Lonely is the Night

by Stephanie Tyler

  Inadvertently, she took a step back. He noticed, and maybe he even winced a little.

  She’d dealt with the OA before—an unlucky girlfriend the DA turned in order to avoid a drug conviction. They were a particularly nasty group, who treated their women like property. One of the first cases she’d helped with was an OA witness. She’d been new, hadn’t been assigned anything yet. When the call came in, she’d ridden along with two other marshals.

  The witness was being dragged around by her hair. Her body was already limp from the beating she’d taken. The coroner would later report that she would’ve died from the internal injuries alone. The bullet the OA had put in her head had been for effect. Done right in front of them.

  “If I’m going to jail anyway, I might as well kill her” had been the OA member’s reasoning.

  She tried to reconcile what she knew about the gang with the man standing near her. His hair was short. Blond. He was handsome and clean. He had on a T-shirt and jeans, black motorcycle boots like she’d seen Reid wear at times.

  “Grier, this is Keegan,” Reid told her.

  Keegan. The man partially responsible for saving her life, who nodded as if not wanting to make her any more uncomfortable. He stood almost stock-still.

  She stuck her hand out and he shook it.

  “Keegan’s getting out of the OA,” Reid explained.

  “You didn’t get in trouble with the OA for helping me, did you?” she blurted out, and Keegan gave her a tight-lipped smile.

  “Nah. It’s … bigger than that. It’s just time,” he explained. “Reid’s been offering to help me for years.”

  “You’re going to help him disappear?” she asked, and Reid nodded.

  “With Gunner’s help,” he added.

  Talk about looking over your shoulder for the rest of your life, she thought. “How long have you been with the OA?”

  “Since I was sixteen. Started out as a probie with them after they caught me sleeping in their clubhouse—on the roof, actually. I’d run away from home,” Keegan said, and she remembered what Reid told her about Gunner, not to ask questions and she felt guilty for asking about his life. Keegan didn’t seem to mind talking about it—maybe he even needed to.

  And Reid didn’t say anything to her, instead telling Keegan, “Hiding people is Grier’s specialty with the marshals.”

  “I’ll take all the help I can get.”

  “So the OA just helped out a runaway?” she asked.

  “I was safer on the streets than I was with my parents. These guys took me in, gave me a job when I had nowhere else to go. They didn’t pressure me to join at all, didn’t ask me to do anything illegal. But after years of working around them and helping them and getting to know them … they were my family.”

  He laughed a little, like he had a hard time believing it himself. “They’re not bad guys—it’s just something about the power that makes them do stupid, horrible things. I didn’t see it then—all I wanted was to be allowed in, and they let me. I’d already proven myself loyal—I knew a lot working and living in the clubhouse. I saw everything and I kept my mouth shut. I knew how to ride, fix a bike. Shoot a gun.”

  “I understand you still need an official initiation,” she said quietly.

  “I made my first kill and got my rocker.” He paused. “A guy who’d raped an OA’s girlfriend. I remember feeling like I was avenging her. Now I know that violence just breeds more violence. I can’t do it anymore. And I’ll never be free otherwise.”

  “Are you worried they’ll find you?”

  “I’ll be looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life. But it’s worth it,” he said. “I’m thirty years old. I want freedom. I’ll never have it with them.”

  “What will you do?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. I’ve got to avoid anything to do with my old life, so no bartending, fixing cars. No motorcycles. It’s starting over,” he said. “I’m thinking Alaska.”

  Reid smiled at that and she remembered him telling her about being in foster care there with Kell, going on dangerous crab fishing boats.

  She had a strong feeling that no matter what Keegan did, he’d be fine.

  “Keegan, I’ve got something to show you,” Gunner called from the other room.

  Keegan excused himself, leaving her alone with Reid. Reid, who wouldn’t even look at her, just leafed through one of the many tattoo magazines lying on the counter.

