Fury (Rebel Wayfarers MC Book 11)

by MariaLisa deMora

  “You can’t do your job at all from the hotel, can you?” The concern in his tone surprised her and she looked at him, shaking her head. “Right now, the show is still on for tomorrow. I don’t want to jack this shit up for Chase or Benny,” his voice lowered an octave, the sound of it scratching along that what-the-hell line in her head, “or you, Bethy. I think the bus will be fine, and it keeps you here where you need to be. As soon as I know anything, or if anything breaks loose, we’ll be back on track.”

  “Mica’s in town?” She hated how tentative her voice sounded, hated the queasy roll of her stomach at the knowledge. “Here?”

  “Yeah, her cousin’s competing tomorrow. Mica and her sister, Molly, are here. I met them along with Essa twenty minutes ago over at Duck’s place. I don’t think Essa expected them to show, but she was excited to see them.”

  Bethy’s hands shook. She noted the marked tremble when she laid her palms on her legs. Mica had been in Utah. After that thought breached her defenses, it only took moments for the memories to sweep over her, rolling her under the tide of a desperate fear she’d lived inside for weeks.

  I’m alive, she told herself. The chill of the cement floor bit into her skin as she sat and stared at the tall, thick, and dreaded door, waiting for the man to come back and kill her. That was what he would do, she knew it. Her death his eventual goal, so every breath she took was another moment deferred. Each day he didn’t kill her seemed an eternity. Another set of hours spent in the hell of not knowing. Not knowing why, or who, or if she could do anything to stop it.

  She curled up, pressing her head against her knees, blocking out the sight of that window set in the door. The damned, damned door. That was where she’d see him, see him coming for her. The door. That would be the last thing she got to see before she died.

  The floor moved, and Bethy was flung against something hard and warm. She pushed, trying to get away. Clawing and shoving, because the door was there. The door would open and he would kill her.

  ***

  Fury

  He wrapped his arms around Bethy from his position sprawled halfway in the backseat. They’d been talking about the security situation, and it seemed like he’d gotten through to her. Then she’d gone quiet, chin dropping to her neck. He’d spoken to her several times before she started rocking and trembling. Still unsure, he’d spent another few moments trying to figure out what was going on. It was her whispers that had pulled him from his position behind the wheel, faint and trembling on the air. He’d had to stretch out to reach her because the moment he’d opened the door, she’d scooted as far away from him as she could get. Ass to the floor, back to the opposite side of the car, she’d used her feet and nails on him, trying to keep him away.

  “Kill me,” she whispered, and he sucked in a breath, shocked. Her teeth chattered, clicking together violently as shivers racked her body. “No. Please, no. I’m alive.”

  Fury tightened his arms around her again, yanking to tear her hands free from the door. He somehow got her into his lap so he could wrap her up, hold her close. As hot as it was outside—and in the car it was worse, an oven that had him soaked with sweat—but her skin was chilled and she shook as if she were freezing. “Kill me. He’s gonna kill me.”

  Fuck.

  PTSD. He’d said something about Mica, and she’d latched onto that, somehow vaulting into her head so she thought she was back in Utah.

  At least she wasn’t fighting him anymore, but her sagging submission was almost worse. “Bethany,” he called, putting his mouth near her ear. She didn’t move. Didn’t acknowledge him. “Bethany, you’re safe.” He tightened his arms around her. “Safe, honey.” Nothing. Shit.

  “Bethany Mason, you’re safe.” She shivered, and he thought he could hear her muscles creak with the movement.

  “Kill me. He’ll kill me. Gonna kill me.”

  “No, honey. You’re safe.” He would repeat it as long as she needed him to. “You’re safe.”

  Adjusting his grip, he eased her up his legs so he could pull her tighter against his torso. “You’re safe.” She shook, her hair flying all around her head. “Safe as toads. You’re safe, Bethy.”

