Rebel Wayfarers MC Boxset 4

by MariaLisa deMora

  Fury nodded, accepted a bottle of water from Opie, and wiped the sweat from his forehead as he lifted and drank. He was exhausted. They had been working on Tucker for more than six hours. The sun had finally set, and the brutal heat of the New Mexico summer was beginning to bleed off as the barn cooled. The man had slipped away from them for the third time in as many hours, and Fury took this chance to steady his breath. He finished the water, handing the empty back to Opie. The three of them were standing in a rough circle, towering over Tucker’s body. Fury checked and saw the man’s chest rising and falling shallowly. Still breathing.

  “We gettin’ anything we can use, Mason? Fury’s doin’ his job, but I’m less convinced that this guy can be broken. I mean—” Opie gestured towards the prone figure on the floor. “—look at ‘em. We know what it took for Slate to get what he needed, and that was years ago. He’s a hard motherfucker.”

  Spreading the fingers on his right hand, Fury clenched them into a fist again, feeling the ache settling in. He studied Tucker for a moment, surveying the damage wrought by his blows. Face nearly untouched, because they needed him able to talk, and needed to be able to understand any words spoken, Fury had been working his body hard. Kidneys were an obvious target, as were fingers, elbows, knees, and ankles. Nothing damaged in a lasting way, not yet, because a man without hope wouldn’t have a reason to talk.

  Mason’s phone rang and he stepped back, pulling it from his pocket. He squinted at the device, then swiped across it, lifting it to his ear. “Yeah?” Whatever was said on the other end had an immediate effect and Fury watched as Mason stilled, freezing in place. “You’re sure? You talked to him?” A pause and Fury became aware all conversations had halted. When he glanced around, every eye was on Mason. “Be certain, brother.” That made sense, because whoever it was had to be inner circle—Mason wouldn’t have taken the call otherwise. “Copy. Thanks, man. Tell him we owe him.” Mason’s mouth twitched to the side. “Yeah, Myron. I know exactly what those words mean. Tell Sparks we owe him.”

  Mason was staring down at Tucker as he slipped the phone back into his pocket, expression contemplative. “We don’t need you anymore, Tucker.” Movement from the floor drew Fury’s attention, and he saw Tucker was wide awake, staring up at Mason. “Got what I needed from your ex-crew in Florida. Them boys don’t care much for you. All the bullshit you pulled there, drawing down Fed attention to the club, man…that did not make you any friends.”

  “Sparks reached out?” Fury wanted to ask what Myron had told Mason, but knew Mason would share it or not, on his terms. Always.

  “Yeah. Myron sent him a pic of Tucker here, spit back that he knew him as Scorch, then Brands. We’ve heard of Brands, man. He’s the one who took out one of Retro’s guys last year. Dragged him to death at an event in Ocala. No reason other than a spilled beer. Man left behind three kids. Retro’s been callin’ in all kinds of markers, tryin’ to find this piece of shit.” Reaching to the back waistband of his jeans, Mason pulled out his gun and leveled it, aiming down. “I’ll let Retro know he don’t need to waste no more markers.”

  ***

  Juanita

  Movement in her peripheral vision made Juanita look up from her book. She froze for a moment at the hulking shape in the doorway, then relaxed as she picked out the shape of a black leather vest against the darkness of the hallway. “Hello,” she called, marking her place with a finger tucked between the pages. Glancing at Spider, she saw he was sleeping quietly. Thank goodness, she thought. He’d had a rough couple of days, and if he was resting, it would at least give his body the energy and healing it needed to live to fight another day. She wasn’t fooling herself into thinking his condition had improved enough to mean he was out of the woods. Not yet. There was so much damage to his body, it meant he would likely have several more crises before he could be proclaimed healed.

  The man in the doorway hadn’t moved, and she looked back up at him, reaching out to turn up the light on the bedside table. It was an older man, grizzled and unkempt as so many of them were. Those long in the tooth, or “OGs” as Watcher had always termed them, cared little for what the world thought of them. “Are you here to see Spider?”

  She was preparing to stand when he spoke, and froze in place for a moment as he ordered, “Shut the fuck up, bitch.” More cautious now, because while unfriendly didn’t necessarily mean not friends of the club, she finished pushing to her feet, turning to lay the book in her chair.

