HARD RIDE (The Slayers MC Book 2) Page 5
My chest tightens even more, to the point I think it might burst.
I turn the key, cutting the engine and slip the metal key ring into my pocket. From what I can see, Sasha’s lips are moving a mile a minute, calling over her shoulder to someone.
By the time I make my way up to the front porch, Angel steps behind her little niece to see what the commotion’s about. Her gorgeous deep brown eyes search through the glass and into the dark night to find me.
A sweet smile plays out on her lips, happy to see me as she hugs the pile of plates in her hands close to her chest, patting Sasha on the shoulder to scurry off from guarding the window.
These two people are my life now, a reason to come home to, the warmth that fills my heart whenever the sun starts to set and I know it’s time to get back to them. It doesn’t happen every night, especially considering what I do for a living, but when it happens, it feels damn good.
“Hey, baby,” Angel is only a couple of feet away as I walk through the front door. My mind races with a million things I want to say to her. I’d been kind of a jerk to her this morning, trying to process all the shit that I was feeling from our conversation last night.
I knew that I was a whole mess of frustrated anxiety and the safest thing for me to do in that moment was to get outta here as fast as possible, to get down to the clubhouse where I could take my anger out in a place where it wouldn’t come back to bite me in the ass later.
Angel could tell something was up and probably though I was needing to get away from her, even though I wasn’t.
She’s eyeing me now, assessing me to see if I’m still in that place. I want to tell her I’m sorry, tell her it had nothing to do with her, but that shit don’t come easy for me.
Instead, I step forward and take the three shiny white dinner plates from her hands and carefully place them on the small lamp table near us.
“Wha—”
I don’t give her a chance to finish her sentence by taking her body in my arms and her mouth in my own. Her skin is warm, almost hot to the touch, and her arms lie limp next to her until she processes what I’m doing. I’m apologizing, in my own way, the only way I know how to.
Just as silently as I’m giving her my apology, she’s accepting it, using her own body to tell me. Her hands come to life, weaving their way under my leather, looking for each other until she’s hugging me tight, latched around my waist.
“Eww…” We have an audience, with the small sprite-like voice of one very nosy little girl from behind us.
Angel’s lips tighten under mine as she fights laughing it off, having been caught mid-kiss by Sasha. She wriggles to get free before we’re reprimanded any further by the three-foot boss lady nearby.
I only hold her closer, moving my right hand up her back to cradle and support her neck before doing something I’ve only seen before in movies.
I dramatically dip her low, lower, almost far enough where I think my back will crack, all the while holding her hostage with my lips, letting my tongue have its way with her.
Giggling erupts immediately with our audience finding the show entertaining, before the little pattering of her feet stomps down the hall and into the kitchen.
Angel’s hair flies wildly as I whip her back to her feet, releasing my grip on her. Her eyes fling open wide from the shock of the romantic gesture. I can be sweet on her when I want to be, lightening it up so it’s not always the intense, frenzied need we usually have for each other when we fuck.
There’s some kind of beeping sound from the kitchen drawing both of our attention back to the meal that from what I can tell, is just about done from the delicious smells filling the house.
I grab a healthy handful of her ass cheek as she moves to pass me. “Smells fucking fantastic. What’s for dinner?”
She’s moving quickly, “Pot roast. Now put a dollar in the swear jar, wash your hands and come eat.”
Shit!
Sasha’s in the other room, but I still forgot to watch my fucking mouth. We’re ‘trying to set a good example’- I’m pretty sure that’s how Angel had worded it a few weeks back to try and break me out of my habit 0f swearing like its second nature in front of the kid.
I’m trying, really, I am… But this is gonna take some time. So far the jar’s been filled up twice, mainly with my dollar bills, but some of it is from Angel, too. The kid’s been able to make a handful of trips to the toy store to buy some of those little dolls she likes so much thanks to my inability to quit the bad habit.
My money clip sits in my palm as I sift through the crisp bills, looking for a single. Unable to find one, I peel off a twenty and tuck it into the glass Mason jar as I pass the bookcase that it’s shelved on, on my way down the hall to the small bathroom to wash my hands.
Angel calls out to Sasha to do the same before supper. Not long after, her little feet can be heard pounding on the stairs, running up to her bathroom to wash up.
Angel’s bent over at the waist, leaning into the oven with her padded mitts covering her hands as she takes the roast out.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she mumbles, moving to set the the hot pan down on the counter before shaking her hands to cool them off.
I’m a prick sometimes. I know it. But it’s only human to gloat at a time like this.
“That’s three bucks in the swear jar, babe.”
~*~
“The usual, Angel.” Uno calls over the crowd to Molly behind the bar.
Without even glancing up, she nods, shouting back. “I’m not runnin’ it over to you, you lazy old man. Come over here and get it.”
He pretends to be insulted, but I know better. He fuckin’ loves it.
“That’s right, Angel!” Trixie, Uno’s Ol’ lady calls out. “If he can get up and get his own damn drinks at home, then he can walk the twenty-feet to the bar and get them here, too.”
Knowing he’s about to enter a losing argument if he tries, Uno’s better judgment prevails and he gets his fat ass up to go collect his drink.
