Mica (Rebel Wayfarers MC)

by MariaLisa deMora

  She was shouting by now, words boiling out that had been pent up so long, because she had been afraid to ask and lose his friendship. “So, why do you do these things for me? Why hang around and wait for something that won’t be yours? Why do you not have someone who will cherish you, and need you, and be there with you alongside every single thing in your life? Someone who will love you like you deserve? I’m so afraid I hurt you every day because I can’t be what you want me to be. I can’t be someone I’m not. Mason, God, please don’t wait for me. I can’t be anything but me.”

  The truck jerked and shuddered over to the edge of the small country highway as Mason fought it to stillness and slammed the transmission into park. He turned sideways in the seat and looked into her eyes for a quiet moment, reaching his hands out to either side of her head. His fingers sifted through the hair at the back of her head, his touch soothing her. She could hear her own heartbeat loudly, waiting for him to speak, thinking he had never looked more handsome, but his expression was so anguished that it broke her heart, knowing she had put that look on his face, and he deserved so much more.

  His jaw clenched. “Babe, you don’t have to do anything to be fucking worthy. You are good, and kind, and you were so goddamn broken when you first moved in next to me, but dammit if you weren’t willing to take on anyone and everything to get what you wanted. You were the embodiment of courage, because you were afraid—of course you were afraid…but you forged through your fear and came through on the other side with your spirit and will intact. I am in awe. Of you. And, babe, from the moment I met you, I have only ever wanted to take care of you, but with every day, you need me less and less.

  “I cherish you and love you, and I know I will always love you, but I need to be your friend, not want, but need, because as my friend, you force me to see things differently. You make me look at things less cynically, with more trust, openness, and belief in people. You make me more than a biker, more than a neighbor, more than a landlord, more than a businessman—simply because you depend on me to be more. It’s because that’s the way you are, and you can’t imagine someone being less than that.”

  He paused, taking in a great breath, his voice going deep and soft. “Babe, that one night with you has ruined me for anyone else for a long time. I have never felt love as deep, profound, and abiding as I did between the sheets with you, touching you and loving you, and being loved by you has forever changed me. That love for and with you is a permanent part of me now. Making love to you is my Everest summit, attainable for only a brief time, but always and forever a cherished memory.

  “But I need your friendship, and need you in my life. As much as I will always want to be more and better for you, the reality is that sometimes I’m not. Sometimes I’m a fucking biker who beats the shit out of people, because they look crossways at what I consider mine. Sometimes I’m a ruthless businessman, who waits for terrible times to hit a family business so I can buy their bar cheap. Those ‘sometimes’ would ruin everything, because you knowing those pieces of me would tear us apart.

  “You cannot be my everything, not if I want you to stay who you are right now. And, babe, I don’t want you to change. I’ve never asked you to change, but I can’t change who I am, either. Leopard…spots, right? But you have to know that I will always be here for you. Trust me. Always. Never fear you could do anything that will make me shut you out or cast you aside. You are my fucking B-F-F, dammit, and you are a fucking treasure to me.” At this last, he pounded his chest with a closed fist, and echoed the sentiment again, “A fucking treasure.”

  There was silence in the truck as they faced each other across the seat, both breathing hard with emotion and relief. Mason slowly reached across to punch the button on her seatbelt and pulled Mica across the seat to him, leaning her against his chest and wrapping her up in his familiar, hard arms. Mica tucked her face into his neck, breathing in the scent she had become so accustomed to through the years. The smell was all Mason, and represented love, safety, and friendship.

  She kissed his chest softly, then pulled back to gently touch his face. Tracing the bridge of his nose upward, smoothing his brow and bringing her hand down to cup the strong line of his jaw in her palm, she teased questioningly, “You are my B-F-F?” and giggled.

  “Fuck you.” He laughed, pushing her away as they grinned at each other like maniacs. From the backseat, Essa said, “I’m more interested in the fact that you guys did the nasty,” and everyone in the truck laughed as Mica blushed.

