Behold the Stars (18 page)

The rage came up again and moved through his blood. Not wanting to turn it on her, he closed his eyes and took a slow breath. When he spoke, he managed calm, but it was a struggle. “I. Don’t. Want. You. Alone. What the hell, Lilli? What else needs to happen before you’ll get how fucked up everything is? And you could be pregnant
right now
. I won’t let you be alone. Absolutely not.”

She shoved him away from her and sat up. “I get how bad things are, Isaac. I was there. But if this is how you’re going to be, then I don’t want to be pregnant. You know that I can take care of myself. Fuck, I’m more experienced than you are. I won’t be hostage to your macho bullshit. I’ll go to the pharmacy today and put an end to it.”

Without even thinking about it, he had a fistful of her hair, snarled at her nape. “Don’t you fucking do it.”

She was perfectly still, her grey eyes frosty. “Let go of me right now, love. You’ll only hurt me in anger one time. You won’t get another chance.”

What was he doing? He needed to get control of himself. As frustrated and furious as he was with her, he didn’t want to hurt her. God, he didn’t. He let her go. “Fuck!” Turning to sit up against the headboard, he took a few more calming breaths and said, “Baby, you can’t threaten that shit. Don’t hold that over me. I need to protect you. I can’t do what I have to do if I’m worried about you. I know you’re strong. I know what you can do. But I can’t lose you.”

They didn’t have time to fight this out. He had to be at the clubhouse in an hour. But he needed her with him. He needed her safe. “Can’t you work from the clubhouse? You’ve got that secure satellite connection.”

She huffed—as pissed as he was, probably. She was just naturally calmer. “You know I can’t work in a public place, Isaac. Look. I know you’re worried. I understand. But I can be as safe here as there. We have weapons everywhere here, and I’m on alert now. I’ll keep my Sig on me. I’m staying put.”

“Lilli—”

With a flare of her eyes and a firm shake of her head, she cut him off. He was going to lose this fight, and he was going to spend the day—and every day—worried sick about her. Goddammit.

But then she gave him something. “How about this—if you don’t need him otherwise, bring Badge over. I could use his help, and he and I know each other a little now. We went through something together. If we need to again, we understand how we work. He’s a good kid.”

She was humoring him, he knew. But it was enough. He relaxed and smiled. “Thank you, Sport. Yeah, that works.”

He pulled her close, and she came willingly. Negotiating with her to keep her safe during this crap with Ellis was going to drive him mad.

~oOo~

When he got to the clubhouse, everyone was waiting for him. Except Show. Isaac went to Len, sitting at the bar. “How’s he doing?”

Len shook his head. “Not good, brother. He won’t talk. He wouldn’t answer the door, so about an hour ago, I dug up the master key and barged in on him. He was just sitting on the side of the bed. Still wearing his kutte, his beanie. Don’t think he moved all night.”

“Alright. Get everybody in the Keep. I’m going back to talk to him, but we need to let him sit this shit out.” Bart came in from the side hallway. Isaac hoped that meant he’d been working, maybe in contact with Rick, the master hacker Lilli had set him up with. “You got anything for us, Bartholomew?”

The youngest Horde nodded. “Think so, boss. Like to talk before the Keep, though.”

Isaac liked everything on the table. He wasn’t one for secrets, not from people he trusted. But there was a kink in their line somewhere, so maybe he needed to be a little more careful with his trust right now. “Yeah.” To the room at large, he said, “Chill for a spell, people.” He gestured to Bart to send him back toward the office, and he followed.

When they were in the office, Isaac shut and locked the door. He sat at his desk; Bart sat in the chair at its side. “Okay. What you got?”

Bart looked nervous and unhappy, and that put Isaac’s already jangling nerves to the test. “What, kid? Spill it.”

“I was thinking that what happened yesterday was too…coincidental. Attacks on the only club old ladies, in their houses, at the same time that almost the whole club is on a payback run? It’s like the fire at the Keller place was a trap. I mean, that doesn’t make sense, we know why Ellis would burn that down, and not just to get to Holly and Lilli. But what happened yesterday still feels like it was part of a larger plan, the whole thing, the past few days, all of a piece. And the place we hit in St. Louis seemed ready for us. Like they knew that’s what we’d hit. Not one of their homes, like they hit Will, but that stash house.”

Isaac knew where Bart was going. He’d gotten there himself. But he wanted the kid to say it all, and say it straight. “Make your point, Bart.”

