Defiance (12 page)

She was vaguely aware of the yelling around them. For some, this was better entertainment than Caspar’s fight had been. For her, this was her way of marking her territory.

Someone grabbed her around the waist and Rebel grabbed Fiona.

“You bitch!” Fiona yelled and Tru laughed, clawed at whoever had grabbed her.

“If that’s all you’ve got...” she said, broke free from the grip and went back after Fiona. Rebel let go of Fiona then and the women tumbled over one another on the ground, with Tru ending up on top.

She yanked Fiona’s head back by her hair and pulled back to punch her.

But then she saw the bruises on Fiona’s shoulder, when the shirt she’d worn had dipped down. Some were old and fading, some were fresh. But all of them had been done with a giant ring. She saw the outline of a skull in some. And then she saw the round brand of a skull ring on Fiona’s upper arm.

Bruises were bad enough, but someone had branded her.

“Who did this to you?’ Tru demanded, backing down on her fighting stance, but still gently holding Fiona’s arm.

Fiona jerked herself away as if Tru had been the one to burn her. “Get your fucking hands off me and wipe that concern off your face.”

Tru kept her hands to her side, but stepped forward, lowered her voice. “Let me get you help.”

“Help? Women like me don’t get help, Tru. Women like me do what they’ve always done. Spread your charity work someplace else. Better yet, watch your own back. Things here are always going to be the same. You keep pushing and see what you get.”

Fiona did her famous smirk, but for the first time, Tru saw the pain behind it. It had probably always been there, but Tru had been too wrapped up in herself to notice.

She wasn’t very far off from Fiona at all. If she’d been born to a different Defiance member...

“Please. I’d like to help,” she told Fiona. “You know where to find me.”

“What do you care?” Fiona demanded.

“I’ve been there.”

“Break it up,” Caspar said simply. Fiona’s eyes flicked between the two of them before she let herself be led away by Rebel.

“Shouldn’t be fighting with the medicine you’re on. Know that.”

“Don’t you dare try to micromanage my health. Did you know about my father and the abuse?” she demanded of him in a low voice that just barely crested over the music. It was something she didn’t know if she wanted an answer to, but Caspar would give her one.

“Knew your father was cruel. Had no idea he’d been tryin’ shit with you. Not like that.”

Something skirted the edges of her consciousness, something nebulous and fuzzy that threatened to form coherently before it slid frustratingly out of reach. “You knew about my mom? Knew he hit her all the time? Knew that he beat her?”

He looked grim when he said, “Everyone knew.”

“And no one helped. That’s the way it was. Is that the way it will stay?”

“Not that way with me,” Caspar told her.

“I want to believe you.”

“Then believe.”

She wrapped her arms around herself, watched Fiona throw herself all over Rebel. How could they not notice or care about the bruises? “I can’t, Caspar. I can’t. I thought things were different.”

“They’re getting there.”

“Sun’s breaking through. Things will become normal again.” He raised a brow, stared at her, waiting. She tried to keep the nervousness out of her voice. “And then things can change.”

“What things, Tru?”

“Around here. I mean, Defiance and the other MCs are getting away with a lot now. That will go back to being the way it was. Underground housing might not bring in as much money.”

“How you know all this?” Caspar’s arms were crossed and his eyes unforgiving.

So Padraic might’ve been correct when he’d been talking shit about that last part. She’d heard rumblings that Lance had taken to gun and drug running in recent months, amping up what was once simply something small to stay in the game, keep connections for Defiance to have weapons to defend itself and drugs to help the families who needed them. And Padraic had been pissed. “Padraic.”

“Ever gonna share that shit with me?”

“I didn’t think...I figured you knew.”

“Doesn’t matter what the hell I know or don’t know. You hear shit, you tell me.”

And there it was. She was property here. No matter how much Caspar had of her heart—and dammit, he had it all—that’s ultimately how he had to view her in order to be a part of this world. “What would you do if you weren’t a part of this?”

“I am a part of this, Tru.”

But how could he not have dreams? She wanted to ask him, but this wasn’t the time or the place. Or maybe it was, but she’d caused a big enough scene.

As it was, the scene was forgotten though, the dancing and drinking happening again.

“I don’t know if I can be. Not when things like that keep happening,” she admitted.

He didn’t look surprised. He’d insinuated then flat out told her he hadn’t trusted that she wouldn’t bolt again. He’d been right. She’d given herself too much credit when she thought she might be able to handle all of this by his side.

