Part 8 (1/2)

”Nah. I'm good. You're here early. Got a movie gig?”

He sighed and shook his head. ”Diaz and J.R. got caught up in some s.h.i.+t with the Rats. I'm waitin' on Connor-we're meeting them and Bart and Ronin for some payback. Figure we'll hit 'em early, with their pants down.”

”They whole? What kind of s.h.i.+t?”

”Ran 'em off the road. Bikes're sc.r.a.ped up a little. Them, too, but they're good.”

The Dirty Rats were another MC, much bigger than the Horde, with lots of charters-and a really vile, and well-earned, reputation. They had never been rivals before, but the Horde had put down half a charter's worth of the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds during a cartel fight, and now the Rats were looking for payback. No big, organized offensive, just s.h.i.+t like this-running guys off the road, ambus.h.i.+ng them outside a bar, catching them off their guard.

Since the Rats weren't known for their decorum or subtlety, it seemed like they were trying to stay off somebody's radar. Otherwise, they'd've just come in for a retaliation hit. The Horde had ended their guys months ago, and all they'd faced from the Rats since was penny-ante s.h.i.+t like this.

Which probably meant something big was brewing somewhere.

Part of Demon-the largest part-wanted to offer his help. He wanted to be outlaw. He liked putting hurt on a.s.sholes. He liked the charge and the focus of working outside the bleeding edge of society. There was calm in it that he didn't get any other way. And he deeply hated that two of his brothers had been attacked, and he was going to sit here at the shop s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g parts on bikes while his family took care of the problem.

There wasn't much he could say. He wasn't part of what was going on. It was right-he needed to do what he had to do to make his best case for custody of Tucker, and that meant staying as clean as he could. But it was wrong, too. So he changed the subject, sort of. ”You got your truck? You brought Cliff. You're not riding out today?”

”I'll take the Sportster. It's still here from when I thought I was gonna have to sell it. The Knuckle's running rough lately, and anyway, I didn't want to leave Cliff at home. Sid's in Orange County for a couple days.”

”Problem?”

”Nah. Her mom's winning some award, and there's some kinda formal ceremony. Not my scene.”

Demon chuckled a little. Several of the SoCal Horde who'd taken old ladies had ended up with rich chicks. Bart was married to a famous actress. Diaz to a supermodel. Now Muse had marked a girl whose mom was a fancy lawyer like Findley-call-me-Finn Bennett and lived in a f.u.c.king mansion. Not the kind of women people thought of as the type to want a biker.

But people tended to resist type, Demon thought. Good people did, anyway. It wasn't about type. It was about being understood. It was about finding someone you fit with, someone whose puzzle matched your own.

Demon closed his eyes and thought about Faith. For all the ways he knew they'd been wrong, in that way they'd been right.

Maybe they could still be. He needed to get straight enough in his head to talk to her. Tonight. Tonight, he'd talk to her. He would. He could.

But for now, he turned back to Muse.

”Wish I could help today.”

”No question, brother.” Muse put his hand on Demon's shoulder. It was a gesture, a touch, meant to share strength, to calm Demon's unsettled soul. He knew it, and he appreciated it. He always had. ”It's right you stay back. You don't need trouble you can avoid, not right now. I told you we'd do all we can to keep you clear.”

Just before noon, with the guys still out on their payback run, Demon was working in the shop, tricking out a Wide Glide. Trick was there, starting a new custom build, and P.B. was doing a repair job. Jesse was working the showroom. Nolan and Double A, Missouri members on loan from the mother charter, were helping out on a couple of bike maintenance jobs. Just a regular day, though they were all on alert in case they got a call for backup.

The intercom whined and went live. ”Guys!” Jesse said into the room. ”Bibi brought lunch-from The Bunkhouse!” The Bunkhouse was the best steakhouse in town. Usually, they sent a Prospect out at lunch for fast food.

”Awesome!” P.B. crowed and set down his tools. Trick just rolled his eyes and kept working. He was a vegetarian or a vegan or one of those plant-eater types.

Then Bibi's voice came over the 'com. ”We brought you a big salad, Trick. And Tuck's lookin' for you, Deme. We're settin' up in the Hall.”

All the mechanics were grinning when they came through from the shop to the clubhouse. Bibi had set up a family-style meal, pus.h.i.+ng some of the small tables together. Cliff was walking around the table, his tail wagging, his nose in the air, smelling steak.

A meal like this in the middle of the day was unusual, especially with half the club out, but Hoosier was in the Hall, too, and he didn't seem concerned.

”Any word on the job today, Prez?” Demon asked, picking Tucker up and hugging him.

”Yeah. They're whole and clear, on their way back. Stirred up some sh-trouble, just like they wanted. We'll see where it goes. I want to bring this sh-thing to a head.”

Bibi came over to Demon and Tucker. ”Show your pa what you learned today, Tuck.”

Demon smiled at his boy. ”You got something new, buddy?”

Tucker nodded, then dropped his head to his father's shoulder.

”Don't be shy, Tuckster. Tell your pa.” Bibi grabbed his foot and gave it a shake.

Lifting his head and looking at Demon with serious eyes, Tucker said, ”Lub you, Pa.”

”Holy s.h.i.+t,” Demon whispered. Tucker had never said those words before.

”s.h.i.+t,” Tucker agreed solemnly.

Laughing, Demon hugged his son. ”I love you, too, Motor Man. I love you so much.”

”Lub you.”

His face felt hot, but not in the way it usually did. He held his son close and felt good and right. He felt strong. He looked down at Bibi.

”Thanks for last night.”

”No worries, baby. You needed some time alone, and you know I've got Tuck.”

”Thanks.”

”Did it help?”

”Yeah. I'm gonna talk to her tonight. I think I can be cool about it now.”

Bibi went a little pale. ”Deme, that's not gonna work. She's not there.”

Just like that, everything good Demon had been feeling withered away and left acid and bile in its place. ”What? Where is she?”

”She went home-”

Before she could finish, Demon yelled ”f.u.c.k!” and Tucker flinched and began to cry. Grasping the last threads of control he could, he handed his son to Bibi and stormed toward the dorm before he lost any more of his s.h.i.+t in front of his kid.

Before he could get to the hallway, Bibi's hand was on his arm. He spun and yanked his arm away. Bibi-without Tucker-jumped back, flinching, and then Hoosier was between them. ”You take a breath right now, boy. You get yourself under control.”

”f.u.c.k! f.u.c.k!” His mind rioted. She'd left! She was gone! She'd shown up just to f.u.c.k him up and then was gone. f.u.c.k!

Hoosier, though smaller than Demon, didn't hesitate. He grabbed him by the kutte and shoved him toward his office. Vaguely, Demon heard Cliff barking in the Hall.

All Demon could think about was getting those hands off him. He fought back, punching his President in the face, knocking him down.