by Sarah Osborn
The rest of church was pretty much the same as it always was. There was an upcoming run to a rally in Phoenix, but it wasn't mandatory, so most of the details would be decided between the patches who would be taking part, and everyone's dues were paid up to date. The events down south were touched on, but Bugs stuck to the party line: The Freaks weren't involved in any attacks on the Serpiente and there was no proof that these hits were related. Samson was sure that no one around the table believed that, but for now, they kept their opinions to themselves.
~ oOo ~
It wasn't unheard of for Deke to come home straight after church, but it was unusual. And when he came home armed with a pizza and a bottle of her favorite wine, Emma knew he was going to tell her something she didn't want to hear. She closed her laptop and began to tidy the sheets of paper from the table. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah.” He dropped the takeout on the table and grabbed some plates. “I hope you haven't eaten.”
“No, I've been trying to work out the logistics of doing a big installation. I'm sure Felix has got the math wrong. If we have to rent gallery space to do this, we could end up way out of pocket.”
“You've never paid before.” He grabbed a beer for himself and uncorked the bottle.
“No, the galleries I've used in the past take a commission, but Felix really wants us to do a huge installation; that isn't going to sell, so any money we make will be from smaller works and postcards and prints of the big thing. The gallery won't earn much and the big piece will take up a lot of space – space they could be using for pieces that sell – so it looks like we'll have to risk our own money.”
“So why do it? You sure this isn't Felix trying to ride on your coattails? Your stuff far outsells his.”
“Not everything is about money, Deke. This is a cool idea, and it'll be fun working with different mediums.”
“This... thing. It gonna take a lot of your time?”
She shrugged. “Probably.” She looked at him. “You're going away again.”
“I'm sorry, baby girl.”
“Shit, Deke.” Emma pushed her chair back and stood up. “You told me you were done with this. How long?”
“I dunno. The Twins are coming tomorrow, we'll...”
“The Twins? The Psycho Twins?”
“Yeah.”
“The Psycho Twins who are Presidents of the Canadian nomads? Tell me you're not going nomad again.” He looked away. “Fuck. So all that talk about you giving up the road was just bullshit. Why did you lie to me?”
“I didn't. Please, Emma. Sit down and listen to what I've got to say.”
She didn't want to, but complied with a sigh. “You promised, Deke.”
“Yeah, I did.” He took her hand. “Tomorrow the Twins will come, an' I'll patch back into the nomad chapter. As far as everyone is concerned I just can't take being stuck in one place all the time.” He brought her fingers to his lips. “Things are looking bad down south. The club could be on the brink of a war. I just wanna try diplomacy before the bodies start piling up.”
“And you can only do that as a nomad? The Twins are based in Canada, how...”
“Nomads ain't like other chapters, Emma. There are several all over the country, some nomads stay close to home, others, like me, travel all over. We're welcome in any clubhouse, regardless of where we're patched, but we only answer to our Presidents. I need to able to come an' go without raising too many suspicions. If I go nomad, I can do that.”
“You're not really making a lot of sense.” She began pulling apart a slice of pizza. “Are you like some biker James Bond?”
“Not exactly.” He chuckled. “I can't tell you much, an' anything I do say, you can't share with anyone. Most chapters use the nomads to do their wetwork when they wanna keep their hands clean, but this ain't what this is about. I just need to talk to people, an' it's better if I do that wearing a nomad patch.”
“The last time you just wanted to talk to people, you ended up behind bars.”
“This time I don't plan on rattling any cages.” He picked up the bottle and poured a healthy amount into her glass. “I'm just trying to stop a war with the Serpiente.”
She stiffened at the sound of their name. “Here?”
“Not if I have anything to do with it.” Deke reached out and cupped her face in his hands. “I could promise you that you'll always be safe, but we both know that that's bullshit. I will promise you this, though. I will give my last breath if it means keeping you an' Lottie from getting hurt. I love you, Emma.” His smile was a little sad. “It shapes everything I do. I don't wanna go away, an' if you say that we're done, it'll fucking break my heart, but I'll respect it. But after tomorrow, I'll be wearing a nomad patch, an' nothing you say will change that.”
There was part of her – a huge part of her – that wanted to do just that. To tell him that they were done. He'd made his choice, and should have to live with the consequence. But Emma loved him more than she hated the club, so she said nothing. She pushed her plate away and stood up. “I need a smoke.”
He followed her outside and passed her a cigarette. “How pissed are you?”
“About an eight.”
“That's pretty pissed, baby girl.”
“Yeah, it is. You do realize that what you're doing isn't fair to me and Lottie?” She stared out into the darkness. “It's taking all of my self control not to slap you right now.”
“We gonna get through this?”
She shrugged. “I don't know. Probably.” She felt him relax next to her. “That pisses me off as well. I should be stronger than this. I should tell you to take your stuff and get out.”
“Why don't you?”
“I love you too much, I guess.”
“I don't deserve you.” He turned to face her. “This is the last time, I swear.”
How many promises had he broken? Emma leaned her forehead against his chest and closed her eyes. “Sometimes I wish you'd never had stayed that night at the diner.”