  A little while later, they were pulling over the bumpy cattle guard at the end of the driveway leading up to her aunt and uncle’s house. Mica looked back at Essa. “Tug should be here any time with the rig and Breezy.” She shrugged. “That will give you a chance to escape the house if you need to.”

  Essa grinned at her. “I seldom need an excuse, but thanks.”

  Looking out the windshield, she could see her aunt and uncle coming out of the house along with other folks, and she knew it would be a bittersweet greeting for her. There were dogs milling around their legs, and cars and trucks parked along the edge of the driveway. Seeing her family again all together was going to be a rare treat for Mica; it had been more than a decade since she had been home like this. It was also sad, because while she was happy to see everyone, the news they had to break to Aunt Janet and Uncle Rob would be the cause of a lot of pain.

  Then Mica’s breath caught in her throat, and she thought she might be sick right there in the truck. In addition to her aunt and uncle, Molly and both of Essa’s brothers were there, and she recognized Michael standing with them. It wasn’t Michael who her gaze caught on though, but the shorter man standing between Michael and a very stiff Molly, with his arm around her shoulders. She swore under her breath, tensing all over. Glancing at Mason, she saw he was puzzled and knew he couldn’t see anything in the group waiting for them that should cause this reaction.

  Essa swore from the backseat. “What is Trent doing here?” Unbuckling her seatbelt, Mica was out of the truck before it even really slowed down. She hit the ground at a dead run towards the group of people. There was shouting behind her from Mason, and closer in front from her relatives, but she sprinted past in absolute silence.

  Holding her course, she barreled into the man with her shoulder, knocking him to the ground and away from her brother and sister. Staggering to a stop, she stood over him with her fists clenched. In her fury, she had pulled her foot back for a hard kick when Mason picked her up, turning her so she could only see Molly and not the man rolling around on the ground. Mason whispered in her ear, “Not worth it, babe. Don’t know your beef with whoever that guy is, but focus on the goal, not the short return.”

  “Molly,” she breathed, and gathered her up in a tight hug when Mason let her go, throwing her arms securely around her and pulling her head tightly into her shoulder. The sisters stood like that for a second, holding each other, shutting out everyone and everything around them. Mica was willing Molly to feel all the love and confidence she had for her from the snug embrace. Mason kept his hand on Mica’s hip, letting her know she wasn’t alone, never alone.

  Letting Molly go, she reached up and tipped the brim of the flat-topped, leather hat on top of her head, laughing through her tears. “Since when did you go Aussie, Molls?” The sisters grinned broadly at each other, and Essa pulled them into a quick three-way hug. Feeling like she couldn’t put it off any longer, Mica turned to see Trent was back on his feet, with Michael standing right behind him. Everyone else had backed away, instinctively knowing the altercation wasn’t over.

  Stalking closer to him, Mica growled, “You are not supposed to be here, Trent. While Aunt Janet and Uncle Rob might be reluctant to kick your ass off their place, I am not. In fact, I would be extremely happy to get the chance to knock you on your ass again.” Mason and Slate glanced at each other, and coming to the same conclusion, they moved near Mica, making it clear they were willing to do whatever she wanted, lending weight to her th
reat. Mason was close enough to put his hand on her low back, and she was glad for the pressure and warmth that gave her greater focus.

  “Michaela, baby,” Trent said with a sneer, holding his ribs, “I’m not sure what the hell that was about. You need to remember your place and who I am. I came by for a visit and there’s nothing you can do about it. I can do that now. Molly is over 18, so she’s no longer a minor. I can come here whenever I want to without asking permission from the courts, baby.”

  Mica was stunned at his words, terrified that Molly might’ve had to suffer his visits for the past two years. She hadn’t been here to protect Molly. God, she hoped he hadn’t been coming around like he threatened, because her stomach turned just thinking about what could have happened.

  She swung her face towards her aunt. “Aunt Janet? Has he been coming here like this?”

  “No, honey, no, I would have told you,” her aunt reassured her. “Trent showed up just a few minutes ago, and Rob had already asked him to leave as you drove in. He will never be welcome here, Mica. I gave you my promise, and I hold to that.”

