TWENTY

Mel

Who would have thought there’s so much involved when it comes to planning a rally? Dates that coincide with school holidays so the families can all go together, booking campsites, ensuring the crash van is stocked with the spare parts that are most likely to be needed when fifty or more bikes are traveling two thousand miles, and of course food. So much food.

I kneel on the tall chair beside the breakfast bar in the kitchen, a can of Red Bull to my right and a mountain of sticky notes and scribbled place names on my left. I’m hunched over my phone, finger scrolling my way around Google maps when Beth walks in and stops at the fridge.

“What you doin’?”

I haven’t told anyone about my plan; I wanted to have it all mapped out and ready to go so I could announce it as a surprise once all the details were finalized. Kind of like a thank you gift to the club.

“Research,” I answer simply.

She pulls a carton of juice out and then crosses the kitchen to get a cup. “Anythin’ I can help with?”

I glance up at her. She really is gorgeous with her naturally blonde hair and big blue eyes. She’d scrub up well as a pageant queen but I get the feeling she isn’t that kind of girl.

“Not sure. Can you keep a secret?”

“I’ve kept so many, I’m sure I’ve forgotten most of them,” she says with a chuckle.

“I’m planning a rally.”

“Yeah?” Her eyes go wide, the excitement clear. “When?”

“Not sure yet. I’m trying to nut out the details first.”

“You lodged a request for a permit with the local council?”

I blink a couple of times at her. “Huh?”

“You’d find that most places”—she points to my mud maps—“want you to let them know if you plan on staging an event over a certain number of people. Crowd control, you know, that kind of thing. So they can plan around havin' us all on the roads and let the public know in the town notices.”

“I never thought of that.” I slump my head on my arms.

“Hey.” She taps me on the shoulder. “It’s easy-peasy. Show me what you got.”

We spend the next hour and a half mapping out a route that has a decent size campground outside the city limits for us to stop at each night. By the time we’re done, there’s so many sticky notes everywhere the counter is invisible beneath our project.

“All we need to do is settle on a date,” Beth says re-writing our layovers in a list with their contact numbers.

I sigh and stare out the windows to the back yard. “Yeah.”

“Problem?”

“I guess I wanted to wait until Hooch is back, of course, but I don’t know how long he’ll be gone for.”

A week has passed since I returned home and nobody’s said a thing to me about where my brother is. I get the impression they don’t know, but of course, if that’s the case they don’t let on either.

“Well,” Beth says as she stacks some of the notes up. “We have a plan. It’s all laid out so as soon as we know when he’s back, we can get right on with phoning up these campgrounds and lockin’ it in.”

I smile over at her, resting my head on one hand. “Thank you.”

“Lord, it’s been my pleasure.” She pats me gently on the arm. “Anything to change my days up from cleaning and cookin’.”

“You’re too good to these guys,” I muse. “Crackers especially.”

She flinches, yet doesn’t say anything further. I know I’ve struck a chord when she looks away and swallows before dragging in a deep sigh.

“You know what?” Beth says. “I reckon you should go catch Crackers now, while he’s around, and ask him about Hooch. We all miss the big ole troublemaker. I’d sure like to know if they’ve heard anything.”

“He’d tell me if he knew anything.”

“You sure about that?” She lifts both eyebrows and then slips away to put her empty cup in the sink. “You know how these boys like to play the martyr and keep their cards close to their chest.”

That, I do. I nod, sliding off my stool. “Yeah, okay. I think I might.”

She leaves with a smile and crosses over the hallway to the adjacent dining room. The messy pigs around here eat and run, leaving all their dishes piled up for somebody else to clear—Beth. I don’t know how she does it day in and day out without losing her cool with the idiots.

I stretch my back out with a yawn, eyeballing the notes before tearing my gaze away to my phone, which sits at the end of the counter. Twice last night, I almost dialed Hooch’s number, if not to talk to him just to hear his voice on the message service. Times like this I’d lean on him for his opinion. Without him around it seems empty: in the clubhouse, and in my mind.

I wonder if anyone’s told my mother about Dana and Daddy? If anybody even knows where she is these days?

Stashing the notes to collect later, I snatch up my phone and head across the house to Hooch’s office—Daddy’s old office. The door sits ajar.

“Heya.” I push it open and step in to greet Crackers.

He lifts his head from his focus on the laptop before him, a thick finger poised over a bill.

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to find us some cheaper power.” He pushes the paper bill aside and leans back. “What can I do for you, sugar?”

“Do you know if anyone told Mom about Dana? About Daddy, even?”

He shrugs. “You’d need to ask Hooch about that when he’s back. I haven’t heard anything, and he doesn’t really talk about her much anyway.”

“Yeah, I know.” Hooch has it in his head that if Mom had stayed, things would have worked out better.

I guess he was young enough to forget the real reason Mom up and left: Daddy gave her no other choice.

“You heard anything from him?”

Crackers’ chest rises and falls before he answers. “Not for a couple of days.”

Nine days have passed since I left my brother in a cold barn, not knowing how long it would be for this time. Nine days of torturous hell.

“How are things in Lincoln?”

He eyes me suspiciously. “Why do you ask, Mel?”

I intend to shrug, but the nervous movement comes out more as some sort of jerky twitch. “Curious.”

