He was leaning so hard, when the door opened Garrett stumbled, falling forwards, so I reached out and grabbed him, hauling him upright. He looked up at me, gabbling away, then lifted his arms up in the universal signal of “get me off this floor” so I picked him up. Turning to face the open door, I saw first Mason, a big man with eyes that would have frightened me to bits if I’d met him without Bones at my side. Or seen him without his toddler on my hip. His eyes saw everything, and I knew he saw Willa feeding Dolly even without looking over my shoulder.
“I need to tell Bones a secret.” Yes, that was my blurting mouth again. Bones was behind him, and stepped up, Mason moving to the side so I could see. “Hey there.” Now my mouth was traitorous again, seeming unwilling to get to the meat of the matter. “How ya doin’, Bones?”
“Ester.” Tipping his head to the side, Bones looked at me. But he didn’t just look at me, he saw me, like he always did, and that loosened the bindings on my mouth.
“I didn’t forget, but I didn’t remember, either. Not until a minute ago when Willa and I were talking about names.” Garrett hit my back with the motorcycle, but it didn’t hurt. Little man smile, little man strength. One day, he would be bigger and stronger, and then we’d all have to look out, but for now, he was a little man walking. “Ronnie. I had a Ronnie when I was little.”
Bones had the frown on his face he wore when he was trying to catch up. Willa was already there, mostly because she’d had more time, but she was also pretty smart. She called out, “I think it’s her brother’s name.”
I nodded, seeing understanding coming over Bones’ features. Understanding and something else. A knowing. “You already knew.” Bones nodded. “Okay, then. I didn’t want you to think it was a lying secret.” A different look flashed over his face, this more like guilt than anything.
***
Bones
“You know him.” The emphasis was subtle, but there and Bones knew Ester deserved the truth from him. Always, but especially in things like this. Honesty, he thought, is a good thing.
“Yes, my Ester. I know you have a brother.” Bones waited, and she nodded, silently urging him to finish voicing what she’d seen on his face. “I know who your brother is.”
Staring at him intently, her expression was guarded, the tension around her eyes showing fear. “Do I know him?”
Without quite understanding the context of the question, Bones chose to answer carefully, but still honestly. “No, little one, you have not met him since you have been with me.”
“Has he met me?” Her voice cracked, and Bones longed to pull her into him, but needed to give her this distance for now, letting her set the tone of the rest of the conversation.
“He has seen you. He was the man who helped me find you when you were ill.” Rushing to fill the gaps, he told her, “Until he saw you that day, he did not know who you might be to him.”
She rolled her lips, then reached up, scrubbing at her nose. Bending, she buried her face into Garrett’s neck, and with her voice so muffled, Bones nearly didn’t hear her next words. “Does he want his sister back? My Ronnie? Does he want to know me?”
“More than anything, Ester,” Mason spoke and reached out, one hand gentle on her shoulder, then he tugged his son free of her grip. His other hand shoved Bones forwards with a muttered, “Catch her, man. She’s falling apart.” Louder, voice still gentle, Mason told her, “Myron wanted to be there for you ever since. But we’ve had so much shit goin’ down, and I know you know it, more than most, seein’ as not many folks had to deal with a shootout in their home. Bones can tell you about him, and call him, and you can hear his voice if you want. He’s in Chicago, though, so you can’t see him until you go home. Looks like our dinner is delayed, with Dolly gettin’ some of hers first. You’ll have to stay a couple hours more, Ester.”
Bones looked up, arms wrapped around a trembling Ester to see Mason’s gaze locked across the room. He twisted his neck to see Willa reclining on the couch, nursing Dolly. Ester took a deep breath, then on a quivering laugh, said, “Tiny human food time. I was supposed to tell you.” She moved in his arms, shifting around until she could look at Willa, too. “Aren’t they beautiful, Bonesy? Have you ever seen anything as beautiful in your life? In the history of things, this ranks way up there. Top slot.”
Lips to the top of her head, Bones agreed with her, and only Mason knew his gaze was directed downwards and not across the room. “Beauty.”