  A shadow at the door startled him, and he looked up to see Chase in the process of crouching down. “Give her to me,” the boy said, his voice firm. He put actions to words, not giving Fury time to argue before he had pried her away, lifting her to his chest. “I got you,” the boy muttered, and turned, stalking towards the bus, covering ground with long strides. Fury realized the rest of the band was standing in front of the car, staring at him. Scowling at him. The look on Benny’s face was livid, an angry tension evident in every line of his body.

  Fury climbed out of the car, slammed the door, and turned to watch Chase as he disappeared into the bus, Bethany in his arms. The accordion doors closed and without turning, Fury demanded, “Someone want to clue me in on what’s going on there?”

  Bonnie Dupont was the first to speak, her voice low and furious. “She has flashbacks.”

  He swung around to stare at her. “No shit, Sherlock. How long has this gone on?” If Mason knew, there was no way he’d have her out here on her own.

  Benny turned on his heel without speaking, heading back towards the office.

  Dupont said, “Since I’ve known her. She’ll be okay. Chase is good with her.”

  He looked back at the bus, the large vehicle seeming to crouch at the edge of the lot, waiting. The way Bethy had quivered in his arms had sunk into his head, into his body, setting up a sympathetic vibration all through his frame. Every atom strained towards the bus, and knowing she was hurting pulled at him. “She said anything to you about what happened?”

  Vic and Dimitri walked away, also towards the office.

  “Bad mojo.” Dupont stepped around the car and into his line of sight. “Give him a few minutes with her. She’ll be okay.” She took a step, then a running skip, then pelted towards the office, catching up with Vic at the bottom of the stairs, swinging on his arm a moment before he turned with her to walk into the shadows of the arena.

  I’ve officially lost control of the situation.

  Her voice had been broken when she spoke, despair coating every word. The time in Utah had been harder than anyone knew. A true Mason, she’d been adept at hiding how deeply it had impacted her.

  She will not be okay, he thought. There’s nothing okay about what I just saw. I was about half pissed she didn’t remember me, but now seeing this, I’m glad she doesn’t. He didn’t want to be another thing that caused her to break like that.

  ***

  Bethany

  She sat on the bench that ran across the back of the bus, in the salon space behind the bunks. Curled into a ball, Bethy rested her cheek on her knees, looking out the smoky back window with her legs pulled tightly to her chest. On the ledge near her head was a bottle of water and a pile of sour jelly beans. She was always exhausted when she came back to herself, as well as sick to her stomach, and Chase knew it. He’d set things up for her without even asking this time.

  This time. That thought made her stomach roll, because she didn’t want there to have been a this time, because that implied there’d be a that time, and then a the other time. She just wanted to be done with all of it. “Beat it back,” she whispered, feeling her hair sweep across her arm as she adjusted her grip on her legs. Only so much a body can beat back.

  Now that she was past it, she could look at the things she thought she’d seen when she blacked out, and pick out the imagery that didn’t belong. The cement floor and window in the door, those were real. Had been real. Had been her world for three weeks while she waited every day to die. The eyes that watched her every move, those were not real. Neither was the feeling of safety, like she’d found her own personal angel. Not real. The imagined Kentucky woods, strong hands reaching to turn over a fallen log, and a long, pointing finger showing her the toad crouched there. Not real.

  “Safe as toads.” That had been som
ething her aunt had said, using the phrase to calm a frightened girl in the middle of a violent spring thunderstorm.

  In the distance, she saw Fury walking up the staircase, moving slowly, as if the heat lay heavy on his shoulders. Fury reached the door at the top of the stairs and paused, running his hand over his head in a gesture that felt so strikingly familiar, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. It looked like he was surprised to find a full head of hair. Like he would be more accustomed to bare skin.

  In her head, she heard his voice, almost as clearly as if he’d been seated next to her, “Safe, honey.”

  Right after that, she heard the voice from her older nightmares, Derek’s voice. “No, honey. It couldn’t be.” I’m going crazy.

