by Zoey Parker
Ellie was getting a dose of MC love from the old ladies as well, and I’m sure they were giving her more than she was used to—gifts and casseroles and baby supplies and what-have-you. The house was filled with boxes, tissue papers, bags, and baby stuff. Our lives had been blown into hurricane insta-family, and I can’t say that either one of us was completely comfortable with it.
Add to that, the wedding—which we weren’t talking about with the MC, but we still had to go and get the paperwork and blood tests and all the civil government crap sorted out. Thank fuck her grandmother hadn’t included a clause requiring a church wedding.
The past couple days had gotten a little weird with Ellie, though. She wasn’t talking to me much, seemed like she was trying to keep a distance. Pulling on her sleeve a lot, she seemed skittish and jittery. I figured it was just the stress of everything going down.
Hell, to be honest, I wasn’t talking much to her, either. It was like the less we spent time together, the less we had to deal with putting the kibosh on our physical attraction—which seemed not to be going away anytime soon. I couldn’t be around her—hell, I couldn’t even think about her—without wanting her. So, for the next six months, it looked like avoidance would be our mutual go-to modus operandi.
Aside from that, things had eased up with regard to the fuckwit stalker who had disappeared from radar since the installation of the security system—which could be either a good or a bad sign.
Biggest thing left over: I still hadn’t gotten to the bottom of the threat on the rock note. So, that needed sorting. ASAP. I just wasn’t sure of the best way to tap Ellie for the deets, whatever she knew.
“Yo, Grath, come back here when you got a minute,” I called out when I saw him escorting his latest client to the front of the shop.
He tipped his chin up to me.
I sat back down at my desk and waited, playing with the damn note between my fingers. I had a bad feeling about it, and wanted to run my theory by him before acting on it. Because if my gut was right…
“Whatchu want?” He was at my door.
“You remember this?” I flipped the dirty wrinkled note around to face him.
“Yeah.” He snagged it to refresh his memory of the words. Looked at it a moment, set it back down on my desktop. “You ever show it to Ellie? Ask her about it?”
“No, not yet. It slipped through the cracks, been crazy, last few days.”
“I hear you. But what’s stopping you now?”
“Just a feeling. This note…it makes it sound like she’s guilty of something, like something bad went down, and she was in on it. I don’t know. Pisses me off, reading it. She doesn’t seem like the type…from everything she’s said, I can’t believe…”
“…that she’d do something illegal, with or for this asswipe. I hear you, bruh. She talk to you much, about him? What’s her take?”
“Yeah, she talked. Sounded like she wanted nothing to do with him. Said they’d dated briefly, he got rough on her once—fuckin’ knocked her to the ground with a cheekbone punch. She been trying to lose his ass ever since. I don’t think she’d have been asking him for any favors, not since that. This note—it doesn’t add up.”
“Agreed. So why haven’t you asked her?”
“I got a gut feeling she wouldn’t tell me if there was something she did. I don’t think she’d outright lie to me, but she needs me, she’s walking on eggshells around me the last couple o’ days. Things are…they got kinda complicated…”
“You fuckin’ fucked her, didn’t you? Oh man, way to fuck it right up.” Grath had the balls to laugh right in my face. He was one of the very few human beings who could get away with that. And yeah, I totally deserved it.
Not that I would let him do it for long. I shut that shit right down. “Shut the fuck up.”
That only made him laugh harder. “She’s effectively your sister-in-law! She’s gonna be in your life forever, bruh. You know better. Oh, you are fucked.” He cracked up again.
“You don’t think I know that? I know. So shut it. We aren’t doing that anymore. Shut that shit down. I don’t need to hear it. It’s sorted.”
“Riiiight. It’s sorted.” He chuckled. “Watching you two together, it was inevitable. Obvious. That’s fucking hysterical!—Ah, I needed that laugh. That felt great. Thanks, man. Owe you.”
I side-eyed him, then got back to the point. “Thing is, she’s really comfortable with you, man. That thing you do with women, get them to talk…think you could give it a go, get the real story on what she had this Brian asshole do for her?”
He smiled slyly. “Honey, don’t be jealous. Can I help it that the women all just love me more? They can’t resist a gorgeous gay man. They are as moths to my flame.”
“Easy there, Ricky Martin.”
“Of course I’ll talk to her. You want me to go now? My next client isn’t due for a few hours. Is she still at your place?—Speaking of, how long is she staying with you? You gonna let her cramp your nasty-ass bachelor style for much longer? Seems out of character, sweetie.”
“Grath, cut it with the sweet talk. You had your fun. I’m serious.”
“You are so easy to rile. So. Hard. To resist.” But finally, he sat his ass down and got real. “Okay, I’m good. So talk. What’s the deal with you two? You putting up with her and the baby in your space for long?—I get that you wanna know the kid, but playing the little family is not your style, amigo. When are they moving out?”
I looked him dead in the eye a minute before admitting, “They’re not. Not for a while.”
