“Athena’s trouble and this trouble got nothing to do with each other, Eight,” Dex snarled. “And we deal with the trouble we got.”
“Yeah, I know,” Eight grumbled. “I got on the horn with Apollo,” he added. “He ran her deets quick with what Margot and Vin knew, and he’s digging deeper now. Margot ran up to grab the woman’s purse from her car, so we’ve got her license and cards. She has one of those leather planner books. I guess she’s old school. Anyway, we know where she was headed next today, so we got a sense of the route she’d have taken.”
“So here’s the deal,” Dad said, taking over again, “We’re going to put the body in the back of her car. We’ve got Chris bringing Lynette down here.” Lynette was one of the club’s girls. She had long, straight, pale hair, and Duncan guessed what his father said next: “She’s going to drive the Rover back toward the City. We’ll follow her. There’s a tricky patch before we get to I-40, where we can set a scene.”
“We can rig it to make sure it burns when it hits,” Dex continued. “We want fire so nobody questions her facial damage. We’ll hang around long enough to make sure the car’s fully involved, and then we’ll turn home. There’s been enough wet weather this year that we don’t have to worry much about a fire going out of control.”
“So what’s the story here?” Duncan asked.
“Story is the truth, as far as we can take it,” Dex said. “Lydia showed up here, Phoebe showed her the door. What happened after she left, nobody here knows.”
Eight mused for a moment, then nodded. “That’s good. That should work.”
Duncan turned and studied the body on the floor. Her eyes were closed; Vin or Margot must have done that. People almost always died with their eyes open.
It was self-defense. Phoebe had done nothing wrong. They should have been able to call 911 and let law handle it.
However, like all the rest of his family, Duncan had no faith in the legal system. In fact, the Bulls were intimately familiar with how corrupt all law enforcement organizations he knew of were—the club was a corrupting factor, paying off virtually all the official-types with any measurable power. People who could pay were allowed to go about their business, whatever that business was. People who couldn’t pay bore the brunt of the ‘justice.’
This woman was known to have caused Phoebe a lot of trouble. They had clearly been in a violently physical fight. Phoebe had survived, and Copperman had not.
More importantly, Lydia Copperman was one of those to whom laws did not apply. Phoebe Davis was one to whom they did. And the Bulls did not have quite the same influence here as they did in Tulsa, especially not with an oil baron’s wife dead on the floor.
So no, they could not have called 911 and let the LEOs handle it.
“Let’s get it done,” Duncan said.
~oOo~
It was nearly midnight when Duncan split off from the other Bulls (and Lynette, who rode with Dad) and headed back to the ranch, the work of the night complete.
He was exhausted. Every muscle in his body was sore and making sure he knew it. He reeked of gasoline and fire. But he felt good. Things were good.
The afternoon had scared the shit out of him in a few different ways, but now everything was fixed. Phoebe’s tormentor was gone, and with her, most of Phoebe’s problems. She probably still had to finish the required repairs, but she had a way to do that, and now there was no one who might try to fuck her up some more.
She hadn’t let him help her in the way he’d first wanted to, having the club buy in on the ranch, but he’d found another, less intrusive way, by simply hitting up Toby Keller, who’d replaced the roof on the clubhouse a few years back, and had done work on some of the Bulls’ homes, too.
But now, he’d been able to offer her the kind of help only the Bulls could provide. When she’d been in that kind of trouble, he’d been there. He’d helped. He’d fixed it.
His family had been there for them both. Seen through the lens of this night, the shit they’d done in Eureka finally made sense to him. They did what they had to do to protect the people they loved. Period. It wasn’t always clean or simple or pretty. Usually it was messy and complicated and ugly, and it left them reeking of blood or fire or both.
But in the end, the people they loved were protected. Secure, safe, healthy, comfortable.
Not one damn other thing mattered.
~oOo~
The house was quiet when he went in the front door. Gremlin stood in the hallway, growling softly until he saw who it was, then his tail started up and he came in for some love. The dog wasn’t thrilled with the way he smelled, but he liked him enough to give him a pass. Duncan crouched at the door and ruffled his ears, then scratched his belly.
“All clear?” came Vin’s voice, low and careful, from the far end of the hall.
“All clear,” Duncan replied.
“Thank you, Dunc. I don’t know how this would have gone without you.”
“Doesn’t matter. It went the right way. I’m never gonna let her get hurt.”
Vin chuckled softly. “I don’t know that’s a promise you can make, but I get the need to make it.”
Duncan nodded. “How’re you doin?” Your head okay?”
“Got a bell-ringer headache, but I’m okay. The more important thing is she didn’t break my leg or fuck my stump when she knocked me over. And the most important thing is Phoebe’s safe.”
“Yeah. She is.”
Vin gave his shoulder an affectionate slap. “G’night, brother.” He turned and headed back to his room.
“Night, Vin,” Duncan called after him.
On the way to Phoebe’s room, as Gremlin nosed his way back into Margot’s room, Duncan detoured into the bathroom and took a quick shower. Then, leaving his clothes in a stack beside the hamper, he wrapped the towel around his hips and went to Phoebe.
The room was dark and cool. She was asleep, curled up on what had become her side of the bed, since he’d been taking up real estate there. He could see the bottle of her sleeping pills, glowing with the light of her alarm clock.
Dropping the towel, Duncan slipped in beside her and scooted close. As he tucked her into the bowl of his big spoon, she sighed and began to wake.
“Dunc?” Her voice was soft with sleep, and he heard an almost childish lilt as well. It sounded sad and scared, like a little girl trapped in the evanescing tendrils of a nightmare.
“I’m here, baby. I’m here. Everything’s okay.”
She sighed again, wrapped her arms around his where he clasped her chest, and slipped quietly back into sleep.
Exhausted as he was in mind and body, Duncan lay holding her for a long time before he allowed sleep to take him. He didn’t want to fall away from the feeling that had gripped his chest and pulled.
He had never before felt so right, in his life or in his own skin.
This was where he was meant to be.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Phoebe woke wrapped snuggly in Duncan’s arms, cozy and content. The room was a little cool, but she squirmed more deeply into his embrace, more fully under the covers, and sighed peacefully.