“You had all sorts of plans for the house. You talked about building a bigger deck and painting the house when the weather broke.”
“I'll paint this house,” he replied. “I'm thinking it'll look good in blue, put some bushes out front for landscaping. Maybe we can even put a tree house in the back, that old oak would handle one. Leo will like it. Hell, I'll like it. I always wanted a tree house.”
“Let's not get ahead of ourselves,” Meg suggested. The branches in the tree were pretty high up, so she decided to change the subject. “There's cheese in the fridge if you want it on your chili.”
“Of course I do. Did you make cornbread?”
“You only asked for the cornbread about a dozen times.” Meg let the subject of the tree house and house sale drop for the moment. “How was work?”
“It was good. Busy. We're hiring on a few more guys full time.” Train carried the pot of chili over to the table. “Sit down, I'll get the rest. We need beer.”
“There's Corona. I even cut up some limes.” Meg watched him roll his eyes. “That doesn't mean that you've got to use them. I like it.” He mumbled something about it being a chick thing but still, he added one of the lime slices to hers as he got them out. “Thank you.”
“You're welcome. So, there's a party on Friday. I think that we should go. It'll be fun.”
“Alright.” Meg wasn't sure that she'd be up for partying, but she'd give it a shot because she knew that it was something he wanted to do. She felt like she was under scrutiny whenever she was around everyone else; after all, they knew her darkest secret.
“We don't have to go if you don't want to.” He dished out the food and sat down. “We can always hang here, find something to watch.”
“I want to go,” Meg insisted. “And you're right, it'll probably be fun.”
“Caesar's new girlfriend will probably get up and do the whole stripper thing. She's an actual stripper, so she's pretty good. Works over at Kitty Kitty by the casino.”
“I've never been to Kitty Kitty.”
“You're not missing much,” he replied with a smirk. “I'd rather watch you shake your ass any day of the week. Hey, we should get one of those stripper poles for the bedroom.”
“Uh, no. No way.” Meg shook her head.
“Why not? It'll be fun.”
“Are you going to get up and dance around it?”
“I didn't plan on it, but if you wanted me to, I could.” Meg laughed out loud at that image. Train glared playfully at her, and it just made her laugh harder. Soon, she could barely breathe and had a stitch in her side. “You done laughing at my expense? I'm glad that I could give you so much amusement.”
“I'm not laughing at you, exactly. I don't need you to pole dance for me. I'll say maybe to the stripper pole.” Meg knew that saying maybe was the same as saying yes. She'd find a stripper pole in their bedroom without any more discussion.
“What do you say to my mark?”
“I already said yes to your mark, remember?” Meg had wondered if he'd ever bring the subject up again. It had been a good long while since they talked about it. Part of her had worried that he'd never bring it up again; it was a part she tried not to listen to. Things had been good between them, solid and strong.
“Actually, I do remember that. Tell me, what do you think about doing it Friday?”
“At the party?” Meg knew that the markings were often a public thing; it depended on the couple. She'd known that Train would want his brothers there. The idea of being the center of attention scared her more than the feeling of the actual branding itself. “Do I get to drink first?”
Train laughed. “I'll make sure that you've got a nice buzz going.”
“Alright. Let's do it,” Meg replied without having to think about it. Any fear that she had faded away as Train's face lit up with a smile; it could have powered the whole city. It was a rare sight, one that always made Meg's heart beat faster. “And let's eat before the food gets cold.”
“Chili is good cold,” he protested.
“We'll just have to agree to disagree on that fact.” Meg shook her head. “Oh, I left the cornbread in the oven to warm.”
“I've told you to sit down like a dozen times, I've got the bread.” Train got to his feet.
“And beer. We're going to need more beer,” Meg told him with a smile.
These moments were her favorite moments with Train, when it was just them and they weren't worrying or wondering about anything. Instead, they could just have a meal, talk, laugh and for a few minutes forget what they were both missing.
Chapter Nineteen
Train hit the heavy bag again and again. His hands were taped, but he could still feel the sharp sting of the impact against his knuckles. He liked the jolt, it kept him focused. He'd been neglecting exercise lately, and he could feel it catching up to him.
This basement wasn't as nice as the one at the other house. It was all concrete floors and walls with a dusty wood ceiling. Train had relocated his gym here, and it would do for now, but he definitely had a lot of work to do on the house. There was a lot to be done on everything. He continued to hit the bag, listing the things he wanted to do in his mind.
It was just about as relaxing as sex for him. Meg was upstairs, watching television. She never asked to join him, even though he knew that she came down and used the bike or treadmill during the day. He could always tell from the fact that she'd change the radio station on him or leave one of her colorful workout towels behind.
Train moved to the treadmill. He much preferred to run outside in the fresh air, but it was too icy outside; he'd break something before the first mile. He turned on the television and let the news play for something to look at.
