Andy was struggling with nightmares and flashbacks. The flashbacks were the worst; she never knew when they were going to hit. Any loud noise triggered something, from a flash of memory, or an imagined scent, to a full-blown panic attack, but they happened at random, too. She’d lost two crystal glasses and a mug already to the shock of them.
At least she knew the nightmares were waiting for her when she fell asleep. Her subconscious took what it remembered of that day, things she hadn’t even known that she’d noticed, and had turned them into Technicolor, three dimensional, inescapable epics of terror. She was always crying, but not screaming, when Chiz woke her, and he always held her until she could drift back into an uneasy sleep.
Her stitches had been taken out days before, leaving only the fresh pink scars. Andy wasn’t sure how she felt about them yet. There had been two long gashes on her left arm, and one long wound accompanied by two shorter, but equally deep, ones on her right arm. For now, she was simply going to cover them with her suit jacket, be glad the surgical thread was no longer itching or tugging at her skin, and pretend that they weren’t there.
Her life was in limbo, at least until she merged it with Chiz’s. She wasn’t regretting that decision, but she had already begun to think about the practicalities, and how she could retain at least some sense of self. That thinking had been kick-started by his Biker Brotherhood 101 lecture. Andy already wanted to speak to Chiz’s president’s wife to find out how she’d put up with the rampant misogyny for so many years.
Andy had decided, very definitely, that she would not be living at the clubhouse with Chiz. Not even if hell froze over. In between riding across the state with him, particularly when Chiz had been out doing whatever it was he’d been doing with Shark before his friend had left town, Andy had spent some time online looking at available rentals in Absolution. She had a list of apartments that looked as though they would suit her. She was saving all her energy for compromising with Chiz, for when it came to looking for an actual house.
“You ready to go, doll?” Chiz leaned around the bedroom doorframe. He’d finished dressing well before her.
Andy was glad that Chiz was attending the memorial, too. Not that he’d given her much choice; he wanted to be there to support her. He’d even suggested taking her car and leaving his bike at home, although he wanted to do the driving. He’d felt that his Harley would draw unnecessary attention.
Andy took one last look in her mirror, straightened her jacket, smoothed her hair, and checked that she didn’t have lipstick on her teeth. “Yeah. I guess.”
~o0o~
Emma’s family had opted for a graveside service in one of the city’s cemeteries, a great sprawling place with manicured lawns. Twisted old oak trees were interspersed between the graves, but so widely spaced that the overall impression was still one of a large, grassy area, with carefully maintained, white marble markers.
White folding chairs had been arrayed around the hole that had been dug, ready to receive the casket containing Emma’s ashes. The hole was pitifully small compared to the number of chairs. Most of the seats had been filled by the time Andy arrived, but she hadn’t intended to claim one of them, anyway.
Andy spotted Shane. He was standing behind the seated family, and a little part from them. She pointed him out to Chiz and they headed over. Shane was standing with his wife, a redhead who was half of her husband’s considerable height. Andy had met Della before, but only a handful of times. They said their quiet greetings as the pastor overseeing the service began his opening speech. A few of the people on the back row of chairs turned to see who the new arrivals were, and Andy was struck by the way their expressions altered from interest to cold disgust when they saw her.
The eulogies that were given by Emma’s family and friends were brief, but poignant. Emma’s two boys, both still in high school, did not stand up and speak. Andy scanned the beautifully-tended estate as various people listed the qualities that had made Emma a beloved friend, mother and relative. Andy didn’t think that this was right place for Emma to be laid to rest; it didn’t seem fitting for the free spirit that she had known. If Andy had been asked, she would have said that Emma would have wanted her ashes to be scattered over the ocean. Andy thought that although this might not be what Emma would have wanted, it was what her family needed, and there was something infinitely sad about that.
The cold damp of the day seeped into Andy’s bones as they lowered the walnut box, containing all that was left of her friend, into the ground. Chiz caught her elbow, making her aware that the service had ended, and that many of the assembled group had vacated their seats. She looked up at him. He inclined his head towards the family. Andy turned to see that Emma’s a father, a short man with iron grey hair, dressed in a stiffly respectable suit, was heading their way. His face was a mask of barely controlled fury. Andy drew strength from Chiz’s touch, and drew herself up taller as he approached.
“How dare you come here?” He hissed as he reached them.
“We’re only paying our respects.” The venom in the man’s voice struck Andy like she’d been splashed with acid. She had to stifle a flinch.
“Well, you’re disrespecting her, sullying her name.”
“Sir…” Andy wasn’t sure what she was going to say, but it didn’t matter. Emma’s father did not want her to speak. He interrupted her.
“Did you think we’d told the boys what their mother did for a living? Of course we hadn’t. They thought she worked in an office. But now they know differently. And now here you are, making it worse. They recognized you. Your picture has been in all the papers.”