  She’d been so completely selfish in all of this, thinking about right and wrong, black and white. In this situation, she was firmly in the gray. Meeting Keegan confirmed that. It was time to change her vantage point.

  It was time to change everything.

  “I’ve been horrible,” she said to him.

  “Yes,” he agreed, meeting her gaze; he wasn’t going to give her an inch. She would have to take it back, bit by bit.

  “I’m sorry.” It was all she could manage before the tears started and she realized just then that she’d probably been in some form of shock since the fight.

  Her crying turned to wrenching sobs. She tried to shake off Reid’s arms because she didn’t deserve his touch but he was more stubborn than her. And finally, she collapsed against him and let herself sink into the reality that was now hers. And she’d accept it.

  “Your sister would still think you were going the honorable thing,” he told her as her sobs subsided to whimpers. “Sometimes, honor only works outside the boundaries of right and wrong. All that counts is that you have a morality you can live with.”

  “Making my line in the sand.”

  He nodded, looking sad himself.

  “I never meant to make light of your losses,” she said. “Gunner mentioned your teammate.”

  “Gray. We were captured together. Everyone was beaten. Tortured. Gray was killed. I got bitten by a snake our first day in captivity and I remained unconscious and untouched until I was rescued. Another miracle.”

  “Did you ever think of it differently? That you’re meant to be here to help people? Because you’re so good at it.”

  “I have to be. When I let my guard down, people die.”

  “You can’t take this on yourself. That’s as bad as what I’m doing.”

  “Guess we’re both doing the pot-kettle thing,” he said. “You know, when I confessed to you, I felt so much better.”

  “I did too.”

  “Then all we can do is look forward and keep moving.” He glanced into the other room, where Keegan and Gunner had their heads together. This was excellent news for Keegan and dangerous for the rest of the free world. “Gunner’s going to relocate Keegan, bury his old identity and teach him how to start over.”

  Dylan could do it too, but Keegan insisted on someone the OA couldn’t try to retaliate against. And so, in a few days, Reid would never see Keegan again.

  “He can really do that?”

  “You mean you can’t?” Reid asked.

  “I have a lot of help, and even then, it’s rarely perfect,” she admitted.

  “Because there are too many people involved. Too many variables. With one person helping, it’s much more streamlined.”

  “But you have to be willing to truly cut away everything. That’s the mistake most WITSEC witnesses make. You can’t keep a single tie up here.” She tapped the side of her head. “Do you know anyone who could do that?”

  He looked over at Keegan. “You’d be surprised what people are capable of when they truly want freedom.”

  “So you think he’ll make it.”

  “I don’t have a doubt. And you can go the way of Keegan, but why? You don’t trust us?”

  “Of course. It’s me I don’t trust. The entire time I’m with you—”

  “Shut up, Grier. Just agree to let me help you.”

  “And what will I do for you?”

  “You’ve already done everything. You love me, even if you can’t say it.”

  Grier smiled, her eyes wet with tears. “I do, Reid. I love you. Y
ou’re a good man. One of the best I’ve ever known and I’m pushing you away. Don’t give up on me.”

  “Never have, Grier. You’re the one who keeps giving up. You’re doing exactly what you tell witnesses not to do. You’re not letting go of the past.”

  “You’re part of my past,” she told him.

  ‘You’re wrong about that, Grier. I’m your goddamned future.”

  She let go of the breath she’d been holding. “I’m finally ready.” She slid a hand into his. “Let’s talk about a plan.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Grier and Reid had dinner alone in the kitchen and she needed to use Gunner’s home gym soon or she would be a thousand pounds. Now that she’d made the decision to stay with Reid, nothing else seemed that insurmountable.

  Reid’s phone rang as the music from inside the shop turned on and he pointed to it and mouthed, “Gotta take this.”

  She cleaned up and wandered into the main room. The shop was closed to outsiders, but Gunner was prepping to do a tattoo. Keegan was lying on his stomach on the tattoo table, his head turned to the side. There was a heavy beat to the rock music blaring from the speakers, loud enough to drown out any thoughts. She supposed that was the point.