  “Chaser.” She tried to shake off the unease plaguing her and called out as the bus swayed in a way that told her Chase was walking down the long hallway towards where she sat. She had to focus on what was important. Watcher and Juanita. Bella. The words Fury had said started flashing through her head. Davy and Willa. I have to tell him. “Come here.”

  “’Sup, Aunt Bethy?” He pushed through the folding door and fell to a slouch on the couch beside her. “You put back together?”

  He’d been the one to find her after her first episode at the house in Fort Wayne, when she’d been cowering in a closet, waiting for the man to come and kill her. At first—and this told her how hard his life had been—he’d assumed she had taken drugs, his disappointment rough as sandpaper while he talked her through it. Afterwards, he’d seemed relieved when she explained it had just been her head trapping her in memories. The spells didn’t come as often now, nor did they last as long. She well remembered how Ty had struggled with his bad turns, and eventually had drawn comparisons between Ty’s behaviors and her own.

  Chase had become her rock, and she felt guilty for leaning on the young man, but telling Davy wasn’t an option. He needed to see her as strong and able, or he’d pull the business and put someone, anyone else in charge.

  “Willa’s gone into labor.” That was the most important information, because if he wanted to go back and be there, they’d need to get a flight lined up for him quickly. “Do you want to go home?”

  He stared at her, then one corner of his mouth pulled down as he made a face. “I should want to, right?”

  “You don’t have to.” Reaching out, she stroked the back of his hand as she shook her head. “What’s right for me is different from what’s right for you. I want to, but I’m here for the show. It’s bigger than me.”

  “I don’t want to. He’ll have enough to worry about without me being there.” She narrowed her eyes, focusing on his face. Not quite as inscrutable as Davy.

  “Liar.” He winced and she knew she’d gotten it right. “You want to go, but you’re being smart and adult about it, even if that sucks. Because you know you’re not a problem, and you wouldn’t be in the way. You’re right, though. If you’re there, he’ll worry about you, too. This way—” She paused and shook her head. “This way he can focus on Willa and the baby, and being a brand-new dad. Something he didn’t get to experience with you.” Bottom lip pushed up into a bow, Chase nodded. “Okay, I can see that. Love this selfless side of you. So much. But, if you decide to go, if you change your mind, that’s an easy adjustment, okay?” He nodded again. God, he’s a good kid. He’d love Michael.

  “Now, let’s get everyone on the bus so he-man will be happy. He’s got some other news he’ll share once we’re all on here.” Chase lifted his chin, staring at her with Davy’s eyes, the familiar intelligence shining through was uncanny. “And then, once the show’s over, you can tell me what you know about Fury.”

  Don’t laugh at me

  Fury

  Leaning his hips against a rest area picnic table, Fury waited on Bella to come out from the bathroom. Glancing at his phone, he realized she had been gone nearly fifteen minutes. With a sigh, he straightened and turned, about to head inside and check on her when she appeared in the doorway. Face angled down, the edge of one hand shaded her eyes against the glare of the sun, boot-clad feet moving slowly as she paced along the walkway towards him.

  They would be stopping for the night soon, but he wanted to get another hundred miles down the road before that happened. To urge her onward, he swung his leg over the seat of the bike, making it obvious he was waiting. He felt compassion for her ordeal, knew what she went through would have to fuck with anyone’s head, much less a just-into-her-teens kid, but he needed to get her to Chicago where the full weight of the Rebel ranks could take on the responsibility of keeping her safe.

  It might make him paranoid as fuck, but the skin on the back of his neck had been creeping since they left Lamesa. Even before then, he had the tech guy for the Soldiers sweep his fucking bike before they headed out. He had also switched phones, churning and burning the technology, carefully texting the new number to only three people: Mason, Watcher, and Bethany.

