Not Even A Mouse

by MariaLisa deMora

  “Myron, you dog. Why didn’t you say so?” Gunny looked around, seeming to search for something and then Myron’s blood ran cold when he heard him say, “Bones, your brother-in-law’s got him a piece of tail, and you didn’t say anything?”

  Bones was involved with Myron’s sister, Ester, a relationship that was as complicated as the day was long. He was based in Chicago along with Myron, and hadn’t been expected to attend this party. Myron turned and saw Bones sauntering their direction, gaze on a never-ending loop around the yard, always on guard for trouble.

  “Myron. It is good to see you again. My Ester misses her Ronnie.” Bones flashed a smile, teeth bright against his mix of dusky skin and tattoos. “When will you return to our Chicago?”

  “I’ll head back after the weekend.” He stretched and took a final drink from the beer, tossing it to the now-emptied box. “Wanted to make sure the Jailbreakers party happened like Mason wanted.”

  “And it did. Well done.” Bones sketched a teasing bow. “I will be going back tonight. My Ester still has nerves when I am too long gone. Anyone I should speak to on your behalf when I return?”

  Not in Chicago. Mouth clamped tight as he shook his head, Myron was filled with terror at the idea of Bones speaking to the one person who had so effortlessly occupied his mind the past few weeks.

  No, he wouldn’t be asking any of his brothers to carry messages to this particular crush anytime soon. I’ll deliver my own, thank you very much.

  Memories drew a picture in his mind of button-down shirt tucked into too-tight jeans, guyliner making already startling eyes breathtaking, and sparkling earrings adorning skin that begged for teeth marks. I want to see him. A smile that went on for days, with a plump bottom lip that could bow into the sweetest arc. I want to touch him.

  Myron widened his stance, making a little more room for his thickening cock. I could be at the bar in fifteen minutes. With a single text, he knew Andy would be waiting for him in the backroom of the bar. Can I do this? Myron glanced around the party again and lifted his chin. “I got somewhere to be.” He deliberately phrased it that way, knowing they’d take that as a sidelong mention of club business. Camouflage. “See you back in Chicago.” His muscles jumped with nervous tension, because Bones could just as easily offer to come with, and given his position in the club, Myron wouldn’t be able to turn him down. He relaxed when the men offered only a warrior’s shake, fists pounding against his back in goodbye. They trust me. This wasn’t a betrayal of that trust; it was just him taking what he needed.

  Sideways

  Andy, two weeks later

  He leaned against the kitchen cabinet and rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. It had been a hell of a long week. Ever since he’d brought Talya home from the hospital seven days ago, his gut had been churning with a near constant panic. It had buried him, sweeping over him like a wave of bitter fear right after he’d walked out of the building full of professionals, his arms full of precious little girl.

  Andy understood in his head that a tonsillectomy was a common, normal childhood surgery. Easy peasy, a few days of minor pain handled via judicious application of the frozen goodness of popsicles. If having her tonsils and adenoids removed would keep her from having the near constant sore throat and resulting infections they’d been battling, it was an easy decision. Back in the doctor’s office, when Andy had been looking around at the man’s impressive array of framed certificates covering the walls, the process seemed logical.

  His head might know, but his gut was a different story. Post-surgery, it was killing him to see his little girl feeling sore and grumpy, her normally bright voice dampened to a painful rasp as she recovered. My little girl. Sometimes even thinking those words felt surreal.

  Talya wasn’t his biological child, but he loved her fiercely, nonetheless. She was his, dammit, his and Roger’s. He and Talya had already been through so much. It didn’t seem fair she had to deal with this, too.

  Andy and his partner, Roger Danfort, had created a close family unit with the three of them for the few years the two men had been together. He and Roger had met at the bar where Andy worked, and six months of stilted conversation later had a fumbling first date. That was followed by another, and another, until it seemed like they’d always been a couple. Even if the sex hadn’t been explosive, they were compatible, liking the same kinds of things. Once Andy had met the then tiny Talya, he’d known he needed to be part of raising the amazing little girl. He’d quickly moved in with Roger and expected to live happily ever after.

