Tangled Threats on the Nomad Highway Page 13

  “Yeah, he seems to. It’s a good look on any man, showing the world they’re owned by their better half.” Einstein shifted until he was on one knee, then pushed upright with a groan. “I do appreciate the offer, brother.” Staring at Bane, he let the reality of the situation sink in. There’s nothing of Scar in him. They don’t even look alike. Talking to the man today had revealed an entirely different mindset, one more like Einstein’s, and he fully understood why Bane had gone about as far as he could from the club Scar had started. Nothing in that setup would appeal to him, and it embarrassed Einstein that he’d been sucked in and swallowed the lies. He should have known better, should have trusted his instincts, but he’d wanted the community, the brotherhood that had been promised. All I got was shit. Bane’s story had shown he’d had to fight free from family to get where he was today, just like Einstein. “Catch you in the morning.”

  He detoured by his bike to grab his bag, then made his way along the path to the second house. Similar in construction to Truck and Vanna’s place, it boasted a wide porch that was begging for a swing. The light was on, a handful of bugs swooping lazily through the bright heat. The doors were unlocked, and he entered a quiet house, standing near the door as he closed it and looked around.

  A glow from the kitchen slightly brightened the darkness downstairs, showing him the outline of furniture—a couple of chairs and the couch Bane had promised. The banister of the stairs gleamed in the low light, and he marked the darker shadow underneath, knowing that would be the door to the linen closet. The silence wasn’t complete. Shouts of laughter made their way inside from the group, muffled but audible. He could hear a clock ticking, not loud enough to be annoying, but standing out in the quiet that surrounded him.

  Einstein slipped off his boots and placed them and his bag near the end of the couch. There were cushions and pillows he could use to rest his head, so when he made his way to the closet, he only retrieved a couple of blankets. Dropping those off at the couch, he took only a minute of further exploring to locate a downstairs bathroom, which he used without turning on a light.

  He flipped out one blanket, then the other, and shoved a pillow to one end, then stretched as he unfastened his belt. He removed that and his wallet, digging his phone and knife from his pockets, and deposited those into his boots for safekeeping, draping his vest over the collection, confident that in this house, no one would touch it even while he slept.

  Stretching out with a groan, he had curled up on one side, back against the cushions, when the front door opened. A dark figure came inside, pausing much as he had while they closed the door behind them.

  “Bane?”

  “Yeah, man. Sorry to wake you.”

  “Just resting my eyes.” That earned him a snort, and he grinned. “Thanks again for the couch.”

  “There’s a bedroom, but it’s next to Marian’s.”

  “Say no more. I get it from hearing Horse and Gunny talk. It’s a good thing to want to keep your sister-in-law safe, man. No worries.” He was surprised to find his words were the truth. If he’d found out another way that there was a regular bed not offered, he’d probably be offended, but knowing it was next door to a woman who’d suffered so much—it was a no-brainer to avoid upsetting her more. “Night, man.”

  “Yeah. G’night.” The dark figure moved out of view, the creaking stairs identifying where he’d gone.

  Einstein followed his progress through much of the house by the sound of footsteps, loud in the stillness. Water pipes groaned, then more creaking, moving away until it was lost in the distance.

  “Good man.”

  Adjusting against the pillows, he closed his eyes and relaxed. Sleep wasn’t too far behind.

  ***

  Marian

  Old habits die hard. Marian shook her head at the thought. I need to remember that it’s been a matter of days, not months. Of course I’m still waking early and making my way to the kitchen. Didn’t matter it was a different kitchen; since she was here, might as well get the coffee started and then see what was in the refrigerator to use for breakfast.

  Pausing, she bent to look through the window towards Vanna’s house. No lights. That would probably mean they wouldn’t be doing a big feed this morning for those who’d stayed another night. Yesterday the adults had flocked to Vanna and Truck’s place, and the kids all wound up here. It had been fun staying with the kids, listening to them play, and watching as they folded Thad and Luke into their group.