The stories were all essentially bad news: a fire, a fatal car wreck and a body found down by the docks. Train turned the volume up, kept up the pace he was running at. The reporter didn't seem to know very much, just that there was a woman found, naked and beat to hell. Anyone with information was to call the police.
“Yeah, because those fuckers will help.” Train switched the channel to the kids' one that Leo still liked to watch. He finished the last of his five miles with the cartoon still playing. He missed the shit out of Leo.
Most days, he wanted to strangle their inept lawyer. The first thing that he was going to do with any money from the house sale was to find a better quality attorney, not one still wet behind the ears. The bitch had actually suggested that he and Meg end things because of his criminal past. Meg had nearly bitten the woman's head off, threatened to walk out right then and there. The fire that she'd shown that day was something new for her. He hoped that it was there to stay.
The basement door opened when he was doing his cooldown stretches. “Hey Train, Buster's here. You want me to have him wait in the living room?”
“Send him down,” he called back. He finished stretching, grabbed his water bottle and took a long swig from it. Train wasn't sure why Buster was there. He turned off the cartoons, reached for a towel to dry off. He was just pulling on a shirt when his president came down the stairs.
“Sorry to bother you at home, but we need to talk. Can we sit?”
“Knock yourself out. There's more water and some sports drinks in that little fridge if you want it.” Train picked up his water bottle again. “What's going on, Buster?”
“I just got a call from Gagliardi. You know that things have been tense with us since the Info thing isn't resolved.”
“Tense is a kind word for it,” Train replied. “I'm surprised he hasn't tried to come after us yet.”
“It's a delicate balance. Right now, we don't need a war with him. He's got connections. You understand that, right?”
“Right.” Train didn't like where this conversation was going at all. “Just spit it out, Buster. I don't need all this verbal foreplay.”
“Word got back to him that you're looking for Carlos. He'd take it as a kindness if you stopped looking. If you keep looking, he's
going to take it as a slap to the face.”
Train took a deep, calming breath. “You know who Carlos is, right? You know what he did to Meg? Hell, I know you saw what he did to her. How long have you known me, Buster? Do you really think that I'm just going to let that go?”
“Carlos is Gagliardi's son, born to his Cuban mistress during his younger, hopefully thinner, days.”
“What are you saying, Buster? Are you here to tell me to back off? To order me to back off?”
“I'm here to talk to you,” he insisted. “I know what Carlos did to Meg, what he let others do, and for that, I think that he should pay for it. I just don't think that price should be his life, not when there's so much at stake.”
“Fuck Gagliardi, he's a fat sloppy son of a bitch. Are you scared of him?” Train realized that he knew the answer to that question before he asked it. Buster was scared of Gagliardi, or more accurately the connections he had in the East because his brother was some big shot hitter.
“I'm not scared of him, the man, I'm cautious because of the connections that he has. And this is me, asking you man to man to stand down. I don't want to take it to the table if I don't have to.”
“The guys who hurt Jillian, they're dead. The one who took Caroline and hurt her, he's dead too. But I'm supposed to go upstairs and look my old lady in the eyes and tell her that the fucker who hurt her is just free to keep on doing it to other women?” Train fought to keep his voice in an indoor-friendly tone.
“Train...”
“No. Fuck that. That bastard made money off of her, is probably still making money off of her. I am not alright with him still breathing. No. Fuck that. You wouldn't be saying what you're saying right now if it happened to Caroline. You'd be cutting his head off and sticking it on a pole.”
“If I take this to the table, you'll abide by the vote?”
“Take it to the table, tonight! Before we party, we vote on it. If you get a majority, I'll abide by it, but I don't think you're going to get it. Someone does something like that to one of ours, they get what they deserve in return.”
“Tonight is supposed to be about you and Meg. You marking her,” Buster pointed out.
“That's what makes it fitting that we vote tonight. I'm not capable of being polite much longer, so I think that you need to leave. Tell Meg that I'll be up in a few minutes.” Train turned back to the heavy bag, unloading his anger until long after he heard the basement door shut behind Buster.
<#<#<#<#
Train heard everything through a dull ringing in his ears. When Buster had brought the issue to the table, he'd been so sure that it was going to get voted down. Who among them would deny him the right to go after the son of a bitch who had hurt his old lady? Apparently, most of them would. The vote passed by a wide margin; only Monroe and Ace had voted with him. The rest had gone the other way, no doubt lured by promises of peace and profit.
“Train.” Buster's voice broke through the fog. “I know that this didn't go the way that you wanted, but it is what's best for Nightshade. Do you understand that?”
“I understand how the vote works. It's settled. Done. If there's no other business, I've got some pretty important plans for tonight.” Train hoped he sounded casual. He didn't want anyone to realize what he was really feeling, completely fucking betrayed by the people who were supposed to be his family and always have his back.
