Through The Weeds (Nightshade MC Book 2)

by Shannon Flagg

  His legs were wobbly when he rose to his feet. Yeah, he'd had enough. Not so much that he couldn't pick up the water from where it had fallen, take a swig and then start for the stairs. It look longer than he'd like to get up the stairs in one piece. The door to the room they were sharing was locked.

  Buster rapped his knuckles against the door. It opened a moment later. Caroline was still wearing the socks but she'd traded the long tee shirt for a tank top and panties. Fuck, she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. “Can I come in?”

  She stepped aside. “I'm going to sleep. Put the trash can by the bed in case you puke. Do not puke on me, or I will shave your head while you sleep.”

  “I shouldn't have yelled at you.”

  “You got that right.” She walked over to the bed, got under the covers. “Good night. Turn off the light when you're done, please.”

  “I'm sorry I yelled at you.” Buster barely managed to keep his balance as he took off his boots. “It's been a really shitty night. You know that guy Jake? Turns out, he's the son of a guy I killed a long time ago. Bullet right between his eyes. Took down most of his crew, too. Had a little help with that. Anyway, Jake is picking up where his father left off. Oh, and he took Jillian to Vegas and they got married.”

  “Wait, what? What are you saying?” She'd sat up. The blankets were clutched to her chest. She looked scared and confused all at once. He told her everything that Nightshade knew. Buster left nothing out, not even his own fuck-ups. Her eyes never left him. He couldn't read her expression, even though he tried. When he got to the part about Jillian, he saw tears fill her eyes. She motioned for him to keep talking. “Shit,” she mumbled when he was done. “Yeah, I guess that you had the right to be a little cranky tonight.”

  “Still, I'm sorry that I yelled at you. I just...”

  “I know. Come on, get in bed. Just do me one little favor?” She rolled onto her side, left him plenty of room.

  “What's that?” Buster slid between the soft sheets with a sigh.

  “Don't make a habit of it.”

  “I won't.” Buster laid his hand on her hip. “I love you.”

  “I love you too.” She leaned in to his touch. “Get some sleep. You're going to have one hell of a hangover in the morning.”

  “I don't get hangovers, Caroline. You'll see.”

  <#<#<#<#

  Buster woke with the mother of all hangovers. He'd jinxed himself in the worst way the night before. There was an entire band in his head, and they were jamming. His mouth was dry and he'd emptied whatever was in his stomach into the trash can on the side of the bed in the middle of the night. The bed was empty. The sheets where Caroline had been were cold.

  He got up, felt his stomach lurch, and promptly made his way to the bathroom. After a shower and another round praying to the porcelain god, he finally felt human again. Human and his age. Buster contemplated getting right back into bed, but when he came out of the shower, it was already made.

  He dressed, walked down the stairs. The scent of food made him hungry while at the same time making him want to throw up. He smelled coffee and figured that would be his safest bet. He headed over towards the small kitchen, but Train stepped in front of him. “We've got a problem, Buster.”

  Of course they did, why would they not? “Talk and get a prospect to get me some coffee and aspirin.”

  “You're going to want hair of the dog for this one. Trust me.” Train snapped his fingers at Monroe. “Coffee. Black. Move your ass!” He chuckled when the man walked away. “I'm pretty sure he's going to punch me in the face one day.”

  “I'd say that's a safe bet,” Buster agreed. “Tell me.”

  “Ace has been on the radio all morning. So far, there have been half a dozen reported overdoses, one fire that killed three people and a bunch of other crazy shit. Cops don't know what to make of it.”

  “It's Binky.”

  “That's what I'm figuring.” Train nodded. “I'm also figuring Harris is going to be up our asses any minute now. Had Monroe clean the place out just in case.”

  “Smart.” Buster nodded. “Everyone here?”

  “Yeah. You want me to get them downstairs?”

  “Not just yet. We need more information first. I want everyone out on the streets seeing what they can find. You seen Caroline around?”

