Leave a Trail (3 page)

“For somebody who doesn’t want people in their business, you’re full of a lot of questions about other people’s.”

She blushed bright red at that. “Sorry. I just—you know that Shannon’s my…um…that…”

“She’s your mom. Yeah. Not that hard to figure.”

“
Bio
-mom. Yeah. I’m just meeting her for the first time. I’m curious.”

“Then you should ask her all these questions.”

“I don’t know…it feels weird to ask her.”

“Well, I’m not going to talk to you about her private stuff—which I don’t even know anyway. Let’s just ride, okay?”

“Okay. Sorry.”

He turned Gypsy and kicked her into a little trot. Toby had a smooth gait, so he knew Adrienne would be okay, but he kept an eye out anyway.

When they got back to the barn, he swung off while Gypsy was just slowing up, and he hit the ground with a light bounce. Gypsy was gaited, a big, beautiful Tennessee Walker. Damn, he loved her. He dropped her reins over the hitching post and went to help Adrienne dismount.

She leaned down and put her hands on his shoulders, and he put his hands on her waist—her shirt was loose so, though he hadn’t specifically intended it, he ended up putting his hands on her bare skin, which was warm, firm and silky-soft. When she came down, she was right up against him, smiling up at him, and, for the first time, his aesthetic appreciation of her beauty and his enjoyment of her company kicked into something more—something physical. His cock filled right out, in other words. He set her down fast and took a step back, trying desperately not to look like an idiot. Grabbing Toby’s reins and then collecting Gypsy’s, he led the horses into the barn, hoping she wouldn’t follow.

At first, she didn’t. He had Toby’s saddle off and was working the bit out of his mouth, thinking about Adrienne’s skin against his palms, when she peeked around the open barn door.

“Is it okay if I come in?”

He didn’t look around. “Sure.”

While he untacked Toby and then Gypsy, and got them into their stalls, she stood right inside the door, watching but not saying a word. He put the tack away, deciding that their ride had been light enough that he didn’t need to clean anything but the bits, which he’d do later. When he turned to face the door, she was right in front of  him. The low afternoon sun was coming through the open doors and setting her hair ablaze. Wow.

“Are you mad at me?”

He was surprised. “What? No. Why would I be?”

“For asking too many questions.”

“Nope. I see why you’re curious. I’m just not the right person to ask.”

“Okay. Can I ask a question you
are
the right person to ask, then?”

“Sure. Shoot.”

“I’ve never kissed a guy with a beard before. Can I?”

She was blushing. It took him a second for the meaning of her words to sink in, and then he was blushing, too. “I, uh…”

Apparently, she took that as a yes. Rising up onto her tiptoes, she put her hands on the back of his neck and pulled him down to her. And then her pretty, soft mouth was on his.

She laughed against his lips. “Tickles.”

Badge was proud of his beard. He might have to work like a fiend to get muscle on his naturally lean frame, and he might have had bad skin when he was in high school, but he had good hair—long, thick, and straight—and he could grow a damn fine beard. It was thick, even, and dark auburn, exactly the same color as his hair, and he planned to let it grow long. “That bad?”

“Not even a little.”

With a sudden surge of confidence—and no small amount of lust—Badger put his hands on her hips and kissed her back, pushing his tongue into her mouth. She leaned into him, her little tits on his chest, and whimpered a little. And holy shit. She was the first civilian girl he’d ever kissed, and she was
fine
.

As soon as he realized that, he backed off fast. Christ on a crutch, how’d he end up making out with Shannon’s
daughter
in the barn, with Toby and Gypsy both staring at them over their stalls?

Nope, nope, nope. All kinds of bad.

When he pulled away, she had a second of seeming disoriented, and he almost succumbed to the temptation to lean back down and kiss her again. But then she blinked and reoriented. And she looked embarrassed.

“Sorry. That was lame of me.”

“No! I—liked it. But I should take you back up to the house, I think.”

The embarrassment mostly cleared from her face, and she smiled. “Okay.”

~oOo~

U around?

Badger’s phone pinged, and he saw the text. He didn’t recognize the number.

