Nolan: Return to Signal Bend

NOLAN

RETURN TO SIGNAL BEND

Susan Fanetti

Published by Susan Fanetti at Smashwords

Copyright 2015 Susan Fanetti

THE FREAK CIRCLE PRESS

Nolan: Return to Signal Bend © 2016 Susan Fanetti

All rights reserved

Susan Fanetti has asserted her right to be identified as the author of this book under the Copyright, Design and Patents Act 1988.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

ALSO BY SUSAN FANETTI

The Signal Bend Series:

(The first Night Horde series)

(MC Romance)

Move the Sun, Book 1

Behold the Stars, Book 2

Into the Storm, Book 3

Alone on Earth, Book 4

In Dark Woods, Book 4.5

All the Sky, Book 5

Show the Fire, Book 6

Leave a Trail, Book 7

The Night Horde SoCal Series:

(MC Romance)

Strength & Courage, Book 1

Shadow & Soul, Book 2

Today & Tomorrow, Book 2.5

Fire & Dark, Book 3

Dream & Dare, Book 3.5

Knife & Flesh, Book 4

Rest & Trust, Book 5

Calm & Storm, Book 6

The Pagano Family Series:

(Family Saga)

Footsteps, Book 1

Touch, Book 2

Rooted, Book 3

Deep, Book 4

Prayer, Book 5

The Northwomen Sagas

(Viking Historical Romance)

God’s Eye

To eveyone who’s been on Nolan’s side since he was a boy.

I hope he became a man you can be proud of.

One word

Frees us of all the weight and pain of life:

That word is love.

~ Sophocles, Oedipus at Colonus

CHAPTER ONE

The cold was bitter, but the sky was clear, and Nolan rode into the night.

He liked riding in the cold, liked the feel of the wind so sharp it might almost cut his face. It braced him, made him feel like he was vying against the elements and holding his own.

It wasn’t winter yet, officially, but the cold had come in fast and hard. There had been little snow or ice, however, so he’d kept riding, even as his Night Horde brothers, especially the older among them, garaged their Harleys and started driving trucks everywhere.

Nolan rode up Highway 68, over the hills and around the bends, alone on the road, no company but the stars. Often in the night he just rode, with no destination in mind, no purpose but to get right with his head for a while. But on this night, he knew where he was going.

When he arrived where he’d been headed, he pulled off onto a narrow gravel lane mounded in dead leaves and rode slowly under a canopy of the skeletal trees from which they’d fallen. At the end of the lane, he parked and walked into the dark. The light of the star-filled sky was enough to guide him; he knew the way by heart.

He walked to the top of a hill and sat down on the frozen ground. From this vantage, he could see most of Signal Bend spread out below, beyond the rolling expanse of acres of sleeping farmland. Over his head was that infinite dome of starry sky. He lay back and crossed his arms under his head.

Hey, Ani, he whispered.

He hated this night. Four years ago on this night, he’d lost the first woman he’d loved. Maybe the only one he ever would.

The date on her headstone in California was two days later, but that didn’t matter. It was on this night four years ago that he’d woken to find her dying at his side. It was on this night that he’d held her as the light faded from her eyes. It didn’t matter that machines had kept her body going longer. Analisa had left him while he’d held her.

While they were together, she’d gotten a tattoo on her back, an inscription: We are star stuff which has taken its destiny into its own hands. Those words had been important to her, especially as she’d known her death was closing in. Since she’d gone, and he’d come home, Nolan rode out here on clear nights, where the stars filled the sky and seemed to nearly touch the ground, when he needed to be alone and remember.

On the anniversary of the day they’d met. And on this day. And sometimes just because.

He hadn’t had her love very long. Just a few months. And now, four years later, it seemed like he would never want anyone else’s.

Lying on the dead grass, the cold leaching up from the earth and into his bones, Nolan stared up at the stars. He didn’t talk; he wasn’t up here to have a conversation, and he didn’t really believe she could hear him, anyway. He just felt close here, and it was enough.

