Rock point collection, p.74
Rock Point Collection, page 74
“He gives you the creeps?” I can hear the smile in his voice.
“That’s what I said.”
“I’ll call him off, but I’m sending Honon out there, just in case. What are you doing at the Verizon store anyway?”
“We’re buying Ahiga a phone.”
“Sprite, you know the kid’s deaf, right? What the fuck is he gonna do with a phone?” I don’t even bother answering. I know the penny will drop eventually and he doesn’t make me wait long.
“Fuck. Of course. Good plan.”
I’m still grinning when I end the call and find Lea looking at me slack-mouthed.
“Man, I’ve known Kaga for over a decade, and I’d like to think I manage him well. You’ve known Ouray how long? And you handle that man with some serious skill.”
“You heard him?” I ask her curiously.
“Every single word. I can feel that sexy deep rumble of his in my bones.” She fans herself dramatically and I snicker at her antics. “But don’t you go telling Kaga that.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
TWENTY-FIVE
Ouray
“Rowtag! My office.”
The kid, who’s been slinging drinks since he got back, swings his head around in my direction.
“Wapi can take over at the bar,” I add before turning my back on him.
I’m already seated, my feet on my desk, when his lanky form follows me inside. My hands itch when I see stubborn defiance plastered all over his face.
“Chief?”
“Close the door, cub.” I wait until he does what I ask, and then point him to a chair. “How long have you been with us now?”
My question seems to throw him off and he takes a moment before answering. “Five years, sir. I was fifteen.”
“Right. And in that time, what have we taught you?”
“How to be a man, Chief.” He’s starting to fidget in his chair, his eyes darting around the room like he’s expecting something to jump out at him.
“What makes a real man, cub?”
Beads of sweat dot his forehead. “Loyalty, integrity, and respect.” He mumbles the three core values we try to instill in the boys, but he can’t fucking look at me.
“Ah, so you do remember?” He lifts his eyes briefly before going back to studying the floor. I suddenly sit up and drop my heavy boots on the floor, startling him. “So why the fuck is it when I tell you and Wapi to help with groceries, your ass sits in the van, jabbering on the phone? And why, when my old lady tells you to head back to the clubhouse, you disrespect her too? And it’s not the first time you’ve done that either. How many times do I have to call you in here, kid? How many warnings does it take before you start to grasp those values you still seem able to recall? I have a fucking mind to take your vest right here, right now, but that’s not all up to me. It’ll take a vote, and it’s fucking tragic that we’ll be voting on whether or not your ass can stay, instead of voting to make you a full-fledged member. But that’s on you. Now get the fuck outta my office!”
My voice has steadily been rising, especially when the little asshole’s eyes turned mean at the mention of Luna. He gets up, knocking his chair over in the process, swings the door open violently so it hits the wall hard, and pounds out of my office. I rub the back of my hand over my eyes. Fucking cub.
Most of my anger is genuine, but it’s also strategic. My gut tells me he’s involved in whatever is going on, it wouldn’t surprise me to learn he was part of at least some of those robberies. With the kind of temper he has, provoking him—calling him out—may trip him up.
A few minutes later, Kaga sticks his head around the door.
“Y’all right in here?”
“Done with the kid, brother. Dylan on him?”
“Rowtag went tearing out of here on his bike, but he wasn’t far behind.”
-
Surprisingly, Momma’s welcome home dinner—for which some of the brothers pulled the folding tables and chairs out of the shed—is more subdued than I’d expected. I may well be to blame for that. Apparently most of the clubhouse was able to hear me tear a strip off Rowtag who, by the way, still hasn’t returned.
Dylan got back right before we sat down, but only managed a shrug. I assume that means he lost him.
The younger ones are eyeing me cautiously, instead of their normal antics at the table, and even the brothers seem quiet. Although that may have something to do with our earlier powwow in my office.
I filled them in on the events of last Friday night. Told them the agreed upon story: part truth, part ruse. How the cops found stolen guns in the back of Paco’s truck, with me in the driver’s seat and took us both in, until they discovered my injuries were to the wrong side of my head to have been caused by a crash, and promptly released me. By the time I was done answering all the questions fired at me, my head was pounding, and I pulled out the bottle of pills. That quieted the room instantly. The guys aren’t used to me being off my game—neither am I—but I played it up a notch, asking them to keep business running until I could get back on my feet.
I hate the deception, it goes against everything I stand for. It feels especially shitty since I just preached to Rowtag about the core values I’m breaking myself.
A deep sigh escapes me and I press my fingers against my eyes.
“Maybe we should get going?” Luna leans over, putting a hand on my chest. Something that clearly doesn’t go unnoticed, since I suddenly find most of the focus on me.
Momma moves first, getting up and ordering the kids to clear dishes. The rest follow suit and in minutes the tables and chairs are folded and taken back to storage, and Luna is hustling Ahiga out the door.
I dive into my office to grab my smokes off the desk, when Yuma follows me inside, clapping me on the shoulder.
“You sure you’re okay, Chief? Let me know if there’s anything you need, I’m stickin’ around here tonight anyway.”
