Nolan: Return to Signal Bend (32 page)

“I know. I suck.”

A nod of agreement from his brother.

“You get anything cool?”

Loki shrugged. “Dirt bike.”

“
What
? Mom let you have one?” Loki was only eleven. Their mom had nearly had a heart attack when Havoc had given Nolan the parts of a motorcycle at sixteen. There had been no talk he knew of about letting his little brother get a dirt bike. Nolan felt envious.

“I can only ride on some trails, but yeah.” Loki smiled a little and looked at Nolan sidelong. “I think she felt bad for me because you were gone.”

Nolan laughed. “Smooth, guy. Well played. You like it?”

“Don’t know. I need to learn how to ride.” That sidelong look again.

“You want me to teach you?”

“Yeah, that’d be okay. I guess.”

Nolan reached over and ruffled his brother’s curly mop of hair. They were going to be okay.

~oOo~

About an hour later, Nolan walked into the clubhouse with his heart stuck in his throat. He’d been expecting a call from Badger when they were done in the Keep, but no call had come. If they were taking this long to deliberate on his future, it probably wasn’t good news.

He was surprised, then, to see the whole club hanging out in the Hall. Were they done? Or had they not yet sat down?

Everybody he made eye contact with glared back at him, even the men who’d come for him. Not a good sign.

Badger sat at the near end of the bar, with Double A, Tommy, and Len. They all wore serious looks, too. Fuck.

Whatever the result was, unless they meant to kill him, he’d deal. He’d be okay. He squared his shoulders and walked to his President. “Hey, boss. Any word for me?

Badger tipped his beer bottle to his mouth and drained it. “Yeah. Let’s go back to my office.”

Without waiting for acknowledgement from Nolan, Badger turned and left the barstool, headed straight for the side corridor. Nolan followed, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets so no one could see them shaking.

When both men were in the office, Badger closed the door and sat at his desk. Without an invitation, without knowing what came next, Nolan wasn’t sure he should sit.

Badger cleared that up. “Sit.” He waved at the chair next to his desk. Nolan sat.

“What you did, Nolan—that was a betrayal, pure and simple.”

“I know. I—”

“Shut up. You went against a club vote—more than one. You put all three charters at risk. You put our families at risk. This whole town. You turned your back on your mother and brother. On your family. On Show’s daughter. I can’t even dream up all the ways this could have gone very, very wrong.”

He stopped. Nolan, feeling abashed, wasn’t sure whether he could or should speak, so he sat there in silent shame until Badger raised his eyebrows at him, like he was waiting.

“You’re right about all of it. I’m sorry. It was stupid, and I’m sorry.” He let his eyes drop and focused on his hands in his lap. “I’m sorry.”

“Did you find what you needed?”

“Yeah.” He looked Badger in the eye. “It wasn’t what I went after, but yeah, I found what I needed.”

“What’s that mean?”

“I don’t know if I can make it sound right.”

“Try.”

Nolan tried, working the words out as he said them. “I thought I needed Vega to die. I thought if I did what Hav would’ve done, if I faced him and killed him, if I made him pay, then I would feel right inside. I told myself I needed to protect the club, our family, but that was just a story to let me do what I knew in my heart was selfish. But I didn’t need to kill Vega. He was as fucked up by all this as anybody. He was already paying plenty for what he did. What I needed was to understand. Now I do. So I found what I needed. Yes.”

“And Vega’s dead, so either way, you got what you wanted.”

“When it happened, it wasn’t what I wanted.” Nolan had trouble giving his next words sound; he’d hated that man for his entire adult life, and it was hard to let that go. “He wasn’t a bad guy. He was trying to do something good, in a way. He just stopped seeing all the people he hurt while he tried.”

Badger’s eyes searched deep; Nolan could practically feel them probing inside him. “Club voted.” He held out a hand, palm up. “I need your kutte.”

After all his sorrow and loss, Nolan knew heartbreak intimately. But now he understood it in a new way. Losing his kutte was like losing his soul. His chest ached sharply, as if his heart had, in fact, snapped into pieces and fallen away. But he kept his expression stoic and shrugged out of the leather that had felt so fucking good to put on his back only half an hour earlier.

Badger took it from his reluctant hands and spread it out, front up, on his desk. He pulled his switchblade from his pocket and popped the blade.

Nolan cocked his head. Why cut the patches?

Without a word or a look in Nolan’s direction, Badger slid his blade under the flash that read
Sergeant at Arms
. He sliced that slip from the kutte and set it aside.

Then he handed the kutte back to Nolan.

“No one wants you gone, brother.”

Not caring if it made him look like a pussy, Nolan grabbed the leather in both his hands and pressed it to his face. What a shitty way to deliver this news, but so typical of the Horde. The pain he’d just felt—he knew it was part of the lesson. He was meant to feel the loss of what he’d risked.

