Duck (Rebel Wayfarers MC Book 8)

by MariaLisa deMora

  “Yes, her son was here. In addition, there was that jackwit she married. Did you think to notice she only went out with him after you left town? If things had turned out different, I can’t imagine how your lives would look today, but they didn’t. She stayed, and you left. She settled, in more than one way.” Essa’s ponytail swung back and forth like a pendulum. “You need to talk to her, Reuben.”

  “I left town because she wanted the bull rider. Offered her the job with DN when things lined up because we needed the help.” He swept his hand out, indicating the entire ranch. “Her whole life is here. Her aunt and uncle didn’t leave her anything and without the ranch, she would have had to leave, go to Midland or somewhere else and start over. I only ever wanted to take care of her, wanted to keep her safe.”

  “Look at the pictures sometime. See how happy she looks if the focus isn’t on Eli, and by that I mean she looks like shit. Miserable and tired…sad, except for Elly-belly. And now, when she looks at you? Same look she turns on Elly-belly. She loves you, Reuben. Always has.” She swallowed, then drew in an uneven breath. “Learned long ago, from some smart people we both know, a place isn’t what makes a person happy. It’s not where you live, it’s who you share that life with that matters most. The people you bring in to surround yourself with, the ones you trust…those you love.” Stepping closer, she pressed one palm against his chest. “Like Mica in Chicago, who found herself a family like no other with Mason and Tug,” her voice caught and she cleared her throat before she continued, “and Slate. It’s who you love that makes everything work.”

  ***

  Duck entered Mitchell’s through the side door, grabbing a beer from the short bar at the back of the room and finding a section of wall to lean against. With the rodeo only days away, the place was crowded with cowboys and cowgirls, competitors by the looks of them. Most dressed in well-worn boots and jeans, hat brims creased from sweaty hands, and belt leather broken in just right. Mixed in with that group were the tourists, here just for the spectacle of the rodeo. It was easy to see the difference in the groups because the wannabes mixed designer shoes with their jeans, or had on stiff felt hats which had never seen a day’s worth of sun to wilt the starch.

  From his position, he had a clear view of the dance floor as well as the main bar, and within moments had spotted Brenda. She and Winters were seated at a square hightop table on the far side of the smooth, wooden floor filled with couples shuffling and swinging along. He watched for a moment, scarcely registering the dancers; women twirling out to the end of their partner’s arm and then back again, fluid movements giving witness to the hours spent in locales such as this.

  With only a corner of the table between them, she and Winters were engaged in what looked to be animated conversation regardless of the volume of noise in the bar tonight. He was leaned close, his mouth near her ear and Duck watched as her head tipped back with laughter at something Winters said.

  Duck frowned and then tensed even more, looking at her face. She might be laughing, but she wasn’t enjoying herself. There were lines of strain across her forehead and alongside her eyes, and he gripped the bottle in his hand tighter, his fingers aching to rub those worries away.

  ***

  Winters placed his hand on Brenda’s forearm near her elbow and then slid it down to cup around her hand. Squeezing her fingers, he leaned close again and half-shouted, “Let’s dance.” Without giving her a chance to decline, he stood and tugged, pulling her along behind him as he moved into the spinning crowd of dancers on the floor, just as the music changed from a bouncy two-step to a slower song. Tugging at her hand again, Winters caused her to stumble and he caught her, swinging her around and pressing her against his chest.

  He brought her hand up and placed it palm-down on his shoulder, then wrapped both of his hands around her waist, aligning their bodies for the dance. This is the last thing I want to be doing right now, she thought as she brought her other hand up and plucked his off her hip. Using the connection to push back from him by a couple inches, she looked up to see an amused look on his face as they moved to the music.

  Dancing in a slow circle, she kept her head upright as she followed his lead. Leaning his upper body close, he placed his mouth near her ear and said, “I thought it might be something like that.”

  Surprised, she pulled back and looked at him, seeing a smile on his face, the amused look resting easily on his features. “What are you talking about?”

  “Nelms,” he said, one corner of his mouth quirking regretfully. “The other day I couldn’t decide if I had a chance, or if y’all were just in mid-tiff when I saw you. Now, I know.”

