Harddrive Holidays (Rebel Wayfarers MC Book 14) (4 page)

Then came the final call. A conversation he had expected, but dreaded. He and Barry headed out immediately, riding into Fort Wayne two days after getting word that Bingo had died. He hadn’t been thinking sensibly when he left, or he would probably have taken the truck instead of the bike, because once he got into the wind and had a minute to quiet his mind he realized he would need to bring the kids home with him. Then, after arriving in Fort Wayne, he found things were rather different than he expected because that same couple who had loved on Bingo wanted to take on the entire passel of Shoemaker kids in a permanent way.

He found himself relieved he didn’t have to uproot the kiddos, because they had been through so much in their young lives. He was determined to be a big part of their growing up from here out. He made arrangements to keep an open line to Jase and DeeDee, laying plans to talk to them and the kids every week. Those few days had been filled with reunions and memories, as he and people who knew Bingo shared recollections and stories about the man.

Dixie and Keith came to the wake at the Rebel clubhouse the night before the funeral. He had watched with pride as the men of the club treated her with great respect, knowing that came from them knowing the goodness of her heart, and the commitment of her old man.

Then his mood had soured when he saw Angus, his wife’s brother, standing near the bar inside the clubhouse. That stupid, cheating motherfucker had always managed to land on his feet, and seeing him hooked up with Mason’s crew only proved his lucky streak hadn’t ended. Listening carefully, he heard the Rebel members calling Angus a different name, Pike. The man’s road name was after a fucking fish, and Harddrive shook his head at how right someone had gotten that particular moniker.

After a few minutes, he decided to take the bull by the horns, forcing a meeting to keep from having awkwardness later. Slapping his hand on Pike’s shoulder hard, he saw the startled fear chase across his face when he recognized Harddrive. “How the fuck are you?” Harddrive asked, his disbelieving gaze catching for a moment on the President patch on Pike’s vest.

“Good, man. It’s good to see you,” Pike said, holding out his hand for a shake. His gut churning, he gripped the hand of the man who cost him his marriage, cost him decades of loneliness and pain. “Rodney was a good person, Landon, I was sure sorry to get the call.”

Lifting his chin in response, fury rising to fill him, Harddrive stepped back and dropped his hands to his sides. Staring at the man in front of him, he opened his mouth, then clamped his lips closed, shaking his head before he turned away. He hadn’t gotten two steps before a hand gripped his bicep, pulling him to a stop. He heard Pike’s voice, soft in a way that would keep the words private. “I’m sorry, brother.”

At that term coming out of that mouth, he jerked his arm out of the grip and whirled, staring into Pike’s face. Spitting out the words, he asked, “Is it four or five marriages now? How many you ruin, man? I ain’t your goddamned
brother
. You saw to that. You know what? Why don’t you stay the fuck away from me. You got nothing I need, and you sure don’t have any condolences I’ll believe.” Stalking away, he saw Mason watching their exchange, a considering look on his face.

Fortunately, those were the only words he had with the man, and the service the next day was conducted with all honor and respect. Then came the military gun salute, and the awarding of the flag. He had asked DeeDee to take it for safekeeping. The entire ritual was filled with moments when he wished like hell Erin was beside him. She and Rodney had been good friends, and she would have loved to see how he would be missed by these worthy people. He hoped like hell that one of their kids had thought to tell her about him passing.

Tears stood in his eyes as he held one of his nephews in his lap at the graveside, overwhelmed at the sheer number of people who had come to bid farewell to his brother. When one of Bingo’s poems was read over the casket, it was all he could do to hold it together.

“Papa.” The child’s voice was complaining again. “I want to stay with Papa Shoe.”

“Shhhh, baby.” Now he recognized the voice for certain, knowing his Dixie-Girl had spoken from nearby, and he shivered briefly at the chill as his grandchild was lifted from his lap.

That chill didn’t last long because his lap didn’t remain empty.

Taking a deep breath, he smelled his wife’s favorite perfume and felt a smile curl the corners of his mouth. Wrapping his arms around her, he held her tightly, nuzzling the top of her head as she sat with him like she had done so often, sharing the recliner in front of the fire. He reached down, pulling the blanket up and over her legs too, tugging it high on her shoulders. “What are you doing, old man?” He smiled at how well his imagination had filled in her voice, giving it a rasp and thickness he only heard when she was close to tears.

“It’s cold out, Erin. I don’t want you to get sick, baby,” he said, slipping his arms underneath the blanket and wrapping them back around her. “God, I love you, baby,” he whispered, feeling her fold herself against his chest like she always did. “Missed you every single fucking day.” He swallowed hard, thinking to himself that he would be crying in his sleep next.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, and he shook his head, but she kept talking to him. “Angus called, Landon. He told me—“ she stopped when he shook his head again.

With a heavy sigh, he told his wife, “I could call you. Hell, I could tell you. Coulda told you a thousand times over the years. Wanted to, even. But, he’s your big brother and he always took care of you as best he could. He’s your blood, and I ain’t gonna take that from you, Erin. I love you too much.” He hugged her tightly, shifting in the chair. “I’m sorry, too. So much time gone, days we would never get back, gone.” He kissed her forehead, smiling. “Lovin’ this dream, old lady. Lovin’ feeling you. Missed this so fucking much.”

