CHAPTER TWELVE
Badger was awake early the next morning. He’d slept like shit; he hadn’t had a nightmare in a while, but last night’s was a doozie—not only vivid but ensnaring, the kind of nightmare that held on even after he’d realized he was dreaming, adding the panic of not being able to wake to the pain and panic of what was happening in the dream.
Adrienne had been there for him when he’d finally pulled out of it, the way she always was there for him. The way he needed her.
Now, she was sleeping quietly, curled on her side, facing away. Her hair was spread out on the pillow like a fiery halo. Morning light beamed softly from the window over her shoulder, making the dust of freckles there seem to glow. She was the most perfect, the most precious part of his life. She was his light.
He leaned on his elbow and watched her sleep, rubbing his chest absently. He hurt more this morning than he had in days, maybe weeks, as if the pain of the nightmare had seeped into reality and caught hold. The buzz at the base of his skull was loud and insistent this morning, too. He wanted to wake her, take her again, but he knew he’d been rougher last night than he wanted to be, so he left her alone now. He watched her rest, and he contended with his need.
She had to be okay with who he really was. She had to be. He shouldn’t have waited so long to be straight with her about it, because it was too late for him to lose her now. But he’d had a small, sad hope that maybe he wouldn’t have to tell her so much, that he could keep her innocent of the club. That she could be left to believe he was good. To believe that he wasn’t as ruined on the inside as he was on the outside.
That had been a dream, too. Reality had no room for dreams like that. In Badger’s world, reality had much more room for nightmares.
~oOo~
She was still sleeping, and he was still lying next to her, fighting his demons, when his burner went off. He grabbed it before it woke her and stood as he opened it, walking into her bedroom—which almost never got any use except as a closet—to answer. It was Show, and Badger’s stomach clenched a little as he put the phone to his ear.
“Yeah.”
“We’re meeting in half an hour. At Isaac and Lilli’s—Tash doesn’t want him riding yet.”
“I’ll be there.”
“Okay…brother.” The call ended.
It was the first time Show had called him ‘brother’ since the night he’d taken the beating at Tuck’s.
Jerri Rae had backed off of Badger being her baby daddy right away, after Billy and his buddies got their lesson and then Isaac sat her down for a talk. She didn’t make the mistake of trying to name any other Horde. As it turned out, she had no idea who was really the father. She’d been sleeping around outside the Horde, which was out of bounds for club girls. They could fuck whomever they wanted to fuck, but they couldn’t do that and also fuck the Horde. They wanted to make sure the girls didn’t bring anything into the clubhouse with them and give it to the men.
She’d named Badge because she thought he was a nice enough guy to step up whether it was true or not. In other words, she’d thought he was a patsy. She’d been wrong. Maybe at one time, she would have been right, but not anymore.
A little dazed, the sound of Show’s voice speaking the word ‘brother’ still in his ear, Badger went back to the living room. Adrienne was sitting up, the blankets pooled around her waist, leaving her beautiful little breasts bare for his eyes.
“Do you have to go?”
He came and sat next to her. He had a few minutes. “Yeah, I do. I don’t know what’s up, so I’m not sure how long I’ll be. I’ll try to let you know.” He searched her eyes. “Should I let you know? Should I come back?” He’d only laid everything on her a few hours ago, but he didn’t know if he could wait longer to know.
When she put her hand on his face, threading her fingers into his beard, he could have wept, but whether for sorrow or gladness he didn’t know.
“I’m not leaving you, Badge. I have to think and figure out what my place is here. I don’t understand this life. But I’m not leaving. I love you. I just need to figure out how to live. But I already needed to figure that out.”
Caught in a sudden deluge of relief, he pulled her close and held her hard. His face buried in her fragrant hair, he murmured, “I try to figure that out every day. Maybe we can help each other.”
“Yeah.” She pushed him back and gave him a stern look. “But don’t treat me like a little girl. I need to know things. I need to understand. I’m pretty smart. And I’m pretty brave, I think.”
