by Paula Cox
As I ride, my mind throws itself forward to Seattle. I imagine Enrique with his glinting gold knuckle duster punching Lana in the belly. My mind is cruel and it fuckin’ tortures me. I imagine Lana falling to the ground clutching her belly as blood seeps between her fingers. I imagine her on her back, rain- and blood-soaked, mumbling my name. The bike growls and I do, too, growl just as loud as the engine. Image crashes into image as I swerve around cars, speeding toward the city. I hear Lana, whispering close to my ear: “You let me die, Kade. You let me die.”
I’m halfway there when a thought occurs to me.
Fuck!
I screech to a halt at the side of the road. I’m not picking her up on my bike. And what about her friend?
Fuck!
I take out my cell, sheltering it as best as I can with my hand, and dial Noname.
“Boss?”
“Are you in the city?”
“On business, yeah. That lead you told me to follow-up.”
“In a car?” I ask hopefully.
“I wish. Bike.”
“Get a car. Meet me at Lana’s. Don’t leave the city.”
“Where am I supposed to get a—”
“Just get a fuckin’ car!” I snap.
I hear Noname swallow. “Yes, Boss.”
“Get there right away.”
“Yes, Boss.”
I hang up, stuff my cell into my pocket, and rejoin the traffic.
Goddamn it. Why did I let her go?
I’ve never been one for second-guessing, it’s true, but as I speed through the rain, I second-guess everything.
Second-guess every single moment spent with Lana, starting at the Twin Peaks and ending at the town hall. I second-guess the moans, the flirty glances, I second-guess the way we would hold each other, me just thinking we were a man and a woman getting close, her knowing the deeper truth. I second-guess her reasoning for agreeing to live at the clubhouse in the first place; I’d thought it was just lust, but obviously there was something else.
No, I’m not one for second-guessing at all.
But the time for second-guessing is over. I can’t second-guess now. I have my woman and my child to protect.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Lana
I sit at the window of my bedroom with my notebook and pen, staring out at the rain. I like the way the way it clings to the glass, the way some drops stick before finally sliding down. I like the constant stream, the distortion; I like the way the light bends around the raindrops. I like the way the house shakes. I giggle when I hear Terry grumbling from the living room. I want to write something about it, something poetic, but I can’t. My pen doesn’t move. Every time I write, I think about Kade, as though he’s leaning over my shoulder watching me. I can’t write. I can barely think. I just have Kade in my mind, that image of him and me and the child on Sunday morning. I just wish things had gone differently. It’s been a month and he hasn’t contacted me, not even a text or a call. Maybe he’s done with me.
I try and make myself react with anger, rather than heartache. I tell myself I am infuriated rather than despondent. I tell myself countless lies, stack the lies atop each other, until I am standing beneath a tower of lies. Maybe I could write about that: a tower of lies. A tower of lies sitting in the unceasing summer rain. But when I turn my pen to the page, nothing happens. I just sit here, stunned. Constantly stunned over this past month. Stunned that Kade is not here; stunned that I will have to raise this child alone; stunned that life is galloping ahead without me.
When Terry throws the door to my bedroom open without knocking, I know something is wrong. Though this is her apartment and I’m not yet paying rent, Terry is respectful of my space. It’s yet another reason why I love the woman so much.
Then the reason for her sudden disregard of my privacy appears. Kade walks up behind her, completely drenched, water splashing onto the hardwood floor.
“Kade?” I ask, my voice full of disbelief. It’s only been a month, but a month is a long time if for the weeks before that you spent every night in somebody’s bed. He’s still tall and muscular with sturdy features, and the same piercing blue eyes. The sort of blue eyes I prayed for as a child when the world seemed small and I felt trapped. “Is that—”
He paces across the room, raindrops flinging around him, and stands over me.
“I’m—I should’ve come sooner,” he says. His voice is husky, strained. It’s the voice of a man who has never been any good at expressing his emotions. “I—” He glances at Terry and I know that he won’t speak his emotions in front of her. I’m about to ask for her to excuse herself—she stands at the door, arms folded across her chest—when Kade says, “We have to get out of here. Both of you. I have to get both of you out of here.” At first I think he means me and Terry, but then he reaches down and places his hand on my belly, the tiny bump which is starting to show. “I’ve been . . . I need to protect my family, Lana. I need to protect you and our child. And you, Terry.” He turns to her. “You need to come with me.”
“What? Why?” Terry says, suspicious.
Kade quickly explains about the Italians.
“They’re closing in,” he finishes. “Or, at least, that’s how it looks. They might be blowin’ steam, trying to get us riled. Either way, I’m not taking the risk.”
I love you, Kade. I love you for coming back. I love you for thinking of our child. I love you.
I don’t say it, though, because he might not say it back. Feeling that pain once is enough.
