“Those sick fucks!”
This from Trunk. I’m not surprised. I’ve heard by now how the ANL snatched his young stepson, hoping to add him to the children’s army they were brainwashing and training for God knows what.
“They weren’t just selecting a pure race,” I mumble. “They were breeding one.”
“Might still be doing the same thing somewhere else,” Ouray points out.
“At least not Chains, and we’re expediting a DNA profile for Bones. We’ve got three of the five boys matched, and Zach only to his mother. It’s still a mystery where the other two boys came from,” Luna explains.
“What about Thomas and Michael? What do we tell them?” Yuma wants to know.
I glance over at Trunk, who has probably spent the most time with those kids out of anyone.
“What do you want to tell Michael? We still don’t know who his mother was, just that she’s dead, and I wouldn’t volunteer the identity of the father. That last would be the same for Thomas, but we can tell them who his mother is…was.” His eyes are on me. “Did your friend have any remaining family?”
I shake my head. Dani’s mother, like mine, had passed away a long time ago. It’s one of the things that connected us. She never knew her father and if there was extended family somewhere, in all the years we’d been tight, Dani never bothered mentioning them.
“Just me,” I state firmly. “He has me.”
Beside me, Yuma suddenly shoots up out of his chair and stalks out of the room, all eyes following him. After a few awkward moments, Trunk is the first to speak.
“Then he’s a lucky kid, and I think we should tell him together. You can give him back a little of what was taken from him.”
All I manage to do is nod. There are so many thoughts crowding my brain right now. Including what the hell had Yuma tear out of here like that, but I shove that to the background. It’ll hold, but what can’t wait is letting a small boy know he’s not alone in this world.
Half an hour later, we’re sitting in Trunk’s office, the boy looking uncertainly between us. Trunk nods at me to take the lead. I’m nervous. I’ve been thinking about how to tell an almost eight-year-old his mother is dead, but I realize he’s probably been told that for years already, before it was a fact.
“I had a best friend,” I start. “Her name was Danielle, but I called her Dani, and she was the best friend I could’ve asked for. She was kind, and she was loving, and she was always looking for adventure. She left our hometown years ago, and I always thought it was because she’d found something better.” I pause and smile at the boy who now looks confused. Time to get to the point. “And she had found something much better, I just didn’t know it. She had a baby—a little boy. She’d become a mother.”
Something flickers in those clear blue eyes staring back at me.
“Mothers go in the ground. I seen her bones.”
Sweet Jesus. If I had any of those sick fucks in front of me now, I swear I’d rip them apart with my bare hands. Or die trying.
I don’t bother explaining the bones he likely saw were not his mother’s because at that time she would’ve still been alive. That’s something for when he’s older. Much, much older.
“Not all mothers, Thomas,” Trunk explains. “Jaimie’s a mother, and so is Lisa, and Luna, and Kaga’s wife, and you’ve met my sister, Tahlula, who is also a mother.”
“My best friend was your mother, Thomas.” I wait for a beat until I see the truth settle in. “I’m so sad she’s dead, and I’m sorry you didn’t have a chance to know what a great person she was. She was family to me, so you’re my family too, and I hope you’ll let me tell you about her.”
“What was her name again?” he asks, his voice a little hoarse.
“Danielle, or Dani for short.”
He nods. “Dani,” he repeats on a whisper, his bottom lip quivering.
I have to bite my own lip to keep my emotions in check. He looks so small and forlorn, and all I want to do is wrap him up, but I’m pretty sure he’s nowhere near ready for that.
I watch him as he visibly pulls himself together and blinks his eyes a few times before turning to Trunk.
“Can I go play now?”
“Sure, kid,” Trunk says easily. “You wanna talk some more, you come find me or Lissie, okay?”
Thomas throws me a quick glance before he walks out of the office.
I let go of a deep, tremulous sigh.
“Give him some time. It’s a lot to process for the kid.”
