Always (Wesson Rebel M.C. Series) (11 page)

Dallas is standing beside my father
, looking as if he always belonged. His green eyes are bright with excitement and I can barely remember a time when he wasn’t operating as Vice President. When Rufus went down, he was the obvious fill in. The title looks good on him, lessening the friction existing between him and Dad. On equal footing, the talking down has all but ended, or maybe it was more that Dallas stopped caring. Once Cora came up pregnant, he changed. The fight for father’s attention and approval shifted. He lived and breathed for Cora and R. It’s a beautiful thing to see, not that I’d say that shit out loud. It gave me hope for me and Irish. We’ve gone back and forth about having a kid and raising him in this life, unsure if it’d be fair to place so much on their shoulders.

“Don
your masks. And line up outside.”

We all pull up our skull handkerchiefs, tying them tight. We are the walking dead tonight, doing what our fallen brothers cannot. A heavy sil
ence falls as we leave the clubhouse and mount our bikes. Dad reeves his engine in memory and we all do the same. He pulls off and we fall into line behind him.

A
weighty emotion hangs in the air that I can’t put my fingers on. There’s nothing pretty about what’s going to happen, but it is necessary. We ride out of the city, to a warehouse we own, load up into the black vans with tinted windows and false plates, then ride toward the Rolling Bones territory. Our people have been out tonight and we know the Bones are partying at the clubhouse. By now, they’re probably good and wasted.

I feel a pang of guilt for the innocent bitches who’re about to get caught in the crossfire, and then I think about Cora. They were out to kill
Baby Girl. My anger surges and I crouch down by the window, gripping the shotgun tight. Handguns are more practical, but the point of this run is to do damage. We park a few minutes away and I know they’re sending out the text to our bait bitch. Her job is to lead him outside and hightail it before the shit goes down. It’s a dangerous job, but a club whore will do anything to gain clout.

The van pulls away from the c
urb and I peer out the window, ready to go. Its midnight on a Wednesday and the roads are bare. We round the corner and the Rolling Bones club comes into view. Blood rushes in my ears. I slide open the window and stick the barrel out.

They made the mistake of thinking they’re untouchable.
It’s an assumption they’ll pay for in blood. I can see one of the bait bitches at the gate, distracting the guard. A loud crack sounds and he falls.
Must’ve been Sniper.

She totters to the gate on tall as
s heels and pulls it open.

The rest passes in a blur as we unload on the group standing outside. The smell o
f gunpowder singes my nose, while sweat runs down my forehead and back. The heat in the small space is stifling. Metal pings as they return fire. Our tires spin on the pavement as we do
donut and ride
for the gate. A bullet shatters the window above my head, raining down glass and I hit the floor. My shoulder slams up against the side of the van. I grunt as the ass end of the van sways.

My ph
one starts to buzz in my pocket and I dig it out. “Yeah?”

“Fuck, Danny
, shit is bad. There’s blood all over and I can’t get him to stop bleeding.” My brother’s panicked voice hits me like an Antarctic blast. Dallas is never scared.

“Who?” I ask.

“Dad. They hit him in the stomach. Jesus shit. We need a hospital now.”

I sit up, terrified. My father is larger than life. He can’t be taken down l
ike this. “Who’s driving?” I ask, suddenly all business.

“Wizard, I asked him to pull over and administer, but he said we didn’t have the time. I’m applying pressure, but there’s blood everywhere.” His voice shakes
.

I close my eyes. Wizard used to be a medic in the Army, so he k
nows his shit—this sounds bad.

I hear the coughing wheezing
and my stomach plummets.

“Dad, no you can’t leave. Hang in there.” Dallas sounds desperate and my father sou
nds like he’s on death’s door.

I hear him cough and the death rattle begins to play.
I’m going to listen to my father die as my brother comes unhinged.
All the things left unsaid between us, plays in my head like a film. Guilt sits on my chest like a boulder. There’s nothing I can do. No words of comfort I can offer when my soul is being ripped in two. An unnatural quiet falls and I hear Dallas release a broken sob. I clutch the phone like a lifeline. “Is he?” I whisper.

“Dad’s gone, he’s just fucking gone.”

An anguished wail from my brother echoes in my ear.
What would happen to my family now?

The answer is
something I never would’ve imagined. Dallas shuts down. The light went out behind his eyes and he retreated inside himself.  If you weren’t Cora or R, he didn’t want to see you, and he refused to talk about planning revenge or accepting the role of President. Everyone assumed he just needed time, so we gave him space.

We hold my father’s funeral a w
eek later, dress him in his cut and give him a spot in the Wesson plot.

