Bones (Rebel Wayfarers MC Book 10)

by MariaLisa deMora

  I love her.

  This wasn’t a new thought. God knew Bones had understood her pull on him for a long time now, recognized how she’d tied his heart into knots months ago. But telling himself this now, when she was so embedded in his life, this was giving himself permission to believe.

  Only one who is perfect for me.

  No one else like her in the world.

  Mine.

  Ester glanced at the windows and caught sight of him standing there, watching her. Her smile, already so full of love, of life, became even more brilliant. Slowly raising one hand to the level of her face, she waved at Bones. The smallest crook of her fingers, followed by a wrinkled nose when one of the birds shifted, moving from her thumb to a fingertip to chase a seed trapped between her fingers. Ester’s mouth dropped open at the feeling of the bird’s beak tapping and pecking, and Bones read her lips when she encouraged the feathered creature, telling it, “Good job.”

  The rumble of bikes outside pulled his attention and Bones walked to the front door, opening and stepping to one side as Road Runner and Gunny walked inside. The men greeted him with wrist clasps and shoulder bumps, and they were walking across the living room towards Bones’ office when the back door to the kitchen opened, Ester running towards Bones, prospect at her heels.

  “Did you see? Did you see?” Her excitement and pleasure were contagious, and Bones couldn’t have stopped his smile as he looked down at her sweetly upturned face. “Me and Crowder made friends.”

  “Who is Crowder, my Ester?” Fingertip to her temple, he stroked a strand of hair back, tucking it behind her ear. “One of your feathered friends?”

  She stretched up, offering her lips and he took them, giving her what she wanted even as he took some of his own back, sweeping into her mouth with his tongue, eating down the soft moan the motion and contact pulled from her. She relaxed back so her heels were on the floor, leaning against him as she laughed. “No, silly. Caleb is Crowder. He’s also Plowboy, which is senseless since he’s from Oklahoma instead of Kansas. Of the three, he asked me to pick, and I like peas. So he’s Crowder.” She pulled away slightly, smiling up. “I don’t name birds.”

  “You like Crowder?” She hadn’t noticed the other two men yet, and Bones was afraid of frightening her, trying to determine the best way to draw them to her attention. “I’m glad you like my brothers, Ester. You like Road Runner, too.” She nodded, answer enough for both his question and statement. “I have another brother here I’d like you to meet.” Suddenly tense muscles telegraphed her unease, but he’d gotten her past meeting Plowboy this morning, his selection of the prospect intentional, the kid’s physique not powerful or intimidating. He’d grow into himself in a few years, but for now, he could be Ester’s little brother. As Myron is her big one, Bones thought, then set that aside.

  Bones turned them, keeping Ester tucked against his side, arm tight around her shoulders. “This is Gunny. I trust him—”

  Ester surprised him by pulling away, but not in the direction he had anticipated, not away from the two men, but towards them. “I know you.” Two strides and she was in front of Gunny who had leaned his torso backwards, but kept his feet firmly planted. “I know you.” She glanced to the side, tossing a casual, “Hey, Road.” Attention back to Gunny, she didn’t pay attention to Bones as he slid in behind her, wrapping his arm around her chest. “You’re the question asker.”

  “The fuck’s she talkin’ about, brother?” Gunny’s gaze remained fixed on Ester, but the question was for Bones.

  “No idea.” Bones leaned over her shoulder so he could see her face, noting with some surprise she didn’t appear frightened, nor did she look angry. If anything, she seemed interested, like Gunny was a puzzle she needed to figure out. “Where do you know Gunny from, beauty?”

  She kept talking as if there’d been no interruption. “And the dog feeder.” Tilting her head, she cut her eyes to Bones. “Dogs know good from bad.” Gaze back to Gunny, she continued, “He’s good. Asks loud when it’s important. Talks soft to the damaged ones. I like your family, Bones. I like your brothers. Crowder was patient with the birds, Road was patient with me, and Gunny’s patient with the pups. That’s what he calls ‘em, too, his pups.”

