by Debra Kayn
He wanted to stay and forget he had a brother. After a terror-filled childhood, he'd already battled, pleaded, and promised everything he owned away if only his brother would get help or go away. He spent a few years as an adult sending him to therapy, group homes for mentally ill adults, and even calling the police numerous times. None of it mattered. Tim had the freedom to turn down or convince everyone he was sane.
It came to the boiling point that one of them wouldn't survive if Rod stayed in Tim's life. He'd walked away from his brother, hoping never to see him again.
"Hey." Heather snapped her fingers. "What's the face for?"
"No reason," he muttered, pushing his plate away from him. There was no way he could put any more food in his stomach. "We need to talk."
"Okay." She picked up both their plates. "Give me a few minutes to rinse off the dishes and load them in the washer."
"I'll go out and have a cigarette first." He stood.
"Wait." She hurried to his side and kissed him. "You're making me nervous. Something is bothering you."
"I promise you, you'll be okay. There's nothing for you to worry about because I'm going to take care of everything." He exhaled harshly and kissed her forehead. "Now, go do the dishes, and then I'll explain everything."
She frowned. "Okay."
He walked outside. There was nothing he could do to help her feel secure about the situation. He was going to add more stress to her life, fuck with her emotions, and disappoint her. It was unavoidable.
Staring down at the lit coal of his cigarette, he flinched. The reaction angered him. He'd moved on from the past.
Tim couldn't hurt him.
Tim was no longer his brother.
He had no family.
A car drove down the street. He sucked on the cigarette, watching the cherry grow brighter and brighter, and then tossed the smoke to the ground and snuffed it out with his boot.
It was time to finish what he'd always put off before Heather ended up more hurt.
Heather sat on the couch waiting for him when he stepped inside. He wanted to grab her and take her into the bedroom, promise her at least tomorrow. Instead, he sat down beside her and let his hands fall on his thighs. If he touched her, he'd never go through with his plans.
She set her cell phone on the coffee table. "I got a weird phone call from my dad while you were outside. He's, uh, still at work and wanted to know if you've left yet. I told him you were outside, and I'd get you, but he said he'd talk to me later and he was sorry."
Rod picked at a loose thread on his jeans, feeling like the hole he was making bigger.
"What would my dad have to be sorry about and what did he mean when he asked if you've left yet?" Her calm voice spoke plainly. "Are you leaving me? Is that what this is about?"
"I'm—"
"Cause if you are, I rather you do it now. You can leave anytime. I'm not stopping you." She shoved her hands between her thighs.
He scooted forward and turned to face her. "Sassy, why would you say that?"
"Honestly?" She shrugged. "I'm surprised you've hung around me this long, so it's no big deal. I lose people in my life. I expect it. I'll be fine. I have work, my dad, and Gia."
"Stop." He cupped her face, not letting her look away. "I'm falling in love with you."
He hadn't meant to tell her yet. Once the words were out it changed everything.
She closed her eyes. He dropped his hands and stood. She was willing to shut him out over a fucking phone call from Swiss.
"You're only thinking you're falling love," she whispered. "I get it, Rod. I never had any preconceived notion that there was anything more between us than—"
"Are you fucking serious?" He stared at her in disbelief.
She raised her gaze. "Yes."
He ran his hand over his jaw. Damn, Swiss.
One conversation and Heather had thought the worst of him. Maybe she had a right to her opinion. Going off her experience with a father who left her at an early age and losing her mother, being left behind was something she got used to. Depending on what happened when he walked out the door, there was a chance he wasn't coming back. Not to her or the club.
Even if he made it back, would she accept him for what he planned to do?
"Answer a question for me." He swallowed hard. "How important is family to you?"
"I only have my dad." She tilted her head. "Family...he means everything to me."
He nodded. A woman who could come back into her dad's life, forgive him for being an absentee father, live through her own nightmare childhood would never understand or accept that family meant nothing to him.
"Swiss is right." He stayed away from her. "I'm leaving, and I'm not sure when I'll be back."
Heather lifted her chin, and he caught the flinch she tried to hide.
"That's what the meeting was about this morning. Your dad knew I was taking off to find my brother and probably wanted to check in on you and make sure you were alright." He held her gaze. "But, you already knew that and had written me off."
"Rod, I never—"
He held up his hand. "It's okay. We both will do what we need to do."
There was no need to tell her more about him going after his brother. She deserved the peace that he could bring her by leaving. Swiss, sworn to the club, would never indulge her need to know the truth of what happens after he walked out the door.
The truth would destroy her.
For how tough she acted and her ease at letting him leave, she'd already shown him how one conversation had planted the seed in her head. He'd made her worst fear of people leaving her come true. His good intentions were fucked.
He couldn't leave her hoping he loved her enough to make a life with her only to hurt her again.
"You've got your family and the club. For life, Heather." He stepped over to the couch, squatted down in front of her and kissed her forehead. Leaving his lips on her skin, he said, "What's happening to me and what I do will not be on you. It will never be on you."
He stood and let himself out of Heather's duplex, leaving what little heart she'd found in him behind.