  She saw the OA tattoo—big and menacing and she realized that it would definitely need to go. There was no way to start over with the threat of being outted so easily with the careless discarding of a shirt on a hot summer’s day.

  Gunner looked up from his equipment and gave her a nod.

  “You’re going to do a cover for that entire back piece?” she asked now. Keegan appeared to be in some kind of trance and Gunner nodded.

  “I’d normally do this over the space of weeks. But we’ve only got five days and he can muscle through the pain. It’s why I’m making an exception to the I-won’t-tattoo-drunk-people rule.”

  Ah, that’s why Keegan looked so out of it. And once she’d seen the OA tattoo up close and personal, she understood what kind of project Gunner was about to take on. It was all black and very stark with heavy lines. It would take someone with exceptional skill to cover it and take away all traces of the man’s very dangerous past.

  No one could ever know it was there. At this moment, Keegan’s life was in Gunner’s hands.

  “Feel free to pull up a seat,” he told her.

  She did, noting Gunner had prepared for what must’ve been hours, had pages of sketches that he spread along Gunner’s back. Finally, he took them all off except one that he transferred to the skin and, taking up the heavy tattoo gun, he bent his head and began to work.

  Keegan didn’t even flinch and Grier couldn’t look away as Gunner’s skill began to cover the lowest portion of the tattoo. “One of the more sensitive areas—that’s why I’ll do it when he’s drunkest. By the time I get higher, he’ll be passed out.”

  “How much are you doing today?”

  “I’ll do half, if I can. Give him a day and a half off to rest before I do the second half.”

  It was mesmerizing to watch the buzzing gun move over the skin, leaving behind a mix of ink and blood that Gunner meticulously wiped away in between filling in the designs.

  Hours later, Keegan snored lightly and Gunner looked bleary. He took off the gloves and massaged his hands, alternating between rubbing his fingers and flexing them.

  There was still a lot to do, as he’d predicted, but she got exactly what Gunner was going for. He was creating lots of separate tattoos that would cover the back plate—some in color, others in grayscale. Some even looked like they’d been there for years.

  He was creating a fake map of this man’s past.

  “WITSEC should hire you.”

  “No thanks.” He put on another glove and used it to rub ointment over the completed tattoos before covering them with paper towels and paper tape to hold it in place. “Hey, Keeg, want to move to a bed? Gotta stay on your stomach though.”

  Keegan mumbled and Gunner helped him slide off the table and put him in a room and locked the door. She also heard it lock from the inside.

  She thought about all the lectures she’d given, how many times she’d said, “I know it’s going to be hard, but you’ll get through it” or “A lot of people would love a fresh start, so take this opportunity and run with it.”

  She wanted to smack herself now. Yes, she’d been helpful, sincere. She’d meant every word. Believed it.

  Did anyone’s lives really get better? Did any of them take advantage of their new opportunities? Men and women lost their livelihoods. Most found it hard, if not impossible, to recover financially or emotionally. The criminals would always be okay, but the innocents, the ones who’d been caught in the cross fire … she had no doubt they were devastated.

  She knew she was. Because once she gave up her job, what could she do? Helping people was in her blood. With Reid, she could still do so, but she’d be working well outside her comfort zone. Well, outside the law.

  If she didn’t go with Reid, it would be more than a single lonely year for her. She had a feeling it would be a lifetime before she ever met anyone like him.

  “Hear you decided to stay with Reid.”

  She nodded. “Unless you need a tattoo assistant.” By the end of the session, she’d been handing Gunner inks and he’d been asking her opinions on colors. “You could do worse.”

  “Yes, I could. But you could do much better. And you should. Can’t waste time mourning what was—you miss out on something better.”

  “Is it always better?”

  He gave a brief glance over to where Reid stood outside on the balcony and back at her. “Isn’t it already?”

