Behold the Stars Page 3
He’d never even named the mousers. She’d named everybody, the kittens—two black and white boys, a solid black boy, and two calico girls—and the mousers, after Dickens characters. The kittens were Pip, Tim, Dodger, Biddy, and Estella. Mom, a little ginger tabby, was Miss Havisham. Not that the snoot cared in the slightest whether she had a name. The other mouser, a huge black tom and very likely the baby daddy, was Fagin. He steered clear of people. There was another cat roaming around, Isaac said, but Lilli had never seen him or her.
When she filled the bowls and freshened the water, all of the kittens came rolling onto the porch, mewing at her and crawling over her feet, so she sat cross-legged on the floor and got in some quality time. Havi, the mama, came up the short steps and sat at the edge, watching, occasionally licking a paw and sweeping it over her whiskers. Sitting on the floor with kittens crawling on her, feeling the pinpricks of tiny claws kneading her arms, Lilli finally began to feel a little calmer. The kittens got to a part of her she didn’t really recognize. She hadn’t figured that out yet, but she loved having a lap full of them.
She sat for awhile, looking out over the yard. The summer had been hotter than normal, and the fall warmer, so the leaves turned late, and the yard was burnished with autumn color. The big sugar maple was on fire with brilliantly red leaves, the late afternoon sun streaming through. It was pretty here. And quiet—the only sounds natural, animals and rustling foliage. She liked it. It was getting late, though, so she lifted sleeping Stella and Dodger from her legs and went back into the kitchen. She figured she should probably make some dinner. She didn’t know when Isaac would be home, but he was rarely very late without calling.
~oOo~
She was deep into chopping vegetables for stir fry, her mind turning the day at the clubhouse over and over. She didn’t have the guys’ respect. All they saw was a woman lying limp, her clothes in tatters, at the feet of a predator. Even Isaac now saw her as someone to protect, someone who’d stand behind him, not beside him. God, she hated that. The more she replayed the day, the more agitated she got. The knife was flying through carrots and peppers and onions.
And sweet Jesus, here she was cooking fucking dinner, waiting for her man to get home. God, she was even barefoot! All she needed was to get knocked up—which Isaac was dying for—and she’d be living the cliché. What the fuck had happened to her life?
She wasn’t paying enough attention, and finally the big knife went right through her forefinger, slicing off a sliver from the tip. Motherfuck! It hurt like hell, and she dropped the knife and stuck her finger in her mouth. Her chaotic, angry thoughts already had her tense; now, her finger stinging and bleeding freely, she just snapped. She hacked at the big wooden cutting board with the knife, then just threw it all, knife and board, with its piles of chopped vegetables, across the room. Still not satisfied, she cleared everything off the worn old prep table. Two of the kittens had stumbled inside through the pet door; now they beat it back out to the porch.
Lilli stood in the mess, panting. Well. That was new. She was clearly losing her mind. Her hand felt wet, and she looked down to see that her finger was bleeding quite a lot. She was leaving a little puddle on the floor, and there were a couple of thin stripes of splattered blood on the walls, apparently from when she threw shit. What a mess. And she was still shaking.
Fuck it. Fuck it all. She left the mess, went to the bathroom to bandage her finger, then got dressed and went for a run. Just fuck it all.
CHAPTER THREE
It had taken Isaac longer than he’d expected to get out of the clubhouse and head home. The meeting had been long and tense, and afterwards, he, Show, and Bart had sequestered in his office for a couple of hours, working through some plans. The Horde was going to work with Lilli and her team to try to work Ellis from his flank. The vote was split, with C.J. and Dan protesting vehemently the idea of an old lady so deep in club business. Even though he, too, had voted to send Wyatt to his maker, C.J., who’d been Wyatt’s sponsor and close with both Ray and Wyatt Hobson, harbored a stewing kind of ill will toward Lilli, Isaac suspected. He’d have to keep an eye on that.
And Dan had just about blown a gasket at some of Lilli’s parting shots. Isaac had talked him down, he thought, but he was going to need to talk to her about watching her mouth. A woman just did not throw around terms like “circle jerk” at MC members sitting around their table. Not even Lilli would get away with that more than once.
