Of course, having Lucky enter her world had helped, but even before him, she’d had so much, and she’d spent so much time feeling as if it wasn’t enough—and it
was
. And now, having Lucky’s love on top of it . . . well, that was just the icing on the cake of her life. Really
delicious
icing. The kind that made every bite so much sweeter.
A
few nights after his father-and-son outing with Johnny, Lucky sat on his usual stool at Gravediggers, drinking a beer, thinking through all the recent changes in his life. He grew more attached to Johnny every time he saw him, and still couldn’t believe such a good, sweet kid had come from
him
. But then again, once upon a time he’d been a good kid, too. He just hoped to God nothing ever happened in Johnny’s life that would screw him up the way it had Lucky.
And now even he and Mike had mended fences as well. Shit—it was still hard to believe he’d told Mike everything. He’d planned never to do that, under any circumstances, and yet, suddenly, there it was, coming out of him. Somehow, in that strange moment, it had felt almost like they were little kids again, confiding in each other in the dark.
He’d felt like an idiot as soon as he’d told Mike; Mike could have easily turned on him, statute of limitations or not—but he hadn’t. And just like when he’d told Tessa about his time with the Devil’s Assassins, getting it off his chest yet again had felt even more freeing. It was like each time he got brave enough to tell the tale, it stripped away a little of the anguish still left inside him.
Last night, he and Tessa had even met up with Mike and Rachel at Dolly’s Café, right in the heart of Destiny, for dinner. They’d talked about normal things and Lucky had felt like a normal guy. They’d rehashed some good memories—and a few bad ones—but overall, he’d come away feeling closer to Mike, and like they were both really ready to put the past behind them. And Lucky had nearly fallen out of the booth when Old Mrs. Lampton, a little old lady who’d
already
been old when he was a teenager, passed by on her walker and, nodding to each of them, said, “Mike, Rachel, Tessa, Lucky,” as if he’d never even been gone.
“Hey, bud—how’s it going?”
He looked up just then to see Mick Brody pulling up the stool next to him. Before leaving the picnic on Saturday, they’d made plans to get together and catch up. “It’s going good,” he said. Because it was. It was going better than it had for just about as long as he could remember.
Lucky introduced Mick to Duke, who brought him a beer, and before long they were reliving old times. Both were forced to admit that their high school days hadn’t really been
good
times, but they’d had some fun together, and they’d looked out for each other a time or two.
Soon enough, Mick was confiding in him, admitting to Lucky that he hadn’t always been on the right side of the law, particularly in the years after Lucky had left Destiny. Lucky shared just a little about the Devil’s Assassins, since it sounded like both of them had come through some tough shit to get where they were now. “Getting into the MC, and then managing to get out of it, was a wake-up call,” Lucky told him.
Mick nodded. “The wake-up call for me was when Wayne was sent to prison.”
Lucky felt his eyebrows shoot up. “Prison, huh? I didn’t know that.”
“Armed robbery,” Mick said. “And I realized I didn’t want that to be me, so I turned things around.”
They both stayed quiet for a minute, pondering, Lucky supposed, how easy it would have been for either of them to have ended up there, too. A sobering thought. And one that didn’t make Lucky feel very proud.
Fortunately, Duke chose that exact moment to step up and say, “What’s the problem over here, brother? You got a chick you’re crazy about, a kid you dig, a family who forgave you, and a healthy business—thanks to me.” Then he turned to Mick. “Did he tell you that? Guy comes back here after something like sixteen years, with some paint guns and a garage, and I’ve sent him about fifty customers this spring. And I give him free beer half the time, too. Guy oughta be buying
me
beer.”
Duke’s boasting made Lucky let out a laugh, and he was glad to have the mood lightened.
He didn’t point it out, but Duke had left something off that list: Lucky also had a damn good friend in him. And it had been good to find Mick back in Destiny, too. Before the night was through, Mick even invited Lucky to bring Tessa over to the home he shared with Jenny on Blue Valley Lake for a cookout sometime this summer.
