by Blue Remy
The threat was there. It wasn’t verbal, but it hung in the air loud and clear. “It’s not my intention, Romeo.”
His voice was heavy with sarcasm, “The road to Heaven was paved with good intentions.”
Mace couldn’t keep the edge out of his voice when he turned to face Romeo, not afraid to square off with the hulkish male. “I’m not sure where Amy and I are headed. I live life like there is no tomorrow, Romeo. Amy knows that and accepts it. I don’t plan on hurting her, but shit happens. You of all people ought to know that.”
Romeo nodded with indifference, his voice sounding tired. “How right you are. I’m the king of hurting the ladies.”
Mace’s left brow rose a fraction. Romeo never opened up with personal shit. Caught off guard, he pushed his hands deep into his pockets. “A man’s got his reasons for the things he does.”
Romeo shrugged dismissively. “Got that shit right. One too many manipulative and desperate females for my blood.”
Mace couldn’t help but listen in bewilderment. Some chick had put a serious kink in Romeo’s armor. Scratching at the whiskers on his cheek, he sank on the edge of his bed, looking up at his friend. “What happened?”
Romeo’s voice grew cold and exact as he leaned back against the wall, arms folding over his chest. “A few years back, a girl I was dating got pregnant. Swore up and down the kid was mine, but everyone kept telling me that she was hookin’ with some fucker behind my back. I stood by her, though I never told my old man. I guess something inside me told me the kid wasn’t mine. Sure enough, baby came, I got a DNA test and it wasn’t mine. Not too long after that, one of the club girls tried the same shit, wanting status.”
“And then you had Tasha pulling the pregnancy stunt.” Mace gave a forced smile and a nod in concern. “Dude, you guys need to get rid of her. Get a new batch of women in here before some of the Ol’Ladies put a hurtin’ on them. It’s coming and quick. It’s sad some women are like that.”
“Let them beat the shit out of each other for all I care. It happens when too many vaginas are together at once. It’s not some, it’s all women.”
“So, you’re saying your sister is the same way?” Mace questioned with a significant lifting of his brows.
“My sister is basically a dude.” Romeo laughed and waved away anything Mace was about to protest. “She doesn’t put up with that shit and she isn’t going to fake a fucking pregnancy to get you to marry her. And what the fuck is this you guys shit? You forget you wear the patches now too?”
Mace rolled his eyes, offering a throaty chuckle. “I haven’t forgotten. Habits die hard, brother. It may take a few to get used to not being prospect anymore.”
“Speaking of which, Saber wants to sponsor Dalton. We’re going to have a church meeting here soon and talk on it.”
“He seems like a good kid.” Mace stood, hearing steps coming their way.
Stone walked into view, looking back and forth between the two of them. “You two look guilty as hell. What did you do?”
Romeo snorted, pushing away from the wall and dusting off his pants. “Haven’t done shit yet.”
“Good. We got shit to do. Bob called and the bike parts for Axe are ready. We got to go get them.” Stone patted the doorjamb as he turned to leave.
“I told Amy yesterday I’d pick up a few things for her at the store. If that’s cool with you guys.”
Romeo threw his head back and laughed. “How cute, he’s already domesticated.”
Mace lifted his hand and gave Romeo the one fingered salute, following Stone out the door. “Whatever dude.”
“What’s that I smell?” Romeo followed Mace out, acting like he was sniffing the air. “A pussy whipped male?”
“Get over yourself, fucker.” Mace chuckled as they wandered over to Stone’s truck. Since he left his bike at the shop, he’d need a ride to pick it up.
The front door flew open, Amy darting out toward them. “Don’t forget the list!”
Stone opened up the truck door to climb inside. “Yo, cut the bromance you two and get your asses in gear. Amy, slow do—”
Stone never got out the rest.
Amy had made it halfway to the truck when the house exploded into a ball of flames.
“Amy!” Mace screamed as sheer black horror ran through him when Amy disappeared in the ball of flames that rolled out and over the lawn. Falling debris slammed down around Mace and Romeo while they both surged forward. The very thought of losing her tore at Mace’s insides.