Lilli’s black Camaro was parked outside the garage; Isaac pulled his Dyna up to the house and dismounted. It looked like she’d done a lot of work in the yard. The thought of her shaping things up and making her mark on the place made him smile. He stepped carefully over the herd of kittens doing acrobatics around the porch and went inside.
“Hey, Sport!” he called. He hoped she wasn’t working. They needed to talk. Things between them had really been off today—more than just today, in fact—and he didn’t like it. Something was up with her. She was tense and restless a lot of the time.
A kitten—one of the black ones, so … Tim? Dodger? Whatever—ran into the front hall, the leafy green end of a carrot dragging along from between his teeth. Isaac bent down and picked up the little shit, pulling the greens away. The kitten batted at it, and Isaac laughed and set him back on the ground. Lilli must be making supper, and since she didn’t answer, she must still be pissed. Great. Isaac walked through the living room and into the kitchen.
Where he stopped dead.
Jesus. Oh, Jesus.
The kitchen had been ransacked. There was food everywhere, the big knife was on the floor, the cutting board was by the door, two chairs were turned over. And, oh GOD, there was blood. A pool of it on the floor, and stripes of it on the walls, the floor, the cabinets.
Oh, Lilli. Oh, no.
He pulled out his burner and dialed. As soon as Show answered, Isaac jumped in. “Show, they got Lilli. Jesus fucking Christ, they got Lilli!”
Show was calm, but his voice was sharp. “What do you need?”
“I gotta find her. Sweep—who’s in?”
“Everybody but Ceej. You want me to send ‘em out?”
He pushed panic back as hard as he could and tried to think. “Yeah—fuck, we’re thin. You, me, Len east on 44. Dan, Havoc, and Vic west. Bart, Badger and Erik in town.” Wait—Badge didn’t have a bike yet. “Badger in the van. Dom stays in the Hall.”
“Got it. I’ll send ‘em out. Len and I’ll be ready to ride when you get here.” Isaac put the burner back in his pocket and ran out to his bike. If Ellis had her—he shook off the thought and rode back into town, keeping his eyes peeled all the way.
~oOo~
Riding down I-44, no sign of Lilli or any vehicle that might have her, panic pounding in his temples, Isaac almost didn’t realize his phone was buzzing against his chest. Not bothering to slow down, he pulled it out of his kutte and looked. Bart. He pulled to the shoulder; Len and Show followed suit. “Yeah!”
“Got her, boss. She’s good. She was running. Got her in the Hall now. She’s pissed, but she’s here.”
Relief came over him so fast, Isaac thought he might actually puke. Then rage came up right behind it. “Thanks, brother.” He gritted it out through clenched teeth and ended the call. He wound up and almost threw his phone into the weeds, but he pulled back at the last second. “Motherfuck! Son of a bitch! Goddamn motherfucking son of a bitch!”
“Isaac, what? What’s up?” Show was on him, grabbing his shoulder. When Isaac faced him, he saw real worry, and he realized that he hadn’t said yet that she was okay.
“She’s fine. Bart has her at the clubhouse. She was running. Jesus! There was blood all over the kitchen! What the hell?”
Len and Show were laughing, but Isaac found no humor in the situation at all. He should probably tell Bart to have a Prospect take her home, because he didn’t trust himself to be around her right now. But no. He wanted her where people were keeping track of her. He wanted her to stay the fuck where
she was. He’d just have to keep his hands to himself until he’d figured out how to calm down. “Both of you shut the fuck up and let’s go.”
They mounted their bikes and headed back to Signal Bend.
~oOo~
Isaac was in the lead when they walked into the clubhouse. Lilli was at the bar, a bottle of Bud in her hand, laughing with Dom and Bart. Apparently she was over being pissed. Good for her. He sure the fuck wasn’t. She turned when he came up—no, she was still pissed, just saving it for him. He didn’t say anything at first. He stared at her, and she at him. He wanted to grab her and drag her back to his office, but he knew that would cause an explosive scene, and he had recovered enough equanimity to want to avoid that. So he just said, “Office?”—making sure to make it a question, lest she kick up a fuss about him giving orders. She waved her hand in an “after you” gesture, and he walked through the Hall without another glance at her. She’d better be following him.
