EIGHT

Mel

 

“Can I do anything?”

Sonya sticks a hand to her hip and chews her bottom lip in thought. “I’m not sure.” Her soft eyes find mine. “It’s honestly okay if you just stick your feet up for a while.”

“I’m not tired,” I snap back a little too harshly. She widens her eyes, and I instantly feel terrible. “I’m sorry, it’s just I’m over people telling me to take it easy when that won’t fix the problem.”

I spent enough alone time grabbing a shower after Dog left. There’s only so long you can stare at the tiled wall like a zombie before the morbid reflections start to smother you. The silence only serves to give my mind the free roam it needs to drag me back to the recurrent thoughts I’d rather block for a while.

Daddy’s dead.

Dana’s dead.

Hooch is AWOL.

Just you on your own, girl.

Sonya nods, circling the large stainless counter in the center of the kitchen to reach my side. She tips her head and stares at me in a lovingly maternal way. “I know you’re tired of it, honey. But that’s the only way people know how to help.”

She’s been a part of my life since I was a baby, coming to our Fort Worth club with her first old man, Mike, before she moved up here after his death. In some ways, Sonya was more of a mother to me than my own after the woman who birthed me upped and left her kids behind.

“I feel idle, standing around doing nothing,” I admit. “I feel as though I should be doing something. I need to keep moving, keep busy.”

“I get that.” She loops an arm around my shoulders and pulls me to her side, careful not to touch her doughy hands to me. “I felt the same after Mike, got fed up with being waited on.” Sonya places a kiss to my head and then lets go, returning to the dinner rolls she was part way through kneading. “Have you spoken to anyone from home?”

I shake my head and lean back against the counter behind me. “Not yet.” There isn’t anyone who can’t wait until it’s clear for me to head down south.

I never had any real friends. Daddy did his best to keep Dana and I away from the Friday night shindigs, telling us we needed to maintain a dignified appearance. Fat load of use it did when I rebelled with first Sawyer, and then almost Dog as well. All my father managed to do was cut us kids off from any chance at building our own support network outside of family.

“If you think of anything, let me know,” I say, pushing off the counter.

Sonya nods, her hands buried in the flour-dusted dough. “To be honest, Abbey still covers most of it, so there’s not much chance of finding anything. Perhaps you could ask King if he has any projects for you?”

“Yeah, maybe.”

I saw Abbey on my way downstairs from Dog’s room. She’s one of those women who rocks a permanent resting bitch face as though her skin would crack if she smiled. I don’t know a lot about her, other than she was a homeless kid Apex picked up off the street a long time ago. She’s been a fixture in this club for as long as I can remember—one of the few lucky ladies who get to stay onsite when they’re aren’t a property girl or an old lady.

I hang a left out of the kitchen and wander down the hall toward the common room, and King’s office. If he’s still here, guaranteed that’s where he’ll be. Callum sits at the bar with a couple of hangarounds, lifting his hand in greeting as I pass by. He twists on his stool as I head for King’s door.

“He’s not in, sweetheart. Can I help?”

I sigh and turn to face him. “I’m looking for something to do.”

“Why?”

I swear to God. If he tells me to relax …

“Come.” He pats the empty stool to his right. “Have a seat.”

As much as I’d rather not, I oblige. Callum’s always been a nice guy. He deserves at least a partial effort on my behalf.

He jerks his fingers at one of the hangarounds as I take my seat, and gestures to the space behind the bar. “Step up, son.”

The guy slips from his seat without a word and rounds the bar to the serving side. “What would you like?”

“A Sprite, thanks.”

He pulls out a tall glass and sets to work filling it, complete with a couple of cubes of ice.

“Tell me about your time in the middle of nowhere,” Callum asks. “You learn any Robinson Crusoe shit, like how to fashion your own spear and hunt yourself a deer?”

I can’t help but chuckle at the smirk on his lips as he lifts his beer bottle to his mouth.

“As cool as that would be, nope.”

He makes a mock sad face. “What did you do, then?”

I know he expects some funny anecdote about how I counted and named all the daisies in the grass beside my trailer, but there’s nothing funny about being cut off from your loved ones for over a year, not knowing if you’d ever see them again.

Especially when you won’t.

“Fuck it.” I jam the heels of my hands to my eyes, trying to force the unwanted tears back in. I spent enough time in Dog’s room letting go of my grief; now it’s time to pull my socks up and soldier on.

Time to be the role model my father always wanted.

