Chapter Seventeen
Cass
Lilly has been planning our wedding, getting everything ready for us to say I do in the same place that my parents did.
Something about that makes me feel. It’s an odd sensation, the way that a simple gesture can dig inside of you so deep and drag out emotions that you weren’t sure you could feel.
Emotions that are hard to identify, and harder to comprehend, much less communicate.
Something about Oklahoma, it’s home. And every time I’m here, I feel powerful and steady and good. No matter what I’m doing, there’s an energy on the ground here for me that makes me feel more alive and more dominant than anywhere else in the world.
Not only do I feel more powerful, it’s almost a sense of invincibility.
Sitting at this table, the one that I helped build and the first place that I learned what it was to be a Hound, with my dad and the men that helped raise me along with every new face that has come through since is indescribable.
Home isn’t a place, it’s a feeling. It’s this feeling.
“We still have one loose end to tie up regarding the pond matter,” Brock says, drawing my attention.
“Barry’s son isn’t letting this issue go.
He followed right into his dad’s footsteps and is running for some city official position.
He’s pushing for this unsolved case to be looked into.
He’s mentioned it a few times at the campaigns and is drawing some serious attention,” Clayton says, rolling his eyes.
“If he disappears, it’ll be too convenient and draw more attention than we’re bargaining for.
We want all of this to go away quietly. Since the fire at the District Attorney’s office destroyed evidence and we were able to get away, barely, we need to keep as little eyes on us as possible,” I add, trying to be the sounding board.
This isn’t the eighties anymore. You can’t just make people disappear without a whole lot of eyes on you, literally.
There are cameras outside every business and home in town.
It’s a wonder we weren’t caught on any clear enough to be identified.
Both the DA’s office and the pond shack went up in flames the same night, drawing more attention than we bargained for but they ruled the one at the DA’s office an electrical fire.
Bad wiring in an old building gone too long unattended.
There was speculation, but the fire marshal was adamant that was the cause and the two were unrelated.
“What’s his name?” Scott asks, looking a little lost and out of the loop.
“BJ Harlow. Barry Junior,” Brock says.
“He’s been making a fuss about his dad’s disappearance for years but now that they found his car, he’s even more adamant about solving this case,” Clayton says.
“We’re going to just have to sit back and wait it out. There’s nothing he can do without evidence, and that has been destroyed. Unless there’s a patsy, we don’t have a choice but to just let it die down,” I chime in.
Brock’s ears perk up at my comment.
“Let me see what I can do,” he says.
Clayton gives him a curious stare, and his eyes widen. “I like the way you think, brother,” he says to Brock with a smile. A secret conversation happening between the two of them before our eyes, none of us the wiser of what just occurred. If they’ve got solutions to our problems, sign me up.
I don't need to have my hand in it for it to work out for us, so long as it works out for us.
It sounds like Clayton and Brock have everything sorted out for the most part, so Scott and I will just wait around until we have a verdict.
I'm ready to tie this shit up and be done with it.
I don't want the Hounds to be branded with these crimes.
It took years for us to earn the respect we have here and this could shatter it like a thin glass in an instant.
Not that the clubs would lose respect for us, but the town.
The people in the society. It's hard enough being a biker in a community that fears what they don't understand, the last thing we need is for them to think we're running some kind of hit man business out of the fucking clubhouse.
Because let's face it, that's what they would think.
"Brock and Clayton are up to something. Something good, I think," Scott says.
"I think they know what they're doing, so we can sit this one out until they need help, if they need it," I say, my voice still thick with sleep.
"I think you're right, brother," he agrees.
Lilly and the ol' ladies are all at the rodeo today. Maybe we'll pop up there since there isn't much for us to do right now. Our hands are tied until we hear something back from Brock and Clayton.
I send out a text to the guys and tell them we're heading to the county fair. We ride down the backroads I grew up on until we reach the fairgrounds. There are hardly any spots available to park, so we make our own parking spot closer to the gate than is allowed. No one says a word to us, though.
We walk inside the gates and there's a dust tornado whipping past us as the aroma of fried fair food wafts through the air. My stomach grumbles as the aromas combine, smelling like sweet deep-fried deliciousness. The sun is starting to set, and the temperature is slowly dropping.
