Unruly

by Ronnie Douglas

  “She isn’t like us,” I reminded him gently. “The club is our family. She can’t see that.”

  He stared at me, but he didn’t comment.

  Killer hadn’t ever been one for heart-to-hearts. There were a few rare conversations, but as a rule, he wasn’t a talker . . . which was why I was caught unprepared when he said, “Are you okay?”

  I frowned at him. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “Dash.”

  “We’re . . .” I tried to think of the words that weren’t lies but weren’t admissions. There wasn’t a good solution there. “Noah and I are friends. That’s all.”

  Killer quirked his brow. The same look was one everyone had seen on Echo’s face enough that it worked almost as well when Killer did it. “You two aren’t usually split up this long.”

  I opened my mouth, couldn’t find words, and closed it again.

  “If you’re going to work things out, maybe now’s a good time. Red’s the sort of woman who could make a man throw everything away. Dash isn’t going to be with her, but . . . if you two are—”

  “Are you asking me to patch things up with Noah so he’s out of your way?” I gaped at Killer. “Seriously? The rest of the world might not realize that you were a ladykiller before you decided it was the sort of name that chased off the women, but I haven’t forgotten. Don’t think I’m going to either.” I shoved my arm into his shoulder. “Your game gotten that weak, Ladykiller?”

  He gave me the sort of simmering assessment that had resulted in a lot of women forgetting their common sense and said, “Not likely.”

  I laughed. “Then figure it out, because I’m not getting with Noah ever again, even to help your sorry ass get the girl.” I shook my head. “Man, I never thought I’d see the day when the great Ladykiller needed help with a girl. Used to be they were ready to wrestle for a chance in your line. Oh, how the mighty have fallen!”

  Killer narrowed his eyes at me, but the corner of his mouth lifted in an almost smile. “Red won’t know what hit her. I’m going to find a way. This one’s the one, Ellie.”

  I could hear the boy I used to know in his voice. This was my old friend; under the leather and the gun and the fists, this was Zion, the boy he’d been before he started answering to Ladykiller or Killer. I smiled at him. “I hope you can figure it out then . . . for both of you. I like her, you know?”

  He nodded.

  “I still like you, too.” I paused and then added in a small voice, “I’ve missed talking to you.”

  He nodded again. “Don’t know why we stopped talking. Sure Dash was a dick after you and I . . .” His words faded. “I should’ve been around, though, not let Dash’s issues mess up our friendship.”

  “Right there with you,” I admitted. “I hated that you knew about me and him, but I still had to pretend you didn’t.”

  “You know that you were the last time Dash and I were at odds over a girl. The only other time, actually,” Killer pointed out. “That time I stepped off. He said you were his, and I stepped away.”

  “Then tell him to do the same now,” I suggested. “If Aubrey means that much . . .”

  Killer gave me a slow smile. “Difference between Dash and me is that I want her to choose me. I don’t want to be the only choice she could make, but the one she wants to make. Stupid, maybe, but there it is.”

  We had reached my badly dinged and faded Honda Civic, and when we stopped, I looked up at Killer and told him, “It’s not stupid at all.”

  He nodded and motioned toward the car. “Go on. I need to go tend to a few things, and I’m not going to be able to go do any of them until you’re in the car and on your way.”

  I debated pointing out that I’d have been walking to my car on my own, that I did so all the time, that I was the daughter of a Wolf, so most people wouldn’t bother me anyhow. Killer knew all that. The fact was, he’d always had an overprotective streak, and if we were going to be friends again, I’d need to either deal with it or fight with him regularly. I decided I’d try to accept it.

  “If it’s meant to be with her, it will be,” I told him.

  Killer grinned. “It is. Red’s the one. She just needs to admit it.”

