Mica (Rebel Wayfarers MC)

by MariaLisa deMora

  She stretched her hand out to the fairground, spinning slowly to have her gesture encompass the entire event. “That’s what I smell here. I smell the individual layers of scent, and each brings a memory back to life for me. It makes me feel alive again.”

  Tug cleared his throat. “Princess, there are few sure things in life, but being content at the memories you have, which are triggered by a single scent—that is a true gift. Plus barbeque…barbeque is a gift, too.”

  Standing straighter, Mica batted her eyelashes at Tug exaggeratedly, nodding. “Tug, do you remember where the rig is parked? This Houston fairground is so big I could easily get turned around, and I bet the same goes for you. Do you remember where to go? I think there’s a pit vendor next to the parking spot.”

  Tug shook his head sorrowfully. “I thought you were the one dropping breadcrumbs, princess. How are we gonna get back now?”

  Mica laughed at him, throwing her head back. More than one head raised and turned their way, both male and female, looking for the owner of that joyful and confident laughter. She glanced around the crowds, seeing all the couples, young and old, holding hands, sharing two-foot-long corndogs, leaning together and sneaking quick kisses while they stood in line for rides, and her heart broke a little, wishing a certain someone was here to enjoy this with her.

  “Tug,” she shook her head at her thoughts and quietly asked, “Do you think Daniel will come down with the Mallets for the game? It’s not a playoff game, just an exhibition. I got Mason to get tickets for me, but couldn’t convince him to let me call and find out for sure.”

  “Princess, I don’t know,” he said sadly, looking around them at the crowds. “If Daniel doesn’t even know you are here, why would he come if he’s busy with his other businesses?”

  “I know it was my decision, but I am so frustrated at not being able to let him know everything. What if he can’t see these weeks were necessary in order to make sure everyone was safe? Will he ever understand I was hurting right along with him? I talked to J.J. again last week, and he said Daniel is drinking too much and still playing recklessly.” Mica pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and fingers. “I miss him, Tug.” She looked at him. “I can’t do this anymore.”

  Tug lunged towards her, grabbing her shoulders in his hands and shaking her. He rattled her head back and forth until she made an angry noise and moved away from him, slapping his hands away. “What are you doing, Tug? Knock it off already.”

  He looked into her face, curling his lip under his mustache. “Are you pissed off yet, Princess? You need me to shake you up a little more? If you want the hockey guy, then fight for the hockey guy, but shut the fuck up and stop whining about it. You are the only one who can effect a change in your life; you know this. Own it. Don’t make me learn you again.”

  Mica looked at him, scowling when his words hit home. “I haven’t been simply passively accepting everything that comes my way, you know. I can’t control Ray; I can want to…but I can’t. I get sick when I think of the things he threatened to do to my friends, to Daniel’s family. What if he had hurt Darlene like he threatened in those letters? Should I have simply waited for Daniel’s mother to be mugged and then have said, ‘Oh, by the way, Ray said he would and he did.’? Or what about J.J.? He’d be so vulnerable if he were in a car wreck. Ray was real specific with that one, and I couldn’t stand the thought of him isolated and stranded without a way to get help or move around.” Her voice broke. “Look at what he did to Molly, and he never even gave me an inkling of what he intended. Imagine how much more thorough he can be when he’s taunting me with what damage he could cause. Look at what he already did, Tug.”

  Frowning at her, Tug reached out and grabbed her shoulders again. She tensed up, thinking he was going to shake her head off once more, but he pulled her into a hard hug, letting her rest her forehead against his chest.

  After a minute, she reached up and tugged at his long, white hair, stepping back and smiling up at him. “Do you have to go shirtless, Tug? You’re all sweaty.”

  He laughed and stepped back, flapping the edges of his leather vest against his bare stomach. Grinning at her, he teased, “What do you mean, princess? I look good. The ladies here love a man who’s not afraid to be all open and out there.” He rubbed a hand over his belly, looking around.

