Mica (Rebel Wayfarers MC) (43 page)

She screamed again, this time wordlessly, despairing of assistance arriving in time. Looking up at him, she saw his face darken in fury, because she was still trying to get away.  She was pulling, and twisting, and kicking out at him, when she saw his hat fly off to the side. Ray yelled and let her go, his hand going up to the side of his head, where a bleeding wound had appeared out of nowhere.

Mica scrambled away, turning onto her stomach and trying to get her knees underneath her to push up and run. Raising her head, she saw Molly as she slung another rock at Ray, and knew from the roar behind her that this rock, too, had found its mark.

Behind Molly, Mica saw Mason running full out towards her as Molly shouted and let fly with another rock. Mason’s eyes were locked on Ray as he flashed past her, and she heard a scream as bodies hit the ground with a crash, like a giant tree falling. Mica froze when she recognized the face that had come into view behind Mason, not believing her eyes. She breathed out his name as he slid to a crouched stop beside her, his jeans scuffing in the gravel and his hoodie rucking up in the back. “Daniel.”

He tried to gather her up to his chest, but she needed to see what was happening behind her. Twisting within his arms, she clutched at his sleeves. Mason and Ray were rolling across the hard ground, stirring up dust that shimmered in the late afternoon sunlight.

They traded blows, and the smaller man was quick to press every advantage, but Mason gained control of the brutal fight. They settled to the ground with Ray being held facedown between Mason’s powerful thighs. He sat and leaned hard on top of the bull rider, who continued to try to battle and brawl.

Ray’s arms were clamped tight to his sides, and with Mason sitting on top of him, he couldn’t move. He turned his head to see Mica still sitting on the ground, and Ray shrieked at her, his features contorted in fury. “You should have done what you were told, Michaela. Should have listened. I’ll kill everything you love. I will kill you.”

Mason hit the back of his head with an open palm, but Ray didn’t stop looking at her and screamed, “Fucking bitch, you are mine. I told you what I’d do. You are mine, Michaela. Should have listened.” Mason hit him again, harder, with a closed fist, and Ray’s face went slack as consciousness fled.

Daniel’s arms held her tightly, his hands stroking wherever they could reach slowly and calmly. Mica said, “Tug is hurt,” and from where she stood beside them Molly said, “Essa and Slate are with him; he’s okay, Mica.”

She nodded, feeling reassured, and then asked, “Mason are you okay?” He was sitting still, but breathing hard, his head canted downward to look at Ray on the ground below him. “Mason? Are you okay?” she repeated her question louder, and his head rose as he stiffly turned to look at her.

He spoke slowly and softly to her. “Listen to me now,” he looked hard into her face, “and hear me Mica. You listening, babe?” He paused for a second, waiting for her nodded response. “Won’t be able to not, now that I’ve seen him,” and he watched her closely to make sure she understood clearly what he was saying.

She turned to look at Daniel behind her, and then up at Molly standing beside her. Slowly, her gaze returned to Mason and she locked gazes with his dark, gray eyes. Ray had hurt so many people she loved, and had taken so much from her over the years. She gave a little hiccup of a sob and nodded her head. “It’s needed, Mason. It’s needed.”

Daniel pulled her to her feet and turned her towards the trailer; she was shocked at how far Ray had taken her in the few seconds she had been dragged. Looking up into Daniel’s face, she reached up and touched his jaw where there was a faint bruise.

His breath caught at her touch, and without looking at her, he reached up and captured her hand in his, holding it against his chest tightly. His other arm was around her waist, fingers twisted in her belt loops, helping keep her on her feet and moving forward. Her hand grabbed at Molly’s. Gripping her hand tightly, Molly easily followed the tugging of Mica’s fingers on hers.

Mica looked forward and saw Tug sitting on the step of the open door to the living quarters. He was holding a rag to the back of his head and looking shaky, his white hair matted red with blood. Essa was squatting next to him, talking and nodding at him.

