In the years since Tasha had been on his property, he’d upgraded dramatically. The stable was large and pristine, temperature-controlled and fitted with the most updated equipment. It barely even smelled like horses. Now, in the middle of the day, it was quiet and empty; the horses were out to pasture.
He dragged her down the aisle, past empty stalls on either side, and into a room at the end. A large office, with a comfortable seating area, a tiny kitchenette in one corner, and, in the middle of the far wall, a door that appeared to lead to a bathroom. Even as Len yanked her into the room and sent her in the direction of the green leatherette sofa, Tasha made note of her surroundings. Len was a slob, but the stable was tidy from one end to the other.
“Sit down.”
“Fuck you.” She turned to face him, crossing her arms under her breasts.
Dropping his hands onto her shoulders, he pushed her backwards until her legs hit the sofa, then he shoved her back, and she landed on the cushions. “Sit down, Doc. Why the drama? Not like you.”
“Are you kidding me? Who was the girl? A club whore, right?”
He stared down at her. Not even denying it.
Fighting for calm, she took a breath and met his eyes as directly as she could. “All you had to do was not sneak around. All you had to do was include me. All the pussy you want, as long as you don’t blindside me. Why wasn’t that good enough?”
“Why are you assuming I fucked her?”
“Didn’t you?”
“Not in about four months, no.”
“So…she was here for advice about horses?” She didn’t even try to keep the sneer of disbelief from her voice. In fact, she doubled down.
He sat down next to her. “No. But she was here for advice. Tasha, I…I know the girls, okay? I know ‘em all. And yeah, I know ‘em all carnally. But that’s not what that was about. I’m the one takes care of ‘em.”
“What—you’re like the house mother? Shouldn’t that be Lilli? Isn’t that her job?”
He laughed, and Tasha glared. Clearing his throat, he said, “If you knew Lilli better, you’d know why that was funny. She gets along with ‘em fine, but she doesn’t have patience for their shit. She’s got other things to do. It’s just not her thing. And it’s been my thing for a long time, from when it was just us guys and the girls in the clubhouse. No old ladies—not like Holly was gonna do it. So it fell to me. And I don’t mind it.”
“I bet you don’t.”
“Baby, what’s with all this? Where do you get off acting like this?”
She heard the way he hit the word ‘you’ and looked hard at him. “What do you mean?”
He didn’t answer at first. At first, he just stared steadily at her, like he was waiting for her to say more. But the question was sufficient as it was. So she stared back.
Finally, he asked, “Do you love me?”
“What?”
“You heard me, Tash.”
She’d heard him, but she couldn’t answer him. Yes, she loved him. She’d loved him for years. In the last few months, that familial affection, which had survived long years of dormancy and then revived as the club drew more and more on her support, had deepened. They were a couple. She’d thought they were. She wanted that. She did love him—in the way he was asking.
But she felt like she’d been split open and left to the elements. She had no protection from him, from the Horde, from the town. As soon as she’d passed that sign proclaiming a Welcome to Signal Bend, she was twenty again, struggling under all the old baggage.
“Taking a long time with an easy question, Doc. That’s what I mean.”
“We have an arrangement. I thought we did.”
His rough fingers reached out and grabbed her chin, turning her sharply toward him. “Do you love me?”
“You know I do.”
“Do I? You don’t say it. Unless I force the point. Or unless I’m gettin’ you off.”
“Do you need me to say it?”
“I need you to feel it. If we’re not doing something real, if you’re just pussy, then I’ll just grab little Jerri Rae and a couple of her friends. The ride’s a lot shorter to the clubhouse than to Springfield. And that girl’s got bounce.”
“Bastard.” Knocking his hand away, she stood up and headed for the door. But, again, he was on her, this time reaching around and slamming the door shut just before she got there. Then he grabbed her shoulder and spun her hard. Her head hit the closed door, and her vision rattled for a second.
