Old man Mason’s tone was dismissive, angry at being questioned. “I told you she wouldn’t suffer. I’m not an animal, Ezra. My man dealt with her with compassion, like I promised. He got the kid out, too, just like before. Innocents shouldn’t suffer for their family’s mistakes. You know I did my part, and now it’s all on you. You park that kid, and you park him deep if you want him to keep breathing.” Mason moved, and Gabe stared through the crack in the wooden wall to see the man’s hands were clenching and unclenching, seemingly frustrated at his inability to do something. “I do what’s needful. Morgan’s grandbaby lived, that’s all he needs to know. You park him deep, and I’ll leave that boy alone. You don’t, and there’s gonna be hellfire to pay. I’ll tear your family to the ground, Ezra. You’ll lose more than you ever thought possible.”
Daddy shuffled closer to the preacher, craning his neck to look up at the big man. His words were half plea, half ultimatum, but full of fear. “And my family, with this, Irving, we’re out of it. I’m telling you we are out.”
Mason’s laughter was dark and filled with humor. “You ain’t never gonna be out, Ledbetter. Dug in deep, you’re stuck with me. We’re in the pits chipping away at the walls around us. You know that, better than most. I’m leaving. You’re just wasting my time with all this bullshit, and I don’t take kindly to people wasting my time.”
Gabe’s father stood silent for a moment, and it was his turn to impotently clench his fists. When he finally spoke, his words were quiet but vibrating with anger. “You done took from me, Mason. You know that. Took from me and mine. I had one slip, one. And you hold that over my head like I was your lackey, setting off to do whatever the king bids. I won’t lose more. Not this time. I’m warning you—”
He didn’t get anything else out. Mason moved so fast Gabe scarcely tracked him, and had his hand around Ezra’s throat in a heartbeat, had him lifted and pushed against the wall. Leaning close, choking him with his strength and weight, old man Mason rumbled the words, “You do not know what’s been taken from me. My wife. My children. That man took them, and took them, and took them. He’s taken the last thing he’ll ever have. His man is bedding my daughter.” Mason’s voice broke, and Gabe’s fists tightened. Bethany, he was talking about Bethy. “Do not speak to me about how much has been lost. That man ain’t going to see the light of day once I get done with him. I’ll bury him a mile deep. And I’ll plant you there beside him, if you buck me on this. Ledbetter, you do what’s needful. You park his grandson where he can’t get at him. You do it in a way that he gets the message. And when I get my wife back, I’ll think about letting you out. Not until then. Not a bit of it.”
Fury pushed to his feet, suddenly unable to stay inside another moment. He muttered something, it didn’t matter what, as long as it got him out and into the nighttime air. He pulled in a deep breath, shocked for a moment at the absence of rich earth and deep woods on the air. Tabby hadn’t killed herself. That was knowledge he’d lived with for a long time. He’d had to see how it ate at Bethy, how it ate at his ma. Tabby hadn’t killed herself, hadn’t taken herself away from them. The knowledge had run him from the mountain and to the military, where he’d found a costly mix of friends, leading him in the end to Dion.
It had run Bethy from the mountain, too, and Fury had been there that day, his mouth closed tight because of fear. The last time he’d allowed himself to be ruled by that weakness. Bethy had faced off against her father, told him she was done, and then she left the graveside of her best friend in tears, Mike Otey’s arm wrapped around her shoulder.
At home that night, Gabe had heard his mother’s cries, heard the smacking of the strap and knew his daddy would be coming his way next. If the man didn’t get what he wanted one way, he’d get it another. He always had. That was when Gabe had packed, taking his knife to the pillow and dumping the feathers on the bed before shoving his sets of smalls and pants into the empty case.
At the last minute, he’d heard his father’s footsteps coming up the hallway, a staggering gait which sent the man running into the walls, bouncing back and forth between them in a telling way. Easing over the windowsill on his belly, Gabe had stared at the turning doorknob as he reached up to silently close the window. Feet firmly on the ground, he’d cast around for a few seconds to find the bag, heart in his throat. Then he’d been running. Barefooted and free, tearing through the woods, crashing down the mountainside and to the road where he’d ridden his thumb to Lexington. Showing up at the recruiting office like he had, the only reason the men didn’t call the police on sight was because he’d thought to grab his papers. With his birth certificate in hand, they couldn’t turn him away. Right hand raised, he’d stared into the eyes of the man in front of him, repeating the words that would take him away from there.