  Ready for it, he didn’t move when Bella’s glove-covered hand settled lightly on his shoulder. The bike shifted underneath him as she placed her foot on the peg, swinging over and seating herself behind him. Two days into the trip, this was their routine, nothing needed explaining or discussing. She had grown up around a club, so she knew he was simply doing as he was told. Just like her. “Get on this man’s bike and ride with him until he hands you off to someone else I trust.” Those were the basic instructions her father had given her, and Fury could see what it cost the man to send her away after he had barely gotten her back. Saw the price in his clenched jaw and narrowed eyes, taking in Fury at a glance and nodding. Family cared for family, and blood mixed with club loyalties meant an unbreakable tie between him and his cousin.

  Getting her out of the firing line seemed the smartest thing to do, especially since the particular brand of crazy they were dealing with didn’t seem to hold anything back. Where many clubs, hell, most clubs would never consider targeting families, Deacon and his minions like Shooter, Judge, and Lalo, all seemed hell-bent on causing the greatest amount of damage possible, regardless of the innocents caught in the crossfire.

  Back on the highway, he felt her curl in behind him, her body slumping against his. Fury braced as he took her weight. Two hours, he thought, seeing a mile marker sign fly past. Two hours and they would rent a double in a cheap motel, cash only. No phones, no pool, no problem—they wouldn’t be there long enough to use them anyway. Just long enough for them both to catch a few hours shuteye, then they would be back in the wind.

  Fury knew when he got to Chicago, he had another two days of riding before he would be back at his assigned post. Turn and burn. But, by then, the concert would be over, the rodeo would be over, and fuck…for all he knew, Chase and Bethany would be gone from Lamesa.

  Bethany, he thought, feeling his lips curl up in a smile. The prettiest woman he had ever been around, hands down. She had accompanied the group to dinner the last night he had been there. He and she had wound up seated side by side, and conversation between them had been relaxed and comfortable. Almost like she was trying to catch up with an old friend. The idea sent a shiver up his spine, because Fury knew if she had realized who he was, she would have found a stake to tie him to and burn him.

  Instead, it hadn’t been strange, hadn’t been weird. She’d pulled Chase into the conversation often, letting him bear the weight of talking when Fury felt himself getting too close to critical secrets. She had a million questions about his life, but was just as happy to talk about herself and her career. It had been fun to watch, how she had worked at giving him glimpses into her world in a way that she thought kept some mystery, her clear goal to ensure his interest remained piqued.

  Even more than before, Bethy knew the music industry inside and out, and it was clear she wasn’t afraid to bust balls when needed. She’d laughed it off, saying it was a hard lesson learned, but her bands benefited from her education. That had stung, because he knew she was talking about him, and the days they’d spent
together.

  He found she had a soft side and got to witness it over and again as she loved on Chase. A woman he had always been able to see himself with, and one who seemed as cautiously into him as he could be her. If her brother wasn’t my fucking president, he thought as the smile faded into a scowl. If I hadn’t already fucked her over.

  He considered all the details he knew about Mason. The biker, the businessman, the city councilman, the father, the brother. Would there be any possibility he could consider someone in the life for his baby sister, or would that be a no-go? All Fury knew was that since seeing Bethy again, all thoughts of any other woman had fled his mind. He didn’t consider himself a fickle person, his plans usually were laid months in advance and he lived by his lists. But now, Bethy consumed him, his dreams filled with her grey-eyed gaze, that zing of electricity from their first touch still seeming to ricochet around in his body every time she was near.

  Seeing an approaching off-ramp with a motel nearby that would fit their needs, he slowed and prepared to exit the highway. What would work best with Mason, he wondered. Frontal attack, approaching him with the ask? Or a sidelong campaign, sneaking in the side door belonging to his sleekly attractive sister?

  Pulling up in front of the doors of the motel, he waited for Bella to dismount, and then with a glance, cautioned her to stay by the bike as he went inside. Bethy’s too smart and sassy. She’d never submit to Mason if he went against her. Fury dragged his wallet out and tossed bills onto the counter, fingers slipping across to snag the old-fashioned key on a plastic fob. Finger to his brow, he saluted the man behind the desk, turning to see Bella obediently waiting, chin tucked tight to her chest, eyes focused on the ground at her feet.