Page 65 of Chubs

The pain that slashes through my chest is unexpected, but I swallow down the gasp it causes. Breathing slowly through my nose, I hold eye contact and nod once. His world? That’s what Chubs used to call me, and within months, that title has been reassigned to them. I honestly didn’t know he could hurt me more than he did when he left, but he has.

“Rex tried tracking their car’s GPS to find where they came from, but it had been wiped. The only thing that checked out is that the license plate is from Illinois. The plate doesn’t belong to the car they arrived in, though, so either the plate or the car is stolen. Basically, we know little more than we did before they arrived. We’ll keep talking with them, but I don’t hold out much hope. The club decided to do as Chubs asked and protect them. They’ll be staying at the ranch for now, so we’re limiting who can go out there. We don’t want to draw attention to the ranch, so with the incident the other day with you and those Feds, don’t go to the ranch at all, Lucy.”

Again, I nod but remain silent.

“Any ideas of who they are?” Gunner asks the question I knew he’d ask.

“None. Chubs never mentioned women other than those associated with this club,” I answer honestly.

“At some point, you’re going to have to come clean with me, Lucy. When you decide to do that, I’ll listen,” Gunner says in his deep rumble. “I’ll also not judge you for keeping his secrets and being loyal to him.”

“Thank you.”

After Gunner shuts the door behind him, I drop into the nearest chair. I refuse to shed more tears over this man, I remind myself repeatedly as I hold back tears. The best way to stop that from happening is to keep busy. I stand back up and get busy doing just that.

While Alex, Mia, Zoe, Prissy, and Luke are playing in the front yard, I open the large garage door and start looking for duct tape. It’s not a good fix for the window screen Mac shredded, but it’ll keep the bugs out for now. Opening and closing drawers and cabinet doors, I come up empty. Looking high and low, I spot an old toolbox sitting on a bottom shelf. Pulling it out, I set it on Axel’s workbench.

“What up?” Mac asks as he lands on the workbench in a flash of color and floating feathers.

“Looking for duct tape to mend the screen you tore. It’s a beautiful day, and I’d like to let the warm breeze in but keep the bugs out,” I answer as I lift the lid.

With my mind stuck on looking for duct tape, the contents of the toolbox make no sense to me for a moment. Realization dawns on me at the same time it does for Mac. With an ear-splitting screech that lasts for several long, painful seconds, Mac expresses what he thinks of Axel’s toolbox filled to the brim with cashews. It only takes my slow brain another beat or two to figure out that these are most likely Mac’s stolen cashews. The exact same ones he was saving to take a hit out on Axel.

When a stream of curse words erupts from the angry bird, I desperately try to hush him. Glancing back to see if the kids have noticed, I find only Craig standing directly behind me, mouth hanging open in surprise. When Mac refuses to quiet down, Craig grabs an old towel and tosses it over Mac’s head.

“Not cool, pig boy,” Mac sputters from under the towel, but his voice has lowered considerably.

“Pig boy? Really, Mac?” Craig tosses back in disgust.

“Remove it,” Mac barks.

“Have you calmed down yet?” I ask hopefully.

“Only if murderous is considered the new calm,” Craig interjects.

“What’s that?” Zoe asks, pointing at the toolbox.

“Your uncle’s death sentence,” Craig mutters.

“I think it may be the cashews Mac lost,” I say while trying to gently shoo the kids out of the garage.

Mac’s not ready to remember little ears yet, and I don’t need the kids hearing the ways he’s planning on eliminating Axel. I have enough issues to sort as it is, and then Prissy lands on the workbench next to Mac. I know that things have just gone from bad to worse.

“Lost? Fucking stolen!” Mac shrieks from beneath his towel.

I had honestly believed that if a bird couldn’t see their surroundings, they stayed silent. Mac’s blowing that theory all to hell now.

“Lost his nuts,” Prissy says, then cackles like a madwoman.

The kids, having lost interest, walk out of the garage and back to what they were doing while Prissy continues to taunt Mac.

“Nutless wonder,” she crows loudly.

“Assman’s dead!” Mac, very unwisely, shouts.

Prissy strikes with her beak, nearly knocking Mac flat. I make a mad grab for Prissy while Craig gets a grip on Mac to keep the battle from becoming bloody.

“Can you take him home while I put Prissy in the house?” I ask.

---