Page 38 of Cassie
Mason pulled the door back to the original position, leaving it cracked to allow a stream of light into the boy’s room. He passed by the next door with just a tap of his finger, hearing the echo from inside marking the emptiness within. Chase had moved out on his own a while ago, and the change still bothered Mason.
He made his way to the kitchen and stood, hips canted to the side. Moving slowly, methodically in a way that showed his mind was elsewhere engaged, he filled a small glass with water. Checking on his family had settled him somewhat, but the dream still followed him. In his head he still could hear Morgan talking and Shooter yelling, screaming at him about their mother. Shooter had ridden straight through from Little Rock to Adken, stopping only to call contacts who had backed up the story Mason had fed him.
“What the fuck did you do to Mama?” Shooter’s shouts rang through the tiny coffeehouse. “Did you kill her?”
“No, boy. You know what happened to Crystal.” Morgan’s voice held a tone of patient long-suffering, not something Mason was accustomed to hearing from the man. “You saw her.”
“I saw what you wanted me to see.” There was a hard slam and Mason felt Bones jerk in response. He held out a hand in a signal to hold and from his peripheral vision saw Bones nod. “You brought your trick pony in and I rode that motherfucker. I rode the hell out of it, didn’t I?”
“What do you want from me?” A clink of a coffee cup hitting the top of a table was almost swallowed by Morgan’s words. “What in the hell do you want from me this time?”
“I want the truth. That’s all I ever wanted.” Boot leather scuffed the floor and Mason inched forwards, putting his eye to the crack between the doors. He caught a flash of Shooter stalking past, headed closer to where Morgan sat. The coffeehouse windows offered a reflected view, and he stared at the standoff. Shooter was arched over the older man, his posture striving for intimidating. Morgan, on the other hand, looked far from impressed, kicked back in the chair as if he were seated at his own kitchen table.
“God, I fuckin’ regret this.” Morgan’s head swung back and forth slowly, as if he were exhausted. “Out of my whole life, there’s really only one thing I wish I could undo.”
“What do you regret?” Shooter shuffled closer, his hands lifted, waving wildly, gun clutched in the fingers of one hand. “Huh? What?”
“Should have taken Judge from you sooner. Kept him from your poison.” Morgan lifted his cup, quickly reaching out to grasp and hold Shooter’s arm when he would have slapped it from his grip. “Jesus, boy. Stop your shit already. You never were fast enough or tough enough to take me.”
Enough. Mason gestured and knew without looking that Bones would have his back. He always did. He shoved the doors open and stepped inside, shifting to the side to make room for Bones, his true brother in the room. Didn’t matter if Shooter was blood, Bones was his brother. “Morgan,” he addressed the only man who’d ever come close to matching him in long game strategies. Shooter he ignored.
“Mason, good to see you, son.” A slow and knowing smile slipped across his face. “Damn good to see you.”
Mason had given up denying the parentage link, but this might have been the first time Shooter had put the puzzle together, because he turned from Mason, gave him his back, and faced their father with a horrified look on his face. “Is it true? All the shit I’ve been hearing? Is it all true?”
Mason took a step towards the pair. “What are you doing here?”
Morgan didn’t glance at Shooter, his gaze steady on Mason’s face. He hadn’t flinched at facing three weapons, hadn’t risen to his feet or raised his voice. Almost clinically Mason studied his posture and bearing, drawing correlations between this man and how he’d chosen to lead for so many years. Once he let doubt slip in about who his real blood father was, Mason had spent a lot of time staring up at his bedroom ceiling thinking. The man he’d been raised to believe had spawned him would have been on his feet, blustering, shouting in response, trying to control the situation.Is it because I wanted to be what the old man wasn’t, or because of who Morgan is?
Gesturing at the coffee cup on the table, Morgan smiled and said, “Having a cup of java.”
