Stronger Than This

by Abby Mccarthy

  “He what?” I asked, confused as to how I’d come up in such a short time.

  “Don’t be mad. I got a past. A real messed up one. He said he could tell you were beating something back,” she paused and watched as I flinched. “None of that." She placed her hand on my arm calming me, then continued, "I used to be here full time, but a few years ago I started counseling at a women's shelter. I've seen a lot of things. Been through a lot of things too and when you’re ready, I want you to come and talk to me, and if you don’t want it to be me, I got friends too honey.” She was kind. I shouldn’t be embarrassed, but I was mad at Mickey. I couldn't believe he was telling people about me. What did he know anyway? Aubrey handed me a card with her contact info, and I felt like this was all staged. I didn't like it, but I took the card.

  My emotions were rampant today. I thanked Aubrey without saying much else. Mickey had pulled the car out, and it was idling in front of the garage bay doors. He was standing there waiting for our “talk” to be finished. Having had enough of Mickey’s meddling, I moved quickly to the car. Not saying much of anything to him, I threw open the car door.

  “I’ll be paying you back for this; I won’t owe you.”

  Mickey’s features changed growing visibly harder, darker even.

  “Marie,” he barked, intending to say more, but before I allowed this, I got in the car and took off faster than a bat out of hell.

  TALON HEAVED HER HEAVY backpack next to me on the couch. She’d walked in the door approximately five minutes ago. She seemed like she was in a mood. I sat up. I’d been sleeping on the sofa, and my eyes were bleary from my overwhelming morning. I’d heard her, of course, when she got home, but I was not moving quickly enough for her.

  I wanted just to lay there, but I knew she had a bug up her butt. “Hey, Tal.” I realized I hadn’t called her that in a while. “How was school?”

  “Fine,” she said with her hands on her hips, “Whose car is that out front? It can’t be ours. Our car was gold and that one’s black.”

  This all came out like an accusation. One I didn’t care for. I sighed, “Mickey did it. I haven’t really said what we're running from, but figured he gets it. I didn't ask him too; he just did it. He’s just being nice.”

  She pursed her lips at me like she didn't believe me and it reminded me so much of her Aunt Nic that it made me look up, breathe in, and pray for patience.

  “Stop. If you haven’t noticed, we aren’t actually in a great place. If someone wants to help us, I’m not going to stop them, because honey, we gotta take all the help we can get.”

  She harrumphed and plopped down on the couch next to me. Well, that battle seemed to be over. “What are we doing for dinner? I’m starved.”

  “Pasta.”

  “Again?”

  “It’s that or pb&j; your choice.”

  “Pasta it is.”

  “Do you have homework? How're your classes?”

  “I did it on the bus, and my classes are fine. They have a school newspaper that I’m thinking about joining.”

  This news made me happy. “Oh, Tal! That’d be awesome.”

  She shrugged, “I guess,” then she looked around the room, “You got a lot done today.”

  “I would’ve liked to get more done, but it’s coming along.”

  “I’m going to start some water for the pasta.” She stood and headed for the kitchen. I decided it was time I got my butt off of the couch. I moved to the bathroom to freshen up. I was a mess. My green eyes looked more red than green, and my hair was a disheveled mass of curly unruliness. I needed to shower. I quickly undressed and let the water fall over me. Maybe I shouldn't be mad at Mickey.

  It just all felt like too much. I had to admit that after the way I had cried on his shoulder, maybe I did need to talk with someone, and as exposed as I had felt with Aubrey, perhaps his heart was in the right place.

  I finished my shower, threw on a pair of jeans and a tank. By the time I was finished, Talon was scooping out two bowls of pasta and mixing in pasta sauce sparingly.

  “Thanks, honey, for cooking. Real sweet of you.” I took a bite, noting that she had cooked the pasta perfectly, so I said, “This is cooked perfectly. When did you learn to do that?”

  She slowly chewed her food and stared at me as if contemplating her words. “That was the first time I saw daddy hit you, but you know, there were plenty of times where he said you were “laying down” and that I needed to make myself something. Dad would usually head out, and I’d need to fend for myself.”

