Calm & Storm (The Night Horde SoCal Book 6) Page 14

  She’d adored every second.

  Now, the only bike she’d yet seen Ronin ride was this huge Harley cruiser. The ride was different from the Duc. Looser. And a lot louder. But it was much more comfortable to be a passenger on, because she could sit up straight—still didn’t have a sissy bar, though, so she still had to hold on tight. Not that she minded one little bit.

  Locking her arms around his waist and holding on for dear life felt exactly the same, and she adored every second. They came down from the hills and Ronin headed straight for the PCH, so they rode almost the whole trip with the coast immediately to their left. Lorraine didn’t think there was a prettier road in the entire country.

  Traffic was light once they cleared Malibu. With the wind in their faces and the sun shining above them, Ronin opened the throttle, and they flew northward. Lorraine held on tight and laid her head on his back, watching the water fly by. At every straightaway, he took his hand from the control and laid it over hers.

  This sunny, beautiful day was their new start. She could feel it.

  ~oOo~

  “Rainy…” Ronin took off his helmet and scowled up at the Mediterranean façade of the Four Seasons Resort.

  “I know.” She took his hand. “Trust me.” The Four Seasons put the luxe in luxury, and she knew perfectly well that it wasn’t the kind of place that Ronin would have chosen on his own. But Miranda, the manager, was a good friend, a book club friend, and she’d hooked them up with a lovely suite—and comped the rate.

  She hadn’t needed to comp the room, but Lorraine had taken the generous offer with effusive thanks. It made things easier on Ronin if she could tell him that she wasn’t paying for the thousand-dollar-plus-per-night suite.

  He wasn’t a troglodyte about money—at least, she didn’t think so. They had both paid into a mutual pot in the time before, and Eddie had paid their bills from that. She’d tried to do it, but she hated balancing checkbooks and keeping track of what was due when. Cameron did that for her now.

  But since then, she suspected that their financial situations weren’t quite so balanced, and she didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable about that. So she’d taken her friend’s offer of a free suite for two nights.

  And now she had to convince Ronin to enter the building.

  “Ronin. There’s a patio with an ocean view. We can walk right down to the beach whenever we want. We can order room service if you don’t want to eat in the restaurant. Or we can go into town to eat.” She really wanted to spend some money in the hotel, though, since they weren’t paying for the room. “It’ll be peaceful and beautiful.”

  He nodded and took his backpack from her and threw it onto his shoulder. It had been a very long time since she’d packed to travel by motorcycle, but she’d managed to get her things into his pack with his, and she’d worn it on the ride. Back in the day, they’d gone camping for a week or two at a time, carrying everything they needed on the bike.

  She squeezed his hand. “Okay, let’s get this romantic weekend started.”

  When she took a step forward, he pulled her back. “Already has.” He bent down and kissed her, sore lip and all, and Lorraine’s heart danced in her chest as if it were the first time he’d ever kissed her.

  Definitely their new start.

  ~oOo~

  Though the man at the front desk—whose nametag read ‘Stuart’—did a discreet double-take at Ronin’s bruised face, he didn’t treat either of them any differently from any other guest. Lorraine hadn’t expected that he would. A hotel as refined as the Four Seasons, located in Southern California, knew quite well that wealthy clientele came looking all sorts of ways. Besides, the room had been personally comped by his boss. When Miranda came out and greeted them with the warmth of friendship, Stuart became positively solicitous.

  “Lorraine! Darling!” Miranda, effusing happiness, hurried over, her arms outstretched.

  “Hi, Miranda.” They did the ritual air kisses. “Thanks so much for this.”

  “Obviously, darling. You know you only have to ask. I’m so glad a suite was available.” She turned to Ronin, who was looking on, bemused. “And who is this?”

  “Miranda Ingish, Ronin Drago.”

  “My word. You are glorious, aren’t you?” Miranda tried to step in for a hug, but Ronin took one step back, and, elegant professional hostess that she was, she segued easily into a hand extended for a shake. That, Ronin took with a nod.

  “Strong, silent type, I see,” Miranda stage-whispered to Lorraine.

  An impulse came over Lorraine then, and she followed it without waiting to analyze it. “Ronin is Cameron’s father.”

  Miranda and Ronin both looked shocked. Ronin’s eyes flared wide, and Miranda’s mouth sagged open.

  “Holy…really?” Turning to Ronin, Miranda squinted and gave him an appraising glance. “Well, yes, he is, isn’t he? I’m especially pleased to meet you now, Ronin.”

  Again, Ronin merely nodded. Though he presented an outward calm, Lorraine could see a tension in his jaw that meant he was about as uncomfortable as he could possibly be—and possibly angry, too.

  She turned to her friend, prepared to extricate them and head off to their room, when Miranda did it for her.

  “Well, I’ve got an event this evening, and I’m buried, so I’m sorry, but I have to fly. I’ll be on the lookout for you tonight—maybe we can have a drink or two.”

