Reprise Page 12

  “I’m old,” he admitted as Knuckles sat next to him, one step lower.

  “So, I gotta ask.” Knuckles said after an amiable pause. “With Mallory. You keep saying you were an asshole to her. But...what did you do?”

  Tiny took a hard inhale, the kind that still burned his lungs even after a lifetime of smoking, then shook his head. “I left her. She needed me at a bad point, and I walked away.”

  “Why’d you do that?”

  Tiny swallowed hard. He had no good answers.

  -oOo-

  The doctor’s office was flooded with a throbbing, science-fiction sound that Harlon knew was the heartbeat of a baby. But his full attention was on the tiny screen on the far side of the examining table. The doctor had a weird hand-held vacuum-looking thing that he was running back and forth over Mallory’s belly, which was well on its way to giving their baby a luxurious and roomy home.

  The wand hit one spot and suddenly it was there, full side view. Legs, and arm, giant head. Even the umbilical cord was visible. All gray smudges on a black background, but definitely a baby.

  Mallory’s hand tightened on his when she saw it, too, and she held her breath.

  “Holy sh—” he caught himself. “Holy cow. Look at that.”

  “It’s our baby,” she breathed, and he had to check to see if she was okay. Her eyes were brimmed with tears, and her lip was trembling. “Oh wow. Look at that.”

  He kissed her temple, closing his eyes, his chest feeling so tight it hurt. Yeah, it was a living thing now. More than when her belly had gotten hard and started to swell outward, more than the little flutters that she was sure were the kicks of their child. He hadn’t believed it until he was seeing this.

  He’d been on the road, taking as many trips as he could until the time was getting close for Mallory to deliver. He was saving cash like crazy, and his dad was helping him look for a house for them. Mallory didn’t know about it yet, he didn’t want her stressing over it. He wanted to do it and move her in, no worry or work for her.

  Because of all that work he’d missed the other doctor’s visits, but his mom was stepping in to help when Mallory would let her. And to his surprise, Mallory had taken his mother’s offer with a lot of relief.

  She was scared, and he was fucking terrified.

  “Can you see if it’s a boy or a girl?”

  The doctor shook his head, taking the wand from Mal’s stomach. The swishing sound stopped immediately, and he handed Mallory some paper towels to wipe the goop from her stomach. Harlon took the towels and did it himself, catching Mallory’s grin when he did but he ignored it.

  “Baby’s not in the right position today. Maybe next time. Do you want to know?”

  Mallory nodded, and Harlon held his tongue. He liked the idea of it being a surprise, but Mallory wanted to know what to expect. She’d called him old-fashioned the last time they argued about it. Not argued, not really. He couldn’t get too mad at her. He always felt more protective towards her than anything else, and maybe it lessened her worth or something but he just wanted her to be happy.

  “But everything looks good. That heartbeat is strong, and Mommy’s very healthy.”

  Mallory smiled at him now and took his hand. He had the towels in the separate hand so he stilled, looking into her dark eyes. “Thank you for coming with me today.”

  Harlon swallowed, glancing at the doctor who was doing his best to look busy with other things.

  “Of course. I’ll come with you whenever I can.”

  Mallory smiled again, biting her lip.

  “Are you okay?”

  She nodded, then laughed and wiped at her eyes. “I’m fine. I’m hungry, like always.”

  Harlon had to grin. “Then we’ll go get lunch. But that’s all that’s wrong?”

  “Yeah. That’s all.”

  “Okay, let’s go eat.”

  -oOo-

  Tiny shrugged, realizing Knuckles was still waiting for the answer. “I don’t know. I was excited about the baby. I was in love with Mal and...yeah.”

  He was saved from having to answer the next question by a loud rumble, and his ears perked at the approaching roar of straight pipes. Three or four, he’d guess.

  He stood and so did Knuckles, right as a group of four bikes turned the corner and deliberately slowed, their pipes burping loudly as they passed his folk’s place. All four riders were looking at them, and while there was no outright hostility in the look, something made the back of Tiny’s neck go cold.