  “You seen me at the shelter.” Gunny’s chin lifted, and then came down in a single, slow nod. “I remember, I seen you too. Didn’t know you then, and you look—” His gaze drifted down and back up. “—a tad different these days.” Glancing over at Bones, Gunny told him, “Know her from the animal shelter. I work with a couple of rescue groups, keep track of surrendered breeds that are gonna need special homes, try to get ‘em settled before their date’s up. Your Ester was a volunteer at the Chicago shelter for a while, saw her when I was comin’ in and out for regional rescues.”

  “Until the bus stopped running that way.” Ester shrugged. “No good place to stay that’s close, so I had to find a different route. Different days of change. You’re a good man, Gunny. I’m glad Bones likes you.”

  “Do you like dogs so much, Ester?” Bones’ out-of-the-blue question earned him another tilt of her head, followed by a slow smile.

  “You want a pup.” Bottom lip captured between her teeth, Ester waited, knowing him well enough that the question wasn’t something he could pretend to forget asking. When he didn’t respond, the corners of her mouth quirked up, lips curling as she said playfully, “You want to have a pup with me.”

  “God, you’re so fucked.” Road Runner was laughing as he spoke, chin dropping so his grin was aimed towards the floor. “Very, very fucked.”

  “Road Runner.” Ester’s tone was scolding, humor threading through her words. “Look at him. He wants to have a pup with me.” Turning to Gunny, she asked, “What kind of pup do you see Bones with? I like ‘em all, so I can wash the wish, wish the wash.” She raised one arm, wagging her hand back and forth. “He’s all proper and hard to impress, so it’ll hafta be a good ‘un. Know some good ‘uns?”

  “You do not have a favorite breed?” Bones would be surprised if this were the case; while Ester liked many things, she didn’t shy away from making her preferences clear.

  “I do!” Squealing with excitement, she whirled in place, giving Road Runner and Gunny her back, facing Bones. Palms on his biceps, she lifted up, mouth to his ear and told him in a stage whisper that all could hear, “Rescue is my favorite breed.”

  Arms around her, Bones held her tight, face tucked into her neck as he laughed along with his woman and his brothers.

  ***

  Retreating to the office, Bones kissed the tip of Ester’s nose before closing the door on her teasing sing-song of questions. Plowboy would just have to deal with a playful Ester until Road Runner and Gunny had given him the information they held.

  Turning from the door, he was surprised to see the two men standing shoulder-to-shoulder in the middle of the room. “What is it?” Stepping around them, he made his way to the desk, leaning his ass against the edge. “Gunny, you said you found something. Is it to do with Watcher?”

  “Wasn’t there. Didn’t have a chance to catch the plane in time.” Gunny started talking, then paused, drawing in a deep breath. “Heard how you killed Deacon, man.”

  “Brutal shit, brother.” Road Runner shifted, dragging a chair close and sitting, slumping against the arm. “Beat his ass.”

  “Beat his fuckin’ head in, what I heard.” Gunny picked up the narrative. “Hurley said you cracked his fuckin’ melon open, scooped out his brains and was fingerpaintin’ with ‘em.”

  “I heard you took on the room singlehandedly, pushing Opie to rush through, not carin’ if you blew up the whole house.” Road Runner looked up at Gunny. “Heard he rode the man for a full eight seconds. Yeehaw, motherfucker.”

  Gunny nodded, found his own chair, and swung around on it, arms crossed on the back. “What I heard, too. Caught that in an alley down by Gary on my way up here. Some wild shit rolling all through town about what you did. Rolling through all
the towns. Myron routed a call my way yesterday, clubs in Memphis want to talk. First time since Hoss put a hurting on ‘em, those motherfuckers are knocking on our goddamned door.”

  “This is good.” Road Runner nodded at Gunny, then turned to Bones. “Really good.”

  “Fuck.” Bones took a deep breath, then blew it out in a heavy sigh. “Blowback from anyone? Blowback on anyone?”

  “Nada—” Road Runner began, then all three men twisted to the door when it opened.

  Ester’s head poked in, and she looked at Bones, face pale. The sound of her vibrating question was nearly inaudible. “Um?” From where he stood he could see her shaking, and he opened his arms, cradling her to his chest when she ran to him, her arms wrapping around him so tightly he could feel her trembling. Through the open doorway behind her came six men, all Rebels, followed closely by Plowboy who looked worried, probably because Ester was afraid, and because he hadn’t warned Bones about the new visitors.