“You are. You’re smart and brave and beautiful. I don’t deserve to be this lucky.”
~oOo~
The Horde sat around Isaac and Lilli’s dining room table, arranged in their customary order. The table was a huge, ancient thing, made out of a heavy wood so dark it was almost black. Sitting at the head, Isaac looked tired but otherwise well. His bandaged arm was supported against his chest by a sling.
“I hear I missed a visitor yesterday. Got a drop-by from the Sheriff after I left? First time law has been in Signal Bend since the last time I got shot. Maybe they’re just extra fond of me.”
Show nodded. “But last time, that was literally true. Last time it was Tyler, who really was worried about you. Yesterday, Seaver made a big production out of coming up on our booth. It was about catching us up. Pissing on our tree. This is the next step up from him following us on our way in from the run. And somebody called him in. First time anybody’s called in law for a town issue in, fuck, I don’t know how long.”
Emboldened by the way he’d been heeded yesterday, and Show’s call this morning, Badger picked up the thread. “Somebody called, yeah. Has to be. It could have been an out-of-towner, though. But something interesting happened. Seaver made his entrance, and he snooped all over the booth, but nobody talked to him. I mean nobody. Not even out-of-towners. I don’t know if it was the way he was swinging his dick around or what, but I didn’t see anybody take time with him to point one damn finger. They had our back. Even strangers.”
Isaac scanned the table. Badger followed his eyes and saw his brothers agreeing with him.
“I’d say we have Badge to thank for it,” Show’s voice was even quieter than usual, but it carried. “People saw us handle Don’s crazy with reason. Maybe that warmed people toward us some. Or at least had people pulling in against the outside. And reason wouldn’t’ve been my call. Not yesterday. He shot Isaac. He fired a weapon in the middle of a crowd. Around our women and children. I’d’ve put my fist through Don Mariano’s skull. Right there in front of the whole fuckin’ town.” Suddenly, his glower relaxed, and his lips turned up in a smirk. “If Lilli would’ve given me the chance.”
They all grinned. It wasn’t funny, talking about who would have killed the man who’d tried to kill Isaac, and yet it was, a little, the image of Lilli fighting Show for the kill. Lilli was not a chick to fuck with. Even now, when she spent her days raising her kids, running the town library, doing town council stuff, she was still a warrior. Maybe more than ever, since she didn’t wear it on her sleeve the way she once had.
Tommy whistled. “Ah, man…that spin thing she did? That was sweet.” He grinned at Isaac.
Who scowled back. “Enough talkin’ about my old lady. Let’s get back on track. Seaver’s into our turf now. He’s been in office almost a year and a half, and he’s been biding his time. Kept outside of town—not even a drive-through in all that time. He must think he’s close on something. Look sharp, brothers. I’d say the heat is on.”
Len put his elbows on the table. “And we got no idea what he’s cookin’.”
“No.” Isaac shook his head. “But we know where we’re vulnerable. The weed. And the clinic.”
“I swear to fucking God, if Tasha gets pulled into our bullshit with Seaver, I will rip that motherfucker’s throat out. We’ve done her enough hurt.” Len sat back so hard that his chair rocked up onto two legs. “She has the black market shit for us.”
“Protecting her is our first priority, Len. You and I are meeting with Bruce this afternoon”—Bruce was their contact for medical supplies in Springfield—“We’re hitting pause on supply orders until we get a better read on what the Sheriff has going.” Isaac turned to Dom. “Anything new, brother?”
“Not yet. Same old stuff, just more of it. But I was talking to Bart, and he made me think of something.”
Dom hesitated, and even though no one moved, Badger had the sense that they’d all mentally leaned in. When Dom didn’t start up again, Isaac slammed his fist on the table, and Dom jumped. “Come on, Dom. What?”
“I…don’t know if it’s anything. But Bart and me…we talk in code, and we bounce the IP addresses, covering our tracks as much as we can. What if Seaver is talking in code to his buddy in Texas? The one he exchanges all the fucked-up jokes with? I mean, how many rape jokes and whatever before that shit gets old? And sometimes they barely make sense and aren’t funny even if you’re a deviant bastard.”
