But how can I help them? How can I do this and not involve my club in danger that isn’t our business? Leave it to the marshals. Not my problem. I try to tell myself that, but my brain seems focused on what assistance I could provide.
I consider what we know and what we don’t. The likelihood is that Alder knows the city they are staying in, or at least have recently visited, but not their exact location. Maybe we can prevent him finding out and coming closer? What if we moved them to a new house, or, temporarily, into the clubhouse?
She’s standing watching me, waiting for my response.
“I don’t think relocating again is the answer.”
She briefly closes her eyes. “I admit, moving is the last thing I want to do. I’ve just gotten settled.” She looks around the house that’s already showing signs of a woman’s touch. “It will be an upheaval for Dan. He’s just gotten his job and plans to enroll in college in the fall. But I don’t see any other option, Lost. Even the suggestion Alder knows my son isn’t dead is terrifying.”
I should tell her there are jobs and colleges anywhere, but the words seem to get stuck in my throat. Instead, I point out some home truths to her. “The marshals will want to know how you fucked up, babe. What if they decide you’re a risk to Dan? They could move him, but not you.”
Now her eyes go wide. “But, but… They wouldn’t do that, would they?”
“They very well might,” I confirm. “Or could you promise not to fuck up again?”
Her mouth opens, then shuts. “It’s hard, Lost. Harder than I expected. I thought as Beth had her own life now, I could leave her alone to live it. But I miss her so damn much. Ink said he wanted a baby with her. I want to be there. I can’t bear the thought that I won’t be able to help. I may not even know that I’m a grandmother.”
I have to appreciate her honesty. “But you must have expected that when you decided to go into exile with Dan,” I say, a bit harshly.
“I did,” she cries. “But it all happened so quickly. I didn’t have long to make up my mind, and Con… Dan, well he might be twenty-two and an adult, but he still needs me. The relief when I said I’d come with him was written all over his face. Beth’s five years older, and she’s got Ink. I’d feel I was abandoning him if I let him go alone. That was why I made my decision. I knew it wasn’t going to be easy, but I had no idea exactly how difficult it was going to turn out. I miss her, Lost. Miss her terribly.”
It sounds like a tough choice. My wife and I hadn’t gotten around to starting a family. I’d been working so hard building up a business, and she, well, she’d been too busy fucking around. Literally, as I’d later found out.
Patsy turns and walks to the window. Her shoulders hunch. “You’re right, Lost. If we move again, I don’t know how I’d survive not knowing how Beth’s doing. The marshals may not help, as you say, they might move Dan on his own as he’s the one they want to keep safe.” She swings around. “I want both my children, Lost. I know I’m selfish, but I can’t make the choice. Not now I know my sanity is at stake. Beth’s not just my daughter, she’s my best friend, my confidant. I miss talking to her. Talking to Dan, well, he’s a man. It’s not the same.”
“Have you made any friends here?”
She raises and lowers her shoulders. “I haven’t exchanged more than a couple of words with the neighbours, they’re not particularly the friendly type. I thought about joining a group or something, but then I got scared. What if I forget what I can reveal, and what I can’t? If I talk about what I do, I’m sure to let slip the reason why I make clothes for taller women—that they’re for my daughter. How could I explain why I can’t see her? I can’t risk it, Lost. I’m not that good a liar.”
It sounds like a lonely life, I silently observe, not missing that her eyes are glistening. Christ, she should never have moved. She should have left Dan to atone for his sins alone or abandoned him to get into more trouble without her guiding hand. Again I think how fucked up it is for a good woman like her to be forced to choose between her son and her daughter.
Like her, I stand, walking over to the windows and look out into the night. There’s only one answer I can come up with—putting Alder in the ground. But the man’s a ghost. The feds can’t find him, so there’s probably no chance we can.
“Why is Alder so fixated on Dan?” I ask, half to myself. “What’s it matter that he’s alive? Is there something he’s not yet told the feds, something he’s keeping to himself?”
