Leave a Trail (35 page)

“Yes, ma’am.”

Satisfied, she turned and trotted off toward the kitchen.

Hector was near his feet, so Badger picked him up and set him on his lap. He immediately settled down and got comfortable, his little head moving as he tracked the play of his siblings.

Nolan looked over his shoulder. “The puppies are cool. I’m glad you found them.”

“Yeah. Me, too. You got a name for yours?”

“Thor.”

Badger considered the blonde pup barreling into Kodi at that moment. “Yeah. That’s good. Hav would’ve dug it.”

“That’s what I was thinking, too.”

Loki climbed into Nolan’s lap, leaned back against his brother’s chest, and stuck his thumb in his mouth. Nolan kissed the top of his head. “Tired, pal?” Loki nodded, and Nolan shifted so that his baby brother could lie back more.

Stroking Hector’s soft fur—amazing how calming petting an animal could be—Badger asked, “How’s school starting?”

Nolan shrugged, then answered quietly, “Okay. Don’t care much. I’d just drop out, but my mom would hate that. I promised her I’d finish, so I will. But there’s not really a point, except she wants me to.”

“It’s good to finish. Even if you don’t do college—”

“—I’m not doing college, Badge. I’m prospecting. Soon as I turn eighteen. On my birthday.” He looked over his shoulder again. “Will you sponsor me?”

“I told you I’ll always have your back, Nolan. Yeah. I’ll sponsor you. If that’s what you want. Any of us would, you know.”

“I want it to be you.”

“Okay, then.” They were quiet for a while. Loki fell asleep. Bo had dumped a pile of LEGOs on the floor and was building some…thing. “How’s your mom?”

“She’s okay. Almost normal again. Or maybe she is normal, and this is how she is now. She doesn’t play her guitar anymore. Ever. I miss that. But she’s okay. I don’t think she’s gonna try to do what she did again, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“I wasn’t. I was just wondering. How about you? Okay?”

“I will be. When I have a kutte. That’s when I’ll be okay.”

“Riding lessons going good?”

“Yeah. But Show says I can’t have Hav’s bike until I’m patched in.”

“No. That’s the way that works.”

“You think we could put the gas on this winter, try to get the Sportster up? The B&B is quiet in the winter, right? You’ll have more time?”

“Yeah. We could do that.”

“Cool. I need to ride.”

Badger knew a little something about needing the Horde, needing the club, and the bike, and the leather. Needing the brotherhood. Needing it as much as blood and air. So he said only, “Yeah, I know.”

And he wondered whether there would be a Horde for Havoc’s kid to patch into.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Adrienne woke early, feeling chilled and lonely. She rolled to the center of the bed and found Badger’s side empty, the sheets cool. He’d had a bad night, filled with terrors and the subsequent rough need that was the only thing to settle him.

He hadn’t had nightmares that drove him to shouting wakefulness for weeks—since the fire. Her own weakness and need of him seemed to have helped him through the rest of his fight. Though for the past few days he’d seemed a little preoccupied, in general, since she’d been hurt, he’d been calmer, steadier, a strong shoulder for her to lean on. Too strong, sometimes. He’d gotten bossy, too, overprotective and rigid about what she could and couldn’t do. She thought that her silence when she was in so much pain had disturbed him more than he’d admitted, and now he did not fully trust her to convey her needs. So he’d taken it on himself to anticipate them.

They were going to have to talk that through, because she was beginning to chafe at the limits he was trying to build around her.

But that talk was for another day. She knew why last night had been hard for him. Today was the first anniversary of Havoc’s death. And of Badger’s torture. And Show’s. And Len’s.

Badger hadn’t told her, but Lilli had gathered up all the women on the day of the puppies. They’d stood around the butcher-block island in the clubhouse kitchen and talked about what to expect from the men, and how to help them. They’d asked Cory what she and Nolan needed—on the first anniversary of losing Havoc. Adrienne had felt awkward, standing with these women who’d been through so much. She had not experienced that day with them. But Shannon had caught her hand when she’d tried to back out and had given it a squeeze, murmuring. “You stay. You belong here. You’re Badge’s old lady.”

Their little bungalow was silent but for occasional creaks and moans of the building itself—the morning was windy and brisk. Adrienne got out of bed and grabbed the long cardigan she used as a robe on cool mornings and evenings.

