Page 26 of Caution to the Wind
Rooster swung onto his bike at the front of our formation and let out a low, growlin’ whoop of joy as he gunned the engine and darted out into the night. He was a vet, too. But unlike Cedar and me, he wasn’t the kinda man who could leave war behind. He’d always thirst for the next battle, yearn for the blood of another man sprayin’ across his cheeks, wet against his hands.
Violence was his language and he refused to be muted.
“I don’t like this, brother,” Cedar said as he put on his night goggles. “I didn’t sign up for this shit. When Bat used to talk about MC life, it wasn’t like this.”
“What’re you gonna do?” I demanded. “The only way outta this life is through death or excommunication. You want your tatt cut outta your flesh?”
“Maybe,” he snapped back. “I’d rather have an ugly scar than a Chinese bullet through my fuckin’ skull. Maybe we should go above Rooster’s head. Zeus is the president of the mother chapter. What do you think he would say about a club war against a fuckin’ nationwide triad?”
Nothin’ good. But goin’ over Rooster’s head would mean losin’ ours if he ever found out.
“Let me talk to Old Dragon before we do anythin’ crazy. He’s got old connections with the triad. Maybe we can broker some kinda sit-down,” I grunted and kicked my bike into gear to follow the trail of dust into the rows of crops. “If not, I’ll call Zeus Garro. We’re dead if this war comes to a head anyway. I’d rather be dead for tryin’ to keep the peace than by divin’ into the chaos.”
I had a kid to feed and love. Unlike some MCs, Rooster hadn’t taken a vote from the brothers before throwin’ down tonight. He’d set a club war into motion I had no fuckin’ interest in. I was a part of the club for one reason and one reason only.
Revenge against Kate’s murderer.
Yet somehow, over the last four years, my mission had become muddled by the everyday chores and challenges of club life. Sure, they had their connections in the underworld, but it seemed the Seven Song triad was smarter than most, as elusive as mist dispersin’ as soon as I got close. It was gettin’ harder and harder to remember why retribution was worth the price of the soul I was slowly losin’ to the club.
HENNING
The house was litup when I pulled into the cracked asphalt driveway and cut the engine, but it was quiet when I unlocked the door and stepped into the small front hall. It was late, and Cleo was an early-to-bed, early-to-rise kinda girl. She’d be asleep.
But there was a quality to the silence, a hoverin’ wakefulness that alerted me to the fact that someone was sittin’ up for me. Lin lived close by, but she didn’t live with us, and she wouldn’t be waitin’ up for me this late.
I sighed heavily in resignation and walked into the kitchen off the hallway.
As expected, Mei sat curled in an uncomfortable wooden chair at our Formica dinner table wedged into the corner of the small space. Knees to her chin, hair curtainin’ her black jeans, she had her head tilted toward the sketchbook clutched in one black-fingered hand. Her pencil hovered over the page, the tip attached to a heavily shaded face that looked remarkably like Cleo mid-laughter. Her eyes rose to me as I entered, darker than the midnight shadows beyond the window.
“You’re bleeding,” she said immediately, eyes trackin’ me, sharp as a mother’s fingers pluckin’ at her child’s unruly clothes.
It was her turn to sigh as she unfurled, the sketchbook thumpin’ forgotten to the tabletop, and walked across the cold laminate on the balls of her feet to my side. She’d always walked like that, not quite the gait of a dancer, but somethin’ like it, a ready grace that came from years of practicin’ martial arts and gymnastics. When she reached for my side, I swiped her hands away with one sweep of my palm and grunted. Her lips rolled beneath her teeth to keep the sharp words she wanted to say in her mouth. Instead, she watched me hiss as I took off my cut, tossin’ it on the table. An offer to help was there stamped on her face, but I ignored it. I was a grown man and the one who’d got myself into this mess in the first place. I’d deal with the consequences myself.
“‘Mei Zhen Marchand displays reckless independence,’” she quoted softly as she planted her hands on the countertop and hopped up to sit there, feet drummin’ softly against the cabinets beneath her. “‘When she disagrees with her superiors and her peers, nothing will curb her tongue. She speaks up loudly for what she believes is the truth or what she believes is right. Even if she is wrong, even if it would be kinder and smarter to stay silent.’”
“You been goin’ to those fortune tellers again?” I asked dryly. The makeshift bandage, an old army tee that was once black and now grey, was stuck to the wound, and it hurt like a bitch to rip it free.
“You oaf,” Mei hissed, jumpin’ down from the counter to shove me into the chair opposite the one she’d been occupyin’. As soon as I was down, she turned on her heel and went into the hall bathroom to grab the large first aid kit I kept under the sink. “It was one of the comments in my last report card,” she finally explained her earlier comment. “They make it sound like a bad thing. Seeking the truth. But you and I both know few things are nobler than that.”
I snorted. “I’m hardly noble, Rocky.”
The dimple in her left cheek popped into view as she smiled, head ducked to partially cover the expression from me as she reentered the kitchen. “You might drive a Harley instead of riding a white horse, but that doesn’t make you any less noble. I don’t know many men who would raise another man’s daughter better than his own. Who would sacrifice everything again and again to give her the best life he could.” Her lips thinned in self-mockery. “A man who’d put up with his stepdaughter’s best friend, too.”
She plunked the kit on the table beside me and retrieved what she needed with the efficiency of a military doctor.
My hand landed heavily on top of hers, so much bigger I could have swallowed her entire hand in one palm. She seemed startled by the contact before settling. I made sure she was lookin’ me in the eye before I told her the truth, “Cleo and I couldn’t have survived losin’ Kate without you. Don’t sell yourself short.”
She didn’t have a response for that, but I wasn’t surprised. Mei didn’t like talkin’ about her own emotional shit, she preferred to pry it out of others instead. I squeezed her hand, frustrated with my lack of eloquence and her lack of perceptiveness. Lately, I couldn’t shake the feelin’ that I was lettin’ her down, disappointin’ her somehow. She’d become more and more withdrawn as Daiyu grew sicker, and nothin’ I did seemed to bring her the solace she needed.
She claimed scissors from the metal box and proceeded to cut my tee from collar to hem in order to get at my wound. The pieces of the shirt fell to the floor around us when she was done. Luckily, Cleo always ran cold, so it was toasty warm in the kitchen even at this time of night.
“I can stitch it myself,” I told her mildly, but the fight had gone outta me.
I was fuckin’ tired.
The years since Kate died seemed to drag, dark but for the presence of Cleo and Mei constantly pullin’ smiles out of my dried-up heart. The truth was, Kate wasn’t the love of my life. It was no secret. I’d married her to save her, and in doin’ so, she’d saved me. Given me a family worth livin’ for when the only one I’d ever really known was ripped away from me after I left the military. We weren’t a relationship built on physicality and passion, but did that really matter? We’d chosen each other.Savedeach other.
’Til I’d fallen down on the job and failed to save her that night at the carnival.