Standing beside Rowan, I’m numb. There’s a church meeting afterward, but all I can focus on is the mahogany box that holds the shell of my father. I know he’s not
really in there, but it guts me to see him lowered six feet deep. Rowan squeezes my hand and I cling to her. Right now, she’s my anchor, keeping me from drifting away in the vicious storm that has descended and will forever change the face of Wesson. 

Dallas steps forward with his arm around Cora and tosses in the first hand full of dirt.

The thud on the coffin makes me flinch.
I’m not ready to say goodbye.
Despite the tiny child throwing a tantrum inside, I step forward and play my part. Because in this life, that’s what you do. Place one foot in front of the other, moving forever forward no matter what’s thrown in your way. I step back and the roar of engines revving fill my ears. So many people have shown up. Bikes line the lanes all the way to the entrance of the cemetery. Dad was a harsh asshole, but always fair and loyal. It’s a combination people don’t forget.

The crowd drifts away, leaving the four of us to say our final goodbyes. How do you do that? Walk away from the only parent you’ve ev
er known? I feel like my chest has been cracked open and my hearts pummeled. I want to linger, but I know we have to make one last ride and nothing I do will bring him back. I take a shaky breath and prepare myself to branch out, to walk away with dignity and pride.

Wesson strong.
I hear my father’s voice in my head and it almost makes me smile. There’s a little bit of him in Dallas and I, so maybe he won’t ever be totally gone. I glance over at Dallas and my jaw drops. His face is pale and his entire body is shaking. Cora’s holding him around the waist like she thinks he’ll fall apart.
Maybe he will.
I’ve never seen him so out of it. I meet Rowan’s concerned gaze, unsure how to proceed. Dallas isn’t the type to like a lot of fuss and I don’t want to put him on blast.

“Can you guys give us a few minutes?” Cora whispers.

“Sure, Baby Girl. Take all the time you need,” Ro answers, tugging at my hand. She leads me away from the grave and I hear a choked noise escape from my brother’s throat. Unable to watch him break, I turn my head away and join the group of bikers lined up for one last ride.

Present

Something simply fractured inside him that day and it never mended. Dad’s death remained an oozing wound that no one could get to start healing. He’d unloaded on Cora in front of everyone two days ago. There was a time it would’ve reduced her to tears, but not now. They’d gone at it in an ugly display that’d been broken up by Reaper and Brain. This morning he’d walked in, relinquished his title and went nomad.

I witnessed it with my own eyes
and I still can’t help but think, I’m going to wake up from this nightmare any minute. He’d done many stupid things in his life, but leaving Cora like this with Houdini sniffing around her? I want to find out what the story is. Another thing to add to my list of shit to take care of. I close my eyes and place my arm over my face, wishing for sleep.

Blood Stream

Cora

It’s quiet, too quiet. My baby boy is asleep and I’m sitting on the couch, avoiding the empty bedroom. It still smells like him, leather, musk and cologne. My chest cavity aches and my stomach rolls. I’m pretending I’m a rock, but the truth is my soul is crying out for its other half. Anyone would tell you I’ve loved Dallas my whole life, but right now, I think maybe I actually hate him.
How could he do this to us?
His son won’t buy the lame,
he’s on a trip
excuse forever. Plus, I have no clue when or if he’s coming back.

The television screen gets wavy and I blink.
Don’t you cry over him Cora Curtis. You’re fucking stronger than that.
I clench my teeth. I’ve been through far worse than this. I know it logically, but that does nothing to take away the pain.
The man I’ve always counted on, up and left without so much as a decent explanation.

I can’t be here, Cora.
His words haunt me.

Whe
n did being with me, with his family become an option? I rock back and forth, holding in the dam of emotions. If I let myself sink back into that hole again, I may never get out. I’ve spent a year clawing my way back to the world of the living. I won’t return to that ghostly plane of half life. There was a time when the sun rose and set in Dallas’ face. He could do no wrong in my eyes. It was a silly, stupid, blissful time. Then, he made the worst mistake of our lives and everything changed in the blink of an eye.

Past

“Dallas, please don’t go on this run,” I whisper, shifting my weight as he rubs my belly. Two more months to go and we’ll be welcoming baby boy number one into the Wesson fold. True to his word that day in the back of the club, he’d gotten me pregnant.

“What’s wr
ong, you feel okay?” He narrows his eyes and looks me up and down.

“Yes. I mean—
physically I’m fine. I just have this feeling.” I shake my head.

“I know you don’t like it when I’m gone
right now, but I need to take care of business. I’m going to be out of commission for awhile soon enough.”