And he’d felt it. Fuck, he still felt it, even as he slid the leather back on.

Badger had almost lost his kutte once, too. Nolan had heard that they’d yanked it right off his shoulders, and it had been days before they’d given it back.

“You are loved, and you’re needed,” the Horde President said now. “You belong at that table. But you were my SAA. You had a job to protect our people, and you turned your back on that. I can’t have you at my side, not when I can’t be sure you’ll stay there. I’m bringing Tommy back up.”

Nolan nodded. “I understand. I’m sorry I let you down.”

“Don’t let it happen again, brother. Love and loyalty are the beams that keep us standing.”

Badger stood and opened his arms. Nolan stood, too, and they embraced.

When they came back into the Hall, all the Horde stood waiting. There was no celebration, but each man pulled Nolan into a hug.

Yeah, he felt what he’d risked. He felt it in his very soul.

~oOo~

“It’s pretty here.” Iris looked up at the clear sky. The sun had set only minutes before, but already stars filled the sky. Soon, they’d be dazzlingly bright.

“Yeah, it is.” Nolan pushed the remnants of their picnic out of his way and lay down on the blanket. Iris stretched out at his side, pillowing her head on his chest. With her so close and the breeze caressing them in that strange swirl of warm and cool that came with the summer night, Nolan felt truly, deeply happy.

He had his kutte, and he had his girl. He had his home, and his past was quiet and calm, settled in its place in memory.

Nolan had brought Iris up to Ani’s hill. He wasn’t entirely sure why he’d wanted to do this so badly, but he had. Now that they were here, it felt right.

Maybe he wanted Analisa to know that he was finally happy. If there was a way she could know it, then this would be the place it would happen.

Her star and cord was in his pocket again; after he’d left the clubhouse, before he’d picked Iris up, he’d gone to the cemetery and reclaimed it. It had been right where he’d left it, as if Havoc had kept it safe.

He didn’t even believe in an afterlife, but it sure felt good to think about it like that. Like the people he loved had never fully left.

Iris’s hair fluttered in the light breeze, and Nolan drew his fingers through it. She hummed with pleasure.

“I really missed you,” she murmured.

He knew she had. His personal phone had been crammed with messages chronicling her need for him. “I missed you, too. Can you forgive me?”

“Already did.” She lifted her head so she could see his face. “But don’t go away without saying anything again. That’s too hard and scary. If you have to leave, talk to me first next time. Please. We have to talk, and we have to trust each other.”

Something Nolan had figured out in all this mess: Iris had never left him. Even while she was in Little Rock, she’d been with him.
He
was the only one who’d left. And deep down, it hadn’t been because of Vega, or because he didn’t trust Iris.

It had been him. He’d been afraid. Loving Analisa had been so easy not only because she’d been wonderful and beautiful, not only because she’d been funny and sweet and brave. He’d been open to their love not
despite
her illness but
because
of it. It had been easy to trust her feelings for him, and his for her, because he’d known, right up front, that he could never keep her. Her leaving couldn’t blindside him.

He’d been wrong about that; it had blindsided him, even as he’d seen it barreling right at his head. And then he’d turned himself off.

Loving Iris had scared the fuck out of him because there was a chance it could be forever—or as close to forever as humans could get. He hadn’t known how to stay any more than he’d known how to trust her to stay. He hadn’t known how to believe in forever.

He hadn’t known. He did now. There was no trick to it. You just did it.

Everybody else had told Nolan he needed to stay put, and he knew they were right. But Iris was giving him real understanding. He didn’t need it—he knew he could stay put now; he had nothing else to search for. He had everything he needed. But he treasured the gift nonetheless.

“I trust you. And I promise to talk. But I’m not going anywhere. I promise that, too.”

“Don’t promise not to go. If you need to, I’ll understand. Just promise to tell me. And to come home.”

He held her tightly and rolled until she was on her back. “No, babe. I promise I’m not going anywhere. I know what I’ve got.
Who
I’ve got.”

The night was growing dark, but there was a good moon, and it shone in her eyes. She put her hands on his cheeks, scratching her nails lightly through his beard. “I love you, Nolan.”

“Forever, Iris.” He bent his head and covered his mouth with hers. Beneath him, she opened and offered herself to him. All of herself, inside and out.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Iris really, really had to pee.

She rolled to her side, carefully, trying not to jostle her bladder. Nolan slept peacefully beside her, on his back, his mouth open just a little. He was usually a light sleeper, so she didn’t want to wake him. But boy, she had to pee.

The problem was that they were in her bed. Her dad and Shannon had taken the twins for a long weekend with the Lundens, off to some art show or something in Kansas City, where Uncle Isaac and Bo were selling their wood stuff. She and Nolan had the whole house to themselves for four days and nights.

