“Good to have Lisa on board then,” Trunk says with a smile in the woman’s direction.
“Glad I can be of help,” she replies to him with a brief flash of white teeth.
“We’re moving Lisa and the kids into the Riverside Apartment building this afternoon. Kaga’s wife and Luna have managed to pull together some furniture for them to start with.”
“Need extra hands?” Trunk asks, and I stiffen beside him.
Ouray chuckles. “You only have one good one, brother, but it may not be a bad idea.”
The two men seem to exchange some private message I can’t decipher.
I’m silent through most of the visit, listening to the conversation that seems to flow a little easier. Even Ezrah participates, grabbing the lesson sheets he’s been working on to show his nana.
When it’s time for them to leave, I suddenly realize Ezrah will be leaving with them and tears rise to the surface. He seems excited at the prospect so I swallow them down, only partially successful.
I stand with Mom at the door while Trunk accompanies them to Ouray’s vehicle, carrying Ezrah’s belongings. The boy is halfway to the SUV when he suddenly swings around and comes running back, throwing his arms around Mom for a hug before turning to me.
The moment his skinny arms come around me, I lose my battle with the tears. I bend down and kiss the top of his hat.
“Don’ be cryin’. I’ma be back,” he says looking up at me.
“Okay, buddy,” I manage. “I’ll be here anytime you wanna come visit.” I force on a watery smile and watch him dart off again to where Lisa is waiting, before turning inside.
“You okay, sweetheart?” Mom asks.
“Yeah. Just tired,” I lie. “Would you mind watching River? I think I’m gonna lie down for a bit.”
“Of course.”
I ignore her scrutinizing look and head straight upstairs, closing the bedroom door behind me. I lie down on top of the covers, grab Trunk’s pillow, and press it to my face as I let my tears flow freely.
Trunk
“Where is she?”
Sandra is clearing away the cups when I walk in.
“She went to lie down for a bit. Tired.”
Shee-it.
Tired my ass. I could feel her withdrawing from me even without her body moving away. Not sure what’s in her head, but I can guess.
Ouray had not been wrong when he told me to wait until I got a load of Nana. She’s somethin’ all right. A beautiful, mature black sister in whom I have no more interest than I would if she looked like Aunt Jemima. More importantly, she’s not Jaimie.
I’m guessing the fact she’s still recovering, combined with the sadness over Ezrah leaving, has her pull back instead of stake her claim. The latter would be more her style. Either way, it looks like clarifying who belongs to who has to come from me.
I’m on my way upstairs to do exactly that when my phone rings.
“Yeah,” I answer, sitting down on the steps.
“Dylan Barnes here. I thought I’d give you an update.”
“‘Preciated.”
“The boy, Matthew James Hinckle, has been singing like a canary all morning. The rest of the family is sealed up tight, but that kid is so high on his own superiority, he doesn’t think anyone can touch him. He’s bringing everyone down. I had to take a break from all the self-righteous vitriol he’s spewing.”
“No shit?”
“Nope. Turns out the ANL, as well as the Hinckle family, were well aware we started looking into them last year. The Hinckle property had been used as arms storage and distribution facility for the ANL, but they got nervous when we were keeping a close eye. The Moab Reds were already part of their supply chain. James Hinckle approached Chains, hoping to get his input moving storage and distribution to an alternate location. He’s the one who proposed the Arrow’s Edge compound, making the mistake of equating Ouray’s withdrawal from illegal dealings over the last decade as a weakness.”
I have to chuckle at that. There’s no way anyone with half a brain would mistake Ouray for weak.
“Matt was a plant,” Dylan continues. “His objective was to feed useful information about the club’s runnings, while creating internal distractions, as Chains put the pressure on from the outside.”
“Trying to cut off our sources of legitimate income,” I volunteer.
“Exactly. Hinckle wasn’t happy with the slow progress and threatened to cut Chains off, which made him careless.”
“The shooting,” I conclude.
