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  Isaac released his arm roughly and sat back. “Fuck. You see our problem?”

  He nodded again. He saw—he’d seen at the time, too. He’d known how bad he was fucking up while he was fucking up. But he hadn’t been able to stop.

  “That’s a lot of trust you’ve lost, Badge. Trust you gotta build back up. You want that kutte back, you gotta build that trust.”

  Isaac was offering him a second chance. His heart sang at the thought of getting his kutte back. For a brief, glorious second, he felt good. He felt hope. But then he realized that he had no way of building back the kind of trust he’d squandered. “How?”

  “I don’t know, little brother. I don’t know.” With that, Isaac stood. He laid his hand on Badger’s head for a second, and then he left the room. Davey came in right after and took the chair out.

  A second chance without any hope of attaining it. Meaningless.

  ~oOo~

  Len came to see him the next day. He was feeling well enough that he thought he could have gotten dressed, gone out, moved around a little, but he was still locked in, still without anything to do but confront his own mind. He’d thought a lot about what Isaac had said, and what he hadn’t said.

  He wasn’t feeling so hopeless. There wasn’t much hope, but he felt a little. Enough to make him restless in his cage.

  Len came in and sat on the end of his bed. Badger was up and pacing. “I need to get out of here, Len.”

  “No can do, Badge. Not until Tasha says you’re all the way through it.”

  “She hasn’t been here for…” He wasn’t sure. “Like…two days or something. How would she know?”

  “She’s paying attention. And she’s a doctor. Why don’t you sit?”

  “I’ve been sitting for days. I need out. Fuck, I’m goin’ crazy.” He didn’t know how to start fixing anything or if he even could, but he knew he couldn’t from this room.

  “Badge. Sit. Now.”

  Len had sponsored Badger when he applied to prospect, and he’d been his mentor since long before that. When he was still in middle school, Badger had ridden his Huffy down the road to Len’s and asked for work. Len had given him work—shit work, hard, grueling tasks that made Badger sometimes want to weep from the exhaustion. But he’d paid well, and he’d paid even better in knowledge, teaching Badger everything there was to know about horses. He immensely admired and respected Isaac and Showdown. But Len was his guide. That it was Len who’d torn his kutte off his body had hurt more than anything else.

  Now, he did what he was told and sat, on the side of the bed, pulling his leg up and turning so that he could face Len. No more looking away. That had to be the first step. There were steps, right? Twelve of them, or something. He didn’t know what they were, but facing himself and everybody else had to be the first one.

  So when Len looked him hard in the eye, even his eye patch seeming to see into him, he looked right back.

  “I want to talk about Hav.”

  At that, Badger almost looked away anyway. He couldn’t do that, couldn’t talk about Havoc. But after a single blink, he made himself hold.

  “What’s your last memory of him?” Len’s gruff voice was quiet, and it broke in the middle. He cleared his throat.

  What Badger remembered about that day, that place…was pain. Fear. Helplessness. Hopelessness. He remembered the room they’d taken him into again and again. He remembered them taking his skin—and what they’d done to it. He remembered horror and pain vividly, but little else.

  He didn’t remember Havoc almost at all from that time. He didn’t remember Len or Show much, either, but it was far worse not to remember Havoc. He’d died there, and Badger had no memory of it. That felt like a betrayal of his brother, and there was no way he could undo it.

  He shook his head. And then he dropped his eyes, ashamed.

  “S’okay, little brother. I want to tell you my last memory of him—the one before he died. Because it’s about you.”

  Badger looked up.

  “You were in real bad shape. We all were, but, Badge, you were dyin’. Right there in front of us. They’d caved in your chest, and they’d…fuck, they skinned you alive, and you were dyin’. Hav wasn’t in much better shape. They’d taken all his fingers and just left his hands to bleed. He was worried about you. He couldn’t get a pulse on you, because of his hands, so he called me over when I woke up. I found a pulse, but you were on the way out. I told him to let you go. I’m ashamed of it now, but I was out of hope, and you were sufferin’ so bad. Jesus, it hurt me to see what they’d done.”