His eyebrows shot up. “And how long is a while?”
“Six months.”
“Six months? That’s a very specific time frame. Why six months? Give me the scoop.”
I looked at the desk, knowing if the case were turned around and it were him and not me in the hotspot, I’d be pissed if he didn’t tell me what was going down. So I shared.
“Peter’s got some heart troubles, and he’s looking at a bunch of medical stuff coming up in the next few years. She has a trust fund she can’t get to unless she marries within a few days now, and she won’t get it until she’s been married for six months. We’re doin’ that. Then she’ll get the money, Peter can get all he needs, she won’t be up shit creek for it, and we get a divorce and go on with our lives.”
Grath’s eyes widened throughout the telling, and he blew out a long breath. “Wow. That’s intense. Peter—he’s gonna be alright?”
“Yeah. He is. He’s already had the worst of it sorted, had an operation a number of weeks ago. He’s doing okay. Gotta get bigger and stronger for the next stuff. But he’s gonna be okay.” My saying it would make it so. I willed it to be true, every time I thought about it. Peter would be okay. Any other outcome was unthinkable.
Grath totally got it. “Yeah, bruh, he is. I get it. No rocking the boat too hard with Ellie. Under enough pressure. Yeah, I’m more than happy to go talk to her. She home now?”
“Should be. We’re headed to the courthouse later, get the paperwork sorted.”
“When were you going to share with the MC, man? This stuff, it’s important, it gets shared.”
I shook my head. “On the DL. Since it’s temporary, just for her and Peter and the trust fund, I didn’t see any reason to make a big announcement. It’ll be over soon enough. We’re doing it under radar, you know? Not making a big deal.”
“Okay. Right. Not a big deal.” He smirked at me. “Check back in with me in six months. I’m starting a pool.” Then he winked at me, snagged the stalker note off my desk, folded it and stuffed it in a pocket, and turned to leave.
Before he even got out my office door, he turned back to me. “You do know I gotta share, right, man? Guys are gonna wonder, might lose some respect for Ellie if they think too long about her living with you for six months, baby-mama to your brother’s kid, no other official word from you on what’s going on. You gotta rep, my friend, and it ain’t of an angel. They’re gonna start t
hinkin’ a lot less of that lady, you don’t tell ’em what’s up. It’ll be better for Ellie, you share. Makes her an official old lady, be good for her. If you keep your hands off o’ her, that’s your business. Not that we won’t be paying attention. Because you know we will.” He laughed and winked again, and this time he got his ass out of my office.
“Get the fuck out of here.”
I watched him as he strutted to the front door of the shop. He clapped his hands once and rubbed them together, beaming at Trini. “Whoo boy, this is going to be fun!”
Not quite. “Whatever you do, do not ring the doorbell,” I called. He gave me an overhead thumbs-up.
Chapter 14
Ellie
I heard a knocking at the door just as I was putting Peter down for his early afternoon nap. The kid took more naps than a cat. But he was pretty cute, so I let him get away with it.
I peeked through the window to the side of the door before opening it; after the scare with Brian, I was taking no chances. I smiled when I saw Grath there. The guy was easy to hang with, one of those people whom everybody likes. His body said badass, but his eyes said teddy-bear/comedian. It was hard not to feel better just being around him.
He didn’t come alone, however. The guy with him was new to me—he hadn’t been to the house before, and I know I hadn’t seen him around with the rest of the MC guys. Grath was all tall and bulky and just generally hugantic and covered in rather beautiful ink from his neck and collarbone to his wrists—and probably a lot more than that. In contrast, this new guy was a much more slim and smooth type—way more clean-cut looking. In fact, he looked like he could play a G-man out of Hollywood. Together, they looked like Mutt and Jeff. Not that I had any idea who Mutt and Jeff were or what they looked like; it was just something my mother used to say, connoting opposites. Aw, crap. I was becoming my mother.
He caught my eye through the window and said sotto voce, “Ellie, girl, knock-knock, sweetie. We’ve come to rescue you from the stench of Jack-o’s laundry.”
I giggled and swung the door open wide for the two men. I didn’t even care who guy number two was; Grath scored so high on my chart of cool peeps, I’d let in just about anyone he might bring, ever. I was definitely in the category of fan-girl to Grath’s fabulous/cool factor.
Maybe it also had to do with the starvation-for-adult-interaction thing that I was experiencing. Since Jack and I had agreed to table sex—gah! Not like that! Not to have table sex. The agreement to table the sex option—i.e., to not have sex, period. That agreement.
Since our agreement on that issue, I’d been kind of avoiding him, just to give us each space and not to get in each other’s way. This meant that almost all of my human interaction was now relegated—again—to being between me and my baby boy. In itself, this was normal and great and right for new mamas. I knew that. But I couldn’t help missing full sentences and interchanging ideas.
Grath and mystery man’s appearance was like a get-out-of-jail-free card. They couldn’t have come at a better time, either, with Peter just out in a brand new milk-induced coma. I likely had a good two hours of free time before his next waking cycle began.
