Raid

  And this living together business was the business.

  “Babe?” he called and I turned to him.

  “Yeah?”

  He was standing at the opposite counter where my opened mail was piled. He had a piece of paper in his hand and was waving it.

  “The Hospice?” he asked.

  Oh boy.

  That paper was a thank you letter from the Hospice for Bob’s and my donation.

  I said nothing and waited.

  “Bob’s check,” he stated.

  Raiden had put it together.

  I bit my lip.

  He shook his head, dropped the paper to the counter and grinned at the floor as he walked to the fridge, got a beer and walked out of the room.

  I turned back to the stove.

  Absolutely.

  KC was a genius.

  Chapter Eighteen

  I Wake Up Happy

  Three weeks later …

  I was rushing around my bedroom, getting ready. I’d spent too much time amongst my perfumes trying to pick one, only to go back to Agent Provocateur, the one Raid liked, so I was running late.

  I ran to the closet and was faced with another decision regarding flip-flops when my cell on the bed rang.

  I dashed to it, saw the display and put it to my ear.

  “Hey, honey, I’m running late,” I told Raiden.

  “This is good since I am too,” he replied. “You wanna save us twenty minutes and I’ll meet you at Rache’s?”

  “Sure, I’ll cycle in.”

  “Babe, drive.”

  Rough and commanding.

  I ignored it. This was my baby. Willow was safe, but my Schwinn spent the night in my garage and nowhere else, except, of course, outside Raid’s den. But Raiden didn’t sleep at his den anymore, so now it was the garage and the garage only.

  “That would mean I’d need to leave my Z in town overnight, and Rachelle will let me keep my bike in her back room.”

  “We’ll leave the Jeep in town and drive your Z home. We can pick it up tomorrow.”

  This idea was a good one so I agreed to it. “Okay, sweetheart.”

  “See you there,” he told me.

  “Right. ‘Bye, sweetheart.”

  “Later, babe.”

  I stopped dashing around, which meant I had plenty of time to make the perfect flip-flop choice.

  I did this, locked up the house and moved to the garage to get my Z.

  * * * * *

  “Yo!” Rachelle greeted on a shout when I walked into her café and the bell over the door rang.

  I had failed to note that Rachelle’s Café looked like it had been torn off the island of Nantucket and planted in Willow, Colorado. Of course, I’d never been to Nantucket, but I’d seen pictures, and Rachelle’s Café was it. It had tables all through and a long counter ran down one side. The rest was all serene colors and breezy décor, and trust me, décor could be “breezy”.

  It was awesome.

  Rachelle was behind the counter with her Mom in front of her.

  “Hey,” I called.

  “Hey there, Hanna,” Mrs. Miller called back.

  I smiled and moved to them.

  Needless to say, Raiden and I now living together, and regardless that he was out of town quite a bit, us having actual time together under our belts, we’d been to dinner at Mrs. Miller’s house.

  I knew her all my life, liked her all that time, and after going to dinner at her place I liked her better. She was as she always was: nice, friendly and easy to talk to, but I discovered she was also a good cook.

  I also got to know her boyfriend, Gazza, better. Gazza was English, as in actually from England, but, like he’d been a mountain man his whole life, he incongruously carved logs into totem poles or eagles and the like. He did this for a living, selling them out of the front yard in his house up in the foothills.

  He was a good guy that everyone liked. Mrs. Miller and Gazza didn’t live together, but they’d been together for years and they somehow made being together in separate places work. It was also known in town that it was Ruthie Miller who wanted her own space and Gazza loved her enough to accept her as she came, which, of course, made everyone like him more.

  I thought it was even cooler, knowing now that she was a woman who had a man who was not all that great, so she only accepted life and love on her terms, but put the effort in to make it work.

  Then again, I was learning the Millers (notwithstanding Mr. Miller, wherever he was) were cool all around.

  I stopped and Rachelle asked, “Dinner or flyby for a coffee a la Rachelle?”

  “Raid and I are going to the double feature at the Deluxe tonight, but he’s running late so quick dinner, not a flyby.”

  For some reason, this statement made Rachelle roar with laughter, but Mrs. Miller’s face grew bright.

