Dead Man Walking (The Fallen Men, #6)

by Darling, Giana

  It still astonished me that I had my own podcast not least of all because it was actually starting to become incredibly popular. I’d initially worked out of the UBC sound room, but after season one did so well, Eric and I rented space above Honey Bear Café in Entrance and converted it to a studio. We were sponsored and had the money to kit it fabulously in pinks, whites, and vintage horror movie posters.

  It was my home away from home. My happy place where the dark and light inside me unified as beautifully as the yin and yang.

  “That’s why I find cases like Paul and Karla particularly fascinating,” I concluded. “Because it shows our folly in believing monsters must be ugly and warped by trauma. The truth is much more chilling. Some people are born monsters, and they are even more dangerous than those who are bred by circumstance.”

  Eric played our little musical diddy through the speakers to signal the end of the podcast. I affixed a smile on my face so my listeners would hear it in my tone. They liked the contrast of my bubbly personality to the morbid content of my show.

  “Thank you for joining us this killer Monday on Little Miss Murder,” I sing-songed. “Next week, we talk about Belle Gunness, the woman who was married to murder.”

  I waited for Eric to signal, then flipped off my mic and pulled the heavy headset from my head. A long tendril of blond hair caught on the plastic, and I grumbled under my breath as I detangled it.

  “You don’t seem yourself today,” Eric noted as he came into the booth and perched his hiney on the edge of the table. “Are your ribs bothering you?”

  I simultaneously shook my head and freed myself of the headset, tossing it on the table so I could run my hands over my aching scalp. My hair was thick enough to give me headaches without the addition of the earphones, so I was used to the ache after an episode.

  “No, I’m okay. It’s just been a weird few weeks.”

  Eric pulled a face. “I’d say. Almost dying in a fiery car crash, then being accosted by your dead date’s mum? Weird is an understatement.”

  “We produce a show about murder and study criminal psychology,” I noted dryly as I stood and stretched languidly. “It’d have to get a lot weirder than that to faze me.”

  “Touché.” He watched me as I moved through my short stretching routine. Even though his hair hung in his eyes, I knew the cast of his gaze. His tongue toyed with the silver ring through his lip as he studied me hungrily. He’d been toying with the idea of asking me out for a while now and only my expert maneuvering had kept the opportunity from appearing.

  “Auntie Bea,” a sweet, throaty voice called from the hallway, and a moment later, my sister appeared holding her son, Monster, on her hip.

  Behind her, Cleo carried my niece, Angel, while Cressida, Harleigh Rose, Lila, Maja, Tayline, and Hannah brought up the rear.

  My biker babes.

  Instantly, Eric was forgotten as I skipped toward my family and embraced them each in turn. If I hugged Cressida a little longer than the others, it was only because she’d been gone for four months, and I’d missed her like crazy.

  “How’s my grumpy nephew today?” I asked as I approached Loulou last.

  We kissed each other loudly on the cheek before I bent to run a knuckle over Monster’s suede smooth cheek. He scowled at me, but I didn’t take it personally because that was basically his fixed expression.

  I laughed when he grunted at me and shoved his fist in my hair so he could grab it in his strong little fingers.

  “Sorry,” Lou said unapologetically. “He’s a possessive little monster, and he likes pretty things.”

  “Do you think I’m pretty?” I cooed to him before sneaking a quick kiss to his chubby cheek that he immediately recoiled from. “I think you’re very handsome, too.”

  “Isn’t he?” my sister declared proudly. “Just like his daddy.”

  Harleigh Rose snorted as she bumped Lou gently with her hip. “Let’s hope he grows up prettier than that old guy.”

  “If he’s ugly, what does that make you as his daughter?” Loulou countered sweetly.

  H.R. flipped her the bird, and we all laughed.

  For the first time in days, I felt settled, that disconcerting restlessness fading. This was the world I knew; this was my safe place in it all. These people—these fierce, feminine women—gathered around me because that was what they did during or after times of trouble.

  “What are you guys doing here?” I asked as Maja wrapped an arm around my shoulder and pulled me into her side so she could kiss the top of my head.

  “Girls’ night,” she declared.