  Lowering her chin, she broke eye contact, dropping her gaze to the vertical lines on his western shirt. With a sigh, she nodded and agreed, “Mid-tiff.” She sighed again and began to push back, saying, “Thanks for a lovely—“

  “Not so fast.” He interrupted, pulling her close again but maintaining the three-inch separation she had forced between their bodies. “You looking to make up with him soon?”

  Her gaze snapped up and her body stiffened as she retorted, “I’m not looking for a fling or to fool around.”

  “Not what I meant, darlin’.” He laughed aloud as he said this, a tug on her hand trying to urge her slightly closer. “He’s watching us, had eyes on us since before we hit the floor, and it looks like there’s about a month's worth of pissed off on his face right now. If you wanted to tweak his nose, we could snuggle up and have a sweet little dance.”

  Pushing back again, she shook her head. “I’m not a game-player, Doc. Not my style.”

  “You came out with me tonight,” he reminded her. “You sure about your style?”

  Brenda snorted and laughed, feeling like she sounded, brittle. “Hate to burst your bubble, Doc, but I came out with you because you’re the event vet and new to town, and I’m the boss of the stock company putting on the rodeo.” Her back heated as his hand slowly moved up from her waist to a more respectable position just underneath her shoulder blade.

  He stiffened and an odd energy radiated from him. Leaning close again, he put his mouth near her ear and in a voice that was only half-joking, warned, “Brace yourself, pretty lady.”

  A hard hand closed around her bicep. Not painfully tight, but not tentative. There was no demanding tug, no pull to wrench her away, just a soft, gentle, immovable hold she could feel in every part of her body, the sensation racing through her. Welcome, possessive, claiming. Reuben, she thought and dropped her hands from where they were touching Doc. Winters’ hands fell away, releasing her and she turned towards the man holding her arm. Looking up into Reuben’s face, absorbed in him, all sounds in the room receded. Gone. Unimportant. She didn’t realize when Winters stepped away, courteously conceding any claim on her. He had ceased to exist for her.

  Reuben’s face was dark and scowling, his eyes flicking over her features and coming back to drill into hers with a smoldering stare. Brenda’s breath quickened as Reuben tugged on her arm, pulling her in close as Winters had tried to do. Closer, even. An intimate hold. One speaking to a familiarity with her body Winters would never have.

  With Reuben, she didn’t step back or avoid contact. Instead, she leaned into him, feeling strong arms wrap around her, as hers lifted to wind around his neck. His eyes drifted closed at her touch, and she watched the anger fall away from his features in response. He liked her touching him, liked her hands on him, lips lifting at the corners into a quiet smile. Private. Intimate. Hers.

  One hand glided up her back and then his fingers were in her hair, turning her head and pushing her cheek towards his shoulder. She rested against the hard wall of his chest, nuzzling into his shirt and relaxing. Pressed tight together from knee to chest, they danced in a single, small circle for the duration of that song, and then the next. Not speaking, just feeling the rightness of their connection.

  “Bee,” he murmured and she heard his voice break on the lone syllable of her nickname. “So fucki
ng sorry. I can’t even tell you. Got no words.” She tightened her arms around him and shook her head slightly, her cheek scraping across his shirt and leather vest. “Some days my stupid gets in my way, trips me up so I can’t see how to right things. I said things…I can’t even believe the shit that spewed from my mouth. So fucking sorry.” He drew in a hard, deep breath. “I want to right this. Work with me to fix us?”

  She nodded in response to his question and heard him blow out a slow whoosh of relief. “One argument doesn’t change my feelings,” she told him and he tensed again. “Can’t change my heart with words. You can break it”—he shuddered under her hands—“but not change it.” Rocking her head back and forth, she allowed it to come to rest, forehead pressed against his chest. “I love you, Reuben.”

  “Duck,” he responded and she jerked, looking up at the ceiling as he laughed aloud. “Not like that.” A grin sounded in his voice and she twisted so she could see him. “My name,” he said, and sure enough, his lips had curved up at the corners into a smile. “Duck.”

