Tastes Like Candy (Lean Dogs Legacy Book 2) (43 page)

              She stood.

              “Wait.” Bill surged to his feet and reached for her. “How did you find this? Who are you?”

              She stepped back, avoiding him, and her smile was sad. “I’m just a girl who knows things,” she said. And she was gone.

Forty

Michelle

She slid onto the stool next to Albie, skirt catching at her legs in an unfamiliar way. Her scalp ached and she pulled the pins from her hair, let the heavy mass tumble down her back, and sighed in relief. “Package delivered to Inspector Lehigh,” she reported, slumping forward with her elbows on the bar.

              “Data,” Albie said to the prospect with the nose ring. “Whiskey rocks for the lady.”

              “Yessir.”

              It felt like it took years to get her drink, but really it was only a matter of efficient seconds. Michelle nodded her thanks to the prospect and curled her hand around the glass, feeling the body-warmth of the whiskey and the bite of the ice.

              “He’s dead,” she said, and didn’t need to clarify.

              Albie drained his glass – he was drinking his whiskey neat – and reached over the top of the bar for the bottle Data had left within easy reach. “Vaporized, more like.” The mouth of the bottle clinked against the glass as he poured, his arm unsteady.

              Michelle closed her free hand over his elbow and squeezed. “I’m sorry, Uncle Albie. So sorry.”

              He raised his glass to his lips. “You shouldn’t be sorry. I’m the one who was horrid to him.”

              She wanted to press, but didn’t, as he turned toward her, blue eyes haunted. She just patted his elbow.

~*~

“So this is your place.”

              Early sunlight fell in pale panels through the windows, landing on the hardwood, gilding Candy around the edges as he surveyed her tiny lounge and its mismatched furniture. Her flat has always been shitty, she knew, but it had never looked as pale and sad as it did now, with Candy huge and hot-blooded standing in the middle of it.

              “Rather pitiful, isn’t it?” she said with a wry smile. “Anyway, it isn’t going to be mine any longer. Raven said she could find someone to take over the rent for me.”

              She hadn’t told him that part yet, and his brows lifted. “Yeah?”

              “Yeah. I just wanted to make sure there wasn’t anything left that I wanted to take back home.”

              He smiled a small, quiet, intensely happy smile that made her heart flutter.

              She needed to focus. They were meeting Raven and Cassandra for brunch, and there was no reason to drag this out.

              Candy’s heavy footfalls followed her into the bedroom, but she didn’t turn around, afraid his smile would stall her out all over again.

              There were some clothes in the wardrobe that she crammed into a rucksack. A few books. And then the jewelry box, sitting by her bedside.

              Her hand shook as she picked it up; her mother’s rings were inside it. “They’re yours,” Phillip had told her. “I love her still, but she isn’t in those rings. You take them. Get married with them. Carry her with you like that.”

              She pushed the box carefully into the rucksack and then knotted the cords.

              “That’s it?” Candy asked.

              “Yeah.” She took a shaky breath. “That’s it.”

              When she straightened, she realized her eyes were misty, and she dashed at them with the back of her hand. “It’s stupid. I don’t want to stay, that’s not the problem. And I won’t miss this place at all.” She waved an arm to indicate the flat. “It’s only…I left so quickly last time. In a panic. And when you leave slowly, it’s…”

              “It’s like you’re making a decision,” he filled in. “And that’s harder.”

              She sent him a wavering, grateful smile. “Exactly.”

              “Come here.”

              His arms were solid and strong as they went around her, and she pressed her face into his chest, the smooth wall of muscle there beneath his shirt. “I want to get married,” she whispered.

              “Hmm,” he hummed, without any of the surprise or reaction she’d expected.

              “You knew?”

              “Well, I figure that’s the sort of thing a girl would want, if she comes to live on the other side of the world with you.”

              Her chest clenched with gladness. “And I want children. At least one, anyway.”

              “Yeah. ‘Bout time I got started on that, huh?”

              And leaving…well, it wasn’t so bad in the face of that.

~*~

Telling Tommy goodbye was the worst. She pressed her tear-streaked face into the crook of his neck and squeezed him tight. “You have to come visit me,” she ordered. “And we’ll come visit you.”

              He squeezed her back and his voice shook. “Try and keep me away.” And then, just a whisper, “Little sister.”

~*~

“You, my brave girl,” Phillip told her. “Are the best thing I ever did.”

              And they both cried.

~*~

The knife, in its familiar place in the shaft of her boot, was a comforting weight as she mounted the wide wooden stairs, one at a time, hand skimming the smooth wood of the rail. Around her, voices echoed, mullet rock filled the sound system speakers, and the night crowd of Amarillo, Texas danced, and drank, and hollered, and enjoyed the hell out of the ragingly successful bar that was the club’s to own, and hers to manage.

