~ Ace ~
Sitting at their attorney’s office, Ace refused to allow Barbara to sit anywhere but at his side with his arm wrapped around her. Strangely enough, Cork didn’t even glance in her direction. It was for the best. Despite their little cockroach bonding moment behind bars, Ace still wanted to take his head off.
Darkness sat with his hands steepled together. “Tell us one more time why it was necessary to shoot that poor college kid.”
“The detective thinks Reynolds Sr. had some plan to pin the bodies on your club. They thought that a man trying to eliminate witnesses might somehow further that end.”
“Since the shooter was on a motorcycle and dressed in jeans and leather, it might have gotten the cops focused on us,” Darkness considered.
“They pulled the phone records, and we know he talked to his son the better part of the night,” the attorney informed them. “They think it was an effort to keep him sober and maybe talk him into going home. According to the GPS, Reynolds Jr. sat outside your home all night.”
“So the farmer called his attorney and the attorney called Reynolds Sr., who conspired with Reynolds Jr. They get the ex out to the site, thinking she’ll call Jr. and get him to sort it all out. Only Ace is already on the scene and involved with the woman, so she turns to him instead,” Darkness said, working it all out. “They want to separate them, so they send someone to pretend to be a club member and shoot one of them.”
“That’s the part that doesn’t fit. Why try to kill an innocent college kid?” Ace questioned.
Darkness explained, “Most people underestimate how difficult it is to control a motorcycle in motion while shooting a gun. He probably meant to make it look good without intent to kill. Dragging us into danger might have forced us to make some tough decisions, like whether or not to stay involved. Even if they couldn’t pin it on Ace directly, it might have gotten us to pull back, giving Jr. his in.”
“The farmer came clean, the lawyer lawyered up, and Reynolds Sr. was just picked up in Reno this morning on a DUI,” the attorney added.
“Apples and trees,” Ace murmured.
“The body cam you were wearing really helped the cops put it all together. Even though there were no visuals, the voice recording of Sr. admitting to his plan was admissible because in this state, only one person needs to be aware that the conversation is being recorded.
“My brother made those from old computer parts,” Cork said proudly.
The attorney grinned. “He’s a talented man.”
Smiling slightly, Cork agreed. “Yeah, he’s growing up strong and smart.”
Darkness asked the question weighing on everyone’s mind. “Did they figure out who the actual killer was?”
“They picked up a local man and are looking at several members of his immediate family. The crime lab really came through on that one.”
“Moving bodies is sweaty business. It’s hard not to leave behind hair, fingerprints, or sweat,” Darkness surmised.
“Not that any of us know anything about that.” Ryder’s friendly reminder made Darkness smile.
Their attorney ignored the comment entirely. “So, the DA has dropped the charges, and it looks like the situation is wrapping itself up with a nice bow. I’m recommending a civil action suit against the very wealthy Reynolds Sr. and the farmer, Mr. Farrington.”
“I’ve never been one to turn down free money,” Darkness said brightly.
“Sorry it took three days to get you all released,” the attorney apologized. “The DA was being a real ass because the shoot-out was within city limits.”
Glancing quickly at Cork, Ace huffed out an exasperated breath. “It was a tough three days, but we got through it.”
After the necessary paperwork was signed and everything was sorted, they said their goodbyes and headed out to the street. All their bikes were lined up in a row, and Ace murmured, “Have you ever seen a more beautiful sight?”
Ryder headed for his bike and gave the woman sitting on the back waiting for him a kiss. Tiffany smiled up at her man, clearly happy to have him back in her arms.
Cork slowly walked out and faced off with his brother. “You did real good, Peb. The gadgets you made saved the day.”
The younger man nodded. “I hoped they would. You coming back to the clubhouse?”
“Three days, Peb. I was locked in that little room for three whole days. They didn’t let us out even once.”
Peb gave an understanding nod. “Take some time and ride. I’ll be here when you get back.”
Jerking his chin in the direction of Peb’s bike, Cork asked, “Is she yours?”
“Yeah, for now at least. Her name is Jennifer Jackson. You’ll like her, I promise.”
Cork patted him on the shoulder. “I’m glad you’re not alone.”
Peb teared up but held it together. “I’m never gonna be alone again. You saw to that when we joined the MC. We have twenty brothers whenever we need them.”
“That’s right, brother.” Cork gave him a quick hug and jumped on his bike.
Overhearing their private conversation seemed wrong, but having it on the street made it impossible for Ace not to hear.
Barbara peered up at him. “Is he going to be all right?”
“I don’t know. I hope so.” He sighed. “Let’s get outta here.”
Darkness gestured to the bikes. “Go the clubhouse. They’ve got a welcome home party for you all.”
Peb nodded. “The ladies did a real good job.”
Getting back on his bike with Barb at his back felt phenomenal after having his freedom curtailed for three long days. The moment her arms circled loosely around his waist, a wave of emotion consumed him. From this moment forward, he wasn’t wasting any time or energy on feeling unworthy or doubting how right they were for each other. It didn’t matter that he was patched up and still hurting, because she’d stayed by his side in his time of need and sat in jail for three days right along with him. It infuriated him that she’d been arrested, but it was in the past now.
Flying down the highway, Ace enjoyed the cold breeze and his woman gently running her thumb over his abs as he drove. It didn’t take long before they were pulling into the clubhouse, which was an interesting experience. Everyone crowded around, welcoming them. Taking Barbara by the hand, he approached Tiffany, who didn’t appear to be feeling very friendly at the moment. Ryder propelled her forward slightly to meet him face-to-face.
Looking down at her, Ace apologized good and proper. “I’m sorry about telling you not to talk to me anymore. I was having a bad day, and my self-loathing got the better of me. You weren’t annoying, and you didn’t do anything wrong. I was just stressed and overwhelmed because a beautiful woman fell in love with me and I didn’t know how to handle it. Can you forgive me?”
