Edge of Darkness

by Barker, Freya

  “Meat lovers okay?” she asks, a sparkle in her eyes.

  I burst out laughing. A sound I barely recognize anymore. Her soft chuckle joins me.

  “You’re laughing at me,” I admonish her.

  “Seemed like a good way to break the tension,” she tosses over her shoulder, as she moves to sit on the loveseat.

  It’s very tempting to sit down next to her, but I’m not so sure that would be wise. The likelihood we’ll end up horizontal is great and we have pizza on the way. So instead I pull over a stool and sit on that.

  “Keeping your distance?”

  “You don’t mince words, do you?” I return immediately.

  Lissie shrugs. “What’s the point?”

  “I find it difficult to control myself around you,” I admit. “Makes me uneasy not to be in control.”

  I watch for her reaction, but she doesn’t seem offended, just thoughtful.

  “Makes sense,” she mutters before tilting her head slightly. “Is that why you got so mad? Back at the clubhouse?”

  “That was about trust.” When she frowns slightly I try to explain. “In an MC, trust is what ties the brothers together. Fuck, it’s what makes the club.”

  “Okay, so it’s about you not trusting Ouray? Or because you think he doesn’t trust you?”

  I grunt, uncomfortable she reads me so easy. It hurts my brothers would think so little of me they cut me out of club business; feels like being cut off from the club altogether.

  Luckily the doorbell rings, announcing the arrival of the pizza and I beat Lissie to the front door, pulling my money clip from my pocket before she can fish her credit card from her purse. It earns me a dirty look I ignore. I’m all for equal rights and all that shit, but I draw the line at letting a woman pay for me. I don’t much care what that says about me.

  We’re watching the news while eating when Lissie suddenly turns down the volume on the TV and turns to me.

  “Why did you knock on my door?” I turn to look at her. “I’m asking because I almost stopped at yours.”

  “Not sure,” I tell her honestly. “I was restless. Then I heard your truck and wanted to see you.”

  She nods at that before she asks, “Why did you kiss me?”

  I just shoved a bite of pizza in my mouth, which gives me a minute to think about an answer while I chew.

  “Wasn’t a choice.”

  She looks surprised first, then annoyed.

  “Well, you didn’t exactly trip and fall on my face, Yuma.” She jerks her gaze back to the TV.

  I bite off a grin at her snippy response and slide off the stool, sitting down on the couch beside her. I reach out and, with my fingers lightly on her chin, turn her to face me.

  “It was instinct.” I lean in and lightly brush her lips. “As natural as breathing.”

  “Then why did you stop?”

  I lift my head up a little and study her face. She’d seemed very matter-of-fact earlier when I pulled away from her, but now I see the confusion in her eyes.

  “Because you could easily become my next addiction, Lissie.”

  “Oh.”

  I lightly brush my thumb along her jaw, as she appears to process my words.

  “Doesn’t it worry you?”

  She shakes her head. “No, I don’t think so. I drank to numb myself from life. It almost cost me everything I worked hard for. Numbing myself is furthest from my mind when it comes to you…to this…whatever it is.” She waves her hand between us.

  “They advise against relationships the first year of sobriety.”

  “I’m aware of that,” she acknowledges.

  “Especially between two recovering alcoholics,” I add.

  “I’ve heard that too.”

  I’m getting frustrated; it would be easier if she agreed this isn’t a good idea. Instead she seems almost flippant, and that annoys me.

  “I told you before I’m not a good person, Lissie. Sobriety is new to me. Was hard to get even to this point. I’m scared every day I’ll screw it up. I know people around me are waiting for me to screw up. Fucking feels like having to learn to walk all over again, but at every bump in the road, my first thought is a drink. I’m not sure I trust myself.”

  Don’t know why me spilling my guts has her smiling, but it does. She pulls a leg under her and twists her whole body toward me, grabbing my hand.

  “And yet tonight you knocked on my door. You didn’t go to a bar and stare into a shot glass all night in some kind of dare with yourself. You came here.”