  I shook my head, not in doubt but because I felt a little bit of sympathy for Aubrey. Killer wasn’t the sort to let anyone or anything stand in the way of what he wanted. Neither was Noah. That used to be something we all had shared, but I’d let myself forget it. I wanted things with Noah to work, but he hadn’t. If he had really wanted us to work out, we would’ve. That was all the proof I needed to realize that we would’ve never been more than the half relationship we’d had. Once Noah realized that, too, we could resume our friendship. He would realize it eventually. The thought made me smile slightly: I’d have my friend back someday. Of course, then I’d have both him and Killer circling me like rabid guard dogs again.

  I climbed into the car, thinking about the past and the future. Noah and I weren’t meant to be, and we’d been fighting it by pretending that we could be something we weren’t. If Aubrey and Killer were right together and they both wanted it, they could find a way. That was the magic: fitting and wanting it to work. Noah and I had neither, not in a relationship way. The longer we’d been apart, the more obvious this became to me. When I was around Alamo . . . I felt something unexpected. It was a click, a strike of lightning, that rare zing that marked an incredible possibility. That didn’t guarantee anything, but I wanted the chance to find out.

  Chapter 6

  LIFE WENT BACK TO NORMAL. I WORKED ON MY DESIGNS and tried to keep up with everything else. The familiar routine of it was comforting. I wanted more, but after years of drama with Noah, I’d come to enjoy the peace of the way things had been the past few months.

  Okay, I wasn’t entirely enjoying it. I was frustrated that Alamo hadn’t so much as asked me to grab coffee. His gaze lingered often enough that either he was studying me like I was an insect or he liked the look of me, but he did nothing about it. So when I finally ran into him at the parking lot of Wolves & Whiskey bar alone, I stepped in his path.

  “How are you?”

  He looked at me, expressions on his face changing so rapidly that I didn’t know what to think. After an awkward moment, he said, “I’m good.”

  “You seem busy.”

  “Settling in with the club.” He shrugged. “Doing a few jobs.”

  The door opened and a couple of strangers came out of the bar. Alamo tensed as he glanced at them. I wasn’t sure if it was simply the tendency of Wolves not to like people walking behind them or if it was being seen with me. I tried to tell myself that not everyone was like Noah. There was no reason I could think of that Alamo wouldn’t want to be seen talking to me.

  “Are you okay, Ellen?”

  “Always.”

  “Did you need anything?”

  I forced a smile and said, “No. I just never seem to be able to catch you unless there’s a bunch of people around, so I thought I’d stop you . . . Sometimes it’s nice to talk without an audience, you know?”

  Alamo looked away from me, gaze fixed on the door of the bar as if he was expecting it to open again. When he glanced back at me, he said, “You let me know if you do need anything.”

  “Right,” I muttered. “If you don’t mind, just tell Aubrey that I’ll call her. You’ll save me a few minutes. I was to be here, and I can’t stay, so . . . do you mind?”

  Apparently, it wasn’t just a coincidence that he was never around long when I was. Sure, he offered to be there for me if there was an emergency or a crisis, but offering to be there was just what the Wolves did. Bikers were all about protecting the people that were part of their club. Since Alamo’s first encounter with me was a rescue, it wasn’t shocking that he was stressing that he would be there for me. He knew that Killer and Noah cared about me, so it was good logic to watch out for me. Maybe it wasn’t all politics—and I hoped it wasn’t—but it wasn’t what I wanted from him, either. His attitude today mad
e it far too clear that he wanted nothing to do with me.

  I tried to tell myself that it didn’t hurt, that it was nice not to have a plateful of drama. I tried to convince myself that it didn’t sting that Alamo rejected me at every turn. I tried to pretend that it was better to know now. I lied. I felt that connection, that potential for electricity, and I wanted it.

  He obviously didn’t.

  “Are you sure everything is okay?” Alamo asked as I started to turn away from him.

  I waved over my shoulder without turning back. “A lot to do,” I lied.

  Then I got in my car and drove away without even glancing at him. It was silly to let myself care that a man wasn’t interested in me. I’d spent enough time dealing with that with Noah. I wasn’t going to do it again . . . except I couldn’t seem to stop thinking about Alamo. I felt like the air around us was humming when I saw him. How could he not feel it, too?