  Maja had been Buck’s Old Lady for twenty years. She had serious biker babe attitude from the tips of her Farrah Fawcett-flipped hair to the end of her spike heeled feet. I’d never seen her in anything less than highly bedazzled, skintight jeans and heels at any hour of the day, even when shit with the club hit the fan, and everyone else looked like shit. She was our matriarch in a group of mostly young Old Ladies and their friends, but she seemed comfortable taking a back seat to Lou, who was technically higher-ranking because she was married to the prez, and even Cressida, who’d briefly occupied that role when King took leadership while Zeus was in prison.

  I loved her with a fierceness that I didn’t feel for my own mother, probably because, unlike Phillipa, Maja was willing to fight tooth and nail for her loved ones, and she never took any crap from anyone, even Buck.

  “We haven’t had one since Cress got home,” Lila pointed out as she took Cressida’s hand to give it a sweet kiss. “It’s about time we communed.”

  “Bitch barely deserves it after abandoning us for months,” Tayline said as she rummaged in her massive hobo bag and produced packages of popcorn, Twizzlers, and a handful of Mr. Big candy cars. “But I’ll do anything that involves snacks, and the brothers have Church tonight anyway.”

  “Oh, shut it.” Cress laughed, tossing her long golden-brown hair over her shoulder to shoot a megawatt smile at her best friend. “You cried when I came home.”

  “Did not.”

  “Did too.” Harleigh Rose nodded sagely. “Saw it with my own two eyes.”

  “You were probably too busy making out with your new fiancé to see anything,” Tay countered.

  “She has a point,” Hannah agreed.

  “I saw it too,” Lila said, then held up a hand. “And before you make some comment about how I was too busy making out with Nova to notice, he wasn’t even there when we saw you that first time. Besides, King’s resurrection and Cressida’s return definitely warrant unlocking lips even if it’s only for a minute.”

  Tay pursed her lips in annoyance.

  We all laughed at her.

  “Fuck, you guys are a riot,” Eric said from behind us, startling me because I’d totally forgotten about him.

  “Sorry, Eric,” I said with a wince. “This is my sister and her babies…” I hesitated over how to refer to the rest of my tribe.

  Cleo piped up for me. “And the rest of her family.”

  Eric raised his pierced eyebrow. “Eclectic family.”

  Cleo giggled, which made me take a second look at her, but she was too busy making eyes at Eric.

  Oh-kay, then.

  “Let’s go. Ransom is going to come pick up the babies at your house in an hour,” Lou said, adjusting Monster on her hip. “Then it’ll be just us girls.”

  “And Benny,” Cress added. “Carson’s officially a hang-around now so he’ll be at the meeting, and I didn’t want Benny to feel left out.”

  “Awesome,” Tay crowed. “Do you think he could bring some focaccia from La Gustosa?”

  Benito Bonanno was Carson Gentry’s boyfriend, and they both often ended up at club gatherings for their various connections to the group. The primary one being that they were best friends with Cressida even though she’d once been their high school teacher. The other being the fact that Carson was my cousin, and it seemed lately that he was considering becoming a prospect for The Fallen.

 
; “How are you so tiny?” Hannah demanded, waving at our diminutive friend before gesturing to her own gorgeous curves. “You eat like a horse, and I eat like a lady. We should have the opposite figures.”

  Tay ripped open the wrap of the Mr. Big candy bar with her teeth, then took an outrageously large bite as she shrugged.

  “You’re perfect,” I told Hannah who was forty-something, but maintained every year on her birthday that she was thirty-five. “Let’s get out of here before Eric discovers all our secrets because none of you can keep your mouths shut.”

  They protested as I ushered them out, stealing Angel from Cleo as we went. When they all filed out, I looked over my shoulder at Eric who was studying me with an eerie intensity.

  “Everything okay?” I asked.

  “You’ve got some bruising on your neck,” he said slowly, standing up from the desk and stalking toward me with his eyes fixed on my throat.

  I held my breath as he carefully put his hand over my throat, palm first then finger by finger as if fitting himself to the bruises.

  My breath arrested in my airway at the dark look in his eyes, something twisted like hot metal, sharp and warped. I’d never seen Eric look like that, like something other than human.

