Motorcycle Man(115)

Well that fully explained Naomi and made me think even less of her which was quite a feat.

“What path was the Club on?” I asked quietly and Tack focused on me.

Then he rolled to my side and put his hands to my pits, pulling me up further in the bed before he shifted up beside me, rolled again, to his back so I was on top, chest to chest.

He lifted a hand, pulled the side of my hair back and continued talking.

“The Club ran drugs, babe,” he said quietly, my body locked and I stared at him. “Not sales. Safe transport. And doin’ that, they did all that went with it. The path got darker and darker, the Club got deeper and deeper and I didn’t like it even before my Mom called and told me Kimmy was fucked up.”

Right, okay, first things first.

“Tell me about Kimmy,” I urged.

Tack pulled in breath through his nostrils and I already knew the end was not a happy one. I still braced when he prepared by sifting his fingers through my hair and then pulling it away from my face again and burying his hand in it before he continued.

“You live our life, unless you develop a tough skin, that shit’ll eat you alive. I thought Kimmy had a tough skin. She was hard, seen it all, done it all by the age of twelve. Least that was the way she acted. I was wrong. She had a soft spot. I just didn’t see it so I sure as fuck didn’t protect it.”

Oh God.

I closed my eyes, Tack’s hand slid to my jaw and I opened them.

“Yeah,” he whispered, “you’re gettin’ it, babe.”

“That’s why you like mine,” I deduced in a return whisper.

“And that’s why I’ll bust my balls to protect it.”

Oh God.

“Go on,” I kept whispering.

He drew in another breath and then did as I asked.

“I left her behind but unlike my brother, I didn’t leave her. She mighta seemed hard but we were tight. She could be funny and we held together in a house that felt like a boat tossed in a storm all the fuckin’ time. She got it when I took off, she even told me to get the fuck out. But, soon’s I could, I reconnected with both of them but mostly Kimmy. And soon after that, I started to send her money in hopes she’d find her own way out. Brought her out to Colorado when I married Naomi. Brought them both out when Rush was born. Naomi was pregnant with Tabby, nearly to term when Mom called. Told me Kimmy was hooked on shit, totally fucked up, stealin’, lyin’, turnin’ tricks.”

I held my breath at this news trying not to look like I was holding my breath but Tack was back in his zone, a seriously bad zone, and thus didn’t notice it.

“So I went back to California to sort her shit out. What I found, babe, was pissed at my Mom for not tellin’ me sooner. She wasn’t a mess, she fuckin’ defined it. So we talked, or I talked and she shouted. Saw no way to clear her of that shit unless I intervened and took matters into my own hands. Should not have done that. Should never have done that. Should have put her in a hospital. Too late now, I did it. I locked her in a room with me while she detoxed. It was not pretty. Screamin’, fightin’, scratchin’, pukin’, gettin’ the shakes, Christ, those fuckin’ shakes. Like seizures. Whacked. And it did not work. Up for seventy-two hours, dealin’ with her shit, I passed out. She had a stash, junkies are fuckin’ geniuses when it comes to hidin’ their stash, took it, I woke up, she wasn’t movin’ and that was that. She did it with me right in the room. Me right there. My little sister killed herself and I was five feet away, fuckin’ sleeping.”

I closed my eyes but slid my hand up his chest so I could again curl my fingers around his neck and this time I did it tight.

I opened them when Tack stated, “Put Kimmy into the ground on a Friday. Hightailed my ass back to Colorado because Tabby came into the world that Sunday.”

That would mark a man.

That would definitely mark a man.

And that marked my man.

His eyes focused on mine and his hand slid back into my hair, his fingers twisting in it and his words were soft when he said, “The Russians got you, didn’t even think, I got to you, put my hand to your throat. I needed that pulse, babe, so I went for it. Shy shared what went down last night with that asshole and his bat, also didn’t think, put my hand to your throat. It was not meant to hurt you or alarm you. It was done so I could assure myself you were alive.”

This made sense. So much of it, it was sad at the same time it was beautiful.

“Okay,” I whispered.

“My sister’s addiction, I steer clear of any ‘a that shit so I do not smoke pot, my choice, personal. Others do, I don’t judge. You wanna try that shit, that’s your choice too and I won’t judge that either. But you wanna try it, you do it only with me around so I can look after you.”