Through The Weeds (Nightshade MC Book 2) (15 page)

“Edge...”

“No. I was being stupid, selfish. I didn't want Jillian with Ace. I wanted Nightshade to be my thing, just mine. Ever since we were kids, Jillian was always around. Always looking over my shoulder. I didn't want her to be able to do that here. I'm sorry.”

“Have you apologized to Ace?” Caroline looked over to where the man sat, Tabitha perched on his lap.

“Yeah. He said it's water under the bridge. If I hadn't lied to Jillian, he wouldn't have met Tabitha and he loves her. He really loves her, I guess.”

Caroline didn't see how he could or why he'd want to. She'd had some time to spend with Tabitha while they were all confined to the bar. She found the woman to be a vapid little twit who had somehow managed to wrap Ace tightly around her little finger. He didn't see the way that she was when he wasn't looking. In fact, Tabitha reminded her of Missy in a lot of ways.

“So, are we cool?” Edge seemed antsy.

“Sure, Edge. We're cool,” Caroline replied. She was surprised when she got up and hugged her. It was the first time she could remember him ever touching her.

“And I'm happy for you and Buster, even if he swooped in on you when he knew that I had a thing for you.” He whispered the words in her ear as the hug lingered long enough to make her feel uncomfortable.

Caroline pulled back from him. “Is there any pizza left? I need to get something to eat.” She really didn't want food, she wanted an out from Edge.

“Yeah, there's plenty. Do you want me to get you something? You should take it easy. Getting shot at is a bit scary the first time.”

“So, it gets less scary?” Caroline asked.

“It does when you know that you can shoot back. Can you shoot, Caroline? Taken any kind of self-defense classes or whatever?” he asked, and she shook her head. “You probably should, especially if you and Buster are serious about being together. I could show you a thing or two. I'm a really good shot. Jillian told you about our dad, right? He had guns in our hands as soon as we were big enough for the kick-back not to break our wrists.”

Caroline knew that their father had been a survivalist. He'd believed the end was near at any given time, so it made sense he'd have taught them self-defense. It was his training that made Jillian the closest thing that Nightshade had to a doctor. “I appreciate that, but I think Buster's got me covered.” There was something in Edge's tone and expression that was giving her a huge case of the creeps.

“Yeah,” Edge replied.

“I'm going to get my food. I'll see you later, I'm sure.” Caroline was glad when he stayed seated. Her nerves were shot. She didn't need any more awkwardness. Instead, she proceeded to the table where the food was set out buffet style.

It seemed like an eternity before Buster, Danny and Rock finally returned. Edge met them just inside the door. “Is she back? What did she say?”

“She's back,” Buster confirmed. “Seems that Jake thought Caroline's suggestion to go to the casino meant to take Jillian to Vegas, where they got married.”

“Married,” Edge repeated, as if he didn't understand them. “I need to go and see her. Now. I need to go right now!”

“She's not there.” Buster's tone was enough to make Caroline tense. Whatever he was going to say next wasn't going to be good. “She's with her new husband, they were going to his place. She was only at the house to pick up her things. It seems that Jake took her to Vegas, popped the question on the plane and they got married by Elvis.”

“What the fuck?” Edge ran his hands over her face.

“Jake introduced himself to us.” Buster cleared his throat. “What did he tell you that his last name was, Caroline?”

“Mars. He said that his last name was Mars.” Caroline crossed her arms over her chest. She was suddenly cold to the bone.

“I thought that's what it was. His name is Jake Dodds. And it seems that he's decided to follow in his father's footsteps.” The name didn't mean anything, but it meant something to Ace and Train, who both exploded from where they were sitting as if someone had lit a fuse. Verbal chaos ensured.

Caroline didn't know who Jake Dodds, or his father, was. It was perfectly clear that this was bad news. Something in her gut told her that this had some link to the new crew Nightshade was so worried about.

“Enough!” Buster's voice silenced everyone. “Nightshade, downstairs in five minutes.”

Caroline waited for him to come to her, even though she knew that they wouldn't have much time together. His expression changed as he approached her. “You should be in bed. You look exhausted and should be in bed.”