Scott, Digger, Snapper, Aaron, and Junk are walking with me as we make our way through the crowded midway.
Digger stops at one of the gaming tents, a sucker for the darts game. We all pause and stare idly as he pays the man, throws a few darts at balloons, then repeat that same process three times in a row. He finally concedes and takes his consultation prize of the larger medium stuffed plushies.
It's a green triceratops with a pink bow in between the ears. As soon as he rejoins the group, Junk grabs his arm.
"I need this plushie. What do you want for it?" he asks.
Digger hands it over, without a second thought. "She's all yours. I didn't even want it to begin with."
"Thank you. Lawsyn is obsessed with dinosaur plushies," Junk says, tucking the stuffed animal beneath his arm.
We walk around slowly, stopping for Junk and Aaron to play a few of the random games. They're all rigged, and I get too irritated when I lose, so I opt not to participate. I don't feel like beating the shit out of the con artist working the games today.
I stop at one of the beer booths and buy a beer, sipping it slowly as we walk through the fair.
Rides creak and screech. People scream as the rides catapult them in various directions.
The sweet smell of funnel cakes hangs in the air.
As we get closer to the arena, the smells begin to change from sweet to putrid.
Funnel cake has been replaced with horse shit and the screams from the rides have been replaced with cheering from the crowd.
My eyes scan the bleachers, searching for one familiar face amongst the rest. Today must be my lucky day. Lilly is sitting in between Nova and Lawsyn with her hair in braided pigtails. It's one of my favorite looks, and she knows it. Her eyes lock on mine and her mouth tilts up into a wicked grin.
She didn't even know we were coming and yet her eyes find me among a crowd the same way mine found her.
An invisible string tethering us to one another.
She rises from her place between Lawsyn and Nova and weaves through the row of people sitting in the same bleacher she was.
She makes it to the stairs and bounces down them.
When her body comes into view, my heart hammers in my chest.
The way her blue jeans hug her hips just right as she saunters toward me has me thinking about what I'm going to do to her when we get home. I've been slowly walking toward her this whole time, leaving the guys behind where they stopped to watch the barrel race in the arena.
"Hi," Lilly says with a smile, wrapping her arms around the back of my neck.
"Hi, yourself," I whisper, wrapping my arms around her waist and lifting her off the ground, kissing her lips as I do so.
Her fingers tangle in the hair at the nape of my neck, and I ease her down to the ground. "I missed you," she says with a smile.
"Ditto," I say softly.
Lilly slips her hand in mine. "Do you want to stay and watch more of the rodeo or walk around the fair?" I ask.
"Hmm. What if we walked around the animal section behind the rodeo and I got to pet some of the show animals?" she says sweetly, putting both of her hands beneath her chin.
I chuckle and shake my head. "Yes, my love. We can."
I lead her through the rest of the crowd, walking around the arena to where they're holding the show animals.
There are so many. We walk down four aisles and I'm pretty sure I've seen a wider range of animals in the last forty-five minutes than I have in the last forty-five years.
Lilly has held every animal that she was allowed to hold and petted the ones that she couldn't hold.
She tried to con me into a tiny cow, but when I told her about how it would ruin her pool, she thought better of it. We've stopped at the most unique animal I've seen here. Who would've thought that at a rodeo there would be a camel? Not me, that's who.
"Look how cute he is!" she cheers in such an aggressive way.
"I see," I tell her as she grabs a handful of food from the brown sack of feed in front of his pin. She offers it to him slowly to which he very quickly eats it from her palm. The laughter that erupts from her makes my heart swell. The camel startles when I laugh loudly as Lilly makes a face.
"He's slobbery!" she says, cringing and trying to pull her hand away. The camel protests, following her. She finally gets free of him and takes a few steps back, giving him a scolding look.
"He doesn't understand why you're being mean," I tell her.
She huffs and diverts her attention to me, narrowing her eyes. "He does too. He knows what he did."
"Look at him. He's confused. look at his poor sad little face," I say, pointing to the camel who is still trying to stretch his neck as far as he can past his pin to get to Lilly.
"He's fine," she says, rolling her eyes.
