Part 24 (1/2)

She left, and Demon turned to Muse. The first thing Muse asked was, ”You take care of it?”

”Yeah. Went clean, too.” Before Demon had gone to take Faith upstairs, before his life had burned down, the club had met. They'd been building goodwill in the community-in the whole county, especially with people like Sheriff Montoya-for all the years they'd had stakes down in Madrone, even when they'd been legit. Building it with deed and cash both. It was as though Hoosier had always known they'd go outlaw again. Montoya was a true friend. He was going with the story Hoosier had given him, and n.o.body was looking at the club for the shooting at the Rats' clubhouse. Demon was dirty again, but he was clear. They all were.

At least as far as law was concerned. What had happened the night before was an escalation, and it wouldn't die just because the Horde had fought back quickly and decisively. They'd need La Zorra to lean in if they wanted to end a full-out war with the Rats before it started.

”Muse, I'm-I have to-I...”

”Deme?”

”I'm leaving. I have to leave.” He was surprised to have said it. He was more surprised that it was true. It felt true, and it felt like lead in his chest.

Muse frowned. ”Leave what?”

”Town. The club.”

”What the f.u.c.k? What happened?”

Demon shrugged. He couldn't say. He didn't fully understand.

”Don't f.u.c.kin' shrug at me, Deme. If you're running, have a reason.”

”I'm not running. I'm leaving. I have to leave.”

Muse simply lifted an eyebrow, waiting.

So Demon told him. He started at the beginning and told his friend the story of him and Faith. He'd never said it to anyone before, and putting it to words brought feeling back into his limbs. About halfway through, Sid opened the door. Muse shook his head, and she backed out and closed the door again.

Demon told him about the past, and the present, and what had happened barely hours before. ”I just beat the f.u.c.k out of Hooj. He's the only father I ever had. I trusted him. I trusted them both. I can't...I have to go.”

”s.h.i.+t, Deme.” Muse looked out the window. Some machine started beeping, and within a minute, a nurse came in and changed out an IV bag. She asked if he needed anything, and when he said he didn't, she left.

”You blame her? Faith?”

At first, hearing her tell him, he had. But not now. ”No. She was just a kid. Blue told her he'd kill me if she didn't do it. I blame them-all of them. Blue and her mom most of all. But Blue's dead. And her mom-she's a woman, and losing her mind. There's nothing I can do. But I can't be around Hooj. I can't say what I'll do. I would've beaten him to death today. That's what it wanted.”

”It?”

”The thing inside me.”

Muse shook his head. ”I love you, brother. But that's a crock of s.h.i.+t, and it always has been. There's nothing inside you but you. You want to find control? You get right with what's wrong.”

”You say that like I can just decide.”

”Can't you?”

He'd thought Muse understood. ”Don't you think I already would've if I could?”

”I think it's easier to believe you live with something else inside you than to face that it's all you. I think you're afraid.”

His face grew hot. ”f.u.c.k you. I'm no p.u.s.s.y.” He turned and went to the door.

”You're running. Again. p.u.s.s.ies run.”

Demon stopped, with his hand on the door handle.

”What do you want, Deme? Know that, and then do what you need to do to make it happen.”

He opened the door and went out, walking past Sid without stopping, going down to the main floor and out the automatic doors without stopping. He was astride his bike before he realized that he had no idea where to go.

It was dark when he pulled back into Bart and Riley's crowded driveway. He'd ridden into the desert and sat alone on his rock until dusk. Hours. The windows of the big house were bright with light, and he could see his brothers, their women, the children-his son-moving about in the uncovered windows. Dinner was happening in there. Family dinner.

It was what he wanted. Family. Love. Home. All he'd ever wanted. He couldn't leave it behind.

Muse was right. He had to get right with what was wrong. He had to give trust, and let that trust ride. If he trusted Hoosier and Bibi, then he had to believe that they'd done the best they could. They'd kept it from him to help him. After spending a few hours on his rock, he could see how they would think that was true. They were wrong, but he could see how they thought they were right.

Maybe that was what real trust was. To see love even when it wore the face of betrayal.

The side door opened, and Faith stepped out. She was wearing different clothes-jeans without holes and a black sweater with a wide neck that showed the straps of her pink bra. He didn't recognize them, and the jeans were maybe an inch too short. Riley's clothes.

She stayed just outside the door, standing barefoot on the topmost step. Her arms were crossed under her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She looked tiny and delicate. Vulnerable.

Demon dismounted and set his helmet on his bike, and she didn't move. He walked toward her, and she stayed put, except to cross her arms differently, moving them over her chest, hooking her hands over her shoulders. Like a fragile s.h.i.+eld for her heart.

He walked to the foot of the steps and could think of only one thing to say. ”I love you.”

She collapsed into weeping and, nodding, wrapped herself around him. He lifted her up and carried her inside.

He would make it all right. All of it.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

The couple of weeks after St. Pat's was a strange whirl of comfort and chaos. Michael had come back that night, and he'd been calm. Faith would have almost called him serene, except it was Michael, and serenity was impossible for him. He had apologized to her, and to Hoosier and Bibi, and to Bart and Riley and the rest of the family, and, after hugs and handshakes, the matter had simply been dropped.

Ten years of pent-up turmoil and unhappiness had simply been bled off, as if an infected wound had been lanced. After his fury earlier, Faith didn't completely believe that it could be so easy, that Michael had simply gone for a ride and then come home and forgiven everyone-including himself-everything, and had likewise been forgiven, but it appeared to be true. He seemed at peace, and that made Faith feel a little hopeful.

That night, Michael, Faith, and Tucker had all slept together in the bed she and Michael had been on earlier.

Riley had gone into labor the next morning, and less than an hour after Bart got her to the hospital, their third child and second son had been born. Declan Bartholomew Elstad. Faith thought the poor kid would likely be in fourth grade before he could spell his own whole name. He was adorable, fair like his parents and siblings, and born completely bald.

Whatever was going on with the club seemed to have died down right after St. Pat's-at least as far as Faith could tell. No further violence happened, and the lockdown ended. The Sheriff had released the clubhouse on the morning of the second day, and the Horde had had everything back to rights within two more days-windows and furniture replaced, walls repaired, new booze purchased, the whole place cleaned.

Muse and Double A, the most badly injured of the survivors, had both been both released from the hospital within a week. Neither was riding yet, but they were healing well.

Just in time for the funerals.