Page 3 of Tangled Threats on the Nomad Highway
I don’t think I can.
Retro twisted around in his seat andglowered over his back fender to fix Einstein with a long, firmgaze.
Bossman thinks I can do this.
He nodded and rocked the throttle, closingthe distance within seconds. The whole time Retro kept that starepinned on Einstein’s face, until his front wheel was in line besideRetro’s rear wheel. Only then did Retro return his gaze to theroad, opening up in a curve in front of them.
A couple of minutes later, Retro’s left handlifted, palm forwards, and Einstein downshifted as they steeredinto the clubhouse parking lot. Up near the building, he paused,waiting as Retro backed his bike in. Then Einstein took his turn,parking three bikes down the row in what had become his spot, andclearly had been held open and waiting for him, as no fresh wheeltracks disturbed the dust and gravel.
These Bastards.He shook his head ashe removed his helmet and goggles, letting them dangle from thehandlebars by their straps. After standing up off the bike, he tooktwo steps towards Retro to meet him in the middle and wrappedtension-filled arms around his brother.God, this hurts. Whydoes it fucking hurt?“Thank you, Jerry. I didn’t—” Hestuttered, voice cracking on every word. “Fuck, man, justthanks.”
“I got you, brother.” Retro’s hold on himtightened, then released. As Einstein stepped backwards, Retrolightly smacked him on the side of the head. The blow stung in agood way, the physical pain nearly welcome after so much emotionalturmoil. “Wewill always have your back.”
“I know.” Einstein tipped his head to hidethe wave of emotion crashing over him. Thumbnail against his brow,he pressed hard, then sniffed, and sighed heavily. “I know,brother. All I ever need to do is reach out my hand and the clubwill be there. All this is on me, and I get where I fell down. It’sjust fuckin’ hard.” The flight portion of his panic was in fullbloom, and he fought the urge to run, to climb back on the bike andgo fast.
“Did you know my first old lady died in adrive-by? That’s how I’m tied to Petr Volkov. Did you know that bitof my past?”
The segue didn’t make sense, and stillstruggling to contain his emotions, Einstein simply shrugged, notcertain how to respond. Forcing himself to pay attention, heoffered, “Only pieces, brother. Stood in your house as you glareddown Chulpayev. Heard the bits that were tossed around there.”
“She died because her father was ambitious,and it was common knowledge that he was working to hook me deep,even before I met his Clara.” Retro’s throat muscles worked, jawclenching tightly. “MyClara.”
The declaration burst out on a rising tone,and Einstein paid attention as Retro lowered his shoulders,stretching out the fingers of each hand before continuing.
“My first love. I had to say goodbye to herin a fuckin’ ICU, denied my chance to be at her side when shepassed.” Brow deeply furrowed, Retro leaned close, hand onEinstein’s shoulder as he gripped hard. “Itisfuckin’ hard.Consuming. I don’t know your brand of hard, but if it’s anythinglike mine was, it’ll tear you up. Make you wish for peace. Any kindof peace, even one that’s fuckin’ final. Thing is, that peace youmight find will surely leave scars behind for everyone else. Sowhen I say we have you, brother, I mean we fuckin’have you.Good or bad. You get fucked up in your head so bad you can’tbreathe, and we’ll breathe for you. My hand to God on that, man.We’re here, and we’re not goin’ anywhere.”
“All right.” Pressing his lips togethertightly, Einstein stared at the ground. Retro’s scarcely containedanger and pain resonated inside him. Even if he’d been toying withthe idea of bailing and just going home, there was no way he coulddo so after Retro’s speech.Might as well get it all done in anevening.“All right,” he repeated. “Let’s go inside.” Swipingthe back of a hand across his forehead, he cleared his throat andmuttered, “Wanna get out of this heat.”
“Yeah.” Retro sounded surprised, as if he’dbeen ready for more of a fight. “Let’s head in there.” Hehesitated. “You ready, brother?”
“Fuck no.” Einstein’s head wobbled from theforce of his headshake. “Fuck no, I’m not ready for any of this.But I need it, and I know that now.”
“Yeah.” Now Retro’s tone was more sober,resigned. “Yeah, you fuckin’ do,” he said, and pulled open thedoor, gesturing for Einstein to precede him inside.
