by Sarah Osborn
“Rain's keeping me awake. What you doing up, little one?”
She shrugged and headed back to the armchair in the corner. “Bad dream.”
Tiny nodded and sat on a low stool on the opposite side of the fireplace. He looked around. The kitchen, like the rest of the house, was cluttered, disorganized and brightly colored. Living in such chaos would drive him nuts, but Samson never seemed to even notice it, and he couldn't imagine Emma anywhere else. Resisting the urge to organize the mismatched jars on the shelves, he turned his attention to the girl in front of him. “You get bad dreams often?”
“Sometimes. It's not so bad when Deke's here, but they freak me out when I'm on my own.”
“He know?”
Again, she shrugged. “Wouldn't make any difference if he did. And what am I supposed to tell him, Tiny? That I'm pathetic and can't cope on my own anymore?” She sniffed. “He fell in love with an independent woman who didn't need anyone, not some needy, weak girl who cries herself to sleep when he's away.”
Tiny ran his hand across his head. There had been two further attacks on the Serpiente, and one would put the guy in a wheelchair for the rest of his life. Jez had sat down with Jorge, the San Diego President, but had failed to convince him that if these were the work of Freaks, he knew nothing about it. Then two days ago, at a party in Reno, a Freak had been shot in a drive-by. It was looking as though he'd survive, but he'd probably never ride again. Samson was doing what he could to placate both sides, while staying out of Vince's crosshairs.
Tiny knew that Samson had killed Moretti – he wouldn't abandon Emma and Lottie just to play diplomat – and he knew that his brother wasn't foolish enough to kill someone who was considered a friend of the club without a very good reason.
He hadn't spoken to him about any of this, and Samson wouldn't share, even if he asked. But it seemed to Tiny that his friend had found himself between an enormous rock and an extremely hard place. He needed his head in the game at all times, cuz if he blinked for just a second, he could wind up very dead. He didn't need to know that, back home, his woman was beginning to lose her shit. And she didn't need to know the danger he was in.
Emma took a deep breath. “What am I supposed to do, Tiny?”
She was supposed to wait, keep her mouth shut, and forgive any transgressions. That was what ol' ladies did. Tiny watched as she pulled a brightly colored shawl around her shoulders and hugged her knees. “You gotta do what's best for you an' Lottie. I dunno what that is.” He leaned forward and took her hand. “But whatever you decide, save it till he gets home. Samson don't need any distractions right now.” He gave her hand a squeeze to emphasize his point. “He needs you to keep your shit together.”
“Could he get hurt?”
Tiny shrugged, then stood and pulled her to her feet. “You need to get some sleep. You want me to stay?”
She shook her head. “Could use a hug, though.”
He smiled and pulled her into his arms. “Sure, I can do that.”
It had been a long time since he'd held a woman other than Beth in his arms. Tiny forced himself to relax as Emma wrapped her arms around his waist, and he willed his dick not to respond as her body pressed close to his. She chuckled against his chest. “You're hating this aren't you?”
“Don't really do hugs, little one.”
“Sure you do. You hug people all the time.”
“Don't get smart, Emma. You know what I mean.” He gently pushed her away from him and kissed her forehead. “Go to bed. I'll be right here if you need me.”
“You don't need to do that.”
“Yes, I do.” He trailed his finger along the scar on her cheek. “You ain't on your own tonight.”
FORTY-TWO
Beth opened her eyes as the trailer door closed, and she climbed out of bed. She watched as Joe crossed the yard, knocked on the kitchen window, and followed Emma inside. She couldn't see as they sat down, and she was sure that they were just talking, but was unable to tear her eyes away. After a few scant minutes, Joe stood and pulled Emma to her feet. The crocheted shawl fell from her shoulders as he pulled her into his arms, then after what seemed like a million years, Joe pulled away and kissed her forehead before following her through the living room door.
