Train thought that it was a good question. For the most part, he figured she was being truthful with her carefully edited version of the truth. She was holding back. He didn't have to say it; Buster knew it too. “We've got no reason to get in your way if you stay out of ours.”
“That works for me. I'll start the process of getting out of your hair right now if you want.”
“No. Stay. Eat something. I can smell that Caroline's cooking. Someone will take you back home later. You can tell the others that we'll be back down in a minute.” Buster waited until she'd left the room. “Let's make this a quick one. I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm exhausted and very much looking forward to my own bed.”
<#<#<#<#<
The meeting had been quick. Buster just wanted to make sure they were all on the same page about what to say if anyone came along asking. He wanted them all to be extra vigilant in the coming days but also said that he was sure they were out of the woods. Things could go back to normal, or at least what passed for normal with them.
The food was set out by the time that they got downstairs, huge trays of lasagna and sides of meatballs and sausage. The smell of the garlic bread alone was enough to make Train's stomach growl. He was going to have at least two helpings, maybe three.
People were already eating, but he spotted Meg in the kitchen, doing something to what looked like a bowl of salad. Great, he was going to have to have at least one helping of it or she'd give him the look. Train walked into the kitchen anyway. “Hey.”
She smiled up at him. “I should have known that you'd get back downstairs just in time for the food.”
“You need any help?”
“No. Go and sit, I'll bring you over a plate as soon as I get the salad out.”
“You get yourself a plate, I can handle my own.” Train worried about how she was taking care of herself. “Don't tell me that you're not hungry.”
“I am.”
“Good. After we eat, we're grabbing our shit and getting the hell out of here. I've got a surprise for you tonight.”
“What kind of surprise?”
“It wouldn't be a surprise if I told you. You good with going home?”
“That's where we live, isn't it?”
“That's not really an answer, Meg. We both know it. Are you good with going home?”
“I'm a little freaked out, but wouldn't it be weird if I wasn't freaked out? I'll be okay.”
“You tell me if you're not. I'm serious.”
“I will. I promise.”
“You'd better,” he growled as he leaned in to kiss her. Train left her to finish up with the salad and filled a plate with everything that could fit on it. He got a beer from Claire; she seemed to have never actually left since they'd opened the doors here. Most of the tables were half full; he sat down at the first empty table he saw.
It might have been rude, it probably was, but he started to eat before Meg came over. The food was even better than he expected, so good that he didn't even slow his pace when he burned the roof of his mouth with an oversized bite. Half of the plate was clear when Meg came over.
She set another beer down in front of him. “Are you even bothering to chew?”
“I'm chewing. Where's the rest of your food?”
“This is all of my food, it's a normal portion.”
“Maybe a normal portion for a toddler.” Train solved the problem by transferring half the food left on his plate to hers. “There. That's better.”
“Some of this salad is for you.” She set a smaller plate between them. “There's lots of ranch dressing, croutons and some bacon bits, so it'll taste good.”
“You eat all that food, and I'll eat some of this salad. You're going to need to keep your energy up tonight.” Train laughed as she blushed. “Go on, eat. It's really good.”
“I can see that from your plate.”
“I'm going to head back up for seconds in a minute. Do you know if Caroline made dessert?”
“I made dessert, we're having brownies.” Meg's eyes narrowed and Train realized that he'd made a face. “What's that look for?”
“Nothing,” he replied. “I really can't wait for dessert now.” Train realized he'd have to eat at least one brownie, even if it was dry and tasteless, because he loved Meg, even if she couldn't bake worth a damn.
“Uh huh, I'm sure that's what it meant.” She huffed the words and picked up her fork. “Don't try and make it better, you'll only make it worse.”
<#<#<#<#
There was no reason why Train shouldn't be sleeping, he was tired and satiated in every way, but no matter how long he lay down, it just wouldn't happen. If he stayed in bed any longer, he'd start to get pissed off, and that probably wouldn't end well.
The house was quiet except for the steady blip of the alarm system. It was armed and connected now to the fence outside. He'd never expected the workers from Nightshade Construction to show up, on their own time, and build the fence that had been left half-finished in the aftermath of Danny's murder. He might have even gotten a little misty eyed when he'd come home to check the mail one day and seen it.
Nightshade Construction had a good crew. In fact, there were two guys he'd been keeping an eye on as potential prospects. Shawn Douglas had spent the past ten years in a cage for drug and gun charges. He'd done those years without affiliating himself with any of the prison gangs. Justin Patton was younger, probably in his mid twenties, and really serious, but there was something about him that told Train he'd be an asset.
Once everything settled all the way down, after Danny's funeral, he'd broach the subject of new prospects with the rest of Nightshade. He couldn't see anyone having an objection; it was obvious that they needed to grow to keep up with the demands of their business ventures.