  Palm to the back of her head, he held Ester to him as he stared at the men. “Brothers, I know you did not intend disrespect, but you should have contacted me.”

  Shades was the only current Chicago member in the room, other than Bones and Road Runner. All the rest were from Fort Wayne, and seeing so many here from Mason’s adopted town gave Bones a chill—Bear, Hoss, Slate, Gypsy, and Tequila. “Good to see you. We”—with the fingers of one hand, he gestured towards the now standing Road Runner and Gunny—“were beginning a conversation about some mutual friends.” No way could they continue their discussion now, not with both Ester and a prospect in the room, and the sudden appearance of the group made Bones unwilling to continue in any case. Apparently Road Runner and Gunny didn’t know these men were coming, but just as clearly from their expressions, all these men knew who they’d find. “My Ester is unaccustomed to so many visitors.”

  “I get that, brother.” Slate, with a hangdog look on his face, had the good sense to apologize. “Sorry about spookin’ her. Needed to get to you in a hurry. You got somewhere safe you can have her hang?” The emphasis on the single word wasn’t lost on Bones, and he looked at Slate sharply. “You do, then you need to get her there, brother.”

  Torn, because Ester needed him, that much was clear. She hadn’t made a peep since she’d latched on to him, but also hadn’t stopped trembling. His brothers also needed him, and whatever they had to share was either about a developing threat, or would put Ester under threat if she knew. I cannot send her away. Not again. With a deep breath, he gave Slate this answer. “She is safest at my side.”

  “Gonna be some sketch shit, man.” That was from Gypsy, a man Bones didn’t know well, and most of what he did know was from Gypsy’s preclub life, back when he was a police officer in a Chicago suburb. The path from police to a patched member had been rocky, but Bones knew Mason trusted the man. “Sure you want her hearin’ it?”

  “You being here, in my home, means there is some urgency. If there were not a threat that impacted me, you would not be here, you would have called me and others to the clubhouse. My home has been attacked once, and Ester was here.” She scrubbed her cheek against his chest, and Bones felt her fingers wrapping around the chain belt at his waist. Holding on, in the face of what probably seemed like a coordinated effort to remove her. “Ester knows my life. She is no stranger to doing needful things on her own. Tell me.”

  A moment passed, then another, as Bear and Slate stared at each other, then across the room to where Gunny stood.

  “You been poking around.” That was Hoss, and Bones looked at him to see he, too, was watching Gunny. “Been poking around since before Watcher went down. We think you’ve finally poked the bear one too many times.”

  “The fuck?” Clearly confused, Gunny swung out an arm, palm up. “Who you think I’ve been poking?”

  “Got your shit in Kentucky you’ve been looking into. A couple of hours ago, the Outrider clubhouse in Lexington went up in flames. Word is three confirmed, likely another couple by the time it cools off enough for them to get into the place. Those three confirmed? Your informants.” Gunny grunted, and Hoss continued, “Word also is those three had been seen in Chicago recently. You meet with them up here?”

  Gunny’s head swung back and forth, followed by a firm, “Fuck no. I keep that shit far away.”

  “As expected, brother.” Slate shook his head. “Know you’re careful. Know you keep shit from landing on our doorstep. Need to know what you’re after.”

  “Where is Chismoso?” Bones asked the question and then marked the surprise of nearly every man except Slate. “You knew he was in Chicago, yes?” Bear and Gypsy each shook their head, glancing to Gunny, who was also shaking his. “Shades, you and Slate knew, were in the office when I talked to Mason. He never said anything to others?”

  Slate shrugged, looking uncomfortable. “Shit’s been busy. Know you said the man sounded solid, but with everything we have going on, Mason didn’t feel it was time to push that lever. We were sitting on that, and then your shit hit the fan, then we got a solid on Mela, then Juanita hit the wind. Fuck, man. It’s been chaos for a while now.”

  “Truth.” Bones felt Ester relax slightly, her fingers running up and down his sides as her stranglehold on his belt eased. He lifted his eyes to Gunny. “Tell me about Kentucky. What did you come here to share?”