“Women in this MC—in all the MCs—are treated like chattel.”

“How’re they treated on the outside these days, Tru?” he challenged. “Things safer out there for you?”

At his words a chill racked her from a memory best forgotten. She gazed into his eyes. He didn’t know—couldn’t know what had happened. And when she didn’t answer, he told her, “Got shit to do. Go back to bed. Bishop and Rebel will stay outside. You need anything, you ask them. They’re not here to serve you, princess. They’re here to make sure no one kills you until things settle down.”

“You won’t even look at me.”

“What you want from me, Tru? Be your little lap dog? Keep you safe till you decide you gonna run again, yeah? That’s not the way shit works in my world. You want in, you stay in. Far as I’m concerned, I haven’t chosen shit yet.”

Chapter Twelve

Caspar had a plan in place for tonight and wasn’t fucking that up. Fighting with Tru only made it easier to leave the party, which was still going strong, would until half the Defiance population passed out. Caspar’s half, his generals and soldiers, would stand guard against any further sneak attacks. But tonight, good was the rampant mood for most.

Had been for him too, until Tru voiced her plan.

Shoulda known.

Tru, who remained next to him, refusing to let him out of her sight. “We still need to talk.”

“Done talking for now. Like I said, shit to do.” He turned to Mathias and Bishop, asked, “Mind being separated?”

“Not for a good cause,” Bish said and Mathias nodded slowly.

“Bishop, you’ll stay with Rebel and watch over Tru. Reb might get called away—you can’t be,” Caspar told him. Rebel understood what he was saying. “Don’t be a hero, Reb. Lance or Si calls, go.”

Tru reached out for his hand but he dismissed her with a look. He saw her hand fist, waited for the backtalk, the fight and got none.

Sometimes backtalk got his dick hard. Tonight, it would’ve backfired.

She knows how to read you.

It offered little comfort when he knew she’d planned on leaving as soon as the sun shined again.

As they approached Mathias’s van, he offered Caspar the keys.

“Your ride,” he told the man, who grinned a distinctive
I
wasn’t gonna let you near my baby
smile. “Asshole.”

Mathias’s smile grew wider as Caspar got into the passenger side of the van that was loaded for bear. He’d already checked it out before, but now he had the time on the hour drive to take it all in.

The black van was sleek as it pulled onto the road. There wasn’t a rumble or the vibration of his bike, which Caspar missed, but this couldn’t be beat for stealth. The interior was gray leather, pristine. This baby was custom, fast and deadly, just like the two men who’d ridden it into town.

When Caspar checked out the back, he saw the old Harley. It was military grade, old school, and it needed work. “That run?”

Mathias nodded.

“I need to try it out.”

Mathias nodded again, then continued pointing out some of the other special surprises the van held. Caspar especially liked the gun in the middle compartment. Touches like that showed the two newest members of Defiance were up to par with how Caspar liked things.

Then Mathias turned the music up—with Caspar’s approval. Old school Metallica and AC/DC and Caspar opened the window and let the breeze blow in.

The hours of sunlight for their area should be coming next week. On those days, everyone in town went shirtless—or in bikinis—and they reveled in that time like kids. They soaked up the vitamin D and dreamed of the time it would happen consistently.

Lance never wanted that to happen again. Big Hugh had shared that intel on his deathbed, while Caspar held a gun to his head and listened to the shit pouring out of the man’s mouth faster than a cut carotid artery.

Bloodshed was bloodshed, and Big Hugh’s last words definitely counted as the spilling of blood.

Caspar directed Mathias off road, then had him pull up to a deserted spot, between boulders that shielded them from the already hidden road on one side and the small cliff that led down to the ravine on the other.

They were near the ocean. He smelled the brine, thought about days spent at the beach with his momma, before all of this shit complicated his life.

You end up where you’re meant to be.

Abel’s words. He’d hold those in higher regard than anything Lance ever told him.

Just then, a lone figure walked out from behind the bluffs. Mathias looked between the lone figure waiting on the rock and him.

“Friend of the devil.”

Mathias frowned, mirroring Kian’s expression.

“Yeah, he’s not happy. I was supposed to come alone,” Caspar murmured to the dark-haired sniper. “Come out with me.”

Mathias didn’t question, although the two thoughts didn’t jive.