  Tilting her head, she raised an eyebrow in question. He glanced down at the front of his vest and she followed his gaze to a fabric patch with the word Duck embroidered on it. “No one calls me Reuben. My name is Duck.”

  “Like a duck? Quack, quack?” They had stopped moving, standing on the dance floor while the other couples flowed around them, a steadfast island in a sea swimming with bright colors and twirling bodies. “Who calls you that?”

  “My brothers. The men in my club.” He shrugged. “My friends. The men you saw yesterday. Almost everyone who matters in my life calls me by my club name.” Leaning down, he rested his forehead against hers. “It’s who I am now, Bee. I haven’t been Reuben for a long time. I think you’re the only one still holding onto that man. The man on the parking lot today, the one you walked towards looking afraid of your own shadow? That’s who I am. This is who I am.” Raising his head, he looked around the room. “Let’s get out of here. There are things I need to tell you, things you need to know before we take another step down this road.”

  Without waiting for her to agree or argue, he quickly moved them towards the door. They passed close to the table Winters had reclaimed, and her steps slowed for a moment as she acknowledged him with a nod. Winters gave her a sideways smile in response and made a shooing motion with his hand, flicking his fingers at them. Arm around her waist, Reuben’s body pressed into her and she felt rather than heard him huff a laugh before pulling her outside.

  He guided them towards one of the farm trucks, leading her to the driver’s door. It happened in an instant—one second she was walking beside him and then the next, she was forced against the door, his body pressed against her. Her head immobilized by his hands, Brenda stared up into his eyes as he asked with an emotion-roughened voice, “Bee, can I kiss you?” Without conscious thought, her head tilted up and down the slightest amount and even before the motion completed, his mouth crashed down on hers, covering her.

  This was not the kiss of someone unsure of his welcome. Reuben took control of her in a way that branded her his, made his intentions clear with the movement of his lips against hers, the thrust of his tongue stroking alongside her own, the taste flooding her mouth. With this kiss, he vowed to never leave her alone, never let her forget her love for him. He gave her assurances and truth with the way he moved against her, the soft gasps of his moans rushing across her lips when he pulled back for a breath. This was love embodied in a kiss, a lifetime promise of faithfulness and dedication.

  He played her body ruthlessly, his mouth on hers bringing her to the edge of release and holding her there with ease, suspended over the abyss of desire as he claimed her. Fingers clenching in her hair, he used the hold to angle her head, slanting his mouth over hers, owning her. A car door slamming followed by ringing laughter broke the moment and he pulled back, mouth open and desperately panting for breath, her responses mirroring his. They stood there, his eyes tracking slowly across her face, searching for something. He must have liked what he saw because a small, secret smile slipped on and off his lips, much as the kiss had moments earlier. “Come on,” he said softly, reaching past her to open the door. “Hop in, Bee.”

  Using the steering wheel, she pulled herself into the cab of the truck, her slide to the passenger side stopped by his palm on her thigh, the heat through the fabric of her jeans startling her into stillness. “Sit beside me, baby.” She nodded and dug out the seatbelt, keeping her gaze on him as he got in beside her and started the engine. He pulled out and turned towards downtown instead of the country roads that would take them home and she looked up at him, brow lifted questioningly. “Need to talk to you. Thought the park might be a good place.”

  “Okay,” she said, glancing at the clock on the dash. “I think they’re open until eleven, but with the rodeo in town, cops won’t be worried about running stragglers out anyway.” He nodded, keeping his face forwards so she could only see him in profile and that by the dim dashboard lighting. He looked serious and she experienced a twinge of fear, wondering what topic he might want to cover tonight. So many things we need to say to each other, she thought, leaning into him, resting her temple against his shoulder.

  His hand dropped from the wheel to rest on her thigh, midway between her knee and hip. His fingers curved around and down between her legs, his possessive hold communicating the emotions thrumming just beneath the surface and her core clenched and tightened in anticipation.

  ***

  Duck turned the wheel, steering the truck into a corner of the lot, tucking them back where the shadows were dark and thick, making them nearly invisible from the street. No reason to give the cops cause to drive in if it wasn’t part of their regular patrol. He shut off the engine, and in the sudden stillness following, sat quietly for a moment, eyes closed, running conversational openings through his head. His hand slowly stroked up and down Bee’s thigh, finding comfort in the heat of her leg underneath the caress of his palm. Start with the hardest first, he thought and drew a breath.

