Chapter 18 Bryce
brYCE
“Ilike it here.” Dash looked around the dim bar, holding a huge cheeseburger in his hands. “I haven’t been here in ages. It’s so much quieter than The Betsy. Food’s damn good too.”
“So good.” I took another enormous bite of my burger and moaned.
My parents loved Stockyard’s. It was more their speed than a seedy ruckus bar like The Betsy. It catered to the low-key crowd in Clifton Forge with its subtle music and an abundance of tables for people to sit and visit. It was no surprise that, at nearly midnight, the place was mostly empty.
I figured the only reason they stayed open late was because it was the only place in town to serve food this late.
They’d probably get a rush from The Betsy soon, drunks looking for a heavy meal to combat the alcohol.
And then, of course, they were open to serve the poker players at the table along the back.
Seven men sat hunched over their chips as a young redhead with a pretty smile dealt their cards.
Dash’s back was to them, but every ten minutes, he’d glance over his shoulder, throwing a glare across the distance of the room.
“Not a fan of poker?” I asked after another one of his scowls.
“The one in the gray hoodie is Presley’s fiancé, Jeremiah.” He frowned. “She’s probably sittin’ at home alone while he’s here losing money and getting loaded. Guy’s a tool but she puts up with his shit.”
“And I’m guessing she doesn’t like it when you express that opinion.”
“Not much.” He shook his head. “We’ve all tried to talk to her but it always ends in a fight. So now we keep quiet. At least, we will until they actually decide to get married. Then we’ll all gang up on her.”
“An intervention?” I laughed. “Good luck with that. You’ll have to tell me how it goes.”
From my brief encounter with Presley at the garage, I imagined she was the type who’d make up her own mind. Telling her no would probably work about as well as it did on me.
Dash and I didn’t speak as we finished our meals. Since we’d come in and ordered, neither of us had spoken about what had happened at Draven’s house. But with every bite swallowed, it was coming. What had happened couldn’t be ignored forever.
With rumpled and grease-stained napkins tossed over the few remaining french fries on our plates, Dash’s gaze met mine. “So . . .”
“So. Want to talk about it?”
He ran a hand over the stubble of his jaw. “Can’t believe he’d do that to Mom. She was amazing. This carefree, loving woman. She didn’t deserve a cheating husband. God, I hope she never knew. That she died thinking he was faithful.”
“Can I ask how she died?”
“She was killed outside the house.” He leaned his elbows on the table, speaking in a low voice full of pain. “We found her, me and Nick.”
My hand came to my sternum. It was unimaginable. Heartbreaking. I wanted to hold Dash, but for now, I settled for a whispered, “I’m sorry.”
“Nick was sixteen and had a car. I begged him to give me a ride home from school that day so I didn’t have to ride the bus.
He was pissed because there was this girl he was chasing and she wanted him to drive her around.
But he took me home instead. He always put me first, our family first. Even as a teenager.
We got home and saw Mom lying on her side on the sidewalk.
She’d been gardening, wearing the gloves I bought her for Mother’s Day. ”
I put my hand over Dash’s, holding tight.
He turned his over, threading his fingers with mine.
“There was another club in Montana who’d been causing the Kings some trouble.
They were called the Travelers. Dad and the club had plenty of petty beefs with them over the years, but it had been nothing too serious.
Nothing dangerous. Then Dad and the club got aggressive about expanding.
They took on more drug routes to up the club’s income, even poached some from other clubs.
The Travelers didn’t like losing and made some threats.
Dad dismissed them, not taking them seriously. Until they took it further.”
“They came after your mom.”
He nodded. “Drove up to our home. Shot her in the back of the head while she was planting yellow flowers. You couldn’t even recognize her face. The bullet just tore through her.”
My hand tightened around his and I closed my eyes. The cheeseburger wasn’t sitting well, not when I imagined myself in Dash’s shoes. Finding your mother’s dead body was a horror no child should have to see.
“Dash, I’m . . . I’m so sorry.”
“Me too.” He stayed quiet for a few minutes, his eyes on the table. Even when the bartender came by to take our plates and refill our waters, he didn’t move. He just held my hand until it was the two of us alone. “Dad and the Kings killed all of their members. Every last one.”
I opened my mouth to respond but I didn’t have the words.
It was hard to fathom that kind of murder and violence.
Hard to see Dash in that life. And at the same time, I was glad he, Nick and even Draven, had gotten their vengeance.
It wasn’t black and white, this world he’d pulled me into.