Tiffany took a good long moment to stare into his eyes as if judging his sincerity, before stepping forward and giving him a hug. “I never stopped thinking of you as a friend.” Glancing at Barbara, she smiled. “I’m glad you found someone to care for. You’re both lucky to have each other, so don’t ever forget that.”
Drawing Tiffany back against his body, Ryder muttered, “That’s about enough hugging men that aren’t me, princess.”
Ace glanced around at the brothers milling around and grabbing beers. “It feels weird without Cork being here to enjoy the welcome home.”
Someone gave them cold beers, and Ryder caught his eye. “I feel like we should race cockroaches or something in honor of him.”
Ace grinned. “I’ll drink to that, brother.”
Peb strolled over. “My brother raced cockroaches with you? That’s awesome.”
Ace looked at the man curiously. “What is so awesome about racing insects?”
Without an ounce of guile, Peb enlightened them. “Cork and I grew up on a farm about a hundred miles from here. When we were kids, our folks locked us up off and on.”
Barbara asked, “Like in your rooms?”
“In the little closet under the stairs mostly,” he clarified, “but sometimes in the cabinets under the sink or in a wardrobe. They did it as a punishment or just to keep us safe while they went out. We’d get bored. Our favorite game was to race insects, and for some reason cockroaches were plentiful. Racing them was really fun. If my brother did that with you, it means he really likes you.”
Ryder swallowed thickly. “If I’m being totally honest, it was kind of fun.”
Ace chimed in, “Yeah, after you get past the fact that it’s a bug.”
Barbara snuggled closer to his side. “I hope he comes back soon. I’m worried about him.”
Peb sighed. “My brother never liked being locked up. He’s claustrophobic, but he’d never admit it. Every time they’d let us out, he’d run across our property for hours. Once he got it out of his system, he would be fine.”
Ace held out his bottle. “Here’s to Cork enjoying his run and making it back safely.”
Clinking the neck of their amber bottles together, everyone took a pull off their beer in Cork’s honor. Ace circulated among his brothers, ate, drank, told their story more than once, and finally landed at the bar. Strangely enough, Ryder was pouring drinks like a prospect. Stuart and Tiffany were knee deep in a conversation that closely resembled the one they always had.
“You really don’t get it, Tiff. Everybody else there had fallen apart over a major life crisis and were trying desperately to get back to where they were before.” Thumping his chest, Stuart’s voice edged up a notch. “I was never right to start out with, so I’ve got nothing to get back to.”
“You’re being absurd,” she accused.
“Am I? Because it sure as hell does not feel like it.”
“I’ve known you since kindergarten, Stuart. You were a fascinating person, even back then. I was drawn to you because you weren’t like everyone else. I’ll admit that you had some quirky personality traits from the get-go, but we both know it was because of the stress your family put you through. It always seemed to me that no matter how old we were, your dad was putting pressure on you like I’d only ever seen in the adult world.”
“That much is true,” he said, nodding grimly.
“Well, I’m sure your therapist told you how unhealthy that kind of thing is. You managed to get through it without running away, turning into a serial killer, or harming yourself. In fact, I think you did pretty damn good.”
“I could have done better.”
“I took a psychology class or two in college and I know you did, too, Stuart. We both know that when things go terribly wrong, it’s because people don’t have the tools they need to deal with whatever is happening to them.”
“Got all the answers today, don’t you, Tiff?” he said with a note of resentment.
“I just want you to understand that we all make mistakes, Stuart.”
“Yeah, I shouldn’t have kept Walter and made him spend time with me. That was wrong. I was just feeling anxious and desperate.”
“I’m glad to hear you say that. I’m sure Walter will forgive you one day.”
“I hope so. Anyway, I don’t need to do stupid stuff like that anymore. Now I have you and Ryder for real friends.”
Ryder leaned over the bar and glared at him. “We ain’t friends, dude.”
Shooting Ryder an indulgent look, Stuart insisted pleasantly, “Yes you are. I can tell because you helped with my mother, and you haven’t killed me yet for talking to your Tiffany.”
Ryder’s face lit up. “You called her my Tiffany and not yours.”
“I understand now that Tiffany doesn’t like to be my kitten. She clearly likes to be your princess. I don’t care for princesses, so you can have her,” he said, as if it was of no consequence to him.
Ace chimed in, “That sounds kind of arrogant, as if you own her or something.”
Stuart crammed some chips into his mouth and began reading the bag. “That doesn’t make it any less true. Darkness says I get your room now that you’re moving in with your angel.”
“He does, does he?” Ace asked slowly. This was news to him.
Stewart grimaced. “Don’t say that. It’s redundant, like eating triple chocolate cake.”
Tiffany quickly explained, “Stuart has about a million food related rules. Rule number one is no redundancy in flavors. Rule number two is one food cannot touch other food on his plate. This includes sauces, which must be served on the side.”
Staring at the chip bag like it was the most fascinating reading material on the planet, Stuart held up one finger. “Stop. That is actually rule three.”
Tiffany shook her head. “Sorry, Stu, rule number two is that hot foods must be hot, not lukewarm, and cold foods need to be thoroughly chilled.”
At Ace’s side, Barbara said, “That should really be two rules.”
Slapping the chip bag down onto the table, Stuart gazed at her with heated interest. “And who might you be, my pretty?”
Ace pulled her back protectively. “She belongs to me.”
Stuart raised one eyebrow and glared at him. “Sounds kind of arrogant, if you as me.”
Ace leaned forward slightly and whispered, “She hates all things cat related.”
Picking his chip bag back up, Stuart mumbled distractedly, “I suppose you can keep her then.”
“Gee, thanks.”