Duck (Rebel Wayfarers MC Book 8) (6 page)

“As long as you want me,” he said, leaving off the qualifying words this time, his message even less clear than before. Was it possible he meant what she thought he did?

Closing her eyes, she took in a shuddering breath, and then released it, looking at him.
This is the time, right now. This is right
, she thought. “Reuben,” she began and the phone on the desk rang.
Shit
. Shaking her head, she pointed at it as she stepped towards the door. “Better get that, boss man. Time to earn your keep.”

***

Duck watched the door close quietly behind the woman he had loved for as long as he had known her.
That’s a puzzle
, he thought. Her family, torn apart by disease. She had been with the bull rider for eleven years, the man had given her a beautiful son, then died, and she characterized their relationship as only
decent
. Something there didn’t smell right.

He had been purposely keeping himself separate, even going so far as to eat his lunch in the office, working on various projects until well after dinnertime, trying to maintain distance. Calling home to Chicago, talking to his brothers in the evenings, keeping his finger on the club’s pulse as best he could from here. He found himself even keeping Mason at arm’s length, holding back about anything except club or the contracting business while he tried to sort out his feelings for Brenda. Until five minutes ago, he wasn’t certain she even remembered their night, but now…his hand reached out to scoop the handset. “Du—ˮ he began and then swiftly corrected himself. “Nelms,” he said with a headshake.
This going back and forth was going to take some getting used to
, he thought.

“Reuben.” Memory danced along the edges of his mind, elusive, as a voice he should know called his name. “Damn, boy. Welcome back. I heard you were back in town. Wasn’t sure whether to believe the guys or not.”

“Yeah, got in a couple days ago.” Hopefully, his evasive answer didn’t expose his lack of recognition for someone who apparently expected to be remembered from just a voice on the phone.

“Hey, me and Donny are going to Mitchell’s tonight for a couple of beers. Want to join us?” The reference finally identified the person for him. This was Steve Simmons and he was going to a local bar with Donald Lewellen. Reuben had played football with them all through high school, and then they had traveled together to rodeos for a couple of seasons, competing in different events for the most part.

“Steve, the last time I drank with you, I was too hungover to stand on my own two feet the next morning and had to scratch from my event.” He laughed, receiving a chuckle in return, and followed up with, “I’ll come have an iced tea, but I am not drinkin’ with you, dude.”

“You do remember,” Steve said with satisfaction, then shouted at someone away from the phone. “Reuben’s in, we’ll meet up about five. Don’t be late, Donny.”

“Tell Don I said hey,” Reuben said, shaking his head and grinning. “I’ll see you at five, man.” He had an idea and acted on it without thought, asking, “Is it okay if I bring Brenda along?”

“Seriously? You and Brenda, already? Hell, Reuben, you don’t let grass grow underneath your boots, do ya?” Steve laughed slyly and Reuben found himself frowning. “She’s kept pretty. I’ll give you that. She any good in the sack?”

Suddenly furious, Duck clipped out a brusque, “Fuck you, Steven,” in response, and his tone of voice expressed his disapproval of Steve’s words.

He knew the other man got the message when he said, “Sorry, man. Of course, yeah. Yeah, bring Brenda if you want. Will be good to see her, too. Haven’t seen her since Tommy passed.”

“Yeah.” Reuben paused, then repeated, “See you at five.”

Hanging up the phone, he turned to stare at the picture on the bulletin board again. He had done this often over the past three days, looking at Brenda’s face, head tilted so she could see her son, who was staring up at Tommy. It was the only picture on the board of the three of them together, and she wasn’t looking at her husband. Elias was her whole world, and the devotion she gave was apparent from the expression of love captured on her face.

For a moment…the barest moment when he had first seen Elias bounding to a stop in front of her, he'd thought…had hoped perhaps he and Brenda had a connection deeper than he had known. Then when he’d seen this picture of Tommy, he’d known it couldn’t be. He and Brenda had only been together the one time, and sweet as it was, even before he'd touched her skin, he had believed that given his family’s history, she was better off with anyone other than him.

