Hanna
I was standing at the sink in Patrick's house, peeling potatoes for dinner. It had been a little over two weeks since the confrontation in the restaurant, and despite the efforts of the police and the BRMC, there'd been no sign of the Orcas.
It had gotten ugly in the diner when the police arrived. Though the Riders had good relations with the local law enforcement, the hostility of the scene had nearly resulted in the arrest of us all. I didn't know if my bawling over the loss of Garrett help anything, but I'd spent a tearful five minutes explaining how the BRMC was there simply to help me get my kidnapped son back. A quick check by one of the police officers confirmed that my son was in fact missing, and that had lowered the tension in the room considerably. The BRMC was also aided by the customers, those that had remained anyway, and the restaurant staff, who had corroborated my story, stating definitively the Orcas were the only ones to have pulled weapons, other than Vince once the thugs left to prevent them from returning, and the only aggressive move the Riders made was Rand trying to get Garrett and coming to my aid after Carl hit me.
I'd been a mess after that. I couldn't stop crying, and I'd been horrible to Rand. To have come so close only to have Garrett snatched away again was almost more than I could bear. I knew we'd done the right thing, but that hadn't made the loss any less bitter. I knew without doubt Carl would have carried out his threat. He didn't care about me, or Garrett, or anyone other than himself, and Garrett was nothing but a pawn in his game. He used Garrett to hurt me for leaving him, and then he'd used him again as cover for his escape. He might profess loving Garrett, and maybe he did in his own twisted way, but that didn't mean he was above using him to get what he wanted.
It had ripped my heart out, hearing Garrett screaming in terror, calling for me, begging to go home, his little arms held out beseechingly as Carl and his thugs backed out of the restaurant, Garrett held tightly by the bitch that he was undoubtable fucking.
I sniffed and wiped at my eye with the back of my hand, smearing the tear that was threatening to fall. Rand and I were still sleeping together, but the passions he'd ignited in me had vanished. He'd tried to draw me out, and though we'd fucked a couple of times, it had become, for the lack of a better term, unsatisfying. I wanted to reconnect with him, wanted desperately to feel something other than the bile of fear and disappointment, but despite his almost loving touch, he couldn't break through the shell I'd built around myself. I'd let him use me, as I'd let Carl use me, but unlike Carl, Rand knew it, and after a few sessions, he'd stopped trying.
I tried not take my bitterness out on him. It wasn't his fault. The police hadn't picked up Carl's trail, and my own frantic phone call to Leeda had turned up nothing, so why did I think he could do better? I knew Rand and the BRMC were doing everything they could, and the club had galvanized around me. None of the Riders there had liked Carl hitting me, and they especially hadn't liked him threatening Garrett. I'd received several offers from member's wives and girlfriends of a shoulder to cry on and an ear to listen, but I hadn't taken them up on their offers.
I was pushing them away, as I was pushing Rand away... and I didn't know why. The first couple of times I'd gotten bitchy with him, he'd taken it, but this morning when I was snarling at him about their search for Garrett going nowhere, he'd reminded me he wasn't forcing me to stay and I was free to leave if I thought I could do better on my own. He hadn't raged at me, as he had every right to, his statement calm and matter of fact before he turned on his toe and walked out of the trailer. That was a splash of cold water and afterwards I'd gone to him and begged his forgiveness.
Rather than punish me for being a bitch, he'd taken me into arms and held me. I'd wept in his tight embrace, Rand softly shushing me and stroking my hair as we slowly rocked, the motion somehow comforting. The Riders were doing all they could for me, more than I had any right to expect. They were following up every lead they received and were doing what they could to keep the public active and engaged. There'd been a lot sightings and suggestions at first, but the encounter with the Orcas was slowly fading from the community's memory and the tips were dwindling.
I looked at the potato in my hand. I'd been peeling this same potato, or more accurately, not peeling it, for the last five minutes. It seemed my entire world was falling apart. I was driving a wedge between myself and Rand and I was giving the cold shoulder to all offers of comfort. Maybe I didn't deserve help. Maybe I was getting exactly what I deserved. Having Rand remind me I was free to leave told me he was getting tired of my attitude. I was getting tired of it too, but I couldn't figure out how to drag myself out of the depression I was in.
"Do you need help peeling?" Patrick asked from behind me, causing me to jump.
"What?" I asked as I turned to face him.
"I asked if you needed help peeling. You've been standing there, staring at that potato for at least fifteen minutes."
"I have not!" I said with a small smile. Patrick's kind and gentle humor always lifted me a little.
"Okay, maybe not fifteen, but at least two or three."
"Sorry," I murmured as I began scraping at it with the peeler again. "Daydreaming."
"Daydreams or nightmares?"
I finished the potato, rinsed it, and then sat it aside as I pulled another out of the bag. "Nightmares, I guess."
He stepped up beside me, took the spud from my hand, and put it down. "Don't give up on him," he said softly.
"Who? Garrett?"
"And Rand."
"I'm not." When his eyebrow cocked up, I sighed. "I know he's doing everything possible. He's doing more than I have any right to ask from him, but it's so damned hard to sit here and do nothing."
"Hanna, you have it all wrong. You're so used to having to do everything yourself, I guess you don't realize the entire club, and most of the town, are looking for your son."
"I know."
"Do you? Then why did you say you're sitting here, doing nothing? You're doing the hardest thing imaginable. Waiting. You're waiting for those bastards to stick their heads up again so we can cut them off."
"What if they don't come back? What if I should be looking somewhere else?"
"Fair enough. Where would you look, if not here?"
"I don't know."
"So waiting for news here is the same as waiting somewhere else."
"Yeah, I guess."
"Except there's one difference."
"What's that?"
"Rand, and the rest of the BRMC are here. Here you have people who care about you to help."
"Who? Rand?"
"And me."
I looked at him a moment. "I have such a hard time wrapping my mind around why any of you care."
He smiled. "To be honest, I suspect most of the Riders don't care, not really. They'll help you if they can because they didn't like your ex hitting you and threatening your son, but they're mostly interested in protecting the club and the town. It just so happens that you both want the same thing, to find Carl Ellerbe and the Orcas. So long as your interests and theirs align, I think you can depend on them."
"And you?" I asked softly.
"Rand, I think he cares more than you realize," he said, ignoring my question. "I know Carl putting the knife to Garrett is gnawing at him. He hasn't been able to let that go, and I wouldn't want to be Carl if Rand ever catches him alone. I can't speak for him, but I think that dredged up some feeling that would have been best left buried. I think he'll move heaven and earth to get Garrett away from Carl now."
"And you?" I asked again.
"Then there's you," he said.
"What about me?"
"I've known Rand a long time, most of his life as you know, and you're the first girl I've seen him really get sweet on."
"You're crazy!"
He chuckled. "Trust an old man on this. I can tell by the way he looks at you."
"Sure he is," I grunted. "He almost kicked my ass out this morning."
"But he didn't, did he?" He paused, holding my gaze, as if thinking. "I'm sorry to have to say this, but you haven't been treating him fairly."
