Another noise from the mudroom door had him stepping forwards to put himself between her and whatever was coming.
Carly laughed, the sound dark and wrong. “That’ll be my shadow. He’ll be wanting to know who you are, and you’ll be asking the same, I expect.”
A man stomped through the doorway. He ignored Neptune, even though they were evenly matched physically. His anger-filled eyes were locked on the woman. “Would it have killed you to wait a half a fucking second, Carly? I was right behind you.” Neptune sidestepped in front of him to cut off his approach, and the man’s gaze finally swung to him. “And who the fuck are you?”
“I’m the asshole who’s standing here asking you the same thing.” Neptune kept his tone even, conversational, but he didn’t pull the punch of his fist meeting the man’s chest and holding him at bay. Not hard enough to break anything, but more than enough to sting. “Her I know from her baby pictures.” It didn’t hurt to exaggerate a little bit, giving the impression he actually knew Carly. “You, I don’t know at all. Who are you and why are you here?”
When the man unfolded the final couple of inches, Neptune saw he’d been right about them being matched. Gaze flicking between a now-silent Carly and Neptune, the man shook his head. “Carly invited me.”
An unfeminine snort came from behind Neptune, and he let his lips curl the slightest amount. “Did she now? Sounds to me like you followed her instead of being invited. Should I ask her?”
“Jesus, stop posturing already. Y’all are exhausting me.” Carly brushed past Neptune, her body contacting all along his side even though there was ample room for her to have moved by without touching. He wasn’t complaining, far from it. Just that touch from her was enough to have his nerves singing. It was a distraction he didn’t need, however. “Ryman, this is my dad’s best friend. Best friend, this is my partner and handler, Ryman.”
“Best friend have a name?” Ryman backed up a step, not to get away from Neptune’s reach but to avoid Carly as she stalked towards the refrigerator.
“Dobbs.” Providing only his government name until trust was earned was always how Neptune went. He knew it was a moot point here, because his nameplate was on his chest, bold as brass, right under the officer patch proclaiming him president.
Carly proved herself observant when she half turned, refrigerator door partially open, and stared at him. “Neptune,” she commented, and he nodded. “Why does that suit you so well?” That was a musing tone, and when he didn’t respond, she shook her head and dipped to look into the cool interior of the fridge. The club’s old ladies had restocked yesterday, knowing he and other members would continue to spend time here.
Carly came back into view with a jug of milk in one hand, the other giving the door of the fridge the exact amount of push needed to close it gently, more proof she’d probably lived here with Gibby at some point. She unerringly found the glasses and poured herself some milk, then, jug in hand, upended the glass in a single, long drink. She poured herself another half glass of milk before setting the jug on the counter and turning to face him. “Do you know more than the cops?”
“About?” He knew what she was asking, but without more information about what she’d been doing and why she’d been gone from her father’s life for so long, he couldn’t see himself giving her anything of interest beyond what she would glean from the police reports.
She stared at him a moment, then swung her gaze to Ryman, who had retreated to lean against the mudroom doorframe. “Did you intercept what I got?” He shook his head, and she scoffed far back in her throat. Lifting one hand, she turned her face away and used her nails to scratch through her hair, working her way along one side of her scalp. Her mouth worked, opening and closing, tightening and lips pursing several times before she pulled in a long breath. “Okay.” Her mouth worked again, jaw tensing as she clenched her teeth. “Okay.” She turned and faced Ryman, and Neptune felt sidelined somehow, as if he weren’t important enough for her attention, and he didn’t like that. Not at all. “Fifteen days before you got me out, my father was murdered. He was found hanging from a tree only a couple of miles outside of town. A tip had been called in to his club, the Borderline Freaks, and they followed it, not knowing what it meant. That’s it. That’s all the cops claim to know.” She paused, and Ryman’s attention left her for an instant; the glare directed Neptune’s way said his role wasn’t appreciated. “Hey.” At her rough call, Ryman reengaged, his gaze directed back to Carly. “That give you enough to go on?”
