"enjoy the silence"

Meet the (un)usual suspects.

Chris Moore: aka “Chris.” I don’t know why, but I haven’t given him a nickname with. Met him when he had my back against some assholes in a bar fight. He’s a good dude that shares my love of bikes, beer, and money. He would’ve been a Booze Brother if we were still a thing.

Siobhan Mahoney: aka "Irish." Don't ask me what she is, because I sure as shit don't know myself. With my track record, is it really worth putting a name on something that's clearly not hurting either of us? Call it whatever the fuck you want, it just works.

Michael Sharp: Former War Machine. Or current, depending on how ready you think this iteration is to go. While Jon was hopping countries and states to figure things out, Sharpie was preparing me to fight. It's safe to say he's as close to me as my old man should've been, but never really was.

"He signed it all over? Never really thought he would make it a franchise and not a spiritual movement," Sharp muses at me.

"Yeah, well, Knucklehead ain't in his proper capacity at the moment. Got a feeling that broad with him is fucking with his head," I mumble, looking out the window. Sharp has an amazing place, and given his propensity for fine living over the dirty ways my friends and I go for, I doubt that he's going to give me much of a fuss over having the legality in order.

"That's what Reika fucking reduced our friendship to, Sharp. I'm a signature on a goddamn piece of paper," I say, spitting at the floor as I crouch over and try to hide my disdain for her and the EXODUS Pro World Champion.

"Well it's your piece of paper. And I wouldn't have your back on this one if I didn't think you could finish the job we started. Just don't lose sight of where you're going. The blonde was too much of a distraction, how's this one turning out?" he asks me.

"Wha?" I say, turning my head as I see him point to Siobhan.

"She keeping you preoccupied?" he asks.

"None of your fuckin' business," I say quietly as I get up.

"That close, eh? You're starting to build a track record like him," Sharp laughs.

"Well she ain't crazy," I say back with a punch to the arm.

"They're all crazy, just to different degrees," Sharp tells me, leaving Siobhan to raise an eyebrow.

"Right now, I'm not too fuckin' crazy about you comparin' me to Strike's harem of lunatics," she says, starting to stand up. In combat boots or high heels, Siobhan is still an intimidating presence. Her snap of attitude leaves Sharp smirking as he motions for Chris and Siobhan to stand down so I can go for a walk with him outside.

"She's a firecracker, Caldwell. She's probably the smartest match you've made since I've known you," he tells me as I look over at him. "You need her, and since I've done my homework, she needs you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask, raising my eyebrow as he hands me a stuffed envelope.

"Here's enough money for the next few weeks. I'd rather just hand it over instead of you siphoning me like you did for the warehouse. Inside's a slip of paper with a name. When you're feeling froggy, ask her about the name on the slip," he tells me.

"You trying to wreck her life?" I ask as I step forward angrily.

"No, I'm trying to help her. And you. There's an address in there for a place by the California and Mexico border. It's a little town called Calexico, there's a motel there a buddy of Masa and mine runs. He'll make sure you guys are safe if you need to lay low," Sharp tells me. "This is your rodeo now, and if something should ever happen to me with all the enemies Chris is making, so is this place."

"Sharp..." I say with a sigh.

"You need to reconcile your need to not have people leave. Get right, Caldwell. But right now, keep 'em close. I know Chris is coming for you, keeps talking about you being Taurus. As far as we're both concerned, this little visit didn't happen. You three drove right on through to New York and had a nice day on Coney Island," he says, giving my shoulder a pat.

"He's lost his goddamn mind, hasn't he?" I ask him.

"Something tells me there’s more to it, knowing him as long as I have. But this entire set of affairs ever since the events in Ellum happened and Seragaki showing up has me feeling quite uneasy about this," Sharp admits with a sigh. "Talk to Mr. Zinkus. He and Jon probably are your best shot to stay safe if what I gave you doesn't work. Call me in a few days, I'm setting up an account for you," he said. "I'll keep a minimum in there, but nobody knows. Not Eileen, not Chris, not even your pals in there. Find the right people to take our spots now," he tells me and I nod.