“You come here out of the blue and accuse me and throw a fit like some drama queen bitch, and then you think you can storm off and I’ll let you go? I’ve been nothing but straight with you, Tasha. From the go. I love you. Got no trouble telling you that. You’re jealous? Well, fuck you, baby. So am I. But I’m telling you I’ll stick with you. Just you. You’re the one who won’t try.”
“TRY! TRY! WHAT THE FUCK IS TRY?” She fought, wedging her hands between them, trying to force him far enough back that she could duck under his arms or something, but he pushed his entire body into hers, crushing her against the door.
“Tasha, stop. You think so fucking much. Try is just a word. It means we do our best. I’m making you a promise that I won’t play around. If we go sideways, we’ll do it up front. If we’re not enough for each other, then we’re not enough, but we’ll be honest with each other. And we’ll fight for it before we quit.”
“That’s not a commitment!” He was too close for her to get leverage, but still she fought. She wanted out. She wanted away.
“Is that what you want? You want to tell me that you’re ready for that? You want what—my ink? Is that what you need?”
She went still, remembering another fight with those words. Dropping her hands from his chest, she whispered, “No.”
He pushed clear of the door, taking a few steps back. “Didn’t think so. I’m not good with drama, Tash, and I have no fucking idea what you want. What you need. I don’t think you do, either. But I can’t think about it anymore. I had a fucked-up night, and I’m tired. So okay. You wanted to go…there’s the door.”
After trying so hard to get free of him, now that he’d let her go, she couldn’t find the will to move. But then she did. She drew herself up and turned around, opening the door and heading down the long aisle of the cool, gleaming-clean stable and out into the onerous heat.
When she pulled away, she looked in the rearview, but he was nowhere to be seen.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
He should just do it. No reason not to.
Len sat on the sofa and watched Jerri Rae and Karlene, a new girl since he went on the pussy wagon, leaning over the pool table. They were just talking and rolling the balls around the table, but they were leaning over in full centerfold mode, their pert little twenty-something asses way up high, in little bitty skirts, their skin so tight and smooth it was practically reflective.
And Len was fucking horny as hell. Blue balls to his waist, felt like. Days since he’d even talked to her. He wasn’t going to call—no way. When she’d been in town to sign some papers a couple of days ago and hadn’t even let him know, that’s when he knew. They were done. Barely started, but done.
He was better off with these girls, anyway. No drama. So he should just do it. Grab a perky, pink bottom in each hand and get some fucking relief. His cock swelled more.
Half a bottle of Jack was at his elbow. He’d been working on it awhile. He’d developed a taste for the Jameson Tasha kept, and the Jack was going down rougher than it used to. But he took a long draw from the bottle.
It was a midweek afternoon, so the clubhouse was mostly empty. Jerri Rae and Karlene, him, Davey and Double A. A couple of the vandal kids they’d put to work had started hanging around, including Kellen, the shoplifter, who was now helping Double A clean the taps. Looked like maybe he was trying to get in some good favor. But he was just eighteen, and they’d had enough of kids wearing kuttes. Len wasn’t about to approve another kid who might get i
n a bullet’s way. Badger had barely been out of his teens when he’d been shot guarding Lilli. Omen hadn’t been that much older when he’d been killed on the weed run. And Wrench, under thirty, too. Mikey just barely more.
His burner went off, and he fished it out of his pocket. Isaac—calling from his personal cell. Wouldn’t be business, then.
“Yeah, boss.”
“Where are you?”
“Clubhouse. Trouble?”
“Coming in. Get Show, Hav, and Dom. Now. Clean line.” The line went dead.
Len got up, went around the bar, pushed Kellen out of the way, and pulled a metal lockbox off a shelf under the taps. He thumbed the combination, opened the box, and pulled a clean burner out. Then he did what he was told.
~oOo~
They met in the Keep, though it wasn’t a full table. Just the officers and Havoc. And everybody was looking at Havoc.