“And?”
“I don’t know yet, boss. I’m looking for patterns now, but this isn’t my thing.”
“It’s Lilli’s, though.” Lilli had been doing some kind of super-classified government work when she’d come to Signal Bend, and she spoke, like, a million languages. Isaac scanned the table. “Problems with bringing her in on this?”
“Chick ain’t got no business in our business. Don’t care who she is.” Zeke. Who’d never spoken at the table except to answer a question or voice a vote. Which Badger supposed he was doing now. “Sorry, boss. But that’s true.”
Isaac stared at Zeke for a long time. Usually, when he was pissed, Isaac’s brows drew in, and the effect was awe-inspiring, even in this group of rough men. But now, he stared without any expression at all, and Badger felt even more anxious—it was as if Isaac had transcended to an entirely new level of rage, one beyond human expression.
Zeke had not been a member of the Horde when C.J. had been. He could not know the animosity that had simmered between Isaac and Ceej over Lilli’s involvement in their fight with Ellis. He knew that Isaac had been paralyzed, but the Horde did not talk about that history. They did not talk about traitors, so they did not talk about C.J.’s treachery and murderous intent. Zeke could not know the dangerous territory on which he was stomping now. Tommy didn’t know, either. But Show, Len, Badger, and Dom—they’d all been there. As Prospects or full members, they had been there since Ellis. They knew what Lilli had risked and lost. They knew how she’d helped them. They knew what it had cost Isaac and Lilli both. And they knew how sore Isaac was on the subject.
He said one word. “Vote.”
Show picked up for him without missing a beat. “Aye brings Lilli in to help Dom with this code thing. Aye.”
Len: “Aye.”
Badger didn’t hesitate. As far as he was concerned, what Lilli did or did not carry between her legs didn’t matter half as much as what she carried between her ears and inside her chest. They needed her. “Aye.”
Dom: “Aye.”
Zeke didn’t hesitate, either. “Nay.”
Tommy’s head swiveled between Zeke and Isaac. Zeke had been his VP at their previous club, a recreational club in Illinois. But Isaac was his President now, and the Horde were anything but recreational. According to the club bylaws, if Zeke got one more vote on a matter first raised at the table, he could force it to be tabled for a week. It wouldn’t matter that a majority vote was already in place. Badger didn’t think the vote would change in a week, but they’d lose a week of work, and Isaac would likely need to be restrained before he ripped Zeke’s prodigious beard right off his face and strangled him with it. Even with one arm tied to his chest.
Isaac stared steadily at Tommy, waiting. All Horde eyes were on him. Tommy was a good member. He was strong and brave, and he did what was asked of him. He wasn’t what could be called bright, but that worked for him more times than not. Havoc hadn’t been much of a thinker, either. He’d been sharp in a lot of ways, but he’d almost always have chosen action over thought. He’d told Badger once, over shots at Tuck’s, that thinking was for later, when you needed an alibi.
Badger smiled at the memory.
Finally, with one more look at Zeke, Tommy said, “Aye.” And the table took a breath and then tensed again as Isaac’s fiery eyes turned back to Zeke.
“Brother, you got a problem with this vote, any problem at all, you can put that kutte on the table. When the table has spoken, the matter is fuckin’ closed. I will not wait for another malcontent to take me down. I swear that on my own patch.”
Zeke stared back for about ten full seconds—which was a very long time when a whole table was waiting on his answer to a challenge like that. Finally, the old man nodded. “I rode outlaw for a long time. Before your time. Not once did we ever ask a woman do anything but cook our food, suck our dicks, or spread her legs.”
Holy shit. Isaac sat suddenly forward, his one good hand curled into a fist so tight it shook. Badger held his breath. This was the world’s shittiest time for Zeke to find his tongue. Being the strong silent type was so much safer than saying something like that when they were talking about Lilli.
