by Nic Starr
Finn groaned. “Work. Don’t remind me.” He sat up straighter. “Fuck!”
“What’s the matter?”
“Rocky. I haven’t checked in since we got back from the pub on Monday night. He’ll be going off his rocker. I’m surprised he hasn’t been here bashing down the door.”
Mitch chuckled. “That was a highly likely scenario, but luckily I got in contact with him before it came to that. I called him on Tuesday morning and let him know you were sick.”
“Thanks.” Finn furrowed his brow. “And he was happy for me to take all this time off?”
Mitch snorted. “Not exactly.”
“So am I in for it when I get back, then? Or is Rocky going to be appearing at any minute?”
“I explained it was a migraine and you’d need a few days to recover, that you wouldn’t be any use to anyone, not while you were in pain, and that it’d take a day or two to regain your strength.”
Finn leaned back against the couch cushions, frown disappearing and his features smoothing. “I guess I owe you one.”
“I’ll add it to your tab.” Mitch winked.
“Seriously, though, thanks for sticking up for me with Rocky. I shouldn’t have put you in that position. He can be a complete arsehole. I’m surprised he didn’t make you go in without me.”
“I wasn’t leaving you here alone, so it wouldn’t have mattered what he said, anyway.”
Fuck, where did that come from? The last thing Mitch could afford to do was jeopardize the operation. If Rocky said “jump,” then Mitch should be asking how high, not showing the guy the virtual finger. “Lucky it didn’t come to that. Maybe he cares about you more than you think?”
Finn rolled his eyes. “That’ll be the day. Rocky—” He then seemed to catch himself and stopped whatever he was going to say. “Enough about Rocky. Tell me, are you a migraine sufferer too?”
“Huh?” Mitch raised a brow.
“I assumed you must get migraines. You know a lot about them, the recovery and so on.”
“Oh, no. Thank Christ I’ve never experienced one of those fuckers. I wouldn’t wish one on my worst enemy.”
“So how did you know how to deal with it?”
Mitch smiled. “That was easy. First I checked the net and found out whatever I could, and then when I thought it was safe to leave you, I went to the chemist to get the script filled. I asked the pharmacist there, and she gave me some additional advice.”
Finn looked at him with a strange expression, like he was trying to figure something out. “Another one for the tab, then?”
“You’re going to owe me big-time. But who’s counting?” Mitch laughed. He drank the last of his coffee and put his empty mug on the table. “What do you want to do today? How about we watch a movie, or do you feel like going for a walk?”
Finn brightened, the smile on his face making Mitch smile in return. “A walk sounds awesome. I’ve been cooped up in here for days. You too. You must be dying to get out in the fresh air.”
I’d be happy to stay indoors for another week, even longer, if it meant I could stay here with you.
Mitch shook his head to get rid of the ridiculous thoughts. He picked up his mug and stood, holding out his hand for Finn’s mug. “I’ll take care of these, then get some shoes. Meet you back here in five.”
The smile on Finn’s face reached all the way to his eyes, and the way he hurried from the room, obviously eager to head outside, made Mitch glad he’d agreed to the walk. A little of the earlier warmth returned, and he knew he had a stupid grin on his face as he headed to the kitchen.
THE SUBURB where Finn grew up was on the outskirts of Sydney. It was a semirural area with a combination of residential houses, large properties, and market gardens, and a quieter pace than the city. Finn’s family home was on a large plot of land—not large enough for agriculture, but large enough that the nearest neighbors weren’t within shouting distance. The house was pretty much like most of the homes in the area. Built over fifty years ago, it was single story, constructed of weatherboard, with a terra-cotta-tiled roof. It didn’t stand out from the other houses on the road, all of them in some state of disrepair, although some were better maintained than others.
“What was it like growing up here?” Mitch asked as they walked side by side down the road.
Finn looked around him. Memories flooded back, not all of them bad, but very few of them good. He played it safe and stayed on neutral territory, not trusting himself to delve too deeply into his childhood.
“I liked school. I went to the local public school. It’s not too far from here. Just another couple of kilometers up the road.”
