by Isabel Wroth
A reminder to say she hadn't eaten anything of substance since breakfast.
Food would give her a boost, and it despite feeling like she'd gone over everything at least ten times with the cops, then again over the phone with Duke and Tobias, she knew they couldn't keep everyone waiting.
“Best to get it out while it's still fresh, and I'm starving.”
Elka yipped in agreement, bouncing on her font paws to insist she too needed attention.
“When we're done, we'll have a bath and go to bed for the rest of the month.”
She sighed dreamily; visions of being surrounded by hot water and strong, tattooed arms sounded like heaven.
“Deal.”
Familiar now with the drill, she waited for Nasa to unfold himself from the truck to come around and get her door, hearing Gee call out to them in greeting.
“Glad to have you home, bro. You get what you were after?”
“That and more.” Nasa bumped his huge fist against Gee's smaller one before offering Dillon his hand to help her out of the truck.
“Everyone's been so uptight waiting to hear from y'all. Athena actually sprung for Manolito’s. We got us a bonafide Italian feast waiting upstairs.” Gee's announcement made Dillon moan as her mouth watered, visions of pasta and garlic bread dancing through her mind. “She even got gelato.”
Nasa curled his arm around Dillon's waist, holding her close as they took off down the secure hallway and up into the compound.
The smell of garlic, tomatoes, and freshly baked bread overwhelmed Dillon's senses the second the doors opened, and the sound of Top's loud voice chastising someone dumb enough to try and sneak some pizza made that final bit of tension bleed from her on a laugh.
“Touch that slice, turd whack, and I'll shove it up your ass!”
“Yeah!” a little boy voice piped up. “No touchin' the syces, butt boy!”
From the sound of raucous laughter coming from the dining room, Nasa's deduction that the entire club would be waiting for them was spot on.
“Who you callin' butt boy, butt boy?” Ruckus hollered.
Ever's exasperated sigh could be heard even above the hilarity. “I can't even be mad at him because he didn't say any bad words.”
Dillon and Nasa turned the corner to see Ruckus chasing Lyon around the long farm table, Lyon's little arms pumping as he ran as fast as he could to evade Ruckus's clutches.
“I ain't no butt boy!” Lyon shouted. “I wipe my own ass!”
Ever was not amused, glaring up at her husband who was trying—and failing—to regain his composure.
“Lyon!” Roar finally barked, his son taking a hard left to avoid Ruckus in order to present himself at his father's side.
“Yes, Bid Daddy?” Lyon answered cheekily.
Roar struggled visibly, pulling his hand down over his mouth in an effort to wipe the grin off his face. “Son, you know you're not supposed to cuss. You're doing it at school now, and if you keep it up, you'll be sittin' in the kitchen with Mrs. Barbra instead of playing outside with the other kids.”
Lyon screwed his face up in disgust, scuffing the toe of his little kid biker boots on the floor.
“Mrs. Barbra is always hangwee, and she smells like ole wumin farts.”
“Then you best watch that mouth, huh?” Roar advised, reaching down to flip his son ass over tea kettle onto his shoulder.
Dillon was sure Lyon was about to agree, but he caught sight of her and Nasa standing in the doorway and squealed like a pig, squirming and kicking his feet wildly.
“Unka Nasaw and Dilly home! We can eat now, Bid Daddy!”
Roar gave an exaggerated spin that made Lyon fling his arms out with a whoop, pretending like he hadn't known.
“Oh, hey. Didn't see y'all there.”
Dillon leaned her head against Nasa's chest as she looked at the family gathered around the table.
The family Nasa was offering her, and the most perfect feeling of happiness filled her to know they'd already accepted her into the fold.
She didn't have to go it alone anymore or pretend to be someone she wasn't. Dillon belonged here.
The dining room buzzed with sound as everyone welcomed them back; the women even got up and came to Dillon with warm hugs that honestly made her struggle against tearing up.
Dillon hadn't ever been much of a hugger or had friends to really drive home all she'd been missing out on by refusing to let anyone close.