“I didn’t know.” Andy truly hadn’t. She’d been avoiding any mention of the explosion in newspapers on or on websites.
“I don’t suppose you would’ve cared if you did.”
“Hey!”
Emma’s father backed up a full step at the joint exclamations from Chiz and Shane, but the two larger, muscled, less-refined men didn’t deter him.
“It doesn’t matter. Just go. You’re not welcome here. None of you are.” Emma’s father spat on the ground at Andy’s feet, turned on his heel, and stalked back to the waiting knot of relatives.
Andy was staring blankly at the point where he’d been standing when Chiz squeezed her arm, bringing her back to the present moment.
“You okay, honey?” Andy physically shook herself before she answered Della’s quiet concern.
“Yeah. I suppose I should’ve expected it. I just didn’t think that they hadn’t told the kids, or… well, anything. He’s right. I should’ve known better.”
“No, doll. He’s not right. He’s hurtin’ and takin’ it out on you. It’s understandable, but that don’t make it right,” Chiz said as he slipped his arm around her waist, and started them walking in the direction of her car.
Andy moved her own arm around Chiz’s waist and allowed him to tuck her under his arm. “Still, I’m not going to go to the other memorials. I’m can’t say I’m one-hundred-percent certain where they stood with their families on their work at the Patch, so I’ll err on the side of caution. I know Joe’s mama knew all about the place, and she never held anything against it, but she hasn’t planned a service. I don’t think she will.”
“Why not?” Chiz asked.
“Joe’s mama is the type to have him cremated, and then sit him on her mantle until the day she dies. I don’t think Joe would’ve had it any other way, either,” Shane answered.
Andy allowed herself a small smile, knowing that Joe’s mama would do just that, and would probably hold full-blown conversations with her boy as she went about her cleaning and baking.
~o0o~
Andy was considering whether she was going to suggest that they spend the rest of the day indoors, pretending that the world outside did not exist, or whether she was going to ask Chiz to take her on another long ride to leave the wretchedness of the day behind. Both plans were thrown out of her head by the sight of Detective Hill’s car pa
rked outside her house. The detective was absolutely the last person she wanted to see after the debacle in the cemetery.
He was blocking her driveway, and he took his time about starting the car and reversing it out of the way to allow Chiz to pull her Miata into its spot. He shuffled out of his sedan as Chiz and Andy slid out of her car. The thunk of three car doors closing at once sounded far too loud in the quiet street.
“Ms. Broussard. I didn’t think you’d be long.”
“Excuse me?” Andy was confused by the detective’s assertion.
“You were at the memorial for Mrs. Renard, weren’t you?”
“Yes. How did you know?” Chiz was by her side now. She could feel anger radiating from him.
Detective Hill shrugged, but didn’t elaborate. “Aren’t you gonna invite me in?”
Andy put her hand on Chiz’s arm. She’d felt him twitch, and had a feeling he was holding himself back from trying to flatten the detective. “No, I don’t think I will. What do you want, Detective?”
The detective shrugged again, apparently unaffected by her lack of hospitality. “I thought I’d let you know how our investigation is going. You’ll receive some paperwork on this, but nothing beats the personal touch.”
Andy didn’t like the smile that the detective gave her at all. It was a movement of his lips with no discernible friendly emotion behind it at all.
“It’s been confirmed that the explosion at your club was caused by an explosive device. It was left in the room you had all the chains and the cuffs in, and that fancy, big wooden cross thing. The CSI guys had quite a time piecing some of that gear back together, I can tell you.” When the detective chuckled, Andy had to restrain herself from trying to knock him out.
“Unfortunately they found that the device was generic, and pretty basic, the sort of thing that anyone can put together if they’ve got Google, and the inclination. There’s no way to trace the materials that were used, and any other evidence was destroyed in the blast. They’ve got nothin’ to go on. There’s nothin’ we can do, I’m afraid. The details you’ll need to pass to your insurance company will be in the paperwork I’ll send to you.”
Andy gritted her teeth to keep from saying what she was thinking, and she had to tighten her grip on Chiz’s arm to remind him that assaulting an officer of the law would get them nowhere.
“Thank you, detective, for personally coming to give me that information. It’s a shame that no one’s going to pay for the hurt they’ve caused, but I understand that the culprit’s tracks were well covered.”
“It was my pleasure, Miss Broussard. You have a good day now.” The detective gave her a little mock salute before he opened his car door, and dropped into the driver’s seat.
The detective’s car wasn’t even out of sight before Chiz blew up. “You know that’s bullshit, right? There’s no way they’d’ve finished goin’ through everything yet. He’s put a lid on the whole thing.”
That was exactly Andy’s opinion, too, and the knowledge depressed her profoundly. “Him, or someone else. Honestly, I don’t see the good detective having the authority to squash an investigation into a blast that killed a number of people.”
