Fire Inside: A Chaos Novel (27 page)

I sat immobile, staring at him walking my way, my insides inexplicably seized with panic.

His gaze never left me as he walked through the open door, but once he got inside, he greeted, “Hey Lanie.”

“Uh, hey Tack,” I replied. “Is everything okay?”

He stopped in front of my desk and answered, “You tell me.”

I blinked.

“I’m sorry?” I asked.

“You tell me, Lanie. Is everything okay?”

Oh God, he knew. Damn! He knew!

“I, uh…”

God!

What did I say?

Tack moved to one of my chairs, sat in it and again looked at me.

His voice was soft when he said, “Gave it time, babe. A fuckuva lot of time. After dinner at your place a while back, thought on it and decided I can’t give it more.”

Okay, now I was confused. That didn’t sound like he knew about Hop and me.

“Gave what time?” I asked.

“You,” he answered.

Right, now I was
really
confused.

“Me, what?” I queried and he leaned toward me, his eyes intense, searching but kind.

“You and Belova,” he replied and I felt my insides seize again. “You were not movin’ on. Years passed, you didn’t move on. Tyra, she was not good about this, babe. She might get pissed at me sharin’, seein’ as my woman doesn’t know I’m makin’ this stop, but you gotta know. She’s been worried and when I say that I mean
worried
. She just didn’t know what to do. She didn’t wanna say somethin’ and set you off. She didn’t wanna not say somethin’ and watch you waste your life away. Now she’s even more worried, that photo’s gone, what that might mean. And you haven’t said shit about it.”

Oh.

This was about the photo.

“Tack—” I started and he shook his head.

“That path, Lanie, that path that leads to healing, you can get blinded, think there’s only one path to choose but there isn’t. There are lots of different paths but some of them don’t lead to healing. They lead to other shit that is not good and, darlin’, you’ve been on the wrong one.” He leaned into me and his voice dipped quieter, rougher, “Trust me on this, I know, watchin’ you go through it and watchin’ my daughter go through it.”

I swallowed.

About a year ago Tack’s girl, Tabby, had lost her fiancé suddenly in a car crash only three weeks before their wedding. It was tragic and Tabby put on a brave face, but everyone knew she was suffering. How could she not? But with that brave face, it was hard to know what path she was on.

Unless you were as observant as Tack.

He leaned back and kept talking, “Shit you endured, Red, me, all of us had to put on kid gloves with you. I don’t wanna freak you but, that frame gone, means you made a decision, a decision you aren’t communicating about, so those gloves gotta come off.”

“Tack—”

“You gotta move on… the right way.”

“Well—”

“You gotta find a life outside this office,” he threw out a hand then pinned his eyes on me. “You gotta find a man.”

My back snapped straight. “Tack, really—”

He didn’t miss my response. He just misinterpreted it.

“Don’t go woman on me and tell me you don’t need a man to complete you. It’s bullshit. Woman looks like you, goddamn waste. But a woman who has the love you got to give, that’s not a waste. That’s a crying shame.”

I closed my mouth because that was sweet.

Then I opened it to remind him, “Uh, FYI, I can’t go woman on you since I
am
a woman, so going woman is redundant.”

He grinned. “Just sayin’, got a good one but that don’t mean I don’t notice other good ones, darlin’. You’re a good one and a man would be lucky, he got you.”

Wow, that was
really
sweet.

I held his eyes then I leaned toward him. “Thank you for coming, saying what you’ve said and caring, Tack, but I promise you, everything is good.”

“Bullshit.”

I blinked at his reply.

“You’ve thrown away that frame and locked yourself in,” he declared.

“Locked myself in what?” I asked, again confused.

“Days here, nights here, your life…
here…
” He lifted a hand and pointed to the floor. “In this office. Buried in your work. Sure, you go out with your girl. You do yourself up. You spoil our sons. You show on Chaos and laugh with the brothers. But the majority of your life is this job, Lanie, and that shit can’t go on.”

Oh dear.

How did I play this?

“Tack, really, I promise you, I’m fine.”

“A life that’s work is not fine. It isn’t even half a life. I dig you enjoy what you do and that’s cool. You bein’ so good at it is cooler. But the world is full, darlin’. You’re only eatin’ off half the plate, you’re missin’ the meat and, worse, you’re missin’ dessert.” He paused a moment before he said quietly, “You need to live your life, Lanie.”

