Fury
Fury stood in the bar, watching as men rapidly cleared out, the slick leather of their soles skidding on the floor as they ran to the door. He heard motorcycle engines roaring in the parking lot as the first to respond chased the stripes down the highway. Swallowing hard, he stared down at his phone. His alert had been different from the Soldiers’ brief, preceding theirs by only moments. He hoped like fuck they had more information than Myron did, because a text that said, Soldiers princess lost, wasn’t nearly enough to roll on.
Once silence settled back into the room, he dialed Myron, only to get voice mail. That action earned him another text, an instruction: Call Duck. Within seconds, the call connected and Fury heard the sound of the wind—ever present in this part of the country—then the noise quietened at the slam of a vehicle door as Duck said, “I’m headed to Las Cruces. You’re here in Lamesa. Thinking this is a dividing tactic, pulling all the Soldiers from here like this.”
Fury grunted and responded, “And I’m thinking you’re probably right. Seeing as they were all we have in the form of backups and those backups just rolled west. That leaves just you and me. So, being as you’re the only other soul in that equation, what in the hell are you doing going to Las Cruces, same place those men are headed?” He shook his head, walking to and through the door, squinting at the bright sunlight. “We got Rebel royalty already here.” He slung a leg over his bike, shoving the key into the ignition. “And even more coming in. Brother, you stay with me.”
An engine roared where Duck was, and Fury knew he was in a truck and heading out, no matter the outcome of this conversation. Fuck.
The quality of the call changed, and Duck’s voice sounded like he was in a tunnel when he said, “Mason ain’t comin’ down. Willa’s in labor. Means you got Chase and Bethy to worry about. That’s it.”
“Fuck, that timing’s a bitch.” Fury leaned over, staring down at his tank, thinking fast. If Mason was tied up in Fort Wayne, he wouldn’t be directing assets down this way. He’d be keeping everything close, in case there was a threat to club or family there. “What about Mica and Molly, because we got the cousin. They still coming?”
“Shit, yeah. Essa’s here. I wasn’t thinking. Shit.” Duck was quiet for a minute, and Fury racked his brains like he knew Duck had to be. “You’ll have to improvise.”
“Improvise, hell. Not like I’m handing the prince a pistol and setting him to guard himself.” Fury considered the other band members. “Benny, maybe. Wouldn’t want him at my back, though. No offense to Slate.”
“He’d be the last one to take offense, brother.” Duck’s voice was tight, concerned. “Bethy’s roommate.” Startled, Fury sat straight, wondering why Duck would be referencing Bethy’s man. “He’s ex-military. He’d be on a plane in a New York minute, you call him. Get Ty on the horn, talk to him. If you can’t raise him, get creative.”
Fury barked a laugh, the lack of humor matched in the one he heard from Duck. “Creative. I’m good at that. Travel safely, brother. You need me, you reach out. This puts you on the road alone, Duck. I’m liking that just as little as the shit you’re leaving behind here.”
“Back atcha, brother. Catch you on the flip.” A pause, then Duck asked quietly, “Check on my family when you have a minute?”
The call disconnected without giving him a chance to respond, and Fury bent to his phone, tapping out a message to Duck that simply said, You got it. Then one to Myron. He hit Send just before he started his bike and rode towards the rodeo grounds. Time to pay the piper when it came to Bethany.
Quacks in the wind. Royalty on a short leash. Updates go both ways.
Thirty minutes later he heeled down the kickstand as he checked his phone and saw a brief affirmative response. He climbed off his bike, standing in the parking lot at the rodeo grounds office. Looking around, he saw a bus parked near the outside fence and recognized it as the one for the band. Through the tinted glass of the windshield several figures were visible, but he couldn’t tell who they were. Twisting to face the other direction, he took in the large, clear windows that circled half of the upstairs office. It had an outside staircase, an interior chute for winching things up or down, and it seemed as if the building was structurally sound, but would be an absolute nightmare for security. He spun again, looking at the bus with new interest. It would make them mobile, but vulnerable to fire and explosives. Not more so than a building, though. Self-contained, it even had a gas generator for when the motor was off. The bus was fitted out with a decent-sized kitchenette and bathroom, even had bunks.
