Mica (Rebel Wayfarers MC)

by MariaLisa deMora

  The game that night was demanding; the score was tied one to one going into the last two minutes of the third period. Rockford had been playing hard, and the Mallets had no luck with the puck tonight. However, their rookie goalie, Hammend, had done a great job defending the net. He’d been slapping pucks out of the air all night. The Mallets had killed three different power plays, but had unfortunately failed to convert two power plays against the Talons.

  Daniel waited for their shift change, sliding over the short wall and onto the ice. He and Jason skated hard to slide in front of Hammond and tap his pads with their sticks before they got into position for the faceoff. Jason tipped the puck over to Gary, who dumped out of the zone and low. They were playing nice and tight, anticipating each other’s positions. Daniel pushed past a defender, and with a long reach and a toe drag, he snagged the puck out of the corner and rifled it back over to Jason.

  Skating down-ice, Jason juked around a Talon and shot a soft wrister to the net, but it hit the crossbars and rebounded back into play. Gary was there to snag it, fighting two Talons for control and passing it away, out to Jason. A whistle blew, and they had another faceoff, but no time for a shift change. Jason was on target at the drop and pitched the puck out to Gary, who passed it back to Daniel.

  They were back to neutral ice, and Daniel passed it to another teammate, who brought it down through center. He skated hard, low around the net to the far side, and picked up the dump off the boards, tipping it back towards Jason, who was beside the goal. It was a soft shot, and the Talon goalie caught a bit of the puck with his glove, knocking it wide just as Jason was nailed in front of the net, going down hard.

  The whistle blew, signaling the end of the third period and regulation play. They were still tied up, one to one. The teams cleared the ice, getting ready for overtime. When they skated back onto the ice, the Mallets were fired up. Hammend got onto the blue paint in the crease and scuffed the ice, warming his legs and making snow to pack around the net, watching the officials closely. The Mallets picked up the faceoff, and the puck was delivered to Daniel.

  He slowed down, crossing in front of the net, controlling the puck. He slapped it into the lower left corner of the net and scored. The lights went off, and the music blared in the arena, but the sweetest thing was the crowd cheering wildly, “Let’s go Mallets!” Daniel grinned open-mouthed and shouted; he grabbed Jason around the waist and the rest of the team joined the scrum. They were all pounding shoulders and helmets as they celebrated the win. Daniel skated away from his team, looking up into the box and wishing Mica was there.

  They lined up for a fist bump with the Talons, and Daniel had a nice, quick conversation with their captain. The other team in the championship series was not yet decided; it would either be the Fort Wayne Tridents, or the South Bend Bandits. The fifth game in that series wasn’t until Tuesday, so it would be a couple days before Daniel knew for sure.

  Headed back to the locker room after the interviews, Daniel looked at Coach and shrugged towards the goalie. With a chin lift, the coach agreed to give him the game puck, recognizing the effort the kid had put into the game.

  Taking off his jersey and pads, Daniel sat down on the bench, listening to the yelling and celebration of his team. Jason and Gary were horsing around as usual, snapping towels and squirting streams of ice-cold water onto the guys as they changed. Daniel grinned as he headed into the showers; it had been a good game.

  The bus pulled up in front of the hotel and the players piled off. Most of them headed to their rooms to call family and friends about the win, and to celebrate the team heading into the final championship series.

  A few of them, Daniel included, turned towards the bar. He paused in the doorway, scanning the room, and saw Mason sitting at a table back in the corner. Mason lifted a hand and Daniel acknowledged him, stopping by the bar to grab a beer before heading over.

  Mason stood, clasped Daniel’s arm, and pulled him into a one-armed hug, pounding his back. “Great game, Daniel. It’s been a long season, and you guys deserve to be where you are. Nice playing, Captain.”

  Daniel smiled. “Thanks, Mason. We have a good team; it feels solid, and I have confidence we’ll do well in the championship series too.”

  They chatted for another few minutes about hockey and business. It seemed that when in Chicago, most of the Mallets had adopted Jackson’s as their official bar, and Mason said he was honored. The talk slowed down, and Daniel took a long drink of his beer, waiting. Mason took a deep breath, looking down at the tabletop, tapping one finger on his beer mug.

