Strength & Courage (The Night Horde SoCal Book 1) (19 page)

They weren’t prepared to bring the shootout into the casino. That neutralized most of the security team and narrowed the field to the assholes in his room.

When Connor had made his move, it had put distance between him and his father. Muse had come in to fill it and was now covering Hoosier. They’d dived behind an upended table, and Muse had retrieved his blade from his boot. Hoosier, who didn’t like to wear rings, had his brass knuckles, and Muse almost laughed. If anything was less effective than a knife at a gunfight, it was brass knuckles. But he loved those fuckers.

“We get out of this room, we can get clear,” he muttered near his President’s ear. “They don’t want the attention. We need to get into the main areas of the casino.”

Hoosier nodded. “Good thinking.”

After the first quick, quiet volley of bullets, there was silence. Then they heard Ferguson’s voice. While he spoke, Muse and Hoosier worked on conveying through body language the plan—throw and bolt.

“Hoosier. I don’t want this. We’ve been associates for a long time. I consider you a friend. Connor won’t be harmed. It’s insurance, that’s all. When the run is completed, you’ll have their trust, and all will be well.”

Muse caught movement at their flank. A shadow—the goons were on the move.

Without waiting for Hoosier to call it, Muse shouted “NOW!” and four large, round banquet tables went sailing through the room. The Horde bolted for the row of doors along one wall—those doors led into the main lobby.

Muse had been right. Though they were pursued, they weren’t shot at. They ran through the busy, brightly loud lobby to the main entrance. Ferguson’s men followed them through but stopped just outside the entrance. They got clear of the building and to their bikes with only one injury: P.B. had been grazed in the arm by a bullet. The wound was bleeding freely, but he was able to ride.

As they mounted, a look went around. It fucking sucked to run from a fight like that, and they had their weapons right here with their bikes. But Hoosier shook his head and rolled out. It was the right call. Even better armed, they’d still be badly outnumbered, and shooting up a casino full of innocents was wrong in just about every way. They followed their President out of the lot. When Muse cast a quick glance back to the entrance of the People of the Pines Casino Resort, Wade Ferguson was out ahead of his men, looking pissed. And worried.

Once again, everything had changed. But now, Muse didn’t know what the fuck would happen next.

~oOo~

To his credit, Bart had not uttered the words ‘I told you so,’ or even intimated that he would have liked to. The riders returned to the clubhouse, and the rest of the club was waiting for them. Hoosier had called in on the ride back. J.R. had stitched P.B. up. Now the club was assembled in the Keep, and Hoosier had explained the disaster on Big Bear Mountain.

Sounded like the title of some bad TV movie—the kind Muse worked on.

But a disaster it was. Now, the new job was dead, and with it went all of their other work with Ferguson, which was a sizable chunk of their income. That pain would go deep.

Worse yet, though, they were in Ferguson’s crosshairs—and, likely, in the crosshairs of the Castillos, his so-called ‘associates’ south of the border. They hadn’t even had a chance to work with a cartel before they’d landed on their wrong side.

When Hoosier finished his brief, the table was silent.

Demon spoke first. “How do we get clear of it?”

“I don’t know.” Hoosier pulled his beard. The day had really rocked him. “We need friends.”

For the first time in the meeting, Bart spoke. “Missouri will be here tomorrow. Between the two charters, we have friends who’ll throw in.” He leaned forward. “As I see it, our problems are two: we need a truce with Ferguson and the Castillos. And we need to earn.

“No,” Lakota interjected. “We don’t need a truce. We need retaliation.”

The men around the table turned and stared, and Lakota went on. “Ferguson set us up. Under the guise of partnership, he surrounded us and tried to take our SAA. Fuck a truce.”

Hoosier answered. “After these years clean, we’re not geared for war, brother. And we don’t have the bank to get geared. It would wipe us out.”

Lakota turned to Bart. “Brother? You’re loaded. Spot the club a loan.”

“Riley earned that money, not me.”

“You’re her old man. You saying she keeps you on allowance?”

Bart’s eyes went dark. “Watch your mouth, asshole.”

