Chapter 33

MARLOWE

I didn’t recognize the teen who walked into the common room, but it was obvious he wasn’t new to the place, nor to the members, as several called, “Reif! What you doin’ here, man?”
Silky, dark-brown strands of slightly wavy hair reached the teen's shoulders, and as his head lifted at the greetings, I sucked in a small breath. His eye color was devastating to the senses: liquid gold shot through with striations of cerise.

Unable to help myself, I stared. I had never seen eyes so beautiful. They were surrounded by thick, almost black lashes, causing their unusual coloring to practically jump out at a person. The thought passed through my mind that he was going to draw the females like a magnet as he grew older: from his dark hair, to the olive tint of his skin, to his slightly taller than six-foot frame, he was stunning—but angry. Oh, so angry.

As I drew my eyes away from the beauty of the teenager, my thoughts fell to the dark-headed woman Torin had been speaking with. Who was she? How did they know one another?

There was still so much of Torin’s life in those missing years, I knew nothing about, and seeing him with the woman brought that home more than anything else had so far. In many ways, he was still a stranger to me.

Yes, I knew him intimately, but as for the man Torin had become—I didn’t really know him at all. There were four-years of a life that was still void to me—years that had shaped, and molded him into a stranger.

Years he had endured pain, sacrifice and had almost died in. I knew he had been in an explosion. However, I didn’t know where or why. He went on covert operations that had nothing to do with being a member of the Ravens—but as a specialist in a secret, highly specialized group of men. I didn’t know why he had joined the military to begin with. He had never mentioned an interest I was aware of. As well, why had he pretended to be dead to me all these years? Out of all the things I didn’t know about him, this one puzzled me the most.

Next, my thoughts turned to my brother. He had completely written me out of his life as well. I had never received an explanation for the banishment, though every part of me wanted to think it had somehow been for me to have a better life, to not be subjected to the rough and dangerous lifestyle of that world any longer.

I had a hard time believing that though, as surely, if he actually gave that kind of a damn about me, he would have somehow gotten word to me about his welfare. I’d received crickets—nothing—zip, zilch, nada. All I knew for sure was that he had somehow pissed another biker gang off, not an unusual event in the biker world, and that it had been bad enough to send his club into hiding and put a target on my head as well.

Whatever he had done, it had drawn the eye of some high government officials, and that he was now on this section of the SOG’s radar. Neither Torin nor Bur had told me this, but I wasn’t stupid. I’d put two and two together. Why the hell else would they hide me away within their protection?

I gave a small shake of my head and heaved a small sigh as I turned toward the bar to go help Ginger. So many unanswered questions.

As I slipped around the edge of the bar’s counter, Ginger tossed a glance in my direction, then greeted, “Morning. How are you?”

I shrugged. “Got a lot of questions to be honest, but otherwise...not bad,” I returned. Then, as an afterthought, I grinned, saying, “Oh, and good morning to you!”

Ginger laughed and took my empty cup from my hand. She refilled it, adding two teaspoons of sugar and two teaspoons of creamer. After stirring the mixture with a spoon, she gave the cup’s rim a tap with the spoon, shaking loose the moisture still clinging to it, then handed the cup back to me.

As I took the cup from her, I eyed her before murmuring. “You just surprised me.”

“That so?” she asked, filling her own cup, and carrying it to her lips, she blew on the hot liquid.

I nodded. “Yeah. I hadn’t realized you knew how I liked my coffee.”

Throat working as she swallowed the sip of the dark brew from her cup, she raised an eyebrow. “I always pay attention to those I like,” she stated matter-of-factly, a smile sliding across her lips.

The sound of something heavy being dropped onto the floor of the common room caught our attention, and gazes swinging in the sound’s direction, I noticed the duffel bag on the floor next to the teenager.

From beside me, I heard Ginger mutter, “Kids had it rough, and by the weight of that duffel bag, I’m thinking things haven’t improved for him over this past year since losing his dad, and his so-called mom moving him into her place again.”

As I watched the teen, I could see the hurt and anger still shimmering off him in waves. As well, he continued to carry the ‘don’t approach air.’ “He seems so broken and angry,” I breathed.
With a glance at Ginger, I noted a soft look on her face as she gazed at Reif, at the same time murmuring, “He is. But I get the feeling things are fixing to start looking up for him.” As her words ended, I watched Torin come up beside Reif and toss his arm over the teen’s shoulder, and with a quick nod, Ginger stated, “And there is the reason why.”

Curious, I asked, “Satan was talking to a dark-headed woman earlier. Is that the kid's mom?”

Ginger, turning her attention back to the bar, tossed out, “Sobain, yes. She was once kind of like Satan’s ol’ lady. He took care of her and the kid for a time after Jamieson died.”