  They kept the eye contact until it would have meant running their wheels into a curb then pulled off loudly, throttles revving, and were gone.

  “What the fuck?” Knuckles mumbled, having read the same name from the kuttes that Tiny did. “Did you know about this?”

  Tiny shook his head. “Nah. I haven’t been home much, but...shit. That’s weird.”

  Knuckles’ whistle was low. “Dirty Rats in the hometown all of a sudden. I wonder if they have a clubhouse here or if they’re passing through.”

  Tiny’s brow was furrowed so tight it was giving him a headache. “We’re pretty far off the highway here. If they’re not living here they got business here somewhere.”

  “Weird that they rolled by, like they knew we were here.”

  Houses to both sides were quiet. Across the street, ditto. But he had a very uneasy feeling about the neighbors all of a sudden.

  “Better keep an eye out for anyone questionable hanging around.”

  Tiny nodded his agreement. “And I’ll call it in to Jayce. What with the way things are between us and the Rats, I’m starting to wish we’d packed a little heavier.”

  -oOo-

  Figuring out how the laminate flooring worked and getting into a groove took a few hours. Once they were on a bit of a roll with their system there was another grumbling cacophony outside the house, but this one stopped right out front.

  Tiny moved to the front door, which stood open to let some breeze through the screened window. Then he had to grin.

  “You gotta be kidding me.” With a laugh he shoved the screen door open and stood on the stoop, arms crossed. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  In front of the cluster of bikes parked diagonally at the curb, Jayce pulled off his helmet with a smile and made his way across the grass up the lawn. “Told you we’d be here.”

  “You were running protection today.”

  “Already done,” Tank piped up, falling into place at Jayce’s right like that was the only spot he knew to stand in. “Came right here. Sent the women to the hotel with Tims and Rusty. Even Trinny’s coming in tomorrow for the funeral.”

  The tickle in his throat was likely from dust.

  That was the thing people might not get about a club like this; it didn’t matter that Harlon Senior was only Tiny’s father. He’d raised one of them so that made him the uncle to the entire club and their families. The fact that Trinny was travelling made his heart cramp. He’d always liked Trinny, and when she walked out on Jayce it had felt personal, even to Tiny. If Jayce was a brother then his wife was a sister, and she’d turned her back on all of them.

  But she was coming out for this.

  “What are we up to here?” Jayce went on, pulling his riding gloves off.

  “They rode their bikes to Colorado in November!” Knuckles cried, inserting himself in the conversation by physical means. He accepted the fist-clasp from Jayce then gave Tiny the stink eye.

  “They had to worry about two days of forecast. I had no idea how long we’d be gone,” Tiny defended himself, and Knuckles scoffed. Then he answered his boss. “We just wrapped up a day of laminate flooring installation.”

  “What the fuck?”

  “Old man left me a to-do list. In his own way.”

  “You need help?”

  “We’ve been at it all day, almost done. Get it finished first thing in the morning.” Tiny chuckled. “Then I have to fix the fence.”

  “The fence?”

  T
iny shook his head. “Two things the realtor wanted done to sell it: flooring and fence. This morning a truckload of fence boards were dropped off, and then I found the flooring in the garage.”

  “Crafty old bastard,” Tank shared the old man’s sense of humor.

  “Tell me about it.”

  “Well, we got about half an hour before the women descend on the place with food,” Jayce said, checking his watch.

  “I was just about to open some beer.”

  “Perfect timing!” Knuckles shouted, yanking on the sleeve of Tank’s jacket. “Strong and silent here is about as thrilling to hang out with as a potted plant.”

  Tank laughed at that, then Tiny was enveloped in back-slaps and side hugs from the rest of his brothers. He led them to the fridge for refreshments and then out to the deck, the only place with enough furniture for people to sit on. There was an old wooden picnic table, wooden benches ringing the low wooden platform and a few lawn chairs.

