Forgiveness: A Lords of Carnage MC Christmas Page 3

  “I can think of something he’s into,” Kylie grins, wiggling her eyebrows.

  Stacia snorts. “Yeah, but he gets that all the time as it is.”

  “Well, but maybe wrap it up in a pretty package, though? Something fun for him to unwrap, if you know what I mean?” Kylie licks her lips. “Like, something really sexy and revealing, with lots of little ribbons and snaps and stuff. And then he could get all he-man, and frustrated, and just rip it off you, and…”

  “Uh, Kylie?” I smirk. “You’re gettin’ kind of carried away there, girl. Isn’t Hale taking care of your ‘needs’ like he should?”

  Kylie giggles. “Well, if he isn’t, that’s your man’s fault. Angel has had Hale going on runs down to Ironwood five weeks out of the last seven. Seems like he’s barely home these days.”

  Little by little, I feel the tension and worry ease from my shoulders as I continue to sip my rum and Coke and jabber with these two ladies. I’m so lucky to have this Lords of Carnage family. The women of this club are the closest friends I’ve ever had.

  As the alcohol finally starts to warm me, I let myself be lulled into a happy, buzzed state, at least temporarily. I push away all thoughts of my negative pregnancy test, and Angel storming out of here, and his father being back from the dead. There’s nothing I can do about any of that stuff right now. I can’t talk to Angel about why he kept these secrets from me until later, anyway. Right now, I just want to do my best to enjoy being here, with my friends, in a place where I feel safe and secure.

  But if I was hoping my hard-won good mood would last through the evening, I was wrong.

  “Hey, look who we ran into in the parking lot!”

  The clubhouse door has opened again. The three of us turn to see Gunner and Alix stride in with Eden and Lug Nut. Behind them, a figure wrapped up in a long, fake fur coat shakes off a few white flakes that dust her shoulders and hat. At first, I don’t realize who it is, but then she takes off the hat to reveal a tumble of brassy, heavily-coiffed blond hair.

  Oh.

  “Trudy!” Jenna stands and runs over to hug her hello. Some of the others move to join her in greeting the ex-old-lady of the Lords of Carnage MC’s former president, Rock Anthony.

  Damn. Maybe we should just nail the clubhouse door shut.

  Stifling a groan, I stand to walk over and do the same.

  I knew Trudy might show up at some point. Jenna mentioned she ran into her last week downtown and invited her. But I was hoping she might wait until the Christmas Eve party to make an appearance — or that maybe she’d end up having other plans.

  It’s not so much that I don’t like Trudy — though, to be honest, I really don’t. It’s more than that. Unlike the other old ladies of the Lords of Carnage MC, Trudy was never very nice to me when Rock Anthony was president of the club. She always treated me like the help — which, to be honest, I was. I was the main bartender here at the clubhouse for over seven years. But unlike her, the other old ladies were always nice to me, and didn’t make me feel like a second-class citizen.

  Trudy, though? It was like she thought it was beneath her to acknowledge me. In all the years I tended bar for the Lords, I could count the number of times she actually said my name on two hands.

  But then she and Rock split up. She kicked him out, actually. It turned out he was hitting her. That’s the one thing I can really respect her for. No woman should ever have to put up with that.

  Not long after that, Rock did something really bad to the club. I don’t know what it was. That’s club business, and no one talks about it. But I do know he disappeared and no one has seen him since. Unlike Angel and Jenna’s dad, though, I’m pretty sure Rock is gone for good.

  Once Rock left, Angel, his VP, took his place at the head of the table.

  And not long after that, Angel and I got together.

  But even now, Trudy still treats me like “the bartender” whenever I see her. If anything, it’s worse now than it ever was. It almost seems like Trudy resents me for being Angel’s old lady.

  But if that’s the case, I’m not sure why. Hell, she didn’t even like being an MC prez’s wife in the first place. She almost never showed up to the clubhouse for any barbecues or parties, or anything. Hell, that’s part of the reason we never even had a proper Christmas party before now.

  Trudy accepts Jenna’s hug, giving her an air kiss.

  “Trudy,” I enthuse, hoping I don’t sound too fake. “It’s good to see you!”