  Grinning, Marian dumped the water she’d drawn into the coffeemaker and finished prepping for coffee, then pulled out the flour, milk, and eggs for the second day in a row. Turning on the range, she positioned a heavy skillet in place. Pan-a-cakes, as Luke called them, cooked quickly and kept well with a covered pan on them, staying warm in the stove without drying out. Also, if whatever kids were still here found out she’d made pancakes again, they’d probably come to eat, which would give Thad and Luke someone closer to their age to talk to.

  The smell of brewing coffee had her breathing deep with a sigh. “Few things smell better than fresh coffee first thing in the morning.”

  “I’ll second that thought.”

  She whirled, the two eggs in her hand flying free to smash against the lower cabinets. One hand clutched at the neck of her shirt, the other held out between them, she faced the man who’d spoken. He took a step backwards, his hands held harmlessly down at his sides.

  “Hey now. Hey.” He took another step backwards. “You’re Marian, right? I didn’t mean to scare you.” The man moved so the kitchen island was between them. “Bane let me sleep on the couch. I didn’t come prepared to camp out, so he basically saved me from an uncomfortable night. I’m sorry I scared you.”

  Dressed in just a pair of jeans, which were unfastened, the man stood with the half-mast zipper the only thing keeping the garment hanging off his hips. The man’s bare torso, tanned and rippling with muscles, gleamed warmly in the low light. He had lines on his skin, dark tattoos mixed with color until he looked like a walking riotous canvas. Hair on his head shorn nearly as close as the scruff on his face, he was frowning, a furrow between his brows. Marian watched his eyes and his hands, knowing from painful experience that the one would telegraph what the others would be doing next. Instead of being clenched into pounding fists, his fingers flexed and straightened, arms down at his sides.

  “I didn’t mean to scare you. Thought for a minute you were talking to me and that you knew I was here.” Mouth twisting to the side, he offered an expression that was as much grimace as smile. “Forgive me?”

  Pulling in a steadying breath, she lowered her gaze before answering, “I’m…I’m Marian.” Grabbing a couple of paper towels from the roll, she dampened them at the sink before squatting near the wasted eggs, scooping up what she could in one hand before wiping at the mess with the other.

  He murmured something she didn’t catch, focused on cleaning up. A trash can appeared next to her, and Marian dropped the shells and slimy eggs into the container. Water ran in the sink, and another handful of wet paper towels came into view. She held up the other, and it was plucked from her fingers. Courtesy came to her like second nature, and she murmured, “Thank you.” Finally happy with the way the cabinet door looked, she rose and dropped the last bit of trash on top of the rest. Still without looking at him, she explained, “I was going to make pancakes.”

  “What can I do to help?”

  The matter-of-fact way he assumed she’d have a job for him was disarming, making him less terrifying. She was still frightened, heart pounding half out of her chest, but it lessened somehow. He’s like Gunny. Bane allowing him to sleep here should have been all the recommendation Marian needed, because he’d proven to be amusingly proactive in his protectiveness of Myrt. Marian had watched from the windows yesterday as he’d come up behind her sister over and over, wrapping himself around Myrt’s frame as if to safeguard her from the world. He would never place Myrt in a position where she might be th
reatened.

  “They’re easy, not much to do.” Retrieving another couple of eggs, she cracked and added them to the bowl. “Thanks, though.” She didn’t want him to think she wasn’t grateful for the offer. Marian kept her back to the man as she worked, whisking ingredients together until they blended smoothly, then flicking droplets of water into the skillet to test for readiness. A dab of oil, and moments later, three pancakes bubbled as they cooked.

  “Here, Marian.” Turning, she accepted the container he’d extended. “It’s oven-safe, so I figure will work to keep breakfast warm for the lag-a-beds.” He’d dressed, a shirt and vest now covering his chest, pants done up and held in place with a leather belt. She noted he wore socks without boots, and glanced towards the door to see them lined up alongside Bane’s. “I’m Einstein.” He nodded to the skillet. “Those are looking good.”