  *

  It was Kell on the phone. Reid slid outside to the balcony on the first floor to take it, shouldn’t have been surprised to see that Kell was actually there, standing against the stone wall, unable to be seen from the inside.

  All Reid could do was shrug and not look his best friend in the eye. Kell, in turn, stood right next to him and simply waited until Reid was ready to speak.

  Finally, after what seemed like forever, Reid asked, “How pissed is Dylan?”

  “He made up new curse words he said apply only to you from now on,” Kell admitted, and Reid winced. “He knows why you did it.”

  “Good. Maybe he could tell me,” Reid muttered.

  “She doesn’t want help?”

  “I don’t know what the hell she wants.”

  “I don’t think we’re ever supposed to. Haven’t you realized that’s the way they seem to like it?” he said, and they both froze when they heard a female clearing her throat. “Did she hear that?” Kell asked without moving his lips.

  “Think so.” Reid turned and found Teddie there, arms crossed, but with a smile on her face. “I didn’t say it.”

  “Oh, I know you didn’t. But you agreed with it,” she said, but that didn’t stop her from tucking her arms around Kell. “How are you holding up?”

  Reid shrugged. “She’s going to stay with us for protection.”

  “And for you?” Teddie prompted, and when Reid didn’t answer, Kell pointed to the bar. “Let’s go get a beer. She’s okay with Gunner. And Dylan’s out front.”

  Reid consented, letting his head get lost in the crowds and the music for a couple of hours. He had just one beer, because he wanted to be clear when they talked. When they made the short walk out of the bar through the alley, he noted that Dylan was sitting on the balcony, waiting for them.

  It was wide enough to house several seats. Kell stood behind Teddie and Reid chose to stand as well.

  “Jack’s in a safe place—figured Gunner would have our heads if we brought another one here,” Dylan said.

  “Grier’s parents?” Reid asked.

  “The Vanderhalls have round-the-clock security. So far, they haven’t gotten any threats, but they’re not taking any chances,” Kell told him. “They’re freaked. Blaming Grier’s job.”

  “They’re high profile—could work in our favor. The ring w
ill most likely leave them alone, or else they’ll bring a hell of a lot of heat on their head,” Dylan said.

  “We followed the ring down here, same as you,” Kell said.

  “Grier doesn’t know that part,” Reid admitted.

  “Better that way. We’re not going to be able to take down this ring. We can give evidence that can help at trial, but unless they have more people than Grier willing to testify …” Dylan trailed off. “I don’t think testifying’s going to be in her best interest.”

  “Then what? She just stays in hiding?” Reid asked.

  “Maybe. There are worse things,” Dylan pointed out.

  “The trial could drag on forever. The fighting club is all spread out,” Kell added. “Maybe we can get them to leave her alone if she doesn’t testify.”

  “She’ll never go for that,” Reid said.

  “No, she won’t.” Grier’s voice, coming up from behind them. She was half out the French door, and when Reid motioned to her, she walked out and stood next to him. “I appreciate what you guys are doing. But I have to testify. Have to.”

  “And the consequences?”

  “I’ll live with them.”

  “The most we can do is keep you safe. We’ve cleared your name of the money and the other suspicion,” Dylan said. “And you’ve ironically enough been offered WITSEC.”

  “I already told Reid that I’d like to be protected by him. By all of you, instead,” Grier said.

  “Good choice,” Dylan answered, without a hint of sarcasm.

  “But I want to be involved.”

  They all looked at Grier and back at Reid. “She could draw them out,” he agreed. “Get enough evidence to make sure the trial’s a slam dunk.”

  “Wait—the men who kidnapped me are still out there? They haven’t been caught?”

  “No,” Dylan said. “But we know where they are.”

  “Did you tell the police?” she asked.

  “I don’t trust them to grab the men,” Dylan admitted. “I’d rather us do it.”

  “So I’d testify against them—but how would that stop the fighting rings?”