Defiance (13 page)

Mathias

I didn’t have to turn to know the meeting was over. I heard the crunch of footsteps across the gravel, turned with the M16 tucked against my body and watched the tall, lanky guy with the pocked-up face and the deadly hands walk away.

I knew guys like him in the military. Hell, I
was
him. Caspar was closer though, but his eyes weren’t dead. Not yet.

Caspar got back into the van as the man he’d called Kian drove off on his bike, leaving a trail of dust and a bad fucking feeling in his wake.

I waited a few minutes, moving closer to the van, then got in and started to drive, didn’t wait for Caspar to approve or not. And I took a different route back to Defiance.

Halfway there, he said, “Need to eat.”

I looked at him, signed
Where the fuck are you going to do that?
with one hand.

“Restaurant about two miles from here. Make the next left and you’ll find it on the right. Three spotlights from the building,” he said.

I did as he asked, found the place, stayed outside the van as I watched him walk up to the window and place an order at this literal side of the road burger shack.

I think he found it funny that I was bird dogging him, and maybe it was, since he was the head Enforcer in Defiance. But hell, everyone needed someone to watch their back.

He came back with a couple of bags, directed me to keep driving and finally had me pull over off road about three miles away. We stayed in the van, ready to take off or shoot at any second.

Damn, the place he’d known about had good burgers. But I couldn’t concentrate and he knew it. When I looked at him, he knew what I’d been thinking.

A cross between,
What the fuck was that?
and
Did you bring me along on this shit because I can’t talk about it?

Caspar’s gaze seemed to suggest no. “You
can
talk to Bishop. What would be the point of that?”

I’d never kept anything from Bish. Never. As if reading my mind, Cas said, “You can tell Bishop, but that’s as far as it goes, right?”

Yeah, I hadn’t misread this guy. Knew I liked him, even had to convince Bish that he was all right.

You always pick the underdog
,
Mathias.
Whenever Bish used my name like that, it sounded like a curse.

Thing was, I didn’t think Caspar was the underdog. He’d let me listen to the entire goddamned conversation that basically explained how he and Kian had conspired to kill Paddy in order to save Tru and give Kian control of the Kill Devils. I knew I’d been let into something bigger than I’d ever thought when I’d first put Defiance on my radar.

Whatever Caspar’s plan was, it didn’t begin and end with what he told Kian. I wondered if Kian knew that.

After I finished my food and crumpled the wrappers and napkins, I knew what I had to do. Knew I couldn’t wait on the picture longer. The last thing I wanted him to think was that I was holding something over his head.

Did Caspar even know about Abel? Maybe I was opening up an entire can of worms but I went with it, dug for my wallet, pulled out the picture and held it out to him. It was in good shape, considering how many miles it traveled with me. A muted color photo of my father with his arm around Abel.

Around Caspar’s father’s shoulders. Or at least, the man I’d been led to believe was Caspar’s father.

Maybe Caspar got away with Lance thinking he was his father because Caspar must have his mother’s coloring. Abel was dark hair, dark eyes, golden complexion. He looked gypsy, like my dad.

Caspar stared at the picture and I watched his reaction run the gamut from sadness to anger, none of it directed at me.

“How’d you know?” he asked.

Your mom
, I told him.
She was close with mine when they went in.
Guess they did some female bonding shit.
Guess she confided in her
,
but she never said...shit
,
Caspar
,
gotta know I didn’t mean to come here and maybe fuck things up for you.

He held a hand up, nodded. “Got it. If you were tryin’ to fuck me over, doubt you’d tell me the plan. Or jump in for me.”

Yeah.

“What about Bishop’s father?” he asked finally and I shook my head. That was a topic I didn’t fucking touch. If Caspar wanted to go there with Bish, so be it.

I told him so and he nodded. “Noted.”

Still holding on to the picture, Caspar reached into his pocket and pulled out two letters. They were worn, and they had my father’s return address on them. He looked inside and found a letter in his dad’s handwriting.

I dropped it all in my lap, signed,
You knew.
All along.

Caspar nodded. “So did you. S’all good.”

Abel had saved my dad’s life. And since he’d taken Bish in when Bish was five, Bish considered my dad his own. Maybe he knew one day we’d need Caspar. My dad got these weird notions sometimes, blamed it on the bayou and the gypsies and their ghosts.