As she walked down the short hall, past the bathroom, she pulled her hair out of the collar and let it fluff down her back and over her shoulders. She was lucky, she thought, that she’d clipped her hair up that last evening in the B&B. She had lost none of it. She’d been left the vanity of her hair.

Hector bumbled into the hallway from the kitchen. She reached down and picked him up, then went in. She set him back down when she saw the scene before her.

Badger was sitting with his head and hands on the table, a nearly empty bottle of Jack Daniels a few inches from one slack hand. He didn’t really drink hard liquor, at least not anymore. With few exceptions, he stuck to beer. Especially in the six months that she’d been in Signal Bend, since his detox. She didn’t even know they’d
had
whiskey in the house. In fact, she was pretty sure they hadn’t. So he’d gone out in the middle of the night? And come back here to drink alone in the kitchen? A bottle of Jack?

She was confused, but she pushed all those questions away. She didn’t like the way he was lying on the table, his mouth open, a puddle of drool under his face. It reminded her much too powerfully of that day in the barn, the day he’d punched her and called her shouted names. Now, with that memory sharp and foremost in mind, she was paralyzed. Worried about him, and afraid for herself, she didn’t know what to do.

They were together. They loved each other, lived together. She was his old lady. She knew exactly what to do. So she swallowed down her anxiety, took a deep breath, wrapped her cardigan tightly around her body, and reached a hand out and laid it on his shoulder, brushing his disheveled ponytail to the side. “Badge?”

Nothing. She gripped his shoulder then and shook. “Badge? Honey, please.” Beginning to really worry and think that she should call Tasha, she shook yet harder and raised her voice. “Badge!”

His eyes flickered open, and then he jumped up, upsetting the chair he’d been sitting on. Adrienne backed off fast, trying to be prepared for him to lash out—she wasn’t prepared, she didn’t think she could ever be prepared for Badger to hurt her, but she tried. He stood there, looking lost, like he’d been dropped into the world fresh right at this moment. Then his body spasmed, and he made a falling leap toward the sink. Hanging on the edge of the basin by his arms, he vomited. And vomited. When he was finally done, he rinsed it down the drain, stuck his mouth under the running tap, and then dropped to the floor, the tap still running.

Adrienne waited until she was sure he would be still, then she turned off the tap and sat down on the floor facing him. Hector climbed into her lap and curled up. She didn’t give the pup much notice, but he was content where he was, insensible to the trouble in the room.

Badger was pale and shaking, the skin under his eyes bruised with weariness and sorrow. He looked a lot like the man who’d punched her—and that man was not the man she lived with. Her worry grew.

“Badge? What can I do?”

He didn’t answer. She put her hand on his; it shook as she reached for him. But when she touched him, he jerked away as if she were fire itself.

“Just leave me alone.” His voice was rough with bile.

Maybe once, she would have done as he’d said. But a lot had happened to Adrienne in the six months she’d lived in Signal Bend, with Badger, and she had changed. She had a hard edge on her heart now, and a strong steel in her spine. It didn’t even occur to her to back off—and it was that moment when she realized how much she
had
changed. Her hand, which had been shaking with the fear of being hurt, steadied. And she got angry.

“No. I’m not leaving you alone. You’re not alone. You shouldn’t be alone today. And you don’t get to push me away anymore. You don’t get to sit on your butt in the middle of our kitchen and tell me to leave you alone. What kind of jerk would I be if I walked away right now and left you hurting? Is that who you think I am?”

His gorgeous eyes were bleak and bleary, shot with red, but they met hers. “You never cuss.”

“What?” The statement derailed her ire.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you cuss—‘cept one time, when we were fucking. Why don’t you?” His words were slow, as if he was too tired to be really interested in the topic, but his eyes had sharpened as they held hers.

“I don’t know.” She really didn’t know why she didn’t swear. She never got offended when other people did—and she was surrounded by people who swore liberally. But those words just didn’t come to her when she was putting words together. Her parents hadn’t sworn, either, come to think of it. And she realized she’d never thought of it before. “Is it important?”

He shrugged stiffly. “I guess not. It’s you. It’s just different. Guess I wonder if it makes you think I’m less because I do.”

