Duck (Rebel Wayfarers MC Book 8) (28 page)

“Like where you’re livin’ these days, brother. Got visitors headed your way.” He heard the grin in Slate’s voice over the phone as he talked over Duck’s attempt to question who. “My man, Blackie, and his woman, Peaches. Lottie. Good people. They’re coming through on their way west; told them they would be assured of a welcome at your place.”

“Always, brother,” he responded, shaking his head. “And you know them from…”

“My pre-Rebels travels.” With loud laughter, Slate hooted in his ear. “Hooked those two up in a good way. They’ll have all five kiddos with them so you can expect chaos for a few days. Be nice to my goddaughter, Randi. Do what you want with the rest of the hoodlums. I won’t vouch for Tater, Possum, Punkin, or Little Bit, but you be nice to my baby girl.”

“Jesus, Slate. What the hell were they smokin’ when they named their kids?” Now the laughter was shouted, and he saw Brenda’s head lift as she heard it ringing from the phone all the way across the room.

“I gave Blackie your number, man. He’ll call when they get close. It’ll be a couple days yet. They’re taking the scenic route.”

“Sounds good, brother.” Duck grinned, responding to Slate’s sign-off of “Later” with his own.

He looked up to see Brenda studying him, a questioning look on her face. “We’re gonna have visitors, baby. Some friends of a brother. A man named Blackie, his woman Peaches, and get this, their five kids.” He watched her mouth drop open and grinned. “Yeah, need to figure out where we’re gonna put them all. Kids might like to bunk out in the barn, depends on the age. We’ll sort it out once they get here, okay?”

She nodded and then seemed to hesitate so he asked, “What, baby?”

“Does this happen a lot? People dropping in because they know someone you know?”

Even before she finished asking, he was nodding. “It’s part of it, Bee. They need a place to stay that won’t cost them an arm and a leg, and the knowledge that place is safe for them and their kids. Yeah, that’s something we can give them. Slate wouldn’t have asked if they didn’t matter to him, and since they matter to him, then they matter to me. It’s just part of it, part of being in the club. We look out for each other, and if it’s in our power to grant an ask from a brother, we will do it.”

“What if they’re not nice people?” She was trying to work this through in her head, he could tell, rolling around the pros and cons of being that kind of support system for someone. “What if they get up in your face?”

“There’re only here for a day, two at the most. I can reel it in for that long, even if they are assholes.” He laughed. “Or I make it clear they are being assholes and need to move along in a slightly expedited fashion.”

He sobered, looking at her. “If I believed there was danger to you or Elias, I’d kick them to the curb so fast you wouldn’t even see them go, Brenda. But, that’s part of trusting my brother, Slate. He vouched for them, which means if they abuse the welcome we extend, then they’re shitting on him. He wouldn’t put himself out there for just anyone, which means it’s unlikely they’re gonna be assholes. Brotherhood and honor mean everything in my world.”

“In your world,” she repeated his words with a slight shake of her head. “It sounds like you think you exist on a different planet.”

“Might as well,” he said, walking towards her. “I’m patched into a club where we pride ourselves on being our own men within the rules set down for the club. We don’t necessarily answer to government rules, except where it benefits us, and even then…shit, baby, even then we work it as needed. The club laws, the protocol we follow for our meetings and to control the membership, those things matter so much more than anything Uncle Sam could tell us.”

He pointed to the diamond on the front of his vest. “This means I hold myself above 99-percent of all men. That I’m in the one-percent group who isn’t afraid to make my own way. Who isn’t dependent on someone telling me what to think, or how to hold my mouth when I chew. I’m not a sheep, needing a shepherd to keep me safe. I’m a one-percenter, and I’m proud of that.”

She looked up at him, gaze trained on his face. “What part of your world will I live in?”

Frowning, he thought for a moment, remembering a conversation he had with Hoss not long ago about where Hope fit into things. “Language lesson, baby.” Pausing until she nodded at him, then he continued, “In my world, and I don’t use those words in any way other than exactly as you’ve already taken them. In my world, you’re my old lady.” At the flash of indignation in her eyes, he grinned. “Don’t mean you’re old, just means you are mine and you can have every expectation I’m yours, too. A partnership the whole club gets behind and protects. You own me, and I claim you.” Pausing again, he looked down at her. “With me so far, baby?”

