The Nomad Series-Collectors Edition

by Janine Infante Bosco

  When we reach the car, Kelly slides off my lap and I catch her eyes as they zero in on the obvious bulge between my legs.

  “That works too,” I tell her.

  “So, it’s just the legs then?” she counters, treating me to another dramatic eye roll. I don’t get a chance to reply because she climbs into the SUV and slams the door in my face. Nico hurries to help me into the car. Without bothering to fold the wheelchair he shoves it in the back of the truck and races to get behind the wheel.

  “Are you okay to drive?” Kelly questions.

  “I’m fine. That shit sobered the fuck out of me. When we get back to the house, I’m draining all the booze in my father’s liquor cabinet.”

  “Uncle Al has a liquor cabinet?”

  “Yeah, it’s filled with mostly organic Vodka though,” he pauses. “You know what? Scratch that, we’re making a pit-stop at the liquor store.”

  He buys a bottle of tequila and a six-pack of the Hard Root Beer for Kelly before we get back to Wolf’s house. With no sign of the beast, the three of us sit around the living room and continue to drink. Hours go by and Nico and I manage to finish the bottle of Patron. I was sloshed and with Nico and Kelly’s assistance, I got rid of the chair and was sprawled out on Wolf’s couch. I wanted Kelly to sit with me but, she was sitting on the floor next to me with her legs folded Indian style. Every once in a while, I reached out and threaded my fingers through her hair. She didn’t brush my hand away, and I took it as an invitation to continue.

  Nico was completely shitfaced and currently sitting in my wheelchair rolling around in circles.

  “Should we call someone?” Kelly asks.

  “Like who?” I murmur, scratching the back of her head.

  “I don’t know the precinct, maybe? I mean, he’s been locked up for hours.”

  “You’re talking about my pops?” Nico replies, putting the brakes on the chair. “That son of a bitch has probably been released for hours now. I’ll bet he’s at an all you can eat salad buffet.”

  I chuckle trying to picture Wolf chowing down at some place like the Olive Garden where the salad and breadsticks are unlimited. Suddenly, Nico jumps out of the chair and starts imitating his father. I mean, really fucking imitating him. Grabbing a bandanna from the hallway, he ties it around his head and circles the coffee table, perfectly mimicking Wolf’s swagger.

  “Six months ago, if he was leaving the slammer he would’ve dragged his ass to A & S Salumeria on Forest Ave for a salami and mortadella hero,” he says, clearing his throat. Disguising his voice to match his father’s, he continues. “Hey, Anthony don’t go cheap on salami and while you’re at it, drench that baby in oil and vinegar.”

  Kelly snorts with laughter as I fold my hands behind my head and continue watching Nico. Changing his tone of voice to his own, he rips the bandanna from his head.

  “He goes and gets himself a heart attack and it’s like I don’t even know who my father is anymore. I mean he’s got fucking tomato plants in the front yard and an herb garden at Pipe’s garage,” he rambles on. “Now, when he goes to the salumeria, he orders grilled portabello mushrooms on a veggie wrap.”

  The front door opens causing my eyes to divert behind Nico. Wolf walks into the foyer, removing the bandanna from his head and it takes everything in me not to laugh in his face as he enters the living room. Nico doesn’t notice his father behind him and continues to poke fun at him.

  “Who the fuck does he think he is? Richard Simmons? I swear he’s one step away from a fucking infomercial. If he trades his leathers for a fucking leotard I’m putting myself up for adoption.”

  Kelly covers her mouth as Wolf takes another step closer to his son and I clear my throat.

  “He’s right behind me, isn’t he?”

  “Yeah, he is,” I reply.

  “You fucking moron,” Wolf growls, smacking him in the back of the head. “I’ll show you who the fuck Richard Simmons is.” Turning his beady eyes to me, he points a finger at me. “And, you—glad to see you’re feeling better,” he barks.

  “Well, would you look at the time,” Kelly starts, scrambling to her feet before he can dig into her.

  “Chicken,” I hiss.

