“And they brought the men chasing us straight to our doorstep. They gave some hired PI our coordinates out there at Saints Hollow – they might as well have led him to us.”
“Mom–”
“Evangeline’s a liar and a bitch.” And maybe an adulteress too, he added silently. “You think she gave you the real story?”
“I’m supposed to trust a goddamn biker instead?” There was a vein pounding in his temple, just beside the end of his eyebrow. It reminded Mercy, alarmingly, of his father Remy, the quiet wrath that had overtaken the big man’s body on such rare occasion.
Mercy took a deep, steadying breath and let it out through his nostrils. Another. He forced his hands flat on the table. “Whether or not we hate each other, you know I always loved your folks. You know I did. When Dad and Gram–” He broke off, the words still jagged and painful in his throat, even after all this time. It wasn’t the same, he wanted to tell Colin, because the guy had never loved his parents the way Mercy had loved his father and grandmother. The losses weren’t on the same plane of grief. There was no comparison.
But instead, he said, “Larry and Evie were there for me, and whenever I needed them after that. I loved them,” he repeated. “But” – tilt of his head, meaningful widening of his eyes – “there’s love, and then there’s love, and no one in the world is ever going to hurt my fillette. No way, no how. I would kill any man, woman, or God help me, child, that I had to, so I could keep her safe. All bets are off when it comes to Ava. I’d shoot the Virgin Mary in the face if I had to. Do you get that?”
Colin leaned back, hands braced on the edge of the table, nostrils flared as if he smelled something foul. “You’re that pussy-whipped?”
Mercy felt a wide, humorless spread across his face. “She’s my conscience. My soul. The only part of me that hasn’t gone all the way dark. No one fucks with her and gets out alive.”
It was silent a long, strained beat. A complicated sequence of emotions shifted across Colin’s face. In a low voice, he said, “Dad wouldn’t have hurt your little girl.”
“The men he told about us would have, in a heartbeat.”
Small frown. Then a larger one, growing in its conviction. “You killed my father.”
“I had to.”
Colin glanced away, muscle in his jaw twitching.
“So what are we doing here?” Mercy asked him. “Where is this going?”
“Honestly? I don’t know. I expected you to deny it.”
“Not big on lying.”
Colin glanced over again, eyes hard, expression cold. “I ought to make you pay for it, Felix.”
Mercy dipped his head. “You’re welcome to try.”
“It’s not like I was showing it to her on purpose,” Maggie said, digging through her takeout salad with the end of her fork, spearing a hunk of grilled chicken. “She just happened to see it. I wasn’t trying to give her tattoo envy.” The look she flashed up to Ava suggested she didn’t appreciate having her motives questioned. And it reminded Ava that, ordinarily, she wasn’t the one doing any questioning.
Ava swallowed down a moment’s daughterly hesitation and adjusted Remy in her arms. “I know.” The baby fussed and she lifted him higher. “But I think–” She didn’t want to say this.
Maggie’s brows lifted. Go on.
“I think you don’t like Holly very much. And I don’t really know why.” And also, because there’d been a time in her life when her mother’s opinion of someone was all she would have needed to make a judgment, but she’d found herself enjoying her small knot of friends. She liked softening the club in their eyes – knew that, when Leah and Sam and Holly were out in the world, they were thinking better things of the Lean Dogs.
Maggie sat back in her chair, salad abandoned. “I don’t have a problem with Holly.”
Ava gave her a really? look.
“I don’t. I don’t know her well enough to dislike her.” Fractional narrowing of her eyes. “Just like I don’t know her well enough to trust her blindly.”
Ava blinked. “I don’t trust anyone blindly. And whatever happened to Holly in her past life, she deserves a little kindness now, I think.”
“Probably so.”
“But you’re testing her,” Ava said, grimly.