  Her eyes land on my face. “Good to see you, too,” she parrots back automatically, a slight curl to her lip. She’s already looking away, scanning the room. “Jesus, this place looks like North Fucking Pole central. Whose idea was…”

  Suddenly Trudy stops, the words dying in her throat. Her eyes have locked on a figure sitting at a table a few feet away. She turns to stare at Jenna, confusion written on her carefully made-up features.

  “Is that Abe?” she gasps.

  Jenna nods. “He’s back in town.”

  “Well, holy shit,” Trudy breathes. She marches over in her high boots, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of her purse. “Abe Abbott,” she calls out. “It can’t be you, can it?”

  “It is. Hello, Trudy.” Abe rises and gives her his hand. “You look well. I heard about… well, about you and Rock. I’m sorry, Trudy.”

  Trudy gives him a sharp look. “How…”

  “Jenna mentioned it.”

  “Oh.” She pauses a beat. “Well. I’m better off, now. I’m better off without him.”

  “Can I… buy you a drink?” Abe says with an ironic grin, gesturing toward the bar.

  Trudy erupts in an incredulous laugh. “Well, shit. Don’t mind if I do. Prospect,” she barks at the guy behind the bar. “Bring me a vodka tonic.”

  Abe gets up, his chair scraping the floor. He comes up and takes her free arm, leading her away.

  “Dad and Trudy are the same generation,” Jenna murmurs to me as we watch them wander off. “They’ve known each other forever. Maybe it will do them good to catch up. Trudy puts on a good show, but I know she’s been lonely. And of course, my dad…” She trails off.

  I make a noncommittal noise, hoping Jenna won’t notice.

  “Angel still isn’t back,” she frets, her brow knitting. “I was hoping he wouldn’t be quite this mad.”

  In spite of how angry I am at my husband, this raises my hackles. “I mean, you did spring something pretty major on him, without telling him first,” I say, careful to keep my tone neutral. “That was pretty risky.”

  Jenna sighs. “I know. But Dad was bound and determined to come back.”

  “Just to clarify,” I say, as my stomach starts to clench again, “Angel has known all this time that Abe was alive, right?”

  “Yes. He knew.”

  “Who else did?”

  “Just him, me, and Ghost.” Jenna turns to me, about to say something else, but then her eyes widen. I can see on her face that she’s just now realizing Angel never told me.

  “Oh, Jewel,” she stumbles, her face reddening. “I’m sure Angel would have told you. It’s just… well… I’m sure there was a good reason he decided not to.”

  “I’m sure you’re right,” I say abruptly, cutting her off. Suddenly, I’m stone cold sober, and the last place I want to be right now is in this clubhouse, talking to my sister-in-law. “Look, I have to get going. It’s time for me to pick Timothy up from the sitter,” I lie. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

  Jenna calls my name, but I’m already heading back to Angel’s office to grab my purse and my coat. I rush back out, scurrying through the main room, and call some hasty goodbyes to the old ladies as I run out the door.

  I’m halfway to my car before the first tear comes.

  In all the time I’ve been with Angel, I’ve never felt less like his old lady than I do right now.

  4

  Angel

  I pull into my driveway in the truck a little after nine at night.

  Whe
n I get inside, I find Jewel at the kitchen sink, washing up some dishes.

  “There’s some leftover lasagna in the fridge for you if you want it,” she murmurs, not turning around.

  I slip an arm around her, try to give her a kiss, but she shrugs away.

  “I went back to the clubhouse, but you were gone,” I frown.

  “I had to pick up Timothy at Olga’s.”

  The words are normal. But her tone isn’t.

  “He in bed?” I ask.

  She grunts in response. She turns on the sink, rinses off a plate.

  I go to the fridge, grab myself a beer. “You want one of these?” I try.

  “No thanks.”

  Well, shit. Why does it feel like the temperature in here has dropped five degrees since I walked in?

  “You wanna come into the living room when you’re done?” I ask her.

  She lifts a shoulder.

  What the fuck is this? Sure, Jewel and I have our moments, but this is the first time I can ever remember that she hasn’t greeted me with a kiss and a smile when I got home. Goddamn. I’ve had one motherfucker of a day. This ain’t the ideal time for her to turn pissy on me.

