Edge, Episode Two: Season One (Edge, A Serial Series Book 2) (4 page)

“Miss Beauregard, you’re glowing in this summer air.”

“Is that what you call sweat?” Reveca said with a languid draw. That line killed Blackwater’s fake smile and made her boys rumble with laughter.

Blackwater moved his head side to side. “Something’s different ‘bout you.”

“What do you want,” she asked lifting her head to the fans once more, nearly closing her eyes so she could absorb the breeze.

“That was some vigil the other night.”

Reveca didn’t respond.

“I surely assumed the funerals were going to be
a sight to be seen after that, but, ah…I didn’t see any of you there this morning.”

“We say goodbye in our own way, Blackwater. On our own time.”

“Apparently.” He glanced to the bar. “You all looked nice and stocked over yonder. I assume all your permits are in order.”

“Why would I need a permit? I sell nothing. This is not a bar.”

“Sure, you just hand out beer and liquor and expect nothing in return.”

Reveca let a lazy smile come to her lips and opened her eyes. “No, I expect something.”

Blackwater popped his brow.

“I expect my friends to have a good time, and talk about the bikes they love so much.”

“Well, we’re friends aren’t we? How ‘bout a tall glass of water.”

Reveca nodded at Echo, who stood to bring Blackwater just that
. While Blackwater waited he scanned the lounge, nodded once to Cashton. “I see our traveling musician has returned to town once more, just like clockwork.”

Cashton only glared in response.

“Where is it that you play when you leave here?”

Cashton narrowed his gaze, so much so that you could only see the blue flames of his eyes. “On a stage.”

“Do any of you know how
not
to be a smart ass?” Blackwater asked as Echo approached him with his water.

Once Echo gave it to him he held out his hand. “Twenty bucks, Lawman. We’re saving up for a permit.”

“Do what?” Blackwater said as he nearly choked on the long drink he had just taken.

Echo busted out laughing, so did Judge, shook his head and made his way to the other side of the garage.

“What do you want today, Blackwater? Here to tell me more ghost stories?”

“Why would I do that when you already know the ending?”

She moved her shoulders so her Kut would fall back into place. “I didn’t know any such thing.”

“Holden is one of yours.”

“No,” she said with a lifted brow. “He’s a lone wolf, a biker that moves from club to club. Most times they never even linger near a club. He was not one of ours.” She stepped forward. “I don’t know where he came from. But I have no doubt that someone as foul and disgusting, someone as twisted and
ignorant
as him surely kept company with more of the same in his past. Hell, for all I know those people from his past sent him right at my Club.”

Blackwater
stared at her for a long moment. This was one of their standoffs, the moments when they both knew a truth they could not speak without tainting themselves with guilt.

Reveca had no doubt the lawmen were having a hell of a time trying to figure out why their undercover officer confessed to a murder in front of hundreds of witnesses
. That would be a hell of a thing to try to sweep under the rug, especially since Holden described the murder in unfailing detail. It wasn’t hard for him to do. Knight, one of the Sons that was skilled with computer systems, had hacked into the files, knew how the crime happened. So Thames, he pushed that into Holden’s mind as his new truth.

Finally
, Blackwater gave a grin.

“Was it the assholes
that sent him at you, or your Club that taught him to use a woman’s weapon to kill a dead man?”

“Excuse me?”

“The vic—the bullet used was a 22.” He reached in his pocket. “Now this here, this is a 45, a bullet that means serious business. The kind of gun that big strong boys like yours would use, if they ventured to do such things, of course.”

“Doesn’t look like a bullet to me.”

“It’s what is left of one. It was found in one of your fallen friends. Seems he was nice and meaty in his living days. Took the fire extra long to burn him down and by the time it reached this it was all out of heat.”

“Are you trying to say that GranDee’s friend was murdered?”

“It’s a possibility. We’re still investigating of course. With any luck we’ll be able to link what’s left of this bullet to a weapon.”

“I sincerely hope that you do. From all accounts that family was enjoying a Sunday dinner when they met their demise. It would take a coldhearted son of a bitch to walk in the middle of that and fire off rounds for no reason.”

Blackwater’s top lip twitched before he spoke. “It’s a dark world.”

“So it seems.”

“What was your association with the Cartier family, by the way?”

“Family friends of friends.”

“The kind of friends you see often?”

“Often enough.”

“So you would be aware of any enemies they may have.”

Reveca smirked. “Cleary the vilest enemies are often right in front of your face, Blackwater.” When his eyes grew a little wider, Reveca let a
breath out, hating the very sight of him. “Of course I say that because of the recent confessions of Holden.” She smiled. “No, I’m not aware of anyone that would harbor ill will toward an innocent old woman who did nothing but cook and tend to her garden.”

He watched for an instant before he spoke. “Well, since you’re friends with the family, do me a favor now and let them
know that until this investigation is closed they will not be permitted on that property. I can’t seem to get them to return my calls. I’d hate for them to make their way out to that forgotten patch of swamp land only to be turned away.”

“Your boys are out there in this heat, meddling through that foul smelling carnage? Dodging gators and
every other slithery thing that grows curious?” she asked. “I seriously doubt anyone, including the Cartier family, is eager to be in your place.”

“Right,” Blackwater said as he put his glass down on one of the tables. “Who’s your new guy?”
he asked with a nod in King’s direction.

“Another
lone wolf.”

“So quick to invite another in?” Blackwater asked suspiciously.

Reveca nodded toward Cashton. “Him and Cash are buddies. He vouched for him.”