              Jenny waited at the top of the stairs, the plain ring on her left hand catching the light as she pushed her hair back and grinned at Michelle. “To be honest,” she said, leaning close to be heard, “I was worried it wouldn’t pull in enough money to stay afloat.”

              Michelle grinned back. “And now?”

              “Now Colin’s embarrassed I make more than him.”

              Michelle laughed and settled in beside her sister-in-law, elbows braced on the rail. “It feels good,” she agreed.

              They stood in companionable silence a moment, watching the activity down on the main floor. Most of the guys were in-house tonight. Fox was at the bar, currently picking up a redhead a good four inches taller than him without even trying. Niko was on break, and Cowboy and Gringo had finally gotten him to the bar, were pressing a beer on him, and no doubt giving him the you-ought-to-prospect-with-us spiel again. Things were quiet for the moment, the ATF cleared out and business as usual in full swing. But there was no such thing as too many men; wars could break out at any moment in this life.

              Michelle felt a light, brief touch at her shoulder and turned to see that Jinx had joined them. He would always look stern and sharp-eyed, but she recognized the relaxation in his jaw, beneath his beard.

              “Hey,” she said.

              “Hey.” His eyes were straight ahead, but he tipped in closer, so she could hear him. “Caught the bartender on camera two, skimming off the register.”

              “Shit.” She sighed. “Well, we’ve got a dozen apps in the office, people wanting to work here. I can get someone new in tomorrow. He’ll have to finish out his shift.”

              Jinx nodded. “I’ll have a talk with him.”

              “I can,” she offered, but his eyes swung to hers.

              “I’ll do it.”

              Michelle grinned. “He’d probably find you much more persuasive.”

              He snorted, and a small grin touched his mouth. “That’s what I figured.”

              “Thanks, Jinx.”

              He gave her shoulder a brotherly squeeze before he moved off.

              It was a marvel, really, the way the boys here had accepted her, treated her like a sister, like family. She was, technically; after the hideous paperwork was finally over with, and she and Candy were married biker-style, her with a leather jacket on over her dress, it would have been well within the norm to be seen as a fragile female by her husband’s brothers. But instead she was a sister, like Jenny. This was a tight family, this Texas bunch. And though she missed her family like mad, she wouldn’t have traded London for a second of this, her new life.

              Alone again, Jenny leaned in and asked, “How are you feeling?”

              Michelle felt a blush warm her cheeks. “Am I that obvious?”

              “Well, you’ve turned down a glass of wine the last two times I’ve offered.”

              “Observant.”

              “Uh-huh.”

              Candy appeared down below, weaving his way between tables, accepting handshakes and back slaps from happy customers. He glanced up, as if he could sense her watching him, and his grin made her stomach flip.

              She smiled. “I feel wonderful,” she said. “Absolutely fantastic.” And she did. She really, really did.

Forty-One

Michelle

She’d always thought of the future in a certain way. Through a naïve lens of youth, she’d seen the present as a test, something to fight through, tooth and claw, until she could arrive at the higher plane that would be the rest of her life. A young woman’s view of the world, and her place within it.

              But the future, she realized, was nothing more than tomorrow, and nothing less than forever, and that higher plane didn’t feel like ascension, but the gift of another Texas sunrise and sunset, the chance to love and be loved. The future was no longer a finish line she was racing for. In so many ways, she wanted it to slow down. She wanted more of this, an eternity of it: her job, and her little cozy home, and all her surrogate brothers. And Candy. Her sweet, ferocious Derek.

              And the new little life they would raise together.

~*~

Really, she thought, at nine-fifteen on Saturday night, she should have expected this. This would fall under that old Murphy’s Law thing, wouldn’t it? It felt like it would. It also felt like
hell
.

The back pain had started during breakfast that morning. Not unbearable, but steady and insistent, like two fists pressing firmly into the small of her back, right in those little indentations above her backside. She’d spent a half hour in Candy’s chair in the sanctuary, a pack of frozen peas wedged behind her, and finally gave up when she realized it wasn’t going to work. No sense being helpless about it, she decided, and heaved back to her feet, her belly thrusting out in front of her like a hot air balloon. A big baby, the doctor had said, smiling at her. And of course he was big, because look at his giant father. But
she
wasn’t big, and she’d never been this uncomfortable in her life, housing a tiny giant growing bigger by the day.

She’d spent the day in the office, going through vendor orders, returning phone calls, trying not to worry about the fact that the pain was getting worse and worse as the hands moved around the wall clock. Candy was on a run, currently riding back from Cali with all but the skeleton crew he’d left behind in Amarillo.

At three, Darla had stuck her head in the door and said, “I made sandwiches.”