  “You can bet the house on that one,” she whispers back before turning to her uncle. Forcing a grin, she smacks a noisy kiss on his cheek. “You must be beat,” she continues, backing away. “Get some rest, Uncle Al.”

  “Kelly,” he grunts.

  “I was never here,” she lifts her hands in mock surrender. “In fact, I’m not even talking right now. It’s all your imagination.”

  “Is she on drugs?”

  I smile at her.

  No, she’s just being herself.

  My little troublemaker.

  -Twenty-four-

  LINC

  In case she figured I wasn’t already suffering from a pounding headache, Kelly stormed into my room the following morning and shouted for me to wake up. There was no use in telling her I was already up and just resting my eyes, she was determined to fuck with me. Shielding my eyes from the light with my hand, I peeked at her as she pulled the sheet from my body.

  “Get up, we need to—Jesus Christ, you’re naked!” she exclaims, tossing the sheet back over my body like it’s a flaming torpedo.

  I would laugh if my face didn’t hurt.

  “You’re surprised?” I growl instead.

  “Stop talking,” she insists, lifting a hand to her head. “I’m getting a visual of my uncle helping you undress. Why am I getting a visual of that?”

  “Fuck if I know,” I hiss, closing my eyes. “If you’re worried about him seeing me naked, it’s a little too late. In case you haven’t figured it out he’s been helping me out since I can’t do shit for myself. Maybe you want to take over from now on. I’m sure he’s tired of looking at my junk.”

  “Fat chance lover boy,” she fires back.

  The silence that follows cause me to open one eye. In deep thought, she chews on her lower lip and stares at the sheet covering me.

  “You’re debating it,” I accuse.

  Snapping out of it, her eyes slice up to mine.

  “Yesterday was a mistake,” she blurts.

  “Yeah, we probably shouldn’t have hit up the liquor store on the way home.”

  “That’s not what I’m talking about and you know it,” she accuses, planting her hands on her hips. “You and I can’t do this.”

  “It’s too early for this shit,” I grunt. Pulling the pillow from behind my head, I place it over my face and ignore her.

  Or, at least I try to ignore her.

  She snatches the pillow from my face and tosses it across the room.

  “I don’t want to take any more trips down memory lane, Linc. I don’t want to drink with you. Hell, I don’t want to speak to you let alone sit on your lap. I don’t want your hands anywhere near me either. I don’t want any of it.”

  Narrowing my eyes, I push myself up and all the blood rushes to my head.

  “Fuck,” I sneer. Rubbing my temples, I try to place the last time I felt this hungover. Not that it matters because the anger coiling inside me trumps any hangover.

  “I can’t afford any more mistakes in my life,” she continues.

  Softening the tone of her voice, her words can be construed as a desperate plea and force me to drop my hands from my head and really study her. Just as suspected, her eyes are pleading with mine—for what, I’m not sure.

  “If I had somewhere else to go right now, I wouldn’t be here and as soon as I figure out where I’m headed, I’ll be gone. In the meantime, I’m begging you to respect me enough to leave me alone.”

  “Whoa,” I interrupt. “Where is this coming from? We had a few drinks, Pinky. It’s not like we fucked one another’s brains out,” I argue, omitting the fact I jerked off to the memory of the bathroom blowjob. It was the first time since I woke up from the coma that my libido showed any sign of life and there was no fucking way I was ignoring it. Fuck
that, I’m not ashamed to admit I rejoiced at the sight of my hard on or that I thanked God when I came.

  “It’s easier to be the one who walks away,” she whispers. “It’s easier to get over it, to forget it and not to get wrapped up in it again.”

  “Is that what you think? That it was easy for me.”

  “I don’t want to do this,” she says, clenching her teeth.

  “Too fucking bad,” I shout.

  “No! You don’t get to decide this time. I want you to look in the other direction when you see me. Don’t talk to me. Don’t smile at me. Pretend I don’t exist. It shouldn’t be that hard for you,” she sneers.

  “You are scared,” I comment.

  “Terrified,” she whispers. “Now, leave me alone, Linc and I swear I will do my part to leave you be too.”

  “And, if I don’t?” I challenge.

