Mica (Rebel Wayfarers MC) (30 page)

Daniel spoke up eagerly, “How about the chocolate-filled ones?” and everyone laughed.

Steve arrived a little while later. After introductions, they talked casually until lunch arrived—burgers and fries from room service. Sitting at the table, Steve waited until everyone started eating and cleared his throat. “So…talk now or after we finish lunch?”

Mason was beyond ready to get this over with; they all needed Mica to understand what was going on, so he growled out, “Now. They need to know.”

Steve nodded. Taking his phone from his front pocket, he unlocked it and flipped to his notes. “Okay. Some of this you know, and some you won’t. Ms. Scott, if anything is too hard to hear, or too upsetting, tell me and I’ll shut right up, okay?”

She nodded at him, saying, “Call me Mica,” and reached across the table for Daniel’s hand.

“Okay, Raymond Nelms, thirty-eight years-old, grew up in west Texas, just outside Lamesa. His mother died in childbirth, and he is an only child. The family runs a well-respected stock contracting business called DN Rodeo after Ray’s father, David Nelms. His father died when Ray was twenty-five, and he inherited everything. He has been successful in the stock contracting business, being lucky enough to breed and buy a couple of highly-competitive bucking bulls a few years ago.”

Steve glanced around the group, and then looked back down at his phone. “Nelms was in and out of trouble as a kid, but more on the in-trouble side from ages eighteen to twenty-four. The top end of that is right about when you met him, Mica.” He cleared his throat. “I found several old battery and assault charges in Kansas, Oklahoma, and Missouri, but I also found about a dozen dropped cases, which had been originally filed as sexual assault before the accusers decided not to testify. There’s a trend here; each of these sexual assault cases was filed a day or two after a rodeo came to town, and each was dropped a day after it was originally filed. If it was one or two, that could be coincidence, but to have thirteen cases that all settled out the same way—that’s no fluke.

Steve cut his eyes over to Mica. “Not long before you met him, Nelms was charged with manslaughter after beating a man to death in a bar fight, but was found not guilty. He claimed self-defense, and no one said any different. An interesting point is the physical difference between Nelms and the man he killed—”

Mica interrupted, “Ray is small; he always said his strength and balance, paired with his size, was what made him a good bull rider. He was about two inches shorter than me, but he could pick me up and throw me around without breaking a sweat.” Mason watched her closely; she was holding herself tightly, but doing well so far.

Steve nodded at her. “He is five foot, two inches tall, and weighs a hundred-twenty pounds or so. The guy he killed was six-foot-two, and topped the scale at more than two hundred and fifty pounds. Nelms killed him with only his fists and feet. He got inside the much longer reach of the taller man, and muscled him around, even though he was twice his size. Nelm’s father died shortly after he went home the summer you met him. Official ruling was natural causes, but the timing makes me nervous. I’ve got some additional questions out to folks in Lamesa, because the coroner’s report is vague on a couple of things.” He looked at Mica again. “Nelms married that fall; here’s a picture of his wife.”

Steve handed around a photo printed on a piece of paper, and wasn’t surprised when Jess gasped, “Holy fucking shit, she could be your sister, Mica!” She passed the paper on around the table, all talk pausing for a minute, while they absorbed this information.

Mica looked at Mason questioningly; he had already seen the picture, and he knew Jess was right. He nodded at Mica, holding it out. “Babe, you okay?” She nodded absently back at him, accepting the picture from him and studying it closely. “Fucking shit don’t get no easier from here, babe. Are. You. Okay?” She raised her eyes to his and held his gaze for a moment, then nodded again. Mason motioned impatiently at Steve to continue. “Rip that Band-Aid the fuck off.”

Taking a deep breath, Steve said flatly, “Lessa Nelms died nearly a year ago, the same weekend Emily Schneider committed suicide. Her death was questioned, but eventually ruled natural causes. They had no children.”