  Turning back to her cooking, Marian flipped the browning circles, trying not to jump when a tub of butter slid onto the countertop nearby. Attempting to focus on the pancakes, she kept getting distracted listening to the rattle of drawers and silverware, plates clinking, and the rasping tearing sound of him making napkins out of the roll of paper towels. That earned him a smile he didn’t see, aimed at the skillet instead. Nice of him to not expect me to wait on him.

  She heated a second skillet before dropping the first batch of pancakes into the waiting container. Lifting the bowl, she spooned out another set of batter circles.

  “Bacon?”

  She nodded at his question, heard the refrigerator door open and close, then the metallic snick of a pocketknife opening. A moment later, an opened package slid onto the countertop next to the butter.

  A third skillet joined the others, and she cracked, then beat eggs into a froth. After dropping a spoonful of butter into the skillet, she waited for it to pop and spit before stirring the scrambled eggs onto the hot surface, sprinkling cheese over the yellow mix.

  They worked together like that until the meal was prepared. He’d retrieved place settings for two, arranged on either side of the island. Syrup sat alongside two cups of coffee, with sugar and cream nearby, and there was room between for her to set the container of food. Einstein busied himself with something on his phone while she served herself, then took the tongs from her to do the same.

  “Thanks for cooking.” His head bent over the plate as he efficiently cut the pancakes with the edge of his fork, fingers lifting a strip of bacon to his mouth.

  Marian nodded, following her mouthful of food with a swallow of coffee she’d doctored just right, two spoons of sugar and a dollop of cream. “Thanks for getting everything ready.”

  “No big deal.”

  He laid his phone on the table, eyeing the screen. The rest of the meal passed in silence, scraping of forks against plates interspersed with his phone vibrating against the table. Marian’s seat allowed her to look out the big window towards Vanna’s house, and she watched a steady flow of people trek from the field to the house and back again. Engines rumbled in the near distance, and Einstein’s head lifted, listening.

  “Sounds like some of them are about ready to head out.” He made no move to rise, stealing another slice of bacon from the container. “Did you get to meet everyone yesterday?”

  “A few.” She drained her coffee, arranging her fork across her plate. She picked up the lid and slid the container closer to him. “Want anything else? I’m going to put it in the oven to keep warm.”

  He took another pancake and a scoop of eggs with a grunt. “Thanks. I got here after the festivities.” Randy the donkey brayed in the distance, and his mouth twisted sideways. Einstein chuckled. “Do you know what the deal is with Gunny and that donkey?”

  She’d found out yesterday that Randy had belonged to Sallabrook. While Myrt hadn’t been attached to the animal, Thad had developed an affection over the course of the days he and Luke had spent at the man’s farm. On their drive to Florida, Gunny had listened to the boy’s stories, really listened. During one stretch when her brothers were sleeping, she’d overheard Gunny call a local sheriff’s deputy, Heame Junior, and arrange to have the beast brought down. The truck and trailer had arrived yesterday, and the expression on Thad’s face when he saw the donkey being unloaded had been pure joy. Somehow Gunny had instinctively known the donkey might be pivotal to Thad’s healing. The over-the-top gesture was one of the most touching things she’d ever witnessed. When she’d asked him about it later, Gunny had laughed and said sometimes animals were better listeners than people. For him it had been dogs. They’d gotten him through a tough time, something he’d categorized as “a fuckin’ dark and despairing period in my life.” The expression he wore while watching Thad, the boy’s mouth running a mile a minute as he led the donkey around, told her Gunny’s dark days might not be completely behind him.

  “He found out Randy meant something to my little brother Thad.” She didn’t qualify the explanation.

  “Got it. Gunny’s a good guy.” Finished with his breakfast, he followed her example and arranged his fork across his empty plate. “Definitely one to have in your corner.”

  Stacking their plates, she rose and went to the sink, rinsing off the remaining syrup before loading them in the dishwasher. When she turned around, she was surprised to see her coffee mug had been refilled, the top swirling with just the right caramel color to say cream had been added. When she sipped the hot liquid cautiously, she found it was also sweetened. “Thank you.”

  Einstein’s shrug barely lifted one shoulder. “No big deal.”

