Vacant MC (The Nighthawks MC Book 11) Page 5

  There was a knock at the door, and Sigrun let in Georgia. She was short and plump, her dark skin pleasantly contrasting with the plum scrubs she wore. “Stop the show,” she said. “Haven’t hit that episode yet.” She came in with a medical bag.

  Wraith stopped the scene, mid-sword swing. “I sat or slept all day. Kept my brace on. Stretched legs and arms only. Ribs are only cracked this time, but they hurt like a son-of-a-bitch. Ass bruises are fading.”

  “And your pain level is?” asked Georgia. She checked the wrappings around Wraith’s ribs.

  “Seven to nine without the meds. Two with the meds.”

  “Good,” said Georgia. “Show me the bottle.” Sigrun brought it over while Georgia took her vitals. Georgia peered in. “Excellent. Take one more in an hour. I know you feel annoyed because you’re sleeping so damn much; but do it anyway. Better to sleep now and get the healing over with, than to stay up late watching those two fight all night.” She pointed at the screen, then made a note on her tablet. “Now, love, lay down so I can see the bruises.” Wraith showed them to her. “Sorry that recliners don’t have a laying-on-your-side option. Why not lay your head down on your wife’s lap?” Georgia knew they were poly and didn’t care.

  “Lovely idea,” said Sigrun.

  “Makes it hard to drink my peach tea,” said Wraith. Sigrun stood, went to the kitchen, and brought back a covered cup with a straw.

  “See?” said Georgia. “Crisis averted. Now lay down, eat a pill in an hour, and go to bed about an hour after that.” Sigrun poured the peach tea into the cup, put the cup on the floor, and sat down again.

  “Yes, Ma’am,” said Wraith. She put her recliner up, and Georgia helped her slowly tilt into Sigrun’s lap. The cat leapt up and laid curled up next to Wraith’s belly.

  “I’ll see myself out,” said Georgia. “Got two more patients to see before I get to sit down to the show.”

  “Thanks,” said Sigrun. The door shut. “I gotta lock it, babe,” said Sigrun.

  “I’ll do it,” said Saber. He was wearing blue shorts and nothing else. He locked the door, came back, and kissed them both. “I smell garlic.”

  “Fettuccine alfredo with chicken and garlic bread,” said Wraith, pointing toward the kitchen. “Sigrun is a cooking goddess. I worship her.” Sigrun laughed.

  “She is,” said Saber. He walked lightly on his feet. Both women watched him, looking for damage, physical or mental. None was apparent. He heated the food and ate silently. They put their program back on.

  Saber put the dishes in the dishwasher and went to the bathroom to brush his teeth. He brought in a Coke and put it in the hole in the arm of the double recliner. Wraith moved her feet, and Saber sat. He took the mint foot lotion out of his shorts pocket and rubbed her feet.

  Wraith groaned. “Don’t ever stop,” she said.

  They watched for an hour, then Sigrun pointed to the medicine bottle. “She needs a pill. She managed to get shot with her vest on. Caught her at a weird angle from very far away, or she’d be dead,” she said conversationally.

  Saber dropped his jaw, then closed it. “What the fuck happened?”

  Wraith and Sigrun took turns telling the story of the expanding Soldier Pack, Joru, the rape, the coverup, the assassin, and Gregory and Henry’s update on the dead killer, plus Frenchie’s version that Wraith had gotten when she got home from the hospital.

  “Good-god,” he said. “Did we find out who covered it up?”

  “Frenchie, Gregory, and Bannon are on it,” said Wraith. “When they find out, his ass is grass.”

  They watched two lords having it out in chambers, then Sigrun said, “What did you do this time?”

  “First, I got farmed out. Took down an asshole money launderer that the FBI Financial Crimes Unit has been after for a while. Razzled and dazzled the admin, then the FBI took over and turned her to bring down her boss. The admin got a plane ticket out of state. Then, I laughed my way through a job as a comedian. I kid you not. The club owner was dealing drugs and guns out of the basement. Ecstasy and military-grade weapons. Nailed him trying to leave the country in his Maserati, was actually going to drive it onto the plane.”