  He sighed. Not in the cards.

  Roger had been working overseas, a two-week contract in London. For ten days he’d sent countless pictures home for Andy to share with Talya. He had called and video chatted every spare moment. Then…nothing, a three-day silence that had terrified Andy. It had been a coworker of Roger’s who finally called and broke the news. There’d been a terrible accident, and Roger was dead, killed when his rental was broadsided by a truck. Andy wasn’t listed on his emergency contacts, and while his employer knew Roger had a child, the only number on file had been an old one for his mother, long since disconnected.

  Roger had been a late-in-life child, and Mother Danfort was a widow in her late seventies when he died. While she might have been remote emotionally, she wasn’t a bigot, and from Roger’s stories, had supported Roger when he came out as a young adult.

  Andy closed his eyes tightly, forcing back the burn at the unwelcome memories.

  That had been almost two years ago. Roger’s death had signaled a time in his life Andy didn’t like to dwell on, because it had been so hard. Grief and terror equal companions for months. In many ways, it seemed he’d never moved past it all.

  Roger had adopted Talya before he and Andy had become a couple. Since the state they lived in didn’t recognize same-sex marriage, even if they’d had a commitment ceremony, adding Andy to her birth certificate as one of two fathers hadn’t been an option. All of which meant Roger’s death had left Natalya without a guardian in the eyes of the law. Just getting Roger’s body back for a funeral had been hard enough, but fighting at the same time to keep Talya sleeping in her own bed had made for a nightmarish few weeks.

  While Mother Danfort helped where she could, if it hadn’t been for Andy’s grandmother, he didn’t know what he would’ve done. Ever his staunch supporter, she had helped navigate the exhausting legal hurdles so Talya could stay with him.

  My little girl. Andy had become the most important person in her life. And she was the most important one in his.

  Now, one week post-surgery, what seemed like the worst of it behind them, she was resting in the living room. Piled on the couch with her favorite stuffed animal in her arms, she was watching cartoons that were blaring from the TV. Talya also had a wide assortment of juices and pudding cups on a nearby tray. She seemed to be picky today, deeming every offering, “Yucky tasting.” The coughs wracking her tiny body were the worst, though. In fact, even now Andy could still hear her coughing over the noise. He cocked his head to listen closely, alarmed at how painful each cough sounded.

  She’d been doing that a lot over the last couple of days, a part of the healing process the doctor had warned about. It’s normal, he reminded himself. Everything was normal. Still listening to her, he reached into the cabinet and pulled out a coffee mug, placing it on the counter next to the single-serve machine, knowing he would need a pick-me-up before the evening was over.

  He tilted his head, again listening attentively, and now heard the unmistakable gagging sound of a six-year-old little girl about to vomit. “Oh, no,” he muttered, grabbed a dishtowel and turned to the door just in time to see Talya stumble into view. She looked at him, her dark hair tumbled around her tiny face as she bent double, most of her recent meal of soup forcefully ejecting and making a puddle on the floor. “Papa,” she cried, arm wrapped around her belly, one hand lifting to her face. “It hurts.” She was pale, paler than he remembered, and he immediately decided a
trip to urgent care was in their future as he strode quickly towards her.

  That was when his world went sideways. Before he could reach her, Talya coughed again and again, her small form shuddering with each uncontrollable movement. She cupped both hands under her mouth and looked at him, eyes round with pain and fear. Talya lifted them to show him what she’d seen. They were filled with red.

  Hold it together

  Andy

  “Do something,” Andy yelled at the nurse standing beside the reception desk at the ER. Talya stirred in his arms, no doubt reacting to the sheer volume of his voice. He and Roger had always joked about who would have to be the bad cop when she got older, because both men were normally quietly spoken. Right now, however, the last thing he cared about was minding his manners. He was terrified. “She’s bleeding so much!” She was, too. The entire front of her nightgown was coated in a broad swath of red, freshened every time Talya vomited again. That had been the most terrifying moment in the car, when she’d thrown up a second time, the bowl she held falling away as her throat convulsed painfully and he’d realized that more blood had to be pouring down the back of her throat than had leaked from her nose and mouth. “She just had her tonsils taken out.”