“That,” he confirms. “But before that, the attack on you. Matt was pretty proud to claim his part in that. In fact, he thought it hilarious that the gun he shot Jaimie with, was yours. That’s when I had to leave the room.”
I swallow down the bile shooting up my throat. I already hated guns, but now I never want to own one again. I’ll invest in a dozen or so fucking baseball bats to protect my home and my family.
“I don’t get what purpose them burning down my place and beating the tar outta me served. Or how Sutherland fits into all of this,” I force myself to ask.
“Unexpected twist, that. All those kids during their training are assigned a mentor. Sutherland apparently was Matt’s. They stayed in touch, even after Sutherland was convicted; they found a way to stay connected. At first through Sutherland’s lawyer, and later via the phone that was found in his cell.”
“Jesus. Let me guess, all the shit that went down with Jaimie—the messages, the packages, taking River—all that was her ex?”
“Looks that way. We’ll probably find out more when we bring in the lawyer, but the working theory is that Sutherland kept his fingers firmly lodged in the pie from behind bars through the Hinckle boy. There are a lot of small details still missing, but that looks to be the gist of it.”
“Unreal.”
“You have no idea. Some of what we’ve discovered is enough to give you nightmares. Did you know those kids were taught to hunt? Not animals—people. What was done to that boy you brought back from Monticello? They took pictures. Had them hanging on the walls of the sleeping quarters like trophies.”
“Makes me sick,” I mutter, my stomach twisting at the thought of Ezrah having been subjected to that.
“Me too, believe me. I think I told you we have four kids, and I’m scared sick raising them in a world like this.”
Curiosity as well as concern has me ask, “How deep does this shit go? The American Nationalist League, does it go down with Hinckle?”
There is a telling pause on the other side before Dylan answers. “Let’s just say the organization is bleeding profusely. No way of knowing yet whether it turns out to be a fatal injury. What you need to know is that we’re not going to rest until we can confirm the ANL has been eradicated.”
“’Preciated, although it’s unlikely we’ll see the end of organizations like that in our lifetime, Barnes. If ever.”
“One step at a time.”
“Yeah.”
I take a few minutes after ending the call to process the truckload of information before I resume my trek upstairs.
She’s on top of the covers with my pillow pressed over her face, staying perfectly still. Too still. I don’t believe for a second she’s asleep.
“Hey.” I get on the mattress beside her. “James.”
There’s no reaction, but when I try to remove the pillow, she holds on tight. Fine. I don’t need to see her to tell her how it is.
“There’ll likely always be people lookin’ at us funny. Whose minds are so narrow, they can’t see beyond the color of our skin the way we do. Fuck, baby, I never woulda thought I’d meet the woman for me, let alone one who’s white. But here I am: gone, head over ass, completely and irrevocably in love with you.”
Her chest starts heaving with the muffled crying coming from behind the pillow. This time when I pull it away she lets me. My hand immediately goes to her blotchy face, brushing at the tears rolling down her cheeks.
“What am
I gonna do with you, Little Mama? It kills me you so easily doubt me.”
“I d-don’t d-doubt you,” she says, grabbing onto my hand but keeping her eyes shut. “I just…I was thinking it would’ve been perfect for Ezrah, and for his sister: you and Lisa.”
“Bullshit.”
Her eyes fly open and I’m happy to see the familiar fire. “Don’t tell me what I’m saying is bullshit. It’s the truth.”
I lean close so our noses almost touch. “It’s a lie you told yourself, so you don’t have to admit you’re jealous over nothing.”
“That’s beyond ridiculous,” she sputters with feigned indignation that makes me chuckle.
“The lady doth protest too much, methinks.”
“Are you quoting Hamlet to me?”
“If the shoe fits.” I grin at her.
“Great,” she snaps, rolling her eyes. “We’re on to fairy tales.”
I’m now full on laughing with my face buried in her neck.
“And now you’re laughing at me,” she pouts, as I push myself up and quickly brush those puckered lips with mine.