As Lucky put on his helmet and revved up his Harley, soon hitting the pavement toward Whisper Falls Road, it was hard to believe the loner’s life he’d lived a couple of months ago had turned into this. And it was hard to believe he felt so damn . . . good. Yeah, it was hard when he had to watch Tessa struggle with illness, and sure, there were still moments when he felt a little overwhelmed by it all, but when he imagined leaving this all behind
now
, turning the bike away from Destiny and never looking back—he knew he wouldn’t even make it to the county line.
He’d finally stopped running, for good this time.
T
essa remembered nights like this—she used to have them often. She was up late, working—joyously! It was almost midnight, but she’d gotten on a roll creating more designs for Gravediggers and hadn’t been able to make herself stop. For dinner, Lucky had made grilled cheese sandwiches and heated up some soup in her kitchen, then he’d watched TV while she’d worked in the same room.
About an hour ago, he’d said, “Babe, I’m gonna head up to my place and go to bed. You wanna come up when you’re done?”
She’d taken the time to stop, stand up, and give him a kiss. “Absolutely. And sorry I kind of ditched you tonight.”
He’d simply squeezed her hand and said, “No worries. I know how into your work you are and I get it.”
Ah, Lucky. He’d been a huge part of turning her life back into something that felt vital and productive lately. And he’d made her feel not only human again, and like a woman again, but like a very
hot
and
sexy
woman. And in that moment, a part of her wanted to drop everything and go hop into bed with her man—but she was excited about the changes she kept coming up with for the bar, and she was afraid if she stopped without getting them down, she’d lose them. So she worked, happy in the knowledge that when she finally ran out of inspiration, she could ease into bed next to him, snug and cozy, the perfect ending to a satisfying night.
Well, maybe hot sex would be the
perfect
ending. But they were reaching that comfortable place in their relationship where sometimes snuggling quietly felt “just right.” She smiled at the thought—then looked up upon realizing a vehicle had just stopped outside.
The cabin’s windows were open and the two houses were so isolated that when a car passed by on Whisper Falls Road this late at night, you noticed. And you also noticed if it didn’t keep going.
Walking down the hall into her bedroom, she peeked out at her driveway, yet all was quiet and empty but for her Nissan. Moving to a window at the rear of the cabin, she pulled back a toile curtain and looked up toward Lucky’s house—where, indeed, an unfamiliar car sat in his driveway.
Or
was it
unfamiliar? A bright moon shone down and, peering up at the older Camaro, she thought it looked like the same one that had delivered that guy, Red, to Lucky’s house to pick up his bike. And then the moon gave her a glimpse of Red himself, walking around the car, opening the trunk. Was she imagining it or was he purposely trying to be quiet? And what the hell was he doing at Lucky’s this late anyway?
She watched for a moment longer and though it wasn’t easy to see, she sensed the scraggly older guy skulking around Lucky’s garage in the dark. It was enough to make her heart pound painfully against her rib cage. Enough to make her pick up the phone. Then, on pure instinct, she even rapped on the window once, hoping maybe it would scare the guy off. After all, if he was here for a valid reason, he’d be knocking on the door. And she knew Lucky sometimes let people drop off and pick up bikes at odd hours, but he always waited up for them. Something wasn’t right here.
She was just about to dial Lucky’s number when a burst of light drew her attention back out the window—up to Lucky’s place. And—oh God!
It was a fire! One side of the garage had just burst into flames.
. . . what mystery, that broke out now in fire and now in blood, at the deadest hours of night?
Charlotte Brontë,
Jane Eyre
H
er hands began to shake now and she could barely breathe, and instead of calling Lucky, she dialed 911. Then watched as the Camaro suddenly went backing recklessly up the driveway and out onto the road.
“9–1–1. What’s your emergency?”
“My boyfriend’s house is on fire!” she said as the car went speeding away. “On Whisper Falls Road! Just up the hill from the bridge! Please hurry!”
“We’re sending help right now, ma’am. Are you in the house? If so, can you get out?”
“I’m not inside. I live next door.”