  “You’re a temptation.”

  That makes her grin wider.

  “Perhaps, but I’m not out to hurt you and if I tempt you away from a drink, then what’s the harm in that?”

  I try to think of something, but nothing comes to mind right now. Hard to be sensible when a gorgeous woman is smiling at you with heat in her eyes.

  “Sex and booze always went hand in hand for me. Quick and easy.”

  She comes willingly when I pull her on my lap, her hand immediately going for my face as she leans in and brushes my mouth with her lips.

  “Then we’ll take it nice and slow,” is her easy response.

  CHAPTER 8

  Lissie

  “WHERE ARE YOU going?”

  Lisa’s granddaughter, Kiara, is standing at the top of the stairs; her pink backpack slung over one shoulder.

  “To work. Are you going to school?”

  “Yes. I’m in kindergarten already,” she says proudly.

  “That’s amazing. Do you like it?”

  She nods with a serious face. “Ms. Jonkers is da bestest teacher. She got a guinea pig. I’m gonna look after it for a whole weekend next month.”

  “Really? That’s exciting.”

  Just then Lisa walks out, almost dragging Ezrah behind her.

  “Ezrah is in trouble,” Kiara explains, talking in an ineffective stage whisper that is not fooling anyone. Least of all Ezrah, who glares at his little sister.

  “Shu—”

  “Do not finish that, boy,” Lisa admonishes him sternly. “That would be another strike against you, and trust me, you don’t want the consequences of that.” It serves to quiet her grandson but doesn’t stop him from scowling angrily. Lisa clicks the remote on her old Toyota. “Get in the car, both of you. No lip, Ezrah.” She wags a finger in his face. “And no fighting with your sister. I’ll be right there.”

  She waits until the kids are in the car before she turns to me.

  “My days are spent in a clubhouse with grunting and swearing men. I come home, I don’t appreciate my boy giving me one-syllable responses or tossing around the F-word. Swear that boy’s gonna be the death of me.”

  I swallow a chuckle when she turns a warning look in my direction.

  “You’re a saint,” I mutter quickly, to which she nods appreciatively.

  “Bet your booty I am. I can’t even remember what it’s like to commune with a grown-up anymore. What’s with that coffee?”

  I feel awful. I haven’t forgotten her invitation but between work and Yuma, I haven’t really had much time to myself.

  “Work’s been crazy.”

  She looks at me with an eyebrow raised.

  “That what they call it these days? Guess I’ve been out of the game longer than I thought,” she semi-mumbles to herself. “Yuma been helpin’?”

  I look at my toes grinning. Shouldn’t surprise me she’s caught wind of Yuma spending quite a bit of time here, even though he’s gone back to his own place every night.

  Apparently he’s serious about my suggestion to take things nice and slow. There’s been kissing, and some touching over clothes, but I’ve gone to bed alone and aching these past few days.

  “Something like that.”

  Lisa puts a hand on my arm, taking me in with a solemn look on her face. “Be careful, girl. There’s an edge of darkness on that one.”

  Lisa doesn’t know me well, but I’m sure she’s trying to look out for me. Sister
hood and all that. If the roles were reversed, who knows, I might’ve suggested caution too. I’m guessing she’s probably seen Yuma at his worst, but she can’t know he’s been brutally honest with me. Much more honest than I have been with him. I haven’t really shared that much about my life before I came here.

  “I have that edge of darkness in me too, Lisa,” I admit. “I’m just better at hiding it.”

  She looks at me closely before nodding.

  “I see it now.” She pats my arm. “Hope I didn’t offend.”

  “Not at all. And we’ll work on that coffee.”

  “Please, because right now living next to a cop is about the only thing keeping me from bloodshed,” she grumbles, before jogging down the stairs to where the kids look to be arguing in the car.

  I follow at a slower pace and she’s already peeling out of the parking lot by the time I climb in my truck. I cast a brief glance at Yuma’s apartment but there’s no sign of life. His bike is parked out front. Before my mind goes places it shouldn’t, I put the car in reverse and back out of my spot.