  He had to stop while Sigrun laughed and Wraith wrapped her arms around her middle, trying not to laugh. He told a few terrible jokes but had to stop when Wraith got too sore and kicked him.

  “Then, went under deep. Too deep. Messiah guy, kept everyone in prairie clothes and literally hit people with Bibles. Sick fuck he was. Building an army of believers, complete with machine guns, wanted to take over the town in the valley below where his people scratched out a living on a hillside, bunkers carved into the rock, I kid you not. ATF and FBI didn’t want to hurt the teens —most of them were teens, on the run from drugs, abuse, or prostitution. His way of life was a step up from where they came from. I came, I believed, I showed initiative and promise. Then, I got the women and the babies out through the secret tunnel. Lied to them, told them the orders came from their messiah-guy. Turned out he was spiking their ‘fresh spring water’ with compounds that keep you highly suggestive. He suggested his followers should suicide. Some did before I shot his ass. Twice. He’s alive, but not by much. FBI and ATF brought in deprogrammers, got his followers to some deprogramming farm. Most of them can’t go back to what they used to know, which was usually the street. David Harvest, the jerkoff.” He laughed without mirth. “Thought his name was given to him by God to harvest the souls of the unbelievers.”

  Sigrun helped Wraith flip over and put her head in his lap. He stroked her hair, careful with her neck. Sigrun took over the foot rubbing duty.

  “The thing is, if he had cared about anyone other than himself, he could have been a great leader. He really did save those kids, gave them a new path.” His voice grew hard, his eyes shadowed. “But then he decided to repopulate the world from the standpoint of having to end it and start over, and he started raping fifteen-year-olds and calling them his wives.” His voice vibrated with anger and pain.

  “What can we do to help them?” asked Wraith. “We’ve got the ranch…”

  “And Wolfpack coming out of their ears,” said Sigrun.

  “Land,” said Wraith. “We need it to do an identical program. With the Valkyries. Girl rescue.”

  “Kinda being done with Ghost’s program, but I don’t think hers is official,” said Sigrun. “Was going to look into it this week.” She snorted. “In my copious free time.”

  “A preggers or gay program. Or tranny, any of the above,” said Wraith, slowly.

  “Anything for you, love,” said Saber, “But some of that may be mutually exclusive. Some preggers girls are running from religious-right families, and have been taught all their lives that gay, trans, bi, all of that is horrible. Not their fault. Anyway, wouldn’t want the two bouncing up against each other, rubbing each other raw.” He sighed. “Plus, money, logistics. House parents. Relocation into new lives. Angry teens that need serious counseling.”

  “Turn them Wolfpack,” said Sigrun. “Those kids are paying for their own educations, apprenticeships, vehicles, apartments, what have you. They keep inventing new businesses. Lily had to hire a virtual assistant and bring another accountant into her business. Give them control over their own lives.”

  Saber leaned back his head and gave out a sigh. “Can we work on this tomorrow? Or next week? Sigrun, are you through with your projects?”

  “The oil has to dry, but yes. Turning in the entire semester’s portfolio and defending it tomorrow.”

  “Then, let’s go to bed. I’ve got about twelve more hours before my biological clock resets to normal. Sneaking around all night in a bunker isn’t good for the sleep pattern.”

  Sigrun helped Wraith up and led her to bed. The cat squawked but followed. Saber took all the drinks into the bedroom and put them along the shelf, just above the padding. Saber got the middle. He started with Wraith, because she needed sleep even more than he did. He kept his weight off her, raising her legs and ki
ssing her thighs. She came twice even before he started pushing her button, wiggling his finger, then striking with a tongue like a wild, purposeful snake. Sigrun held her, one leg over her middle, and prevented Wraith from bowing her back with pleasure. She came in great guttering gasps and sobs. Sigrun handed over the wet wipes, and Saber cleaned them both up.

  Sigrun helped roll her onto her side so she could kiss or touch. Then, Sigrun grabbed Saber by the balls, rolled on a condom, and guided him inside. “I’m so wet,” she said. “Now.”

