Chapter Thirty-One
Standing tall, legsspread wide, Diablo watched as his brothers bowed their head during the final prayers before laying Joanna Richardson to rest. They had come out to support his woman even though she wasn’t his old lady. The camaraderie and love his brothers had shown Fallon since he’d brought her into his life touched him deeply. And the way they rallied around her after the news broke that the remains belonged to Fallon’s mother was the reason he was in the Night Rebels.
A small sob escaped from Fallon and he pulled her closer to him. His heart broke for his woman, and by the forlorn looks of his brothers, they were feeling her pain too. He and Army locked gazes, and Diablo jutted out his jaw and lifted his chin. Army nodded and turned away. Down the line, his brothers gave him their support. They had his and Fallon’s back in whatever way they needed. He wanted to tell them thanks, give them a hug, but that wasn’t his way. They knew he appreciated them, and that he’d do the same for each and every one of them.
The crunch of leaves mingled with hushed voices as they left the cemetery. Fallon had wanted her mother buried so she could have a place to visit. He could understand that. Rich’s sister had claimed his remains; he was buried in Pueblo where his family was.
Goldie came over and bumped fists with Diablo. “You guys coming to the clubhouse? The women prepared some food.”
Diablo looked at Fallon and she nodded. “Yeah. I guess we’ll be there.”
Several brothers came over and chatted with Diablo while throwing furtive glances at Fallon. It was the way of the brotherhood. Women were not part of the whole group but earned the support, loyalty, and respect through their man. Each brother would defend and kill for an old lady, but they wouldn’t disrespect her man by initiating a conversation with her, or spending time with her. It was the way their world was, and it worked for them.
As they walked toward their bikes and cars, Raven and Breanna came over and hugged Fallon, whispering words of comfort to her. Diablo appreciated how they’d helped her through the ordeal of losing her mother and then finding out Charlie wasn’t her biological dad. He was surprised when he heard that because Charlie was always so protective of her. The only regret Diablo had was that he hadn’t killed the scumbag when he had the chance. The way Charlie had hurt his woman was something he would never understand.
Sylvia and Annie had also offered their support to Fallon, and even though they hadn’t been able to attend the funeral services, they had been there for her when she needed them. Diablo was happy his woman had a network of friends she could count on.
When they arrived at the clubhouse, a table of food awaited them. The prospects had beer, tequila, and whiskey poured and ready for consumption. Diablo brought a shot of brandy to Fallon. “This will make you feel better,” he said.
“Thanks.” She brought the honey-colored liquid to her lips.
During the next hour, the brothers made toasts to Fallon and her mother. From the way his woman’s eyes shone, he knew she was touched by the gesture. His body hummed with pride at being part of the brotherhood.
After eating hardly anything, Fallon told him she wanted to lie down. Her red-rimmed eyes and nose accentuated her pallor. He held her hand and led her to his room, gently easing her on the bed. He slipped off her shoes and black pants, then sat her up and pulled her black knit top over her head. She didn’t say a word, just watched him with those mesmerizing eyes that had first drawn him in many months before.
He went over to his dresser and pulled out a T-shirt, then came back to her. Taking off her bra, he slipped the T-shirt over her head and guided her under the sheet. He tucked it and blanket under her chin and ran his fingers through her hair until she fell asleep. Switching the table lamp to low, he quietly left the room.
When he entered the main room, Crow came up to him. “She doing okay?”
Diablo nodded. “She’s been through a lot, but she’s a fighter.”
“I can’t believe Bloody Knuckles offed her mom. What a pussy,” Jigger said.
“I never liked the bastard. My gut told me there was something up with him.” Diablo threw his Jack back.
“Figures the pussy would take the chickenshit way out. Fuck. He shoulda manned up to what he did.” Goldie took a bite of his burrito.
“I didn’t think he had the guts to kill himself. Fallon was shocked too. You never know.” Diablo smiled when Lucy set a plate of enchiladas, tacos, rice, beans in front of him. “Damn, that’s a lot of food.”
“You hardly ate anything.”
“You still watching out for me?” He laughed, then put a forkful of rice in his mouth.
“Always. We’re still friends.” She walked over to the other club girls who were busy clearing away the dirty dishes.
Raven walked up to Diablo. “Here you go,” she said as she gave him the bag in her hand.
He smiled and opened it. Inside was a black leather vest with the most beautiful embroidery he’d ever seen. “You did a good job,” he said, tracing his fingers over the soft lettering.
“What the hell is that?” Muerto asked as he put his arm around Raven’s waist.
“None of your fuckin’ business,” Diablo replied, and several brothers guffawed.
“Raven?” Muerto looked at her.
Raven glanced at Diablo and he nodded slightly. “I did the embroidery on the cut he’s giving Fallon. The guy you all use does a shitty job.”
Breanna clapped. “I love that you’re asking Fallon to be your old lady. You guys make the perfect couple.”
