Gunny was looking at her, then flicked his gaze to the doorway at her back. “Horse go back to the house?”
The headshake she gave him was small and confused and probably showed every ounce of hurt that was still bubbling through her at Horse’s words. “I don’t know.”
And don’t care.
Chapter Seven
Einstein
“You’re sure?” Slowly sinking onto the edge of his bed, Einstein stared at the partly open door leading to the hallway. “It’s him? He’s been under our noses all this time?”
“I wouldn’t label it as under our noses. Man’s been patched into Blackie’s crew for a while now, but we don’t make that many trips their direction. When he comes this way, Blackie usually brings the same couple of men. Just not been an opportunity to make his acquaintance thus far.” Mudd’s drawl was missing, the words clipped and spoken at a quick pace as he delivered information efficiently. “Retro said you should come here first. Might be a reason to head west, but for now, he’d like you down here.”
“When?” Easier to give in on this, especially since it was Mudd and not Retro. He knew from experience how frustrating it could be when—as the message bearer—the instructions were ignored.
“How about now?”
“Shit.” Einstein let his head drop forward, stretching the muscles of his upper back. “I’ll take thirty minutes to grab some lunch and a shower, and I’ll be on my way. Call you as I go along, or just show up?”
“I’ll text you the address.”
The call disconnected, and a moment later, he had the location for the map app on the phone.
“And that’s shorthand for don’t stop, don’t call, don’t take a shit—just ride.” He stood and, in the space of a few minutes, had packed a bag, including spare ammunition for his preferred gun. Staring around the small room that had become home, he hummed and sighed, the sense he’d forgotten something as irritating as losing a word on the tip of his tongue. “Whatever it is, it can’t be that important.”
He was nearly halfway down the stairs when it hit him, and he headed back up, taking the steps two at a time. In the bedroom suite, he went directly to the bathroom and scooped up the toothbrush he’d kept all this time, tucking it into the inside pocket of his vest and securing the fastening to keep the pocket closed.
“Oh, honey.” Lauren’s voice was exactly as he remembered it, and he spun in a circle, heart in his throat.
“I’m goin’ fuckin’ nuts.” Staring at himself in the bathroom mirror, he took a long look at the changes wrought by nearly a year. The grizzle in his beard was more pronounced, lines in his forehead deeper, and his lips had settled into an enduring scowl. Lauren hadn’t been a fan of his tattoos, all gained since they’d first married, and the leather vest over his bare chest showed them off in full glory. If he were to meet her for the first time right now, she probably wouldn’t give him the time of day.
Don’t fuckin’ matter anymore, does it?
Shaking his head, he trotted down the stairs and hunted through the rooms until he found Marlin in the kitchen, talking with Crazy Mike.
“Glad I caught you two. I just got off the horn with Mudd. Retro wants me to come to Baker, interview one of Blackie’s men. Turns out Scar’s brother is in the life, but one more like ours and less like his fucked-up family.”
“Are you shittin’ me?” Crazy Mike’s hands rose, fingers closing over his palm, making a grasping fist. “That close, and we couldn’t get our hands on him?”
“Guess he’s not advertised the relationship much. I’m assuming Blackie knew, but you know what they say.” Einstein adjusted the bag over his shoulder. “Headed out now. The only update call they want from me is knuckles against the door when I get there. You both aware of the arrangement they’ve all made in Baker?”
Marlin stretched his neck. “Yeah. Monday’s going to be our offering. Sucks, man, he’s good.”
“Agreed. Wasn’t displeased when we took him on from the Freaks.” Ryman had been a fringe member of a nearby club called the Borderline Freaks MC and had arranged to patch over to the Bastards following some personal drama. He’d wanted a move and a clean break, and the Bastards had given him that. As former independent security hired out by the military, he was disciplined and intelligent and able to analyze a situation almost as fast as Retro—which was saying something. “Saw how he was when he took on his patch for the Bastards. Loyalty earned by trust, and that tells me we can’t assume he’ll be an inside lead on anything going on in the Freed Riders, man. Admire that about a man when he joins us.”
“When he leaves us? Not so much.” Crazy Mike eyed a clock on the wall. “You got about three hours, add a few for fueling. Boss man calleth.”
