Vacant MC (The Nighthawks MC Book 11)

by Bella Knight

  They were on the floor of Ivy and Callie’s house on blankets. The floor was cool, so she had them play on the edge of the kitchen where the tile met the dining room carpet. David came in, took off his sandals, and crept across the floor.

  “Dawi!” exclaimed Ryder, and she attached herself to his neck.

  David gave Triesta a hug, and sat down, a little girl still attached to him, to play with the babies. Triesta went to switch over the laundry. She folded a basket of baby clothes, then emptied the dishwasher. She brought over baby bottles of milk, a sippy cup of juice, and two bottles of spiced apple juice.

  David tasted it. “That’s… weirdly delicious,” he said.

  “The dwarf apple trees are doing great,” said Triesta. “They’ve bottled this, and they’re working on a nonalcoholic wassail for the holidays. The peach trees are…”

  “A bumper crop,” said David. He blew on Kiya’s stomach, making her chortle. “Peach tea, peach pie, peach cobbler…”

  “I can help can them,” said Triesta.

  “Woman,” said David, “you know not of what you speak.” He picked up Aiden and blew on his stomach. “You’ll be trapped doing that for days, and it will eat up what free time you have.”

  Triesta laughed as Aiden’s bright laughter filled the room. Ryder pulled up her pink I’m Awesome T-shirt, and said, “Wu mi.” David obliged, and blew on her stomach, making her laugh.

  When she could talk over the shrieks, Triesta said, “I am ahead. Actually ahead. I make ten of everything now, or five if it’s a new design. I can take a day or two out for canning.”

  “Peaches wow, and the strawberries are insane. Jams, jellies, syrups.” David shook his head sadly. “I pity you.”

  “Must teach the young ones the old arts,” said Triesta. “You never know. Some of them may actually enjoy it.”

  David thought a moment, blew on everyone’s stomachs except Triesta’s, and made everyone laugh again. “Possibly Mike will actually enjoy it. He loves everything about growing and preparing food.” He smiled. “The man has found his mission.” He picked up Aiden, who had been waving his feet and grunting. “Hmm, I will take care of this.”

  He stood, baby in his arms, and Ryder attached to his leg. He walked with her standing on his foot, making her laugh. Ryder grinned, and Triesta spoke in Zuni to Kiya with a story about a rabbit. She acted out the story with a little stuffed rabbit. David hobbled back with the cleaned baby, and he whispered the story in Ryder’s ears in Ute. Ryder stared, now wide-eyed at the rabbit.

  David did the toy pickup and the vacuuming, and then he helped Callie when she came in with groceries. “I’ll put these away, and you have fun with your kids,” he said.

  He put away the groceries while Callie put away her purse, visited the restroom, and came over to sit on the floor with her babies, with her back up against the couch. Both babies attempted to jump into her arms. She sat cross-legged, put one at each knee, and took turns holding them.

  “Thank you so much,” said Callie. “The Wolfpack was overextended this morning, and I needed to teach. One of the teachers at the Nighthawks homeschool went into false labor. I’m looking at staying on swings or going to days when she goes into real labor.” She switched from Kiya to Aiden, and Ryder took Kiya.

  “Your wife works swing?” Triesta asked.

  “Yes,” said Callie. “She went in early; there’s work being done on the bathrooms to update them. She’ll be home early, too, Cougar’s on tonight.”

  “That’s excellent,” said Triesta. “Would you like me to watch the babies, so you can have a nice dinner with your wife?”

  “Take her up on it,” said David, from the kitchen. “We’ll take the littlies, you have something delivered, and we’ll bring them back.”

  “I have a recipe for crock-pot chicken pasta with cheese and basil-parmesan dressing,” said Triesta. “I’ll do it now. It’ll be ready when your wife gets home. Plate and eat. Just text us when you want us to bring the babies back.”

  “Take her up on it,” David reiterated, hampered in his attempt to put away the woven carrier bags by Ryder’s attachment to his leg.

  “No comments from the peanut gallery,” said Callie. Aiden fell asleep on her stomach, and Ryder helped move him onto the blanket next to her. Then, Ryder gave her Kiya. Kiya rubbed her eyes, minutes from sleep.

  “I’m on it,” said Triesta.

