Chapter 13

(Saint)

Protect doesn’t mean smother

With the lockdown lifted, it was time to get back to business as usual, something Saint looked forward to after the last few days of revelry. Even his liver needed an occasional break from the whiskey. The sound of an automated voice reading a bike manual greeted him when he stepped into the garage where Sinn and Creature had been holed up for most of the day, trying to diagnose what was wrong with Kong’s DYNA. Having learned from a previous mistake, Saint tapped Sinn on the shoulder, then waited for him to pause the book before speaking to him.

“Hey, Mark and I are heading out in a few. Do you need me to snag you some wings or something from the bar before I go?” Saint asked.

“I’m perfectly capable of grabbing food for myself if I get hungry,” Sinn replied, barely sparing him a glance. He was running his fingers over the carburetor he held, mapping out the contours of it.

“I’m aware of that but Teddy is back behind the bar and…” Saint began.

“And what? You think I can’t handle him giving me shit?” Sinn snapped. “If I want food I’ll go get it and if Teddy steps out of line I’ll drag him over the bar and break enough fingers that he won’t have to worry about picking up a bottle and serving anyone anything for the next few weeks.”

“Alright, I hear ya,” Saint grumbled. “Just let Rabbit know when you’re ready to head back up to the house and he’ll take you.”

“Is he planning on taking Night when he’s ready to leave?”

“No, Night said something about being down here late tonight doing prep for the weekend,” Saint replied. “Didn’t know when he’d be up.”

“Well, I don’t know when I’ll be done in here either,” Sinn shot back, “so don’t worry about it.”

“The path up isn’t lit the best…”

“But it is lit and even in the dark I can see the difference between something and nothing, so stop smothering me and get on with whatever it is you’re planning on doing and leave me to my work.”

“I just…”

“Out, Saint, and don’t you dare send Wreck, Rabbit or even Night back here to check on me in a few hours unless you want to get one of them cussed out!” Sinn declared, turning to glare at him like he really wanted to pitch the carburetor at his head.

Saint got the message and left without another word, heading outside to await his brother. Three scents assailed him as he shoved open the door. Salt air, lingering rain, and cheap cannabis; ditch weed really.

Saint rounded the back of the building and spotted Night leaning there, fringes of bangs hanging in his eyes as he inhaled.

“Tell me you didn’t spend good money for that crap?”

He hadn’t meant to startle Night. He’d figured that the prospect had heard the door bang shut and Saint’s footsteps squishing the sand, but when Night jumped and bobbled the joint, singeing his fingers in the effort to regain control of it, Saint realized he’d thought wrong.

“Let me help you with that,” Saint remarked as he plucked the joint from between Night’s fingers so the man could suck on the sore spots. Shit weed or not, Saint took a toke, trying to study Night’s face, an endeavor made all the more difficult by Night’s obvious refusal to meet his gaze. Saint had gotten the feeling that something was off with him from the moment he’d returned from helping Sinn’s family deal with their enemies and with each passing day, Night had grown quieter and broodier than the day before. He said little, but Saint had seen him in action when they’d arrived at the compound in Texas to find it under siege, and he was brutal.

Now though, he looked like a shy kid worried that he’d been caught being naughty. “Wanna tell me why you’re not inside smoking the good stuff with everyone else, or better still, behind the bar making another batch of fajitas like you told me you were about to do?”

“Out here is quieter.”

Nodding, Saint let out a little chuckle. “There may be some truth to that.”

“Plus, I um, got some news from home and fucked if I know what to do about it.”

Leaning against the wall beside him, Saint took another drag and regarded Night intently. “If there’s one thing I know with all certainty, ignoring it ain’t gonna solve shit.”

“Can’t solve the unsolvable.”

“There’s little that makes something unsolvable.”

Night closed his eyes and let his head slam back against the brick behind him. “True, but I’m certain death is on the short list.”

Okay, Night had him there. Saint had nothing to follow that up with, so he inhaled more of that substandard weed, since Night made no effort to take it back. Instead he huffed and smacked his head against the brick again.

“Gonna hurt yourself that way,” Saint warned him.

“Might not be a bad thing,” Night replied, letting out a low, miserable growl. “Does it hurt my ability to prospect if I’ve gotta take off?”

Okay, now Saint was getting worried and after everything with Sinn and the fact that he still hadn’t gotten over the fear of losing him, his gut launched into overdrive tying itself in tighter knots.

Sucking in a deep lungful of smoke, Saint let it settle there until he’d sorted through several possible reactions, including the urge to order Night to keep his ass put. That would have been wrong of him though when Night’s family was involved.

“What’s one of the most important rules of the club?”

“Family comes first?” Night replied, though it sounded more like a question.

“Exactly. Nothing to be confused about there, so why would you be penalized for going to them when they need you?”

“I doubt need has anything to do with it.”

The bitterness in his voice was unmistakable, leaving Saint to wonder what the story was there. “Who was it that passed?”

“The Wicked Witch of the West.”

Saint raised an eyebrow at him and gave him a look intended to convey that he should watch his tone.

“That is seriously what my cousins and I call her,” Night remarked.

“And who is she, really?”

“Aunt Almira.”

Something about all of that made sense, but Saint had to think and inhale another puff before it clicked, and he chuckled. “What’s the point in showing up at the funeral of someone you hated, unless you’ve got plans to piss on her grave?”