  He groaned as he slipped inside her. He put his hands on the sides of her face and thrust into her again and again. They both released with a yelp and a cry. Saber rolled over, spent, and Sigrun took the condom and cleaned them both up. She herded everyone under the sheet, except the cat, who wanted to snuggle at Wraith’s belly. They laid there for a long time, kissing and gently stroking. Exhausted, wanting to sleep, but unable to keep their hands off each other.

  “I got a new job,” said Wraith, kissing Saber’s shoulder.

  “What?” said Saber. “Lead with the important stuff, woman… not just the getting-shot bullshit you like to get into.”

  Wraith laughed. “I work for Bannon and Gregory now. I’m running the business from home, freeing them up to actually, really help people. Doing the keeping-track-of-everyone’s-shit, getting new clients, but they don’t need many more. Bannon’s gotten into this record label, indie, for teen girls, protecting them from the industry, getting a stream of clients that way too.”

  “What the fuck?” said Saber. “I go away which, I might add, was for only a few weeks this time, and I come back, and everything’s changed.”

  “Feels like you’re adrift on the sea,” said Wraith. “Got to find your lighthouse again, or a new one. I hated that, being a new person all the time, and coming back to having the deck heave under my feet. Like living on a houseboat, going out in a sub, then coming back to find the houseboat’s moved.”

  “What the… damn,” said Saber. “That’s exactly it. And, it went downriver, or to a lake, or to a new ocean entirely.”

  Sigrun nodded. She was drifting off. She hadn’t gotten a nap that day. “Umm. But, it’s still your houseboat. Bigger cat is all.”

  “Damn thing grows every day,” said Wraith. The cat purred loudly, making them all laugh.

  “I got off the sub,” said Wraith. “Now, I direct other people’s subs, but keep them close to home. More like… sailboats.”

  Saber smiled. “Okay, enough with the nautical metaphors. Well, one more. Do you want me to go out, or stay home?”

  “Up to you,” said Wraith. “I get it, but my body, mind, and emotions just won’t do it. Not anymore. I turned a corner, became someone else.”

  “Up to you,” said Sigrun. “We miss you, but we love homecoming.” She snuggled in closer.

  “Not ready to… stop going out on the boat yet,” said Saber. “But, I’m getting closer.” He reached up and pulled the three ring boxes out from under his pillow. He opened the first one, took out the ring, and put Sigrun’s hand on his. He took Wraith’s hand and slipped the ring on. “With this ring, we pledge our troth,” said Saber. Sigrun repeated his words, tears streaming down her face. “We will love, treasure, and hold you, fight at your side, raise our children as one, and walk into the sunlight forever, together.”

  He took out the second one, took Wraith’s hand, and slid it on Sigrun’s finger. This time, Wraith said the words with him, her voice strong. Then, Wraith opened the third box, grabbed Sigrun’s hand, and they slid the ring onto his finger, and pledged their troth to him. They held each other for a long time, tears streaming down their faces.

  Sigrun and Wraith both looked at the rings, silver carved with a complex interlocking pattern. “Gorgeous,” said Wraith.

  “Amazingly lovely,” said Sigrun. They passed around the wet wipes, then Sigrun said, “I have to defend my portfolio tomorrow, then start a thesis project tomorrow. We need to sleep.”

  “Wait, what’s the thesis project?” asked Saber. “And, you’re an undergrad.”

  “Starting my graduate school. Those little feather things you see tied to doors? I designed those, then some ladies at the res put them together for me. Regina and some of her friends. Selling them by the case, not just in Vegas, but in Reno and Tonopah, and Pahrump too. Selling replacement feathers and nontoxic glue to attach them, as well. Going to Tahoe on a ride with the Sisters, bring some to sell then. Anyway, paying off my debt as fast as I can. Going to start my master’s degree. Gonna design and print cool 3D hands for kids without them. They’ll need them every year as they grow. Students from our college, the other one, and the university. They are literally all on board. Someone donated the printers and enough supplies for the year. The college donated the room. I’ve also been working on coding, learning how to make my designs a reality. Looking into drafting, anatomy and physiology, and also drawing limbs. I may do some work with the Soldier Pack, too, designing better artificial limbs for soldiers more cheaply,” said Sigrun. “Kind of making up my own major here, but it will be fun. I can really, really help people.”

  “New houseboat,” said Saber. “Definitely a new houseboat.” He kissed her. “A lovely new houseboat.”