  When I walk into the station, Mike Bolter, the desk sergeant, calls me over.

  “The chief called a meeting. They’re in the conference room.”

  “Thanks, Sarge.”

  Instead of heading right to my cubicle in the bullpen, I take a left. The door to the room is open showing Chief Benedetti, Blackfoot, Ramirez, with the surprising addition of FBI SAC Gomez and Mayor Woodard.

  “Going in, Detective Bucco?”

  I turn to find the new coroner, Dr. Meredith Carter, standing behind me.

  “Yes, of course.”

  The men look up when we walk in.

  “Perfect,” Chief Benedetti says. “Take a seat so we can get started.” I take an empty seat beside Ramirez while Dr. Carter finds a spot on the other side of the table. “This is a fact-sharing meeting. Mayor Woodard asked to sit in since he has a vested interest in the development.” I look over at the mayor, who looks decidedly unhappy. Gomez doesn’t appear too pleased either. “In short, the DPD’s investigation at Wildcat Canyon development is crossing over into an ongoing FBI case,” Benedetti explains.

  This should be interesting, jurisdictional scuffles happen regularly but they can get pretty ugly.

  “The FBI has been investigating the American National League for close to two years,” Gomez explains. “Last year’s raid in Moab was only the tip of the iceberg. Organizations like that grow silently, and widely, spreading tentacles and burrowing deep. The Hinckle compound in Moab was one of the tentacles. Every time we get close, they simply cut off the tentacle and grow another. Each time that happens, we need to start all over again.”

  As Gomez informs us, Nowak is another tentacle. The FBI apparently has kept a covert eye on him for a while, gathering information to bring them closer to the root of the organization.

  Ramirez shifts in his seat. “So what are you asking exactly? You want us to drop the investigation?”

  The FBI agent pins him with a hard look. “What I’m proposing is we find a way to work in tandem. We collaborate. Investigate, but leave any digging into ANL connections to us and share information.”

  “You may wanna talk to Ouray,” Tony proposes. “He’s been doing some investigating of his own.”

  “So I hear. We’re on it.”

  “This is all fine and dandy,” the mayor pipes up. “But construction has ground to a halt, and every day no work is being done on the project is costing us tens of thousands of dollars.”

  “Us?”

  I didn’t mean to ask the question out loud, and it earns me a glare from the mayor, but Blackfoot chuckles.

  “Good catch, Bucco,” he shares. “Woodard’s family owns Pro Concrete, a contractor on the project.”

  “Forgive me, Mayor,” Dr. Carter says with a nod at him before turning to Benedetti. “Don’t mean any disrespect, and I certainly don’t pretend to be particularly knowledgeable on these issues, but doesn’t that potentially constitute a conflict of interest?”

  I lower my head to hide the grin on my face. Our new coroner doesn’t mince words. I think I like her. The mayor, however, looks pissed.

  “Absolutely not,” he bites off.

  “Sure does,” Gomez says at the same time. “Which is why, I suggest we wait until the mayor leaves before we start discussing any further details on this case.”

  “Need I remind you, as mayor of Durango, I have authority over our police force?”

  “I’m well aware,” Gomez fires back. “However, you have no jurisdiction over my office. Now, I would prefer to continue working this case side by side with the DPD, but if push comes to shove I won’t hesitate to claim jurisdiction, leaving you and your police force out of the loop.”

  It’s a power play if ever I’ve seen one. Surprisingly, Chief Benedetti seems unfazed, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms over his chest, observing the mayor casually.

  “You can’t do that.”

  “Afraid he can,” Benedetti answers. “But there’s no need to let it get that far, Dan.”

  Woodard takes a long look around the room before abruptly getting up and stalking out.

  “That was fun,” Dr. Carter concludes, eliciting chuckles. “But I have work waiting.”

  An hour and a half later, it’s clear most of the information sharing is on the part of the DPD, but the roles appear to be assigned. We’re going to continue our murder investigation for now, while the FBI will continue their quiet pursuit of Nowak and his possible affiliations with the ANL, but we’ll communicate findings and share resources.

