Prosper (Hells Saints MC Book 7)

by Paula Marinaro

  Against the glow of brightly dancing flames, a lone figure emerged. His form was different from the others. His silhouette was denser, his presence more commanding. He was the man who had stood in her way at Scully’s and had blocked her from going into the alleyway last night. Seeing him again now gave her the strangest feeling. His life light seemed to be filled with all that was right … and wrong … with this world. She felt a fleeting sense of great joy and infinite sadness when she looked into his eyes.

  At once, Magaskawee was overcome with a distinct and overwhelming sense of destiny. It was as if all her cosmic lives—past, present, and future were bound together in a flash of synchronicity and brought her to this moment. It was a profound and disturbing experience that stopped her in her tracks.

  She was very happy to see him again.

  Until he spoke.

  He looked at Maggie from head to toe, then turned to Jack and gave him a look of disdain. “Seriously?”

  “What?” Jack asked.

  “You know what.” Prosper all but snarled at him.

  Jack gave him a sheepish grin and shrugged his shoulders. “It’s just a party, brother. Besides, Maggie and I had a great day.” Jack draped his arm around Magaskawee’s shoulder, “Tell Mr. Buzzkill here what a great day you’ve had on the back of my bike.”

  Magaskawee met Prosper’s smoldering look of disapproval with a small smile. “It was wonderful.”

  “See? She had a great time.” Prosper remained silent, but his expression said it all.

  “Seriously, man. Lighten up.” Jack shook his head at his friend. Then he put a hand down on Prosper’s shoulder and said, “Do me a favor and just talk to her for a minute, will ya? I’m gonna go get us a couple of beers.”

  Jack gave Magaskawee a grin, meant to be reassuring and said, “His bark is way worse than his bite. I’ll be right back.”

  Prosper and Magaskawee stood staring at each other. Since the moment was becoming incredibly awkward, and one of them had to say something, Magaskawee began the conversation.

  “I … uh … did have a lot of fun today. I … um … don’t get to do this kind of thing a lot.”

  “What kind of thing?” he shot out with a scowl.

  “A day away from the reservation. I don’t usually go this far out from the highway …” Then because that sounded pathetic even to her own ears, she added in a little white lie. “It’s not that I don’t get the chance, of course there are plenty of opportunities. It’s just that, you know, everything there is really convenient for the tribe …” Her voice trailed off because she had begun to sound like an idiot. Convenient for the tribe? Totally ridiculous statement. Magaskawee really, really wished he would say something. He just stood there and continued to stare at her. So she added with exuberance, “And I loved riding on the motorcycle! Sometimes it was a little scary with those deep dips on the road curves, but that made it even more fun!”

  Now his eyes softened just a little. “How old are you, Maggie?”

  “I’m eighteen,” she blurted out quickly.

  “Eighteen, huh?” He looked unconvinced.

  “Well, I will be eighteen at midnight.” Then she added shyly, “Tomorrow is my birthday.”

  Prosper’s jaw tensed in response. “Stay here,” he ordered.

  And then he was gone.

  “Get the fuck over here.” Prosper shoved Jack out of the keg line and into the shadows.

  “What’s the matter with you pushing me like that. Hell, I got cotton mouth like you wouldn’t believe from all that road dust,” Jack growled out at Prosper, then strained to look in the direction that Prosper had just come from. “And where the hell is Maggie? She don’t know anyone here, and I asked you to stay with her, brother.”

  “You mean seven-fucking-teen-year-old Maggie? Little Miss ‘I-ain’t-never-been-more-than-five-miles-away-from-home-before’ Maggie?” Prosper barked out at him.

  “She said that?” Jack looked doubtful.

  “Might as well have!” Prosper told him. Then he scrubbed a hand through his hair in exasperation. “Brother, what the hell you doing?”

  “What do you mean, what am I doing? She’s fucking gorgeous.”

  “What she is, is jailbait.” Prosper snorted.

  “She’ll be eighteen in a couple of hours.” Jack argued. “And when I saw her last night? The minute I saw her? Something happened to me. It was like … I don’t know … the world exploded around me.”

