Noah lashed out, pushing him back in the chair as he glared back at him. "Watch it, boy," he bit out, "Keep pushing and you'll get more than you want."
"I got more than I wanted when I felt you watching the place this afternoon," he snarled, anger pushing past fear.
"I'm back, that's all that matters." Noah rubbed his hand over his short beard. "This isn't as simple as why I didn't come back. It's not even as simple as having the option to come back for a damned long time. I'm here now, and I need information."
"That's what they make computers for." Rory was three seconds from attacking him again and Noah knew it. The boy had that damned Irish pride and temper.
"Listen to me, you little shit!" He moved over him vengefully. "Look at my face. My body. Do you think this shit happened because I wanted to be someone else? Because I wanted my life f**ked up the ass and back? Look, Rory. Look at the scars. You want to see my back? How about my legs? You want to see the hole they cut in my foot? Will that help?"
He jerked back, furious, enraged. So much for control. He hadn't let his control snap in more than five years.
He inhaled roughly. He wasn't going to let it snap now, not any further than it had already.
He turned back to his brother and pushed back the emotion. The horror in his brother's eyes wasn't what he'd wanted to see.
"Belle's not the same without you," Rory whispered. "She's sad all the time. All she does is work. All she does is close herself off. She's not even the same girl anymore. Any more than you're the same man."
Noah clenched his jaw, his fists. He couldn't talk about Sabella. Not now. Not yet.
"Tell me about the Black Collar Militia."
Rory blinked. "BC?" He snorted. "I stay outta that shit. I remember the whipping you gave me before you left, okay?"
"I didn't ask if you were still stupid," he growled. "Tell me what you've heard."
Rory licked his lips and looked away for a second. "Two of Belle's mechanics are BC. Low level mostly. No one knows what's high level. The little twits like to brag sometimes. Mostly they run errands, crap like that."
Noah straddled the chair again. "When did they start working for Sabella?"
Rory narrowed his eyes at him. "You always called her Bella, Nate."
"Rory, don't piss me off again." He sighed. "Answer my questions. And you call me by that name again and I'll bust your head. My name is Noah Blake."
Rory flinched before tensing and shaking his head.
"Hell." He breathed out roughly. "A year or so ago maybe. All the guys working for you left that first year. Belle was in bad shape for a long time. When she finally came out of it, she was on the verge of losing the house and the garage. I couldn't keep it running." His expression twisted painfully as he stared back at Noah. "I tried," he whispered. "But I couldn't keep it going." He shrugged. "And Belle, she's a hell of a mechanic, but she doesn't have good people skills, ya know? Getting things back up and running has taken all our time."
Sabella, a mechanic? Noah held back his total disbelief. That one he would have to see to believe. And no people skills? Who had kidnapped his wife and replaced her?
"Just tell me about the militia," Noah growled.
Rory pushed his fingers through his hair. "I simply don't know much." He shook his head. "I'm pretty sure Mike Conrad associates with them. I know he's hot for the garage since news came you were dead. He's made Belle an offer a few times, but she refuses to sell. Sometimes Mike gets a little drunk, and when he does, he'll run his mouth, but he hasn't spouted off about anything dangerous yet. Sheriff is a badass, he could be in it, but with him who the hell knows. There's rumors the BC are involved in some of those deaths in the National Park, but, like I said, rumors. Hell, Noah, I've been so damned busy just trying to keep the wolves away from Belle that I don't have time for that crap."
Noah nodded. He hadn't expected Rory to know a lot.
"You're giving me a job at the garage. You hired me tonight. You met me last month when you were at that bar in Odessa."
Rory gave him a surprised look. "You know about the bar?"
"And the barmaid," Noah grunted. "I showed up this afternoon, found you heading back here and stopped. We chatted. You offered me a job."
Rory stared back at him confusion. "And Belle?"
"Won't know who I am," he told Rory quietly. "And if you tell her, Rory, if you even hint it to her, you'll disappear until all this is over, you understand me?"
He stared back at his brother. There was no anger now, no emotion. The ice was falling back into place.
"But Bella's your wife," Rory whispered painfully. "You almost stayed away too long, man."
"I'll take care of Sabella, my way." He rose from the chair, staring down at Rory with hard eyes. "Do you understand me, Rory? My way."
Rory nodded hesitantly.
"Stay here tomorrow. Sleep off that drunk you're going to tie on tonight. Don't show up until you can get a handle on this."
Rory grunted. "Then I guess I'll see you next lifetime."
Noah stared back at him silently for long moments.
"Fine. Day or two." His brother shrugged.
"And you don't tell Grandpop either,"' Noah warned him.
Rory shrugged. "I won't tell, doesn't mean he won't know. You know Granddad."
Unfortunately he did. Riordan Malone always seemed to just know things. It had been creepy as hell when he was a kid, comforting as he grew older. And now, now it was just worrisome.
"Why Noah?" Rory asked the question Noah couldn't answer. " Why the name, and why are you back here for the BC and not your family?"
Bitterness filled his brother's voice, his expression, and Nathan was damned if he could blame him.
"I'm back because the BC threatens my family," he stated, his grating voice harsher, darker than it should have been. "As for the name." His lips quirked. "It's Irish. Now keep your eyes and ears open. I'll tell you more as I can."
Rory gave him a mocking sneer. "Fuck you, man. You know, you're right. Belle doesn't need to know who you are. She has a second chance now; maybe this time, she'll get a man that will stay home a while."