Misguided (Fallen Aces MC Book 5)

by Max Henry

  It’s not warm, it’s the furthest thing from inviting I could imagine, but it sure as fuck is home. Especially when I hope the news King has will give me reason to never return to the one I came from.

  As it stands, the old man made it clear: he doesn’t want me back at the house ever again. All my shit’s gone already, no doubt, and I may as well scratch my name from the family tree.

  I’ve got only one reason to walk back into that place and like I told Mel, that’s Mom’s memory.

  “You look as excited as I am to be back so soon,” Mel says quietly from her side. “You thinking about your dad?”

  “Yeah.” I roll my head on the seat to face her and give her a wink. “Might need somethin’ to take my mind off it afterward, you know what I’m sayin’?”

  I realize how much of a douche I sounded the instant her brow pinches into a frown. Nice one, Dog.

  “Yeah, sure. Because that’s all I’m good for, right?” She damn near rips the door handle off in her haste to get out.

  I drop my head back and groan, the truck body rocking ever so slightly as she yanks the bags from the back. Damn near shit myself when she appears at my window.

  “I’ll dump your shit in your room, okay?”

  “Yeah, okay. Thanks.”

  But she’s already several feet across the yard.

  Stupid, stupid, idiot. Why the hell did I say that? Scratch that—I know why. It’s this place, the club. As soon as my boots hit the gravel of the yard, I switch into fuckhead mode; acting like the idiot they all think I am.

  Only it wasn’t one of my brothers in the cab with me, it was the girl I just had a fucking perfect time with out in the wild.

  I wasn’t kidding when I said I wished we could stay there forever too. The thought of her knocking around barefoot in the log cabin I’d make us? Yeah. Picture-perfect.

  The truck door creaks as I step out, the slam of the clubhouse one reverberating off the wall behind me. I load up with as much of the meat as I can manage in one trip and head for the back door that cuts straight past the chiller beside the kitchen. At least one woman should be happy with me when she sees what I’ve brought her: Sonya. The meat off this beast should last her a week, save the club some dough, which I know King will appreciate too.

  Could almost make this a regular thing.

  “Hey,” Callum calls out from the door as I slide the bag of venison cuts onto the rack in the chiller. “Mel said you’d be down here. When you’re done, King wants to see you.”

  “Yeah. I know. It’s why we’re back already.” I stack the side of ribs beside the bag.

  “Successful, I see.” He tips his chin toward the spoils of our travels.

  “Uh-huh. Mel did real good helpin’ me get it out of the bush.”

  “Well, whatever you did to piss her off, best you sort that out afterward, huh?“ He raps his knuckles on the doorframe and then turns and leaves.

  My gut sinks. If it were up to me, I’d head straight up there now and show her how fucking sorry I am. But I’ve got the rest of the beast to take care of, and one president that doesn’t like to be kept waiting. I keep my head down on the way back out to the truck for the rest of the meat, frustrated that I left things unsolved with Mel. If her heart aches, I want to be a part of the solution that makes her smile again, not the reason it’s broken to begin with.

  I lift the second rack of ribs onto my shoulder with a grunt and make a mental note to hose the truck bed off after I’ve spoken with King. With the animal safely tucked away, and my hands washed off, I head toward his office.

  Vince gives his old lady a kiss near the door to the garage as they part ways.

  “Hey, Sonya,” I call out, catching her before she disappears.

  The matron of our club spins and immediately graces me with a smile. I like her, Sonya. She’s always been like an aunt to me since I first started hanging around. Never says a bad word about anyone who doesn’t deserve it.

  “How can I help, Dog?”

  “I left you a little somethin’ in the chiller.”

  She rolls her eyes. “What is it now?”

  I’ve played a few pranks in my time.

  “Nothing bad. I promise. Just go have a look, yeah?”

  She places her hand on my forearm. “Okay. But if you’ve—”

  “I promise,” I urge. “Go look.”

  She squints a little as she smiles, and then nods. “Okay.”

