18. Embry
18
EMbrY
ONE WEEK EARLIER...
Liliana’s new horse was a Welsh pony. He had a wispy face and thick muscles and a chestnut mane that matched Saint’s messy hair.
She’d called him Casper. Wasn’t sure why. His paperwork named him as Spot. But who the fuck was I to argue? I just had to survive watching her ride a horse a foot taller and twice as fast as Chappie.
Sharing the load with my cousin helped. For all his grump, Joe was an excellent teacher. He never took his eyes off Liliana as she flew around the jump course he’d built for her, and it gave me a minute to relax and stretch a hard day of building site graft out of my body.
It was a cold evening, frost on the ground, the wind biting my face. I shoved my hands into the pockets of my cement-ruined hoodie and leaned against the fence, observing the sights and sounds of a farm woven into my DNA. Even though I hadn’t set foot on this land until I was a prison-scarred adult, I felt the hand of the people who’d come before me, and I’d learned to like it.
Still wasn’t much for horses, though. Or the scent of hay and manure saturating my senses. I slid a mint into my mouth and fished out my phone to tell Mateo I missed everything about him, but especially how he smelled—in the morning, in the evening. In the middle of the night when I woke up just to press my face to his skin.
We weren’t good at poetic text messages. I wound up asking what he’d had for dinner. He didn’t reply, but I’d grown used to that over the past few weeks. Mateo didn’t like using his phone, and the expanding quiet between us felt like those dark weeks we’d spent apart when I’d helped hide Lilliana at Alexei’s Bristol penthouse.
When you left him .
Stress rattled my gut. I pushed it away, like I’d had to the whole time Mateo had been gone. Keeping busy helped. Being a dad—a part of my life that still felt surreal sometimes. Working overtime on building Joe’s new stable block. Early mornings, late nights, and the long days in between.
I’m so fucking tired.
Good tired, though. Not the death fatigue I was finally free of—the kind of lethargy that would’ve left me uncaring that an unknown vehicle approached Joe’s farm.
These days, the engine noise whipped my head around. A car crawled up the gated driveway only family and staff had the code for—a nondescript SUV that jogged something in my brain. Had I seen it before? Not that I could remember, but that didn’t mean much when it came to the past few years. I’d lost so much time that I’d never get back, and maybe this car belonged to the blurry days of pain and exhaustion when only Mateo and Liliana had existed for me.
I tracked the car to where it stopped near the chalets some of Joe’s staff lived in.
Angelo, maybe? From this distance, I couldn’t tell, and it bothered me enough to push away from the fence and move closer, reaching in my pocket as the driver door opened and a man hopped out from behind the wheel.
Literally fucking hopped, to the rear door to fetch a set of crutches.
For a split second, I relaxed. Angelo used crutches sometimes. But the set of the man’s shoulders were broader than the ex-ballet dancer who’d helped me reacquaint myself with my stomach muscles last year. This man was taller, older, and I knew him, but I didn’t know why.
Contemplating it carried me halfway across the distance between us.
I glanced back at Lili. She was fine, Joe was fine. Me, though—I had one foot on a different fucking planet, and it had happened to me before, at the sea pool, when I’d run into a prison guard from my time at Woodhill.
The man threaded his arms into his crutches and looked up in the same moment I refocused on him. Recognition flared in his gaze and he smiled. “You look well.”
“Do I?”
“I think so. Come closer so I can get a better look. I’m not sticking these damned crutches in the mud again.”
His voice, somehow refined, rough, and Welsh all rolled into one, kickstarted my brain again. The vibrant scent of the farm morphed into the deathly disinfectant of the hospital, and I realised I was gawping in the face of the doctor who’d saved my life when my scarred guts had tied themselves in enough knots to kill me.
Dr. Ramsey.
Marc .
My cousin’s friend.
I traversed the muddy slope between us and jumped the last few feet to the cobbled yard. “I didn’t recognise you.”
Marc’s easy smile widened. “You weren’t awake much when I had you in A&E. We had some good conversations in recovery, though.”
“We did?”
“You told me you read Thoreau in prison.”
“Wow. Okay.”
“It’s not true?”
“No, it is. I just haven’t ever said that to anyone before, especially not Joe.”
Marc laughed. “Can imagine. How are you doing? You really do look well.”
“I am well. That surgery changed everything for me. If I don’t stress too much or eat a lot at once, I can forget I ever had it.”
“That’s good to hear. You had me worried for a while when they brought you in.”
“I don’t remember much of that.”
“You don’t need to. It’s done. And time only moves forward, eh?”
“I like that philosophy.”
“So do I, when I remember it.” Marc shifted on his crutches.