“I promise you, Tack, I am.”

“Then why is it after six and you’re still at the office?” he returned.

I couldn’t tell him I was heading out to meet Hop and his kids and thus I couldn’t tell him I was late doing that and should have left fifteen minutes ago. I also couldn’t tell him that my life was very much not all work. Not anymore. It was dance recitals. It was broiled pork chops. It was listening to Hop tell me the story of taking one of his “bitches” to a Seger concert. She got high before they went, lost herself in the vibe and threw her t-shirt toward the stage. I laughed through this because Hopper also told me she wasn’t wearing a bra and they were nowhere near the stage so Bob nor any of the Silver Bullet Band could appreciate her gesture.

However, I had to tell him something. I just didn’t get the chance.

“Talked with Mitch and Lucas, they got a buddy, say he’s a good man,” Tack started.

Oh my God. Was he talking about setting me up?

Tack continued, “Don’t know him. Don’t wanna lose one of my girls to a guy on The Force but they say he’s a good man, I believe them. They’re gonna set you up.”

Oh my God!

Tack was setting me up!

It was nice he thought of me as one of his girls but this was a disaster.

Truth be told, I knew Mitch Lawson and Brock Lucas and I liked them. They were both good cops. They were both good guys. They were both friends of Tack’s. They, and their wives, Mara and Tess, and their kids would often come to Chaos functions. This was incongruous, cops and bikers, but there was history, serious history that made it not only understandable but imperative. So, knowing Mitch and Brock and knowing they were good guys, I knew they wouldn’t set me up with a jerk or a loser.

That didn’t make this any less of a disaster.

“Tack—” I began but he again talked over me and he did it while standing.

“Goin’ home, talkin’ to Red about this. She’ll hook up with Mara and Tess and they’ll sort it. You just gotta look beautiful and show up. The first part comes natural. The second part will be where I’ll trust you not to fall down.”

I stared at him as he stood before my desk and when he stopped talking, I asked, “Do you do this to Ty-Ty?”

“What?” he asked.

“Not let her get a word in edgewise,” I answered, and he burst out laughing.

I waited patiently for him to stop, thinking not for the first time that Tyra was lucky. Tack laughed deep and rich, it came from the gut and he looked good doing it. He also did it a lot.

When Tack stopped laughing, he looked back at me and replied simply, “Yes.” I opened my mouth to say something and again failed in this endeavor. “Though, only when it’s important and she’s bein’ a pain in my ass.”

“Are you inferring I’m a pain in your ass?” I enquired.

“Nope,” he shook his head, grinning. “But, you give me lip on this, I won’t infer it. I’ll just say it straight out.”

“Tack—”

“Go on the date, Lanie.”

“Tack!” I snapped and he bent over my desk, putting his hand on it and pinning me again with his blue eyes.

“Do it for Tyra,” he said softly and I shut my mouth.

How the heck was I going to get out of this?

“She’s worried,” Tack went on. “Heal yourself, help my woman stop worrying. Go on the date.”

I closed my eyes then opened them and nodded.

I mean, what else could I do?

Tack smiled.

Damn.

“Good, glad we had this talk,” he declared. “And Red’s gonna be glad you’re takin’ a shot at life again and I hope, it works out or it doesn’t but it whets your appetite to have back what you’re missin’,
you’ll
be glad.”

It really stunk that he was such a good guy and he was here doing this for me and I couldn’t tell him this was all unnecessary and they could stop worrying.

“Okay well, thanks again, Tack,” I said.

He straightened away from my desk. “Go home. Do somethin’ fun. Whatever. Just get the fuck out of here,” he ordered, throwing out an arm to indicate my office.

“I was just leaving,” I informed him and got another grin before he moved to my door.

He stopped in it and turned back.

I should have lifted up my mental shield and braced.

I didn’t.

So when he shot his arrows, they tore straight through my flesh.

“Don’t regret what you did. Don’t regret the decisions you made. You did right. You followed your heart and that is never wrong, darlin’. But shit went down and it was extreme. That’s over, Lanie. Long over. Move on.”

I didn’t do right.

He knew that. I knew that. Tyra knew it.

He was just being nice.

Forgiveness is beautiful and it feels good when someone gives that gift to you.

But it’s one thing for someone you wronged to forgive you.

It was another to forgive yourself.