  Nodding her head at Aunt Janet, thankful beyond belief, Mica turned back to face her father and brother. Taking another step closer, she sneered up at Michael. “Saw your handiwork, brother,” she said the word like it put a bad taste in her mouth. She spit in the dirt between them. “You should take up photography as a career. You take some really clear action shots.” She saw his face go white as he realized his part in the failed kidnapping was known.

  Mason was looking back and forth between Trent and Michael, and he must have seen the resemblance, because he seemed to finally put two and two together. Mica heard his teeth grinding together and felt his hand tighten against her back, twisting hard into her shirt. “Babe, is this who I think it is?” She nodded without taking her eyes off her father and brother. He breathed out. “Babe, does everyone here know what happened?” She cut her eyes over to Mason and nodded again.

  Shaking his hands and arms out, Mason padded with long, loose strides towards Trent and Michael. Mica thought the big man had to be an intimidating sight moving towards them with the controlled grace of a big cat. He radiated tension and violence as she watched his muscles ripple across his back and arms.

  Stopping right in front of the much shorter Trent, Mason tipped his head and looked down at him, his hands tightly fisted. Watching, she saw Michael take an involuntary step back and away from him when Mason began speaking. While Mica couldn’t see his face, she heard the terrible fury and rage seething in his voice; he sounded intense and nearly agonized. “So you are Trent Scott, the fucking piss-ant who raped and tortured his own daughter for years, then left her to the mercies of her learned-it-at-daddy’s-knee abusive brother, while you went to jail for raping her best friend. You are the goddamn bastard who made friends with her brutal ex, pointing him her way so he could beat the fucking shit out of her again.”

  A sound came from Trent, and Mason held up one hand, silencing him. “Scott, you need to shut the fuck up and stay shut up. You haven’t seen savage, and you haven’t seen vicious until you’ve met me, and today is your motherfucking lucky day, because here I am. I have fucking dreamed of this meeting since Mica told me what happened, that beautiful, bright, and intelligent woman behind me, who I will protect with my fucking life. She is clearly the product of her own raising, because there is surely abso-fucking-lutely nothing you had to pass on that was true, and right, and good. Here you are, my vengeance’s own fucking wet dream, and if you don’t vacate the premises in the next sixty seconds, I’m going to let it have its way with you, mother fucker.” Mason casually looked at his watch, and then back down at Trent.

  With his eyes swinging across the group who had witnessed his humiliation, Trent walked over to a truck in the drive, got in, spinning his tires in the gravel and pulling away as Michael ran over, and jumped into the bed. Mica watched Mason’s shoulders slump slightly, and he brought his hand up to scrub hard across his face.

  Pulling a deep breath in, he turned to look at her, his emotions and wrath clear on his face. She looked steadily at him, and when he opened his arms, she ran towards him. Hiding her face in his neck, “Thank you,” was all she said.

  He held her with desperation and breathed in her ear, “Don’t thank me, babe.” She felt him shaking all over, trembling in her arms. “Don’t you fucking thank me; because I’m gonna kill him. Won’t be able not to, now that I’ve seen him.” Then, even more softly, he said to her, “Sorry to put that on you, but I never want to lie to you.”

  She nodded against his neck, wondering how his words didn’t trouble her. Taking them as the gift they were, she nodded again, saying, “I know. Some things just need doing.”

  After the scene in the front drive, it seemed pretty anticlimactic when Tug drove in a couple minutes later with Essa’s truck and trailer. After introductions all around, everyone shook hands or hugged, as was their inclination.

  Mica went inside with Molly and their aunt and uncle so they could talk, while the rest of the family dispersed to take care of the various things they had to do before dinner. Mason and Slate stayed with Tug, helping Essa in the stables and unloading all her stuff from the trailer. The mood was tense, but they unwound a little. She and Slate managed a few practical jokes on Mason and Tug, who had never been around horses before. There’s a lot you can do with poop, apparently.

  Inside the house, Mica opened up to her family for the first time about the summer after the trial, before she had left for college, about meeting Ray Nelms and how badly he had treated her for the time they were together. She spoke bluntly about the threats and the hurt, the broken bones, the scars, and the emotional strain. She talked through her fears then, and her fears now, and why she had cut herself off from her family for so long, explaining it was to keep Ray from ever being able to hurt them as he had often threatened to do.