That night had begun innocently enough. Hesitantly, she’d talked about the bull rider with a shy, wondering tone and he’d known the man was it for her. But, as they had so many times, they’d spent hours together, sitting, playing pool, dancing…talking and joking…touching and teasing. Innocent teasing, at first. They had been drinking. Throughout the years between then and now, when he’d tortured himself by looking back on that night, no matter how he tried to twist it in his head, he still knew the beer was the only reason she’d fallen into his arms. Had to be, because she wasn’t into him. The whole encounter from her side was just things getting out of hand after a casual touch blazed between them, stripping his control.

Waking early the next morning, he’d laid quietly in the bed beside her, content for a time simply to watch her sleep. He’d stayed like that, stretched out alongside her naked form, running her words from the night before through his head, trying to make sense of his feelings. She had detailed everything about this other man, and in the end, the memory of her excitement about the bull rider was what had settled things in his mind.

He’d had to go. Had to, because he wouldn’t be able to stay and watch her hook up with her guy, knowing what he knew. How she tasted, what she felt like underneath him. The feel of every curve of her body and how they fit next to him. The way her neck arched when she came hard while riding his cock. No, staying would have been worse than leaving her sleeping in bed alone, because if he’d had to watch her with someone else again…had to see a man woo and win her, he didn’t know if he could have stood it.

Before they’d hit the dance that night, he had already made up his mind to leave home and find his brother, had planned to tell her of his decision, those words derailed by the evening. Then, lying there beside her, heat from her skin bleeding into him where they touched all along the length of his body, he’d decided he would simply continue with his plans, making the pain-filled decision to let Brenda go without a fight.

She hadn’t been his to begin with. Reuben had always been just a buddy for her, their shared childhood making it so he was firmly stuck forever in the friend zone, knowing she would never look at him the way he suspected she looked at Tommy. So he’d gotten up and dressed quietly, had written her a brief note expressing his affection and explaining where he was going, and then he’d left. He’d stood in the doorway for a long time, watching her sleep, impressing the memory so deep he knew he would never lose the feeling of love and loss. Then he’d left, walking away, his path not returning him home until now.

He let his gaze travel over the rest of the pictures on the board, as well as the ones in frames on the wall. There were a bunch of Elias, a few of Elias and Tommy, but the bulk of the pictures were of Brenda and Elias together. They were shown riding horses side-by-side, Elias up on General. The corners of Reuben’s mouth turned up when he looked at the image which had quickly become his favorite, one of her wielding the business end of a water hose, using her thumb to create a powerful spray of water she’d turned on Eli. The shock on his face at behavior he didn’t expect from his mom was plain, as was the self-satisfied smirk on hers.

Looking across the display, he tracked the boy’s growth in those pictures with his mother. Guessing the boy was about ten now, it was knowledge that hurt in a way he didn’t like. Eli’s age meant she and Tommy had moved fast, the two of them quickly becoming serious enough to create their family. Moving fast…moving on. Now Tommy was gone, and she was alone. Shaking his head, Duck reached out to touch the edge of the water fight picture, then stepped to the side and opened the door, walking through and closing it tightly behind him.

Looking around the buildings within sight of the barn, he cataloged the work that still needed to be done, as he had every day since coming home. Not the normal list of chores, but the maintenance parts, which got pushed aside all too easily. They were chipping away at his mental list, had been making steady inroads in the past few days. His other mental list, the one to do with Brenda, in contrast had been growing every day. He needed to either let her say her piece so he could leave, or decide he was going to dig in, try to find something he had been craving for years. He could begin by talking to her, he decided, turning his steps to the house.

Back inside, he hoped to find Brenda, but the entire structure felt empty, the silence conveying a sense of solitude. Not sure where she would have disappeared to, he decided to wait and strolled to the mantle. Taking his time, he surveyed the pictures of the Calloway family displayed there. At the second image, Reuben stopped in his tracks, startled. It was Tommy and Brenda’s wedding picture. She looked much taller than Tommy, which was surprising. But what really startled him was recognizing her maid of honor, Chelsie Transom.