  “Daniel, it’s been a long few months, with a lot going on. I’d like you to listen with an open mind, if you can. If you can get past the fucking pain I see in your face, you need to know some of the story, and I’m probably going to tell you more than Mica would like, I’m sure. It’s her story, but she’s not here to tell it or tell me not to, so there you go. Are you willing to listen?” Daniel nodded, fiddling with his beer mug nervously; he wasn’t sure what to expect from Mason. “Okay,” Mason sighed, “here we fucking go. Did she tell you her history with Nelms?” he asked.

  Daniel nodded, remembering the night with Mica in the bedroom of the hotel suite. “Yeah, she told me about it when we were in Milwaukee after the scare with the pictures.”

  Mason tapped his fingers on the tabletop. “By then, she’d been hiding from him for about thirteen years. She’d given up her family and allowed very few people to get close. She did that, because she was afraid when Nelms found her—and she knew he would eventually—he would use those she was close to against her. She fucking isolated herself when she was only seventeen in order to keep the people she loved safe. Only a few people cared enough, or fought hard enough to get into her life. That’s an important message for today, Daniel. Track that.” He gave him a stern look, and Daniel tapped his temple with his finger to indicate he got it.

  “Just after Christmas, Mica received a series of letters. They came, and then kept on coming. I didn’t know about them until early March, and then it wasn’t because she told me. I’d had my guys watching and helping out, and Tug overheard a conversation. She didn’t want any of us to know, because she knew we’d go fucking nuts.

  “For months she kept those fucking letters a secret from everyone except Jess. Carried that alone. In those letters, that fucker detailed a dozen ways he planned on hurting, maiming, and killing the people she loved. He had pictures he included of the targeted people simply going about their day, like those fucking pictures he had of Mica. There were also pictures of people hurt, and the implication was that he’d started early in order to include proof of his resolve. The people in those pictures always resembled her friends—like he looked for substitutes, people who were in the wrong place, with the wrong face. She carried that. Keep tracking, Daniel.

  “Take you, for example. He wouldn’t have hurt you, but he had fucking pictures of your mother and J.J., Daniel, and a very thorough list of things he was planning for them. He made sure she understood how afraid your mom would be before he killed her. He fucking emphasized how dangerous it was for J.J. to be isolated and helpless. She fucking loves your family, man.”

  Feeling sick to his stomach at the thought of a threat against his Mom or J.J., Daniel’s head turned quickly to look at Mason, who nodded. “Yeah, that’s what Mica had to deal with—what she thought she had to protect you against. She carried that, too.”

  Mason paused a moment to take a swig of his beer, then informed him, “Jason and Gary were in the letters, too. I didn’t know Gary has kids—a girl and two boys. The letters went into sick detail about what would happen to the little girl. It just didn’t fucking stop. The letters just kept coming. My waitress Merry? Her grandson was the target.”

  He wiped a hand across his mouth, and then continued, “Mica received fifteen letters, each outlining one or two victims in graphic horror. You get the idea? She cut everyone off from her life; anyone who was touched by one of the letters ha
d to be removed from danger, as far as Mica was concerned. Just like thirteen years ago, she was willing to give everything up, totally fucking destroy her entire fucking life in order to keep people safe. The people she loved. You. Me. Her family.”

  Daniel was getting more and more angry. Why would Mica feel she had to deal with all of this alone? Why didn’t she trust that they could help her? He thought to himself that he hadn’t been there for her, he hadn’t helped her through this nightmare, and it pissed him off, mostly because it was true.

  Without knowing it, Mason answered Daniel’s question, “She couldn’t stand the idea of people being hurt simply because they knew her, or if they were nice to her, or even just because they were standing too close or looked like someone else. We both know who sent the letters: it was Nelms. According to him, he did this all on his own. So that’s something, at least, that her twin brother didn’t have anything to do with the letters.”

