Cassie

by deMora, MariaLisa

  Standing in the rubble of the coffee shop's front room, Mason stared down at the bodies of his father and brother. He took a long breath, then another before turning away. “We gotta go, Bones.” Reaching out, he gripped Bones’ upstretched hand, and then gave voice to what he was feeling in the only way he knew how. “Come on, brother. Let’s get you out of here. Nothing left to learn.”

  As they made their way out the back door, Bones looked around. “It always seems odd to have the sun shining on such days.”

  Mason levered him into the rental car and yanked a shirt out of Bones’ bag in the back seat. “Put that behind you. Don’t bleed on the seat if you can help it.”

  “Not my first such moment.” Bones snarled when Mason hit a pothole at speed, jolting the man against the door. They drove in silence for a few minutes, rotating lights and sirens of the police headed towards the scene of the firefight fading away into the distance with every block. “You learned much.”

  “I did.” Mason’s hands throbbed and he realized his grip on the steering wheel was tight enough to turn his knuckles white. “Jesus. He—” He cleared his throat, surprised at the wash of emotion sweeping over him. “What do you think was in his head there at the end? It was like he wanted Shooter to pull the trigger.”

  “I do not know, my friend. Their relationship was complicated.” Bones leaned forwards and groaned. “I cannot get my vest off. My shoulder is on fire, Mason. Maybe—” he groaned again, “—the old king was ready to die. What did you make of his words?”

  “No more or less than I’d already believed. You gonna bleed to death?”

  “No, I will live.” Bones granted him the topic change gracefully. “Where do we go, my brother?”

  “I’ll find somewhere safe. Let’s just get a couple more miles between us and that back there.”

  He’d made it fifteen before he pulled over and plugged in the device Myron had all traveling members carry. Within five minutes, he’d reassured Myron enough to get an address from him of a friendly doc in the area, and had Bones looked after.

  Mason lifted the glass and finished drinking the water. Took the old man’s advice. It had been a road he’d already been headed down, having given Chase his head regarding the club. But in the years since, Mason had taken it a step farther, creating a cushion of space between the club and his family. Now, though, with Garrett near grown, and Dolly not far behind him, it would be time soon to take the mantle back up, leaving his sister and her man to pull away. He filled the glass again, studying his reflection in the windowpane. Movement in the room behind him wasn’t a surprise, because Willa didn’t sleep well without him in bed beside her.

  “Honey?” She slid behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist. Cheek to his spine, she settled against his back. “You okay?”

  “Yeah, babe. I told you to go back to sleep.”

  “That was three hours ago. I sleeped, and then I woked, and then I walked. Now,” she gave him a squeeze. “I’m here.”

  “You know how much I love you?” He patted her hands crossed over his belly. “Know how much I love our family?”

  “More than life.” She didn’t hesitate in her response and he smiled.

  “I’d do anything for you.”

  “You already have.” Then Willa, proving once again that she was in absolute tune with him, gave him permission to do what he’d already decided. “Take the club back, chunk a hunk. You need it. We’re here with you, and we’ll do what’s needful. Bring it on. The Masons will conquer anything life throws at us.”

  “More every day,” he reminded her, and she squeezed tight. He loosened her grip and turned, smiling down at her as she burrowed against his chest. “You’ve given me so much, Wills.”

  “Takes more than that to get in my pants.” She sighed and yawned, neck twisting to plant her face against his breastbone. “Why are we up again?”

  “Because we are.” He bent his knees and scooped her up, tossing her over his shoulder, grinning when she shouted with laughter. “Woman, you’ll wake the kids.”

  “Kids are already awake. Cover Mom’s ass, would ya?” Garrett called out as he walked into the kitchen, yawning widely. “I do not need to see her butt shining at me first thing in the morning.”

  “I have undies on. Shut your piehole.” Willa twisted in place on his shoulder. Mason swatted her cheek hard enough to make her squeal, grinning when she did exactly as he expected. “Mason.”

  “Morning Mom, Daddy.” Dolly walked in behind her brother, then tipped her chin down and lifted a hand to cover the side of her face. “God, you guys are so weird. Garrett, can you give me a ride to school today?”