Mica gasped and frowned. “You’re kidding, right? That seems surreal. He had a wife that looked like me, and now she’s dead? And she died the same weekend Em died?” She looked at Mason, and then down to where Daniel had laced their fingers together. “Does that even make sense?”

Steve cleared his throat and consulted his notes, ignoring her questions. “Nelms has been seen in Longview within the last month. I’ve confirmed that he contracted with an investigator in Chicago to trail you, and to provide details and photos. Not all of the pictures that Gentry Dalton had were taken by the P.I., Mica,” he paused, “and we think some of them may have been taken by your brother, Michael.” He stopped there, seeming to try to build the courage to say something else, but then shook his head at Mason. “Can’t, man. Just too much.” He sat back on the chair, putting his phone back in his pocket.

“Aww fuck, you piss-ant.” Mason shifted in his chair. He put his elbows on the table and touched one finger to his lips, looking directly at Mica. “Babe…” He stopped, rubbing his palm across his face. He started again, “Babe. Mica, honey. Michael took the pictures of the attack. And the ones at our houses. Not the P.I., but Michael. Your twin brother fucking stood there and watched you get beat the fuck up. He watched your shoulder get dislocated and your head bashed into the wall. He didn’t make a call, he didn’t help, but fucking stood and snapped souvenir photographs like a fucking tourist.

“You gotta make peace with this, babe. It sucks, but you already knew Michael was an asshat of epic proportions. This elevates him to fucktard levels, though.” Mason looked hard into her face, watching as he spoke, and slowly became satisfied at what he saw there. She took a breath in and shook her head. Then blowing the breath out, she nodded at him, her tongue running along the edges of her teeth. “That’s my girl; get pissed the fuck off. Don’t let this shit eat at you,” he urged, nodding back at her.

Mason continued, “Nelms has been in Chicago for the past four days. His flight back home was supposed to be today, but he didn’t get on the plane, even though he had two tickets.
Two
tickets, babe...”

Steve cut in, winding up his report, “I have distributed the make, model, and license of his personal SUV to all security. With your permission, I’d like to put tracers into place on all your phones, not just for incoming calls, but for location. Just in case. We will, of course, discard and disregard anything outside the scope of this investigation, but it would help us track him if he attempts to contact any of you.”

Daniel shifted and put his arm around Mica. He pulled her tightly into his side, softly kissing the side of her head as she nodded at Steve. Mason felt a tug at his heart, watching the ease and care between Mica and Daniel. She seemed relaxed with him, but Mason still wondered if he had made the right choice.

39 -
            
Hockey

Daniel’s ass hovered just over the bench, waiting for the shift to end so he could get back onto the ice. He was pleased with how they were playing tonight. The team had really found their groove and were skating aggressively, taking the puck to the Crashers again and again. Seeing the line skating to the bench, he stood with his stick and slid over the short wall. Pushing hard with his legs, he skated quickly across the ice, getting in place for the quick faceoff in their own corner.

He accepted the tip from the circle, and bounced it off the boards and into place for his winger to snag it. They met behind the Crashers’ net, and he saw the feed coming his way. Barely tapping it, he wrapped the puck around the post and into the net, putting the Mallets up by two goals. Skating slowly backwards into the boards, he shouted wordlessly, watching the team celebrate. After high-fiving the team and listening to the boos from the home team fans, he grinned grimly, taking his seat on the bench.

He watched intently as the play moved quickly back and forth, over and between the blue lines. Seeing Jason and Gary stacking and chirping at an opposing defender, he knew what was coming. Hoping the shift could change before they dropped gloves, he watched the pushing behind the net, waiting for the icing call…
yes.

Sliding back out onto the ice for the faceoff, he gave Jase a hard shoulder-check, playing the team captain card and reminding him penalties were not their friend. The tipoff got dumped down low, and the Mallets put good pressure on the Crashers. Sticks were skittering on the ice in front of the net as the Mallets players got serious about putting the puck on net, but the Crashers’ goalie saved shot after shot in the blue paint with his pads, knees, stick, and hands.

