Jenny’s throat tightened. She really, really didn’t want him to go. It was never fun to wave any of the boys down the road, but this time, it was painful, and personal, saying goodbye. She was no fool; if Knoxville needed backup, then there was danger afoot. And wherever there was danger, there were often dead or arrested bikers.
It must have shown on her face. Colin looked at her, head cocked to the side. “Are you that worried?”
She nodded, not wanting to speak and have her voice crack. Then she realized she had to. “Not to make you paranoid, or anything.” She knew her smile was pitiful.
He stepped in close and drew her closer still, hands on her waist. “It’s gonna be fine.”
“Until you run your face into someone else’s fist.”
He grinned. “You know, it’s kinda flattering. You being all upset like this.”
She was tempted to slug him in the arm. Instead, she took his lean, dark face in her hands and kissed him. “Be safe.”
“You too.”
~*~
Candy was in high spirits. He always liked a good Knoxville trip, and he especially liked thinking about someone else’s problems for a while, and leaving his own behind. A chance he wasn’t afforded often.
“Don’t do anything stupid,” Jenny told him as she stood beside his bike, watching him tug his gloves into place.
He rolled his eyes and slipped his shades on. “Look, save that kinda talk for your boyfriend over there. Me? I don’t do stupid. Just as a general rule.”
“Uh-huh. Tell Mags and Ava and the other girls I said hi.”
“Sure.” He grinned. “But those aren’t the girls I’m interested in.”
“Man-whore,” she accused. Then sobered. “But seriously, Candy, watch out for Colin.” She imagined him rolling his eyes behind his sunglasses. “I’m worried about him, being back together with Mercy like that. He’s your prospect, so watch his back for me, okay?”
He twisted to look over at Colin, straddling his bike and ready to go, watching the two of them. Candy sighed. “You know,” he said in a low, thoughtful voice. “I brought him here for you. I wanted you to have a bodyguard.” He turned back to her. “I didn’t think you’d actually like the guy.”
“Me neither.”
“Try not to get too lonesome without him.”
Jenny kissed the top of her brother’s blonde head and then stepped back.
Helmets were donned and engines were started.
“Hold down the fort!” Candy called, and she nodded.
She caught Colin’s eye as he pulled out of the yard, a hand ghosting unconsciously to her stomach.
He smiled for her, but she saw the faint glimmer of deep fear in his eyes.
With a series of snarls and growls, the bikes left the property, kicking up thick drifts of dust that swept across her face and left grit behind. She tasted the earthiness of it on her lips when she wet them, lingering, straining to see the four Dogs wink out of existence along the horizon.
She stood there until long after they were gone; after the dust had settled, and left the morning blue and clear. A faint breeze stirred her hair and brought the promise of uneasy things. She shivered, wrapped her arms around herself, and walked slowly back to the clubhouse.
~*~
Colin
Lean Dogs’ clubhouses might as well have been franchises. They all had their unique points, particulars of their region, but they all had a common room, bar, kitchen, and plenty of dorms. At the end of a long, cold day of riding, Colin didn’t care about the aesthetics of the Knoxville clubhouse, only that the whiskey was good and somewhere down the hall, a semi-decent mattress awaited him.
The Knoxville president, Ghost, was terrifying in his own special way – Colin guessed that was a presidential requirement. With gravity and an enviable amount of poise, the man outlined the problems the Tennessee Dogs faced. Problems that made the Riley brothers look like child’s play.
Throughout the conversation, Colin felt his brother’s gaze. Half-brother, he reminded himself firmly. Somehow he’d forgotten just how wide Mercy’s shoulders were; how dark his eyes seemed in the dim light, how narrow and sharp his face; he’d forgotten the way his voice rolled like Cajun-flavored smoke through the room, touching everyone’s ears. Mercy was one hell of a presence, the kind that made Colin feel young, dumb, and small.
Glad to have the initial meeting out of the way, Colin sipped his whiskey slowly, eyelids flagging. If he had much more to drink, he might slide off his stool, but it was worth it to ease the aches in his arms, hands, and back. He’d never been on a ride that long before, and he’d thought someone might need to crowbar him off his bike earlier.