Slate strode towards them, nodding at Mica as he stopped in front of her, asking “You okay, princess? You look like shit on toast. Gonna go help Mason take out the trash, but I’ll be right back.” Turning his gaze on Daniel, he said brusquely, “Ice, ibuprofen, clean her up—you take care of her, Daniel, or you answer to me.” Moving around them, he walked swiftly towards Mason and Ray.

Mica stood there for a minute, her body beginning to complain. Her mind rolled over the events, flickering like a strobe light from one moment to another. Ray had come to Houston. He tried to take her. He hurt Tug. She stood there for a minute, conscious of Daniel’s hand tightening at her waist.

Moving noiselessly as he returned, Slate came up behind Mica, saying softly into her ear, “Get the horses out of the trailer and leave the ramp down,” as he walked past and reached into the trailer to pull a roll of duct tape from the mess on the living quarters floor. Mica nodded at him as he walked back towards Mason.

She turned towards Daniel and started, “Oh, I have so much—”

He interrupted her, “Let’s get things squared away.”

“Okay,” she said quietly. Taking a breath, she closed her eyes and shook her aching head. “Molly and Essa, unload the horses, tie them to the trailer, and check them for injuries. We don’t know what he did other than the mess inside, but check them very closely for injection sites, or injuries that wouldn’t be evident until under hard work.”

The girls moved to get lead ropes, and evidently saw the mess on the floor for the first time based on their dismayed reactions. “Girls,” Mica said sharply, “horses, now,” pulling their attention back to the task at hand. “I have to get some ice for Tug.” She turned towards where the closest vendor stall was located, but Daniel’s hand held her back.

“Give the girls a minute and they can go,” he said. “You are covered in blood, and I don’t think we want to make that impression right now.”

Looking down, she realized with a start that he was right; her shirt and chest were soaked in blood. It was now beginning to dry in the heat, and she could feel her shirt sticking to her skin, all tacky and stiff. “Holy cow,” she murmured, “what in the world?”

She remembered something she wanted to say, and spun to face Daniel. “I have a lot to tell you.”

He nodded at her and repeated what he had said a few minutes ago, “Let’s get things squared away.” Her heart clenched at this; not only wouldn’t he let her touch him, but he didn’t want to talk to her, either. Maybe her attempt to protect him and his family had pushed him too far. He didn’t seem to be the same loving man she’d been with only a few weeks ago.

Essa walked up right then. “Horses are all okay…” She trailed off, her eyes on something behind Mica.

Knowing what it was, she wanted to get the girl out of there. “Essa, go get a bag of ice, please. Beg for a couple of plastic bags too, okay?” Essa’s eyes flickered between Mica and the scene behind her, but she nodded her head and turned to run the errand.

“Molly,” called Mica, “can you get some fresh water?” Hearing an affirmative noise, she watched her sister grab a bucket and walk with Essa up the row of trucks.

Slate called low from behind them, “Don’t turn around, princess. Just give me a minute here.” Daniel’s arm pulled her closer, and she saw Tug’s head come up to watch Mason and Slate behind her. The trailer creaked and rocked, and she heard a soft snick of a lock clicking into place. Then she heard the distinctive sound of the trailer ramp being raised into the closed position. “Okay now?” she called.

“Yeah,” Slate said gruffly, and she turned around, Daniel’s hand loosening and then tightening again. Mason was standing there with one hand on the trailer, his jaw clenched tightly.

“Mason,” she breathed as his eyes lifted to meet hers, and she watched him fold his arms tightly across his broad, hard chest. She saw a depth of emotion in his eyes that terrified her; it was a mix of love, hate, rage, and maybe fear. His gaze raked her from foot to head, stirring an old memory of him standing in her kitchen, helping her get over a waking nightmare. Slate was looking at Mica too, watching for her reaction. He must have been running his hands through his hair; it was standing up at all angles from his head.

She took a step towards Mason, and felt the drag of Daniel’s fingers tangling again in her belt loops, pulling her back towards him. She raised her head to look up at him, seeing how much weight he’d lost, his face drawn and gaunt. He had deep furrows framing his mouth, and he was biting his lips together, almost like he was silencing himself. Unlike Slate, there were no wrinkles in his forehead, but a look of such pain on his face it tore at her composure.

