Free Falling (Bayou Dogs MC #1)

Chapter 1

one

DANE

A cool breeze whips through my hair as we turn off the interstate, riding two-by-two. The roar of our motorcycles breaks through the silence of the sleepy street as I pull up next to Couyon. He’s standing next to his Harley, arms crossed around his body as he glances toward us.

The engines behind me start to idle, but the passengers are ramped up for what awaits.

Couyon nods in greeting. The lines of concentration are deep along his brow. “He was dropped off at home an hour ago. Hasn’t left since.”

I look ahead, where a rusted wagon wheel marks the entrance to a gravel driveway. “Follow behind,” I instruct.

“Want me to deal with this?,” he offers, trying to give me an out from the unpleasant task.

“I’m handling this one myself,” I snap. A man takes care of his own business. Seth used my name to place a bet with the club, then fucked us over. That makes this personal.

Couyon gives me a chin lift and creeps behind us up the driveway. After parking my bike behind a junker Dodge, I pull out my favorite wooden bat. The varnish has been eaten away by time and an occasional cleaning with bleach.

The others fall in behind me wordlessly. Angry? No. Having to deal with Seth is an annoyance.

I jerk my head to the side, motioning for Folgers to go around the back. He’s empty handed, except for the knife in his boot. With his massive size, Folgers’ body is weapon enough.

It’s been years since I’ve been here. Someone left the porch light on, making navigating the sunken paving stones that lead to the front door easier. A slight twinge of nostalgia hits me as I take in the brick home. The basketball hoop is gone, as are the festive wreaths that were changed with each holiday. The shutters are still the same shade of light blue that Mrs. Williams paid us twenty dollars to paint that last summer. If you’d asked me that hot June day, I would have told you with certainty that Seth would prospect with Folgers, Mudbug and me right out of high school. But that didn’t happen. It’s been many years since I spoke to Seth.

My father’s expression as I rode out, hardened to indifference for the man he once considered a son, enters my thoughts as I step onto the small porch.

We always knock first when we make collection calls. It gives people a chance to put their pants on. I’ve seen way too many ballsacks that don’t belong to me over the years when we don’t. The glass rattles as I pound on the door with my fist. The thump of feet on stairs echoes through the thin door, but no one answers. Riffraff leans down to peek through a slit in the blinds. Standing upright, he shakes his head no.

“If you don’t open the door, we’re going to let ourselves in,” I taunt. Quick steps draw closer, and the door cracks open with a loud squeak. Fucking finally.

A pair of dark brown eyes give me a haughty look from behind the half-closed door. Raising her chin defiantly, she announces, “He’s not here.”

Pushing his way inside, Couyon informs her smoothly, “We’ll have a look-see for ourselves.” She takes three dainty steps backward to let us in, a tell tale hand trembling for a second before she steadies it with a fist. I pause in the doorway when her glower flickers with worry. Our eyes lock, her facade of anger holding strong. As scared as she must be, she’s being brave, facing us head on. A stabbing sensation immediately rips through my gut, and for the first time ever, I feel guilty for showing up at someone’s home.

Mudbug moves his body sideways to pass from behind, catching his first glimpse of our hostess. His body stiffens, “Darcy?” he asks, with such surprise you’d think he was speaking to the ghost of his long dead grandfather. Shaking his head in angry disbelief, Mudbug moves to let the others enter.

As the door slams against the cheap wood paneling, Darcy’s attention comes back to me, eyes blazing with fury. Crossing her arms angrily around her body, she snaps, “Don’t make a mess.”

Well, aren’t you a brave little thing? People in her situation sometimes say a lot of things to us, but throwing out orders isn’t one of them.

Mudbug moves closer to the woman he called Darcy before asking, “What are you doing here?”

“Living the dream,” she remarks with a derisive snort while closing the door behind us.

Mudbug demands, “How long have you been back?”

“Just long enough for Seth to find trouble again. Anybody wanna tell me why you’re looking for him?” she asks wryly.

“That’s club business,” I snap. There’s something hidden between the lines of Mudbug and this woman’s conversation that I’m missing. It’s annoying, like wet socks on booted feet. I want to squish it out like a gnat.

I move to stand in front of her, letting my eyes drag down her body, blocking my lifelong friend’s view. When I make my way back up, she’s glaring at me. “If you’re in my home at this time of night, it seems like you might be my concern, too,” she says, her dark brow upturned demandingly.

