She wasn't sure she liked what he was doing to her head.
The last time she'd embarked on a relationship, she'd found herself shackled to a man who'd won her over with pretty words and grand gestures. A man who'd monitored her every move, who'd cut her off from her friends. Who, in public, was loving and attentive, and behind closed doors, was manipulative and cruel. It hadn't lasted long, but longer than it should have; Mouse had missed, or ignored, the warning signs that had shown she was with a dangerous man.
When she'd first left him, he'd found her and punctured her lung.
Mouse had made sure he'd never find her a second time. And she was determined that she would never, ever put herself in a position like that again.
Nitro should have red flags everywhere, and she should be deafened by alarm bells, but there was nothing. She linked her fingers with his, and allowed him to hold her a little tighter. It was nice feeling safe in someone's arms.
Of course, sooner or later he'd say something and fuck everything up, but at this moment, things were good.
She closed her eyes and smiled. She really liked Nitro.
~oOo~
When Nitro next opened his eyes, he was in an empty bed. For a brief moment he thought Mouse had bailed, but the sound of the radio in the living room told him she was still around. Weirdly, he was relieved about that.
He sat up and stretched, aware of his growling stomach; all he'd eaten in the last twenty-four hours was a few chocolate biscuits and a packet of crisps. He needed to eat, or he wouldn't have the energy to fuck her again.
Mouse was sitting crossed-legged on his sofa, bathed in the evening sun that streamed through his window. She looked up as he crossed the room, and closed the book. “Hi.”
“Hey.” He dropped down, next to her, and kissed her cheek. “Isn't that my tee shirt, punk?”
“All property is theft, biker boy.” She grinned. “Don't worry I'll never go out in public in an Iron Maiden tee shirt. I threw my stuff in your washing machine, I hope that's okay.”
“Sure, although I was gonna suggest we went somewhere to eat. I'm gonna fade away if I don't get some food inside me. I could order a pizza, or is that against one of your many principles?”
Her smile was so beautiful. “No, pizza is acceptable. I want everything except anchovies.”
“Are anchovies not Anarchist?”
“Dunno, but they taste nasty. Can we have ice cream as well?”
~oOo~
“Man, I'm stuffed.” Mouse lay back on the sofa and rested her ankles on Nitro's thighs. “I can't remember the last time I ate pizza and ice cream.”
Nitro ran his hand along her shin. “If you ain't careful, all this decadence will make you soft. Who's gonna save the world while you're stuffing your face?”
She stuck out her tongue and opened her eyes. “Haven't you cared enough about something to want to save it? You're a clever bloke, you must be aware of all the shit that's going on.”
He shrugged, but Mouse really needed to know. She dug her heel into his thigh, and he grinned. “Don't think you'll ever find me hugging any trees, but I care about stuff. I wanna be free to live how I choose, reckon I'd fight to defend that, an' I care about my brothers an' their families. I'd lay my life down in a heartbeat to save any of them. I ain't like you, though—not sure anyone is—I couldn't spend weeks under a tarp in the pouring rain to protect a bunch of badgers.” His hand stilled. “You're a one-woman thorn in the side of the establishment. I kinda worry about you.”
“It's not just me, Nitro. We're everywhere. It's just most of the time, no one really notices us, and when they do, we piss them off. We face up to people who don't play by the rules and, if they're forced to, will change laws to shut us down. The media hate us and vilify us. Wherever we try to live, the locals will be afraid of us. We never win, not really. Sometimes there'll be tiny victories, and maybe the cost of dealing with protesters may deter future development of sensitive areas. If we get lucky, we capture the imagination of the general public and they get behind us.” She laughed. “Sometimes we save some badgers.”
Nitro stared at her for the longest time, then took a deep breath. “I'm gonna have to kiss you now, or I'm gonna say something stupid, an' piss you off.”
~oOo~
When he'd suggested she came to his place, Nitro had simply wanted to take control of the situation. Mouse was resisting him at every turn, and if anyone was going to put an end to... whatever this was, it was going to be him. He'd figured that once they'd fucked... this... out of their systems, things would fizzle out. And if they didn't... well, he'd cross that bridge if they came to it.
He stole a glance at the little punk, with his tee shirt pulled over her knees as she stared at the TV screen. Every so often she'd flinch and tuck her face behind his shoulder. Nitro grinned; his tough little Anarchist was squeamish. “If you'd rather watch something else, just say.”
“No, it's a good film. I can shut my eyes for the gory bits.”
Shit, he was going to have to kiss her again. If she didn't stop being so fucking adorable, he was going to wear her mouth out. He pressed his lips against the top of her head, and engaged his mouth filter. “The book's in the bookcase, it's better than the movie, read that instead. I really like that tee shirt, an' you're stretching it all outta shape, pick another movie.”
“Can't move.” She leaned against him. “Too stoned. That's some poky weed you've got there, biker boy.”
He was pretty sure he shouldn't be this pleased that she was in no fit state to ride. He'd figured—wrongly, it seemed—that he'd be bored with her by now. Mouse wasn't the first woman who he'd been happy to spend time out of the sack with, but it was unusual, and it usually involved a lot more alcohol.
