Chapter 10
WREN
Catfish is as good as his word. The food wasn’t fancy, but it was filling and tasty. Chicken noodle soup from a can accompanied by some fresh sourdough, which, I’m curious how an MC clubhouse came to have fresh sourdough in it at all.
Maybe someone is a baker like Niro is in Jersey.
But it was enough to slow the rumbles in my anxious stomach and let my nervous system ease a little.
When I finish the last spoonful, from bed where Catfish insisted I stay, he gathers my bowl and plate and moves them to the long desk that sits beneath the window.
“You still hungry? Because there are some donuts in there if you want something else.”
I shake my head. “That was plenty, thanks. I’ve not felt like eating much recently.”
“That’s not healthy,” he says as he returns to the bed. But instead of sitting at the opposite end like he did for food, he nudges me over to the side of the bed, closest to the wall.
The bed jostles when he climbs on next to me, fully dressed, staying on top of the bedding I’m bundled beneath.
The move is unexpected, but, strangely, not unwanted. “What are you—?”
“Come here,” he says, jostling me again, until I end up with my face on his chest, snuggled beneath his arm.
“Catfish, I—”
“Don’t overthink it, Wren.”
The dreaded compression around my chest that seems to be suffocating me these days releases an inch as his warmth seeps into me.
His hand strokes through my hair. “Soft as I thought it would be.” The words are muttered, but it does something to me to know he’s thought about what my hair would feel like. “You’re safe, Wren. At least, as safe as I can make your world for you.”
I appreciate the qualification, because the whole you’re safe thing is never true.
In the quiet, it’s easy to admit my greatest fear. “They aren’t going to stop hunting me, though. No matter where I am.”
“Ah, shit. I think I need to know what happened, before you came here. What’s going on? I feel like if I can understand the risks, we can solve them.”
I look up at him. “I don’t want to drag you into this.” Despite how I’m starting to wish that we were in this problem together. Side by side. Looking out for each other.
Catfish huffs, then tugs me tighter. “No?”
“Despite current appearances, I’m not useless. I’m just going through some things that seem to have me…overwhelmed. Greer says I just need some rest. I’ll be fine tomorrow.”
He grips some of my hair in his fist and tugs on it gently.
“You need more than one day’s rest. And no one ever said you are useless.
But I’m guessing your enemies are the opposite of that.
Otherwise, King wouldn’t have used club resources to get you all the way out here.
And trust me, having had some run-ins over the last few years with various organized crime syndicates, I’d rather face them with my brothers at my back than on my own. ”
When he puts it like that, it makes sense. King and Vex felt I shouldn’t share the details, but I’m starting to trust Catfish. “If I tell you, can you promise me you won’t tell any of the others?”
He offers me his pinkie finger.
I can’t help but chuckle. “You want to pinkie promise?”
Catfish shrugs. “Why not. I mean, it’s no more or less legally binding than any other thing we can do while sitting here on the bed.”
“What happened to my word is my bond?”
“I hang out with my niece and nephew a lot. They’re three-year-old twins. Chaos and calm in equal measure. My pinkie promise is absolutely binding. I can get references if you like.”
“Well, if it’s good enough for three-year-olds, it’s good enough for me.” I loop my pinkie around his, and we shake, but instead of releasing my hand, Catfish links his fingers with mine.
I should ask him what he’s doing, what we’re doing, but the cowardly part of me isn’t brave enough to. What if holding my hand was done on autopilot, and when I ask, he lets go? Because I love the way his calloused hand feels against mine.
I love the solid sound of his heartbeat beneath my ear.
I love the way he smells of fresh air and leather and musk.
“Can I ask you something personal? Before you start?” he asks.
“I might not answer but go ahead.”
“I caught a vibe, but I wanna check. Are you into…well…men? People of a masculine nature? Guys. Fuck. You know what I’m trying to ask.”
My lips curve against his hoodie, and I look up, because I need to see his eyes. “I’m into people who make me feel seen,” I say. “And yeah…sometimes those people are men.”
He exhales, a little laughter caught in it. “Good…great. Just needed to know whether the two of us sitting like this would be considered flirting or threatening.”
“If it was threatening, I would have kneed you someplace painful and would have been gone.” I pat his chest and settle back down. “But to be clear, I caught the vibe too.”
Catfish grins. “I’m glad, because that would’ve been really fucking awkward if I’d misread it.”