“Join you?” An English accent asked at his elbow, but he knew right off it wasn’t Fox.
A glance proved that it was Charlie’s older brother, the Knoxville VP, Walsh. Their faces were different, since they were half-brothers, and Walsh was golden blonde to Fox’s deep brunette, but they had the same eyes. Big and eerie blue and narrowed to a look of constant boredom and superiority. Must be their father’s eyes, then.
“Sure.”
Walsh climbed up on the next stool with a chilled bottle of Smirnoff in his hand. He leaned across the bar to snag a glass and sat back to pour himself a generous drink. “How’s Texas?”
His hand itched for his phone. He’d ducked into the bathroom before to call Jen, but she hadn’t answered. He wanted to hear her voice. Assure himself that she was okay.
“Texas is good,” he said, absently.
“Ah. There’s a girl there, then.”
Colin shot him a sideways look. “Did you talk to your brother or something?”
Walsh snorted, mouth flicking up at the corners in a bare smile. “About as much as you talked to yours. Just an observation. I don’t see what a Cajun would find to like about Texas, unless she had big blue eyes.”
Colin reached for his glass. “Does being psychic run in your family?”
“You’d have to ask my father about that. And he hasn’t been spotted in months.”
Colin’s phone rang and he grabbed for it quick. “’Scuse me, I gotta take this.”
Walsh gave him a knowing look and faced the back wall.
It was Jenny, and her name on his screen was an instant relief. He’d started to have visions of disaster, waiting on her to call back. “Hey, baby,” he answered in a rush, surprised by the hard thump of his pulse. He slid off his stool and headed down the back hallway. “You alright?”
“Mmhm. I was in the shower when you called. You guys made it?” She sounded sleepy. He could imagine her skin scrubbed pink and clean, still warm from the water. Envisioned her shorts and tank top, bare toes wiggling down between the sheets. He felt a sudden, hard tug, a longing to be stretched out beside her, breathing in the smell of her shampoo.
“Colin?”
“Oh. Yeah. Sorry. We made it fine. Just having a drink and then I’m gonna turn in.”
“I miss drinks,” she said wistfully. “Have one for me.”
He warmed from the inside out, thinking about her reason for not being able to drink. The sensation was chased by a quick jolt of fear. A shiver of apprehension. Shit. He wasn’t ready to be a dad, he so wasn’t. “Yeah,” he sighed. “I will.”
Thirty
Jenny
The first few nights were the hardest, for reasons she didn’t want to think about. Namely that she was more attached than she ever would have thought possible.
Maybe that wasn’t such a terrible affliction. If Ava was right and Colin was capable of being a very involved husband…
Not that she was thinking about rings and vows.
Shit.
Sometimes she really hated herself for being such a fan of commitment.
In any event, the urgency of longing faded as the days melted into weeks. Still there, but stowed carefully inside her in a way that wouldn’t prevent her from going about her day.
Days like today.
“Cletus,” she said, praying for calm as she faced off from one of the twins in front of the washing machine. “What did you put in here?”
He shrugged and gave her one of his mostly blank stares. “Nothin’ but my clothes.”
She leaned over and peered down into the machine. It had been screaming when she passed it in the hall, out of balance and knocking so hard the whole unit had scooted forward a few inches across the floor. “Yeah, but what was on your clothes?”
Without apparent shame, he said, “Wet concrete.”
A lot of it, apparently, which was currently gray sludge in the bottom of the machine.
She took a breath and kept her voice even. “And how did you get that on your clothes?”
“I fell in it.”
She lifted her brows, inviting further explanation.
“Catcher and me was–”
“You know what?” She held up a hand. “Changed my mind, I don’t want to know. Just clean this out as best you can and maybe we can salvage it.”
That was doubtful. Thank God she and Candy had a machine in the sanctuary.
Thank God she had a private bathroom back there, too, because that’s where she sprinted, just in time to lose her meager lunch of saltines.