“Is anyone in the house?”
“Yes!”
But she had no idea what the 9–1–1 lady said next because that’s when she dropped the phone and went sprinting out the back door, barefoot, up the hill. The last time she’d gone dashing up through Lucky’s yard like this, she’d been chasing Mr. Knightley and met up with a big, scary biker. Now, that biker was the man of her dreams and she was running to save him.
“Lucky!
” she screamed frantically. “
Lucky
,
wake up! The house is on fire!
” Cool dew made her slip and fall as she ran, but she picked herself up without thought and kept going. The bright flames at the garage began to grow higher, licking at the roof now, and she could hear the fire hissing and cracking as it spread. “
Luckyyyy!
”
Thankfully, the front door was unlocked since he’d been expecting her to come up—so she yanked it open and raced inside. In her rush, she tripped over the coffee table in the dark, falling, yelling out as the pain sliced into her knee, but pushed back to her feet and ran down the hall into Lucky’s bedroom, yelling all the way. “
Get up! You have to get out! The house is on fire!
”
Within seconds, she was shaking him awake and finally his eyes bolted open. Just in the short time they’d been together, she’d noticed he was a sound sleeper, and now he was disoriented. “Huh? What? What’s wrong?”
“Get up!” She pulled on his arm. “The house is on fire.”
Finally, this jolted him fully awake. He rolled out of bed in a pair of boxer briefs, snatching up a pair of blue jeans on the floor as they exited the room. Blood pounded in Tessa’s ears as they jogged back toward the front door.
Once outside, where Lucky could see the flames, he said, “Jesus Christ—I gotta call the fire department.”
He made a move back toward the door, but Tessa grabbed his arm. “They’re on the way.”
Lucky just stared at the burning garage, nearly half of it engulfed now, his expression a mix of bewilderment and horror. Still sounding a little out of it from sleep, he murmured, “How the hell . . . ?”
Still watching the fire, too, Tessa took his hand and held on tight. “I’m pretty sure it was that guy with the scraggly beard, the one you don’t like—Red. I heard his car and saw him out my window.”
Lucky turned to her then, jaw dropping. “Are you sure?”
She blinked, trying to replay it in her mind. “I think so. I remembered the car he came in to pick up his bike. It was the same one.”
Fortunately, only moments later, a siren split the night air, growing closer each second. Lucky stood hand in hand with Tessa in only a pair of blue jeans as the big red fire engine came into view, screaming up the curvy, hilly road and into Lucky’s driveway. Several fireman jumped down, hoses in hand, and Tessa recognized one of them as Logan Whitaker, Mike Romo’s lifelong best friend. “You guys need to step back further,” he yelled in their direction.
Lucky could barely make sense of what was happening—it felt surreal. This . . . this was the kind of shit he’d expected to happen ten years ago, but it never had. And Red had done it. And that meant . . . oh God. God damn it to hell.
He just swallowed, trying not to think, not to feel. But Jesus—what if Johnny had been there? What if Tessa hadn’t seen what was happening out the window and called for help so fast? What if it had spread more quickly by the time she’d come in to get him? What if they’d both been there, fast asleep?
Lucky’s blood ran cold. The worst had finally happened—his past had come back to haunt him. Red had lied—that sneaky little bastard had
lied
to him,
fooled
him for Christ’s sake—and was obviously still doing Wild Bill’s dirty work. Son of a bitch! To think they’d been looking for him all these years! And now they’d found him. Here, of all places. Where his son was, where his girl was. And his brother. His grandmother, for God’s sake. He’d endangered them all by just being here.
He watched—a weird sense of numbness disguising his rage—as the Destiny Fire Department blasted thick, powerful torrents onto the flames, which were beginning to die down. He realized his heart beat violently fast.
Okay
,
so maybe the house isn’t gonna burn. That’s good.
But what about the rest? How much of his equipment would be ruined? What about the three customers’ bikes inside the garage? He had business insurance, but . . . shit, this was still bad.
