Another nod and a confused frown.
Bless his heart – he could run the entire US arm of an international outlaw organization, but short stories and submissions eluded him.
It felt like it was her turn to ask something. “Merc says things are going well at Dartmoor.”
“Yeah. Business is good. Things are quiet.”
“That’s good.”
“Yeah.”
“Okay,” the waitress said brightly, arriving with their food.
Ava thanked her before she left them extra napkins and walked off.
More awkwardness.
“What–” they both said at the same time.
Ghost dropped his head over his spaghetti. “Go ahead.”
She sighed. “Okay, I’m just going to be up-front here. I got the impression you wanted to see me for a particular reason. Is something wrong?”
He contemplated his food a moment. “Everything’s fine,” he said, head lifting. “So long as everything’s fine with you.”
She sat back, surprised. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
He shrugged. Shifted in his chair. Uncomfortable. With resolute seriousness, he said, “You’re happy?”
“Completely.”
“You really are? School? The baby…Merc?”
“Ugh, Dad, do we have to–”
“I never really…last year, after New Orleans…I didn’t get to ask you…”
“Dad–”
“I know you love him. You always have. And I know he loves you, in his own weird way. But I know the guy. I’ve seen him in action.”
“God,” she groaned, putting her face in her hands. “Please don’t tell me you’re asking what I think you are.”
“Is he good to you? I don’t mean if he pays for things and buys you a house. I mean – is he good to you, Ava?”
“You’re asking it, aren’t you?”
“I am. Yeah.”
She sighed and lowered her hands to her lap, regarded her father. His cheeks were tense and dark with an embarrassed flush, but his stare was ruthless, pegging her back against the seat.
The question was so inappropriate, odd – and so touching – that she didn’t know how to handle it.
“This is…sweet, in a way,” she said. “But you don’t really want to know details, do you?”
“No. Fuck no. But…I just want to make sure he’s treating you right. I want…shit.” He exhaled deeply. “I want to make sure you don’t have love-goggles on, and that if there was a real problem, you’d tell your mother about it, and you wouldn’t go along with him if he wasn’t good to you, in every way–”
“Dad.” She smiled. There was so much there: the worry, the respect, the regret. “Dad,” she said again. “I don’t misunderstand what Mercy is. I know how ferocious, how damaged, how violent he is. I have no delusions about that man. So it isn’t just in my head that he’s good to me. And he is – he is so good. He takes care of me in every way that a husband should take care of a wife.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. And I take care of him. And we take care of Remy. And dinner.” She laughed. “We’re partners. Not owner and property.”
He echoed her smile, though his was thin. “You’re not just saying that so I won’t worry?”
“Do you think I would do that?”
“No.” His smile brightened a fraction. “You’ve got too much of your mother in you for that.”
His hand lay on the table and she patted the back of it. “I turned out okay, Dad. I promise.”
“I know you did, sweetheart. I know.”
“We’re back,” Ava called as she heeled the door shut behind her. As she hefted the baby carrier through the mud room and kitchen, she was glad to hear the drone of the TV.
Aidan had ventured out into the living room.
He was sitting on the couch, watching some mindless MTV reality crap, eating a bowl of Froot Loops. He was in his now-usual uniform of baggy sweatpants and a t-shirt, but his hair was clean and shiny, and he’d shaved.
“Hey,” he greeted. “Have you seen this show? It’s like internet dating gone super wrong.”
“Haven’t seen it, don’t want to see it,” she said lightly, setting Remy’s carrier down and dropping into the chair angled toward the sofa. “You look pretty good, bubba. How’re you feeling?”
He shrugged and shoveled in Loops. “Not shitty.”
“Your color’s good. You’ve been doing your exercises?”
He rolled his eyes. “Yeah.”
“You know I have to keep asking. Until you’re back on your bike, I won’t believe you’re recovered.”
No comment, just chewing.
