The Nomad Series-Collectors Edition

by Janine Infante Bosco

  His laugh makes the smile on my face widen and something flips in my belly.

  “So you’re doing okay then?”

  “Yeah, we’re going to get pedicures and then she’s going to take me to see my brother,” I say, taking a seat as I wait for Celeste to pick a color.

  “Good,” he mutters. “I’m glad you’re enjoying your birthday. We’ll celebrate later.”

  The second he says those words that belly flip thing happens again and I pause, wondering what it might be like to celebrate a birthday with Deuce.

  “Me and you?” I ask.

  “Me and you,” he confirms.

  I have no idea what we’ll do. Maybe he’ll take me somewhere or maybe we’ll stay in and watch our favorite movie, although I’m pretty sure he’s getting sick of me reciting Bonnie Parker quotes. Whatever he chooses, I know it’ll be great. It’ll be the best birthday ever.

  “You still there?” he asks.

  “Yeah, I’m going to hang up and try to text you,” I say, staring at the bottle of polish in my hands. “Deuce?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I think I found my favorite color,” I tell him.

  “What’s that?’

  “Red.”

  “It’s my favorite too,” he replies. His voice sounds different…strained.

  Rough.

  Sexy.

  “Okay,” I say, clearing my throat. “I’m going to hang up now. Don’t forget to answer my text.”

  “All right, darlin’.”

  “Oh, and Deuce?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I love it when you say darlin’.”

  Smiling at the sound of his laugh, I lift my head to Celeste’s curious gaze. The receptionist asks her a question and she turns back around, giving me a chance to end my conversation.

  “It just sort of came to me when you said it and you weren’t here for the big revelation,” I add.

  “Well, you just keep track of all the things you discover about yourself and fill me in tonight.”

  “You got it,” I tell him before disconnecting the call. Celeste returns with the receptionist and we make our way toward the super lush massage chairs. As the tub fills with water, I text Deuce and wait for his response. When an image of a peach comes through, I knit my eyebrows together and turn to Celeste. About to ask her what the hell a peach means, I pause as a memory of someone I used to know flashes before my eyes.

  Suddenly, I’m not in the salon with Celeste and I’m transcended back to that warehouse sitting next to a girl just like me. Other than the fact we both have blue eyes, we don’t look anything alike yet we’re identical in so many other ways. We’re prisoners of hell. The girl with the brown hair polishes my nails and I know when she’s done I will have to return the favor. It’s what we do when Yankovich has potential buyers.

  The memory fades as quickly as it hit me and I stare blankly at Celeste, trying to remember her name. The noise around me disappears and anger swarms inside of me because I should know her name. Being two girls who everyone forgot, we promised one another we would never forget each other.

  “Ally?”

  Closing my eyes, I reach further and peel back all the layers of pain until it finally comes to me.

  “Sara,” I whisper, opening my eyes.

  It’s like I almost expect her to be in front of me and when she’s not, when I realize I’m with Celeste, I start to wonder what happened to Sara. I wonder if she was rescued or if she is still out there somewhere suffering.

  “Ally,” Celeste whispers, leaning over to touch her hand to mine. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m sorry,” I mutter, apologizing to both the friend in front of me and the one lost to me.

  “Who is Sara?”

  Blinking, I turn to Celeste and shake my head. I can’t do it. I can’t go there right now, not with her, not with anyone.

  Seeming to understand I have boundaries, Celeste nods and gives my hand a squeeze.

  “It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me, but you should know you can talk to me. I promise you, I won’t ask questions. All I’ll do is listen.”

  “Thank you,” I say, and because it feels right, I squeeze her hand back.

  When we release hands, we remain silent for a few moments and I do my damnedest to bury my past. I tell myself everything is okay and force myself to believe Sara is somewhere reconnecting herself just the way I am. I dream a beautiful life for her and pray she’s living it.

  “After this I thought we’d grab lunch and then I was going to ask you how you felt about going to the hair salon,” Celeste finally says, drawing my attention back to her.

  “Really?” I ask, processing the plan.