  “Who did this?” he asked in such a heavy voice it seemed to press the air from my lungs.

  “No one,” I said as I tried to peel his fingers off my neck.

  For one second, he resisted, his grip tightening and eyes flashing, but then he released me. I stumbled backward slightly, my hand at my throat, eyes wide.

  “You’ve never been a good liar,” he told me flatly as he crossed his arms over his chest and stared me down with those dark eyes.

  “And you are?” I questioned, arching a brow at his strange behaviour.

  A curious silence vibrated between us like a discordant note.

  “Listen, no one attacked me, okay? I’m fine. Beyond that, it’s none of your business.” I finally said, moving to the couch to grab my purse and coat. “I’ll see you next week.”

  “No kiss?” he asked because I was affectionate, and I almost always hugged him or tapped a kiss to his cheek in greeting or goodbye.

  I slid him a sidelong glance as I pulled on my coat. “Not today.”

  * * *

  * * *

  It took two hours, five devoured pizzas, three episodes of Hell on Wheels, and four pitchers of Lila’s insanely strong margaritas for the topic to come up.

  I was almost relieved when it did.

  It had only been a matter of time and I was eager to get it out of the way.

  “So Priest and Wrath tried to kill you,” Tay said conversationally as she rubbed her bloated belly and continued to eat from the depleted bowl of popcorn perched on Maja’s lap. “You know, with those two, I’m surprised you survived.”

  Cressida winced. “Hey, we all know they did not try to kill, Bea. Those two might be scary, but they’ve earned our respect a million times over.”

  “No shit,” Harleigh Rose added, leaning forward on the couch where she’d been snuggling with Lila to scowl properly at Tayline. “They love us. They wouldn’t knowingly harm a fuckin’ hair on our heads.”

  I looked at Loulou, but she was chewing her bottom lip, conspicuously silent when she was usually the first to stand up for any of the club’s brothers.

  “Foxy?” Hannah asked, pausing in her task of braiding my hair. “You got a problem with those two because of this?”

  The pause was so slight, just a half second beat, but it resonated through the room like a struck gong.

  “No,” she said slowly, staring at my feet in her lap as she painted my toes a pale pink. “No, I don’t have a problem with them. Wrath didn’t know what he was doing. He’s new and eager to prove himself after working with a club who tried to take us down. But Priest… he should have known better. He’s never made a mistake like this before.”

  “So, you’re going to hate him for it?” I demanded, tensing so hard my muscles ached, and Cleo shifted up from her half-sprawl on my left side. “He’s human, Loulou. Everyone makes mistakes.”

  Her mouth set in that stubborn line that had irritated me my entire life because it meant nothing I said would reach her.

  Tayline sighed dramatically. “Okay, I admit I said what I said to get a little reaction, but I wasn’t serious, Lou. Priest is Priest, and he pretty much admits he doesn’t have a heart, but that’s not true, and you know it. I bet you he’s haunted by what happened.”

  “And I bet you didn’t make it any better when you yelled at him,” I added, just to twist the knife.

  “Or when you kept him from seeing Bea,” Harleigh Rose added.

  Lou leaned over to slap her ripped jean-clad thigh, but the damage was done.

  “Are you kidding me?” I asked, almost woodenly, because I couldn’t believe my sister would be so cruel.

  She was not a mean-spirited person. It would have been so easy, almost cliché, for the many trials and tribulations of her life to hone her edges into sharp, lethal corners, but instead, they had worn her smooth like the velvet edge of rock weathered by a battering seas.

  She was kind and good, beautiful in all the ways I knew a person could be.

  “Why would you do such a thing?” Cleo asked softly, always soft because she was a girl of careful consideration and thoughtful silences.

  Benny had frozen with a spoonful of ice cream half-way to his mouth. “Lou, that isn’t like you, at all.”

  “She was protecting you,” Lila said, sympathy in her voice but a frown between her almond-shaped eyes. “At least, she thought she was.”

  “And who was protecting Priest?” I countered, suddenly too hot and feeling too crowded. I surged to my feet, dislodging the nail polish all over the towel beside Lou’s lap, jarring Cleo, and ripping my hair painfully from Hannah’s grip.