I glanced down and did a double-take. “You lost your leg?”
“So they tell me.” Marc’s tone turned dry. “And I keep waking up without one, so I’m inclined to believe it.”
“When?”
“Fifteen years ago, maybe? Left it splattered in Iraq somewhere.”
He’s a soldier. I saw it now, clear as day. But the timeline didn’t match the few nuggets of information I’d retained about Joe’s doctor friend. “I thought you worked on the HEMS choppers.”
“I did until my prosthesis got damaged on a run. Don’t think I’ll go back to it now. I’m too old for all the running around.”
“So you work in A&E instead?”
“For my sins. I’d really like if I never saw you there again, though.”
I couldn’t promise him that, and our conversation reached a natural end. Marc tipped me a nod and moved off, bossing it with his crutches with the same upper body strength Nash had.
He disappeared into a chalet. I stared at the closed door for the hot second it took to rally my thoughts. Then turned to face Joe and Lilliana as they appeared behind me, their lesson over.
Liliana was buzzing, helmet hair flattened to her forehead. “Did you see how high I jumped?”
“I saw you jump once. Then I had to hide in case Pápa asks if we had fun.”
“I did have fun.”
“Good for you. I aged ten years.”
“You never age,” Joe grumbled. “Your face is the same as when you were sixteen.”
“You didn’t see me when I was sixteen.”
“Whose fault is that?”
Mine. He’d come to the prison. I’d refused to see him. Wasn’t in the mood to relive that, though. Marc was right about moving forward, and I was here for the future. “Steels are going in tomorrow. I’ll start the block work the day after.”
“Thought you already did that?”
“We talked about it. You wanted the heavier gauge, so I had to wait for them to be delivered.”
Joe glared. “When’s that happening?”
“It happened today.”
“When?”
“Lunchtime.”
“I didn’t hear any lorries.”
“You were taking your nanna nap.”
Joe speared me with suspicion, but I didn’t feel like explaining I’d had Axel and Locke bring a truck to the furthest gate from the main site and we’d carried the steels across the fields of a neighbouring farm to keep the disruption away from his precious horses. He either trusted me or he didn’t.
I took Liliana’s helmet from her. “Come on. It’s a school night.”
“I’m not a baby.”
“Never said you were.”
Lili huffed and stomped away. I turned to follow, but Joe caught my arm.
“Sorry, I’m a knob. I just hate having strangers under my fucking feet.”
“Who’s under your feet?”
“Dunno. I’ll think of someone. But don’t break your back trying to finish by Christmas. It doesn’t matter, it’s not like we shut down for the holidays.”
“Maybe you should. Take a few days off.”
“Nags still need feeding, kid.”
“Okay.”
I turned away again.
Again , he pulled me back. “I’m trying to say I’m proud of you. Sorry it’s not coming out right.”
Joe wasn’t good with words. But as he pulled me into a hug, it didn’t matter. He was the only blood family who’d ever showed up for me, and his embrace meant as much as any brother.
I left the farm and drove Liliana home to Juana’s house. Locke, Orla, and Nash were already there, eating dinner.
Juana pushed me into a seat and slid a plate in front of me. “Eat. You look tired.”
Truth. But I was hungry too, and I spent enough time with Juana that she knew all my favourite things.
I inhaled a plate of spicy chicken and rice. Changed my clothes. Drank a beer and stole Hope from Locke to put her to bed.
When I came back, Locke had dozed off on the couch and Nash was outside on the phone.
The women were in the kitchen and I thought about going home, but my empty house was the last place I wanted to be, so I fell into my seat at the table, trying not to stare at Orla too much—a task far harder than building a stable block with my bare hands. This pregnant, she was mesmerising, and I honestly didn’t know how Locke and Nash got anything done.
She left the room to use the bathroom.
Juana kicked me under the table. “You never looked at me like that when I was eight months pregnant.”
“Yes, I did.”
“Really?”
I shrugged, pointing out the obvious. “Pregnant women are hot.”
“You don’t think I’m hot now?”
Warning bells went off in my head, the kind that let me know there were no right answers and only the truth would save me. “I think you’re beautiful, but pregnant or otherwise, I don’t want to bang anyone who isn’t my husband.”
Juana sighed, and I was almost positive it wasn’t because she was disappointed, but Nash came inside before she could speak and gave me a look that had me halfway to my feet.
“What is it?”
“Decoy and Mateo are coming home.”
“Something wrong with the rig?”
“Nah, Mats is chucking his guts up. Rubi’s gonna finish Bertha’s run.”
That was it. Nash didn’t know anything else. He slipped into the living room to wake up Locke.