I fight back the grin I feel growing on my face. Who the hell is this woman? She must have been around the club before if Mudbug knows her. She’s a bit prissier than I normally like and tall enough to come up to my chin, despite my being six-foot-four. She’s got a young Natalie Wood girl-next-door thing going on. Raven black hair flows down her back and is split down the middle. Her nightie shows off shapely legs. Flawless, olive toned tits flow out of the deep V of the cami-style top. I glance at the tiny ribbon rosebud in the center of her breasts and feel my dick twitch. How the fuck did Seth land her? He can charm an occasional woman, but never one as beautiful and classy as this one. The only possible explanation is that Seth shoveled some serious bullshit in her direction.

She looks young too, maybe not even old enough to buy herself a beer.

Mudbug’s voice is hard with accusation when he asks, “That’s where you’ve been this whole time? With Seth?”

“I..umm…my sister Delia was supposed to tell…”

The loud thump from the back of the house makes her eyes shutter tightly and reopen. “I told you he isn’t here,” she snaps. “When I heard the knock on the door, I went to get him and found the window open.”

Why am I not surprised? Seth Williams was a piece of shit in high school, and he’s still a piece of shit today. He doesn’t deserve this woman.

The pounding of feet on the second story drags my focus back to the job. “Why didn’t he try to take the car?” I ask suspiciously. One of the guys is still out on the porch watching, and Seth hasn’t attempted to get to it yet.

She gives me a “how stupid do I look” expression. “The car is mine from before we were together. I keep the keys hidden.”

Riffraff comes in from searching the kitchen, his feet quiet on the yellow carpet. Once beside me, he asks, “Where’s your man at, Darcy?” His tone, much softer than normal, barely covers the demand behind it.

I stare into her face, still scrunched up adorably. She looks at him for a minute, and it suddenly kills me that they know her and I don’t.

“Seth left a little abruptly without sharing that information, I’m afraid,” she answers with a blasé shoulder shrug.

“Any idea where he might go?” I ask.

She shakes her head again. Letting out a deep breath of surrender, she says, “I haven’t met any of his friends here.”

Seth always had a knack for getting himself into hot water. I’d cut him off like a dead limb after being dragged into his bullshit. Judging how Darcy’s acting, it’s safe to say she’s done with his nonsense. An angry woman would show she cares enough about the man to draw out such emotion, but Darcy has a cool indifference to Seth, leaving only exasperation. Whatever relationship was once there between the pair is long dead.

“You know who he might call for help?” I ask in a gentle voice.

“No, he said he was going to start working for a friend of his to bring in money, but I can’t recall his name,” she scoffs.

Probably Butch. Their longstanding friendship didn’t seem to end even after Camille, Butch’s sister, left Seth for cheating.

A low whimper comes from nearby, so low you could have easily missed it. Mudbug’s head cranes toward mine as he nods toward a small half closet. I hadn’t bothered searching inside of it. It’s so small that Seth would have to do some serious contorting to fit in. Darcy’s eyes are the only ones in the room that don’t shift to the closet. I can feel her discomfort growing in the silence.

When she spoke about Seth, I believed her, and my bullshit detector is usually dead on. She’s hiding someone else. I pick up the bat I carried in with me and start to pace across the living room when Darcy makes a fast dash forward. “Wait, no,” she insists.

Riffraff wraps an arm around her waist to restrain her. Her demands end with an annoyed huff when I reach the half door and wrench it open, only to find it empty. My eyes drop lower, lower. I feel my chest constrict when I find the tiniest little human sitting inside a car seat on the floor. His pink fists are waving furiously, eyes squeezed shut, and his legs kick off a blue fluffy blanket.

Fuck. Seth left her here to deal with us and a new baby alone? The baby’s frown deepens in disapproval as his eyes pop open to glare at me. This is definitely Darcy’s baby. Their scowls are identical.

I gesture to the infant, a weird feeling growing in my stomach. I would have grabbed Seth outside the house if I’d had any idea there was a baby here. I want to draw him close to me, to protect him from the bad in the world. Instead, he’s stashed away in a closet for safety from us.

From me.

My rage at Seth grows, and any nostalgic emotions I may have once harbored wilt away into nothingness as I watch tiny arms and legs continue flail in frustration.

“Did Seth mention this to anybody?” I accuse, turning blazing eyes onto Mudbug.

Riffraff’s lips purse with displeasure as he looks at the infant, equally furious. “Seth says a lot of shit,” he answers. “Remember when he said his mom had months to live? That was fifteen years ago.”

