Leave a Trail (26 page)

They did move fast. When her father attempted to help, Show put his enormous hands on his shoulders and pushed him civilly out of the way. So he stood near the cab and watched, while she, Badger, Show, Steve, and Kenny carried her childhood furniture—French Provincial style canopy bed (double size, so an improvement), dresser, desk, stool, nightstands, bookcase—into the B&B. Boxes of books. CDs and DVDs. Her pink velvet armchair. Boxes and boxes of clothes and shoes and accessories. He was giving her literally everything in the house that was hers. He had erased her from his home.

About halfway through, maybe because they were moving so quickly and there was so much to be done, Adrienne started to kind of forget the wrenching pain her father had just caused her. Badger passed her with a big box of shoes. He grinned and called her a clothes horse, and she swatted a playful punch at him and called him a butthead. At that moment, she inadvertently locked eyes with her father. She saw hurt there.

And she was glad. Her satisfaction at his pain was positively restorative. Adrienne had never been vindictive. She’d never held a grudge. She did not hate or wish ill on people. Not because she was such a wonderful person, it turned out, but because she’d never had sufficient cause. Now, she had sufficient cause, and her father’s pain made her feel better. A part of her wanted to stop and think about that, consider if she wanted to be that kind of person. The rest of her kicked that part in the ear and went on with the hate and anger. It felt good. It helped.

She skipped down the porch steps and went to the van for another load. When Badger passed her again, coming the other way, she pretended to throw the box she was carrying at him. “Here—think fast!” And she laughed. Then she turned and made sure her ‘father’ had seen her play in the face of his abandonment. He had. Good.

Shannon had been sitting in one of the rocking chairs on the porch while they’d unloaded. She was gigantic and in no condition to be moving anything, hardly even herself. She still had two months to go, but Adrienne had no idea how she could get two months bigger.

Twice, while they’d been doing the normal circuit of moving—in with boxes, out for more—Adrienne had noticed Shannon look a little flushed and sweaty. Once, she’d passed Show squatting in front of her rocker, checking on her. But she insisted she was okay, just uncomfortable, vying for territory with two other people. Badger ran and brought her water.

A few minutes later, Adrienne and Show were in the back of the van. Two pieces left—the mirror for her dresser, and a last box of books. Adrienne had the books already, so Show picked up the mirror.

“You doin’, okay, little one? Hard day.”

“I really am okay. Right now, anyway. I am. You think I could think of you as my dad? You have room for one more? Or would that be weird?”

“Not weird at all. You’re already my girl.” He kissed her head.

And then Shannon screamed Show’s name.             

He threw the mirror to the floor of the van, where it shattered, and tore hell back to his wife.

Adrienne followed, still carrying her box of books. She set it on the ground and ran when she saw that a crowd had gathered around Shannon.

Her water had broken. Far too early.

“We gotta get to Tasha. Right now.” As Show lifted her into his arms, Shannon reached out and grabbed at Adrienne. She looked terrified and in no small amount of pain. “Come? Will you come?”

Adrienne was shocked. Her mind starting to go numb, she nodded.

“Thank you.”

On their way to Shannon’s SUV, Adrienne paused at the man who’d been her father. “You can go now.” Then she followed Show and Shannon.

As she was sliding into the back seat, Badger grabbed the car door and leaned in. “I’ll make sure he goes. Don’t worry. I love you.”

She smiled and pulled the door closed.

~oOo~

Though her water had broken, and she’d started contractions, she hadn’t gone into active labor yet. At the clinic, Tasha had given her something to slow things down and sent them straight to the hospital. Shannon was admitted immediately, for the rest of her pregnancy, and they were giving her a whole cocktail of drugs to try to keep her from going into labor, and to help the babies’ lungs finish doing whatever they had to do, and to keep everybody from getting an infection. They wanted to try to get her to thirty-four weeks. That was more than three weeks away.

Show was nearly psychotic with worry. Adrienne had never seen this big, steady man so out of control, not even when he’d been going after Badger. He yelled at everyone except Shannon and her. He threw things. If Shannon so much as winced he wanted to punch somebody.