  He watched Daniel’s nostrils flare at the revelation, and then went on, “Then, in mid-March, her little cousin came to Chicago. Essa came and found Mica, because that cocksucker had struck without warning. No taunting, no letter, just a fucking game change. You met Molly in Texas; she’s a fucking treasure, like her sister. Fierce, strong, and now…fucking pregnant. By Nelms. Ray doped and raped her—Mica's baby sister. She’d have to go home, she’d have to be there for her sister…and he fucking knew it,” Mason sighed, “and that’s why Mica’s still in Texas now, helping take care of, and get things lined out for Molly.”

  Daniel jerked, breathing heavily. “Bastard.”

  “Yeah, exactly,” Mason nodded, “but Molly is a hell of a gal, and I think she’ll be okay eventually.”

  Catching up to what Mason had said a moment ago, Daniel shook his head, “Mica is still in Texas? Why?”

  Mason looked at him. “Because she thinks there’s nothing here for her.” Daniel looked at Mason blankly; this was so much to take in. Mason continued, “When she first started shutting down, shutting us all out, I couldn’t figure it out. I didn’t figure it out fast enough. I knew she was hot for you; she fucking loved spending time with you, and it looked mutual. I didn’t know why she was adamant that we all leave her alone, but it didn’t smell right, and I don’t fucking take orders very well.”

  He pounded his fist on the table, making their mugs rattle. “Dammit, I wasn’t going to take her word for anything that caused a change like we saw in her. I’ve fought too hard to become her friend to let her simply slide away like that. It took me too fucking long to get a handle on it though, and she’d moved back home from your house already. I fucking hate that, man, hate you lost that time with her,” he sighed and took a drink from his warming beer, “but I had the advantage over you. I have a small army to help, and they all love her like a fucking sister. So, I was able to keep her wrapped up pretty tight most of the time. Kept her safe. It felt like I was keeping her safe, anyway.

  “What I know now scares the shit out of me. Now we know Nelms’ goal was to isolate her, get her into a vulnerable, unaccompanied position so he could take her. He very nearly got what he wanted there in Houston, you know? He was probably fifteen seconds away from disa-fucking-ppearing her, and I can guarantee you we would’ve never found her. At least, not alive. Most likely, we would have found her suffocated, like his wife and dad. Daniel, do you understand what I’m saying? Why she did what she did? Are you tracking, man?”

  Daniel nodded, his heart breaking as he said quietly, “She loved me. But she left me—”

  Standing, Mason interrupted him, “Oh, you stupid mother fucker, is that all you can see? I’m done here; you are too fucked up for words. She loves you, man, and the two of you are right together, to a point that the rightness fucking outshines all the bad shit that’s happened.” Mason shook his head as he walked away, pausing to turn back and say, “I’m going to Texas next week. I’m going to try again to get her to come home. Daniel, if you don’t want her, then I guaran-damn-tee you there is someone in this fucking room who loves her enough—someone who loves her enough to overlook her love for you, if she’s willing. You stupid asshat.” Daniel stood and watched Mason stalk from the bar.

  53 -

  Your sometimes

  Mica’s aunt, Janet, held the door open and welcomed Mason in with a hug. “Hey there, Mason! Welcome back, son. She’s sitting in the backyard with the girls.”

  Mason grinned at Janet calling him son, letting the endearment go; she was a mother to everyone she met. “Thanks, Janet. I have a delivery coming in a couple hours. I asked the hands to help unload things from the truck; I hope that’s okay.”

  “Of course, Mason,” she responded with a grin, “those boys need more to keep them busy. Unloading a little something won’t hurt them at all.”

  Mason stopped and stood in the doorway. Slowly turning back to look at her, he sighed. “I’ve come to try and take her home.”

  She looked him in the face and nodded. “Good, that girl needs to remember the worthy life she’s built for herself. This town here, this small, small town, it just won’t work for her anymore; she’s outgrown us by too much. Remind her, Mason. Help make her better.”

  He nodded. “I’m going to try. I have a plan, and we’ll see how well it works out. Can I stay here tonight? Or, would you rather I stay in town?”

