Misguided (Fallen Aces MC Book 5)

by Max Henry

  We walk in silence for a while, only the scrape of our boots in the dead undergrowth accompanying us as I lead us towards a valley a little further in. The hillsides get enough shade in the cooler months to end up covered in lush green grass that the deer go wild for. It’s a sure spot for a sighting, and right now, looking at the face of the beauty that walks behind me, I want nothing more than to keep her happy.

  “You ever do anythin’ like this?” I ask as I hold a low-hanging branch out of the way of our faces. “With your brother and old man, I mean?”

  “Go on nature walks?”

  “Yeah. Get out for a while.”

  She waits on the side of the track for me to resume my lead. “Only a couple of school outings. Daddy was never much of an outdoorsman, and Hooch has other interests.”

  “And your momma?”

  The rumors are thick and plenty about Mel’s mom, yet today, I want to hear about the woman from the closest source to her. The history of the Aces intrigues me, mostly because it’s kept so close to everyone’s chests. I’ve got the gist of why the club was formed, and we all know who the founding members were, but there’s speculation around why the chapters all operate so independently.

  “Momma was a goal-driven woman,” Mel states simply.

  She keeps her chin down, watching the dead leaves pass under her feet as she walks. I steal a few more glances back at her, yet she doesn’t say any more.

  “Why’d she leave you?”

  “Frustrated, I think.” She shrugs. “I was old enough to know that Mom and Dad didn’t love each other anymore, but young enough not to know why.”

  “You ever talk to her?”

  “Don’t even know where she is. I’ve kind of come to that point in my life where I don’t have a mom anymore, you know?”

  I slow a little and reach out for Mel’s hand. It guts me that her momma could just leave her kids behind without keeping in touch. But I also know that a person shouldn’t be judged until they’ve had a chance to tell their own side of the story.

  Mel links her fingers through mine and swings our arms as she walks. “Bit cozy for a hunt, ain’t it?”

  Every moment I’ve spent with her has been a bit cozier than usual for me, but she doesn’t need to know that.

  “Felt right, is all.” I smile down at her.

  She tracks along beside me in seemingly content silence until I reach the landscape I know by heart: a rock embedded in the slope to our left, an opening in the trees to our right that lets the sunshine flow in, and the distant rush of a stream that runs along the base of the valley.

  “We’re here,” I whisper. “Stay close.”

  Mel shadows me as I lead us down over the edge of the hill, into the junction where the valley starts. From this vantage point we can scope both sides and cut our wait time in half.

  I point to a semi-flat section behind a rock. “Sit there.”

  She squats down and then flicks her legs out onto the top of the rock, eyes scanning the horizon. “How will I know if I see one?” she whispers.

  “It’ll look like a deer,” I tease.

  She flips me her middle finger and then returns to casing out the hillside.

  I slide the pack off and set it down a little further up from where I’ll sit so I can use it as a leaner. Mel watches quietly while I settle in beside her and lift the rifle to rest atop my knee. If I’d managed to get into Dad’s house, I could have retrieved my binoculars and made this a whole lot easier, but the scope will do.

  A few minutes pass without any trace of a living thing on the slopes, so I set the gun down between us and stretch my legs out beside Mel’s. “Now we wait.”

  She lies back on the grass, stretching her arms out over her head as she stares up at the clouds. “I wonder what Mom is doing right now.”

  Who would fucking know, but I can’t think of anything more important than knowing what her daughter is up to. “Maybe wonderin’ the same about you?”

  “Hope so.” She lets the sentiment linger between us, closing her eyes with a sigh. “Tell me what happened while I was gone, Dog. All of it. I want to feel like I didn’t just miss out on the freshman year of college while all my friends got to party it up.”

  “It wasn’t much of a party. We took out a couple of threats and put the plan to clean up Lincoln into action.”

  “Do you think it’ll work?”