“Hey,” Callum says as he rests a hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“It’s okay.” I smile, still wiping my cheeks. “You meant well.”

The hangarounds stare at me like I’m some anomaly. Callum’s gaze follows mine, and he frowns at the two young guys.

“Respect, boys.” He sighs.

The hangaround to Callum’s left shrugs. “Sorry man. I’m just trying to figure out what the deal is.”

“This,” Callum says, thumbing my way, “is Mel, daughter of the late Judas.”

At least one of them gets the reference. Guy’s been doing his homework on the club. The other one, the guy behind the bar, looks as blank as a clean slate.

“He was the southern president before Hooch,” I explain. “Hooch is my brother.”

“Oh.” He raises both eyebrows, and then promptly checks his appearance.

The reaction is normal and totally expected. People hear the connection, and they immediately act as though the Duchess of York has walked in. Lincoln may be our mother chapter, but there’s always been this air of regal pride that surrounded our family and Fort Worth.

I never knew why. I still don’t.

“It’s all good,” I say dismissively. “Don’t feel the need to clean up your act or anything.” I chuckle. “I swear like a sailor when I’m angry and I could probably drink the both of you under the table. No need to treat me like a lady.”

“You joining us this weekend, then?” Callum asks.

“What’s this weekend?”

“Sawyer’s birthday.”

Shit. “Right.” I smile sheepishly. “I forget the dates a lot now.”

“I bet.” Callum winks, picking up his bottle. “We’re setting up the grills out back, getting a couple of those giant hamster ball things for a laugh.”

“Sounds like fun.” And nothing I want to be involved in.

Before I went away, I used to crave the rowdy nights the boys would host. Dana and I would sneak in, the old ladies doing a great job as lookouts and hiding us from Daddy when he got too close. It was the thrill I lived for, but now, since being on my own for so long, even this interaction I’m having right now is draining the life from me.

“You know he’s with Abbey now, so you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“Pardon?” I smack myself on the chest to help the sip of Sprite I was taking work its way down.

“Yeah. They hooked up a few months back, not long before he dealt with his old man.”

Well, shit. Never saw that coming. But it kind of makes sense—they’re kindred spirits. She’s just as unhinged as he is.

“I don’t think I would have any problem with him anyway.” I set my drink down and run my finger around the rim of the glass as the hangarounds head out to the back deck for a smoke. “I haven’t seen Sawyer since he left our chapter.” The two of us did a fine job of avoiding each other at first, knowing that one minute alone would reignite the fire we’d been ordered to smother. After that, it became habit to keep our distance at the club functions.

“You should talk to him about Dana when he gets back in.” Callum pulls his pack of smokes out, yet he doesn’t pick one out, he simply shakes the remaining sticks from side to side.

“Why?”

“He was there, you know, when the shit hit the fan.”

Oh my God. He was involved in that too? What kind of mess did Carlos have going on? “I … nobody told me that.”

“Well” —he smiles— “now I have.”

I slide my Sprite out of the way and then drop my head onto my arms. If I’d known coming home was going to be this much hell, I would have locked the door of the trailer and told Hooch to get lost. A life sentence in a quiet prison cell sounds like heaven right about now.

Callum rubs circles between my shoulders, a much-needed comfort in a time when I feel like I’m falling into a bottomless pit, unable to get purchase on the dirt walls as they fly by.

“What am I missin’ out on?”

Callum’s hand stills at Dog’s question. I peek out from behind my arms at the cocky bastard as he approaches from the doors that lead to the back yard. I didn’t even know he was out there, let alone back already.

“Nothing much,” I say, wiping my cheeks on my sleeve before straightening up. “Thanks again for letting me use your room.”

Callum coughs as he slides off his stool. “I, uh, I’ve got something I need to do for King.” He legs it toward the front door.

Dog and I watch him go before exchanging a look that leaves me giggling. “He okay?” I ask, thumbing in Callum’s direction.

“Don’t know.” Dog frowns as he takes the abandoned seat beside me. “He was fine when we got in.”

“Great. So it’s just me then.”

“You have that effect on people.” He nudges me with his elbow.

The mood instantly shifts to something a lot more intimate, and a darn sight more confusing. Seems time does nothing to lessen the impact he has on me.

“Anyway.” I clear my throat, shifting on my stool to dull the buzz that took hold.

“Anyway,” Dog echoes.

I smile at the cocky way he looks at me, as though waiting for the punch line. “What’s a girl to do around here to pass the time?”

“You’re bored?”

I shrug. “It helps keep me distracted.”