Well, not enough. Not at all. But all he had.

When the cold finally got to be too much, and he could feel his body going stiff, Nolan sat up. Pulling off a glove, he opened his coat and dug under the neckline of his thermal, catching a leather cord between his fingers and pulling it into the open. A little silver star, studded with diamonds. Analisa’s father had given it to him at the cemetery. It had been her mother’s, and then hers. Now it was his.

He kissed it, whispering, Love you, babe. Then he put it away, zipped up his coat, pulled on his glove, and stood. After one more look up at the stars, Nolan turned and went back to his bike.

He hated this night. There was only one day of the year he hated more.

~oOo~

Morning, Mom.

Nolan leaned in and kissed his mother’s cheek as she stood at the range, frying sausage patties in a cast-iron skillet. She was burning them, as usual. The smell of burnt meat wrestled with the strong aroma of cinnamon. He figured there were Pillsbury cinnamon rolls in the oven, too.

Hey, kiddo. Not in the mood for the Friday night scene at the clubhouse last night, I guess. You doing okay this morning?

His mom knew what last night was, and what he’d needed to do. Normally, he lived at the Horde clubhouse, but he kept his room here, too, and sometimes he just needed to be home, to wake up to his mom and his little brother and a marginally decent breakfast.

Friday nights were party nights at the clubhouse, and the day after Thanksgiving was a big blowout party. The last place on earth Nolan could have dealt with last night.

Yeah, I’m good. He picked up a patty from the stack of paper towels on the counter beside the range and popped it into his mouth. He liked burnt sausage; he’d been surprised when he’d found out they came any other way.

As he poured himself a cup of coffee, a din arose from the other room. His little brother, Loki, was at his drum set.

LOKE! NO! their mom yelled. Not before breakfast! The din stopped, and she turned a long-suffering grimace on Nolan. I still can’t believe you did that.

He’d gotten his brother the kit for his tenth birthday that summer. Nolan grinned innocently back at his mom. What? He loves ‘em. And he’s getting okay at it. He’d be better if you’d let me get him real lessons. Couple years, who knows? You two could start a band.

Their mom played guitar and sang. She’d once done it more or less professionally, doing little gigs around the region, but now she managed a bar, so she didn’t play much. She’d get on stage at work every now and then, and she’d played some club events, but not much more than that. Nolan missed the days when her guitar was out all the time.

The timer went off, and she pulled a tray of rolls from the oven. Lessons when his grades get better. Besides, he’s ten. I think it’ll be more than a couple of years before he’s ready to be in a band. Loke! Wash your hands!

Nolan helped his mom set out breakfast. When his little brother came in, hands still dripping, he ran straight for Nolan and gave him a hug. Mom said you might be grumpy today. Are you grumpy?

Nope. I’m good. Heard you banging around in there. How’s your grade in reading?

Loki sighed dramatically and slid his hand through his curly, dark hair. "The books are so boring. I like comic books. I found a box of ones you made, but Mom said I have to ask you before I read them. Can I read them?"

As a kid, Nolan had drawn all the time. He’d had some stupid dreams of designing a video game, or being the next Alan Moore or something. He’d been a pretty lame kid, really. All dreams and no life. What are you reading for school?

Another big sigh. "Where the Red Fern Grows. It’s so old and boring, and it’s all about this stupid boy who saves up for puppies and how long it takes him to save up and how he has to walk to get the dogs. I like dogs—with his sock-clad foot, he nudged Thor, their old monster of a mutt, who was lying under the table waiting for nibbles to come his way—but this Billy is dumb and boring. And there’s not even a red fern in the story. The title is stupid, too. I want to read X-Men instead."

You have a project due on that book on Wednesday, Loke. You need to get it read, their mom said.

"A diorama. It’s so stupid."

Nolan remembered that book. It had made him cry. In class. In fifth grade. Not a highlight in his memory reel.

Of course, his memory reel was mostly lowlights.