  “What?” How had I had no idea that this was going on?

  “Mom, saying this the nicest way I know how, you’ve always been there, but at the same time you haven’t.”

  Oh, my! I stared at Talon. What could I say to that? She’d apparently been fixing herself dinner for quite some time. I offered up what little I could. “I’m sorry about that, honey. I’m here now, and we’ll get through all this. Okay?”

  She gave me a weak smile, and we finished eating our dinner in silence. I think we both needed the quiet. For me, I wondered how many things I thought I'd been paying attention too, but wasn’t because I was lost in my own abuse. It made me realize that even though that was the first time Talon had seen Drake hit me, that in many ways, she was as much a victim as I was. I shouldn't have been blind to the fact that she was observant and could see my pain.

  After dinner, I cleaned up and Talon put a movie in: Who Framed Roger Rabbit. We were both quiet, but it felt like her confession lifted some burden from her. “I’m going to go for a walk. You want to join me?” I asked, hoping she would.

  “Nah, you go,” she waved me off.

  I walked past the boat slip and kept going for about ten minutes, then turned and decided that I wanted to sit on the boat slip. The air was a bit cooler than it had been. I sat on the edge with my knees pulled up to my chest looking out at the water.

  I didn't hear a creak in the wood to alert me to his approach; I only heard the rich timbre of his voice. “It will be cooler soon.”

  I startled and sighed, “Mickey.”

  “Brought ye a beer.” He set a beer down next to me and took a swig of the one he already had open.

  “A beer sounds nice.” We sat for a few minutes without talking, just the two of us casually sipping our beers.

  “I gotta ask ye something. Yer not going to like it.”

  “Then maybe you shouldn't ask.”

  I didn't want the questions, but he’d already seen too much, already knew too much. He ignored my request. Of course, he did.

  “I want his name.”

  Fear seized me again. I couldn’t do it. He thought he was going to be my hero somehow, but if I gave him a name, it would just bring the monster to my door, and all of the terror that went with it. I stood without answering Mickey, “Thanks for the beer.”

  I walked away from him; from the peacefulness his nearness brought me. I didn’t look back, not even when I heard him call my name.

  Chapter Eleven

  Mickey

  This woman! She was crawling under my skin. I couldn't help but watch her tight arse sashay away from me. Her red hair flowed down her back in large curls. She was fucking beautiful, but she was fucking destroyed. It made me angry. I shouldn't be getting involved, but I gave a shit. Don't ask me why I did, or what it was about her that made me. I just did.

  Not that I could really afford distractions right now. The club didn't usually have a ton of shit happening, at least not for a few years, but we assisted another club in moving their product. We stayed out of trouble; off the radar.

  Jules, our president, had a baby. Daws and Aubrey were trying to get knocked up. My baby was grown. I liked to visit her often, and I would guess that her baby making days weren’t that far away. So we gave support, but kept our noses clean, only on the last run we did, our boys ran into trouble. It was clear that it was a set-up. They knew we were coming, so it was shite I had to deal with. One of my boys laid his
bike down and almost took fire. That, I am not okay wit.

  So, I had things on my mind. This was what prevented me from going after that tiny red spitfire. I had no doubt that’s exactly what she was. She was beaten down that was for sure, but under it all, I could see a hellion.

  I could only imagine what it would be like to have her naked and writhing beneath me. Watching her full tits with those soft pink nipples bounce would be heaven. Those fucking tits. She caught me watching her like a fucking creeper, but I couldn't help it. I saw her on my way to the jacks. Her red hair cascaded over her milky skin, and those breasts. For fuck's sake, they were the best damn tits I’d ever seen. I was so caught up in her beauty that I barely noticed the bruises, but when I did, I needed a minute. If I didn’t control myself, she’d see my Irish temper. I had to check it. I pulled my beer to my lips wondering if she knew it was my dock that she kept returning to.