  Spider stirred and Juanita had just glanced down at him when his eyes opened. He focused on her with as much of a smile as he could muster, then his eyes cut towards the door and the expression on his face changed in a way that let her know in this case, unfriendly definitely meant not friends. “Fuckin’ asshat,” he gritted out. “You hurt her, I’ll fuckin’ kill you.”

  Juanita jerked her head up at his implication, staring at the man in the doorway. The gun held in his hand was larger than her pistol. Aimed her way, it looked much larger, darker, and scarier. The speaker bolted to the wall behind her crackled, and she heard, “Yes, senor Spider?”

  The hole in the end of the barrel looked huge, big enough to swallow her whole. A trickle of smoke curled up out of it, dissipating nearly immediately. So wispy it looked more like the tendrils of fog that would roll off a chunk of dry ice, one of Watcher’s favorite tricks for the girls.

  “Call Mason, honey.” Spider’s voice sounded funny, so far away he might have been in Kentucky for all she knew. “Tell him Pike’s here.”

  Darkness was creeping in at the edges of her vision and Juanita stumbled, sitting down hard, the edges of the book biting into the backs of her thighs.

  “Tell him…”

  Packing for home

  Bethany

  “No, Ty. He’s not making me. Gabe wouldn’t give me an ultimatum like that.” Bethy was balancing the phone on her shoulder, trying to press down the top flaps on a box while simultaneously wielding a roll of tape to secure the box closed. “Ow.” Fingers working carefully, she tugged a few strands of hair out from underneath the tape. “When are you coming over again? I could use the help.”

  He laughed, a low rolling chuckle that she smiled to hear. He had come back so close to the Ty she’d known for so long, nearly back to center and being the man he needed to be. She’d spoken with Dot earlier and the woman had wept as she told Bethy about all the positive changes she’d seen in Ty.

  “You know I can be there whenever you need me. You tell me when, I’m there darlin’.” Ty chuckled again. “Want me to bring a friend? You got big stuff to move today?”

  Bethy rested one knee on the floor as she glanced around the small apartment. With boxes scattered everywhere, the space didn’t even look familiar. This was the last room to pack. Only a few more containers and she’d be done, not just for the day, but ready to move. “I’m gonna go get the truck in about thirty minutes. Are you sure your friend won’t mind helping?”

  “Sarge said he already offered, little girl. Pretty sure he’s not going to mind.” Bethy smiled at the warmth in Ty’s voice. “We’ll meet you there in thirty.”

  “Sounds good, Ty. I can’t wait to see you.”

  It was hours later when Bethy yawned and stretched, feeling the strain and pull of muscles well used as she lifted her arms over her head. She called out, hearing footsteps in the apartment again, “Are y’all already for a beer yet?” Male voices muttered something indistinguishable from the background noise coming through the open door. “Since you didn’t say whatever that was loud enough for me to hear, I’m going to assume it was not flattering.” She turned to face the door just as Ty’s face popped around, white teeth shining as he grinned broadly at her. “Now do you and Sarge want a beer, or not?”

  “Yeah, Bethy. We want a beer.” Ty stepped to the side, letting Sarge come into the room as she opened the refrigerator, bringing out three bottles. They clinked together as she cradled them in her arms, bumping the door shut with one hip. “Sarge was ju
st asking about your man. I told him any stories had to come from you, seein’ as how it’s your business and all.”

  Inscrutable as ever, Sarge angled his hips to lean against the countertop, reaching out for the offered bottle. His fingers made grimy stripes in the condensation as he gripped and lifted, taking a long drink. Bethy studied him for a moment, long enough he scowled at her and asked, “What?”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you relax like this.” She shrugged, lifting her own bottle. “That’s all.” His brows drew together again, expression turning fierce. “Not saying you relaxing is a bad thing, Sarge. You just always seemed to be on a mission somewhere.”

  “I usually am.” He dropped his frown, seeming to give considerable thought to his response. “I can see how that could be off-putting.” He took another drink. “Tell me about this man who’s luring you to the frigid northlands. I never thought you’d be willing to leave Nashville.”