He reached over and set his hand on his little brother’s head. He was sixteen years older, and their dad had been killed when Loki was only two months old, so Nolan was kind of the closest thing Loke had to a father. He always tried to keep that in mind. I get it, big guy. I really do. School can be a drag. But if you want drum lessons, you need to pull your grades up, right?

Yeah, Loki sighed.

Tell you what. I have work this morning, but I’ll come back after, and you can read to me about Billy and the puppies. We’ll talk about it, and I’ll help you plan out your diorama. When you get that project done, you can read my old comics.

I don’t think we can finish it tonight. It’s pretty long.

Nolan grinned. I’ll stay tonight, and we can read it tomorrow, too, then. I’m free and clear tomorrow. We’ll get it done.

Yeah? Cool! Thanks, bro! Calling Nolan ‘bro’ was a new thing Loki had picked up recently, probably trying to mimic his uncles. The Horde all called each other ‘brother’ or ‘bro.’ That was what the club was, more than anything else: a brotherhood. Family. The best one Nolan—or his mom, for that matter—had ever had.

With a laugh, Nolan ruffled his little brother’s hair and went back to his burnt sausage and canned cinnamon roll.

His mom gave him a thoughtful look and then reached across and set her hand flat on the table, near his plate. She still wore her wedding and engagement rings, ten years after Havoc’s death, even though they hadn’t even been married a year when he’d died. The man had left a deep impression in their world. One so deep he’d erased Nolan’s deadbeat biological father from meaning and had become the only father he’d wanted—or needed.

And then he’d gone and died.

Nolan met his mother’s eyes and gave her the smile she needed to see. The one that said he was okay. He’d perfected that smile.

And he really was okay. Just as he’d found a way to be okay after his father’s death; he’d found a way to be okay after Ani’s. Time made scars and life went on. It had been ten years since Havoc, four since Ani. He was okay. Having his life. Just having a hard day in it every now and then.

Just like his mom.

Since this past summer, though, not long after Loki’s birthday, when the SoCal charter of the Night Horde MC had almost been destroyed in a hellfire of blood and death, he’d felt less okay.

Someone he’d thought long gone, probably dead and definitely no longer a danger, had risen up in the middle of the chaos in SoCal. Someone Nolan hated with a sick, simmering fury. David Vega.

Since then, Nolan had felt his old, restless anger pacing again at the bottom of his gut.

Nolan?

He looked up to see his mom’s head tilted and her brow furrowed, and he realized that he was dragging his fork across his plate, tines down, making a low screeching noise. He stopped. Sorry.

You sure you’re okay?

He finished his coffee and pushed back from the table. I’m always okay. You worry too much. I gotta go, but I’ll be back. He looked at Loki. You be ready to read, guy. We’ll get that book done.

Okay! Loki said and slipped Thor a sausage patty while their mom’s attention was on Nolan.

You’re working this morning? Saturday? Club stuff?

Yeah. Just a little protection run to Eureka. Squeaky clean.

Though they ran little jobs here or there that might not have been completely legit, the Missouri Horde hadn’t been truly outlaw in a long time. These days, besides still being the de facto law in town, they worked construction and mechanical repair, they owned a few Signal Bend businesses, and they did some guarding and protection work—like the job he had this morning, riding with Tommy, escorting a shipment of completely legal inventory to its warehouse destination. The dirtiest thing about the job was the forged concealed-carry permit for the piece in his holster.

Most days, Nolan worked with one of the Horde’s companies, Signal Bend Construction. On those jobs, he was just a grunt, swinging a hammer. He liked club work better, even if it was only being visible around town, keeping their kind of order. In the club, he was the Sergeant at Arms. Not a role with the kind of punch it had had when Len had worn that flash, back in the days when the Horde had gone everywhere armed, but one that still carried some weight.

The last time there had been real danger around the Night Horde Missouri or Signal Bend had been the first time David Vega’s name had come up. Vega had been instrumental in the trouble then, when the mother charter had almost been destroyed. Vega himself had killed Nolan and Loki’s father. Brutally. And Vega had risen from the supposed dead and been involved this summer, when SoCal had almost gone down. When Bart’s wife, Riley, and the SoCal president, Hoosier, had been killed. More people Nolan cared about.