His own beloved Harley was down at Tessa’s—and he suddenly felt damn thankful he’d pulled into her driveway instead of his this afternoon when they’d come back from a ride. As far as he knew, the helmet he’d painted for her still sat on the bike’s leather seat. A little thing to be worrying about now, but his mind was racing, and he didn’t like the idea of his gift to her being burned up by the Devil’s Assassins.
Although the very thought struck fresh fear and outrage into his heart. The Assassins knew where he was. Jesus fucking Christ.
He blinked in surprise when a police car pulled in behind the fire truck and Mike and Rachel got out, both with messy hair, dressed in jeans and T-shirts, clearly having gotten out of bed for this. They headed straight for Tessa and Lucky, and Mike met his gaze. “You all right, man?”
Lucky just nodded, still in shock.
“How did you . . . ?” Tessa asked, clearly confused.
“Logan called me on the way,” Mike replied, then looked to Lucky. “An officer on duty is coming to do the official stuff, but Logan knew I’d want to know.”
“Thanks,” Lucky said. “For coming.”
Mike simply gave a short nod, yet Lucky still felt it—that new, shockingly thick reconnection with his brother. He hadn’t expected it when it had happened—and he definitely couldn’t have predicted it would run so deep. But it just plain made him feel a little better that Mike was there.
Soon, another squad car came—and as Mike had promised, it brought another Destiny cop, Raybourne Fleet, to investigate.
When Tessa was questioned, she explained all she’d seen. And when
Lucky
was questioned . . . he didn’t tell the entire truth. He described Red as someone he’d known socially many years ago, keeping the Devil’s Assassins completely out of it. Mike sat in on the interview, and Lucky could pretty much feel Mike’s doubt when he got to that part, but he just kept going.
“Well, reckon that about wraps it up,” Officer Fleet said, finishing up notes on a clipboard. “We’ll try findin’ this fella’s sister tomorrow and see if we can’t track him down.” Then the tall, buzz-cut cop looked back to Lucky, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You sure you don’t know what beef this guy has with you, why he’d want to do somethin’ like this?”
Lucky shook his head and gave the same answer he had a few minutes ago. “Other than the fact that my buddy and me weren’t very friendly to him at Gravediggers, nope. When I painted his bike, I thought we’d left things on good terms. But like I said, he’s always been a little . . . off. That’s all I know.”
Just then, Logan Whitaker approached the small group of men and Lucky saw that the fire appeared to be completely out now. “Been a long time, Lucky,” Logan said, compassion in his voice. Lucky had known Logan as a kid—he’d lived just up the road and had been at their house a lot when they were young. “Sorry to be seeing you for a reason like this, though.”
Lucky gave him a nod, shook his hand. “I appreciate that. And it’s good to see you, man.” Then he motioned toward the garage. “How bad are things?”
“Well, the good news is that the house is fine. The door connecting to the garage is a solid fire door, with good seals on it, so no smoke got inside your living space. The other good news is that less than half the garage burned and some of the stuff in it is salvageable.” Then he sighed and shifted his weight from one fireman’s boot to the other. “The bad news, though, is that it looks like some of your painting equipment was destroyed, and there’s significant smoke damage to the motorcycles and other stuff that didn’t burn. Tell me you have good insurance.”
Lucky nodded somberly. “I do.”
Logan smiled, clearly trying to lighten a bad situation. “Good. Now tell me whoever owns those motorcycles aren’t the scary kind of bikers who are gonna wreak havoc over this.”
Lucky thought through the rides he was currently working on. “Nah,” he said. “They won’t be happy, but they won’t hold me responsible.”
“Weird thing,” Logan said, looking back at the garage. “We’ll have to get an arson investigator out here, but best we can tell, for this being arson, this guy did a pretty crappy job of setting a fire. There are signs of an accelerant, but only around one corner of the garage. This could have been much worse if he’d been even a little more thorough.”
Lucky took that in, thought it over. “Tessa said she banged on her window when she realized he was probably up to no good. Maybe he heard it and cut the job short.”
Logan nodded, and Mike said, “Makes sense.”