“That a fact?” Blackwater said looking at Cashton.

Not missing a beat Cashton answered. “We’re bloody fucking best mates.”

“Where ‘bout
s you meet him? He a foreigner like you?”

“Blackwater
,” Reveca said. “Our new friend, along with Cashton, didn’t arrive at the Boneyard until both your mysteries were well known. Let them settle before you try and aim half-assed accusations disguised as idle chatter in their direction.”

“Right,” Blackwater said as he gave a nod goodbye, then left at an insanely slow stroll.

Reveca glanced at Judge once Blackwater was far enough away.

“They don’t have a fucking clue
. They’re still going to hold that ground hostage, though.”

Reveca nodded once trusting what Judge saw within Blackwater.

Holding that ground was not good news. It very well could mean a death sentence for the girl upstairs. Reveca needed herbs, ones that she didn’t grow on her own, ones that she counted on GranDee to give her anytime someone needed to make a transition.

That girl
upstairs was breathing, but that was about it right now. If Reveca didn’t do something soon, she would fail GranDee’s last request. And that burned. The grief burned. Being drowned by a past that was now staring her in the face—that burned. Acting like life was peachy and normal to Talon—that scorched. Basically, Reveca’s life sucked right about then.

She knew
where she needed to go, and hopefully that little errand of hers would answer more than a question or two.

She walked over to the bar, pulled out a bottle of water from beneath it,
then glanced at Cashton. “You heading out for a cup of coffee today?” she asked.

Cashton looked
past her where King was, then leaned a little closer. “Until I figure out why that bastard thinks I’m the devil, I’m keeping my distance from anyone who can’t defend themselves.”

“You?
With a weak girl? You traverse life and death for a damsel in distress?”

Cashton let his stare slide over Reveca. “All power lies dormant from time to time. Let’s just say I haven’t awakened hers yet.”

“So she’s not glowing?” Reveca said with a weak wink, trying to make light of what they’d discussed days ago.

“Not as much as you, Vec.”

Reveca felt herself grow tense but she waved her hand anyway. “What is it with men today? Thinking sweat is sexy. The heat has gotten to the lot of you.”

With that she strolled out of the lounge and made her way through the bays, all the way to the last one where King was crouched over a bike. With each step she took toward him she felt this throbbing building in her, a deep hum of a sensation. One that she’d felt for the first time long ago,
the memory of which had haunted her through all of time.

When she set the bottle on his shoulder, that contact, even though it was
n’t flesh-to-flesh, jolted her somewhat, enough that she stifled a groan and clinched her thighs together.

King slowly looked up at her
. There was not one iota of shock in those clear blue eyes. He’d sensed her coming. Hell, he’d felt her approach long before she made her way to the garage.

“You need fluids.”

He stood slowly, until he was standing, towering over her. “Is that what I need?”

Reveca’s gray eyes rapidly moved across his image, seeing the past and present as one. “I don’t get you.”

He lifted one brow, stifled a smirk. That wasn’t the first time she’d said something like that to him. Just the idea of where that conversation ended up last time was stirring him, testing every inch of his will power. “Seems like your head’s clearing up there, sweet.”

“Sweet? What is that? A nickname? That’s right…a guy like you, I bet you have one you say to all the girls that nearly faint in your presence because you can’t remember their names. I don’t care for
sweet
.”

His ice stare searched over her face.

“You’re not going to ask me which one I care for?” Reveca asked. This was her test. Kenson, always,
always
called her love.

“Sweet will have to do for now
,” King said as those long lashes narrowed around his eyes. “No.”

“No what
?”

“No, I don’t use an endearment for girls I cross paths with.” He reached to put the bottle of water down on the table but
to do so he had to lean near Reveca. “I remember everything,” he said in a deep, quiet voice that was laced with command. It sent a surge through Reveca, a sensation she had not felt since she was a twenty-year-old girl.

Right then the distant thunder of bikes rumbled through the air. She gave King a once over,
then turned to go to the dock where everyone parked their bikes.

Right then Talon, Thrash, Shade, and Red pulled in,
and just behind them four others.

She waited as Talon backed his bike
in, even ensured the smile he liked was in place.

“Miss me?” he asked as she walked to him. Before she could answer, still astride his bike, he pulled Reveca to him
. His kiss was deep, claiming, so was his hand that loved the fact that her shorts were loose which allowed him to glide under them without effort. They could hear the other guys whistling.

Reveca had never been one for
public displays of affection and Talon knew that so he pulled away far sooner than he wanted to.

“What are you doing out here? How’s our girl?”

“Sick as hell. I was just heading out. How’d it go this morning?”

“Everything is collected, being checked
. We make the drop tomorrow night.”

Daily, tourist
s and locals alike, would board riverboats to gamble. The boats the Sons had affiliations with didn’t take money in exchange for chips, they took filled scripts. After they were collected, once the boats left the dock and made their way down the river, they’d drop a package in the water. A seemingly innocent fishing boat would pick it up, haul it further down river. At a specified meeting point they would pass the drop. The drugs would be taken to a hidden sorting house, checked over, sorted, then packaged again. Days later what was not needed for those under the watch of the Sons was sold to the black market, to a buyer that would offer the drugs at a price a working family could afford.

All drugs were toxic in Reveca’s mindset. The earth had every remedy that was needed, but modern man had developed a habit of forgetting that. They pumped toxins into everything they consumed
. Then, instead of questioning why they were sick, they medicated themselves with stronger toxins.