When Caspar had told Rebel and Tru, “they’re family,” he’d meant it. Because he’d known.

You took a big chance.

“Same name and neither of you had a voice. What’re the chances?” Caspar asked. “What you don’t know is that your father saved mine twice before that. Never liked to put himself in the role of the hero, my mom used to say.”

I could see that.
They were together from boot camp.
Served together for years.
Went through hell and back together.
That shit bonds men.

“It does,” Caspar said quietly. “You didn’t show me because you wanted in on your own merits.”

I nodded, hadn’t even realized that was the case until he put voice to it.

He handed the picture back to me. “Don’t lose this. Just stick with what I told Lance. And keep the letters, yeah?”

He’d let Lance believe Bish and I were related. Since there appeared to be no records left, since the Chaos took out most computer systems and their backups, no one could disprove that. I didn’t think Lance would worry that much to try.

There was more he had to say. He stared up at the sky and said, “You passed the initiation last night when you fought, at least in my eyes. I’m guessing Lance might still want a traditional fight, but I’ll see if I can change his mind.”

Still a fast track.

“Everything’s changed, including the probie process. But if you come here direct from the military Special Forces, with a connection, the waiting period’s shortened. Ditto if I served with a family member.”

If a random guy came in and wanted to join, the process was different. Longer, because Defiance didn’t give up trust to just anyone. The Chaos might’ve made the process different but no less stringent.

Defiance was a brotherhood. A family. But there was an undercurrent of menace instead.

Caspar wasn’t one of them—not in Lance’s eyes. I couldn’t be the only one to see that. But a lot of the men liked and respected Caspar—you couldn’t fake that and allow yourself to be led by someone, and none of them seemed to mind taking orders from him.

The dichotomy was fascinating.

Does Lance really think you’re
...

“Yes.”

If Bish and I hadn’t come along
,
would this still be happening?

“I’d already committed to helping Kian when Tru came along. No idea she was with them. Comms suck, plus they had reason to stay silent. Don’t know if Kian knew at the time. Gotta believe he did.”

What Caspar’s killing of Paddy meant for me and Bish, we’d have to wait and see. But the man with the scar had made a statement. And we were firmly on his side. His invites. His probies.

“You see a lot of action when you were in?” Caspar asked me now and I nodded. “Then why’d you leave?”

We were ticketed to guard a truck bringing in something pretty major to a high level command center.
Normally
,
we’d do a scout and sweep
,
send a decoy out first
,
but no
,
they didn’t give us time for that.
We didn’t have a choice
,
so we went.
Saw the second truck coming at us over the burn—directly at us
,
like a big game of chicken
. I continued on, explained about the rebels, how and why we left the military. He seemed to understand, took it all in.

“What’s happening in Defiance...not going to be easy.”

We don’t want easy.

That got a smile.

I
take my father’s debt seriously.
Bish does too.

“Told you a lot tonight.”

A
lot of people treat me like their confessor.

“Does that bother you?”

Depends on who it is.
You made the cut.
I paused, then changed the subject
.
What’s the bonding shit about?

“Tattoos and sex,” Caspar said.

The good shit in life.

Caspar smiled then. “Yeah, Mathias. That’s exactly what it should be.”

You and Tru?

“Me and Tru,” he agreed, then said, “TBD.”

Like all women.
Looked intense when we left.

He put his head back, sighed. I handed him a cigarette and we smoked in silence. Finally, he said, “She likes to run. Gets scared, she runs. Gets pissed, first thing she does is think of runnin’.”

You going to let her?

Caspar looked at me like it was something he’d never considered. And then he laughed. “Let’s get the fuck home in one piece, yeah?”

Chapter Thirteen

Aimee and Luna insisted on walking back to Tru’s room with her. Bishop followed behind with Rebel, who wasn’t happy with her at all.

She didn’t know if it was because of Fiona, but assumed so since he’d had to leave Fiona behind. The anger continued to build inside of her, and she couldn’t help herself, turned to Rebel and blurted out, “If you’re with Fiona, why don’t you help her instead of fuck her?” she blurted out, knew she was hurting Luna by mentioning Rebel’s sex life but she couldn’t stop herself. Not after what she’d seen tonight.

