HALE: Lords of Carnage MC

by Daphne Loveling

  Maybe I should have gone to Cam and Mal as soon as I realized they were doing drugs. But I was embarrassed, and also I couldn’t figure out how to tell them what was happening with Scotty without mentioning my father. Fear, and unwillingness to rat on either one of them out, kept me silent.

  The other thing that stopped me from talking to them was that, after the day Cam drove me home from school, he started giving me a serious case of the cold shoulder. When Cam saw me in the halls at school the next day, he looked through me like he didn’t even know me. And it wasn’t just me. He started hanging out with Mal less, too. His excuse was that his parents had stuff for him to do at home. Mal told us that Cam had even started talking about moving north after graduation.

  It seemed like all of us were drifting away from each other, and I felt powerless to stop it. I told myself it was inevitable anyway, with us graduating soon. But even so, it made me feel even more alone, and even more uncertain what to do about Scotty and my dad.

  Prom season came and went, and then graduation. I applied to a community college about forty-five minutes south, and got a job waiting tables over the summer to save up money for tuition and a car of my own. Dad told me not to worry about money. He said he had some saved up, and he’d make sure I didn’t have to take out any loans. But I didn’t see how that couldn’t be true, given that he hadn’t had a job in months.

  That’s when I first started to really suspect what was going on.

  Scotty, too, all of a sudden seemed to have more money than he knew what to do with. He’d started buying me more and more extravagant gifts. A dozen roses, at first, for my birthday. Then a promise ring. When I asked him where he was getting the cash, he just said he’d been working a lot of hours for his dad.

  And then, toward the end of that summer, everything came crashing down around us.

  One night I got a call from Mal on our house phone — the first and only time he ever called me. Mal told me Scotty had been arrested for dealing drugs. When my father heard me crying in the kitchen, he came to see what was wrong. When I hung up and told him Scotty was in jail, and why, he turned white as a sheet. That’s when I finally knew what I had long suspected, but had tried to tell myself couldn’t be true: The sudden source of my father’s income was drug dealing. And he’d involved Scotty in it as well.

  The next few months were a nightmare. It was Scotty’s first offense, but given the amount of meth they found in his car when he was arrested, he was charged with a second-degree felony. He got five years in prison, plus a fine of ten-thousand dollars.

  Scotty never said a word to the police about where he got the meth. If he’d given up my dad, he might have managed to reduce his sentence. I can’t say for sure why he didn’t rat on my father. But I can guess.

  Scotty knew that if Dad went to prison too, I’d be alone. I’d wager he decided that he might as well serve the time for both of them. Maybe he figured he was young, and he’d still be able to put it all behind him and start fresh when he’d served his time.

  I visited him once in prison — Blackburn Correctional Facility. He had only been inside for three weeks, but he looked as though he’d lost thirty pounds and aged ten years. He begged me not to come back again. Said he couldn’t bear me to see him like that. He asked me, in a broken voice, if I’d wait for him, but then a few minutes later told me not to.

  “I won’t be the same person when I come out, Ky,” he rasped. Then he looked away, refusing to meet my eyes again.

  Two months into his sentence, Scotty got involved in a prison brawl. He got jumped by another inmate, who stabbed him in the stomach with some sort of shiv. By the time the guards got to him, he was too far gone to save.

  The thought that Scotty went to prison because of my father, and ultimately because of me — that his life was over practically before it started — will haunt me for the rest of my life. I have tried not to think about it over the years. The guilt, and the sadness, are too overwhelming. Staring ahead into the darkness now, I take a final gulp of my wine, draining the glass. Swallowing painfully, I feel tears wet my cheeks once again.

  Until recently, the last time I had seen Cameron Hale was at Scotty’s funeral. It was a somber, desperately sad service. The priest of the tiny Catholic church in Corydon gave a sermon that tried and failed to delicately dance around the circumstances of Scotty’s last few months, and the manner of his death. More than half of the people in the pews were under twenty years old, and the shock of attending a funeral for someone our own age was palpable in the chapel.