Ava checked Remy – he was deep asleep from the car ride home – and settled back into the chair. While his eyes were fastened to the screen, she took the chance to study her brother.
He was gaining a little weight, but his appetite was still lackluster. There was an overall glassy quality about him. Dull eyes, halfhearted smiles, a general disinterest in everything.
All of that was a cover for fear.
“You know,” she said, “after the crash in New Orleans, I dreaded getting back on the bike.”
He darted her a look without turning his head and kept eating.
“Merc did too. You guys – you start to feel like the bike’s a part of you. It’s the foundation of your whole way of life. And then it becomes the thing that hurt you. It betrayed you. It’s okay to feel hesitant.”
“I’m not hesitant. I’m just fucked up. Physically,” he clarified. Ava gave him a small smile. “Not emotionally at all.”
With an agitated huff, he sat forward and plunked his bowl down on the coffee table. “I never had a mom, and I don’t need one now. Or a shrink, or whatever you’re trying to be.”
She kept smiling. Throughout his recovery, a casual observer would have described him as ungrateful. But Ava knew her brother – knew the vein of pride that ran through all the Lean Dogs – and she knew it was time for him to unpack his shame so he could let go of it.
“You know you’re welcome to stay here with us as long as you need to,” she said. “But I don’t want you to get stuck in a place where you’re too depressed and nervous to get back on track.”
“I’m not depressed. And I’m sure as shit not nervous.”
“No,” she agreed, “and Mercy wasn’t either when I couldn’t get him out of bed.”
He stared at her, features set in a mask of Dad-like anger.
“I’m worried about you.”
“Stop.”
“I can’t control worry–”
“Stop being so goddamn nice to me.”
“What?”
He glanced away from her, jaw grinding. He held back a second, chewing on what he wanted to say. Then he let out a deep breath. “I’m only half-related to you for godsakes,” he bit out, “and you’ve fed me, and patched me up, and fucking bathed me, and treated me like I was your damn kid.”
“And you wish I hadn’t?”
“You shouldn’t have had to. You gave me your fucking blood. And then you did all this…” He shook his head. “Your blood, Ava.”
“It’s your blood, too.”
“Half.”
“No, I don’t accept that. There is no half.” Her chest was tight, heart aching for him. “Aidan, I gave you the blood because it’s our blood. Because I know you’d do the same for me. I’m taking care of you just like you took care of me in New Orleans. You’re my brother, and there’s nothing ‘half’ about it.”
He stared at the window, tiny muscles in his face twitching.
“This isn’t a favor, Aidan. Being family means there’s no such thing as favors. You’re my brother, and I love you, and I want you to get better.”
His head turned toward her, eyes glimmering. “Dad says I need to grow up.”
She inclined her head. “You do a little, yeah.”
“I don’t know if he’s on my side, though.”
“
I am.”
“I know.” He smiled.
Fifteen
Home is a Four-Letter Word
Colin rapped on the doorjamb before he stepped into the office. Ava’s mother glanced up at him as he entered.
Mercy’s mother-in-law.
Mothers-in-law weren’t supposed to be blonde, beautiful, and only a few years older than their sons-in-law.
Someone needed to tell that to Maggie Teague.
And maybe the same stupid ass who told her that could ask if being a child-bride ran in the family, given the obvious age advance her husband had on her.
“Oh hey,” she greeted when she saw who he was. “Here for your check?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I’ve got it right here.” She pulled out the top desk drawer and withdrew a slip of paper.
Mercy’s solution to his money problems had been straightforward. Colin had worked as an outside contractor at the Dartmoor automotive shop for the past two weeks, and in return, the boss would cut him a check and send him on his way. Much to his surprise, he hadn’t hated the Lean Dogs he’d worked alongside. And though he’d stayed at the Road King, Ava had invited him for dinner often, and sent him “home” with microwavable leftovers.
Things were still…tense. But not terrible. They were…improving.