  Blowing out an irritated breath, I go out to the living room and crash out on the couch with my beer. A few minutes later. I see the light go off in the kitchen.

  Jewel comes out and sits on the far end of the couch. Her lips are pursed. She doesn’t say anything for a few seconds.

  “So. What happened when you went back to the clubhouse?” she finally asks, a bite in her voice.

  “Nothing. Abe was gone, thank fuck,” I huff. “So were Jenna and Ghost. Good damn thing for them. But I ain’t done talkin’ to them.”

  I eye my wife. The question I need to ask her is right there, burning my throat.

  “Did you know about any of this?” I demand.

  “About any of what?” her eyes widen.

  “Don’t play me, Jewel,” I warn. “Did you know about Abe coming back?”

  Jewel stares at me. Her face transforms into a mask of anger and hurt.

  “How would I know about that?” she cries.

  “How the hell do I know? You and Jenna are thick as thieves! Maybe she told you about it?”

  “Jesus, Angel!” She turns to me on the couch, eyes blazing. “I didn’t even know he was alive! How the hell would I have known he was coming back to Tanner Springs?”

  Fuck. In all the craziness, I somehow forgot about that. I instantly deflate, any suspicion I had about my wife conspiring with my sister quickly evaporating. “Shit. You’re right,” I say grudgingly. “I’m sorry, babe. Wasn’t thinking,” I shrug.

  “No. You fucking weren’t,” she snaps back.

  “Whoa, Jewel. What the fuck? Hold off, okay? I said I was sorry I suspected you. It’s been a bitch of a day.”

  “Yeah. That’s what you’re sorry for.” She flings herself back against the cushions, crossing her arms in jerky movements. Her face is a thunderstorm.

  “What the fuck? What the hell are you pissed at me for?” I bark.

  She lets out an incredulous laugh. “Why? Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because your father has been alive this whole time, and in the over two years we’ve been together, you’ve never once thought maybe you should mention it to me?!”

  I gape at her. “That’s why you’re mad?”

  “You think that’s silly?” she shoots back at me. “I’m your wife, Angel! How could you keep something like that from me?”

  “I wasn’t keeping anything from you!” I insist. “It didn’t matter. Abe was out of my life. He basically didn’t exist. Abe was supposed to be dead. That was the best thing for everyone. If I’d told you, it wouldn’t have changed anything except that you’d just have a secret to hold onto.”

  “Oh, so you don’t even trust me enough not to immediately blab your secret to everyone we know?” she challenges.

  Oh, Jesus. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “Then what did you mean?”

  “I don’t wanna talk about this,” I mutter.

  “No, of course you don’t,” she bites out. “And because you don’t wanna talk about it, then we don’t talk about it. That’s how this goes, isn’t it, Mr. President?”

  A wail from the other room interrupts us.

  “Dammit,” she hisses. “We woke up Timothy.” Exasperated, she puts her hands on the cushion to push herself up.

  “No. I’ll go,” I growl, standing. I haven’t seen TJ awake since yesterday. Plus, it’ll get me out of this clusterfuck of an argument with my wife.

  I stride down the hall into the nursery before Jewel can protest. When I get to TJ’s room, I see he has hauled himself up on his sturdy legs in his crib. When he sees me in the doorway, he wails even louder, and holds out his hands to be picked up.

  “Hey, little man, what’s the problem?” I croon, gathering him into my arms. As always, I get a little pang in my chest when I see how much he looks like an exact combination of Jewel plus me. My chin, her eyes. My forehead, her nose. Almost instantly, he calms down, as he always seems to do when I pick him up. He leans his head against my shoulder, thumb going automatically into his mouth. I listen to his snuffles as he stares into my face, eyelashes wet with tears.

  “You’re okay, bud. Mama and I were just… disagreeing a little bit,” I soothe. “Sorry we got a little loud there.”