  A ding on my phone alerted me to a text. It was Vanessa, looking for company. I texted her back, not in the mood. She was one of many that wanted to fuck. Sweet, but not serious. She knew where she stood. It was what it was when it was. What it wasn’t, was special. There was nothing about it that was fucking special.

  Instead of replying to a second text from Vanessa, I called the most important woman in my life, my daughter.

  “Daddy,” Maura greeted.

  “Baby girl.”

  “You know, you’ll have to stop calling me that, especially when Corbin gets his way and plants a baby in me.”

  “Never,” I laughed. “How’s that husband of yours these days?”

  “Anxious to get home so he can get me pregnant. Every time we Facetime, it’s practically all he talks about.”

  “How much longer? A week? Two?” I asked because it wasn’t always definitive when he’d be home. He was Special Ops.

  She sighed, “I think by the end of the month.”

  “But the month’s just began.”

  “Don’t I know it.”

  “Why don’t you come for a visit then?”

  “You know what? Maybe I will. I’ll talk to Corbin and let you know. How’s everything with you, Daddy?”

  I was silent for a second.

  “Daddy, got something you want to tell me?”

  “It’s nothing. There’s this woman.” She gasped, and I immediately regretted mentioning her. “What’s her name? What’s she look like? How did you meet? This is fantastic!”

  “Slow down. It’s not like that.”

  “To hell, it's not! You’ve never, ever mentioned a woman to me. Oh, this is going to be good. I’m getting my ass to Lake Green ASAP.”

  “Maura,” I growled and strode away from the deck inside.

  “Has Jenny met her yet? How about Aubrey? Oh, I have to call them and get their take on her. Lord knows you’ll never tell me.”

  “Maura,” I snapped, “I don’t even know what this thing is yet. It’s too soon, and she has baggage.” Her voice dropped a level, and I swore she was using a tone I often used with her, on me.

  “She wouldn’t be who she is without having carried her load. You taught me that. You also taught me about patience.”

  “Point received. Call me when you’ve nailed down what day you’re coming.”

  “Oh, I’m not wasting time. I’ll be there tomorrow, or the next day! Love you.” She disconnected before I even got a chance to say goodbye.

  MAURA’S UPCOMING VISIT meant I needed to get shit sorted. I needed to find out who those dirty fucks were and I needed intel fast. There’d be no sleep for me.

  I made a call to Sue. Made sure she kept her ears to the ground and her eyes open and on Marie. Let Zeke know too, that I wanted a call if anything seemed off. And I meant anything. This kid, if he was going to be a Crusader one day, he’d need to learn to trust his gut.

  I rode through the night, stopping at bars where I knew I could find information. Everything was the same; no one knew shit.

  I was in New York, it was late, or early depending on how you looked at it. I pulled into the clubhouse of a chapter of The Devil’s Crusaders. They had two large houses on a busy road. The security here had always been a bit lax, but as I pulled into the drive, parked my bike, and opened the door, I ground my teeth at the lack of anything. Where the fuck was everyone?

  Inside, there were beer bottles everywhere. A fat chick with her ass half exposed and makeup smeared all over her face was passed out on top of Goose. There were two other brothers I didn’t recognize out cold, halfway between the wall and the floor and fucking needles scattered the floor.

  I moved through the house. Holes covered the walls, and it looked like a cross between a fist going through drywall and bullet holes. I climbed up the stairs and found a lass donning a shirt over her head. She was on her way out. I gave her a pointed look, “Not so fast lass, you wait.”

  I opened Tank's room, and there he sat, slumped against his bed with a needle in his arm. I took my burner phone out and dialed Jules. It rang seven times.

  “This better be good, Mickey. It’s five o’clock in the fucking morning, and you just woke the baby,” Jules grumbled.

  “Paris Street is gone. Along with Tank.”

  “Fuck.”

  “Yeah,” I paused. “Dope.”

  “Take care of the house. I’m calling everyone in,” Jules said no longer seeming tired, but on high alert.

  I questioned the lass who had been trying to leave. She was high as hell and didn’t have much of a fucking clue as to what was happening. I managed to wake up the other chick who was passed out in the living room then I set about making the house and the house next door go boom. I didn’t give a fuck that those guys had a Crusader’s patch on; they were fucking traitors betraying the brotherhood with a fucking needle.