It took a minute for his eyes to adjust tothe dimness inside, but by the time that had happened, he wassurrounded. Mudd pulled him into an embrace, the shorter mancradling Einstein’s head in his hand, pulling him down for awhispered, “Well met, brother.” Then he was gone, and Marlin tookhis place with another tight hold around his shoulders and a poundagainst his back, and then Crazy Mike stood there, followed byanother member, and another.
Few words were exchanged, no emotionalsentiments delivered, but still the depths of shared pain these menheld resonated deep inside him.Validation’s for parking,hethought, trying to distract his brain, and yet it circled backaround. Understanding that these men realized what he’d lost, kneweven if they had never experienced the same, told him that theywouldn’t hold his months-long silence against him.Maybe it’sjust the support—He cut off that lying thought too. It wasn’tthe way these men supported him that made the club special; it wasthe men themselves. Every one of them had a story, some that likeRetro’s might be surprisingly similar to Einstein’s. Regardless ofthat story, the way each man cleaved to the club and their brotherswas what made the Bama Bastards the best motorcycle club in thestate.Hell, in the nation.
Einstein followed Retro farther into theroom. “Thanks, Retro.”For getting my ass out of the house, forthe ride, for giving a shit, and for forcing me to take off myblinders and see my brothers clearly. Grinning knowingly, Retroflipped a hand at him in dismissal, then lifted two fingers to hismouth and blew out with a piercing whistle.
“Need to unass and get me a fuckin’ beer,prospect. Points to whoever makes it to me first.” Mouth snappingclosed after his verbal challenge, Retro stared at him with a grin,one hand stretched out to the side, waiting. By Einstein’s count,it was less than a minute before a bottle pressed to Retro’s palm,but his president still shook his head. “New boys never gonna liveup to your brand of hustle, brother.” Einstein accepted a bottlefrom the same unfamiliar prospect, nodding his thanks. “Let’s getsettled. Got some shit you’re gonna be interested in, nodoubt.”
Aiming for a cluster of seating along thewall, Retro led the way across the wide room, but even whiletraipsing through the middle of the crowd, Einstein didn’t feellike he was on display, something he’d been worried about. Afterthe greetings near the door, the other members had scattered, goingback to their interrupted activities as conversations slowlyreturned to normal levels. Mudd trailed along with them, a stepbehind Einstein, his presence and location a familiar comfort.
Got my back.He knew that was thesilent message and appreciated how each of the men had handled hisabrupt reentry into their lives. Settling into an overstuffedchair, Einstein propped one boot against the table placed in thecenter of the furniture, watching as Retro and Mudd took their ownseats. “What am I going to be interested in?” Might as well leadwith the teaser Retro had thrown out at him. “And why exactly doyou think I’d be interested?”
“We got a line on Scar.”
Einstein’s lungs quit working, and hestruggled to blow out the breath he’d just sucked down. Throatburning as he choked, head buzzing, he bent double, chin to hischest, and forced out a tiny stream of air.
Scar was also known as Lou, also known asDominic Scarloucci.
Scar, president of the Monster Devils MC,out of Philadelphia. Einstein’s old club, the one he’d taken abeatout from to move his family to Birmingham.
Scar was a man Einstein had last seen monthsago. Eight, to be exact. The man’s mouth had been forming brokenwords of regret that had meant nothing as he’d placed Lauren’s deadbody next to a bound and gagged Einstein. Helpless on the floor ofa van, Einstein could only watch as that was followed by Makayla’stiny form. Both of his girls’ faces had been flushed pink, almostas if they’d been too long under the summer sun, something Laurennever allowed, always slathering sunscreen on their daughter’sdelicate skin.
At some point before the funerals, he’dfound out his girls had succumbed to unintentional carbon monoxidepoisoning. They’d been transported to Florida separate fromEinstein, so he’d only seen the rusted-out car once, but the memorywas enough for him to assume a faulty exhaust system. Parked insidea building or somewhere out of view and reach from the wind,however it had happened—and no matter the men holding them captivehadn’t intended it—his wife and daughter had died.
Lauren’s lips had been bright red. Heremembered that in his dreams. His dead wife’s voice issued frombetween lips that looked like she was ready to go out on the town.“Why?”And damn him, but he had no answer.