  They walked back to where the truck and trailer were parked. It was further from the arena than they liked, but they’d needed a large trailer since they had brought horses for both of them. It had a huge living quarters in the front, and room for five horses. Walking through the fairgrounds, they continued chatting about the rodeo attendees, making up stories and histories for them as they wandered past.

  Mica also started mentally keeping a running count of the number of female glances that did indeed linger on Tug, and there were lots more than she had thought there would be. He was a nice looking man, if a little intimidating with his biker vest and bandana on.

  They were both in a good mood when they got back, and she opened the door of the living space to grab a couple of buckets to sit on. They stood there stunned for a second, looking at the mess in the trailer. The entire space had been upended, all of Essa and Molly’s tack and clothes mixing with feed and liquid on the floor.

  With sudden fear, Mica spun towards the back of the trailer and ran around to check the horses. She drew in a shaky breath of relief when they seemed to be okay, but she got started unloading them. She wanted to run her hands over each of them to make sure nothing was wrong. “Tug,” she yelled, “call Slate and Mason, would ya?”

  Moving the first horse to the side of the trailer, she was shocked to see Tug sitting on the ground, leaning up against the trailer with his back towards her. There was something red in his hair, just below his bandana. “Tug?” She quickly tied the horse to the side of the trailer and ran over to him; he hadn’t moved. She called again, “Tug?” and a hand grabbed her upper arm, twisting it behind her and shoving her face-first into the hot metal side of the trailer.

  “Don’t say anything,” hissed a voice next to her ear. “Don’t yell, don’t struggle, and don’t scream.” Her stomach dropped sickeningly; she knew that voice. “He’s okay; he’ll have a headache when he wakes up, but right now, he will wake up,” the voice continued, “so what you don’t want to do is piss me off, Michaela. I would strongly advise against pissing me off if you want to have this piece of shit still among the living at the end of the day.”

  She felt him press up against her, grinding his erection into her ass and shoving her painfully into the side of the trailer. “What you want to do is make sure I’m the happiest motherfucker around, so you will walk with me now, and we will walk slowly.”

  She was quickly unpinned from the trailer, and her arm was brought down from between her shoulder blades and yanked backwards, pulling her away and into him. Mica turned around and faced her fears, because the worst thing she could have ever thought of was happening. Ray had a hand on her arm, pulling her away from the trailer and away from Tug, who was still lying on the ground.

  Standing there in a black hat, vest, and shirt, he had sponsor patches all over his vest and shirt, but her focus was on his face. He was smiling at her, but the smile never went further than his mouth. The dimple in his chin and the upturned corners of his mouth were in direct contrast to the rage and anger in his eyes.

  She felt his hand shaking where it gripped her arm, which told her he was about to lose control. “Ray, you can’t do this.” She closed her eyes, trying to block out the sight of his face. “Tug is hurt; I can’t leave him like that.”

  Her eyes opened, and he dropped the grotesque smile as his lips thinned dangerously and his jaw clenched tightly. “Michaela, I can and I am. Now, walk with me.” He tightened his hold on her arm and pulled her away from the trailer, walking her towards the arena at an even and unremarkable pace.

  “Ray, no.” She stopped walking, trying to pull her arm out of his grip.

 
“Michaela, walk,” he gritted out between his teeth, pulling hard on her arm. “I told you in Chicago that you are still mine, and I intend to make sure you clearly understand everything that entails.” His voice rose as he spoke. “I told you I’d find you. I told you you’re mine. You are mine, Michaela. Mine!” She cringed back from him as he shouted, spittle flying from his mouth as his face turned red, and his clasp on her arm tightened even more painfully.

  Walking forward, he kept her arm in his hand, but seemed to care less about appearances, now willing to drag her behind him if needed. Mica stumbled, her feet twisting underneath her as her legs threatened to give way.

  She thought to herself that she couldn’t let him take her, and yelled, “Help! Let me go! Ray Nelms, you let me go! Help me!” and saw people starting to look their way. Encouraged, she let her legs go limp, dropping to the ground and letting him drag her on her back as she continued to scream for help. Ray turned around to backhand her across the face, whipping her head to the side and knocking blood across the dirt as her nose bled from the blow.