Maggie tipped her head to the side. “This isn’t a rainbows and puppy dogs life we lead, baby, and you know it. The problem is, let’s say the cops come to ask questions, or that FBI jackass shows back up – and believe me, he’s going to show back up. We have no idea how Holly would handle herself. She loves Michael; I don’t doubt that for a second. But will she protect the club if she has to? Will she honor the brotherhood…and the sisterhood?”
Ava wanted to say “yes,” but she couldn’t, and Maggie knew that, her face softening.
“You can’t drown a stranger in love and hope they take your side when the shit hits the fan, Ava. I’ve been around too long to think the best of people. The truth is: Until we know how much we can trust Holly, we can’t peel back the curtain too far.”
This conversation had taken a turn toward the unpleasant. Maggie wasn’t wrong – but Ava didn’t have to like the seeds of doubt being sown in her mind.
“Right.” She pushed to her feet and bent to strap Remy into his carrier. “Well, I’d better get back to my closet organizer nightmare.”
“Come on, I didn’t offend you that much, did I?” Maggie protested.
A little bit. “No,” she said with a quick smile as the buckles clicked into place, Remy snug within them. “I’ve still got a ton to do at the house.”
“Ava.”
“I’m not offended.” She lifted the carrier. “I’ll call you later on, okay?”
Maggie’s lips pursed, as if she wanted to say more. But she nodded. And then she remembered something, sitting forward. “Oh, I forgot to mention. Your dad wants to have lunch with you one day.”
Ava froze halfway to the door. “He what?”
Maggie nodded. “Yeah. He asked me to ask you – he wants just the two of you to go into town and have a real, sit-down, restaurant lunch together.” She waved. “Which means Stella’s, I’m sure. Or IHOP, something like that. You would have to take Remy, of course.” Because of the breastfeeding. “But he’s mentioned it to me more than once. It’s pretty important to him.”
“I…” Questions crowded her mind. There was a tight ball of dread gaining weight in her stomach. Ghost didn’t ever just want to shoot the breeze with her. They didn’t spend casual time together. If he was wanting to have lunch, there must be something catastrophic at play.
She dampened her lips. “Why didn’t he ask me himself?”
“You know how he is. Mr. Awkward when it comes to the two of you.” Maggie shoved her half-eaten salad to the side and her hands poised over the computer keyboard, ready to return to work. “But find an afternoon for it. Your daddy doesn’t ask for this sort of thing often.”
“Yeah, no kidding.”
Feeling a little numb with surprise, Ava walked out into the sunshine-filled parking lot, immediately blanketed by the humid, summertime riverfront air that clogged the Dartmoor property from one end to the other. She shifted Remy’s carrier to her left hand, slid her sunglasses into place with the right –
And caught sight of an unmistakable figure sitting at a picnic table in front of the clubhouse. Across from him was his equally unmistakable half-brother, and her numbness morphed into a kind of low-buzzing alarm. She didn’t want to intrude on anything Mercy wanted to keep to himself, but she likewise didn’t want to see the prospects out here power-washing blood off the concrete later. She would just check in, she decided.
Colin had his back to her, and as she approached, the tension across his shoulders, the way the tightening of his muscles created a particular scheme of shadows in the folds of his shirt, was so familiar. She got a look at Mercy’s face – tight jaw, eyes squinted against the sun, brows throwing angular lines up on his forehead – and imagined that’s
what Colin’s must look like now. The shoulders were the same, why not the faces too?
Mercy noticed her, and his face relaxed instantly as his eyes skipped over her. She saw his throat ripple as he swallowed. Nerves? Was he nervous about her approaching Colin? Yes, she decided, he was. He thought the other man was dangerous, and maybe she should have thought so too.
“Hi, baby,” he greeted. “You visiting with Mags?”
Colin twisted around sharply, like he hadn’t heard her coming and was startled to see her behind him.
“I was,” she said. “Thought I’d come say hi before I headed home.”
And then none of the three of them said anything else. There was never any awkwardness between the two of them in front of the rest of the Dogs. But that counted as family, and Colin – while blood family – was nothing of the sort when it came to love and loyalty.
