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CHAPTER SIXTEEN

MASON

Leaving my bike behind when I went on the run was a hard thing for me to do. I found my machine at a junkyard a few towns over and restored her from the ground up. I put my heart, blood, sweat, and tears into refurbishing her and making her shine.

As Mane lays her head between my shoulders with her arms wrapped tightly around me, I realize that any time I rode my beast before now was nothing in comparison to the feelings flowing through me with her snuggled behind me.

Gliding through town on two wheels is a smooth ride. The country breeze flowing through my nostrils is like a breath of fresh air after having nothing but a city’s polluted atmosphere to contaminate my lungs. As the cool weather wraps itself around me, a sense of peace and contentment envelops me. There's nothing more refreshing than riding through the country. Even with the situation behind our reason for being on the road, I’m carrying less tension than I have in months. Fuck that, for years. Ever since Julia set her eyes on me, I’ve felt trapped like a rat in a maze.

Even without our colors emblazoning our backs, we ride like a well-oiled machine. Since I know this town like the back of my hand, I’ve been placed at the front of the formation next to Gunner. The men didn’t even bat an eye at that announcement which says more about their character than anything else could.

This ride isn’t about the hierarchy and rankings within the club, it’s about family and bringing one of our own home. If I hadn’t felt wanted and accepted by them before now, I most certainly do at this point. Not one grumble left their mouths when they were told I’d be helping lead this convoy. There was a nod of heads as everyone mounted their bikes and lined up behind us. Mane, sensing my drastic shift in emotions, tightened her arms around me and placed a quick kiss to the nape of my neck. Fuck, she’s the ultimate example of what an old lady should be, damn perfect for me.

I look over to the side of us and an abrupt burst of laughter flows freely from my lips. Before we hauled ass from the property, Maverick came over with a sidecar my dad used to use for us boys when we were little. Dad got rid of the bike a long time ago but could never seem to let that go. He says it’s because of the memories it carries. We attached that old rusty bucket to my bike, and Maverick is currently laid back, his feet kicked over the top of the lid using it as a recliner.

We decided before leaving the Triple M Ranch, named after my brothers and me, that our group would stop by Cotton’s and check in with him for several reasons, one of those being his welfare now that Myles is missing. At this point, we don’t want to take any chances.

As we swivel our bikes into his driveway, Cotton’s out front, kicking rocks… literally. I pull closer to him and shut down my ride as the rest of the brothers do the same. After making some quick introductions, I ask, “Cotton, what the hell’s going on? Why are you kicking rocks, man?”

“Just thinking,” Cotton mumbles underneath his breath.

“You good, Cotton?” Mav asks him as he crawls out of the sidecar. If the situation wasn’t so dire with Myles missing, I’d probably laugh at Maverick because he looks downright foolish right now. Almost like when a bunch of clowns pour out of a small vehicle.

“No,” he sighs. “Laura’s mad.” When I glance up at their house, the sounds of shattering and cursing resonate in my ears. My initial focus and concern was on Cotton so I missed the chaos going on inside their home.

“What set her off?” I ask, coming up to my old companion and placing a hand on him to stop his incessant pacing.

I realize my friend has lost weight when I see how bony his shoulder feels which further cements the reality that something’s going on because while Cotton’s never been fat, he’s built like a typical country boy; muscular and bulky due to the hands-on work he does. In fact, his clothes are hanging loosely as well. What the fuck has him so twisted up inside that he’s wasting away? His color is good, so I don’t think he’s ill. More like he’s worried enough about something that he’s forgetting to eat.

His feet stop moving as his head hangs, and he hesitantly states, “I don’t know. It doesn’t take much these days.” He turns and looks back at the house once the volume of her shouting increases. “I don’t think I can keep living like this.”

“Nobody deserves that kind of abuse,” Mane interjects. “Hi, Cotton. I’m Mane. I belong to this one.” She points her finger in my direction with a blinding smile spread across her cheeks.

“Cotton, this is my woman, Mane. We came by to check on you and introduce you to my friends,” I tell him then make the round of introductions. The brothers shake his hand then step back and act as observers instead of inserting themselves in our conversation.

I’m pretty sure several are paying attention to whatever’s going on with Laura judging by their stance. All of my future brothers look beyond pissed off right now at some of the creative insults being yelled.

“Nice to meet you all,” Cotton acknowledges.

His lack of effusiveness, which he normally has when meeting new people, is also concerning. He’s been beaten down, maybe not physically, but definitely verbally, and it sends my emotions into the stratosphere. He’s one of the nicest guys I’ve ever met. While he may be a bit slow, his kindness and generosity toward others is a rarity in this day and age. He’s the first one to offer to help another farmer in the community who needs it, and because of how he treats others, when one of his barns burned down a few years ago, everyone showed up and not only did they help him build a new one, but several also brought their equipment to help get his harvest in so he didn’t lose it.