“Bart. Is it a bad idea?” Sherlock asked. Bart and Sherlock were both techies and spent a lot of time together. Bart didn’t really have what Muse would have thought of as a ‘best friend’ in the club. He was a family man and didn’t hang out at the clubhouse nearly as much as he did with his wife and kids. But he was probably closer to Sherlock than anyone else, aside from Hoosier.

He sighed. “If we have a real plan, then okay. But I’m not agreeing to hit up my kids’ future until we know what the fuck we’re doing. Riley’s pregnant again. I got two kids and another one coming, and we’re talking about calling hell down on our heads and using my family’s security to do it.”

“We’re your family, brother.” Connor’s voice was low.

Bart met his eyes. “I was talking about the club, too.”

“Take a breath, boys,” Hoosier interceded. “Bart’s right. We need a plan. We need friends, we need alliances. That means we need to have something to offer, and
that
means we stay on the outlaw road, even with the run we voted in dead.” He look around the room, stopping pointedly at Bart. “Do we need to vote that?”

Bart stared, then shook his head. Hoosier’s eyes scanned the table again. Every man, even those who voted against the border run, shook his head. Even Demon, though he looked conflicted. Muse decided he was going to try to talk to his friend again after the meeting.

Assured that the table was finally united, Hoosier sat back. “Good. That’s one problem fixed. I don’t like cracks between us, brothers. Maybe we can squabble when we’re fighting over bike jobs and security work, but not now. Now, we need to keep our arms linked. I think we have some time to plan. Not a lot, but enough. Right now, the Castillos are Ferguson’s problem. He’s the one who didn’t deliver. Maybe they’ll solve our problem and take Ferguson down themselves. While we keep an eye on that drama, let’s get ready for Mother. We’ll meet again tomorrow, when Missouri gets here. We’ll bring ‘em into the loop and see if they can help. I want every patch back at this table with an idea. Let’s pull together and clear through this shit.

He slammed the gavel on the table, leaving another gouge in the oak.

~oOo~

As the Horde left the Keep, Muse put his hand on Demon’s shoulder. “Let me buy you a shot, brother.”

Demon turned angry blue eyes on him, but then backed off. He nodded, and the two men headed to the bar. Since the vote on the border run, Demon had refused to acknowledge Muse in any kind of friendly way, so this reaction was a real improvement.

One of the girls was behind the bar. Muse didn’t know this one’s name. “Two of Cuervo silver, darlin’.” Muse heard himself say the word ‘darlin’’ and smiled. He’d been paying attention since Sid had told him she liked that he called her ‘hon.’ As far as he knew, she was the only one he called that. He didn’t know why he did, but she liked it, so he’d keep it up.

None of the Prospects were around. Muse assumed they’d been put on old lady detail. There were only three Prospects, though, and four of the members were married: Hoosier, Bart, Diaz, and J.R. None of the others had old ladies or steady women.

Except Muse himself, that was. Shit. Keanu was already watching Sid, though. Unless Hoosier had pulled him.

“Hold up a sec, Demon. I need to catch Hooj quick.”

He turned and caught up with the President as he was walking back to his office. “Prez, hold up. You got the Prospects on the women? Is Keanu still on Sid?”

Hoosier nodded. “There’s already a credible threat on her, so I left Keanu where he was. Ingrid’s in Europe doing her runway thing. Beebs and Riley are hanging out together. Fargo’s on them. And Peaches is with Veda. Right now, they’re covered. But it’s a stretch, and if this goes on, we’ll have to put patches on them or lock down. So tell me now: Is there a reason more than chivalry we should be using dear club resources to keep her covered?”

Muse knew what Hoosier was asking, and that tripped him up for a second. He didn’t have a ready answer.

Hoosier pushed. “You know I’ve talked to her a few times, about taking in Deme’s kid. I like her. But we can’t cover everybody we like. You planning to mark this woman?”

He wanted to say yes. But Sid hadn’t said the words to him yet that he’d said to her. He said them to her at least once a day now. What she said back was
me, too
. “I don’t know. Only been together a month.”