The silence was thicker than the humidity.
Ava cleared her throat and it sounded like a gunshot. “Hello, Colin. How are you today?”
He gave her a sideways smile. “I’m just fine, darlin’. How ‘bout you?”
“Good.” She looked to Mercy. “Do you need anything before I go?” The silent question was: You’re not going to cause a scene, are you?
“Nah, I’m good.” He smiled the answer: No guarantees, sweetheart.
She tried to hide her frown. “Okay.”
“Come here and gimme a kiss.”
She did, setting Remy’s carrier on the table and bracing a hand on Mercy’s shoulder as she leaned down and pressed her lips to his. It didn’t matter if she was above him; it always felt like he was the one kissing her, and she was the one receiving the tender attention instead of giving it.
When she pulled back, Mercy squeezed one of Remy’s tiny socked feet, his face transformed a moment, all traces of stress leaving him. “Big Man,” he greeted the baby, with a quiet smile.
Then his eyes went back to Colin, hardening, and Ava knew it was time to leave. Mercy didn’t want her around the guy, and though Colin had no power to hurt her emotionally, she wouldn’t stress her husband further with her presence. Of all the things that gave the man nightmares, threats to her were the worst.
If she wanted to give Colin a piece of her mind, she’d have to do it by herself.
Six
These Ropes
“Hol?” Michael called as he stepped through the basement door into a cold kitchen. It was a shock: no happy sound of sizzling meat, no smell of onions and garlic, no chatter of the radio on the counter, no quietly humming wife reading the latest Southern Living as she waited for the oven to preheat.
Fear streaked through him. “Hol?” He shoved the door shut behind him and strode through the kitchen, not bothering to take off his dirty garage boots. “Holly?”
The living room, foyer, and never-used dining room were military tidy, wood surfaces gleaming with fresh polish, but still there was no sign of her.
His gut clenched tight, nausea ripping at the base of his throat as his heart turned into a kettle drum in his chest. What if something had…? What if someone…? What if she…? All the doors were locked, but stranger things had happened. Violent things had happened. And Holly here all alone, and terrified, and needing him. Oh God, if –
“Holly!” he shouted as he started down the hallway, almost jogging.
“I’m in here,” her voice floated out of the master bedroom door, and he had to pause a moment, throwing out a hand to brace against the wall, sucking in a deep, painful breath.
“Jesus,” he muttered. He’d been on the verge of cardiac arrest.
“Everything alright?” he asked. He straightened, took another few breaths and made himself walk into their room at a normal pace.
“Yes.”
Except, it wasn’t. He froze just inside the door, dumbstruck by the sight that greeted him.
Holly knelt in the middle of the bed, her small feet tucked up beneath her, her hips cocked at a slight angle so her torso curved in a provocative way. She wasn’t showing much, yet, just a subtle rounded tightness of her lower belly – which was on display now, given what she was wearing. New lingerie: emerald green satin bra and panties that emphasized the Old Hollywood hourglass loveliness of her figure, the fullness of her breasts and hips. No stick-shaped magazine model had ever looked so appealing to him. But that was a dim thought, that normal chime of attraction in the back of his mind. Because in this moment, all he could really think about or focus on was the long coil of rope in her hands.
“What the fuck?”
Holly took a deep breath, chest straining at the fitted green satin. She touched one bra strap, brows knitting together. “You don’t like it?”
He frowned, gesturing at the rope. “You know that’s not what I’m talking about.”
She took another breath and glanced down at the coarse hemp in her lap. She traced one of the spirals with her thumbnail, hand trembling. “I keep having nightmares.”
“I know. I’m there for them.”
“Well…I….” Her hair had been brushed out and softly curled at the ends, and it shone, heavy and brilliant as it fell around her shoulders. “Do you remember, back at the New Years party?”
How was he going to forget that? “Yeah.”
“Do you remember, in the dorm room…”
The two of them naked in front of a mirror. It was one of his favorite memories to return to, in quiet boring moments at work.