She swayed and swallowed the bile rising in her throat. He wouldn't.... Emma wouldn't.... Beth staggered back to the bed, her head reeling. She wanted to kick the door down and barge in... to confront them, but she was too afraid of what she would find. And if Samson found out, he'd kill them both. A sob escaped her lips – how could they? How could she have been so naïve? So stupid? What she didn't understand was why he'd wanted her to come in the first place. Maybe the potential of getting caught added to the thrill. Or maybe they assumed she was so stupid, that she'd never catch them. She guessed they were right – she'd never suspected a thing.
~ oOo ~
Emma frowned and nudged Tiny with her shoulder. “While I appreciate you helping, do you think you could refrain from tidying up after me. I was using that spoon.”
“No, you weren't. It was in the way.” Tiny poured the batter mix into the pan. “Dunno how you can cook anything with crap everywhere.” He turned and scowled as Luke and Imi charged through the kitchen, dragging Genghis behind them. “One of these days, that dog'll get pissed with you pulling him around an' bite your asses. An' why is he wearing a dress?”
“S'not a dress. It's a super hero costume.” Luke scowled and, for a moment, looked just like his father. “He's a super dog.”
Tiny rolled his eyes and turned back to the pancakes. “It's gonna be weeks of begging for a dog when we get home.”
Emma chuckled and nodded to Alice, cuddling one of the cats. “Or a cat.”
“Not ever happening. Ain't having animal hairs all over the fucking place.” He flipped the pancake and shot her a look of triumph. “Told you I could cook.”
“Tiny, that's your fourth attempt.” Emma laughed. She felt lighter this morning. It was stupid, but just knowing he'd been sleeping on the sofa in the next room had meant she'd had the best night's sleep in weeks. She turned to Abi, who was trying to teach Lottie how to sign to Alice. “How about you go and get your mom. Breakfast will be ready soon.”
Abi slid off her chair and trotted to the princess house, only to return two minutes later, alone. “Mom says she's not hungry.” She frowned. “I think she might be sick. Her eyes are all red, and I think she's been crying.”
Tiny handed the slice to Emma. “I'll go check on her. Don't burn anything.”
“If I do, are you going to go all Gordon Ramsay on my ass?”
“Who the fuck is Gordon Ramsay?”
She shook her head. “I swear, you live in some biker bubble. Go and take care of Beth. I've got this.”
~ oOo ~
“Abs said you weren't feeling well.” Tiny frowned as Beth rubbed her eyes. “What's up?”
“Take a guess.” Beth sniffed and swallowed the urge to start crying again. She needed to hold on to the anger.
“How about you just tell me. Cuz I've got no idea.”
“Where were you last night?”
“I slept on Emma's sofa. The rain was keeping me awake, an she's not in a good place right now. Thought it might help if I was there.”
“Do I look stupid, Joe?”
“What?”
“I saw you. So you may as well stop playing games.”
“You saw me? Doing what?” His expression was still unreadable, but there was a dangerous glint in his eye. “You think me an' Emma are fucking? Is that it?”
“I know what I saw..”
“You didn't see shit, cuz there wasn't shit to see. Do you really think I'd fuck my brother's ol' lady? Shit, Beth, you know me better than that. Emma's my friend.”
“You don't have friends, you have brothers.” She hadn't been wrong. She'd seen the way he held Emma, how he looked at her, all those times they'd sneaked off together to talk. Ha! What a fucking joke. He was Tiny Tayl
or; he didn't talk to anyone. “Look me in the eye and tell me there's nothing going on between you two.”
The look in his eyes, when they met hers, chilled her to the bone. “I'm gonna take a ride, Beth. Cuz I really don't wanna hurt you.”
Beth said nothing as he turned and marched towards his bike – she knew better than that – she had made a massive mistake by confronting him, whether he was guilty or not. And even running after him and begging for forgiveness would make no difference. The genie was out of the bottle, and right now, Joe was a very dangerous man indeed.
There was something inside him. Beth never envisioned it as darkness, but a raging fire. Most of the time, he kept it under control, and she only ever caught glimpses of its power. Even after losing Amy, when things were at their lowest, she never felt the full force of his unleashed rage.