  “Dog Day Afternoon and French Connection?” she asked excitedly.

  “Yep,” I answered. “Kickass 70’s Movie Night at the Deluxe, though they missed a great marketing opportunity by not naming it that and instead calling it 70’s Masterpiece Theater at the Deluxe.” She smiled big, and having taken in her earlier expression I offered, “Do you want to join us?”

  She shook her head. “Love to. Plans with Gazz. Another time.”

  I nodded, looked at Rachelle and smiled through my hopefully not too nosy question of, “Can I ask why you were laughing?”

  “My son,” Mrs. Miller started to answer the question I’d asked her daughter, so I looked back at her, “was never a kid who sat around watching TV and playing video games. He also didn’t go to movies. He climbed trees. He raced around on that skateboard of his, without a helmet, I’ll add, no matter how often I got on him about that. He’d disappear into the woods or the foothills and be gone all day doing God knows what. Him sitting through a double feature is out of character,” she explained, but it was not really an explanation for why that would be funny.

  Then Rachelle gave me the explanation that Mrs. Miller was too well-mannered to give.

  “Not even for his bitches back in the day did he sit his ass in a theater. If they didn’t tramp through the woods with him or…” he eyes slid to her Mom, “whatever, they were toast. So it’s hilarious seeing my big, scary, badass brother so… totally… whipped.”

  My mouth dropped open, but Mrs. Miller’s snapped loudly, “Rachelle!”

  She grinned unrepentantly at her mother and made a whiplash noise.

  “I’m not sure Raiden is whipped,” I shared, and Rachelle looked at me.

  Then she laid it out.

  Scarily, wonderfully, and as Rachelle had a tendency to do, hilariously.

  “Your Honor, exhibit A: the pretty girl calls him Raiden when no one calls him Raiden because he fuckin’ hates to be called Raiden,” she said and I stared.

  I didn’t know that.

  “Rache, don’t say the f-word,” Mrs. Miller hissed.

  Rachelle ignored her mother. “Exhibit B: Raid sits his ass in a movie theater, probably spending those hours not watching the movie but thinking of shit he could blow up, tracks he can race on an ATV or other things he could be using that time getting up to with his girl.”

  “I’m so sorry, Hanna, when she’s on a roll—” Mrs. Miller started to say to me.

  “Exhibit C,” Rachelle pushed on, but her face changed, her eyes locked on me and she finished, “he lets go and laughs. All the fuckin’ time. Finally letting people see he’s actually genuinely happy.”

  I knew what she was saying and my throat instantly clogged.

  “I’ll get you a white wine,” she stated in conclusion.

  She ducked her head, hiding her eyes and moved away.

  With difficulty, I swallowed and felt my hand taken in Mrs. Miller’s.

  “Can we sit a bit before Raid gets here?” she requested on a hand squeeze.

  I nodded. Still coping with Rachelle’s emotional bombs and uncertain about sitting a bit with Raid’s mother, I had no choice,
so we moved to a table by the window.

  She sat opposite me.

  I’d learned, seeing as I was dealing with one of the Millers, so I braced.

  It was a good thing to do.

  “Don’t let Rachelle upset you,” she said.

  “I’m not upset,” I assured her, which was kind of a lie. I was upset, but not in a bad way.

  Actually, I was moved.

  “We’re just… we’re just…” she looked out the window then back at me, “real happy that he’s settling down.”

  I nodded.

  Her eyes drifted out the window, and to give her time without my gaze on her, mine did too.

  “He talks to you.”

  It was barely a whisper, but I heard it and I looked at her.

  Her eyes were still out the window.

  When I didn’t have a ready answer, she kept going, aiming her words to me but out the window.

  “He came back and he…” I watched her pull in breath, “life changes people. Things happen. It’s the way life is, but that was… that wasn’t how he was different.”

  Oh God.

  She turned her head and looked right at me.

  “He was gone. We tried, Rache and me to… well, he shut us down. He would smile, pretend to be himself, but he wasn’t. A mother knows. A sister knows. He wasn’t our Raid.”

  “I know,” I replied softly.

  “He’s back,” she declared, and my heart skipped.