  Coming in for another round of air kisses, Miranda muttered at Lorraine’s ear, “You and I definitely need to talk. Maybe it’s time for book club soon?”

  “That’d be great. And thank you again for this weekend.”

  Miranda stepped back. “Of course!” With a flirty little wave at Ronin, she turned and headed off.

  “Shall I call up Ernesto to assist you with your bags?” Stuart asked from his post behind them.

  Ronin lifted his backpack. “Got it. Thanks.” Then he turned to Lorraine.

  Yes, he was angry.

  ~oOo~

  The suite was lovely and bright, decorated with soft, serene colors and minimal fussiness. From any window, the Pacific Ocean swayed behind gentle foliage. French doors opened out to a small veranda, and from there a path led through the grounds to the beach.

  “Isn’t this a beautiful suite?” Lorraine asked as she set the key card on the little table near the door.

  “Why did you do that?” Ronin dropped his pack in an armchair and walked to the French doors.

  “Do what?”

  He didn’t turn to face her when he answered. “Tell her who I was.”

  She crossed the room and stood at his side. “Don’t you want people to know?”

  The ocean breeze made the trees around their little veranda dance and sway. Ronin seemed focused completely on that view, and he didn’t answer her.

  “Roe?”

  “He doesn’t know what it means, that I’m his father. I don’t, either. I guess I wanted it between us until we knew.”

  She put her hand on his back. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I told her—it was an impulse. I think I wanted to mark what’s happening with us, make it real.”

  His head swiveled slowly, and he regarded her with calm grey eyes. “You think it’s not real?”

  “I think it’s so much what I want that it makes me afraid to lose it. Roe, you’ve been drifting in and out for more than a month. I want to wrap my arms around you and make you stay. I guess telling Miranda was a way to bring you deeper into my life. I’m sorry you don’t want that. If it’s any consolation, she’s the soul of discretion. Her job requires it. She won’t gossip, not unless I expressly say she can spread the word.”

  He nodded and looked out at the view again. “I’m in, Rainy.”

  “Look at me when you say it.” She picked up his hand. “Please.”

  Turning to her, he pulled her close and wrapped her in his arms. “I love you. I never would have left you in the first place. So you tell me you’re in, that I can trust it.”

&nbs
p; A small, petulant, young, stupid voice in the back of her head whispered that he had left her—he’d gone off to war, knowing how she felt about it, and left her unmoored in a town she had no place in without him. She gagged that voice and shoved it away. None of that mattered now, and none of it smoothed the ragged edges around the truth that she’d kept Cameron away from him. They both needed to lock the past up and throw away the key.

  She put her hand on his scruffy, bruised cheek. “I am completely in. I love you. I want us to spend the rest of our forever together. You can trust that.”

  “Then past is past. From now on, only forward.”

  He’d said that before and then pulled away, but she believed him nonetheless. She believed him with a faith so strong that it brought tears, and she leaned her forehead on his strong chest and wept.

  He stood stalwart, his hands sweeping up and down her back, soothing her, and let her cry.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  With the exception of the occasional glitz of Vegas, Ronin had never stayed somewhere as nice as this hotel—or resort, whatever they called it. He’d been uncomfortable at first. Not ashamed; he was comfortable in his skin, with who he was. But he liked things simple, and luxury was about the opposite of simplicity.

  Or so he’d thought. The suite they were staying in was two rooms of quiet comfort. Once he’d gotten over the shock of hearing Rainy tell a total stranger—to him—that he was Cameron’s father, once they’d talked it out a little, he was able to relax and appreciate the serenity and beauty around them.

  They’d spent the afternoon and evening in bed, then had dinner in the hotel, sitting on a large patio overlooking the beach. The sounds of some kind of big party pulsed dimly around them, noticeable but not distracting from the natural sounds of the surf as the tide rolled in.

  In bed, when they were quiet, and during dinner, Rainy talked about her life. He’d asked how she knew somebody like Miranda, and that had started her off on a long riff about how small the ‘hospitality’ industry really was, even in a place as large as Southern California

  Enjoying the soft sound of her voice and the way her stories colored in details of the life he’d missed, he spoke just enough to keep her going.

  Over dinner, her chatter turned to Cameron, and she faltered. He’d told her he wanted to learn about Cameron from him. But that hadn’t been right—he wanted to know what it was like to watch him grow up. So he encouraged her with a few questions and let her keep going.

  He’d missed so much. What a great kid they’d made.

  As she was finishing a story about how he’d volunteered at an animal shelter to fulfill a school community service requirement, Ronin, feeling lonely again, cut in. “Let’s walk.”

  “Um, yeah. Yeah, that sounds wonderful.” She turned and signaled for the check.