“And the men followeth.” Einstein tapped a finger to his temple. “I know how the man works. I’m headed out now. Just wanted to give you the info so if he needs more from up here, you’re up to speed. Give you a chance to fill my rotation at Retro’s house.”
“Obliged.” Marlin’s top lip curled in a tiny grin. “Be safe, brother. You need one of us with you, we can be ready in ten.”
“I’m good.” Forcing himself to meet their gazes, he let the smile he had plastered on fade. If the wince Crazy Mike gave was any indication, he might have let too much honesty slip through. “If I wasn’t, I’d ask. No worries, brothers.”
“Hmph. I’m guessing that’s not as reassuring as you’d like to think, man. But we’ll take it at face value and trust you to make that call. Even if you didn’t in the past, I for one gotta believe you’ve learned.” Mike leaned close, hand extended, and Einstein met it with his own tight grip. Pulled off-balance by a tug, he landed with his shoulder in Mike’s chest. Then he was held in place by an arm around his neck. “Fuckin’ love you, brother. I find out you needed me and didn’t make that goddamned call? I’m gonna be one pissed-off Bastard.”
“You and me both,” Marlin chimed in as Einstein pulled away from Mike. “Don’t hurt me anymore, man.” The pouting expression he pulled was hilarious, and the kitchen filled with laughter.
“Jesus, give it a break. I will ask, I fucking swear.” At the door, he paused and glanced over his shoulder. “Make me proud.”
“Sure, Daddy.”
Einstein was glad he’d already turned away so Crazy Mike wouldn’t see how that—just that word, spoken so casually—tore him up inside.
Not yet, Dolph.
He double-checked to make sure his tool kit was safely stored in the bottom of one saddlebag, then strapped his duffel to the bike, pulling on the bungee netting to verify the tautness. Helmet in hand, he straddled the seat just as his phone buzzed, so he shoved one hand in a pocket to retrieve the device.
The screen told him what he needed to know, and with a tap, he sent the call from his in-laws to voicemail. It would be his mother-in-law, and she’d want to know what he planned for the one-year anniversary of Lauren’s and Makayla’s death. Nothing, that’s what I’ve got on tap. In a way, this trip was a godsend, because by not being here, he could honestly tell them it couldn’t happen. Not right now, not ever. Any kind of memorial would feel like a celebration, and he wasn’t ready to find the goodness in the end of their lives, couldn’t see his way clear to that kind of a gathering. Probably not ever.
Helmet strapped tight, he checked the contents of his pockets as he placed the phone back where it belonged. Wallet on a chain and clipped to a belt loop, phone tucked deep, he verified everything and then made a final pat against the front of his vest, the hard cylinder of the toothbrush safely stored away.
Three and a half hours later, as he followed the directions read through at the last fuel stop, his gaze flicked from the odometer to the upcoming turn onto a narrow country road. That’s it. Nearly there. The ride hadn’t been onerous, with light traffic and sunny weather, but he was ready to be still for a while, this being the longest trip he’d made in more than a year. Riding around Birmingham for hours wasn’t the same as a long-
distance highway trip, and one—conducted with friends at his side—was significantly less wearying than the other.
Even if he hadn’t memorized the distance to Truck’s house, he could have easily picked it out from the crowd of bikes spread out in the yard and a field adjacent to the structure. A truck and trailer were parked perpendicular to the road, and Einstein eased his tires up past the rig, scouting around to find Retro’s bike. Seeing it in the field behind the house, he rolled that direction, feet down in case he needed to balance the bike.
By the time he’d parked and removed his helmet, he could see Mudd already headed his way. With a quick stretch, he hung the helmet from the handlebars and adjusted his wallet, quickly patting the pockets of his jeans and front of his vest to ensure nothing had been lost. As he met Mudd halfway, they greeted each other with gripped wrists and fists thumping solidly against broad backs.
“Brother. You made good time.”
“You kinda implied it was in my best interest.” Einstein pulled a face, breaking character with a grin. “I do what I’m told, boss.”