  Suddenly, I hated this scene and the intimacy of it. Because it seemed glaringly fake now after my sister’s cruelty. Were we all just playacting being a community, a family?

  Because I knew after my parents, and I knew now with The Fallen exactly what was and wasn’t family.

  “I’ve never known you to be cruel,” I whispered to my sister because something like brutal disappointment was choking my throat. “But you left Priest out of that hospital room where our family and the club gathered like they always do when someone’s hurt. You took that from him, and he didn’t deserve it.”

  Finally, the impact of her actions seemed to hit Lou like a metric ton of bricks. Her features cracked down the middle, sorrow seeping through the fissures.

  “You don’t get to choose what kind of bad a man can be or what ways rebellion is acceptable to you. You fell in love with a man most people would consider a monster,” I reminded her.

  Instantly, anger fired her face with resolve. “Zeus is the best man I know. He does everything for our family.”

  “So does Priest!” I shouted, almost vibrating with something that felt like more than just righteous anger for the Irish enforcer.

  It felt like anger for me. As if Lou was attacking me in her assessment of him.

  Because I secretly identified with Priest’s cold, dark mind, like the empty, creaking corridor of a haunted house?

  Or because I secretly identified so much as his, the only person who dared to walk that frightening hall?

  “How can you condone the way someone acts without even trying to understand their motivation?” I asked her. “We aren’t the people we used to be, Loulou. Our lives aren’t black and white. It’s unfair of you to judge Priest because he doesn’t make sense to you.”

  “And he does to you?” Her eyes narrowed, scraping back my skin with her teeth and nails like the skin of an orange, trying to see inside my flesh.

  “Maybe,” I dared, fisting my hands on my hips, trying to look forbidding in fuzzy slippers and a frilly white nightgown.

  “Honey,” Cressida said soothingly, standing up from her seat where she’d been bre
astfeeding Prince. She handed him gently to Harleigh Rose, who took him eagerly, almost reverently, then moved to take me loosely in her arms. I looked up into her classically pretty face and tried not to be swayed by the wisdom in her gaze. “You know I get the fascination with him. He’s a broken man, but his pieces are beautiful. It’s hard not to be intrigued.”

  “It doesn’t matter what I am,” I defied, even though my heart clunked like shoes tumbling in the dryer. “What matters is that Lou owes Priest an apology.”

  We stared at each other then, my sister and me. If she was surprised I didn’t capitulate to her stubbornness the way I usually did, conflict adverse as I was, she didn’t show it. Instead, we locked eyes, mine only two shades paler than her cerulean blue, and we erected a wall between us.

  If the wall had a name, it would have been Priest McKenna.

  The doorbell chose that moment to ring throughout my little house.

  “I’ll get it,” Cleo declared, popping to her feet instantly and then practically diving toward the door to escape the tension.

  “Saved by the bell,” Harleigh Rose muttered to Lila, who giggled under her breath.

  “Hey, Bea, you got a present,” Cleo crowed as she returned to my shabby chic parlour with a long, flat paper-wrapped box in her arms. “From a secret admirer!”

  I blinked, but the women around me exploded into a flurry of teasing remarks and laughter.

  “Who is it?” Benny asked me. “You never said a thing.”

  “There’s nothing to say,” I responded quietly, trying to force down the hope savaging the inside of my chest.

  Could it be?

  Priest?

  No. No, of course not.

  He wasn’t a man of flowers and romancing.

  He was a man of blood oaths and calculated seduction.

  But he had given me presents before.

  Two of them.

  The Celtic cross dagger I always kept on my person, and the carved wooden Dara knot I kept in my keepsake box on the bedside table. He’d given me that knot after Loulou, Harleigh Rose, and I escaped the fire at Zeus’s cabin when I was only thirteen. Loulou had been lying in critical condition in a hospital bed, and Priest had found me, curled up in a ball on the floor in the corner of the handicap washroom sobbing my weight in saline. I still don’t know how he found me, and when he did, he almost instantly disappeared. When I opened the door later, after severely dehydrating myself, then washing my red face, I found the Dara knot on the speckled laminate floor outside the door on top of a badly crinkled note.