  BROTHERS FILLED OUR clubhouse. Captains who were farther than a day’s ride took flights to get here faster. Jules didn’t come down hard on the guys. He was a fair boss, maybe too fair. I sat on one side of Jules and Daws sat on his other.

  “I want to know how a chapter of ours could’ve gotten so out of hand? Austin, Tank was closest to you. Tell me what you saw.”

  Austin looked sheepish. He was young, and the only reason he was a captain was that he grew up with us and could be trusted.

  “He’d been squirrely the last time we met. I thought he was off, but I couldn't put my finger on what it was. I sent boys out twice in the last month, and everything seemed fine.”

  “Everything was not fecking fine,” I growled. “The house was a fecking drug slum.”

  “It wasn't like that,” I swear it.

  He was scared; he feck all should be.

  “Mickey, I swear I was there, inside. A couple of guys had a few beers, but there was nothing to make me think they went down that path. Nothing at all. What you're describing just doesn’t seem possible in two weeks’ time.”

  “No, it doesn’t.”

  “What about money?” Daws asked. “Did you check their safe?”

  “Not even a grand.”

  “This house and the shipment The Nines lost are related. Don’t know how, but I’m sure of it. I need to know how. Everyone needs to be on high alert. Something isn't right, and I’m not going to just sit around and wait for the next shoe to drop.” Jules stood from the table and paced angrily.

  “I’ll make some calls,” Lance, one of our Captains offered.

  “I want everyone’s ears to the ground. My gut says this ain't good,” Jules told the room in perhaps the most authoritative voice I’d ever heard him use.

  We left Church, and the mood was thick with the men. We’d all been around for a lot of shit, and the air was dense, just like it’d been before. Men brought out their phones and began making calls, while I got on my bike and made a few local visits to my contacts.

  Chapter Twelve

  Marie

  “Can you believe the crowd tonight? Looks like a freaking biker convention,” Evelyn said, pouring a coke from the soda machine. She wa
sn’t wrong, this place was packed with bikers, and I was on edge. All it would take would be for one of these guys to know Drake, and I’d be done for. Every pass through the restaurant felt like I was playing Russian Roulette. I was shaking. My nerves were frayed, and I just wanted to leave.

  “You okay?” Evelyn asked since I didn’t respond to her question a moment ago.

  “Not really,” I lied feigning a headache. I was going to ham it up to Jack. I needed him to tell me to go home.

  “Oh?” Evelyn looked taken aback, “You’ll have to tough it out. Trish is at a concert.”

  I nodded. I knew this, but still, I had to try. I approached Jack on my next stop to the bar. “Jack, I’m not feeling well.”

  He looked me up and down, cursing as he noticed the tremble in my hand. “I need you. You all but begged for a Saturday night. Is this going to be a thing?” I felt terrible that I was disappointing him, but I honestly didn't know if I could do this. “I’ll tell you what. Why don't you come back here behind the bar and I’ll work the floor?”

  “Really?” It wouldn't stop someone from seeing me, but the crowd was so dense that I figured it would lessen the chances.

  “Sure, thing.” Jack smiled, and his eyes crinkled the way they often did.

  I moved behind the bar, and for the next thirty minutes, I was so busy, I didn't have a chance to think about my fears. I noticed a few of the Devil’s Crusaders, but there were a lot of new faces. Then, I spotted him. Mickey. He wore a long sleeve Harley shirt, his vest, black jeans, and motorcycle boots. He didn't seem like he was in a good mood. His body language was all wrong tonight. The casual Mickey that I’d met so many times didn't seem present. I watched as a gangly, tall skinny man, whose patch said prospect, handed Mickey a beer.

  Mickey had an elbow propped on the high top table next to him. He hadn’t said hello to me. In fact, since I saw him a few days ago by the lake, I hadn’t seen or spoken to Mickey. I was both relieved and disappointed. I hadn’t much explored my feelings of disappointment.