Vega had disappeared again. Nolan felt like that asshole was just lurking in the background somewhere, waiting for another opportunity to fuck things up for the Horde.

With a blink, he pushed that restless feeling off to the side. He gave his mom his reassuring smile. It’s all good, Mom.

His mom frowned but didn’t say more. He bent down and kissed her cheek. I’ll be back by one or so. You going to Valhalla this afternoon?

Yeah. Jackie’s closing, but I need to be there through the after-supper rush. I’ll pick up a couple of pizzas at Tuck’s on my way home.

Sounds good. Love you.

Love you, Nolan. Be careful.

I always am. And you always worry too much.

~oOo~

On Sunday afternoon, Loki swiped angrily at his face and threw the book. That’s stupid! That’s so stupid! Billy is stupid! His voice broke, and he sobbed for a second, then punched his leg and got some control. What a stupid book, he said through his tears and stopped-up nose. I hate that book. I hate Billy, and I hate those stupid dogs for going after a mountain lion. Why did the guy write a book about dogs dying? Why did I have to read it? It’s so stupid!

I felt the same way, guy. But Billy loved his pups, and they loved him.

Feeling emotional himself, Nolan hooked his arm around his brother’s shoulders, but Loki shook him off. It’s stupid, he muttered again.

You want to take some time before we talk about what it’s about and figure out your project?

It’s about a stupid boy who let his stupid dog get eaten by a stupid lion, Loki grumbled, picking at a hole in his sock.

For Nolan, the worst part this time was Little Ann, the other pup, lying on her brother’s grave and dying of starvation—or, really, of a broken heart. Yeah, let’s take some time. You want to play Mario for a while?

No. Loki lay down on his bed and put his back to Nolan.

Okay, guy. I’ll be around. Let me know when you’re ready.

"I hate school," Loki snarled as Nolan left his room.

Nolan closed the door and went to the kitchen for a beer. He took it to the living room and plopped down on the sofa, not bothering to turn on the television. Their mom had gone off to run errands and wasn’t back yet. Thor shuffled in and collapsed on the floor at Nolan’s feet.

The house felt thick with quiet. Nolan took a long pull on his beer, then leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

Fifth grade was about the same time that school had started getting unmanageable for Nolan, too. He was smart, and Loki was as well. Too smart for school. None of the actual subjects had been hard for Nolan, and Loki had been doing well until this year. It was being required to do stupid shit for no discernible reason that had gotten Nolan hung up, and being ignored when he’d had legitimate questions and disciplined when he wanted to think about things in different ways. From that point on, school had been, at best, a waste of time, and at worst, traumatic.

Reading a book like Where the Red Fern Grows and doing nothing with it but assigning some stupid shoebox diorama for a project? How fucked up was that? Why not talk about how the prize money from the hunting competition made everything worth it to everybody but Billy and what that meant about how fucked up their lives were? Better yet, why not talk about how a book could break your heart, how some made-up story could remind you of things about your own life and make you think about those things differently? Why not just talk about why it was so fucking sad? Why assign a book that made you feel so much and not give kids a way to understand all those feelings? It was so fucked up.

But no. Glue some construction paper into a shoebox and move on to the next thing.

Loki was right: school was fucking stupid.

But why should it be different from anything else? Nothing about anything made any kind of sense.

Life was fucking stupid.

CHAPTER TWO

Iris combed through a display tray of vintage jewelry. At her side, her older sister, Rose, tried on a red cloche hat trimmed with a flower of black velvet and sequins. She tipped her head and preened before the round mirror standing on the display case.

I don’t think I’m gonna find anything for Shannon here. I mean, she comes in here all the time. Anything she wanted, she’d already have. Iris pushed the tray back and stepped away from the case, aimlessly wandering to a nearby rack of old fur coats.