“Dan wouldn’t have held anything back,” she replies. “He wanted to keep out of jail, so he told them everything he could.”
I wonder if that’s true. What if Dan had been involved in something that would implicate him in a serious crime? He might not have come clean about that.
Her face looks tight. “Dan gave the feds Alder’s name as the man behind the influx of drugs. Because of Dan, they know who they’re looking for. He was forced to go underground. If, or when he surfaces, Dan will have to testify.”
“Whether Dan’s there to testify won’t make any difference to Alder being convicted.” Again, I’m thinking aloud. “He was a bystander and not involved. His information pointed the feds in the right direction. A whistleblower if you like. A conviction would have to be based on proving Alder’s involvement, and Dan’s word alone wouldn’t be good enough for that.”
“So Alder wants revenge on the man who destroyed his business. He’s a spiteful man who holds a grudge.”
I consider her offered explanation for a moment. Something doesn’t sit right with me. “Alder’s a businessman. I’d have thought his concentration would be on rebuilding what he lost, getting his revenue stream flowing again. From what I hear, Dan probably threw a wrench in the works, but didn’t halt it.”
Sure, a man like Alder would want revenge, but would he put that much effort into getting it? Of course I don’t know the man, but it doesn’t seem likely. What purpose would it serve unless Dan hadn’t done all the damage he could have? If Dan has told the feds everything, what would killing him achieve, other than giving Alder a good night’s sleep? He’d be wasting time and resources tracking Dan, when surely, he’s got higher priorities? A lot of this doesn’t make sense and needs more consideration.
Of course, there’s one person who might be able to shed more light on this. “When’s Dan back?”
“Ten o’clock,” she tells me.
Taking out my phone, I see that’s just an hour’s time. “I’d like to wait and speak to him, if that’s okay with you?”
“You’re going to tell him, aren’t you?” Her mouth twists as though she’s just tasted something unpleasant. “You’re going to tell him how I messed up.”
“He has to know.” I close the gap between us and turn her to face me. “Hate having to tell you this, but the net may be closing in. Do you want him forewarned, or just to go on oblivious to any danger he might be in? He’s a grown man, not a kid. He needs to be part of any discussion about whether you stay or go, or whether that’s together or alone. It’s his life on the line, Patsy. It’s got to be down to him.”
She stares up at me, then looks away. “I suppose you’re right.”
“There could be other options we could discuss.”
“Such as?”
I don’t want to let her in on a half-baked idea. “We’ll know more once I’ve talked to Dan, babe.”
The first time I’d called her babe she’d bristled, the second she’d gone red. Since then, she softens, and half smiles each time I say it. During our serious discussion I’d avoided using it, but now we’ve talked that to death, I want to lighten the atmosphere again. To test out my theory, I repeat the endearment. “So, babe, is it okay if I wait?”
Yup. I was not wrong. She likes it. In fact, so much so, it’s flustered her, and she hasn’t answered my question.
“Have you got a beer?”
“What? Oh, yeah. Dan’s got some in the fridge. I’m more a wine girl myself.” Words now tumble out one after the
other. I grin. She’s acting like a gauche teenager, not the middle-aged woman she is. I find I like it.
As she goes off in the direction of what I assume is the kitchen but doesn’t quickly return, I think she’s probably taking a moment to pull herself together.
I take the opportunity to do the same myself. I’m here on a mission, not to have my interest sparked in a woman who means nothing at all to me. But damn it, while the subject hadn’t been pleasant, a discussion about a man who’d nearly succeeded in a previous attempt to kill her son, part of me had enjoyed the debate.
I’m the prez of an MC. I might be older than most of my members, but my cut and my bike still attract attention. I’ve kept myself in shape over the years. My hair might be grey, but I haven’t let myself go. When I ride with my men, it may be because I wear the patch that denotes me as the highest-ranking member, but woman flock to me just like they do the younger men.
I can get laid anytime I want to.
