Chapter 6 #2
“And you paired me to work with her?” Sebastian’s jaw clenched.
Working with someone who could get him targeted by another outlaw motorcycle club?
Brilliant. Friend or no friend, Sebastian couldn’t tell Yeats the whole truth.
He left the force, and Yeats knew something from his last case made him leave.
He wouldn’t talk about it, and Yeats didn’t ask.
It was better this way for both of them.
“Just stick to your plan, man. Hang for the summer. You got nothing to worry about.”
No women. No clubs. No getting involved with the law.
And stay away from family.
If he could do that, Sebastian might have a chance to keep his family safe.
“I’m heading to Hanover to grab the mulch for the Lehman job. Would you like to come along?” Yeats shoved his foot into a boot. “It’s that, or you sit around here all day waiting for trouble to come. Otherwise, I would feel responsible.”
Sebastian snorted. “I don’t need you to babysit me.”
“I don’t need to come home and find you dead, either.” Yeats sat back and looked up at him. Yeats tilted up his chin, almost as a challenge.
“That, or you don’t want me here. I can leave.
I never expected you to put me up at your place.
I don’t want to put you in danger.” Sebastian ran his hands down over his face to wipe away reminiscences of a sleepless night, staring at the ceiling, unable to get Caitlyn, her father, or her boy from his mind.
They kept the nightmares at bay, filling his mind with something else to distract it.
In his experiences, he learned that run-down houses, overgrown lawns, and dirty garage windows either indicated no one cared or they were too busy trying to keep their heads above water.
He got the impression that Caitlyn was a woman too proud to ask for help or admit she couldn’t do it all on her own.
Why hadn’t anyone in her club come to help with the upkeep of her home?
“Do I look scared?” Yeats stood and rolled back his shoulders.
While they matched in height, Yeats held a good fifty pounds on Sebastian, all of which came from the width of his shoulders and the thickness of his frame.
Sebastian could run down a perp in the alley, but Yeats was the blockade no one could pass.
All those years in the Army trained him well.
“You’re stupid,” Sebastian muttered. A man built like a tank should have some fear in his bones.
Everyone knew Yeats—the guy who’d give you the shirt off his back.
Since coming home from the army, he’d dedicated himself to the community center.
Hurting him wouldn’t just be wrong, it’d be a terrible gamble.
If someone came after Sebastian, they’d use Yeats as leverage.
Sure, Yeats could handle himself, but that wouldn’t protect Sebastian from the fallout.
Yeats grinned, and they were back to the immature bickering. “You’ve got no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into by agreeing to stay here.”
Maybe he understood exactly what he was getting himself into. Maybe that was why he’d spent a sleepless night thinking about it. “I am here, am I not?”
“The silent partner returns.” Yeats held out his fist. “I had faith in you, man. I knew you’d come back.”
“For a time.” Sebastian bumped his fist with Yeats and grinned back. “What’s the plan, then?” The sooner he got immersed in his new life, the sooner he could gain control over this one.
“I’ll drop you off at the shed. You can take the company truck and load up the mower and weed eater for the day. The range needs to be cleaned up, and while you’re there, take care of the church lawn. I’ll be over later with some mulch to fix the side beds.”
Sebastian laughed, following Yeats outside the house. “You want me to get all that done in one day?”
Yeats hefted a duffle bag with tools over his shoulder. “What’s the matter? You don’t know how to get your hands dirty anymore? Or is it sweat? Because if you can’t handle it, I can leave you at the store with Ma to answer the phone.”
Sebastian shook his head but kept smiling. “Alright, alright.” He stretched. His mind would take him to other places if he didn’t keep moving. Going without sleep wasn’t foreign to him. Maybe he needed to keep his backpedaling thoughts at bay by breaking a sweat and doing some work.
“Then that makes you the dumb one.” Yeats chuckled, and something lifted between the two of them, and the tension in Sebastian’s shoulders cleared.
Yeats tossed him the keys to the company truck. “Grab the mower and weed eater at the shed. You can use the big mower if you hook up the trailer, and remember to take a gas can to fill for later.”
Sebastian pocketed the keys and opened Yeats’ truck’s passenger side door. “Anything else?”
Yeats paused as if considering something, then shook his head as if deciding against it before finally settling on a single command: “Don’t get killed.”
“That’s what I’m working on,” Sebastian muttered.
Yeats climbed in and started dialing numbers on his phone.
With a sigh, Sebastian leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes against another random thought that involved Caitlyn.
A dumb thought. One he shouldn’t entertain. Yeats warned him not to get killed. Would Caitlyn harm him for what he had in mind?
“When are you going to hire some extra help?”
“I did. I’ve got you. Both on the range and now back in business.”
Oh yeah, Sebastian was the dumb one.
When they were teens, Yeats and Sebastian started mowing lawns for extra cash.
Yeats bought his first truck, and Sebastian bought his first motorcycle—an Indian Scout.