I nod. “I know. To be honest, I don’t exactly know what I’m doing, but I meant what I said to him. I’m his family, and I will look after him like family is supposed to.”
“Like I said before, Thomas is a lucky kid.”
I smile and get to my feet. “Thanks, Trunk. Appreciate the vote of confidence. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a man to chase down so I can give him a piece of my mind.”
Trunk’s deep chuckle follows me out of his office.
Yuma is nowhere in the clubhouse, and when I walk over to Nosh’s house, he’s not there either. His father is, though, and with my minimal signing skills, and clear enunciation, I manage to fill him in on what happened. To my surprise, he chuckles like he finds all of this highly amusing. I don’t think it’s funny at all.
It still isn’t when he coaxes me into his old, rusty truck and drives out of the compound. I don’t want to insult him and question his ability to drive, so I sit quietly, noting he turns the truck left, going up the mountain, instead of right to get back to town.
We pass a lake on the right side, when he slows down and turns into a driveway on the other side of the road. I’ve never been on this road before, other than to get to the clubhouse, so I had no idea there were even houses up here.
At the top of the driveway I spot Yuma’s truck, parked in front of an impressive log home. Massive logs make up the walls and a high-peaked roof sits over large windows, looking out on the beautiful view below. A porch covers the entire width of the home.
Nosh taps me on the shoulder, indicating for me to get out. The moment I do, he backs up the truck and takes off.
I make my way to the steps leading up to a door at the side of the house and try knocking. I try again, and when nothing happens, I push open the door.
An overwhelming smell of old booze, rotting food, and dirty laundry almost has me turn and flee; but then I hear sounds coming from the back.
“Gonna puke. Goddamn fucking stench.”
I walk into a kitchen to find Yuma in front of an open refrigerator that smells like something crawled in and died there. He seems to be tossing the contents into a large garbage bag and doesn’t notice he has company.
For a moment there, I was afraid something had triggered him and he’d gone off to drink, and I’m almost relieved to find him cleaning instead. Confusing, yes, but a relief nonetheless.
“Yuma?”
His head whips around and if I weren’t so pissed, I would probably have laughed at the bandana covering his nose and mouth.
“What are you doing here?” His voice sounds muffled.
“Oh, I don’t know,” I say with a hefty dose of sarcasm. “I just got some pretty earth-shattering news, which somehow had you running from the clubhouse without a word. I guess I’m looking for a pretty fucking good explanation.”
“You can’t be here,” he announces, walking up and taking me by the arm to the sliding doors at the front of the house, hauling me outside on the porch.
“What the hell, Yuma? What is going on?”
“Babe, the place is a fucking pigsty. I haven’t been here in months and neither has anyone else.”
“So why are you here now? What was so important that you decided in the middle of something monumental, it might be a good time to do some housecleaning?”
“Beautiful,” he says, cupping my face in his hands, his eyes smiling. “Can’t offer you a home that reeks like a frat house on steroids now, can I?”
&nbs
p; “Offer me…what? What are we talking about?”
“Gotta get the house cleaned up before we move here. It’s got three bedrooms. Enough for Thomas, with a room left over.”
I shake my head, trying to catch up with him, but his lips are already on mine, scrambling my brain again.
“Next time just tell me where you’re off to,” I voice dryly when he lets me up for air.
“I can do that.”
CHAPTER 33
Yuma
“WE HAD TO let Nowak go.”
I catch the snippet of conversation between Luna and Lissie when Tse and I walk into the clubhouse.
We finished Nosh’s house a few days ago but have since been busy at my house, cleaning and moving Lissie’s stuff in there. She doesn’t have a lot of furniture, but the new bed I got her took the place of the one I had in the master, and I fit her loveseat in the living room. It’s as ready for her as I can get it, without her to make the house her own.
Pop still hasn’t told Lisa about the house yet, but I’m guessing he’s been waiting for things to settle down for everyone.