  Badger felt ill—enough that he looked around for the bucket he’d been using—but he didn’t stop Len from telling the story.

  “Hav wouldn’t let you go. He got you to talk a little and he asked you to find one good thought. Your best thought. You said you didn’t have any, and he called bullshit. He told us his best thought. He got you to say yours. You don’t remember?”

  The urge to puke had passed, in favor of the urge to weep. Badger swallowed to stop the sobs massing in his throat, but he didn’t try to dam the tears. Those he let fall. He shook his head.

  “It’s okay, little brother. I’m glad you don’t remember. Even with what I felt that day, I can’t imagine what it was like for you. But Hav kept you going. He helped you find something to fight for. You told us your best thought. You know what it was?”

  He knew what his best thought was. He didn’t know if he’d said it out loud, and he didn’t know what to say now.

  “It’s okay, Badge. Show was still out of it when you said it. And I haven’t said anything. He doesn’t know.”

  So, then, he had said it out loud.

  “Adrienne.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I hurt her.”

  “Yeah, you did. She’s okay—she’s pretty much healed now. And I don’t think she’s holdin’ a grudge. She asks about you every day. But you did hurt her. That day, when you said she was your best thought, and I thought you were dyin’, I was mad. At you. For wasting that chance when you had it. Wasting it because you’re afraid of Show. Well, you made that worse. He will kill you now if you so much as nod in her direction. But I say you figure out how to fix that. Because you don’t walk away from someone you love. Ever.” He punched Badger lightly on the arm. “You love her?”

  “I hurt her.”

  “Not what I asked, Badger.”

  Did he love her? He’d made himself not think about that much. He’d tried hard, anyway, not to think about that. He and Adrienne had started a friendship with a kiss. A really incredible kiss. That had been four years ago. Since then, they’d only been in the same place six or seven times, when she’d come for a visit.

  When she was in town, they’d hung out a fair amount. Not really doing anything—watching movies, riding horses, knocking around in town. They’d made out a few times, but nothing more than that. Not even any over-the-clothes action. And she’d initiated everything. Of course, until recently, he’d never made a move on any girl. Not even the club girls. He’d been a total pussy that way. And every other way.

  He’d stopped everything at kissing, because Show had been clear that Adrienne was off limits, and he was not about to go against a brother—and most certainly not Showdown.

  But they were good friends, and they’d kept in close touch online and by text and video chat. He’d thought they were close. And he knew it was him who’d broken that, who’d pulled away. He also knew that she was hurt and confused.

  “Badge.”

  “Yeah. I love her. But I hurt her. And not just when Show stopped me. I knocked her down the day before.”

  “Shit, kid.”

  “Yeah.” Badger looked down at his hands, which had done the things he’d described. He curled them into fists and slammed them down on his thighs. “Fuck.”

  “Remember what Hav did to Cory?”

  He remembered. Hav had hit his old lady in the head with a sledgehammer. But it was nothing like what he’
d done. “That was different. That was an accident. And he was nuts after his sister…”

  Had been beheaded by Martin Halyard. Which was how they’d ended up in Chicago, killing Halyard. Which was how they’d ended up in the Perros’ House of Pain.

  “He was outta his head. Right. And we made space for that. Cory made space for that. Right?”

  Unsure what Len’s point was, Badger just stared.

  “What you went through, Badge—that’s crazy shit you had to deal with. More than even me or Show. I’d say you were a little nuts, too. Adrienne believes you didn’t mean to hurt her, and I do, too. And everybody knew what happened with the drugs could happen. Tasha told us you would probably get hooked. We told you to let us know when you were in trouble, and we were looking out so we could catch you. There’s space for you, too. But you have to give yourself some space so you can trust us. We can’t trust you if you don’t trust us.”

  “I don’t know how to fix it.”

