Watcher

by MariaLisa deMora

  She wasn’t afraid of being intimate. That at least was something Edwardo hadn’t done. He had been far more interested in the pain he could give than anything to do with pleasure.

  Something about Tater made her feel safe. The implied power in his hands, the strength of his legs. In the whole time she’d been here, he hadn’t been more than thirty feet away from her, and he hadn’t made any advances. Full on ignoring mode, which was safe, but rocked her self-confidence. Which had led to her studying his type. So Bella knew she wasn’t anything he would normally go for, not generally. I just want to be held. Maybe he could be tempted.

  Staring at him, she brought the bottle to her other breast, rolling it across the nipple, wetting the fabric on that side, too, feeling her skin draw taut as her nipple hardened into a peak. “Jesus,” the word seemed forced from him and with a glower in her direction, he turned his back on her, taking up all the available space in the doorway. His voice was soft when he ordered, “Get ready for bed, baby.”

  She froze at his use of a pet name, and then looked down at the pair of pebbled nipples on her chest and barely managed to choke off a wry laugh before it escaped. He likes me.

  ***

  Juanita

  Spider sat on the couch and stared at the TV, but Juanita knew he wasn’t seeing the comedy playing out on the screen. Tipping her head to the side, she studied him. He’d been off since Bella was rescued. In the years since Daena had died, Juanita and Spider had become friends. His three kids were all older than Bella, but once they added Mela to the mix, they had a stair-stepped population of children. Dean, the oldest, had finished community college last year but had opted to work instead of going on to school. He was in El Paso. Levi, Spider’s other son, and Wanda, his youngest, had moved to California to be with Daena’s family, leaving Spider on his own.

  Spider had been staying with them for the past several months, and Juanita had been grateful for not only the help, but the feeling of security and companionship he gave her.

  She startled now, when without looking away from the TV, he asked her, “Why you eyeballin’ me, ‘Nita?”

  “Are you okay?” She chewed on the inside of her cheek. “You’ve been quiet for the past few weeks, and I just…is everything okay?” He turned to look at her and the ravaged expression on his face froze her breath in her lungs. Pain, raw and real, stared at her from his eyes. Christos. Her throat tightened around her question, “Spider?”

  He moved fast, his hand reaching out to grab her wrist before she could pull back and he yanked her closer, pushing his face into hers as he said, “No, shit ain’t okay.” She fell against the back of the couch, pressing into the cushions as he loomed over her. “Ain’t been okay for a long time, ‘Nita. I see bad things comin’, can’t make the curve to bring them back right. Ain’t gonna be okay, not unless things change.”

  As fast as it had happened, it was over, and he was on his end of the couch, again facing the TV. Juanita carefully eased back to a sitting position, watching him from the corner of her eye. His voice was a rasp when he told her, “Never hurt you. Don’t gotta be afraid of me. Never hurt a woman. Men who do…” The laugh track from the TV filled the silence for a moment, then he continued, “oughtta be castrated and killed. In that order. Never understood a man like Lalo. Like Carlos. Never understood ‘em.”

  Quivering with terror at something she didn’t understand, Juanita stayed on the couch for a minute, then two. At the next commercial break, Spider leaned forwards, elbows on his knees as he reached for the remote and muted the TV. “Gettin’ a beer. Want anything?”

  “No,” she responded instantly. “I have a headache.”

  “You should lay down, ‘Nita.”

  “I will,” she said, pushing up from the couch. Going down the hallway to the bedroom felt like a retreat, and she wondered if she should say anything to Watcher when he called tonight from wherever he wound up today. He and the other Soldiers were still hunting Lalo, and had followed a lead west. Closing the door behind her, she fought against the desire to lock the door. Fought and lost, the look on Spider’s face that sprang to mind renewing the terror in her belly.

  Best laid plans

  Watcher

  “Wanna say that again? I’m not sure I understood correctly. How many kids does Slate have now?” Watcher laughed as he asked the question, lifting a can of beer to his lips, leaning one elbow on the bar. He was in Fort Wayne at Marie’s, one of the Rebel businesses. Surprised when Slate hadn’t been on hand to greet him, Watcher had been shocked to find out he’d entirely missed hearing about Ruby’s pregnancy.