Lilly takes off toward the next animal and I shrug at the camel who is now looking at me. "Don't look at me, she's always like this."
The camel huffs and walks off when I turn to follow Lilly.
She's in the stall with baby piglets that are inside of a smaller pen in the stall.
She's knelt down beside their pen and trying desperately to coax one of them to her.
One of the smallest piglets inches closer, curiosity getting the best of him.
He's only an inch away from her hand when another animal in the next stall makes a noise, startling the poor fellow and breaking Lilly's heart when the piglet squeals and runs back to the corner with the rest of his siblings.
"It's okay, love. You're not scary, I promise," I tell her reassuringly.
She sighs and stands up, walking over to me. "Okay. Let's go grab a drink."
I smile at her as she slips her hand back inside of mine. "I like the way you think."
We walk to one of the booths and she gets a spiked lemonade while I grab another beer. She sips her lemonade and her eyes widen. "Oh my God."
I look at her, brows raised. She shoves the cup in my direction. I take a sip reluctantly, expecting it to be sour. What I taste is the polar opposite. It's creamy, sweet and has the perfect amount of vodka.
"Oh, shit that's good," I say, holding the cup up to analyze it.
"Give it back," she says, reaching for it. I hand it over without teasing her. She snatches it out of my hands and takes another sip, humming her approval and making my dick twitch in my jeans.
"If you don't stop making love to that lemonade, I'm going to have to give it a talking to," I say sternly.
She wriggles her brows at me and takes another sip, this time keeping her hums to herself. Aaron comes sneaking up behind her and pokes a finger in her ribs, making her jump.
"Shit! You scared the hell out of me," she chastises him with a slap on his arm.
He's laughing so hard I think there may be tears in his eyes.
"You're lucky she isn't wearing flip-flops," I tell him.
"Oh, she's fast with the chancla?" he asks, still laughing.
I nod. "She's fast as fuck, boy. She'll get you with that flip-flop before you see it coming."
Aaron puts his hands up in a blocking manner and takes a step back, making us both laugh.
"You should try the spiked lemonade," Lilly suggests, pointing to the truck we got it from a few feet away.
"Spiked lemonade?" Aaron asks, looking at the sign. He approaches the booth and orders one as the rest of the crew joins us, ol’ ladies and all.
Lilly and the girls ride a few rides while we all watch idly from the ground.
While Lilly is riding the one that makes a circle and goes upside down, my phone rings. I walk behind the ride away from the carnival sounds and answer.
"We did something," Clayton says when I answer.
"What kind of something?" I ask.
"Fixed a problem," he says.
"Is this fix going to require fixing later on down the road?" I ask, unsure of how much fixing he and Brock can do without violence.
Clayton laughs, a true, belly laugh on the other end of the phone. "No, son. Not this time. There's an old buddy of ours who just seemed like the perfect fit for the job and unbeknownst to him, he is now the sole being responsible for the death of Barry Harlow."
"I'm intrigued," I say cheerfully.
"One of Barry's old enemies, who took a wrong turn in life and ended up barely off the streets for the last twenty years turns out to be in possession of incriminating evidence from the Barry Harlow crime, such as the saw that was used to cut him that still has his very dried blood on it.
It's a shame he had that just laying around his house when he overdosed earlier.
Why, it should be making the headlines in the next day or two," Clayton says.
I'll be damned. The son of a bitch did it.
"I thought all of that had been burned in the fire?" I question.
"Well, I still had a few tricks up my sleeve and figured it might come in handy one day, so I held onto it."
"That was stupid, but I'm glad you did it," I say.
Lilly exits the ride with a smile on her face and walks unsteadily down the metal stairs. She spots me off in the middle of the field behind the ride, pacing on the phone. She takes a few steps toward me and stops, questioning if it's okay to approach. I nod and wave her over.
"I'll see you when you get back to the clubhouse, son," Clayton says before ending the call. I shove my phone in my pocket just in time to grab Lilly's hand.
"What do you say we go home and get ready for this wedding?" I ask.
Lilly nods enthusiastically. "I say yes, let's do it!"
I kiss her forehead and wrap my arm around her shoulders.
"Let's do it."