But Zeke held out his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “But my first club shut down. Got run right over. So maybe our way wasn’t the right way. And I’m man enough to admit that the world moved on while I was playin’ weekend rider. I ain’t got a problem with the vote, boss. I apologize for forcin’ it.”
Isaac nodded, and that was the end of it. Badger could almost hear the collective drop in adrenaline around the table. His voice much easier, Isaac said, “Dom—talk to Lilli when we’re done here.” He took a breath and cleared his throat. “Before we adjourn, we got one more thing. Double A. He’s six months past his minimum, and we haven’t brought him to a vote.
Show interrupted. “He’s young—what is he, twenty-two, twenty-three?”
Double A—born Aaron—had started hanging around the club right after high school. Badger had gotten to know him then and had sponsored his Prospect application. Double A never balked at anything he’d been asked to do—and that remained true as a Prospect. He’d taken on a tough role as sparring partner in the ring, as well as cleanup duty for some of the Horde’s messier lessons. He had a strong stomach and stronger fists. Moreover, his day job was at the fireworks factory off of I-44. He’d learned a few things about explosives there, and had taught himself more. Badger hadn’t expected Double A’s patch vote today, but he was ready to endorse it.
Badger answered Show’s question. “Twenty-three. Three years younger than I am. Older than I was when I patched in.”
But Show obviously had concerns. “Yeah, brother, and you are too fuckin’ young to deal with the shit you’ve had to deal with.”
Though he was surprised by the concern for him Show’s comment revealed, Badger shrugged, the pull in his chest reminding him of the worst of the shit he’d had to deal with. “I won’t argue—I don’t know if you can be old enough for some of our shit. But fact is, he’ll time out in six months, and he won’t be much older then. We need to fill out the table, right?” He turned from Show to Isaac. “Right?”
Isaac cocked his head. “That’s for the club to decide. I say we decide with a patch vote. Any objections?”
There were none. A few minutes later, when Isaac rapped on the table with his un-slung fist, calling the meeting to an end, the Horde had another member.
~oOo~
“Hand me the torque wrench, would ya?”
Nolan passed the tool to Badger. They’d been working on the Sportster a couple of nights a week for a couple of weeks now. A couple of days after the Spring Fest, Nolan had come to him at the B&B, saying that it hurt too much to see the bones of what he and Havoc had not been able to finish together scattered over the worktable in the garage. He wanted to honor him by finishing what they’d started. But Nolan didn’t know enough to do it on his own.
Badger didn’t know bikes the way Havoc had known bikes. Havoc had had a sixth sense or something about this stuff. But Badger was decent, and Nolan, it was clear, had the same kind of sense that Havoc had had—just without the experience or training. They had a good manual, and they were learning as they went. They’d been having a good time. Nolan was right—it was a way to honor Havoc. In fact, sometimes it felt like he was in there with them.
The last couple of times Badger had come over, Adrienne had come with him. She was hanging out with Cory and Loki. They cooked supper while he and Nolan worked in the garage, but Badger thought Adrienne was also trying to get some understanding about the life of the Horde from Cory, who had lost more than anyone else—save, maybe, Show.
Badger didn’t know if Cory was ready to talk, but he trusted that Adrienne, who was naturally empathetic and kind, would not push her too far.
“How’re things going with Len?”
Nolan looked up, shaking hair out of his eyes—his dark hair had a tendency to flop over his face. He had a faint bruise on one cheekbone. “Okay, I guess. But he’s kind of…an asshole.”
Badger laughed. Sometimes he thought he could still feel the ache from his time training in the ring with Len. “Yeah—but that’s good. You don’t want him going easy on you. Somebody who’s trying to hurt you isn’t gonna go easy.”
When Badger had sat down with Isaac, Show, and Len and told them that Nolan was looking to track into the club as quickly as he could, nobody had been surprised. Isaac and Show had then sat down with Cory, though, and she had surprised them—she’d agreed without much hesitation. She knew what Nolan wanted, and she, like her oldest son, knew they had no family but the Horde. She understood his choice.
