Going Down Easy: A Rebel Wayfarers MC & Incoherent MC Crossover Novel

by MariaLisa deMora

  Now he was stitched—twenty-two of the damned things, which he’d felt was overly enthusiastic—and bandaged, extravagantly so, and ready to go. About fucking time.

  “Don’t tear out my handiwork.” The doc flashed a smile at him, his Aussie-tinted accent still sounding strange to Jock’s ears. “You’ll be right as rain in a couple of weeks. Just go easy on anything too strenuous, yeah?”

  “God save me from medics. I’ll go easy, Bulldog.” Jock gave the man a crooked smile to cut any sting from his words. Bulldog was a friend and had been a rock for Jock since Gunny introduced them. “Thanks, brother.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Headed towards the curtain, the doc lifted a hand and waved over his shoulder, folding the rest of his fingers at the last moment, middle digit standing proud. What an asshole. “Be well, brother.”

  “I like him,” Silly said with no preamble, swung her legs off the edge of the bed, and jumped down with a little hop. She shuffled into her shoes, head dipped to look down. Jock already had one foot on the floor, so he caught her by surprise as he tugged her close. He twisted, planting the other foot so she was sandwiched between his legs. “He’s no-nonsense. Just straight to the point and taking care of business. I can see why your brothers like him.”

  “You know Gypsy?” She should, the man had started his life with the RWMC in Chicago, so it was no surprise she smiled along with her nod. “Bulldog is his woman’s brother. What are the fuckin’ chances of that?”

  “Kelsey?” Palm flat against the wall of his chest, she patted him gently. “I like her. That’s good. Good for her and Gypsy. He’s one of the good ones, you know?” She paused, hummed, and patted him again, soft and slow, her hand gliding along his sternum, almost like she was settling herself with touching him. “I’m glad she’s got family close. It’s hard enough starting over, but doing it without knowing anyone would be worse.” Fuck. She’d just described her next few months. “Now…” She lifted his hand, laughing aloud at the absurdity of the bandaging in place on his finger. “Let me unravel this puzzle and make something more manageable of it.”

  He gave her silence, patiently let her study the tape and gauze before she began to peel back the many layers. Watching her face, he saw the moment the intensity hit, giving her expression a feral cast, the same she wore when running her tattoo gun. So he gave her another few seconds, letting her drill deep into that zone she hit in her head when she was concentrating. Then he asked, “You happy, Silly?”

  “Of course.” Head tipped to one side, she angled her eyes up to catch his, then smiled softly as she looked back down. “I’ve a handsome man in front of me who I care for a great deal, and he’s letting me care for him. How could I not be happy?”

  “You’re gonna be happy again, right?”

  “Jock, I’m always happy. I’m Silly.” She had the finger stripped down to the basics, fibrous strands of tape crisscrossed over the stitches. Leaning towards the cart where she’d laid the rest, she plucked out a few small pieces of whatever she deemed acceptable, then concentrated on his finger again. “You make me happy.”

  And that right there was why he should have broken off with her weeks and weeks ago when she’d told him about the job.

  Jock grunted, throat tight. He forced out on a thick whisper a fact he knew well. “I’m a selfish asshole.” Her eyes darted up, gaze locking with his. “But I can’t see my way to give up even one of these last days with you. I’ll make you happy, Sylvia. My hand to God, I’m going to make you happy, and I’ll make sure you’re in a place to stay that way once you’re in New Orleans. Swear to God.”

  “Jock.” She stood straight, even then having to tip her chin up to look him in the face. “Baby, I didn’t mean to make you mad.”

  “Oh, I’m not mad, sweetheart.” Lie. Furious at himself and life, for giving him all of this, all of her—just to take it away again. “Just sayin’ how it’s gonna be. You with me?”

  “Jake.”

  He pressed, leaning into her as he reached his good hand to cup the back of her head. “You with me, Sylvia? I’m going to be that sweet memory, and I’m going to do my damnedest to keep making you smile and keep making you happy, long as I can. So now, are you with me?”