“Not what I’m asking, and you know it.” Mason shook his head, casting the twisting thoughts aside. Time enough for that later. Right now he needed to understand what had pushed Morgan to keep his mother from him, from Bethany, and especially why he had secreted her away from Shooter. “How often do you visit Ma?”
Shooter spun and stared at him, mouth gaping wide. Morgan just grinned, this expression sly and proud. “I knew you’d find her. Once you caught wind of the girl, you’d have to put eyes on her. That’s just who you are. Did you talk to Crystal yet, Mason? Don’t be afraid if you did. She’s still your momma in there. She just gets confused easy like.”
“What’s special about those five women? Why are you holding them prisoner like this? What did they do to deserve being taken away from family and home, from people they loved?” All the info Myron had found showed each of the five women housed in the facility south of town were either dead and buried, or had been missing so long they’d been declared dead. “Why? And why do you come back here to torture them? What kind of excuses do you make in your own mind to justify this?”
“What in the hell are you talking about? Five women? What does that have to do with Daddy?” Shooter took a step sideways and placed himself between Mason and Morgan. “With Momma?”
“You know why I had to do what I did.” Morgan shook his head. “Kept them safe. Learned my lesson with John, you know what I mean? Learned my fucking lesson. If a body chooses this life, that’s one thing. Forcing it on ’em? That’s a death sentence. Every time. Don’t make the same mistakes I did, Mason. Keep your family well away from what you do, how you live. First John, then Luke. Proof is in the pudding, and that spoiled early, didn’t it?”
“And Justine? What about her?” Mason’s mind was reeling, trying to keep up with all the implications of what Morgan had revealed.
“I know you get it, son. You did the same with sweet Bethany. She’s making her own choices now, and that’s on her, but at least you gave her the space to be her own person. John here, I didn’t know enough to know better. Thought if I pulled him in tight and early, lined him up to take the weight of the crown when it was time to pass it on, he’d be my legacy. Carry on in the family name, so to speak.” Morgan shook his head. “John,” he addressed Shooter for the first time. “I asked you once, if you could be anything in the world, what would you be. You were fifteen, sixteen, something right in there. Nearly a man grown. Do you remember what you answered me?” Shooter shook his head and Morgan smiled at him. “You told me ‘Anything but this.’ I didn’t listen. Arrogant to the point of damaging. I held you tight and watched as you lost your sense of right and wrong, never thinking it was me doing it to you. I’m sorry, son.” He shifted his gaze to Mason. “Did right by you, even if I didn’t know it. Crystal was smarter than me when she hid you away. It took me a bit, but I learned. I learned, and followed her example. Hell, even Kim was smarter than me, wasn’t she, John?”
“What? Kim? What does she have to do with this?” Shooter looked confused. “She stole my girl from me, took years to find her.”
“And look at Eddie now. Aren’t you proud of her, John? She had a choice and she’s exercised it, keeping her life free from ours for so long. Made something of herself. And now, she’s a good old lady, ain’t she?”
Shooter nodded. “The best. Wish she’d hooked herself to someone other than a Rebel, but I’m proud of her.” He shook his head. “What did Mason mean about five women? What’s up with that?”
“Might as well have been your hand that held the gun to Luke’s head, though.” Morgan sighed. “Or mine. We did that to him.” He stared down at the empty cup. “I regret that more than I can say.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Shooter waved his gun through the air. “I didn’t kill my boy.” Breathing heavily, he turned and pointed at Mason. “He did. Motherfucker killed my boy.”
“Don’t make my mistakes, Mason. It’s hard to let go, but you gotta. For their sakes.” Morgan’s chin worked side to side for a moment, then he said, “You gotta ’ware the world we live in, Mason. Your children, breathin’ air and not yet born, they’ll always be a pawn for someone. Keep ’em safe.”
“That a threat, old man?” Leather creaked beside him and he knew Bones’ stance had shifted too. Prepared and ready for whatever Morgan was willing to bring.
