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Luna
The second the coffee maker stops gurgling I snatch up the pot, pouring myself some much needed reinforcement.
Another restless night with my husband’s side of the bed empty.
It’s been that way a few too many times since last year’s attacks on his club. Four people were injured, including the club’s matriarch, Momma, who hasn’t been the same since. I know guilt gnaws at him, since he wasn’t there when they got hurt.
Some of the legitimate businesses the Arrow’s Edge MC runs are still recovering from the sabotage by another MC looking to horn in on Arrow’s Edge’s territory. It’s made Ouray hyper vigilant, especially since he worked hard for so long to put his club on the straight and narrow.
The weight of responsibility he feels is so heavy on his shoulders, they’ve visibly slumped.
Instead of getting better with time, it only seems to get worse.
I’ve tried talking to him, but he’s shutting me out. Actually, I’m sure he’s shutting everyone out because, after all, he’s Ouray, the club’s president. He needs to be strong, confident, and unshakeable at all costs. Except I can see he’s shaken, questioning himself, which is why I think he started sleeping at the club more often than not. The way he used to before I came into his life. Needing to keep his finger on the pulse at all times.
It hurts my heart to feel him slipping away.
I grab my travel cup and walk to the sliding doors.
“Come on, Jack,” I call our dog inside.
I need to get going if I want to make that eight o’clock briefing.
I tap our son, Ahiga, on the shoulder. Other than a half-assed wave when he came downstairs, our fifteen-year-old, hearing-impaired son has been bent over his bowl of cereal and his phone.
Let’s go, buddy. Put your bowl in the sink. A brief nod is all I get before he does as I ask.
Although I can’t blame it on genetics—Ahiga is our adopted son—all three of us need some time before we’re fit for human consumption in the morning.
It takes me two minutes to drive from home to the MC compound on the other side of the county road to drop Jack off with Ouray, who happens to stand outside when I drive up. Smoking. Something he seems to have picked up again recently.
Jack hops out of the SUV the moment I open the door, and I lift my index finger to Ahiga, motioning for him to wait. I’m dropping him off at school on my way into town. Up to last year he was home-schooled at the club, but last August we enrolled him at the local high school and after a bumpy start, he’s been doing quite well.
“Hey, Sprite.” At least my husband still remembers his nickname for me, even if he didn’t remember to come home last night. He looks up from petting the dog, a little guilty. “Sorry about last night, I got—”
“It’s fine. I’ve gotta run.” I realize I’m being bitchy but I’ve heard the excuses before.
I try to escape, but a strong hand on my arm pulls me back. “Hold on,” he rumbles, swinging me around. The next moment I have his lips on mine and his tongue in my mouth.
I can’t help it: just like every other time Ouray kisses me, my knees go weak and I’m unable to resist him. It’s always been an effective weapon of his whenever I’m pissed about something.
Except this time when he lets me go, I’m sad. Heartbroken we still feel the love and have this unreal chemistry, but it doesn’t seem to be enough to bridge the disconnect in our marriage.
“I’ll be home tonight. Promise.” He ducks his head to look into my eyes.
I force a smile, even though he said the same yesterday and the day before but never showed up. I’m tired, I’m worried, and I’m at a loss what to do or say anymore.
I can feel his eyes on me as I get back behind the wheel, turn down the driveway, and swallow down the lump in my throat.
“…stake out Patrick and Hua McNamee. We’re looking for anything unusual in their daily routines.”
I haven’t been paying as much attention as I should while my FBI team discusses our latest case, the suspected corporate espionage from the large industrial gases company in the region. A few years ago, they developed the cutting-edge technology to extract helium from CO2 as the first in the world. That put a target on their backs and had other national and international competitors scrambling to catch up.
Two months ago, a Chinese competitor introduced the identical process to their lineup, which caused many eyebrows to rise. Including those of law enforcement. We’ve spent countless hours digging through employee files and backgrounds, until yesterday when my teammate, Jasper, found an interesting connection between one of the plant’s engineers, Patrick McNamee, and their Chinese counterpart. His wife, Wu Chen Hua, is a niece of the CEO.
“I’ll take the house,” I volunteer, surprising even myself.