Morgan’s in Arkansas
Bones
“How sure?” Sirens sounded in the background on the call, and Mason’s voice vibrated with rage when he asked the question. “How fuckin’ sure are you this was Morgan?”
Bones raised one hand, holding the men in the room quiet, letting them all listen in to the call Mason had put on speaker. He and Mason had rolled into Chicago only a few hours ago, just long enough to deposit Ester at home and then come to the clubhouse.
Stan, the chapter president in Little Rock, coughed harshly, then said, “Saw him.” He coughed again, and they all heard voices closer to him, asking if he were having problems breathing. He coughed, a ratcheting fusillade of sound that sounded wet and painful. Groaning, he whispered, “Know him. I know him. I’m sure.”
The call disconnected and Bones stared at Mason’s face, knowing what Mason’s order would be even before anything was said. “They upped the ante.” Stan had started the call with the information that three men were dead in Little Rock, and he was hit. “Drive-by. Like here in Chicago.” Mason turned, staring out the window, head tipped back to look at the top of the business office building a handful of blocks away. The location of that building strategic, so Mother would always be close and protected. “We got lucky here.” Mason turned, staring at Bones, then shook his head. “No, not lucky. Got smart, smart enough to figure out their next move here, dealt with it before they killed anyone.” Shaking his head, Mason huffed out a frustrated breath. “Upped the goddamned ante, and we’ll be the ones calling on this hand. Where’s Myron? Want him, Slate, Bear…” He paused, looking around the room. “Fuck. Goddamned motherfucker. Shit.” Mason shook his head viciously, seeming to try and deny something. Bones understood when Mason gritted out, “Get me Blue Line. Need him to make a visit to Shooter.”
News out of California was still muddied, but they’d gotten word from a man on the inside there was no proof Shooter was no longer incarcerated. Not that he’d been seen, nothing positive.
“Not confident that is the right path, Mason,” Bones cautioned. “The idea of asking an LE club for a favor does not sit well with me. No offense to Bear”—he looked around the room, saw the same reluctance on every face—“but this man does not live in our world. He will not have the right message to give, and Shooter will know it.” Bending his head to the phone in his hand, he sent a series of texts to pull together the men Mason wanted. “Did we have no information on this beforehand?” When Mason didn’t respond, Bones looked up, seeing Mason staring at him.
“Who the fuck you think needs to go, then? Me? I can’t fucking go, and he goddamned well knows it.” Mason turned, muscles bunching in his arms as he struggled to maintain control.
“Me.” With a heavy sigh Fury spoke up, and Bones turned to look at him. “I agree with Bones. Nothing settled about dealing with LEO, in whatever form they take at the moment. I agree with you, too. We do need to make a point with Shooter. But we’ve got fucking Morgan to deal with. It needs to be me. I don’t know Morgan, so I’m less help here than I’d like to be. But I do know Shooter. And, if he’s there”—he stared at Bones—“I know exactly the message we need to deliver.”
Mason lowered his head, and his voice was rough when he asked, “What the hell kind of people are these? Deacon killed his own son, split his belly open. And Shooter? Fuck. Man’s boy is dead, isn’t that enough of a cost for him? Will it ever be enough? Doesn’t he know this won’t stop until he does?”
Bones nodded at Fury. “Get with Digger. He will a
ssist with travel. Do you need to…talk to anyone before you leave?” He stepped carefully around naming the woman Fury was with, Mason’s sister Bethany.
“I’ll call once I’m in the air.” Fury walked towards the door. “Keep me updated, brother.”
“Will do.” Bones turned to Mason, staring at him for a moment, then asked, “Who do you want to go to Arkansas?”
“Morgan’s like the fucking plague.” Turning to the back wall a moment, Mason pulled in a hard breath. “Why can’t the man just fucking die?”
“We will deal with him when we can. Right now, we need to talk about Arkansas. Myron is on his way, people are being informed of what has happened. We will have Slate and Bear on video in a few minutes. They are on the way to their clubhouse now.” Stepping towards the desk, he pushed folders out of the way, exposing the map underneath, one with handwritten notes for each chapter the Rebels held in the states. “We need to discuss strategy, and check in with all chapters.”