“And when you weren’t at school?”
I did anything I could to stay away from the house. “I used to ride my bike a lot. Played some sport, mainly soccer. Nothing out of the ordinary.”
“You rode a bike when you were kid?” Mitch’s tone was disbelieving.
Finn laughed and nudged Mitch’s shoulder. “A push-bike, you idiot. Not a motorbike. Although I did have a PeeWee.”
“Oh.” Finn could almost swear Mitch was blushing, but maybe he’d give him the benefit of the doubt and attribute the slight flush to the walk and the heat of the day.
“Yeah, I spent a lot of time riding. To and from school, down to the creek. To the shops you found the other day.”
“And what about friends?”
“I… ah….” His throat felt thick, the memories causing a lump in his throat. His voice caught. Stupid! He reprimanded himself for letting the emotions get the better of him. He knew better than to give in to those old feelings, had thought he was beyond all that. He blinked at the sudden moisture in his eyes.
Mitch placed a hand on his arm, and Finn became aware he’d stopped walking.
“Finn?”
“Sorry.” The flood of embarrassment was acute. “I don’t often think of the past.”
“And I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be asking you so many personal questions.”
Unexpectedly he had the desire to tell Mitch how he was feeling. He wanted Mitch to know him—the real him. Not the person he tried to display to the world.
“It’s okay.” He took a deep breath. “And I’m fine now, honestly. I just hated growing up here.”
“You don’t like the area?” Mitch tilted his head as he looked at Finn. Finn could see himself reflected in Mitch’s sunglasses, and it was somehow easier to talk without seeing his eyes properly.
“I liked the area fine. Dad did too. It suited him to blend in to the neighborhood, to seem no different to anyone else. But people knew. We had people coming and going at all hours, most of them arriving on noisy-as-shit Harleys. Everyone within a hundred miles knew this was where the Fury’s president lived. Parents warned all their kids to stay away from the house—hell, to stay away from the street.”
“And that included you?” Mitch’s tone was quiet, his eyes soft.
“Yeah,” Finn whispered and dropped his gaze. Mitch squeezed Finn’s shoulder. Finn forced himself to raise his eyes and plastered on a smile, but he hated the thought of Mitch pitying him. He shook off Mitch’s arm and started walking again, keeping his voice light as he continued. “But the one good thing that came out of it was all the time I spent at school and the library. All those hours spent studying meant I got to go to university.”
“I’m sure it was more than just the study. I’m sure there was some intelligence at play too.” Mitch’s tone was teasing.
Finn laughed. “Thank God I didn’t take after Rocky.”
“Rocky’s not intelligent?” Mitch asked.
Finn thought for a moment. “I’m not saying he’s not smart. But it’s like there are other elements of his personality that drive him to make decisions that aren’t….” His voice drifted off, unsure how to communicate about his brother.
“Aren’t?” Mitch prompted.
“Decisions that aren’t the best for him or the club, I guess. Take his house, for example. Ownin
g a place like that, showing off how much money he has, hanging with the guys in public places, it’s like waving a red flag. Dad would never have done that. He blended in. He wasn’t about public appearances, where that seems to be all that matters to Rocky. He wants to be seen as successful and powerful, but that’s the very thing that will lead to his undoing. Dad had power and respect and didn’t need to show off to earn it.”
“I’m sorry about your dad.”
Finn nodded at Mitch, then focused back on the road in front. It felt cathartic to talk to someone about this stuff, things he’d kept bottled up for so long. He had no idea why he wanted to unload on Mitch, but he did. Maybe it was because Mitch had shown a real interest in him above and beyond the sex.
“Back in the early days of the club, it was different. The Furies were all about the brotherhood. There was a level of pride and mateship. There was a shitload of drinking and smoking weed, and the guys got into trouble, and I’m not saying it was always 100 percent aboveboard, but it wasn’t like it is today. It was more…. It was less hard-core.” He drifted off into thoughts of his dad. “It was a shock when Dad died, but such a relief when Carl took over.” He turned his head and looked at Mitch, who smiled back with so much openness. “He’s the one who encouraged me to go to uni in Melbourne.”
