Chapter Nine ABBIE
The apartment is still empty when I get back, but I’ve only just managed to find a vase big enough to take Damien’s bouquet when there’s a loud knock at the door.
I brush off my hands, my heart fluttering as I hurry over to peek through the peephole.
I know full well that Wings has his own key and therefore isn’t going to knock, but I can’t help hoping it’s him.
I’ve already dreamed up a dozen ways to apologize - most of them involving rose petals, chocolate, and vodka in some combination – so it’s not surprising that my brain has trouble processing the sight on the other side of the door.
As I pull it open, I stare in shock at Wings’ younger sister. “Trixie… Is that you?”
I remember her as a wide-eyed fourteen-year-old with pin-straight hair down to her butt and an oversized sketch pad under her arm.
Now she has a shock of spiky pink hair, an Iron Flyers’ cut, and a bottle of Gray Goose clutched in her hand.
“Happy housewarming!” she crows, thrusting the bottle at me.
“It’s so good to finally see you again, Abbie! ”
“You too…” I take a step back as she skips into the apartment, her bright blue eyes dancing as they bounce around the room.
She’s a splash of vibrant color in my gray apartment, her short denim skirt paired with a purple sequined tank and a pair of pink Converse and lime green socks.
“Thanks for the housewarming gift, but I’ve actually been living here a while. ”
She screws up her delicate nose at me. “I know! Wings finally cracked and told me where he’s been spending half his life.
I thought he was a secret stripper or maybe recruited into some Black Ops bullshit.
” She looks excitedly at the row of cardboard boxes still stacked against the wall.
“You’re packed already? That’s such a relief.
Wings said you were still kinda unclear about the timeline… ”
I frown as I put the vodka in the freezer. “Those boxes are the last of my unpacked ones, actually.”
“Unpacked? But you’ve been here for like two years…”
It’s closer to three, but I brush that detail aside. “What about you, Trixie? Are you still drawing those amazing designs I remember you always working on?”
“It’s Tricks now,” she tells me proudly, tapping the patch on her vest. “I got my road name last year when I turned eighteen.”
I feel my stomach clench. She might technically be an adult, but I’m having a hard time reconciling that with the cute kid who used to tail after me and Wings, begging for rides on our dirt bikes. “You mean you’re an Old Lady?”
“No!” She blows a raspberry, then spins to show me the back of her cut. “See? I told Ark that calling myself someone’s property was lame, so he let me redesign it to read Under the Protection of the Iron Flyers. I mean, it might not be full-on FYATPHPBYRIO, but it’s a good step.”
I wave her over to the couch, and while she gets settled, grab the bottle back out of the freezer. My stomach might not forgive me, but my nerves are begging for a little distraction. “Sounds great,” I tell her as I pour a shot into a coffee cup, “but I have no idea what you just said.”
“Oh. It stands for Fuck You And The Privileged Heterosexist Patriarchal Bike You Rode In On. It’s the slogan for the bikergirl version of GEM. The Gender Equality Movement?” She pats her vest again. “I’m wearing their button, see? We have meetings once a month in our anti-church.”
“Anti-church?” Visions of a Satanic altar pop into my mind before I realize it’s probably the opposite of the club’s leadership meetings. “Don’t explain. I get it.”
“You must see a lot of gender bullshit, huh?” She’s tucked one foot behind her on the couch and is picking at the laces of her other shoe. “Wings told me you’re an amazing pro-rights doctor.”
There’s more than a little hero worship in her voice and I smile, because it’s the way she used to talk about my dirt bike. “I’m a heat trauma therapist, actually.”
“Oh, wow. That’s gonna help the club so much.” Her eyes shine as she pops back off the couch and dances over to me. “I’m so glad Wings found you.”
I blink at her, but she’s enveloping me in a cherry-and-vanilla scented hug.
I have to admit, it makes me feel a little homesick, even though we’re currently in my apartment.
“I’m glad you came, Tricks. And I’m sorry I haven’t got in touch before.
It’s just been easier to do things on my own, you know? ”
She pulls back with a sympathetic smile.