Trixie’s busy talkin’ with Shooter’s new chick, so I leave the women to themselves and join my brother as he takes up new residence on one of the empty bar stools opposite Angel.
She’s multitasking, lining up four small shot glasses, squeezing a wedge of lime across all of them in one fluid motion before tossing it like a pro into the trash can under the counter. Next comes the tequila bottle held closed with her thumb covering the pour spout before it’s tilted nearly upside down to sprinkle the perfect amount of the booze into each glass without pausing in between.
“Esè!” She calls over her shoulder to where the newest brother is hitting on some of the dancers. He may not be a prospect anymore, but he’s still a rookie. He’ll take order from my woman and damn well better like it.
“S’up, Mol?” He asks.
Grabbing one of the small round drink trays from a nearby shelf, she carefully arranges the drinks and hands it to him. “Take this to table seven please. And they’re not putting it on their tab, so don’t even let them ask. That’s twenty-four bucks. Cash only.”
The kid takes the tray, wobbling it a bit while walking away.
Next, Angel bends down to reach into the small fridge under the sink. I sit up straight to catch a glimpse of the goods. Not able to see as much as I’d like, I have to stand on the bottom ring of the bar stool to get the extra height.
The perfectly round balls of flesh that jiggle just the right amount when she bends over are hanging low in the sheer bra as she rummages, clinking the bottles down below until she’s found the one she wants.
“Enjoying the view?” she asks when popping back up, twisting the cap off the brown long necked bottle and sliding it across to Uno whose trying his best not to look.
I wink at her while taking a sip of the half empty beer in my own hand. “Always.”
Without even having to ask for it, Angel pours another shot of the whiskey and pushes it with her fingertip over to Uno. “This one’s on the house.”
Uno accepts it graciously and holds it up to mimic a toast in the air before shooting it down, releasing a loud hiss before slamming the emptied shot glass down on the counter.
“Since when do we give away free drinks?” I bust her balls.
She rolls her eyes. “Since it’s my last night and I want to be nice to an old man who looks like he needed a drink. That’s when.”
Uno’s watching the foreplay-like exchange between me and my woman, hanging onto every word. “Wait. Last night?”
Angel nods. “Yup. Dawson didn’t tell you? I’m resigning. You gonna miss me, Uno?”
His good eye looks from her, to me, and back again. “He told me, alright. But, he said—”
I whack the back of my hand against his chest, stopping him from saying another word.
Angel’s eyes squint. “He said what, exactly?”
Uno’s quiet, reaching for his beer to keep him busy enough not to have to answer right away. Angel sees what he’s trying to do and she swipes the bottle away. “Tell me. What did he say?”
“Uh—, oh... he—” The man sputters.
“We’ll talk about this in private, Angel,” I try easing the guy’s torture a little.
She doesn’t take her eyes off him while speaking to me. “Yes, we will, but first Uno’s gonna tell me a little something. You just stare at my tits some more and let me handle this.”
Esè pulls up a stool next to mine, having returned from his errand while tossing down the payment for the drinks and the empty tray. “What’s going on? Can I stare at your tits?”
I push him over hard enough to make him stumble out of the seat. He catches and uprights himself. “Sorry, D. I thought it was an open invitation.”
Uno’s squirming next to me. “Don’t make me get your Ol’ lady over here…” She looks serious. “Hey Trix!”
“What’d he do?” Esè asks Angel, gettin’ real nosy about the standoff between the petite chick and the chubby one-eyed biker.
“He won’t tell me what Dawson said about me quitting.” She answers the nosy kid to my right.
“I said—” I’m about to repeat myself about discussing this in private, knowing no good can come out of what Uno could tell her.
“Oh, I can tell you that, Mol.” Esè seems proud of himself, not realizing that he’s about to put his foot in his mouth, which, is in turn, is going to lead to my foot up his ass. “Uno told me. D says you ain’t quitting.”
“I knew it!” Angel stomps. Uno exhales deeply, relieved he’s off the hook and casually takes his beer while slinking off and out of the line of fire for what’s coming next. “I knew you were gonna give me shit about this!”
“Wait…” Esè is just now starting to piece together enough to realize he’s given Angel information she didn’t already have. “Uno said that D said he was gonna tell you that you can’t quit.”
“Are we playing a game of fucking telephone here?!” She’s getting angry. “Uno says. Esè says. Esè says that Uno says that you said… Why the fuck didn’t you say anything about this last night when I told you about the new job?”
I turn to my right to the traitor. “You and your big fuckin mouth can get behind that bar while I explain some things to my lady.”
Esè doesn’t even put up an argument. He does as he’s told and gets behind the bar to serve drinks while Angel takes a break.
~*~
“What the hell happened to the door?” Angel asks as I hold open the semi repaired door to my office. A new one had been ordered to replace it after I tore this one off the hinges this morning, but it won’t be here ‘till Monday.
It was either a rigged repair or nothing. I like my privacy, so the sorry excuse for a lopsided, half hanging door will have to do for now. My guys are outlaws, not fucking carpenters. I’m actually kind of impressed the thing is hanging at all.