  “Too fuckin’ many, you ask me.” One of the men standing next to Mason spoke up, and the people nearby laughed. “Seriously, he’s too fuckin’ excited about this, man.” The man tipped up a bottle, taking a deep pull at his beer, then lips to the bottle grinned. “Four kids in diapers. Man’s a glutton for it.”

  “Too true.” Watcher drained his beer, setting it near the inside rail on the bar as a signal for another, he then turned to face Mason. “How’s your boy?”

  The self-satisfied smirk on his friend’s lips made Watcher laugh aloud. “He’s good.” Watcher shook his head, and Mason grinned broadly. “Strong as shit. Pulls up on everything.” Mason cut his eyes to the top of the bar and back up to Watcher’s face. Voice pitched for privacy, he told Watcher, “Willa wants another, right away. I’m all for attempting, and she’s all in. Wears me out, brother.”

  “Good kinda exhausted.” Watcher jumped when something brushed his hand, and he turned to see a new waitress setting a beer beside his hand. The blonde had trailed her fingers across the backs of his knuckles as she set it down. Scowling, he pinned her with a glare and flipped a bill onto the bar. “Close out my tab.” She flinched and nodded, but he didn’t care.

  “Goin’ somewhere?” Mason finished his glass of what looked like whiskey and set it down, shaking his head at a silent question from the bartender.

  “See the newest additions to the Jones’ crew.” Watcher pushed the still-full beer away, gathering up his change and leaving a carefully calculated 20-percent tip on the bar. “Wanna ride?”

  “I could roll,” Mason told him, cutting his gaze around the room. Watcher didn’t know what he was looking for, but he must have found it because without delaying further, Mason led him out of the bar. Ten minutes later, Watcher was hugging DeeDee, and grinning at an over-the-moon Slate cradling one of his infant daughters.

  ***

  “Whadda you mean, you lost her?” Watcher pushed upright and swung his legs off the bed, sitting on the side and reaching out to flick on the light. Groggy, he shook his head, trying to chase the cobwebs away. Neck bent, he listened to the voice on the phone for a minute, then lifted one hand and pounded on the wall beside the headboard. A minute later his door opened, and Opie stuck his head in, hair sticking up on the side of his head.

  Watcher pulled the phone away from his face and told him, “Boys lost Mela. She’s alone, right now, in the wind somewhere in southern Illinois. Her design, she worked for it, but we need to roll, brother. Call Slate, get the info on the park.”

  “Jesus,” Opie clipped, his face disappearing as he ran back to his room at the Rebel clubhouse in Fort Wayne. Watcher shoved his feet into his jeans, listening to Diamond tell him again that he didn’t know what happened.

  “What happened is you were fuckin’ outmaneuvered by a damned girl. Raul called when she booked outta Chihuahua. We picked her up in Odessa. Shouldn’t have been a hard job. Follow a slip of a girl on a motorcycle and keep her safe. You didn’t do that.” Watcher shook his head. “Lemme get folks rolling here. You keep looking. I’ll call Raul.”

  DeeDee’s fault. Mason’s cousin, and Ruby’s long-time mother figure, had wanted a last-of-the-season camping blowout with the girls. Ruby had jumped at the chance, as had some of the Rebel women from Chicago. Mela, cooped up at her daddy’s compound down in Mexico, had gotten a wild hair that she needed to run cross-
country to join the women for a two-night campout. Thirty-five hundred miles for two fuckin’ nights. She knew what was going on, knew what had gone down with Bella, had nearly been taken herself, and she still rolled. Raul called Watcher, who had called Slate, who had said he would have men on the campsite and have it closed for casual visitors. Watcher had assigned four men to find and tail her, the intent to keep her safe between Texas and Indiana, and then back again.