  “Stay clean. Man up. Take your lumps. And talk to Show. Be straight. I think I can get you your kutte back when you leave this room if you can get right with Show. If you can’t, then I don’t know what to say. Because, Badge, he sees a little bit of Daisy in Adrienne. What she might have been. That makes Adrienne real special to him, and seeing her hurt—if you don’t get right with him…you gotta get right with him.”

  Badger nodded, but he had no earthly idea how to get right with Show, who’d seen him at his very worst, hurting the girl in whom Show saw his murdered daughter.

  There was no way to make that right.

  ~oOo~

  When he was a kid, every Christmas Eve after church and supper, Badger’s mom and dad would let him and his older brother, Jason, have their filled stockings. The family had never had much money, but they’d always had full stockings and one or two presents under the tree. When they were young enough to believe, Santa came while they were at church. Santa was eventually revealed to be their dad, who only went to church for weddings, christenings, and funerals. But before they knew better, their dad always had a big story about helping Santa unpack his sack. Then he and Santa would sit on the porch for a spell and share a smoke.

  Before they could have their stockings, though, they had to sit in front of the television, all four of them, and watch their mom’s favorite Christmas movie on VHS: Scrooge, with Albert somebody or other. Some English guy. There was singing. Badger—Justin, in those days—had always thought it was pretty lame. It was old, and there was, you know, singing. But they’d sit there with their tantalizingly full stockings dangling from the mantle, drinking homemade virgin eggnog and eating sugar cookies shaped like stockings and Christmas trees and sprinkled with colored sugar, and they’d watch. Their mom sang every song. And she always cried at the end.

  And when it was over, they tore into their stockings, which always had a bunch of cool, junky little toys and good candy.

  Also fruit. There was always an orange in the toe. Badger didn’t think either Jason or he had ever eaten their Christmas orange, but they always each got one. Usually, they ended up hitting each other with them. A stocking with an orange in the toe made a pretty good weapon.

  It was a good memory, and Badger knew that movie by heart. He probably always would.

  When Show walked into his room much later in the same day that Len had been there, Badger laughed a little. Like Ebenezer Scrooge, he, too, was being visited by three ghosts. Isaac, the ghost of his Horde past; Len, the ghost of his Horde present; and now Show, looking still furious and terrifying, the ghost of his Horde future.

  Show came in, closed the door, and leaned back on it, his arms crossed over his chest. One look at his stony features told Badger that there was nothing he could say to gain this man’s trust. Nothing.

  So he didn’t know what to say. Show didn’t say anything, either. For infinite seconds, the room was a vacuum, the silence sucking Badger dry of any will or strength. He had to say something.

  “I’m sorry, Show.”

  “I’m only here because they won’t let up about it. They’re stupid to send me back here, because what I want to do is rip your fucking hands off and shove ‘em up your pussy ass. So you got something to say to me, you say it, and I’ll get out before I do just that.”

  But there was nothing he could say. Nothing he could do.

  “I fucked up so bad. I don’t…I want to fix it, but I don’t know how.”

  Show’s eyes narrowed dangerously, but he said nothing.

  “Show…please.”

  Show huffed. “I don’t give a rat’s ass about the drugs. We knew it could happen. I get it. You’re a junkie piece of shit for putting the club at risk with your damn lies. After all we’ve been through, to—” He gave his head a sharp shake. “But I can set that aside.”

  He came off the door and stalked forward, his arms unfolding and his enormous hands curling into bricks of fist. “But you put hands on Shannon’s girl. My girl. You screamed in her face. Called her names. Bloodied her. You hurt an innocent girl. A girl who fuckin’ cares about you. That makes you dead to me.”

  “I’m sorrier about that than anything. Anything. I don’t know how to make it right.”

  “You want your kutte back, you promise me right now that you will never speak to her again. I mean not one fucking word. Ever. You don’t fucking look at her. Ever. You make me that promise, and I will not stand in the way if they want to give you back your kutte. I’d fuckin’ burn it if it were just up to me.”

