Page 12 of Coach (Shady Valley Henchmen #8)

Coach

I couldn’t figure out what was keeping her away.

Everything about her when I left her in the kitchen said she was interested in more, that she wanted everything I clearly did as well.

But three days had passed.

Her fence went up.

So did her hammock in the backyard.

And no visits to the clubhouse.

I worried—albeit after the fact—that maybe Este was a woman who preferred to be pursued, who felt awkward when having to be the one to make moves.

Which meant the only way to try again would be to randomly run into her in town.

“Oh, I totally like woodworking,” a pretty blonde who was in town visiting family, claimed. She was leaned over the island, her low-cut dress making some of her assets nearly spill out.

“Oh yeah?” I asked. I was trying to be present. It wasn’t like me to completely avoid parties. Sure, I often showed up late, cut out early, or took breaks. What can I say? No matter how many years I had to make up for from being locked away, I was about at my fill of partying.

I was at the place where I was looking at my older club brothers, the ones who had women they loved, who were starting families, creating foundations for the future, and I was envious.

“Yeah, you know… drilling… screwing… all very interesting,” the blonde said.

It was safe to assume this woman wasn’t the future mother of my children.

But was that enough reason to excuse myself, to walk away?

I’d barely spoken to a woman in days. I hadn’t taken anyone to bed in weeks.

The interest just wasn’t there.

But was that healthy?

To be waiting on a woman who didn’t seem to be thinking about me?

“Sweetheart,” Saint said, running a hand across the woman’s back. “My brother wants to talk to you.”

“Oh, okay,” the blonde said, happy to give her attention to a more willing recipient.

“Thought you looked like you needed an out,” Saint said, reaching for a cold mozzarella stick off a tray on the island.

“Appreciate it.”

“So, is this what I have to look forward to?”

“What?”

“Getting jaded as fuck and not wanting to take a woman up on her offer to go drilling?”

“When I first got out, I took every willing woman to bed too,” I told him. “I never thought it would get old either.”

“And yet a beautiful woman was standing here talking about screwing you, and you looked bored.” He turned back, watching the woman latch onto Syn. “To be fair, I think Syn needed the attention more than you did.”

A dark cloud moved across Saint’s face. I could practically hear his thoughts.

About the years he’d been away, unable to protect his brother as their old business went to hell.

About how the only way Syn felt safe was to literally live in a storage unit, cut off from the world just as much as Saint had been while locked in a cell.

When he had sacrificed himself in the hopes of freeing his brother, there was no way Saint could have imagined how much Syn would still need to suffer. This time, all alone.

“He’s settling in,” I assured Saint.

Sure, Saint got lucky with a decent parole officer, but he had to technically keep an apartment in town for check-ins and inspections.

He made it clear to us that if we couldn’t find and bring in his little brother, he had no intention of joining the club.

So he’d settled in a bit at his apartment.

But there wasn’t room for Syn, so he was in one of our rooms instead.

“Settling in or living his life?” Saint asked, glancing back at me. “I think we both know there’s a big difference.”

“He was in that storage unit a long time. It’s going to take a while to readjust. Took me over a year to get off the prison schedule. Shit was so ingrained in me.”

“Still wake up thinking I hear the fucking buzzer every morning.”

“And that fucking droning voice on the intercom,” I agreed. “He’s eating his meals with us. He’s taking women to bed. He hasn’t really hit the town yet, but he hasn’t been here that long. Baby steps.”

“Yeah,” Saint agreed. “I’m gonna go take that redhead off his hands,” he said before walking off.

Turning, I made my way toward the back of the building, pausing to grab a gun, then moving outside to get some air and do a quick scan of the grounds.

I was maybe only five feet outside the back door when I heard it.

Running water.

My spine steeled.

My fingers tightened on the gun, pointer sliding toward the trigger.

I’d locked the chickens up not long before, dumping and refilling their coop water before I did so. I had a vivid memory of twisting off the tap.

The water hadn’t been on.

