Slate (Rebel Wayfarers MC) (31 page)

Carrying a bucket of water back to the trailer, he thought about last night and something that’d happened. He’d woken in the middle of the night to a light playing slowly over the ceiling, shining up from the mattress. He heard Essa’s soft voice whispering under her breath, and when he listened closely, it sounded like names and numbers.

The light paused and held on a picture of a beautiful young girl with long, dark hair caught in a side braid. It showed her mounted on top of a gigantic sorrel; the horse was so big that the saddle on his back almost looked like a toy. Slate thought the girl pictured riding it seemed much too small to control such an animal.

The camera had caught them as they rounded a barrel, frozen in time as the horse turned back hard on his hocks. Both sets of eyes were already looking ahead, completely focused on the next obstacle. Essa whispered, “Michaela Trenton Scott, The Governor, 1997, winning junior nationals in Vegas,” and Slate realized she was naming the people and horses in the pictures.

Now, in the light of day, he stepped into the living quarters, and looked up and around until he found the picture of Mica. He smiled at how young and determined she looked in that picture, but he could see hints of the woman she would become too. This picture was taken before Nelms had tainted her life, before he took so much from her.

Slate’s smile faded away, thinking about his conversation with Mason earlier. Mason had growled, “Steve got a lock, Slate; we got a fucking lock on the bastard. His stock company is contracted for the Texarkana Rodeo, just like we hoped. There’s no chatter about him on the grid, and strangely, no chatter about you on the circuit. Nothing to warn him off, so we think he’s going to show, brother.”

“Fuck me,” he’d said softly, “you really think he’s coming here, Prez? It’s a small rodeo, smaller than the last three have been for sure. He can’t hide here, man; it’s pretty wide open, and all the contestants know Essa. I hope the fuck he does; I’m ready to hit my own bed, man. This fucking babysitting is tiresome. I’ll be ready. I
am
ready.”

This was the last event before Essa headed back home for a couple weeks, just outside Longview, Texas. They’d pull out in the morning, he’d se
e her safely back to her parents’ place, and then hop a plane home. Home, sweet fucking home.

Sighing heavily, Slate looked back up at the picture of Mica one more time, and had turned to step out of the trailer when he heard Essa’s voice on the other side of the wall. “Molly, I’m telling you—you can do this, sis.” Her voice slid a half-octave up. “No, you can’t tell Mom and Dad, not yet.” Molly was Mica’s little sister; he wondered what the fuck was going on with her.

He heard Essa sigh, and then heard her slide along the metal as she leaned her back against the trailer. “It’s only been five weeks; how can you even know for sure? Molly, hold tight. You can do this; I know you can. You are one of the strongest women I know, and once I tell Mica, she can help us.” There was a pause, but he couldn’t make out any words from the other end. “No, I didn’t get a chance; she has like an army of bikers that hover around her all the time. I’m going to call her tonight, and I’ll be home tomorrow.”

She must’ve shifted and pushed herself upright, because he
felt the trailer rock a little. “Nelms hasn’t been at any of the events yet, but I’m looking for him to show here. Molly, I swear to God—I’ll kill him if I see him.” Her voice had dropped, the tone terse and heavily accented in her vehemence as she talked over Molly’s voice, which had risen to a shriek Slate could nearly make out through the phone. “I will too goddamn well kill him. He can’t get away with this.” Essa was silent, and he heard her footsteps move alongside the trailer, so he stepped out just as she rounded the vehicle.

Startled, she looked up at him. “Hey, I’m gonna warm up for practice.” Slate was still mulling over what he had overheard, and tried to figure out where Essa fit into everything. Clearly, something had happened to Molly, and the Rebels had inadvertently gotten in the way of what Essa had intended to tell Mica. Just as clearly, it was Nelms at the root of the problem, as he’d been for so long.

He looked at Essa, reading her lying intent in her face, and he thought it was time to pull back the veil a little. “Little girl,” he held on those words for a bare second, waiting for her to focus fully on him, “if I find Nelms first, you won’t have to do a fucking thing.” She paled, and must have realized he overheard her conversation. Slate watched the war written on her face as she decided how to proceed with him, with trust or lies. He knew which he preferred, but wanted it to be her decision, so he waited silently and patiently.