“You understand the risk Bart took for this? We do this, we got one shot. We make one mistake, he’s dead. Probably his wife and baby girl, too. Famous or not. We need to weigh that.”
Havoc stared steadily at Isaac. “Against Sophie?”
“Yeah. I know, brother. I’m not sayin’ no. I’m sayin’ slow. More than once, we’ve gotten hung up, not seeing as far out as we should.”
“Yeah—Sophie’s dead because Bart didn’t show us what he could.”
Len turned and leaned toward Havoc. “That might be so. But you know the position he’s in. You know what we’d do to a brother who chose against us—what we’ve done. So tell me if the choice was Riley against Cory and Luke. And Nolan. What would you do? Would you tell Bart and put your own old lady on the line?”
“It’s more even than that on the line, Hav.” Isaac’s tone was steady, and Len could hear the sympathy in it. Isaac knew what it was like to live with the knowledge that someone he loved had been hurt because of club shit. They all knew it, but Show, Havoc, and Isaac more than the others. “We’ve been workin’ months on a massive plan to turn the Perros back. The Scorpions, the Bulls, the Wayfarers. Lot of parts in play. And that alliance—it’s not forged in steel. You know the blood we’ve got with the Scorps. Bart could still be in the middle of that, even after these years. We don’t have a long history with the ‘Farers. We’re solid with the Bulls, but Becker’s gonna look after his own just like we will. All that’s gotta be part of our thinkin’.”
Havoc stared at the table, his fingers tracing the carved braiding. “Fuck.” Looking back at Isaac, he asked, “You saying that debt don’t get paid?”
“No. I say it’s your call.” He looked around at the other men at the table; Show, Len, and Dom all nodded. It was the way they’d always worked—the one hurt the most had the say. “Bart stuck his neck out to give us this intel. If we can use it clean, we should. But we need a plan, and we owe it to him to keep him clean of it if we can. We owe it to ourselves and everybody we care about to do it clean.”
Show spoke up, his voice low and measured, as usual. “How much time we got?”
“Almost none. Halyard will be in Chicago in two days. He’ll be there for two. Sometime in that window, we can collect on the debt. We miss it, we probably won’t get another shot. We fuck it, and we are at open war with the Perros—and probably with the crews we’ve been working with these past few months. We could fuck all that if we fuck this up. And, brothers, our track record hasn’t been stellar.”
Isaac turned to Dom. “Bart put some things together, but a lot of this is on you, Dom. You need to bring your game. If you’re not up to it, be straight. There’s too much riding here. Everything.”
Dom didn’t say anything for a few seconds, and the air was thick and still as they all waited. Len watched him. If the kid looked away, then he was going to speak up and get in the way of this. Dom was only twenty-six years old. His best friend had been killed only months before. And this was a kind of pressure that few could withstand. No shame in not being ready—it would be much worse to say he was and have that not be true.
But Dom didn’t look away. He didn’t swallow. He didn’t even take a deep breath. He stared at Isaac, and he was quiet. Then he turned to Havoc and nodded.
His eyes back on Isaac, he said, “I’m up to it. I can do what it takes.” Normally, he had a thin voice, but the immensity of his words thickened his tone, made it strong.
Isaac nodded. “Then let’s make a plan and bring it to the full table.”
~oOo~
Len topped the stairs to the fourth floor and faced the blue door.
What the fuck was he doing here?
They’d worked for hours, trying to understand their options, trying to make a plan. They didn’t have long to put this whole thing together. Dom was still working now, though the rest of them had hit a wall—there was no more they could do until they knew more, and that was on Dom. But they had to get moving, and fast.
For now, though, the rest of this night, they were stymied. And Dom wanted some space. They’d been making him antsy, leaning over his shoulder all night.
So Isaac, Show, and Havoc had gone home to their families.
Dom worked on, locked in Isaac’s office, the way Bart used to do.
Badger, Tommy, and Zeke, still out of the loop for now, were hitting up the girls.
And Len didn’t know where to go.