  “Get up, Michaela. Right now, get up before I hurt you.” He leaned in close and whispered in her face, “Don’t say another thing; just get up right now and walk, or I will fucking kill you.”

  Her face numb, she twisted hard in his hand, seeing his other arm pull back for another blow. Her heels scrambled for panicked purchase in the loose dirt of the parking area; she thought he really might kill her this time.

  She screamed again, this time wordlessly, despairing of assistance arriving in time. Looking up at him, she saw his face darken in fury, because she was still trying to get away. She was pulling, and twisting, and kicking out at him, when she saw his hat fly off to the side. Ray yelled and let her go, his hand going up to the side of his head, where a bleeding wound had appeared out of nowhere.

  Mica scrambled away, turning onto her stomach and trying to get her knees underneath her to push up and run. Raising her head, she saw Molly as she slung another rock at Ray, and knew from the roar behind her that this rock, too, had found its mark.

  Behind Molly, Mica saw Mason running full out towards her as Molly shouted and let fly with another rock. Mason’s eyes were locked on Ray as he flashed past her, and she heard a scream as bodies hit the ground with a crash, like a giant tree falling. Mica froze when she recognized the face that had come into view behind Mason, not believing her eyes. She breathed out his name as he slid to a crouched stop beside her, his jeans scuffing in the gravel and his hoodie rucking up in the back. “Daniel.”

  He tried to gather her up to his chest, but she needed to see what was happening behind her. Twisting within his arms, she clutched at his sleeves. Mason and Ray were rolling across the hard ground, stirring up dust that shimmered in the late afternoon sunlight.

  They traded blows, and the smaller man was quick to press every advantage, but Mason gained control of the brutal fight. They settled to the ground with Ray being held facedown between Mason’s powerful thighs. He sat and leaned hard on top of the bull rider, who continued to try to battle and brawl.

  Ray’s arms were clamped tight to his sides, and with Mason sitting on top of him, he couldn’t move. He turned his head to see Mica still sitting on the ground, and Ray shrieked at her, his features contorted in fury. “You should have done what you were told, Michaela. Should have listened. I’ll kill everything you love. I will kill you.”

  Mason hit the back of his head with an open palm, but Ray didn’t stop looking at her and screamed, “Fucking bitch, you are mine. I told you what I’d do. You are mine, Michaela. Should have listened.” Mason hit him again, harder, with a closed fist, and Ray’s face went slack as consciousness fled.

  Daniel’s arms held her tightly, his hands stroking wherever they could reach slowly and calmly. Mica said, “Tug is hurt,” and from where she stood beside them Molly said, “Essa and Slate are with him; he’s okay, Mica.”

  She nodded, feeling reassured, and then asked, “Mason are you okay?” He was sitting still, but breathing hard, his head canted downward to look at Ray on the ground below him. “Mason? Are you okay?” she repeated her question louder, and his head rose as he stiffly turned to look at her.

  He spoke slowly and softly to her. “Listen to me now,” he looked hard into her face, “and hear me Mica. You listening, babe?” He paused for a second, waiting for her nodded response. “Won’t be able to not, now that I’ve seen him,” and he watched her closely to make sure she understood clearly what he was saying.

  She turned to look at Daniel behind her, and then up at Molly standing beside her. Slowly, her gaze returned to Mason and she locked gazes with his dark, gray eyes. Ray had hurt so many people she loved, and had taken so much from her over the years. She gave a little hiccup of a sob and nodded her head. “It’s needed, Mason. It’s needed.”

  Daniel pulled her to her feet and turned her towards the trailer; she was shocked at how far Ray had taken her in the few seconds she had been dragged. Looking up into Daniel’s face, she reached up and touched his jaw where there was a faint bruise.

  His breath caught at her touch, and without looking at her, he reached up and captured her hand in his, holding it against his chest tightly. His other arm was around her waist, fingers twisted in her belt loops, helping keep her on her feet and moving forward. Her hand grabbed at Molly’s. Gripping her hand tightly, Molly easily followed the tugging of Mica’s fingers on hers.