“My god, you look exhausted,” Athena declared sympathetically. “Come sit down. I hope it's okay. I made up a big batch of Elka's dog food with the venison left in the freezer.”
Clearly understanding she was being talked about in the same sentence with food involved, Elka eagerly danced on her front paws, her blade-shaped ears perked up.
“It's more than okay,” Dillon promised. “Thank you for doing that.”
Athena waved it aside like it was no big deal, setting the blue dog bowl in the raised stand that she'd placed beside the end spot on the bench where Dillon liked to sit.
Everyone sat and started dishing up, but Dillon looked to see where Nasa had pulled Pen aside to give him the present Ghost left them.
She watched Pen's eyes round in shock, and his hands shake a little as he took the case from Nasa, and the emotion that flashed across his face, raw and real, hit Dillon square in the chest. Pen nodded at whatever Nasa said before slipping out the side door with his phone in hand.
When Nasa came to sit beside her, she bumped her shoulder against his.
“What's special about a glass pen?”
“Wren is a glass artist,” he murmured in her ear, and immediately she understood what he'd meant when Nasa said it wasn't for him. “Pen has a whole collection of what Wren said were her reject pieces.
“After everything he's done to keep me from finding her, what he did to you to bring me that last message, I don't know why Ghost would allow Wren to get in contact with us, but there was a phone number on the note she left. Pen's calling now.”
“Wow,” Dillon breathed in disbelief.
Top thumped his fist on the table, forestalling any further questions she might have asked Nasa.
“Alright, we're all waiting to hear about your trip. What the hell happened?”
Dillon was fine letting Nasa take charge and tell the story of their unbelievable day, adding her two cents here and there.
When he got to the part about being shot in the back, Nasa brushed it off as though it was no big deal.
Dillon sat there, white-knuckling her grip on the knife she was using to cut the fist-sized meatballs in half, listening to the guys all chortle and stroke their cleverly disguised bulletproof vests, delighted to know they performed as advertised.
“I'm sure Dillon would have been happy to see you prove the efficacy of the Dragon Scales hung on a dummy in the yard versus finding you on the floor, presumably dead from a gunshot wound, Nasa,” Ripley announced tightly, looking sideways at Saint with a narrow glare of disapproval.
“I know I certainly could do without the memory of seeing Saint shot and bleeding out on the floor of my spa.”
Saint circled his arm around Ripley's shoulders to give her a squeeze. “Well, now you can rest easy knowing that won't happen again because I'm constantly wearing body armor that'll withstand everything but a grenade launcher.”
“Or a head shot!” Ruckus pointed out, failing to duck when the Ever hurled a bread roll at him.
He took it right in the forehead, fumbled, and nearly lost it to one of Athena's waiting pitbulls before making a recovery.
“Un. Helpful,” Ever declared, reaching out lightning fast to stop Lyon from throwing a little tomato. “You don't throw food. You're Monkey See, remember?”
Lyon heaved an overly dramatic sigh and rolled his eyes. “Yes, Mama, not Monkey Doo Doo. Do I get scales in my cut when I'm a brudder?”
Roar fielded that one, taking a wet washcloth previously prepared, to wipe the bright red marinara sauce off
Lyon's face and hands.
“Sure. Right after you graduate high school and apply to be a Prospect, just like Gee and Ruckus did before they got patched in.”
Nasa's hand slipped over her thigh under the table, and she looked up to find him smiling softly. She'd bet money on Lyon getting something with dragon scales on it for his birthday.
“Okay, Bid Daddy.”
“And stop calling me Big Daddy,” Roar huffed. “It's weird.”
“I told you not to watch that movie with him,” Ever snapped.
Lyon frowned in adorable little kid confusion. “But you are bid, Daddy. Papa Top says you're builded like a brick shid house all duh time!”
Top laughed so hard he started violently coughing, and everyone close enough to him to offer assistance did so all at once.
When he caught his breath, Dillon saw the quick flash of embarrassment he covered up with dismissive anger.