Only once had she witnessed DEFCON one, when the flame turned blue and Joe's rage turned into a precision instrument. She'd watched as he'd beaten her ex-husband almost unconscious without breaking a sweat, then, with a blowtorch, scorched every place on his body that he'd found a bruise on hers.
When, the day earlier, Joe had insisted she stripped to her bra and panties, so he could “see what the fucker had done to her,” she hadn't realized that he was making a mental note of where he was going to inflict each wound. And she'd been convinced he'd lost his mind when he'd insisted she stayed and watched as he dealt with the asshole. But he'd just said that he needed to know how it felt to be beaten and humiliated by someone bigger and stronger than him, and she needed to witness that humiliation.
The club – Samson – had done that; taught him how to bottle all that anger and aggression, then given him things – people – to unleash it onto. It had calmed him down, and made him easier to live with, but it also had made him a million times more dangerous. Beth waited until the sound of his bike faded into the background then made her way reluctantly to Emma's house.
~ oOo ~
“Where's Tiny gone? Has something happened?” Emma pushed her fingers through her hair. “What's going on, Beth? Is it Deke?”
Beth took a deep breath. “Abi, Luke. Take your breakfast into the living room and put a DVD on.”
“But...”
“Now!” She swallowed and took another breath. “Now, please, kids.”
As soon as the oldest kids were out of the room, Emma turned back to Beth. “Why did Tiny take off?”
“Because I accused him of having an affair with you.”
“You did what? Are you fucking insane?” It looked like Emma had a temper, too. “Jesus, Beth. I don't even know how you could think such a thing of either of us. And you actually accused Tiny? To his face? Fuck. I can't begin to imagine how he took that.”
“Are you?”
“What?”
“Are you sleeping with my husband?”
“No! Of course not. What do you take me for?” She picked up her car keys and held them out toward Beth. “You'd better go after him and make this right, although god knows how. You accused Tiny Taylor of disloyalty. That's big, Beth. Really fucking big.”
Beth folded her arms. “Why was he here last night?”
“It was raining hard. It gets really loud in the princess house – you must've heard it. Tiny woke up, saw I was still up, and came over. I... I have nightmares sometimes. Really vivid, horrible nightmares. He stayed on the sofa, cuz I was still freaked out.”
“I saw you through the kitchen window. I saw the way he was holding you.”
“I was feeling shaky... he hugged me, and was really awkward about it. That's all.”
“He's in love with you. I know he is.”
Emma shook her head. “That is the most ridiculous thing ever. We're just friends.”
“Joe doesn't have friends.”
“Yes, he does. He has me.” Emma frowned. “Are you going to go after him? Because if he doesn't get talked down, he's gonna go all Tiny on someone. And that would be very bad.”
“I'm the last person he'll want to see.”
“Then I'll go. Unless, of course you think we'll jump each other at the first opportunity.”
“No, I don't. I'm sorry.” Beth blinked away her tears. “I should've trusted you both.”
“Yes, you should, and I'd really like to know why you didn't, but I think it'd better wait. I need to catch Tiny up before he happens to somebody.”
FORTY-THREE
Tiny had more than a ten minute start on Emma, but she guessed he'd head for Seattle, and hoped the rain would slow him down a little. Her little car objected as she pressed the accelerator. If Tiny had opened the box marked 'psycho,' there was a very good chance that an innocent bystander could get hurt.
It was half an hour before she spotted a single rear light in the distance. Telling herself that he wouldn't hurt her, Emma pushed the car harder and, as soon as she was sure that it was him, flashed her headlights. To her relief, he pointed to his right, then pulled over onto a lot outside a store. She waited as he dismounted and walked toward her car.
He pulled open the passenger door and, wordlessly, climbed in. Emma could feel the anger coming off him in waves. While she didn't believe he'd hurt her any more than he'd hurt Beth, it was going to take every ounce of his self control, and she was going to have to tread carefully. Taking a tin from her pocket, she pulled out a joint and, after lighting it, passed it to him. “Would it make you feel any better if I said I was pissed, too?”
“No.”