“He’s going to be here,” she clipped. “I feel it.”

Slate nodded proudly at her, knowing she’d made a conscious decision to trust him. “Good girl. Yes, he’s contracted to bring the bulls in tonight. I have reinforcements on the way, because I believe he’s going to show too, but before I let you get on Breezy,” he padded slowly towards her, “I want you to tell me what he did to Mica’s sister. No, not want, I
need
you to tell me.” He reached out, wrapping his hand gently around her arm above her elbow, urging her towards the living quarters of the trailer. This was the first time he’d touched her in days, and the heat of their contact seared him. He ground out through his gritted teeth, “You’re going to sit on your ass until I’m convinced I know everything you do.”

She struggled and squirmed for a minute in an effort to break his hold, and then, when she couldn’t, she walked alongside him with a peevish attitude, asking, “Do you always get what you want, Slate?”

He barked out loud laughter, surprising her. “Oh hell no, little girl, not by a long shot. Now start talkin’.”

It was hours later when the bull trucks finally pulled in, but without Ray Nelms. He didn’t show, and his drivers said they were surprised, because he had intended to come to Texarkana. An Arkansas chapter of the Rebels had come out in force in response to Mason’s request for assistance, and Slate spent a bit of time talking to the president and members who’d come down from Little Rock.

He arranged for food while he and the bikers discussed Nelms, making sure they were all on the same page with the intended outcome. Once they were all comfortable, he asked them to scout the drivers and locals who might know Nelms, in order to come up with a list of locations where he might be staying. He thanked the Little Rock members, gripping and shaking forearms with the group, feeling good about this chapter having their backs. He’d been surprised but pleased to see Bear riding with them. Between him and Bear, they’d have a positive report for Mason, and the local president knew it; he was proud of how his members had acquitted themselves.

Slate pulled Essa into his side as they stood and watched the bikers pull out as quietly as their rumbling pipes would allow. He looked down at her, and lifted her chin with one finger. “You gotsta make a call, little girl. It’s time to talk to Mica.” She drew in a broken breath, and she buried her face into his chest with a sob. He lowered his cheek to the top of her head, wrapped his arms around her, and held her gently against himself.

Speaking gently to her, he deliberately roused her protective feelings towards her cousins. “I know it’s hard, baby, but Molly needs her sister, and Mica has to know what happened, but she has to have some space to deal with her own shit before she dumps that on Molly by mistake. You are the only one who can help guide them through this.

“Essa, I shit you not, talking to Mica like this—now, and telling her over the phone—it might seem cold, but it’s not. You don’t know the shit Nelms did to Mica, and that’s her tale to tell, not mine, but I guarantee she’s going to feel guilty for bringing this shit home. Her shit seeped out all over Molly, and that’s going to fucking eat at her. I know her, and I know her heart. Give her a day, and she’ll sort her own crap out, especially with Mason there to help her, and then she can help Molly with everything else.”

Standing there holding her, he called Mason, saying simply, “No Nelms, got the brothers looking in his hidey holes. If he’s here, we’ll find him, Prez.” Mason grumbled back at him, cursing Nelms and his ability to avoid them when they could’ve taken care of fucking business.

He interrupted Mason, and heard his attention snap fully onto Slate as he grasped the importance, “Mason, I need you to go to Mica’s and be with her. She’s gonna get a fucked up call from Essa, and it’s bad news about Mica’s sis, Molly. Nelms is involved, and she’s gonna need you, Prez. She’s gonna need us all.”

Mason growled underneath his breath, “On my fucking way, give me two minutes,” and the connection closed, leaving dead air in Slate’s ear.

He pulled Essa gently into the sleeping quarters, settling her on the bed and sitting quietly behind her. He kept one hand on her neck, merely anchoring her with the touch and warmth of his hand. He pulled out his phone, dialing Mica and first making sure Mason had made it over to her house.