  The plan for his trip up here was to finalize things with Mason to disband the Southern Soldiers and migrate his men to the Rebels, writing a charter for chapters in Las Cruces, Lamesa, and El Paso. It would get Mason two states which were closer to California, a target that mattered to the man for some reason. It would also gain Watcher and his men breathing room as the landscape of the clubs in their corner of the world adjusted to an expanded dominant. No longer beating back the competition alone, but standing with the full force of the Rebel Wayfarers membership at their back.

  Opie was for it, so was Diamond. Hell, all his officers save one were for it, drooling at the idea of being the big dicks in town. Spider was the sole dissenting vote, holding up Darrie’s memory at every chance, his sullen attitude growing with each sitdown or meeting. This was one of the reasons Watcher hadn’t argued when Spider opted to stay in Las Cruces this trip.

  “Fucked sideways,” he muttered, shoving his phone in his pocket, noting he had a missed call from Juanita. Resolving to call her back as soon as he could, Watcher walked out of the room and yelled, “Opie, you ready to roll?”

  Time’s a passing

  “There’s my baby girl,” Watcher murmured softly, lips pressed to the side of her head. For her part, Bella had her arms wrapped tightly around his waist, cheek pressed to his shoulder. Watcher gave himself permission to just stand there, soaking up the moment and taking in the feel of her, absorbing the sure knowledge his daughter was whole and healthy. Far from the fearful woman who had to be threatened to drive her onto the back of Fury’s bike for the trip up, she’d run to Watcher with shining eyes and a broad smile. Praise God, he thought. My baby’s okay.

  He gave her a squeeze, then another one and she read the signals, lifting her head and tipping it back to grin up into his face. Fingers brushed his jaw, scratching through his beard and she whispered, “Missed you, Daddy.”

  Nothing matters more. Safety and happiness of my girls. He cleared his throat once, found himself still unable to talk and tried again. “Missed you too, my Bella.” Get to see both my girls, same weekend, does my heart good.

  Mela had been somewhat less happy to see him, but then she’d been rollin’ in the sack with a man at the time. Hurley, now a prospect for the Rebels, and the man had stood strong, pulling her back and stepping in front of her so she knew she wasn’t facing the rage of her Papa alone. Watcher had nodded at the sight, even as DeeDee murmured from behind him about Mela’s confessed fears and how this man had alleviated them. Mela had gotten over her annoyance quick when Watcher explained his intent of her helping stand guard on Juanita in Las Cruces instead of heading back to the Machos compound in Chihuahua. He’d grinned when she’d hesitated, cutting a glance to Hurley for approval who gave her a nod in response. Mela was on her way back to Las Cruces right now, with a strong escort consisting of several Soldiers and a lone Rebel.

  Now to gather his other chick back to the nest. Watcher opened his mouth, trying to determine the best way to begin the conversation but stopped himself when he saw Bella’s smile fade completely away. “Daddy,” she said, her voice high and tight, “we need to talk.”

  He squeezed her tightly, held it until she squeaked a complaining, “Daddy,” and then smiled and tipped his chin down, brushing a kiss across her forehead.

  “So talk,” he urged, pulling her close again. She tightened her arms around him and then moved so her palms were against his chest, and pushed, gaining a few inches. Reluctantly, he released her and watched as she walked halfway across the room from where they’d been standing, turning and resting her back against a wall. Whatever this was, she needed distance, and painful as it was, he had to give it to her.

  They were standing in Mason’s living room, the house where she’d been staying for the past few weeks. With Mason in Fort Wayne, it had been standing empty and was the perfect place for Bella and her security guards. Watcher tipped his head to glance around the room, glimpsing two men out the back window. They were standing near a fire pit on the back patio, one looking down at the cold bricks, one staring in the window at Bella. Watcher studied the look on the man’s face for a moment and had a feeling he knew where this conversation would be going. He made an instant decision to give Bella what she needed. He didn’t give a fuck whatever it was, or however it looked to the outside world. I got her, he heard Duck’s voice in his head, she’s alive. Watcher vowed again as he had that day, the man’s efforts would always be honored by her living life to the fullest.