They were threatening to have security take him away. Luckily, Shannon had already asked Adrienne to call Isaac and get him here to help, so, shortly after the threat of security, Isaac came into Shannon’s room and pulled Show out by his kutte.

Once Show was gone, Shannon was calm. Tired and uncomfortable, but calm. Considering the emotional mess she’d been for most of the pregnancy, Adrienne was surprised. Today had been a surprising day just in general.

“How are you, Ade?”

“Me? Don’t worry about me. You’re the one in the hospital.”

Shannon laughed. She was wan, but her beauty shone through anyway. “You know, I was constantly worried the first half of the pregnancy. I was worried something would be wrong, that I would do something wrong and hurt the baby—before I knew it was twins. Then when we knew it was twins, I was still worried about it all, but times two. But then we got the amnio results back, and everything was okay. They’re healthy. Since then, every day I’ve felt a little more sure we’d be okay. I still feel that. They’ll hold on in there until they’re strong enough to be out here. I know it.”

Adrienne chuckled. “I think that’s the right attitude.”

“I’d like it if you were here when they come—if you can be. You’re the only person who was with me the first time I did this. Is that a terrible thing to ask?”

Tears had flooded her eyes at Shannon’s request. Now, she sniffed and shook her head. “No, it’s not. I’d like that.” With a little laugh, she added, “I can help soothe the beast.”

“He has a lot of worry, my man. He takes on too much. I tell him that some day all that weight is going to cripple him, but he takes it on anyway. It’s one of the things I love best about him, and one of the things that makes me craziest.”

“You want me to see if he’s fit to come back in yet?”

“In a minute. I want to talk about what happened before I became such a drama queen today. That was a hard thing.”

Adrienne didn’t want to talk about it. “I’m okay. I just…have to get used to it. I will, though. I have you guys. I have Badge. I’m okay.”

Shannon stared hard at her. “Yeah, you do. You’re not alone. I lost my folks when I made a choice they didn’t like. You know that. I spent a long time after that being alone. Making myself alone because I didn’t feel like I deserved not to be. I didn’t even know I was doing it. I don’t want you ever to do that. You’re not alone. You know it now, and I’m glad. Don’t forget. You’re never alone. That’s something wonderful about the life you chose—the Horde. A lot of us have had hard losses. We’ve all felt alone. But we never will be again. That and the love of a man like Show, or Badger—that’s worth everything. I promise.”

Adrienne nodded, her throat too tight to answer in words. And then she just gave up. She laid her head on Shannon’s shoulder and cried.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

On their way home from the latest weed run, the Horde stopped in St. Louis to see a dying friend.

It was Badger’s first time on this run since he’d been busted for being a junkie four months ago. He’d had to prove he was solid, that he was trustworthy, before they’d let him on the run again. And he was pretty solid now. The need wasn’t on him nearly like it had been. Now, only in times of stress did he think about it, and then, usually, he only missed it. He didn’t
need
it. He thought he was truly through the other side.

He had his brothers to thank for that. And Adrienne. His family. He wasn’t sure if forgetting who had his back made room for the Oxy to take him over, or if the Oxy had made him forget who had his back, but either way, he had himself under control again. He remembered.

Isaac, Len, and Tommy had ridden the run with him, and they’d all watched him. He’d felt it, but he hadn’t resented it as he would have before. He understood it was the price he had to pay. He’d been fucked up on this run a couple times, and that had put them all at risk.

He knew he’d been brought on earlier than Isaac would have normally agreed because Show was at County with Shannon. She was still pregnant, but from what Show had told them, her condition was beginning to deteriorate a little. They were trying to keep the pregnancy going for another week or so at least. Show hadn’t left the hospital in days and no one expected him to. So Badger was called up, and he was glad. Scared—he fucking hated this run and everything that had anything to do with the Perros—but glad for the chance to prove once and for all that he was through his shit.

Len was glad for other reasons. Worried about the future of the Horde if they lost both Isaac and Show, he didn’t like the President and Vice-President to be on the same job, away from home, at the same time. But there’d been little other choice after Badger had let everybody down. With Havoc dead and Badger sidelined, there hadn’t been enough experienced Horde to ride the weed run and also keep a leader in town. Since March, the run had been Isaac, Show, Len, and Tommy—the entire club leadership and both enforcers. Had the run blown up, the Horde would have been thoroughly gutted, with only Dom, Zeke, and Badger left.