I have to pull it hard for it to stay closed behind me.
“Thought you knew better than to cause a scene with my men,” I try to deflect some of the anger in the room.
“Well, I knew I wouldn’t get a straight answer from you.” Her answer is short. “I knew you had a problem with this. You didn’t say anything after I told you, even though I could tell it bothered you. Then you go and tell your guys about it, but still didn’t tell me. You got all quiet last night and then this morning you couldn’t get out of the house fast enough. You didn’t even say goodbye to me before you left.”
In my defense, she was in the shower when I left. I remind her of that fact.
“Like that’s every stopped you before?” She asks.
I had a temporary lapse of sanity. That’s the only thing that can explain what happened to me last night and this morning. I’m not about to tell her that, though. What do I say? I’m sorry I acted like a caveman, but I was a little fucked up in the head when I though you were gonna tell me we were havin’ a kid and instead you tell me you got a job, when you already have a perfectly good one here?
Yeah, that’s not happening.
So I do what any hot blooded guy would do in this situation. I turn the tables.
“You went and made a pretty big decision like that without even asking me. We didn’t even talk about it. You just went and did it and then come home and tell me, and I’m supposed to be all cool with it?”
Her eyes get wild, like she’s just been handed some ammunition. “Why not? You do that shit all the time. You just do what you want and don’t ask me, and then you come home and tell me about it.”
“That’s different.” I rebut.
“How?” She answers too quickly, as if she’s already expected what I was going to say. “How exactly is that different?”
Fuck! I can tell she’s doing that woman thing and she’s already two steps ahead of me.
“Because I’m a man!” Reflex gets the best of me and I shout out the answer that’s on the top of my tongue, even though I know it’s exactly the one she’s waiting to use against me.
“I see.” She begins to pace. “So because you’ve got a dick and I don’t, that means you can make a decision on your own, but I can’t?”
I try to think of some way out of this. She doesn’t give me an opportunity to.
“Because you make more money, and we stay in your house, we have to play by your rules, because you’re the one with the cock?”
She’s entering dangerous territory now. “No.” I feel my chest rumbling like a diesel engine as I reach for her to stop her pacing. “Whatever money I make, is for us, so it doesn’t fucking matter if I earn it or you do. And I thought I made it clear to you that you’re not just staying at my place. You fucking live there. It’s your home, too. You’re my Ol’ lady, so yes, I damn well expect you to discuss with me any big decisions you want to make. I’m not just a man, I’m your man, your Ol’ man, and if I do happen to make decision that is in your best interest, or our best interest, I expect you to trust that I did it for the right fucking reason”
She wants to interrupt me, I can tell.
“This ain’t no 50/50 shit, darlin’. This ain’t no politically correct, modern, new-age type of relationship shit. This type of life don’t have room for that bullshit. That patch on the back of your rag and that tat of my name on your lower back means that, yes, because I have a cock in this relationship, I make the decisions.”
She wants to slap me. I can see it in her eyes.
“It also means I want what’s best for you, and for us. Do I think you working here is what’s best for all that? Yeah. You get to spend as much time as you want with the kid during the day, and then, after dinner, after she’s all tucked in, you come here and work for a few hours to make enough damn money to buy whatever the hell you want so you don’t have to ask me for money, ‘cause I know how much you hate to fucking do that even though I’ve told you a million times that it’s your money, too. I think it’s the best decision because you and I get to actually spend time together when you’re here working, that we wouldn’t get
to if you were home sleeping ‘cause you worked all day and you had to get up early the next morning to do it all over again. That’s why I think it’s the best decision for you to work here, and not someplace else.”
Her eyes soften a bit.
“It might have a little something to do with the fact that ever since you took over running this place that it’s never been better. You’re on top of shit that never got done before. You know every little in and out of this place and I know I don’t even have to think twice about it, because I trust you to handle things right. You don’t let people get away with the shit they used to, running up crazy tabs that take forever to get paid on. All the orders to the suppliers get put in on time. For the first time since these fuckin doors opened, we’ve got our shit in order with the tax papers and the receipts and the invoices. If you leave, then it all goes to shit again. I need you here. I want you here. That’s why I don’t want you takin’ that other job.”
I exhale a deep last breath, having gotten all my words out that had been jumbling around in my head ever since she told me about her new job.
“Why couldn’t you just say that last night?” Angel asks.
I roll my eyes, self consciously because she’s looking at me with googly eyes after baring a bit of my soul to her. “Because I needed to think about it. I want you here, but I also heard how excited you were about the other job. I didn’t exactly want to take that from you either.”
“I didn’t know you liked having me here so much. I didn’t think it would really change anything. Maybe…” She bites her lip. “Maybe I can put off changing jobs for a little while. Maybe you’re right.”
My eyebrow arches, as I revel in hearing her admit I know best in this case.
“Not because you’re the man. This has nothing to do with me giving you your way just because you have a dick and I don’t,” she’s quick to clarify.
Now here I am, thinking like a guy and I’m two steps ahead of her.
“Oh yeah?” I ask, tapping her chin with my pointer finger. “It has nothing to do with my cock? Nothing at all?”