But it was now.

I inched around the building, careful of where my feet were landing, deep breathing to keep the adrenaline from overtaking me.

It was hard to see thanks to a spotlight that must have blown out. But in the darkness, I could just barely make out a crouched figure down on the ground near the garden hose.

“Don’t move,” I said as I snuck up on him, pressing the barrel of the gun to the back of the guy’s head.

“Fuck,” he sighed, head falling forward, shoulders slumping. “It’s just water, man.”

As he said it, I glanced over his shoulder, spotting the half a dozen water bottles he’d already filled up with hose water.

“Alright. And a few eggs. Fine. A dozen or so eggs.”

Well, I guess all the researching I’d been doing about why the hens hadn’t been laying had been a waste of time.

I’d been so worried about protecting the girls from wolves. I had no idea a human would be the one raiding their coops at night.

“I wouldn’t try it,” I advised, seeing the way his body tensed, likely ready to make a run for it. Or, more likely, try to fight it out. “Rafe.”

“Dammit,” Rafe sighed, shutting off the water. He slowly lifted his arms up to the sides, then got to his feet. “It was worth a try, though, wasn’t it?” he asked, shooting me a smirk over his shoulder.

“It ain’t over,” I said, grabbing the back of his shirt and leading him back around the building, then inside. “Get in,” I demanded when we got to a small door inside.

“Fine. Fine.”

He reached for the door handle, then pulled it open and stepped into the small storage closet that was making my throat feel tight with how small it was.

Rafe turned to me, gray eyes guarded.

He was just like he’d looked on the news: tall, on the thin side—though a week on the run had seemed to shave even more pounds off of him—with a sharp jaw, dark hair, and an old, nasty scar through his upper lip.

“Wait here.”

“Not like I got a choice,” he said as I closed and locked the door.

I was already reaching for my phone as I tucked my gun away.

“What is it?” Slash asked, sounding half asleep. “Need you at the clubhouse. Got a situation. I’m ending the party now.”

“On my way,” he said, already sounding awake.

Sucking in a deep breath, I walked over to the stereo system, cutting the music abruptly, making every eye in the building turn to me.

I caught Colter and Raff’s eyes first, and they knew me well enough to read the seriousness on my face. I looked at Saint next, watching his chin lift, his shoulders stiffen. Then, finally, Syn.

“Party’s over for tonight,” I said. “Girls, Raff will order rides for you.”

“But we were—” the blonde started to object.

“Of course,” her cousin, a townie, said, grabbing the blonde and giving her a wide-eyed look.

There was nothing but awkward silence then as the girls gathered their things and followed Raff outside to the rideshare.

Slash’s bike rumbled up the street first.

Then Detroit, Sway, Crow, Riff, Rook, and Judge.

“Everyone’s gone?” Slash asked as the group moved into the messy common room.

“Yeah,” Raff assured him, closing and locking the door.

“Good. Alright,” Slash said, looking at me. “What is the situation?”

“Better I just show you,” I said. “Give me a sec.”

With that, I made my way back to the supply closet, unlocking the door, and finding Rafe in the process of trying to rig a mop into a weapon.

“Come on,” I said, deciding not to even acknowledge the attempt to fight his way out. In the same situation, any sane person would do whatever was necessary to get away.

Once he stepped past, I grabbed the back of his neck, steering him toward the front of the building and making it impossible for him to turn around and attack me.

“No fucking way,” Sway said, eyes going bright.

“Your ass shoulda been gone,” Saint said, shaking his head.

“Believe me, I would have if the roads weren’t all blocked off.”

“Rafe Marsters,” Slash said. “You are a very wanted man.”

“As far as I can tell, no one has escaped prison and evaded capture for more than two days in the past several years,” Rafe said. “I’m making everyone look bad.”

“Where have you been?” Slash asked. “The mountains?”

“Been moving around,” Rafe admitted. “They’ve been combing the area, but this town has a lot of places to hide.”

“The abandoned buildings?” Sway asked.