Who’s this?

The next ping was a photo—a selfie. Adrienne, grinning. So cute.

She was literally the first girl he’d ever been comfortable talking to. He hadn’t realized it until late that first night, after Show had taken them all out for a steak supper, but he was at his ease with her. It was an amazing, empowering feeling. And then she was gone. The confidence with women hadn’t stayed with him, though. That seemed to be specific to one girl, at least so far.

He’d given her his personal number before she’d left, but that had been a few weeks ago, and she hadn’t used it. Until now.

Now he was grinning, too.
Hey! What’s up?

IDK. Just wanted to tell you that I just took my last final of the semester. I guess I do still go to Columbia.

Cool. Totally cool.

Not dumb to text you about that?

No. Gave u my number to use it. Text me whenever.

K. Hey Badge?

Yeah?

Like your beard a lot.

He wasn’t sure what to say to that. She lived in New York City, and anyway, Show had made it clear that she was off limits. Adrienne, it seemed to him, was squarely in the friend zone.

So he didn’t say anything. He just took a selfie of his own and, once he made sure he didn’t look like a dork, he sent it to her.

~oOo~

Do not go where the path may lead,
but instead go where there is no path
and leave a trail.

Ralph Waldo Emerson, from “Essays and Lectures”

PROLOGUE

Badger was headed straight to the bar from the Keep, his blood still thudding in his ears, when he felt the unmistakable weight of Isaac’s heavy hand on his neck.

“Talk with me, Badge. My office.”

You didn’t say no to Isaac, not like this, but Badger’s head was thick and confused, noisy with anger. He turned and brought his arm up to knock Isaac off him.

“Get off me!”

He failed. Isaac’s grip only tightened, and Badger felt the fucked-up, pulling pain across his chest of skin that would not move—like he was tearing himself apart. It happened whenever he tried to make his arms go wider than his shoulders. The scar tissue that covered his chest would not give that much.

And then he was off his feet, and Isaac was slamming him into the wall. That hurt his chest, too, deeper, and he couldn’t hold back his groan at the impact.

Isaac eased off a little but didn’t release him. “You need to ratchet down, little brother. And now.”

Badger glared but said nothing. He was half Isaac’s size and strength. Maybe less than half his strength. And Isaac was his President. Plus, he was trying to study Badger’s eyes. Badger blinked and dropped his head, knowing it was a sign of defeat, but he was sick to fuck of people sizing him up, waiting for him to do something stupid and give them a reason to take his patch. He could feel them all watching him, looking for their chance. And he’d just served it up on a platter, shouting Isaac down at the table, threatening to walk out of a meeting.

“My office, Badger. You’re walking, or I’m draggin’ you. Make your choice.”

They had the attention of all the Horde, but no one was interfering. They were probably waiting for Isaac to flatten him. But Badger was glad they were keeping their distance. He’d rather taste Isaac’s fist than get rescued. Like the weak puke he was.

“I’ll walk.”

“Good man.” Isaac set him down, then dropped a hand on Badger’s shoulder and led him down the side hall to his office.

Once inside, Isaac closed the door and gestured to the chair next to his desk. Badger sat as directed, and Isaac pulled his desk chair up so they were facing each other when he sat. Then he started right in.

“I’m worried about you, Badge. I need you to be straight here. You need help you’re not asking for?”

“No.” He knew what Isaac meant. Somebody was always asking, laying traps, waiting for him to fuck up.

“Look at me.”

Pretty sure it was safe, and without another viable choice anyway, he leaned close and opened his eyes wide. “Fuck! I’m looking! I’m not high. I’m not a fucking junkie.”

He knew that for the lie it was. He wasn’t in denial, even as he denied it. He was totally fucked up, and he knew it. He knew he’d lost it in the Keep because he needed to get level. That was why he felt safe letting Isaac get a real close look at his eyes. He wasn’t high. He needed to be.

But they’d take his patch if they knew it. They talked a good game about being worried about him, but he knew he was a weak suck for getting hooked, and he knew how Isaac felt about weakness.