  “She's out front with Danny and Rock, ordering the workers around.” Train grinned. “It's actually pretty hot. Don't worry, they're keep an eye on her.”

  Monroe came back with the coffee. Buster drank it down in two large gulps. “Bring me another one and then hit the road. Meet back here at noon. We'll compare notes. Edge,” he scanned the room until he caught sight of him. “Hang back, you're coming with me.”

  Edge looked surprised, caught off guard. Good. Buster wasn't one-hundred-percent sold that the rehabilitation had actually taken hold or that Edge was really willing to let go of Jillian so easily. He'd spoken of little else besides her and making things right with her. “Sure thing, Buster. You want another coffee before we go?”

  “Yeah, that'd be good. Some aspirin too.” Buster headed for the door and outside. It was like the sun shone directly in his eyes, searing rays of light intent on scrambling his brain. He managed not to whimper, just barely.

  Caroline smirked as she caught sight of him. She consulted the clipboard in her hand and said something to the men in front of her. They all nodded and headed off to the trucks parked at the curb. He had to give her credit, she'd found guys who seemed to know the trade. “Well, hello Sunshine.” She chuckled. “You do realize you're eyes aren't all the way open, right? What happened to you never getting a hangover?”

  “Shut up.” Buster closed the distance between them, laid his hand on her cheek.

  “That's a nice way to talk to me.” She pouted playfully. “Not even a good morning?”

  “Good morning.” Buster chuckled. “You were up early. You should have woken me, or better yet, just stayed in bed.”

  “Someone had to get the ducks in order out here. Oh, and just so you know, you're paying me the same as Ryan was.”

  “I'll pay you.” Buster realized something was off about what she'd said. “What do you mean what Ryan was paying you?”

  “I called him this morning. It's not fair to him to have things piling up while I'm out. He left all of the other applications in my office when he hired me. I told him who to call. So, you're going to pay me the same that he was. And benefits with vision. I've been squinting a lot.”

  “You quit your job?”

  “That's what I just said.” She frowned. “Wait, do you not want me to hire me? Do you think that it's a bad idea?”

  “I didn't say that.” Buster reached out and grabbed her arm. “Just working my head around it. Did you hear what's going on?”

  “All hell is breaking loose. I heard the news. Don't worry about me. I'm sticking right here at the bar. Have you seen it in stark daylight lately? It needs a serious cleaning.”

  “You don't have to clean,” Buster told her, though things had been going to shit ever since Clark wasn't around anymore. “The girls can do it.”

  “I'm not going to ask anyone to do something that I'm not willing to do myself,” She informed him. “Did you eat anything?”

  “I'm not hungry.” The mere thought of food made him want to throw up. “I'll grab something later. I've got to go, things to take care of. You know that, right?”

  “I do. Be careful. You're not going alone, are you?”

  “No. I'm going to take Edge with me.”

  “You sure he's up for that?”

  “If he's not, now is the time to find out. And I mean to find out.” Buster leaned in and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “And you'd better stay close.”

  “I said that I will.” Caroline sighed. “Amelia took off a little while ago. I think she went to the house around back.”

  “The Washburn place,” Buster explained. He wasn't overly worried about Amelia being able
to take care of herself. She'd be carrying, and she knew how to shoot. He also knew that too much time around too many people played games with her head. “She's probably in the garden.”

  “Garden?”

  “It's not as nice as yours. Amelia has mostly a black thumb. She'd probably be glad for a hand, but take someone with you.” Buster looked around. “Find Bones, he's not doing anything.”

  “Fine. Give me a kiss and go.” Caroline tilted her head back. “I'll see you later?”

  “You can count on it.”

  <#<#<#<#

  Buster couldn't get a read on Edge, and he was trying, really trying. But the man was just quiet except when he needed to speak. There was something different about him. Something in the way he carried himself, but Buster couldn't put his finger on that, either. He was getting really frustrated.

  They walked into Foxy Bend together. “What the fuck?” Edge asked as he looked around.