It was too cold, even though it was warmer than the past few days, to sit outside, so Train headed for the living room. He caught sight of his video games; he hadn't played since everything had gone down with the boys being taken again.
He missed that kid.
Train turned the system on, logged in to his account. He flipped through the games he had on the hard drive. Shooting the shit out of something didn't sound like a bad idea. Zombies were always good for that. His message box icon was on; expecting nothing but junk mass messages, he clicked on it to erase them.
There were dozens of messages, all from the same source. “Jesus Christ.” Train almost dropped the remote control. It was Leo's account, one that Train had helped him make. He clicked the most recent message, two days ago.
Why aren't you online? Why haven't you answered me? You promised that you'd come and get me! You promised.
“Fuck me. Fuck me.” It should have occurred to him to check the game for messages from Leo. He might not be able to get to a phone, but he had access to a game console. “Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.” Train's grip tightened on the remote as he continued to read through the messages. They were all variations of the same, asking Train to come and get him. He was in Seattle, he didn't know an address but it was a big brick house with lots of trees in the yard.
The first messages were hopeful. The last were the exact opposite. They were angry. Leo was angry. Train couldn't fault him for that; he could only imagine the hell that the boy was living in. What was the lawyer doing? Why was all of this taking so long?
Hastily, Train typed out a message and sent it before he could second-guess himself.
There's been a lot going on here, kiddo. I haven't had much time for playing games. I wasn't ignoring you. I love you. Meg loves you. Our lawyer is doing everything to get you back. You will be back. I promise. I'll check the messages on here at least once a day. Let me know that you're okay.
Train dropped the controller onto the table when he was done sending the message. He left the console on, even though he had no more thought of playing games. No. He started for the stairs and realized that there was no difference between telling Meg now or in the morning. If he told her in the morni
ng, at least she would have been able to get some sort of sleep.
He wasn't going to sleep. If he'd just turned the damn thing on, they'd have been in contact with Leo since the week after he was gone. They'd know how he was. If they went into a game, they could have even talked to him.
Train felt his head start to pound in a way that he hadn't experienced in a long time, not since before Meg. He curled his hands into fists and pressed them to his head. The urge to get up and smash everything fueled the flickering anger inside of him. It would consume him, take hold. He shoved to his feet, walked over to the front door and opened it.
The cold air was like a slap to the face, one that he needed. He took a deep breath and then another. His fingers became numb and then his arms. He stripped off the shirt that he was wearing, felt the chill spread to his entire body. As many times as Meg had told him the cold helped her head, he hadn't understood it until now.
The anger inside of him was still there, but the colder he got, the less he focused on it. Train was more in control than he'd thought he'd be. He continued to breathe, watched as his breath showed in the air like smoke.
“Train?” Meg's voice sounded like it was coming from a distance. “Jesus Christ, you're almost blue. What the hell are you doing? Train.”
“I'm fine,” he replied. Train turned his head to see her in the doorway.
“Get in the house. You're not fine. Did you eat some of Caroline's brownies or something?” She grabbed his arm. Her hand felt hot against his skin. “What the hell, Train?”
“It got loud in my head. Tried your trick, the cold helped.”
“How long were you out there for? Come on. Sit on the couch. Let me get a blanket. You're too cold.”
He heard the worry in her voice. “Sorry, I just...” Train wasn't sure how to explain it, but the cold had helped; he was in control of his emotions now and mostly pissed at himself.
“Don't be sorry. Just sit.” She ushered him to the couch and pulled the blanket she used for when she read on the couch off the back. “Here, this will help. I'm going to make you some tea. No arguments, you need something warm.”
“Meg, I have to tell you something.” Train braced himself for her reaction; surely she would be disappointed and angry. “It's about Leo.”
“Leo?” Meg stopped moving, maybe even breathing.
“He's been sending me messages on the game network since they took him. I haven't played, and I didn't think to check it. I should have thought to check. I never think. I just do, and I fuck everything up.”
“Hey. Hey.” She cupped his face with her hands. Train focused on her, looked for the anger that he deserved, but there was none. “I'd have never thought to check messages on a game network either. How were you supposed to know?”
“I should have known. I promised him we'd come for him. It kills me that I'm not keeping my promises to him and that I couldn't keep them to you either.” Train looked away from her as an unfamiliar feeling rolled through him. His chest was so tight, it might have been a heart attack.
“Don't do that,” Meg said softly. Train felt her hand on his chin, the way he so often gripped hers. She guided his eyes back to her. “I love you. I love you so much. I know that you'd like for things to have worked out differently as far as Carlos and the boys, but it's water under the bridge now, Train. We can't get back to it, we've got to keep on going. Keep swimming, as they say.”