Mason stared at him for a moment, then sighed and came towards him. Holding Bones’ gaze, Mason stepped close and muttered, “Always got my back, brother. Appreciate you, Bones.”
“You do the same,” Bones responded in the same tone, reaching up to grip Mason’s arm, pulling him close to thump his back, centering his fist over the patch they both wore. “Now we get to work.”
“Fuck, yeah.” Mason turned to the desk and stared down. “When Myron gets here, tell him I need all presidents on video.” His eyes cut up to Bones, then back down. “Secure, so we can talk.” A pause, then, “Fury gone yet? Have an idea.”
With a smile, Bones leaned towards the door, yelling, “Fury, back into the office before you go.” Eyes on Mason, he said, “He has not. What do you need?”
“Myron’s got these phones, some kind of internal static battery, so even if the battery is removed, they work. If Fury can get one to Shooter, he’ll expect us to hear his conversations when he’s got the battery in, but he wouldn’t expect us to be listening in between times. We could get something.” Mason shrugged. “Or we might not, but it’s worth a try.”
As he’d been talking, Bones was texting Myron, using easily misunderstood acronyms to disguise what he needed. “Done.” Lifting his head, he asked, “What else?”
“Hoss to Arkansas. He’s got the best connection with the clubs in the area, because of Memphis.” Mason trailed a fingertip across the map. “Get him an escort, let’s roll in force.”
“Making a statement.” Bones agreed, sending another text. “Okay. What next?”
“I need to go back to Florida.” Bones stared at Mason, surprised because this seemed to come from left field. “Not for what I’d like, but because we need to know why she dumped Lalo out. We need Chismoso, but we need to believe. I think she can shed light on whether his story holds up or not. I don’t even have to tell her who I am.”
“Brother, she will know. Like you know.” Bones shook his head. “Traveling on your own is not going to happen, not with this. We need you here, not there. And with the tension we have struggled with over the past months, if you fly, you know you will be detained. Anyone with you will be detained. We cannot afford to be weakened, and you going to Florida will weaken us. Arkansas will need you strong.”
“We need to believe.” Mason looked over Bones’ shoulder towards the door. “If I could trust his words, then I could trust him to help plan this.”
“He did not lie to us about Joliet. Not a word. Not even when it might cause casualties on their side. He is no longer loyal to Diamante.” Bones tried to infuse his belief into the words, hoping Mason would catch hold of it, and be easy.
“Can you say he’s loyal to RWMC? Without hesitation, can you say those words, Bones?” Mason shook his head. “I can’t. And because I can’t, that leaves me guarding against within as well as without. He’s wearing a prospect patch, and playing the part convincingly, but damn, brother, look at his face next time you ask him to do something. This is galling him, and he doesn’t wear the lie of loyalty well.”
Shades spoke up for the first time, and his words were a blow to Bones, because he didn’t expect them. “Don’t trust him. Some of his guys are all-in, some got a foot in. Most are biding. Just fuckin’ biding.”
Tater cleared his throat, cut a glance to Bones, then shook his head. “He’s not given us a reason to trust him, yet. Not giving us a reason to not trust him is something he works at every day. But the way he goes about it feels forced. I’m with Shades, I don’t trust him. Not yet.”
Myron stalked through the door, ever-present tablet in hand. “Who?” He looked at Mason. “What do we know about Little Rock?”
“Chismoso.” Bones supplied, then said, “And for Arkansas, we only know the smallest amount. We need you to find and feed us the information we need.”