There was a slight hesitation and she wrinkled her nose, but said, “Old lady, check.”

“Okay. So, I don’t have an official role in the club, but up to now, Mason, he’s the national president of the Rebels, moved me around as needed. Mostly because I didn’t have anything tying me down, not after we had eliminated the threat to Mica.”
How bizarre,
he thought
, to talk about the death of my own brother in such a detached way.
“But, my voice carries weight in the club. I carry weight. I’m a respected member, and without tooting my own horn, I can say I’m one of the men Mason trusts enough to bounce ideas around with. Means I know about shit before it goes down, and nine times out of ten, he makes it so I’m positioned in a way that best benefits the club.”

“I’ve never had an old lady before you.” Her eyes grew wide and he grinned, dipping down to lightly kiss the tip of her nose. “So this is fresh ground for both of us. But my old lady has responsibilities. If I need her to roll up a support run, organizing the grocery-getters and cages, then all I’d want to have to do is say is what’s needed. Give her…you, a rundown on where and when, so I can focus on my shit knowing you’ll have all of that in order.” He took a breath, because this was edging into complicated club territory, and he didn’t want to scare her off, but he also wanted her to understand how things were. While he might be Nomad right now, it didn’t mean the status would stick forever, which meant it was inevitable she would be around club.

“Club business is handled by the men. No exceptions, only if it touches on needing support for the families. If we have problems with other clubs, like the shit Bella ran into with her dad’s enemies, it’s up to the members to sort the shit. But, we can’t do it without the support and knowledge our families are safe and cared for.” He ran a hand over her cheek, tracing her lips with his thumb. “Sounds archaic, I know, but it’s my world, baby.”

“I get it,” she said immediately, pressing into his touch. “I do. And I know more than most that the support work can be just as hard as anything else.” She swept out a hand, indicating the ranch. “I can run a tractor, ride herd on the cattle, throw bales of hay, or fix fence with the best of the men we have. But even I can’t do everything. I know my limitations, and even more important, I believe I know my strengths. I’m much better at the organization than I am the execution of physical tasks like that. Doesn’t mean I can’t do it, just means I know where I can be most effective.” Shaking her head, she said, “I doubt all women feel that way, and it wouldn’t be true for a lot of them, but I get it. I’m not so hardheaded to argue things I know not to be true.”

Leaning forward, she said, “Doesn’t mean we won’t butt heads over stuff. But as long as the description doesn’t have me barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen, I’m good with it.”

“How in the hell did I get so lucky?” Shaking his head, he stared down at her for a moment, thinking about some of the women he had known through the club, how some of them had been associated with a member for a decade and didn’t get things like his Bee did right off the bat. “Easy and beautiful. Makes me laugh…loves me.” Her lips parted, looking up at him.

“Barefoot is a personal choice,” he said, trailing his nose along hers, pressing his lips to her mouth in a brief, hard kiss he hoped conveyed how fucking proud he was of her. “In the kitchen, well you’re a hell of a cook, woman.” He kissed her again, hands slipping up to grasp her waist, pulling her closer. “And pregnant, that would be as soon, and as often as possible.”

“Duck,” she cried, laughing and slapping his shoulder, laughing again when he growled at her.

“Not kidding around here, baby. Already told you what I wanted, not backing down from that.” He snapped his teeth, playfully threatening her, his head coming up when he heard Eli’s clear laughter ringing brightly through the room. “Gonna eat your momma up, boy,” he growled, snapping his teeth again, feeling Brenda’s hands pushing at his chest, her uncontrolled laughter undermining her efforts. “Better save her while you can.”

“No, sir,” Eli said through his laughter. “She’s on her own in this.”