Michelle smiled, but shook her head. Her stomach was trembling in a funny way, and she wasn’t hungry. “No, thanks.”

Darla frowned. “You okay, sweetheart? You look a little pale.”

“Just tired.” She pressed a hand to the mound of her belly. “Ready to meet this one.”

“Aren’t we all!” Darla said with a wide smile, and ducked back out.

She’d headed to the bar around eight, just to check in, make sure things were running smooth. She trusted her staff, she just…well, she was a control freak, maybe more of one than her husband, something he liked to remind her as often as possible. God, she missed him. He should be back soon. Within the next few hours. She realized, as she moved across the floor, that she was praying about it, in an abstract way:
Bring him home safe, bring him home soon.

The pain turned visceral and ragged, sharp as daggers running through her back. And now…now…

It was nine-fifteen, and all this wet warmth was gushing down her legs, soaking her leggings, sliding down into her boots, pattering against the hardwood floor.

“Fucking fantastic,” she said through her teeth, and then the pain
grabbed
.

Yeah, okay, she should have stayed home. And she knew she was in trouble when she felt too bad to worry about being embarrassed, standing here in the middle of a hot nightclub spot with her water breaking all over the damn place.

Someone appeared at her elbow, and she glanced over, eyes glazed from the pain, to find Jinx giving her a look so motherly and concerned she would have laughed if she could. “What’s wrong?” he asked, right away.

“Um…my water broke.”

“It
what
?”

She gestured down toward her feet, and his gaze followed. It was dim, but she could tell he could see the wetness gluing her leggings to her skin.

“Oh shiiiiittttt,” he hissed. He took a huge breath and grabbed at his hair. “Okay. Okay. This is cool. This is fine. It happens, right? Biology?”

She’d never seen him like this. It was terrifying and adorable.

“Calm down.” She grabbed his sleeve. “Hey, look at me. This is my first baby. He’s gonna take his sweet time. I’m not gonna plop him out right here on the floor.”

It was a ridiculous statement, but obviously something he’d thought of, judging by the way his shoulders relaxed a little. “Hospital, right?” he asked, expression dazed. “Yeah. We’ve got to get you to the hospital. Shit, do I need to call an ambulance?”

“
No
. We can take the truck.”

“Truck. Right.”

“Jinx. Do you need to sit down?”

“Probably.” He took another breath and shook his head. “No, no, it’s fine. Come on.” He touched her shoulder like she was made of glass and steered her gently toward the stairs.

Walking helped; the pain and pressure were coiled so tight that it felt like she needed an outlet, and moving seemed to dispel some of the tension. Still, the stairs were a challenge. Jinx slid his arm across her shoulders, and she was grateful for the chance to lean against his side.

At the top of the stairs, he leaned over and told the hostess someone needed to get a mop down to clean up on the main floor. Her name was Eliza, and she was mid-forties, competent and young-faced, a hell of a hire. She took one look at Michelle’s expression and said, “We’ve got this. You go.” And gave Michelle an encouraging smile.

They were at the front door – one of the bouncers was holding it open for them, in fact – when one of their servers came barreling up, eyes wild. “Jinx!” she gasped. “Oh God, there you are. We’ve got a major situation in the back.”

His arm tightened around Michelle’s shoulders. “I can’t deal with it right now.”

The girl made a distressed sound in her throat. “Two guys got in this huge fight, I think maybe they were betting, I don’t know. Anyway, they started hitting each other, and their friends joined in, and Niko’s trying to break them up, but he needs help, and–”

“Shit,” Jinx swore.

A shadow detached itself from the wall and slid into view, liquid as something out of a horror movie. Fox smiled in a way that made Michelle groan. “Don’t worry,” he said. “You handle it. I’ll take Chelley to the hospital.”

Jinx was already too distracted to protest. “Yeah, thanks. I’ll call and check on you guys in a bit.”             

When he stepped away, Fox took his place, arm going around Michelle’s shoulders. “Come on, niece, let’s go have a baby.”

~*~

As predicted, it was taking a long time. Her contractions were much closer together now, and the doctor had said it wouldn’t be long the last time he’d taken a peek, but four hours was a long time to be in this kind of pain, in Fox’s company no less.

In the chair beside the bed, he plucked ice chips from a cup one by one and crunched them noisily.

“Those are supposed to be for me, you know,” she said.

He tilted the cup in offering.

“Oh no. You enjoy.”

He grinned.

The next contraction hit her hard, deep rippling waves of pain that went on, and on, and on…

“Hey.” Suddenly Fox’s face was above hers for some reason. His voice sounded faraway. “Chelle. You okay?”

Tears burned her eyes and she pressed her lips together, to keep from letting out the whimper that strained her throat.