Folgers steps forward, his approach from the back of the house having gone unnoticed. He inspects the bundle in the closet and looks back at me with the cold fury of what could have happened in his eyes. “He never said anything about a kid,” he confirms.

A powerful wail comes from the peanut. Impressive to have been created by something so little.

“I need to feed him,” Darcy says with forced evenness.

Scrubbing my hand down my face, I step backward, gesturing toward the small half door. Riffraff releases Darcy, and she dashes forward, eager to reach her son.

She kneels at the front of the closet and starts making gentle shushing noises. The nightie rides up, giving me a glimpse of pink bikini-cut panties that don’t quite cover her ass.

Darcy pulls him to her chest and stands, one dainty hand supporting his head while balancing his body with her other. “It’s okay, Owen, Mommy’s got you. We’re gonna get you all fed and cleaned up,” she coos.

She moves toward the stairs, where Couyon and Farm Boy are still searching the second floor, and I step in front of her. “We need to make sure Seth’s not up there.”

If he doubled back, he could be upstairs without her knowing. Darcy and Owen could get hurt.

“All of the baby’s stuff is in my bedroom,” she pleads.

“Go straight there,” I say to Darcy.

Reaching for my phone, I send a quick text.

Dane

Meet Darcy at the top of the stairs and escort her to her bedroom. Don’t let her out of your sight.

Farm Boy

On it.

After she says a reluctant, “Thank you,” I let her walk ahead until she’s out of earshot, enjoying the sway of her ass as she takes slow steps up to the second story. I purposefully linger, wanting a word alone with Mudbug.

After his phone pings, Mudbug announces, “We can stop looking. Folgers found footprints near the old oak tree.”

A fresh wave of irritation with my former friend washes over me. I purposefully sent Folgers in the back to watch in case Seth decided to slip out that way. “Watch the front door,” I say.

After strolling over to the sofa, Mudbug crosses his legs onto the coffee table, and drapes his arms around the back. He pulls out his phone and starts mindlessly scrolling.

“Hey, how do you know Darcy,” I ask, keeping my tone casual. I loathe that I have to ask him, that he knows and I don’t.

Muddy doesn’t look up from his phone when he answers, “She worked for White Dog in the business office.”

The club owns most of the combination garage and towing company, but I inherited a large portion from my grandfather and godfather, Ruger. There’s no way we had an employee I haven’t met. “When was this?” I ask in disbelief.

“I dunno, a year or so back,” he answers vaguely. Firm answers would be nice, as would your full attention.

I do have a vague recollection of being told a newer employee quitting the dispatch office suddenly. I was in New Orleans most of that time, helping out with some issues with the Gaming Commission. Until my grandfather passed away, I only came back to town for social events. She must have come and gone before we had a chance to meet. If I had, no man would have stood a chance with her.

Finally Muddy gives me eye contact, “Didn’t know she was messing around with Seth though. I would have stepped in if I had,” he assures me.

“That could have been trouble,” I point out. As careful as we try to be outside of the clubhouse, too much can be easily seen or overheard by an outsider when you work in close proximity. It’s just common sense to know who is working for us, and who they hang around.

“Nobody had any clue. She just disappeared one day. Her parents came to the office demanding to know where she was, but told people she went to bible college. Her kid sister finally admitted she ran away.”

Mudbug looks down at his phone, his face still creased. He starts texting furiously, and I hear the swooping sound of a dating app he uses for anything but finding an old lady. Any stress and the man immediately starts looking for a mouth to wrap around his cock. “Keep an ear out. Seth’s just stupid enough to try to come home while we’re here,” I order before bounding up the stairs.

The first door down the hall is Seth’s old room. The open window and missing screen are no surprise. The bed is still made with the crisp hospital corners I watched Mrs. Williams achieve countless times.

I slam the door shut, resentful of the familiar smell and the memories the room brings to mind.

The master bedroom is only a few paces away. Dirty sheets are half off the bed, and trash is strewn everywhere. A collection of bongs is on the nightstand next to a broken laundry basket. No doubt who’s using this room. Couyon walks out of the large closet, kicking a pussy pocket out of the way with a grimace. “That’s the last of it,” he says.

“Any women’s clothes in there?” I ask.

“No, just a bunch of men’s shirts.”

So, she moved into the guest room. Guess she is done with him.

Excellent.