  “It’s hard to go, promise.” She glanced at Ty, seeing his mouth move in a wry smile. “All my friends are here. My work. But I can do the business part from anywhere. I’ve done it in the back lounge on a tour bus before. The office I’ll have is so much better than that. Being on a bus means dropped calls, paperwork a mess, no chance to fix or file.” She shuddered in fake dismay. “My brother has a friend who has already set up a studio for his little brother, who just happens to be one of my clients. I’ve worked out a deal with him, so when I need to produce, I can use his space. It’s kinda perfect. His house is about three blocks from where I’m moving to.” She gestured with her bottle, smiling. “Ty’s settled and happy now.” She grinned at him, an expression he returned. “Michael liked it up there, and Davy is excited about me moving closer.”

  “How about your man? He gonna be best pleased you’re heading up his way?”

  “Why, Sarge, I didn’t know you cared.” She teased, watching the tips of his ears redden. “Gabe would have been okay with whatever I decided to do, whether that was commuting, or moving. He’s happier with the move, of course, but—” She shrugged. “—so am I.”

  “Gabe?” She nodded and watched as his eyes narrowed. “This the same Gabe you and me had a talk about a few months back?” She nodded again, slower. His chin rose until he was glaring down his nose at her. “You’re fucking shitting me, right?” Twisting to turn his stare on Ty, he barked, “You know this knobgobbler, soldier?”

  Ty’s spine straightened and he said, “No, sir,” his voice quiet.

  “Girl, tell me you’re shitting me.”

  Bethany frowned at how he’d said the word, “Girl,” as if she didn’t have any sense. “I’m not shitting you, Sarge. What’s your damage?”

  “My damage—” He leaned back, setting his bottle on the counter next to him. “—is that you seem to be inable to keep yourself out of trouble. What is it with you? You look for the biggest prick around and just tell yourself, ‘yeah, this one’ll do,’ huh?”

  “Unable.” She held his gaze, unflinching.

  “What?”

  “Unable. Inable isn’t a word. What you were looking for was unable or maybe incapable. And no, Sarge, I’m not incapable of taking care of myself.” She tightened her fingers on her bottle, holding tightly in an attempt to keep a similar grip on her temper. “I am fully able to determine the best path forwards for myself. I’m a big girl.” She threw extra emphasis on the word, angry now. “I’ve been taking care of myself for a long, long time. I do not need a man like you to lecture me on anything.”

  “Inable, unable. Whatever. What do you mean a man like me? What kind of man do you think I am?”

  “A controlling asshole who liked what he found in the military, so you expect everyone to toe whatever kind of imaginary line you have in your head.” She threw one arm out to the side, indicating the breadth of the room. “No matter where you are, you’re always the one in charge. Always gotta be the top dog.”

  He took a step forwards and she noted, not for the first time, just how big Sarge was. Big, and right now, very pissed off. Maybe it wasn’t the right move to poke the bear today. He took another step, pulling up short when Ty rested a hand on his arm. It was the first time she’d ever seen Ty voluntarily touch the man, and the reaction was immediate. Sarge looked like he was deflating, shoulders lowering and his chin tucking towards his chest.

  Ty looked at her, staring for a long moment. “Something you haven’t told me about Gabe?” She wrinkled her nose. “Yeah, there’s something you need to say, ain’t there?”

  “He’s good to me, Ty.” She knew Sarge recognized Gabe from the military, but as tight as Ty had been with Watcher, he’d identify him best from the club side. “Gabe Ledbetter, I’ve known him nearly my whole life. He’s in Davy’s motorcycle club.” She paused a breath, barely a second, but knew Ty saw it because his brow lowered. “Fury. You probably heard of him?”

  Ty blinked and his mouth opened, then closed. He licked his lips, frowning. “Fury? Your man is Fury?” She nodded, waiting. “Watcher’s cousin?” She nodded again. “What’s Mason say about all this? He even know?”

  Bethy rolled her eyes. “His first reaction was to have him beaten up.”

  “I can see that.” Ty’s head bobbed up and down. “I can see that, for sure.” His tone was sarcastic, biting like acid.

  “Stop it. You don’t know him and don’t know how things have been. Davy’s fine with it now.”

  “Sure he is, little girl.” Sarge’s sneer wasn’t veiled. “Keep tellin’ yourself that.”