“Look, I know this is serious business,” Terry says, “but I don’t think I need to go with you. I don’t think I’m in any danger. What am I, to them? I’m Lana’s friend—”
“Exactly, you’re Lana’s friend,” Kade says. He speaks more patiently than I would’ve expected from him. It’s as though something in this past month has changed him. Perhaps being apart from me. He keeps smiling at me, and then at my belly. Glancing at me to make sure I’m still here, that I’m real, even as he talks to Terry. “You don’t know these men. They’ll think nothing of hurting you to get to Lana, to get to me.”
Terry shakes her head slowly. “This is madness.”
“I agree.” Kade nods. “It is.”
“I’ll go and pack some things.”
Terry leaves my bedroom.
I stand up and lead Kade to my bed by the shoulders.
“You don’t need to keep pacing,” I say.
He sits on the edge of the bed, drenching it. But I don’t mind. He could spray the whole room with hose-water, ruining everything, and I’d still be happy he was here. He rubs his hands together, watching me as I go around my room, packing clothes, packing my writing material. Even when I’m turned the other way, I feel his eyes on me. His breathing is heavy as he watches me. I know that breathing well. Lust and rage are gripping him. He himself probably doesn’t even know where one begins and the other ends.
I pack quickly, and then sit next to Kade on the bed. I don’t make any move toward him. I’m still stinging from the rejection at the town hall. I just sit there, my legs touching his legs, as Terry grunts from the next room.
Finally, Kade places his hand on my leg. I place my hand atop his hand.
He turns, smiles softly at me. “It’s good to see you again, Lana,” he says. “I was worried.”
With my free hand, I reach up and touch his face, stroke my fingers along his jawline. He is cold, but beneath the coldness there is a burning warmth which reminds me of the nights we’ve spent together, the nights when he was too tired to do anything but give me mind-blowing orgasms, and then the nights where we shared love, countless times, again and again throwing ourselves into each other. Dirty, hard pleasure; slow, comfortable pleasure; hungry, desperate pleasure.
“Scud’s gone,” Kade says, and then tells me what happened.
“I’m glad you didn’t kill him,” I mutter.
Kade tilts his head at me. I remove my hand from his face and place it on his knee.
He takes a deep breath, that simple touch waking up lust within him. I can tell just by the way he is acting that he has not been with another women this past month.
“Really?” he says.
“Yes. He was a creep, but he didn’t do anything.”
“Tried to,” Kade murmurs. “Anyway, he’s not got a free-pass. If he ever comes back, anywhere near you, my kid, he’s a dead man.”
“Your kid? It’s strange to hear you say that, after . . .”
“I could’ve handled that better, Lana. We both know that.”
“Then why didn’t you?” I ask. I don’t want to ask the question. I want everything to be perfect. But I can’t help it. It just comes out.
“Because . . .” He groans, closes his eyes, as though searching himself for an answer. I know men like Kade—tough men—don’t think about their emotions much. I know this must be hard for him. Finally, he says, “Because I was scared I’d lose you, too, I guess. Duster’s gone, and now you . . . and I was a damn fool for thinkin’ anything happened with you and Scud. I know that. But I guess that’s what I am. A damn fool. And then I told you to stay. I told you to stay at the clubhouse and I thought you’d just do what I said. But then, over this past month, I’ve been thinking. Strange for me, thinking about things I’ve done like that. Second-guessing. I’ve never second-guessed myself. I’ve been thinking and I realize that you didn’t want to tell you anything, did you? You wanted me to ask. But you couldn’t ask me to ask, ’cause that’d defeat the purpose.”
“Yes,” I say. “Yes, that is it, Kade.” I smile. “Who says men can’t understand women?”
I watch him, waiting. He’ll say it now. I’m sure he will. I love him, and he loves me. He will say it now.
He opens his mouth, about to speak. I wish I could take a picture of his eyes right now. Burning blue. Brimming blue. It’s like his eyes are the sky and emotion is fluttering birdlike across them.
“Lana, I—”
“Okay, I’m ready.” Terry hefts her bag with a groan. She looks at me, and then Kade, and back again. “What? Am I interrupting?”
Kade rises to his feet, all business again. “No,” he says. “We need to go. Hang on.” He takes his cell from his pocket and begins talking with Noname. “Bring the car around. Be ready. We want to get back to the clubhouse quick. Fuck my bike. You talked to Earl? Locked down? Yeah, yeah, good. Safest place for us. A fuckin’ fort. Good, yeah, yeah. Alright. Be ready.”
He hangs up the phone and walks to the door, joining Terry. Both of them look at me expectantly.
I stand up, make to pick up my bag.
“Oh,” Kade says, walking across the room and picking it up for me. “What sort of father am I goin’ to make, eh? Letting my woman and my kid carry all the heavy shit.” He tries for a laugh. It sounds forced at first, but when I join in with a giggle, we laugh along together all the way to the door.