Now that prompted a chuckle and even the ghost of a smile from Night. “My cousins and I have considered a mass watering party.”

“But?”

“What’s the point when she isn’t around to see it?”

“Wouldn’t be her grave if she was. Well, not unless someone buried her alive.”

“Too bad nothing ever came of that idea.”

“Which brings me back to my last question.”

Night groaned. “Does wanting to make sure that’s really her in the casket count as a good enough reason?”

“It could.”

“’cause I need to know. Maybe now…”

Saint finished the joint while silently awaiting whether Night was going to finish his thought or not.

The answer was not. Instead, he scrubbed a hand over his face, pulled another joint from his pocket, lit it, and took a long toke as he stared off in the distance.

“I don’t show and I’ll have a lot to answer for,” Night said at last.

“Yeah, it does tend to upset people when you choose not to honor the dead.”

“Fuck honoring that bitch!” Night snapped. “She’s never given me a reason to care if she was alive and breathing or fertilizer for a worm farm.”

“But you’re still going.”

“I have to.”

“I get it,” Saint said. “Everyone else will too.”

Night was silent for a while, drawing in a drag occasionally before passing the joint to Saint.

“Keep it,” Saint said, “or better still, chuck the damn thing. I’ve got something here that will hit a hell of a lot harder.”

Producing one of Danger’s infamous handrolls, Saint sparked it and passed it off, chuckling when instead of throwing his subpar joint away, Night hit that one, then the one Saint offered, then his old one, then Saint’s before passing Saint’s back to him.

“That has to be one of the oddest variations of puff, puff, pass I’ve ever seen,” Saint remarked as the rolled paper slid between his fingers.

It had seemed like a witty remark when it popped into his head, but it didn’t elicit so much as a snort from Night, who only seemed to grow tenser.

Finally Night sighed and closed his eyes. “Do I have to leave my colors behind when I head out?”

“Are you coming back?”

“Hell yeah.”

“Then no, but be cautious of whose territory you ride through to get where you’re going.”

Night nodded, each movement producing another thunk of his head against the brick. “Understood.”

Saint reached up and settled his hand on Night’s shoulder, giving it a rough squeeze. “Be safe.”

“Always.”

“I want you to check in when you get there, and anytime you need to talk,” Saint declared, his voice having taken on the stern tone of command. “That should go without saying.”

“It does.”

“Good,” Saint growled, hating that he was going and without a definitive statement about when he’d return. “Don’t get yourself in any shit. If I have to lead a posse out to retrieve you, I’m gonna cane your ass, got it.”

Night’s eyes flew open, then widened, dilating as he nodded his head.

Chuckling, Saint was glad to see that there was more desire than shock in his expression.

“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Saint said.

Night’s eyes never left his, even as he continued to nod.

“Was beginning to wonder if you were still interested,” Saint admitted.

“Was giving you and Sinn space,” Night replied, the bright red of the cherry making his eyes glow a little as he took another toke.

“Wrong choice. Get back here safe and in one piece so we can make this official. All of it, understood?”

Night licked his lips before answering. “Yes sir.”

Saint passed him the good weed and jerked his head towards the house. “Finish that then get some sleep. Don’t worry about the weekend prep, I’ll have Rabbit take over for you. Don’t need you wrecking somewhere because you were too tired to keep it between the lines.”

It was only after Night scurried away that Saint wondered if he should have made the offer to go with him. There had been something in Night’s tone that screamed evasive, like there was more to the call home than just a death notice. With so much of the hunt for Sinn a blur of exhaustion and fury, Saint’s memories of their conversation beneath the Texas sky were a mismatch of words. He just hoped he hadn’t forgotten anything important….again.

A harsh metallic screech proceeded the grind of the metal door opening and the fierce bang when it hit the wall. Voices. Two of them, laughing. They didn’t notice him as they rounded the corner. Bellamy’s hair was loose, Cody’s still bound as Bellamy slammed him against the wall and kissed him until they were groping and grabbing at each other’s shirts, occasionally changing position as each scrabbled to get the upper hand.

“And on that note,” Saint muttered as he sidestepped along the wall to avoid a collision, shaking his head at their exuberance. It was good seeing his nephew happy with his Doms and all, but he could do without an eyeful of them in action.

No, what he wanted was to make it perfectly clear to his brat that nothing Sinn said or did was going to get Saint to stop worrying about him, but what he was willing to do was work on not stifling Sinn’s enthusiasm or smothering him with well-meaning concern.

Like he’d figured, Sinn was still at the table in the shop listening to the manual, the scowl on his face evidence that he was still fuming.

“I fucked up,” Saint announced once he’d alerted Sinn to his presence and waited for him to pause the book. “I’m sorry. You were right to call me on it.”

Sinn nodded, a slow smile creasing his face. “Thank you for that and for not offering excuses. I know me getting snatched up still has you rattled and feeling overly protective, it rattled me too, not because I was worried for me, but ‘cause I knew neither you nor Night would stop looking. I didn’t want either of you to wind up six feet under or behind bars ‘cause of me but we need to put that behind us now and move forward, starting with you proving to me just how sorry you are.

Damn was he fierce. Saint was still trying to pick his jaw up off the ground when Sinn surged out of the chair and seized his arm.

“Let’s go,” Sinn growled as he headed for the door, tugging an eager and aroused Saint along behind him.