“Cotton! Get your stupid, no good ass in here and clean this shit up!” A female voice, I’m presuming belongs to Laura, bellows.

“Pardon me,” Mane whispers, rolling up her sleeves and marching past us. “I’ve got a mess to clean up and I don’t mean the debris from her tantrum.”

“That’s my girl,” Gunner proudly announces. “Get her, wildcat!”

“Oh, I plan on it,” she calls back to her dad. “Y’all don’t have to worry about that.”

Gunner turns to me, saying, “You don’t want to miss this. My girl doesn’t let her temper fly often, but when she does, it’s a sight to behold.” The men who accompanied us all grunt in agreement which isn’t surprising since they’ve all known her since she was a child.

“Mane’s never been one to sit back and let someone get away with bullying,” Tex adds. “It’s one of her pet peeves.”

Once Mane steps over the threshold, the men race each other up to the doorway so they can watch my soon-to-be old lady in action. I can’t formally give her that title until I have my bottom rocker sewn onto my cut, but the day that I’m officially voted in, I’m claiming her in the ways of the club.

Pushing my way through the crowd, I manage to peek my head through the jamb of the door in the nick of time to see Mane walking Laura around by the collar of her shirt. A trash bag is in the latter’s hands as my woman guides her to each sliver of glass on the floor.

“Don’t forget that piece next to your left foot, it’s a big chunk, no way you can miss it,” Mane growls, shoving her further toward the ground, sneering. “Don’t be a stupid bitch, Laura, someone could cut their sole on that shard of glass and need stitches.”

“Not only that, but where I come from, ladies don’t use those words,” Gunner adds, winking at all of us which Laura misses since her head’s down looking where Mane is directing. Several of them cough to hide their obvious amusement, because none of the women attached to the DreamCatchers worry about their word choices, especially when they’re upset or excited about something.

“This wasn’t how it was supposed to be,” Laura mumbles under her breath.

“How what wasn’t supposed to be, Laura?” I ask, leaning the upper half of my body further into the house so I can hear her clearly since she’s mumbling.

“This whole damn thing!” Laura shouts. “He promised me that if I was his spy that he’d make sure I ended up with all of Cotton’s money.”

“What?” Cotton sputters, backing up with a crestfallen look on his face. “What do you mean you’d end up with all of my money? I thought… I thought you actually loved me.”

I’m gutted for my friend right now. While he’s always been closer to Mav because of their age, he’s genuinely a good guy. He probably thought he hit the jackpot when Laura began paying attention to him, and knowing how she is, she no doubt poured it on thick.

“Dammit, Cotton! Use the common sense you always forget you have,” Laura berates.

“Here’s a suggestion, why don’t you stop talking in circles and give it to us straight,” Gunner orders, his expression downright deadly and his hands clenched at his sides. His angry appearance is deadly enough to have me taking a step back and getting out of his firing range. When Laura lifts her head and notices the lethal stare she gulps and her eyes frantically shift around, noticing everyone standing there, waiting for her to respond.

“Ben Douglas,” she whispers, looking at me. “He has it out for your family in a bad way. He convinced me that if I married Cotton, since his closest friend is Maverick, and snooped around, he’d make sure Cotton had an accident and I’d end up as his sole beneficiary.”

“You bitch!” Cotton roars, and the usually tame man loses his shit, storming through us and wrapping his hands around Laura’s neck.

Mane quickly gets out of the way of his rage and looks at him stupefied. This is so out of character for Cotton and the things I’ve told her about him that she’s not sure how to react.

“Maverick,” I say his name.

“What?” he asks, seeming lost in his thoughts.

“What do you mean, what? Do something, he’s your friend and will listen to you before he will any of us,” I reason.

“I’m not getting in the middle of that,” Maverick persists. “Besides, it’s about damn time he stands up for himself. I say we let him get this out of his system.”

“Pussy,” Gunner says to him as he steps over to the couple and pulls Cotton back before tossing Laura halfway across the room where she slams into the wall and crumples to the floor.

“Motherfucker!” Maverick whistles. “Remind me not to get on his bad side.”

“May not be a bad idea, brother,” I concur.

“Stay,” Gunner tells Laura as she dazedly lifts her head.

“Damn, Dad. She hit her head pretty hard on the wall. She may have a concussion,” Mane announces.

“That’s going to be the least of her worries by the time we’re done with the ho,” Tex states. “Let’s round the bitch up and get her somewhere we can question her without worrying about Deputy Dickface noticing she’s gone.”

“You heard him, get the lead out of your asses!” Gunner thunders as the entire room jumps from the volume of his tone and begins rushing around. Even Maverick listens to him and walks over to Cotton, convincing him to come with us.

“We’ll come back and clean up later,” Mane promises. “For now, I suggest we lower all the blinds and lock all of the doors. If he has an alarm, we should set that so that nobody breaks in and notices the destruction.”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” I rumble, my throat scratchy, feeling as if I’ve gurgled rocks.