  The nurse finally jarred into motion. It felt as though it had taken hours for her to catch up, but when she did, it was with lightning fast reactions. She slapped a button on the desk and started yelling code words, initiating a milling buzz of activity in moments. A man in scrubs gently examined Talya in Andy’s arms, ignoring the hiccupping cries to “stay with Papa” that tore at Andy’s heart. An Australian accent did nothing to soften the urgency of his instructions, “She needs to be upstairs, STAT.”

  Andy stared at him, murmuring to Talya, “It’ll be okay honey. Papa’s right here. You’re gonna be all right.” Please God, let me be right.

  A male nurse directed them up the hallway and to an elevator behind secure doors, moving at a fast clip as he swiped open the doors, Andy hot on his heels. He heard the overhead speakers paging her doctor’s name, followed by another code. Andy crammed into the elevator, watching Talya’s face. She seemed to grow paler by the second, and he felt his heart stop in his chest as her tiny head toppled sideways, landing against his shoulder with a thud Andy felt down to his soul. “What’s happening?” Please God, make her be okay.

  “She’s lost a lot of blood.” The nurse stated the obvious, and through his fear, Andy recognized a return of the fury that’d had him howling down in reception. The man seemed to sense the change in the atmosphere in the tiny space they shared because he angled a glance over his shoulder, pinning Andy with a look. “We’re going to take good care of your little girl, Mr. Kasmouski. As if she were our own. We’ll do everything she needs. You need to hold it together.” The elevator dinged, and just as the doors opened, he spoke firmly, offering sage advice that told Andy just how desperate Talya’s condition might be, comforting words aside. “If you have a partner or good friend, call them. Get yourself some support and get yourself into a place in your head where you can be the best you can be for this little girl.” The door opened and the nurse strode out, put his back to a set of doors as he yelled, “Open the suite.” He lifted his arms in a silent demand and Andy placed his daughter—his heart—into the man’s hands. The doors swung open behind him, and Andy stared at Talya, her beautiful face hidden behind her hair as the nurse moved through, turned, and was gone.

  Another nurse was there, hand on Andy’s arm, gently directing him towards an open door to the side. Once in the surgical waiting room, with her promises of providing regular updates still ringing in his ears, Andy did as the male nurse suggested and placed a call. It went straight to voice mail and when he looked at the chat icon saw it was on Do Not Disturb. Andy chewed his lip for another moment then pulled out a card Brute had given him, a single number listed underneath the skull logo he’d seen on the back of so many leather vests and jackets.

  “CH, whatcha need?” The rough voice answering the phone wasn’t one he recognized, and Andy stumbled a moment, searching for words. “Yo, ain’t got all day. Got a need? Spit ‘er out.”

  Voice shaking so he scarcely recognized it himself, Andy asked, “Myron. Is Myron available?”

  Party line

  Myron

  “Myron, grab the phone, brother.”

  Pulled from his review of the most recent forecast for the Rebel Fort Wayne businesses, Myron stared at Goose, his mired-in-numbers brain taking a moment to catch up. The clubhouse had an old-fashioned phone attached to the wall behind the main room’s bar, and Goose was standing, arm extended, handset dangling from his fingers. His friend and patch brother grinned broadly and swung the device back and forth, like a hypnotist's coin dangling from a string. “Earth to Myron. Come in, Myron.”

  “Houston, we have a problem,” he muttered and pushed away from the table. He dropped the printout on top of the piles of paper already littering the surface and stood. “Coming.” Reaching for the phone, he rolled his eyes when Goose first jerked it away, then laughed and handed it over. He put it to his ear and announced himself. “Myron.”

  Dead air.