Hoosier laughed. “I had Beebs in front of a two-bit preacher in Vegas six weeks after we met. She was wearing the tiniest skirt you ever did see, fishnet stockings and a red lace corset, and all these stupid black rubber bracelets she used to love. We been married forty years, and she’s been all the woman I need all that time. So I’m askin’—is she gonna wear your ink?”

“Yeah. Yeah, she is.” Muse wondered what Sid would think about that.

Hoosier clapped his arm. “Good man. We take care of ours. She’s covered. We’ll work it out.”

“Thanks, Prez.”

“No need, Muse.” With another clap on Muse’s arm, Hoosier continued toward his office. Muse turned and went back to the bar.

Demon had been watching. “That about Sid?”

“Yeah. Keeping her covered. Some bastard punched her and threatened to kill her.”

“What? Who? Why aren’t we teaching the motherfucker a lesson?” Muse cocked his eyebrow, and Demon smiled a little. “I like her. She’s not like the other suits. She’s helping me. Seriously—why aren’t we taking this fucker down?”

“She won’t tell me his name. Sherlock is trying to figure it out, but we don’t have much to go on, and with this Ferguson bullshit going down, he’s had other shit to work on.” He waved his empty glass at the girl and then elbowed Demon. “We okay now?”

While the girl refilled their shots, Demon considered him, his expression flat. “You know what I have on the line going outlaw again. I don’t know why you’d sell me out like that.”

“It’s Carrie. I gotta take care of Carrie. I’m sorry, brother, but I need money. I’m right on the edge of losing her bed. Every month, I’m never sure I can make the payment. I gotta keep her where she is.” He didn’t know what the fuck he’d do now, with the border run gone and all of Ferguson’s business with it. Sell his bikes. That would get him a few months.

With that, his friend became his friend again. “Ah, damn. Sorry. I didn’t think about Carrie. Fuck. Okay, I get it.”

“We’ll keep you clear…” Muse faded out. That might have been true with the border run, but not now. There would be, could be, no staying clear now.

Demon shook his head. “Too late, brother.” He tossed his shot back. Muse did the same.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Although Friday was supposed to be a furlough day, the courts weren’t on furlough, and the Family Court judge didn’t care about Sid’s day off. She had two cases at which she had been called to testify, the first of which was an easy one—she was there to support a reunification of a single mother with her two children. The mother had been committed to a mental health facility after a nearly-successful suicide attempt.

That event was before Sid’s time, but the mother had completed her treatment and been released two weeks earlier, and she had spent those two weeks shoring up her support system and preparing to get her kids back. Her psych report was encouraging to the point of enthusiasm. There was no abuse or neglect in the home, and she had been sure to make her attempt when the kids were away. They’d spent these past months with a family friend. So it was easy to recommend that the family be reunited.

Sid didn’t get a lot of chances to feel really good about her work, but watching that woman drop to her knees after the judge ruled in her favor and wrap her children up in her arms, all three of them crying—that had been a high mark in her short career.

The second case, just after lunch, was the Green family.

After Kevin Green attacked her, Harry had stepped in on the case, not taking it off Sid’s load but helping out, taking over any required interaction with Green. Sid couldn’t decide whether that was cool of her boss, or whether it was another creepy step. If he hadn’t been giving her the willies already, she would have thought it was great. And it wasn’t outside the bounds of his job. On its face, he was intervening in an unstable situation. Or he was being inappropriately chivalrous.

Whatever it was, it had kept Sid from being face to face with the guy for the past week and a half, and she was good with that. He was huge, he was angry, he’d hit her and threatened to kill her. He’d threatened it again when he’d spoken to Harry.

Sid had spoken to his wife, but that hadn’t gone well, either. Although Sid had stopped her husband from continuing to beat her past the point of unconsciousness, she was just as angry at Sid as he was for breaking up her family, and she’d hurled all sorts of violent insults at her.

Today was just a preliminary hearing to determine officially where the children would be while the case to remove them permanently was prepared, and to decide whether the Greens would be allowed any visitation in the interim. Since Kayla and Kevin Green were still living together and Kayla wouldn’t consider any other arrangement, they were unlikely to get visitation at all. Sid was recommending against it.