  King gestures for me to shut the door as I enter his office. “How was the trip?”

  “Good. Left Sonya the best parts of an eight-pointer.”

  “Nice.” He lifts both eyebrows and nods in approval.

  “Probably could have got another if I didn’t have to rush back.”

  “Take a seat.”

  I gesture to the bloodstained clothes I have on. “Probably best if I don’t.”

  “Right.” He nods, unlocking his filing cabinet, and reaching into the second drawer. “I got this for you first thing this mornin’. Texted you right after.”

  He hands me a stiff envelope: registered mail.

  “Don’t know what’s inside, but thought that” —he taps the “urgent and confidential” stamp— “meant I shouldn’t leave it until you were ready to come back.”

  I flip it over and frown as I recognize the name of Leidend’s lawyer on the back. King leans a hip against the cabinet as he watched me tear off the perforated strip, and slide the crisp sheet of paper out from inside.

  My eyes take the words in, but my brain doesn’t want a part of it.

  “What does it say?”

  I lift my gaze to King’s. “It’s a subpoena to testify against my brother.”

  “The guy who was here the other day?”

  “Yeah.” I read the details again. “He's bein' investigated for fraud. Says here I can give the testimony by video conference.”

  “Damn. Sorry, brother.”

  I nod in thanks to King’s sentiment, trying to work the finer points out for myself. Why would they need me, a guy who’s never been on Leidend Industries’ payroll, to give evidence? What could I possibly say that would help or hinder his cause?

  “I guess I better call the old man and find out what the fuck’s goin’ on.”

  “Here.” King gestures to his desk. “Use my office. I’ll step out.”

  “You sure?”

  “Of course.” He nods quickly before stepping out and closing the door behind him.

  I head around to his chair, figuring it’ll be all right to sit on that since it’s leather, and take a seat. The desk phone stares back at me as I set the subpoena down and take a deep breath.

  Seems no matter how hard I try, I can’t escape the von Essen trap. My hand aches as I lift the receiver and dial the house number first. It rings out switching over to the message bank as I hang up. I try the old man’s mobile next and get more than I thought he’d give me.

  “Hello?”

  Probably helps I’m calling from a number he doesn’t recognize.

  “Hey, Dad.”

  I brace for the click, the dial tone, and the inevitable brush-off.

  “Hello, Koen.”

  Well, fuck me dead. “I got some interestin’ mail from your lawyer.”

  “They went through with it, then?”

  I rest my face in the palm of my free hand. “When were you goin’ to tell me?”

  “To be honest, I’d hoped they wouldn’t involve you.”

  “Why have they?”

  “Because they need a character reference, somebody to vouch for Derek, who’ll say that the charges are utter bullshit.”

  I chuckle, short and bitter. “No wonder you hoped they’d leave me out of it.”

  He doesn’t say anything, just grumbles in agreement.

  “How long?”

  “Have they been investigating?”

  “Has he been doin’ it?” I ask. I don’t have a shred of doubt that Derek’s guilty. Fucker always wanted what he couldn’t
have, even as a kid.

  “I won’t tell you that,” Dad says quietly. “I’d rather not talk about it at all, right now. There are more important things to worry about. I don’t even know why the assholes can’t fucking wait for a goddamn week before they make things worse.”

  “What are you on about?”

  He sighs heavily down the line. “Lorelle tried to kill herself.”

  Derek’s wife. “That’s rough.” Even worse is the fact he didn’t sound the slightest bit shocked by it at all, as though she would have done something like that purely to inconvenience him.

  “Seems she can’t withstand a little pressure,” he says with nothing short of contempt for her.

  “Give the woman a break, Rollan. Her husband is facing real time, and for all you fuckin’ know she may have other issues it’s added to.”

  “She needs to be strong for him, support him. There’s no place for weak women in our family.”

  “Guess it’s a good thing Mom died then, huh? All that compassion of hers wouldn’t have been any use right now, either.”

