“Proud of your membership?” Aidan asked with a snort.
“Nah.” Mercy shuddered dramatically. “I’m a one-woman kinda man. For whom there ain’t ever gonna be a club,” he said, giving them a mock-stern glare.
Aidan smirked, but the other two remained stone-faced – Carter out of anger, Tango out of some morose inner turmoil.
“Jesus, y’all. What’s with the depression?”
“No idea,” Aidan said. “Hey” – he smacked his brother-in-law on the arm lightly – “you wanna come help me scare some dippy kids?”
Mercy grinned. “When do I ever not wanna do that?”
~*~
Tango stared up at the black lettering on the front of the shop for a long time, as if the fresh paint would give him answers. It might – the Dartmoor property was the most organized, well-kept part of his life. Ghost didn’t tolerate shabbiness: When a sign faded, it was painted; if something broke, someone fixed it. If they wanted to be taken seriously, they had to take themselves seriously, he always said. The only paternal voice in Tango’s entire history.
The others dispersed, their farewells faint to his ears. Normally at this time of day, he’d head to the clubhouse and see if Jazz would make him a sandwich. Or they’d send a hangaround for takeout, and they’d all eat at a picnic table in front of the shop.
Today he felt hollow, and it was an emptiness that didn’t crave food.
What would he do, he wondered, if he learned he’d gotten someone pregnant? Weep? Celebrate to know he wouldn’t be alone any longer?
Something restless shifted inside him. He needed a day off, he decided. He was too tired, stretched too thin, and it had been a year or more since he’d taken any time off.
His feet carried him halfway toward the central office before he registered moving, but it was a good thing, he decided. He’d earned a little breather.
What for? Betraying his brothers and sleeping with the enemy? a small voice in the back of his head asked.
So lost in his own thoughts, he didn’t hear anyone come up behind him, and jumped when a hand clamped down on his shoulder.
“Easy,” Ghost said, taking shape beside him, his hand dropping away. “Didn’t mean to spook you.”
“Oh.” Tango took a deep breath, shook his head to clear it. “Sorry, just…” He gestured vaguely. “Thinking.”
“Hmm. Always dangerous.”
“Yeah. Everything alright with Holly?”
Ghost shrugged. “Michael smashed the guy’s face in, but he’ll live. I think I convinced him not to press charges unless he wants some of his own, with a restraining order to keep away from Holly.”
Tango wanted to offer some meaningful comment, but all he said was, “Oh. Okay.”
They settled into step beside one another, and it was silent a beat. Two. Three…
Ghost said, “I had breakfast with your boyfriend this morning.”
It was like he ran into wall. Tango slammed to a halt, shock forcing the air out of his lungs. The shakes hit him hard, jerking through his limbs, clamping his veins tight. “Wh...wha…you…” Alarms blared in his mind, lights flashed.
Ghost pulled up in front of him, hands on his hips, the picture of calmness, one brow lifting in question.
“I don’t…he’s not…”
“It’s okay,” Ghost said, tone low and soothing. “Kev, take a breath. I’m not upset.”
Tango dropped his face in his palms, tried and failed to take the suggested breath, lungs seizing.
“But Iamworried,” Ghost continued. “Whoever he is now, he’s not the guy you used to know. He’s dangerous in a whole different way than anyone else we’ve ever dealt with. Be careful.” He squeezed Tango’s shoulder and stepped back, walked away.
When Tango finally got his breathing handled, and lifted his head, his president was halfway back to the clubhouse. He had no idea what had just happened…but he didn’t trust it. Nothing was ever that simple.