And she was doing it while Kevin Green glared at her, his fists clenched on the table in front of him. That big ring—silver, some kind of animal head, maybe a lion—glinted at her, and her cheek recollected the hurt. She’d only gotten the stitches out the afternoon before.

The Greens weren’t represented by counsel. When the ADA working the case was finished, Kevin Green stood up and said simply, “You are a lying cunt, and you’ll pay.”

The judge slammed the gavel. “Mr. Green! You are out of order! Do you have a
question
for the witness?”

Green looked at the judge. “No, sir. She’s lying. I didn’t do it. Any of it.”

“You’ve already had your chance to testify, sir. If you have no questions, then sit down. I’m ready to rule.” He turned to Sid with a smile. “Thank you, Miss…Tu—Tula—Tuladhar?” He’d gotten it right, so Sid nodded. “You may step down.”

Sid went back to the gallery. Green stared at her while she walked to her seat. She stared right back. That was probably stupid, he’d probably take it as a dare, but she couldn’t bring herself to let him think she was afraid of him. She
was
afraid of him—she was terrified, frankly. But letting him see weakness was impossible. Besides, he might see her fear as some kind of opportunity, anyway.

The judge ruled that the Greens would have no access to their children except during supervised evaluative sessions. Kayla cried. Kevin turned and stared at Sid.

When the hearing was over, the bailiff put himself between the Greens and Sid and escorted them out. Sid watched them go, hoping that they wouldn’t be waiting for her when she left the courthouse. She wished that she’d told Muse that Keanu could stay with her during work, too.

“I’m going to walk you to your car.”

Sid turned at the ADA’s voice. Ramon Castro. He was young and new on the job, like Sid. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

He smiled and picked up his briefcase, then ushered her down the aisle and out the door. “You have an RO on that guy, right?”

She nodded. Not that a restraining order would actually restrain a guy like that.

She’d gone to the office and picked up a state car before court, so Ramon walked her to a boring sedan with state tags. “You good from here?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Ramon.”

He smiled more broadly, and Sid knew what was coming next. “No problem. Hey—are you free for dinner?”

“I’m sorry, I’m not. I’m seeing someone.” Was that the right way to describe what was happening with Muse? Was she ‘seeing’ him? It seemed a bland way to describe them, especially since they’d gone up the mountain. But boyfriend was wrong. Lover was…weird. ‘Seeing someone’ was the best thing she had to say.

“That’s too bad. Well, have a good weekend, then.” With that same, sweet smile and a sharp little nod, he went on, and she got into her car and locked the doors.

And then just sat there. Fuck, she was so goddamn scared. And tired—work was wearing her down, and she’d only been doing the job a matter of weeks. Every day, she was more behind, more overwhelmed, and her caseload kept growing. Yesterday, she’d gotten a new case of a six-month-old baby whose mother and grandmother had been killed in a home invasion. Every day, she saw the worst of the world, and maybe once a week, if that, she got to see something good. Why the fuck had she wanted this? Why the fuck had she thought she could do anything to make anything better?

And some humungous rage monster was after her, too.

Her mother had been profoundly disappointed in her for choosing to get her Master of Social Work instead of a Master of Marriage and Family Therapy—or, better yet, her PhD in clinical psychology. Sitting in the courthouse parking lot, locked in her car, her eyes darting to and fro, checking for an angry father who wanted her dead, Sid couldn’t think of one single fucking reason why this was better than sitting in a pretty office talking couples through a bad spell or helping families navigate divorce.

Maybe she’d made a huge mistake.

If she called her mother, she knew Claude would enthusiastically pay for her to go back to school. But fuck, did she ever not want to do that. The toll would be her mother’s smug insistence that she manage every part of Sid’s life. She’d end up married to Parker Sanders or some other handpicked son-in-law inside of a year.

Everything was just too much to deal with, and Sid put her head on the steering wheel and cried.

She’d been at it a while unabated but was finally beginning to get control of herself when somebody knocked at her window. Sid screamed and wrenched her neck turning to see who it was.