“If you go against the vote, there will be consequences.” It was Danny who spoke. “Those are the rules.”
“I'm well aware of the rules,” Train snarled. “Who made you fucking hall monitor?” He bit his tongue and didn't add that he'd been wearing his leather back when Danny was still a snot-nosed little shit hanging around hoping for a free meal because his junkie mother hadn't bothered to feed him, because that truth would just send them into an all-out battle.
“He knows the consequences, Danny. Every man around this table knows.” Buster looked around the room. “I don't think that we need to dwell on this anymore, tonight is supposed to be about Train and Meg making it official.”
Everyone made some noise for that, banged their hands against the tables. “Never thought I'd see the day,” Ace called out. “You're a lucky, though, she's great. And she's obviously crazy, since she's decided she wants to put up with you, so she'll fit right in with the rest of us.”
“On that note, we're done here,” Buster declared.
Train was the first out of his chair, out the door and down the stairs. He needed some air, even if his abrupt exit would make tongues wag. Fuck it, people were going to talk anyway. It was what they did best. A bunch of bad-ass bikers who shared gossip like school girls.
It was snowing outside, again. Fuck the snow and the coming holidays; he could just imagine the toll that they were going to take on Meg. Meg. He'd promised her that Carlos would die, but he wouldn't. Train wouldn't kill him. He couldn't even touch him. He'd promised her that they'd get the boys back, but that wasn't happening either. What kind of old man did that make him. Train heard the front door shut behind him. “What?” He turned, ready to take off the head of whoever was there, but he couldn't; it was Meg. She'd put on her jacket but hadn't bothered to zip it. “You're going to freeze.”
“I'm good. Cold is good. What are you doing out here?” She looked up at him with a frown.
Train dodged the question. “What do you mean cold is good? Do you have a migraine?” He walked over to her and zipped up her jacket. “You're going to catch pneumonia or some shit.”
“No. I'm good. What's going on?”
“Nothing, I just needed some air. I'm good. Come on, let's go back inside.”
“Are you having second thoughts about tonight?” Meg stepped back as he tried to steer her towards the door. “Is that why you stormed out here?” Her expression had gone from curious to worried. “Because if you changed your mind, that's...”
“No. It's not that. It's not you. It's never you.” Train moved to her and cupped her face with his hands. “Are you having seconds thoughts?”
“Only about being in a tank top in front of everyone,” she said in a joking tone.
Train knew that she wasn't joking. No matter how many times he told her how perfectly sexy she was, the insecurities always came bouncing back. “Stop that, you're beautiful.” He leaned in, pressed his lips to her forehead. “You ready?”
“I'm ready. You know that you can talk to me about anything, right?” Her face was serious.
Train knew that she meant Nightshade business; he'd mentioned a few things to her so far. He did feel better when he talked to her. He couldn't talk to her about this. She wouldn't take it well. “It's nothing, Meg. Danny just pissed me off. I'm over it.”
“You're a dirty liar.” She smiled as she said it. “I love you anyway. Let's go inside and get this done if you're not having second thoughts. Really, I just want to see the design.”
Train knew that she did. She'd been hinting at it. He'd kept it to himself, well, to himself and his welder friend who owed him a favor. He'd originally planned to use his ring, but the more he'd thought about it, the less right it seemed. “You're going to see it every day for the rest of your life soon enough. If you hate it, we're kind of screwed.”
“I'll love it because it's what you chose.” Her eyes clouded with worry. “I'm with you, all the way.”
“I know that, silly.” Train rested his forehead against hers. “I love you.” And he did, even as he failed her by not going after Carlos, he loved her.
<#<#<#<#
“It's going to hurt like a bitch if you keep trying to touch it,” Train observed as Meg lifted up her bandage to prod at his mark once again. She'd been a trooper getting it done; he'd nearly wavered at the idea of having to cause her any pain.
“I just want to see it,” she pouted.
“Look with your eyes, not your hands. If you keep poking at it, it'll get infected.”
“Okay, fine,” she huffed and threw herself back against the seat. “You k
now, I thought that it was going to be worse than it was. I think I was too worried about everyone staring at me.”
“They weren't staring. They were watching.” Train pulled the truck in front of the house.
“You sure that you didn't want to stay longer? The party was still pretty impressive when we left.” Meg opened the door and nearly fell out of the truck. “Shit, I'm drunk.”
Train had figured that out already. “Just stay right where you are, drunkie. I'll come around and get you.”
“I can walk. I'm not that drunk.” Her protests would have convinced him more if she hadn't tripped when she actually managed to get out of the truck. Train came around the side of the car, grabbed her and steadied her. “I'm not that drunk.”
All That Matters (Nightshade MC Book 3) Page 25