Once he was reassured, he handed the phone to Essa, and listened as she launched into the bare bones of what had happened. She got the worst of it out into the open, so Mica could begin to understand, and Essa bravely stayed on the phone with her as the rollercoaster of emotions swept through her cousin. Nelms had drugged and raped Molly, and she was nearly six weeks pregnant with the result of that rape.

Then, it was time to bring Molly onto the line, and Slate remained sitting on the bunk behind Essa. He was slowly caressing and rubbing the back of her neck as she sobbed on a three-way call with the two of them. She helped fill in the background she’d been able to dig up on Nelms, which wasn’t anything more than Slate had already known.

Mica sounded devastated, and Slate was glad Mason was there with her. When Essa handed him back the phone, he put his arm around her tightly and scooped her across and into his lap. He settled her there, her legs draping across his thighs with his chin on top of her head as he felt her crying hard against his chest. She was wound tight and had wrapped her fingers around handfuls of his shirt, holding on with desperate strength. Lifting the phone to his ear, he grunted out, “Yeah?”

Mason responded to him in a low, pained voice, “Did you hear? Did you get that, Slate?”

“Yeah, Prez, I got it all,” he breathed out across the top of her head, softly stroking her hair as she sobbed.

Mason told him, “Dig is booking tickets now. I’m bringing Mica. We’ll meet you in Longview when we get in; I’ll text you where.” He sighed. “How’s the girl?”

Slate looked down at Essa, noting how she was still clutching his shirt to her face as she sobbed and hiccupped against him. “Better, now that she’s not alone in this.” He heard an approving noise from Mason, and hung up the phone.

“Shhhh, baby girl. The hard part is done, and you were there for your family. You done good, babe,” he said, trying to calm her. “No one could have done better. I’m proud of you, Essa.” He softly kissed the top of her head, wrapping both arms around her as he scooted back across the bunk, leaning against the bulkhead. “Shhhh,” he soothed, holding her like that as she cried herself to sleep, her face nestled against his neck in the darkness.

The next morning, Slate woke up with a start, jerking his eyes wide open as he realized she was still sitting in his lap. He shifted her slowly, easing her down onto the mattress and arranging her limbs before he covered her in a blanket. Stepping outside, he walked over to the gelding, checked on him, and then went in search of coffee on the fairgrounds. He passed and waved at other competitors, and grabbed a couple of breakfast burritos, along with the coffee he needed so badly. Back at the trailer, he knocked until he heard her answer, and then opened the door to pass in the food and drink.

She had only one event today, and he began packing things up to be ready to leave as soon as she was done with the competition. Before long, they were driving west and south towards Tyler, where they’d meet Tug outside the airport. He’d caught an early morning flight down, with Mason and Mica coming in on the first afternoon flight. Mason wanted the four of them to talk as they were heading to Essa’s folks’ place, and the plan was for Tug to take the rig and gelding home.

Sitting in the back seat of the truck Mason had rented, Essa reached over and took Slate’s hand, sliding her fingers in-between his and holding on tightly. Mica didn’t want to talk about Nelms or Molly, so the conversation flowed back and forth between the seats casually for most of the drive. Mason and Mica wound each other up into a fierce argument, which left them all sitting on the side of the road listening to a much needed air-clearing confession. What Mason and Mica disclosed floored Slate because it sounded very much like they’d slept together, and he thought it sounded as if they both harbored some guilt over the encounter.

Their palpable pain filled the words they threw at each other, but looking from one to the other he could see their love and affection clearly. In direct contrast with what he saw and knew, he heard them recite all the valid reasons they could never be together…and those reasons resonated with him, making him think again about Essa, sitting beside him, still holding his hand. He held his breath, listening to their words, and the silence that followed, hearing their harsh breathing that sounded in the truck cab before Mason reached out, enfolding Mica in his arms. He laughed silently at Essa, she’d broken the tension with a funny comment, helping bridge the moment and allowing the group of them to move past the revelations.

Pulling into the lane that lead to the ranch, they were met with a large group of people, mostly family. Mica’s father was there, which was an unpleasant surprise, since he wasn’t welcome on the ranch. Mica confronted him, with both Mason and Slate backing her up. He left, along with her brother, and Slate watched as Mason fairly vibrated with rage towards those men.