“I know.” I glance
down at the floor. I don’t ask for much. I know the life as well as he does. But everything in me is protesting his departure.

“Look, I’ll ma
ke it up to you when I get back. Next week, we can do whatever you want. Hell, I’ll even suffer through a trip to the mall or some frou-frou ass restaurant.” He bends down to catch my gaze. “Nicely dressed.”

The thought of him in slacks and a button up
it makes my lady parts tingle. I grin, picturing him dressed like that. Weight lifting and runs keep his body tight and his reflexes fast. “You do clean up well.”

“There’s my
girl,” he whispers, running his thumb across my chin. “I’ll make it quick.”

I take a deep breath and wrestle my hormone laden concerns down. “I’ll be here.”

“Good. I don’t think I like you in the house alone right now.”

I roll
my eyes. “We live like five minutes from the club. If anything happens, someone will get to me. You know the first baby doesn’t come fast.”

“
Baby Girl, this is my kid, he’s going to do everything early and on his own schedule.”

“Oh Jesus, two
yous? What the hell was I thinking?” I snicker at the image of a caramel skinned miniature of Dallas.

“That you love me and my dick feels good.”
He leans down and nuzzles my neck.

“Shut up.” I cover his mouth
with my hand.

H
e laughs. “You going to let me marry you before this baby comes?”

His voice sounds
husky and my panties grow wet. I want to agree to whatever he says, but this is a nonnegotiable request. “No, afterward when I’m not round and swollen. Besides, you knew the rules, Rebel. No cut, no ring until Daddy gives you permission to make me your old lady. You and your super sperm jumped the gun. Now, I’m not saying shit till I’m no longer round and swollen.”

He grunts.
“Don’t like it. Thought the asshole would yield.”

“Don’t let him hear you call him that, and you’d best be happy he hasn’t na
iled your balls to the wall yet,” I say pointing at him.

My d
ad was not too thrilled with news of the impending birth. But he dealt. With his fists.

I
still cringe, remembering the black eyes and bruises Dallas wore for a couple of weeks.

“True enough. Be good babies. Daddy’s off to take care of bu
siness.” He leans in and kisses me until I’m ready to rub up against him like a cat in heat. We come up for air and he steps back, trailing his fingers down my belly. Then, he walks away.

With the slam of the front door followed quickly by the roar of bikes
—Dallas is gone.

I
survey the space and perk up when my gaze lands on my dad playing pool with some of the prospects. As VP, he’s spent most of my life busy handling other people’s shit, but I never felt neglected. I had the club, old ladies, Danny, Dallas and Rowan for company. Eager to get someone on one, I make my way over to the back room, cursing my limited movement. All the weight went straight to my boobs and belly. I thought it would turn Dallas off, but it did the reverse. The man turned into a sex fiend with cave men tendencies. It did a girl’s ego good, but damn…was I tired these days, on top of the baby boy in my belly. “Hey, Daddy.”

My dad looks up and smiles. “Well shit, look who surfaced in a sunshine mood.”

I roll my eyes. “Dad, you carry around something the size of a watermelon, let it dance all over your insides and tell me how you feel.”

Rufus
chuckles. “Take over for me, Prophet. I’m going to spend time with my kid.” He hands his stick to the short, dark haired man with a short beard. His blue grey eyes are shifty, but sharp and he has a tendency to drink a bit too much on occasion. Blessed with a sixth sense of things, he quickly earned the name Prophet. He’d been here going on a year. I like him, he provides a certain sense of humor, the club needs to take the edge off and he follows directions to the letter.

“Sure thing, Reaper,” Prophet says.

My dad the bad ass, I have no illusions about why he’s named after the deliverer of death. He didn’t get patched in as VP for his looks, or the fact that he was born into the Rebels. There’s a coldness in him that makes me glad he’s a later in life parent. I was an accident, but my dad wanted me instantly. I didn’t blame my mother for not hacking it. What started out as a walk on the wild side turned into a lifetime commitment for her. I think she would’ve taken me with her during her exodus if dad had allowed it, but bikers are deadly serious about their family. I talk to her every couple of months and see her about as much. She’s happy, remarried to some banker with three kids. I love my siblings, but I keep the contact light and casual. I don’t want them sucked into the black hole that is the MC lifestyle.

Rufus
wraps an arm around my shoulders. “You hungry?”

“Dad, these days
…I’m always hungry.”

He
barks a laugh. “Just like your Momma, but nicer. Man, that chick was a crying, cussing, fussing mess by the time you came into the world two weeks late.”

Warmth unfurls
inside me. He doesn’t walk down memory lane often. “It’s hard to picture her that way.”

“Hah, don’t let that prim and proper façade fool you. She’s got a dark and gritty side.”