That wasn’t the problem. The problem was her room, which was tiny, barely wider than her bed was long. Normally, that wasn’t a problem at all. She liked the way the mattress fit like it was built for the space, the way the bed was enclosed on three sides by the walls, and her window was like her headboard. Normally, it was a cozy little nook. She’d painted the room a creamy, pale yellow and had all white linens, with lots of pillows, and she’d strung fairy lights on the walls and hung sheer white panels from the ceiling. She loved it. She felt safe and snug.

The problem was Nolan. He was sleeping on the outside of the bed, and she was trapped. She’d have to climb over him to get up, and she didn’t want to wake him.

But boy, she had to pee.

Luckily, he was a fairly distracting sight. To take her mind off her discomfort, she studied his body, lying naked beside her. Such a beautiful body it was—lean and chiseled. And that happy trail, disappearing under the covers—it made her mouth water.

His chest and belly rose and fell with his steady breath. Iris held her hand over his heart, her finger pointed, and traced the air an inch above his skin. Just above that black star was now her name, inked in sweeping lower case letters, the dot of each ‘i’ a tiny star.

On her own forearm, in the same place he had his interlocking triangles, Iris now had a Viking compass, a smaller version of his own, except that hers had Nolan’s name in the center.

He’d been home a month. They had each other’s ink, and on her finger was her grandmother’s ring. Her dad had given it to Nolan for her. They hadn’t set a date or anything, and neither of them was in a big rush, but someday they would be married.

And Iris could look ahead into her life and see what it would be—exactly what it should be. Married to a good man she loved. Working at a job she loved. Living in a town she loved, among her family and friends. Raising children. Making a home.

Humble ambitions, but everything she wanted and more than she needed.

Not far from her name, Nolan had a fresh scar, still pink with recent healing. A matching scar marked his back, too. An arrow. He’d been shot by an arrow. He’d said nothing about it until that first night he’d been back, when they’d had sex under the stars.

It had been a few more days before he’d told her how it had happened. Now she knew where he’d gone and why, and she knew how he’d come home.

And she believed him when he promised he would stay.

Unable to hold off any longer, Iris eased herself over Nolan’s still body and managed, without too much bouncing around, to stand on the floor. Then she hurried out of her room and across the hall to the bathroom.

When she got back, Nolan was awake, propped up on pillows, and making an impressive tent of the covers at his hips. He grinned sleepily at her.

“Mornin’, babe.”

“Hi. Sorry I woke you.” She came to the bed. As she made to climb back over him, he caught her arms in his hands and held her over him.

“I’m glad you woke me. I got to watch your pretty ass sway leaving, and your pretty tits bounce coming back. Now all I can think of is getting my hands all over you.” He pulled her down to lie on him; his erection dug heavily into her thighs.

“Fuck, I love your tits on me like this.”

Since he’d been back, Nolan was a little different from the way he’d been. He wasn’t markedly changed, but he was…looser. More playful.

He was happy.

Iris laughed and pulled away when he lifted his head to kiss her. Then she bent down and nipped at his bottom lip, pulling away again when he tried to take over. He groaned in frustration and rocked his hips up, shoving his cock against her.

“You think you can tease me?”

She gave him a mischievous smile and nipped and ducked away again. “I think I can do whatever I want.”

With a growl, he flipped them. The force of his movement shifted their bodies against each other, and his cock slipped between her legs, pressing on her clit.

The moment stopped, and they stared at each other, not playing anymore. The impish light left his eyes, replaced with burning focus. Iris saw what she needed in those dark blue eyes. She saw his love and desire, his need and his care. She saw her future.

He flexed his hips, and they both groaned as his cock pushed and slid against her, so near what they most wanted.

“I feel so quiet when I’m with you,” he said in a voice rough with emotion. “Even when I’m so hot for you I can hardly hold still, I feel quiet in my head.”

She eased her hands over his beard and into his hair. “I thought your head was quiet now all the time.”

“It is. But it’s still different when you’re close. It’s like something inside me knows how right we are.” A corner of his mouth came up sheepishly. “Sorry. That’s fucking sappy.”

“Don’t be sorry. I love it. I love you. Forever.”

His eyes alight with love, he nodded and kissed her.

The kiss was soft, appropriate to the moment they’d just shared, but his cock was hard, pressing with demand against her, and Iris wanted more than sweet romance. She wanted more than playfulness. Moving her hands so she could get to his back, she raked her nails over his skin, from his shoulders down. He flinched and pulled away, and as he looked down at her, she wriggled under him, rubbing herself on his cock.

“You want more of me?” His smile grew as he asked.

“I want all of you.”

With another of those raunchy growling noises, he shoved her arms over her head and ducked down to suck a nipple into his mouth.