Bart swallowed hard, like what he had to say got stuck in his throat. “Somebody knew. They knew when we’d be too far away to protect the women. They knew where we’d hit. Somebody knows too much about us. Shit, it’s like they knew no one would know Dan and C.J. were in town on patrol. We have a rat. Or a plant.”

Isaac nodded. Agreed. “Big difference between a rat and a plant, though. Rat’s one of us. Plant’s somebody new we let get too close. Which do you think it is?” He’d been thinking about this, too. The Horde were a small, tightknit group. Smaller now, since Wyatt had turned. That had been a bitter betrayal, but understandable—Lilli had been gunning for his younger brother. Isaac couldn’t see the angle for the remaining Horde to flip. So a plant was more likely. Somebody newish, who spent a lot of time around the club, enough time to overhear or be told the kind of detail that made the past few days possible.

Bart said what he was thinking. “Plant. I’m thinking a woman. We’ve had some fresh pussy in here lately. The regulars have been hanging back since this Ellis shit started. So one of those, or…” He let his sentence die out. When Isaac realized what would have finished that sentence, he stood, his hands clenched into fists and shaking.

“Don’t you fuckin’ say it, asshole.”

Bart, brawny but much smaller than Isaac, and younger, too, looked terrified. But he said it anyway. “Boss, I know. But we gotta look at all the possibilities, so we can clear them off the table. Lilli’s new. Her trail is still short and walled off. She knows
everything
. And she didn’t get hurt yesterday. She came too late to help Holly and the girls. We gotta look at her. Are you
sure
?”

“I’m sure. I’m fuckin’ sure. You bring that up again, you raise that doubt to
anybody
, and I will rip your heart clear from your chest and drink from it. Catch me?” Bart nodded, his eyes wide. “Have another idea, asshole.” Isaac sat back down.

“Okay. I do. Vic’s been tapping a new girl pretty regular. Marissa. I’d call her his favorite, last month or so, and she hangs back, waiting for him. Pretty thing—tiny. I ran her, and she’s not our usual club girl. She’s college, even. Went to Illinois—U of I. She’s working at the Walmart now, but she comes from big Chicago money. Her dad is a heavy hitter in the Chicago Merc. She’s not the first rich college girl to lose access to daddy’s money and end up in a shit job, or the first one to like getting fucked rough by a biker, but they’re rare, and rare is worth a look right now, especially since she’s got Chicago ties. Rick and I are working the dad’s deets.”

Vic wasn’t a looker. Balding, heavyset, with a long, red, unkempt beard that had a tendency to house parts of his most recent meal. Not the kind of guy to bring home to a Daddy who moved on the Chicago commodities scene. Which might well be the sole point. But he had a tendency to be rough with the girls. If a girl like this Marissa was pushing up on a guy like Vic, that warranted some attention. He was a talkative drunk, and that might be motivation to withstand the discomfort of bending over for him. “You had low-hanging fruit like her, and you thought you’d start your suspicions with Lilli? Asshole.”

Bart was standing firm, and Isaac had to respect it. “Gotta see the whole table, right, boss? All I’m saying is it needed to be seen, so it could be discounted.”

It was a fair point, but Isaac wouldn’t admit it. “Bring Marissa up at the table. Don’t say anything to Vic until then. Get every fucking thing you can on her and her dad. Her dad’s gotta be the link to Ellis. I need to talk to Show before we sit.”

“Wait, Isaac. One more thing. I’m waiting to get confirmation on it from Rick, but if we’re right, I think I know how to get to Ellis.” Bart laid out his idea, and Isaac felt the first glimmer of real hope. It was brutal, nasty business, but it might tip the scales finally in their favor.

“Good job, Bartholomew. That’s good. Bring it to the table.” Isaac stood again, clapped Bart sharply on the back, and left him in the office with his laptop.

Isaac went down the side hallway, into the eerily quiet Hall, where the rest of the Horde were sitting, drinking, and waiting. He scanned the room for this Marissa whom Bart had mentioned. There were a couple of girls in the Hall at the moment who were new since he’d been with Lilli. He no longer paid much attention to the club pussy, so he didn’t know either girl’s name. Isaac thought of all women as small, but one of the new girls was so small she was child-size. Long, straight, pale blonde hair. Decent rack, but no hips and a skinny ass. Lots of freckles. Vic could break such a little thing in two. The other new girl looked a bit more used, had some meat on her. More like a typical club fuck. Isaac guessed Blonde and Freckled was their college girl. He didn’t care how young and tiny she was. If she gave up info that got Daisy Ryan killed, he’d tear her apart with his own hands. Unless Show wanted to do it.