He glared at her, and then his expression softened, just a bit. “Leave it, Tru.”

“Are you the one beating her?”

His voice was hard when he bit out, “Told you, leave it alone.”

“I won’t, dammit. You can’t hit her.”

“I don’t.” His eyes were angry and serious and he was breathing hard. “I’m not the one who fuckin’ hits her, but stoppin’ it’s another story. You don’t have that power. Neither do I.”

But Caspar might. Or Lance. Definitely Lance.

“Tru, look,” Aimee started, but Tru shook her head.

“Not now, Aimee, okay? Please.” She’d screwed up by letting her anger overtake common sense. That hadn’t been the right time to talk to Caspar about anything at all, never mind leaving Defiance. But she couldn’t get the picture of Jodi’s face, Fiona’s bruises out of her head.

The group continued walking as the strains of music from the party they’d left drifted over the compound. The spotlights shined a path for them to the shuttered house that Tru finally realized had been where Trixie and Lance had once lived as newlyweds. It didn’t stand alone any longer, was surrounded by cabins, which is why she hadn’t recognized it earlier. Once Lance and Trixie built their large house, Trixie had made this a guest quarters. It sat halfway between the clubhouse and her new house, and it was gated and shuttered. Protected. A piece of history, surrounded by violence.

And fun.
You had fun tonight
, she reminded herself.

“It’s going to work out, Tru.” Luna hugged an arm around her and Tru wanted to believe that. Maybe that was all she needed—belief, in Caspar, in herself.

She heard Rebel mutter, “Shit,” and before she could turn back to ask him what was wrong, she saw it for herself.

Lance was waiting behind the gates, his arms crossed. Even in the semi-darkness, she could sense the anger. But he was standing so still, his expression schooled.

“Tru, alone,” was all he said.

She was surprised that Aimee and Luna stayed close to her as she continued walking. She’d have expected them to back away, wouldn’t have blamed them. They were expected to do so. Apparently, some things had changed.

“Tru, alone,” he repeated, but even Rebel and Bishop didn’t listen to that. She wasn’t surprised that Bishop didn’t—he was so new, she wasn’t even sure why or how he’d been allowed to stay, especially when he’d helped both Caspar and her.

“Orders are not to leave her, Lance,” Rebel said firmly. Even though Lance was the president of the charter, when the Enforcer ordered protection, his men couldn’t back away.

She turned to look at her friends, squeezed their hands and then went inside the gate and right up to Lance.

They stayed close to her, although she was close enough to Lance for him to hit her. It would be his place to do so. Whether he’d be stupid enough to remained to be seen.

She forced herself not to tremble, to look him square in the eye, to remember Fiona’s bruises. She found herself looking at the skull-shaped ring he wore on the third finger of his left hand, which, because his arms were crossed, was level to her gaze, and then she met his eyes.

He wasn’t as big as Hugh had been in his prime, but he was close. A brick wall of a man, with a thick neck and menace in his eyes when he needed it to be there.

She supposed he needed it to deal with women. She’d never been the subject of his wrath. Not like this. In the old days, she’d watched him charm politicians and businessmen alike. She’d also watched him threaten MC members if they’d done the club wrong in his eyes.

She’d once watched him with Caspar, when Caspar was only ten years old. That was a picture she’d never forget.

“You like humiliating my sons?” Lance asked her.

“No, I don’t,” she told him honestly.

“Thinkin’ you’re too good for us. Always did.”

“That’s not true.”

“You gonna pay for this, Tru. Promised your old man I’d watch out for you, but I’m glad he’s dead. Wouldn’t want him to see the shit you’re pulling, the danger you put my club in. All so you could fuck a bastard.”

“He’s a better man than you’ll ever be,” she told him and his hand whipped out too fast, struck her across the face with an open palm.

She couldn’t help reacting, went to punch him but Rebel grabbed her before she could and held her arms by her side. Bishop stood in between her and Lance, but Lance didn’t make another move toward her, just told her, “You don’t speak to me like that, girl. You got that? You keep pushin’ and you see where you end up.”

He stalked away and Rebel released her. Her face throbbed where Lance had hit her and she put her hand to her cheek.

“I’ll get you ice,” Rebel told her.

“I can get it myself,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

That was all she said before she turned and went into the house by herself.