“Judas Priest! Can't a guy hack up a lung without y'all losin' your ever lovin' minds? Fuck off, already. I'm fine! Get back to the story, Nasa.”
Nasa shrugged, the tension Dillon could feel thrumming through him in response to the blatantly obvious effects of Top's cancer, easing bit by bit.
“I haven't looked at the footage to see who she is yet, but the woman Ghost sent into the shelter to find the drive checked in the same day Dillon came here.
"Ghost said it was to keep me occupied with trying to figure out why, but it tracks that he didn't want to give Dillon any reason to go back to the shelter long enough for this other woman to do her search. He's a master of disguising the truth within little lies to make them easier to swallow.”
Raid grunted derisively at Nasa's description, “I gather there was something other than C-4 in the backpack?”
“A glass pen and a note.”
Ever's fork clattered to her plate, and her eyes were suspiciously bright.
“What did it say?” Ever asked, her voice tight and higher than normal.
Dillon looked around the table as everyone froze mid-motion, all of them staring at Nasa in shock.
Nasa shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and Dillon wasn't sure why. He hadn't told her what it said either. “'I want to come home, but I don't know if there's anything to come back to. He told me you never stopped looking for me. Is it true?' There was a phone number.”
“Did you call it?” Ever demanded, looking as though she was about to get up and take off running after Pen.
Nasa shook his head. “No. I got us back on the road and came home to give it to Pen first. He's on the phone now.”
Ever took in a stuttering breath, blindly reaching over her son for Roar, who hiked Lyon up into his lap to make room. Roar grabbed her around the hips and slid her down the bench to curl under his arm.
“Is it her? Is it Wren?” Roar rumbled quietly, as though he didn't dare speak any louder.
Nasa lifted his free hand in a slow shrug. “Can't confirm. It was just a number, and I didn't feel like I had the right to call before Pen.”
About this time, Ever got over her shock and turned an alarming shade of red. “What in the fuck does 'I don't know if there's anything to come back to' mean? Her whole life was here before that psycho came in and fucked it all up.
"This is her home! We're her friends, her family for fuck’s sake! Where the hell else would she go?”
Top was the voice of reason in the face of Ever's emotion, and it became crystal clear why everyone looked to him for stability.
“She's been gone a long time, Red. She left without saying goodbye and not under the best circumstances. Is it really a stretch to imagine Wren might be under the impression she isn't wanted here because of her association to Ghost?
"Never mind that it's not true. Y'all women get some strange ideas in your head when you start fretting about what other people think of you.”
“Of course, she's wanted here!” Ever practically howled. “We've been looking for her this whole time—”
Top held up a gentle, but firm hand to forestall any further shouting, his beard jutting straight out in what Dillon had come to learn was an agitated posture.
“Darlin’, you know that, and I know that, but it's pretty clear to me no one told Wren.
"Far as she's concerned, when she disappeared off the map, she cut ties with us and burned her bridges.
"In her shoes, I'd be pretty damn concerned about whether or not I'd have a place here, too.
“'Sides, we're not sure this isn't another game Ghost's running, or if it is Wren on the other end of that phone number.
"Frank, when you're done, I want you sticking close to Pen. Make sure he doesn't go tearin' outta here to do somethin' stupid without backup.”
From further down the table, Frankie gave a thumbs up in answer since his mouth was packed full of pizza. Dillon noticed Nasa pause in his own eating to fiddle around on his phone, and from the glance she got, it appeared he was ensuring Pen didn't take off by disabling the automatic opening of the gates.
“In the meantime,” Top went on, “We're all gonna cool our jets, let Nasa and Dillon take a breather after their fun and games today, and we'll get back at it tomorrow to hear what's on that drive Rachel was so keen on hiding. You got any leads on her yet, Saint?”
Dillon looked across at Saint in time to see him shake his head. “Not really. I've cast a few lines, but the leads are thin, and I'm not expecting a bite. That Vanguard network is pretty solid, and the couple Dillon made the handoff to are full-time RVers.
