Page 17 of Fury
Still trying to make sense out of everything, Bethy mused, “What I don’t get is why he brought Carrie and Mica. If he had known who I was, it would make more sense. I’d understand me and Willa, because, well”—she pointed at herself—“sister and”—she held her hand out towards Willa—“girlfriend. But why the other two?”
That was when Davy upended her world, showing her that he’d been keeping secrets as big as hers were. “Mica’s been important to me for a long time. A long time. Since the day I met her.” He paused a breath, then said, “Carrie was my boy’s mother.”
Davy has a son. Like her, but not, because from the way he spoke, she knew that his son was in his life.Not like me. “What? Your...boy? You have a boy? Davis Mason, you have a son? I have a nephew?” She knew her voice was loud and saw Willa stirring but couldn’t stop, the pain in her chest fierce, consuming her.
“Well, yeah. I’ve been meaning to tell you—”
As if a child were disposable. A casual afterthought, when to Bethy it would have been a cherished being. “You’ve been…meaning to tell me? How long have you known about this boy?” The look on Davy’s face was unreadable for a minute. Then pain flashed across his features and in that instant Bethy wanted to pull all her words back. He hadn’t meant it that way, and the idea that she could believe he would had hurt him. Changing tactics, Bethy pulled on her DJ experience to drive the conversation in a different direction, picking humor as the only possible option. “Does the child have a name, or do you call him Boy? Like the cat you once named Kitty? Boy?”
Davy turned to Willa, murmuring to her, and Bethy saw this as a retreat she couldn’t allow. She’d driven a wedge without realizing and needed to fix it. Jamming her elbow into his ribs, knowing she couldn’t hurt him, she at least gained his attention.
“Well? Tell me now, it’s as good a time as any. I’m a captive audience.” Those were the wrong words to use, and she pulled in an involuntary breath that hitched, any words silenced in her throat. Davy seemed to realize what had happened, because he offered her the boy’s name in return.
“Chase, his name is Chase. I haven’t known about him that long. Carrie kept him a secret until Watcher found out about him and told me.”Watcher, who has a namesake and doesn’t know it, she thought, fighting tears again.
Forcing her lips into a smile, she murmured, “Chase Mason. How old is he?”
“He’s sixteen now.” That hit hard, because he and her Michael were nearly the same age. If she’d known about Chase, she could have spoiled and doted on him like she’d wanted to do Michael.Damn.
“Sixteen? I have a sixteen-year-old nephew? When did you find out?” Still trying to hide her emotions, she reached out and smacked Davy’s shoulder.
Davy asked, “You wanna meet him?”
Time for humor again, B.T. Without hesitating she said, “Well, duh. Aunt Bethy, I kinda like it. What does he think about having an aunt?”
His words were quiet when he admitted, “He doesn’t know about you. Things were fucked up with Sosa.”
The screaming woman. Bethy had seen the bundle loaded into the belly of the plane and knew what it was.Now I know why Luke…her brain stuttered, and she lost the thread of her thought, caught up in what to call her dead nephew.Luke. Morgan. Judge. None of them seemed real.Creepy Guy. Chase’s mom, killed by his cousin.How sad. “Poor guy, and now you’ll have to tell him his mother is dead.” She turned to look down the plane at Watcher, wishing she could tell him.“Some secrets are harder to keep than others.”Ty had told her that, and she hadn’t understood it at the time.Boy, I do now. “I always knew you were a keeper, Michael Otey. Glad you located him, and more than glad you got him to Davy. How long ago did you find him?”
Watcher grinned at her, and she recognized that look on his face. It was the one Tabby would have right before she would suggest something she knew would get both girls in trouble, but didn’t dare do alone.What in the world is he about to say?“Oh, hard to remember. About four years ago? Does that sound right, Mason?”
“Are you kidding me? You—” She whipped her head to look at Davy and realized Willa was grinning at her, glad beyond words to see the expression on the woman’s face. “—have known I had a nephew for four years? And you didn’t think to mention it at any point?”Hypocrite, she thought, remembering the pictures from Michael’s fifteenth birthday his adopted mother had e-mailed her two months before.You’re worse than a liar, Bethany.
***
Fury
He stared at the blank wall. Blank, mirrored, or decorated with priceless art, it wouldn’t have mattered, because Fury didn’t see anything. His vision had gone red, and he was holding onto his control with the barest of grips.
Shooter’s boy, Judge, had taken Bethany. Along with three other women, one name which made him flinch, because he’d known Carrie before she became a pawn in the Outriders’ schemes, back when she was a fresh-faced girl working at her grandmother’s produce stand along the highway. But the information that came closest to pitching him over the edge of his celebrated control was Bethany.
Put his hands on her. Memories of Bethy’s smile as she lay propped on his chest mocked him.“I like you.”His mind put his real name in her mouth instead of the fake one.“I like you, Gabriel Ledbetter.”He knew he’d never hear her say those words.
“Brother, she’s breathing. Mason’s woman is hurtin’, but she’ll be okay. Mason’s bringing his sister back here.” Slowly he swiveled his neck, resting his gaze on Gator, who flinched at whatever he saw on Fury’s face. “Jesus, brother. What the fuck is wrong? He’ll get back, and we’ll keep workin’ our deal. No sweat.”
“Bethy okay?” He wished he could haul those words back, but they were there lying on the air. Trying for damage control, he shifted the question to ask, “Are all the women save Sosa okay?”
“Yeah, they’re okay. They’re bringin’ Sosa’s corpse back.” Gator shrugged. “Myron’s figuring out what to do to deal with that pile of bullshit. They torched the compound, so there shouldn’t be any blowback. But for Mason to give his kid closure, they need to figure out how to deal.”
Fury reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He’d never stopped looking into Tabby’s death, and over the years had found a surprising bit of information that might help them now. He dialed, then put in his security code and waited. A moment later Myron picked up, “Yeah?”
“Clean line?” Might as well ask, since he didn’t understand the technology that’d been handed to him. A bridge between clubs, he knew this was supposed to be a secure way of communication, but using an app to call seemed risky.
“Yeah, talk to me.” Full confidence in his tone, Myron sold his assurance.
“About Sosa. Your problem with what to do.” Myron made a noise. “Got an idea for you to consider, that’s all. There’s a fuckton of wrecks in the mountains around Cynthiana where she lived. Get her in a car and sail it off a turn.” Memories of Tabby’s body edged into his mind, and he shoved them back. “She’ll be so mangled by the time it stops pinwheeling through the trees, it won’t even be questioned that she’s mutilated.”
“Copy that. Good idea.” A hesitation, then came the words he wanted, “Thanks, much appreciated.”