She was, and he closed and locked the door behind her. He spun back to her, ready to yell, but she was standing there, alive and unhurt—wait, the blood. He grabbed her arms, looking for a wound, and found it on her finger. All this shit over a cut finger? He pulled her into his arms and held her tight. She held off at first, but then put her arms around his neck. “Fuck, Lilli, you scared the shit out of me. I thought you were hurt or dead or—I didn’t know what to think. I thought I was gonna stroke out.”
“I was running, Isaac. Just running. It’s a thing I do. You know that.”
He pushed her away a little. “Not anymore you don’t. No.”
“What?” She pushed away a lot, shoving at his chest until he let her go. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”
“Who do I think I am? I’m your old man. I’m the President of this MC, I run this town, and it’s my fucking job to keep you safe!”
“You are completely deluded. You’re arrogant. And you’re an asshole. It’s not your job to do anything about me. I take care of myself. I do what I want. Go where I want. When I want.”
Oh, he was not in the mood for her warrior woman bullshit. “Are you stupid? Did you forget there’s a fucking army of assholes about to come down on our heads—already doing drive-bys past our families? And you’re out running? After dark? You must be stupid.”
He knew that would kick her anger up a notch or two, and she didn’t disappoint. She took a swing at him—and not some pussy slap, but a roundhouse punch. It was the roundhouse that saved him. Too much swing; he saw it coming and caught her fist in his hand. She spun, trying to get his arm behind him and tip the power balance, but he was ready for that, too, and dragged her back against his chest. “I’m bigger and stronger than you, Sport. Give it up. You need to calm down, and we need to talk.”
For that, he got an elbow in the solar plexus. Hard. Winded, he loosened his hold, and she broke free. “You are a cocky piece of shit, Isaac Lunden. And you don’t know me at all if you think you can make me do anything.” She went for the door.
With two big strides, he got there at the same time and blocked her. “You’re staying put, Lilli. You are not leaving this clubhouse without me.” This time she jabbed, and got him in almost the same place as her elbow. Ow. “Fuck, Sport. I am trying very hard to keep my cool. You’re not making it easy.”
“Yeah? Well, fuck your cool. Come at me. You pulled all your punches in the ring today. You think I didn’t know what you were doing? Asshole. Come at me. Let’s go. You’re so big and strong. Show me how you can protect me better than I can myself.” She swung again, but he deflected it. The woman was out of her head.
He was 6’7”, 280. She was 5’9”, maybe 130. Only thing giving her an advantage over him was speed. He was not going to swing at her. He wanted to—fuck, he didn’t think he’d ever wanted to hit a woman as much as he wanted to hit her right now. But he was not going to. The memory of knocking her down in the ring was still painfully sharp in his head.
He had to get out of this room. He reached behind him and opened the door. “I’m gonna take five, so we can both calm down. You stay put. Do not leave this room. You do, and I will have you hog-tied right in the middle of the Hall and dragged back here, I swear to God.” He meant it. He walked out and closed the door on her screamed “FUCK YOU!”
Where had his levelheaded woman gone? This was the kind of drama he’d been assiduously avoiding most of his adult life. He went out into the Hall, and came face to face with his club and its attachments, all trying awkwardly to pretend like they hadn’t heard at least 90% of the fight. Fan-fucking-tastic.
Show walked up and handed him a beer and a shot. Isaac nodded and tossed back the shot, then took a long, calming draw from the beer.
“I talk to you a minute, boss?”
Isaac sighed. What kind of trouble couldn’t wait until he had Lilli sorted out? He was tired. So fucking tired. “Yeah. The Keep.” He turned, and Show followed. Before they got to the door, he went back to the bar and put his hand on Len’s shoulder. Speaking at his ear, he said, “Do not let her leave that room. Understand?”
Len grinned, and Isaac wanted to shove that look right down his throat. “You got it, boss.” With a pat to Len’s back—rather harder than what might be considered friendly—Isaac went back through the Hall and into the Keep. Show was already sitting in his chair; Isaac joined him, taking his seat at the head of the table.
“What’s the trouble?”