  “Yes, Jake.” The smile that curled her lips told him her words were a lie, too. Sad and small, it didn’t belong to the woman he knew. A woman who’d taken one look at a man across a room and set about to make him hers. “I’m with you.”

  “Damn straight you are.” He jerked his chin at his finger, which now looked more like a finger and less like a failed attempt at a balloon animal. “You done?”

  She studied his finger, watching him test the curl and reach allowed by the swelling, stitches, and light bandages, and nodded.

  “Let’s go ride.”

  They did, her hair loose in the wind, not caring what kind of tangles it bought her at the end of it. He aimed the bike back to the remote lake where he’d been the night before. Slowing, he smiled at how she clutched him when he cautioned her to be still as he turned onto the narrow, potholed dirt drive. Riding the ridge between the ruts, the headlight carved a path through the dark and trees, folding the noise of the bike back around them until it felt like his skin was vibrating. There was a curve at the end, and once he rounded that, her hands clutched again, this not out of fear but a reaction to the beauty spread out before them.

  The moon had risen, bright and well on its way to full, only a tiny crescent carved from one edge. The wind was low and slow, but it rippled the surface of the water enough to capture that light and cast it back a thousand different sparkling ways.

  Jock rolled onto the concrete pad beside the cabin, heeled the kickstand down as he killed the engine. Silence rushed in where only noise existed a moment before, just in time for that to be broken by her reverent whisper, the one word singing out long and low. “Baby.” He heard the inrush of air as she sucked in a breath, only to push out a fraction of it on another whisper. “Jake, this is so beautiful.”

  “No, Silly.” He leaned against her and turned his head to see she was looking at him. “You’re beautiful. This is God’s grace at work.”

  Jock found the porch swing was far more appealing when shared with Silly. Boots and shoes lying in a tangle on the wood of the porch, the seat of the swing still warm from the day’s sun, he rested sideways, knees bent while Silly reclined against his chest. She turned partly, and he caught her before she could slip, her so enthralled by the moon on the water or the stars beyond that she didn’t seem to notice. Or she trusted him to keep her safe. Which he’d do, always.

  “Gunny owns this?” Soft and sweet, she cuddled closer as night drew down the dew, chilling the air. “You come here often?”

  “Not often, no. And it’s worth sayin’, never when he’s here just him and Shar.” He chuckled. “When he brings the kids, makes it a family event, that’s another matter. Tank likes the water and his pups, and loves his kids and Shar. My Tankster would stand between those kids and a hurricane if he had to.”

  “Tank.” She snorted, then said fondly, “His name so suits him.”

  “That it does.”

  “What will you do with him when you help me move?” Jock swallowed at the change in her tone, gone from warm and sweet to flat and sad in a moment. “You won’t have to board him, will you?”

  “Nah, Gunny’s already said he’d be happy to keep him as long as I need.” Jock stroked up her side, tangling his fingers in her hair. “Cade is pleased that her Tank is gonna be there for a good, long visit.”

  “She’s a cutie.”

  “That she is.” He teased a knot out, then gently searched until he found another and started to work on that one. “You need a bandana when we head out, grab one out of my sidebag, yeah?”

  “Yeah.” Silly shifted. “Am I crushing you?”

  “Nah, woman. You’re light as a feather.” She laughed, and he watched her face, needing to see that joy. “Long as you don’t crush anything vital, y
ou can stay like this long as you want.”

  “Wouldn’t want to do that.” Some of the happy left her expression. He’d opened his mouth to ask why when she added, “You might want your own Cade one day.”

  Her way of moving on. He tried to remind himself she wasn’t being flip, or easy, because nothing in the entire process had been an easy decision. It’d been hard, much as it should have been. This was Silly’s way of creating distance, building a future in her mind where Jock would be happy, have kids, find love. So, even if it killed him to do it, he’d give that to her.

  “Yeah.” Jock looked out at the lake, soft sounds of waves lapping on the shore the only sounds for a few minutes. “One day.”