“Yeah, sister.” Without another word, Ryman turned and left, the door closing quietly behind him.
Carly’s head dipped, and she pulled in another hard breath, and another, then one that broke in the middle. Her shoulders shook, and he took a quick step forwards, intending to support her somehow, but at his movement, she darted away, already steps out of reach before he could reach her. Back pressed to the front of the refrigerator, she stared at the floor next to his boots, only giving him sidelong glances as she tried and failed to reassure him. “I’m okay.”
“I’m not.” Before he could consider the potential cost of being honest with her, the words were out of his mouth. The wound in his chest, the pain that never went away, gaped a little more, releasing the sting of regret and anger deep inside him. “I fuckin’ miss him.”
Her head lifted, and she looked at him for so long Neptune became uncomfortable, her gaze hard and dark. Finally her lips parted, the tip of her pink tongue darting momentarily into view. In a voice soft but not tentative, she asked, “Did he suffer?”
Neptune straightened his shoulders, adopting the same pose she’d worn earlier. At attention, but ready to move at the slightest provocation. Parade rest, the same position he and the rest of the BFMC had held during Gibby’s funeral. From the look on her face, Carly didn’t want some mealy-mouthed version of what happened. Gaunt as she appeared, and given her admission that she was only days out from under whatever mission it was that had taken her from her father’s life for so long, he still read into her expression that she wanted the truth.
“He fought until his final breath.” From the blood on the tip of one boot, Neptune knew that even dangling from the hanging tree Gibby had fought viciously, kicking one of his attackers hard enough to mark. His knuckles had been split to the bone, proof of the way he’d fought. Even his nails and teeth had had flesh and blood embedded. One man against many, he’d employed every tactic possible. “He didn’t go easy.”
“I’d expect no less from the old man.” Her tears had started afresh, but Neptune did his best to ignore them as she was doing. His fingers itched to wipe the tears from her cheeks, wanted to fold her in something soft and keep her safe. She cleared her throat and gritted out, “Hard-ass to the end.”
“One of the best men I’ve ever had the privilege to know.” Neptune folded his arms across his chest, uncertain what to do with this unrelenting need to comfort her somehow. “I was proud to call him friend and brother.”
“Neptune, was it?” Lips pulled into a rictus of a smile, she tipped her head to the side as she waited.
“Dobbs.” I haven’t given you that yet, doll. Not sure why it annoyed him so much, Neptune narrowed his eyes as he glared at her audacity.
“Dobbs, then. Are you staying here tonight?” She made a noise far back in her throat as she moved back to where the milk container sat on the counter, busying herself with putting it away and rinsing her glass. She kept her face hidden, aiming the curved plane of her back to him. “Well?” She prompted him for an answer, and he held his tongue, waiting for her to turn and face him.
“No, I was planning on going home.” There was a flash of something that crossed her face, there and gone so fast he nearly didn’t see it. Fear. “I could stay if you wanted.”
“I…” She cleared her throat, the sound raw in the silence stretching between them. Eyes glistening with unshed tears, she ducked her head and, as if it were a weakness to be ashamed of, admitted, “I’
d like to hear more about Daddy, if you don’t mind. I could use the company, too.”
He stared at her a moment, then nodded slowly, finally giving a verbal affirmation when she didn’t look up. “I can stay. I found some videos you might like to see.”
“You’ve got stories, too? Daddy always said bikers made the best oral historians. When it’s not safe to put anything to paper, stories are how the tales are told and remembered.” She turned away again and fell silent. He watched as her shoulders rose and fell with slow, steady breaths as she leaned, her palms flattened on the counter. “I saw some beer in the fridge. Want one?”
The title Ryman had given her hadn’t gone unnoticed by Neptune, and he employed it now, hoping she understood the kind of respect it granted in only a few syllables. “Love a beer, sister. And I’ve got stories for days about your daddy. Let’s go in the living room, play a little show-and-tell.”