Chapter Twenty Four
Heather's dad reached for her. She backed away. The whole day suddenly a nightmare that throat punched her and threw her into the past. She knew better than to get her hopes up and believe that what she and Rod shared together meant more than sex.
Somewhere. Somehow. She had hoped he'd left on club business and would be back to take her to his house. That when he spoke of falling in love with her, he meant it, and she'd have no reason to doubt his feelings. For once, she wanted to unconditionally trust a man not to leave her, no matter how she acted or what she said.
"You can stay with us tonight if you want. Gia can make up the couch," said her dad.
She shook her head. "That'd be silly considering I have a nice, big, bed, not twenty feet from here."
Her attempt at a joke fell flat, and her dad's mouth tightened. She rubbed her bandaged elbow. Her dad already refused to explain the reason for Rod leaving but acknowledged that he wasn't sure when or if Rod would return. Though, he'd confirmed that Rod had asked the club's permission to leave.
She stepped toward the door and stopped. "When we first started to talk over the phone after you found out I was your daughter, you said wearing the Ronacks patch was for life. Is that true for all members?"
"Yeah. There's no leaving. Brotherhood is for life," said her dad moving toward her. "Let me walk you back to your door."
She sidestepped Gia's hug. Her dad's girlfriend had stood beside her, graciously keeping her opinion to herself and silently giving her support. For how much she wanted to receive the show of affection, she couldn't accept comfort or be treated differently because Rod was gone or she'd fall apart.
"I'm okay." She attempted a smile for Gia's sake and walked outside.
The cool night air shocked her body. She shivered and her dad slipped his broad hand into hers. She clung to him with a desper
ate need to lay her troubles on his shoulders and a small part of her refused to show any sign of weakness and chance him being disappointed in her.
"Make sure you call if you need me, or us." Her dad ran the back of his fingers from his other hand over her cheek. "Love you, baby."
"Love you, too." She squeezed his hand, and then slipped inside, shutting and locking the bolt.
Empty and lonely, she walked into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge. The boxes of leftover Chinese food sat on the top shelf. She grabbed her fortune cookie she'd saved.
She squeezed the treat until it crumbled in her hand. Picking out the paper, she read.
Change can hurt, but it leads a path to something better.
She swept the crumbs and fortune into her hand and dumped it all into the garbage. If she trusted her heart, she would've told Rod she was falling in love with him, too.
Not letting herself cry, she went into the bedroom, stripped out of her clothes, and crawled into her unmade bed. Her throat tightened, and she rolled across the width of the bed and hugged the wall, trying to find the comfort that always came with having Rod in bed, and closed her eyes.
Nothing stopped the tears from falling.
The biker at her back was gone.
Chapter Twenty Five
The cars cruising on Interstate 90 blocked any sound coming from underneath the overpass. Rod pulled out his pistol, got off his Harley, and set out to search for Tim on foot. He'd looked everywhere he could imagine his brother staying in Haugan.
After clearing the motel, the church, and both storage companies, he'd broadened his search. He wouldn't put it past his brother to stay in the forest or sleep at the side of the road. The weather was comfortable enough to rough it, and knowing his brother was forced to walk or hitchhike where he wanted to go meant he had to be close.
He clicked on his flashlight and continued walking, shining the areas where someone could hide out of view. Behind the concrete pillar. The brush, too far from the road for the county mower to reach. The shadows.
Shadows that his brother thrived in.
Shadows that he'd lived in his whole life to stay away from Tim.
He turned around and walked back to his bike. Frustrated, he had no idea where else to look. Tim could be anywhere.
Waiting.
Behind every corner.
Intent to kill him.
Rod slipped his pistol behind his belt. He'd need to start over with the places he skipped. The less obvious locations like the grocery store, the twenty-four-hour laundromat, the school. From experience, his brother could go days without sleeping and appear normal to those who were unsuspecting of Tim's sickness.
Sickness.
He pulled out a cigarette and lit the end. That's what their mother called Tim's problems.
When he killed the family dog, it was the sickness that made Tim break its neck. When he was in sixth grade and home alone, he got trapped in the garage when a fire started in a metal garbage can. He'd screamed and cried for his brother to open the door. It was a sickness that made Tim lock him inside and stand outside the door taunting him while flames blistered his back.
The sickness that broke his arm because Tim tied him to a chair and pushed him—chair and all—down the stairs.
The sickness that later came back to visit after Tim was kicked out of the house.
The sickness that caused Tim to kill their mother.
He inhaled deeply on the cigarette. The police believed his mom drowned in the river off the edge of her property. Only he and Tim knew she feared the water. She couldn't swim and forbid her sons to go near the river when they lived under her roof.
Not once during the eighteen years he lived at home could he remember his mom walking across three acres to visit the river. At the time of her death, he couldn't imagine his sixty-five-year-old mother walking through the woods in March, with two feet of snow on the ground, barefooted.
She had no shoes on when they found her in the half-frozen water.