  The surge of love and pride that floods through my veins is something I’ve never gotten used to. And I doubt if I ever will. Every single time I look at my son, it happens. It’s fuckin’ true what they say. Having a kid teaches you a level of love you never even knew existed. I’d go to hell and back for this boy. I’d happily be tortured twenty-four seven for the rest of my life, just to spare him a second’s worth of pain.

  I wonder if all fathers feel this way.

  I wonder if Abe ever did.

  The thought comes to me before I can stop it. Shit, before tonight, I haven’t thought about Abe Abbott in ages. I don’t let myself. I’ve tried to bury him as far down deep as possible. Tried to make him as dead for me as he was supposed to be all this time.

  If Abe ever loved me the way I love this little boy, I sure as hell didn’t see it. Shit, Abe Abbott cared a hell of a lot more about being the big shot mayor of Tanner Springs than he ever did about being a father and a husband. At least, for as far back as I remember. He was never really there for me or for Jenna, growing up. I know he loved my mom, in a way, but it was a kind of absentee love. He took her for granted. After she died, he plunged himself even further into his work. To run away from his grief, probably. And his guilt, if he ever felt any.

  I rock TJ absently, feeling his muscles slowly relax. He continues to suck on that thumb of his. His eyes start to droop. I wait for the telltale sign of his slowing breath to let me know he’s fallen back to sleep.

  I wonder if Abe ever did this with me or Jenna. Picked up one of us. Felt this kind of love, and pride. If he did, it was long before anything I can remember.

  As I continue to rock my son to sleep, a memory surfaces — so sudden and unexpected I’m not sure where it came from. A Christmas memory, to be exact. One year when I was probably seven or eight. It was one of the last years I still believed in Santa Claus. I was a big baseball fan, even back then, and my big present from Santa that year was a ball, mitt, and bat set. After all the presents were opened, and Jenna and I helped Mom collect up all the wrapping paper, my dad took me out in the backyard to play catch.

  Standing here now, my nostrils flare at the memory. I can still recall the leather smell of my new glove. It was slushy out in the backyard from a recently melted snowfall, but that didn’t matter. I remember Dad moving back a little farther with every throw, to see how far I could bomb it to him.

  “Attaboy, son. You’re gonna be playin’ for the Reds one of these days!”

  Shit. I haven’t thought of that in years.

  That spring, my parents signed me up for Little League. This was
when Abe was first running for mayor. He was there for most of my games that first year, cheering from the stands like all the other parents. It was the only season he showed up much. He got elected to office that November. After that, he was always too busy.

  I look down at the peaceful face of my now-sleeping son.

  “I’ll always be there for you, TJ,” I murmur. “I promise you that. I’ll always fuckin’ show up.”

  I kiss him on the top of his head, then settle him back into his crib.

  Back out in the living room, Jewel isn’t there. She must’ve gone to bed. Sighing, I slump back down on the couch and grab my now-warm beer. I sit there and finish it, staring into space and thinking about this whole shitty day.

  When I climb into bed beside my wife, at first I think she’s sleeping, her back to me. But then she rolls over.

  “Truce?” I ask.

  “For now,” she says grudgingly. I can tell this ain’t over. “How’s Timothy?”

  “Asleep again.”

  A pause. “Angel, why didn’t you tell me about Abe?”

  I bristle. “Babe, I didn’t do it to hurt you.”

  “I know you didn’t. But you did hurt me, all the same.” Jewel shifts onto one elbow to look at me. “What are you going to do? You can’t just ignore your dad forever, now that he’s back in town.”

  “It’s more complicated than that.”

  “How?”

  I try to think of ways to tell her, how to explain. But I can’t. It’s club business. And it’s a level of heavy she doesn’t deserve to have laid on her.

  How can I explain that if my father hadn’t left town all those years ago, he would have been killed by the Iron Spiders?

  And that if they hadn’t killed him, the Lords might have voted to end him? I might have voted to end him?

  And that now that he’s back — now that I’m president — I have to figure out what to do about all of this, in a way that doesn’t betray my family, or my club?

  “I can’t tell you, babe,” I say, feeling fuckin’ helpless.

  “Angel —”

  “No, Jewel,” I stop her. “You’re just gonna have to trust me. There’s reasons I don’t want to talk about this with you. Maybe eventually. Just not now.”