  “That’s ’cause all the blood in your brain went straight to your dick.” Prosper shook his head. “We’re outta here in a couple of days, Jack. Don’t do anything stupid.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like leaving her with a belly full of baby as a reminder of your stopover.”

  “Where the hell did that come from?” Jack shot out. “That’s some insulting shit, that’s what that is, and frankly, I’m pretty damn disappointed in you for sayin’ it. You don’t think I know fucking better? I like her. When have you ever heard me say that before? Hell, we’ve been on the road together for a couple of years now … Never once, never once have I been interested in getting to know a woman past the part of fuckin’ them. And you know that. But Maggie? She’s different.”

  “Yeah, Jack? Different how? In a statutory rape kind of way?” Prosper scoffed.

  “Jesus, this again? I just said she’ll be eighteen in a couple of hours,” Jack retorted. Then he added, “She’s … interesting.”

  “Oh, so you’re into interesting chicks now? And how the hell is she interesting? You know anything about her besides that she looks pretty good and has probably led a shitty enough life to believe the bullshit you’ve been feeding her.”

  “You just said it yourself,” Jack protested. “She’s had a shitty life. And it don’t look to me like her future’s looking too rosy either, especially if she keeps trying to save that pissant brother of hers. You think about that, Prosper, while you’re spouting off your sanctimonious bullshit. You think about what’s gonna happen to her the next time she goes for that stupid bat, and then into that blood-soaked alleyway to try and save that loser brother of hers.”

  Prosper remained silent because, really, Jack had a good point there.

  “She deserves more than she’s got, brother. You’ve got to see that.”

  Prosper scrubbed his hand over his jaw. “And you gonna give that to her? You gonna give her more, Jack?”

  “She deserves more,” Jack repeated with conviction. “And yeah, I’d like to give her that. I’m not a bad guy, Prosper. Done some bad things, but that ain’t who I am, and I hope the hell you know that. So yeah, maybe I can be the one to give Maggie something better. Maybe I can give her something more than the bullshit hand that she’s been dealt. What if I’m her shot at that something better? You know and I know that chances to change your life don’t come along every day. What if I’m that chance for her? That only chance, and I walk away from that?”

  They both turned and looked in her direction. Maggie was talking and smiling with a group of the women who had gone over to introduce themselves.

  “She is a beauty, I’ll give you that,” Prosper conceded with a sigh.

  “So, you agree? She’s pretty cool, right?” Jack asked him.

  “Hell, Jack, I haven’t said much more than a couple of words to her. She may be a looker but she ain’t real smart. That was a stupid decision she made, thinking she could stand up against those assholes in the bar.”

  “Okay, I’ll give you that, and don’t think it hasn’t crossed my mind too. Dumbass thing to do for sure. But he’s her brother, Prosper. Her blood,” Jack protested with vehemence. “Gotta give the kind of love and loyalty that Maggie has for her kin props. No matter how stupid or misguided it was, it was also a brave and standup thing to do.”

  Prosper thought about it. “Yeah, I’ll give her that.”

  “So, you like her?”

  “I don’t know … yeah, I guess she might be okay.” Prosper shrugged. “But
still …”

  “Glad, you feel that way”—Jack interrupted Prosper and clapped a hard hand on his friend’s back— “’cause when we move on? I’m asking her to come with us.”

  Magaskawee sat on the tin roof of the trailer and looked up at the stars. Maybe for the very last time.

  “You are restless tonight.” Magaskawee’s sister sat down close beside her on the cool metal roof. “I can hear you moving about.”

  “Did I wake you?” Magaskawee looked at her with concern. Her sister worked hard as a waitress, picking up double shifts whenever she could. Tanka was twenty-three years old and engaged to be married to a boy who had left the reservation to go to medical school in Kansas. In the first few years Tanka heard from Ahanu regularly, and he made continual visits home to see her. But in the past year or so he had been coming back less and less frequently, and Magaskawee knew her sister was concerned. Tanka was afraid that, slowly but surely, Ahanu was beginning to forget her and the promises he had made.