  Gomez suggested it would raise suspicions if the FBI were visibly involved at this point. For now there is nothing concrete suggesting the murder is related to their investigation, despite suspicions in that direction.

  I’ve barely sat down in the office when a new case hits my desk, keeping me occupied for most of the afternoon. I’m on my way to question a witness when my phone rings.

  “Where are you?”

  “Just heading north on Main,” I tell Blackfoot. “Why?”

  “I need you to head up to the Arrow’s Edge compound. Ouray just called. The Mesa Riders just stopped in on their way home from a run into New Mexico.”

  We’ve had trouble over the past days getting a hold of the president, Red Franklin. This explains why.

  “You want me to go?”

  “Tony’s on his way to Monticello to meet with the developer, and I’m stuck in the ER with my kid.”

  “Aleksander? What’s wrong with him?”

  “They suspect whooping cough. Anyway, I’ll probably be here for a while.”

  “No worries; take care of your boy. I’ll head there now.”

  Yuma

  It kills me to see her so confused.

  Momma sits in her favorite chair—the one we moved from her house here—her eyes bewildered as she looks at me.

  “Where’s my kitchen, Nosh? I can’t find it. I need to get dinner goin’.”

  This isn’t the first time she calls me by my father’s name. It’s like generations disappear and my father’s name is the only one she remembers.

  “This is your new place, Momma. You don’t have to worry about dinner, someone else is cooking for you for a change.”

  “But the boys…”

  “They’re looked after.”

  I’m ashamed I feel relief when my father walks in, using it as an excuse to escape before he can get on my case again. Unfortunately, I never really got a chance to hash things out with him. It’s one of the things I was reminded of in my few visits to the AA meeting: getting sober is not only about staying off the booze. You’re also supposed to take ownership for what it’s done to your life, as well as the life of others.

  I’m not one for blanket apologies—or apologies in general—and I’m still pissed, but I figure I can at least make the first move. Which means I should probably talk to Ouray too.

  Instead of driving home to the ap
artments, I head up the mountain to the club and am surprised to see more than the usual number of bikes parked out front.

  The clubhouse is crowded and I immediately recognize some Mesa Riders. I haven’t seen these guys since before I went to Denver and have to wave off offers of booze as I make my way to the bar, where I know I’ll find Red.

  Not just Red, but Ginger as well, as it turns out. She squeals when she sees me and launches herself at me, planting a wet kiss on my lips before I can avoid it. I untangle her arms from around my neck and try to set her back, glancing over at a grinning Red.

  “Brother,” he rumbles, clapping me on the shoulder. “I should probably be pissed as fuck my ol’ lady is more excited to see you than she gets for me, but you know me—whatever keeps her happy.”

  “About that,” I hook in, determined not to let this get uncomfortable. Or more uncomfortable.

  “Get my man a Jack, will ya?” Red orders Wapi, who is manning the bar. The cub darts his eyes at me and give a sharp shake of my head.

  “Not drinking, Red,” I remind him, trying to ignore Ginger, who is wrapping her arms around my midsection again.

  “Fuck,” the big man says, slapping the palm of hand to his forehead. “Forgot.”

  “I’m done partying, my friend.”

  Once again I unwrap Ginger’s arms and turn out of her hold, just in time to see Lissie walking in the door. I’m about to make my way over when I see Ouray beat me to it. He brings her over and I automatically tag her behind the neck and bend down to brush her lips.

  “Nice surprise, Babe.” I look down in her smiling eyes and it takes me a second to notice a change in the air.

  “Really?” Ouray rubs his face with his hands. “A cop? Fuck me. All we need now is a CIA agent.”

  “I’ll get right on that, Chief,” Wapi jokes.

  Red has pulled his wife to his side when I glance over, a grin on his face. Ginger looks less happy, but she’ll deal.

  “I’m still on the clock,” Lissie whispers, leaning close.