  As advertised, within thirty-five minutes there were car doors slamming in front of the house. Tiny met his new visitors at the door, accepting a tight hug from Gertie, also holding Davie, and Rose, who was juggling bags of what smelled like Chinese takeout. Sharon was always more reserved but she still offered a hug and he smiled, returning the awkward but genuine gesture. Behind her stood Adeel, quietly gazing up at him with dark eyes, one hand holding onto Sharon’s purse strap. His other hand was clutching another paper bag of food that matched the one Sharon was holding.

  “You remember Tiny, don’t you, Adeel?”

  The kid stared a split second longer then hid behind Sharon’s leg.

  “Sorry,” she breathed, reaching down to hold her hand over the kid’s. Like she was reassuring him. “He’s really shy today.”

  Tiny shrugged. “No worry. How’s he been otherwise? I’m surprised they let you take him out of state.”

  Now when Sharon smiled it was wide, warm and beautiful. “I’ve been granted foster parent status for him. Filled the paperwork yesterday to adopt.”

  Tiny’s eyebrows went up. “Holy shi—I mean, really?”

  Sharon nodded. “Yeah. I’m really excited.”

  “Well, congrats. You deserve it.”

  She nodded, then tugged Adeel into the house. The kid kept wary eyes up at Tiny as they passed.

  Then it was Trinny walking up the stoop, and as the kids attacked his legs he ruffled their hair, then crouched to give Libby a big noisy kiss on the cheek that she declared “Gross!” in a high-pitched squeal before darting around him into the house screaming for her dad. Trinny watched with a little sad smile on her face. She snagged Jayce Junior and handed him a large greasy bag before letting him off the leash.

  When Tiny straightened he held his arms out and she walked right into them. He folded her up, resting his cheek on top of her head. “Miss you, Trinny,” he mumbled.

  She patted his back. “Been missing you guys, too.”

  “Everything okay up in Washington?”

  “Great.”

  He nodded then let her step back before catching her by the arms. “I’m glad you came.”

  She smiled brilliantly. “Of course. I’m so sorry about your dad.”

  Tiny nodded. “Thanks. You need me to help carry anything else in?”

  “No, that’s everything. They took it all.”

  He led her into the house to the fridge, opened a beer for her, then they joined the rest of the group on the deck. It could have been the clubhouse, Buck and Gertie’s, or even Jayce’s place for all the difference location made. Libby and Jayce Junior were tearing around the grass like maniacs while Adeel watched, perched on a bench so close to Sharon’s hip it was like they were joined. Tank had pulled his old lady onto his lap on the lawn chair he’d taken up, and Tiny worried about the integrity of the chair but it held. Tank’s hand was on his old lady’s belly, rubbing it in a proprietary and affectionate way.

  Tiny had to smile. He remembered that—he’d always needed to have his hand on Mallory’s stomach while she was baking their baby. He’d once told her he was jealous that she was always connected to the little sprout. No matter where she went, she had a tie to their unborn child. So whenever they were together, he wanted his hand on her stomach, reassuring himself that all was well. That was the reason they’d both felt it the first time the baby kicked.

  There was a loud squeal, ear-splitting, and with a smile Tiny watched Buck hand Davie back to his mom. Buck was frowning but Gertie laughing, patting her man’s cheek once her son was draped on her chest. Buck rubbed his son’s back and kissed his wife quickly, moving out of the way so she could sit.

  Trinny was sitting on Sharon’s other side, getting acquainted, probably. They hadn’t been around each other much, but Trinny would want to get a read on any women with an eye on being an old lady. That familiar sight made him hopeful that she’d be back.

  The thought made him feel old. He wasn’t the president, hadn’t even been in the club for the longest, but looking out over the yard he felt almost...fatherly to all the people gathered there. He wanted them together, happy, looking out for each other. He needed that sorted out before he...before he was gone.

  He rubbed at a sudden pain in his chest that had more to do with his own bizarre thoughts than anything physical. Next to him Jayce knocked his elbow, bringing him out of his stupor.

  “Looking pretty deep in thought there, Tiny.”

  “Yeah.” The perfect cover came to him, quick as a wink. “Spaz stay in Markham?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Can you get him to check on any Dirty Rat association in Colorado?”

  “You expecting trouble?”

