Heathens & Hold Ups (Book 2 of the Heathens Duet)

Chapter 28- Kace

         I'm struggling. We all are except Jax. Asshat's practically been floating around the bunker for the past two days. I haven't said a word, but we've all noticed the dip in first aid supplies and the raised spot under his shirt. I'm not sure I want to know what his crazy ass has been up to. He called Dario to meet him up Sunday and the two were gone for hours. Trust is the only thing keeping me from demanding answers. Neither of them is stupid enough to risk us. Or her.

The Hamiltons have been holding up at home all weekend. Pretty sure only those there at the bank, the authorities, and his accountants know about the theft. Narcissistic fuck's ego couldn't take it. He wouldn't want anyone to know his family had no liquid assets, especially since he had no clue when or if it would be recovered. D explained it better, calling it less of a theft and more of an elaborate shell game with shells only he could see. At least that's how I understood it. He was flapping his arms around while he was telling me and I had to do my best to dodge flailing limbs while trying to follow what he said with what he was doing on his computer. To Hamilton the money was gone and that's all that mattered. Him and his family needed to feel like they had lost everything, even for that small amount of time.

We returned the money yesterday. Well, D did and it's been quiet ever since other than Rivers and his abscess of a partner stopping by. We caught it all on the cameras in her apartment.

I should feel bad about them, but I don't. Kaitlyn would wring my neck if she could see me now, talking about how I could go clean up the barn if I wanted to act like an ass. Older sister, she refused to let me embarrass her by acting like I didn't know how to treat a woman. I huff at the memory. I don't think she ever believed the official story. Traces of her litter the woods around one of the bunker entrances. Supplies and some of my favorite snacks. It was only by chance that I found them one day. I needed the fresh air, just for a moment. She'd camouflaged them well under a tarp and leaves, but she's still my sister. I know her like I know the back of my hand. She'd help if we asked, but I can't let her do that. She's too close already and I don't want her and the rest of my family dragged in the mud with me. Still, I had to let her know in my own way. One snack is all I took. If I thought her harassment of the Hamilton's and their shady business practices was bad before, I should've known my actions would have only fanned the flames. If only I could talk to my sisters. Monroe might know something. I think she used to be friendly with one of the Hamilton kids. No. Even when I want to shove them away, family is all I know I can always fall back on. Blood or bond, and Walkers don't back down. If Kaitlyn's making waves, I should warn the others. They need to prepare for a tsunami.

Callie handled it well even if she shouldn't have to. The agents circling around her like sharks, Rivers most of all. We all feel it, he's dangerous. Tenacious and smart in a way his partner isn't. He asks the right questions and we can only take a gamble on the conclusions he's forming. If he was an immediate threat, we'd have to make a move. But instead he's unpredictable. Outside of his partner, he hasn't even let anyone in on Calista's identity. Dario's checked, alerts ready to go and erase any traces of her the minute he tries to bring her to light. Nothing. I'm not the only one whose Spidey senses have tingling.

Riggs needs help. Help that none of us can give him. Not until we make things right. Playing with Callie brought some of his light back. We all saw a brief flash of our old leader as he made her come on his lap. I'd hedge a bet it only happened because we were all there. He trusted us to keep her safe from him. Doesn't matter how many times I try and tell him it was an accident. She forgave him even as the bruises were still healing, but only he can forgive himself. His bruises are deep and though we saw the aftermath, still do of his captivity, we still can only guess at all he went through. Especially since he refuses to speak about it. That place shattered something in him and none of us have been able to piece together the pieces we brought back.

I don't blame him. None of us do, not even Dario. Our youngest brother is fighting his own demons, but he knows he can rely on him to help him when he falls. The only reason Riggs allows us to help him is because we refused to listen to any of his protests and he was too tired to fight us. If I'm honest, I'm not sure there would be any of him left to fight had we walked away.

The four of us have been dancing around things. Watching the cameras when we think the others aren't. Alright, maybe that's just me and Riggs. D and Jax don't care if we know they're all in. As much as I want to believe, I just don't see how this works. Even that feels like a lie. Dario and Jaxson make it work easily. Riggs is in if he wants it. Callie has made no secret of how she feels about him.

It's me. I'm the one struggling with turning this impossible dream into a reality. She looks at me and all I can see is her face in the rearview as I abandoned her to her fate. It doesn't matter how much I second guessed myself in the car on the way back, the way my brothers dismissed me when I returned, their faces full of disgust and disappointment. None of that changes the events that followed, what would have happened had we never found her. Eyes glazed on Riggs' lap in her apartment, how much of the way she looked at me was real and not just the hazy fog of lust?

My guitar would cough out a cloud of dust if I touched it now. A glimpse toward it in the corner shows it coated with a thin film of the stuff. I've tried touching it over the past year, strumming a few tuning notes and setting it right back down when every song reminds me of her anger, her sweet heart I don't dare think I deserve. She's wildfire and rain. Spring in all its raw glory.

Callie had heard me play. I remember the night, vividly as I do every moment she spent with us. Even when I didn't want to. Fought it like I could dig her presence out from beneath my skin where she had burrowed herself a home. I think we both were aware of how fragile our truce was. Every time she fought me with her words, I had to resist the urge to bend her over the couch and rut into her, as if that was capable of shutting her up. I wasn't deaf and though the bunker walls were thick, the acoustics bounced off them like a concert hall. I wasn't the only one going to sleep with blue balls and showering in frigid water. The way she looked like a deer in the headlights when she hissed in pain. Frozen and skittish. Walking away was the only thing I could do as raw as I felt in that moment.

Music was my heart, always had been behind football. When that was taken away, music was all I had left. That and the army. I hadn't played in front of anyone since we returned home. I'd try and my mind would send me back in time, to right before my world went to shit.

My eye on the horizon plays tricks on me as Dario limps into view, alone. The memory is sharp and I can still smell it. Heat so strong it fills your nostrils, the pungent musty stench of sweat, desert dust. My heart beating too fast as I tried to make a miracle appear. Muttering prayers to a god I hadn't believed in since he took football from me. Promising any and everything for Riggs to appear in the distance as the alarm sounded the camp. My body shutting down and my blood running cold as Jaxson found me, shaking me as the shock set in. His clear thinking is probably the only reason we got him back. I was useless while my best friend, my brother was going through hell. It's nothing compared to what they went through, I know that, but it haunts me just the same.

The others may have heard me messing around but they never opened the door, letting me hide away and deal on my own as we all did. It's so easy now to see how adrift we were until she came to us.

Fuck.

It was so simple to dismiss the enormity of my fuckup when she was safely behind a screen. Impossible to have and her hating me felt like an idea rather than a reality. Her woodsy eyes burn through me, a wildfire sweeping me up in their righteous fury. Maybe that's what the others saw. That spark I so easily dismissed as a spoiled princess was a warrior. She slayed her dragon and so quickly picked up her sword again to help Riggs.

I pick up my guitar, blowing off the dust and despair, and slide my notebook closer, flipping it to a fresh page. Tuning the strings, the start of sorry whispers in the back of my mind. A song that sounds like her little growl of anger as she bandaged my bruised knuckles when I thought I was defended her against my brother, her laugh when she hustled us all at poker, and the sweet way she tasted like sugar and coffee and mine before it all blew up in my face. I bury my head into the frets and let the music flow out of me. I'm not the guy with the words. My sisters got the brains and the beauty in the family. What I do know is how to show how I feel. Guitar strings and heart strings have never been all too different to me and love feels a lot like four chords.