  Triesta diced the chicken breast, poured in dry pasta and water, then bottled basil alfredo sauce, shredded in some Parmesan, and put the chicken breast in the slow cooker, put on the lid, and turned it on. She washed up and went back over to see if Callie needed anything. Callie was asleep, her sleeping daughter in her arms. She got up, found the special roll for Callie’s neck on the back of the couch, and put it on her neck without waking her, or the infants. They slipped out and left the family sleeping.

  David picked up Ryder. He sang to her and patted her back while walking back to the Big House. Ryder chatted at first, then tried to sing along. By the time they crossed in-between the greenhouse and the Wolfpack house, Ryder’s voice had slipped into silence as she fell asleep. Triesta pointed at the greenhouse. David nodded, and headed forward to the Big House.

  Triesta held the door open for a person exiting with boxes above her eyes. She realized it was April after she walked by. “Bye,” said April, and headed to the van.

  Samma followed her with an equally large set of boxes, the ones saying “keep-hot” instead of “keep-cold.” Triesta shut the door after checking for more people wanting to exit. She ran forward to help the ladies fill up the van.

  “Thanks!” said April. “Have no idea why people order soup in summer. Unless it’s a cold one, like strawberry or gazpacho.” She shut the door. “Gotta go.”

  “No idea either,” said Triesta. “Have fun.”

  Triesta made it into the sorting room without being run over. Mike and Nantan were making sure all the orders had gone out, while Leafort cleaned up the counters and the two electric burners that had been installed so they could cook simple dishes.

  “I was wondering,” said Triesta.

  “Yes?” asked Nantan.

  “Would anyone like to do some canning? I hear you have a bumper crop of some fruits. I thought spicy peach sauce, strawberry sauce, jams, applesauce…”

  Nantan held up a hand. “Already bought the jars, lids, and tongs. Have the pots for it. Suggest doing it at night so you don’t cook yourself. I suggest rotating the victims… I mean, helpers. Everyone can learn.”

  “I’ll help,” said Mike. “My hand’s a mess…”

  “Don’t care,” said Triesta. “I did it one-handed one summer when I broke my arm.”

  “Done,” said Mike. “When?”

  “Are you up to it now?” asked Triesta.

  “After dinner,” said Nantan. “Everyone needs a break. Set it up now, Triesta. I’ll list the fruit, and you make the labels. We even have a handy-dandy label printer.”

  “Sounds good,” said Triesta. She withdrew her own tablet from the small pack she carried, and they got to work.

  Dinner was the same pasta/chicken/cheese/basil recipe —apparently, David had wanted pasta. The fettuccine was amazing, served with garlic bread, and perfect served with spiced apple juice. Everyone loved the recipe. The jokes flew, and there were arguments over what movies to show on Movie Night on Friday, sci-fi or westerns. Ryder was awake, and chattering, putting her ideas into everything. No one understood them, but they all took her suggestions seriously.

  Richard followed Mike and Triesta back to do the canning. Triesta diced and pureed and filled the containers. Mike sealed them, and Richard put them into and out of the hot water with tongs. They brought over two more double electric burners, stolen from Triesta’s and Richard’s apartments. They filled the tables with strawberry jam, halved spiced peaches, pear jam, applesauce, cherry sauce, cherry pie filling, peach pie filling, and they also found some pumpkins and made pumpkin pie filling. They rai
ded the Big House for some of the spices and made a shopping list for the next day.

  They ended canning at one in the morning. Despite playing rock songs at a volume set low to let Nantan’s family sleep. And they were stumbling with fatigue. They walked Mike to the Big House, then Richard and Triesta walked back to the barn. They stood at the entrance to their stairs and looked at the stars together. Without speaking, they sat on the chairs in front of the kiln and looked up. Robert reached across and touched her hand. She put her hand in his, and they let the warm wind caress their faces.

  “This is home,” said Robert. “I love the Zuni land, but this is a family that makes me laugh every day. The sky shows so many stars. There is a little girl that awakens me before the dawn, so I awaken in the light.” He sighed. “I have scars, Triesta. I’m not the little boy trying to get your attention by showing bravery, skill, or intelligence. I have lost more than my leg. I have lost brothers and sisters. I have tried to put their blood back into their bodies with my own hands. I have failed at protecting the innocent. The desert was a place of blood for a long time for me. I did not think I could find healing in the desert, but the white man’s cities are so cold. I felt so lost there. This is… this is my new home. Perhaps I shall return to Zuni lands. Perhaps I shall not. I do not know.”