Lots of stuff going on that has everyone stretched in different directions. Lissie is still recovering and has been spending as much time as possible with Thomas these past couple of days, either with or without Trunk. Ouray and Paco have been off on a run to pick up a runaway in Grand Junction and have been stuck there; dealing with Child Protective Services, and this is the first time I’ve seen Luna in days.
“What the hell? Why?” I interrupt, and both women turn at my voice.
“Because all they have is circumstantial or hearsay,” Lissie explains, much calmer than I’d be in her shoes. I lean down and brush her lips.
“We’re not letting him walk,” Luna explains. “Believe me, the FBI is going to be so far up his ass, he won’t be able to scratch it without us knowing. But the reality is: we have no hard evidence to hold him on. All it means is we have to dig harder, because we all know the man is covered in shit, we just need to make it stick.”
“What about Bones? Is he walking too?”
Luna laughs at that. “Hell no. He’s not going anywhere. Nor is John Woodard. You’ll be happy to know, we’re even looking into Mayor Woodard for his possible involvement. Regardless of the outcome, his days in office are likely numbered. Already I’ve heard rumors some council members are calling for him to cut his term short and resign. Whoever his supporters have been through the years, I don’t think they’ll be backing him for another term, no matter what.”
“About time that ass was booted out of office,” Tse contributes.
“No argument there,” Luna agrees.
“And that’s enough energy spent on those assholes,” Lissie announces, turning her face up to me. “How are things coming along at the house?”
I grin down at her. Ever since she walked in on me cleaning out the rotting food from my fridge, and I brought her right back to the clubhouse, I’ve managed to keep her away, but not without her asking about the progress at least twice a day. Pretty sure living in the clubhouse has lost its appeal, if it ever had any.
“Tomorrow I’ll show you.”
The smile she beams up to me is more than payment enough for my bleach-pruned fingers.
If I wasn’t already invested in my sobriety, scrubbing off the visible remnants of my alcohol addiction from my house has only solidified my commitment. I owe Tse big time. He quietly followed me into the mess I left of my life before, and helped me eradicate any evidence remaining. We didn’t talk a whole lot, but having him there without judgment went a long way to being able to move forward, leaving the past behind. A true friend.
Tomorrow we’ll have our clean start.
“Can’t wait,” she whispers.
Me neither.
“Lissie!” Kiara calls out from the large sectional in front of the TV. She’s taken a real shine to Lissie. “The movie is starting!”
“Quit hollering across the room, child,” Lisa admonishes her, as she comes out of the back hallway with a pile of folded kitchen towels. “Get your keester off the couch and walk over if you wanna talk.”
“I promised I’d watch Frozen with her while the boys do their homework,” Lissie explains with a grin, before getting up and heading over to where the girl is waiting on the couch.
“Talking about homework…” Luna stands up as well. “…I should head home and make sure Ahiga is doing his. Ouray called earlier, they’re on their way back. Let him know we’re at home?”
“Will do.”
I look over at the bar where Tse already joined Wapi and Honon for a beer. My father is sitting with them, his eyes scanning the club. I follow his suit, noting the boys bent over their homework at the large table; the two older kids at one end, and the three youngest at the other. I let my eyes drift to the couch where Kiara is snuggled into Lissie’s side, both girls focused on the large screen. In the kitchen I can just catch a glimpse of Lisa standing at the stove, where Momma spent so many years looking after us. When I turn back to the bar, my father’s eyes are on me, a faint smile on his face, his hands signing.
“What do you see?”
I don’t have to think about the answer.
“Family.”
He nods.
“Welcome home, boy.”
“Thanks, Pop.”
I walk over and put my hand on his shoulder before turning to Wapi who is manning the bar.
“Toss me a water?”
“Keep waiting for everyone to be here, but that won’t happen. I’m thinking now’s a good time.”
“Lisa?” I take the water bottle from Wapi and catch Pop nodding.
