Leave a Trail (15 page)

And this time, he beat them back. This time, he won.

~oOo~

When Isaac, Show, Len, and Tommy returned from the weed run, Dom, Zeke and Badger were waiting in the Hall. Badger was nervous; it was his first meeting since his detox, and after this, he was going to tell Show that he and Adrienne were together. And then…Christ. Who knew.

Isaac walked straight through the Hall and into the Keep, and the rest of the Horde fell in line to follow him. When they were all seated, Isaac put his elbows on the table and leaned in.

“Run went smooth—smooth as that bullshit can go. We picked up a tail when we crossed the county line. That’s the third time in a row. Don’t know what Seaver is up to with his games, but for now, we play it as safe and smart as we can.”

“He’s gotta know there’s a front end to that run,” Show added. “He could fuck us hard if he pulled us over on our way out. He’s gotta know that.”

“He’d need a warrant, or at least probable cause, to search the truck.” As Badger spoke, Show turned an icy look on him. It might have been a mistake for him to correct something Show had said.

But Isaac answered. “That’s why we’re bein’ Boy Scouts, obeying all posted laws and limits. But we’re on borrowed time. He’s got something cookin’. Just don’t know what.” He turned to Dom. “You got anything new, brother?”

“Nothing we can use. There hasn’t been any more between Seaver and the St. Louis Feds since my last update. I don’t know if the Feds dropped him or what. Otherwise, I got a shit ton of him being an asshole, all kinds of creepy, racist emails, and he’s got a thing for rape jokes, but nothing outright corrupt that I can find. It’s there. But he’s smart. If he does announce a campaign for Washington, D.C., then we can threaten to leak the emails, but until then, I don’t see what I’ve got hurting him enough.”

Show nodded. “Yeah, we’ve had that conversation.” They’d been looking for leverage against Sheriff Seaver for a year, something to bring him into their camp or at least neutralize him. His image was squeaky clean, a total Dudley Do-Right, and he looked the part, his uniform always pressed and perfect, his hair military short. But he had a nasty streak, and behind the scenes was not so interested in doing things the right way. He was exploring his options for a run for the House of Representatives, and it looked like he was planning to use the Horde to get there.

“We’re stuck on Seaver. Nothin’ to do but wait and watch. Same with the Perros. We got no movement there yet, but Hoosier hit me up on the run last night. The Scorps LA are working something. Don’t have details, but he wants us on alert.”

Len sighed. “When are we not anymore?”

Isaac shrugged. “Yeah. Anyway. What we can do something about is the town. Things are getting worse for us. Billy Knox and his buddies thinking they’d get away with jumping Badge at Tuck’s wasn’t the first sign.”

Everybody looked at Badger, and he focused on not dropping his head. He kept his eyes on Isaac and waited for him to continue.

“Glad to have you back, Badge.”

“Thanks, boss.” He looked around the table. “And I’m sorry. For everything.”

His brothers nodded, and Len squeezed his shoulder.

“Keep straight, little brother,” Isaac said. “And don’t shut us out.”

Badger nodded. He didn’t mind the ‘little brother’ so much anymore. At least he was still a brother.

“What do we do about the town?” Len’s hand left Badger’s shoulder as he turned to Isaac.

Show picked up the discussion. “Goodwill campaign. As long as the Perros are quiet, we can use the time to focus people on the good we’ve done. The good we do. We work our straight jobs as much as we can. People need to see us fixing their tractors. Selling them chainsaws. Whatever. And the Spring Fest is coming up in a few weeks. We’re all there. And we’re all smiling. No questions.”

“And when the Perros aren’t quiet?”

Isaac sat back and considered Len. “We cross that bridge then. We do what we can to keep their noise away from home. And we wait for our chance.”

~oOo~

“Show. Talk a minute?”

They were all heading to the bar after the meeting. Badger wasn’t sure he wanted to have this conversation with an audience, but having it without one seemed particularly dangerous.

Show didn’t even turn at Badger’s question. “Not interested.”

But they needed to talk. Badger reached out and grabbed Show’s arm. Fuck, it was a big arm. A death machine of an arm. And when Show looked down at Badger’s hand, it was clear that the machine was revving.