  “A few rode by earlier today. Gave us a pretty good stare-down. Now you guys showing up...might look like a show of force. Which of course it isn’t but they don’t know that.”

  Jayce nodded, pulling out his phone. “Yeah. I’ll get Spaz on it. I know Dad said the Bastard Banshees used to have a couple chapters in Colorado, but they’re all gone now.”

  “We’re pretty far from friends,” Tiny added. “Yeah, I know.”

  “Fuck,” Jayce paused looking out over the yard.

  “It’s all right,” Tiny assured him. “They’re all well protected. And I know the county Sheriff.”

  “You do?”

  “Went to school with the guy. I think he’s clean. If we need to call him in, I want to make sure we don’t cause him any grief.”

  “I’ll keep it in mind. We’re not carrying right now, but the bags at the hotel...”

  Tiny clapped Jayce’s shoulder. “Might be nothing, but...”

  Jayce looked back at his phone. “I’ll get Spaz on it.”

  Chapter Eleven

  The skirt was layered, black, flared away at the knees. Usually Mallory hated this style, she felt it made her look wider somehow, but for a funeral a slinky wrap-around dress might be a bit much. The top was long-sleeved with a wide neck that went shoulder-to-shoulder. Her heels were, of course, also black with a strap that wrapped around the ankle.

  After too much time spent thinking about it, she pulled her hair up and fastened it at the back of her head. It was a bit messy-looking but the front hung down on both sides of her face like it was on purpose. Plus, her hair was smooth today and wind wasn’t part of the forecast. For jewelry she chose her grandmother’s pearls and matching earrings.

  She’d asked for the afternoon off from the bakery, so she’d worked a God-awful morning shift instead. Money was money, after all. Now here she stood, basically asleep on her feet, stressing about what she was wearing to Harlon Gray Senior’s funeral.

  She left her make-up light—just a bit of shadow, blush, and tinted lip gloss—and transferred the essentials from her usual bag into a small black clutch. Then she was out the door, looking pretty and feeling a bit silly climbing into her old rust bucket.

  The service was a grave-side one, and as she crossed the soft, still-green grass to where she thought the plot was she ha
d the thought that they were lucky on the weather. The sun was shining bright but it had that edge to it—the edge that meant winter was closer than you thought.

  She found the plot from a few rows away. There were a few flower splays set up on stands next to a grave marker, a priest of some denomination standing to the side. On the other side were a few chairs, two of which were taken up by a few women that she recognized as staff from the home.

  They nodded hello then went back to their whispered conversation. Mallory counted eight chairs and wanted to weep. Yes, suicide was a touchy subject but the thought of only eight people realizing how wonderful this man was made her want to sob.

  She took a chair in the second row, on the end. At the other end sat a man in a Sheriff’s department uniform, hat on his lap. She recognize him as Sheriff Wexler after a moment, and she really hoped this wouldn’t mean trouble for Harlon.

  She checked the time. She was ten minutes early, even with all her agonizing over clothing. Before she could worry over what it meant that she showed up before Harlon Junior had, there was a mighty sound and the assembly jumped as one, then laughed at their own nerves.

  Three motorcycles pulled to a stop on the little cemetery road, followed by a black Ram that she recognized, and then another black SUV. Behind that four more bikes pulled up and parked. The rumble was amazing—she could almost imagine it was shaking the ground. When the noise was killed it made the quiet of the cemetery even deeper.

  The door of the truck opened and Harlon climbed down. Her breath caught just at the sight of him, which was stupid. He circled the front of the truck to the passenger seat as the rear door of the extended cab opened, and his friend, Knuckles, eased out of the truck. Like Harlon, he was in jeans and heavy-looking boots. His long-sleeved shirt wasn’t a button-down, however, and that’s where the similarities ended.

  People were spilling out of the SUV as well. Mallory was surprised to see women and children being joined by the men who had dismounted their bikes. One of them swung a pretty little blonde girl up to his hip, his arm swallowed by the dark pink puffiness of her skirt. The bow in her hair matched. Another one of them cradled an infant to his chest while a gorgeous redhead took his free arm as they began walking.