by Zoey Parker
“Thank you, Grath. You don’t know how grateful I am.”
“Yeah, well, hold onto that gratitude. I gotta feeling Jack is going to be mighty pissed off about it, and some of that is pretty likely to come flying in your direction. Try to keep in mind that he’s gonna need some time to process, to get to grips with all this. But it will be okay. All right?”
“Yeah, all right. I gotta believe that. Holding onto that.”
“Yeah. Good. So you leave all the worries to us. You just focus on your baby boy.”
They both gave me squeezes, then looked hard at one another, communicating without words, and left the house with purpose in their strides.
I had just witnessed the beginning of what was likely to be one hell of a storm, hitting the streets of Tucson.
Chapter 15
Jack
When I rode into the Iron Bandits’ compound that night, it looked like all my MC brothers had beaten me to it. The place was packed. I parked my bike and strode straight back to church. I knew I wasn’t late, but it felt like I was the last one there for a reason. This did not bode well.
Yep. Sure enough, the room was packed. Everyone in their place. I had no idea what I’d missed, but it was something big, because they all went silent as I made my way to my seat at the table. Then Bull, our president, said, “Good. ’Bout time you made it here. Sit down, Jack-o. We got news, and we got shit to cover.
“First off, damn you for planning a wedding without letting us know you were taking on that sweet mama to be your old lady. No disrespect. You do your brother proud. It’s what he would have wanted, for her, for his son. It’s a good move. When’s the wedding?”
I shot a death-glare at Grath, who grinned back at me with a shift of his shoulders. The asshole had shared.
But he was right: the MC would now be sworn to protect Ellie as much as any other family member, as much as Peter, as much as all the women and children in the chosen circles of our ranks. Maybe it read as archaic or patriarchal bullshit to Ellie—in fact, I knew it did. I knew she didn’t like it. And she would hate being called an ‘old lady.’ Still, it was our way. And like it or not, she would benefit from it, even if our marriage was in name only and only lasted for six months. It would have the mark of legitimacy, it would be recognized. And that was all to the good.
There might even been a part of me that wished it was real: that the marriage would be real, that I could think of and call Ellie mine—and not just for six months, but for good. But that was not the plan, and it wasn’t going to play out like that, so I slapped that thought down and grunted my acceptance of their well-wishes. “Yeah, uh, it’s tomorrow. Keeping it real small, courthouse.”
There were a bunch of nods and I got a few more pats on the back and punches to the arms. Some guys slapped the table in salute. But the subject quickly lost its sparkle, and I knew we were here for a different reason.
Bull hit the gavel once for attention, and got it.
“Jack-o, I can see you’re curious about why we’re all here before you. We need you to listen, now. Do not get up until you have leave, you hear me? I want your ass in that chair until I am done laying this out for you.”
What the fuck? This kind of shit did not happen at our meetings. What the fuck had I done? I knew the answer was nothing—with the exception of the bender I had gone on a couple of weeks past, I’d been doing good. Work was smooth, the shop was earning and busy, clients were happy, books were solid. So this was not disciplinary. I wracked my brain, and came up empty. I must have looked ridiculous—which I hated—looking around me with my eyebrows raised. “One of you assholes wanna enlighten me here? What the fuck is going on? What is this bullshit?”
“It’s about Keith.”
Okay, that got my attention.
“What about Keith?”
“We got a lead now, on what happened that night. On who did it.”
“Name.” That is all I wanted. I sat forward.
“Back down, man.”
I slid back in the chair, looking hard at Bull. “Name.”
“Brian Mc—”
“I fucking knew it! I fucking knew it! That fuck! I’m gonna hunt that motherfucker down—”
“Jack! Sit your ass back down. Right. Now.” A bunch of guys had gotten up around me and circled me, as if that was going to hold me back from heading out the door and onto his trail. Ha!
Still, I looked a few of my brothers in the eye, and they looked at me fiercely, but also with understanding. They knew how hard this was gonna hit me. Well, I guessed that answered my question about the purpose and style of today’s church meeting. It was an intervention, and I was the detainee. Fan-fucking-tastic.
I gave the guys long hard stares right back, then resettled in my chair. If this was the way they wanted to play it, so be it. They’d better have a plan, though—I knew that as soon as church was over, I’d be on the trail, with or without them. I finally had something to go on, to catch my little brother’s murderer, and nothing was going to stop me. Absolutely. Nothing.
But Bull had other ideas. “You still with us? Pay attention, now, Jack, because I’m only going to say this once. You do not go off on your own to get this piece of shit. You got me?
“We are an MC, we are your brothers, we work together as a team. We also got help—Steph has more info feeding in, but we don’t know enough yet. We don’t know where this McAfee is, we don’t know where he’s staying, we don’t know where he’s been.