  “No, I couldn’t sleep either.” Tanka hesitated, then nodded towards the now empty road leading to the trailer. “The man on the motorcycle. Is he the reason you’re so restless tonight?”

  “His name is Jack, and yes, he is the reason.”

  Tanka waited.

  “He’s leaving tomorrow,” Magaskawee said quietly, “and he’s asked me to go with him.”

  Tanka put her arm around her sister, and Magaskawee put her head on her shoulder.

  “I will miss you,” Tanka whispered.

  “I haven’t decided whether or not I will go.” Magaskawee raised her head and looked into her sister’s dark eyes, so much like her own.

  “Haven’t you?” Tanka smiled lovingly at her. “I think your little notebook full of license plates would be very disappointed if you didn’t.”

  “Well, I would like to see the place called Cape Cod”—Magaskawee sighed wistfully— “but I am not going to leave you.”

  “You won’t be leaving me.” Tanka smiled shyly. “Ahanu has sent a plane ticket. I am leaving Thursday to join him in California where he will begin the next part of his school journey.” Then she frowned slightly. “I was wrong to doubt him.”

  “I am so happy for you!” Magaskawee cried out with heartfelt happiness. Tanka was the sweetest, most caring person in the world. And Magaskawee was so glad that she would have the happily ever after that she deserved.

  “I have this for you.” Tanka placed a small wad of rolled up money in Magaskawee’s hand. “I’ve been saving up for a while, but Ahanu is doing well, and he will get a stipend and free housing with his residency. I won’t need this. I want you to have it.”

  Magaskawee looked from her sister to the money and back again. “I can’t take this from you, Tanka. It’s everything that you’ve worked so hard to save.”

  “And I can’t leave unless I know that you will be all right, Magaskawee. Having a little bit of money will give you the security you will need to live a better life. You have to go, sister, with this man or without him, because I will not leave you here. Take the money, tuck it away somewhere safe, and tell no one you have it. If you are unhappy, if you are wrong about Jack Winston, then you can use this money to get away and start over.”

  Start over.

  Magaskawee looked out over the barren, desolate landscape. The setting sun stained the sky in hues of deep crimson. The color of blood.

  Start over.

  This land seemed to have a life of its own. It was as if it had long, tenacious tentacles designed to slowly suck the life out of its prey. The quiet desperation took hold and never let go. Was it really possible to escape this place? Her mother had thought it was. Magaskawee wished she knew how that had turned out for her.

  Magaskawee’s father had been a shadowy figure. He drove a big rig truck and would stop at the reservation a few times a year. With the exception of a quick hello and a few pats on the head, he never paid much attention to his children. He would stay a week or two then leave again. Sometimes their mother, Nazala, would go with him. She would leave her three children for months at a time with whomever of their extended family members were living in the trailer at the time.

  On one of those trips, Nazala went off and just never came back.

  Start over.

  Magaskawee listened to the crickets and felt the evening breeze, cool and soothing on her skin. Maybe it was possible. Maybe it wasn’t. But Magaskawee Whitefeather decided it was worth a try.

  Prosper Worthington scrubbed a hard hand over his face and squinted against the sunshine. They had been riding through the reservation for a while now, and with every mile, Prosper felt a new shockwave run through him: junked-out cars up on cinderblocks, broken windows covered with cardboard, ragged wash hung on loose lines from makeshift poles. It was like riding through a third-world country. Prosper was appalled that this was America. Land of the Free. Home of the Brave. He had seen less desolation and despair in the villages of Vietnam for Christ’s sake. Prosper’s doubts about Jack’s decision to take Magaskawee with them disappeared faster and faster as they navigated through the rutted roads lined with broken bottles, discarded rusted appliances, and shredded, stained mattresses. Jesus. The place looked like a giant landfill, only with housing.