Still enjoying her reflection, Rose said, We found Daddy’s present here. And Shannon loves stuff like this. Christmas is in a few days. It’s not like you have a lot of options, putting it off to the last minute.

"Sorry I was too busy taking finals and graduating—and being poor—to go on a shopping spree. And I don’t have a big discount at some fancy store."

Rose was three years older than Iris and had gotten her degree in four years—Iris had changed her major three times and taken five years to graduate—so she was out in the world, making her life. She was a buyer for a department store on the Magnificent Mile in Chicago. She had a condo, a boyfriend, and an expense account.

Iris didn’t have any of those things, and she didn’t want the condo or the expense account—or anything about Rose’s life. But her big sister still managed to make her feel like a loser for not having it.

Maybe she was a loser. She had a shiny-new college degree but not the tiniest clue what she wanted to do with it. She had no idea where she would live or how she would make money or any of it. Yeah, that was the probably the definition of loser.

Rose hung the hat back in its place and gave her the kind of subtly nasty look that only sisters could give each other. "You better not be cheaping out on your half of Daddy’s present. It was your idea."

I’m not, jerk. Iris dug into her pocket and pulled out her cash. When she gave Rose her half of the cost of their dad’s present, she had twenty-eight dollars left. That represented all of her dollars in the world, and she still didn’t have a present for Shannon.

As Rose neatened the bills and slid them into her wallet, the door to the back of Fosse’s Finds opened, and Dora Fosse came out with a large, flat package in her arms. She’d been back wrapping it in glittery silver paper and a blue bow. Okay, ladies. How’s this?

That’s pretty, Dora, thank you! Rose smiled and clapped her hands. I don’t know how we’d’ve gotten it into the house unwrapped without our dad seeing it.

The shopkeeper smiled. I didn’t have a box of a good size, but I wrapped it up good in tissue and put a cardboard border around it so the wrapping would be pretty.

It looks great, Dora, Iris affirmed.

She was excited about the present. It had taken a lot of convincing to get Rose to go in with her so she could afford it, and it had taken Dora a lot of searching to find it, but Iris knew their dad would love it.

Their parents had divorced a long time ago, and Rose and Iris had sort of picked different parents. They’d both always lived together basically full-time with their mom, in Arkansas, and it had been a couple of years before they’d even gotten to see much of their dad. It wasn’t like they’d really chosen sides, exactly. Rose loved their dad, and Iris loved their mom. But Iris just got their dad better than she did their mom, and for Rose it was the opposite.

A really horrible thing had happened right before the divorce. Their oldest sister, Daisy, had been killed in that horrible thing, and it had made the divorce happen. Their mom blamed their father for it, then and now. Rose did, too, though she had forgiven him. But that was probably why she’d always held him off, just a step or two.

For years, Iris had told everybody that she didn’t remember the really horrible thing. And everybody had always believed her. It had been a lot easier to let them believe it.

She remembered it. But she didn’t blame her dad. The people she blamed were dead.

The really horrible thing was really horrible, but Iris had never liked how angry their mom always was at their dad. She had never liked the things their mom said to her and Rose about him, or how she tried to make them feel bad for wanting to see him. Iris held her mom off, just a step or two, because she saw a different man from the one their mother wanted them to see.

So yeah, they’d sort of picked different parents in the divorce.

They both liked their stepmother, Shannon, a whole lot better than they liked their stepfather, though. On that it had been easy to agree.

Rose pulled out a credit card and handed it over to Dora, and Iris walked to the front of the shop. There was just nothing in here that seemed right for a gift for Shannon.

She looked out the window. Main Street in Signal Bend was fully decked out for Christmas, with pine rope wrapping all the rails and posts and street lamps, and big red and gold bows, and lights everywhere. Keller Acres Bed & Breakfast, which Shannon managed and partly owned, had a decorated horse-drawn carriage with a driver in an old-fashioned uniform offering rides up and down the Main Street Marketplace—several blocks of antique shops, cute boutiques, and cafes. All they needed was some snow, and the view outside would belong on a Christmas card.