“Them, sure. But I’ve been in a couple houses and apartments too. Got me some street clothes and showers. You’d be surprised how unobservant people can be. So, what’s this? Are you turning me in?” Rafe’s gray eyes moved around, then landed on Saint. “Wait. I know you. Well, know of you.”

“Was on the inside too until recently.”

“Wait… so are you not turning me in?” he asked.

Everyone glanced at Slash.

“Depends on what you did to get inside.”

We’d all seen the initial news report about his escape. But they’d been vague about his crimes. Words like ‘violent criminal’ had been thrown around but without the specifics.

We weren’t exactly opposed to violent criminals. Hell, Rook, Colter, Saint, and I were all inside that same prison for violent crimes.

Context mattered.

If he was some serial rapist, woman-beater, or pedo, we’d all personally drag his ass back to the prison. Likely a little bloody and bruised. If psycho-ass Crow didn’t just decide to take him out to the mountains and brutally kill him instead.

“I went in for… fencing stolen goods.”

“Bullshit,” Slash said, eyes narrowing. “News said you were a violent criminal.”

“Yeah, well, on my way in I may or may not have beaten the shit out of one of the cops. He kicked my dog. Fucking pig is lucky he’s still alive.”

“Is the dog okay?” Syn asked the question we were all wondering.

“Wish I knew. Imagine he ended up at the shelter. Pray to fuck it was one of the no-kill ones. Only fucking thing I regret is him going back to one, likely wondering every day what he did wrong…”

Christ.

I was going to have to go find that dog.

“What kinda dog?” Rook asked, already reaching for his phone to start looking through shelter records.

“Aussie. Blue merle and tan. Prettiest dog you’ve ever seen.”

“How long was your sentence?” Slash asked.

“The fencing alone was ten years. The assault on the cop?” he snorted, indicating it would be a long-ass time.

“What was your plan after getting out of Shady Valley?”

“Getting my dog.”

“After that.”

“That was as far as the plan went.”

“Alright, John Wick,” Rook said, “seems like you’re telling the truth about your charges.” Rook passed his phone to Slash.

“So, you’re not going to turn me in then?”

“Nah,” Slash said, shaking his head. “I’m gonna give you a room until we figure out what the fuck to do about you.”

“Yeah?” Rafe asked.

“Yeah. You don’t leave the room. You don’t look out the window. Not even for a second. If you do some stupid shit and bring the law into my house, I’ll kill you myself.”

To that, Rafe nodded. “What about my dog?”

“If he hasn’t been adopted, I will find him,” I assured him.

“Okay.”

“Alright. Saint, Syn, can you show our guest to the third floor?”

If either brother thought it was strange that the guy was going up to a floor where the rest of us rarely even visited, they said nothing. They just led the guy away.

We waited until the elevator was on the move before speaking.

“He can’t stay here,” Colter said. “From a logistical standpoint, he would never be able to step foot outside in this town.”

“I wasn’t planning on keeping him here. But I am considering asking if any of the sister clubs want to take him on.

New identity can go a long way if anyone wants his particular set of skills.

If not, we can still get him smuggled out once some of the heat dies down.

Toss him some money, let him figure out the rest.”

We all nodded at that.

“I’m gonna reach out to Fallon, Huck, and Sutton. See what everyone thinks. From you all, I’m gonna need you to make sure he does what he’s told.”

“I got some blackout film I can put on his window, so he’s not tempted,” I offered.

“Good. Maybe a lock on the door up to the third floor and disable the elevator. We can’t have heat on us. Too many fucking illegal guns in this clubhouse.”

We all nodded our agreement to that.

“I’ll get on the dog angle,” Rook offered. “See if I find a direction to send you in tomorrow.”

Detroit went to the kitchen, ready to make a good meal for our little guest. The others started to clean up. I went to grab the film and some supplies to bring up to the third floor.

All the while, I had a little idea forming.

About who I might bring with me to save a dog from the shelter.