Atlas glances over his shoulder with a half-hearted, “Oh hey.” Turning around and leaning on the fence in the farthest reaches of our backyard, he drapes muscular arms over it, hands dangling in fists. The plantation we call home is in the distance, a sea of oak trees swimming in Spanish moss between us. Snatching a weed out of the ground I tear it apart during my terrible attempt at casual conversation. “Were you checking the boundaries to see if they’re Sage? I mean…safe.”
Dark blue eyes flicker at the sore spot I accidentally nicked. Glancing to the ground he says, “She’s never gonna let me off the hook, I just know it.” His sister, and Luke’s, hasn’t been talking to him after what he did, except in biting insults whenever she gets the chance. She idolizes their older brother and wants Luke brought back, now. But it’s not her choice when he’ll return. The elders sent him away and it will be them who decide.
I offer, “With time she will.”
“I don’t know,” he mutters. “Not sure I’d forgive me if tables were turned.”
Dropping the weed, I slide my hands in my jeans pockets. But as he tells me about how he wishes we had a mission to take on, I can’t stop myself from sneaking lingering peeks of his narrow hips, muscular thighs showcased in old blue jeans, how sexy he looks every single damn day of his life. The glimpses of burnished copper skin showing through the rips turn my core into a ball of heat, and it’s just gotten worse ever since I confessed to Sofia Sol my feelings for Atlas. Since I shared that secret, I can’t hide it from myself.
We’ve trained together all our lives, Atlas and I. Watched each other grow up in this club. These feelings grew even though I didn’t want them to. But he looks after me, naturally protective since I’m what they would consider the weak link in our crew. I hope I showed with the last mission, I’m not that. Sofia changed her mind, believes now I can handle anything thrown at me with the terrible things we see. Unfortunately I have no idea how Atlas feels about me, in any regard. Cipher, romantic, or otherwise. My vision, my gut instinct, is clouded by desire.
He meets my eyes, jogs his chin up. “How come you’ve forgiven me for what I did?”
“You’re beating yourself up enough already,” I shrug with a smile. “Why should I hurt you, too?”
He squats down, jeans tightening, yanks a blade of grass from the ground, and proceeds to absently split it down the middle with his short fingernails. “You’re too nice, you know that?”
“Understanding maybe, but not nice.”
He offers a smile born from sheer willpower alone. “Nobody wants to be the nice girl, huh?”
“Not me,” I smirk, “I just shot a guy, remember?”
Standing back up, he laughs enough to release tension. “You killed a murderer. That’s about as badass as you can get.” Tossing the blade he initiates our walk back home by heading there and assuming I’ll come along. I glance to the spot where he just stood, where we were alone for a little while. I want to stay out here with him, but how to make that happen without being too obvious? Impossible. Taking solace in what little time we have, I rub his back for a few steps on our return to the house. Even though it’s coming off as reassurance that things will get better with Sage, the other Ciphers, hopefully Luke, too. Sad that this is the only affection I can give him, I drop my hand and walk in silence by his side.
The back screen door clatters behind Atlas and I just in time to hear our motorcycle club President, Jett Cocker, announce with his phone still in hand, “We’ve got a new application for membership to the Ciphers!”
All heads turn. Forks suspend in the air. Grits hover. Cajun shrimp, too. Tater tots are held just outside of mouths. You have to say something really shocking to stop eating Melodi’s amazing cooking. Forks drop to the plates next. Taters tossed down, too.
Jett’s wife Luna asks, “Sofia found a recruit?” filling us in on who he was talking to before we walked in. He runs his hand down the back of her head, over grey-streaked black hair, before resting on her ass.
“Looks like it,” he tells her and everyone present. Our kitchen is adjoining to a TV room, no wall between them, just a pathway and an industrial-sized kitchen island separating the two. Every Cipher not on a mission is present to hear him tell Luna Cocker, “Our daughter has informed me that she and Tyler met someone we need to meet.”
Seated beside his wife Melodi in front of a football game, Fuse nearly shouts, “We haven’t had a new Cipher in the Louisiana House for three decades!”
Murmurs of agreement all around.
I glance to Atlas to see if he’s wondering what I am: where is Sofia? What is this mission Tyler took her on? We don’t call each other when we’re on the road unless we have to. You never know if a ringing phone could blow the cover of someone breaking into an evil bastard’s house or business. Sure, we’re supposed to turn them off so they don’t ring or vibrate, but hey, we make mistakes. We’re only human.
The dam has burst and questions pour out of stunned mouths as Jett waves for the mass of almost twenty people to calm the fuck down. “Alright, listen up!” He pats his wife’s butt and kisses her cheek as he heads over to stand in front of the TV, turning it off. That even Scythe doesn’t object to the football-block is telling of how weird this circumstance is.
The