Terry rolls her eyes. “You two are psychopaths,” she says. “Dragging me from my home and laughing all the way. You make me sick.” She pouts at me as we walk down the stairs.
“Blame him,” I say, nudging Kade in the shoulder. “He’s the one who’s been ignoring me for a month.”
“Oh, I do blame him.” Terry winks at me behind his back. “Maybe we should teach him a lesson. Cook him up in a stew. I’ve been told before I’d make a good witch.”
“Ladies,” Kade says. “The time for jokes will be later.”
“See,” I say, “he’s scared.”
He glances back at me, a smile on his face, before stepping into the rain.
We walk quickly down the street to what looks to be a rental car, a large, luxurious-looking sedan. Seeing the gruff-looking leather-wearing Noname behind the wheel of a vehicle like this is enough to provoke enough round of laughter.
Noname shrugs when Kade raises an eyebrow at him. “You said get a car, Boss.”
Kade packs the suitcases into the trunk and rushes us into the car. He sits in the passenger seat, and even turns around before Noname starts the engine to make sure I have my seatbelt on. It’s strange, seeing him so concerned with my safety, like he’s stopped seeing me as a fuck buddy and started seeing me as—dare I say it—his girlfriend.
Noname pulls away from the apartment, the car cutting through the still-lashing rain, and starts driving back toward Evergreen.
Kade looks at me in the rear-view mirror, looks at me like he never has before.
He’s changed.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Lana
I walk around the clubhouse bedroom, touching everything. I touch the walls and the mattress and the window and the desk. I even go into the bathroom and touch the toilet flush and the showerhead. (The showerhead in particular holds a few memories of mine and Kade’s passion-filled nights.) Terry is in a room of her own and Kade is going around the clubhouse making sure that everything is secure.
I unpack my things and change into dry clothes, and then sit on the edge of the bed, ankles crossed. I can’t help but think of the time I sat in this exact position in one of Kade’s shirts, tempting him, enticing him. I can’t help but think of the way he threw himself at me, the passion, the heat.
Kade walks into the room wearing a hoodie and sweatpants, still somehow looking in-control in the casual clothes.
“Is everything okay?” I ask.
“For now.” He nods. “We’ve got men posted all around the clubhouse, enough food to last us a couple of weeks. We can hunker down here—at least until this situation is resolved.” He walks across the room, stands over me.
“How will this situation be resolved?”
“When Enrique is dead.”
I don’t comment on that. Death is part of his life, I know, but I don’t want to hear about the details. Instead, I stand up and look into his face. He stares back at mine. Then, he reaches forward and takes my hands.
He takes a deep breath.
“I’ve never been a man who can easily share how he feels, Lana,” he says. “I’ve never found that easy. Even with Duster, my best friend, my brother, I could never really tell him. Maybe it’s ’cause of what happened with my old man. I don’t know. But it’s never been easy for me.” He pulls me close, wraps his arms around my waist, looks down at me. I feel small, safe. “But I love you, Lana,” he says. “That’s the truth. I love you. I think I’ve loved you for a long time. It was one thing keeping it hidden away when we were just a man and a woman. But now you’re going to have my kid, I can’t fight those feelings. I love you. I love you so much.” His voice almost breaks on the last sentence, but he hardens his features. He may love me, but he’s still Kade.
“You know I love you, too,” I say.
He kisses me on the forehead with surprising softness, and then lays his hand on my belly. “He’s in there, then,” Kade says, voice shaking, but only a little.
“Or she,” I reply. “Yes, he or she is in there.”
“That’s—crazy.”
I giggle and Kade chuckles, placing another hand on my belly.
“There’s a bump there,” he says in a voice of awe.
Tears are sliding down my cheeks, I realize. Warm tears. “A small one,” I say, and now my voice breaks. I can’t fight it. It breaks and I start to sob, but with happiness now, happiness that he is here. The child of my father is here.
“Oh, Lana.” Kade wipes away my tears with his rough fingers. “You’re home now.”
“Home? Do you mean that?”
He nods, determination in his face. “I never want to be apart from you again—from either of you. I want to be a family. If . . . if you can tell me what a family is. I’ve never really known, truth be told.”
“Neither have I. You know that. I guess we’ll just have to figure it out together.”
We stare at each other for a long time, our expressions slowly changing. The emotion remains, but it is joined with pent-up lust. Kade leans down and kisses me on the cheek, and then the chin, and finally the lips.
He kisses me softly and slides his fingers through my hair slowly, caressingly, and then down my back and around my hips with a gentleness I never would’ve dreamed he possessed. He breaks off the kiss, and his face is open, truly open for the first time. There is nothing between us now. No lies, no hesitation. Just love and lust.