“I’m not laughing at you,” I gently correct her, letting my eyes roam her beautiful face.
“No?”
“I’m laughing because you make me incredibly fucking happy.”
CHAPTER 31
Jaimie
“FUUUCK, JAMES. I’M there.”
Trunk’s eyes close as his neck arcs back, pressing his head in the pillow. His fingers dig into my hips, leaving bruises for sure.
I don’t care. I revel in the hint of pain, knowing I’ve brought him to the edge of reason. He makes me feel whole—powerful—as he fights not to take control.
I grind myself on him, filled with his cock as he bucks underneath me, and I cry out when my body jerks with the force of my release.
“Baby,” he whispers in my hair when I collapse on top of him, struggling to catch my breath. My face is pressed to his chest, where his heart beats erratically, and his large hand strokes my back, soothing the rapid pumping of my own.
It’s been a long time coming.
He’s been so careful with me in the three weeks since I came home from the hospital. So afraid to hurt me. It’s taken this long for any evidence of bruising to disappear. He’d been gentle, using hands and mouth to please me, but he always stopped me before I was able to return the favor. I was starting to think perhaps he was turned off by the scars the bullet left behind.
Yesterday his cast came off and still he held back. But as much as I’ve appreciated his gentle control, I was ready for that man who before had been unable to keep his hands off me.
So when I woke up to a silent house, the early morning still dark, I took matters into my own hands.
“Did I hurt you?”
I lift my head and look at him with an eyebrow raised. “You’ve all but covered me in bubble wrap these past weeks. Are you kidding me?”
He rubs the pads of his thumbs along my hips. “I probably bruised you.”
“Good.” He seems surprised at my reaction. “About time. I’m not made of glass, Titus.”
“You were hurt,” he insists.
“Yes, I was, and so were you, but we’re fine now.” I note the stubborn scowl on his face. “I was starting to worry you were turned off by me. That somehow I’d lost my appeal.”
His hands tighten on my hips and the next moment I’m on my back, Trunk looming over me with a dark scowl on his face. “Are you nuts?”
“Well, what was I supposed to think? Every time I tried to initiate something, you shut me down.”
“Yeah, because you were hurt. Haven’t whacked off that much since I was in high school,” he grumbles.
“You didn’t have to. I would’ve—”
“Baby,” he whispers, brushing the backs of his fingers over my cheek as his eyes scan my face. “You could’ve been dead.”
I grab onto his wrist. “I’m not. I’m very much alive, although at times I was so horny for my man I thought my head would explode.”
He winces. “Don’t give me another visual that’s gonna take weeks to get rid of.”
The monitor crackles and River’s faint “Mama,” comes through. Pretty soon he’ll be bellowing it at the top of his lungs, if one of us doesn’t get to him.
“Let me get up, honey.” I push uselessly against Trunk’s chest.
“Gimme some sugar first.”
I roll my eyes but kiss him anyway. Of course, River, the other demanding man in my life, quickly gets impatient.
“Mah! Mama! Up-Toce!”
Toce is what he calls breakfast, a new addition to his vocabulary, which has expanded in the last few weeks. He is starting to become particularly fond of yes and no, tries to mimic words we say, and loves saying me, slapping his little hand on his chest like a mini caveman.
“I’ll go.”
Trunk rolls off me and I take the opportunity to appreciate his fine ass as he bends over to grab his jeans and pads off to the bathroom.
Rolling on my side, I turn the volume up on the monitor. This is my secret pleasure; listening to the two most important men in my life interact.
“Unk!”
“Hey, kid. How come you’re always up so early? You’re messing with my playtime.”
“Pway!”
“That’s what I’m saying. Had to leave your mama in bed all hot and bothered.”
“Mah-hot!”
“Exactly. Glad you’re gettin’ me. So tomorrow you sleep in, okay?”
“No sweep!”
