Micah

 

We all met a couple days later at Grandpa Quentin's house, Sydney, Gov, Agent Brumfield, everyone.

 

Gathered around the kitchen table, we drank beers while Grandpa got steaks ready for the grill out back. Despite the reason for us being there, it felt strangely natural and . . . normal. Just my ex-federal agent turned biker buddy, my retired FBI agent grandfather, a working FBI agent, and two retired prostitutes. Oh, and me. The president of an outlaw biker gang.

 

You know. Normal.

 

“Your grandson and his girlfriend are cute,” Agent Brumfield said as she popped a roast peanut into her mouth.

 

Kaci perked up. “Girlfriend?” she asked.

 

“Yeah, she's not my girlfriend,” I said, almost reflexively.

 

We both looked down at our hands, which were entwined together.

 

Agent Brumfield cackled at our expense, sending the blood rising to Kaci's face in a bright blush. “Yeah, right. Keep telling yourself that, kiddos,” she said, popping the rest of the nuts into her mouth.

 

“It's kinda funny, isn't it?” Gov piped in, gently ribbing us both. “The way they both deny it at the same time?”

 

“Yeah,” Sydney added in her characteristic squeak. “Almost like they're in sync, or something.”

 

Everyone got a good laugh at us, which made Kaci just squeeze my hand tighter. Everyone except Grandpa Quentin, of course. I glanced over at him, and from the way he was beaming at us, I knew he didn't care one way or another. He just wanted us to be happy.

 

“Come on,” I muttered to Kaci as I tugged at her hand and went to stand up. “You haven't seen the backyard yet.” Together, we disappeared out the back. Hopefully, their conversation would turn to something else that wouldn't include us, or our love lives.

 

# # #

Kaci

 

“So,” Micah asked as we looked out from Quentin's back patio over the green of the Louisiana landscape, “think we should take the plunge?”

 

I laughed. “The plunge? What do you mean?”

 

“You know . . . make it official?”

 

I turned and put my arms around his waist, pulling myself into him. He looked down at me with those icy blue eyes of his, then leaned down and kissed me, the stubble lightly rubbing my skin. I closed my eyes and just enjoyed the moment, the feel of our skin together, of his strong arms around. I smiled as our lips parted, then opened my eyes and gazed up at him. “You asking me to go steady, Micah Marlow?”

 

“Guess I am,” he said back, his voice so thick with sarcasm you could scrape it on toast, “Kaci Sizemore.”

 

“Well, ask me then.”

 

“Fine,” he said, sighing as he rolled his eyes. “Will you be my girlfriend?”

 

I'd never seen him be so awkward, so unsure of himself, before. It was actually kind of cute. “Let's go with . . . partners in crime,” I offered.

 

He threw his head back and laughed, then shrugged a little. “Sure, why not. Partner in crime, then?”

 

I nodded then stood up on tiptoes to kiss him again. “Yes. That sounds lovely.” I grinned as I turned back to the landscape. I put my elbows up on the wooden rail and leaned on them. “So, what's next?”

 

“I dunno,” he said, and gave a little laugh. “Suppose we get to know each other better?”

 

I laughed. “Sure. You go first, though. You know more about me than I know about you, I think.”

 

“Okay,” he said, stepping up next to me and leaning on the rail. The old wood sagged a little under the added weight, but it seemed sturdy enough. A good foundation was everything, it seemed. “Well, I grew up without my momma around. She ran off on my father when I was just a boy. And, well, Jaws was off with the guys a lot.”

 

I nodded along, knowing a little bit about stories like his. My daddy had been gone for a long time, and momma had to struggle to make ends meet for years before she found Raymond. And, then, well, that hadn't exactly been an overall improvement. Especially with the way Raymond talked with his fists more than with his mouth.

 

“But,” Micah continued, “Jaws, he brought me into the club when I was old enough to prospect. They'd been my uncles before that, then they became my brothers. When he passed a while back, I stepped in to his shoes, so to speak.”

 

“Big shoes, huh?” I asked.

 

“Yeah,” he said and grinned a little, a lopsided smile that was half pain, half pleasure at the memory of his daddy. I knew that feeling, too. “Big fucking shoes, that's for damn sure. Just, he always took these wild risks, you know? Always seemed like he had things under control to all the guys around him, but I knew what kind of people were showing up looking for him. Gambling debts, loan sharks. He almost lost the clubhouse once.”

 

“Woah,” I said, taking a step back from the rail. “On a gamble?”

 

“Yep. He bet it like it was nothing, just to cover his ass. When I took over after his funeral, I promised myself I'd never make a stupid fuck-up like that . . .” He trailed off and looked down into the green belt behind the house, into all the trees running rampant through the wilderness.

 

I touched his arm, squeezed a big bicep. “You're not your daddy,” I said, my words as soothing as I could make them. “You're tough, and you're making the hard decision right now. We've all made mistakes, Micah. It's nothing to be ashamed of. As long as we fix them, that's what matters. But, right now, you're putting your club first, something Jaws didn't do.”

 

“I know that,” he said, smiling a little, his eyes turning back to mine. “I just don't want to lose you in the process.”

 

“We'll figure it out,” I said as I pressed myself into him and wrapped my arms around his waist.

 

“Yeah,” he said, enveloping me in his embrace and holding my head to his chest as he stroked my hair. “Yeah, we will.”

 

“Definitely,” I promised.

 

Boy, were we wrong.