“That true? News to me, but I’m sure Retro’ll be glad to hear it.” Mudd indicated the house with a tilt of his head. “Let’s go introduce you. Shit’s already gone down, and get this…Rebels pitched two heavy hitters into the mix with both Truck and Gunny patching over. I’d expected Truck, but Gunny was a surprise. Twisted’s offered up a member, Coolaid, most recently in his Big Bend chapter. Shit’s movin’ fast with this one. Monday should be down here within the week, and Retro’s gauging interest from a couple of RC members we know.”
“Interesting. I think I’d rather have Gunny here as a member than roving as nomad.” Einstein slowed Mudd with a hand on his arm. “Retro tell you about Chulpayev showing at his house, and what he gave us?”
“Yeah. Glad as fuck you were there. Making it a rotation was a good idea. How the hell’d he get the code for the alarm?” Mudd’s scowl showed he was as unimpressed as Einstein had been. “That’s some shit, man.”
“No idea, but we’re doing a rotation on that now, too. I also put the secure app on Trina’s phone, and we’re sending the new code that way. Hey.” Einstein turned partly away, not wanting to see Mudd’s expression. “Retro tell you the rest of what I left in the voicemail?”
“Yeah, and you’d get a flat no if you’d asked me that shit, brother.” Mudd’s headshake echoed his dismissal of Einstein’s request. “We just got you back, man. Not ready for you to roll off down the road yet.”
“Which way is Retro leaning? You know at all?” With Scar’s brother identified and located, he didn’t know what was pushing him on this, why he’d keep asking if there wasn’t a demonstrated urgency. Even if this is his brother, that doesn’t tell me where Scar is. “Tearing me up, man.” A little truth could go a long way to sway Mudd his way. “This brother, if he’s as good a man as I’m hearing, I’m not sure how Scar went so wrong. Don’t know, but I need the man to pay.” Breath whistling in and out like he’d run a footrace, he propped fists against his hips. “He’s got to pay.”
“And that right there is why I think you goin’ nomad is the wrong path, brother. You get a lead on him and you’ll be off to the races, not wastin’ time to make a call, no matter how at risk it might put you.” Mudd’s gaze lifted to the sky, and he heaved out a lungful of air. “You fuckin’ matter to me. To the club.” Chin dropping, he locked eyes on Einstein with a glare. “You don’t see it because you’re inside it, but we fuckin’ need you. I might be Jerry’s oldest friend, but you’re yards and yards closer to him now than I am. He’s still tore up about how shit went down with Lauren and your little girl, and I know him—that man’s gonna grant your ask. Gonna let you ride your ass off into the sunset as you look for a man who’s a master at bein’ a ghost. You ever think the reason we can’t find Dominic is because he’s no longer in the country? He’s got family on two continents, and nothin’ to say he didn’t go to Italy. I know the Jersey boys are looking inland for him, chasing the matriarchal side of things, but my gut tells me if he were there, we would have located him by now.”
“His blood brother hung under the radar for years, Mudd. What makes you think we’d be more successful long-distance at finding Scar? I gotta talk to this Bane to make up my mind, but if he spent time in Michigan and then the frozen north without us raising a trace of him? Scar’ll have access to more resources, better intel, and his motive for staying hidden is a fucking better one than just turning his back on his blood.” Einstein muffled his scoff, the sound coming out as a grunt. “Finding the brother was the catalyst for me wanting nomad, but now I see the need even more. This is how I’ll find Scar, I feel it.”
“By puttin’ a nomad rocker on your goddamned vest? By divorcing yourself from the help of your brothers?” Mudd began to stalk away. “God bless, there’s no talkin’ sense into you. You’re gonna fuckin’ kill yourself, and this is the way you’ll do it. Not gettin’ my vote, I tell you that now.” Angling his neck, he yelled over his shoulder, “You wanna fuckin’ die, then pull the trigger where we can mourn you, man. Don’t prolong the agony like this. Retro needs you, but if you don’t want to hear that, then you do your thing, brother. I’ll miss you when you’re gone.”
Einstein watched as Mudd angled through a gate and ducked under a clothesline filled with sheets and towels, disappearing behind the fabric. A door opened in the distance and closed, and apart from the grumbling rumble of voices from the front yard, he stood in silence.