  “You know the trail I been following.” A statement, and Bones held his gaze, waiting. “Found fruit. Small time Chicago gangster wound up down there years ago, started working with the Columbians, blazing a path through the state for them. Seems he had a way of dealing with those distributors who didn’t agree on his plans.” Even knowing Gunny was skirting the topic, his meaning was clear. “If they tried to clean up, the gangster would deal, sometimes without a payday. Seemed to be working his way into an organization, but we couldn’t figure out whose. Then, we got a lead on who he was working up the ladder to being. Morgan. No fuckin’ surprise there. Might be tied to things with Watcher and Duck, but it’s murky. Wanted to run the ideas past you.”

  “Okay. So then why are you here now?” Bones swept the rest of the men with a glance, coming back to Slate. “Tell me, Slate.”

  “Gunny don’t know.” Slate tipped his head to the side. “Myron found a pic. You know we’re still sweeping anything to do with Diamante.” Bones nodded. “Morgan’s been in Kentucky recently.”

  “Why does that merit the travel of so many in unsettled times? You all”—Bones swept his hand, indicating the Fort Wayne members—“are here. There must be a reason to bring you from home and family.”

  Slate eyed Ester, and Bones noted how his eyes narrowed at her grip around his waist. “Sketch, like Gypsy said.” Bones didn’t move, didn’t speak, waiting. “Pic gave us a location, found a couple of talkers there. Morgan’s jawin’ to a lotta folks about Cali. About you. About the shit went down there. You ain’t his favorite person, Bones.”

  Suddenly the arrival of the men made total sense, and Bones relaxed slightly. “He is making this personal.” Slate nodded, and Bones felt the corners of his mouth tip up. “You are my insurance.” Another nod from Slate, followed by a chin tip from Bear. “Give me a minute.” He shifted Ester to one side, letting her head stay buried against him. “Plowboy, come with us, please.”

  “Crowder.” Ester’s mumble came from somewhere near his chest, and Bones chuckled.

  Our time

  Ester

  After that, the time I came to call our February of Absence, Bones was seldom away for more than hours at a time. The physicality that had marked our friendship was more pronounced, a change I welcomed, because each touch, each gesture spoke of his feelings. He knew the things I had told him, questioned some, and surmised the remainder. I didn’t think he was far off the target with his suspicions, but since they were silent, I couldn’t say yea or nay.

  One night, he lay between my legs, shoulders shoving my knees wide apart, candles in the room casting flickering light reflected by the windows a
nd mirrors. He traced the thick scar that connected my vaginal opening with my anus, gaze following the trail of his fingertips, his light and gentle touch making me shiver. Without lifting his eyes, he asked, “Does this cause you pain, Ester?”

  I spoke truthfully, something he’d asked of me and I vowed to always do. Tell me if I frighten you, he’d said. Tell me if I hurt you, in even the smallest of ways, my beauty. Promise me. The last had been urgent, important enough he had paused midstroke, staying buried inside me, his heat adding to the already molten core inside me. Teased and adrift at his sudden stillness, I’d promised. I always keep my promises.

  So now, I spoke the truth, for the moment, for the present, and for the past. “Right now, no. That tickles a little, but it’s not painful. It doesn’t hurt anymore; pains now are a nay. Pains past, yes, in the execution and realization, even in the sufferance afterwards. It’s ugly.” I paused, then apologized for him having to see the scar, purple and raised, writhing through a private space where I’d never considered eyes being laid, or gazes gazed. “I’m sorry.”

  “Why are you sorry, my love?” That first time to hear those words, my eyes drifted closed in the ecstasy of the moment. Another gift, and this one I would hold forever in my head. “Ester.” His tone lacked the amusement I had expected, because he usually liked how over the top I would get when he was kind.

  “Ester, look at me, please.” Seeing him beyond my opening lashes, he was blurry at first, then jumped into focus, the anger on his face surprising the air from my body. Like a whip, his words lashed the air, not directed at me, but still the fury simmered over my skin from where he lay, belly down on the mattress, head canted so his cheek rested on my thigh.