My reputation and size come in handy when I’m dealing with anyone but a woman whose bed I want to enjoy. Most women jump to do my bidding, and get all pouty and teary eyed at the slightest hint of firmness or exasperation in my tone. It’s mentally taxing to have to watch my every word with a woman. It’s a large part of the reason I don’t bother with regulars like Mudbug, or lady friends, like my father. Darcy though? I like that fire inside of her. She’s just like sugar cane, I’d bet on it—hard on the outside, but still sweet. I see it in how she handles her son. Few women can be as strong as she’s shown herself to be tonight and still have that side to them.

It takes me precisely one-tenth of a second to make up my mind.

Seth doesn’t deserve Darcy or Owen.

But I do.

I’m claiming this woman and her son. Nothing and nobody will stop me.

Seth’s only made it easier for me.

I walk down the hall, following loud, angry wails until I reach the old sewing room. It’s been completely changed. An old bassinet occupies one corner near a neatly made twin bed. The only clutter in the room is a bottle of lavender lotion on the bedside table. A gold band sits next to it, as if removed to put on lotion and never put back on.

The baby’s face is beet red, all four limbs jutting out, lungs working at full capacity in protest. Darcy snaps Owen into a clean sleeper and bundles him up in a thin blanket that straps his arms to the side. “Doesn’t he feel trapped bundled up like that?” I ask.

“You’re supposed to swaddle newborns. It makes them feel safe,” she informs me as she takes him to an old wooden rocking chair. As much bravado as she is putting on, she must be shaken up. Her touch with the baby is still easy, her primary thought on his care. She’s a good mom. Covering her shoulder with a light blanket, she brings him underneath to nurse after pulling back the top. “I guess you wouldn’t leave if I asked you to?”

“Zero chance, Sugar,” I inform her before pulling out an old desk chair and turning in their direction.

There’s a tightness around her shoulders while she nurses, but she coos and talks to the baby the entire time, purposely ignoring me. At one point, she discreetly switches breasts, and I wonder if one is empty or dripping milk down her skin.

Farm Boy comes to the door but scurries away when he notices Darcy nursing. I walk into the hallway, shutting the bedroom door behind me to keep my woman from overhearing club business. She doesn’t need to be involved in some of this shit. The club is somewhat clean, in a “California Sober” kind of way. Although Bedico Bob’s underground casino more than skates the boundaries of Louisiana gambling laws.

In the hallway, the others are gathered around, waiting for me.

With annoyance hovering in his eyes, Folgers announces, “Just got a call. A deputy picked Seth up for disorderly conduct and assaulting a police officer.”

Seth can’t seriously believe hiding from us in jail will save him. Still, that’s exactly what he’s doing. “Why don’t you go home? I’ll talk to Darcy,” I say, turning to go back into the room.

“She might be more comfortable if I go,” Mudbug suggests. “We got along pretty well when we worked together.”

Blind rage fills me as I stare at my friend, jaw tight, hands clenched into fists. “She’s mine,” I declare low. “Her and Owen.”

His eyes grow wide as he stares at me. “You just met them,” he remarks incredulously. “And she’s married.”

“ Mine ,” I growl.

Farm Boy lets out a deep, rumbling baritone laugh. “This is going to be good. You making a deal with Seth for her?”

“I have to talk to Prez,” I reply crisply. While I’m taking the helm next week, Linc is still technically the president, and Seth’s debt is to the club. I’ll have to buy the debt to get rid of Seth. Not that his refusal can ever, or will ever, stop me. Running this by him is just a show of respect.

“We’re going to find a drink,” Riffraff informs me in a tone that says he doesn’t believe me. The three of them tromp down the stairs, their heavy boots making too much noise on the uncarpeted steps while the baby’s getting settled in. Once at the bottom, Mudbug glances up in my direction, his face uncertain before he shakes his head and follows the others. I don’t know how well he and Darcy got along before, but it’s over and done with. I know, for sure, she wasn’t one of his girls. In part because she’s brunette, but also because there’s a very strict no-fraternization rule between the club and the female employees of White Dog.

When the door clicks closed, the house grows quiet, only the sound of the television filters up the stairs. I walk back into the bedroom, shutting the door lightly behind myself, and draw in a deep, satisfied breath at the picture in front of me.

The baby’s in his bassinet, belly up. His little face falls to the side, eyes closed, his forehead deeply wrinkled as the gentle sucks on his pacifier become slower. Finally, his forehead softens with sleep. Through the wrapped blanket, his chest moves up and down with deep breaths. Darcy steals a sideways glance at me, her face flushing when I catch her.

I nod toward the door so we don’t wake up the peanut, picking up Darcy’s cell phone off the dresser as I pass. Darcy gives me a glower that is about as intimidating as a puppy and snatches the baby monitor from the end table.