“It’s important.” He gestured to the small two-top table nearby. “I’ll buy you a beer.”

While Show stared, Badger fought to stay steady. He managed, and finally Show yanked his arm away and sat. Badger got Davey to draw two beers from the tap and then went to sit.

Show didn’t touch his beer, so Badger didn’t, either.

“Talk.” Show’s fists rested on the table.

Might as well put it right out there. “I want to tell you the truth. I want to be straight with you, be worthy of your trust again. I told you how I feel about Adrienne. She feels the same way about me.”

Those canned hams at the ends of Show’s arms curled tight, but he didn’t move otherwise. Badger kept going. He could hear the talk at the bar slow and then stop; they had an actual audience.

“I love her, Show. I really do. We’re…we’re together. I know you don’t want it, and I don’t blame you. But I promise I’ll be good to her. I swear it.” He stopped, swallowed, and waited.

Nothing happened, except Show’s knuckles went white, the scars over them raising up. But he didn’t say a word. His expression didn’t change from its original contemptuous heat. Badger waited, as motionless as Show.

And then Show was on his feet, and the table that had separated them was sailing through the room. Next, Badger was on the floor, on his back but still sort of sitting in the chair, and Show’s hand was around his throat, squeezing with obvious intent to kill.

“What did I tell you, motherfucker?” The words scraped through Show’s clenched teeth. He cocked his other fist back. Badger didn’t fight.

“Showdown! Step back, brother.” Through the thunderous pound of his heartbeat in his ears, Badger heard Isaac’s voice. “Now, Show. Right now.”

And Badger was released. Len helped him up, as Tommy and Isaac pulled Show back.

Len straightened his kutte and gave him a light cuff on the chin. “Shake it off, little brother. Then get on out of here. You’re okay. You did good. You did right. Gonna take some time. But you did right.”

Badger hoped that was true.

CHAPTER SEVEN

For the third night in a row, every night they’d slept together, Adrienne came awake with a start, yanked from sleep by Badger’s shouts. She rolled over and sat up, her heart pounding.

He was already sitting up, his back to her, swelling with every heaving breath. She knew not to touch him yet, or he’d jump out of bed in a shock.

“Badge?”

Even at her voice, he jumped at little, but then he looked over his shoulder. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I should—I should stop sleeping here.”

Now she could touch him, so she scooted over and laid her head on his back, circling his waist with her arms. His skin was damp with sweat.

“No, you shouldn’t. I like having you with me. And you shouldn’t have to wake up from that alone.”

Though he didn’t turn around, she felt him begin to relax. A rhythm for his nightmares was emerging—he’d bolt awake, shouting, at least once every night. She’d wake with him and then wait as he sat on the side of the bed and worked to come back to real time. If she touched him before he was aware of her, he’d jump like he’d been touched with a live wire and leap off the bed, his eyes scarily wide. But once he knew she was with him, she could offer him some comfort.

Eventually, he’d be composed enough to turn back to her, and he’d need to have sex before he could sleep again.

Actually, he needed to have sex a lot, several times a day, and sometimes he was pretty frantic about it. Maybe it was just the excitement of this new thing they had—excitement she felt herself. But Adrienne was beginning to wonder if sex was replacing another need he was trying to master.

She didn’t mind. Their sex was brilliant—totally worth waiting for—and she loved the way he made her feel. She wanted to help him, too. She’d told him she would. But she was starting to get pretty sore.

For now, though, she held him, her cheek on his back. His back was gorgeous—ridged with muscle, his shoulders rounded and wide. He was tall and thin, his hips narrow, but he was a lot bigger than he’d been when they first met. He had this set of muscles that ran from just under his arms to almost meet at the small of his back, two dimples just below. So very sexy. He had a scar near his right shoulder blade, puckered and rounded—from a bullet. That was sexy, too, but not because it meant he was tough—though he was. It was sexy to her because it was poignant. A sign of how much he’d lived through. She guessed that was what scars did—told tales of suffering. And Badger had suffered so.

He didn’t have ink on his back. He had a few pieces on his well-defined arms, all of which were crossed with scars now.