His eyes narrow, and he smirks.

“What?”

“I could offer you a fun way to pass the time, but you know, you’ve already shot me down more than once. Not sure my precious heart could take it again.”

I smack him on the arm with the back of my hand, smiling. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

“I’ve been told.” He bites his bottom lip and waggles his eyebrows before cracking up at the mortified look on my face.

“Seriously,” I cry. “Give me something we could do.”

“We?”

I blanch, staring at him as I blink away the realization of what I said. We. “Sure,” I bluff. “Why not?”

He taps a finger against his lips, drawing my focus to how the top one turns up it’s so full. “Well … Maybe not.”

“What?”

“I had an idea, but it might not be so clever considerin’ you’d be brandishing a weapon should I piss you off again.”

“Simple,” I sass. “Don’t be a cocky asshole and I won’t have a reason to hurt you.”

He smiles, twisting on his stool to face me, one elbow resting on the bar. “You ever shot for sport before?”

“I discharged my first three into a federal agent this morning if that counts?”

His lips curl up at the corners as though he’s about to laugh, yet his smile fades as the realization sets in. “You’re for fuckin’ real? Your first time with a gun, and you shot a fed?”

“I thought you knew?”

He coughs, sliding off his stool and making his way around to grab a drink. “No.”

“Why did you think you needed to pick me up then? Where did you think Hooch was going?”

He shrugs, necking a quarter of a bottle of Jack in one go. “Fucked if I know. I just do what I’m told.” He lifts his arm to wipe away the residual liquor on his lips, and I damn near melt on the spot.

There are a certain few things a man can do to look effortlessly sexy. Shirking his T-shirt is one. Wearing any sort of a uniform is another. And drinking is the best of all of them.

He leans an elbow on the bar, regarding me with a sigh.

“What?” I let my hair fall forward, hiding my face a little.

“I still can’t believe you’d never shot a gun before.”

I shrug. What can I say? I’d be surprised too, considering the environment I was raised in.

“Daddy didn’t train us girls; said it was the man’s job to protect the family. I was given the gun by the guy who took me away. He said it might come in handy, and I guess it did.”

“Explains why it took three then,” Dog mutters to himself.

I sip my Sprite as he stares at his hands, seemingly in thought. He’s a rare find in how attractive he is. There are usually three things that make up a pretty boy: face value, personality, and vibe. Majority of the cute guys have the first—face value. It’s a pretty face with nothing else to carry it through life. Only useful in pictures, or for admiring from a distance. Every now and then you strike it lucky with a guy who possesses the second as well—personality. Sawyer was one of those, despite the fact his character isn’t really the most approachable, it still makes him who he is. He captivates you.

But Dog, he’s all three. He’s fucking gorgeous to look at, has a heart of gold under all the bravado, and most importantly he has the vibe—that feeling you get when you’re around a person who just clicks. I’ve never had to try hard with him; we’ve always just got along as though we know each other from way back.

And that’s what I appreciate most after being alone so long; he makes it so familiar to spend time with him. It’s easy to slip back into old habits.

“What were you going to suggest?” I ask when he stays quiet.

He smirks, still staring at his hands as he peels the label off Callum’s empty bottle. “Thought we could go hunting.”

“For real?”

“Why not?” He looks across at me, and I can’t help the smile his own inspires. “We still could.” He shrugs one shoulder. “Just need to work on your aim first. You don’t often get a chance to put more than one into a deer.”

“You’d teach me to shoot?”

He grimaces. “Probably not my wisest move, considerin’ you wouldn’t miss when you get the shits with me, but yeah, I would. We’re going to make sure you get your first buck, little lady.”

“Deer?”

“Why not?” He shrugs. “Season’s open, and I’ve got a permit. If you’re not too precious about camping out, then we’ve got the time to kill—no pun intended.” He takes another swig of the whiskey before recapping it. “You’re just lucky we’re not heading out next month.”

“Why’s that?”

“Otherwise you’d be doin’ it with a crossbow.” He waggles his eyebrows and I can’t help but laugh at the visual of me trying to fire an arrow in a straight line.

“Promise I won’t shoot you. I’ll be the perfect student.”

“You say that now, but it wouldn’t be the first time a woman’s gone all crazy on my ass.”

“One difference this time, though,” I say with a twist of my lips.

“What’s that?” His gaze narrows.

“You haven’t fucked me and dumped me, so I haven’t got any reason to be pissed with you.”

He grins lazily and leans across the bar until we’re an inch apart. “Yet.”