Duck (Rebel Wayfarers MC Book 8) (20 page)

“Hand to my patch, Prez. It wasn’t until I realized it was the Southern Soldiers who held the town that I knew I’d be cool with my vest on. I didn’t go to Lamesa for club business, so for what I needed to take care of, I did not need the push or sway of the club. But knowing Watch’s men were in town, I slipped my cut back on and been wearing it ever since.”

Mason frowned. He wanted to move the conversation forward, but there was still the question of the woman. With Duck gone, Mason had been working with Fury and Tater, a displaced chapter president now in Chicago. They were concentrating on business, trying to track down the name of a person Deacon had sent to Lalo for mentoring. Deacon was the former president of Mason’s first club, a brotherhood Mason had killed, much as Fury had his. He and Fury had more in common than most people knew at first glance, or even after prolonged study.

Lalo was now a gypsy member of the Diamantes, stripped of both his chapter and his office by war with the Southern Soldiers and the Rebels. The same club Fury had left in his dust. Mason knew Lalo and Fury had a long history of mutual hatred but did not yet know all the ins-and-outs of their relationship. He wanted that knowledge, needed it if he were going to trust Fury with any parts of his Rebels. Patience would bring him what was necessary, but with the way things were headed across the country, Mason wasn’t certain they’d bought enough time to be patient.

“So, no issues from their side? No disrespect?” It sounded like it was what Watcher had said at the end of their conversation, a misunderstanding. Still, he was glad to have brought Duck home. If he admitted it, he was relieved the man came without argument, given the length of time he had been gone, and his elusive responses about the woman.

“Not a chance, Prez. Club comes first, man. I wouldn’t have sat on anything like that. Woulda brought it back to you immediately, brother.” Duck’s voice rang with conviction.

Time to pressure him, see what the truth was behind his trip.
Here we go
.

“And your Brenda don’t hold any place in that line?” Mason’s unexpected question jarred Duck, seemed to take the wind out of the man’s sails, but then he straightened, looking Mason in the face. Fearless, not seeming to hide anything, this was what Mason expected from his men.
My brothers
. “A woman who’s met Soldiers standing on their lot, but I learned her fucking name from Watcher, not you? Pussy getting in the way of your thinking, Duck? She don’t hold point on that waving line?”

“Different conversation, boss. I need to talk to you about making some adjustments in my place within the club, but it’s not for today.” Fury made a noise and they both swung to glance at him, then back at each other and their gazes locked. “And, brother…Mason, you know how I feel about you, but you talk about her like that again and we will have a problem.”
Fuck
, Mason thought.

“That still don’t sound like club comes first, brother. Might want to wrap your mind around today being the right time.” Mason’s tone was cautionary, telling Duck without words his next comments needed to be better considered than his last.

Their gazes stayed locked and Mason felt the full force of Duck’s stare, his eyes darkening with passion or anger. After a long moment, Duck barked out, “
Fuck
. Okay, now it is. Let’s talk.” He sighed heavily and leaned back, lifting one hand, palm up, a supplicant’s gesture. “Brother. I’ve never hated a conversation more than this, never had dread for anything like I have these past hours. You know the club is my life, tied around my soul in a way it can’t be untangled without killing me, Prez. You know the club comes first for me. Always has, always will.

“But you, out of all men who wear our patch, know how family counts in the balance of our lives. Unbalanced we will fail and fall, every time. Brenda is a woman from my past, and I’ve unearthed some hard truths these past weeks, not the least of which is a ten-year-old boy.” Mason jolted, shocked, feeling an instant of anger and panic at the quiet declaration. Fear and wrath on his brother’s behalf, knowing what those words might mean. Ignoring his reaction, Duck forged on, “Elias, a son hidden from me by circumstances. Not deception, thank God, but it’s still a decade with the boy I’ll never get back.” He looked up at Mason, fear and sorrow on his features, tension in his pose as he leaned forward, forearms to the edge of the table.

This clearly was hard for him to say, pain-filled because the rawness was so new. “Elias is my blood, Brenda his mother, now my old lady. My heart is in West Texas, brother. It’s pounding, beating in my chest right now, but yearning west.”