  “About Las Cruces,” she started, her tone wary and he didn’t make her wonder, didn’t make her wait. Gave her everything she needed, not making her work for it.

  “You should stay here.” Her chin jerked towards her neck and he saw the confused happiness spreading across her features. Watcher decided to take it a step farther, make his approval explicit. “And if you like that Rebel the way he likes you, you should absolutely stay here. Indefinitely.” He tipped his head towards the window and her hair fanned out as she whipped to face that direction. Watcher saw a soft look come over her and shifted so he could better see the man outside, watched as his face sharpened, features taut with desire. “He got a name?” Watcher already knew the man, knew his name. Had mistaken the red hair for his cousin many a time over the past months, but Tater was night and day in terms of personality from Fury. He just wanted to hear Bella say it.

  Bella whispered the name, her lips shaping the sounds carefully like she only had once chance to get it right. “Tater.” Jesus, give her a million chances, he prayed. “I like him, Daddy.”

  “Glad to know he’s not out there twistin’ on his own.” Watcher kept his voice soft as he offered her a joke to break the tension in the room, but she didn’t take it, didn’t let up giving him everything she was feeling.

  “He thinks he is, but he’s being stubborn. Thinks sixteen years is a mountain. I’ve been leveling that mountain, slow and steady.” She took a deep breath, still holding Tater’s gaze, and without turning, told Watcher what she needed. “Could use some help on that front, Daddy. If you could see your way clear to assist.”

  “Anything for you, baby girl.” Her surprise was evident in the way she swung to face him, and from the corner of his eye, he saw Tater on the move, her startled actions pulling him inside to see what was going on. “Anything. Ever. You know it.”

  The kitchen door burst open, and in three swift strides Tater was beside Bella, hand cupped to her chin, pulling her around to face him. Protecting her from her own father. In a deep, gruff voice, Tater asked, “Everything okay, baby?”

  At the question, Watcher relaxed. Tater didn’t care who was in the room, and from his actions, whether Bella recognized it or not, she was claimed.

  Watcher answered for both of them when he said, “Yeap, it’s all good.”

  ***

  Mason

  Mason pushed another pillow behind his back, rolling slightly to one side, arm firmly holding his welcome burden to his chest. A soft sound rose from the blue blankets he cradled, repeating but changing in tone, sliding up and then back down the scale. “Ba, ba, ba, ba, ba, ba…”

  Tipping his chin down, he stared into the eyes of his son, Garrett. A sweet, clear blue, slowly changing to grey. Gar looked up at him, head wobbling back and forth on his whimsical neck. With a thud, the boy planted his face against his father’s chest, rubbing back and forth, cheeks pinking from friction against the tee Mason wore. Coming to rest with his face turned to one side, Gar quietly started up the sounds again, chin bobbing up and down with each sweet rendition. M
ason laughed softly as the boy wiggled, skootching his knees far underneath his belly. Butt hiked in the air, Gar’s white diaper shone, Mason’s palm securely cupping and holding him in place.

  With a grunt, Gar picked his head up again, wavering wildly from side to side until the wobble was calmed by Mason’s support. His head plopped down again, and then his knees slid out from underneath him, feet flailing wildly as the boy gave a short, frustrated cry.

  “Y’all okay in there?” Willa’s voice came from the kitchen where she had been ensconced for a while. She’d retreated there after amusingly rejecting Mason’s persistent offers of help earlier when Gar was still asleep.

  “You won’t help,” she told him, gripping both his hands in hers in an attempt to keep them away from her body. “You only want to get sexy frisky.” He twisted his hands, quickly reversing the hold and shifting control from her to him, using her hands to pull her close, pinning them behind her back as he arched her into him, capturing her mouth in a demanding, deep, wet kiss.

  “So?” he asked, grinning as he dropped hard kisses along her shoulder.

  “So, then we won’t have dinner. I want to make something special, and that means I have to focus.” Her tone was half scolding and half irritated, making him grin.