  “I—”

  Her hand shot across the table and closed around mine so hard it caused pain.

  “He talks to you.” It wasn’t a statement but a question.

  I couldn’t tell her how he did, but he didn’t.

  I just said, “Yes, Mrs. Miller. He talks to me.”

  “Ruthie, honey, told you to call me Ruthie.”

  She did so I nodded again.

  Her hand tightened further around mine and I fought back a wince.

  “You’ll find out, I pray to God, you’ll find out that a mother has many nightmares. I know that sounds funny, but don’t get me wrong. You’re happy to live with them, because to be a mother, you get to create these tiny little living, breathing dreams that grow up to be splendid things. But for a woman with a son, that’s the worst. When he’s gone. What he’s doing. You pray so much he comes back safe, you forget to pray to God to keep him safe from all the ways he could be damaged. My son was damaged.”

  Her hand lifted mine an inch off the table and her eyes got bright.

  Mine did too.

  “Thank you for fixing him,” she whispered.

  I held her hand tight right back, leaned in and said gently, but honestly, “My work isn’t done, Ruthie.”

  “I’m sure. But I have faith in you.”

  Oh God.

  I swallowed back the tears.

  “I’ll do my best,” I promised.

  “You already are.”

  Seriously. This was beautiful, but I could take no more.

  “You know,” I blurted, “Grams would lose it if she saw me, a Boudreaux, crying in the local café.”

  “Then pull yourself together, bitch,” Rachelle, there with my wine and setting it on the table, declared. “Suck that back.” She advised and turned to her mother. “Mom, Raid walks in here and sees you all mushy with his woman, he’s gonna lose his mind. Suck it up.”

  Then she flounced away.

  Ruthie looked at me, her mouth twitching. “She’s not wrong.”

  “You made him so I’m sure you know this a lot better than me, but he can have his macho man fit. It’ll blow over, and through it we just do our own thing.”

  Her eyes lit, her hand let mine go and she replied, “Now I’m seeing how you can wring miracles.”

  “I give all the credit to Grams and KC. Grams is wise and says it straight. KC lives with an alpha and also says it straight. They’re my gurus,” I shared.

  “If you need another guru, you know where to find me, and do not take that as me asking you to share with me where my son is at. If he wants me to know that, he’ll tell me. You’re not on the hot seat. Just that I know Raid pretty well and I’m happy to do my bit.”

  I smiled at her.

  She smiled back then shouted, “Rache! I’m off!”

  “I’ll call Gazz and warn him you’re on the emotional warpath and he’s up next on your agenda,” Rachelle shouted back.

  Ruthie had stood through this and she smiled down at me. “Again, she’s not wrong.”

  I giggled.

  She reached out and tucked my hair behind my ear.

  That was familiar, coming from a Miller.

  And sweet.

  I stopped giggling.

  “Later, Hanna.”

  “Have a good night with Gazz, Ruthie.”

  She winked at me and took off.

  I sipped wine, looked out the window and dragged in a deep breath to pull myself together.

  I sort of accomplished this feat when I felt a presence join me at the table. I jumped in surprise, but turned my head smiling, thinking I’d see Raiden.

  It wasn’t Raiden.

  It was a good-looking, well-dressed man staring at me with eyes that were almost as amazing as Raid’s.

  Thinking he was going to come onto me, I told him, “Sorry, I’m waiting for someone.”

  “Yes. And when he gets here, I’m asking you to give Miller a message to give to Knight.”

  My back went straight, my skin started tingling (and not in a good way) and I stared.

  He didn’t hesitate.

  “Tell him to tell Knight that he’s being careful, but not careful enough. Tell him that Nair is not going to give up. Tell him he’s going to have to do something in a permanent way to shut Nair down. Do you have that?”

  My eyes narrowed even as my hand shifted back toward my cell in my pocket. “Who are you?”

  “I’m Nick. Miller will get me. Knight will definitely get me. And you, don’t worry. Nair is not focused on Miller. He doesn’t even know who Miller is. He’s not focused on anybody but Knight. Nair has no clue you exist and doesn’t give a fuck. But I needed a way in. You were it.”