I’m not trying to kill myself.
Closing his eyes, he jerked when an image of Lauren’s face swam into focus, rising out of the darkness. Her, dead in the van, inches away, but he couldn’t break his bonds and touch her. Couldn’t check on her or their daughter, and that struggle had nearly cost him his sanity. Why can’t I remember her alive? Tucking his chin to his neck, he searched for a memory, only able to capture flashes of events in their past. Her smile on their wedding day, the flash of her eyes as she told him they were expecting, the grip of her hand on his as she pushed their daughter into the world—pieces, broken from the whole, shattered in such a way that he’d never be able to put them back together.
I just want Scar to pay.
Not believing his own lie, Einstein opened his eyes and looked around, taking in the whole scene for the first time. The house was encircled by tall pine trees, and the scent of sap was strong in the air. A donkey heehawing nearby was followed by raucous male laughter, and he tracked that sound around the house, rounding the corner to the front yard to see a dozen faces he recognized.
The subsequent greetings were subdued, something he’d become accustomed to over the past few months. Men who knew the story would be avoiding bringing it up, wary of the conversational topics they were uncomfortable with around him, and men who didn’t know would be looking at their friends with puzzled gazes, but still following their lead.
Retro walked out of the front door and trotted down the steps, bootheels noisy on the wooden treads. Mudd appeared in his wake, moving slower, his gaze pinning Einstein in place. Retro stepped between them, his signature mane of hair loose, telegraphing to those who knew him that he expected to remain here for a time. If it had been braided, that would have put forward a different nonverbal dialogue, and Einstein smiled as he welcomed him, enjoying that he knew his friend so well.
“You made good time.” Retro pulled back from their one-armed clinch, eyes narrowing at Einstein’s laughter.
Still chuckling, he explained, “Same thing Mudd said.”
“Well, just goes to show you how great minds think alike.”
Shit, did Mudd already talk to him? Retro’s words played through Einstein’s head. He’s not going to allow it. Dammit.
“Did I take a shit on your plans? No, sir, I did not.” Retro clamped a hand on Einstein’s shoulder and pulled him to the side of the house, away from the larger group. “I haven’t even addressed your request yet, man. Stop making that face.”
&n
bsp; “I just thought—”
“If that’s how well you think these days, then my answer’s gonna wind up a flat no. If you’re gonna be the Einstein of a year ago, I’m a maybe. A could-be-convinced maybe.” The corners of Retro’s mouth turned down, expression sour as if he’d tasted something vile. “You with us, brother? Body and soul? Your mind tuned in to what we need to pay attention to?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t seem like it. You standin’ here like this, lookin’ like that? It’s makin’ me question even having you make this run.” Tongue poking at the inside of his cheek, Retro scanned him down and up, gaze lingering on Einstein’s face. “Am I wrong about you? About where you are inside your head?” He held up a hand, palm facing Einstein. “No, don’t answer fast. You take a fuckin’ minute and work through things. Hold your tongue until you understand where I’m comin’ from, man. Anything less won’t earn my confidence.”
Noise swelled in the background, laughter as the donkey brayed again and again, the ludicrous soundtrack impossible to ignore as he dug deep inside himself to find a way to reassure both Retro and Mudd.
I need to find Scar. That was a given; the man had cost Einstein his family. He needs to pay. It might not have been his hands that killed Lauren and Makayla, but he’d been the originator of the fucked-up situation. Scar, who’d already taken his pound of flesh directly from Einstein’s hide, demanding a beatout that could easily have been fatal.
I knew him. Maybe too well. Scar who’d pursued ex-members with a vengeful hatred, something Einstein had seen again and again while still a member of the Monster Devils. Nothing was enough for the man. He saw every man who patched out as a deserter, branded in his eyes by what he claimed was weakness.
Shit. This was the first time he’d forced himself to dig so deep, the litany of retribution loud in his head for so long he hadn’t been able to see past it. I knew him. Knew what he was capable of. Einstein rocked back on his heels, putting as much distance between him and Retro as he could without having to take a step away. I should have seen it coming.
Tangled Threats on the Nomad Highway Page 11