  King has a grand idea about whittling away at the drug problem on our streets until it’s near non-existent, by controlling the supply. We’ve got the contacts and the physical presence to intimidate anybody from setting up a new source in our area, but the longevity of it? I don’t see it sticking.

  “Not long term.”

  “Yeah.” She drops an arm over her eyes. “I wonder a lot, you know, what will become of the club in ten, even twenty years time.”

  “It’ll be around.”

  “I don’t doubt that,” she says, rolling to her side to face me. “I just wonder what sort of club it’ll be, you know?”

  Yeah, I do. I’ve seen it already in my short tenure with the guys; men who let the power go to their heads. As much as we all know it’s wrong, the lure of quick, easy money through drugs and weapons is a siren that calls to us all.

  “I wonder the same thing,” I admit. “But then I look at the men around me, and I get the sense that a few bad eggs won’t spoil the carton.”

  “Poetic,” Mel teases.

  I grab a fistful of grass and toss it over her head.

  “Hey,” she whisper-yells, rolling away as she bats it away from her eyes and nose.

  My suppressed chuckle escapes as a snort, which simply sends her off the deep end. Mel’s whole body shakes as, with hands clamped over her mouth, she tries her damnedest to stop her laugh from bubbling free and echoing around the valley.

  I lift the rifle to my knee again and glass the slopes, pretty sure my failsafe spot has let us down when I get the glimpse of something that doesn’t quite fit with its surroundings. Sure enough, a doe lifts her head and looks across the valley to where we are, before ducking down to eat again.

  Where there are females, the boys are sure to follow.

  “Have you got something?” Mel whispers, her breath hot on my neck.

  “As much as I love you this close, babe, you won’t be able to see down the scope too.”

  She playfully punches me, and I almost lose sight of the doe. Alternating between the scope, and my naked eye, I run a grid over the area around her looking for a buck. Sure enough, he emerges from behind a stand of trees, the steps he takes between each head-twisting tear at the grass painfully slow.

  “Here.” I beckon for Mel to slip in closer.

  She tucks herself under my arm and brings her eye to the scope.

  “By the trees to the right of the rock line.”

  Seconds pass with my heart beating painfully hard in my chest, the panic that he’ll spook making my trigger finger itch. Calm, and steady.

  “I see it,” she whispers, eye still on the prize. “He’s got lots of horns.”

  “Antlers, babe.”

  She snorts a little laugh and slips away again. “How old do you think he is?”

  I line the stag up in my sight again and count his points. Eight. “It’s hard to tell until I see his teeth, but he’s not too old.”

  “Wouldn’t you want to shoot the old ones?”

  “Nope. They usually have the most does to protect, so you let them run and do their job.” I lift a finger to my lips and focus on the stag.

  Mel sits still as a statue, her breathing barely audible beside me as I wait for the animal to turn side on. He takes his sweet time, but with a little patience, I get my chance.

  I count the seconds between each breath, my finger slipping the safety off. The stag stalls, his head lifts, and I hold my next intake of air so that I’m rock solid as I pull the trigger.

  The crack of the shot echoes around us, bouncing from hillside to hillside as it descends
the valley. The beast falls, and I wait to see if he staggers back up again.

  Nothing. Only the mound of his rounded belly and one perfectly formed side of the rack protruding from the grass.

  “Did you get it?”

  “Uh-huh.” Making note of his position using landmarks, I push to my feet, scooping the bag up in the process. “Now for the hard part.”

  “Is it heavy?” Mel asks as she falls into step beside me. “Like, do you think I’ll be able to help you carry it back to the truck?”

  I smirk at the wide-eyed innocence on her sweet face. “It’ll be a darn sight lighter once it has no legs or gut.”

  THIRTY-SIX

  Mel

  “You did good,” Dog praises as we make it back to camp.

  I shoot him an unimpressed glare. There’s a rack of ribs thrown over my shoulder, and I have one side of the animal’s head in my hand, the velvet on the antlers at least minimizing the ache from holding it for so long.