Four
Carly
Sitting in her rental car, she stared through the window at the front door of the place her father had called his home away from home. Above the porch, directly between the upstairs windows, was an emblem that had been created with bold, black slashes of paint onto the wood, likely by her father’s hands. Borderline Freaks MC. She knew she didn’t have a place here and would probably be turned away, but she’d wanted to see.
She’d been aware of his biker friends growing up, but by the time he’d founded the club here in town, she’d been away at school. And of course over the past few years, she’d been undercover more than not, which meant there were whole sections of his life that were blanked out, incomprehensible to her. Now that he was gone, those secrets were unrecoverable, a profound loss she couldn’t wrap her head around.
The door opened, and a man’s body filled the opening, stepping out of the darkness but stopping short of the sunlight striking the porch at an afternoon angle. Half hidden by shadows as he was, she still recognized him. Neptune.
Even now, just the sight of him filled her with a melancholy mix of sadness and grief, followed closely by a dangerous tingle of faint lust. Dangerous because he was the antithesis of so many things she stood for. This was the very reason she and her father had fought more than once, because she’d known he wasn’t always totally legal in what he did. There was no way that Dobbs—he’d made it clear she didn’t have the right to call him by his club name—was any less an outlaw than her old man had been.
Carly let her breath out in a long, slow sigh, lifted a hand in goodbye, and put the car in reverse. She’d twisted in the seat to look over her shoulder, easing towards the street, when there was a rattling thump on the top of her car. Jamming the brakes on, she whirled to see Dobbs standing beside her door.
Heart pounding, she thumbed the control and lowered the window, heat rushing in to make sweat prickle along her skin. “Hey. Hi.” She didn’t try to hide her surprise at his actions. “I just wanted to look the place over for a minute. Didn’t mean to bother anyone.”
“And that’s it?” Fists planted on each hip, he stared down at her, eyes narrowed in apparent annoyance. As she’d thought, her appearance here wasn’t welcome.
“Yeah. I just wanted to see it.” Fingers wound tightly around the wheel, she pressed harder on the brake pedal, needing an outlet for her nervous energy. “I didn’t think anyone would notice me.”
“We keep watch on all our places. Clocked you on security half a block away. Boys called me.” Neptune leaned over, face thrust closer to hers. “And you didn’t want to come in? Just a drive-by’ll do for you?”
“Well, yeah, if it has to. Of course I’d love to see those pictures you were talking about last night.” He’d talked for hours about her father, his respect and love for Gibby bleeding through with every word spoken. During the process, he’d talked about the memorial wall that had come together in the clubhouse, every member bringing a different view of the man to their offerings. “But I didn’t expect I’d be welcome.”
“Why?” He moved, hands now resting on the doorframe only inches from her. “You’re Gibby’s.” He paused, and there was a weight in the silence. His voice had dropped to a growl when he finished with, “You’re ours.”
“Dobbs, we don’t run in the same circles.” That was as plain as she could state it without making a comment that might be construed as a threat, something she knew wouldn’t be met with just disapproval but potential conflict, something she found herself wanting to avoid. “I’m not like Daddy was.”
“You’re more like him than you know, Carly.” He straightened and took a step back, and she missed his closeness immediately. “Pull back up here and park. Come inside. My guest.”
She waited for a reversal of the invitation, and when it didn’t materialize, she nodded, then ducked her head as she shifted gears. “You’re going to regret this later.” Carly’d thought she’d kept her mutter quiet enough but knew he’d overheard her when he laughed, the sound booming. She looked up in time to catch the open-mouthed smile directed her way.
“Carly girl, I’ve made a lotta mistakes in my life, but I decided long ago that not a one of them was worth a moment’s regret.” He retreated another step and stopped, staring at her. “Park it. Come in with me.”