  He glared at Goose as he realized he hadn’t even heard the damn phone ring. Damn jokester. Now he’d have to get his head back around wherever he’d been in the spreadsheet—a sound came through the phone interrupting his thoughts, sounding like a generic announcement intercom. Myron listened intently and made out the steady sound of someone breathing, in and out. “Hello? This is Myron.”

  He stood straight, eyes wide when he heard, “I didn’t know who to call.” Even upset, that voice was distinctive, flat Midwest drawl and all. There was no mistaking the bartender he couldn’t get enough of.

  “Mouse?” Across the room he saw Brute’s head come up, scarred mien swinging to face him. This is all Brute’s fault, anyway. Brute well knew who Mouse was, even if he didn’t know what had happened the first time Myron saw him while playing babysitter to Bexley.

  He and Andy had only been seeing each other for a few weeks, and so far, Myron had been careful to steer things away from what could be a disaster if something like this happened. “Is everything okay?” Myron turned his back to the room, pulling the phone close in an attempt to create a pocket of privacy for himself, but there was a reason the phone was placed where it was, and still attached to the wall like a junior high school boy’s nightmare. The only thing that would give less privacy was if it were a party line, something Myron only vaguely remembered from the time before his parents died.

  “I’m at the hospital.” Andy’s voice broke, going high as he croaked out, “Talya’s...Myron, something happened to Natalya.”

  “Where are you?” Myron was already running through logistics in his head. They hadn’t chatted this week. Between Myron dancing attendance on club meetings and Andy’s reports that Talya wasn’t feeling well, texting had been all they’d managed. But there was no question in his mind he’d be going to the hospital, because if Andy needed him, he would damn well be there. If Talya needed him— Please, God, let her be okay. He’d ridden his bike down from Chicago, but he’d rather not park it in a public lot on his own. If there were several bikes together, no worries, but a single bike was easy to steal. All it took was three men and a trailer, and his iron would be lost. The club had both a van and truck assigned to this chapter, so he’d have a ride anyway.

  Andy gave him the information for the hospital, and told him where the surgical waiting room was located. Surgery. Shit. That gave Myron pause, because surgery on such a little girl was frightening to consider. How did her not feeling well jump to needing surgery? Talya was only six, small for her age, and the thought of her going under the knife had to be eating at Andy.

  “Can you come? It’s just me…and…” Andy pulled in a shaking breath. “Can you come?” How is he there alone? Where is Talya’s daddy?

  “Andy?” He waited until he heard an affirming sound. “I’ll be there soon. Hang in ther
e, man.” He made a promise he knew he couldn’t back up, but was helpless to offer any other comfort. “She’s going to be okay.” Blowing out a breath on a steady exhale, he hung up the phone and tried to compose his expression before turning around. He was glad he’d taken those few seconds when he realized every man in the room was focused on him. He wasn’t the only RWMC member who’d taken a turn watching over Bex at the bar, which meant he wasn’t the only one who knew Mouse. “His little girl’s in surgery.” That would explain to the group what was going on, but not why Mouse had reached out to him, out of all the people he could call.

  Family came first in the RWMC, something their founder and president had hammered home time and again. Mason had a way with words and wasn’t shy about using them to get what he wanted. Like every great leader, he seemed to have an innate understanding about what it took to wrangle the best out of every man under his patch. For many, it was knowing their family would be taken care of, no matter what.

  As far as his brothers knew, Myron had done just the same as them. Gone to the bar, nursed a beer or two while staying focused on Bexley. Their very presence in the bar providing an extension of their brother, keeping his woman safe when Brute couldn’t.

  And sure, that’s what Myron had done the first time he’d gotten the call to babysit Bexley. Andy wasn’t working that night, he reminded himself. No, his introduction to the out-and-proud Andy hadn’t come until a few weeks later, and Myron remembered the feeling in his gut when he’d waltzed into the bar expecting to see the tall brunette working only to find the handsome Andy instead. That had been a memorable night, Myron’s first real encounter with a man who didn’t hide his sexuality. And it was Andy.