Knife & Flesh (The Night Horde SoCal Book 4)

by Susan Fanetti

Connor didn’t answer until he’d handed Trick his beer and sat down with one of his own. “Dora changed her mind. She’s coming to the wedding, and she’s bringing her court with her. Cordero’s having a heart attack because the caterer’s already been paid, I guess. Something like that. That is deeper into wedding business than I want to be.”

  Connor and Cordero’s wedding was part business event, too. He was an officer, and they were having a full wedding—a ceremony in a Catholic church and a reception after in the Madrone City Park. It would have been an insult not to invite the club’s associates. Dora had sent her regrets. Though she moved back and forth across the border at will, she didn’t like to come so far into the country if she could help it. They usually met in the San Diego area.

  Trick’s interest in La Zorra’s attendance had heretofore been minimal and wholly focused on the impact on the club. They had no plans to do business at the wedding; it would be the social event it was meant to be. So he hadn’t cared one way or the other. But now he knew she wanted something from him, and he felt paranoid. Paranoia had a hair trigger for him lately.

  He put the bottle to his lips and swallowed down half the beer. “Is that about me?”

  Connor shrugged. “I don’t know, bro. Maybe. She’s not bringing business with her. She says she’s just coming to wish us well.”

  “You believe that?”

  “Sure. We’re not doing business at my fucking wedding, whatever she wants. If you’re still asking if I think she’s trying to get close to you, I still don’t know. Best guess is maybe. I guess if she does want something, she might make a move there.”

  “Fuck!” Trick slammed the bottle down hard enough to gouge the table. Then he raked his hands through his hair until his ringed fingers were tangled at the top of his head.

  “Trick, man, chill. Just bring a date. Grab Maria or somebody and call her your date. She’s never said outright that she wants a ride. If you’re with somebody, then she’s too polite to get in the middle of that. You won’t reject her, she saves face, it’s all good. If that’s even what she’s about.”

  It was too late for Trick to chill. He felt sick and itchy, and he kept his hands up, shielding his face. He could sense Connor lean toward him.

  “What is up, brother? This is not like you.”

  Trick laughed. It was very much like him, except the part where he let anybody see it was going on. He was a pro at keeping up a good front. Among the many harsh lessons the Army had taught him was how to be stoic, no matter what kind of pain and turmoil, physical or mental, was going on under the still surface.

  Connor tried again. “Trick, talk to me. I don’t understand why this has you so tuned up.”

  He’d come here because he’d decided that the only way he was going to reclaim his mind and keep it was if he told somebody what was happening. He couldn’t go to the VA this time, and he wasn’t particularly close to either of his veteran brothers. Ronin never talked to anyone about anything unless he absolutely had to, and J.R., hotheaded and loudmouthed, was Trick’s least favorite brother. Connor was his only option.

  He doubted whether Connor would be able to empathize, but he was his best friend, and he trusted him to sympathize. He had to trust somebody.

  Connor was the only one who knew any detail at all about his history. But he didn’t know much. Trick liked to talk about big things—politics and news, culture and books, people and places—but he didn’t like to talk about himself. Not even to his best friend.

  And he couldn’t do it now. Confronted with this whole Dora Vega thing again, he could feel the ground shifting under his feet. It was so stupid. Of all the triggers in the world, a woman he didn’t even like was turning him inside out. He hadn’t unpacked for himself yet why this was so upsetting. There was no way to explain it to somebody else.

  With a deep, slow breath, he dropped his hands and picked up his beer. While he swallowed down the rest of it, he used that time to smooth his surface. He set the empty bottle on the table and looked steadily at his friend. “Just not down with being La Zorra’s crush. I don’t want to cause problems for the club, and it looks like a loss any which way. But you’re right. I’ll ask one of the girls to play like she’s my date. That’s a good plan.”

  Connor squinted at him. “You sure that’s it?”

  “What else would it be?” He lifted his empty. “Mind if I get another?”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Juliana unlocked the door and stepped aside so Lucie could enter the apartment ahead of her. “Okay, we have to go to Papi in one hour. What do we have to do before that?”

  Lucie set her backpack on the end of one of the mid-century sofas that were among Juliana’s most treasured thrift finds. She turned around and stood straight, as if she were about to give a recitation. “Have a snack, take a bath, brush my teeth, get dressed, do my hair, pick out my clothes and books, and pack my bag.”

  “That’s right. You think we can do it all?” Juliana set her bag on the floor in the corner of the living room.

  “I think so. Just a little snack, though.”

  “How about peanut butter and rice cake?”

  “Okay. With milk, please.”

  “You unpack your backpack and put your school papers away, and I’ll make your snack.”