  Dog sets his side of the head down and then proceeds to unload not only a bag he stuffed the prime cuts of meat into, but the gun, and the other side of the ribs tied on to the pack.

  He smirks as he helps me set my haul down.

  “What’s so funny, huh?”

  He shakes his head. “Nothing much.”

  “Spill.” I nudge him in the back of the leg with my boot.

  He glances up at me over his shoulder before straightening up to stand toe-to-toe. A stupid smile spreads across my face as he places his hands on my hips and gives me the most sincere, heartfelt look.

  “It’s just …”

  I melt at the adoration in his eyes.

  “ … you look like a serial killer.”

  The adorable look morphs into one of unhinged amusement as he cracks up laughing. I swat at his chest while I laugh too. The fucker had me.

  “I was so sure you were about to say something sweet.”

  He shakes his head, the blond lengths falling into his eyes. “You should see your face. What did you do? Rub your eye or somethin’?”

  “Probably.” I shrug.

  “Hold there. I’ll get my phone so I can take a photo and show you.”

  He dashes away, clearly excited at the thought, and leaves me with the masses of meat. A part of me feels terrible that the buck met its end, but most of me is thankful for the space it’ll fill in the freezer.

  The hike back to camp would have been long enough on its own, but add in the walk out to retrieve the animal and my feet are toast. I drop down on the grass and begin unlacing my boots as Dog emerges from where he’d been inside the tent.

  “What’s the matter?” I hesitate, lace in hand.

  He walks absently toward me while staring at his phone. “Got a message from King while we were out.”

  “What’s going on?” We’ve barely been gone a day. What could give him reason to get in touch?

  “Family problems.” Dog stops beside where I sit. “I need to get back by the looks of things.”

  “Guess we’ll pack up and set off then.” I reverse what I was doing and re-lace my boots.

  He frowns down at me, his chest heaving with a sigh. “I’m sure it’s nothin’ to worry about.”

  “Try saying that again like you mean it.”

  Dog holds out his hand and I take it, allowing him to pull me to my feet. “You had fun, though?”

  I nod, placing a hand on his chest to steady myself. “Despite the fact I’m apparently covered in blood, yeah, I did.”

  “I did too, babe.” His lips curl up on one side as he looks down at me.

  With nothing short of tender care, he fists the cuff of his shirt in his hand and uses the sleeve of his sweater to wipe my face clean.

  Curiosity gets the better of me. “Am I the first?”

  “First what?” He frowns.

  “Girl you’ve taken hunting.”

  His smirk returns, full force, as he runs a rough thumb down the side of my face. “You jealous, Miss Mel?”

  “Curious, is all.”

  “Hmm.” He bops me on the nose with his thumb and then pulls away. “Think you could pull down the tent?”

  “Can’t promise it’ll be packed away very tidy.” Especially when I’m currently frustrated at his lack of answer.

  I don’t know why it matters so much if he’s shared this experience with another woman, but I can’t deny the fact that it does. The sickness swirling in my stomach at the thought of our special getaway not being so special after all, tells me so.

  “Doesn’t matter if it’s thrown in a pile.” He heaves as he picks up both sides, and tosses the slabs of meat and bone over his shoulder. “We’ll get all this thrown on the bed of the truck and get our asses home, yeah? Worry about sortin’ it out properly when we get there.”

  I manage to get the tent into a relatively square bundle by the time Dog’s loaded the deer and our packs into the truck. He lifts my mess and carries it to the vehicle, giving me an unhindered view of his wide back and tapered waist. He’s always intrigued me with his classic all-American look. He’s the sort of pretty boy you could imagine fitted out in football gear, young girls hanging off his every word. Take the leather off his back, and the boots from his feet, and he’d be one of a million attractive middle-class guys.

  But he’s not. He’s Dog: an enigma inside and out.