“Got a mail forwarding service I tracked down, and I sent them an email on the address Nasa found for us, but unless there's some secret handshake I don't know about, I doubt they're going to get back to me.”
All eyes swung to Dillon, and she felt herself turn pink. It was unbelievably strange to be surrounded by people who knew she was a transporter in an active underground railroad.
She'd kept that part of her life so secret for so long, it made her feel naked to talk about it, despite knowing she was in a safe place with people she could trust.
“I have a phone number to a burner I can call,” she answered slowly, her throat closing around the intensely secret information. “Though, I truly don't know what to expect. I could lay it all out there about Ghost, the Leviathans, the human trafficking.
"Cindy and Dave could say all the things we want to hear, then call whoever their group works with to warn them I've been compromised.”
Saint nodded in understanding, but Top gave a grunt, spreading his hands before leaning his elbows on the table.
“All we can do is try, Dillon. If Ghost decides to go after that girl, well, I don't have to tell you what he's capable of.”
“I'll make the call tonight,” Dillon replied slowly. “After everything that just went down, I won't be active with Vanguard anymore. They've made it clear I can't trust them with my safety.
“Nasa and I talked on the way back, and he suggested setting up some kind of shelter or a halfway house for the victims Veracruz and his people rescue. Apparently, most of them have no home to come back to, and no resources to help them move forward.
“I've got resources, and skills to build them a fortress to recover in. Nasa even talked about maybe finding sponsors willing to fund a program to pair emotional support and protection dogs to the people like me who would benefit from having that kind of companion.”
She glanced down the table, at where Duke and Tobias had been putting away enough food to feed six men, and saw both of them had frozen in the act of shoveling more pasta in their open mouths.
Athena bounced in her seat and raised her hand with a gleeful look on her face, “I work with the animal shelters around here to evaluate rescue dogs. I can totally hook you up, and I know all the people to talk to about funding that kind of charity.”
“Fuck yeah,” Ever declared, wiping at her eyes as she found her way back to calm. “Whatever you build, I'll pony up materials and supplies to do a gardening program. It's very
therapeutic to have your hands in the dirt.”
“Everyone who works with me will absolutely volunteer to come in and give the women haircuts and stuff,” Ripley offered, “Pamper them a little and do whatever we can to help the victims start feeling human again.”
Dillon glanced up at Nasa to find him smiling a smug, happy smile. She couldn't believe the immediate support from the women, just from Dillon sharing something she hadn't truly committed to.
Listening to them generously offering to utilize what talents they had to help out people they didn't know, supporting Dillon in making a place here among them, was incredible.
“That sounds like a damn fine use of all your talents, girls.” Top told them with pride. “And you can count on Perdition to get behind locating whatever family there is to find if the women and kids do want to go home.”
She'd had to fight tooth and nail to get Patti to agree to move into the women's shelter in Dallas. It hadn't been a fun process, and there hadn't been anyone offering to donate their special talents to help make it a success. It left Dillon feeling run down and unappreciated. Resented, even.
Now? There wasn't a doubt in her mind she could pull off this shelter for trafficking victims, and not a single person at the table had anything negative to say about it.
Dillon settled into the idea of building this halfway house with the ease of putting on her favorite sweatshirt fresh out of the dryer. It felt warm and reassuringly comfortable. Really, there wasn't any reason to deliberate or waste time deciding.
Tomorrow, she'd start looking for properties and get in touch with the Monumentally lawyer to tell him about the changes. If he didn't like it, she'd find someone else to handle the legal side.
This felt right, and she wasn't doing it out of some manic need to control anything, or making decisions based on fear. There was a need, Dillon had the skills, and the support of a family.
In the most serious tone she'd heard Duke use yet, he looked at her from across the table with painful gravity. “You don't even know how big of a difference a place like that would make for the people we bring back.”
Tobias nodded in agreement, simply saying, “You build it, without question, we're on board.”