“But doll, as far as those families are concerned, he hasn’t. They get their cause. Perpetrator unknown and unfindable. They get their closure. You know the cops ain’t lookin’ in the obvious direction, but those families don’t care about that. If they’re all like that stuffed shirt today, they want this brushed under the rug as soon as possible. They probably think there’re too many suspects to count.”
Andy stepped in front of Chiz, wrapped her arms around him, and tucked herself against his chest. “Chiz?”
He relaxed more as soon as she’d started to hold him. She felt his arms band around her shoulders, and bring her closer still against the warm safety of his body. She felt protected and comforted in equal measure.
“Yeah?”
“I want to go on a ride.”
“Sure, doll. Which direction today?” Chiz loved riding, and he loved riding with her behind him. He’d told her as much. The mere mention of an excursion had pushed his infuriation back.
“Take me to Absolution. I want to see your town.”
“You sure?”
“Yes. I know when I’m not wanted. I want out of this place as soon as possible. Show me where I’m going to.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chiz absolutely did not give a shit that he was going to be handed a fine for being late to Church. He was mad, mad and scared, and fucking impatient to be done with the meeting, because he had somewhere he needed to be. For the first time since before he was a Prospect, hell, since before that, he had somewhere that he wanted to be other than by his brothers’ sides.
Still, it wouldn’t do to piss the boss off. Samuel was on board with what needed to be done, he agreed with it wholeheartedly, but Chiz did not need to end up in the doghouse, all the same. To that end, he tried to master his temper, and at least ease the chapel door open with respect to the meeting in progress on the other side.
“Chiz.” Samuel greeted him as soon as he’d closed the door behind him. “You had more pressin’ business?”
“In a manner of speakin’, boss,” Chiz answered as he took his seat at the table. Samuel’s expression was of amused interest. He motioned for Chiz to continue. “Elmo got a death threat. At her house.”
Now Samuel sat forward, his irritation at Chiz’s tardiness forgotten. “That piece of shit Church again?”
“Not likely to be anyone else. Someone pushed it through her door. Delivered it by hand. It’s all letters cut from a magazine, real cartoon stuff, ‘cept it’s promisin’ the stonin’ and burnin’ of all whores. Boss, I ain’t easy on the fact that it’s been dropped right in her lap.”
“Of course.” Samuel nodded sympathetically. “You’ll be wantin’ to go straight to her?”
“Yeah. After Church, of course.”
“Of course. We’ll make this quick, then. I don’t doubt that your brothers’ll thank you for that. Crash can get to Katie all the quicker.”
“You know me, boss. I never keep a lady waitin’,” Crash quipped.
“Yeah, I heard you was real speedy.” Kong’s laughter at his own joke echoed around the room. Crash did not look all that amused.
“Now, now gentlemen,” Samuel admonished. “Actually, Chiz, we were waitin’ on you to start discussin’ your girl’s problems. We’ve got the bank to help her put together a new place, as soon as she’s ready to start lookin’ for property. When’s she likely to be ready to move?”
A little more than a week before, when Andy had asked to visit Absolution, they’d ridden over. It had been late in the day by the time they’d arrived, but they’d had enough daylight to ride through town, and to look at some of the rental apartments that Andy had in mind. She was desperate to get out of Alabama as soon as possible, so they’d stayed the night in a motel. Neither Elmo, nor Chiz, wanted to sleep at the clubhouse. The next day Elmo had arranged to visit some of the apartments on her list. She’d put a deposit on one that day.
Chiz had taken her back to Alabama, and then returned to Absolution straightaway to lay the details of the situation out to Samuel, and the rest of the club. Shark had already filled them in on the broad strokes. The club saw the injustice in the situation, and they were happy to provide the retribution. Elmo had remained in Alabama to put her house on the market, to pack, and to tie up other loose ends.
“She’s gonna call the agent first thing in the mornin’. She hasn’t got the keys yet. He was gonna get the place cleaned. I’ll go over tonight. I want to bring her back with me tomorrow, or the day after. I don’t want her spendin’ another night there alone.”
“Understandable. Which agent is it?”
“Jack Wilkes.”
“Jack’s an old friend. When she calls him, tell him I’ll pick the keys up tomorrow mornin’.”
“Boss?” Shark interrupted. At Samuel’s question
ing look, he continued. “I’ll drive the van over in the mornin’ with the Prospect. Between the three of us we can get her packed up and movin’ by the afternoon.”
“Good idea, but I don’t like the idea of you bein’ so far from home at the moment. I know they say first babies don’t come fast, but my girl will wear your guts as a necklace ‘til Doomsday if you’re not back in time, and she might well add mine to the wreath. No. Terry? You okay to take the Prospect and watch him do a bit of liftin’?”
“Will do.” Terry nodded.
“I’ll ride over with the van, boss. Another pair of hands ain’t gonna hurt no one,” Sinatra volunteered.
Breath on the Wind Page 23