  Lucie went to do just that, and Juliana kicked off her sandals and went into the kitchen. Her heart was pounding, and her hands wanted to shake, but she thought she’d been doing a decent job keeping Lucie from feeling her stress.

  Lucie hadn’t seen her father in more than two months—because Juliana had gotten a restraining order against him and a stay of his visitation rights.

  But he’d fought both, and he’d won. He’d gone to some anger management class, and he’d made nice with the court-appointed family counselor, and they’d all been persuaded that what he’d done to her had been an isolated incident. He was slick, handsome and good with people, and, as an investigator for another law firm, he had important contacts—more important than Juliana’s.

  Moreover, Juliana had only her word to assert that it hadn’t been an isolated event, because she’d been stupid, sure she could handle it, believing for a long time that he truly loved her, and she could do something different that would make him stop.

  The incident had been isolated because it was the only time she’d reported it.

  The one worthwhile concession the court had made to her was that Mark was to stay away from her home. They were meeting in the parking lot of the Sizzler on Waterman Avenue, and she was supposed to hand Lucie off to her father for the weekend, meeting them at the same spot Sunday evening to collect her again.

  Mark had never hurt Lucie. He doted on her, and she loved her papi. But he was an abusive asshole to Juliana, and he had always been. They’d never married, and they hadn’t been together since Lucie was a year old, when it finally dawned on Juliana that if she didn’t get out, then Lucie was going to grow up with a bully for a father and a victim for a mother.

  For a while after she took Lucie and left him, Mark had been even worse, though he hadn’t touched her. Instead, he’d stalked her relentlessly; she’d frequently found him in places he had no business being, simply staring at her. Some days, she’d seen him repeatedly, each time a little closer, like a horror-movie villain. His job gave him all sorts of tools and access to make tormenting her easy.

  And then, for a couple of years, things were okay. He got involved with another woman, got married, bought a house, seemed to settled down. Juliana had relaxed. She’d started thinking of her weekends without Lucie as little vacations. She’d started going out with friends, for dinner or karaoke. There’d even been talk of a book club, but that never got started.

  She’d finally begun to date. She’d met a firefighter around the same time she met Trick, and they’d gone out several times. It was while she was seeing Kyle, who had a dangerous job and an unpredictable schedule, that she understood what she needed for Lucie and her. So she’d broken it o
ff. After that, she’d gone out a few more times, but not with anyone she’d really clicked with. Her friends had been in a frenzy, trying to fix her up.

  Two months ago, she’d come home from a date and found Mark sitting in her dark living room. It was his weekend with Lucie, but he’d left her sleeping at his house, with his wife, Nikki. And had broken into her house.

  Juliana didn’t clearly remember what came next. It was all random snatches of images. They’d fought. He’d been jealous—which, seeing as he was now married, was absurd—and he’d called her a whore. He’d threatened to take Lucie away. Then he’d beaten the shit out of her.

  After he’d gone, she’d called her friend Lisa, who’d insisted that she go to the ER. She’d filed a complaint, Mark had been arrested, Lucie had come home early, and on the following Monday, Juliana had filed the papers for a restraining order and to revoke visitation.

  When the DA had declined to press charges, Juliana had gotten her first clue that things wouldn’t go her way. And they hadn’t.

  Today, they would see each other outside of a courtroom for the first time since that night. She was terrified. But now she lived behind a tall fence and a locked gate, and she didn’t have to let him into her house when he came for Lucie. That, at least, was something. So she tried not to be afraid. Being afraid gave your power away, and she did not want to give her power to Mark Stiles. Not anymore.

  ~oOo~

  “This one, Mami.” From a drawer under the bathroom counter, Lucie picked out a purple headband with a big pansy fascinator.

  “Are you sure? That’s awfully fancy.”

  “It’s pretty and matches my top.” Her little fashionista was wearing a white gypsy skirt and a lavender peasant blouse.

  “Yes, it does. Okay.” Juliana set the brush down and helped Lucie put the headband on, setting the fascinator at a jaunty angle. She fluffed her daughter’s lovely, golden-brown hair around her shoulders. “How’s that?”

  As Lucie said, “Good!” and grinned into the mirror, popping her hip, the buzzer by the front door went off, indicating that there was somebody at the gate.

  But they weren’t expecting anyone. In a couple of minutes, they had to leave for the Sizzler parking lot. “Okay, Lulu. Go get your stuff. We need to go in a minute.” She went to the door and pushed the response button. “Yes?”

  Mark’s voice came through the tinny speaker. “I’m here for Lucie. Buzz me in.”

  “You’re not supposed to be here. We’re meeting at the Sizzler.”

  “I’m not picking my daughter up in a dirty parking lot. That’s stupid. Just buzz me in.”