He flicked his cigarette away from him. A lifetime of guilt dug their barbs in him. He shoved his lighter back in his pocket and paper stuck to his finger. Pulling out the fortune from the cookie he'd stuffed away, he opened up the short strip of paper and read.
Our deeds determine us, as much as we determine our deeds.
"Such bullshit," he muttered, tossing the fortune into the wind.
His phone vibrated in his pocket. Recognizing Battery's number, he accepted the call. "Yeah?"
"Any update?"
"Nothing so far. I'm going to make another sweep through town and check the places I skipped the first time." He held the phone to his ear as he put the flashlight in his saddlebag. "He's around here somewhere, and I will find him."
"The women are at the bar with Swiss and Mel, including Bree," said Battery.
Knowing Battery seldom let Bree go to the bar alone, he tensed. "What's going on?"
"You know women, they get a sense that one of them needs friends, they all rally around." Battery hesitated. "How about I grab JayJay, Grady, and Teek, and meet you on the west side of Haugan. We can cover more area together."
He had eighteen more hours to look for Tim himself. Alone, he could keep his past to himself, and no one would have to know what life was like for him before joining Ronacks Motorcycle Club.
"I'm doing okay. I still have time left. You should go to the bar. Heather..."
"Rod, I get it," said Battery. "I've been there with Bree, trying to protect her and keep everything away from the club and in the end, I needed each one of you. We ride with purpose, brother."
Rod exhaled loudly and looked off into the dark. His situation was different. The Russian mob was after Bree, and Battery had kept her safe.
Tim was his problem. One he'd hoped to keep away and failed.
Now, he'd need to finish the job he should've done years ago.
"I, uh...." He grimaced and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "If riders help, I need permission to be the one who deals with my brother after he's caught. I need to be the one."
His end decision with his brother would depend on Ronacks helping his cover his tracks, and if he'd learned anything over the years of being vice president, he trusted his brothers. They each had something in their past that made them loyal, because to not be would put them all in prison.
"I can give you my word," said Battery.
"I'm fifteen minutes away from Haugan." Rod sat his bike. "And Battery?"
"Yeah?"
"Make sure the women have enough men covering them." He pocketed the cell, started the Harley, and rode to the on-ramp.
Heather would be safe. That's all that mattered. Tim had stepped over the line when he'd put Heather in danger coming after him. He wouldn't let his brother's sickness touch her.
If he stood any chance of coming back, he wanted to love Heather for the rest of his life. First, he needed to make sure she remained safe because he'd have a hell of a lot of making up to do with her.
Chapter Twenty Six
Jana, Dukie's part-time babysitter and one of the women who hung out at the parties hosted by Ronacks members, stood by the cash register at Pine Bar and Grill pointing out drunk customers as if that was her official job. Heather rolled her eyes in Bree's direction. The Ronacks women all failed at possessing delicate friendship skills when they believed one of them was upset.
Early in the evening at the bar, the women switched 'friend position' often, making sure one of them remained within Heather's personal space in case she fell apart.
The news apparently traveled fast within the club regarding her and Rod, and the moment Bree, Jana, Bethanee, and Charlene— LeWorth's wife — strolled into the bar escorted by the bikers, Heather became defensive. She would not allow the others to see how much Rod disappointed her or how she wanted to go home and crawl into bed to forget everything he'd said to her before leaving.
Most of all, the pitying looks and hugs had to stop. They
felt sorry for her, and they believed he wasn't coming back.
Maybe it was true. Maybe it wasn't.
Until she talked to Rod one more time, she refused to believe he'd give up on her that easily. She was in a bad place this morning, being reminded of losing her dad, when Rod had left. Her fear of being left alone without answers, again, overwhelmed her. But, his parting comment kept going around and around in her head.
He was protecting her.
She had no idea what his brother was capable of or if that was the reason he'd gone away, but until Rod came back, she could only hang on and hope that things would turn around.
Her patience worn thin, she hip-checked the drawer of the cash register and picked up the tray of drinks from Raelyn. All she had to do was make it through two more hours of work, and she was home free.
She approached Table Number Five with a smile on her face. "Two Fireballs and one whiskey sour."
The woman at the table grabbed her drink. "Thank you, honey. I've been looking forward to tipping one back all day."
"Doing jury duty will do that to you," said her male companion. "Go ahead and wait five minutes and then bring us a second round. We'll be ready."
"Will do." Heather grinned and moved away to let them get their drink on when a large crowd walked through the front door. She let the empty tray drop to her side and ogled them in disbelief as more and more people entered.
Gia nudged Heather's arm. "Mel said a tourist bus is parked outside."
"Great," she muttered. "Well, we better start running."
There went her hope at a stress-free finish to her work night. She directed people to the tables while other customers went straight to the bar. Once she had six tabs started, she hustled around the counter to help Raelyn fill and serve the drinks. There were too many orders for one person to handle.
Raelyn passed behind her and patted Heather's ass. "Work it, girl. The tips are yours."
She groaned and shook her head. Her heart wasn't feeling the drive to line her pockets. She only wanted to survive the night, get home, and off her feet without letting Rod leaving break her heart.