  Buster had been about to ask the same thing. For as long as he remembered, and that was a long time, Foxy Bend had been on the D-list of Detroit strip clubs; it was dank, vaguely smelly and boasted the finest dancers that could be found in a pool of meth addicts and heroin junkies. That wasn't the club he was standing in now. Nothing was dank or smelly, and the dancers were hot.

  “Welcome to Foxy Bend.” A female voice, a familiar one, spoke. Karen had been working at the club, behind the bar, for a while now. She'd always favored jeans and tee shirts but now she was in skin-tight, leather-looking pants and a corset-style top.

  “The fuck happened here?”

  “The Wild Cards happened,” she replied. “And he's waiting for you, the top dog himself.”

  “Why are you still working here?” Buster decided to cut through the bullshit. From what he remembered she'd been putting herself through school and only stayed there because she could stay behind the bar and not dress like a whore.

  “We do what we have to do, right? Look, don't keep him waiting. Please. He's in the VIP area, see the velvet ropes? Jake's back there.” She lowered her voice. “Be careful.”

  She was gone before Buster could ask anything else. “Son of a bitch.”

  “How did we not know about this?” Edge hissed the question. “This place had to have been gutted. No one said a fucking word.”

  Buster had to bite back his tongue to keep from thanking the younger man for pointing out the obvious. “Come on. Keep your mouth shut.”

  Jake was sitting on what looked like a throne in the VIP area, a fucking throne. Buster didn't know if he should laugh or spit at the man. “Gentlemen, nice to see you.” He motioned for them to sit. “Let me guess, you're out around town trying to find a line on my guys after all the excitement last night.”

  “You know how many people you killed?” Buster asked.

  “You wearing a wire, Buster? Finally agree to be a lap dog for Harris? Is that why she hasn't been to see you yet today? Because she knows that Fido wouldn't bite the hand that feeds him?” Jake laughed, long and loud. “And before you act on that impulse to beat the shit out of me, I suggest you look around you.”

  Buster had known that Jake wouldn't be alone in the bar, but he hadn't expected that every man inside would be armed. Fuck him sideways. “I'm not a fucking rat.” It was an effort to keep his tone even. “Seeing as you could have filled us with holes from the second that we walked in, I'm thinking there's a reason that you haven't. Want to fill me in?”

  “Smart man.” Jake grinned. “Alright. I'll fill you in. Let's make it quick, though. I've got to get home for lunch, my wife is waiting for me. Hey, just realized that you're my brother now, Edge. What do you say? Do you want to come and play for the winning team?”

  “Fuck you,” Edge replied. Guns cocked.

  “Fair enough.” Jake shook his head at the men. “Well, I had to tell Jillian that I asked. Not that she's going to give a shit.” He grinned. “I know what Nightshade does with Miller, or should I say for Miller. When Mark was in charge, we were doing it, and we were doing it better. And we want to do it again, so you're going to end your relationship with Miller, immediately. I'll take care of the rest.”

  “Oh, I am? Am I?” Buster moved from feeling pissed to being amused. “And why the fuck would I do that?”

  “Because for every day you don't, more people are going to die. And you've got too much of a conscience for that, all of you do. Nightshade could be making serious bank, but you refuse to deal in certain things because of your morals. An MC with morals. That's a joke. Nightshade is a joke.” Jake rose to his feet. “And people won't just be dying from Binky.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Amelia didn't have a black thumb, she had a black hand, but she was really trying. She told Caroline of Mrs. Washburn who'd lived in the house. It had been one of her favorite places to go, and still was. So Caroline got her hands, and everything else, dirty. By the end of the day, the place had started to show some promise.

  Amelia was over the moon. Caroline was exhausted. All she wanted was a hot shower and maybe a cold beer. Maybe a light beer, if they even had that at the bar. She laughed at something that Amelia said as they stepped into the bar just in front of Bones. The sound died on her lips. The mood was heavy, the shades shut against the outside world.

  “Shit.” Amelia sighed. “Do I even want to know?”

  “No,” Danny said from the bar. “Just do me a favor and go upstairs, alright?”