“Everything’s fine,” Crackers says slowly. “You know, I’m sure Dog would be okay if you just called.”

Damnit. Am I that transparent? “I don’t know. We left things kind of … strained.”

“You don’t say,” he deadpans. “Can I ask what the sudden curiosity about our beloved playboy is about?”

“He said something about taking me hunting, and to be honest the idea seems better by the day.”

“Hunting?” Crackers snorts.

“Yeah. Why not?”

He shrugs, eyebrows raised. “Nothin’ at all. Just didn’t see you as that kind of girl.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me. What you see ain’t always what you get, you know.”

He smiles, ducking his chin. “Yep. I know.” A beat passes before he continues. “What makes it so appealing now, then? Need to let off some steam?”

“Need to get away, really. Find some space to breathe.” I shrug one shoulder. “When you’re legally dead and supposed to keep a low profile, assimilating into everyday life is sort of hard.”

He nods, huffing out a heavy breath. “Yeah, I get that.” I eye the cuff on his wrist as he scrubs a hand over the back of his neck. “I’m just not sure Dog’s the best choice for a getaway partner.”

“Because of his reputation?”

Crackers levels me with a take-no-shit stare. “Because of his proclivities.”

“Big word,” I tease, trying to break the tension.

“Topic calls for it,” he drawls. “If you think that’s what you need, though, I’m not going to stop you.” He lifts both hands. “I’m just urgin’ you to be careful, is all.”

“I’ve got to get out of here,” I say, imploring Crackers with my eyes. “I managed to keep busy this morning with a project, but staring at the same walls every day is taking its toll. Cabin fever, you know?”

“You spent a whole year in one spot,” he says with a chuckle. “I would have thought you had that whole starin’ at the same shit thing squared away by now.”

“Ahh, but there’s a difference.” I cock one eyebrow. “Out there, I had no choice but to stay where I was. Here, the whole world is at the end of that driveway, teasing me.”

“Big change, coming back here from the woods, ain’t it?”

“Huge.” I sigh, sliding down in the seat. “I miss how peaceful it was out there, nature and all that, but at the same time I don’t miss being cut off from everyone and everything.”

“A lot less drama, though, I bet.”

I tip my head to agree. “Yeah. That’s true. But I think what struck me the most is how much things can change in fourteen months, you know? The club’s not what it was when I left. It’s sad.”

“Hey.” Crackers leans forward, reaching out over the desk. I sit up and let him take my hand in his. “Everyone needs time to heal, Mel. And that includes the Fallen Aces. Our people have been through hell and back these past two years, and they need time to adjust to the changes as much as you and I do.” He sighs, sinking back in his chair again. “In some ways, I’m glad your old man ain’t here to see it. He had his set habits, ideals, and the way things are shapin’ up now, the future of our club isn’t what he had in mind.”

“I know.” I completely agree with what he’s saying—Daddy would be turning in his grave, wherever that may be, if he knew what King’s done with the Lincoln chapter, how that’s influenced our own.

I sat down with Murphy a few nights ago and had a long conversation about the club. He didn’t delve into specifics, but he gave me the general premise: the future isn’t in strong-arm tactics and drugs anymore. If we want to survive long-term, we need to make ourselves less of a target, and that means seeking out legitimate ways to build income. It means stepping away from the pull of fast and easy cash, tipping the scales in the favor of above board investments.

The money might not be as great with roots in small business, but the repercussions are less.

“Is there anything I can do? Any way I can help with this mess Hooch has himself in?”

Crackers smiles sadly. I can read it in his eyes: how he wishes he had something for me, if not to keep me involved, but to prove that they’re doing everything they can to bring my brother home now that Mighty in Lincoln has managed to get the sheriff’s office to look the other way.

“I’m sorry. If I know of anythin’, I’ll let you know.”

“Yeah, okay.” I stand and pat my hands against my legs. “One last question.”

“Anythin’.” Crackers laces his hands over his stomach.

“Do you have a spare gun I could use?”

He stares at me, wide-eyed. “For hunting?”

“Target practice. Somebody told me I was a lousy shot hitting that agent three times, so I thought it couldn’t hurt to sharpen my skills.”

He sighs, eyes narrowed. “I’m not all that comfortable just handin’ it over to you unsupervised.”

“Come on, Crackers.” I sigh. “You aren’t going to turn into Daddy now, are you?”

He smirks as he reaches to his left and unlocks a drawer. I stand silent as he then proceeds to pull out a handgun and a box of bullets. “You need me to load it?”

I shake my head. “I know that much. Killed time in the woods by pulling apart the gun I had with me and learning how it all worked.” I shrug. “Just a lousy shot, is all.”

He explains the whole thing to me anyway, pointing out the safety, how to load it, what to do if it jams. Satisfied I’m not about to run down the driveway and into town to go on a murderous rampage, he hands the weapon over with a sigh.

“Head down to that stand of trees at the far right. You know the one; has that rusted old bike leaned up against the stump.”

“Yeah, I know where you mean.” I made tree houses with Dana down there when we were kids.

“Come back and check in with me when you’re done, okay?”

“Yeah, sure thing.” I reach for the handle as I step out the door. “Thanks again.”

“Got all the time in the world for you, sweetheart.”