He lifted her chin with his forefinger and kissed her. “No, you don't.”
She hated herself for responding to his touch. She should push him away and not moan as he nipped at that spot just behind her earlobe. And her stupid arms shouldn't wrap themselves around his neck as he picked her up and carried her back into the house. She hated that she'd turned into a pathetic, spineless woman who couldn't say no to her man, hated that her skin tingled as he kissed her, and that when his fingers found their way into her panties, she would be wet for him. And she hated him for making her feel like this.
~ oOo ~
He was a low down piece of shit. He knew he was effectively stopping any further discussion. That old Samson trick: if you want 'em to shut up, fuck 'em or punch 'em. Emma had every right to be pissed, and every right to tell him how she felt, but he was too chicken shit to hear it. He dropped her onto the bed and, pushing up her dress, began to nip and kiss her body. She moaned and arched as he trailed his tongue towards the lace along the top of her panties. He hated himself as he pulled them down and buried his face in her beautiful pussy. He was too cowardly to look at her face as he fucked her, even though he loved the look in her eyes as she came, so he turned her over and closed his eyes. She moaned, and he pulled her up, so that her back was pressed hard against him, and sank his teeth into her shoulder. He was a pathetic, cowardly, piece of crap and he hated himself. And he hated her for making him feel like this.
“I love you.”
She sighed and sagged against him. “Not sure it's enough anymore.”
THIRTY-TWO
Samson knew that dropping by at Tiny's en route to Vegas probably wasn't the smartest thing he'd ever done. He hadn't spoken to him since going nomad, and he wasn't sure whether the news had gotten back to Bay View, although he guessed not. He told himself that his reason was that if all he was doing was riding between chapters, picking up work where ever he landed, he'd make a point of calling on his oldest friend and closest brother. He to
ld himself that, but he didn't believe it. He was going to talk to his brother about recent events and, more importantly, to talk to Beth – something he really wasn't looking forward to.
“Samson! Joe didn't say you were coming.” He resisted the urge to groan as he bent to hug her, and as he followed her across the kitchen, tried to keep his stride even – he didn't want her reporting back to Emma that he was in pain. “Sit down. You want a coffee?” Beth turned and, for the first time, noticed the patch on his chest. “Shit, Samson. Say it isn't so.”
He shrugged. “It's what I am, Beth.”
“It's what you were. Jesus, how long to you think you can keep this up before you do yourself permanent damage?”
“I know what I'm doing.”
“What about Emma? She must be beyond pissed.” Beth slammed the mug on the table in front of him. “Why are you doing this?”
“I ain't suited to being in one place. I missed the road.” He shifted in his seat and avoided her glare. “Emma understands.”
Beth studied him for a moment then sighed and shook her head. “You love Emma and Lottie too much to risk losing them cuz you've got a case of itchy feet.” She sat down and rested her forearms on the table. “Why are you really doing this?”
“How about you just accept what I told you?” Samson turned the corners of his mouth up. “Cuz that's all you're gonna get.”
“Is someone looking out for Emma?”
“Bugs'll swing by when he can. An' Felix is always around.” He grinned. “An' you'll call her, right?”
“Of course. Does she know why you're doing this?” Beth was smart, she knew that he wasn't going to elaborate.
“Some. She's pissed, though,” he admitted ruefully.
“Yeah, I can imagine.” She smiled and patted his hand. “Why don't you call her while I get you something to eat. I take it you're staying.”
“That'll be great. Where's your ol' man?”
“Still at work. He had some guy coming to pick up a car, or something. Does he know?”
Samson tapped his patch. “About this? I dunno, probably not.”
“You know he isn't going to buy your story either.”
He shrugged. Of course he knew. Tiny could spot a lie at fifty paces. “It's the only story he's gonna get.”
The rumble of a Harley interrupted them, and they both looked up as Tiny walked through the door. “Hey.” He kissed Beth. “Sorry I'm late. Kids in bed?” He nodded to Samson. “Brother.” His eyes fell on the patch and he raised an eyebrow.
Beth stood and kissed her old man. “I'm going to check on Alice. Play nice.”
Tiny waited until they were alone. “Not your smartest move, brother.”
“I've got my reasons.”
“No doubt. Which one do I get?”
“Wanted to hit the road again.”
Tiny nodded and pulled a beer from the fridge. “I guess that'll fly with most folk. Was a book running at one time.” He grinned. “I had twenty bucks on you hitting the road after six months. You want one?” He tipped a bottle towards him, then replaced it when Samson shook his head. “I'm guessing you'll be calling in on Jez.”
“Yeah. They could use extra bodies right now.”
Tiny leaned on the sink, his expression inscrutable. “I'm guessing he might be eager to end this little Mexican problem, an' he ain't sure of the support he'll get from Bay View.”
“I guess.”
“Maybe he'll find it easier to figure that out if he knows that the vote against helping Moretti deal with his own Mexi issues was almost unanimous, and there was only one vote in it, on this bullshit money laundering scheme. Vince ain't got a lot of support when it comes to that Italian asshole.”
“Maybe.” He frowned as Tiny straightened up and headed for the door. “Going somewhere?”
