Page 28 of Tyrant

Every single person is grubbier than when I left, but they make an art out of getting sweaty and filthy. Not a single man here looks like he’s out of place or out of his element or wishing he was somewhere else and that makes me glow with pride at how my men pull together when needed.

I spot Decay and Grave first, both of them working hoes and churning up earth like it’s their sole purpose in life. They’re twin brothers, born in Canada on the prairies. They made their way down here a few years ago. They stopped at the auto repair shop because one of them was having problems with his bike, and they never left. For everyone else, citizenship can be a pain in the ass, but as with most government functions, palms can be greased, and paperwork can be dealt with by professionals and expedited without all the usual questions.

Their black eyes, dark as their hair, follow me in a way that’s natural to them but would be unnerving to a regular person. They’re massive, brutish looking men, both of them around six and a half feet. They’re surprisingly sensitive until it comes to the opportunity to knock skulls together, then they really come alive. If Reaper ever gets tired of being the club’s enforcer, I think the position would be well shared by these two.

“Got a minute to give me a hand?”

“Sure, Prez,” Grave says. He’s not named after burial spots. He took his name because everyone says he’s so solemn.

His brother thought it was hilarious and took his name to match.

“This hoe’s blistering my hands anyway.” Decay sets it aside and cracks his neck loudly. He holds his hands up, so stained with motor oil and heavily calloused from working in the garage beside his brother that there isn’t room for a blister to so much as think about forming.

We laugh about it, and they haul the grill out of the truck. They carry it up the sidewalk and onto the porch like they’re working with a feather pillow.

After parking the damn truck further down the street, I’m only too happy to return Raiden’s keys to him in the backyard. Lark and Jodie aren’t back yet. He’s still out there planning and supervising, keeping an eye on Penny, who is running wild with most of the other kids, bouncing all over the place. They’re flinging weeds and dirt, celebrating being kids and being alive. I can barely tear my eyes off her, but it’s not smart to watch her like a fatherwould, so I focus on Raiden instead.

I clap him on the shoulder, shove down the confession that’s been hovering in my throat for the past five years, and hassle him about leadership again. “Got a right-hand spot with your name on it.”

He elbows me in a brotherly way. “Happy doing the books, Prez. Always have been and always will be.”

“Even if you’re wasted there?”

“Wasted?” he snorts. “Nah. Love what I do. It’s relaxing.”

I let out a bark of laughter. I wouldn’t call any kind of accounting relaxing. “It’s funny how in high school everyone thought you were a dumb jock even though you were getting perfect scores on your math and science shit while the rest of us were barely scraping by.”

“It balanced out because I was failing everything else. You’re the one with the brain for philosophy and books. You remember everything you hear and read. You’re the planner. Not me.”

“You’ve planned this out well. More than a damn fine job.”

He blinks a few times too many. “My dad might have gone inside, and Mom might be resting still, since just walking around a little takes it out of her now, but they’re thankful. Dad just can’t say so. Mom will, when she sees the transformation. It’s me and Lark who are never going to forget this.”

He turns his face away, ashamed of getting emotional and I lay a big hand on his arm. “Meant what I said about the club and all of us being here for you. Whatever you need, brother.”

A cheer goes up from the front yard and echoes around back.

“Must be Lark and Jodie with the food.”

He rolls his shoulders back, dark eyes sparking with concern. He drops his voice real low, just for me, not because we’re club brothers, but because we’re also best friends. Even if he’d never patched in or had anything to do with the club, that wouldn’t have changed. “Lark’s so different. She’s- I don’t know. She’s trying to be strong. She mentioned something to me yesterday about maybe coming back for good. It’s a lot for her.I don’t know that it’s the right move, but she’s a grown woman and can do as she pleases. She’s being tough for Penny, but a girl losing her mother is different than it is for the rest of us. I’m not worried about her, but… I don’t know. What do you figure?”

I figure that I’ve fucked his sister and, on my honor, would do it again. The only thing I’d change iseverything. I’d have her at my side. She’d be our club queen by now. One baby? No. I would have made her take my cock and filled her with my cum on the daily, just for the sweet pleasure of watching her grow round and beautiful with my child. Watching her be a mother, holding our babies in her arms. She’d belong to me, and I’d be hers, every part of me from my scarred body down to my blackened soul. She’d be my wife, legit and proper, not just an old lady. She’d be wearing my ring on her finger. She’d know every single one of these men and women here and all their kids. Seer might be the official head of the old ladies, but even she would be looking up to my queen.

I carefully conceal all that and scrub a hand over my face. “Lark is… you’re right. It’s been a long time.” I throw him his keys as I head around to the front. “What I really think is that truck of yours should be scrapped.”

“Shh,” Raiden hisses. “Sacrilege. She’ll hear you.”

I round the front and find an assembly line of my brothers helping bring in bags of groceries. Lark walks through the gap in the hedge with two bags in her arms. She doesn’t see me, which means I get a few seconds to look my fill. I drink in the blue highlights that the sun paints into her dark hair, the sinful way those overalls, which should be boxy and masculine, outline her ass. She has them rolled at the bottom over canvas high tops.

“Thank goodness we have that ancient chest freezer in the basement that was never going to see the light of day again. It’s mostly empty, but great for all this ice cream. There’s no way it would stand up for more than a few minutes on a day like this. You can follow me,” she calls to the guys over her shoulder. They troop inside like a bunch of soldiers, eager to obey her commands.

She’s taking charge like her brother, rising to the motherfucking occasion, but she’s doing it like a queen, which burns those thoughts I had in the backyard into my brain in a done deal kind of way.

***

Hours later, Raiden and Reckless—the club’s old VP who gave up the position when I became prez and there was a reshuffling of the ranks—are manning the grill. Lark and Jodie passed out chilled waters endlessly all morning long, going around and making sure everyone is hydrated and no one is going to stroke out from the hot sun.

I threw myself into working on that damn hedge, trimming it all down and square. A few of the guys filled up trash bags with all the grass and weeds pulled out of all the gardens. With so many hands, the gardens were tilled up with a few small rototillers and then the planting started.

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