So he’d gotten on his bike.
He’d thought he was headed to Jewels, he’d told himself he was headed to Jewels, but as he neared the district and came up to the intersection that would take him there, if he turned left, or to Tasha’s, if he turned right, he didn’t even slow down.
And now he was staring at her door. Cobalt blue. Her favorite color at least since she was ten. He knew that, because he’d known her since she was ten. Before that, even. Since she was born—though not well enough to call her family. Not until he’d attached to the Horde.
She’d been born attached to the Horde.
But what the fuck was he doing here?
They hadn’t spoken for days. She’d ignored him outright when she’d come to town last. They were done. She’d walked away.
So why was he standing outside this big steel door, thinking about how gorgeous she looked in blue?
Maybe because he’d spent the afternoon trying to plan a job that was probably going to get them all killed.
Would he have made the choice Havoc had made? Would he put it all on the line for vengeance if someone he loved had been killed as Sophie had?
Was there anyone in his life for whom he’d risk everything else?
His brothers. Always his brothers. His club. The Horde had been everything in his life for a quarter century. Longer. Shelley had taken a backseat to the club, old lady or not. And she’d known. It was why she’d done what she’d done. Killed his child.
That was ancient history. The question he had to answer now, before he moved another muscle, was whether there was one person he loved enough to risk everything else.
Did he love Tasha enough? Could he, if she would let him?
Because if the answer was no, then he needed to turn his ass around and buy himself a night in the VIP at Jewels.
He was weary. The last few years, cycling through periods of chaos had worn him hard. The breaks of peace almost made it worse, as if he stiffened up then and had less with which to face the fire. He was getting old. He was missing parts, now. And he was alone.
He realized that it had been months since he’d enjoyed being alone the way he always had. His own company was no longer enough.
So the answer was yes.
He wrapped his hand around the handle and slid open Tasha’s door. He’d known it would be unlocked—she was perfectly fine with friends walking in and out at their leisure, and he’d yet to find a way to convince her how stupidly reckless she was being. But that was a fight for another time. No fighting tonight. Tonight, they were going to make it right.
He walked in and straight through until he was standing at the entrance of the mai
n room.
She was sitting on the sofa, her ginger hair loose over her shoulders and down her back. Wearing a dress with skinny straps—blue, of course—she was sitting cross-legged, holding a glass of white wine in her lap. She was smiling at him. Or, more accurately, in his direction, because as he stood there, that smile of greeting, as if she were expecting a friend, faded and became empty.
Carter was sitting next to her on the sofa. That fat fuck was close—facing her, leaning in, one arm extended behind her across the back of the sofa, the other holding a glass of white wine, a twin to Tasha’s.
Len just stared, thoughts stuttering around in his head, none of them gaining purchase. His fingers curled tight against his palm, but he fought for calm. The fight took all he had, though, so he just stood there, staring.
Tasha set her wine down on the table in front of her and unfolded her legs. As she stood, she asked, “What are you doing here, Len?”
He kept staring.
Then Carter put his glass down and stood, too. He took a sidestep and placed himself slightly in front of Tasha, as if offering her protection. From Len.
“Tasha asked you a question, friend.”
A thought finally made its way through. It was a small one. Perfect in its simplicity. More of an impulse, really. Since it was the only thing that had emerged into clarity, he went with it.
He pulled his piece. And aimed it at Carter the Pompous Fat Fuck’s head.
“You’re leaving, friend. Right the fuck now.”
“Oh, sweet Jesus. Len, put the gun down.”
He kept his eyes trained on his target, so he didn’t see her expression clearly, but Tasha sounded more annoyed than afraid. Carter the Fat Fuck, on the other hand, looked like he was going to shit himself. It was quite a thing, staring down the barrel of a loaded gun. Especially the first time. You never forgot your first time. Your mortality, right down a tiny, dark tunnel. No light at the end of that one.
Show the Fire (Signal Bend Series) Page 16