“We do know he’s got a gun, and we know he’s crazy enough to kill. And we know—or, we think we know—that you are the next one in his sights.
“So you are not the one who should be riding around seeking him out. He might find you first. And then what good are you to that woman you’re about to marry, or to that baby boy, your brother’s son?
“You have responsibilities now, son, and you have to think hard and long first, before you can go out and get that revenge I know you need in your blood.”
Fuck fuck shit. He was right.
I had one big question I had to ask. I thought I already knew the answer, and it wasn’t likely to make me happy, but I needed to know, I needed someone to say it. I needed to be sure.
“How did you find out? How did we suddenly get intel on Keith’s killer?”
And the answer I had dreaded came swiftly, from Grath. He knew how much this would hurt, too, so he spoke it softly. “Ellie.”
Of course it was Ellie. Who else could it be? That fucking bitch. She knew. All this time, she knew. And she had let the fucker walk.
I nodded, stood up, containing my rage, and walked carefully to the door, gathering my thoughts and taking a minute to breathe.
And then I put my fist through the wall.
Chapter 16
Ellie
When I woke up the next morning, there was a lot of bustling noise and women’s voices coming from the living room and kitchen, and it made no sense to me. It wasn’t even eight yet. Since Peter’s last feeding, I’d managed to pull another two hours of sleep in, but the grog ruled my brain.
I rolled into a squat and eased my way up to standing, stretching out my back and legs and arms as I went, trying to get some blood flowing up north, but sleep mode had me in a tight lockdown.
By rote, I checked on Peter. He was still asleep, and the monitor was on. I wandered into the living room, my eyes barely opened. My body moved of its own volition toward the kitchen, seeking the coffeemaker by muscle memory—no credit due to my brain.
“Great, you’re up! Good morning! Oooh, today is going to be so much fun! But we have…”
Whoever it was was talking an awful lot. I tried to listen at first, but gave up fairly quickly; the words wouldn’t register yet, anyway. There were at least two or three female bodies moving around, in various colors. I saw blue jeans, a yellow skirt, a white top, some pinks…yep, women. Was Jack having a party? This early in the morning? Huh. Maybe I should be insulted.
Still, they seemed
happy. I didn’t want to be rude. “Mmerng.”
Jack stood with his hip to the breakfast bar, arms crossed over his chest. I got confused with all the bodies in the way, and lost track of where I had been headed, and why. So I stood there, in the middle of the kitchen, muddled.
“Ellie. Look at me.”
Did he have to sound so dominant? Pshhht. I guessed he did. He couldn’t help himself. But it was kind of nice to have some direction all the same, so I looked at him.
He was watching me with a strange expression, like he was angry but about to laugh at the same time.
“Coffee.”
Oh! Right. Coffee. That’s what I came in here for. Coffee.
I nodded and looked around to see where I might find the coffeemaker.
“Ellie, it’s next to the fridge.”
I located it and moved to the counter where it perched. After standing in front of it for a few seconds, I remembered to find the mugs in the cabinet above.
The ladies were still buzzing around in their own high-pitched world, and I was not tuning in yet. But what I did hear was Jack’s low rumble of a chuckle, and he came up behind me just as I was putting the carafe back onto the hotplate. He put an arm around my shoulders, in front of me, pulling me back into his chest and putting his lips close to my ear. “I can’t stay mad at you when you’re like this. But I am mad at you, and we will talk later.” His voice was so low, I was pretty sure nobody else could hear what he said. I’m not even sure that’s exactly what he said, but that was the gist of it.
The thing was, he hadn’t touched me in a few days. Not at all. Not even close. So suddenly having him hold me from behind, and whisper in my ear—my body responded immediately. Awake or not, I flushed and felt the usual dampness between my legs. It was getting ridiculous. The man barely had to look in my direction, and I got turned on. With him draped over my back, I could smell his scent just that much easier, and of course my physical response had me blushing immediately.
He noticed. And he started to get hard in response. I could feel his cock rise against my lower back, and he subtly pressed himself against me, wanting me to feel him, too. I started having problems breathing, and I wanted more. I was about to turn around and…
“Oh my God, you two are too cute together. But knock it off! Jack-o, get out of here. You’re not even supposed to see her today. Go away! Go on! Shoo!”
Jack held my upper chest tighter for a moment, dipped his head and bit my neck where it met my shoulder and growled low in frustration. My knees nearly melted out from under me, but somehow managed to keep me upright when he released me and left the room. I was still facing my full coffee mug, now turned on and completely at a loss to comprehend the activity around me.
Coffee. Yes. I turned to the refrigerator, pulled out the milk, doctored up my mug, and sipped. Eyes closed, swaying slightly, and I began to focus on the sounds of the ladies again.
“…so we have to hustle, honey. Ellie? Are you listening? Come on, girl. Snap to. Or you’re going to be late to your own wedding!” And she and the other women laughed at her big joke.