Tabby didn’t kill herself. His daddy knew who had. Even if old man Mason was dead and gone, nothing but ash and dust in the ground, Ezra Ledbetter knew who had killed her, and he was still suckin’ air. Fury turned to look at the house behind him, seeing the shadows of Duck and Brenda come together behind the blinds, then move as a unit deeper into the house. Lights came on in a room on the second floor, and he stared as they came together again before darkness descended on the night. Duck’s a good man. His woman didn’t deserve to lose her folks.
“Park that boy deep.” He remembered old man Mason’s words.
Facing outward again, Fury leaned over and toed a rock out of the dirt, scuffing it back and forth with his boot. Things can be dug up.
The pain on Watcher’s face as he recounted the story about his family today haunted Fury. That was a man who deserved better, too. He needed to know Tabby hadn’t killed herself.
Just gotta dig shit up.
Brenda’s parents hadn’t died in a random crash. She deserved closure.
Fury let his mind go back to today, standing in a room with Bethany Mason, forget her married name because that hadn’t been a real marriage. That had been her daddy selling her for silence. She was Bethy, the first girl he’d ever loved. Bethy.
Tabby’s best friend. The look on Bethy’s face at the funeral had never left him. One of those scars he could pull up at will, ripping off any healing scabs, keeping it fresh because you knew, with one look at her, Bethy wouldn’t be moving past the moment. Not ever. And from talking to her in Nashville, she hadn’t then. After watching her today, it was clear she still bore the pain. She deserved closure, too.
Fury pulled out his phone and thumbed the screen. A moment later the call connected and he waited through the usual pleasantries, then said, “Gunny, got something in Lexington we need to look at.”
Saving Bella
Fury
Fury stood in the bar, watching as men rapidly cleared out, the slick leather of their soles skidding on the floor as they ran to the door. He heard motorcycle engines roaring in the parking lot as the first to respond chased the stripes down the highway. Swallowing hard, he stared down at his phone. His alert had been different from the Soldiers’ brief, preceding theirs by only moments. He hoped like fuck they had more information than Myron did, because a text that said, Soldiers princess lost, wasn’t nearly enough to roll on.
Once silence settled back into the room, he dialed Myron, only to get voice mail. That action earned him another text, an instruction: Call Duck. Within seconds, the call connected and Fury heard the sound of the wind—ever present in this part of the country—then the noise quietened at the slam of a vehicle door as Duck said, “I’m headed to Las Cruces. You’re here in Lamesa. Thinking this is a dividing tactic, pulling all the Soldiers from here like this.”
Fury grunted and responded, “And I’m thinking you’re probably right. Seeing as they were all we have in the form of backups and those backups just rolled west. That leaves just you and me. So, being as you’re the only other soul in that equation, what in the hell are you doing going to Las Cruces, same place those men are headed?” He shook his head, walking to and through the door, squinting
at the bright sunlight. “We got Rebel royalty already here.” He slung a leg over his bike, shoving the key into the ignition. “And even more coming in. Brother, you stay with me.”
An engine roared where Duck was, and Fury knew he was in a truck and heading out, no matter the outcome of this conversation. Fuck.
The quality of the call changed, and Duck’s voice sounded like he was in a tunnel when he said, “Mason ain’t comin’ down. Willa’s in labor. Means you got Chase and Bethy to worry about. That’s it.”
“Fuck, that timing’s a bitch.” Fury leaned over, staring down at his tank, thinking fast. If Mason was tied up in Fort Wayne, he wouldn’t be directing assets down this way. He’d be keeping everything close, in case there was a threat to club or family there. “What about Mica and Molly, because we got the cousin. They still coming?”
“Shit, yeah. Essa’s here. I wasn’t thinking. Shit.” Duck was quiet for a minute, and Fury racked his brains like he knew Duck had to be. “You’ll have to improvise.”