  Mal was there, too, of course. He sat near me, a few rows behind Scotty’s family. Cam hadn’t shown by the beginning of the service. Mal said he hadn’t heard from him, and didn’t know where he was.

  After the funeral, some of our classmates came up to me to say how sorry they were, and how much they had always liked Scotty. Others seemed to be avoiding me. Maybe as his girlfriend, I was a little too close to his death — almost like I was contagious.

  No one knew, as far as I could tell, the link between Scotty and my father. No one had figured it out.

  Except me. And Cam.

  He was there at the funeral after all, it turned out. As we filed out of the chapel, I saw him sitting by himself, toward the back, hidden by a pillar. We locked eyes as I walked past. The look he gave me in that moment was of pure hatred. Loathing. And rage.

  In that moment, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Cam blamed me for Scotty’s death.

  And, in that moment, I realized I agreed with him.

  When I got home that evening, I exploded at my father. I threatened him, saying that if he didn’t stop dealing, stop using, I’d leave town for good and he’d never see me again. I fully expected to have to make good on my promise. But to my surprise, he, and apologized. And most importantly, he did stop dealing, and using.

  It was too late for Scotty, who paid the ultimate price. But in a way, Scotty ended up saving my father twice.

  And now, in the sickest twist of fate ever, I’m the one muling drugs, to try to save him a third time.

  God, what am I doing?

  Cam must think I learned nothing from Scotty’s death. He must think I’m essentially spitting on his grave.

  The hatred he showed for me all those years ago — and the disgust in his eyes that first day he saw me at the Ironwood MC clubhouse — both were justified. Those emotions, I can understand.

  What I don’t understand? The most confusing thing of all?

  Why it seems like maybe he’s starting to forgive me.

  19

  Hale

  I pull up to Kylie’s place the next morning with her truck, like I told her I would. It was hard as hell to leave her last night, but she needed sleep, and I needed to pull my shit together. I’ve never spent the night with a woman in my goddamn life, and last night I came damn close. The last thing I needed was to have my dick talk me into something I was gonna regret later, and end up handing her my balls in a paper bag.

  I fuckin’ missed her, though. I ain’t gonna lie about that.

  She bounces out of the front door to the house, hair up in a high ponytail, a few strands hanging loose around her face. She’s dressed simply, in a white T-shirt and faded jeans, and no-nonsense black boots.

  She looks fucking amazing. I can barely see the outline of her tits, but my cock goes on instant high alert.

  When she climbs in and slams the door, she doesn’t say hello. “Hey, can we do the drive-through at McDonalds?” she asks instead. “I’m hungry, and I didn’t have time for breakfast.”

  I don’t know how I expected her to act after what happened between us last night, but this ain’t it. I’ve had a lot of women mentally start ring shopping after I fuck them, and those chicks seem to have a lot of goddamn trouble taking no for an answer. Kylie’s the exact opposite — she acts like nothing happened.

  I glance over, figuring I’ll do the same. But for some reason, instead of doing the drive-through, I suggest so
mething else. “I got a better idea. You have time for a sit-down meal?”

  Kylie cocks her head, considering. “I suppose so, if it’s quick. I’m headed to the hospital to see Dad.”

  “You’re not going to work?”

  “Today’s my day off.” She takes in a deep breath and gives me a wry grin. “That part’s lucky, at least.”

  I pull the truck into a U-turn and head toward downtown, to a diner I went to my first day in Ironwood. Kylie seems to know it, which ain’t surprising considering how small this town is. “I haven’t been here in ages,” she remarks. “They have amazing hash browns.”

  A waitress has us seated within a minute, and Kylie pores over the menu like it’s a life-or-death situation. She orders a country style breakfast, and I get something called the hungry man. When our food comes, I watch in silent amusement as Kylie worships the hash browns, rolling her eyes as she eats. Note to self: that girl loves potatoes.

  As we demolish our food, I keep thinking back to last night, though I don’t say anything about it. This should be the day I head back to Tanner Springs with Tank. There’s no reason for me to stick around, after all. A week ago, I was chomping at the goddamn bit to get done and get the hell out of here.