Shit.
That motherfucker looked big, but was small inside. He counted bodies in his head, coming up with way too many to be comfortable.
Fuck.
Fury put his hands in the front pockets of his jeans, shoving them down an inch while he thought. He came to a decision and shaking his head, yanked his phone out and composed a message to Myron. He hit the Send button. Then he walked up the stairs to the rodeo office, ready for whatever fight he would have on his hands. Just before he jerked the door open, his phone buzzed and he pulled it out to see a response. Consider all reasonable precautions approved.
Fury pulled his lips back from his teeth, glancing over at the practice rounds going on in the arena. “Yee haw.”
***
Bethany
“Are you crazy? I can’t do my job from anywhere except here.” She stared up at the man, thinking to herself again that he looked oddly familiar, then shook off that feeling and focused back on his insane directive. “I’m not moving my entire operations to the bus. That’s for the band. They live and sleep there. It’s their space and I respect that.”
“Step outside for a minute, please.” Bethy saw the muscles in his jaw flex and knew he had gritted his teeth in an attempt to keep a civil tone. You failed, buddy.
“I have too much to do.” She stood and walked to the wall, squatting down to match box numbers to the spreadsheet she had in her hands. Glancing at the dumbwaiter set-up, she was mentally calculating how many trips it would take to get everything downstairs so she could get the merch table set-up, when a band of iron circled her arm, lifting her. Instinctively, Bethy tried to get her feet under her. “What?” That was all she got out before Fury hauled her towards the door, heels of her sandals dragging on the hard floor. “Stop it.” He ignored her and Bethy twisted frantically, prying at his hand with her fingers. “Let me go.” Chase turned and watched their path, not trying to hide the grin on his face. “Stop it!” she shouted, louder this time, while she tried to get her feet under her enough to brace herself to stop. “Jesus.” They were outside now, on the porch, and she looked back through the windows to see five very curious sets of eyes on her. “Asshole.”
“Yeah, been called that one.” The mutter was the first thing he’d said since he grabbed her, and she hoped it meant he was less focused, finding she was wrong when she tried to pull away. He shook her almost absently, marching quickly towards the broad staircase. “Need to talk to you. Now you’ve made this a thing, we need to get some privacy.” Halfway down the stairs, she stumbled, and he caught her effortlessly, holding her front tight to his side as he cleared the last few stairs. He looked around and saw her rental car, immediately aiming them to the vehicle. “Good” was his only word when the door opened under his hand. She felt a palm on top of her head and he angled her body into the backseat. “Stay.” He fiddled with something for a moment then the door slammed. She yanked on the handle, but the door didn’t open.
A moment later the driver door opened and slammed as he folded into the front seat. She was headed towards the other door when he turned sideways, and looked at her. “We got a situation.” Those quietly spoken words captured her attention. How could they not, after what had happened only a few months ago? She nodded slowly. “All our security’s been pulled. I’m all you’ve got. I know you’re smart, so it’s not going to take you long to realize the reason they’ve been pulled is because shit’s going down somewhere else. You with me so far?” She nodded.
He pointed to the office, and she looked up to see five heads silhouetted against the lights inside. “The band depends on you. They take their cues from you. You give me shit, they’ll shovel it ten times worse. You didn’t earn it, but you’ve experienced being in the middle of club shit going wrong.” She swallowed hard, and knew he’d seen something because the expression on his face softened slightly, and she had another sudden moment of almost recognition. Then it was past because he was talking again. “Benny has been in the middle of club shit. Chase has seen the results of it, even without knowing that was what he was looking at. The other two are babes in the woods when it comes to real shit. And Bethy, this is real shit. This is war.”
He paused, and she took the chance to ask, “Is my band in danger? My nephew?”
“I hope not,” he answered with honesty, which wasn’t quite what she wanted to hear, but she liked he wasn’t pulling punches with her. “I can’t say for certain. This other club, they’re going after family. Watcher’s daughter is missing, and the consensus is that they’ve taken her.”
