Most Rikki-Tik

by MariaLisa deMora

  But Dana had been in the office when he went back, intending to decompress in privacy. No chance of doing that with her sitting behind the desk, so Kirby had been the one to storm out that time, his own mouth silent in response to her intrusion. He didn’t know what his expression had told her, but it must have said volumes because the hurt on her features nearly cut the knees out from under him.

  Five and six had been a Dana-less weekend, and he’d celebrated by lounging around, alternating between coffee and beer. He and Oscar had built a fire in the pit out back and sat to watch the flames leap to the sky for hours, dragging inside well after two o’clock this morning.

  And now, the planned escort of their men was approaching the house. The column had left Mount Pleasant about two hours ago, his dozen men matched and quadrupled by a complement of riders from several local MCs. Kirby looked at Oscar as he released him, glad to see the same overwhelming emotions on his cousin’s face. “They’re here,” he said a final time and took in a deep breath. This was it. The moment everything came together. What they’d been working towards would be real the instant he opened that door.

  Without hesitating longer, he flung it open and stepped out into the sunshine in time to see the leaders of the column straighten after turning onto Main Street a dozen blocks up. Centuries-old oak trees spread their leafy branches across the street, the white center line giving the lead riders something to follow. The route had been planned to allow the news crews to get a good shot of the riders arriving, showing the mass of bikes escorting the heroes home through tree shadows and sunshine. Oscar had wanted Kirby to ride at the head, but he’d waved off the idea. This wasn’t about him.

  Beginning today, the focus needed to be on the men who would make up his chosen family, those who would benefit from the supports the foundation could offer them. The goal was to bring in men who needed the most, then get them to a place where they could begin to live independently again, move them out into a secondary house yet to be purchased or set up, and then fill their spot with another vet who matched their program. The need was vast, their resources small, but Kirby knew each man they worked with, each one who became a brother—it mattered. Mattered to them, their families, and to Kirby. The ongoing management of the organization would grow year over year, and he glanced at Oscar. Maybe it’s good it’ll be Dana, because that’ll free Oscar up for other things.

  Shaking off the thoughts, he focused on the bikes approaching. In the lead was the man who’d be wearing the VP patch for the club, a fellow US Army veteran, and someone Kirby trusted as he did Oscar. Nathan Smith had served alongside Kirby for two years before Aleppo and continued on another tour before he encountered his own career-ending injury. Fresh out of the rehab hospital for his most recent round of surgeries, he probably shouldn’t be riding, but he had argued for it, needing the wind as much as he needed his brothers around him.

  Alongside him was Donny Doss, a navy vet who’d suffered a traumatic brain injury similar to Kirby’s and dealt with the same kind of symptoms. The next riders were part of the escort, and even though he’d met with each man a dozen times over the past months, Kirby gave up trying to match names to faces after that. He watched with pride as the long double line of bikes rolled up Main Street, splitting a half a block past the house to park in the reserved spaces on either side of the street. Then it was a quietly controlled chaos as he greeted every man and woman who’d ridden in, smiling as he watched Oscar surreptitiously wipe under his eye more than once.

  It’s real, he thought as he received a back-pounding hug from yet another rider. It’s happening, and it’s really real.

  Dana stepped into view, an uncertain expression on her face, and he winced, because in the joy of the moment, the look cut him deeply. He reached out and hooked an arm around her neck to pull her close. Kirby leaned down and put his mouth next to her ear, and when she didn’t relax in his hold, clearly expecting a continuation of their fight, he quietly ceded control, telling her, “This is my dream, Dana. Please, God please, be good to it.” She melted against him, her palms slipping around his waist in a tight hug that steadied the trembling in his limbs. “These men deserve everything we can do.”

  “I know, Kirby. I promise I’ll take care of it for you.”