Except—crap! She was right. We were getting married today—but wait. How did she know that? Nobody knew. Or, nobody was supposed to know. How did she know?
I turned around to face the room again, and found the three witches of Tucson all hovering nearby. My synapses were beginning to fire at a faster pace now, and recognition set in. I had met these ladies earlier in the week; they were all married or partnered with guys from Jack’s MC. They were super nice, and had brought us foodstuffs and baby stuffs and well wishes and offers to help in whatever ways I might need. They didn’t even know me at all, and they had put themselves out to be kind and generous for me and for Peter.
Whereas my first instinct had been to shut them down this morning, I re-calibrated and decided it was more important I understand what they were saying, and what they were doing here.
“Um, I’m sorry, I’m an idiot in the mornings. Can we start over? What…”
“Oh, honey, you are funny. Sure thing.” I recognized the pretty brunette with massively long eyelashes and the body of a fertility goddess as Holly. She was clearly the ringleader. “We’re here to take you to Maggie’s salon. It’s not far, but she has you scheduled for the whole shebang today, so we gotta get going. First thing is set for 8:30. Now, you don’t need anything, really, just you and a pair of flip-flops. We have so much to do! Drink up, chica! Where’s that precious baby of yours? I’m on Peter duty first. I’ll take care of him, he’s coming along—don’t worry—but we have to move, move, move!”
She was a full-on whirlwind.
I gestured in the direction of my bedroom, intending to show that I was headed back there myself to get dressed and gather Peter’s stuff, but she raced in front of me, apparently in hot pursuit of my baby. Okay, then.
The bottle-blonde with the yellow skirt and white tank, who I thought was named Lana, pulled her arm through mine and guided me along the same trail. “We’re about the same size, right? I figured you probably don’t have a dress and all the right stuff. You can’t get married in street clothes, honey. So I brought everything you’ll need—it’s all in my car—and Vero here”—she indicated the third woman, a tiny little thing who appeared to be mixed Asian-American, and stunning—“is a fantabulous seamstress. She is an artiste! So whatever nips and tucks need doing, she’ll do it. You are going to look incredible. Not that you need any help in that department, but still, a bride wants to feel special. Am I right? Wedding is set for five-thirty. It is going to be amaze-balls, darlin’! Oooo! Today is going to be so much fun!”
Wow. Today was not going to be anything like what I had been figuring. From the sounds of their talk, today was going to be like…a real wedding.
And I didn’t know if I was ready for that.
Chapter 17
Jack
I felt like I was living somebody else’s life.
The MC had pulled out all the stops for me and Ellie today, with the women all taking her off to do whatever it is women do for weddings. A bunch of my MC brothers and I went for a ride.
It was a gorgeous, sunny day, perfect for the bike. Too bad I was in a piss-poor mood the whole fuckin’ time.
I knew I should be grateful—and a part of me was—but what I really felt, more than anything else, was resentment.
I resented Keith for not being there.
I resented Ellie for lying to me, for making herself into a person I couldn’t count on, couldn’t trust. For not coming forward with what she knew a year ago. For not telling me, more recently, about her suspicions.
I resented my MC, for making a big deal out of this sham of a marriage.
I even resented Ellie’s dead grandmother, for forcing her to this point, for putting us in this god-awful situation.
But most of all—and I hated this shit, but I was being brutally honest here—I resented myself, for wanting more than I could actually have with Ellie, and with Peter.
I was fucked.
I figured my best option was to get good and truly obliterated tonight. It seemed the smartest thing to do, given the circumstances.
It was beginning to hit me that I was actually getting married, even if it was only a temporary arrangement. The ceremony and the celebrations would be as real as they come. The Iron Bandits didn’t cut corners on doing it up. This would be no different, and I knew it.
So there would be all this hoopla over us tying the knot, the formalization of Ellie and me as a couple, which was irony, defined.
This woman turned me on like no one else I could think of. I wanted her more than any other woman in my life, and our chemistry together was nothing short of mind-blowingly phenomenal. If I ever was going to marry anyone—which was not something I’d spent much time pondering—I couldn’t think of anyone better to do it with, than her.
But.
She was also the only woman, barring those who were actual blood relations, who I could no
t have.
This was not a real thing between us. We had already agreed to its end. She wanted it like that. And so did I.
Right?…Yeah. Right. I did. That’s what I wanted.
So this whole thing sucked ass.
“Hey Grump-o,” I heard him before I saw him. It was Grath, of course. He started to lightly jog my way across the compound lot. “Hold up. Got a minute?”
“Yeah, man. What’s up?”
“Heard you were being delightful today, on the ride. I figured I’d bathe in the splendor of your joy, rare as it is to be seen.” He grinned and punched me in the arm. Fuckin’ Grath.