Page 20 of Lack of In-between
“That’s it? No ‘Don’t go off half-cocked, Wolf.’ No ‘Don’t do anything stupid, Wolf.’ Nothing like that?”
Her laughter rang through the room like bells, musical tones lifting and falling as she released her hold on his face and fell backwards onto the bed, hands up to cover her face.
“What’s so funny?”
“You’re one of the most methodical men I know, Paul. There’s nothing about you that says half-cocked or stupid.” She propped up on an elbow and smiled up at him. “And yeah, that’s it. I trust you to not do anything that would take you away from me or from Erika. I trust you.”
“I’ll work every fucking day to be worthy of that, baby.” Crawling up the mattress to his pillow, he discarded the phone and turned back to hook his hands under her arms. Dragging her up and on top of him, he savored the erotic slide of her all along his front, and by the time he had her within kissing distance, his dick had woken up to take an interest in the goings-on. “Because I love you, too.”
Twelve
Wolf, one year later
Head back, he stared up into the sunlight filtering through the tree leaves. One long, deep breath followed another until, a few agonizing minutes later, he realized his heart rate had finally slowed down, gradually calming in the deceptively peaceful, bucolic setting.
Movement in the periphery of his vision kept him as informed as he needed to be about what his brothers were doing, and with his back to a broad tree trunk, it meant when Neptune approached, it had to be from the side, so the man couldn’t take him by surprise as he more often did.
Wolf looked at his friend and brother, waiting. The slow shake of Neptune’s head took only a fraction of a second to splinter his hard-won control. Over Neptune’s shoulder he saw the narrow country lane was still empty of traffic, but that wouldn’t last much longer. He could already see the red and blue strobes arrowing through the woods.
“We got any idea how they did this?” He shifted and looked to the side, at the body stretched out on the ground. The differences in the scene from when they’d gotten here were knee prints pressed deep into the heel-churned ground and the severed rope dangling from a low-hung limb. Blade had been the one to cut Gibby down, perched on Wolf’s shoulders with Neptune’s knife in hand. There’d been a dozen men latched on to whatever they could touch of their president, supporting his body so it didn’t offensively tumble in a free fall but was carried to the ground with grace and reverence.
“I reached out to some of my buds. Couple of ’em have ways of getting me info, so I should have copies of his phone records quickly. But we may never know what lured him out here.” Neptune’s features were set in stone, carved in frozen granite, so he spoke through barely parted lips. This death was ravaging them all, but Wolf knew Neptune had been closest to Gibby, the two men bonding over their shared military experiences, albeit more than a decade apart in serving.
“Cops are here.” He watched the three official cars pull into the clearing, kept his gaze fixed on the middle vehicle. There was a profile inside that he knew by heart, having traced it with lips and fingers a thousand times over the past year. “Oh, man. This is gonna kill her.”
Gibby was a favorite of Rose’s. She and the old man had spent hours talking once she found out he’d been an old-school military police during his twelve years of service. They shared ideas and frustrations, and when she’d decided to go for an opening in Putnam’s troop, Gibby had been the first one of his brothers encouraging her. After Wolf, of course.
The men standing in clumps shuffled around the tree and instinctively created a rough line, the body of their president laid at their feet. Shoulder to shoulder with their brothers, they formed an impenetrable wall of support and love. Monk stood to Wolf’s left, Blade and Neptune to his right.
As Putnam, Rose, and the rest of the man’s troopers snapped hats into place and walked through the brittle grass towards where the men stood, Wolf watched the pain of recognition flit across her face. Then like the damned stubborn woman she was, Rose set that aside and slipped back into the officer of the law role she’d worked hard to achieve.
He understood. There’d be time enough for talk later.
Putnam asked the usual questions about how they’d been tipped off, what that tip-off had looked like, sounded like, why they’d followed up on it the way they had. Who’d been first to the clearing, who’d touched the body.
At that mention of their president, Blade barked out his disagreement, “Not a body. That’s Gibby. That’s my brother.”
Rose’s chin dipped, and she took a half step backwards. Wolf ached to help as he watched her struggle to hold on to her composure in the face of Blade’s pain.
The coroner showed a couple of hours later and loaded their brother onto a stretcher with care, nervously casting glances at the scowling faces surrounding him. To his credit, he’d placed a spotless white blanket around Gibby as if he were a parent tucking his favorite child into bed. As he pulled out of the clearing and onto the dirt lane, the men of the Borderline Freaks MC walked as a single unit to their motorcycles, parked off to the side until now.
Wolf gave Rose a chin lift, and she answered with a tiny tip of her head.
He knew she understood.
There would be time for grieving, mourning, and telling tales of the fallen.
But now? This was time to plan vengeance.
~~~