Bethy’s heart jolted and she shook her head. “Bella? Oh my God, where’s Mikey?” Little Bella, I changed her diapers. Tiny Bella, the child who climbed me like a monkey, wanting a hug from her Aunt Bethy. Bella kidnapped. Kept in a tiny room, held behind a metal door for days. She clawed at the door handle again, yelling in frustration when it wouldn’t work. “Juanita, I need to get to Juanita.”
“No, Bethy. You need to stay here.” She stopped yanking on the handle at his firm words, staring at him. “They’ve pulled every resource possible to find her. Maybe it’ll just be a college kid being adventurous.” She shook her head, knowing Bella would never do that to her papa. Fury frowned, then continued, “But this club we’re set against, they’ve been known to do family.” He paused again, his gaze traveling over her face, making a study of looking at her and Bethy realized why he looked so different. I can see his eyes.
No sunglasses. Every time she’d seen him over the past two days, he’d been wearing sunglasses, even inside. Without them, he looked even more familiar. Shaking off the feeling took more effort this time, but she ignored her gut, which was sending off huge warning flares, and instead focused on the immediate issue. “Why can’t I go to Juanita? She has to be devastated.”
“Because I’m one guy. Chicago boys are busy, and so are the Fort Wayne members. Willa’s in labor…” She sucked in a breath, and he at least had the good grace to wince when the news came out so baldly, holding up one hand. “I don’t know more than that. But as you can see, we’ve got a few angles working right now. So if you don’t want to be locked in a hotel suite, then we need to move everything to the bus. I’m just one guy,” he repeated with another shake of his head. “And your brother is counting on me. I call you guys the Rebel royalty, because it’s true. So right now I’ve got three princesses and one prince in town, and I can’t do more than what I’m doing. Mica and Molly are being directed to find me. I need somewhere to put them.”
Bethy nodded, hating that he was right. “This all makes sense, in a nonsensical way.” Brimming with anger, she needed to turn that emotion to the ones who deserved it, knowing she sounded crazy and not caring. “What kind of people do this? Put innocent children at risk?” She shifted, looking out the car windows towards the arena. “I’m sorry.” She stumbled, his name sounding foreign in her mouth, but she forced it out, “Fury. I know you’re being considerate. Um, do you think the hotel might be easier to handle? Are you sure you want us on the bus?”
“You can’t do your job at all from the hotel, can you?” The concern in his tone surprised her and she looked at him, shaking her head. “Right now, the show is still on for tomorrow. I don’t want to jack this shit up for Chase or Benny,” his voice lowered an octave, the sound of it scratching along that what-the-hell line in her head, “or you, Bethy. I think the bus will be fine, and it keeps you here where you need to be. As soon as I know anything, or if anything breaks loose, we’ll be back on track.”
“Mica’s in town?” She hated how tentative her voice sounded, hated the queasy roll of her stomach at the knowledge. “Here?”
“Yeah, her cousin’s competing tomorrow. Mica and her sister, Molly, are here. I met them along with Essa twenty minutes ago over at Duck’s place. I don’t think Essa expected them to show, but she was excited to see them.”
Bethy’s hands shook. She noted the marked tremble when she laid her palms on her legs. Mica had been in Utah. After that thought breached her defenses, it only took moments for the memories to sweep over her, rolling her under the tide of a desperate fear she’d lived inside for weeks.
I’m alive, she told herself. The chill of the cement floor bit into her skin as she sat and stared at the tall, thick, and dreaded door, waiting for the man to come back and kill her. That was what he would do, she knew it. Her death his eventual goal, so every breath she took was another moment deferred. Each day he didn’t kill her seemed an eternity. Another set of hours spent in the hell of not knowing. Not knowing why, or who, or if she could do anything to stop it.
She curled up, pressing her head against her knees, blocking out the sight of that window set in the door. The damned, damned door. That was where she’d see him, see him coming for her. The door. That would be the last thing she got to see before she died.
The floor moved, and Bethy was flung against something hard and warm. She pushed, trying to get away. Clawing and shoving, because the door was there. The door would open and he would kill her.