And his chest. God, how it hurt her to look at his chest. It didn’t gross her out at all, but it made her hurt for him
so much
. She didn’t know what had happened; he still wouldn’t tell her. There was a slight concavity under one arm, as if his ribs didn’t quite curve the right way anymore. Not very noticeable unless her hand was right on it, but it was there. The scar was the worst of it. It was almost like he’d been horribly burned. But not quite the same—at least she didn’t think so. From just inside his shoulders, just below his collarbones, to about three inches above his navel, all the way across, he was one big scar. The scar had formed in odd kinds of stripes, cut with scant ribbons of the flesh he’d had. She knew this because there were remnants here and there of the tattoo he’d had across his chest. He’d lifted his shirt one time, years ago, to show her his club ink—and his really nice chest, all lean and muscly. That ink was gone now, except for random traces. And he didn’t have nipples. It looked like he’d been filleted with a rusty saw or something. But that was completely crazy.

Unless she thought of Show’s back. And Len’s eye. And the scars they all had on their arms. Something
really
horrible had
really
happened. Something completely crazy.

But he wouldn’t tell her what. He would hardly talk at all after a nightmare, except to apologize. He’d just do what he was doing now, turning and taking her in his arms, laying her down, lying over her, kissing her, touching her. His hand moved between her thighs and slid into her folds. He grunted when he found her already wet. She’d been ready for him since she’d put her arms around him. He reached to the box of condoms they hadn’t bothered to put away. Their second box of a dozen.

When the condom was on, he slid inside her. It did hurt, a little, like she was abraded inside. But she knew it would pass soon enough. In the meantime, she focused on what felt good—his hands and his lips on her. The way his beard and his long hair brushed against her skin, tickling in a dazzlingly sexy way. The sound of his breath growing harsher against her ear.

And, finally, the feel of him moving inside her. He was bigger than she’d imagined. Quite a lot, actually, and she’d been scared at first. And it had hurt a lot at first. But there were places inside her she’d had no idea could feel the way he could make them feel. She didn’t feel the abrasion anymore; instead, she felt him pushing deep, against a spot inside that made pleasure so rich and intense that sparks happened in her head.

He could tell when she was close; he could always tell, and he always made this particular growly-grunt noise right about the time when her brain stopped working.  This time, though, at that moment, he shocked her by pushing his arms under her back and gathering her up as he sat back on his heels. Suddenly, she was sitting on his lap, straddling him, kissing him, and he was thrusting up into her, holding her close, his arms crossed over her shoulder blades and his hands holding her head tight to his.

She flexed her hips and realized that she had a lot of control and range of motion in this position. Her arms over his shoulders, her hands tangled in his hair, she took over a little, finding a way to move that kept him hitting that great spot inside her. After a couple of increasingly frenzied minutes, he grunted and grabbed her hips, taking over and yanking her back and forth on him.

When she came, she pulled on his hair so hard it hurt her hands, but he didn’t seem to mind. He came right after her, his rumbling groan vivid with relief. In the middle of the bed, they sat in that position until they were breathing normally. Then Badger kissed her forehead, lifted her off his legs, and left the bed to dispose of the condom. When he came back, he slid under the covers behind her, folded her up in his arms, and settled into sleep.

As fantastic as that had been, Adrienne was really quite sore now. She needed a break. And she needed him to talk to her, at least a little. These wordless encounters felt weird to her. She wasn’t sure why, but they did. There was a lot that was new. A lot she didn’t know. It was embarrassing how much.

But she did know that if she told him she was hurting, he’d beat himself up about it. And she knew he wasn’t ready to talk. She didn’t want to upset him, especially not now, so soon after his detox.

She wasn’t sure what to do, or what she had a right to do. How much could she ask of him? They’d only been together a few days. Or had they been together for years?

~oOo~

She moved into the manager’s suite the next day. Shannon sent Show over with pieces of furniture they’d had in their shed, stuff that had apparently been in his house before Shannon moved in. An old, red plaid loveseat. A couple of end tables. A dresser. And the bed that had been in the purple room, the one she slept in when she visited.