In the hallway, I unlock Darcy’s phone by holding it up to her face and start to add my number.

“You won’t find anything in there,” she snaps, resignation dripping in her voice.

I call myself so that I have her number. Once mine comes alive in my pocket, I pull it out, inspect the screen to ensure the number’s saved, and hand Darcy back her phone. “We found Seth. He’s in the back of a squad car headed to the parish lock-up.”

“He’s barely been gone, what, an hour?” She laughs. “I think that’s a record, even for him.”

I don’t respond, not wanting to spend any more of my time discussing another man. Her level of give-a-shit with him is so low she doesn’t even bother asking why he was picked up.

The intercom in Darcy’s hand crackles, and rustling noises follow a single half-hearted whimper before it’s quiet again. “How long until Owen wakes up to eat again?” I ask, wondering what exactly is in store for me in the next few weeks. I know absolutely nothing about this dad shit except that good rest is not in my future.

Darcy scans me up and down assessingly. “I shouldn’t hear from him again until around two a.m.”

There’s a long, quiet moment. A low-level current I’ve never experienced draws me closer. Whatever this is between us feels fucking incredible. I know she feels it, too. Darcy’s avoiding eye contact, never glancing in my direction.

She finally looks at me through her eyelashes, scanning my body. I savor every millisecond of it. She swallows nervously, and pulls in a long breath. Gone is the woman who argued with a pack of bikers over slammed doors. In the last ninety minutes, her husband’s gone out the window, her home’s been ransacked, she’s tended to a very young baby alone while still healing from giving birth, and now that same husband is headed to jail. Any one of those things alone is enough to make the strongest of women need to recharge. Fuck, most women would be hysterical, either crying or screaming. Darcy just looks drained.

“Go to bed,” I say softly. “I’ll lock the door when I leave.”

“No, I want to lock the chain,” she insists, as if that will keep anybody out. Maybe it’ll make her feel a little safer, though, here alone with a small child.

I have to go deal with another debt, but I’ll have someone watch over the house.

I force myself down the stairs and to the door.

I pause with the knob in my hand, and turn, trying to find anything I can say to Darcy to hear her voice one more time. Her feet are still bare as she leans against the maple banister, hands crossed over her thin body as she looks down, still avoiding me.

“You’re a good mom,” I tell her.

Darcy’s head darts up, and I’m rewarded with softness in her eyes. “Thank you for saying that. It’s all kind of new still.”

“Well, you’re doing an amazing job. Owen is lucky to have you.”

“More like stuck with me. Sorry, kid, this is what you’ve got.”

Her self-deprecating humor does not amuse me in the least. All the shit moms in the world, and she thinks Owen got the bad end of the stick? She is an adoring mother and so patient. I bite down on what I want to say and simply offer, “I know you won’t use it, but if you need anything, my number’s in your phone.”

“You’re right. I won’t use it,” she says with a little laugh. With that, I force myself to turn the handle and walk outside to the porch. The sound of crickets breaks through the silence as I wait to hear the lock.

Leaving Darcy and Owen is as annoying as a rock in my shoe and feels just as wrong.

My prospect, Flinch, is waiting on the street. The others must have sent him to watch my back.

I normally leave handling the prospects to the other guys, but sponsoring Flinch for membership felt like my responsibility and privilege. He had, after all, lost his father while he was trying to protect mine. Flinch will soon be a third generation club member, and it shows in his every action. If I can’t be with Darcy and Owen, nobody will keep them safer.

“Stay here until I tell you to leave,” I order. “If anyone tries to come to the house, call me immediately. If Darcy leaves, follow her discreetly.”

“And if someone insists on being let in?” he asks.

I arch an eyebrow in his direction. “You know what to do.”

As I start to take off, I raise my voice so it’s heard over the engine. “Stay out of sight.”

Flinch gives me a smug grin, the fucker, knowing the simple instruction is child’s play for him, already understood without my reminder.

I don’t have to ask if he’s carrying, and I know if anything happens, he’ll handle things more efficiently than some of the patched members. Flinch gives me a nod as I drive off without my family.

I feel the primitive urge to go back to the house and mark every inch of Darcy’s skin. To throw my property patch over her shoulders. To see my boy sleeping in his real home, the one I’ll have waiting for him.

But I need things handled the right way, so Darcy’s rid of Seth, and my boy can truly be mine.

Only that knowledge keeps me from driving back tonight with my truck, and dragging Darcy and Owen home.