***
Fury
He wrapped his arms around Bethy from his position sprawled halfway in the backseat. They’d been talking about the security situation, and it seemed like he’d gotten through to her. Then she’d gone quiet, chin dropping to her neck. He’d spoken to her several times before she started rocking and trembling. Still unsure, he’d spent another few moments trying to figure out what was going on. It was her whispers that had pulled him from his position behind the wheel, faint and trembling on the air. He’d had to stretch out to reach her because the moment he’d opened the door, she’d scooted as far away from him as she could get. Ass to the floor, back to the opposite side of the car, she’d used her feet and nails on him, trying to keep him away.
“Kill me,” she whispered, and he sucked in a breath, shocked. Her teeth chattered, clicking together violently as shivers racked her body. “No. Please, no. I’m alive.”
Fury tightened his arms around her again, yanking to tear her hands free from the door. He somehow got her into his lap so he could wrap her up, hold her close. As hot as it was outside—and in the car it was worse, an oven that had him soaked with sweat—but her skin was chilled and she shook as if she were freezing. “Kill me. He’s gonna kill me.”
Fuck.
PTSD. He’d said something about Mica, and she’d latched onto that, somehow vaulting into her head so she thought she was back in Utah.
At least she wasn’t fighting him anymore, but her sagging submission was almost worse. “Bethany,” he called, putting his mouth near her ear. She didn’t move. Didn’t acknowledge him. “Bethany, you’re safe.” He tightened his arms around her. “Safe, honey.” Nothing. Shit.
“Bethany Mason, you’re safe.” She shivered, and he thought he could hear her muscles creak with the movement.
“Kill me. He’ll kill me. Gonna kill me.”
“No, honey. You’re safe.” He would repeat it as long as she needed him to. “You’re safe.”
Adjusting his grip, he eased her up his legs so he could pull her tighter against his torso. “You’re safe.” She shook, her hair flying all around her head. “Safe as toads. You’re safe, Bethy.”
A shadow at the door startled him, and he looked up to see Chase in the process of crouching down. “Give her to me,” the boy said, his voice firm. He put actions to words, not giving Fury time to argue before he had pried her away, lifting her to his chest. “I got you,” the boy muttered, and turned, stalking towards the bus, covering ground with long strides. Fury realized the rest of the band was standing in front of the car, staring at him. Scowling at him. The look on Benny’s face was livid, an angry tension evident in every line of his body.
Fury climbed out of the car, slammed the door, and turned to watch Chase as he disappeared into the bus, Bethany in his arms. The accordion doors closed and without turning, Fury demanded, “Someone want to clue me in on what’s going on there?”
Bonnie Dupont was the first to speak, her voice low and furious. “She has flashbacks.”
He swung around to stare at her. “No shit, Sherlock. How long has this gone on?” If Mason knew, there was no way he’d have her out here on her own.
Benny turned on his heel without speaking, heading back towards the office.
Dupont said, “Since I’ve known her. She’ll be okay. Chase is good with her.”
He looked back at the bus, the large vehicle seeming to crouch at the edge of the lot, waiting. The way Bethy had quivered in his arms had sunk into his head, into his body, setting up a sympathetic vibration all through his frame. Every atom strained towards the bus, and knowing she was hurting pulled at him. “She said anything to you about what happened?”
Vic and Dimitri walked away, also towards the office.
“Bad mojo.” Dupont stepped around the car and into his line of sight. “Give him a few minutes with her. She’ll be okay.” She took a step, then a running skip, then pelted towards the office, catching up with Vic at the bottom of the stairs, swinging on his arm a moment before he turned with her to walk into the shadows of the arena.
I’ve officially lost control of the situation.
Her voice had been broken when she spoke, despair coating every word. The time in Utah had been harder than anyone knew. A true Mason, she’d been adept at hiding how deeply it had impacted her.
She will not be okay, he thought. There’s nothing okay about what I just saw. I was about half pissed she didn’t remember me, but now seeing this, I’m glad she doesn’t. He didn’t want to be another thing that caused her to break like that.
***
Bethany
She sat on the bench that ran across the back of the bus, in the salon space behind the bunks. Curled into a ball, Bethy rested her cheek on her knees, looking out the smoky back window with her legs pulled tightly to her chest. On the ledge near her head was a bottle of water and a pile of sour jelly beans. She was always exhausted when she came back to herself, as well as sick to her stomach, and Chase knew it. He’d set things up for her without even asking this time.