  Lifting my hand to my hair, I wrap a few strands around my finger and eye Celeste skeptically.

  “I’ve never had my hair professionally colored. I usually just throw that box stuff on my head,” I admit.

  “They can fix it, make it all one color and even give you a trim.”

  “I think I’d like that,” I say after a moment.

  I turn to her and I silently stare at her. I find myself trying to understand who she is now and not struggling to remember who she was when we were kids.

  “You promised not to ask me any questions, but I never promised not to ask you some.”

  She stares at me for a beat before a smile spreads across her face.

  “Ask away,” she invites.

  “Well, I think I connected some of the dots, but there are still some gray areas,” I tell her as I hold out my thumb. “Let’s see, I know you and Jagger have Skylar.”

  Tipping my chin toward her belly, I smile and add another finger.

  “And you’re having another baby. I also know my brother has a weird fascination with black t-shirts.” That earns me a chuckle and I continue to count on my fingers all the facts I know about them. “You’re a nurse,” I point out, raising an eyebrow. “How the hell did that happen?”

  The Celeste I remember wanted to be a journalist. Her smile falls and she instantly becomes quiet.

  “Did I say something wrong?” I ask, fearing I’ve said something to trigger her. I start to understand I might not have been the only one to change in twelve years. I have no idea what kind of life she’s lived.

  “No,” she replies quickly, reaching over to touch my hand. “It’s just a hard truth for me to acknowledge, much less confess to you.”

  Furrowing my eyebrows, I look at her confused and try to understand why she looks so torn with the words that are about to come out of her mouth.

  “After you disappeared, I blamed myself. Still to this day, I believe it should’ve been me. If I never asked you to cover for me that night then you wouldn’t have been taken. You could’ve lived your life just like you planned. You could’ve been the nurse you always wanted to become.”

  Realization slices into me as it becomes clear why she chose her profession. When I was younger, I wanted to be a nurse. Thinking about it now, I’m not sure why. I would’ve been a horrible nurse. I hate hospitals, loathe doctors and I’m pretty sure I’d have a piss poor bedside manner.

  “The longer you stayed gone, the more the guilt consumed me and I needed a way to make it right. Though I didn’t choose to be spared, I was, and I needed to make that count for something. I started doing all the things you wanted to do. Your brother took me to prom and I wore a purple dress because I knew it was your favorite color. When I was eighteen I went skydiving and then I enrolled in the College of Staten Island’s nursing program.”

  “All because I told you I wanted to do those things?”

  “I didn’t know if you’d be able to make your dreams come true. I wanted to believe it, with my whole heart, I wanted to believe you were living your life to the fullest, but as the years went by I couldn’t be sure. It was the only way I could honor you and with every dream of yours I conquered I told myself you were somewhere doing it too.”

  “Wow,” I whisper, feeling tears prick my eyes.
“I don’t know what to say, Celeste. Is it strange that I’m a little bit happy? Not because you stopped living for yourself but because you didn’t forget me.”

  The tears fall and I don’t stop them. Embracing the emotions, I stare at Celeste as she squeezes my hand.

  “No one forgot you, Ally,” she murmurs. “No one ever could.”

  “I thought you did. I thought everyone did,” I admit.

  In the beginning, I often wondered about my family, about Celeste. I’d try to picture what they were doing, if I was a thought in their minds or if life went on without me. Did they have a service for me? How old was I when they gave up looking for me? At some point, I had to stop thinking about them and I told myself no one cared. I was angry at times and it hurt like hell, but having hope, keeping the faith in the people I loved, was more painful because I knew I’d never see them again. Like they assumed I was dead, I had to tell myself they were too.

  Never in my wildest dreams did I think my best friend gave up on her own dreams to follow mine.

  “Are you happy?” I blurt, searching her face.

  “I am now,” she assures me. “I have the life I want, the life I dreamed of when I was younger.”

  “Because you have Jagger.”

  “Mainly, yes, but I’m happy with my choices. I love being a nurse.”