“Improvise, hell. Not like I’m handing the prince a pistol and setting him to guard himself.” Fury considered the other band members. “Benny, maybe. Wouldn’t want him at my back, though. No offense to Slate.”
“He’d be the last one to take offense, brother.” Duck’s voice was tight, concerned. “Bethy’s roommate.” Startled, Fury sat straight, wondering why Duck would be referencing Bethy’s man. “He’s ex-military. He’d be on a plane in a New York minute, you call him. Get Ty on the horn, talk to him. If you can’t raise him, get creative.”
Fury barked a laugh, the lack of humor matched in the one he heard from Duck. “Creative. I’m good at that. Travel safely, brother. You need me, you reach out. This puts you on the road alone, Duck. I’m liking that just as little as the shit you’re leaving behind here.”
“Back atcha, brother. Catch you on the flip.” A pause, then Duck asked quietly, “Check on my family when you have a minute?”
The call disconnected without giving him a chance to respond, and Fury bent to his phone, tapping out a message to Duck that simply said, You got it. Then one to Myron. He hit Send just before he started his bike and rode towards the rodeo grounds. Time to pay the piper when it came to Bethany.
Quacks in the wind. Royalty on a short leash. Updates go both ways.
Thirty minutes later he heeled down the kickstand as he checked his phone and saw a brief affirmative response. He climbed off his bike, standing in the parking lot at the rodeo grounds office. Looking around, he saw a bus parked near the outside fence and recognized it as the one for the band. Through the tinted glass of the windshield several figures were visible, but he couldn’t tell who they were. Twisting to face the other direction, he took in the large, clear windows that circled half of the upstairs office. It had an outside staircase, an interior chute for winching things up or down, and it seemed as if the building was structurally sound, but would be an absolute nightmare for security. He spun again, looking at the bus with new interest. It would make them mobile, but vulnerable to fire and explosives. Not more so than a building, though. Self-contained, it even had a gas generator for when the motor was off. The bus was fitted out with a decent-sized kitchenette and bathroom, even had bunks.
Shit.
That motherfucker looked big, but was small inside. He counted bodies in his head, coming up with way too many to be comfortable.
Fuck.
Fury put his hands in the front pockets of his jeans, shoving them down an inch while he thought. He came to a decision and shaking his head, yanked his phone out and composed a message to Myron. He hit the Send button. Then he walked up the stairs to the rodeo office, ready for whatever fight he would have on his hands. Just before he jerked the door open, his phone buzzed and he pulled it out to see a response. Consider all reasonable precautions approved.
Fury pulled his lips back from his teeth, glancing over at the practice rounds going on in the arena. “Yee haw.”
***
Bethany
“Are you crazy? I can’t do my job from anywhere except here.” She stared up at the man, thinking to herself again that he looked oddly familiar, then shook off that feeling and focused back on his insane directive. “I’m not moving my entire operations to the bus. That’s for the band. They live and sleep there. It’s their space and I respect that.”
“Step outside for a minute, please.” Bethy saw the muscles in his jaw flex and knew he had gritted his teeth in an attempt to keep a civil tone. You failed, buddy.
“I have too much to do.” She stood and walked to the wall, squatting down to match box numbers to the spreadsheet she had in her hands. Glancing at the dumbwaiter set-up, she was mentally calculating how many trips it would take to get everything downstairs so she could get the merch table set-up, when a band of iron circled her arm, lifting her. Instinctively, Bethy tried to get her feet under her. “What?” That was all she got out before Fury hauled her towards the door, heels of her sandals dragging on the hard floor. “Stop it.” He ignored her and Bethy twisted frantically, prying at his hand with her fingers. “Let me go.” Chase turned and watched their path, not trying to hide the grin on his face. “Stop it!” she shouted, louder this time, while she tried to get her feet under her enough to brace herself to stop. “Jesus.” They were outside now, on the porch, and she looked back through the windows to see five very curious sets of eyes on her. “Asshole.”