I see the fondness in his eyes
and I’m grateful once more, that I was conceived in love and my mother wasn’t some club whore.

We
walk into the kitchen area and dad nudges me toward the table. “Take a load off, Baby Girl.”

Nodding, I sit and watch him make one of his tri-meat sandwiches. While they normally make me wrinkle my nose up in disgust, the baby inside me is straight carnivore and loves them.

“How are things? Do I need to put my boot in Dallas’ ass yet?”

I laugh. “Not yet, but ask me again
, tomorrow.”

He
shakes his head. “You two were always linked. It’s never what I wanted. Dallas is a hard man with a heavy weight on his shoulders. From the minute he came out, he’s been groomed and conditioned to take the crown when the time is right. But you always looked at him with dew in those big ole brown eyes. I stopped trying to intervene after awhile.” His voice is gruff.

I can see
his eyes are soft and full of an emotion I can’t place. The sentimental nature of my father’s conversation shocks me. “Everything okay, Dad?” My minds balks at the thought of what he might be about to tell me.
Is he sick?

“Be quiet woman. I’m trying to say something.”

I clamp my mouth shut and lean forward over the mid-size faded wood table.

“I’m ready to give my consent to you being patched in as Dal
las’ Old Lady.”

My mouth drops
wide open.

“You’re
grown and the two of you are going to be linked forever by that little rider in your belly. Now, by no means am I surrendering. I’ll split his hard head wide open if he does wrong by you. But your life is to be lived. Figures, you’d take after your old man and not your mother. Wesson is in your blood.”

I scramble up from the table and run over to wrap my arms around his waist and squeeze tight. He smells like leat
her and aftershave. I relish the shelter of his arms. “Thank you, Daddy.”

A pop goes off in the courtyard and I freeze. I know the sound of gunfire when I hear it.

“Go to the bathroom in my room, get the shot gun and stay there till someone comes for you.”

“Dad—
”

“No arguments
, girl!” He pulls away and shoves me toward the door.

My stomach twists into knots.
I run to my dad’s room and lock the door behind me. I can hear more gunfire. I place one hand on my belly to reassure my unborn child and begin to go through the steps drilled into my head from the time I was old enough. You didn’t want to be taken by another MC. That shit didn’t scar, it broke you down for life—if you survived it. I shudder and move to the closet to arm myself. I place two .45’s in the back of my waist band and grab the shotgun. Loading the shells, I cock it.

Outside th
e room, it sounds like a warzone.

In here,
I have no way of knowing who is winning. Prepped to go down fighting, I curse my luck. My phone is outside on the kitchen table. I grip the shotgun tight, knowing at the very least, a prospect has made a call to other members and the boys are on their way. Images of what could be happening make my stomach sour. I slam the door down on the gruesome visions. Panic gets you killed. I can hear yelling and the sound of bodies meeting the walls.

Boom
.

I jump
as a door to a room close by is kicked open. Placing the butt of the shotgun against my shoulder, I put my finger on the trigger. My body tenses as they get closer to my location. More shots are let off. The skin on my belly stretches tight. A wave of pain hits my abdomen. Forcing back the worry, I grit my teeth.

A heavy boot hit
s my door. Wood splinters and the door swings open.

I fire
and turn away from the frame. A scream fills the air. A body hits the ground with a loud thud.
One down.
The gunpowder burns my nostrils and makes my eyes water. One more shot and I’ll need to pump again, to refill the chamber. One more blast after that and I’ll switch to the .45’s. I have my plan laid out and I repeat it over and over in my head.

“Son of a bitch!” a
masculine voice shouts.

“I got plenty more where that came from assholes! B
est to move on!” I scream.

“Get in there
and get that bitch,” a snarly voice commands. 

I back up to the wall
and slide down, controlling my breathing to keep my position safe.

A round of bullets comes
through the open door, filling the space I’d been standing in and lighting up the darkness. Two men bound in.

I take
the first one out at the knees, pump and shoot the other in the chest. My ears ring, but my hands are steady. I toss down the shotgun and pull the .45’s from my waist band. Cocking them with the ease of a woman raised to know how to handle herself, I duck back to the side.

The sounds of motorcycles roaring
up send the people in the hallway running. Feet pound on the pavement and something inside me rises up from the ashes of the woman I’d been just an hour before. The lust for revenge replaces the fear and grief. I give chase, firing down the hallway. For them to get back here to me, my men have to be hurt. That means my daddy was down. The sickening thwack of bullet ripping into flesh makes me grin. The door to the back is pushed open and they scramble to get onto their bikes as the Wesson men come in the front.