  Mica looked forward and saw Tug sitting on the step of the open door to the living quarters. He was holding a rag to the back of his head and looking shaky, his white hair matted red with blood. Essa was squatting next to him, talking and nodding at him.

  Slate strode towards them, nodding at Mica as he stopped in front of her, asking “You okay, princess? You look like shit on toast. Gonna go help Mason take out the trash, but I’ll be right back.” Turning his gaze on Daniel, he said brusquely, “Ice, ibuprofen, clean her up—you take care of her, Daniel, or you answer to me.” Moving around them, he walked swiftly towards Mason and Ray.

  Mica stood there for a minute, her body beginning to complain. Her mind rolled over the events, flickering like a strobe light from one moment to another. Ray had come to Houston. He tried to take her. He hurt Tug. She stood there for a minute, conscious of Daniel’s hand tightening at her waist.

  Moving noiselessly as he returned, Slate came up behind Mica, saying softly into her ear, “Get the horses out of the trailer and leave the ramp down,” as he walked past and reached into the trailer to pull a roll of duct tape from the mess on the living quarters floor. Mica nodded at him as he walked back towards Mason.

  She turned towards Daniel and started, “Oh, I have so much—”

  He interrupted her, “Let’s get things squared away.”

  “Okay,” she said quietly. Taking a breath, she closed her eyes and shook her aching head. “Molly and Essa, unload the horses, tie them to the trailer, and check them for injuries. We don’t know what he did other than the mess inside, but check them very closely for injection sites, or injuries that wouldn’t be evident until under hard work.”

  The girls moved to get lead ropes, and evidently saw the mess on the floor for the first time based on their dismayed reactions. “Girls,” Mica said sharply, “horses, now,” pulling their attention back to the task at hand. “I have to get some ice for Tug.” She turned towards where the closest vendor stall was located, but Daniel’s hand held her back.

  “Give the girls a minute and they can go,” he said. “You are covered in blood, and I don’t think we want to make that impression right now.”

  Looking down, she realized with a start that he was right; her shirt and chest were soaked in blood. It was now beginning to dry in the heat, and she could feel her shirt sticking to her skin, all tacky and stiff. “Holy cow,” she murmured, “what in the world?”

  She remembered something she wanted to say, and spun to face Daniel. “I have a lot to tell you.”

  He n
odded at her and repeated what he had said a few minutes ago, “Let’s get things squared away.” Her heart clenched at this; not only wouldn’t he let her touch him, but he didn’t want to talk to her, either. Maybe her attempt to protect him and his family had pushed him too far. He didn’t seem to be the same loving man she’d been with only a few weeks ago.

  Essa walked up right then. “Horses are all okay…” She trailed off, her eyes on something behind Mica.

  Knowing what it was, she wanted to get the girl out of there. “Essa, go get a bag of ice, please. Beg for a couple of plastic bags too, okay?” Essa’s eyes flickered between Mica and the scene behind her, but she nodded her head and turned to run the errand.

  “Molly,” called Mica, “can you get some fresh water?” Hearing an affirmative noise, she watched her sister grab a bucket and walk with Essa up the row of trucks.

  Slate called low from behind them, “Don’t turn around, princess. Just give me a minute here.” Daniel’s arm pulled her closer, and she saw Tug’s head come up to watch Mason and Slate behind her. The trailer creaked and rocked, and she heard a soft snick of a lock clicking into place. Then she heard the distinctive sound of the trailer ramp being raised into the closed position. “Okay now?” she called.

  “Yeah,” Slate said gruffly, and she turned around, Daniel’s hand loosening and then tightening again. Mason was standing there with one hand on the trailer, his jaw clenched tightly.

  “Mason,” she breathed as his eyes lifted to meet hers, and she watched him fold his arms tightly across his broad, hard chest. She saw a depth of emotion in his eyes that terrified her; it was a mix of love, hate, rage, and maybe fear. His gaze raked her from foot to head, stirring an old memory of him standing in her kitchen, helping her get over a waking nightmare. Slate was looking at Mica too, watching for her reaction. He must have been running his hands through his hair; it was standing up at all angles from his head.