Too much was lost. Rivers of it. Rivers of Ty-Ty’s blood on the floor of a house I’d never been to and she’d only been there once. That blood flowed because of me.

It could have meant we lost everything, Tack and me.

But, the way he loved her, mostly Tack.

He forgave me.

I just didn’t forgive myself.

I didn’t tell him any of this.

I just said, “Okay.”

He nodded. “Okay, darlin’. Have a good night.”

“You too. Tell Ty-Ty I said hi.”

“Will do. Later.”

“Later, Tack.”

He lifted a hand to flick it out and then I watched him walk out of my office, thinking yet again my best friend was very lucky.

Then again, so was Tack.

I looked at the clock on my computer and realized to be in time for pizza, I wasn’t going to be able to get home and change.

I shut it down, pulled out my phone and called Hop to tell him I might be a bit late.

Then I got out of my office to live my life.

* * *

I heard a Harley. Lying on my couch, reading and drinking a glass of wine after a fun dinner with Hop and his kids, conditioned to that roar meaning good things, I listened absentmindedly but contentedly thinking about that night’s dinner.

I thought about how Molly’s exuberance was catching. About how nice it felt when a little girl told you she liked your outfit. About how Cody might not look like his dad but he acted exactly like him. About how Hop deftly negotiated Molly’s severe dislike for all things sausage, “The juice leaks across the side, Dad!”, and Cody’s demand that we get a meat lover’s since, “Pizza doesn’t matter if it don’t got meat,” by buying two Beau Joe’s pizzas and muttering, “Leftovers for a week.”

He was not wrong, though he was understating it. One Beau Joe’s pizza could feed half a battalion.

So that Harley roar outside not only reminded me of all good things Hop and a great night with his kids that, after it was over, I knew I had nothing to be nervous about, but it made me smile.

I kept listening, not absentmindedly, when the roar stopped at the back of my house.

I aimed my eyes over my couch to the sliding glass doors and was shocked to see Hopper’s tall body materialize through the dark there.

“Open up, babe,” he called through the glass, and I set my Kindle aside and got up, quickly moving to the door, unlocking and opening it.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, shifting back as he slid through and shut the door. “Where are the kids? Is everything all right?”

He turned to me. “I don’t know. You tell me.”

Great.

I’d had this beginning conversational gambit once already from a biker that night when Tack visited me, and from the look of concern and inquisitiveness on Hop’s face, I was thinking I wouldn’t like this one much better.

“What are you talking about and where are the kids?” I asked.

“Kids are asleep and Sheila’s with ’em. You showed at dinner, still wearin’ your work gear, acting funny, not meeting my eyes so I called her, she came over, I hopped on my bike and hauled my ass over here. What’s up?”

“Nothing I couldn’t tell you over the phone,” I explained. “You didn’t have to drag Sheila over to your house.”

“You don’t meet my eyes during dinner, it’s somethin’ that you don’t get into over the phone. Now, Lanie, one more time. What’s up?”

Usually, I rejoiced that Hop was a man who paid attention. This meant he did things and said things and, it’s important to repeat,
did
things,
good
things, because he paid attention.

Sometimes, like now, it was annoying.

I decided this discussion would go better with wine so I walked to my wineglass.

Once I’d grabbed it and taken a sip, I looked back at Hop to see he hadn’t moved except to cross his arms on his chest.

Leather jackets, especially beat up, black biker ones with a patch on the back, were not my thing when it came to guys.

Hopper worked that cut like no other.

“Lanie,” he prompted, his voice a warning low and I stopped appreciating Hop in his cut.

“Tack talked to Mitch and Brock. They’re setting me up on a date with a cop,” I announced.

I did this because I thought it best just to get it out there and over with.

Anyway, it was no big deal. Hop had to know I was into him. We both knew we were working on something important. I’d just had dinner with him and his kids so that was plain.

Therefore, I’d decided on my way to Beau Joe’s just to go on the date then explain to the guy, Tack, and Tyra that we didn’t click, and I’d explain my plan beforehand to Hop (but not during dinner with his kids) so he wouldn’t worry. This meant I’d do my duty to Ty-Ty and Tack then I’d start doing other things that made them quit worrying about me. Like take a creative writing class with the explanation I might meet someone there when I had no intention of doing that. And, anyway, a creative writing class would be fun and I’d always wanted to do it.