“I listen,” Myron said this absently, unlocking a drawer and pulling out a laptop. He attached the battery to the device, then punched a series of buttons, beginning the boot cycle. “Fitted him out with a bunch of bugs. Since the beginning, because I wanted to be able to haul him in if needed.” He angled the screen, then plugged in a cord, using the remote on the table to turn on the huge screen hanging on the wall. “He’s all in, just holding back because he expects retribution for shit in the past. Guarding himself, and trying to guard the men who joined their path to his. All he talks about is how to stay here, and away from Diamante. Hates them with a passion.” Fingers to the keyboard, Myron pulled up the video app they used, a software trade he’d worked with Chief, the former FBI agent and current president of a friendly club out west. “Who we need on vid, boss?” He’d made some assumptions, or been prompted by Bones’ group texts to the men, because without being asked, he’d pulled in Slate and Bear, then Opie. “Chismoso is exactly what he seems to be. Don’t sweat him. He’ll settle if you use him more, because right now he’s riding the line and feels it. That’s a man—” Another call popped on the screen, and Myron paused to click it, troubled surprise in his voice when he greeted, “Retro, didn’t know you had my app.” Tension went out of the men when Retro moved to the side, and they all saw Hoss.
“I don’t, man. Here visiting my brother and he said to answer the call.” Retro waved at the camera, and Bones chuckled. He was the president of a small club in Alabama, but the blood brother to one of the Rebels’ key men. “I can step out if you need me to. No sweat.”
“Stay.” Mason clipped out the word, then made a motion with one hand. In rapid succession, red exclamation marks showed on the four video blocks on the screen, indicating the audio feed to them had been muted. Turning to Myron, Mason asked, “When were you gonna share about Chismoso?”
“When you needed the info.” Myron shrugged. “It’s been busy, boss. I knew he was a rogue piece on the board. Wanted to make sure I did my bit to keep us all safe. Now we’ve got the info so you can place him.”
Shaking his head, Mason snorted, turning back to the screen. The red marks disappeared, and the door opened and closed behind Bones, letting in Fury. Mason glanced around, then began, “Here’s what we know.”
***
“My Ester. I will be back before you miss me.” Bones wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, rocking in place. “But with this, I must go with Mason.” Closing his eyes, he let the feeling of her relaxing into him soak in, giving him something to hold on to for the next days. He would be riding to Little Rock in a few hours, and the return trip would be after the final funeral, late the next day. Five men had died in the end, almost half of the members in the chapter.
Hoss had reported the local clubs were on guard, but not antagonistic, which was good news. Then, he reported Justine LaPorte was in town, which was far from good news. That meant any ideas Bones or the other men had to try and keep Mason from going down were out the door.
“Is it safe?” Ester’s shoulders jerked, pushing out the words as if they hurt her.
“Baby, it will be as safe as we can make it.” He would
not lie to her, and since Morgan was in the wind, not even a rumor of him since the shooting, there were no guarantees.
“Hmmm.” Rubbing her cheek against his chest, she sniffed, and he cradled her closer. “You’re my best needing. The biggest, too. Don’t let out there”—she unwrapped one arm from his waist, and waved her hand behind her—“make you not come back.”
“I will be back, little one.” Wanting to calm her, he began humming softly, swaying back and forth with her. “I will always come back to you.”
“You’ll keep Mason safe, too?” Her shoulders rolled, fitting her body to his. “Make him come back. His Dolly needs. Even without knowing it.”
In this, too, he would not lie, and felt the corners of his mouth tip up at the idea of him trying to make Mason do anything. “I will do all I can, Ester.”
“My mom didn’t come back. That left me with my dad, and he didn’t want to be anywhere after that. Took himself away from me. I don’t want Dolly to be alone. Tell Mason if she wants, she can be with me.” Ester shrugged, but her body was tense. “I know what it’s like to be alone.”
“Ester.” Bones approached this carefully, not wanting to upset her. “Do you remember your mother and brother?”
“Ronnie? My Ronnie? Of course, I remember him. I only forgot to tell you because we didn’t talk there yet. The court lady told me he had a different place. I don’t…didn’t get to keep him. But I remember him. He was smart and silly.” Her voice took on a plaintive tone. “You sure he wants to have me back?”
“More than anything, Ester. He wants that very much.” She seemed open now, and with Road Runner tied up with other things, if she could allow this, it would make Bones sleep much easier. “He wondered if he could stay here while I am away? Stay here, with you?”
She leaned back immediately, blinking up at him, eyes wide and startled. “He does?”
Rebel Wayfarers MC Boxset 4 Page 30