"So that's it? No more visits?" I ask him.

"I do have a day job, you know. But when this blows over, we'll have the time. For now, you guys need to be ready to do what we do best. Not the good life part, but what it says on the tin. Get ready for war," he tells me...and I smirk.

"War is what we do best, Sharpie," I remind him and he and I trade a shared grin that means we know what the score is. I walk back in and the two of them are sitting around, starting to feel like they're accessories and not accomplices.

"We good?" Chris asks me.

"We good. Let's move," I tell them both and I look at her as she looks back at me. There's a smile in her eye but there's one thing in there that I don't think she realizes I see.

It's the look that tells me she knows.



She and I don't speak about it.

There's a few words we don't use. We blacklisted them from the start. That first night she gravitated toward me and offered me a shot of whiskey, we knew. I call her my accomplice and my alibi, because it's the only terms I can use safely without breaking into a cold sweat that history is going to repeat. It's an arrangement that doesn't seem to really bother her, because there's times we don't speak in all.

Our bodies do the talking, hence the night I posted it about her on Twitter. "We're speaking in bodies, avoiding me and talking 'bout you," it said. She and I have an unspoken language that works best when we're focused on the tiny ministrations our bodies provide, a language nobody needs to understand but us. There's a million different dialects you can speak it in with a million different people, but no two people talk like this the same way.

She shifts a little, lets out a little moan that tells me how much she's really enjoying it. I know I am, and she keeps herself pulled closer, hands on my shoulders as she pulls her lips away from mine. We're sweating, the two of us having clearly worked up every drop between the friction and the heat of the room.

"Carey," she whispers in my ear before she slowly stops moving and I look up at her.

"You good?" I ask.

"Yeah," she whispers, slowly moving her hips as she finally brings her hands to my cheeks to have us looking at one another.

"We're set. Sharp gave me a couple k," I say to her as I look at her before that brief moment where she shivers and shudders and I know that she's found that few seconds where everything is honest. You can't hide the truth when you have that kind of release, and I just stay calm as she does.

"Sharp gave me a name," I tell her.

“Whose name?” she asks me, and I look at her.

“I don’t know. It’s on some sheet of paper. Says you’re gonna need me as much as I need you. Not like Sharp knows what he’s talking about when it comes to us,” I tell her, slowly moving away. Intimacy isn’t my cup of tea even with all of the unspoken words and thoughts. “So I’m gonna let you tell me before I gotta go open that envelope and find out.”

She exhales slowly, rolling over onto her stomach. “My bet’s on Nikolai Kovalev. Also known as Nicky Benz - guy’s got a Mercedes he loves more than any woman he’s ever met,” she tells me and I raise an eyebrow.

“You owe him money, marriage not quite annulled, or is this one of those exes that has a hard time letting go?” I ask her. Not like I’ve done this dance before...okay, it was once or twice, but she had nice tits and I was just starting to find my footing in life beyond being a military brat. “Not like it’s gonna set me off, and it’s not like I’m gonna just...walk...but yeah. No secrets. I’ve been watching secrets eat up partnerships a lot lately,” I confess before I look at her. There’s not a lot to hide our vulnerability here. We’re naked, quite literally. There’s not much more you can do with someone when it comes to hiding honesty when you’re ass naked and there’s nothing covering your proverbial shame. A friend once said once you’ve seen someone naked, they’re either married to you or friends for life. Though I’ve been able to dispute that a bit, that’s not to say that there isn’t a shred of truth to it now.