Mason’s head tipped back involuntarily, chin raising in response because Duck was right. He did know about things like this. His own boy had been kept from him for twelve years. Chase was nearly a teenager before Mason ever laid eyes on him, that happy event orchestrated by none other than Watcher, a man he still knew without any doubt would always have his back. Now knowing Watcher was in Duck’s hometown at the same time this kind of fuckery happened, it all struck him somewhat strange.

Duck leaned back and kept talking, not realizing where Mason’s thoughts had gone. “I’m Rebel to the core, but with what I’ve found out about Ray and his shit, and then finding out about Eli…I’m torn. I was thinking…hadn’t really planned on asking you for some time. But it seems right, so I guess, since you called me back, here I am.”

Duck sucked in a deep breath, blowing it out slowly through pursed lips. “
Fuck
, this is hard.” His mouth twisted with sorrow and he slowly nodded before looking up at Mason, fingers curling in to his palms, fists pressed to the table, fighting his own emotions. “Prez, I’m here, formally asking permission to step away from where you’ve had me for years. It’s never been an official office, so unless you say so, I don’t expect I’ll need to speak up in church. You’ve needed me, and I’ve done everything asked. Every time.”

Duck dropped his eyes and Mason clenched his jaw tight, holding in his words with effort. This had to be Duck’s ask, and hard as it was, he had to give the man time to get to the end. “I found out some things about my family, about myself, Prez. I can’t sort my shit from way up here, and some of what I found might not be able to leave Lamesa.

His voice dropped to a hoarse whisper, “Boss, I don’t know when I can come back.” He shifted his weight, glancing up and then looking back down again. “Might be years.” Bringing his head up, he stared at Mason. Accepting the weight of that intent look, Mason locked eyes with this man who meant so much to him. Voice gaining strength, he went on, “Might cost me my patch, and I fully recognize that. So, here we fucking go. I need some time, boss. And, however you tell me I have to take it, I will. You drop me to nomad status, I’m good with that. I understand I can’t have the privileges of a chapter without supporting that chapter, and charter.”

He sucked in a breath, and gave words to the fear Mason could see dancing across his face. “You tell me gypsy is my only option, and you have to cut me…” His voice trailed off and he looked down at the table, then back up at Mason, his words ringing true and real, offering everything. “Then that’s the way it is. Love the club, you know that is fucking truth spoken. But, Mason…
brother
. Patch on my back don’t matter for what’s between us, brother. You’ll always be my president, my brother, my friend.”

“Fuck you.” Mason said this immediately, automatically, the words rolling easily off his tongue, granting some measure of peace to his brother at the instant rejection of the idea. And, as he spoke, he watched the fear and tension flee from Duck’s face, relief and surprise taking root.
Fuck, he actually expected I’d cut him
, Mason thought, intensely glad he had pushed to bring his brother home for this. Duck’s fisted hands pushed flat on the table, corded muscles jerking under the skin of his arms. An ease spread through the man and Mason watched him gulp in breath after breath, deep and shuddering, chest expanding with each, wordlessly releasing the pent-up anxiety.

“Ain’t cuttin’ you, Duck. Nomad is an honor, and you fucking know it. Means we…means
I
trust you to hold the club close, even without folks to help you keep your footing. Nomad is a trust from me to you that you’ll do right, be right, no matter the pressures. Risky for you, because you fuck up out of territory, or even within it, you ain’t got anyone to cover your back. Nomad roaming sound like what you need? You got it. No question in my mind, I’ll keep you however I can have you, brother. Watcher won’t have a problem with it, but there’s more than just Soldiers in the west, Duck.”

With a nod, Duck got out, “I know, Prez. Same reason I was runnin’ anon before seeing Watch. Need to keep one eye in front, see what’s comin’ at ya, and one eye in back, see what’s sneaking up on your ass.”

“Yeah, well, for a couple weeks you’ll have a brother with you, so we’ll sort out negotiated visits. Take the sting out of their skin when they learn you’re in town. Lay the reality out for anyone wanting to know what Rebels are doing in West Texas.” Mason leaned back in his chair, even Fury didn’t know the play, and this secret knowledge made Mason grin. “You ain’t flyin’ back, Duck. Roll your iron, brother. You can make a fast trip of it, and then you’ll have your scoot there so you at least ain’t got shit in your head to deal with from being caged all the time.”