  Her throat tight with unshed tears, Mica related information about the attempted kidnapping last fall, and exposed Michael’s part in it. Her aunt and uncle sat with her and Molly, and they all touched and hugged through the narration of the worst thing Mica had lived through. She told them about Ray coming to Chicago this winter after he visited with her father, and the beating she suffered at his hands then. After that recitation of her personal horror, now she and Molly had to explain what had happened to her at an event a few weeks ago.

  Her sister had met Ray, who approached her much like he had Mica so many years ago. Molly thought he had drugged her, because she hadn’t been drinking, but was really out of it and didn’t remember much about the night. When she woke up the next day, she was afraid she’d had sex, because there were deep bite marks on her thighs, and her genital area was sore and bruised. That had been five weeks ago, and now a test showed she was pregnant.

  When she finally finished talking, it was long past dinnertime, and Mica’s voice was as raw and hoarse as her emotions. Her aunt and uncle seemed almost numb and shocked. As hard as it had been to talk about, Mica knew it had to be as hard to hear, listening to the pain and knowing it was too late to make a difference or help with most of it.

  Molly was all cried out; she’d gone to sleep on the couch with her head in Mica’s lap. Mason had come in at some point and had wedged himself into the couch behind Mica. She was thankful for his presence; she relaxed as she nestled between his legs and leaned back on his chest.

  Tomorrow was soon enough to get a plan together; tonight was for sleep—hopefully deep, dreamless sleep. She woke Molly up gently, and asked Essa to walk her up to bed. The two girls were so close as friends, and they hugged as they helped each other up the hallway.

  Mica knew that Tug and Slate were bunking with the ranch hands, and she knew Mason had intended to do the same, but she didn’t want to be alone. Turning to look at him, she asked, “Would I be the most selfish person on earth if I wanted to just cuddle and fall asleep with you tonight?”

  “Nope,” he said, smiling down at her,
“that would be me, wanting to sleep next to you all night tonight. Come on, babe, let me wrap you up. I’m tired.”

  50 -

  Rodeos

  A few days later, Mica and her friends accompanied her cousin and sister to the rodeo they’d qualified for in Houston. Strolling across the fairgrounds, Mica closed her eyes and deeply breathed in the smell that was rodeo and state or county fairs. There was the mixed, musty, and rank smell of animals, of course, including the scent of the hide, fur, and hair, and their combined poop.

  Beyond that, there was a myriad of scents that were individually and collectively recognizable as rodeo: The pungent scent of fresh strewn pine chips in the show arenas and stalls. The rich, clover smell of alfalfa being fed to horses. The hot and dry smell of roasted peanuts. The overly sweet smell of cotton candy, telling you with its high overtones that wasps and bees would be nearby. The smell of leather and neat’s-foot oil as someone cleaned tack. The faint chemical aromas of diesel trucks and generators idling in the parking lots.

  She loved rodeo, everything about it. Always had. It was one of the things Ray had taken from her, because she knew he would find her if she continued competing.

  She had stopped in the middle of a walkway to tip her head back and inhale the scents from the air with quick, small sniffs. Knowing she wasn’t alone, she said without opening her eyes, “Tug, do you think I’m crazy if I love this smell?” Hearing a deep laugh, she grinned widely. She loved that he laughed at her. He was convinced it wouldn’t do to take things too seriously, even oneself. After the laugh, Tug told her he did not understand what she meant, because all he smelled was stink. Grabbing his hand, she opened her eyes and tried to find an analogy that would make sense.

  “Tug, you’ve ridden motorcycles for a long time, right?” She already knew what his answer would be; he’d been riding for decades. When he responded in the affirmative, she continued, “If there is a line of bikes coming down the street, would you hear the entire roar, or would you hear each engine at some point as they passed you? That singular noise of one bike making itself heard clear, could you tell the difference between the makes and models by the sound? I bet you can for at least some of them.”