  “I went to school to get away from my mother,” said Triesta. “My mother’s sister is the best of us. My mother is the smallest of us, in some ways. She does not understand why I neither want to speak to her nor spend time with her. She seems to have her mind in a groove, like a record, and cannot seem to have new thoughts. She speaks ill of me and speaks about Rudi as if he were all the moon and stars. Rudi has been doing drugs for years. He can’t control what he says or when he says it. He has tried to harm children when he is high,” said Triesta, shaking with rage. “And yet, he is the one who hangs the moon and sets the stars in the sky, and I, the one who did something with my life, the one that makes jewelry and has helped two of our Zuni girls go to college, am the one who is nothing.”

  Robert continued to hold her hand as she kicked the ground to relieve her anger. “She sounds mentally ill. Please do not let the thoughts of one such as her continue to damage you.”

  “I do not know if I can release all my anger,” said Triesta, wiping away angry tears with her other hand.

  “Perhaps you should do kickboxing. The gym just inside the Las Vegas city limits permits people like me,” he said, waving a hand toward his blade leg. “I could teach you the basics, and you could have your anger released.”

  “That would be… yes, please,” said Triesta. “And, we forgot our burners.”

  He laughed. “Will you cook tomorrow morning?”

  She laughed back. “No.”

  They laughed. “Let’s sleep, and in the afternoon, I will take you to kickbox,” said Richard.

  “Good,” said Triesta. “Now, I need sleep. I watched a little brown wolf, and two little ones. They are truly wonderful, but I am exhausted.”

  “I’ll walk you to your door,” said Richard. They both laughed.

  In the morning, they both got pats on their doors. They dressed, put on their boots, and went down to help haul hay and feed. Damia told them what to do in a quiet, clear voice. Her little smile made both of them think that she was enjoying telling the adults around her what to do. All three went out and watched the dawn.

  They went for breakfast and ate strawberry pancakes with bacon and orange juice with a sleepy Inola, and then they went to work. The clay kiln bakers showed up, ready to fill it up. Neither Robert or Triesta offered to help; the creators of the objects knew what they wanted to fire and when, and Triesta and Richard were also afraid of dropping someone’s opus to shatter on the ground.

  Triesta and Richard both did their hot things in the dawn. Richard soldered his new bike together and tore the next one apart, while Triesta wound hot glass around a pipe, cut off the beads, and put them into the bead kiln for annealing. They took a lemonade and sliced fruit break together, and then they headed up to the Owl Pack to record some stories.

  Lunch was chicken salad sandwiches with grapes and pecans on a lovely nut bread, with carrot slices and homemade potato chips. They then took off for the gym.

  Richard helped her with the stretches, then warmed them both up with jumping rope and shadowboxing. He showed her how to kick and knee a round bag in-between two ropes, first slowly, then more quickly. “It is better to go slowly with proper form, than quickly with bad form,” said Richard. “Bad form will allow injury.”

  “Yes,” said Triesta. He called out moves and helped her move from slow, to a little faster.

  He then showed her the punches, showed her how to wrap her hands, and helped her move her feet as she blocked and jabbed. She practiced with a heavy bag, and then he helped her cool down and stretch. They showered, and then they met out by the side door.

  “Let’s get some drinks,” said Triesta.

  “Was it good?” asked Robert.

  “We’ll do it again in two days,” said Triesta. “So, yes. Sonic, now.” He laughed and followed her to get some lime-cherry goodness.

  Back at home, they sang songs to each other in Zuni as they worked. She brought her latest necklace to the window, closer to where he was working on his bikes. Triesta finished the necklace she was working on, packed it into its box, put away her tools, and went out to help Robert.

  “Show me,” she said.

  “Yes,” he said. He explained what he was doing with the new bike, and they finished putting it together. He showed her how to super-polish chrome, and they cleaned the bike with the chrome polish.

  “Why didn’t you paint this one?” she asked. “This one’s in matte black.”