He knew from talking to Slate, the Rebel’s president in Fort Wayne, that when he’d traveled through Lamesa years ago, he’d hooked up with Chelsie. That was when Duck first met the man, back before they were club members, well before either of them were in the life. Before Duck had walked away from the best thing he’d ever had. Slate, whose citizen name was Andy Jones, had been working at the Transom ranch repairing fence for some fast cash when Reuben had ridden up to say hello.

They’d hit it off quickly and even after Slate had moved on down the road, they’d kept track of each other for a time, until circumstances brought them back into close contact. Both of them joining the Rebel Wayfarers had not been planned. Andy patched into the club first, earning his road name of Slate long before Reuben darkened the door of the club’s bar, Jackson’s. Him knowing Slate had made his entry into the club smoother, had gained him important indulgences from Mason, the club’s national president. Those favors had allowed him to track and watch over Mica Scott, now Mica Rupert.

What a twisted web my life has been
, he thought, remembering the times he and other members had ridden down to Springfield to check up on Mica, back when she was in college. She was the reason his brother, Ray, wound up dead, but it was no fault of hers. That shit sat firmly on Ray’s plate. The result of feeding the twisted desires their father had left in him.

Reuben had left the circuit earlier that year, rather than watch the slow destruction of the beautiful young girl at his brother’s hands. But, once he was home, he’d struggled with guilt and second thoughts, heading back out only to find she had already fled. That was when his brother became obsessed with her. Dangerously fixated on finding her, Ray’s intent had been to return her to his bed as if she were a possession that could be owned and retrieved at will.

With a driving need to keep her safe from Ray, for months Reuben had looked for Mica across the southern and western states. Every circuit town found him scouring the locals for information and each one saw him coming up dry. Finally, he’d gotten wind of a lead, then another, and ultimately received a solid tip from an old ER doc in Oklahoma, pointing him towards Chicago.

Strolling the streets of that city hadn’t turned up any clues as to her location. Frustrated, he had nearly given up entirely when he’d found himself in Jackson’s for the first time. He’d walked in and met Mason, not knowing his world was on the cusp of change. A single meeting which would set the course for the rest of his life, bringing him to the man he was today. Without thinking, he muttered, “Rebels forever, forever Rebels.”

“What does that mean?” The first soft syllable had him spinning on reflex, half-crouched in a defensive move before he realized it was Elias. Extending the movement to stretch back to his full height, he looked down at the boy without saying anything, his heart racing in his chest. Warm, dark brown eyes met his and they stood there for a minute staring at each other before Elias asked again, “What does ‘Rebels forever’ mean?”

Reuben shifted his shoulders, missing the weight of his leather vest. The absence of his cut left him feeling exposed. Like a raw nerve, the lack was a constant, painful reminder he wasn’t home, had no backup, and was entirely on his own down here in Texas. The garment bearing the club’s patches hung in the guestroom closet—Mason having agreed for the short time he would be here, it would be best to be anonymous.

“It’s a pact. I belong to a motorcycle club. It’s a promise to my brothers that there will always be a club, because men like me will always be loyal to it. ‘Rebel Wayfarers forever,’ that’s the club being true to me, then the last part is ‘forever Rebels,’ and that’s me. It’s a different way of saying once a Rebel, always a Rebel.” Nodding to the boy, he turned to look at the pictures on the mantle again.

He didn’t hear the kid move, but Eli’s voice came from beside him when he said, “That’s Dad and Mom.”

Eyes fixed on the bride in the picture, Reuben quietly said, “Brenda told me about your dad earlier. I’m sorry. It’s hard to lose someone you love.”

“Yeah,” Eli muttered, his voice thick with emotion. “Even when everyone tells you to get ready, to expect it…even when the pastor talked to both Dad and me about it, it still…” He trailed off mid-sentence. Reuben looked down to see Eli’s eyes were wet, looking at a picture of him and his mom: A proud Eli sitting on General, spine straight and grinning, while a beaming Brenda reached up to hand him a ribbon. “Sometimes things just go bad. Mom’s had it hard, so I don’t…” His voice trailed off again, then he picked back up the thought, “You can see it hit her, sometimes.”