  I cranked up the radio and sang the whole way home. Like always, music was the cure to my mood. I wasn’t so foolish as to think that singing would fix the causes of my emotions, but it let me siphon them off so I wasn’t a wreck because of them.

  When I pulled in at my house, I was extra glad that I’d done so. The man sitting on my front porch was the one man I owed the most loyalty in this world. The president of the Southern Wolves was the man who’d protected and sheltered my mother and me for as long as I could remember. His visits weren’t always a good omen, but as the daughter of a Wolf, I was still at his command—as were the families of the rest of the Wolves. We could’ve stepped away from the club when Daddy died, but instead we’d become even closer to the Wolves, especially Echo.

  I cut off the engine. The lack of music seemed suddenly loud in that way that sudden absences can be. My tension was lessened slightly as Echo looked my way and gave me a small smile.

  “Ellen,” he said by way of greeting as I walked toward him.

  “Echo,” I said as lightly as I could. It was still an effort not to sound like a child about to be chastened when I was alone facing him. Of the three of us who had Echo’s attention growing up, Killer was the only one who managed to pull off sassing Echo. Noah and I still looked at the club president like he was a combination of God and Santa Claus.

  It wasn’t exactly normal to see Echo on my step, but I had always been more niece than anything to him. Maybe it was just that Dash and I were Killer’s childhood playmates, or maybe it was that Dash and I lost our dads, but he paid close attention to both of us, too. There weren’t a lot of club-related deaths, but things happened. It was inevitable when guns, tempers, and cash were just a part of business. Regardless of the reason, I had a complicated relationship with the man who held the leash on the rest of Wolves.

  “Tell me what you think of the new guy,” Echo said when I sat down on the steps in front of him.

  “Alamo?”

  Echo nodded. Much like his son, Echo didn’t usually phrase things as questions but as orders. Usually, however, with us there were pleasantries of a sort. He was a gentleman. Even if his business included drug deals, gambling, and strip clubs, Echo still remembered his manners.

  “What do you need to know?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “Everything.”

  “Killer trusts him” was my first answer. There wasn’t a higher endorsement I could give. Killer was a great judge of character.

  Echo nodded. “You?”

  I resisted the urge to just blurt out “Yes!” because this wasn’t a question of libido or even affection. Echo was asking my opinion, and it wasn’t the sort of thing to take lightly when he wanted my opinion. There was obviously something on his mind if he was asking about Alamo.

  “He’s a good man,” I said. “Loyal to the club. Came around asking why I was paying attention to Aubrey”—I paused and met Echo’s eyes before continuing—“and I told him that it wasn’t his business, but he was trying to look out for Killer. He offers me help, but isn’t . . . asking for . . . anything.”

  Echo gave me a paternal look before saying mildly, “I know you’re not an innocent, Ellen, but thank you for not spelling it out any further.”

  I fought a blush. “My point is that he’s a gentleman. When Noah and I . . . you know, I assume?”

  “That you kicked him to the curb? I knew the day Mike sent Alamo to fetch you home.” Echo gave me a patient look. “You are the only one outside the club who’s spent time with him.”

  “I’m not exactly outside the club,” I muttered.

  Echo quirked a brow at me. It was an old argument. I didn’t exactly raise my voice at him over it, but it was certainly a subject that we’d discussed in heated tones. “You’re not patched in, girl. That’s never going to change. Women have their place, and it’s not in harm’s way.”

  I sighed. “I trust him. He’s got good instincts, is aware of his surroundings, pays attention to the little things, and . . . hides it behind a drawl and throwaway smiles. He’s kind without looking for anything in return, and he’s loyal to Killer.”

  We sat in silence then, and I waited. Echo wasn’t one for a lot of extra words or noise. It was a trait of his that I’d adopted years ago, and I found myself slipping into silence more with him and Killer than anyone else. Most of the bikers were noisy bastards, and my mother managed to speak even when she was technically silent. Echo’s silence was comforting. The only other biker I’d met who seemed able to just be in silence was Alamo.

  Finally Echo nodded at me and said, “I always thought one of the boys would snap you up. They both missed out.”