The problem with morning sickness, she reflected afterward, was that it didn’t just strike in the morning, but afflicted her all day long. Her stomach gave her a brief spell of quiet around three most afternoons, but would turn on her with a vengeance an hour later.
She rinsed her mouth out and checked her reflection. She looked haggard; pale and droopy-eyed, and not herself. If Candy could see her right this minute, he’d know something was off. She managed to smile a little, thinking about his array of facial expressions when she told him. She ought to tell Colin ahead of time, so he’d have his running shoes laced up tight.
Thinking of them – both her boys – made her smile, and then wilt with loneliness. Did she love the club? Yes. But without Candy and Colin around, the antics and idiosyncrasies of the rest of the guys were more exhausting than they were entertaining.
With a quick mental pep talk, Jenny left the sanctuary, only to bump into Talis out in the hall. “Oh.” She pulled up short, more rattled than she should have been. “Sorry. I didn’t know anyone was out here.”
He tilted his head and studied her, but the gesture was nothing like Colin’s puppy-like, quizzical stance, which she thought was cute and charming. This was like having a buzzard decide if you were dead enough to eat yet. If she was totally honest, Talis had always made her uneasy. She trusted him with her safety, trusted his loyalty to the club. But she could find no inroads to connect with the man. Sometimes, sharing the same cause and pledging loyalty to the same people wasn’t enough to bridge any kind of friendship.
“You alright?” he asked, voice low and gruff as always. He gave the impression that he didn’t like talking, the words seemingly reluctant, always.
She smiled. “Fine. What’s up?”
His head titled the other way, the same study at a new angle. “Ginger,” he said.
“What?”
“Ginger,” he repeated. “When my…” He cleared his throat and it sounded painful. “When Tracy was pregnant. She chewed ginger, said it helped with feeling sick.”
Jenny sucked in a breath. “How did you know?” Her heart thumped hard in her chest, and her palms itched, a sudden prickling beneath the skin.
“I could just tell.” His eyes dropped away from her. “You should try it.”
Had it been anyone else, Jenny would have threatened violence to keep him quiet about the matter. But she knew Talis wouldn’t share the news with anyone. And his halting, raw mention of his ex-girlfriend touched her.
“How’s Chloe?” she asked of his daughter, voice softening.
He nodded, eyes bright but guarded…and sad, oh so sad…as they lifted. “She’s good. She’s real smart. Doing good in school.”
“That’s good, Frank,” she said, daring to press a brief, comforting touch to his arm. “Do you get to see her often?”
He shrugged. “Some.”
Poor man.
Then he remembered why he’d been looking for her. “Gringo found something he wants you to look at.”
“Yeah? Okay, lead the way.”
Gringo was with his best friend Cowboy, the two of them standing at the edge of the property, against the ten-foot chain-link, razor wire-topped fence. Jenny suppressed a smile when she spotted them. They were currently arguing the merits of the ombré turquoise paint job on a bike Cowboy wanted to buy.
Friends since childhood, they were dark-headed, handsome bookends. Cowboy was Mexican, and had christened his best bro with his club name Gringo, commenting, “He was the stupidest white boy we ever saw in the neighborhood. And the bravest.” They’d prospected together, been given their patches together, and were rarely out of earshot of one another.
“What’s up, boys?” Jenny greeted as she and Talis joined them.
“Cigarettes,” Cowboy said, dark face troubled.
Gringo pointed to a small pile of butts that lay just on the other side of the fence. “I counted seven. Somebody stood there a while.”
Jenny crouched down to get a closer look, and a chill chased across her skin. The goosebumps were almost painful. She knew exactly what this meant, but she said, “Have you talked to everyone else? Was this Blue. Or Pup? Or…” She tipped her head back and saw three alarmed faces behind her. She sighed. “We need to check the camera footage.”