  Footsteps approached the stairs, and Marian looked up to see Bane with his arm wrapped around Myrt’s shoulders, his mouth pressed to her temple in a sweet kiss. Partway down, they paused, and Myrt sprinted back upstairs, Bane watching her with a frown before turning back to come down the stairs. Once on the main floor, Bane turned them towards the kitchen, grinning. “I smell bacon.”

  “I ate it all.” Einstein’s flat delivery had Bane’s smile dimming. “Just kidding. Marian made plenty.”

  “Pancakes and eggs too.” She stood and opened the stove. A man’s hand reached past her and gripped the hot container. She took a step back and turned to watch Einstein place it on the island counter. He opened a drawer with one hand to pluck out two forks while pulling a cabinet door wide and scooping up two more plates. She retrieved the roll of paper towels and ripped off two sections. He reached out a hand without looking, and she passed them over, amusement bubbling in her chest. She didn’t want the moment to go without comment, so she murmured, “Thanks again, Einstein.” He flashed her a grin over his shoulder just as a clinking sound made her glance at his hands. There was a broad band on one finger, a golden, gleaming wedding ring. No wonder he’s so handy in the kitchen. His wife’s a lucky woman. She turned away to ask, “Did you sleep okay, Bane?”

  The blush that overtook his face made Marian stare long enough for Einstein to snicker. The sound made Marian realize what might be so embarrassing, and she dropped her gaze without asking anything else.

  “Yes,” the man finally squeaked out, the sound nearly as damning as the blush had been.

  Okay, time to change the subject.

  She opened her mouth only to close it when Einstein asked, “Bane, do you know what the plans are for today?” He’d seemed to have the same thought, and she smiled her appreciation at him, surprised when his brows drew together. She barely had time to think, What did I do? before he continued. “I heard something about a cleanup in town?”

  Bane held up one finger and swallowed, reaching back to grab a coffee mug, pouring it full, using the same extended stretch that allowed him to stay seated. “Yeah, we’ve got a clubhouse now, but it needs a fuckton of work. We’ll welcome any willing set of hands, because it’ll be a lot for the three of us. There’s more members incoming, but some won’t be here for a week or more.”

  “Worth everything in the end. Having a place where everyone can come is key to keeping the cohesive relationships you need
for a good club, a good charter. I got nowhere to be, and anything I can do to help, I’m happy to.”

  Nowhere to be?

  Einstein’s words were a curious puzzle, but the rest of their discussion had nothing to do with her, so after giving the two men a tiny wave, Marian made her way to the stairs. They continued to talk behind her, their voices trailing after her all the way upstairs. Sounds in the boys’ room told her they were waking, smells of bacon and pancakes lingering on the air doing the work. Sounds in the bathroom attached to Myrt and Bane’s bedroom told her the scents hadn’t been kind to her sister.

  The bunk beds the boys were using had youthful coverings, and the framed posters on their walls were perfect for them. She smiled at the memory as she closed the door of the bedroom she’d been using, looking around at the neutral furnishings. This was more of a blank canvas, and the idea made her pause. Will I be here long enough to warrant decorating?

  Then the reality of her situation hit her.

  As it had each time, the knowledge that she had no money, no job, nothing to offer anyone—took her breath away. Her very existence here was dependent on charity. Truck, Vanna, Bane, Myrt—they belonged here, making an extended family through the men’s relationships, and the mothering nature of Vanna. The boys would be okay. Marian couldn’t imagine anyone turning them out. Myrt alone would fight tooth and nail for them, and her paired with Gunny were all the champions their brothers needed.

  Me? She was less confident that the same kind of grace would be applied to her situation.

  And why should they have to carry her? She was a grown woman, able to work. Maybe she didn’t have any marketable skills other than cooking or cleaning, but there had to be something in town she could do. I don’t know how to drive. How would she get to town even if she could find a job?

  Suddenly aware of the clammy sweat coating her palms, she scrubbed them against the pants she wore. Even these pants were a symbol of the charity that had been granted her. Jeans awaited in a drawer, donated by Vanna, who had insisted Marian needed more than the thin cotton pants she had always sewn for herself.