Mace raced across the lawn; just thinking she might be dead shattered him to the core. Seeing Amy laying face first on the singed grass, Mace dropped to his knees, sliding the rest of the way to her. He scooped up her limp body and cradled her close to him. She was covered in soot, her skin and clothes burned in several areas.
“Amy, baby ... answer me!” He slapped her face lightly; icy fear twisted his heart when she didn’t respond. Fingers fumbled for a pulse at her throat as Romeo slammed down next to them.
“Amy! Fuck! Is she?” Romeo yelled over the roar of the fire, his face a tortured mask of worry and fear.
Mace felt her pulse, strong and regular, allowing him to breathe a sigh of relief. “Take her and get her to the truck.” He gently handed Amy over to Romeo, then dug in his pocket to pull out his phone. He dialed 9-1-1. After he gave them the information, he hit a single button on his phone and waited for an answer. “This is Mason Younger, Special Agent Jones. I was involved in a domicile explosion. I have a favor to ask.” Mace looked at Romeo.
Romeo’s broad face twisted with anger and hostility. His voice was inflamed and belligerent as he choked out, “You son of a bitch.” Romeo walked away, his spine rigid, letting Mace know that this was far from over.
* * * *
All Amy remembered was running outside with the list, telling them not to forget it, then unbearable heat at her back. It enveloped her, stealing breath from her lungs, and then there was nothing. She woke up on a gurney, wired to a heart monitor and sucking down oxygen like it was a drug. She was in a haze, unsure of where she was, until she saw the flames from the open cargo bay of the ambulance.
“No!” Amy cried out in despair, hot tears slipping down her burned cheeks. Deft, slender fingers tore at the stickers glued to her, the sound of Velcro tearing apart as loud as thunder in her ears when she ripped the blood pressure cuff off her arm. Clawing the nasal cannula off her face, she nearly fell off the mobile bed, stumbling out the back of the ambulance.
Blind to anything but the fire that consumed her family home, a hard body stopped her from running into the flames. “No!” Amy screamed in raw and primitive grief, unable to contain the tears threatening to consume her. Everything and anything left of her mother was in that house. Every memory destroyed by smoke and flames.
Amy wasn’t able to fight the arms that held her, crumbling against the muscular frame. “Shhh, Amy. You’re safe.” The words were crooned for her comfort, but she only felt hollow and numb. Lips pressed against her temple, hair brushed tenderly from her face, forcing her to look up to see who held her.
Mace stared down at her, a suffocating sensation tightened her throat at the look of raw hurt in his eyes. “Am I?” Amy brought up a shaky hand to her forehead, her voice wobbled as she spoke. “It’s all gone, Mace.”
A stab of guilt lay buried in her chest watching her father meet them, his eyes hollow and laden with unshed tears. He looked worn and haggard, his age catching up with him. How could she feel sorry for herself at the loss of her mother’s things, when her father was at as much of a loss, if not more?
Stepping away from Mace, she took slow steps toward him, slipping her arms around his waist, laying her head on his chest. His heartbeat soothed her as they watched the firefighters put out the last of the flames.
A black SUV arrived on scene; two men in suits exited and moved toward the fire chief.
Amy looked up to her dad confused, "Who are they?”
Stone gave a shrug
of uncertainty. “Probably arson investigators.”
Mace coughed into his fist, stepping up to the two of them. “I called in a favor. They’re experts in this sort of thing.”
Unconsciously, her brows furrowed. “What sort of thing?”
“Bombs.”
Amy’s heart skipped a beat in fear. To put into words what she knew, but didn’t want to acknowledge, was horrifying. “Who would do this?”
“That’s what I’m hoping to find out.” Mace turned to Stone. “I have a pretty big spread in Foxen Canyon. A six bedroom home that isn’t being used. Come stay with me. We can trailer the horses over in the morning, take the bikes tonight.”
Stone seemed startled by the suggestion, shaking his head in response. “We can’t put you out like that, Mace.”
Amy’s jaw dropped at the offer, realization hitting her that they didn’t know that much about Mace. This would be a way to get closer to him and see what made him tick. “Why can’t we? We’d save money by not being in a hotel. Any other of the club family would offer it, and if he has the space, Daddy?”