This last push before Christmas Day, the Marketplace was hopping. Iris smiled. She’d been young when she’d really lived in Signal Bend, but she remembered the days when the town was barely keeping its feet. When her dad talked about those days, he’d say it was ‘pure, ornery stubbornness’ that had kept the town from collapsing into a dead heap, but Iris knew it had been more than that. The Night Horde MC had kept the town going. And now it thrived.

Her father’s club. He was a hero. They all were.

There was a new shop just across the street from Fosse’s Finds: Jubilee Antiques & Curiosities. Iris had never seen it before, and she was, well, curious. When she saw Rose’s reflection approaching in the window, Iris turned and waved at Dora. Thank you so much for all your help, Dora! Merry Christmas!

Merry Christmas, ladies! I’ll see you Friday!

Christmas Eve in Signal Bend. A big gift donation drive and then the party at the Horde clubhouse. Iris grinned. She loved this town.

She opened the door into a blast of frigid air—no snow yet this season, but plenty of cold—and jumped off the boardwalk to cross the street.

Iris! Wait! We need to put this in the car!

Go ahead—I’ll just be in here, she called without pausing. Rose could handle the package.

A little bell tinkled overhead as she opened the door to the new shop. Every shop on Main Street had the exact same bell—Iris’s thought stopped as she looked up and saw a shiny red bell dangling from a gargoyle’s extended tongue. Okay, not every shop had the exact same bell after all.

Cool! But she probably wasn’t going to find anything for Shannon in here, either. Their stepmother wasn’t exactly the gargoyle type.

Welcome to Jubilee! A male voice pulled Iris’s attention back to normal eye level. A guy who was probably middle-age-ish, dressed like he’d bought his whole outfit off an Eddie Bauer mannequin, stood in the center of the shop.

I’m Geoff with a ‘G.’ Are you on the hunt for anything in particular today?

Hi, Geoff-with-a-G. I’m Iris. Having already decided that the place was probably too weird for Shannon, she was going to say that she’d just look around for a few minutes. But she didn’t get the words out. She was too interested in what she was seeing. The shop was nothing like anything else in Signal Bend.

For one thing, it wasn’t packed to the rafters with stock. This room—she could tell that there was at least one more room—had a lot of space on the stripped-wood floors. The pieces displayed were high end, even Iris could tell that, and everything was set out for maximum highlight.

On closer inspection, it was pretty normal, really: estate sale furniture and décor. Lots of heavy, ornate wood, and brass and silver, and depression glass and milk glass. A case full of stoneware crocks. A shelf full of glass bluebirds. All the old antique-shop standards. But this stuff had been reconditioned to be beautiful and a little funky, and it was displayed unusually.

Doing some Christmas shopping, Iris?

Yeah. For my stepmom. I don’t have a lot of money, though.

Well, then—Geoff-with-a-G stepped to her side with a friendly grin—this might not be the right room. There are others, though. What does your stepmom like? Though there were three other customers Iris could see, Geoff seemed ready to give her his full attention.

She let him lead her toward the door to the other room she’d noticed. Maybe nothing here. She’s girly and…elegant, I guess.

Hmmm. Girly and elegant. We might be able to find something.

They were in the side room, and Iris gaped. This room was obviously where the ‘Curiosities’ in the store name were kept. It was darker than the main room, and here, stock was packed in tightly, and nothing was like what the other shops sold. In this room, there was a stuffed—as in had once been alive, and had since been subject to taxidermy—owl with its feathers dyed cobalt blue and with big pink crystals for eyes. A black case against one wall held nothing but identically-sized jars full of strange powders and liquids. Across the top of that case sat a long row of large bird skulls.

She’d walked into Edgar Allan Poe’s basement.

Iris wasn’t into goth stuff, like at all, but the room fascinated her nonetheless. She found it curious that people would think to make stuff like this. What kind of person looked at an owl carcass and thought, This would look great on the