Isaac, who’d made his dead body live again just by fucking willing it, would never understand why Badger couldn’t deal. It wasn’t even the pain he felt with every fucking breath.

It was the fear.

It moved like acid in his veins. It twisted his innards into knots. It never let him up. Except for about an hour after a hit, maybe, when his blood eased and his head quieted. He knew he was crazy. It had been six months since the Perros had held them and tortured them, and he still couldn’t deal. They’d broken him. Not Show, not Len, not even Havoc, whom they’d sliced and diced—they’d all stayed strong. Only he had broken.

He was the weak link. He was a pussy. He knew they knew, and he waited for them to take his patch.

Isaac stared hard into his eyes and then sat back, his expression still unconvinced. “Okay. We are here if you need help, little brother. You find yourself in trouble, you reach out. You’re not alone. Right?”

He hated that ‘little brother’ thing.
Hated
it. Havoc had started it, and it hadn’t been long before they were all calling him that. He wasn’t even the most recent patch. Dom, Tommy, and Zeke had all been patched in after he’d been—and Omen and Mikey, too, rest their souls. He wasn’t even the smallest—Dom and Zeke were shorter, and Dom was skinnier. But he was the youngest, and no one missed an opportunity to remind him that they all thought he was a kid. Weak. Naïve. It fucking sucked. It sucked so bad.

What he said to Isaac, though, was, “Right. I know, boss. I’m okay.”

“Pretty hot in the Keep today. Not the first time. But it’s not like you.”

No, because usually he was a pussy. “Just tryin’ to get my head around everything. I’m okay.”

“Yeah. Me, too. You were right in there, though. I’m glad you called me on it. Sometimes…” Isaac stopped and looked down at his hands, which gripped his legs. “Sometimes I’m so angry my heart pounds like to break my ribs. It’s hard not to have a place to put it. The heavy bag helps.” He laughed. “A good fuck helps, too.”

Badger worked out as much as he could, but he couldn’t keep up with the likes of Isaac, and Show, and Len, and Tommy. He’d worked so goddamn hard to build up muscle. So goddamn hard. Weight and bulk did not want to stay on his frame without daily effort. And now his chest was a ruin, so it barely fucking mattered what he did. He’d never have even what he’d managed to build up before. And what he could do—it hurt like fire to work his upper body. Even bicep curls moved his chest and strained the scars. He did it anyway. He did it until he shook with pain.

And then he went off by himself for awhile.

As for good fucks, he was on that plan, too. But a good high lasted longer.

He put a kind of a smile on his face. “Yeah. That’s a good idea. Thanks.”

For another couple of seconds, Isaac looked at him skeptically, and Badger began to wonder if this was going to be the big talk after all. But then he huffed and rolled his chair back to the kneehole of his desk. “Okay, little brother. Let’s go drink.”

He fucking hated being the little brother.

~oOo~

He woke with a start, drenched in sweat, his heart racing. Weasel, his border collie, was sitting at his side, whining. The horses in their stalls were agitated, too. He must have been yelling in his sleep. Again.

The nightmare broke apart as soon as he had hold of his reality again. He could never remember anything about it except pain and fear, like his heart was being pulled through his ribcage. He rubbed at the spot on the right side of his chest that was still oddly dented from when his ribs had been broken. So strange to touch his own body and only feel it in his hand. It made him feel like he wasn’t quite there.

Weasel, still whining, licked his face.

Badger laughed a little and ruffled the fur over the top of the dog’s head. “I’m okay, buddy. I’m okay.”

He slept in the barn at the B&B, because he couldn’t sleep anywhere else. If he slept at his parents’ house, they’d hear his nightmares. If he slept at the clubhouse, his brothers who lived there would hear him. Only here, on the floor of his office, propped up against a saddle and sleeping on and under horse blankets, were there no ears that would pry.

Nobody knew—his parents thought he was at the clubhouse, and vice versa. Because he was livestock manager, people at the B&B expected him to be at work early, so nobody blinked when his bike or truck was parked outside early, and nobody had seemed to notice that he was parked there late, too.