Ah.
Okay.
“Where’s Essence?” I asked.
“My guess. Sleepin’ it off,” Roscoe answered, and it was then I noticed his fingers were scratching the cat in his lap’s ruff.
How sweet.
His gaze swung to Rush. “Apparently they had a nonstop party.”
This did not make me happy.
However, I was impressed.
“Boz can party through a severe allergic reaction?” I asked.
“Boz could party through Armageddon,” Roscoe told me and again looked to Rush. “I got her. And chill. Not gonna make no moves, brother. Yeesh.”
Bikers said “yeesh?”
I didn’t get a chance to ask.
Rush was issuing orders.
“I gotta go. Rebel’s gotta go to her place and do some shit on her computer. You’re walkin’ over there with her.” Roscoe started to get up, but Rush muttered, “Give us a minute to say goodbye.”
Roscoe nodded and settled back into his impression of a biker Bond villain.
Rush took my hand and led me to the front door.
Then he took my body in his arms, tight to his, and kissed me.
He used that full minute he told Roscoe he had, and then some.
Nice.
“If I can’t swing around for lunch or something, I’ll be back around five thirty to pick you up for dinner,” he said after he broke it off.
This worked for me. I could get a nap in and then have my whole wardrobe to select from to meet his sister that night.
“Cool,” I replied.
“You need anything, Roscoe’s on guard duty, not run duty. Get him to call Dutch, Jag or Chill.”
I nodded.
His arms around me got tighter.
“Last night was awesome,” he said quietly.
That’s right.
He just put that right out there.
I melted into him. “Yeah.”
His eyes fell to my mouth then his lips fell there, and we made out some more in Essence’s foyer.
All too soon, he broke it off, touched his lips to my cheekbone, gave me a squeeze and let me go.
After that, he took off.
I stared at the closed door, grinning like an idiot.
Then I went to the parlor to get Roscoe.
I had dinner with the little sister ahead of me and dark under my eyes.
Once I sent my notes, it was naptime.
Rush
Two hours later, Rush stood in the September sun next to Hop outside his mother’s work in Boulder and put the phone to his ear.
It rang.
It went to voicemail.
He disconnected.
Hit her contact again.
It rang.
Went to voicemail.
He made a noise in his throat, disconnected, and hit her contact again.
It went to voicemail two more times before she picked up, snapping, “What?”
“Mom, it’s Rush.”
“I know.”
That was when he stood in the September sun, taking in a deep breath, knowing she knew it was him calling after years of not speaking to him, not seeing him, and she answered the phone like that.
His father was the best father a man could have. Rush loved him. Respected him. They disagreed, and they disagreed about important shit. But Rush admired his dad, and he had no problem at all with people telling him he looked like his father, and also acted like him.
The one thing his dad gave him that wasn’t the greatest was his explosive temper.
After Tack got Tyra, he learned to put a clamp on that.
At least with Tyra.
But that hold leaked out into life.
Rush had seen that. Learned from it.
It didn’t mean, for them both, that disposition didn’t run latent, and with the right stimulus it could be unleashed.
So he took the time he needed to lock it down before he again spoke.
“I’m outside your work,” he told Naomi. “You’re not here.”
“You’re right. I’m not there,” she agreed nastily. “You call me for the first time in, oh, I don’t know, about a fuckin’ decade to tell me somethin’ I know?”
The phone worked both ways.
He did not share that.
“Mom, left you two messages. I know Dad tried to get hold of you so you know what’s goin’ down. I’m here to take you to Denver.”
“Well, I’m not goin’ to Denver so you wasted the gas.”
“Mom—”
“Piss off, Rush.”
Rush stood still.
Not unusually for his mother, she started ranting.
“God, you’re so much like your father. Think you’re some kinda white knight in an MC cut. Well let me tell you, man, you are not. You’re an outlaw, born and bred. Newsflash, Rush, a law-abiding citizen doesn’t kick the shit outta some dealer who’s invading his patch,” she spat that last word like she hated the taste. “That’s still a crime and the type of crime that is, is spelled like felony.”
Rush had to force himself to speak.
“I’m not calling to debate what the brothers do. I’m calling to find out where you are because women are getting dead and I don’t want you to be one of them.”
“Yeah. I heard. And in case you twisted that shit in your brain to think it’s something else, let me tell you, it’s not. That’s on your father. All this shit is on your father. That psycho Valenzuela’s dead snatch. Reb biting it. Natalie in a body bag. Chew run amuck. He did that. The almighty Tack created that. It’s all on him. Like Black getting dead was on him. Like Crank biting it in the most hostile kinda takeover you can get is on him.”
“None of that shit’s on Dad,” he growled.
“Swallowed the blue pill, did you, Rush?” she taunted.
He had to keep it together.
“This is not getting you safe and I’m here to make sure you’re safe, Mom.”
“You don’t give a fuck about me, man. Don’t try to feed me that shit. You’re here because you’re your father’s dog and he said go, and you panted all the way down here, hopin’ to get your treat.”
Rush stopped staring blankly at the street in order to drop his head and stare blankly at his boots, focusing on breathing in.
Deep.
But his mother wasn’t done injecting her venom.
“So, let me tell you where I’m at with this, Rush. I don’t give a fuck shit’s layin’ heavy on Chaos. You want the truth, I hope they all get their throats slit. Bleed Chaos all over the streets. Make it dead. Like Natalie. Like Black. That’s where I’m at, man. Fuck your father. Fuck his Club. And you here to do his bidding, not reaching out to me, not lookin’ after your mom when she needed you, not for years, Rush, fuck you.”
She disconnected and he was left breathing heavily.
He dropped the phone from his ear and concentrated just on breathing.
“Let me guess, that bitch didn’t invite us over for tea before we got her ass safe,” Hop bit out.
Rush couldn’t look at him.
“Rush,” Hop called.
Rush stood completely still, just breathing.
He felt Hop get closer.
“Brother,” Hop said quietly.
“She said she hopes Chaos gets our throats slit. Bleed out all over the streets,” he told his boots.
The wall of rage that came from Hop and slammed into Rush might have knocked him over if he wasn’t focusing everything on standing there rather than finding a baseball bat and destroying something.
Anything.
If he had it in him to notice, he’d have sensed Hop retreating.
But he didn’t notice until he heard Hop talking.
“Yeah, Tack. We’re in Boulder. Naomi isn’t at work. Rush called her. All I got from him after their chat is that she told him she hopes we all get our throats cut, bleed out on the streets. I’m not givin’ that gash another second of my time. Wouldn’t have done it in the first fuckin’ place, but I’m here for Rush and Tabby. That shit comes outta her mouth, I’m out, my brother. And Chaos should be out. You want her protected, call a marker with Pope. She’s ceased to exist for Chaos.”
Slowly, when he could manage it without flying apart, Rush turned his head to Hop.
He had his neck bent, looking at his own boots, phone held to his ear.
Hop glanced at Rush then looked again to his boots.
“He’s pissed as shit, Tack, but he’s holding it.” Hop was silent a second before he started nodding. “Yeah, I’ll get him home.” Another moment of silence then, “Right. Later.”
He lifted his head, dropped his phone and looked again to Rush.
“We’re heading back,” Hop declared. “You gotta pursue this, come back with another brother. I’m sorry, Rush. But I’m done.”
“Hang a minute,” Rush grunted.
Then he looked at his phone. Hit the screen and put it to his ear.
It rang.
He got voicemail.