Chapter 33 #2
“That’s still debatable,” I mutter, shifting to face him once again. He’s watching me closely, analyzing me with those piercing, pale eyes.
“How was your little getaway with the family?” he asks with an antagonistic, knowing sneer again.
“Just what we needed.”
“And has your lovely bride accompanied you here?”
I take a bit of pleasure in telling him, “ No. She hasn’t.”
Disappointment flickers behind his stare, but he recovers quickly. “Well, I imagine the young Keegan is tired after the journey home.”
“Yeah. Anyway. Is Rusty’s number still the same?”
“Why? Would you like to summon him here?”
When I hold his gaze without further comment, Legion lets out a resigned sigh. “Fine. I’ll activate the phone and request a meet on your behalf.”
“Why don’t you activate it later,” I say, pulling my phone from my pocket. I unlock the screen and toss it to him. Legion catches it awkwardly against his chest with a grimace. “Use mine. Then finish getting dressed and join me in the bar while we wait for him.”
The corner of his mouth pulls into a half-grin. “Afraid I might warn him? Coach him before this meet, perhaps?”
“If you really have nothing to hide, it shouldn’t be a problem.”
Legion dials a number and puts the call on speaker.
I watch him closely, but there doesn’t seem to be any waver in his demeanor.
He’s either got one hell of a poker face and ice in his veins, or Rusty really isn’t the one safekeeping Legion’s leverage.
The call picks up on the third ring, and a curious voice through the speakerphone answers, “Hello? Dean?”
“He’s here as well,” Legion replies. “We would like to cordially invite you to an evening at the Twisted Throttle. Tonight . ASAP, in fact.”
Rusty is silent for a moment, then says, “But Dean said if I ever set foot in Bermuda County again…”
“I’m making an exception tonight,” I interrupt. “You have my word, you will not be harmed. I just want a conversation.”
“Why now?” Rusty asks, bitterness in his tone. “You wouldn’t hear me out three years ago.”
“You can come in, Rusty, and make this situation easier on everyone,” I say, “ Or we can come find you, and when we do, I can’t guarantee you’ll be on the receiving end of the civility I’m assuring you tonight.”
“Legion?” Rusty seeks assurances from the demon.
“It’s alright,” Legion replies. “The bar’s open tonight.”
“It’s a big place…” Rusty hesitates. “I haven’t forgotten…”
“All I’m interested in is a conversation, Rusty. I’m ready to hear you out if you’re willing to answer the questions I have,” I say. “Final offer.”
“Alright… I’ll head there now. Give me an hour or so,” Rusty agrees, and Legion ends the call.
“Satisfied?” Legion tosses the phone back to me.
“We’ll see.”
T he directions are clear: Take the missed dose as soon as you remember, even if it means taking two pills in one day.
If it’s been longer, consider an emergency contraceptive if you have had unprotected sex in the days prior to your missed dose…
Well, it hasn’t been that long, and a Plan B pill is out of the question.
I lift my eyes from the package of contraceptives in my hand and stare into the mirror.
I didn’t mean to forget. I took my dose the morning we left for the cabin.
Out of habit, I simply placed them back in the bathroom drawer and forgot to pack them.
It was an accident… But my fingers remain frozen on the plastic and foil-encased pill pinched between them.
I just have to press it out…put it in my mouth…
and swallow. Simple. Routine. I’ve been doing it for weeks…
Nearly two months now… Since that day on the porch when Dean was so adamant about what he didn’t want…
One missed dose—which was an accident—isn’t a big deal. But skipping the backup…is a conscious choice…
Take it… Dean would tell me to take it.
My fingers tighten, and the foil splits, freeing the pill. I lift my hand to my mouth and just as I’m about to press the pill past my lips, it slips, landing with a soft plink in the sink.
I lower my gaze to the little white pill teetering on the edge of the drain.
I didn’t mean to drop it… At least, I don’t think I did…
The longer I stare at it, the more I feel the urge to turn on the faucet…just for a second…and walk away…
A ce and I have dinner together alone. Dean decided to go over to the clubhouse early to check in with Derek and the workload at his repair shop, before spending some time at the Twisted Throttle.
I wouldn’t go so far as to say he insisted Ace and I stay home tonight, but he made it a point to mention it would be alright if we did .
I expected Ace to be tired after dinner.
Especially after the long ride home earlier today.
He did nap for a majority of the journey, I suppose.