~*~
Colin
He’d been in Knoxville a month. A month of long-distance phone calls and sleepless nights tossing on a lumpy dorm mattress. He missed his girl. He wanted to feel her weight settle against his side when he closed his eyes at night; see the new subtle changes in her body as the baby took root and began to unfurl, real and baby-shaped in her belly. He needed to lay hands and eyes on her so he could convince himself that fatherhood wasn’t the scariest prospect in the entire world.
It was his last night in Tennessee, all the dramas turned down to simmer, the immediate dangers past. While Candy and Fox and Jinx enjoyed one last night with the groupies at the clubhouse, Colin had a dinner invitation. He knocked on the Lécuyers’ back door with a knot in his gut.
He heard the lock disengage and his brother opened the door with a baby in one arm.
It was the younger one, Cal. The blonde one. Colin had first spotted his hair a few weeks ago and thought Ava must have stepped out on her man. But Cal had Mercy’s eyes, no mistaking it, if a little wider and more innocent with babyhood.
“I hope you’re hungry,” Mercy greeted, waving him in. “Ava went nuts with the food.”
“I heard that,” Ava’s voice floated from beyond the mud room.
Mercy rolled his eyes with a grin, and whispered, “She’s turning into her mother. Only most times, I’m too afraid to tell her that.”
“Is that a bad thing?” Colin thought of Maggie Teague, hot and too young for her husband, something terrifying lurking beneath her Southern aplomb.
“Nope.”
He crossed the threshold and passed through a wall of warmth; the air of the house seemed to enfold him as Mercy closed and relocked the door. Warm and lively, bursting with cooking smells and the faint tang of leather, here where the coats were hung up. Little Cal stared at him, bold and guileless, the deep brown eyes very much like his own.
“Come on,” Mercy said, and clapped him on the shoulder with his free hand. “Let’s go get a beer.”
“Okay.”
The mud room led into the kitchen. Sizzling in a pan, fragrant curls of steam, golden light glowing through the window in the oven door.
He still found Ava attractive in an unnerving way. She was older than her years, sharper and more subtle than her young exterior would suggest. Something feral and Ghost Teague in her eyes. She was barefoot, in jeans and a hooded sweatshirt, thick locks of hair coming down from her ponytail.
“Hi, Colin.” She put a hand on her older boy’s dark head and kept him where he sat on the floor as she cracked the oven door to check the contents. Rich, buttery smells poured out of the opening before she shut it again with a satisfied nod. When she straightened, she turned to face him fully, giving him the Ghost-eye. “Hungry?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
A grin tugged at her lips. He hadn’t ever called her “ma’am” before. Clearly, she liked the show of respect.
Mercy popped Cal in his baby swing and went to the fridge. “I’ve got Michelob, is that alright?”
“It’s fine.”
It was when the cold beer hit his hand that it washed over him. All of it. This modest house with crayon drawings on the fridge and food waiting in hot dishes; the children who looked like their father; clever, pretty wife; a marriage. A family. A home. This was life, right here in this kitchen. Felix Lécuyer, robbed of his blood family, had clawed his way out of the swamp, and built himself a new life. The girl he loved, the children they’d had together, a home and a job and a place in the club.
Mercy hadn’t wasted any time trying to bullshit himself. He wanted love, wanted loyalty, wanted stability.
The man Colin had called father had tried to take that away from Mercy. Had forced him to choose. But how could any man give all of this up for the sake of a former friendship?
If a man he’d called friend threatened to take away Jenny, his unborn baby, his chance at a real life? Would he lay aside his shotgun?
No. No way in hell.
Colin understood, then, as he breathed in the thick scent of cornbread and Mercy frowned and asked if he felt alright. He would have shot his own father – real or fake – if it meant keeping Jenny safe. Their baby. Their future.
“Shit,” he whispered, and that was when the shaking started.
The beer fell out of his hand, and shattered at his feet.
~*~
Ashamed, he took the rag from Ava and knelt to mop up the mess he’d made. New beer in hand, he sat down at the table with them, and knew, judging by their expressions, that they understood something had happened in his mind. But they weren’t going to acknowledge it unless he wanted to.
Snow in Texas (Lean Dogs Legacy #1) Page 18