  “If you have something to say to—” I began.

  “If you want me to lead them to your man, then yeah, I’ll talk direct to him. If you want them to keep their focus on my brother, then you’ll tell Miller everything I said.”

  Before I could reply, he was up and gone.

  I blinked after him.

  Then I looked around and saw the half-full café, most everyone concentrating on their food or conversation. Rachelle was nowhere to be seen, probably in the kitchen.

  I wondered if anyone saw him, but they didn’t appear to. No one was paying attention.

  I pulled out my phone and had my head down, fingers moving on it to call Raid when the bell over the door went.

  I jumped and looked up to see Raiden smiling at me and coming my way.

  He rounded the table, bent into me, swept my hair back and kissed my neck. Then he stayed there to run his nose up the skin, which made that skin tingle, but in a good way this time.

  He continued to stay there when he whispered in my ear, “Love it when my girl’s perfume is fresh. Hey, baby.”

  “Hey,” I replied.

  His hand went out of my hair and he rounded the table, shouting, “Rache! Beer and get a move on with two specials. Hanna and I are running late!”

  “Keep your pants on!” was shouted from the kitchen.

  “Lose some coin if you don’t hustle. We can get a slice from down the street!” Raid yelled.

  “Two specials coming up!” was returned.

  Luckily, Rachelle owned the café, so the Millers acting like, well, what I was coming to know as the Millers worked it.

  Raid settled opposite me and he barely got his behind in the chair when I announced, “One minute ago, a well-dressed man I’ve never seen in my life sat right where you are and told me to tell you to tell Knight that he’s not being ca
reful enough. A person named Nair isn’t going to give up and Knight has to do something permanent to get him to give up.”

  Raid, his eyes locked on me, froze. The air around him froze. In fact, the entire café froze as he stared at me.

  Then I felt eyes on me because the menace rolling off Raiden was so immense, we were capturing attention even though no words were being said.

  In other words, I wasn’t the only one who could feel it, and it was so strong this was not a surprise.

  Then he whispered in his sinister way, “Come again?”

  I repeated myself.

  Raiden leaned slightly toward me. “You’re tellin’ me that motherfucker walked right up to my woman in my sister’s fuckin’ place, sat down across from you and gave you a message for me?”

  I hesitated due to the rumbling, scary quality of his voice that I had never heard before and the ominous blaze burning in his eyes that I had never seen before, then I leaned in and replied, “Yes.”

  He sat back. “Jesus Christ. I’m gonna fuckin’ kill that guy.”

  “Dude, what is up?” Rachelle asked, hitting our table right before a beer bottle hit the tabletop.

  There it was. Other people felt his vibe.

  “Lose yourself, Rache,” Raid ordered.

  “Bro, you look tweaked. I—” she began.

  Raiden’s head tipped back and he cut his eyes to her.

  I wasn’t getting his look, but I still shivered.

  “Bottom of my heart, but get the fuck outta here, babe.”

  She bit her lip, gave wide eyes to me and wisely skedaddled.

  Raiden looked at me and I wished Rachelle was back.

  “You see him again, you tell him that he needs to find an alternate conduit for communication with his brother. It is not you. And you finish with telling him if you see him again after that, I will find him, rip his head off and shove it up his ass.”

  Cripes!

  “Raid—”

  “You got that?” he cut me off to ask.

  Now was clearly not one of those times to backtalk, so I nodded but sallied forth cautiously, “Yes, sweetheart, I got that, but what’s going on?”

  He sucked in breath then grabbed his beer and sucked some back before he put it back on the table and again leaned into me.

  “I told you about my buddy Knight having problems. A man named Drake Nair is that problem. Nair keeps fuckin’ with him. First, Nair approached Knight’s woman, Anya, sharin’ some things it was not his to share. That didn’t have the desired effect. Second, Knight has a variety of people under his protection and Nair had some of them hurt. When Knight shut that down, Nair found the guy I’m hunting, who got some of his soldiers to infiltrate some of Knight’s dealings, found some weak links, and by that I mean ex-junkies. He reintroduced them to ice, got them hooked so Knight had to clean that shit out of his business and also expend the effort to get the junkies clean again.”