“You got on with Carl?”
The question made Finn grin. “Carl was like a second father. He was ten years older and he kept an eye out for me. Running interference, that type of stuff.”
They rounded the corner, Mitch nudging him to step onto the edge of the road when the longer grass made it difficult to stick to the verge. Out here there was no curb and guttering, and Finn’s heart fluttered as Mitch made sure he was on secure footing.
“What do you mean? What sort of interference?”
“Let’s just say that Rocky was a bully, even back then. He never let anything or anyone stop him from getting what he wanted.”
“He hurt you?”
Finn glanced at Mitch and gave a small nod. Mitch immediately stopped walking and reached for Finn’s hand. His grip was warm as he squeezed Finn’s fingers. “I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have had to go through that as a kid, not the bullying, and especially not at the hand of your own brother.”
Finn bit back a retort. It wasn’t Mitch’s fault he allowed Rocky to still push him around. “Thanks, but what’s past is past.” If only that were true.
“I’m glad you had Carl to keep Rocky in check.” Mitch’s words and the obvious concern in his voice and touch alleviated some of the darkness thinking about Rocky brought. “I’m just sorry Carl isn’t here to do that anymore.” Finn nodded and made to turn away, but Mitch pulled him back to face him. “If there’s ever anything I can do, if you need anything….”
It was now Mitch’s turn to have his words die on his tongue. Did he regret what he was offering, or did he realize the futility of it? Mitch held his gaze as if trying to reassure Finn of his best intentions. But what could he do? Nothing. There was nothing anyone could do to protect him from Rocky. His dad hadn’t been able to, and neither had Carl. Hell, Carl couldn’t even save himself. Finn bit back a nervous laugh. So what chance did Mitch have? Finn knew he needed to stand on his own two feet and do whatever he could to end Rocky’s reign of terror.
But as Mitch gripped his hand and spoke with so much sincerity, Finn allowed himself to pretend for a moment things would be different now he had Mitch on his side.
Chapter NINETEEN
FINN FLINCHED at the sudden noise of Rocky slamming his fist onto the desk. So much for his understanding and sympathy toward Finn’s illness. Finn clenched his jaw as he wondered why he’d thought things would be any different. He sucked in a breath and straightened his shoulders. Show no fear. Don’t be pushed around. He wasn’t going to let Rocky give him a hard time.
“For God’s sake, Rocky, I was sick. If I’d been able to be here, then I would have been. But I’m here now, and I’m ready to give it 100 percent. So how about we get down to business?” Finn didn’t give Rocky time to respond. He opened the lid of his laptop and launched his browser. “Now I’m assuming you’re here to discuss the stuff Lucky mentioned at the barbecue. When’s the shipment arriving, and what are the next steps?”
Rocky settled into the desk chair opposite Finn, and Stack leaned against the wall next to a framed poster of a girl sitting astride a bike. Peter eyed Rocky nervously and lowered himself into the other vacant seat. Finn looked at the three men and tried not to look too eager for the information he hoped would come. He wanted Rocky to trust him, to open up and let him in on the details of that side of the business.
“Two weeks. We’ll be intercepting the delivery, separating the parts that will come here, the rest bypassing this place. We’re moving the stuff interstate straightaway. Plus there’s a buyer we’ve been negotiating with. If things go according to plan, we might not have to move very far at all.” Finn nearly cheered as Rocky shared the information.
“So Friday in a fortnight, you’ll be meeting the shipping container, unloading what you need, and taking off?” he asked casually. “And you’re going too?” It seemed unusual that Rocky would be so directly involved, not when he had men for that.
Rocky nodded. “I’m taking a hands-on approach with this one. Got to keep an eye on things.”
“So what’s different about this shipment?”
Rocky leaned forward, the leather of his jacket creaking as he leaned on the edge of the desk and lowered his voice. “This is a first for us. If it goes well, there’s no telling where it could lead.”
Did that mean what Finn thought it did? That this was the first time they’d been involved in the direct importation of drugs?
