Page 51 of Cassie
Faynez pushed to her feet and stretched, then fake-yawned again. “I’m headed to bed. I’ll read for a bit, but I’m tired. See you tomorrow.”
“Six, be here.”
She nodded. “Will do, brother of mine.”
“Love you, Faynez.” He reached out and gripped her hand, giving it a squeeze, hoping she’d take that with her so he could be the angel on her shoulder when that computer screen called her name.
She squeezed back and smiled down at him.God, so pretty. She looked just like their mother, and he caught his breath at the grief that ripped through him. “Love you, too.”
He let her stroll up the hallway before he picked up the phone and tapped a message back to Myron.Thanks. Let me know if there’s anything to worry about.He paused, then sent another message.Don’t tell Dad yet. Let’s see what trouble she’s into.
Myron sent back a single letter, but theYblinking at him from the screen was both a message received and agreement to keep the peace for now.
***
Faith
Easing the door closed, Faith waited a moment before she locked it. She listened intently to be certain Sammy wasn’t coming to harass her again, because that was just how he rolled. She wasn’t stupid by any means, and knew dropping the topic of the chat he’d seen earlier was just Sammy biding his time. He would wait, let her get comfortable, make her think he’d forgotten everything, and then ambush her.
Time to take things into my own hands.
With a trembling finger, she touched the button and booted the computer up. Waiting through the cycle was torture, even though logically she knew it was fast. Moments later she was staring at the screen. Faith gave Sammy’s anger one final thought, and then shook her head.He doesn’t run my life. Two clicks later, she’d launched the chat software and an active window was already blinking across the bottom. She touched the bar and it filled the screen with message after message from Drago.
Even as she stared at them, trying to read quickly and still make sense of it all another message slid into place at the top of the window.
Faith, baby? Are you there?
Are you mad at me?
Faith, not Faynez. She liked that even after she’d told him of the baby name her family had given her, he’d never used it. Not once. She was always Faith to him.And him adding baby?She sighed.
Positioning her hands over the keyboard, she slowly typed out her answer. Once she began to tell him the story of her evening, she took a deep breath, pushing down her traitorous feelings at doing something she knew her brother didn’t want.
They carried on, chatting deep into the night, Faith pausing at intervals so he could respond, smiling at how perfect those responses were. How much he got her. Drago just understood everything about her.
Baby. Just the one word made her throat close tightly and she swallowed hard against threatening tears.What can I do?
She told him, and the broadly smiling emoji he sent in response was answer enough.
***
Hoss
The music from the stage swelled louder and spilled over into the narrow strip between the food vendors and up into the campgrounds. This meant the Rebels could sit around their fire and enjoy the band without having to deal with patch chasers down in the crowds. Hoss had decided early on that their attention wasn’t something he’d ever missed, and the next drunk woman who tried to grab his junk might just lose a hand.
Part of it was having an internationally dominant club at the event, which had typically been attended by only local clubs in the past. Many of the local riders had been nearly as starstruck as the club whores for the first few days.Starstruck, or afraid. He snorted. You’d think they expected the Rebels to roll in with guns blazing, machetes at their hips, and movie stars riding bitch.
Occupy Yourself finished their current song, and he gripped the edge of his plastic cup in his teeth so he could applaud with the crowd. The band swung into their next number, and he watched as onstage Chase, Mason’s oldest son, stepped forwards to the edge of the platform, put his foot on a monitor, and ripped into a solo that had the crowd roaring approval. Benny, the band’s lead singer and Slate’s baby brother, stood back by the drum kit chugging a bottle of water.
Last night at dinner, Benny had spun stories of the road that had most of the men shaking their heads, recognizing the tough struggle the band still had to retain their hold on the charts and in popularity. Over the years, their bookings had gone from small, intimate bars to arenas, back to bars, and now they were on the upswing again. Part and parcel of a band, because their sound had to morph with the times while riding the edge of familiar to keep the older fans. There was a science to it, and Hoss had watched as Mason and Bethany had chimed in, showing off their expertise in the area, gained in their years of owning a recording company. He snorted.Iron Indian Records, even the name of the business told part of Mason’s history.
Movement from the side pulled his attention and he watched as Blackie, president of the Freed Riders, stalked up to their camp. He was alone, and that pulled at Hoss’ radar, because up to now every time he’d seen the biker, the man’s old lady had been with him, Peaches. Slate and Peaches had a history Hoss didn’t understand, but Blackie didn’t seem bothered by it.If I knew a man who’d been with Cassie before, I’d sooner kill him before I’d shake his hand. He blew out a huff of air at the thought. “Blackie,” he greeted, receiving a nod in response.
“Good crowd.” Blackie’s voice was deep and gravel-filled, but his expression didn’t match the pleased tone of his words. “Nice turnout for your boys.”
“It is. You Texans know how to put on a hella party, my friend.” He grinned and tried on a drawl he’d lost over the years. “Y’all southerners got taste in music ’n friends.”
Blackie flashed a smile at him, white teeth parting a dark beard generously speckled with gray. “Fuck yeah, we do. You’re Alabama, right?” Hoss nodded. “That’ll do.” Blackie turned towards the stage and the men stood, side by side, listening through the next song. Once applause broke out again, Blackie glanced at him. “I got a question.”