  “Ready?” He leans one elbow on the side of the truck bed, using his free hand to push that dirty blond hair out of his face.

  “I guess so.” King’s message doesn’t seem to have flustered him too much, but I can tell he’s downplaying how much of a hurry he’s in to get home.

  There’s something he’s not saying, and after we broke ground last night, that kind of bothers me. It’s as though he still doesn’t know for sure if he can trust me.

  Dog holds my door open as I round the truck to the passenger side. “We could do this again, you know?”

  I nod, climbing up onto my seat, and give him a smile. “Hope so. Kind of wish I could stay out here forever.”

  “Me too.” He closes the door before I get a chance to reply, rounding the hood to his side. Worry etches the lines on his face, his eyes distant as he climbs in on his side and starts the truck.

  He hasn’t said anything about his father other than the relationship to his mother’s death, but I get the sense that whatever it was I witnessed outside his house was just the tip of the iceberg. Dog holds secrets that eat at him day and night, and yet somehow he manages to fool most everyone with his playful, cocky behavior.

  I reach across the seat as he pulls onto the road and rest my hand on his thigh. “I wish you’d talk to me about it.”

  He glances across the cab as we bump along the rutted road. “I would, babe.” His lips kick up at the side. “But until we get back, I don’t know for sure what to tell you.”

  “I don’t want to see you hurt again, is all.” I rest my head against the back of the seat, still watching him. “Your father doesn’t deserve your time if that’s how he treats you.”

  “I know.”

  “So why do you give it to him?”

  He sighs, squeezing my hand beneath his. “Because, babe, even if they are assholes, my brother and father are the only real family I have left. I thought I could cut him off …” He lets his words drift off, squinting a little as he stares at the horizon. “I realized that if I walk away from him, I walk away from anythin’ and everything that might still connect me to my mom. Sounds silly, I know, but if I forget about them, I forget about her.”

  “It’s not silly at all.” It makes utter and complete sense. “Just don’t let him sour those memories, okay?”

  He chuckles, short and bitter. “He already has.”

  Dog focuses on his driving again as we reach the sealed road, a frown in place as he increases speed on the open stretch leading to the nearby town. The minutes pass in silence before he glances over once more, yet this time with a soft smile.

  “Thank you, Mel.
”

  “For what?” I twist my body, tucking my legs up so I face him completely.

  “For this. For you.” He squeezes my hand again, only this time his grip doesn’t relax. “You make the shit bearable, you know? You even the scales.”

  “I don’t know …” I look to the road as I try to think of why he’d see it that way.

  I gave him nothing but trouble when I first got back, threw a hissy fit at him because of my own inability to voice how I felt about him, and then have done nothing since but be myself. Be the person I’d hope to have by my side.

  “You do,” Dog presses. “Hey. Look at me.”

  I turn my head his way once more as he does the same, his eyes flicking to and from the road as he tries to hold my gaze best he can. “Nothing my dad says could make me feel bad about myself anymore and you know why?”

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t give stock to what he says. I don’t give a shit about his opinion anymore because the only one that matters now, is yours, and you love me. That’s enough for me. That’s the only opinion I need to know.”

  “I do love you,” I whisper.

  “And I love you, babe.”

  He doesn’t say anymore as he returns his gaze to the road, simply holding my hand the rest of the drive home. It’s the most treasured I’ve felt since the men who mean the most in my life—Daddy and Hooch—watched me climb on the back of a bike knowing that if they wanted me safe, they’d have to risk never seeing me again.

  The most precious.

  The most loved.

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  Dog

  Night creeps on the horizon, smothering the last warmth from the day as we pull into the yard. Mel’s spent the better part of the last hour sleeping or intermittently changing stations on the radio. Yet she’s never once let go of my hand.

  I like it. Fucking love it, to be honest.

  “Home sweet home, eh?” Mel mumbles as I back the truck into its parking space.

  “Yep.” I stare out the windshield at the plain industrial style building.