  After she’d signed the tab, he took her hand and they walked off the restaurant patio to the beach. Rainy kicked off her little sandals and let them swing from her free hand.

  “Aren’t you going to take your boots off?”

  He shook his head. He didn’t need to feel the sand between his toes to appreciate the calm of the sea.

  With the beach nearly to themselves in the twilight, they walked near the edge of the surf. After a few minutes of quiet, Ronin said, “Tell me about your ex.”

  Rainy stopped. “Why?”

  They’d arrived at a place where the beach narrowed against a low cliff face. Ronin led her back to a small grouping of large rocks and sat her down. “I want to know.”

  As he sat next to her, she said, “No. Enough. Douglas is irrelevant.”

  “Not true.”

  “Roe. Past is past. Right? It’s one thing to tell you stories that show you my journey to this moment, but that’s not why you want to know about him. Don’t stew. You said you need my help to work things out in your head. That’s me helping. My past marriage is irrelevant. I’m sure you’ll meet him at some point. You can make your own judgments.”

  She was right, so he didn’t argue or reply at all. He looked out over the darkening ocean. The sun had set while they’d been at dinner, and now only a faint orange glow remained on the horizon.

  “It’s my turn, anyway,” she said after a minute. “How did Eddie become Ronin?”

  “Not much of a story.”

  “Tell me anyway. Please.”

  Ronin didn’t like to talk about himself. He wasn’t a storyteller the way Rainy was—and Cameron, too. He didn’t know how to build a scene or create a context. And there wasn’t much to tell, truly. He’d lived.

  But with a sigh, his eyes still on the horizon, he gave it a shot. “After I got your message, I finished training. I got deployed as soon as the war was on. My dad died during my first tour, but he was buried before I got word, so I didn’t get leave. I did my second tour back to back, didn’t even leave the desert. I was done after that. A couple of months before I was set to go stateside, I got hurt.”

  “What did you do in the war?”

  Nothing in the world would induce him to get specific with her about what he saw and did in Iraq. He wasn’t tormented by his memories, but they weren’t for sharing with people who didn’t know firsthand what it was like. “Infantry. Just a grunt, pointing my gun where I was told to.”

  He turned to her then to gauge her response. She simply nodded. Then she said, “You were hurt badly.”

  “Badly enough. Not near as bad as others. I’ve got some scars, lost my spleen, some of my liver. Getting hit by an IED, I was lucky. Those damn things blew people apart all day every day. The guys in the truck that took the hit—some of the shrapnel pulled out of us in the back was teeth and bone.”

  “God.”

  That was more detail than he’d meant to share. So he shut up and looked away again. After a long moment, Rainy asked, “What about when you got home?”

  He shrugged. “Ma was sick and depressed. You were gone. I was…I don’t know. Different. Even the people seemed different. Nothing felt right. I tried to settle back in, went back to logging when I was strong enough. Took care of my mom. But it wasn’t home anymore. When Ma died, I buried her next to my dad. Settled up the house and sold all my bikes but the Versys. Then I just packed a pack and rode off. Got as far as Spokane, and a group of guys wearing colors pulled up at a light next to me. I liked the look of all those bikes in formation. Didn’t have anything else in mind, so I checked them out and started working my way into the club. Been wearing a patch since they gave me one. Moved to SoCal when that first club broke apart.”

  Silence sat between them as she took all that in, and then she said, “You’re so quiet now. How did that happen?”

  He answered without turning to her; it was easier to talk when he wasn’t seeing his audience. “Don’t know. People talk all the time without saying anything. Guess I just started noticing that. I spend a lot of time alone, too. Don’t talk to myself.”

  “No friends? No one to love?”

  “I have my brothers in the club. I love them all. As for friends, I had somebody I’d call a friend, closer than the others.” His hand closed over the scar across his palm, made when he’d slashed it and gripped Lakota’s lifeless hand in his casket. The tribal ritual, in which the SoCal Horde had been invited to participate, was to cut a lock of one’s hair and leave it in the casket, but Ronin’s hair hadn’t been nearly long enough. So he’d done something else. “We buried him last year.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He didn’t answer—that was one of the things that people said that didn’t mean much.

  After another quiet moment, Rainy asked, “No other woman in all these years?”

  He knew why she was asking, and it occurred to him to refuse to tell her about his love life, nonexistent though it was, since she had refused to talk about her ex. But she was right that he’d been withholding much more than she had, and there was no good reason not to tell her.

  He turned, shifting on the rock so that he could face her st
raight on. “I haven’t been celibate. But I love you, Rainy. I don’t know how to love anybody else. So no. There’s been nobody that mattered since you.”

  Tired of talking, before she could respond, he took her face in his hands and kissed her.

  ~oOo~

  Back in the room, they sat together on an upholstered settee on the little private patio Rainy called the ‘veranda.’ She sipped white wine from a crystal goblet; he drank expensive scotch from a matching rocks glass.