“Shee-it, buddy. Stop squirming, how am I supposed to get a diaper on you when you keep movin’ around?”
“No!”
“Yes. I know you prefer running around buck naked, but until you learn to do your business on the potty, we’ll stick with diapers.”
“Paw-tee.”
“Potty.”
“Paw-tee.”
It’s quiet for a moment, only the sound of rustling coming from the monitor.
“Let’s go see you mama, okay, Little Man?”
“Mama?”
“Yes. Sounds like Grandma’s up too.”
“Gramma-toce.”
“I’m sure Grandma will have toast ready…”
His voice trails off as I hear them coming down the hall. I quickly turn the monitor off and roll on my back, just in time to catch a giggling River, who launches himself from Trunk’s arms onto the bed.
“Mah!”
“Morning, baby.” I cuddle my son close, my nose in his hair. “Did you have a good sleep?”
“Toce!”
“In a minute.”
Trunk lies down beside me and I snuggle under his arm, River on top of me.
My favorite part of every day.
_______________
“What was that?” I ask Trunk after he hangs up.
“Home insurance. Looks like they’re ready to cut a check.”
“That’s great news.” Except, he doesn’t look too happy. “What’s wrong?”
“Not sure what to do about the house.” He turns his dark eyes on me. “Got any bright ideas?”
“Uh…fix it?”
A small smile tugs at his mouth, giving me a glimpse of that dimple I love so much. “That part was pretty much a given, James, but after?”
It’s probably silly since we’ve been living together for a while already, but we haven’t officially talked about our housing arrangements yet. I like our status quo, and don’t really want anything to change.
“I like waking up with you,” I confess.
“Goes without saying,” he replies, a cocky grin on his face. “Especially when I wake up to you riding me.”
My eyes dart over to the kitchen table, where Mom is feeding River lunch. The plan is for her to put him down for a nap, while Trunk takes me for a ride on his motorcycle. I’m excited about that, but even more so about the surprise party later this afternoon. I’m supposed to keep him busy until four, when we’re expected
at the club. He thinks we’re having a cookout celebrating the renovated clubhouse tonight, but he won’t be expecting everyone to be there on his behalf.
His birthday was two weeks ago and other than a birthday cake Mom and I baked, and River decorated with his handprints, he didn’t want any fuss.
Mom will load up River in my SUV when he wakes up and will hopefully be waiting at the clubhouse along with T, Evan and his mom, and a bunch of other friends, by the time we get there.
“Do you miss living on the mountain?” I ask him. He seems hesitant to answer, so I prompt him. “The truth, honey.”
“I would miss living with you more, but yes, I miss it. Nothing beats the views, the lack of noise, the fresh air. It was nice to be around the corner from the clubhouse.”
“Okay, then what if we move there with you?”
“Wait a minute,” he stops me. “But you have work here, and your mom—”
“I work mostly from home anyway, so that’s not really an issue. And there’s lots of room for Mom.”
“Actually, I’d like to stay here,” Mom pipes up. “You guys don’t need me underfoot and to be honest, I love this house and can’t wait to get my hands dirty in the garden. Maybe it’s time I go out and make some new friends. I can still babysit whenever you need me.”
“But, Mom, you’ll be alone.”
She snickers. “You think that scares me? You forget, I lived alone since you went off to college. Until last Christmas that is.”
I turn to Trunk, who has a questioning eyebrow up. “Sounds like it’s up to you,” he rumbles.
“When are we moving?”
Trunk
Fuck that feels good.
The brothers have been out a few times already. I haven’t, unless you count the two hours or so I spent on the back of Ouray’s bike, but those were hours I’d rather forget.
The wind in my face and the freedom of the road are welcome and familiar, but the feeling of Jaimie’s body pressed tightly against my back is new. Better. Other than Tahlula on one or two occasions, I’ve never had another woman on the back of my bike. Never had a woman I wanted to share my life with, let alone my club and my brothers. Not until Jaimie.
EDGE OF REASON Page 24