“Lisa!” I yell, grinning.
Just then the door opens and Brick, Paco, and Ouray walk through along with a dark-haired, young kid, maybe twelve or so.
“Lord, gimme patience,” Lisa grumbles coming out of the kitchen, spearing me with a look. “How on earth am I supposed to teach them kids manners when they’ve got you lot as examples?”
My brothers and I chuckle. Her words are much the same as my mother’s had been for as long as I can remember. She used to be forever on our case.
“What’s with all the yelling?” Ouray wants to know, herding the shuffling kid ahead of him.
Nosh gets up from his seat and walks over to where Lisa is standing, a fist propped on hip. He digs his hand in his pocket and pulls out the keys, handing them to her. I see the confusion on her face.
“Why are you giving me the keys to your house?” she asks, taking them from him.
“Your house now,” he says, before turning around and sitting back down at the bar.
I look over at Lissie, who has her head turned, and her face crumples when she sees Lisa burst into tears.
“Good fucking Lord,” Ouray complains loudly, to which Lisa’s head snaps up.
“Language!” She wipes her tears away resolutely and turns to the new boy, who looks like he’s about to run out of here. “What’s your name?”
He looks behind him as if there’s someone else she might be talking to, before turning to her. “Ravi,” he says in a raspy voice.
“Ravi,” Lisa repeats. “You look like you could eat. Come with me.” Then she turns around and walks back into the kitchen, not waiting to see if he’s going to follow.
“That’s Lisa,” Ouray tells the boy. “You best do as she says.” He gives the kid a little nudge to get him moving.
“You givin’ us a house?” Ezrah, who got up from the table, walks up to Nosh. “Why?” He’s learned some basic sign language, as have all of the boys. It’s something Paco works on with them.
“She takes care of us, we take care of her.”
“But it’s your house.”
“It was Momma’s house. She would want Nana to have it,” I answer for my father, who nods his agreement.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen Ezrah cry until now. He’s stoic, scarred and hardened by what he endured at his young age, but I guess his you
ng poker face is no match for a kindness shown to his grandmother.
Brick steps up behind the boy, putting a hand on his shoulder.
“All you gotta do is say thank you and go about your day, kiddo,” he says in a low voice.
Ezrah mouths his thanks before spinning around and planting his face in Brick’s midriff.
“Dinner!” Lisa announces, coming out of the kitchen with a plate piled high she takes straight to Nosh. She sets it in front of him at the bar. “First plate at every meal,” she says, kissing him on the cheek before heading back to the kitchen.
He turns to me with a shit-eating grin on his face.
“Worth it.”
Lissie
“Looks good.”
I’d forgotten about my follow-up visit with the surgeon who fixed my shoulder.
Yuma had to remind me this morning when I was up and out of bed before him, eager to get to his house. I’d barely seen any of it on my brief visit there, and most of what I remember was the stench and the mess. I really want to roam around, because judging by the size of the house on the outside, there’s a lot to discover.
Of course, then he had to burst my bubble by reminding me I was due at the hospital at ten thirty.
“So can I use it as normal?” I ask the doctor, who’s just had me go through a range of motions.
“Depends on what your normal is. You can, just give the muscle a few more weeks before you start swimming the butterfly stroke or chopping firewood. The wound has healed nicely. By the time your other injury has healed, you’ll be good to go back to work.”
I put my shirt back on, something I can manage to do on my own now without the sling hampering me, and follow him from the treatment room into the office.
“Unless you experience problems—in which case call my secretary—I don’t need to see you again.”
Yuma, who had a call to make so waited outside, looks up when I come out of the office.
“And?”
I rotate my left arm to show him.
“I can dress myself.” When he mock-pouts, I add, “No chopping wood, though. I’m still gonna need you for that.”
“Glad I can still be of service,” he says, putting a hand on the back of my neck as we navigate through the hospital to the exit.
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