  Then silence reigned in the street for a long moment. Kirby looked up, gaze sweeping the length of the spaces where bikes had parked, seeing the potential of freedom in every machine. A second later, the clapping and cheering started, led by Oscar, whose eyes looked suspiciously bright as he stepped down into the street and turned to face where Kirby stood, his arm still around Dana’s neck. The men picked up the cheer, applause sounding from every person, steps bringing them closer to where he stood. The escort riders knew the mission, the members, his men—and they were his even if he hadn’t patched them in yet—they knew the goal. Local residents surrounding the clubhouse were present, and they might have positioned themselves towards the rear of the mass of riders, but their cheers weren’t quiet as they threw their public backing for the foundation out there for anyone to see.

  Kirby stood on the top step in front of the doors and took it all in for a moment. One breath, then another, and he lifted his arm from Dana’s shoulders, raising both fists into the air on a shout. “Mayhan Bucklers.” If anything, the sound increased, and he stared in tolerant amusement at the boisterous men, still shouting and high-fiving those next to them. He tried again, louder, “Mayhan Bucklers.” The noise level reduced slightly, and he grinned at their contagious enthusiasm. “Say it with me.” Arms tightened around his waist, and he realized Dana had never released him, that knowledge starting a warm kernel of pleasure in his chest. “All right, all right.” He patted the air, and the sound level reduced again, but only slightly, the men still cheering and clapping persistently. “Settle down.” He could hear himself better now and hoped others could hear him as well. “Mayhan Bucklers, say it with me, because beginning today we are a family, a club, and brothers forever, because we are—” He paused a moment, then finished, relieved when his voice wasn’t alone any longer, but buoyed up with a hundred other shouts. “Mayhan Bucklers.”

  He swept the street one final time with his gaze, taking in his men first, then the rest of the still-growing crowd. “I thank you for your service, brothers.” This wasn’t the first time that word had slipped unbidden from his lips, but he liked how it felt out there on the air right now, greeting these men. It resonated within him, making his heart beat faster. “My brothers, let me be the first to welcome you.” He dropped an arm back to Dana’s shoulders to steer her to the side, shuffling them away from the doors. “Come on inside, and make yourselves at home. What’s mine is yours, brothers. Welcome home.” Another brief spate of applause from the men, then they were lining up to ascend the stairs and onto the porch, boards ringing with the stamps from their heels. Kirby gave the doors a shove, letting them swing wide as the rest of the crowd continued applauding.

  Each man paused in front of him and thrust his hand forwards, Kirby’s meeting theirs in the middle, gripping and plunging up and down a couple of times as they leaned in to press their forehead to his, sharing breath. Eyes bright, he held their gaze one after the other, silently vowing he’d go the distance, stay true to the mission, have their backs, and be whatever they needed him to be. My pledge to you. In return he got the same, a promise they believed in him, trusted him with their souls and sanity, and were all-in on his dream. Wordless and real, he didn’t realize Dana had stepped behind him until he felt her palms on his shoulders, telling him in her way that she’d be there too, have his back, and work towards his dream alongside him.

  He couldn’t have spoken in that moment, throat tight with emotion he didn’t have words to convey, honored to the bottom of his heart that these men trusted him. “Brother,” he heard more than a dozen times, each utterance making him fight to keep his composure. Oscar, Nathan, Donny, Michael, Kent, Nick, Sam, Dave, Walt, Brian, Adam, Phillip, and John. My men.r />
  The porch quieted with each man that filed inside, clearing space for the next in line, until they were all sheltered by the house he’d built for them.

  Dana’s hands were firm against his back. It seemed it was her turn to steer, and she applied pressure to angle him through the doorway. They stepped to the side to allow the news crews and escort riders to enter, and Kirby watched as his men explored the space. They’d all seen brochures, of course, been provided opportunities to watch the videos Oscar had posted during the construction phase, but this was the first time they were seeing it in person. Their first time taking in all the details of the place he’d made for them.

  Not a halfway house, not a rehab facility, this was a home they’d have as long as they wanted or needed, and he grinned as he watched Nathan make his way to the couch and fall backwards with a heavy sigh. Reaching down, Nate fiddled with something under the hem of his pants, and a moment later his prosthesis clattered to the floor, shoe lying on its side. Leaning his head on the cushions, he called loudly, “Honey, I’m home.”