Show cleared his throat and sat forward, arms on the ebony table. “Not club business. Not directly, at any rate. This is more brother to brother. I know you’ll say if I’m out of turn. But I’ve been married a long time, Isaac. Maybe I know something about women, the way they think. Much as any man can know the mystery that is the female brain. I see something going on with you and your lady, and I want to give you my view. Might help.”
Isaac’s sense of offense was so extreme that it looped over on itself and landed back at amusement. He laughed. What an epically shit day. Now he was sitting at the Horde table, literally the seat of his power, whatever that was, getting relationship advice from a guy who hadn’t fucked his wife in eight years. Shit, Show hadn’t fucked anybody in eight years—just the random clubhouse blowjob. The worst part was Isaac needed the advice. He was completely baffled by what was going on with Lilli.
“Say your bit. I reserve the right to kick your ass when you piss me off.”
Show nodded. “Noted.” He paused for a moment, and Isaac knew he was collecting his thoughts. Show thought first, always. “Things are intense around here. More intense than I can remember in a good long while. There’s danger in town like never before. You know I know that—Daisy, Rose, and Iris getting followed home twice, needing an escort to and from the school bus now. That’s hard to swallow. It’s hard to leave them, and Holly, every day, wondering if this is the day the Northsiders aren’t going to be content only scaring our women. Holly’s ready to homeschool the girls, but that won’t even help. So I get it, Isaac. I’ve got a beast in my belly, gnawing away every second I’m away from my family. I understand.”
Isaac nodded. He knew that Show had even more to lose than he did. He couldn’t imagine being afraid for his children. No, that was wrong. He could imagine it. He imagined Lilli pregnant and in danger, he imagined Lilli and their baby in danger, he imagined all of it. But for him it was imagination. For Show, it was reality.
“But my girls are helpless, for the most part. Holly hates guns. We fought tooth and nail when I insisted I have my guns in the house. They’re locked up so tight they might as well be somewhere else. She refused to learn to shoot. You know she tries to ignore most things about the club. She likes to think of me as a feed store manager, nothing more. When I’m on club business, she says I’m off at ‘my club,’ like I’m on the fuckin’ golf course. She won’t even let us have a dog for protection, because she’s afraid it would turn on the girls. Somebody comes into my house when I’m away, my family will die. Or worse.”
He was quiet a
gain. Isaac had nothing he could say, so he sat and waited to see if Show had more. He did. “Lilli’s not like Holly. She’s an actual soldier, Isaac. Shit, she was a combat pilot. She’s trained with more weapons than we’ve ever seen, and with hand-to-hand fighting—not just brawling, but actual technique. She could kick half our asses in a straight-up fight. Maybe more’n half of us.” He looked pointedly at Isaac. “Even if we weren’t pulling punches.”
“Was it that obvious?”
Laughing, Show shook his head. “Not to everybody, probably not. To me, to Lilli, probably Len? Definitely.”
“Well, what was I supposed to do? Bloody my woman’s nose? Break her ribs? I’m twice her size! Not to mention that I love her and don’t want to see her hurt!” He was yelling, because Show was pissing him off. He was fucking tired of being told he was wrong because he was trying to take care of his woman.
“You’re assuming that you could hurt her—and yeah, if you make contact, you’re gonna. But even pulling punches, you barely could touch her. She had you, brother. She saw how you fought, and she used it against you. She’d’ve won that spar straight up. With her brain, not her fists.”
Isaac was weary, and he was angry. He took a breath and held his temper. “Yeah, she’s smarter than me. Great. Get to the point, brother. What’s your big advice?”
“Just this—think of what happened in the ring as a metaphor. While you were pulling punches, she was learning the fight. And she saw you pulling. She knows what she can do, and she knows you don’t believe it. Now, women, far as I can tell, they need their self-concept. You know what I mean? They can’t just be in the world and do their thing. I think we do that better, not care so much what people think. Women, though, they need to be able to define themselves by what they do and how they’re known. I’m not saying I understand it all, because Holly confuses the fuck out of me half the time, and don’t even get me started on daughters. But I wouldn’t be surprised if it hurts Lilli that you think she’s weak—that you don’t trust that she can take care of herself.”