  “Sarge, man. Not cool. You can’t let your attitude about what you let slide color this shit. If Bethy says Mason’s cool, then he’s cool.”

  “Probably more like Bethany told him tough titty and he didn’t feel like fighting her on every fucking thing.”

  Bethy scowled at him, then her attention was pulled to the side when Ty burst out laughing. “What?”

  “Yeah, keep tellin’ yourself Mason’s okay with you bein’ with Fury, Bethy girl. Keep it up.” He lifted his bottle, smiling at her around the neck. “Mason’s been clearing the decks for years without you knowing what was going on. Do not be surprised if he’s already mounting a campaign against your man.”

  “Brother, watch your mouth.” Bethy glanced at Sarge, surprised to see his face and ears burning red, something she’d only seen from him once before. She considered Ty’s words, and Sarge’s attitude, and everything clicked into place.

  “Let me tell you something about my man.” She made a fist, propping it on one hip as she glared at the two men, one of who had been her best friend for years, and one she now suspected of carrying the tiniest torch for her. “My man is not content letting someone else dictate what he can and cannot have. His only concern is me. If I’d told him no and meant it, he would have backed off. Hell,”—she flapped her other hand towards the door—“I’m the one who had to go chasing him, aren’t I?” Pursing her lips, she thought for a moment. “Davy might not like him, and as much as I love my brother, I don’t honestly care if he does, but he respects Fury. It’s a meeting of equals when they’re both in the room. That should stand for something.”

  She paused and then decided she was done, letting both hands fall back to her sides. Ty leaned over, hooking an arm around her neck and pulling her close.

  “Something I know about my Bethy, she decides she wants something, ain’t nothing can stand in her way.” His lips brushed the side of her head.

  “You got that right,” she got out around the tears suddenly choking her. “Damn straight.”

  ***

  Fury

  “No, baby. I’ll be back home in two, three days, max. Just unpack your clothes and shove my shit out of your way. Leave the boxes and furniture where the guys put them, okay?” Fury tipped his head down, aware Mason was listening to every word. “I wanna be there for the rest of it. We’ll get you moved in, together.” Silence for a moment on the phone and then he heard a sniffle. “Oh, baby. No, no. Honey, don’t cry.” Ma
son stepped closer and without looking up, Fury held up a hand, palm out. “Don’t cry.”

  “I’m not.” She lied badly, and Fury wondered if this would be beneficial for him in the future. Her not being able to lie worth a shit couldn’t hurt. “I’m just being silly.”

  “Well, stop being silly like that. Two, three days, baby. That’s all.” Noises down the hallway had him lifting his head to look, and both he and Mason were on the move a moment later. Two doctors had just exited a room and were standing in the hallway speaking to a man in a wheelchair. “I gotta go, Beth. I’ll call you tonight, tell you a bedtime story.”

  She giggled, the sound equal parts watery and bright. “Love you.”

  “Love you, too.” He disconnected, shoving the phone deep into his pocket as they came even with where Spider sat in the chair, hands on the grips that maneuvered the wheels. “What’s the news, Doc?”

  Accustomed to them after three days of having one or several bikers waiting every time they came out of the room, the female doctor didn’t hesitate. It hadn’t taken much to have them come down on the side of their patient having a large, supportive family like this. “She’s much improved. Her condition is still guarded, but we are pleased with her progress.”

  Mason tipped slightly sideways, his shoulder brushing against Fury’s. When he turned to see what had happened, Fury recognized the dark-haired woman pressed tight to Mason’s side, her arm wrapped around his waist. Watcher’s near-daughter Carmela asked, “Mama Nita’s going to be fine, right? She’s going to be okay?”

  The doctor repeated her words, “She is much improved, Mela. You can go see her if you want.”

  “Push me in there, gal. My arm hurts like fuck.” Spider kept his chin down, face angled towards his lap. If it were to hide tears, Fury wouldn’t blame him. Spider’s quick thinking to push the tiny remote and activate the speaker system at the church infirmary saved Juanita’s life, and ran Pike off. Even with her having rough medical care immediately, it had been touch and go until they got her into surgery and stopped the bleeding. Afterwards, the docs reported they gave her six units of blood during surgery, which was a fuck of a lot. Touch and fuckin’ go.