  She chuckled at him. “I already have the room aired and ready for ya. Of course you are welcome to stay.” Her face sobered. “With what you have done for us all, Davis Mason, you are welcome any time. Any time at all. You saved…” her voice shuddered as she remembered the events of a few weeks ago, “…my family. You saved all of us.”

  Mason nodded soberly, holding her eyes for a minute. Then, he strolled through the house to the back patio, hearing the girls before he could see them. He smiled, because Mica was giggling alongside the girls, and—oh, God—he loved hearing that woman laugh.

  Pausing in the doorway, he saw them all gathered around Essa’s phone, looking at a something on the screen. He walked up behind them and saw a picture of Slate sticking his tongue out at the camera. Shaking his head and grinning, he said, “What are you ladies giggling at?” He laughed out loud as they jumped and shrieked, and then laughed again when Essa tried frantically to hide the phone.

  Mica hopped up and wrapped herself up in his arms, whispering in his ear, “Mason, oh, I’ve missed you.”

  He held her close for a minute, and then moved her back so he could see her face. “I’ve missed you too, babe. How the hell are ya?”

  “Oh, you know, same ol’, same ol’.” She grinned.

  He reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and pulled her close for another long hug. They moved apart as Molly and Essa came and hugged him around the waist, Molly kissing him softly on the cheek. He pulled Molly in close to his side, slinging his arm around her shoulders. Kissing the side of her head, he asked, “How’s Molls today?”

  She leaned her head against him, relaxing against his side. “I’m better now, Mason. It’s good to see you again.”

  He grinned at them. “So why is there a picture of Slate on Essa’s phone?”

  Mica laughed hard. “He’s sweet on Essa. It’s the cutest thing.”

  “Michaela Trenton Scott, you did not just tell Mason that!” Essa yelled.

  Mason laughed. “Not really any business of mine, Essa. Pretty sure you are both adults, of a sort,” he sobered, “but if he hurts you, he will fucking answer to me.”

  Mason was content to sit on the patio for a while. He tucked his huge frame into a rocking chair, listening to Mica and the girls talk about what they’d been doing since he went home a few weeks ago. Molly wasn’t sick from the pregnancy any more, which was good. She was feeling better, and that helped her mood.

  Essa was still competing, had won a couple of events, and she really liked Slate. Mason noted Mica had soaked up some sun; she was golden brown, and her dark hair had natural reddish highlights in it now. He could see she
had been enjoying spending time with her family. Everyone was happy, making up for lost time.

  He was patient as he sat listening to the things said between the words. Mica was working some, but the set-up wasn’t great, and she missed the face-to-face interaction with her clients. She still had a rental car, but it wasn’t her Nissan. She missed her stuff—her house, her things. The view out her window here was nice, but it wasn’t the view from the bay window of her home. The more she talked, the better he felt about his plan.

  He checked the time and thought he’d prime things a little, so he started talking about people, gently reminding her of all the friends she had in Chicago. “Tug says hi, babe. He was sick a couple weeks ago, and whined that he didn’t have any soup.”

  She made a face. “Oh, no, is he okay now?”

  “Yeah, he’s good,” a pause, “and oh, yeah—Digger wanted me to tell you he had a date.”

  Sitting up straight, she took a breath. “How did it go? Did he have a good time?”

  Mason grinned. “I guess. It seemed okay; he didn’t really say.”

  She made a frustrated noise. “I hope it went really well; he simply needs some confidence. He’s such a good guy. I miss him and Tug.”

  He heard a truck coming down the drive, finally. While he was keeping his face stoic, inside he was smiling, because this was pretty perfect timing. All three of the girls perked up their heads, listening. Molly said, “We don’t have any deliveries today; what is that semi doing here?”

  They got up to go see, and Mason cleared his throat. “I have a delivery; I bet that’s mine,” he told them, and he walked back through the house, listening to their dozens of questions without responding.

  The hands had ramps set-up to unload the truck already, so Mason stopped for a minute and looked at the cargo with pride, folding his arms across his chest. He’d found a beautiful Road King Classic from a patch brother down here that he had to have—could not fucking resist. It was a striking dark blue and black bike in perfect condition, fucking leather and chrome.