Duck stared at him, eyes narrowed. “Why’s it matter if I got my ride there? Won’t lie to you. There were a dozen times over the past week alone I wanted my fucking scoot like a son of a bitch. Not having it was like a toothache, throbbing and aching. Didn’t want to poke at it too hard, make it flare wide and hot ‘cause I know it tweaks me. Makes me a bear to live with sometimes. It’s a good idea, and I’m all for it. Hell, my Bee would probably appreciate not having
that
in her bed.”

Mason leaned forward, putting his forearms on the edge of the table, cutting a glance around the bar. There was no one near, no one to hear. It was as safe as anything could be out in the open like this. “Because Watcher is looking to bring his club into the Rebels. We rolled a charter in Oklahoma City six months ago, and West Texas makes sense. It’s a good stretch between charters, but gets me…us a little closer to SoCal.”

At the surprised looks on the men’s faces, he nodded. “Soldiers are already wearing support patches. They got a RW square on their shoulder, brothers.”

Duck shook his head, “Fuck, Mason. Saw that, didn’t click. That’s a good thing.”

“Hell, yeah it’s good. That was the first logical step, and this will be the next. Gives Watch the backing he needs…gives us men I would trust with my life. All our lives. So for respect, to keep it and give it, I need you on your iron, brother.” Leaning back, he said, “Shift ain’t happening today. Nor tomorrow. But sometime in the next year, I expect to expand again.”

Fury asked, “What does that mean for us, boss? What do you need from me and Duck?”

“Good fucking question, man. One, I need
you
to ride to Lamesa with your brother here. Take his six, man. You’re his ridealong on his way home.” He cut his gaze at Duck, pleased to see a small, satisfied smile at the word ‘home.’ For a man who had held pain and shame on his features for so long, this was a new look. A good one.

Mason nodded and continued, “Mica and Molly are flying down in a couple days for the rodeo. Since their cousin’s gonna compete, they wanna be there for her. With everything we know is swirling around, we ain’t gonna advertise their presence, not at fucking all, but I want to have Rebels there, because no matter her citizen status, Mica is ours. Rebel Princess. Our fucking treasure.”

Duck blew out a breath, pounding his chest twice with a closed fist while Fury looked between them. “Story for another day,” Mason said softly, waiting until he got a nod from Fury, surprised the man didn’t already know Mica’s standing in the club, but he had first patched in over in Fort Wayne, hadn’t been immersed in the culture of Mother as he came along.
That’s a fucking mistake
, Mason thought. Protocol was one thing, knowing the history another.
We need to have a fucking entrance exam these days.

He shook his head, putting aside those thoughts and continued, “What we will advertise is I’ll be there.” At the look on Duck’s face, Mason laughed. “He don’t know it yet, but my boy will be travelin’ down, too. Benny’s opening the rodeo with a performance of Occupy Yourself, and I’ve worked it so Chase’ll be playin’ with him.”

Benny was Ben Jones, the baby brother of Slate, Rebel’s Fort Wayne president, and had taught Mason’s son to play guitar. Occupy Yourself was Ben’s band, recently picked up for representation by Iron Indian Records, Mason’s record label. “Hold onto your dicks, there’s more, brothers. My Bethy will be there, too.” Bethany was Mason’s sister, who worked for the record label.

“Jesus wept,” Duck whispered under his breath. “All the Rebel royalty in one place. Our king, prince, princesses. Willa not going? Is the queen at least staying home, where she’s protected?”

Mason shook his head, ignoring the bar’s door opening. “She’s staying home. She ain’t happy about it, but she’ll do it for me. We’re near the end with the baby, and the pregnancy means I don’t want her to stress. And she would stress with seeing Mica and Bethy together. She just ain’t far enough past what happened, brother.” The last time Willa had seen Mica had been right after Utah. He had worked hard to get her head to a good place, to move her to where they could look forwards and not back, and he wasn’t about to let anything trip her up, send her tumbling.
My blood
, he thought,
my blood did that to her, made it so I have to skate around so many fucking holes
.