  “It was an order,” said Robert. “I do sell them done with my Zuni designs, but some people order, say, a reconditioned, blue, off-road bike. These are for Henry, so some are painted, and some not. The one there,” he said, nodding to the other one on its engine block, “it’s going to be maroon. I’ll paint that one in Zuni designs after that. Henry sold three, and Bonnie and I have to both replace the ones he sells right out of his classes, and then add more for trips. I’ve got a steady income, steady work, and that doesn’t include helping Mike with the food or Vu with the Zuni books. Once Nantan and Mike price the food we canned, we’ll all get paid a percentage of that. You’ll get paid for babysitting today, too. It all adds up.”

  “I don’t need that much to live on,” said Triesta, surprised.

  Robert grinned. “We don’t get paid retirement money, so talk to Lily, our accountant, about that. Definitely. Then, fund some more scholarships. I’m funding getting the next guy here on the list, and some of his living expenses.”

  “Good,” said Triesta. She grinned. “Good.”

  They showered and went to dinner on their bikes. She took him to a tiny roadhouse that had excellent burgers. They ate, then went for a ride in the desert. They ended up at Red Rock. Robert passed her a Coke, and they popped the tops, and watched the sun go down. Triesta held his hand. Somehow, she ended up turning to him, touching his face, bringing his lips down to hers, and kissing him. They stood there in the crimson golden light, kissing, stopping, and kissing again.

  He took her empty can and stomped on it. She stomped on his. They put them into his saddlebag, then he drew her to him. He leaned on his bike, and she half-crawled on him. She mauled him with her mouth, clawed him with her fingernails. She pulled back, stepped back.

  “I didn’t bring a condom.”

  He laughed. “Since I put you in the ‘way above me’ category, neither did I. I have a box at home.”

  She laughed too. “So do I. I want little ones but…”

  “When you decide you want one,” he said. “Same here.”

  “I won’t race you,” she said. “Prefer us both alive when we get home.” She kissed him, laughed, and put on her helmet. He put on his helmet, and willingly followed her home.

  They were
distracted from their lovemaking by Henry and David standing at the fence, looking up at the stars. “Evening,” said Robert.

  “Evening,” said Henry. “We wanted to ask you both something.”

  Robert felt terror in his stomach. Was he being asked to leave?

  “What is it?” asked Triesta.

  “We are trying to record Damia’s moments for Ivy. Damia is talking so much more, and even laughing. We hope she someday will want to move in with her mothers, before she grows up and moves away on her own. Or not. Anyway, Ivy is missing these little moments, all day long. We want to record some things from time to time for her.”

  “That’s… brilliant,” said Triesta. “Of course.”

  “Robert, you have helped our little girl bloom. Thank you,” said Henry.

  “She is one of the lights of my life,” said Robert, his voice husky. The men hugged. “Goodnight,” said Robert.

  Triesta led him up the stairs and held him as he cried. They ended up in her room, and on her bed. Triesta stripped him of his jacket and boots, and her own. She stroked his face and held him as Robert worked through his simultaneous fear and joy. She led him to bed, and simply held him.

  They awoke a few hours later. She kissed him slowly, quietly. He stroked her hair, caressed her face. She took off his top, and her own, and the underlying camisole. They spent a long time touching each other, running their fingers up and down each other’s back, shoulders, and arms. He cupped her breasts in shaking hands, and then kissed and touched each one until she came from his loving touches. They took off each other’s jeans and socks, then underwear. They held each other, cupping each other’s buttocks in their hands. He was ready, so ready, but afraid of going too fast. He touched her, lower and lower, and finally found the button in between her legs that made her gasp with pleasure. She came, and came again, under his perfect fingertips.

  She rolled over, grabbed the condom box from a drawer in her tiny nightstand, and tore it open. They spilled out, making him laugh. She took one, opened it with her teeth, and rolled it onto him. She pushed the other condom packets behind her and grabbed some and put them on the nightstand. He rolled her over, and slid in. She groaned and used her claws on his back. He took his time, going slowly, sweat beading down his back. She came twice, and then came with him at the end. They held each other, stroked each other’s arms and backs, silent with pleasure. Then, he gave her one final kiss, and went to his own room down the hall. She understood; they would have a little yellow wolf knocking on their doors in just a few hours. She found the condoms, put them back in the box, took a late-night shower, put some underwear and shorts on, and slept.