  ***

  Silly

  She stared at the scattering of boxes that lined the walls, stacked in little piles. Her art room had produced the highest number of packed and taped boxes, and she’d been meticulous about how things were stored and labeled. Silly had moved more than once and knew this end was actually the easiest part, so she’d do what was needed to make the other half easier. A portion of the boxes would be going into a storage unit in Louisiana, and the remainder to the small apartment she’d rented there. The whole of her things was enough to fill a medium-sized moving truck, currently sitting at the curb outside, ready to begin the southwards trek. They’d begin in Fort Wayne, with Mason and the other boys tomorrow, and then her time spent in the north would be over, a new chapter in her life in Louisiana awaiting. I should be more excited.

  Noise from the other room pulled her attention, and she glanced over her shoulder.

  Jock was striding through the room with an even pace, the footboard of her bed balanced in his arms. Without being asked, he’d put himself in charge of the move, organizing the truck, getting a half dozen Rebel members from the Chicago chapter to come help with the heavy items. He’d forced her to take breaks, even when she didn’t want to, becoming bossy in a way she didn’t recognize, but liked. He’d ordered various RWMC prospects to make fast food runs, to make trips to the store when she ran out of labels, and to the bar just down the street to buy a couple of backdoor six-packs.

  True to his word, anything he could do to make it easier, he had.

  That didn’t mean it was easy.

  Since that night they’d spent on the lakeshore, talking through to the morning so she had the vision of the sun kissing rippling wavelets in her memories, he’d been everywhere she looked. Talking to Ernie, talking to Mason and Gunny, talking to anyone he could in order to take a burden off her shoulders.

  Silly drifted through the emptying rooms, mentally cataloging the few things left to manage, and realized they’d be done in another forty-five minutes, tops. She stood still for a moment, then dug her phone out and made a call of her own to set in motion what she’d planned for the rest of their evening.

  It’d be another opportunity to create a shared memory, something to hold tight to after this move was done. Sifting through the moments she and Jock had shared over the past few weeks, her traitorous brain latched onto one that was beautiful but made her ache inside.

  Silly knew she was asking for pain, but this was what they’d always done, talked and sorted through what everything meant to the other, until there could be a balance in how they looked at things. “How many kids you want?”

  The way he stilled underneath her, she knew he didn’t want to answer. He’d been gently deflecting her comments or questions that spoke to a future where they weren’t together, but it was time to move past that into what they could still have between them with a thousand miles to cross. Friends, she hoped and prayed, but honestly, she’d take anything he gave her.

  She felt his stillness go to rigidity as she confessed, “I’ve always wanted a big family. Only child here, as you know, and my playmates and friends were my cousins growing up. The ones who haven’t messed up in big ways have moved on and found their own families, building lives independent of what we knew. Right now, it’s just me, but I don’t want that forever.” She sucked in a breath. “Even with economy and costs to consider, I’d still want at least two.”

  “Two would be a blessing.” His voice was torn and ragged, breaking apart in the nighttime air, and she heard and felt his pulse begin to race. “Two would be God’s finger in my life, giving me beauty.”

  “True words.” Smoothing his shirt with her hand, she played with the buttons on the front. “Boys or girls?”

  “One of each,” he told her, the torn and ragged voice no easier to listen to. With the painful words came a touch at her temple, his fingers gliding along her hairline. “Boy and a girl, best of both worlds.”

  “Same.” The ever-present knot in her throat swelled so she could scarcely get the words out. “Pass along my love of all things beautiful to both of them. Give them room to explore what makes them happy, and help guide them to keeping it.”

  “Give my boy the knowledge of how to protect what matters, give my girl the lesson of knowing her worth.” His fingers slid into her hair and he gripped, tipping her face up to his. “Let her know it wasn’t only okay to be what she needed to be, but by giving that to the world, giving it to a man, she’d be creating her own kind of beauty.” He closed the distance between them as he spoke, so he finished the final words with lips brushing against hers. “Show my boy what it means to be gifted the heart of a good woman and lend her his strength in return, give her a way to hold onto happiness.”

  “Jock.” She’d scarcely finished the final sound before he took her mouth, gentle and searching at first, lips working against hers in a way that took her breath away with the beauty of the touch. Tongue spearing into her mouth, he took everything she offered and gave it back abundantly, taking them on a high spiral until she was panting against him.