  She swallows before drawing in a deep breath and diverting her eyes to my legs.

  “You’re not really in a position to argue,” she taunts.

  It’s a low blow, one I probably deserve but knowing that doesn’t lessen the sting. The way I see it, I have two options. One, I fight and prove her wrong. I take back what’s mine and right our past. Two, I leave her alone like she wants. It’s the logical solution and the safest one for her. Not to mention, time isn’t exactly on my side. I’ve got to bust my ass to get out of this chair and finagle my way into Yankovich’s operation. There isn’t time to fix shit between Kelly and me. Besides, she’s not planning on staying so what good is making things right. She’ll leave and they’ll only fall to shit anyway.

  I could make her stay.

  Dismissing the thought as quickly as it enters, I turn my gaze back to her.

  “You’re right,” I tell her. “No good will come getting mixed up with each other. It’s better to leave things the way we did.”

  “The way you did,” she retorts. “This was your doing,” she continues, pointing a finger. “Take responsibility for your actions.”

  “Right,” I mutter, clenching my jaw. “I walked so, let’s chalk yesterday up to me wanting to be reminiscent of the guy I used to be. A moment of weakness for a man who has had his entire world ripped from under him. Surely you can give a handicapped man a pardon, can’t you?” I seethe. The color drains from her face and I swear her eyes fill with tears. Ignoring her reaction, I give her what she wants and point a finger toward the door.

  “Don’t let it hit you on the way out, Pinky.”

  Tucking the fallen strands of hair behind her ears, she squares her shoulders back and gives me a curt nod. Giving her a turn, I watch silently as she turns her back to me and walks out of the room. The door slams behind her and I tell myself she’s saving our song from another tragic chord by leaving the chorus stuck on repeat.

  The music comes to a halt when the door opens. Lifting my head, I expect to find her pretty face as she throws another bar into the mix but, it’s not her pretty face I’m greeted to. Standing in the doorway with a scowl on his face, Wolf grunts something inaudible.

  “Save your breath,” I growl. “She wants nothing to do with me.”

  Crossing his arms against his chest, he pushes off the door and enters the room.

  “You expect me to believe that?”

  “I don’t care what you believe, that’s the truth and I’m not really in the mood for a lecture so, if you would just help me out of this fucking bed that would be great.”

  “I don’t give two fucks what you’re in the mood for, kid,” he sneers. “You think I was in the mood to sit in a cell for sixteen hours straight?”

  Sighing, I run my fingers through my tousled hair. I was waiting for the lashing. To be fair, I expected him to rip into me last night when he got home but, he was too busy ripping into Nico to lay into me.

  “Or that I wanted to watch a brother get shot? Shit happens, and we got no choice but to deal with it. It’s the life we chose, the life you chose or did you forget?”

  “How could I forget?” I retort sarcastically.

  “I don’t got time for you and Kelly to have some fucking lovers quarrel or whatever it is you two call it. There is too much going on and too much riding on you. She gets involved with your shit again, that’s another life we gotta worry about and something tells me you won’t tolerate her blood on your hands.”

  His words hold the same shock value as a bucket of ice water being dumped on top of my head. They’re exactly the truth I needed to hear to remind me of the lesson Sally taught me. For a nightmare that scarred me as deep as Savannah’s death, I don’t seem to have a problem forgetting it whenever Kelly is around me. I forget how helpless I felt, how scared I was and, I foolishly think I’m not that same kid anymore. The years of being a Satan’s Knight has hardened me. It’s schooled me on the survival tactics of a criminal. My patch has taught me to kill first and ask questions later. It’s taught me to protect what is mine at any cost and as a result, I seem to think I’m invincible. Worse than that, I almost believe I can keep people safe. Sadly, it will take the blood of another girl on my hands to make me realize, I’m no match for some.

  “I hear you,” I reply hoarsely. “It won’t happen again,” I swear through gritted teeth.

  “Make sure of it or you’re out,” he threatens. “I’ll see to it that Jack is made aware your head is up your hole and you’re not to be trusted in this Yankovich shit.”

  “I said, I hear you,” I growl.