  “Mornin’, baby girl.” Dolly kept her eyes averted and Mason laughed, swatting Willa’s ass again before he shifted her into his arms, then let her feet drop to the floor. He kept her close in an embrace with his arms around her waist, turning her back to his front. “Safe to look now.”

  “If Dad’ll let me drive on my permit, sure. Hey, Dad, is it okay if I drop by the shop this afternoon? I wanted to talk to Bear about the paint job for the bike.” Garrett had been working on fixing up a motorcycle for the past several months, having picked up a classic model at an auction he attended with Bear. When they’d come home that day, Bear had given him a look Mason couldn’t understand, until the tarp was flipped off the load of bikes and he saw an old Indian Chief chained there with the rest of the barn finds. “I’ve got an idea of what I want now.”

  “Sure, son.” Garrett had the bug, as Willa called it. He’d grown up riding and never got enough wind. Even when given his choice of things to do, he picked the club. Not my doing, Mason reminded himself. He’s making this decision on his own. “You need anything from me?”

  “A job?” Garrett laughed, but the way his eyes cut over to look at Mason said it wasn’t really a joke. “Gotta pay Bear. I won’t let him do me a freebie.”

  “Lemme think on it, and I bet I can find something for you, Gar-boy. Take the truck this morning, just be careful.” All he had to do was talk to Jase, and Garrett would have a job by the time the conversation was over. Garrett could have had that conversation, but Mason appreciated how he’d deferred the decision to his old man. “You got anything else hanging?” Garrett shook his head. “You know I love you, son?”

  Garrett nodded and Dolly laughed as she walked across the kitchen, arms out. “Do you love me, too?” Willa shifted so she got her arm around their daughter as Mason did. “What if I want a job at the shop?”

  “No.” Mason and Willa’s answer came in tandem. “No.”

  Dolly giggled and tipped her head back. “Marie’s?”

  “No.” Mason let Willa answer that one on her own, already guessing what would be next.

  “Slinky’s?” Blinking coquettishly, Dolly grinned up at him.

  “Hell no.” God, this girl. “You are way too much like your mother, you know that?”

  “Hey, what’s wrong with being me?” Willa pulled back, and the look she gave him was a scowl in contrast to Dolly’s grin. She twisted to stare at Dolly. “You can be me anytime you want, honey child. Any time.”

  “Except when it’ll get you into trouble.” Mason agreed, then laughed. “I need more than no coffee for this discussion.” He gave his two women a squeeze, and then kissed the tops of their heads in turn. “I love you.”

  Rebels forever

  Hoss

  Nothing good comes of 2:00 a.m. phone calls. Hoss grabbed the device and silenced it. He slipped into his pants as he accepted the call, tucking his dick away with one hand while already walking down the hall. Once he determined he was far enough from Cassie to keep from waking her, he answered the caller. “Yeah?” Unlike some members, he didn’t add anything about how important the call needed to be. He’d seen the caller ID before the screen changed, and he knew Myron wouldn’t be dialing his number unless it was needed.

  “You remember Lalo?” Brusque and cutting, Myron’s voice filled his ear.

&
nbsp; Hoss stopped short and stilled about three stairsteps from the bottom. Whatever this was would need his full attention.

  “Yeah.” The word was expelled from him as with a blow. “Fuck yeah. Who doesn’t remember that crazy asshole?” A chill swept over him. “Why?” If Lalo was the reason Myron had picked up the phone in the middle of the night, it would be more a ghost story than anything else. “He’s fuckin’ dead, Myron. Took a good man with him.” The death of Lalo had cost them Watcher, an irreplaceable brother to every man he knew. It had also kicked off the bloodiest years of the Rebel Wayfarers history, even counting how the club had been founded in red.

  “I got a wake-up call. A real blast from the past.” Myron probably didn’t understand how frustrating his cryptic response was. Then he proved Hoss wrong. It wasn’t cryptic; it was a statement of fact. “Estavez called. Not his second, not his SAA. Estavez.” They hadn’t heard directly from Raul for a long time. Rumors had circulated that he’d been sick, and most of the men who were the same age didn’t want to talk about what it might be. Medicine might have made advancements in the treatment of many things, but the big C was still a killer and something to be feared. “He wants a vidcall, Hoss. With you, and Mason.”