“She’s got a point, Stone.”
Stone’s soot covered face grimaced when she pulled the ‘daddy’ card. “Fine. If you’re sure it won’t put you out.”
“It won’t. I promise. I only have 96 acres though.”
Amy was confused when Stone pointed at Mace with a chuckle and a shake of his head. It had to be some private joke between the two of them.
One of the suits stopped in front of them as Romeo strolled up. “I’m Special Agent Jones.” He stuck out his hand to shake Stone’s, Romeo’s and Mace’s hand. He looked directly at Mace and spoke. “We found the device that was remotely triggered. The kitchen and living room seem to be the most damaged, the device was located in the living room. There is water damage, of course, in the other rooms, smoke damage as well. It won’t be that difficult to rebuild the home, but I pray after this, you can rebuild your lives.”
Amy stepped back, listening to what the man had to say, unsure of what it all meant. Someone had tried to hurt them. She knew that much. The question was, who and why? Her throat grew tight as tears welled. This wasn’t the life she wanted, living in fear all the time, having her family destroyed by some unseen force.
Mace nodded as he listened to the agent. “Can you tell who created the bomb?”
“We can once we get it to the lab. It was homemade, but everyone has a signature style to their designs. We’ll know in a day or so.”
“Thank you, Agent Jones.” Stone offered his hand to the agent once more, then slowly turned to the group. “Amy, go get us all clothing you can salvage. Romeo, Mace, get the trailer hooked up and let’s get the horses loaded, or we’ll be here all night.”
It was silent going, tense and sad as they worked to get ready to move to Mace’s. Amy got what she could; everything else was either soaked or destroyed by the smoke. She couldn’t stop to look at the ruined photo albums or melted pictures on the walls, in fear of having a nervous breakdown. This was a grab and run situation, they would come back tomorrow or another day to go through the home and see what they lost.
That was one trip she would need nerve pills for.
The ride to Mace’s was quiet, except for a few random sniffles from her. Stone and Romeo were on their bikes following them. She didn’t know what to expect, but it wasn’t what she saw rolling out before her when they pulled up to the Spanish style adobe ranch home. It was simply beautiful and cold.
Mace led them into the home, switching on lights, exposing the sterile interior to them. No books, no collectibles, no personal items lying about. Just two pictures over his fireplace. One of an older couple and one of a young man that looked like he could be Mace’s twin in a USMC uniform. It was as if he owned it, but never lived in it. Completely uninviting.
Amy frowned at that thought as Mace showed Romeo and Stone where they would be staying for now, then came back to her.
“Why don’t you have any more pictures or look like you actually live here?”
Mace pursed his lips as he looked around his den, then back to her, his eyes clouded and his voice distant. “The past belongs buried.”
CHAPTER 18
Amy’s questions were expected, but Mace had inherited the house only a few months prior and hadn’t gotten it set up the way he wanted it. Getting where he was with the club and spending time with Amy had been more important, and he let her know as much. He cleaned up after breakfast with Amy and Stone getting ready to head back to the house for some damage control, when Romeo wandered in. They hadn’t spoken a word to one another since Romeo carried off Amy after he made the phone call to Jones.
Romeo retained his affability, but there was a distinct hardening of his green eyes. “Is there something you want to tell me?”
Mace quirked a single brow at the line of questioning, knowing exactly what he was talking about. He wasn’t so sure he wanted to answer though. “It was my birthday the other night.”
He expected Romeo to get mad at his sarcasm, but he didn’t expect the violence. That was his fault for underestimating Romeo. Mace found himself at the receiving end of a butcher knife being held at his throat, pinned against the counter in his kitchen
Romeo’s expression was thunderous as he pressed the knife against Mace’s jugular. His voice was quiet, but yet held an undertone of cold contempt. “Why the fuck would you call in the ATF? Are you trying to put focus on us?”