I pulled out my phone. The message I’d sent Mateo from the farm was undelivered. I called him, but his phone was off.
Decoy.
I tapped out a message.
Embry: Is Mateo sick?
Decoy: yea, a bug or something. putting fuel in the rental then we’re heading home
Embry: How long will you be?
Decoy: 6 hrs if the roads stay clear
I glanced at the time. It was already late. Decoy and Mateo wouldn’t be home until morning, but that wasn’t what had me out of my seat and pacing to the window by the kitchen sink, whatever comfort Orla offered me floating by unheard.
A bug or something . Benign fucking words, but they didn’t sit right. Mateo—and Decoy, come to think of it—never got sick. He never caught anything. Never sneezed, never puked, and only jasmine oil, and smoking Rubi’s ridiculous bong ever made him cough. Also, he was stoic as fuck, and hard as I tried, I couldn’t imagine him quitting the road because he’d hurled a few times.
How many times?
I didn’t know. Nash didn’t know. And Decoy was driving. With Mateo’s phone off, that left Rubi or Ranger, but bikes pulled up outside before I could fire off a text, a car rolling to a stop behind Cam and Viktor.
Folk .
Ivy was with him. I set my phone on the stair post and made an effort to unfuck my face as I considered what that meant. Her dads had a stricter bedtime vibe than we did with Liliana. I couldn’t think of a single reason for Folk to have hustled her out of bed and across town that didn’t make my stomach churn.
They reached the front door. I opened it and Ivy danced inside. “Where’s Lili? We’re having a sleepover.”
“A quiet one.” Folk slipped in behind her. “It’s a school night, bug. Go upstairs and get into bed. I’ll be up in a minute.”
Ivy kicked off her shoes and bustled past. Then she stopped and turned back. “Embry, why do you look scared?”
So much for unfucking my face. “Orla said she’d sit on me. Go upstairs, mermaid. There’s some fancy new soap in the bathroom.”
“What kind of soap?”
“The kind you want to eat, but don’t eat it this time, okay?”
Ivy stuck out her tongue and skipped away.
Folk set her school bag by the shoe rack and appraised me the way I tried to appraise everyone else, answer the question before I could ask it. “Cam wanted to check on you and he won’t leave me alone right now.”
I knew that—and I knew why. Folk’s low mood wasn’t a secret. But Cam could’ve called me. Waking up Ivy seemed overkill, unless he was the one who had extra information.
A bike engine rumbled to life outside. I wasn’t usually tuned in enough to know whose, but Viktor’s Ducati was distinct enough from Cam’s hog that I knew it was him revving up and zipping away.
Cam appeared a second later. His smoke-and-leather scent hit me as he pushed his hair back out of his face, as wildly attractive as Orla, but I felt it less these days. “Viktor’s heading out to join the run. River’s going with him.”
“Still no word from Saint and Alexei?”
Cam’s dark gaze flickered. “Only that they’re safe.”
An hour ago, I might’ve pushed him harder, poked more at the brick wall he’d thrown up around the mere hours Saint had spent at home before he’d ridden out to who the hell knew where. Now, I just pulled out my phone again and glared at the single tick next to my unread message.
He never lets his phone go flat.
Never had. Pápa code before I even knew he had a kid. Now he had— we had two, and as if she sensed the worry gnawing at my heart, Hope let out a distressed wail, a cry rare enough to send me flying upstairs.
I found her standing in her cot, gripping the bars like a pint-sized prisoner, fat tears leaking from her big button eyes.
She held her arms up. “Da?”
That was me . Her fucking dad. Still blew my mind that the blood ties drilled into my childhood meant so little in reality. That I could love a child so much who shared no DNA even with Mateo.
But, Mother of Christ, I loved this kid.
I lifted her from her bed and wiped the tears from her face. “What’s the matter, little one? Are you missing him too?”
Hope cried harder and I knew I’d nailed it. For all she had me, and her favourite Uncle Locke in reserve, she knew the man who’d caught her in his arms as she’d landed on this earth. Who’d cut her umbilical cord and laid her on her mother’s chest. She knew who her Pápa was, and hearing her cry for him wrecked me.
“Shh. He’ll be home soon.”
She didn’t believe me. I walked her round her room a while before she simmered down enough to doze on my shoulder, her tiny body still shuddering with unspent sobs, but I knew better than to try and put her back to bed. I wrapped her up and took her downstairs, through the empty hallway and into the kitchen, the silence that fell a distant deafening roar as six pairs of eyes stared back at me, alive with the kind of concern that could kill a man where he stood. “What happened?”
Hope began to wail again as Cam stepped forward, phone clutched in one hand, car keys in the other. “Get your shit. We need to go .”