  “What about? Did he say?” Hoss finished descending the stairs and walked to stand in Cassie’s kitchen, hips angled to lean against the countertop, back to the window that looked out on her garage. The stairs creaked quietly and he shifted to face the darkness within her house, unsure if it was her following him or just the wood resetting into place following his passage. “When and where do you want me, Myron?” Hoss needed to wrap this call up quickly, just in case. Club business was club only, no matter the trustworthiness of the member’s old lady. His brain quieted for a moment at that, stunned. Huh. Old lady. “You don’t know yet, just shoot me a text when you do.”

  “No idea on the topic, but he was one pissed off papa bear, so I’m assuming it’s either Mela or Bella.” There was no humor in Myron’s tone, and Hoss knew why. After Watcher died, Raul Estavez had stepped up and pledged safety and protection to the girl his true daughter loved like a sister. Carmela was his, but she’d grown up splitting her time between her father’s club and Watcher’s, landing in whichever were the safest place of the moment. Both the clubs had fought wars through the years, but never against the other because the leaders had crafted careful connections. Still, all outside pressures warranted caution and respect. Isabella, born to Juanita and Watcher in the Southern Soldiers was Rebels now, and Mela belonged to the Malcontents, but as far as Estavez was concerned, both women would always be Machos. “Ten in the morning, just hit the clubhouse here. I’ll be ready.”

  “And you couldn’t have waited until closer to ten to call my ass?” Hoss watched Cassie round the corner and walk through moonbeams to get to him, and his inner artist took a snapshot. Blue and limned in light as ethereal as she was, he was confident this vision of Cassie would make it to canvas. Hoss smiled at her yawn and stretched out his hand to her, settling in his skin when she came to him without argument. She snuggled against his shoulder, her arm wrapping across his belly to hook around his hip. “I’ll be there, Myron. Shiny side, brother.”

  “Back atcha. See you in a bit.” The call disconnected and he tossed the phone to the countertop, changing his grip to shift Cassie around to his front. He wrapped both arms around her and hummed softly. “I like this.”

  “Me sleepwalking to you?” Her cheek was heated where it rested against his bare chest, and he drew one hand up to trace along the edge of her jaw.

  “You curling up to me like this. I could get used to it.” He’d meant the last as a warning and was surprised when she chuckled softly. “What do you think you’re laughing at, woman?”

  “You, acting like you aren’t already used to this. All it took was one time of us cuddling and you go for the snuggle every time now.” She laughed softly. “I’m one step ahead of you, mister. I’m so used to it when it disappeared from my bed, I went looking for it.” She pinched his side and he jumped, jerking to the side. “Found you.”

  “Jesus, don’t pinch.” Her lips brushed across his chest, and he yelped when her teeth snapped at his nipple. “God, you’re biting now?” He fisted his hand in her hair, pulling gently until her head tipped back and he could see the laughter on her face. “God, you’re so gorgeous.” Her laughter dimmed, the smile growing smaller. “No, don’t do that, beautiful. You’re everything I didn’t know I was looking for.”

  “I didn’t know I was looking for you, too.” She kept her gaze locked on his, the pupils of her eyes dilating until they looked dark and haunted. “I didn’t know what I needed.”

  “I’ve got a patch brother in Chicago. Bones.” The words burst from him, because he needed her to know he understood. “He’s got a woman in his life. Loves her with every fiber of his being. Her name’s Ester. She has this way about her. Always has. It’s different, she’s different, but she can cut to the heart of things with her words sometimes in a way that wounds bloodlessly, because it’s just so fuckin’ true. She said needings are more important than wishes, because wishes were just wants in another dress. Needings are things that keep your soul afloat.” He brushed the backs of his knuckles across her cheek, dragging his hand to her neck and cradling that fragile column in his palm. “Needings are for important things.” He gave her a squeeze, not once losing her gaze. “I needed you. That’s truth, right there. You didn’t know what you needed, and you got me. Well, I knew what I needed, or thought I did. I thought my role was to play the sorrowful widower all the rest of my days, knowing I’d held the one woman I was meant to love in my hands.” He watched as hurt rolled through her eyes and quickly shook his head. “I thought I was right. I was wrong. I was meant to be here, now, with you. I needed you, and, Cassie, now I’ve got you and I’m never, not ever letting go.”