  “Okay.” Amelia gave Caroline a look and headed for the stairs.

  Buster wasn't downstairs, so Caroline followed her up the stairs and to what was now their room. She opened the door, found him sitting on the bed. “Hey.”

  “Hey.” He barely looked up from the floor.

  “I need to take a shower, but I heard someone in there.” Caroline kept the conversation light because she could see the weight on his shoulders.

  “We should go home.”

  “Home?”

  “Yes, home. I'm sick of sleeping on this lumpy mattress in this shitty fucking room. Grab some stuff, we'll get the rest later.”

  “Wait, is it safe to leave?” Caroline was confused. The mood downstairs definitely suggested that something was going on. Something worse than the deaths and violence which had been claimed by the night before.

  “You want to go or not? Safe? No. It's not safe. And we're not safe here. That was a delusion. See, now that The Wild Cards are waving their dicks around, the truth is becoming clear. Nightshade doesn't have all the friends we thought we did.”

  “The Street Kings?” Caroline couldn't believe that Manuel would betray them. He'd always been such a nice guy to her. Sweet even.

  “No, the Kings are solid. They've got our back. And pretty much just them. Somehow, Jake has turned people who've been loyal to us for years. We're good and fucked, Caroline. So if it's all the same, I just want to go home and sleep in my bed. Can we just do that?”

  <#<#<#<#

  Caroline was scared as they rode to his house, or their house, because she didn't know what to expect from anything. She'd been so sure she knew what she was getting into. Now, she knew she'd underestimated how high the weeds could get around Nightshade. It would be stupid not to be scared, and she wasn't stupid. There was only one thing to do, and that was trust in the man she'd signed on for.

  She could feel the pain radiating off of him, the guilt he felt for their current situation, and Caroline was at a loss for what to do. So she held on. When they finally arrived, she could barely get off of the bike. Of course she'd seen it before and loved it from the outside. The inside was pretty bare, hard to read anything by it. Her best guess had been Buster had simply inherited some things and gotten the rest out of a catalog. Would it ever feel like her home? Caroline hoped so. She could already see flower beds in the front yard, maybe trying to cultivate some moss on the exposed brick front.

  “Caroline, you coming inside or what?” he asked as he unlocked the front door.

  “Sorry, I was just think
ing.” Caroline caught up with him. “I really need a shower. I'm just going to run up and grab one alone unless you wanted to join me.”

  “I need a few minutes, Caroline. Go and have your shower. When you're done, I think that we should talk. There's something that I should have told you sooner.”

  “The shower can wait.” It wasn't even a possibility that she was just going to go up the stairs when he'd just said that, with that particular expression on his face. “What's going on?”

  “I don't even know where to start.”

  “The beginning usually works pretty well.” Caroline crossed her arms over her chest. “You can't just say something like that and expect me to walk away.”

  “The Wild Cards. You've heard the stories from the first war, right? I'm sure it's all everyone's been talking about. Well, there's part of the story that they don't talk about. Part of the story that I should have told you when we got serious.”

  “Tell me now, Buster.” Caroline didn't like the beating around the bush, and he knew it, so that told her that whatever he was going to say was going to be big. Important. She wondered if she should sit down.

  “Her name was Hanna. She was a pass-around, except by then she wasn't really getting passed around. She was pretty much just mine.” He cleared his throat. “And after a while, she ended up knocked up. It was mine. There was never any doubt. Right before the end of the war, things got really ugly.”

  Caroline had a good idea how ugly, since he obviously didn't have a child or a Hanna running around. The jealousy that flared in her at the idea of him being with someone else was ridiculous; they hadn't even known each other then.

  “Hanna had a doctor's appointment, one of those scans to make sure the kid was growing right. It was, or should I say she was. It was a girl. We were leaving, heading to her car because there was no way I was letting her on the bike. It was too dangerous. They hit us right before we got to the car. It all happened so fast but at the same time, it felt like forever. There was enough time for her to be scared, to know what was happening.”