“We're going to get him back.” Train was even more determined than before. “He's coming home one way or the other.”
“No, he's not.” Meg spoke so softly he wasn't sure that he heard her right. “The lawyer dropped our case. She essentially said that it was hopeless, especially after the murder in our back yard. I didn't want to say anything before everything got taken care of, I'm sorry.”
“I'm not mad. Fuck that bitch. We'll find another lawyer, a better lawyer.” Train knew that there was going to be more money coming in, and then there was always side work. It didn't matter what he had to do, he'd earn enough. Meg shook her head. “Don't piss me off.”
“I don't want to piss you off. This isn't easy for me, not in the least, but we've got to face the facts. We live an outlaw life, that's never going to compete with what Roxie has. I don't want to give Leo false hope. I want to explain it to him.” She exhaled shakily. “Let me get you that tea. Seriously, you're just a big ice cube.”
“Some Jack would work better.”
“Liquor is not a good idea right now.” She leaned in, kissed him on the lips.
Train watched her go. She'd gone to bed in just a long tee shirt and a pair of his socks. It shouldn't have been a sexy outfit, but it was. She'd lost a little weight; he could see the difference. He needed to make sure that she ate better, that she took better care of herself. He heard her start the electronic kettle in the kitchen and the sound of her getting out pots and pans.
He wrapped the blanket tighter around himself and gave her the time to herself. He took it breathe so that he wouldn't lose his cool at Meg. He understood all the reasons she was listing for letting the fight for the boys go. She was probably right, but he felt like it was a failure on their part, on his part, because the outlaw life that she lived now was his life.
Train barely noticed when she came back with the tea.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The funeral home was packed to the rafters for the wake. Amelia had made all the arrangements herself, simply telling everyone else after it was done. No one had said anything, but to Meg it was obvious that Nightshade had expected to be consulted. If it was obvious to her, it had to be obvious to Amelia as well, but the woman just didn't seem to have any fucks left to give.
There was music playing in the background; it wasn't the soft elevator style music you normally heard at a wake, instead it was rock. Meg figured that it had been Danny's favorite music. She liked that and liked that the music was keeping the mood from being too somber.
Amelia was in the front room with the urn containing Danny's remains a few feet away. Every person who came through the door went over to her to pay their respects. She greeted them all kindly, was hugged countless times. Meg would have lost her mind in the first few moments, she was sure of it, but Amelia kept her cool. It was like she was royalty or a celebrity or something. Whatever it was, it was almost funny.
Meg sternly ordered herself not to laugh. She moved through the crowd out of the main room, out the front door and around the side, where they were able to smoke. Train was right; she had been smoking too much and altogether just not taking care of herself. The smoking would have to stop, tomorrow. Today, she needed the rush of nicotine to calm her nerves.
It was a gloomy sort of day. Clouds threatened rain or snow, but so far nothing had fallen; the wind was brisk enough that Meg considered just going back inside. Faced with the choice of dealing with people or dealing with the cold, she chose the cold.
“Iris, I don't know how many fucking times I have to say it. We're done. We've been done.” Caesar's voice carried ahead of him as he rounded the corner. He stopped saying anything when he saw Meg and just hung the phone up. “Your kind doesn't know how to take a hint,” he told her.
Meg raised an eyebrow at him. “I take it that Iris isn't in the rotation anymore.”
“No. She's not. And it's not a rotation. There's nothing wrong with keeping my opens open, way open.” He took out a pack of cigarettes. “Got a light?”
Meg handed over her lighter. She didn't know Caesar, or any of the others, really well. As far as she could remember, this was the first time that she'd ever been alone with the man. They smoked in comfortable silence for a few moments.
“You doing okay with all of this?” Caesar motioned back towards the building. “You're looking a little pale.”
“I don't think any of us look our best right now.”
“You saying I look like shit?” He asked.
“A little,” Meg admitted. “But like I said, we all do.”
“Yeah, I guess I haven't been sleeping much. I've been keeping an eye on Amelia, from a distance, of course. Shit, I probably wasn't supposed to say that.”
“Your secret is safe with me,” Meg replied. “I've got to say, though, if you don't take a break, sleep and perform other necessary human functions, you're not going to be any good to keep an eye on her.”
“Point taken.” Caesar smiled at her. “You're sweet, aren't you Meg?”
“You'd better be talking about her disposition, dipshit.” Train spoke from behind Caesar. Meg hadn't even heard him approach.
“If that helps you sleep better at night, sure, that's what I meant.” Caesar grinned. For a moment worry flooded through Meg, but then Train laughed.
All That Matters (Nightshade MC Book 3) Page 32