I can’t help but chuckle at the relief in his voice. “Maybe it’s best if I explain how I know Calista, first.”
Catfish nods. “Start wherever makes sense to you. I got nowhere else I need to be today, now that I know you don’t have a problem with me being here.”
“Calista and I met about ten years ago. We’d moved in some of the same dark web circles, agreed with some of the same philosophies.”
Catfish watches my lips as I speak, and my mouth feels dry. “And what philosophies would those be?”
“That there are too many billionaires, considering about seven hundred million people live below the poverty line around the world. To an outsider, we were both extremely talented. But to each other, it was obvious that Calista was more talented, had more finesse than I did. And to Calista, it was clear that for all my skills, I was going to end up in prison. I was in my wild and reckless era and had that invincible energy that teens do. I wanted people to know it was me who did the things I did. I was looking for a measure of respect from anyone. I was driven a lot by ego. I guess I still am, sometimes. Calista knew I was one step away from revealing my true identity on what she called my ‘glory quest.’”
“So, you were young when you started doing this?”
I nod. “Thirteen. Mom got me a second-hand laptop to help with my schoolwork.”
“Wait, how old are you?”
“I’m twenty-five. How old are you?”
“Thirty next birthday. I like red velvet cake.”
“You’ve been hanging around with your niece and nephew too much. That’s the kind of detail a three-year-old would add.”
“The detail was relevant.” The reverberations from his chuckle rattle through his chest beneath my ear. “When you throw me a surprise party, you’re going to need to know what cake to get. I like red velvet. Now you know.”
His audacity makes me laugh. “Who says I’m going to spend physical labor or cold hard cash on a birthday cake for you?”
“Bet if I asked Mom to read your tarot cards right now, she’d say things like, there are big changes ahead for you, and that you know it’s time to move on both geographically and personally, and you should make River a red velvet cake for his birthday.”
I squeeze his hand. “Your mom sounds like an original. I’d love to meet her…I mean. Not like…a couple or…God, I’m making this weird.”
I bury my face in Catfish’s shirt as my cheeks flame. “My mom and my sister are already wanting to meet you.”
When I look up at him, I’m struck by how incredibly handsome he is. I can see why someone chose to use him as their catfishing identity. Sharp cheekbones throw shadows, and from this angle I can see his eyelashes are almost unnaturally long. “Why?”
“Meh. Might have mentioned you to them. Don’t generally talk to them about girls…not that I said you were a girl. Shit. That’s not what I meant. I don’t normally talk about anyone I’m interested in. So, they’re curious about the person I’m suddenly talking about.”
We’re quiet for a moment, and I wonder if he’s overthinking what he just said like I am.
“You were telling me about Calista,” he says finally.
“Calista has this…well…squad. Like, she was the ringleader. And she taught others, especially social-minded young people, how to do what she did. We stayed in touch over the years.”
Catfish wiggles so that we’re both a little more on our sides, can see each other a little easier.
“And then you were in trouble, somehow? Needed help?”
I nod. “I didn’t go to her for help from the Outlaws, though. That came after. I went to her to see if she could help me figure out how to undo the mess I was in.”
“Which was?”
I blow out a breath and feel the wave of shame creeping over my skin.
My cheeks rush with heat. “I was hired to do what I thought was a typical black hat hack gig. A southern Mexico cartel. Steal their money, clean it and wash it, then forward it to a private individual who would pour it into a charitable organization.”
“Who hired you?”
I shake my head. “Technically, I don’t know. Their username was CamGriseus6. It’s hard to explain to the average layperson, but on the dark web, I’m behind a series of closed doors. It’s not like I’m out there with a poster saying hacker for hire. Most of my work is referrals.”
“What kind of name is CamGriseus6?”
“What kind of a name is Wren or Catfish? They could be anyone.”
“Except, I’m guessing Wren is a choice because the name you were given at birth doesn’t fit. And mine is a choice because it connects me to my brotherhood.”
I stroke the name patch on his chest. “Yeah. But they’re still the names we show to the world.”
I feel Catfish’s lips brush the top of my head. Like he understands what I’m telling him. That our names don’t define us, but they do protect us
“How would you feel if I called you River?” I ask.
“You can call me whatever you want, as long as it ain’t mean. Might not answer to asshole too often.”
“Well, I’ll save asshole for special occasions, then.”
He chuckles at that. “Why’d you ask?”