Another faceoff and the Crashers won the tip, taking it low, but quickly losing possession to Daniel. Aware of his teammates’ positions, he got the puck under control and pushed hard down-rink. Passing it, he got it in front of the net and triggered off another scrum that moved to the corner boards.

He was jostled and lost the puck as a Crasher dug it out and passed to a D-partner. Glancing at the clock, he saw there was less than 20 seconds left in the second period, not enough time for another shift change. Sliding himself into position high by the blue line, he was in the right place to knock a slap wide as the horn sounded the end of the period.

Up in the suite with everyone, Mica was watching the game anxiously. She didn’t understand the rules, and often couldn’t keep up with where the puck was. She even found herself watching the wrong end of the rink sometimes. She always knew where Daniel was, though, and she’d seen him bashed into the sides of the rink several times by the big men on the other team.

Without looking away from the glass, she asked, “How long is the…I know it’s not half-time…whatever the break is called?”

Mason grinned. “Intermissions are eighteen minutes long. They start the clock after the players have all left the ice. It’s an intermission, babe. The play times are called periods. They are twenty minutes long, and there are three of them. The game is sixty minutes long.”

Absently, she thanked him, trying to find Daniel’s face in the group around the bench. Jess brought her a bottle of water, and she glanced at her. “Thanks Jess. Do you know much about hockey?”

She shook her head. “Not really, I just watch it for the fights.” There hadn’t been any fights so far this game, and Mica wondered what caused them to fight, if it was the excitement of the moment, or if the players became enemies on the ice.

“Does Daniel fight often?” she asked as she looked at Mason.

Frowning, he responded, “No, he’s not an enforcer, so he doesn’t start fights. He finishes them when needed, though. I’ve seen some videos, and he’s pretty brutal when he has to be.” Seeing the look on her face, he softened that with, “Well, not brutal, he just takes care of business
efficiently
when he’s pushed too far.”

“Do you see him now? I can’t find him.” She was still staring through the glass, the water bottle forgotten in her hand. “Oh, they are starting again. There he is.” She sighed softly and visibly relaxed. “I found him.” Jess laughed soundlessly at her, catching Mason’s eye and making a twirling motion with her finger near her temple as Mica turned in time to see her. “I’m not crazy, Jess. I simply don’t know what to expect, is all. Stop it!”

She turned back to the glass, leaning closer. The players were standing near the circle in the middle, and the game started again. Daniel was on the ice; he moved in what looked like random patterns, but always seemed to be where the puck was. She thought that he must be able to read the plays, or knew what to expect. His team was ahead, and she didn’t think hockey was a high-scoring game, so maybe this last period was a formality.

Her breath caught in her throat; Daniel was sliding across the ice on his back, flipping over, scrambling up to skate back hard. He caught up to the action and pushed into the mix of players in the rounded corner behind their own net. There were a lot of players there, all fighting over the puck; she could see skates and helmets, their sticks rising and falling on the ice.

The game stopped, and one of the other players skated slowly across the ice, escorted by one of the officials in black and white stripes. The player stepped into a glassed-in box, and the door closed behind him. She could hear boos and yells from the crowd in the arena.

“What just happened?” she asked.

Steve answered, “Dubakki was called for high sticking; he had the blade of his stick up in Daniel’s ribs pretty good. He got a couple minutes in the penalty box. Wait,” he looked closely at the action, “I think they found blood on the stick; that’s a double-minor, which should mean four minutes in the box. Nice power play opportunity for the Mallets. Yeah, “  he nodded at the scoreboard, “four minute power play.” He grinned, watching the play continue on the ice.

Mica frowned at him. “There’s blood on that player’s hockey stick? You mean Daniel is hurt? Why is he still playing?”

Steve and Mason glanced at each other and shrugged, watching the time tick down on the clock as they said in unison, “Its hockey.”

40 -
            
Hometown

“WOOOOO! Fuckin’ win column again, baby,” Jason yelled as the team headed into the locker room. The game had been won with a nice margin, but because they had prepared hard for it, it was still a good-feeling win.