“I get it, really. I presented right before Booker died, and I was terrified he was going to hand me around to the vultures like a party favor. Of course, Ark and Pitt were in the process of sending them south to set up a chapter in Mexico, so that got the worst of them out of my hair.”
She absently runs her fingers through her pink spikes, so I echo, “Mexico?”
“Mmm. They all took off one day, and Ark told us about the new chapter in Guadalajara, but everyone knows they were sent away because they were vile pieces of shit. I hope they choke on their tequila.”
As a cover story, I’m not sure it will hold up for long, but then, it was probably only invented for Tricks and the other kids. To everyone else, the message would be pretty clear. Fight the new order and the president is going to ship you to the non-existent chapter across the border. The End.
“I’m not here to rush you, promise,” she says, biting her lip.
“But when I heard that you’d visited the club, I was so excited.
I mean, Wings told me that he presented and you helped him through it, but he refuses to say when he’s coming home.
At first, I thought he was just stressed about his big designation reveal, but now I think he’s waiting for you to go back together.
” She casts another glance at the cardboard boxes.
“I mean, you’re already kinda packed, right?
Everyone says that’s the hardest part of moving. ”
I smile at her hopeful expression. “I’ll admit, there are a few things about the Flyers that I miss.”
She pops herself up onto the counter and beams at me as she grabs the vodka bottle and my coffee cup, pouring herself a generous shot. “Like what?”
“Your family, obviously. Your parents were so kind to me after my dad died. Plus, seeing Glory again was really nice.”
“The new people are great, too,” she rushes to add, her eyes sparkling as she finishes her drink and pours a second one. “Just wait until you meet them. Although, from the way your couch smells, I’m guessing you already know Pitt pretty well.”
I roll my eyes at her as I pry the vodka bottle out of her hands. “He makes himself at home, like someone else I know.”
She giggles as she tosses back her drink. “I bet he really brightens the place up.”
“He’s not the worst.” I pause to rub at an invisible mark on my counter. “Speaking of new people, do you know an alpha in the club with long dark hair and a scar on his cheek?”
The light in her eyes dims a little and she screws her mouth into a tiny bow. “Do you mean Bluff?”
“I don’t know.” I’m watching her closely, and there’s definitely a hint of stress in her scent. “I didn’t get his name.”
“Well, it sounds like him. He’s Ark’s VP.” I raise my brows at her and she bites her lip. “Well, technically he is. They haven’t voted on it yet, but everyone knows he’s got the job if he wants it.” She blows out a breath, ruffling her pink spikes. “Did Pitt or Wings say something about him?”
“No, I saw him for a moment. In the club gym.”
Her eyes go as round as blue moons. “Really? He's never around. He doesn’t even live at the club…” She bites her lip again. “He’s kind of a recluse, from what I’ve heard.”
“But you said he’s the VP. How does that work if he doesn’t live with the Flyers?”
‘Well, it’s still unofficial.” Her chin lifts, a flash of protectiveness in her eyes.
“I don’t want to talk behind his back, but he's a special case. He was in Ark’s unit, and they were supposed to leave together, but Bluff stayed in after Ark was discharged.
He was ambushed a few months later and was badly injured.
He spent nearly a year in the hospital, and I think he’s still got some issues he’s dealing with.
” She flicks me a worried glance. “He didn’t scare you, did he? ”
“No,” I reply quietly. “Nothing like that.”
“Good, because I think Ark really cares about him and wants him to come back.” Her gaze bounces around my apartment again, pausing on my packing boxes.
“Kinda like you, to be honest. Right now, the club is a box of puzzle pieces, and if you ask our Pres, I’m pretty sure he’d say a couple of key pieces are missing. ”
I’m still thinking about Tricks’ revelations when Wings comes home a couple of hours later.
The club has a long history of military service, and outside of pack bonds, the members with the strongest ties are often those who served together.
Like Patch and my dad, and Samson and Ark.
I don’t know if Samson ever knew Bluff, but it’s another potential connection that I can’t ignore.
My brother signed up as soon as he turned eighteen, and for a long time I resented him for leaving me with our mom.
But a couple of years after I was thrown out of the club, he died on a mission, and all of my anger turned into a deep, bruising hurt.
Alphas can have trauma, too.