“And you think there’s a chance there could be trouble?” Finn asked, trying to keep his tone conversational.
“Like I said, it’s a first. Lucky has hand-held this deal the whole way through from Asia to onshore. And we’ve got distribution sorted. Ordinarily we’d be pretty confident, but with all the shit going down with the Brutes, I don’t want to take any chances. They know too much of what’s going on, information they shouldn’t know.”
“How?”
“How the fuck do I know?” Rocky bristled. “Maybe someone’s got loose lips. Plus the cops are sticking their noses in. The fucking shooting brought the cops to my street!” Rocky shoved his chair back and stood. He began pacing the small office. “If I find out we’ve got a mole, if I find out some stupid fucking arsehole has been spilling our business, God help them, I’ll break their bloody legs.”
Finn felt sick to the stomach and chanced a glance at Peter. He looked positively green as he fidgeted in his seat. Finn swallowed heavily and forced his voice to stay steady. “You really think someone’s ratting us out?”
Rocky flopped into the chair again. “I don’t know, but I’ll find them if they are, and when I do, it won’t be pretty.”
There was a brief silence. Pete pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket; he looked up at Finn, then gave his attention to the task of removing the plastic wrapping from the box of Horizons. Stack didn’t say a word, just looked between Pete and Finn with a grim expression on his face.
“Right.” Finn broke the silence. “Let’s hope you’re wrong, then.”
Rocky chuckled. “I’m hardly ever wrong, Finn.” He narrowed his eyes. “You know that.”
And that’s what I’m afraid of.
He plastered on a bland expression and looked back to the laptop.
Pete stood and indicated the cigarettes. “I’m going out for a smoke.”
Rocky grunted his permission. Once Pete left, the door closing behind him, Finn focused on his brother.
“So back to the job,” Finn said, keeping his tone businesslike. “Where are you meeting the truck, and where are you taking the load?”
“Alexandria—”
Stack finally spoke, cutting in over Rocky. “You don’t need to know that information. The fewer
people who know the specific details, the better.”
Damn, Finn thought he’d finally broken Rocky, gotten him to start sharing. He didn’t think he’d have Stack to contend with. Finn looked at Stack. His brows were drawn as he studied Finn, and if his crossed arms were any indication, he wasn’t going to change his mind and suddenly start spouting details of the shipment and delivery. Finn looked back to Rocky, who was now leaning forward in the chair, his cold eyes focused on Finn.
“Stack’s right. If there was any reason to tell you, I’d give you the details, but as it is, all I need from you is one thing, and one thing only. One. Thing. Only.” Rocky slapped the desktop with his palm, punctuating each of his words, the sound loud in the enclosed office. “I need you to make sure things run smoothly here, and by smoothly, I mean the whole place needs to run like fucking clockwork. We can’t afford any fuckups like the incident last week.”
There’d been an altercation in the car park. An unhappy customer whose Harley was in for service accused the mechanic of not looking after the bike while it spent time in the shop. He claimed the carelessness of the operation resulted in scratches on the bodywork and therefore refused to pay his bill. Things escalated as he demanded compensation.
Ginger was tough at first—she was used to dealing with arseholes—but she got scared when things were obviously getting out of hand. Blue stepped in to protect his sister, and things went downhill from there. Pushing and shoving, and a yelling match ensued. Blue backed the guy out of the small office and picked up a wrench as they made their way through the workshop. The guy eventually left, but not before threatening to call the cops, not to mention he didn’t settle his bill. Rocky was pissed off, but he had plans to recover the money from the guy, if not more. There was no way he would let anyone get away with anything against him, the business, or the club.
“And how the hell do you expect me to stop something like that happening? You’re taking Blue and Stack with you, and Lucky.”
Rocky shrugged. “I’ll leave Peter with you.”
Finn thought about his jumpy-looking friend. With his reed-thin body and sunken eyes, Pete hardly appeared in a fit state to take on anybody. Finn would just have to hope there would be no need for physical enforcement. A vision of Mitch filled his thoughts. He’d have Mitch here, all six-plus feet of muscle, and suddenly with that thought, he felt a lot better.