“What do y’all want from me?” she whispered. “You are all looking at me, and I don’t know what you want me to do.”

Slate laughed uncertainly. “I think we’re checking to see if you are gonna freak, princess.”

She shook her head. “No freakage, Slate. It feels…I dunno…final—like it’s over, after so many years of looking over my shoulder and not sleeping. It’s over, finally. My face hurts, though.” She tried to wrinkle her nose and winced.

Looking at Daniel beside her, Slate asked, “Are you with us, man?”

Daniel had a shudder run down his frame, and his arms strained tightly as he nodded back at him, and then looked at Mason and asked, “Did you know this was coming? Is that why you called me?”

Mason shook his head. “She wanted to see you, man. There’s a lot of talking she needs to do, and it seemed like this was a good time to listen.” He walked over to Mica, reaching his hand out to her face, his fingertips tracing one cheekbone. “Babe, your nose is really swollen; we need to get that looked at.” She shook her head, and then he yelled over her shoulder, “Tug, do you need stitches?” All they heard was a grunt in response.

Looking at Slate and then at Daniel, Mason said, “Babe, I need to make a call. Stay here with Daniel, okay?” He walked away, pulling his cell out of his front pocket. Slate stepped closer to the trailer and leaned against the ramp to make sure no one opened it.

An hour later, sitting on a bucket outside the trailer, she held an ice pack to her poor, swollen nose and watched Slate and Daniel clean up the mess inside. She was in a clean shirt at least, and looked a lot less like a horror movie extra now. Tug had declined going to a hospital, so Daniel had stitched his head up and treated him with antiseptic.

About half an hour ago, a van drove up, and three men got out to talk to Mason. They were wearing biker vests, but she couldn’t read the name of the club, just caught a glimpse of the patch, which was a single wheel with feathery wings on either side. They shook hands with Mason, Slate, and Tug, giving Daniel a chin lift. The bikers flatly ignored her and the girls.

One of the men got back into the van and maneuvered it up to the trailer, lining up the side door of the van with the back of the trailer. The other two men opened up the back of the trailer, and Slate moved Essa’s horse Breezy to block the view from the side. The rig rocked for a second, and then Tug was closing it all back up. She heard the van door slam, and saw one of the men jauntily salute Mason before he climbed into the driver’s seat.

Then the van was gone, pulling away into the dust and darkness. Mica watched without emotion, feeling a clear separation between her and any reaction to the thing they put into the vehicle. She thought idly that not only did she not know what the bikers would do to Ray, she simply didn’t care. Her one concern was that the girls couldn’t know anything was going on.

Mason came over and sat down beside her; he reached out his hand and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She leaned her head into his hand, and then exaggerating the effects of her swollen face, said, “I wanna know when oo call Dan’l.”

He laughed at her, as was her intent, and answered, “Yesterday. I called him yesterday, but I didn’t know until he texted me from the hotel that he was coming.”

Her eyes flashed over to Daniel, standing at a distance from them. “I don’t know what to say to him.” She was on the brink of tears; he was so close, but seemed too far away to reach.

Mason stared at her. “Then don’t say anything. Or say everything. You can hold him, or you can let him walk away. I think the power is in your hands, babe.” With that, Mason stood, stretched, and then reached down to stroke her hair one more time before he walked away towards Tug and the girls.

Mica sat there for nearly an hour hoping Daniel would come talk to her, but he stayed away, talking to Slate. Every time she caught him looking her way, he looked angry and clamped his lips together. His eyes were deeply set under his brow, and she thought again how much weight he had lost, how sad he looked, and how much she wanted to hold him again.

Closing her eyes, she thought about the words of her favorite Jason Mraz song and slowed her breathing. The song made no bones about how bad things could be, but it showed a way past them; it talked about how to deal with the details. Mica stood, wavering for a second, and then took the first step towards Daniel.

Watching her, he stood and waited. Steadily, step by step, she walked towards the man she loved with all her heart. He was patiently standing without moving, neither encouraging nor discouraging her, simply looking at her as she moved closer towards him.