“Gonna call your ol' lady an' stop her leaving your sorry ass.”
THIRTY-THREE
When Emma was pissed, she cleaned, and as a result her house was sparkling. It wasn't just Deke she was pissed at – although he was the reason her oven was spotless – she'd called Felix, and he'd decided to get all sanctimonious on her ass when she'd told him she wasn't kicking Deke out. She didn't need him telling her she was weak and pathetic; she already knew.
In the absence of anything else to scrub, she turned her attention to the dog. He stank, and he needed a bath. And if she was miserable, then he could be, too. She'd just filled the tub when her phone rang. Emma checked the caller ID and sighed. She really didn't want to talk to anyone, but Tiny would just keep calling, and if she turned off her phone, he'd rip her a new one next time he saw her. Reluctantly she pressed answer. “Hey.”
“You okay?”
“Peachy.”
“Don't get smart, Emma.”
“You were the one asking the stupid question.” She sighed and sat on the edge of the tub. “No, Tiny. I'm not okay.”
“He tell you why he was going nomad again?”
“Yes.”
“You gonna tell me?”
“I'm assuming he's there, why not ask him yourself?”
“I'm asking you.”
He was pissing her off now. “What do you want?” She knew the answer to that – he was making sure she was still standing by her man.
“You gonna split?”
Bingo! She'd long since learned that all anyone gave a shit about was Deke. Her feelings didn't come into it. “This is my house, I'm not leaving it.”
“You know what I'm asking, little one.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“So?”
“I don't know. I've kinda reached the end of my rope here. I know that isn't what you want to hear. He promised me, Tiny.”
“This ain't easy for him, Emma.”
“Well boo fucking hoo. Poor, fucking Samson. What about me, huh? I'm the one left holding the baby. It's me who lays awake, night after night, worrying about him. I'm the one trying to work while Lottie naps, because – guess what – it's really fucking hard to paint with a toddler around. There are bills to pay, a garden to take care of... the animals. Don't pretend you give a shit, Tiny. This is you looking out for Deke. It's always about him.” Her cheeks were wet, and she roughly wiped them with the back of her hand. “I've stuck by him through everything, and time and time again, he throws it back in my face. Do you have any idea how much it hurts to know you've been put aside, yet again, for a fucking club? No, of course you don't. You're just as bad as he is. You all are. Selfish, fucking assholes, who care more about a stupid patch than the people who really love you.”
“You finished?” She could almost see that twitch of his lips.
“There's more if you want it.”
“Not really.” He chuckled. “You still love him?”
“You know I do.”
“Then you gotta be patient. He'll come home.”
She sighed. She knew – deep down – that they weren't done. She loved him too hard to walk away. “Is he okay?”
“Sore, I guess. But yeah, he's okay.”
Emma took a deep breath. “Look out for him, Tiny.”
“Always, little one. And you. You need anything, you call, okay?”
“Okay... Tiny?”
“I gotta go. Take care.”
She hung up and stared at the phone in her hand. She shouldn't have blown up at Tiny, none of this was his fault, but she couldn't bring herself to feel bad about it. In fact, she felt better for getting some of that resentment off her chest. She smiled to herself as the image of Tiny putting her back in the box marked 'friend' and locking it down tight flashed into her brain. She knew he wouldn't go running to Deke. Whatever she said would stay between the two of them. Her thumb hit the text button, and she began to type. “Thanks, friend.”
She hadn't expected a reply, but a few seconds later, her phone buzzed. “ALWAYS.”
THIRTY-FOUR
As a young, single man, Samson had loved Vegas. His every whim was catered to and he'd been a hang
around at the clubhouse for a while before the itch had gotten to him and he'd headed back up north. The dry, gritty heat had always grated on his nerves, but it was offset by long stretches of open roads and end-to-end sunshine. And the big clubhouse, situated behind a titty bar, was always comfortably cool and dark. Then there were the girls. If he was honest, most of the women who hung around him and his brothers were kinda rough around the edges. Here, though, they were every young man's dream.
As he'd aged, the allure had faded. The women were too perfect – too fake – and night after night of carbon copy tits being thrust in his face started to get old.
He was still close to Jez. He ran the chapter well and took good care of his brothers and their families. He was old school, but smart enough to sense the change in the wind. The public face of the club had changed. They were still feared and respected, but now they were increasingly being seen as a force for good. Jez had been a forerunner in this; he'd been one of the first to organize high profile charity events and had been extremely vocal about the other chapters following suit.
The chapter had moved away from illicit business – on the surface, at least – and into more legit work. They were owners of the titty bar and ran the security in a few others. Behind the scenes, things were different. Many of the hookers that worked the streets were club girls, and the chapter was actively part of the coke runs from across the border. As a result, the club, and the patches, were very wealthy indeed.
What they weren't, though, was complacent. Despite being one of the oldest active members, Jez was razor sharp. Nothing happened without him knowing about it, and enemies were eliminated quickly and decisively. And now his chapter was being targeted. He was going to want swift retribution, but Samson believed that the old man would listen and show restraint if it meant avoiding all-out war.