  “How old were you when Ray tried to dick around with you the first time?” His question dropped into the quiet, causing a ripple as Brenda responded with a quick breath. “I don’t doubt you put him in his place. But he pulled some kind of fuckery, of that I’m sure.”

  He released his seatbelt and twisted in the seat, elbow to the wheel, his other arm draped across the seat back. Looking down into her face, softly illuminated by the silvery moonlight, he waited. The light left swaths of shadows across her features, making her expression hard to read.

  “Daddy got what he wanted with one son, the other was a raw disappointment. I’m sure you know which was which, probably heard all about it over the years. I’d never try to excuse a single fucking thing Ray did, but Daddy drove him that direction from the time he could walk. Drove both of us. Hard.” He snorted and shook his head. She still hadn’t spoken, hadn’t even tried to say anything. “I was the weaker one, the son who got the headshakes of frustration. I”—he drew a hard breath and faced front again, cutting his eyes to the side to watch her—“I stopped a lot of shit over the years, but not everything. I couldn’t be everywhere and it fucking kills, man. Fucking kills me. Essa ever say anything about Ray?”

  A confused expression landed on her face, and she shook her head at what must seem like an abrupt change of direction. He wasn’t surprised, not really expecting the girl to have shared her family’s history. “She’s got two cousins, gals who competed back in the day. Mica and Molly turned into an obsession for Ray. He found the one when she was just a teen, barely out of high school. Stripped her of everything that mattered. Made it so she had to leave home and start over. Left everything behind, just to get away from him. Mica,”—at the name Brenda nodded and he went on—“yeah, she was a competitive spirit he broke so thoroughly I didn’t know if she’d ever recover. She got away from him but was so fucking damaged. Tore up, inside and out. Ray did that to her.”

  He sw
allowed hard, shame over the night of his cowardice flooding him. “I didn’t save her, didn’t have the chance. She fucking saved herself. Well, I did have the chance, but didn’t take it. I failed her. Fucking failure all around. Ray got her and I bailed. I was outta there. Came home and worked for a couple of months, told Daddy some fucking lie. So wrong. I should have stopped him.” Echoes of the ripping cries from the trailer sounded in his ears, and he closed his eyes, shaking his head in an effort to dislodge the memories. “Fucking coward.”

  “No, you aren’t,” Brenda said, her hand landing on his forearm, stroking across his skin. “You are not.” Opening his eyes, he looked to find he was clenching the steering wheel tightly with his fist. Her hand slipped up his arm to cover the back of his hand, fingers tucking between his. “Never met a man more courageous, Reu”—her correction was nearly seamless, but told him that she understood the importance—“Duck.” With a groan, he wrapped his arms around her, dragging her into his lap as he moved to sit in the center of the seat.

  “You’re wrong. I am. I was. She got hurt so bad, Bee. I can’t even tell you. It took a while, but I finally tracked her down. Chicago. That’s why I settled there, in Chicago, because it’s where she was. I wanted to make sure she was okay, but she wasn’t. How could she be after Ray got to her? So, I made it my mission to make sure nothing bad would happen to her again. I vowed I’d at least try this time instead of walking away, leaving her in that hellhole of a hopeless situation like I had. I’d try to keep her safe.” A harsh laugh ripped from him. “Best thing I could have done was leave home like I did. The best thing for me because I met a man who showed me the right way to live.” He knew she wouldn’t understand, not yet. But he had to get it out; had to tell her.

  “Mason. Davis Mason. He’s my friend…my brother. Day after day he showed me how a real man dealt with things like frustration and anger. Not by lashing out at weaker folks, which was all I’d ever seen from Daddy, but by finding the problem and helping put a solution in place. Mason made me better, took me from the brink of falling into the monster role Daddy had tried so hard to force down my throat, and he fucking made me a better man. Helped me fucking heal wounds I didn’t even know I had. My name came from him.” He snorted a laugh.