As Mike walked the other guys back to their vehicles, Lucky sat down by himself in the grass on the hill, looking toward Tessa’s house, exhausted by it all. Tessa and Rachel stood over by his deck and he could have joined them, but he just wanted a few minutes alone—to think.
It didn’t surprise him that Red would fuck up an arson attempt. The guy was generally inept, a screw-up. But that created a big question in Lucky’s mind. Of all the bad-ass bikers in the Devil’s Assassins, why the hell would they send
Red
to do a job like this?
Maybe . . . his first assumption upon seeing the fire had been wrong. Maybe the Assassins hadn’t been following him, watching him, after all. Because if they’d known where he was for any length of time, why wait until now to strike? So maybe part of Red’s story was true—maybe he really
had
just stumbled onto Lucky and Duke that night at Gravediggers. He’d surely reported back to Wild Bill about it—but if Red was the one out doing the dirty work, it might very well mean that Bill and the rest of the club were nowhere near Destiny. At least not yet. Which meant he had a little time to puzzle through this before being forced to deal with Wild Bill himself or any of the other Assassins.
By the time Officer Fleet’s cruiser pulled away, Lucky saw Logan and the rest of the firefighters reloading their equipment, soon climbing back up into the fire truck, ready to leave as well. A glance beyond to the charred black remains of half his garage, now strung with yellow police tape, made him cringe—both in anger and dread. The pungent scent of burnt materials filled the air.
When he saw Mike walking back toward him, he stood up. And Mike’s eyes dropped to his chest. He looked stunned. “God, how did I not see that until just now?”
Lucky glanced down—to the tattoo of their sister’s name over his heart. “Got it after I first left home. I was thinking a lot about her then, more than usual.”
Their eyes met again and Mike said, “You okay, man? You look upset.”
“Somebody just tried to burn my fucking house down,” he pointed out.
“I know. But . . . who’s this guy
really
? Part of the MC?”
Lucky nodded. “More or less. Once upon a time.”
“Why the hell didn’t you say so?” His brother sounded put out, and Lucky guessed he couldn’t blame him—being a small town cop, Mike probably expected honesty, and from most people, he probably got it.
“Look,” Lucky said, “the less people who know this might be related to the club, the better. I’ll figure out how to deal with it.”
But Mike lowered his chin, his look mired in doubt. “How the hell will you do
that
? These guys have had you hiding out for years and you suddenly think you can beat them on your own if they’re after you?”
Lucky shook his head. “I don’t even know for sure how firmly this guy is still associated with the club. He’s mostly a weasely tag-along who looks for attention. So I need to find out more before I jump to any conclusions.” Then he looked Mike in the eye. “And the other reason I didn’t mention it is . . . I don’t want my kid to know I was in a gang. There’s no reason he
should
know. All it could do is upset him and make him afraid of me.”
He then motioned to where Tessa stood with Rachel. “Can you do me a favor? I know it’s late, but can you and Rachel take Tessa home with you for a couple hours?”
“Why?” Suspicion laced Mike’s tone.
“Just need to go on a fact-finding mission, like I said. I won’t be long, but I just need to guarantee she’s safe—just in case he decides to come back while I’m not here, you know?”
“Of course,” Mike said. “But for the record, I don’t like this. I don’t want you getting yourself in any more trouble.”
Lucky gave his brother a piercing, honest look. “Too late for that—I’m already in it. Now I just need to figure out how deep, and how to get back out of it.”
A
s Lucky’s bike sped down Whisper Falls Road a little while later, Molly Hatchet’s “Flirtin’ with Disaster” pounding in his ears, he again suffered the gut impulse to run. To just keep riding and not look back. His presence was putting the people he cared about in danger and it suddenly seemed safer if he just got the hell out of their lives.
But it was a fleeting thought, only momentary. An old habit, maybe—the idea that running solved things. It took only a second to realize that if he were to leave, the people in his life might
still
be in danger because of him—and besides, he had way too much here now to willingly leave it behind. And way too much to take this lying down.