Page 92 of Caution to the Wind

“You’re one to talk. How the fuck did you know about the raccoon today?” he demanded.

“Oooh.” I decided if he could pretend to be casual, I could too. I adjusted on the bed, sprawling across the pink sheets, hair a wild black aura around my head, arms propped beneath the pillow. “Well, obviously, my real motive in moving all the way to Small Town, Canada, was to terrify the local shopkeepers, so I woke up early, trapped a ’coon, sliced and diced it, and put the pieces around town like a macabre scavenger hunt.”

“Cut the shit,” he snapped, stepping forward as if he wanted to stop me physically.

I wished he would.

Though, the Henning I’d known had never been so quick to anger, even with me. He’d always been steady, with a gravitas that made him even keel even in the wildest circumstances.

“I don’t know what to tell you. I didn’t have anything to do with it.”

His eyes narrowed. Maybe to someone else, he would have seemed terrifying looming in the shadows with that dark hat pulled low, his leather cut proclaiming him a 1%er, the hatchet sheathed at his hip. But I hadn’t seen him in nearly a decade, and was I thirsty for the sight of him, to catalogue all the ways he’d changed and the ways he hadn’t. I wished hopelessly that he’d just rest there for a while and let me sketch him.

“Mei.” He clapped his hands together to get my attention. “I said, you know who did.”

I shrugged. “No, I don’t. But given the threat was in Chinese, it seems viable it was one of the triads.”

“Which one?”

I rolled my eyes. “Again, Ido not know. What I do know is that the Red Dragons and Seven Song have basically declared war. It wouldn’t surprise me if one or both of them were trying to extend their reach outside of Vancouver for more security and influence.”

“How do you know that? And don’t even think about lyin’ to me, Mei.”

“Oh.” I mock shivered. “Is the big bad biker going to hurt me?”

His grin was a wedge of white, wicked teeth in the pink-tinged shadows. “You’d like that too much, I think. No, I’ll just forbid you to see Cleo.”

“You wouldn’t.” But I wasn’t sure. He really did seem to despise me almost as much as he loved his daughter. I’d never seen him deny her anything she truly wanted, but it was reasonable to assume I might be the first.

“I would,” he snarled softly, unfolding his arms to stalk forward and plant a knee on the foot of the bed so he could lean over me. “When it comes to protectin’ my family against you, I’d do anythin’.”

“I wouldneverhurt Cleo.”

“Not intentionally, maybe. But you did eight years ago, and I got a feelin’ you’d do it again.”

“You don’t know me anymore,” I argued, rearing up to plant a hand on his chest and shove him back. “If you want my help, you can fucking asknicelyfor it.”

“I don’t want your fuckin’ help. I want you to be honest for once in your selfish fuckin’ life and tell me what you know about the situation so I can protect my family,” he roared, shoving off the bed to pace the small strip of pinkish-brown carpet in front of the beds.

Whatever fun I’d been having dried up and died in my chest. I sat up, scooting toward the headboard, and wrapped my arms around my knees.

“I don’t know much, Axe-Man. Whether you choose to believe me or not. I know about the turf war because I lived in Vancouver, and the police are trying to keep the media out of it, but gang violence has been escalating. Almost eight years ago, the Kuan brothers extended their operation to Vancouver and instantly clashed with the Red Dragons, who’d been in town for decades. The Dragon Heads hate each other, but I don’t know the story there.” I swallowed thickly past that lie as it lodged in my throat. “I don’t know why or if it was them scaring Lauren and that other woman. It’s just a guess that they might be looking for ways to secure their hold as they get ready for a full-scale war.”

“You know a lot about it,” he accused, but he sounded weary, deflated.

He had never been an angry man, or even a sad one despite all the things he’d suffered through in his life, but he seemed so tired now, almost hollow like he had nothing left to give. It made me ache to fill him up, to give and give all I had just to ease his pain for a second.

The hardest thing was living with the truth even an eight-year separation couldn’t kill. I still loved him. That man was more than a man to me and always would be because he was also my hero, and no matter what ending they got, the mythological Jason and Hercules, the superheroes Batman and Spider-Man, they lived on eternally for the impact of their good deeds. And Henning’s goodness lived on inside me. I’d grown around it.

And I could see it now, watching him bear the weight of worry for his club in the face of this new threat, for his town, for his daughter. It was so much for one man to carry, too much.

The yearning I had to help him carry that load was a physical, sharp ache in my chest.

“You know Old Dragon still has friends in the triad,” I reminded him. “I keep an ear to the ground.”

It was more than that, but I couldn’t tell him.

I knew he’d never forgive me, already, but if he knew the truth, he’d never speak to me again, and he’d forbid me to see Cleo. Even though part of me wanted to be honest with him, I couldn’t risk not seeing my best friend. I might’ve been unsure whether I was a good influence in her life, but for better or worse,shewasn’t, and I wouldn’t abandon her––again––when she needed me so badly.