  Anxiety was sealing her throat shut, and she closed her eyes and tried to get hold of herself. She would not be bullied. She would not be afraid. But she couldn’t fight him here—there was no way to avoid Lucie hearing the whole thing.

  “Just go on to the Sizzler. We’ll be right behind you and meet you there.”

  “Jesus Christ, Julie. You’re being stupid. I’m right here. Just let me come get Lucie.”

  “Mami—that’s Papi! Is he here? When he talks in that box, that means he’s here! Yay!”

  As far as Lucie knew, her father had been away for work all this time. She ran for the door, and Juliana yelled “No!” and jumped out to block her, grabbing her arm—and scaring her.

  “Ow, Mami!”

  Juliana let her go. “I’m sorry, mija.” The buzzer went off again. And again. And again. Lucie’s eyes were wide with confusion and excitement. She had her backpack over her shoulders, packed for a weekend with Papi, and Mr. Bananas hooked over her arm, and she looked so sweet with the big purple pansy in her hair.

  And the buzzer kept going off. Juliana knew that she should hold her position and tell Mark to go to the Sizzler if he wanted to see his daughter. But Lucie was right there, and she had heard enough of her parents arguing.

  She folded. Giving Lucie the brightest smile she could manage, she stood up and went to the console. Pushing the response button, she said, “We’re coming out to you.”

  “Smart move,” his disembodied voice sneered in the room.

  She hadn’t had time to change from her work outfit, so she put her sandals back on and held out her hand. Lucie took it, and they went out.

  As soon as they turned the corner to the mailboxes and the front gate, Lucie yelled, “Papi!” and shook her hand free of Juliana’s grip.

  “There’s my angel!” Mark crouched on the other side of the fence, reaching his hand through the slats like a prisoner trying for one last touch of a loved one.

  Juliana caught up and opened the gate. When Mark tried to step in, she took a forceful step forward, outside. He backed off, grinning. When Lucie was through, she closed the gate. He was not getting into her safe space. This was bad enough.

  He picked their girl up and hugged her hard. “I missed you, Lulu. I missed you so much!”

  “Me too, Papi. I hope you don’t have to go to work for so long again.”

  Mark turned to Juliana, his eyebrows showing curiosity.

  “I told her about the job, how you had to be away for work.” God, she hoped he would just do the right thing here and go with her story.

  “Ah. Yeah. I don’t think I’ll have to go away like that again. Huh, Julie?” She hated the way he was grinning, like he’d won all the showcases.

  Though he was completely able-bodied, he’d parked in the disabled parking space right at the walkway, so they were standing at the front of his Lexus SUV. He turned and carried Lucie to the right rear door. He got her in and settled with her pack next to her. Juliana stood and watched, her arms crossed, feeling sick and afraid. She couldn’t help it. He scared her. For so many reasons.

  When Mark stood back and put his hand on the door, ready to close it, Juliana reached out and took hold of it. “Bye, Lulu. I’ll see you Sunday. Have fun, okay? Te quiero, mija.”

  “Te quiero, Mami!”

  Mark closed the door. “You’re teaching her Spanish?”

  “Just a few words. She’s curious. She likes to know things. And it’s part of her heritage.”

  “I know that. Don’t talk to me like I don’t know my own daughter.” He put his hand around her arm. “I’ll drop her off here on Sunday. I’m not doing that asinine Sizzler thing.”

  “That’s a court order. You don’t have a choice.” She tried to wrench her arm from his grip, but he bore down harder.

  “This is where I’ll be. What are you going to do about it? Keep me from Lucie? You already tried that once, you stupid cunt, and you didn’t get anywhere. You do it again, and I’ll take her from you.” His voice was low, and he was still grinning that victorious grin. He squeezed harder, and Juliana gasped. She was turned away from the car, so if Lucie saw anything, it was her father’s smiling face.

  “You want to let her go.”

  They both stilled at the sound of Trick’s voice. The gate clanged shut as Juliana swiveled her head and saw him walking toward them. He was wearing his kutte and a pair of sleek black sunglasses, the lenses so dark they seemed opaque. He came right up to them and again said, “You want to let her go. Now.”

  His voice was calm and almost gentle, but there was a resolute spike running through it, and the set of his jaw was like iron. He took off his sunglasses and slid them into his kutte pocket. His eyes were steely with intent.

  Mark’s grin became a smirk, and he let Juliana go. She rubbed her arm, and then Trick took her hand and pulled her sharply away, behind him. He pulled her so hard she nearly stumbled on her high-heeled sandals; she had to take a quick step to keep her balance.

  Lucie pounded on the closed window. She’d seen Trick, and she called, “Hi, Trick, hi!”