Now, Ace is sprawled out on his belly beneath the Christmas tree, completely lost in his own little world as he lines up his toy cars and motorcycles along the edge of the tree skirt.
Nico is curled up asleep beside him, unconcerned with anything beyond the warmth of the lights and the soft, murmuring engine sounds Ace is making while he plays.
I should feel settled in this peaceful, golden glow. Soak in the calm of our quiet moment at home. But my mind is elsewhere.
I didn’t say anything for the sake of keeping the peace, especially in front of our son, but I know Dean doesn’t want me to check in on Legion, to give Legion the impression I care.
But I do care, and the thought of my absence convincing Legion I don’t, bothers me more with every passing moment. He doesn’t deserve to feel forgotten.
Dean won’t like it, but he won’t make an issue of it, not in front of his crew and especially not in front of Ace, who I’m sure would love to see a few of his biker Uncles.
I chew my bottom lip, staring at Ace for a moment before I cave and ask him, “Are you tired, sweetheart?”
“No,” he says simply.
“Do you want to go see Uncle Viking at Daddy’s bar?”
His big brown eyes light up, and he scrambles to his feet. “Yeah!”
I park my SUV beside Serene in her usual spot near Dean’s repair shop, and glance in the rearview mirror. The neon sign of the Twisted Throttle casts a glow over the motorcycles and trucks parked closer to the roadhouse. Ace wiggles in his car seat, eager to get out.
“Hang on, sweetie, I’m coming,” I chuckle, unbuckling my seatbelt to get him.
All of the ranking members of the Saviors MC’s bikes are parked further down the lot, closest to the back entrance by the patio. Ace and I walk hand-in-hand to the steel door.
When we step inside the bar, we’re met with the usual mix of laughter, boisterous conversation, clinking pool balls, and rock music coming from the jukebox.
I’m happy to see the increase in patronage, but surprised we aren’t greeted by Viking in his usual spot near the front entrance.
Perched on his stool and taking up the position of bouncer tonight is the biker they’ve all come to call Ford Focus .
“Heyyyy, little man!” A big smile takes over his somewhat stern expression when he spots Ace and I walking in.
Ford Focus leans down to offer Ace a low-five as we approach.
Ace laughs and releases my hand to eagerly slap the biker’s.
Ford Focus chuckles and straightens to address me.
“And our First Lady, always a pleasure to see you, Vanna.”
“I didn’t know the guys were meeting tonight,” I say, speaking a little louder to be heard over the music.
“Weren’t supposed to be, but that guy’s to blame,” Ford Focus replies, cocking his chin in the direction of the bar.
I turn to scan the row of patrons. Sitting at the bar, a few stools away from the regulars, is Legion.
He’s alone, swirling an amber liquid in a glass before he takes a sip, his shoulders hunched slightly under his leather jacket.
The lights above the bar illuminate the demon skull rocker on his back, far more vibrant now that I cleaned the grit and grime out of the white embroidery.
“He’s got some fuckin’ balls wearing that shit in here,” Ford Focus growls, then quickly apologizes for his choice of words in front of my son.
Ace doesn’t seem to be paying attention, though.
He’s preoccupied, searching the room for the familiar faces of his uncles.
There are a few prospects dispersed throughout the room, helping Ford Focus keep an eye on things, but Ace doesn’t know them well, and they know better than to approach us before the club deems them fully trustworthy.
Three of the patch-chasers running drinks for Cherry tonight come by to fuss over Ace and how he looks more and more like Dean every time they see him.
The cooing and giggling of the women draws Legion’s attention, and a slow, deliberate smile stretches his mouth when our eyes meet.
He still looks a little rough, but I’m glad to see him up and about.
“Excuse us,” I say to the women, picking up Ace and shifting him to my hip as I make my way across the room.
I wave to Cherry, who is busy pouring shots for a few patrons at the end of the bar opposite Legion.
Ace hasn’t spotted Cherry or Legion yet, still busy scanning the crowded room, mostly likely for Viking.
Legion repositions himself on his barstool to face me, just as Ace turns and realizes his magic friend is here.
“ Legend!” he squeals with excitement. Before I can stop him, Ace lunges forward, nearly tumbling from my grasp.
My heart seizes and I gasp aloud, “ Ace!”, but Legion moves fast, catching my son and clutching him protectively to his chest as Ace, oblivious to the fact he could have been seriously injured, wraps his little arms gleefully around Legion’s neck.
I grip the empty barstool beside me to catch my breath and attempt to recover from the near heart attack.