“Why is Mama Shoe crying?”
Damn, Dixie’s boy is loud when he wants to be
, Harddrive thought, shifting in the chair again, the weight on his lap anchoring him in place, Erin’s breath soft and warm on his neck as she nuzzled against him.

He froze, finally realizing that he wasn’t asleep. His house was no longer silent, there were voices in the hallway where the bedrooms were, water running in the kitchen sink, and Keith cleared his throat over by the fireplace. “Mama Shoe’s just happy,” his son-in-law said, and Harddrive took a deep breath, pulling in the scent that always told him Erin was nearby.
My baby’s home
, he thought, and took another experimental breath, finding the same intoxicating result.

Opening his eyes, he flicked his gaze at Keith, who stood by the fireplace with little Landon Junior in his arms, both of them looking at where Harddrive sat in the recliner. There was a decorated Christmas tree in the corner, the base piled high with colorfully wrapped boxes and bags. Evergreen draped the mantle, the pictures there carefully arranged amidst the greenery.

Barry walked into view, handing Keith a mug of what looked and smelled like coffee, his youngest daughter hanging onto his leg, her ass on the top of his foot as he shuffled along. Harddrive grinned, remembering the days when he would have a kid on each leg in exactly the same way.

Without moving his head, he peered down at his lap, gasping aloud when he saw Erin nestled against his chest, crookedly covered by the blanket he had pulled over them. Licking his lips, he started to speak, then swallowed hard, suddenly unsure of himself. This was what he had wanted every time he let himself dream, Erin back in their home, his arms, always in his heart. She fit into his lap as if no time had passed, the gray now threading through her hair not diminishing her beauty one bit.
God, I love her
, he thought, arms tightening around her.
My old lady
.

“Landon,” she whispered, and he shushed her gently, stroking up and down her back, his hands memorizing the curves he remembered so well.

“Doesn’t matter, baby. Not if you’re back. If you’re back, then my heart is healed.” His eyes slipped closed, and he said, “Kiss me to seal the deal?” Her fingers fluttered along his jaw, drawing his face down to hers as she kissed him, her lips hot and demanding against his. Breaking away, he opened his eyes, staring down into her face, watching as she smiled with trembling lips. “Hell, yeah,” he said with a grin. “My old lady.” He took her mouth again, tasting her this time, loving the sounds she made in her throat. “Love you, baby. Merry Christmas, Erin.”

***

Thank you for reading
Harddrive Holidays
, a short story in the
Rebel Wayfarers MC
series. This story sits right after Hoss in the timeline, kinda midway between
Hoss
and
Duck
, supporting the Rebels during a time of loss and pain. We’ll call it 7.5 in the series, yeah?

If you enjoyed this story, please leave a review on Amazon, Goodreads, or the ebook platform of your choice.

If you didn’t enjoy it, or just want to chat about the characters and connect with me, please let me know! How, you ask? Website…social – I’m easily found!

  MLdeMora.com
Facebook.com/mldemora
Twitter.com/MariaLisadeMora
Pinterest.com/mldemora

REBEL WAYFARERS MC BOOK SERIES

Please note this story is part of the Rebel Wayfarers MC book series, featuring characters from additional books in the series. If the books and stories are read out of order, you’ll twig to spoilers for the other books, so going back to read the skipped titles won’t have the same angsty reveals.

I strongly recommend you read them in order:
  Mica –              Book #1
  A Sweet & Merry Christmas –               Short story #1.5
  Slate –              Book #2
Bear –              Book #3
  Jase –              Book #4
  Gunny –              Book #5
  Mason – Book #6
  Hoss –               Book # 7
  Harddrive Holidays –                             Short story #7.5
  Duck –                   Book #8 (Feb 2016)
  Biker Chick Campout –               Short story #8.5 (Aug 2016)
  Watcher – Book #9 (Dec 2016)
  Gun Totin’ Annie –               Short story #9.5 (2017)
  Bones –                  Book #10 (2017)
  Never Settle –               Short story #10.5 (2017)
  Fury –        Book #11 (TBD)
  Cassie –     Book #12 (TBD)

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Raised in the south, MariaLisa deMora learned about the magic of books at an early age. Every summer, she would spend hours in the Upshur County library, devouring stacks of books in every genre. She still reads voraciously, and always has a few books going in paperback, hardback, on devices! On music, she says, “I love music of nearly any kind—jazz, country, rock, alt rock, metal, classical, bluegrass, rap, gangstergrass, hip hop—you name the type, I probably listen to it.

“I can often be seen dancing through the house in the early mornings. But what I really, REALLY love is live music. My favorite way to experience live music is seeing bands in small, dive bars [read: small, intimate venues]. If said bar [venue] has a good selection of premium tequila, then that’s a definite plus! Oh, and since I’m a hand gal, drummers are my thing—yeah, Paul and Alex—you know who you are!”