Christ. I must be giving the performance of my life if it’s getting Yuma to voluntarily stick around when there’s a whole world of untapped pussy to explore.
I grunt in response and hoof it out of there. I can’t handle much more of this touchy feely shit.
“Chief, a minute?”
Dylan catches me right before getting into the Traverse—on the goddamn passenger side.
“What?” I snap.
“Update on the kid,” he says, ignoring my foul mood. “Couldn’t get too close with my bike, but I managed to follow him going south on the 160, then got stuck behind a slow truck. By the time I got around, he was gone. Drove through to the hospital, checked around that neighborhood for a bit before backtracking. He may have cut off on the 550, gone up through the mountains, or turned around and is somewhere in Durango, not sure. Wanted you to be aware.”
“And now I am. I just want this over with,” I grumble, climbing in the SUV so Luna can fucking chauffeur me around.
I can feel her eyes on me, but I keep mine straight out the windshield until she finally backs out of the spot, and drives us the two minutes it takes to get to my place.
“Feel like a movie?” she asks, when we walk inside.
“Heading to bed.”
She turns to face me and tilts her head to the side. “You know what? You do that. But don’t baby that miserable mood for too long—God forbid it sticks.”
Luna
I’m glad to get out of the house this afternoon.
The past forty-eight hours have been a barrel of laughs. Ouray is showing the strain, pacing around like an angry bear. Poor Ahiga is mostly hiding in Momma’s kitchen or his bedroom at the house, and I’m tired of walking on eggshells around everyone.
Maybe this was a good test run on that cohabitation Ouray suggested, and I’m relieved I didn’t give my landlord notice yet. If this is any indication of what living with the man would be like, I’ll hang on to my little cottage, thank you very much.
Especially after this morning’s visit to the doctor.
To say Ouray wasn’t pleased with the man’s assessment would be an understatement. I was pretty pissed myself, but mostly at Ouray. When the doc ran a simply eye test on him, it became obvious the knock had done more than just give him a cut on his head. He never mentioned any blurry vision to me, but apparently it’s enough to impair his vision. Probably temporary, something the doctor assures us can clear up with proper rest. No work, no driving, at least not until his appointment next week.
I dropped both of my temporary roommates off at the clubhouse before coming here, where Dylan is left to keep an eye on things. I’ll update him later.
“The prodigal daughter returns,” Jasper jokes when I walk into the office.
“And you have no idea how happy I am to be here.”
“Uh oh, trouble in paradise already?”
I plop down in my chair and smooth my hands over my desk. “Don’t get me started. I have a scary matriarch breathing down my neck, waiting for me to cross some invisible line, while I’m helping her feed an army of locusts I’m supposed to be scrutinizing. My prime suspect has been on the lam since Monday, and we don’t seem to be any closer to solving this clusterfuck. To top it off, I get to spend my nights with a troubled kid who’s fast crawling back into his shell, while Mr. Congeniality grunts, scowls, and hides in his room. If this supposed to be domestic bliss, let me take a hard pass.”
Jasper apparently finds this funny. “Ahhh, did you hear that?” he says to Damian, who is just sitting down at the large conference table. “Our little moon goddess is in love.”
“I know,” our leader confirms, not looking up from the file he has open.
I look from one to the other, my mouth open. “You’re both clearly nuts,” I protest. “How on earth do you manage to conclude that from what I just described?”
“You wouldn’t care so much if this was just an assignment, now would you?” Jasper points out.
“Was sich liebt das neckt sich” I look at Damian who shrugs his shoulders. “It’s true,” he adds.
“Since when do you speak German? And what is that even supposed to mean?”
“Same damn thing, Luna. If someone’s worth fighting with—he’s worth fighting for.”
Since I have nothing sensible to say to that, I hold my tongue. The silence stretches on until Jasper finally caves. “Shall we get this show on the road?”
The briefing nets little. No one saw what happened to the truck or Ouray Friday night, according to law enforcement in Ruidoso. The description the sales clerk at the gun store gave was identical to previous witness accounts, nothing new there either. This time the clerk complied with the robbers, and was lucky to escape with only bad dreams. One is already dead and that poor old guy in Bloomfield was not so lucky either. Edward Burchfield still remains in a coma in an Albuquerque hospital.
The fingerprints found on the truck belonged to one Nathan Phillips—Paco, as I know him—and the others belonged to Britney Hughes. The only other fingerprints were Ouray’s and those were just found on the steering wheel and nowhere else. No leads there.
Nothing on Britney either. Wherever she is, she never came back to her small apartment. Jasper mentioned her mailbox looked to be overflowing and none of her neighbors can recall seeing her since last week.
The only interesting bit of news was that the guns in the back of the truck didn’t total up to the number actually taken. Whoever was trying to stick it to Ouray, obviously had a hard time leaving the entire haul for the cops to find.
I locate Ahiga in the kitchen at the clubhouse, where Momma is already preparing dinner. Nosh sits at the table with him, apparently working on math problems. It reminds me, we shouldn’t wait too long to see if we can get him integrated into the school system here. As soon as things settle down. Of course we’ll first have to get this case solved, because until then I don’t feel comfortable letting him out of our sight.