I fucked around when I first got my patch, but soon found what I liked best was having a woman to come home to and not just for sex. It was the holding each other, talking to each other, sharing our days, our successes and tribulations, all the trappings which make a relationship work. There’s more to marriage than athletics in the bedroom, much more. What attracts in the beginning becomes just a small part of what matrimony offers.
I’d always thought I’d had a good-enough marriage, until my failures became too great, too much of a burden to be shared.
Truth be told, I don’t meet many women my own age. I don’t have kids so I don’t meet single parents. I don’t have hobbies outside of my club, so I rarely meet civilians. Nice women my age tend to shy away from motorcycle riding, leather-clad, tattooed men.
Just for once it’s nice to meet someone in the same age group who gives me a second glance.
Still waiting for her to return with my beer, I sigh. I like her, but even if she liked me in that way, there’s no way I could go there. Somehow I manage to fool an MC that I’m capable of leading it, and that takes all my time and energy trying to do that right. I can’t split my loyalties and take on responsibility for somebody else, someone who’ll demand my commitment to her. That I can’t fully give, not when I’m married to my club.
“Sorry. I, er…” Whatever excuse she’s about to use for her tardiness dies on her lips as she clearly has difficulty uttering a lie.
Taking pity on her, I take the opened beer from her hand. “How do you like living in San Diego?”
“It’s warmer than I’m used to,” she says, smiling. “I’m looking forward to the winter as it won’t be as cold as it is in Colorado.” Then her face falls. “If I’m still here then.”
“Have you been getting out much? Seeing the sights?”
She sighs and sits down. After waving me to a seat opposite, she takes a sip of her wine. “Not really. My time’s been taken up with moving in, setting up the house, making sure Dan’s okay, and of course, working. Dan and I have tried to get out from time to time, but I think we’re both wary of going out in public.”
Their sense of security won’t improve now they know Alder knows they’re in this city.
“Dan’s fully healed now?” I recall her son had taken a nasty beating, stabbed too.
“Physically he’s fine.”
“Mentally?”
“He’s twenty-two, Lost. He’s already made mistakes. He’d idolised his dad, then when his eyes were opened, realised what he was. I think he hates himself for staying so long and doing what his dad asked of him. Then, of course, the way it ended, when his dad condoned the way he was treated, and knowing he wouldn’t have blinked an eye if Dan had died? It’s hard for someone his age to get his head around.”
“Your ex is dead.” It’s a statement, not a question.
She nods. “Don’t expect me to feel any grief for him.”
I don’t. Phil Foster was as evil a man as ever lived. Demon had shared the details with me. Phil had been running a small human trafficking ring when he died. He’d kept women as prisoners in his basement, waiting to be sold. When he’d kidnapped Beth, his own daughter, he was going to sell her as well. The Satan’s Devils MC Colorado chapter had been responsible for taking him out.
“So, to answer your question, I haven’t really gotten to know the area yet. Now Dan’s working, it’s a bit lonely sightseeing on your own.”
I hear the sound of the front door being opened, properly this time, with a key not a credit card.
“That you, Dan?”
“Who else would it be?” comes the returning shout. “Mom, there’s a—” He stops abruptly as his eyes land on me. “Oh fuck.”
I cock an eyebrow.
“There’s a car parked outside our house.” He completes his original statement. A muscle in his face ticks as he asks with deliberate casualness, “Who are you?”
Standing, I hold out my hand. “The name’s Lost. I’m a friend.”
“Ain’t got no fucking friends in California,” he responds, looking down at my outstretched fingers as if my hand was a poisonous snake. “Mom, do you know him? How did you meet?”
Patsy goes to talk, but I wave her down. “Dan,” I snap, bringing his attention back to me. “I ride with the Satan’s Devils’ San Diego Chapter.”
“The Satan’s Devils?” The name gives him pause, in fact, he barely seems to breathe.
I nod, and go to explain, but I’m not given the chance.
“No one should know we’re here, it’s too risky.” His hands are clenched, and his muscles on his forearm are bunched. He looks like he’s getting ready to run, just deciding whether to punch me first before he does.