“None of the above, actually. Nick’s Bratva. Russian mafia. Low level, because he’s fuckin’ stupid and he likes to brag. We were a thing for about year and I came away knowing more than I ever should have since he never knew when to keep his fuckin’ mouth shut. Got out because with a guy like that… you just know he’s gonna get the ol’ Fredo treatment, and if it goes wrong, they’re gonna take out anyone who could turn state’s evidence. Left his dumb ass in Little Odessa.” She’s incredibly forthcoming about it and I look over at her while I take it all in. I’ve dealt with my share of people that are unsavory. I’ve run with thugs, bangers, hackers, dealers, and the type of people that basically aren’t welcome at family gatherings.

“So one more fight we’re gonna need our guns for?” I ask her, pulling her closer. There’s no lust here, but there’s something, an unspoken intimacy right now that actually matters to the two of us in a time when we’re both being brutally honest. “Guess we better learn to stick together,” I say quietly, leaning my head up to kiss her. “Don’t say it, Irish. I know it’s on your tongue, but you better not say it.”

“Guess there’s no need, since you know it and I know it. Nick’s about as smart as a brick, but his family’s further up the chain than he’ll ever be. They’re the ones to watch for. I’m not about to go to the feds - me own family’s got connections in places I don’t need cops looking - but the Kovalevs don’t know that. Unlike Nick, I knew when to keep my damn mouth shut. Not a problem right now, but if Nick gets them in trouble by talking too much to the wrong people… yeah. You and me, and Chris and whoever else we get in, we’re gonna have to send a message. That I got more important shit to do than rat on some guy who thinks he’s bigger than he actually is - in every conceivable way.” She presses herself against me and kisses me back, but my head is still stuck about six seconds back. There are times my mind zeroes in on things, focuses on one word or phrase. Sometimes, a mere concept stays in my head and it’s suddenly why I’m angrier than I should be over something.

“Is that what this is to you? A message? We’re gonna send a fuckin’ message to some dipshit who thinks his car means his shit don’t stink?” I ask her, looking at her. For once, my eyes aren’t wandering, an easy task considering her whole body won’t quit and it’s impossible to take eyes off her almost flawless to a fatal degree tits. “I got your back, but this ain’t to fight somebody else’s wars. I did that, and I’m only finally seeing daylight. I took up the torch for Cailey and it’s taken me almost a year to break free from that drama,” I tell her. “So what is this? And yeah, maybe some of this is unspoken, but I ain’t about to be used.”

“If they decide I’m a threat. Burn bridges when we come to them, if we come to them, aye? This right here? This ain’t about using you to fight my battles. This is about having fun and raising some hell along the way. Didn’t think my dipshit ex would figure into the picture until Sharp handed you his name. You got my back, that’s all I need to know if it comes down to that. But Kovalev’s not a problem now, and not why I loaned out my couch to you. Did that because I like the wildness in you. Keeps me coming back for more.” And when she says that, she kisses me roughly, biting my lower lip. It’s raw, it’s filthy. There’s an intensity built within us that just seems to manifest every time we find ourselves starting to build that irritation and anger. I don’t want to be that angry, and I never want to rage to the point like I did one night in Japan, but I know it’s in me. That doesn’t mean any of that was right.

“I don’t wanna be used. I’ve got enough trust issues as it stands,” I tell her, probably a little more than I want her to know, a lot more than I’d like anyone to know about me. It’s not in my nature to slip that out, and she knows it. That alone is the reason I’m not exactly thrilled that this has been left hanging in the air. “We work best when there are some things unsaid. That doesn’t mean it always goes down like that,” I tell her, stopping my own urges to move my hips and fuck into her the anger already building from the directions my head is going into. I doubt she’d be too crazy about it either.

“Hey, look me in the eye for a minute. There are things you and I don’t talk about, and that’s fine. But I promise you this - you ask me a question, and I’ll give you an honest answer. There’s room for unspoken things and secrets between us, but not for lies. Like Nick. I wasn’t gonna bring him up. No need to, far as I was concerned. But Sharp giving you his name means he thinks there’s potential for trouble there, and he ain’t wrong about that. And if there’s trouble, yeah, I’m gonna need backup. But you’re not just backup to me, and you know that. Never have been, never will be.”