“Need a hand?” I ask Momma after waving hello to the two at the table.
“Almost done here. But what would be welcome is if you can cheer up that pain in everyone’s ass.”
“Ouray?”
“That’s who I’m talkin’bout. Never seen that man go an hour without a smile. At this rate, he’ll have forgotten how to if he ever gets out of this funk.”
“He’s under a lot of stress,” I find myself defending him. “The doctor’s visit this morning didn’t help.”
“What’d he say? He didn’t feel like sharin’.” Momma turns to me expectantly.
“Still grounded. At least until his next appointment in a week.”
“Well shit. I ain’t gonna survive one more week of this. Or maybe he won’t. Folks are steering clear of him. Except Kaga, that man always liked taking risks.”
“I’ll go check in with him.”
I walk out of the kitchen, ruffling Ahiga’s too long mop of hair on the way, and trying to come up with a way to tell Ouray we’re not much further in our investigation.
“I have an idea,” I suggest, finding Ouray staring out the dirty window, not even turning when I walk in.
“What’s that?” he asks, turning slowly, and it strikes me how tired he looks.
I slip behind the desk and force my way on his lap, running my hand along his beard. “Why don’t we ask Momma if she can pack some food up for us, and head over to the house. We haven’t had a chance to give Ahiga his phone yet. I had Jasper program a few things for him this afternoon. I can show him over dinner. It should lift his mood a bit.”
“His mood? Sure you’re not talking about me?”
“I wouldn’t dare,” I tease, jostling him a bit. “I mean the boy, he’s been withdrawn, and I don’t want him to go back where we can’t reach him. This tension is starting to wear everyone down, but he’s most vulnerable.”
I know I’ve managed to reach him when he tilts his head back, closes his eyes, and lets loose a juicy curse under his breath. “I’m an ass. It’s because of me, isn’t it?”
Proceeding with caution, I first press a soft kiss on his mouth. “In part,” I whisper, my lips against his before I straighten up. “But also because he’s more in tune than most. His lack of hearing makes him more sensitive to the undercurrent. He picks up on facial expressions, body language, and—”
“And moods,” Ouray finishes for me.
“Yeah. He was starting to feel safe here and now he can tell something’s up. I can imagine it might make him feel less sure about his place here.”
“And you think the phone will be a way to show him we’re not looking to throw him out any time soon.”
I grin into Ouray’s blue eyes that look clear enough from where I’m sitting. “Something like that.”
His arms snake around me tightly. “How’d you get so smart?”
“A degree in psychology helps.”
“Yeah?” For the first time in days I see a tentative smile crack through his sullen mood. “What does your degree tell you about me?”
“That you’re scared,” I say immediately, not holding back. His body stiffens right away and his smile disappears. I put my hands on his cheeks and lean in, trying to soften my words. “Anyone would be in your situation, honey. You carry a lot of responsibility for a lot of people, you don’t know who you can or can’t trust, and to top it off your body is letting you down. It all piles on and there’s nothing worse than feeling helpless against the wave of shit you know is coming.”
It takes a few minutes but finally the tension leaves his face and his shoulders, and he looks up at me, his eyes glittering through his lashes.
“Like I said—smart.”
I let out a sigh of relief before speaking. “You don’t have to carry it all alone. I’m here. I want to help you shoulder the weight. I know you’re not used to sharing—heck, neither am I—but we’re stronger if we just hook our arms and hold onto each other to face the storm.”
“Fuck, Sprite. I’ve tried hard to be a good man, and you still make me wanna be better. Not sure how I deserve you, but I ain’t letting go.”
TWENTY-SIX
Ouray
Glad to see you managed to dislodge your head from your ass.
I drop in the chair across from Nosh, who is having his morning coffee in the kitchen.
Good fucking morning to you too, old man.
Momma slides a mug in front of me, and I throw her a smile.
“Now there’s a sight for sore eyes. Have you eaten?” she asks.
“Yeah. We had breakfast at the house.”
“So where did you leave Luna and the boy? Are they off to Aztec for his appointment?” She walks over to the large whiteboard on the wall that doubles as a calendar. Momma’s way to keep track of everyone.
“Tomorrow. They’re just heading over to Walmart to grab the boy a decent jacket and some boots for the winter.”
“We probably have some stuff here,” Momma suggests.
“She wants him to have his own things.” I grin, I already had this discussion with her last night, which got a little heated and ended in bed, Luna riding me. Needless to say, I folded like a wet tissue on the shopping spree.
“She’s really bonded with him, hasn’t she?”
“Yeah. She gets the kid.”
What if things don’t work out with CPS? Nosh points out, referring to the meeting our lawyer set up in Monticello for the second week of October.
We have a good relationship with Child Protective Services in Durango. They pop in, every so often, to see how the younger boys are doing. That’s a relationship we’ve been able to build on over the years, but we haven’t dealt with the CPS in Monticello before, and it’s always possible they won’t like our setup. That’s why we have Lawrence Brimley, he worked for the Colorado Office of the Child’s Representative, the OCR, for years and has a stellar reputation. Our luck he retired and moved to Durango years ago.