This time. That thought made her stomach roll, because she didn’t want there to have been a this time, because that implied there’d be a that time, and then a the other time. She just wanted to be done with all of it. “Beat it back,” she whispered, feeling her hair sweep across her arm as she adjusted her grip on her legs. Only so much a body can beat back.
Now that she was past it, she could look at the things she thought she’d seen when she blacked out, and pick out the imagery that didn’t belong. The cement floor and window in the door, those were real. Had been real. Had been her world for three weeks while she waited every day to die. The eyes that watched her every move, those were not real. Neither was the feeling of safety, like she’d found her own personal angel. Not real. The imagined Kentucky woods, strong hands reaching to turn over a fallen log, and a long, pointing finger showing her the toad crouched there. Not real.
“Safe as toads.” That had been something her aunt had said, using the phrase to calm a frightened girl in the middle of a violent spring thunderstorm.
In the distance, she saw Fury walking up the staircase, moving slowly, as if the heat lay heavy on his shoulders. Fury reached the door at the top of the stairs and paused, running his hand over his head in a gesture that felt so strikingly familiar, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. It looked like he was surprised to find a full head of hair. Like he would be more accustomed to bare skin.
In her head, she heard his voice, almost as clearly as if he’d been seated next to her, “Safe, honey.”
Right after that, she heard the voice from her older nightmares, Derek’s voice. “No, honey. It couldn’t be.” I’m going crazy.
“Chaser.” She tried to shake off the unease plaguing her and called out as the bus swayed in a way that told her Chase was walking down the long hallway towards where she sat. She had to focus on what was important. Watcher and Juanita. Bella. The words Fury had said started flashing through her head. Davy and Willa. I have to tell him. “Come here.”
“’Sup, Aunt Bethy?” He pushed through the folding door and fell to a slouch on the couch beside her. “You put back together?”
He’d been the one to find her after her first episode at the house in Fort Wayne, when she’d been cowering in a closet, waiting for the man to come and kill her. At first—and this told her how hard his life had been—he’d assumed she had taken drugs, his disappointment rough as sandpaper while he talked her through it. Afterwards, he’d seemed relieved when she explained it had just been her head trapping her in memories. The spells didn’t come as often now, nor did they last as long. She well remembered how Ty had struggled with his bad turns, and eventually had drawn comparisons between Ty’s behaviors and her own.
Chase had become her rock, and she felt guilty for leaning on the young man, but telling Davy wasn’t an option. He needed to see her as strong and able, or he’d pull the business and put someone, anyone else in charge.
“Willa’s gone into labor.” That was the most important information, because if he wanted to go back and be there, they’d need to get a flight lined up for him quickly. “Do you want to go home?”
He stared at her, then one corner of his mouth pulled down as he made a face. “I should want to, right?”
“You don’t have to.” Reaching out, she stroked the back of his hand as she shook her head. “What’s right for me is different from what’s right for you. I want to, but I’m here for the show. It’s bigger than me.”
“I don’t want to. He’ll have enough to worry about without me being there.” She narrowed her eyes, focusing on his face. Not quite as inscrutable as Davy.
“Liar.” He winced and she knew she’d gotten it right. “You want to go, but you’re being smart and adult about it, even if that sucks. Because you know you’re not a problem, and you wouldn’t be in the way. You’re right, though. If you’re there, he’ll worry about you, too. This way—” She paused and shook her head. “This way he can focus on Willa and the baby, and being a brand-new dad. Something he didn’t get to experience with you.” Bottom lip pushed up into a bow, Chase nodded. “Okay, I can see that. Love this selfless side of you. So much. But, if you decide to go, if you change your mind, that’s an easy adjustment, okay?” He nodded again. God, he’s a good kid. He’d love Michael.
“Now, let’s get everyone on the bus so he-man will be happy. He’s got some other news he’ll share once we’re all on here.” Chase lifted his chin, staring at her with Davy’s eyes, the familiar intelligence shining through was uncanny. “And then, once the show’s over, you can tell me what you know about Fury.”