Maggie did one last survey of the check and handed it to him. Flashed him a wide, professional smile that she probably knew was gorgeous. “Here you go.”
“Thanks…”
She glanced up at him with a feline sort of knowingness.
The spooky chick thing was genetic too.
“You’re heading out tonight?”
“First thing in the morning.”
She nodded. “Ghost wants to talk to you. He’s over at the clubhouse.”
Shit. What the hell did he want?
He pocketed the check. “Thanks.”
She gave him another smile and turned back to her computer. “Have a safe trip back.”
“Yeah.”
He didn’t trust her for a second.
Ghost was, as promised, sitting in a wrought iron chair at a café table beneath the clubhouse pavilion. Beside him, a blonde guy sat bent over a notebook, scribbling, while the president dictated.
“…and the developer? You’ve talked to him?”
“Not directly,” the blonde said, and Colin was surprised to hear his English accent. He hadn’t met Walsh yet, but he’d heard the others mention the British member. “His secretary–”
Colin cleared his throat and both of them clammed up, eyes sweeping toward him. Pale eyes and dark eyes, devoid of…everything.
Like being stared down by alpha and beta wolves. Like they were on the other side of the food chain from him.
Not creepy at all.
Then Ghost took a breath and his face shifted, becoming benignly polite. The socially acceptable mask sliding into place. “What’s up, Colin?”
He worked hard to keep his boot soles flat on the pavement. “Maggie said you wanted to see me before I left.”
Ghost nodded. “Yeah. Today your last day?”
“Yes, sir.”
“She cut you a check?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Have a seat.” He kicked out the chair beside him, the one across from Walsh.
Colin sat, because Ghost Teague came across as one of those men better off listened to.
When he was settled, the president leaned back in his chair and linked his hands over his flat stomach. “You did good work. The customers were happy with the cars you worked on. Michael and Dublin said you cleaned up after yourself in the garage.” Ghost nodded. “I got no complaints.” His brows lifted as if to ask, you?
Colin shook his head. “I appreciate the chance to work. You got a real nice operation here.” Which was a massive understatement as he gestured to the entire sprawling Dartmoor complex spread out behind them.
Another nod, like the man was used to the compliments. “Merc said funds were tight at home.”
Colin winced.
“You got work lined up for when you get back?”
“Nah. Figure I’ll…” What? Beg Ty to take him back on at the bar? See if the chop shop behind the eighth-string voodoo boutique was looking for a good fence-jumper? He’d been fired from every gig he’d ever had in New Orleans. There would be no welcome mats rolled out when he got back. “Find something,” he finished lamely.
Ghost studied him a moment, dark eyes narrow. Then he glanced toward his vice president and earned a shrug in return. When he turned back, the momentary tension in his jaw had eased. “Tell you what. If you get hard up, go see Bob Boudreaux at Dog Town. He’s always needing guys.”
He felt his brows go up. “Dog Town. That’s Lean Dogs territory down there.”
“Yup, and Bob’s the prez. Good guy. A good guy to have on your side.” Pointed tilt of the head: Listen well, boy.
With a sudden clunk, the wheels in Colin’s head started to turn. “You aren’t–”
“Inviting you to prospect? Nah. That’d be Bob’s decision.”
His palms were suddenly damp and he spread them across his thighs. “Why would you do anything nice for me?”
Ghost shrugged. “Merc is my family. Which, by extension, makes you some kinda family.”
Yeah right.
“And I ain’t one to turn away potentially valuable muscle.”
There was the real reason.
“Have a safe trip back,” Ghost said, “and if you need to get in touch with Bob” – small, shark-like smile – “tell him I sent ya.”
Ava was at her laptop when Mercy got home that evening. She held up a finger and kept typing with one hand. “Hi. Just a second. Almost…” Her lips pressed together as she concentrated on the last line and he grinned. She’d confessed that she was afraid motherhood would sap her creative energy. Instead, she’d been supercharged lately. He’d reminded her that Remy would be mobile soon, and then she’d have to chase him around. She’d decided to make the most of these first few months, computer keys clacking long into the night.