“…and you said that facing my fears might help.” She had to stop and swallow. And then she finally lifted her eyes to his; huge, almost the same shade as her lingerie. “And now I’m not so afraid of mirrors.”
With an awful lurch, he realized her intent. “Holly, no–”
“I’ve been having nightmares about the ropes.”
“ – absolutely not.”
Her lips trembled as she took her next breath, her eyes haunted as they latched onto his. The look on her face would stay with him for months, years, forever. She lifted both hands, the rope held between them, and Michael felt the trembling begin in his calves and move upward, until he was consumed; until the breath rattled in his lungs and his eyelids twitched.
“Michael,” she said. “I think…I think you ought to use these on me. I think I ought to face that fear.”
Oh God, what was she doing? Was she truly inviting this?
But she wasn’t afraid of him, of what he’d do to her, only of her memories. Because this was her Michael, and she trusted him in every way possible. She loved him…sometimes more than the life she carried within her, she was ashamed to admit. Mothers should love their children above all else. But she wasn’t a mother yet, and this man was the center of her universe, and the rhythm of her beating heart.
“Tie me up,” she said, hating the thready sound of her voice. “Tie me up and touch me, and maybe the nightmares will go away.”
His expression made her want to crawl under the covers. And it also made her want to lie him down on the pillows and fetch him a ginger ale, because he looked a lot like he might throw up.
He scrubbed at the back of his neck and stared at his boots a long, silent moment, the energy coming off him cold and unhappy.
“You don’t want to.” One hand ghosted over the slight protrusion of her belly. She wasn’t exactly skinny anymore. She was starting to look pregnant. She –
“I won’t do it.” His voice was hoarse. His eyes were dark and fathomless when they lifted to meet hers. “I won’t ever do it. Don’t you dare ask me again.”
Her breath caught in her throat. “I thought–”
“That if you felt the ropes cutting into you, and you saw it was me on top of you, somehow all that bad shit would go out of your head?” he asked as he walked toward her and dropped onto the edge of the bed like he was exhausted.
She sat up straighter, clenching the rope in her fists. “Well you’re the one who gave me the idea.”
“No, I never gave you that goddamn idea.” But he didn
’t sound angry. He dropped his head into his hands, elbows braced on his knees, and he looked older than his thirty-eight years. In the early evening light coming through the blinds, Holly could see the little silver hairs sprinkled along his temples.
What was she doing? She was only making the distance between them worse. When Ava had mentioning working things out in the bedroom, she undoubtedly hadn’t meant this.
Holly set the rope beside her on the duvet and crawled toward him, so she knelt at his side, so she could drape her arm across his tense shoulders and lay her head against the top of his. He sighed deeply and she felt him relax beneath her touch.
“I have nightmares too,” he said, quietly, staring down at the carpet, fingers still speared through his hair. “Every night. That I don’t get you to the hospital in time. That you’re already dead when I pick you up. I dream that I find you tied up in our bed covered in blood, and I chase those bastards as far and as fast as I can, but I never catch them.”
She sucked in a breath. “Oh, Michael.”
“Sometimes,” he said softly, “I dream that I found you when you were still a kid. Before they…And I take you out of there.”
Her throat tightened and her eyes burned. She turned her head so her lips were buried in the soft prickliness of his hair. “Michael. Love.”
“And I hate that I scare you sometimes. I hate it.”
“You don’t scare me.” She stroked the side of his neck, felt the thundering pulse there. “That’s not possible.”
His head lifted and turned, so their foreheads touched. His breath was warm across her face, scented with mint, because he’d popped a Tic-Tac before coming home to her. So he had nice breath when he kissed her. Because he wanted her to be comfortable always. Because he loved her.
“Michael,” she repeated, her eyes flooding with tears. “What would I do without you?”
“You’d be just fine,” he said roughly.
“No.”
They sat for a long time, breathing, soaking in the warmth of one another.
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