His expression softened, all the teasing gone, and he pressed his cool palm to her forehead.

Michelle closed her eyes, swallowed, and whispered, “I want Derek.”

“I know, love, I know. He’s coming.”

~*~

Candy

Candy had five missed calls and a voicemail from Jinx when he got off his bike in front of the clubhouse. He listened to the voicemail, and his heart leapt halfway up his throat. The baby was coming. Now.

He shoved his phone back in his pocket and slammed his helmet back on his head.

“What…” Gringo started to ask.

“Hospital.” And he cranked his bike again.

It was a sharp, cool night, and he leaned into the handlebars as he rode into town, the wind like a straight razor shaving across his skin. His eyes watered, and he told himself it was only the speed, just the air slipping past his nighttime goggles. He didn’t know or care if any of his brothers followed him. This wasn’t club business. This was…this was…

Maybe it was because he was as old as he was. Young fathers worried about the ways a kid would change their lives: middle of the night feedings, less partying, endless diaper changing, and money scraping. But for Candy, all he could see were the potential disasters. All his worries centered around the moment of birth itself. What if something happened to Michelle? To the baby? What if she had to have a C-section? What if it was backward – breech? He’d learned that word, and an impossible list of others, in birthing class. Because, yeah, he was forty-six, and he was secure, and he could take his girl to class and learn what he needed to learn; he didn’t have to pretend to be too much of a bro for that.

Breathing exercises and back massages cycled through his brain, and nothing could touch the worry that was clawing toward panic. He had to get there. Had to get there…

It wasn’t until he was parked and on his feet, jogging toward the hospital doors, that he realized he was shaking like a newborn foal. He actually tripped on the threshold going in, and a woman on her way out gasped and said, “Are you…?”

“Fine,” he said, and broke into a run, heading for the elevators. There was a line. He took the stairs. He almost had a heart attack when he got to the right floor, heaving and leaning against the door a moment. Fuck.

Fox was in the L&D waiting room, and grinned when he caught sight of him. “Jesus Christ, man,” he said, getting to his feet like this wasn’t
the most important moment in the world
. “Does someone need to get the paddles for you?”

“No.” His voice was a snarl. “Where is she? Which room?”

“This way.” Fox fell in beside him, and led him to a door painted a soft, unobtrusive yellow, like all the rest on this floor. “Hold on,” he said, when Candy started to push through. “I should tell you–”

The bottom fell out of Candy’s stomach. No. God no. He didn’t wait to listen, instead barged in, and found…

Oh.

Fox stepped in close behind him, whispering. “She’s asleep.”

And she was. There was a bassinet beside the bed, a little white-wrapped bundle in it.

“He came about an hour ago,” Fox continued. “She did beautiful.” He patted Candy’s shoulder. “He’s healthy, already been to the nursery, already eaten a little.”

His chest squeezed so hard he thought the paddles might actually be a good idea.

“Go wake her up.” Fox gave him a nudge. “She wants to see you.” Then he withdrew and pulled the door shut behind him.

His hands curled into fists and then relaxed. Again. He had no idea what to do with the worry and adrenaline still cycling through his veins. He felt lightheaded, weak. Healthy. Both of them healthy and whole. God.

He made it to the chair beside the bed and fell into it. His hand shook when he reached and smoothed Michelle’s damp, golden hair off her forehead. She had to be exhausted, but her eyes fluttered open immediately.

“Derek?”

“Yeah. Right here.”

She pushed up a little, leaning into his hand, and her heavy-lidded eyes came to his face. She smiled. It was tired, but it was radiant, warmth emanating from her skin.

“Fox said you did real good,” Candy said around the lump in his throat. “I’m sorry, baby doll, I wish–”

She shook her head; she didn’t want to talk about what might have been. “Have you see him?” She nodded toward the bassinet.

Only in passing. He glanced over now, and it was a fresh heart attack all over again.

“Pick him up,” Michelle prodded gently.

He got to his feet and hovered over the bassinet, hands suspended in midair. He was so tiny – okay, not tiny for a baby – but tiny compared to his big, gnarled, tooth-taking hands. And so clean, and smooth-skinned, and perfect, and…

“You picked up Jack, didn’t you?” Michelle asked.

“Yeah.” And he had. So with the utmost care, he slowly, slowly reached in and scooped up the bundle that was his son. One hand supporting his body, the other his head, such a breakable little curve settled in his palm.

He eased back into the chair, and leaned against the bed, so the baby was between them. So he could watch Michelle stroke his little forehead with a fingertip. His eyes were still closed.

Candy’s own eyes were suddenly blurry, hot and stinging.

Michelle lifted her hand and laid it on top of his head, wiggling her fingers down deep into his hair. “I know,” she whispered. “Me too.”