“Thought not.” She studied his profile as he took a long drag on the joint. His face was all sharp angles, and even though he hadn't tied back his hair as was usual, the black waves that framed his face did nothing to soften the image. “Did we fuck up, Tiny?”
“We ain't done nothing.”
“No, I know. But did we take Beth's trust for granted?”
“No.”
Emma took a deep breath. Challenging his behavior right now was risky – he wasn't Deke, who'd just blow up in her face, and although it was kind of scary, would never raise his hand to her. She was pretty sure Tiny wouldn't, either, but there was a possibility. “Samson told me that you once accused him and Beth of fucking behind your back.”
“That was different.”
“How?” She had to get him to talk. To see that Beth must've had her reasons for making such a massive accusation.
“Was in a bad place. Had a lot of shit going on in my head. Me an' Beth....” Every word was being dragged from him. “I knew they weren't. I....”
“You wanted to hurt her.”
“Yeah.” He took another pull on the joint. “Fucked up, huh?”
“Yep. That has to be a ten on the fucked-up scale.”
“I don't do things by halves, little one.” The anger was slowly starting to dissipate to a more manageable level.
“No, you don't. And Beth should've known that.” Tiny killed the joint and, immediately, Emma lit another and passed it to him. “She really hurt you, didn't she?” She could almost see him searching through his inventory for the box marked 'hurt' to check if it was open, and she tentatively reached out and touched his hand. “Don't go looking for it, just take my word for it. You and Beth go back forever, and she's spent a lifetime navigating around you and your....”
He half smiled. “Weirdness?”
“That'll do. Your weirdness.” She squeezed his hand. “She thinks you're in love with me.” Emma squinted at him and was only half joking when she added, “You're not, are you?”
“No. But I like you. And...” He turned to look at her as he put his words in order. “I've never liked a woman before.”
Emma laughed. She couldn't help it. “Leaving aside that that is probably the dumbest statement in the history of forever, it does kind of explain why Beth is feeling insecure.”
“And this.” Tiny reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He opened it and pulled out an old, creased photograph.
“Who is she?” The woman in the pictur
e was stunning, like something from the front of a glossy magazine.
“Maria – Amy's mom, Beth's sister – me an' her were together a long time.”
“Okaaay. Do I call Jerry Springer?”
“Not funny, Emma.” The warning was loud and clear. “Beth has always felt that I loved M more than her, an' you kinda look like her.”
“Hardly.” Emma looked again at the picture. They were both blonde, although her hair wasn't as bright, and they had the same body shape, but that was where the similarities ended. “She's beautiful.”
“Yeah, she was.” He took the photograph and ran his thumb across the image. “You ain't really like her.”
“Thanks.”
“You wanna hear this, or are you gonna keep making smartass remarks?”
“Sorry. Go on.”
“Maria was beautiful, an' funny, an' had fire in her belly, like you. But she was a selfish, manipulative, junkie whore.” He passed her the remains of the joint. “I loved her hard, but we'd been done a long time 'fore me an' Beth hooked up.”
“Do you love Beth hard?”
“Yeah. But it's different with her.”
“You said was. Is she dead?” She dropped the joint into the ashtray.
“Yeah. She died when Amy was sixteen.”
Emma took a deep breath. “Why do you keep a picture of her in your wallet?”
Tiny shrugged. “Dunno.” He looked at the picture. “The day that was taken was just before I got locked in county. Me an' her had a lot of ups an' downs, an' I spent a lot of time trying to fix her. But that day, we were real good. I guess that's why I kept it.” He smiled and, not for the first time, Emma saw the pain in his eyes. “When me an' her were good, nothing topped it.”
“Jesus, Tiny.” She could slap him sometimes. “I know you love Beth, but you really are the most insensitive asshole sometimes. Throw it away, and stop trying to fix me. I'm sorry that me leaning on you has done this – I had no idea.”
“You saying this is my fault?”
“No. I'm saying you need to go home and reassure your wife that you really fucking love her.” She leaned over him and opened the passenger door. “Now would be nice.”
