Page 20 of Tangled Threats on the Nomad Highway
A message from Retro had come in during thenight, the vibration of his phone signaling the communication. Nowreading it a second time in the app installed on the computer,Einstein shook his head.
Baker, Florida. A tiny town not far inlandfrom the Gulf Coast, it held nothing to pull the Bama Bastards.
Except.
He snorted and leaned back, scratching alongthe edge of his jaw, scruff bristly against his fingertips.
Except it was the home of a Rebel Wayfarerschapter officer, Truck. And a frequent vacation spot of anotherRWMC officer, Gunny, recently petitioned to become a nomad. Thatknowledge had set tiny seeds growing in Einstein’s brain. In thenext few hours, tiny Baker would become the new location of an RWMCchapter, folding in those two men as well as members from a varietyof clubs—including the Bastards.
At least that was the plan for now.Shitchanges with the wind.
Rolling his eyes, he flipped back to theranks of camera videos and looked at each closely. Reassured thatno bad actors waited outside, he exited the software and closed thelaptop with a click as he rose from the table. Mug refilled, hedumped the rest of the old coffee, then set up a new pot for Trinato kick off when she woke.
Disarming the back door with the new codehe’d input hours earlier, Einstein stepped outside and walkedcloser to the garage, peering through the large window in the lastbay at a scatter of bike parts. Retro encouraged members to work ontheir rides here, and most of the men took him up on the offer.Einstein thought this might be Mudd’s project bike, something he’dbeen sourcing parts for over the past few months, broadcasting bothhis enjoyment and frustration to anyone who’d listen.
Phone in hand, he tapped into the app, thenconnected with Retro’s information, waiting through the silenceuntil the speaker beeped. Voicemail. Didn’t matter. He woulddeliver his update regardless.
“Hey, man, had a visitor last night.Chulpayev dropped by. He provided intel on the asks swirling aroundScar. The Italians are going after family. Franco’s missing,Dominic’s in the crosshairs, and if he balks, sounds like they’lldeal as they usually do and then go after the brother. Chulpayevhad info about Scar’s mother that was interesting and might providea solid lead on this mystery family member. I want to track itdown, man. Would require a road trip or two, so I’ll wait for yourword.”
He swallowed, hoping the sound didn’t pickup on the phone. “But I want this. The brother, he’s in the life,man, but sounds like he’s at odds with how Scar runs things. Mightexplain why he’s not a MDMC member and is in Montana instead. Iwant this, Retro. Nomad makes the most sense. Know we don’tnormally patch for this, but I’ll do whatever you want, man. Callme back when you can. Oh, and get this, Chulpayev had the securitycode. I’ve got that locked down, brother. Got your back, always.Glad you got there safe, and fuck—sounds like you’ve got your workcut out for you there. Who the fuck are you going to pitch to theRWMC wolves, man? Still Monday? I can’t see him or anyone elsewanting to pick up and move away. Glad that’s all on you. Be safe,brother.”
Disconnecting, he stood and watched therippling water of the pool until lights came on in the mainhouse.
Through the windows, he saw Trina pause atthe coffeepot. She read his note and was turning towards the doorwhen she paused and looked behind herself. Arms extending, shecaught Saya in midleap, hugging him tightly against her body with asway. Jimmy followed, slower, yawning, but he went to Trina for hisown hug. Retro’s daughter was the last into the kitchen, and likeher brothers, Nelda made greeting Trina with arms wrapped aroundher neck her first stop.
Pain sliced through him, and with Dolph’scryptic statements fresh in his mind, Einstein studied thefeelings, dissecting them.
“Nope, still hurts like fuck.”
***
Marian
The sound of motorcycles seemed unending,the machines rolling into the driveway every few minutes over thepast hour. Individual men, groups of them with clubaffiliations—each time Marian glanced out the window, the sea ofblack leather had grown.
Well-mannered—and she didn’t know why thatsurprised her—they first greeted Truck, then Gunny, and then eachman presented himself at the kitchen door asking for Vanna. Talland broad, or thin and small—it didn’t matter, their arms wereopened wide for the woman who seemed to mother everyone, even thosewho were arguably older than she was.
Each interaction was a revelation forMarian. Some of the men spoke to Vanna as if they’d talked lastweek, comfortable and easy in their conversations. A few of themhad remarked on the time passing since their last meeting, butstill easy with their treatment of Vanna. And she gave it back tothem as much as they dished it out. Snark and sarcasm were likesubtext languages, defining their connections.
Some of the men clearly held more of Vanna’sheart, and when Marian recognized one from the photos arrayed onthe living room wall, she paid closer attention. Blackie pulled herclose, and Vanna went willingly as they whisper-talked aboutsomeone named Peaches, who would be following soon—of course Marianhad come to realize that soon might not mean today, but two weeksfrom now, or a month—and Blackie claimed Vanna’s son as his own,something Marian didn’t think was true, but showed again howinterwoven this kind of found family could be. The affectionbetween the two was sweet and strong and didn’t diminish when Truckmade his way up behind Vanna, wrapping his arms around her chest totug her against his strong frame. Blackie didn’t change the way hespoke to her at all, and Marian understood their friendship wasn’tsomething they tried to hide. Vanna had love for both men, indifferent ways, and was proud to be their focus of attention.
Then Gunny had arrayed himself at Vanna’sside, and that affection had expanded to include him, highlightinghow right Marian was in her assessment.
What would it be like to have friends likethat?
For the next few hours, she’d experimented.Hovering close to Sharon when she accompanied Gunny outside, Marianhad been introduced to a multitude of men. Bikers in leather anddenim, with long hair or short, bearded or smooth-shaven—they wereunfailingly polite in a sweet way. Confidence oozed out of everyman, and when Gunny would tell his story of meeting her, they eachlooked at her differently. Not bad different, not like the pastor’swife had the few times Daddy’s marks had been on visible skin.
The different they offered was moresupportive. Gunny would say she’d been in a “bad situation,” andwithout asking for any specifics, the men would stand taller, adopta more alert posture. It was as if each man took her safety uponthemselves and had immediately embraced her in their inner circleof people worth protecting.
A few of the men had asked for more details,and Gunny would wait for her slow nod before responding. Then he’dexplain about her and Myrt’s father being a “douchenozzle” or“worse than a creek turd” and gloss over the fact he’d sold one ofhis children, then supplied two more of them to a heartless old manwho’d proven ruthless and cruel, vicious in his treatment of Myrt,Luke, and Thad. He’d focus on Marian’s rescue and emphasize hownone of the siblings would ever be going back to the hell they’dlived through.
After hearing Gunny’s rendition at least adozen times, Marian had to excuse herself, retreating to theupstairs bedroom. Behind the closed door, cupping both hands overher open mouth, Marian had screamed in horror. She let therealization sink in that as bad as her life had become, she’dclearly escaped the worst the mountain had to offer by not havingto go to Sallabrook’s home. Unwanted emotions flooded through her,rushing along until her ears buzzed. Hands shaking, she admitted toherself that the unwarranted jealousy she’d harbored for her sisterso long had shown how ignorant she’d been.
“I would have helped her.” A broken muttersplit the air, and Marian flinched from the sound of her own voice.“I swear, I would have. I didn’t know.”
“No one’s blaming you, honey.”
She whirled, stumbling away from the door.Slowly Gunny’s face swam into focus, and Marian’s knees unhinged,toppling her into a pile. He’d come in behind her and heardeverything. “Oh God.”
