Slate (Rebel Wayfarers MC) (48 page)

“Glad to hear you’re willing to stay managing Slinky’s, DeeDee. You’re doing a good job. It’s good you’re finding your own place too. That’s a big step, and we all know it, but you know you’re always welcome here. You’ll always be Winger’s old lady, and we love you.” He smiled at her, but stayed sitting. He wanted this conversation to be over; he was having a hard time keeping it together, and the urge to destroy something was still running strongly through him.

She smiled and reached for the door. “Close it behind you, DeeDee? Thanks,” he said, reaching for his phone. Hearing the click as the door shut, he hit a button on the phone, waiting only a moment for the call to connect. “Mason,
Brother
,” his throat was closing, “I don’t know what to do, man. This is so fucked up.”

“Slate, talk to me,” Mason said quietly, and the strength of their friendship was in the words he said, offering support without question, and Slate grabbed that like a lifeline.

***

“I have something I want to show you. Want to take a ride with me, baby?” Slate asked Ruby, coming up behind her in the clubhouse kitchen a few days later. He rubbed his hands up her arms to her shoulders, wrapping them around and pulling her back tight against his chest. She tilted her face up for a kiss, and he captured her lips with his, watching her eyes close slowly as the heat rose within the both of them. Slowly stroking her bottom lip with his tongue, he pulled back, ending with two soft kisses. “Ride with me?” he asked again, and she nodded.

He picked her up, turning her in his arms to face him, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. Punctuating each word with a kiss, he told her, “Go. Get. Your. Leathers. Baby,” and she giggled, placing her hands on his shoulders and pushing back.

Breathlessly, she told him, “You gotta put me down, babe.”

The casual endearment took his breath, and he stroked her cheek with the backs of his knuckles. Relaxing his arms, he let her slide down his front, kissing her again as she settled her feet on the floor. “I’m going to make us some sandwiches, baby. Any preferences?” he asked her, releasing his hold.

Ruby looked up at him with a question in her eyes, but said, “There’s lunchmeat and cheese in the cooler. I’m not picky, Slate.”

He kissed her again, watching her turn and walk from the kitchen. Busying himself with their lunch, he had packed and cleaned up by the time she returned. “Ready to go, baby?” he asked, grabbing her hand and twining his fingers with hers. She nodded, and they went through the main room into the lot.

Slate smiled to himself as she straddled the bike behind him, lacing her arms around his waist and tucking her legs up around his ass.
God, this feels good.
He could get used to her heat wrapping around him like this. Throttling out slowly to let the prospect open the gate, he turned to go downtown. They were headed to his new apartment...their new home.

Pulling into the underground parking, he located his assigned spaces and backed into one of them. Toeing down the kickstand, he settled the bike and raised his hand to assist Ruby off. “Slate, what are we doing here?” she asked quietly, sweeping her hair back off her face with one hand. Grabbing their lunch from the saddlebags, he reached down for her and was thrilled when she beat him to it, taking his hand with both of hers and looking up at him.

“Checking on the renovations,” he said cryptically, and then grinned. She scrunched her nose up at him, and swung into place, walking at his side to the elevator. At the door to the apartment, he paused, handing her the food and drinks. Using his key, he opened the door, and then startling laughter from her, he swept her into his arms to carry her inside.

“What are you doing, babe?” she asked, the laughter still present in her voice.

He felt his heart swell that she was becoming so comfortable with him, and hoped today didn’t change anything. “I’m carrying my woman into our home,” he mock-growled into her neck, nipping at her shoulder.

She grew still, and he pulled back to see a wide-eyed look on her face; it was not quite panic, but close. “Ruby, baby, it’s okay. This is the apartment I’ve been working on. Remember? I want you here when I move in?” He soothed her, “It’s okay.” Holding her tightly against his chest, he walked into the kitchen and set her on top of one of the counters.

Looking around, he was pleased with the work so far. It looked like it was nearly ready to move furniture in, and that was easy enough to schedule. “Ready for the tour, baby?” he asked, stepping between her knees, pressing them apart as he pulled her to the edge of the counter and against him.