“I wanted to wait for you. This is bad, really bad. Isn't it?”

“It's not good.” He cupped her face with his hands. “I don't have time to explain. Go upstairs. Get some sleep. I'm not sure when I'll be up. I'll tell you everything in the morning. I promise.”

Caroline knew that he would. “Okay. I'll go upstairs, but first there's something I need to tell you.”

“Are you okay? Are you hurting? Did Maggie give you something for it?”

“I'm not hurting. And she did give me something to relax me, a sedative or something, but that's not what I want to talk about. I've just got to tell you... I think that you should know...” Suddenly Caroline didn't know how to say the words, but they needed to be said. “I love you.”

His eyes narrowed, a smile spread across his lips. “Silly girl, did you think I didn't know that?” He ran his thumbs over her cheeks. “I love you, too.” He leaned in and kissed her. He didn't come in easy, either. It was a hard and deep as if he was trying to tell her everything in one physical motion.

Caroline held on to him tight.

Chapter Thirteen

For the first time since he'd taken over for Royal, Buster was seriously wondering if he'd been the right choice to wear the President patch. He'd known, they'd all known, that Mark had used a newer version of The Wild Cards to do some of his dirty work before he was killed. Yet, the connection to the new crew and the resurrected club from the past had never crossed his mind until he was face to face with Jake Dodd. Fuck. Maybe the first order of business he should bring up at the table was him giving up the patch.

How had he not seen it? Deep down he knew the answer; he hadn't wanted to see it because he didn't want to give any thought to The Wild Cards. He remembered the war all too well. It had started innocently enough and ended badly, with so much blood. The blood of his unborn child and the woman who carried her. Hanna. Now he'd have to carry the weight of letting The Wild Cards get to their fucking front door because he couldn't deal with his own past. What kind of President was he?

Everyone was in the room before him, seated and waiting. Buster saw anger in all of their faces, wondered how much of it was because of him. “I know that everyone has something to say.” He held up his hands for silence. “But let me speak first. I fucked up. I let you all down and put you all in danger because I never even considered The Wild Cards. If I had...”

“There was no trace of 'em on the streets. How were you supposed to figure out it was them? After the Miller shit, hell even before, no one talked about them.” Train spoke up. “We don't got time for second guessing what we didn't know or what could have been done differently. Right now, we need to focus on what we know.”

“We know that Jake Dodd is out to avenge his father. He's not crazy. He's fucking determined. And cocky. You could tell, the way he just strolled up and introduced himself, let us see his ink. An interlocking WC with a joker behind it on a playing card.” Danny spoke up. “All signs point to him being the leader, so my suggestion is we cut the head off the snake. Throw the rest of 'em off guard. They'll get sloppy, make mistakes, and then we'll have the rest.

“Hold on, we're all forgetting one thing.” Edge spoke up. “That snake is married to my sister.”

“Yes, he is.” Buster cleared his throat. “Edge, we've got every reason to believe that she's with him in every meaning of the words. She's got the same ink he does, same spot. She's an inked old lady. You know what that means and where her loyalty now lies.”

“You're saying she knows that he's after Nightshade and she's good with it?” Edge's voice was thick, as if he fought back tears. He slammed his fists against the table. “Fuck!”

“That's what I'm saying, Edge. I'm saying that your sister has chosen the other side.” Buster sighed. “You've got a choice to make, Brother. She's your blood, your only blood, and we know that she raised you.”

“There's no choice!” Edge popped to his feet. “None. She knows what Nightshade means to me. If she can turn her back on us, then she's not the person I thought that she was. There's no choice.”

Buster looked over to Ace. They may as well been talking about the weather. There was no expression on his face at all. Buster had worried that he'd have taken the news badly. Nightshade wasn't going to set out to hurt Jillian, but if she got in the way, she'd chosen the other side.

Edge sat back down and Buster let the room be silent for a moment. Nothing that they were deciding here should be taken lightly. They all had to realize the possible outcomes and be at peace with them. “The first thing we need to do is figure out if they're producing Binky in town or importing it. Either way, we've got to shut down the pipeline.”