Today’s run was not much better in that regard. Show was in Springfield, and probably safe. But in Signal Bend, only Dom, Zeke, Double A, and the Prospects were left. If there was trouble in town, Horde resources were limited. Zeke, though, had a lot of experience, and Isaac trusted him to handle trouble if it arose.

Kellen Frey had joined Thumper in the Prospect ranks. Despite their best intentions to bring older men up in the club, the only likely candidates continued to be young men. Badger didn’t worry about the youth of the club the way the older patches did. They cited his own experience as their reasons for wanting older Prospects—they all thought he was too young to have dealt with what he’d dealt with. But he was beginning to see it differently—maybe there was resilience in youth. Isaac, Show, and Len talked a lot about the way things used to be. And Badger remembered the way things used to be. But he didn’t remember those days as fondly as they did. He didn’t look backward the way they did.

He’d been through some dark fucking times, and he knew he was changed because of them. He knew they’d almost broken him—or they had broken him, but he’d found a way to put himself together. He knew that quiet times were safer. But like he’d told Nolan, those times felt false to him in some way. The life they were in now, that felt true. He didn’t want to get back to the way things were. He wanted to get through to the next thing.

Sometimes he thought Isaac, Show, and Len understood that. But he also saw their nostalgia. He didn’t have nostalgia. His life was before him. Maybe that’s what the Horde needed to overcome their troubles. A vision for the future.

Their errand in St. Louis, though, was very much a visit to the past. Kenyon Berry, a former associate of the Horde and erstwhile leader of the defunct Underdawgs crew, and a personal friend to Isaac, was on his deathbed, and they’d come to say goodbye.

Badger didn’t know the man; he’d still only been prospecting when the Underdawgs were taken down in the wake left by Lawrence Ellis. Tommy had never heard of him before today. The two of them stayed in the hallway while Isaac and Len went into Kenyon’s hospital room. But after a while, Len opened the door and motioned for them to enter. With a quick glance between them, they went in.

Kenyon Berry was frail and thin, old enough, he looked, to be Isaac’s father. He had brown skin and a faint scruff of grey fuzz for hair. Wrapped in a stretched and pilled navy blue cardigan, with an oxygen tube in his nose, he looked like a man on his deathbed.

Isaac had been sitting in a chair at his bedside. When Badger and Tommy walked in with Len, he stood. “Brothers, I’d like you to meet a great man. Kenyon Berry, this is Badger Ness and Tommy Nickels. My money’s on Badge to lead the Horde some day.”

Badger’s head swiveled so fast toward Isaac that his neck cracked audibly. “Boss?”

Isaac just gave him an enigmatic smile and nodded toward the man in the hospital bed. So Badger stepped forward, his hand extended. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Berry.”

The old man chortled weakly and then coughed. “Kenyon’ll do, son.” He gave Badger the once-over. “Today is not the first day Isaac’s spoken of you. He speaks well. But I know you’ve had some troubles.”

Badger swiveled to Isaac again, a spike of rage shoving itself deeply through his spine.

But Kenyon put his hand up. “Easy, son. No confidences have been broken, I’m sure. I’ve had my skirmishes with cruel people, too. Use those memories. Don’t let them have you. Own them. Make them yours—wring strength from them. There’s power you can take from that evil, if you stay clear enough to see it.”

Badger nodded and said, “Yes, sir,” mainly because he was too befuddled by the exchange to do anything else. He felt like he’d been summoned to the Oracle or something, but he didn’t really know why he should care what this old man, this stranger, had to say to him. And Isaac saw him with the gavel? What the fuck? They’d ripped his leather off his back four months ago—how the hell was
he
the future of the Horde?

He looked at Isaac, hoping to see something that would serve as an explanation, but Isaac was leaning over the bed, shaking Kenyon’s hand, his other hand on the old man’s narrow shoulder. Len turned and ushered him and Tommy out of the room again.

When they were in the hall, Badger asked, “What was that?”