“Okay.” She snapped the lid closed and shot him a smile. “Hi for real.”
He stepped into the living room and leaned down to kiss her. Then turned and collapsed onto the sofa beside her. “School today?”
“Yep.”
“Aidan?”
“He and Tango left about fifteen minutes ago with all his stuff. He’s back at their place.”
He nodded. “Good.” Not that he wanted to rush the guy out of the house before he was ready…but it was time. Aidan had forever been in danger of letting the women in his life coddle him out of any authority…and perhaps he was starting to figure that out for himself.
Speaking of brothers…
“Colin’s going back tomorrow,” he blurted before he could catch himself.
“Mom told me.” She leaned back against the cushions and turned her head toward him, expression gently probing. “You okay?”
“Uh, yeah. I want him to leave.”
“Merc.”
“You’re getting bad as your mom, you know that?”
“You still haven’t started calling him your brother.”
“I don’t like him.”
“Doesn’t change what he is.”
He sighed. “Ava…”
“Fine.” She threw up her hands and opened her laptop again. “I thought you might like to talk about it, but whatever.” She returned to her project with a clack-clack-clack, skinny fingers fast at work.
He’d avoided Colin as much as possible during the weeks he’d been helping out at the auto shop. Michael had mentioned that he was a solid mechanic, but was savvy enough not to push Mercy into a conversation about him. But avoidance hadn’t helped his mental obsession, because the more he dwelt on the problem, the more he realized the problem wasn’t Colin at all. Colin was an asshole, but so were lots of people, and he didn’t take them too seriously.
The probl
em was his father.
Strong, tan, gator-scarred Remy, with the wide smile and the hearty laugh and those gentle hands that had showed Mercy how to bait hooks, how to load shotguns, how to flip fried eggs so the yolks didn’t break. Mercy had no bad memories of him. There was nothing but loss and grief and guilt in his heart for the man who’d raised him.
“My dad is Paul Bunyan in my head,” he said.
Ava stilled, head turning toward him.
“Legendary. Larger than life. He’s…he’s not even human, when I think about him. He’s a hero.”
“He was, for raising you.”
“But he was so perfect. I thought he was. And Colin…”
She sighed. “Is proof that he screwed up.”
“ ‘Screwing up’ is forgetting to stop at the store on the way home. He fucked a married woman and had a kid.” That he never told me about, he added silently.
Ava was silent a beat, then said, “Yeah, he did. But it doesn’t change how much he loved you. Or the kind of father he was to you.”
“How does a good dad let his kid grow up thinking he’s someone else’s?” he asked on Colin’s behalf.
“Well, Colin wasn’t fatherless.”
No. But still…
He groaned. “I dunno. I just…”
Her hand landed on his arm, stroking his biceps in slow, soothing sweeps. “It hurts.”
She was right. It was that simple: it hurt like hell to come to grips with this side of his dad.
“He was supposed to be better than me,” he said softly.
“Beer? Or, wait. Can you not with the prescription shit?”
Aidan shook his head as he dropped own onto the sofa. “Nah, I’m not supposed to.” And funnily enough, he didn’t even want one.
“ ‘Kay.” Tango glanced around, like he was looking for some other way to help with the move-back, then sat down in the ratty La-Z-Boy across the way, the footrest popping out because weight had landed in the seat, not because the lever had been pulled. “Oh wait.” He leaned forward. “You need anything? Do you want–”
“I’m good.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.”
In the silence that stretched, all the apartment’s ugly little sounds made themselves known: the whirring of the half-dead fridge, the clicking of the window AC unit, the unholy creaking of their upstairs neighbors shuffling around – for once it sounded like those two were walking, and not fighting or fucking.
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