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Finesse isn’t really the Berserkers’ way. We normally collide into our targets, refusing to relent until we’ve won.
However, Jimbo needs to disappear quietly. No bloody mess left behind. No sign of a struggle. No witnesses.
That last part is the real sticking point. Jimbo doesn’t hang out outside all day, especially in the winter. He’ll randomly go for runs or take walks in the evening.
The best spot to grab him is when he sneaks around the guesthouse, where the woods camouflage Hobo and me.
By day two, I’m freezing my ass off and getting edgy.
“Patience is the only way,” Hobo warns as we slink back into the woods after another failed hunting party.
Today, Jimbo was in the right spot, but Irina, Fiona, and Olive were in the courtyard when we wanted to pounce. Gatsby started growling, sensing either Jimbo or us. I nearly went for it anyway. Hobo placed his hand on my shoulder and shook his head.
“They’ll hear and call security.”
Despite my urge to risk it, I back off.
Then, the next day is too cold, keeping Jimbo inside.
The only upside to shit taking so damn long is Hobo and me bonding in the woods. He always has snacks from granola to beef jerky to a thermos filled with beef stew. We speak in hushed voices as the hours pass. He tells me about Kourtney’s birthday party.
“Her rich girlfriends went wild over all my tats. A bunch of them were petting my beard like I was their favorite dog. Weird shit.”
“Think you could get used to living like that?”
Hobo frowns at me. “I like living wild. Waking up in a tent rather than a bedroom feels like me. As a kid, I wanted a house like other people. But that kind of living left me uncomfortable. When I’m out here, I don’t think about my childhood. When I’m in a house like a normal person, I’m hit in the face with how wrong I am inside. Why would I want to dig around at that old wound?”
“I get it. But sometimes, looking at the past makes us stronger.”
“Is that something you read on a fortune cookie, or did it come from your life experience?”
Grinning at his taunt, I shrug. “My hangups never mattered before. The club knows how I am. But with Irina, I can’t hide. So, I’m not changing, but I’m owning my baggage in a new way. Pushing myself to say what I’m thinking.” Sighing, I recall my woman’s smile. “Irina gets stuck in her head, just like I do. We can’t work if we’re both hiding. Her baggage is heavier, and she’s still getting her footing in McMurdo Valley. That’s why I’ve got to step up and organize things.”
“I like Irina,” Hobo says and bites off a chunk of beef jerky. “I hear her outside, talking to Fiona. They have a lot of in-jokes. Separating them won’t be easy, man. They got spooked a few weeks back and reached for each other immediately. They’re tight in a way that seems a little codependent.”
“I don’t know what to say about that. I’ve met Fiona once. I don’t know how she can live with Irina, the baby, and me. Like, will she need full-time staff? Or her own part of the house? It’s confusing. Irina can’t see Fiona clearly. I think if she could move me in to the guesthouse, she would do that and call it a day.”
“Moving to McMurdo Valley was difficult for them. Todd thought bringing her here would be a funny way to fuck with Ashley. He put a huge target on his daughter’s back. I heard her brothers plotting against her on day one.”
Hobo digs around in his bag for another beef jerky. “Ashley kept telling Todd how Fiona was too sick to live outside a facility. Marky and Larry would stand outside by the main pool, plotting on how to kill Fiona before her disability could use up their future inheritance. They figured a pillow over her face would be best. Hell, at one point, they were planning to pin the murder on Irina and suiciding her. Motherfuckers were vultures ready for their pound of flesh as soon as the private ambulance brought Fiona here.”
“Ambulance? What the fuck?”
“They had to sedate Fiona for the trip from Vermont. Irina went all out. Your woman’s going to make a great mom.”
Grinning, I can’t wait to see my baby. “Nine months feels too long.”
Hobo chuckles. “I’ve never seen you so excited before.”
“Irina makes me happy in a way I’ve never been before.”
“She feels like the home you always wanted.”
The truth behind his words drops me into a quiet place in my head, where Irina is my wife and our baby is already born healthy.
The next day while we hunker down and wait for dusk, Hobo asks, “What names are you thinking?”
“If it’s a boy, I don’t know. My name always sucked. My mom loved it, though.”