  “You’re such a little bastard, you know that? Everything comes back to you and your goddamn mother as though you were the only person who lost someone precious to you.”

  “Didn’t see you jumpin’ up to help when she hit the floor.”

  “Because,” he scratches out, “I didn’t want to believe what I was witnessing.”

  I literally pull the phone from my ear and frown at it before placing it beside my ear again. “You know what? That’s the first fuckin’ time I’ve heard you talk about her death without it bein’ you blamin’ me for it.”

  “I have a heart, Koen.”

  “Hidden it well.”

  He lets that hang a little before responding. “Give your testimony, and then be done with us. It’s your chance to get your own back, Koen. What kind of a man will you be?”

  He ends the call without so much as a goodbye. I guess the whole conversation is a bonus, though, considering I expected him to hang up right at the start.

  I lift the letter from the lawyers again and re-read the request. What the fuck has Derek got himself into? And why? Does our family not have enough money to satisfy his wants? Or is he just that much of a greedy fuckhead he wants it all?

  I’m going with the latter.

  With the notice folded and in my pocket, I leave King’s office and set about righting the second issue: Mel. King’s nowhere to be seen, but a few of the other guys sit at the bar. I look around the common room but don’t see Mel anywhere.

  “You just gonna stand around and look pretty all day?” Vince calls from his spot on the deck, protein shake in hand.

  Asshole smirks, knowing he’s winding me up.

  “You know that’s the only reason I get out of bed in the mornin’,” I sass back. “So you fuckers have something worthwhile to look at.” I throw the bastard a wink and head up to my room.

  Unsurprisingly, Mel’s not there. Heads turn as I jog back down the stairs, returning to the common room. Not wanting to appear as desperate as I feel, I pull my pack of smokes out and shake a stick out as I head for the deck.

  I stink, and I was looking forward to a hot shower to freshen up, but damn, I need to know where she is so I can get things straight with her. I give one of the prospects a low five on my way past the pool table, hoping if I come off as my usual friendly self, nobody will pay much mind to what I’m doing.

  “How’s it, man?” I ask, chin high with the smoke perched between my lips.

  “Just the usual, Dog.” The prospect’s opponent greets me with a jerk of his chin before returning to the game.

  I step out into the semi-dark and scan the area for where she went. Vince swirls the last of his drink to my right, downs it, and then points to our left as he heads indoors. Only takes a second to find her in that bright-as-fuck pink camo. Mel sits at the base of the washing line, her back propped up against the metal pole.

  I drop off the side of the deck with a thump of my boots and make my way over, bracing for the worst.

  And it’s exactly what I get.

  “No,” she protests as I come into her line of sight. “I’m still pissed off with you.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Do you even know what for?” she asks, eyes narrowed.

  Fuck, I hate it when women put you on the spot. “For joking about sex?”

  “It’s more than that,” she sighs. “I thought our connection went deeper than physical gratification.”

  Whoa, little lady. “It does. Shit, woman. That’s the whole reason why I took things slow; so you’d know that wasn’t the case.”

  “And yet, when you feel crappy about whatever you talked to King about, sex is the first thing that comes to mind.”

  “That such a bad thing?” I chuckle.

  Too soon.

  “Just leave me alone, please, Dog.”

  “Make me.” I stand my ground, widening my stance.

  She reaches out, shoving me in the shin. “Go away.”

  “Nope. Not goin’ anywhere.” I casually light my smoke as she winds up beneath me.

  “Why not?” she cries, throwing her hands in the air.

  “Because I’m what you need, remember?” I remind her of the words she spoke in the tent last night. “Even if I piss you off. So here I am.”

  She lets out a snort, staring in the opposite direction. “You’re unbearable, you know that?”

  I nudge her with my foot to get her attention. “Love you.”

  I watch the mess before me untangle itself as she works it through in her head. I wouldn’t have said all the shit I did or treated her with the care I have if she didn’t mean something. I sure as fuck struggle to understand it properly myself, but the truth of it is there.