She nodded, twisting to set the food and drinks on the counter, and then slipped off to stand beside him. He waited a moment, and she finally reached out to take his hand with hers, winding their fingers together again. “God, I love when you touch me,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss the top of her head.

Walking through the arched doorway, he led her into the main downstairs room. “This is the living area; I liked the view of the downtown skyline, and I heard we could see fireworks from the Tincaps’ games from here.” He pointed to the large windows on the west wall. Pulling her along with him, they returned to the kitchen, which was outfitted with stainless steel appliances. “If you like to cook, you’ll love this kitchen.” He showed her some of the hidden things, like the knife drawer and the tip-out cabinets for bulk vegetables.

Pointing up the short hallway, he said, “Half-bath, then a guest room with its own full bath.” Walking back through the kitchen, he grabbed their lunch, pulling her towards the stairs. They were headed to the only furnished room in the apartment, and where he intended to spend the rest of the day. With a smile, he scooted her up the stairs ahead of him, watching her face as she saw the wide, open loft for the first time. There was a huge cherry wood bed set, with mocha-colored bedding.

“Bedroom,” he said unnecessarily, and then led her to the far side of the room, opening the two sets of doors there. “Closet,” he closed that door, then “bathroom,” and walked inside with her. The tile shower had been enlarged, but still left room for a deep tub alongside it. He saw a brief smile on her face, and then she turned to him. Biting her bottom lip, Ruby looked up at him for a long minute while he waited. He finally reached out and rescued her lip with a fingertip, tracing her mouth slowly. “Baby?” he prompted.

“Ours?” she asked quietly.

A smile broke out over his face. “Yeah, baby. Ours. I wanted you to see it now before everything is final, so you can tell me if you like or don’t like something and we can change it.” He repeated, “Ours. Let me show you something else.”

Pulling her into the short hallway that led past the loft’s far wall, he opened another door. “It’s not very big, not big enough for a bedroom, but this can be whatever you want it to be, baby—an office, so you can keep the accounts for the clubhouse straight without having to be there all the time, a fucking craft room, if you are into that. Are you into that?” he asked, and she shook her head. “Thank God, I don’t even know what a craft room is, but the guy who did the painting mentioned it.”

He paused, and then said what he’d been leading up to, “It could also be a nursery. It’s the right size—” She dragged in a deep breath, opened her mouth, and then closed it. “No rush, baby, but something to keep in mind,” he said as he shut the door, moving back to the bedroom.

Scooping her up and setting her on the edge of the tall bed, he asked, “So what do you think, Ruby? Anything you want to change about our home before we get furniture in here?”

She shook her head with a soft smile, reaching up to cup his cheek with her palm. “I think it’s good as-is, babe. Still getting used to the ‘ours’ part of this,” she said, stretching up to kiss his lips softly.

They camped out for a couple hours on the bed, eating lunch and talking about the apartment and the finishing steps that still needed to happen before they moved in. Slate expected them to be installed within a couple of weeks, but he told her they would keep his room at the clubhouse for lockdowns and parties.

He asked her dozens of questions about her preferences in things like kitchen storage, small appliance brands, thread count on sheets. He asked her anything he could think of, because he needed her to talk freely with him, needed to hear her voice like it was a drug he’d been denied for far too long.

Leaning against the headboard, he held her in his arms, draping her legs across his lap and pulling her close. “You got questions for me, Ruby? Ask me anything, baby. I’m an open book for you,” he prompted her, resting his cheek on top of her head.

She was quiet for a minute, and then surprised him by asking, “Will you tell me about your childhood?”

“Aww, baby, that’s so long ago. Lemme see...I was born and raised in Wyoming on a working ranch. My daddy died when I was a teenager, and we moved to town to live with my grandparents. I have a little brother, but you know that; you heard about Benny’s shit a few weeks ago.” He tilted his head back, looking up at the ceiling fan.

“Your family?” she asked, encouraging him to continue.

