The Biker's Fate Chapter 404

Grace

I aRRIVED HOME to find Grams sleeping, perfectly happy and content for the moment, at least. As soon as she awakened, I was going to need to make her get up and move, which she hated to do, but important all the same.

With each passing hour, my stress level ramped up exponentially. I hadn't heard anything from Flea since I'd left work, and my brother was also MIA, not surprisingly, but I thought maybe he'd have at least tried to reach out.

Grams and I managed to have a semi-stress-free dinner, but by ten, she was snoring in the recliner and I was pacing the house, doing my frantic clean as I went. If Flea didn't call me soon, this house will have been scrubbed twice-over by the time I fall over from exhaustion.

At almost eleven, my phone buzzed in my pocket and I paused my dusting to check the screen.

Flea: I'm here. Don't want to wake your Grams.

I rushed to the door, peeking out the peephole first, and then pulling it open and falling against him. "Hi."

"Hey, baby."

"Is Hatch out?"

"No. He won't be for a while."

"Why not? Can't he get bail or something?" I asked as he walked inside, locking the door behind us.

"He's being held on the Patriot Act."

"Oh my God, he's not!"

"Yeah. From what Booker's been able to determine, by somewhat illegal means, is that someone matching Hatch's description, and carrying credit cards in his name, has been buying up supplies to make a dirty bomb. Actually, a lot of dirty bombs."

I gasped. "He would never."

"I know, honey, but the authorities don't know that. It's gonna take a little time to sort it out. Right now, Mack can't see him, so we're looking at alternate ways to get someone in to talk to him."

"Maisie must be freaking out… Hatch must be freaking out."

"Hatch can take care of himself, and Maisie's got support, but I know she'd love to see you when you get a break."

I dropped my face to his chest and wrapped my arms around him. "What the hell is going on, Flea? Why would someone be doing this to him?"

"Honey, he's the Sergeant at Arms for a long-standing MC, he's not a choir boy."

"But he's a good man… the best. He's like Dalton."

"Dalton Moore?"

Dalton Moore was FBI and close friends with Jaxon.

I shook my head. "James Dalton."

"From Road House?"

"Yes. He's nice. The nicest person on the planet…"

"Until it's time not to be."

I nodded. "So, it's rare that he's not nice. No one would have anything on him. Would they?"

"I can't imagine what. But we're figuring it out."

I sighed. "I don't know if I feel better or worse with that statement."

"Gracie?" Grams called.

"I should go," he said.

"Do not move," I ordered, and headed for the family room.

Grams was trying to push herself up from the recliner.

"Don't do that, Grams. I can help."

"I have to pee."

"Okay. Flea's here, let me just ask him to go."

"He doesn't have to go, sweetpea. Just help me do my thing and then I'll fall right back to sleep, while you two visit."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I am." She lowered her voice and whispered, "He can even stay the night if you want."

"You barely know him. Are you sure?"

"Honey pie, your dad did a full background check on him," she confirmed. "If he's comfortable, I'm comfortable."

"Okay." I helped her out of her chair and walked her to the bathroom off the family room. She was moving remarkably well, considering her full leg cast. But, that was Grams. Nothing kept her down.

I left her in the bathroom and went to Flea. "Grams said you can stay if you want to."

"Is she sure?"

"Yes," I hissed.

"Whoa, what was that?"

"Not you," I rushed to say. "She confirmed my dad did a full background probe on you. Since he's happy, she's happy."

"You knew that already, right?"

"No, I assumed, but hoped he hadn't crossed that line."

Flea chuckled. "Why are you surprised he'd check me out?"

"Because it's none of his business."

"Grace, if you were my daughter, speakin' or not, I'd have Booker look into anyone you were fuckin'."

"He doesn't know we're 'fuckin'.'"

He raised an eyebrow. "Baby, he knows."

"Gross." I wrinkled my nose. "No. He does not."

"Okay, Grace," he said. "Keep your illusion."

"Oh, I will." I patted his chest. "Go hang in the family room and I'll get Grams settled."

I didn't wait for him to agree or disagree, walking down the hall to retrieve my grandmother. Grams tried to finagle her way back to her own bed, but until she could get up and move around freely on her own, the recliner would be her spot.

"This is bullshit," she grumbled.

"I know, Grams," I said. "It won't be forever. Are you in pain? You're due for more pain meds."

"Can we wait a bit?"

"Of course. But don't be a hero, okay?"

"I won't, sweetpea."

I covered her with a blanket and within minutes, she was snoring. Flea patted the sofa cushion next to him and I plopped my butt in the seat and leaned against him. "You've been glued to your phone. Does that mean there are updates?"

He shook his head. "No, unfortunately."

I shifted to face him and settled my palm on his chest. "Just how bad is this?"

"It's bad." He sighed. "Your dad's workin' it."

"I'm sorry?" I sat up on my knees. "You did not just say my father is 'working on it.' What the hell is he working on exactly?"

He took my hand and kissed the palm. "Remember I'm the messenger, okay?"

I frowned. "Spill."

"Your dad's the only one who can get in to see Hatch, so he's workin' that angle."

"What do you mean, he's the only one? Hatch is entitled to a lawyer, right?"

Flea shook his head. "Patriot Act, Grace. They can hold him without a lawyer if they believe he's a terrorist."

"Right." I chewed on my lower lip trying to think of something helpful. The God's honest truth was, though, that this was a shit-show and there was nothing I could do.

"Your dad's tryin', honey."

I sighed. "I feel like a shrew."

"Why?"

"It's complicated."

"Because you've hated him for so long and not hating him makes you feel vulnerable and weak?"

I wrinkled my nose. "Don't talk to me like you know me."

He squeezed my hand. "It's okay to forgive him and move on, honey. It doesn't mean you have to let him back in."

"The total cluster fuck, though, is that I miss my dad." I bit back tears. "I have never said that out loud."

He smiled gently and pulled me onto his lap. I settled my head on his shoulder and he stroked my hair. "It's also okay for you to say that out loud."

"I don't really know how I'm supposed to feel."

"Yeah, I get that." He kissed my temple. "Don't beat yourself up while you're figurin' it out, though, okay?"

"I believe I asked you not to talk to me like you know me."

He chuckled, lifting my chin and kissing me gently. "I got you, baby. You know that, right?"

I nodded, snuggling closer. "Yeah. You kind of prove it every day."

"I take my job seriously, so if you feel I'm slippin', you let me know."

I smiled against his neck. "Yeah, I can do that."

Flea shifted, pulling his phone out of his pocket. "Shit, baby, I gotta go."

I slid off his lap. "Is there news?"

He rose to his feet. "Not sure yet. Gotta get back to it."

Leaning down, he kissed me quickly, then he was gone. I locked the house up again and joined my sleeping grandmother back in the family room. She was still resting comfortably, so I found an old movie and hunkered down for a long night.