“We can use Jillian for that,” Ace offered. “Or at least we can use her phone and computer to trace her location. We can use that to get eyes on Jake. In the meantime, I'll run some searches and see what I come up with.”

“Good. We need all the intel we can get.”

“If they're cooking in Detroit, we can blow the place. If I can get my hands on the right stuff, I can level half a city block.”

“Get what you need to do that, Train. Call Smoke if you have to. In fact, call him even if you don't. Have him get you a few things so that Miller thinks we're going to owe him even more. I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm thinking it would be poetic to use something Miller supplied when we take him down.” Buster's wheels turned at breakneck speed. “You think that you could rig something to take out a whole block?”

“I could give it a shot. Pretty much just got to double everything. I'll put together a list. Call Smoke. “

“Alright. Everyone else, get some rest. Soon as we get a starting point, there's not going to be any time for it.” Buster spoke up. “I'm going to call Miller, keep him advised of our products. And then I'm going to call Manuel, let him know about The Wild Cards.”

<#<#<#<#

Buster's conversation with Joseph Miller was brief and to the point. The man agreed to let Smoke provide Train with whatever he needed and even commended Buster for being secure enough to ask for help. They were friends after all. Buster gritted his teeth through most of the call, but it was important to let Miller think he had the upper hand. Nothing came without a price though and he accepted another run for Miller that would take two men away from Detroit when he needed them the most.

The call to Manuel reaffirmed the alliance between The Street Kings and Nightshade. They'd work together to take out The Wild Cards. Buster wouldn't involve The Street Kings when they went against Miller. It wasn't their fight.

The bar was quiet when he was done. Buster looked at the stairs, knew that Caroline was up there waiting for him, but instead of going up, he went over to the bar and poured himself a stiff drink. He downed it and poured another. He sipped the second one as he sat, trying to clear his head of all the clutter inside.

Thinking about Hanna earlier had brought her to the forefront of his mind, the way that she'd been so scared after the bullet hit and she knew there was no time. The way that he'd been helpless to do anything. There was no way the ambulance he called would arrive in time. She hadn't stood a chance.

He'd made a promise to himself that night. He'd never wanted to put another woman in the line of fire. He'd kept that promise. Kept things casual. And now, as war was staring anew, he'd managed to get himself an old lady. Buster downed the rest of his drink and poured a third. The only thing that he could do now was keep her close and keep her safe. The idea that it might not be possible kept him at the bar.

“You planning on ever coming up to bed?” Caroline's voice surprised him. He turned to see her standing there in a tee shirt that reached nearly down to her knees and a pair of socks that went almost as high.

“I thought you were asleep.”

“I was. I forgot to bring a bottle of water upstairs with me. I got thirsty.”

“I got drunk.” Buster stared at the bottle. “Things have really gone to shit, Caroline. And part of it's on me. Hell, most of it is. Your old man is a first class fuck-up. Grab me another bottle, I'm running a little low.”

“I'll get you some water,” she replied as she moved behind the bar. “You want to tell me why you think you've fucked up?”

“How much time do you have?” Buster lit a cigarette, exhaled a stream of smoke towards the ceiling. “I'm sorry that you got hurt today. I should have realized that something wasn't right about Jake Dodd before you got hurt. I should have known a lot of things.”

“Are you psychic? Did you forget to tell me that?” She placed a bottle of water on the bar in front of him. “Drink that. There's got to be some food left around here. I'll warm you up something.”

“I didn't have to be psychic to see what was right in front of my face.” Buster had connected all the dots now, the little things. The WC tags all around town he'd attributed to kids were The Wild Cards marking off the territory they'd taken over. “I asked for a bottle, not fucking water.”

“I'll tell you what, you stand up and walk from one end of the room to the other without stumbling over your own feet, I'll serve you the next one as a tittie shot. If you don't, you drink the water. Does that sound fair?”

“Just bring me the fucking bottle, Caroline.” Buster stubbed the cigarette out in the ashtray. “I'm in no mood for fucking games.”

“I'm not playing a game,” she replied.

“Then bring me the fucking bottle!” He roared the words loud enough to make her jump. Immediately he regretted scaring her. See, he fucked up everything. “I'm in no shape to be around anyone tonight. Just go back upstairs.”