When he got close, Caspar said, “Kian,” and stuck his fist out.

Kian looked between the men with a question in his eyes but Caspar didn’t lower his fist.

“Mathias, Kian. Mathias’s a new member, straight out of Special Forces. Thought it best we have someone to watch our backs.”

Kian assessed Mathias then nodded, tapped Caspar’s fist back. Mathias literally turned his back on the men and walked ten feet away. Close enough to hear, close enough to spot and watch their backs.

“Trusted?”

“Wouldn’t have brought him otherwise.”

“How do you know?”

“He’s family,” Caspar said and Kian raised his brow.

“Hope he’s better fuckin’ family than those pieces of shit you got home, Cas.” Kian lit a cigarette, a hand-rolled one. He offered one to Caspar, who accepted, let the smoke wallow in his lungs before blowing it out in a casual stream. “Know you got a place with the Devils, yeah?”

Caspar nodded. He knew.

“Never even consider it, no matter how many times they kick you.”

“Didn’t come here for a lesson in family relations. Considering what you just did, you’re the last one to be offering advice.”

Kian was ten years older than both Paddy and Caspar. He was also an ugly motherfucker, but his attitude was chill and he exuded a silent danger that got him fucked on a regular basis. It also meant very few men chose to fuck with him, and it had nothing to do with his brother having been president of the Kill Devils.

Kian had stuck with the military for ten years. Wanted a career. Rode with the Devils on his off time but kept his nose clean. At one point, Caspar had wondered if he could have that too.

Judging by where both men stood at the moment, he guessed the answer had been no all along.

Rumor was Kian’s military career ended six months ago with a dishonorable discharge from Delta Force, although Caspar knew you didn’t ask a man about that shit. Didn’t matter, honorable or not. Delta was Delta—shit that Kian could do rivaled Caspar’s experience.

Respect was to be paid. Caspar hadn’t cared why Kian wanted his brother out; he only cared that he could do it in return for what he needed. “Worked out, no?”

“Was a good show,” Kian agreed.

“The way you wanted it.”

“Worked out for me, yeah.”

Casper had more enemies than friends. He supposed that’s how it should be for a man like him, knew it was to be for the man standing in front of him. “Won’t blow back on you either.”

“Hasn’t,” Kian agreed. “Told ’em I needed time to think for a couple a days before I agree to shit. They already voted.”

There was never any doubt Kian would replace his brother. It was one of the main reasons Kian went to such trouble to have Paddy killed.

“Need something,” Caspar told him.

“You got your something, I got mine. Was the deal.”

“Pharmameds.”

Kian raised a brow. “These for your girl?”

“For Tru,” he said carefully.

“Shit, I’ll take her and your worries off your hands any day, brother. She’s a sweet ride.”

Caspar saw Mathias’s shoulders square and silently told the man to stand down. It pained Caspar not to put his own hands around Kian’s throat and squeeze.

“I don’t owe you any fuckin’ favors,” Kian said finally.

“Not asking for a favor. Telling you what I need. You want me to horn in on your business, you know I can do it. Disrupt shit for a while.”

Kian stared lazily at him, assessing. They could kill each other in seconds, if they put a mind to it. But they both had end games. Thing was, Kian had no clue what Caspar’s was.

Kian lit another cigarette, blew smoke into the wind. “Unlimited meds for the girl means the war between us is real. You ready for that shit?”

“Don’t offer what I can’t provide. Hope you do the same.”

“War between us is real,” Kian repeated.

“Yes.”

“Unless I make peace,” Kian said.

“Up to you.” He kept his voice neutral, but he didn’t fuckin’ want peace. He’d be damned if he’d admit it.

“Is, yeah.” Kian threw down his cigarette, reached into his jacket pocket and threw Caspar a pill bottle, making it obvious he wasn’t exactly looking for peace either. “A month’s worth.”

Then he reached into another pocket and pulled out a key. Caspar caught that too.

“Locker at the bus station. Once a month, starting on the first.”

Caspar pocketed the pills and nodded.

“Then I guess we’re done here.”

Casper nodded, shook the man’s hand. “See you in the wars.”

Kian’s slow grin spread across his craggy face. “That’s exactly right, brother. Least you and I, we understand what the fuck war’s supposed to be. Women? We all got a ways to go. You especially.”

Caspar didn’t want to think about what the fuck Kian meant by that.