  Another round of quieter applause from the escorts, who were smiling broadly as they watched their charges settling in, uncaring of the audience. Oscar stepped in front of Kirby and stared at him for a moment; then he leaned in, forearms resting on Kirby’s shoulders. Mouth beside Kirby’s ear, he said, “You done good, cuz. You’ve done real good. Look at what you’ve made.”

  Kirby fisted his hand in Oscar’s hair, holding tight.

  Oscar sighed, and said, “You saw a need and filled it, gonna make a difference to every one of those men. Already made a difference to me. Gave me something to believe in after I came back. I didn’t get wounded overseas, not like you did. I might not be walking wounded, but still, I came back different and needed something. You saw that, and you fixed it for me, cuz.” Oscar cleared his throat, then in a softer voice, continued. “Saw what I needed and made it happen, because that’s what you do.” Knuckles thumped gently against his skull, Oscar careful of the headaches that would always plague Kirby. “Don’t matter what happened to you up here.” Another knuckle thump centered on his breastbone. “Matters what you got in here. Biggest part of you is your heart. You’re my cousin, my friend, and now—” Oscar pulled back, eyes bright as he blinked. “Now, you’re my president. Pops would be so proud, brother. So proud.”

  Chapter Three

  Late October

  “What did the council want?” Kirby was seated at the dining room table, a map spread out in front of him. He’d been trying to plot out a good route for a run tomorrow with the boys, but he kept getting lost in the road numbers. He could sound out the town names in his head, but putting it to paper so he could figure out the time was proving to be difficult today. Dana had just walked in to begin her day, and he remembered there had been a city meeting the night before.

  She stopped and looked at him, eyes narrowing. “Council?” She shrugged off her jacket and hung it on a hook near the door. “What council thing?”

  Fuck. He didn’t answer her, just slid his phone closer and tapped the calendar icon. The previous night was clear of any appointments, and he stared at the screen. Kirby squeezed his eyes shut tightly and dipped his chin towards his throat. Oscar’s voice echoed in his head, but the words were jumbled with the numbers from the map, and he couldn’t hold any of it steady enough to grasp.

  “Kirby?” Dana’s voice was closer, and he hated the thought of her staring down at him. The damned mental cripple, sitting here making a fool of himself. “There’s a city meeting next Wednesday. Is that what you were thinking of?”

  “Yeah,” Oscar said, “week from Wednesday. Put it in your calendar, cuz.”

  He pulled the phone closer, angling his body over it as if she might cheat on this test of his mind. There it was, set for four days from now, with a reminder for each morning starting tomorrow. Like the one naming Dana the manager, it would wake his phone so it’d be the first thing he’d see. “Yeah, just got it jumbled.” Muttering, he fisted the maps in one hand and stood. “Sorry.”

  Dana’s hand landed on his arm, and Kirby jolted from how good it felt. It wasn’t the first time she’d touched him, but each chance to have skin-to-skin contact with her was welcome. His body betrayed him, dick fattening as it uncoiled along his hip. He hunched over and sat forwards in the chair, leaning over the table, not wanting her to see. Voice soft and sweet, she released him from any wrongdoing. “Nothing to be sorry about.” Chin angled away from her, he didn’t see her reaching for his hand, surprised by the glide of her fingers over his, untucking his strangling grip on the map. “Where are we going tomorrow?”

  “We?” he asked, a quick eagerness flashing through his chest. She hadn’t consented to ride with him yet, but he’d offered more than once in the hope she’d take him up on it. “You comin’ with, Dana?”

  “No.” She laughed, flattening the crinkled paper on the wooden surface. “I meant ‘we’ as in you and the guys. I’m a pretty good navigator. Can I take a stab at making a route?”

  She stared at him, gaze steady, and he read there that she understood all he wanted was the best for the men. I can take her help. He nodded at her, rewarded by her quick smile. Don’t make me less of anything. The lie sounded hollow in his head, and he winced. She noticed, her eyes dimming, concern wreathing her features for a moment. “Sure,” he said, trying to keep his voice even. “Lemme tell you what I want to do.” As he talked, she bent her head over the map next to Kirby, close enough to give him a hint of her scent.