  “Then hear this too,” he continues. “The hit on the hotel wasn’t Yankovich. That Russian son of a bitch has been quiet. Radio fucking silence. That shit ain’t good. It gives him time to plot his next move while we’re still reeling from his last one and I fear the longer that cunt stays off the grid, the more distracted we’ll be with every other mess that seems to find our way to our laps.”

  “Like this fire,” I interject, following his train of thought.

  “Exactly,” he says, walking further into the room. My eyes follow him as he makes his way to the corner of the room and folds his frame into the upholstered chair. “Now, on top of figuring this shit with the Russian and working together with Rocco to get you in, we have to deal with a couple of dead bodies, Deuce being shot and him and Ally got no home now.” He waves a hand around. “This place ain’t got no vacancies so, I don’t know where the fuck those two are going to stay. There is no money, the well is dry. Jack’s still waiting on the insurance check for the clubhouse and even when that comes in, we need to keep that shit under lock and key to fund this card thing. We’re all living off Pipe’s garage.”

  “Well, is this shit with Deuce done? The news reported it was a rival gang from Texas.”

  “Rival gang my ass,” he mutters. “Turns out, Satan’s cowboy was affiliated with a club down in the Lone Star state and that’s where he started out. From what Jack said, Deuce’s father was the president of their charter and was killed. I don’t know all the details but, Deuce was fucking the new president’s old lady or some shit, they killed her and in return, Deuce took revenge into his own hands. The cowboy took off, and the club has been gunning for him ever since.”

  “So, technically this shit all imploded on our turf because he kept his father’s identity a secret from the club,” I counter.

  “What are you trying to imply?”

  “Well, if Jack or any of us would’ve known the truth about Deuce’s father and his past, it wouldn’t have been a surprise. We would’ve expected retaliation of some kind.”

  “Would you let me finish?” Wolf interjects. “The girl that Deuce was fucking, also happens to be one of Yankovich’s girls. According to Ally, there were four girls including her that he kidnapped. They slipped a photograph of the girl under the hotel door and Ally recognized her.”

  “And, you’re sure Yankovich didn’t set them up to find Deuce and Ally in that hotel?”

  “I’m not sure of anything anymore,” he replies truthfully. “All I know is the motherfuckers are charred to a cris
p now and Deuce is bleeding on Cobra’s couch. Jack doesn’t believe this has anything to do with Yankovich. He’s swearing this was a personal hit on Deuce.”

  That’s a problem.

  I may not be as seasoned as Wolf or Jack but, I can smell trouble and the fact that there is so much going on makes it hard to decipher what angle Yankovich is playing. We’ll never be able to get this guy if everyone’s past is bleeding into his crimes. We’re spinning in circles as it is. One more blow is going to be detrimental.

  “We should come clean,” I say, lifting my gaze to Wolf. His eyes narrow and he’s immediately ready to shut my suggestion down. “Hear me out, Wolf,” I demand. “This shit with Yankovich started with the bomb. Then, he hires men to rape Gina and we’re not sure if that’s a play on the club or Rocco’s territory. Next, we learn he took Cobra’s sister years ago and his past starts bleeding into this puzzle. He takes Cobra’s daughter, the shit with Albany comes to light and now Stryker’s past becomes a connecting piece. He knows we have Ally and that she can turn his world upside down but, does nothing. He stays silent. Now, this shit with Deuce comes into play. His father, the club in Texas and the girl that coincidentally happened to be tied to Yankovich.”

  As I go through the timeline of events, I realize everyone brought into the fold as a nomad has a pertinent piece in Yankovich’s plan to destroy. Everyone, except for me.

  “Don’t you see the pattern?”

  Wolf remains silent, the wheels in his head turning as he makes the same realization as I just did. Unwilling to accept it, he shakes his head.

  “It don’t make any sense.”

  “The only reason it don’t make sense is because we don’t have a motive. If we knew his reasoning behind every hit, it would make perfect sense. He’s weaved the perfect plan, playing the nomads as pawns and I’m next. We can’t go into this thinking we’re going to get over on him. It would be suicidal to think he doesn’t know who I am.”