“I appreciate that. I wouldn’t have come if I hadn’t had a need.”
He’s tall, fairly well built, but his muscles are baby ones compared to mine. I might be old, but I’m fast, and experienced. I recognise the expression in his eyes. It’s fear. While he stays tense, I relax my posture and point to the seat on the couch beside his mom.
“Why don’t you sit, and I’ll explain why I’ve come.”
Baulking at my suggestion, he shakes his head. “I want to know now why you’re here, and what you know about us, and whether we need to leave?”
It’s clear to see he’s hanging onto the hope that I only know him as Dan, and his mom by her new surname—Forster, instead of Foster. I dispel him of that immediately, the questions I want answered can’t be done on the basis of lies.
“Your mom moved with you, Connor.” He stiffens even more at the use of his real name, so I don’t hesitate in continuing. “You left your sister behind. A sister who’s older but who very much cares for your mom, and, your mom cares for her.”
Connor spares a glance at his mother. “Is this because of you, Mom? Perhaps you should have stayed in Colorado.”
“Dan, I—”
I slash my hand through the air. “You going to listen to me?” When his eyes come back to mine, I carry on, “You told Demon where you were heading.”
“In confidence—”
“Demon suggested San Diego on purpose. Asked me to keep an eye on you.”
“Those bikes we keep hearing, Dan,” Patsy butts in, “that’s them making sure we’re alright.”
Dan rolls his eyes. “Like you can tell anything from riding past every couple of days.”
“You’re right, but we could think about installing motion-triggered cameras.” I wipe my hand down my beard as Dan gives me an in to raise what Dart had suggested in church. “Say, if we see anything that shouldn’t be here, whoever’s watching our security at the time, can get us here fast.”
“Motion-triggered cameras?” Patsy exclaims. “So if I went out in the backyard to do naked gardening, someone would be watching me?”
“Babe,” I shake my head, chuckling. “Your backyard is not exactly private. I doubt you’d be doing that. But you want to? Just contact me and I’d get the cameras turned off.” Or maybe have the feed sent directly
to my phone for my personal viewing, and mine only.
I may have many faults, but I’ve never been someone to get easily distracted. But hell, the thought of Patsy bending over with a watering can in her hand or leaning in to smell a flower, as naked as the fucking day she was born, well, fuck, that has my cock, which nowadays takes a lot to excite it, twitching. I’m also finding it hard to get my mind back on what we were talking about.
Swiftly moving my eyes from her to her son, I address him. “We also keep our ears to the ground. As I told your mother, information has reached us that someone, probably Alder, knows you’re in San Diego.”
Dan reaches out his hand and rests it on the back of the couch, leaning heavily on it. “No,” he breathes. “No one can trace us… unless a leak came from your club?” His half-angry, half-scared eyes fix on mine.
“Wasn’t my club, Dan. We don’t share fuck. I fuckin’ assure you of that.”
“Then how?” His hand forms a fist, which he brings down on the cushion making a dull thud. “How the fuck did anyone find out about us?”
“I messed up, Dan.” Patsy stands and crosses over to him, her hand reaching to rest on his. In a voice that’s not quite steady, she informs him of her mistake. “I needed to hear Beth’s voice, find out if she was okay…”
“Mom? Mom?”
Chapter Six
Patsy
Connor’s use of that one word coupled with his expression shows utter and complete devastation. I’m gutted, realising how much of a mistake I’d made. Lost pointing out what a fool I’d been hadn’t gotten through to me in the same way my son’s reaction had. This was Connor’s fresh start.
After the pain of the last few weeks and the fear that he’d been living with for months before that, fear of the man he at last learned his father could be, and worry he’d never escape his clutches, Connor had felt safe once he arrived in San Diego. He could make himself all over again as Dan, no longer tied to mistakes he’d previously made. No one here knew of his past.
Being Lost: Satan's Devils MC San Diego #1 Page 6