  He could have his kutte back if he made that one promise? Badger stared at Show’s ominous face. His kutte. His club. He needed that so bad. He needed it. He was nothing without the Horde. He was nothing.

  But Adrienne was his best thought. He loved her. He thought about what Len had said. You don’t walk away from someone you love. Ever. But she was better off without him. Show was right about him, right in every way. He was a pussy. A liar. A junkie. And he’d hurt her.

  You don’t walk away from someone you love. Ever.

  “I…Show, I love her.”

  One of those massive fists burst forward, and Badge’s head snapped back, his nose feeling like it had utterly imploded.

  “No, you don’t. That’s not how you treat somebody you love.”

  You don’t walk away from someone you love. Ever.

  Blood ran down his throat and down his chin, and his voice sounded bizarre, plugged and garbled, but Badger persevered. “I do. I fucked up so bad. But I do. I love her. I won’t ever hurt her again.”

  A fist to the side of his head. He fell to the mattress on which he’d been sitting, his head ringing like a church bell.

  “I will beat you to death right now if you say that one more time, asshole. Try me.”

  You don’t walk away from someone you love. Ever.

  Knowing what it meant, knowing that Show could and would do what he said, Badger closed his swelling eyes. “I love her. I love her, Show. I do.”

  His eyes closed, he waited for the painful end he deserved.

  There was nothing. Then he heard the door. When he opened his eyes, Show was walking through it.

  He left it open behind him.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “Hey, little one. Got a minute?”

  Seated cross-legged on the bed in the little purple room, Adrienne looked up from her Mac. Her digital Nikon was still connected to it, so she dragged the camera icon to the trash. As she looked up and smiled at Show, who was leaning against the door frame, she pulled the linking cable free.

  “Hi. Yeah, sure. Come in.” She set her camera aside and closed her Mac. Show didn’t need to see that she’d been looking at photos she’d taken of Badger.

  Shannon and Lilli had taken Lilli’s kids and gone to Springfield for the day. They’d invited Adrienne along, but she hadn’t been feeling it. She’d been distracted and vaguely ill all week, worried about Badger. The thought of pretending to be bright and chipper during a day of shopping for baby stuff and wande
ring around the town’s little zoo with two kids was too exhausting to entertain. So she’d begged off.

  Shannon didn’t know anything about what had happened, because everybody had decided that her wacked-out hormones had her too emotionally fragile to deal with what Badger had done. She thought he was away from the B&B recovering from a beating he’d taken at Tuck’s, and she thought Adrienne had been hit in the mouth when her car door blew closed on her. She’d believed those stories completely. Adrienne supposed they were a lot more believable than the reality that sweet Badger was a violent junkie and had hurt her.

  Instead of going with Shannon and Lilli, and with the whole day to herself, Adrienne had wandered around Signal Bend and the surrounding countryside, exploring and taking pictures. And then she’d come back and uploaded them to her Mac. She’d ended up going through all the photos she’d taken during the years she’d been coming to Signal Bend. Thousands of them.

  A lot of pictures of Badger. He was—he was beautiful to her. It wasn’t just his looks, which were great. It was the way you could look at him and just feel like you knew him. When he didn’t know he was being observed, when he was simply at rest with himself, his natural expression was serious but still kind and intent. She’d always thought of it as the way somebody would look who was, like, writing poetry in his head or something. Like his mind was always working, like he was always seeing more than other people could see.

  She had a lot of pictures of him not looking at the camera, pictures he didn’t know had been taken until after the fact, if then. In her favorite shot, he was leaning against the railing on Isaac and Lilli’s porch, a flowered coffee mug in his hand. He was looking down and to the side, exactly as if he were exploring a thought. His long hair was loose, which was rare, and a gentle breeze blew it lightly around his shoulders. His beard was full and lush.

  Adrienne could look at the photo and see through her camera’s eye that she’d loved Badger long before she’d internalized that truth. Not half-love. Real love.