“Yeah, been called that one.” The mutter was the first thing he’d said since he grabbed her, and she hoped it meant he was less focused, finding she was wrong when she tried to pull away. He shook her almost absently, marching quickly towards the broad staircase. “Need to talk to you. Now you’ve made this a thing, we need to get some privacy.” Halfway down the stairs, she stumbled, and he caught her effortlessly, holding her front tight to his side as he cleared the last few stairs. He looked around and saw her rental car, immediately aiming them to the vehicle. “Good” was his only word when the door opened under his hand. She felt a palm on top of her head and he angled her body into the backseat. “Stay.” He fiddled with something for a moment then the door slammed. She yanked on the handle, but the door didn’t open.
A moment later the driver door opened and slammed as he folded into the front seat. She was headed towards the other door when he turned sideways, and looked at her. “We got a situation.” Those quietly spoken words captured her attention. How could they not, after what had happened only a few months ago? She nodded slowly. “All our security’s been pulled. I’m all you’ve got. I know you’re smart, so it’s not going to take you long to realize the reason they’ve been pulled is because shit’s going down somewhere else. You with me so far?” She nodded.
He pointed to the office, and she looked up to see five heads silhouetted against the lights inside. “The band depends on you. They take their cues from you. You give me shit, they’ll shovel it ten times worse. You didn’t earn it, but you’ve experienced being in the middle of club shit going wrong.” She swallowed hard, and knew he’d seen something because the expression on his face softened slightly, and she had another sudden moment of almost recognition. Then it was past because he was talking again. “Benny has been in the middle of club shit. Chase has seen the results of it, even without knowing that was what he was looking at. The other two are babes in the woods when it comes to real shit. And Bethy, this is real shit. This is war.”
He paused, and she took the chance to ask, “Is my band in danger? My nephew?”
“I hope not,” he answered with honesty, which wasn’t quite what she wanted to hear, but she liked he wasn’t pulling punches with her. “I can’t say for certain. This other club, they’re going after family. Watcher’s daughter is missing, and the consensus is that they’ve taken her.”
Bethy’s heart jolted and she shook her head. “Bella? Oh my God, where’s Mikey?” Little Bella, I changed her diapers. Tiny Bella, the child who climbed me like a monkey, wanting a hug from her Aunt Be
thy. Bella kidnapped. Kept in a tiny room, held behind a metal door for days. She clawed at the door handle again, yelling in frustration when it wouldn’t work. “Juanita, I need to get to Juanita.”
“No, Bethy. You need to stay here.” She stopped yanking on the handle at his firm words, staring at him. “They’ve pulled every resource possible to find her. Maybe it’ll just be a college kid being adventurous.” She shook her head, knowing Bella would never do that to her papa. Fury frowned, then continued, “But this club we’re set against, they’ve been known to do family.” He paused again, his gaze traveling over her face, making a study of looking at her and Bethy realized why he looked so different. I can see his eyes.
No sunglasses. Every time she’d seen him over the past two days, he’d been wearing sunglasses, even inside. Without them, he looked even more familiar. Shaking off the feeling took more effort this time, but she ignored her gut, which was sending off huge warning flares, and instead focused on the immediate issue. “Why can’t I go to Juanita? She has to be devastated.”
“Because I’m one guy. Chicago boys are busy, and so are the Fort Wayne members. Willa’s in labor…” She sucked in a breath, and he at least had the good grace to wince when the news came out so baldly, holding up one hand. “I don’t know more than that. But as you can see, we’ve got a few angles working right now. So if you don’t want to be locked in a hotel suite, then we need to move everything to the bus. I’m just one guy,” he repeated with another shake of his head. “And your brother is counting on me. I call you guys the Rebel royalty, because it’s true. So right now I’ve got three princesses and one prince in town, and I can’t do more than what I’m doing. Mica and Molly are being directed to find me. I need somewhere to put them.”
Bethy nodded, hating that he was right. “This all makes sense, in a nonsensical way.” Brimming with anger, she needed to turn that emotion to the ones who deserved it, knowing she sounded crazy and not caring. “What kind of people do this? Put innocent children at risk?” She shifted, looking out the car windows towards the arena. “I’m sorry.” She stumbled, his name sounding foreign in her mouth, but she forced it out, “Fury. I know you’re being considerate. Um, do you think the hotel might be easier to handle? Are you sure you want us on the bus?”
Fury (Rebel Wayfarers MC Book 11) Page 12