“What? That’s crazy. You need me to cuss? Fuck, cunt, shit, asshole, cocksucker, pussy, cock, dick, bullshit, cunt—”

With a low laugh, he put his hand up. “You said that one already. Okay, sorry. I don’t need you to cuss. Sounds weird. But it was pretty hot when you said ‘fuck’ when you were coming. Only did it that once, though.”

“I’ll try to throw one in there every now and then.”

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He took her hand, linking their fingers together. “I love you, Adrienne. I’m sorry I’m so fucked up. I really am, too. I need to shut my brain down. I need it so bad, I’m going crazy. I haven’t wanted to score like this in months.”

She scooted closer. “I’m here, Badge. I’m always here for you. You don’t need that stuff. You don’t. You’re strong, and you’re not alone.”

“Can we just go back to bed? I feel like shit.”

“Absolutely. You go on. I’ll take Hector out and get him fed. Then I’ll be with you. Okay?”

“Yeah. Thank you.”

She’d expected him to need sex, but he was too tired and ill, so when she came to bed, he only pulled her tightly to him, wrapping her up in his body. She could feel his tension slowly easing, and when he was asleep, she let herself drift off, too. When Hector fussed from the floor next to the bed, she reached down, careful not to disturb Badger, and brought the pup up. He immediately settled in her arms, and they three slept until the sun was high in the windows.

~oOo~

Later that day, Adrienne sat on a stool at Dragonfire Ink and watched Badger have his Horde ink restored—or replaced, really. He’d still been badly hung over when they’d woken up, but he had the appointment on this important day, and he would not think of rescheduling. And he wanted her with him. So they dropped Hector and his new crate off at the clubhouse for the Prospects to watch over, had a big, greasy late breakfast at Marie’s, and drove to Millview.

There was almost nothing left of his original ink. Tony, the tattooist who did most of the club’s ink, was starting from scratch. Despite Tony’s protests that he should wait until his scars were older, that the ink might not take as well and he would probably need retouching soon, at least, Badger wanted it done on this day, exactly one year after he’d been so badly hurt, and he wanted the same ink he’d had—the word HORDE in large letters arcing over the top of his chest, and the rampant horse down the center. This time, though, he wanted the words
Never Say Die
inked under the horse.

Because his chest was so badly scarred, and the scars were still fairly new, the ink was more complicated. Though he’d been unable to convince Badger to wait, Tony had gotten him to revise the design, incorporating more intricate detail rather than so much solid black, which apparently would have done poorly on the scarring. They’d blocked the whole day, with a one-hour break for supper. Badger had so few pain receptors left on his chest that he’d been comfortable for the four hours Tony had so far been working, and there was no reason to think he would not be comfortable for the entire sitting.

All of the Horde who were experiencing this anniversary had recently begun renewing, replacing, and adding to their ink, though Show had not started work on his back yet. Badger hadn’t told Adrienne absolutely everything about that day or about the business that made it happen—and she thought she was glad not to have the details he left out—but as she sat and listened to Tony and Badger talk about the scar and the ink, she filled in some blanks. The bad guys—the cartel—had intentionally destroyed their ink, especially their Horde ink, but not only that. Now that she was listening to Tony and Badger discuss the work Tony had been doing on Len and Show, too, she understood the damage to their bodies better. All their scars. Show’s
Daisy
tattoo torn from over his heart. She’d seen the damage; she had just never understood the intention before. Knowing the intention made it even more horrible.

The act of replacing his ink seemed to be pulling Badger out of the morning’s dark thicket. As the day went on, he strengthened and became more talkative, and by the time Tony called for a break and had his shop girl run for sandwiches and drinks for everybody, the mood in the shop had gotten lighthearted.

Adrienne had never before been inside a tattoo shop. When she got bored or uncomfortable sitting on the simple stool at Badger’s side, she wandered around, looking at the art and doodads on the walls and shelves. There were two other tattooists in the shop, one of whom, Red, had several appointments for smaller work during the day, and the other, Karen, seemed to be either having a day where she had intended to focus on other things—sketching, deep-cleaning her station—or just didn’t have any appointments. She did a drop-in tattoo for somebody, but otherwise she appeared to be both busy and not working.