  Jack was right, Maggie deserved better, but Prosper still worried about Jack’s part in all this. Maggie’s obvious youth and inexperience and Jack’s fly-by-the-seat-of-his-pants tendencies did not bode well for a future together. But they both seemed hellbent on making a go of it, so who was he to judge? Prosper decided that the very least he could do for Jack was to give him the benefit of doubt. Not only was it the fair thing to do, but Jack had had Prosper’s back more than once and at a time when it mattered the most. When they arrived at Maggie’s house, Jack went to the door to help her with her things while Prosper waited with the bikes. His mind began to wander back to the time when his friendship with Jack had begun.

  They had been two men who had been forced to occupy the same tiny jail cell, and as such, could not have been more different. It was like throwing a fierce Rottweiler in a cage with a dopey Irish setter. At first, Prosper hadn’t been able to stand the optimistic motherfucker. But when Prosper had come up against Vargas and his crew in the jail yard, Jack had had his back big time. Prosper and Jack had ended up getting the shit beat out of them, but hell, it had been six against two and they’d given as good as they got. Prosper had come away bloody and bruised, but Jack had gotten the worst of it. His lung had collapsed from a knife wound and his jaw had been broken in two places. His mouth had been wired shut for months. Prosper used to joke that those months were the easiest time he did in jail, not having to hear Jack yapping his happy bullshit all the time. But really, Prosper had been impressed with what a tough bastard Jack had turned out to be and had been touched by his loyalty.

  A man taking a knife in the gut and a kick in the teeth for you is no small thing.

  Now Prosper inhaled his smoke and watched as the Native American chick came out from that shithouse of a trailer. She was too damn skinny for Prosper’s taste, but a natural beauty, nonetheless. There certainly was nothing pretentious or flighty about her, that was for sure. If Magaskawee Whitefeather had made the decision to ride away with Jack Winston, it was a decision that she did not come upon lightly.

  Maggie was dressed for travel: a pair of sneakers, a faded pair of jeans, and a gray sweatshirt that looked like it had been washed and worn within an inch of its life. When Jack grabbed her backpack and started to walk her back to the bikes, Magaskawee looked straight at Prosper. Taken aback by the serious, intense look she gave him, he returned her steady gaze, staring closely at her, then closer still. The jolt of attraction that ran through him almost knocked him off his feet, and served as a warning: Prosper needed to stay away from his best friend’s woman.

  Prosper flicked his cigarette on the ground and scowled at Maggie just for good measure. When she flashed him a bright smile in return, Prosper turned from
her and kicked over his Harley forcefully. His hand was shaking as he wrapped it around the throttle and twisted hard. Then he grinned inwardly, Jack was right. Magaskawee Whitefeather sure had some balls.

  “… And isn’t this what’s called a Royal Flush?” Maggie feigned innocence as she placed an ace, a king, a queen, a jack, and a ten all in the same suit down on the table. Jack groaned and Prosper chuckled as Maggie pulled the chips towards her.

  “No, actually I think that is what’s called a hustle,” Prosper said with more than a little admiration in his voice.

  Jack stared at the hand of cards Maggie had laid out. “Why didn’t you tell me you knew how to play poker?”

  Maggie’s eyes twinkled with glee. “It’s more fun this way.”

  “For who?” Jack snorted good-naturedly.

  “My older cousins taught us to play.” Then Maggie sighed. “I never put two and two together, but maybe that’s what started Taki’s gambling. Who knows? Anyway, we used to save up the boxes of pretzel sticks from the school cafeteria and play with them. One of those little sticks equaled a point. I was never really good at reading, but math? Numbers always made sense to me, and I guess that made me pretty good at the game. People use math all the time when they play cards and don’t realize it. Probability is a big one. You have to be able to read people too. Look for the tells. Everyone has one.”

  “Bullshit. I’ve got the best poker face around.” Jack crossed his eyes and twitched his nose in a comic display.

  Maggie laughed out loud. “You, Jack? You do keep a pretty tight lid on it, and it was hard for me to pin you down at first.”

  “That’s because I am the master of all things.” Jack smirked.

  “Except when you’re feeling confident about your hand.”

  “Yeah?” Jack snorted. “You’re saying you know when I have a good play by something I do?”

  “You lift your left shoulder just a little bit before you place your bet. If I see that shoulder lift and I don’t have a good hand, I don’t bet against you.”