Badger thought that showed the steel in Cory’s backbone. No matter how she’d folded right after she’d lost Havoc, she was finding her strength again. Maybe finding more than she’d had. That’s what coming out on the other side of Hell did—if it didn’t break you completely, it made you stronger. Like tempered steel. Badger was finding that out for himself, too, maybe.
So Nolan had become a club project of sorts. Len was teaching him to fight. Isaac was continuing his training with guns. Badger was helping him build his bike, and Show was teaching him to ride, using one of the Horde bikes they sometimes loaned out when they were doing an extensive repair or a customization job. Show was also teaching him to drive—the kid hadn’t even had a learner’s permit yet.
As young as he was, there was little question that, if he wanted it, Nolan would, in a few years at the most, be Horde. The first legacy patch since Isaac himself. The only other legacy patch so far in the club’s history.
“Can I ask you something, Badge?”
“Sure, man.” Badger finished with the wrench and leaned over for a screwdriver.
“Why—why are you Horde? Why did you want to be?”
Badger stopped. That was a hell of a question. Two questions, in fact, with different answers, neither of which he was sure he could articulate.
“I don’t know if I know how to say it.”
Nolan just looked at him, waiting.
Badger spoke as he thought it out. “When I was a kid, the Horde was everything to this town. They fixed people’s problems. As much as anybody could. Things got real bad around here. I was just a kid, but even I could see the way things were dying. People losing their homes. Their jobs. Everything. My folks lost their farm—had to sell it off in parcels. Land my great-great-great-great-I don’t know how many greats-grandparents staked. Now my dad earns hourly working somebody else’s land. The club couldn’t save all that—they were hurting, too. But they kept people from starving. They made work for people where they could. They didn’t give handouts, and people didn’t want charity. But they found them something to do. They found some day work for my dad, before he got the gig he has now. My mom got her job because the Horde sent her over. She’d never had a job before, but they hired her on the spot. Len—when I was twelve, I went to him, looking for work, trying to earn something so my folks didn’t have to worry about me. He put me to work on his place, paying me fifteen bucks an hour. A twelve-year-old kid. After I did whatever work he gave me, he fed me and taught me. I wanted to be him when I grew up. It wasn’t just that, though. The Horde takes care of the town. When the police up and left, they kept order—something we still do now.
“That’s why I wanted to join. Because they were heroes. They took care of people, and people loved them for it. And they were clear about justice. People loved them for that, too. When somebody did wrong, the Horde made sure they paid. When somebody got a lesson, when the Horde collected on a debt, everybody in town knew it was right. No question. Because of the Horde, Signal Bend hung on. We hung together.”
He turned back to Nolan. “I’m Horde because I know that’s who we are. Even when things go wrong. No matter what, that’s who we are. Isaac and Show and Len—they won’t let us down. Not the club or the town. I trust them. All of them. I got wound up in my own shit and forgot that for a while. But as fucked up as things are, I know I can trust my brothers.”
Badger stopped talking and stared off into a distance beyond the walls of the garage, lost in memory. After a minute, he shook it off. “My brother, Jason, started hanging around the club around the time I started working for Len, and he had all kind of stories about how awesome it was. Jason does everything better than me. He’s smarter, better looking, stronger, whatever. He went to college on a baseball scholarship, and now he makes sacks of money as an engineer. He always did everything first and better than me. But when I got my patch? He was jealous. That felt damn good.”
Again, he brought his focus back to the moment, back to Nolan. In explaining it, Badger had found some clarity, some peace for himself. “I’m Horde because there’s no stronger family anywhere. No bond tighter.”
Nolan nodded. “Yeah. That’s what Hav said, too.”
Cory came to the door. “Dinner’s about ready, boys. Come clean up, please.”
They both nodded, and she headed back to the kitchen.
They gathered up the tools and began settling them back in their proper places. As he did so, Badger said, “Len told me that Hav saved me. He kept me going that day, before he died. I owe him my life.” He stopped and looked Nolan straight in the eye. “I got your back, Nolan. I’ll always have your back. That’s true for the whole club, but it goes double for me.”