  But instead, I find myself making a snap decision. One that I don’t quite understand myself.

  “I’m heading up to Tanner Springs with Tank,” I say to Kylie. “Right after you drop me off at the clubhouse.”

  Kylie’s cup stops in mid-air as she looks at me. “So, this is goodbye?” she asks, her tone casual.

  “No.” The word sounds strange in my ears. “I’m just going up for the day, to talk to my prez. I’m coming back down here again, after. For another week or so.”

  “Huh.” Kylie frowns. “So, you still have some business down here?”

  I shrug. “Yeah.”

  Kylie blinks. “What kind of business?”

  Her question pisses me off. “None of yours,” I snap.

  She rears back a little, frowning. “Jesus. You don’t need to get pissy. I was just asking.”

  “Yeah, well stop asking,” I say flatly. “Chicks always think they got a right to know what’s goin’ on with the MC. You ain’t a patched member, so you don’t need to know. Got it?”

  “Holy fuck,” Kylie breathes, whistling and rolling her eyes. “You and your boys can keep your secret handshake and your big important clubhouse stuff to yourself. I was just trying to make conversation, Cam. But I can see that’s futile with a damn caveman like you.”

  Angrily, she picks up her fork again and stabs at what’s left of her hash browns. I slump back in the booth and cross my arms. Fuck this shit.

  We don’t say another damn word for the rest of the meal. When we’re finished, I ask for the bill, and she stands up and walks out of the diner. When I’m done paying, I find her outside leaning against the truck, her jaw set. I open the driver’s side and wait for her to get in, which she does without a word.

  I drive us back to the clubhouse. I figure Kylie’s waiting for an apology from me, but she’s not gonna get one. When we pull into the parking lot, I leave the engine running and slide out of the truck.

  Kylie climbs over from the passenger’s seat to the driver’s side, and drives away without a backward glance.

  With an irritated sigh, I turn and go inside the clubhouse.

  Tank is sitting with Rourke, Mal, and Dante at the large table in the center of the room. Steaming mugs of coffee sit in front of them. Tank stands up when he sees me and stretches, lifting his chin at me.

  “What’s up, brother?”

  “Not a goddamn thing,” I snarl. “You ready to leave?”

  “Fuck, I just got up,” he grins. “Barely slept at all. These Ironwood club girls are wild as shit, brother.”

  “You leavin’ us, too, Hale?” Rourke mutters. He doesn’t look upset about it. I’ll allow, I ain’t been the most pleasant of guests.

  “I’ll be back down tonight or tomorrow,” I answer. Though I’m starting to wonder why the hell I don’t just say, ‘fuck it’ and leave. The Dos Santos shit is sorted out, far as I can tell. Everything Angel wanted me to do, I’ve done. The only think keeping me here is Kylie. Who doesn’t want me here in the first place. And after the way she took off just now, I shouldn’t give a shit what happens to her, either.

  Fuck. I should just go back to Tanner Springs for good, and forget about all of this shit. Forget about Kylie. I’m no good at this relationship bullshit. I’m not used to giving a shit what a chick thinks about me after I fuck her.

  But I know I won’t do that.

  I just want to keep an eye on her for a few more days. Make sure her dad’s out of the woods for now. Then I’ll let her go.

  “How long until you’re ready?” I growl at Tank. “I ain’t got all fuckin’ day.”

  “Jesus, what did you have for breakfast? Carnation instant bitch?” Tank laughs.

  “That’s about right,” I growl, pushing past him. “I’m grabbin’ my shit. Be ready to go in twenty.”

  A favor will kill you faster than a bullet.

  My dad’s words echo in my head over the sound of my bike as our tires eat up the road between Ironwood and Tanner Springs.

  He died five years ago. We weren’t that close, but the motherfucker knew what he was talking about sometimes.

  Scotty’s dead because he did a favor for Kylie. To save her father.

  I was pissed as hell at him for that. Pissed at everyone concerned.

  Now Kylie’s dad is sick. She could lose him for good this time. And fuck, she’s all alone. None of this is her fault. She’s been dealt a shitty fuckin’ hand. And I know she’s doin’ the best she can.