Mace swallowed, feeling the blade nicking his skin, and a trickle of blood slipping down his throat. He wasn’t scared of Romeo by any means, but he was in dangerous territory right now and this was going to take some finesse to get around. He met Romeo’s accusing eyes without flinching, “I may know my shit, Romeo, but contrary to popular belief, I’m not a fucking genius. They owed me a favor and I called it in. It’s not going to put limelight on the club, trust me. The Temer Gallo have put it on the club, or haven’t you noticed the local PD and Sherriff’s Department have been eyeballing the clubhouse and trailing the main officers?”
“I’m not fucking stupid, Mace. We have local people on payroll. Nothing ever would have come of it.” Romeo ground his teeth, pressing the knife deeper into Mace’s throat. “Bringing the Feds in is a whole new problem. How is it they owe you a favor?”
Mace noted the hint of impatience in Romeo’s voice, his eyes narrowing in irritation. This shit was getting old. He wasn’t happy with a knife being held to his throat. Rolling his eyes, he sighed in exasperation; he was done with the physical threats. Romeo was too close to him to get the heel of his hand against Romeo’s sternum, but he could play dirty. Three different scenarios played through his mind’s eye in a matter of seconds, and only one had an outcome that wouldn’t cause Romeo too much pain.
His advantage was Romeo wouldn’t expect Mace to fight back. His right hand shot up to wrap fingers around the joints between Romeo’s hand and wrist. He applied a tight squeeze, feeling the two bones grind under his hand. Shoving off of the counter, he pushed Romeo’s arm away from his neck, the hand on his wrist turning enough to angle the sharp blade away from him. Mace turned his body toward the hulking frame of his club brother, shifting his weight to his right leg.
“Sorry, brother.” Mace had to apologize for what he was about to do. His left knee jerked up with the momentum of his twisting body, sinking right against Romeo’s family jewels. Romeo let out a grunt and instinctually dropped the knife, both hands flying to cup his sac, giving Mace time to pick the knife up and pull out a kitchen chair for Romeo to sit in.
Pouring them both a cup of coffee, Mace debated on getting Romeo a bag of ice, but fuck that. He drew blood and that wasn’t okay in his book. Romeo deserved to suffer for a bit. Setting the mug in front of Romeo, he pulled out a chair for himself and sat opposite him.
“I don’t take kindly to physical threats, Romeo. I’m not a prospect anymore, I don’t have to bow down and kiss anyone’s ass, and I won’t either.” Mace leane
d back in the chair, straightening his shoulders as his hand rested against the warm mug. “They owe me a favor because of my brother. He used to work for them, and he was killed after a case.”
“Bullshit.” Romeo drawled out with distinct mockery. “No federal agency owes favors like that. How was he killed? What was his name?”
“Elliot Dean. He’s my younger half-brother. It was his wedding day. Mid-ceremony, the priest asked if anyone objected to the marriage. A gunman stood up and opened fire on Elliot and his fiancé. They found out later it was a set up by a gang boss in Reno. The girl was paid to get my brother to the altar so they could whack him in poetic justice. He brought down the syndicate and it was retaliation.” Mace lifted his cup and took a long drink from it. His story was true, every damn bit of it. He loathed talking about it, since Elliot was the only family he gave a shit about; and he was gone.
Romeo’s lips puckered with a slow methodical nod. “And what if I say you’re lying through your teeth, cupcake?”
“Check it out. You’ve got the resources, or do I need to hold your hand and guide you on how to do it?”
Romeo laughed, wagging a finger at him. “Har har. Not funny.” A smile fell as he picked up his mug, “If I find out you’re lying, Mace, I will make you wish you never laid eyes on my sister, and you’ll be seeing your brother sooner than you think.”
* * * *
When Amy and Stone had come back from the house, Mace felt the tension and depression that loomed over them like death. He understood what they were going through, wished he knew how to help them both and bring up their spirits.
While they went to grab a shower and get rid of the smell of smoke on their skin, Mace put together some cold cuts, bread, fruit and chips, a bottle of moscato, and some paper cups. Placing it all in saddlebags, he made his way out to the barn and saddled up Little Joe and Phaedra.
Going back to the house, Mace waited for Amy to finish and find her way to the kitchen. He wanted to help her, try and cheer her up in some way, and he knew riding tended to help. There was nothing like the freedom one felt when they were riding, whether on a real horse or an iron horse.