“My grandparents are still in Wyoming; GeeMa’s a kickass woman. God, I love her. I phone her at least once a week, more often if I can. She keeps trying to set Myron up with some sweet girl from her church,” he laughed, “and I think he calls GeeMa as much as I do; they could talk for days.”

“Your mom?” she asked softly. She tipped her face up to look at his face, and he caught her lips with his for a quick kiss. “She lives in Denver,” he clipped. Her eyes found his, and he saw she was puzzled at his short answer, but he really didn’t want to talk about his mother right now. She’d fucked up enough shit for two lifetimes for him, and he didn’t want her in his head or his life. “Any other questions, baby?” he offered, sliding a hand slowly up and down her back, shoulder to hip and back again.

She tucked her chin down, a sure sign she was uncomfortable. Mumbling a little, she asked him softly, “Have you ever been in love?”

He nodded his head. “Hard questions, that’s good, baby. You mean before you, right?” he asked, and he was rewarded with one of her smiles. “There was a woman I could have loved, but she needed something other than me. I helped her find what she needed, and then got back in the wind. See this?” He pointed to the inside of his left forearm, where the compass was. “This is the lesson she taught me— ‘Never let your fear decide your fate’. Lottie was fearless; she simply had to find it inside herself again.”

He looked down at her. “Remember the girl I told you I left in Chicago?” She nodded. “I was infatuated with one aspect of her, but when I saw the whole person, there was nothing there for me,” he said softly. “She didn’t fit me, not like you do, baby. She wasn’t you.”

Ruby relaxed into him, and he continued stroking her back softly, slowly. “Actually, there is someone I loved.” He pointed to his right forearm. “This was her lesson to me—‘We live with the scars we choose’.”

Ruby had tensed up again, and traced the tattoo with one fingertip, asking softly, “You loved her?”

He nodded. “Yep, still do. Carmela is easy to love. She is a gorgeous thing.”

Hearing her breath catch in her throat, he decided he couldn’t tease her like that. “She was also a child in a terrible situation, and I helped rescue her. The tat reminds me how we choose to live can be because of—or in spite of—our experiences.”

Pulling back to look up into his face, she asked, “A child?”

He nodded. “Yeah, we grabbed her from a situation in Juarez, Mexico. I was hanging with the Southern Soldiers from Las Cruces then, trying to find my place. We set off a cartel war that wound up in my favor, oddly enough. Estavez, president of the Machos, you’ve heard of him?”

“Yes, he was at the clubhouse a couple weeks ago,” she whispered.

“Well, it turned out Maria Luisa Carmela Estavez is his daughter,” he said quietly, “and he would do anything in his power to ensure she stays safe for the rest of her life, including helping me save my brother’s life and owing me a marker.”

Ruby slowly relaxed again; he could feel the trust she gave him seeping into his bones like the warmth of the summer sun. Slate gave her another, final chance at questions. “Anything else, lover? Any other questions for me?” He saw a quick smile cross her face, and she shook her head.

“Okay, baby, now it’s my turn, but you can still ask me anything, anytime,” he whispered into the hair on the side of her head. “What do you want me to call you?” he began with what he hoped was an easy question.

“Ruby,” she responded quickly, “that’s your name for me, and it means something.”

He nodded. “How long have you been around the club?” He already knew the answer to this, but it was a good lead-in to what he really wanted to know.

“Around
a
club since I was about ten, I think. Lockee and I went to school together, and my folks were…inattentive at best. She’d invite me over, and we’d play under her dad’s desk. Then, when Bingo came to Fort Wayne, Winger decided to merge his club into the Rebels. I’ve been around the chapter since the beginning.” She shrugged. “I’ve known some of the guys all my life, it feels like. They’re my family.”

“I know what you mean, baby. I have my blood brother, but never felt like I was part of something real until Mason pulled me into the Rebels in Chicago. I’d been riding around the country for a few years, working and staying a while in one place, then pulling up stakes and riding again. Met some interesting people, but I always seemed to gravitate towards the clubs, where they acted like brothers...like family,” he closed his eyes, talking slowly.