  “Well, that’s a plus,” I mutter, looking away for a moment before I laugh. “You’re probably a terrific nurse. Me on the other hand, would’ve been a horrible one.”

  “Do you think about what you want to do now or is it all still new?”

  Shaking my head, I lift the phone she bought me earlier. I hadn’t thought about a phone much less what direction my life was going to take. I think people expect me to pick up where I left off, but I was a kid then. I like to think that even if I wasn’t abducted my views, dreams, and likes would have changed as I got older. Yes, I had twelve years taken from me, but if I dwell on that, on those childhood dreams, then I will never make new dreams.

  “I’m just taking one day at a time,” I offer. “What about my brother? How did he cope?”

  “I’m not sure he ever did,” she replies. “But that’s your brother’s story to tell. When you’re ready he will answer whatever questions you have.”

  Agreeing I should hear Jagger’s side from him, I don’t press her for any other information and once our nails are completely dry we head out to have lunch. She tells me about Skylar and how she and Jagger were two ships passing in the wind. I was surprised to learn my brother wasn’t there for his daughter’s birth or the first year of her life, but I kept it to myself. She told me cute stories about Skylar and by the time we made it to the hair salon I gained the courage to ask if I could see her soon.

  As the stylist draped a cape around my shoulders, I stared at myself in the mirror. I wasn’t the girl on her knees in the middle of a warehouse. I wasn’t even the girl trolling a clubhouse looking for someone to notice her, praying for someone to save her. I was me, just Ally, and while I’m nowhere near being healed, I am becoming a woman the world will remember.

  A fearless woman.

  With fire inside her and a match in her hand.

  -Twenty-six-

  DEUCE

  Driving a truck since I first took on Ally, I forgot how fucking good it felt to balance my weight on two wheels and how free I feel on the road with nothing but the wind propelling me down the streets of Brooklyn. After the helmet fiasco, I didn’t press riding with Ally anymore. In fact, when Wolf returned my Harley that night I asked him to have one of the prospects drop off a car for me to use. Anywhere Ally and I go, I drive. Being at her beck and call has kept me and my baby apart.

  Reunited with my chrome horse, I ride down to Pipe’s garage, my mind reeling with thoughts of Ally. From the way her lips feel against mine, to the way she fell into my arms after she fired that gun—I can’t get her out of my head. That ass, her smile, those freckles on her nose…she’s got me running in circles, chasing my tale like a bitch. And because God thought I wasn’t fucked enough, he sent Celeste over, revealing today is Ally’s birthday.

  Realizing she had forgotten the day she was born was fucking torture for me and left me feeling torn. The logical part of me knew she should spend the day with Celeste and Cobra but the selfish fuck inside me wanted her all to myself. I wanted to be the guy who watched her blow out the candles.

  Watching her reconnect with all the lost parts of herself has become more than just a job. It’s more than a responsibility or an act of commitment; it’s a thing of beauty. Funny how through all the ugly God still gives us bits of beauty to find.

  Still, I tamed the beast inside me and ignored the aching feeling inside my chest and encouraged her to spend time with Celeste. I thought I was doing the right thing—giving them a chance to reconnect—figuring Celeste was better suited to help Ally come to terms with the forgotten day than me; I didn’t even know it was her birthday.

  Yet, here I am straddling my bike in the parking lot of the garage, wondering if I made the right call. Knowing Ally still didn’t feel comfortable around Celeste and Jagger, I fear I threw her into a fire she wasn’t ready for.

  “Well, well, well, look who is taking a hiatus from babysitting duty,” Riggs sing songs as I throw down my kickstand and dismount.

  Tearing the helmet from my head, I hang it off the handlebars and glare back at him. Ignoring his comment, I glance around the lot.

  “Where is everyone?”

  “Jack is in the office with Blackie, Stryker’s fixing some hunk of shit Oldsmobile and Wolf is around here somewhere,” he says, pushing his sunglasses onto his head as his eyes scope the perimeter. Pointing to the far right corner of the lot, Riggs grins like a fool. “There he is.”

