed his fury on Hangar, we found several young, unnamed prospects cleaning the place up.
It looked like Cilas took his time and used all his pent-up anger to lay out Hangar. Bottles of beer, both empty and full, were scattered across the floor, some still intact, some completely broken and shattered. Metal chairs had been flipped, and the cards were strewn around as though someone tossed the deck in the air and walked away. Poker chips, all colors, looked like confetti covering the floor.
But this sure as fuck wasn’t a party.
Without smiling so anyone could notice, I silently thanked Cilas for beating his ass then realized how much I was sta
rting to like the quiet giant more and more each time I saw him.
Hoss stood rigid by my side as he took in the damage. He said nothing in response and didn’t answer any questions the others brought to him. It wasn’t until Hoss had decided he’d seen enough that he turned and walked away without another word to any of us.
I was certain at that point I wasn’t about to go home. After meeting Viktor, sitting through an evening with Hoss and his crew, seeing Casey, and finally coming in to see what Cilas had done to Hangar, I was too wound-up to settle in for the night. Instead, I did what I used to do when I was a member of a motorcycle club.
I went to find any acquaintance I could and settled in for a drink.
“Why don’t you patch into Creed?” Charlie Benaim, the nomad of the group, asks me as he sits at my side, throwing back drink after drink. “It makes sense. Hoss seems to like you enough.”
Hangar and Dee Dee have yet to come out of whatever hole they’re held up in. So it’s just me, Charlie, Dog, and Iron sitting around a small table in the common area of the bar.
“I like my position,” I tell him. “Much like you like yours.” I point to the nomad symbol connected to his name as support to my claim.
“He does like to come and go, but he misses all the good shit,” Dog decrees, sitting across the table.
“Do I, though?” Charlie retorts with an ounce of frustration. “Hangar alone is enough of a reason to drop my cut and never look back,” he continues with anger. “The man is fuckin’ whacked.”
Charlie’s dark eyes come to mine as I sit quietly, knowing I’m not a member and my opinion doesn’t mean shit to these people. There’s something suspicious in his stare, but I can’t place it.
As soon as silence sucks the energy from the table, I decide it’s time to wade in. “There’s a reason he’s the VP. Hoss trusts him.”
“Yeah,” Charlie answers, tossing the beer bottle cap on the table and focusing on it with his next statement. “This place was something once, ya know? It was a real brotherhood. The outsiders Hoss brought in have made him nothin’ but greedy.”
“I’d stop talkin’,” Iron whispers. “Like right now,” he finishes, aiming his eyes to Hoss, who’s making his way to the rest of us.