  ***

  “Tell me what’s going on.” Mason’s voice was hard, and he didn’t mince words. “Right the fuck now.”

  “I hope you get better answers than me,” Hoss complained, cutting Myron a sideways glare that was immediately returned. He’d been asking for more information since he’d walked in the room five minutes ago, and Myron wasn’t trying to hide exactly how annoying he’d managed to be. Fuck you. “Our resident geek’s bein’ tight-lipped about anything he might know.”

  “I got shit to take care of, Myron. What does Estavez need that has us here right now?” Myron folded his arms on the table, staring at Mason. “Are you fuckin’ kidding me?” He used words that made a shiver slither up Hoss’ back, because they were what he’d said to pull Cassie’s story from her. “Tell me.”

  “Estavez has my app. He’ll initiate the call when I text him we’re ready.” Myron cocked his head to one side. “Are we ready now, boss, or you do want to tantrum a little longer?”

  Mason stared at Hoss a moment, then turned back to Myron. “You swept?” Myron nodded. “Phones?” That question earned him a thumb over the shoulder towards the door. The Faraday cage Myron built was outside, behind the bar. “Key?”

  Myron dug in his pocket and held it up. “Assuming you put your phone in there and closed it, then this room is clean until I connect with Estavez.” He moved the computer across the table, showing the battery was separated from the rest of the device. “We’re clean, boss. Always.”

  “Goes without saying?” Mason looked between them again.

  “It doesn’t leave the room.” Hoss supplied with a shake of his head. “Whatever you’re about to say is for ears only, and you’ve picked the two of us to be your audience on whatever the fuck this is.”

  “I’m takin’ back the club.”

  The words fell between them like a quiet bomb, the air getting heavy as if the very oxygen had weight and heft. Myron pulled in a heavy breath that broke in the middle, sounding almost like a sob when he shoved it out in one huff.

  “About fuckin’ time.” Hoss angled his head back and looked Mason up
and down. “Graybeards gonna rule the roost, and gonna whip all these scrubs into line, fuckin’ finally.”

  “Does Fury know? Opie?” Myron’s fingers were tapping on the table as if he wished he were taking notes, rapping a furious beat. “How are you going to handle the transfer, boss? And you’re talkin’ International, right? Not just the national title? That’d be best. Fury’s got his hands full with the kids.”

  “Slow down, Myron. I don’t have all the answers yet, and I don’t know when I’ll have ’em.” Mason’s lips spread in a thin smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Decided about eight hours ago, and, no, I haven’t told anyone. Willa guessed, but she’s true, so she won’t whisper shit even to her girls. It’s just you two, and me.”

  “When you know what you need, brother—” Hoss wasn’t ashamed of the emotion in his voice, because something this big, huge, needed to be acknowledged. It had taken steam out of the club when Mason stepped back. A hard thing to witness and wait through for the men who had for so long bound their fates to their brother. Men who had bled for him, bulling through some of the hardest shit in their lives alongside him, striding boot fall by boot fall in step with Mason.

  It had been the right thing for the man, no matter how difficult it had been for him.

  His woman, Willa, had been hurt badly by club business. His sister, too. Even his oldest, Chase, borne along a too-bloody stream from the time he’d been conceived, had scars that could be laid at the foot of the club. A lot for any man to shoulder, but for a man like Mason, knowing the ones he loved were hurt by the thing he’d built—it had been intolerable. “Anything I can give, I will. No ask too big, brother.” Hoss pounded his chest with a closed fist, each thud carrying the echo of a promise. “I’m a Rebel, and I’m yours. To me you’ve always been one and the same. You say it’s time, I’ll pick up whatever burden you need me to carry.”

  Mason stared at him, eyes shining in the overhead lights. Myron cleared his throat and Hoss glanced over to see him angling his head away.