  She can’t be that fucking stubborn that she’s going to deny what we have out of principle, can she?

  “I’ve only had one long-term relationship—if that’s even what you want to call it—within the club, Dog. I thought I loved him too, and yet it didn’t end well. I guess that’s why I jump to conclusions a lot.”

  “Sawyer?”

  “Yeah.”

  Well, fuck me dead. Hell of an act to follow …

  “Although” —she huffs a sad laugh— “it should be easier for us now Daddy’s gone.”

  She buries her face in the crook of her arm, stifling the silent tears. I know the woman cries though because she can’t hide the way her shoulders shake or the definite shift in the air.

  “Promise I won’t be that much trouble,” I tease, trying to lighten the mood. “At least … I think not.”

  Damn. Will I be? Maybe not to the same psycho extent, but shit, if the stuff with Dad and Derek blows up then I can’t promise the fallout will be pretty.

  Mel pulls in a deep breath, wiping her eyes on the sleeve of her sweater before lifting her head high again. “Where do we go from here, then, Dog?”

  I know where I want to go, but that kind of suggestion ain’t real appropriate about now. Not when we got in this predicament because of it.

  “I guess we figure this shit out with my brother and then decide what the fuck we’re goin’ to do about the fact we live at different clubs. Whatever happens along the way, we deal with it as it comes.” If this thing between her and me is going to grow roots, then no better way to stress test it than with a temporary long-distance relationship.

  “I’m staying here,” she says with finality. “You’ve got reasons to be here. I’ve got nothing that I have to be back for right now.”

  “What about Hooch?”

  “What about him?”

  “Don’t you want to spend time with him?”

  She shrugs. “Sure, but there’ll be plenty of chances for that.”

  “You one hundred percent sure, babe?”

  “Yeah.” She unfurls her legs and stands.

  “He finds out why you’re not comin’ home, he’ll roast my fuckin’ balls over the grill for get
tin’ too cozy with you.”

  Mel chuckles, quickly killing the sound as soon as it escapes. “I’ll have a word with him, convince him you’re nothing but a gentleman and a scholar.”

  “Ha.” I reach out and pull her to me, tucking her tight little self under my arm. “Good luck with that.”

  She pats a hand against my chest, and I capture it under mine as she looks up at me with those fucking eyes so full of doubts. “Thanks, Dog.”

  “For what?”

  “Not leaving when I told you to.”

  “Never goin’ to go anywhere, babe.” I curl my arm and swing her to my front in the process so I can lay a kiss on her head. “Now how does a shower sound?”

  “Like a thousand tiny raindrops from heaven.”

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  Mel

  I can’t say Hooch was too impressed when I phoned to let him know I’d be staying a little longer in Lincoln with Dog, but I think he also knew there wasn’t much he could do about it.

  “You better not be up to no good,” he’d said. But considering he left his disapproval at that, I’m hoping he’ll come around to the idea soon.

  Didn’t drop the ‘L’ word, though—thought telling him the depth of my feelings for the guy might be pushing the boundaries a bit far.

  “What time is the call?”

  Dog twists the bottle of beer before him around on its coaster. “Three.”

  I thought maybe a trip to the bar in town might lighten him up, give him a distraction if we weren’t twiddling our thumbs at the clubhouse. But all he’s done is sit in relative silence, lost in his thoughts.

  “You know what they’re going to ask you yet?”

  He nods. “Stuff about his assets, his attitude toward money. They’re fishin’ for me to tell them that he seemed to spend up large, never have any debt or struggles. But shit, the old man’s loaded. What’s that goin’ to prove?”

  “I guess your dad’s worried you’re going to glam it up and make out he threw money around recklessly, though. Tell them you don’t know where he got it from, or that he’d lie to you bout how he bought things.”

  “He’s worried I’m goin’ to lie and say he told me he was guilty.”

  “How can you do that when you don’t know the specifics of the case?” I reach for the pitcher of ice water and pour myself another.