“I'm not just anyone.”

“Go the fuck back upstairs!” Buster slammed his hand against the bar so hard that it shook the glass in front of him.

“Drink the fucking water.” She slammed another bottle of it down in front of him. “You don't want to tell me what's wrong with you, fine, but there's no need to scream at me. I'm going back upstairs, I really don't want to look at you right now.”

Buster called her name to no avail; she walked away with her own bottle of water. “Fuck.” With a roar he cleared the bar of the empty booze bottle, his glass and the water. It made him feel slightly better.

His legs were wobbly when he rose to his feet. Yeah, he'd had enough. Not so much that he couldn't pick up the water from where it had fallen, take a swig and then start for the stairs. It look longer than he'd like to get up the stairs in one piece. The door to the room they were sharing was locked.

Buster rapped his knuckles against the door. It opened a moment later. Caroline was still wearing the socks but she'd traded the long tee shirt for a tank top and panties. Fuck, she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. “Can I come in?”

She stepped aside. “I'm going to sleep. Put the trash can by the bed in case you puke. Do not puke on me, or I will shave your head while you sleep.”

“I shouldn't have yelled at you.”

“You got that right.” She walked over to the bed, got under the covers. “Good night. Turn off the light when you're done, please.”

“I'm sorry I yelled at you.” Buster barely managed to keep his balance as he took off his boots. “It's been a really shitty night. You know that guy Jake? Turns out, he's the son of a guy I killed a long time ago. Bullet right between his eyes. Took down most of his crew, too. Had a little help with that. Anyway, Jake is picking up where his father left off. Oh, and he took Jillian to Vegas and they got married.”

“Wait, what? What are you saying?” She'd sat up. The blankets were clutched to her chest. She looked scared and confused all at once. He told her everything that Nightshade knew. Buster left nothing out, not even his own fuck-ups. Her eyes never left him. He couldn't read her expression, even though he tried. When he got to the part about Jillian, he saw tears fill her eyes. She motioned for him to keep talking. “Shit,” she mumbled when he was done. “Yeah, I guess that you had the right to be a little cranky tonight.”

“Still, I'm sorry that I yelled at you. I just...”

“I know. Come on, get in bed. Just do me one little favor?” She rolled onto her side, left him plenty of room.

“What's that?” Buster slid between the soft sheets with a sigh.

“Don't make a habit of it.”

“I won't.” Buster laid his hand on her hip. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” She leaned in to his touch. “Get some sleep. You're going to have one hell of a hangover in the morning.”

“I don't get hangovers, Caroline. You'll see.”

<#<#<#<#

Buster woke with the mother of all hangovers. He'd jinxed himself in the worst way the night before. There was an entire band in his head, and they were jamming. His mouth was dry and he'd emptied whatever was in his stomach into the trash can on the side of the bed in the middle of the night. The bed was empty. The sheets where Caroline had been were cold.

He got up, felt his stomach lurch, and promptly made his way to the bathroom. After a shower and another round praying to the porcelain god, he finally felt human again. Human and his age. Buster contemplated getting right back into bed, but when he came out of the shower, it was already made.

He dressed, walked down the stairs. The scent of food made him hungry while at the same time making him want to throw up. He smelled coffee and figured that would be his safest bet. He headed over towards the small kitchen, but Train stepped in front of him. “We've got a problem, Buster.”

Of course they did, why would they not? “Talk and get a prospect to get me some coffee and aspirin.”

“You're going to want hair of the dog for this one. Trust me.” Train snapped his fingers at Monroe. “Coffee. Black. Move your ass!” He chuckled when the man walked away. “I'm pretty sure he's going to punch me in the face one day.”

“I'd say that's a safe bet,” Buster agreed. “Tell me.”

“Ace has been on the radio all morning. So far, there have been half a dozen reported overdoses, one fire that killed three people and a bunch of other crazy shit. Cops don't know what to make of it.”

“It's Binky.”

“That's what I'm figuring.” Train nodded. “I'm also figuring Harris is going to be up our asses any minute now. Had Monroe clean the place out just in case.”