  Following the direction of his finger, I spot Wolf on his knees wrestling with a plant.

  “What the hell is he doing?”

  “Planting tomatoes,” Riggs replies like it’s a natural occurrence. Like there is nothing strange about a no-nonsense biker, dressed in his leathers, planting tomatoes in a parking lot.

  “What the fuck for?”

  “He’s on a health kick,” he explains with a shrug. “We got zucchini and fresh basil too,” he adds.

  “Was I really gone that long?” I ask in disbelief.

  “A lot can happen around here in twenty-four hours.”

  No fucking shit.

  I’m about to ask what else changed when Jack and Blackie emerge from the office.

  “Look who it is?” Jack calls, grinning for a split second before narrowing his eyes at me. “Where’s Ally?”

  “Celeste came by and took her out,” I say, shoving my hands into my pockets.

  “What about the clinic?” Blackie asks. “She didn’t miss her appointment, did she?”

  “No, of course not,” I tell him. “She hasn’t missed a single one.”

  “What about therapy?” he continues.

  “She went yesterday,” I tell him, growing irritable with his questions.

  “Lacey mentioned that Ally’s going to need an ADL helper and that the therapist would find her one,” he informs me.

  “What the hell is an ADL helper?” I growl, clenching my jaw.

  Annoyed he’s questioning my ability to keep Ally on the straight and narrow, I bite back the smart reply and try not to glare at my vice president when really all I want to do is throw his own shitty past back in his face.

  “ADL stands for Activities of Daily Living. Someone like Ally who has been pulled from society sometimes needs help acclimating to daily activities. You know, like the normal everyday bullshit, balancing a checkbook for example,” he explains. “It’s nothing bad, Deuce. It’ll help her.”

  “She doesn’t even have a job, let alone a checkbook to balance,” I retort. “Look, I’ve got it all under control. She’s doing good…real good.”

  “Whoa, calm down,” Blackie defends, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I’m only trying to h
elp.”

  “Deuce,” Jack intervenes, placing a hand on my shoulder. “No one is saying you’re not doing your job. All Blackie is saying is that the sooner she gets all the help she needs the better off she’ll be. Cobra wants her to be able to do everything she sets her mind to. He wants her to function like she should’ve been all this time.”

  “Yeah, well tell Cobra Rome wasn’t built in a day. He doesn’t know her. Something he’d know if she felt comfortable enough to visit him for longer than ten minutes. She’s worried he’s going to want her to relive every day of the last twelve years,” I argue. “You gave me Ally, made her my responsibility, now you need to trust my judgment when it comes to her. I promise you I’ve got her.”

  Riggs opens his mouth to say something but Jack’s eyes dart to him and he shakes his head.

  “Don’t,” he warns before turning his attention back to me. “Fair enough,” he adds with a nod. “Now, enough about Ally. It’s good you’re here. Rick is on his way with some information on Yankovich.”

  “Where are Bas and Needles?” I ask, glancing around the lot making sure I didn’t miss them.

  “They’ve been riding back and forth, tying up loose ends in Albany and making arrangements to move down here.”

  “Are they going to stay at the motel too?” I ask.

  “Maybe,” Blackie answers. “Bas used to be in a carpentry union. Over the next few days he plans on breaking ground on the clubhouse. I told him we’d make sure to have a couple of extra hands on deck to speed up the process.”

  “Before any of you chumps hammer one fucking nail or lay one brick you better haul your asses to my house and build me a ramp,” Wolf barks as he walks up behind me. “They’re releasing Linc and you all need to make my house wheelchair accessible,” he adds as he waves his finger around.

  “They’re releasing him? What about the therapy?”

  “It’s going to be outpatient therapy. I’m working with Cobra’s woman to get him a therapist who will come to the house instead of transporting him to a rehabilitation center every day.”

  “You know, Bianci was telling me he added physical therapy to Xonerated. I could ask my favorite brother-in-law if he’s got a guy,” Riggs offers then a second later he laughs. “He’s got a guy…so fucking typical.”