There wasn’t a clear-cut line between right and wrong, not like I’d believed before.
He looked up from the table and adjusted his grip on my hand, wrapping it up completely. “We aren’t good men, Bryce.”
“Maybe. But you’re a good man to me.”
“You sure about that? I got you thrown in jail. Haven’t always treated you right. Yelled at you tonight.”
I locked my eyes with his. “I’m sure.”
Dash loved the people in his life. He was loyal and kind. He enjoyed pushing my buttons, but he’d never once pushed too hard. When he had crossed a line, they’d all been forgivable acts. And an apology hadn’t been long to follow.
Even the whole jail thing.
Because had our roles been reversed, I probably would have done the same to him. I wouldn’t admit it anytime soon, but I’d pardoned him for it all.
After paying the check, Dash and I made our way out into the dark night.
“Where to?” I asked as we walked to my car.
“Mind if I crash at your place?”
I fished the keys from my purse. “I’m punching you in the ribs if you snore.”
He chuckled. “I don’t snore.”
My alarm blared me awake at four in the morning. I scurried to shut it off and not wake Dash.
The man was sprawled on his stomach, his face turned away from me. But his hand was on the small of my back. His thumb moved, rubbing a tiny circle. “It’s early.”
“I have to go to the paper and make sure everything gets out for delivery,” I said, sliding out of bed.
Dad was probably already at the newspaper, bright-eyed and smiling. I was anxious to join him. Sunday and Wednesday mornings were the two days I didn’t want to linger in bed.
Though today, with Dash here, I was tempted.
I took an efficient shower and swiped on the minimum makeup to hide the dark circles under my eyes. Staying up past midnight on a Saturday wasn’t something I’d normally do. But last night had been an exception. To a lot of things.
Dressed in a pair of jeans, tennis shoes and a T-shirt, I walked toward the bedroom door, ready for coffee, but hesitated when I glimpsed Dash. Should I say goodbye? Or just leave?
He was probably asleep. Not snoring now that I was on my way out.
“Bryce.”
“Yeah?” I whispered.
“Come here.”
I tiptoed around the bed, bending low. “What?”
“Kiss,” he ordered with his eyes closed. Those dark lashes were lying perfectly on his cheek.
I smiled, putting my hand on his forehead to push his mussed hair away before dropping my lips to his temple. “Bye.”
It was impossible to keep the smile off my face as I drove to the newspaper. Even with only a few hours of sleep, I was rested and fresh.
Dash and I had fallen into my bed last night, emotionally exhausted and full. He hadn’t made a move for sex. Neither of us had. He’d slept in his boxers. I’d pulled on a tank top and shorts. Then, with his hand slipped underneath the hem of my shirt, we’d fallen asleep.
His palm had stayed warm on my skin all night.
He’d probably be gone when I returned home. Dash had been hit by an emotional steamroller last night and needed time to work it all out. I only hoped he knew he could turn to me if he needed a sympathetic ear.
Last night, things had moved way past my story. This wasn’t about me anymore. Or Amina Daylee. Or Genevieve. Or even Draven. This was about Dash.
My feelings for him could no longer be ignored. When Dad asked me for a story on the Tin Kings, I’d tell him a lie. There wasn’t one worth printing.
A story wasn’t worth breaking Dash’s heart. He’d had enough of that in his life. He wouldn’t get more from me.
Coming through the rear entrance to the pressroom, I found Dad standing by the Goss. “Hi, Dad.”
“How’s my girl?” he asked as I kissed his cheek.
“Good. How’s it looking?”
He handed over the sample paper in his hands. “We’re about done. I’ve got one last run here. BK is working on the bundles.”
Scanning the front page, I smiled at the last of Willy’s articles about the railroad travelers. People had loved his segment, me included.
“It couldn’t have turned out better,” I told Dad. “I’ll go help out BK.”
After an hour of bundling papers and organizing them into stacks, we greeted the delivery drivers in the loading dock. Five parents with their five kids pulled into the parking lot about the same time. They’d be driving papers through town and the surrounding areas this morning.
Most of our subscribers would have their news before seven.
“What are you up to for the rest of the day?” Dad asked as he shut off a row of lights in the pressroom. BK had left already, making a few of his own deliveries before going home.
“Not much. I need to do laundry,” I grumbled. “What about you?”
“A nap. Then your mom wants to go out to Stockyard’s for dinner. You’re welcome to come along.”
“Thanks. We’ll see.” Which we both knew meant no.