He turned down the dorm hallway and headed to the room Show preferred. He didn’t even bother knocking. Trying the knob and finding it unlocked, Isaac opened the door and found Show sitting just as Len had described: side of the bed, shoulders slumped, staring at the floor, kutte and beanie still on. He walked in and sat down next to his friend. “Show, man. Talk to me. Tell me what I can do.”

Without moving, Show answered, “There’s nothing. No fix for this.”

Isaac was at a loss. He wanted to support Show, help him, but he was inadequate to the task. Lilli would probably know. She had a powerful kind of empathy. He wished again that she’d come to the clubhouse with him.

All he could do was put his hand on his brother’s back. His voice low, he said, “I’m so fucking sorry, Show.”

Then Show’s back began to shake. He hadn’t moved, was still staring down at the rug between his feet, but the shaking grew, and then he was sobbing, tears falling onto the rug. Isaac had nothing he could offer but his shoulder, so he pulled Show’s head down and held him while he wept for the loss of his daughter and his family.

After only a minute or two, Show reined in his emotions and sat back up. With a vicious swipe at his eyes, he dried his tears. Then he sat staring again.

After several seconds, Isaac said, “I gotta get to the Keep, brother. Bart has intel, maybe a lead on how yesterday went down. We might have a plant in the clubhouse. And we have to plan our next move. You stay put. You’re out of this. You have more important things.”

Now, for the first time, Show turned and looked Isaac in the eye. “No, I don’t. I have this. It’s all I have. And I am going to end anyone that had a hand in killing my girl. Anyone.”

Isaac nodded. “Okay. Then let’s go.”

~oOo~

The rest of the Horde were surprised when Show followed Isaac into the Hall. They came up in turn and gave him a hug and said a word. He took it stoically, but Isaac could see that it was causing him pain. There was no comfort to be had. He scanned the room again and lit on the little blonde. Catching Bart’s eye, he nodded toward her and raised his eyebrows, asking. Bart nodded. Marissa. He wondered if Show meant it, if he could kill such a little chick. Show, tough and big as he was, was at his heart a gentle, chivalrous soul. If he couldn’t do it, Isaac could. If she put those sick, tweaked-out sons of bitches in Show’s house, then he could kill her bloody without a twitch. Maybe sic Len on her first, give her a taste of what Daisy got.

Daisy. Skinny, bookish Daisy. Long legs, braces, thick glasses over blue eyes. Hair the color of brown sugar, like her dad’s, but she kept hers cropped short. Had a big crush on Isaac. Charmed, he’d gently encouraged her, giving her a wink or a smile just for her. She’d started playing chess with her dad. Isaac had challenged her to a game awhile back, teasing her that her dad was letting her off easy, but she’d blushed crimson and declined.

Damn. Sweet Daisy. The first of the flower children. The girls’ names had been Holly’s idea, a connection to her own name. When they found out Iris would be their third girl and Holly had told Show what she wanted to name her, Show had confided to Isaac that he thought the girls’ names were silly. But he gave Holly what she wanted. In most things. He’d worked hard to make his old lady and his little garden of girls happy.

As far as Isaac knew, the only thing Show had ever refused Holly was the Horde. She’d hated it and wanted him to give it up. He would not. And now it was all he had.

Isaac put his hand on Show’s shoulder. “Come on. Time to talk.”

At the table, they made arrangements for Erik’s memorial. His people were in Joplin, so they’d escort his body there and have a party in his memory at the clubhouse. He was only a prospect, and a brand new one at that, but he’d died in the service of the club, and that did not go unacknowledged. Then the talk turned to the attacks on the old ladies, and the somber mood of the room turned sharp and black. Isaac gave Badger’s and Lilli’s descriptions, which had aligned perfectly. Of course they had. Dan and Ceej told what they saw. Showdown sat silently, his hands knotted into heavy fists on the table, his knuckles white.

Then Isaac looked around the room, his glance holding on Vic. Vic was pure club, no doubt about it. He could be counted on to do what was asked, without question. He wasn’t mean. In fact, he was fucking jovial. But he was rough, and he had an inventive streak. It made him a very good enforcer and their go-to interrogator. But he was loose. He drank hard, he fucked hard, he worked hard—all the more since he’d come back from Iraq. They’d had to clean up after him more than once, greasing the palms of angry tavern owners and bruised, sometimes bleeding women.