“Baby.” He leaned in, snapping his teeth again, pulling her tight against him, laughing as she collapsed against his chest. “Your boy ain’t gonna help you. You better work on—“

His words cut off when fingers dug into his side, poking and pulling along his ribs. He looked down to find Eli plastered to his side, hands tugging at his shirt, trying to get to skin. “Boy,” he warned on a growl, then found himself laughing helplessly when Brenda’s fingers joined their son’s in the tickle attack.

Five minutes later, they were all collapsed, wheezing on the kitchen floor, having laughed themselves breathless. Brenda was on one side, his arm around her waist still. Eli was on the other, draped half over his chest and Duck grinned at the ceiling as Eli shook with mirth, quaking giggles still bubbling from the boy’s lips. Yeah, this life was far from sucking.

***

He stood on the porch and watched the huge pickup truck roll up the driveway, pulling to a smooth stop in front of the house as he lifted a hand in welcome. About half a second after it halted, the front doors flew open and shouts and laughter flowed out, the sound ringing through the yard. A large, dark-complexioned man was the first to exit, leaning back into the truck to shout, “I heard every word, woman. Bathroom, food, and sleep, in that order.” He reached to open the back door on his side and his hand disappeared into the backseat, pulling out a bag with a small child holding tight to the handle, dangling the bag until the child found its feet, draping the strap over their shoulder.

Lifting a hand, he shouted, “Duck, pleased to meet you. Got an outhouse this crew can destroy?” Leaning back into the truck, hands under their armpits, he brought out a slightly older child, also accompanied by a bag. Setting child and bag on the ground, he bent into the vehicle again, repeating the process with yet another child, this one a couple of years older than the two already extricated from the vehicle.

On the other side, a woman climbed out, ducking into the backseat on her side of the truck to emerge a few moments later, babe in one arm. She lifted one hand in a wave to Duck before leaning back into the truck. As a girl about Eli’s age climbed out on the driver’s side using Blackie’s arm as a launch pad, the woman straightened up with a bag in her other hand. Duck leaned back, calling into the house, “Brenda, Elias, they’re here. Eli, come help with bags, son.”

Walking towards the family, he nodded at Blackie first, reaching out to grip his wrist. “Good to meet you, Blackie. I hear good things about you from Slate.”

“Fucking Andy,” the man said, gripping Duck’s arm firmly. “He’s a good man.” Tipping his head to indicate the woman, he introduced her. “This is Peaches, my old lady. These are my kiddos. And it seems everybody needs to piss. Like…yesterday.”

“I’m sure he already got that, baby,” the woman said, smiling at Duck. “That your woman?”

He turned to see Brenda standing on the porch, uncertainty clouding her face. At his smile, she moved towards them. “Yeah,” he said, eyes never leaving Brenda as she walked down the steps. “My woman. Brenda. That’s my boy, too, Elias.” He let go Blackie’s hand, bending to take the bags from the kids. “Eli for short.”

Blackie rested a hand on his oldest daughter’s head and then touched the other three in turn as he said their names. “Randi, Tater, Possum, Punkin. Peaches is holding Little Bit.” He ruffled Randi’s hair, saying, “Manners, beasts. Mind all your manners. This is Duck, Brenda, and Eli, beasts.”

In a clearly rehearsed, just out-of-sync chorus, the kids all sounded off, “Pleased to meet you, Duck.”

Laughing, Duck rounded Brenda’s waist with his arm, turning to lead the way into the house, twisting his head to look at the family as they followed them. “Bathrooms times two on the main floor. Off the mudroom as you go out the back door of the kitchen, and off the main hallway. One bath upstairs, if we need some overflow for immediate needs.”

“Thank Jesus,” Peaches muttered, shifting the baby to her other arm as Eli took the bag out of her hand.

With a grin, Eli didn’t miss a beat as he replied, “You’re welcome, but you can just call me Eli, ma’am.”

Blackie’s roaring laughter overpowered the sounds of nine sets of footsteps as they made it to the house.

***

Brenda glanced up from slicing tomatoes for the salad and found Peaches looking at her with a considering expression on her face. Last night, their guests had all been so tired from their road trip that once everyone was fed and clean, the whole clan had fallen into bed. This morning, Brenda had to go to town early, so everyone except Duck and Eli was still in bed when she left.