Climbing out of the car, she ignored the outstretched hand and then pretended an extreme interest in the BFMC emblem on the front steps. Cunningly painted across just the bends between the steps and the kickboards, it was revealed only as a person approached that first step, but had been laid across the wood in such a way that it never took a footfall. She smiled as she realized the hidden meaning she knew her father had been behind. It put the club front and center as it should be but kept the members and guests from walking all over it. “Metaphors were one of his favorite things.”
“Yeah,” Neptune agreed from beside her. “He was always big on the symbolic reasoning behind many of the things we take for granted these days.” He huffed out a soft chuckle. “Man could talk for days about the founding fathers and their intent as decoded by him.”
“Oh, Lord.” She laughed quietly. “Don’t get him started on Lincoln’s death. You’d be having breakfast before he slowed enough for another person to get a word in edgewise.”
“Coulda used your insight a few years ago.” Neptune opened the door, but instead of standing back to invite her in, he preceded her into the shadows. “House,” he called loudly, and she heard the scuffing of chair legs against bare wood. “Brothers, Gibby’s girl’s here. Carly. His little girl’s come for a visit.”
Carly had stopped in her tracks at the beginning of his introduction, and she didn’t move until his arm stretched back towards her, fingers gripping her hand to draw her through the opening. She noted about twenty men in scattered groups as she glanced around, scanning for threats, exits, agents, weapons…then shook herself. This is Daddy’s clubhouse, not a cartel holding pen in Colombia. The men in the room were staring at her, a mix of expressions on their faces that she read as ranging from interest to anger, disdain, and all the way to boredom.
The tableau was broken by a tall man striding toward her, hand outstretched. “Monk,” he offered, and she met his palm with her own. He used the grip to yank her close, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as her other hand planted on his chest, ready to shove away. She tensed as, with his mouth close to her ear, he muttered, “Sucks to meet you like this, but Gibby’d be glad you are here now.” The pain in his voice fit against the edges of her own grief, and the emotions swelled inside her, rising to choke her to silence.
Without waiting for a response she didn’t think she could muster anyway, he was gone, and another man stood in front of her, arms lifted to crush her to him with a savage pull. “He was a good man, a fucking good man. I’m Blade, honey child. Your daddy’s gone on, but he’d be happy as fuck to see you here.”
It went on like that for long minutes, the scuff of boot leather against the floor a buoy bell telling of the tide of men encircling her. Early on in the pr
ocess, a hand had settled in the middle of her back, and she instinctively knew the support came from Neptune. She could compartmentalize with the best of them, finishing an op and putting it into a box in her mind, set aside to make room for the next, and the next. Here she didn’t have the freedom to take her time. There was no debrief between the first wave and the following ones. These men had been drifting since her father’s death, and now she’d provided a target for their grief. Neptune’s firm touch held her in place against the more vigorous approaches, anchoring her against the swell of the emotional confessions, a welcome presence that told her in a tangible way that she wasn’t alone. Even in the midst of these strangers who were laying claim to the broken bits of her heart, she wasn’t alone.
Cheeks wet, she’d lost the ability to beat back the tears, walls around her heart crashing down with each of their muttered memories of her father, telling her truths according to the code they lived by. They spoke of his loyalty, the strength of his convictions, the wisdom he’d been happy to bestow on his brothers. How he worried about them all, chiding them into making better lives for themselves, convincing them they were worth the fight. He was loved. That was the thought circling her head, repeating in loud shouts and soft whispers. No matter how far she’d run or how long she’d had to stay away, he hadn’t been alone after all. He was so very loved.
Each man who’d approached had done so exposing his emotions, the raw pain steadily scraping at her control. After one member had backed away, broken and crying at his own poignant recitation of grief, Carly covered her face with one hand, finding the fingers of her other one twined together with Neptune’s. A steadying arm wrapped around her shoulders, and she was pulled into a close embrace. “Y’all give her just a minute, yeah?” His voice was low and rumbled through his chest where her ear was pressed tight to the hard wall of muscles. Nearer her ear, he murmured, “I got you, gal. You let go if you want to. I got you.”
See You in Valhalla Page 3