He hadn’t shaved since he’d been home, and he’d returned with a pretty full beard. Iris knew he thought summer beards were too hot, but he’d kept it for her. She loved his beard. She loved the way it added years to his young, gorgeous face; she loved how it made his eyes seem even darker. And God, she loved the way it felt. When a man with a beard kissed you, you felt that kiss on your skin for a long while after it.

She felt it now all over her chest as he suckled one breast and then the other, leaving a trail of kisses in the valley between. His lips, his tongue, his teeth, his breath, and each and every strand of his beard made individual electric sparks on her skin, until she was trembling and writhing under him.

“Fuck, I love your tits,” he groaned. “I could live off this.” Swirling his tongue around a clenched peak of skin that ached like a bruise with the need for more, Nolan shifted his body, and Iris moaned in protest and clutched at his hair as his cock moved from between her legs.

“Shh, babe. I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here.”

He proved himself by sweeping a callused hand over her belly and down, taking the space he’d just left. Pushing his fingers between her folds, he flicked over her clit—a light, nearly maddening touch—enough to make her flail and moan and gasp, enough to bring her to the desperate, frayed edge, but not enough to push her over it.

Then she felt his cock pushing at her ass, at the join of her thighs. He was behind her, and she had no clue when that had happened. His attention to her clit hadn’t even lost its rhythm.

“Nolan.” As close as she was to climax, she could still voice that protest. She didn’t want him behind her. And he knew why. She had told him her secret.

His fingers kept going, that light, gentle torture. He leaned over her shoulder. “Let me give you something good this way. It’s me, Iris. Just me.”

As he spoke, he increased the pressure of his fingers, and Iris couldn’t hold onto that flash of anxiety or the memory that had ignited it. Its pieces scattered and left only her and Nolan. She curled forward and gasped, “Yes, please!”

Then his hand was gone, leaving her dangling over the abyss. He pulled her leg back, and his cock slid back and forth over her frantically needy flesh. Desperate for relief, Iris reached down between her legs and took hold of him.

“Fuck, babe. Yeah,” he grunted behind her. “Put me in.”

She did, working to keep her focus on this moment, on Nolan and her, on her safe little nest of a bed.

He pushed into her while her hand was still on him, on them, and she climaxed almost at once.

While she was overcome, her body so rigid with explosive sensation that she couldn’t breathe, she felt Nolan’s body curving around hers, touching her, shielding her, at every point as he thrust steadily, keeping the orgasm rolling through her again and again. Finally it began to subside, and she relaxed. He was still moving in her.

His arm came around her and found her hand. She opened her eyes as he laced their fingers together. The first thing she saw was his muscular forearm beside her slender one. His old triangle tattoo, and her new Viking compass with his name at the center.

He went still. “You okay, babe?” he asked in the space between heaving breaths.

She was. But she wasn’t finished. “Fuck me, Nolan. Fuck me.”

With a harsh groan, he tightened his hold on her and gave her what she wanted.

~oOo~

Every time Iris rode with Nolan, mixed in with the general exhilaration and arousal, she felt some bitter glee. She was the biker bitch her mother had so snidely called her, and it was exactly what she wanted to be.

Iris guessed her mom was okay. They talked every now and then, about once a month or so, but not about anything serious. She was fully healed now and back to her life, and it was what she seemed to want, even though the expensive Italian tile flooring of her golf-course house was covered with a layer of invisible eggshells. Even though she might again say or do the wrong thing and land broken at the foot of the sweeping central staircase.

Rose insisted that that event had been an extreme circumstance, an aberration, and Iris had to admit that Ray had never before been that physical. He was more about emotional and psychological control. And their mother still maintained that she had merely fallen.

Iris had given up the cause. It wasn’t her choice to make or her life to lead, and she knew her mother well enough to know that she wasn’t making the choice under duress. One thing her mother was not: she was not weak. She was calculating, and she knew what she wanted. The wealth was truly that important to her. She had made her choice.

But Iris would never go back there, not alone. Until and unless Nolan was also welcome, those occasional phone calls would be the only contact she and her mother had.

Blinking away that unpleasant train of thought, Iris focused on the scenery speeding by. Nolan hadn’t told her where he was taking her, and 68 was his favorite route to ride in general, but as the trip progressed, she knew.

He was taking her to the irises. It was special to Len in some way. Now it was special to her and Nolan, too.

When he pulled off onto a road so overgrown no one who hadn’t known of it would have seen it, she wasn’t surprised. He parked, and they dismounted. Nolan took her hand and walked her into the middle of the flowers.

It was such a pretty place. Iris even liked the decomposing old building, left to be reclaimed by nature in its time. And everywhere around them were irises, the biggest wild bed of them she’d ever seen. They were in the midst of their second bloom, late in the summer, and the air pulsed with their scent and color.