“How’s the beautiful mamacita doing today?” Grath pulled me into a bear hug.
“I’m good. Chugging along. You good?” I returned the volley.
“All good. Ellie-ba-dellie, I want you to meet Steph, my partner.” He grabbed and squeezed Steph’s hand very quickly before continuing like a freight train. “Steph, this is the incredible woman I told you about. Mother to the miracle baby. Is he up?” Grath was looking around, as if Peter could come walking out of one of the back rooms at any moment. Steph was just looking at me appraisingly, not without some humor at his partner’s apparent ADHD.
I had guessed earlier that Grath might be gay; he wasn’t flamboyant, but there was just that little something in his profusive personality to suggest it. Now Steph’s appearance on the scene was confirmation. They looked really good together, these two, and I was glad to see that for Grath, even though I barely knew him. It was always good to see happy, well-matched couples.
“Hiya, Steph. Come on in. Grath, what are you doing here, middle of the day? Playing hooky?” I winked at him.
“Naw, honey, just came to check in on you. Got something I need to run by you. You got some time to talk, or did you make big plans for the afternoon with your little man?”
I assured him no, offered drinks, played hostess with the mostest, as one does. We settled in the living room, and had a momentary lull. I sensed there was more to this visit than a friendly little drop-in, but I was unprepared for the bomb Grath was about to drop on me.
“You remember that rock that that asshole dropped through the window?”
“Of course.”
“Well, it came with a note attached. Gotta know if you can decipher it for me.” And he took a dirty, wrinkled sheet of white paper out of his pocket and dropped it on the coffee table.
I took a few seconds, just looking at it and at him, threw a glance at Steph, who was watching me closely, and leaned forward to pick it up. When I read those nasty, ugly words, I freaked out internally, and I felt my color rise. “Oh, my God.” I didn’t even say the words outright, more just mouthed them, because speech had left me momentarily.
“Make any sense to you, Ellie?”
Now they were both watching me like eagles. I felt like I was going to barf.
“He’s crazy. He’s really, really crazy. Oh, my God.”
That was the best I could do at that moment.
“What is he talking about, there? What did he do for you?”
I didn’t know, not for sure. I mean, I had thought…but I had hoped I was wrong. But this seemed to confirm my worst fears, and it was time to own up. I truly got sick to my stomach, and made a run for the toilet, barely making it there in time.
I lost my lunch in the most unpleasant of ways, and then sensed Grath taking up space over me in the small bathroom, running water over a washcloth. He squeezed out the excess and pressed it to my forehead. I had pretty much done with the barfing part by now, and was just breathing heavily, on my knees in front of the toilet, waiting to make sure there was no more coming.
“You okay now?” he softly asked after a few minutes.
“Yeah. Thanks.”
“You think you can talk about it?”
“Yeah. I think I need to. Just give me a minute, okay? I’ll come back out. Just want to wash out my mouth first.”
“Sure thing. Take your time. We’re not going anywhere.”
“’Kay.”
I cleaned myself up and thought about how I could possibly explain my worst fears, now seemingly confirmed by that nasty, dirty, repugnant note. It had already been several days since that crazy day when Brian showed up here at Jack’s place. So much had happened…
Why hadn’t I been informed of the note before now? Did Jack know about it? If so, why hadn’t he brought it up to me? What kind of game was Grath playing, bringing it to me now? Gah—too many conflicting and confounding thoughts tossed in my head, and it started to pound.
I made my way back to the living room, barely looking at either man, and sat back down on the couch.
“What can you tell us, Ellie?”—that came from Steph.
“You sound like a cop or something. Are you?” I stalled.
Without moving his head, his eyes shot over to Grath’s, then came back to mine. “Yes, actually. I am a cop. Detective, actually. Homicide. But I’m also Grath’s partner, Jack’s friend, and your friend, too. But first and foremost, right now, I’m here just to help. Let us help. If you can explain this, so we can catch this guy, now would be a good time.”
Wow. This was a bit shocking on many levels. I took a moment to let it all sink in. That Grath—an MC guy—was partnered with a cop was, in and of itself, a strange thing. I guess opposites really do attract.
Beyond that, no one else could possibly know just how apropos it was that Steph work
ed Homicide. Because that was, I feared, exactly what it was about.
It was time for me to dump my info, and I was glad of it. I had been carrying it around for so long—the not knowing, the doubt, the guilt, the suspicion, the fear of what it all meant, the consequences, the pain. And the deep, deep regret.
“I…I don’t know this for sure, I wasn’t there…but now, seeing this, I think there’s a good chance…that Brian killed Keith.”
I lost it. I just broke down. Saying it out loud made it more real, like admitting it was true when I’d been lying to myself for nearly a year, trying to persuade myself that Brian could not have been that evil, that Keith’s death had not been connected to me at all, just a freak accident of place and circumstance.