  He broke the kiss, bringing his lips to her forehead, where he pressed them for a long time, their breathing slowing, sounds of the lakeshore returning. Jock murmured, “You’re going to be a brilliant mother, Sylvia. All you have to give, the love you hold inside, you’re going to be everything.”

  She broke free from the memory and looked to the door just as he walked through. “Jock, are you nearly finished?” Holding out a hand, she beckoned him to her, smiling when he threaded his fingers with hers.

  “Yeah, baby. One last trip and I think we’re golden.” Three men walked in behind him, and he gestured towards the boxes wordlessly. “Landlord said to leave the keys on the kitchen counter, right?” She nodded. “Then do that, and we’ll head down.”

  “I’ve got a stop I want us to make.” He shrugged and smiled, happy she was giving him something else she needed. “It might take a while,” she warned, and he used their joined hands to pull her closer.

  “No hardship, Silly, spendin’ time with you.”

  She rolled up high on her toes and he bent deep, giving her what she wanted—his mouth on hers, tongue slipping between her lips to stroke against hers.

  “We’ll see what you say in a few hours.”

  ***

  Jock

  He huffed out a breath that hitched in the middle, burrowed his face into the bend of his elbow a little deeper, and schooled himself to stillness.

  The leather underneath him creaked, pressure deepened on his hip, and heat flared all along his side where Silly was leaning close.

  “Forty minutes more, give or take. You need a break?” Her muttered question was different from her normal speech, deeper and controlled, because Silly was in the zone. He shook his head, and she muttered, “Right then, be still.” The buzz of her tattoo gun racketed loud in the room. “Another section of outlines, and we’ll be done for today.”

  “What’s the next step?” He gritted his teeth, trying to hold a groan at bay when her needle danced across his spine. “Jesus,” he muttered, then swallowed hard. “Fuck, that’s tender.”

  “Next step,” she started, ignoring the other parts as just a reaction, not a request to pause, “will be to color in what I want, and s
hade all the rest. This is the longest session and covers a large area of skin, but once the outline’s in place we’ll let it heal, and then I can do the other in smaller chunks.” The buzz stopped, and the burn subsided. He felt her distance herself slightly, then her forearm settled against his low back. “I didn’t think you’d be down to do the full outline today, but we’re nearly done. Your back is holding up really well. I’m pleased.”

  “You gonna show it to me?” She’d asked if he needed to see what she’d planned for the big back piece before she started or if he trusted her. Without blinking an eye, he’d stripped off his shirt and lain on the table.

  “If you want.” She paused and adjusted again. “When you want.”

  Jock didn’t give a shit what it was. He knew her, and he knew it’d be stunning, no matter what it depicted. He’d watched her enough to know she always made the artwork personal to the client, and she knew him better than anyone else did. Jock figured he’d come out way ahead on this, no matter what. Her wanting to start such a big tattoo now meant they’d have to schedule significant chunks of time out into the future for her to keep working on it and eventually finish.

  Speaking to that knowledge, and answering her unspoken question, he simply said, “I’m good.”

  I Want It

  Jock

  “Baby.” Her whisper was guttural, hot breath gusting against his neck as she leaned her forehead into the side of his jaw. Jock was curled over her back, chest pressed tight as he could while still fucking her hard.

  It was the second night on the road, and he’d stopped them early enough in Memphis to give her a private, guided tour of Graceland, since Silly was a not-so-secret Elvis fan. Two hours of his life he’d never get back, but it had made her grin bigger than he’d seen in months. She’d loved the whole experience, and once they got back to the gift shop and their guide had handed them off to the retail personnel, she’d splurged on every tchotchke the place could print a picture of the two of them on. The image had been taken with them posed in front of a backdrop that made it look like they were wandering in front of the estate gates, his arm over her shoulders and Silly cuddled into his side. He’d stopped arguing after a magnet, button, bigger button, snow globe, and coffee mug had made an appearance on the counter next to the register. Jock had let her get busy looking at shirts and bought a second set of all those to have for himself, then threw three tees for her into the bag, too. Chin tipped up, she’d grinned at him, teeth grazing across her bottom lip in a promising way.