  The ride was a success, and Kirby along with the men returned to the clubhouse late that evening. Once in the door, they dispersed, some heading to rooms, others out back to the firepit. Kirby found Dana in the office, and he frowned.

  “Hey,” he said, taking in the sweet beauty of her smile as she turned his way.

  “Hey yourself,” she responded as she pushed back from the desk.

  He glanced at his phone to verify the time. “It’s late, what are you doing still here?” She should have gone home hours ago. “Anything wrong?” He frowned and glanced at the phone again, pulling up the calendar application. “What are you doing here today, anyway? It’s Sunday.”

  “Always paperwork,” she said offhandedly. “It’s not a big deal. Did you have a good ride?”

  “Yeah.” He gave her a salute. “Thank you, ma’am. You did good with the routing.”

  “I’m glad, Kirby.” She tipped her head slightly and tapped the keyboard, then started shutting the computer down. “How’d you keep up with the turns?”

  He chuckled. “I use a dry erase marker on the inside of my windshield. I’d made notes. You helped me with those, so I just had to transfer the info to the plastic. Worked like a charm.”

  “That’s ingenious.” She turned the chair and stood, stepping close enough to place a hand on his chest. “You’re something else.” He froze, standing still as a statue as she rolled up on her toes to place a soft kiss on the corner of his jaw. Mouth to his ear, she whispered, “Have a good night, Kirby.”

  By the time he got himself unstuck, she was gone out the door, regret wafting on the air in her wake.

  Chapter Four

  Mid-December

  The ringing sounds of bike pipes died out in the street, and a minute later, the front door opened. Kirby grinned as Nathan came in cursing and shivering, cheeks red from the wind and cold. “Jesus, that’s a bitch of a ride, Prez.”

  “Do you remember what time I said was the best to take that run?” Nathan had gone to a nearby town to pick up a donation check for the club’s upcoming Christmas party, and while it wasn’t too far, only about fifty miles one way, he’d evidently found out the hard way that while they might be in Texas, it was still edging past mid-December. The entire club had been discussing it last night around the dinner table, and Kirby believed he’d been clear with his recommendations. “It sure as shit wasn’t eight in the morning. Damn few things need doin’ at that time of day.”


  “I just…” Nathan’s voice trailed off as he ducked his head. He dug in his jacket pocket for an envelope he passed to Donny, standing nearby with a smile on his face. “I just wanted to get it done.” He jerked around to stare at the empty kitchen, then back at Kirby, who felt his grin fading away. “I couldn’t sleep anyway.” His head yanked around the other direction, glaring at the shadows near the fireplace. Donny took a step backwards, his smile gone, too. “Figured I’d get something constructive done.”

  “When you have problems sleeping—”Kirby took a careful step closer to Nathan“—you’re supposed to tell me. Remember the plan?”

  Nathan’s PTSD had manifested more strongly the closer they’d gotten to the holiday time, and Kirby understood the reasons why. Nathan’s convoy had been escorting noncombatants when they’d been hit. Headed into what should have been a safe zone, carrying supplies and medicine for the locals, he had been on a Christmas-season, feel-good mission that had gone tits-up without warning. Their psychologist had planned for this, providing Kirby and the rest of the men info on coping skills to help Nathan, knowing the medication he needed would always be the stubborn man’s last refuge.

  “If you don’t talk to me, then I can’t help you, brother.” Kirby waited a beat, then angled his chin down, giving Nathan a scowl that had always worked on the babies the army had sent into the field.

  “I know.” Nathan’s neck rotated, and he looked back towards the door, then the other direction. “Fuck. I know. I know, man. I’m just…I’m a little wired today,” he admitted as his head swiveled back the original direction. “I can’t quite get a handle on it, Prez.”

  “That’s what we’re here for, brother. To help you when you can’t help yourself.” Kirby made certain Nathan saw his hand reaching out, waiting for the tiny dip of his head that gave permission before he gripped the other man’s shoulder. “None of us have to do this alone. Not anymore.” Nathan pulled in a shaky breath as his head sagged forwards, tension flowing out of his muscles at Kirby’s touch. “You’re here with your brothers, man. We’re here, with you. You just gotta let us in.”