“Yeah, I ain’t gonna tell you a lie, Irish. The truth is I’m always gonna be outnumbered. Makin’ friends ain’t a thing I do really well. Daniel and Jackie didn’t stick around long. Jacko’s doing who knows what and I know that my attitude rubbed Danny the wrong way. And I’m not exactly personable when it comes to everything and everyone else. And yeah, this?” I ask as I start twirling my finger around the air like I’m gesturing to a two-person universe. “That has the unspoken thing. You don’t gotta broadcast it or go crazy claiming you’re my old lady and I’m your guy. But the Russian mafia? Yeah, that sort of shit needs to be put out in the open. You’ve seen my baggage, Jaina Frost ain’t something I can hide. For all my jokes, I can’t hide Cailey since she left me homeless. So the truth is simple,” I say before I stop and take a deep breath, shaking my head when I realize the festering wounds that are being exposed here in this conversation. “You need to be better about keeping me in the loop, because here’s a secret I ain’t ever told a soul. My old man is dying. A few months back, I found out he’s basically shot his liver thanks to drinking. I almost traded myself to Aiken to make him and Payton James whole again. My old man can’t be collateral damage in any of my mess, even if he’s a piece of shit. He’s my last living relative unless my momma is out there somewhere. Not your damage, not Strike’s, not mine. It’s the Marine mentality he put into me, no man left behind.” I sigh, and I don’t even realize that I’m shaking, trembling over the fact that I’m naked. Not just physically naked, but emotionally. Something that doesn’t just come up to anyone in my life. Not Sharp, not Collins, not Strike, not even Cailey. I’m here, and it’s out there like I just puked up my black innards.

And I’m fucking stark ass naked.

“We’ll keep your old man from being collateral damage,” she says softly. “As for the rest of it, your secrets are safe with me. As mine are with you. You’re the only one who knows about Nikolai’s connections. Didn’t think you’d get close enough for it to possibly affect you but… here we are. So now it’s out in the open. Anything else you wanna know about me, just ask. My life’s an open book.”

“That’s the problem with open books...too many things spill out,” I say to her as I move back closer. “You weren’t supposed to be here. This wasn’t supposed to be a long term thing. Our original arrangement was working just fine, but here you are and here I am. You got one more chance to back out before this gets heavy,” I tell her, hands slowly starting to find themselves back to what they were doing before I had enough of an opening to mention names and Russians.

Haven’t you figured it out yet, Carey? I don’t back down. Whatever it is, I’m in it. One hundred percent,” she says, and I look up at her.

“That’s not just fightin’ I’m talkin’ about, Irish.” I tell her back quietly, leaning my head in to start kissing her neck, lightly biting a strangely familiar place I feel like I’ve tended to before just for her.

“I’m not talkin’ about just fightin’ either,” she responds, gasping audibly.

If I’m being honest, I might as well just quote Pink Floyd. We’re two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, but that’s what’s working in all this. I ain’t anything less than broken, and she seems to come with enough baggage to fill a cargo bay of a 757. Whatever this is, it works. It works because we need it to be through all the madness and all of the insanity. In the seasons of the witch that my job consistently finds me put in, it’s no secret that sometimes you just need that one anchor, that one little thing that binds you and keeps you from flying off the deep end. My dude Strike? He had it, and he lost it. Furor had it and lost it. Old Man Collins? He’s got it, and I’ve never seen someone fight as hard as he does to keep it. Even my sister Evie needs something to anchor her down. Me? I’ve got this.

“If you leave, I’m gonna track you down and remind you that you made promises,” I say, fully realizing how fucking disturbing I sound.

“Guess it’s a good thing for me I’m not going anywhere then.” And on that, she kisses me, crushing our lips together as she almost seems to cling. We’re here and we’re speaking that language again.

And it’s never been easier to interpret.