  “Thank you, but . . . I wasn’t what either Killer or Noah needed, and they aren’t what I need.”

  Echo sighed. “I would’ve liked you to be with one of them. They’re good men, and you’ve grown into a good woman. Roger would’ve been proud.”

  My throat tightened a bit at the mention of my father, but I only repeated, “Thank you.”

  “He wouldn’t like that you stopped singing, though. You ought to start singing again, but I suspect it’ll happen sooner or later, won’t it?” Echo lifted that one brow inquiringly again, and I knew without his having to say it aloud that he knew that I’d been singing in Memphis. “A man who can get you to sing might not be someone Roger would dislike, either.”

  “It was the anniversary of Daddy’s death. I missed him extra, and . . .”

  “So you had Alamo carry you to Memphis to sing.”

  I nodded. Aside from my one afternoon in Memphis, my car was the closest to a public place where I sang. Sometimes I sang at home, but Mama was an unholy terror about it. We’d had the Talk about what a career I could have if I’d “use my God-given talent” one too many time years ago. These days, it was one of the few surefire ways for us to end up in a fight.

  “No shame in that, Ellen. Miss Bitty would prefer you to sing here. She misses Roger’s singing too.” Echo held my gaze, and I suddenly felt like a recalcitrant child again. It wasn’t anywhere near the first time he’d made me feel that way.

  Usually Uncle Karl and my mama handled discipline, but when Noah, Killer, and I had all three ended up in a brawl with some drunks one Friday night a couple years back, Echo had been the one to take us to task that night—after Uncle Karl had read the boys out and Mama had done the same with me. That was the night Echo went into a long, patient, level-voiced explanation about our responsibility to the town. Wolves had an obligation to protect their territory and their subjects. The citizens of Williamsville might not consider themselves subjects of the Wolves and I might not be a Wolf, but as far as Echo was concerned, that was how things were. None of us had argued.

  And I wasn’t arguing today.

  “I know she misses him,” I told Echo. “I know she likes my singing, too. I just . . . I don’t want to sell a record, or even know if I could. I want to design clothes.”

  Echo gave me the sort of look that made me feel like I was missing the most obvious thing in the world and said, “Is there some rule I do
n’t know about that says you can’t do both?”

  I grinned, both in relief that he’d spoken lightly and because I liked being teased by him. “There are things you don’t know?”

  He laughed. “You only get away with that sass because your mama’d lay into me if I growled at you for it like the boys got.”

  I mock-shuddered, instead of pointing out that I’d never truly sass him. “I’d have taken your growls over Mama’s groundings any day of the week.”

  “I don’t know any clothes people, but you know I have ties over Memphis way and in Nashville if you decide to sing more often,” Echo said blandly.

  “Yes, sir.”

  He laughed again, and I was grateful that I’d been able to cheer him a little bit. He patted my shoulder in what substituted for an affectionate embrace from him and added, “Now I know you’re sassing me, missy. You don’t ‘sir’ people.”

  “If anyone rates a ‘sir,’ it’s you.” I felt a little embarrassed at saying it aloud, but there was no shame in admitting the truth. Echo had always made sure Mama and I were provided for, and I knew for certain that there was money that showed up in our bank account because of him. He didn’t make a thing about it, either. He simply provided for us when we needed it. Wolves were only supposed to have your back for life, but the club had been there for us a lot longer, even though my father was long gone.

  A lot of folks misunderstood bikers. They didn’t realize that a motorcycle club was really just a big family, one with a few more crazies than a lot of families owned up to having, but a family all the same. Families looked out for one another. That was just the way of it.

  “Do you need me to do anything? For the club? Or . . . ?” I asked. I might not know what all Echo planned and plotted. It was best that way. The one certainty was that I owed Echo my loyalty.

  “Not right now,” he said. There were no false expressions of gratitude or faux misapprehensions. Echo knew he deserved my loyalty. I suspected, not without reason, that he assumed he deserved everyone’s loyalty. Most of the time I thought he was right about that.