  “Stop with the nautical metaphors,” said Wraith. They all laughed, and fell asleep, arms and legs over one another, with Roxie the cat purring with pleasure at having all the family back together.

  “Doing things over and over again and expecting different results is insanity. It’s also boring.”

  3

  Additions

  “The idea when you make additions, is to make everything better than before.”

  Bao picked her daughter up from the park. Hu was suntanned, and her hair was in a queue down her back. She floated up on her skateboard, something Bao had resisted, but her daughter wore pads and a helmet.

  “How did it go with Grandmother?” Bao asked.

  “Honored Grandmother wants to move back to China,” said Hu. “She should do so. Many of the shopkeepers here are angry with her for the way she treated you. She has reformed, but she has lost face.”

  “Do you think your grandmother would fare well in China?” asked Bao.

  “She would,” said Hu. “At first.”

  Oh ho, thought Bao. My daughter shows her true insight once again. “And why only at first?” Bao asked her daughter, curious to hear more.

  Hu took off all her pads and her helmet, and then stowed them in the back with her skateboard. She slid in and plugged in her seat belt. “First, you would have to buy her a house. There are many empty places far away from the big cities that have less pollution that would be pleasant for her to live, but they would be far away from her old neighborhood. She would need to take the train or fly to visit them. The cities are very crowded, and a nice apartment would still be at least half (or less) of the space she has now. She would need to make new friends and would try to gain face by doing them favors, or by bragging about you, which is unlikely. She still doesn’t like Daddy.” Hu used the English word, not the Chinese one, to differentiate between the man she barely got to know, but revered, and her new father. “These people would be using her for favors, and they would not be real friends. So, she would become lonely and unhappy.”

  Bao picked her jaw up out of her lap, started the car, and drove sedately to the farm. “So, what is the solution?”

  “You must help her repair face.” Bao opened the little cooler bag full of drinks and snacks attached to the middle console of the back seat.

  Bao sighed. I know, she thought. “And how must I do this?”

  “You must be seen with her in Chinatown.” Hu selected some nuts and a juice, and then hungrily consumed both.

  “How will I accomplish this? I mean, if she cannot say my name, nor wishes to even see me when I pick you up, it’s hard,” Bao added, wondering what insight might come next.

  Hu’s eyes narrowed. “You have to find out her schedule, and ambus
h her there.”

  Bao smiled. “I like the way you think,” she said, smiling.

  “Thinking Chinese is hard sometimes,” said Hu, matter-of-factly.

  “It is,” agreed Bao. “It definitely is.”

  Bao knew where her mother shopped. Dragon Mother couldn’t lose face by simply disappearing. She entered her mother’s favorite tea shop, exclaimed, ran to her mother, and bowed. She nattered on about various teas and bought her mother some of her favorite tea. Bao then exclaimed about the time, bowed, and zipped back out. She did the same thing later in the week when her mother got her hair done —Dragon Mother had a standing appointment, every week, for several years now. Bao zipped in, exclaimed about how busy she was, talked about how well Hu was doing with violin lessons, left her mother a bottle of her favorite lotion, and disappeared again. She did stop in for a moment in several shops, bought things, and did the thing parents everywhere do that drive other people crazy: she bragged on about her daughter, showing pictures, including some of the paintings Hu was doing with Kurt.

  She told Nico about it all at lunch over espresso, herbed bread, pesto gnocchi, and lobster ravioli. “She was so shocked, both times. I was afraid she’d have a heart attack. She played along, but she was deeply confused.”

  Nico laughed. “You’re running a stalk-and-drop. Stalk someone, drop in, deliver a present and conversation, and withdraw until the next stalking.”

  “I am not,” said Bao, “stalking my mother. Alright, maybe I am.” Nico laughed, and kissed her. They squeezed hands before Bao tore off some herbed bread, dipped it in the olive oil, and ate it.

  “What makes this even funnier,” said Nico, “is that you’re trying to help your mom, but she doesn’t see it yet. She’s put you into a category in her brain in the section called, ‘the bad daughter,’ and now you’re not acting according to this category. She knows she was in the wrong; she tried to half-apologize to you.”