The motorcycle was now charred to a crisp, thanks to his last assignment.
He spent summers working to buy it and spent time with his uncle getting parts and repairing it.
It was ironic that he would end up back where he started.
Yeats dropped Sebastian off at the company shed a few miles down the road. No one would have thought a big, gruff guy like Yeats would hang flower baskets on the end of a pillared shed of his landscaping business.
For the entire morning, Sebastian mowed the churchyard, weeded along the hedges, and made sure the range looked good for the next weekend’s class.
At lunch, he entered La Rosa’s for a quick sub.
He scanned the menu board, stomach grumbling as he spotted Caitlyn wiping down tables.
She moved with confident grace from one table to the next.
He hadn’t pictured her waiting tables outside of the motorcycle range.
A smile tugged at his lips, igniting a flicker of warmth in his chest. She looked good in those jeans. He watched her a moment longer than he should, mesmerized by the way her ponytail swished with each passing moment.
A sharp cough drew his attention. The woman behind the counter stood with raised eyebrows. “Ready to order?”
“Uh, yeah, Italian sub on rye.”
As he waited for his order, Sebastian stole a glance back. Caitlyn was laughing with a customer. A familiar warmth bloomed in his chest, pursued by a pang of panic.
“That’ll be eight-fifty,” the woman at the counter announced.
Sebastian paid quickly, mumbled, “Thank you,” and grabbed his food, practically bolted out the door.
He took a deep breath, a strange mix of disappointment and relief washing over him.
Maybe he’d find a way to say hello without making it weird next time.
He texted Yeats to let him know he would return later after a last-minute task he needed to do.
Twenty minutes later, Sebastian pulled in front of the rundown two-story house with tall grass and a grimy window garage.
To the side, a set of stairs led up to a door, and below it sat a couple of motorcycles and an old Ford Fiesta.
Sebastian unloaded the mower and the screen door swung closed on the house. Caitlyn’s son walked out on the porch. He crossed his arms and tilted up his chin. “Who are you? What do you want?”
“I work with your mom. Remember? I followed her home the other day.”
“Stalker?” Owen asked.
“Friend.”
“My mom’s not here. Go away.”
“You shouldn’t tell people that.” Sebastian stepped off the mower and kept his hands where the kid could see them. He didn’t want the boy to think him more of a threat than the kid already assumed. What kind of trouble came knocking here?
“Pops is here. He doesn’t like strangers. Neither do I.”
“Good thing I’m not a stranger. You ever drive a mower like this?”
Owen tilted his head, narrowed his eyes, and shook his head.
“Well, I’m going to mow the grass. You want to help and get it done before your mom comes home?”
Owen looked over his shoulder, then back at Sebastian. “Who sent you?”
“Your mom puts in a lot of hours. She’s been a great help at the range where we coach motorcycle safety. I know it’s difficult taking on a new partner. This is my way of saying thank you.” Sebastian swept his hand out to the yard.
No word in return came from Caitlyn’s son. The boy appeared to be deep in thought. Sebastian left him to decide to while he got to work. Caitlyn taught her son well for not trusting strangers. He put on the safety goggles and started up the mower.
“I can help!”
Sebastian raised an eyebrow, surprised by the small voice offering assistance. This wasn’t something he’d expected from the skinny kid perched on the porch railing. Few kids these days were willing to lend a hand. A smile tugged at his lips.
“You sure about that, bud?” Seeing the determined nod, Sebastian continued, “Well, then you start by gathering up some bigger branches and twigs, so I don’t have to mow around them. That would be a big help.”
Owen nodded again and set off to do his task. He went around the lawn, picking up the fallen branches and carrying them to a pile away from the mower. He worked diligently and purposefully.
At one point, Caitlyn’s father came out on the porch, looked around, spotted the boy, and returned inside.
Once Owen finished his task, he returned to Sebastian and asked, “What else can I do?”
Sebastian handed him a smaller tool. “You can edge the lawn for me,” he said. “It’ll help the mower get a clean cut.”
Owen watched while Sebastian demonstrated how to use the edger. He accepted the tool and went to work. Owen edged the lawn carefully, keeping it even and straight.
Sebastian mowed in long, steady strokes, the noise from the machine filling the air as the boy watched in fascination. When he was done, he surveyed his work with a satisfied smile, proud of the job he and Caitlyn’s son had done.
The sound of a car engine startled Sebastian, momentarily breaking his focus on the task at hand. He realized with a jolt that he’d lost track of time. It was only now, as the sun was setting, that he realized just how late it had gotten.
He turned to the boy, panic in the kid’s eyes. “Your mom’s home,” he said. “Help me load up and get out of here.”
“What’s your name?” the kid said.
“Daniel.” Sebastian held his hand out to the boy.
They shook hands, and Sebastian said, “Quick, you can take all the credit.”
Owen’s eyes widened as the slam of Caitlyn’s SUV door echoed from the other side of the driveway.