Keanu. What the fuck was he doing here? She was working.

“Are you okay?” he called through the closed window.

Her face still wet from her tears, she opened the door and stood up. “What the fuck are you doing here? Have you been following me today? Do you follow me when I’m at work? I told you not to do that!” While she ranted, she hit him in the chest again and again. By the time she was done, he was ducking and flinching as if he had a tic.

“Whoa! I’m sorry! Muse said I…” he didn’t finish, but he didn’t have to. Muse had told her he understood why she couldn’t have a guard at work. And then he’d put a guard on her anyway. Fucker!

Why was she so angry? Hadn’t she wished that Keanu were with her? Well, he was. She wasn’t alone. She could get back to the office, pick up her car, and go home and know that somebody was looking out for her while Muse was on his ‘run’ to Big Bear.

But she
was
pissed. Muse had lied to her. Managed her. Motherfucker!

“Goddammit, Keanu! Get out of here!” Why had she said that? She didn’t want to be alone.

“I…can’t. Sid, I can’t. I have to do what Muse says. He’s the patch.”

She stopped fighting Keanu. She wouldn’t win, she didn’t even want to win, and she felt stupid for shrieking at him. “Your stupid club is fucked up,” she grumbled. “I’m going back to get my car.”

“Okay. I’ll be right behind you.” He laughed a little. “I’m kinda glad you know. It was hard to keep track of this dumb car from so far away. It’s so boring it’s practically invisible in traffic. The Pepto-mobile is a lot easier to stay on.”

She just scoffed and got back in. At least the anger had cleared away her weepy weakness.

But ooh, Muse was going to hear about this bullshit.

~oOo~

She was in her kitchen, listening to Smashing Pumpkins and unloading the dishwasher, when Muse showed up. She’d made Keanu sit on the front porch in the November chill, mainly out of spite. When she heard the front door open, it was still pretty early, so she expected it to be the Prospect, looking for more coffee. She went to the kitchen doorway just as Muse arrived at the same spot.

He took her face in his hands right away. When she tried to pull back and get her mad going again, he held on. “Tell me you love me,” he growled.

“What? Muse, we have to talk—”

“I know,” he cut her off. “The Prospect says you’re pissed. We’ll talk. Tell me you love me.”

“I do.” She did. She really did. But those words were cheap when used too much, and even when they were dear, they presaged all kinds of changes she wasn’t ready for. She didn’t want to be pushed behind a man, and she wasn’t sure Muse would let her be side by side with him. He was pushy. And he’d pulled that shit with Keanu. She wouldn’t be managed. She wanted to be a partner, not a possession, and she wasn’t even sure a partnership was possible with anyone, let alone a man like Muse. They had to work that out before she could be sure what was next with them.

“Say the words, Sid.”

“There are things we—”

“Shut up and say the words.” His hands tensed more around her face as he spoke. “If you love me, say the words.”

Part of her wanted to retort that she couldn’t both shut up
and
say the words. But a light in his eyes said that this was important, that he needed what he was asking for. Sid had a strong sense that something big had happened to him today. Something wrong. Something that made him vulnerable.

“I love you. We need to talk, but I do love you.”

“I love you,” he said, and his mouth came down hard on hers.

Since she’d told him the story of what had happened in college, Muse had been different with her during sex. He’d never been exactly rough, but he’d been wild and raw before. After their talk at the Arrow Grill, he’d been more careful, gentler. She’d called him on the change, because she loved the way they’d been fucking, and she didn’t need to be handled with care. She just needed not to get fucked from behind. End of issue. But even after she’d told him to lighten up, she could feel a difference in him.

But now he was kissing her with a vigor that took her breath from her. They needed to talk. There were things they needed to get straight. But when he pushed his tongue into her mouth and his hands slid from her face around to clench in her hair, all she wanted to do was get naked.

He broke away from her mouth and latched onto her neck “Muse!” she gasped. “Talk to me.”

“We’ll talk, hon,” he groaned. “We will. I need to fuck you first.” His hands moved from her hair down her back, pulling the strands still tangled with his fingers. He slid into the back of her jeans and grasped her ass.