  I don’t know what I can do about it, to help her. Not exactly. But hell, something makes me want to try. At least, to be there for her for a few days. So she doesn’t feel like she’s facing it all by herself.

  And yeah, I ain’t made out of stone. I want to feel her underneath me again. I want to feel her pussy explode around my cock. Hear her whisper my name in the dark.

  I wouldn’t even mind spending the night with her.

  Warning sirens are going off in my brain. A big part of it is shouting that I’m making a huge fucking mistake, letting my dick make my decisions for me.

  But fuck it. I gotta do this. If I don’t — if I just go back to Tanner Springs and wash my hands of the whole thing — I’ll just be wondering about Kylie all the damn time anyway.

  This way, at least I can see firsthand how she’s doing. Maybe help her out a little.

  Scotty would have wanted me to do that.

  Fuck that shit. Scotty would be pissed as hell to know I fucked his girl.

  Wouldn’t he?

  The plain fact of the matter is, I don’t know.

  I don’t know anything anymore. Except that I’m going back down to Ironwood.

  And from there, we’ll see.

  When Tank and I push open the door of the clubhouse and walk in, you’d think we’d been gone for a year. Thorn looks over and yells a greeting, and then pretty soon it’s a wall of fucking hollers and fist pumps. One by one, they come over and clap me and Tank on the back. Tank grins at me and looks over to the bar.

  “Jewel, honey, what the hell?” he shouts. “What are you doin’ back behind there?”

  “Welcome back, Tank!” Jewel, our prez’s old lady, lifts her hand and waves. “I’m just filling in for an hour or so. We’re training in one of the prospects to tend bar.” Her eyes sparkle with laughter. “But Gunner has him out back repainting the picnic tables.”

  Through the crowd, three club girls, Melanie, Rachel, and Tammy, come sidling up to Tank and me. “Damn, you two get handsomer every day,” Tammy coos. “How could you leave us like that for so long?”

  “Absence makes the heart grow fonder, darlin’, don’t you know that?” Tank rasps, pulling her to him.

  “Didn’t you get enough tail down in Ironwood?” I razz him.

/>   “Ain’t no pussy like our pussy, brother.” He shoots me a suggestive leer. “Damn, it’s good to be home.”

  I watch as he wanders over to the bar, grinning from ear to ear, with Tammy and Rachel clinging to his arms. Melanie watches them too, then cocks her head at me and puts a hand on my chest. “What about you, Hale?” She pouts. “You miss us, too?”

  Not fuckin’ likely, I think to myself.

  “Sure, darlin’,” I say easily, detaching her hand. “But I gotta go talk to Angel for a bit. He around?”

  “Jewel!” Melanie calls unhappily. “Where’s Angel?”

  “He should be out back in the office,” Jewel calls back.

  “Nope, I’m right here,” Angel announces. I turn to see him striding toward me. Melanie moves away, disappointed.

  I meet Angel halfway, and he claps me on the back in greeting. “Brother. Good to have you back.”

  “Good to be back.”

  “Come grab a beer with me, and let’s go into my office to talk.”

  “Will do.”

  We approach the bar, and as we do Jewel shoots me a smile. “Welcome home, Hale!”

  “Thanks, darlin’.” I nod toward her round stomach, on which she’s resting one protective hand. “Shit, darlin’, you got bigger since I’ve been gone.”

  Jewel rolls her eyes and groans good-naturedly. “I feel like a whale. I don’t know how much bigger I can get. And I still have almost two months to go!”

  Angel catches her around the waist. “That boy’s gonna come out swinging,” he chuckles, planting a lingering kiss on his wife. “Between his mama and his daddy, he’s gonna be tough as nails.”

  “Or girl,” Jewel corrects him. “I will say, though, this baby’s a bruiser.” She looks ruefully down at her belly. “Keeps hammering away at me all day long.” She sighs. “Either way, I hope he — or she— will give me a break on the way out. Though, knowing its father, it’s gonna be a pain in the ass from the get-go.”