His first wife had been the result of too many wins on the tables and too many celebratory Scotches. To this day, he'd never fucked a woman like her. Bedazzled by her ability to bend in ways that people can't bend, and eagerness to please, he'd managed to overlook her irritating laugh, and the fact that the most important thing in her life was who the latest celebrity was fucking. Eventually, though, he'd bored of her, and the cute little stripper in the apartment downstairs had a sexier laugh.
They had been married for three weeks.
Wife number two had charmed the shit outta him. She was classy—or so he'd thought—and, as well as giving really great head, cooked up a storm. She'd looked great on his arm, and even better on the back of his bike, so the odd temper tantrum or maxed-out credit card seemed like a small price to pay, especially as she didn't demand too much attention from him... Her reflection was much more interesting.
And then the repo men had come for his bike. Things had got kinda ugly after that.
It was different with Mouse; spending time with her didn't feel like something to be endured—just an interlude between sex sessions—it felt easy.
She shifted slightly, then relaxed against him. Nitro ran his fingers through her hair. “Wanna hit the hay?”
~oOo~
When Nitro had suggested taking a ride to his place, Mouse had assumed that they'd hang out for a while, and then he'd give her a ride home. He hadn't said that, but it had been the impression she'd got. She didn't mind staying, exactly—or at all, really—she was too stoned to sit on the back of his bike, and his bed was extremely comfortable, but even in her slightly muddled state, she felt as though she was being railroaded... again.
She stretched and sat up. “I don't suppose you have a spare toothbrush?”
“Actually, I do.” He made no attempt to move. “On the shelf over the basin.”
Mouse stood and tottered to the bathroom. As she brushed her teeth, she tried to get her thoughts in order. She couldn't shake the feeling that this was just a game to Nitro, certainly nothing he'd said did anything to counter it. But...
His bookcase spoke of an intelligent man with an enquiring mind and eclectic tastes. The decal on his tank showed that he had considerable artistic talent,
and despite his irreverent attitude, he was politically astute, although she still had no idea whether he actually cared about anything.
The club: He cared about that.
So far, it hadn't really been discussed, but they both knew that it was going to be the reason that this, whatever this was between them, was never going to happen. Mouse didn't pretend to be an expert, but she knew that clubs didn't have a good track record when it came to women, and politically, they were a million miles from her. As it was, she felt she was sleeping with the enemy, and no matter how fucking gorgeous he was, she wasn't prepared to compromise her principles for anyone.
One more night, then they would go their separate ways, and never see each other again. Mouse dropped the toothbrush into the mug on the side of the basin and made her way to the bedroom. They had no future, and one of them was going to have to nip this in the bud, before they got in too deep. She pulled his horrendous tee shirt over her head, climbed into bed and closed her eyes, determined that, this time, she was going to stick to her guns.
~oOo~
Mouse had crashed by the time Nitro got to bed. He wasn't sure how he felt about that; when he had a woman in his bed, especially one who'd eaten his food, smoked his weed and used his washing machine, he expected a fuck. They had fucked plenty, of course, but he was ready to go again, and now she was out for the count.
He climbed into the space next to her and debated waking her up to point out how rude she was. Then Mouse rolled over to face him and threw her arm across his chest. Nitro grinned and ran his thumb across her fingers. Nah, he'd leave her be. They had a lifetime of fucking in front of them.
Mouse didn't know it yet, but Nitro was sure he'd met a woman he could spend the rest of his life with. Obviously, there were a few obstacles to overcome: She'd have to stop tramping around the country for a start. And then there was the club. He guessed he was okay with her keeping her distance, but she was going to have to learn to curb her lip when she was around his brothers.
He'd probably have to make a few compromises as well, but he'd cross those bridges when he came to them.
He grinned and pulled the duvet over her shoulders. Of course the biggest obstacle was lying in his arms, but he didn't doubt for one second that he would win her over. He'd never met a woman whom he couldn't.
He still wasn't sure why he liked her so much. She was confrontational and sarcastic, but she did make him laugh, and was prepared to listen to him. And while she was definitely hotter than he'd first thought—he fucking loved her body—she really wasn't his type.
She had issues.
One day, he was going to find the cowardly piece of crap who'd put that fear into her, and repay the favour. Nitro didn't feel strongly about a lot of things, but he wasn't as vacuous as Mouse thought, and he despised men who hit women. He was more than happy to show them the error of their ways.
Soothed by the sounds of Reggae and sirens, mingling with the hum of traffic and shouts and laughter from passersby, Nitro closed his eyes. He'd most likely have a lot of work to do, but he was determined that his fierce little Anarchist would never look at him with fear in her eyes again.
9
Bacon.
Mouse sat up. Oh dear lord, she could smell bacon.
She scrambled out of bed and grabbed her clothes that had been piled neatly on a chair. She frowned. “Nitro, did you iron my stuff?”
“Yeah...” There was a pause, and a chuckle from the disembodied voice. “Well... I put it with my stuff, an' Joy did.”
“Are there no depths that you won’t sink to?” Mouse pulled on her clothes, and followed her nose. “You really are...” Gorgeous. Oh fuck, he was doing that Messiah thing again. Jesus in jeans, sitting low on his hips, and an unbuttoned flannel shirt.
Although, she was pretty sure Jesus wasn't a big fan of bacon.
He turned and grinned. “I like smooth sheets.”
She blinked and closed her mouth, then opened it again. “Did you go out looking like that?”
“Looking like what?”
“All... all... undone.” Undone? Fuck, Mouse, think before you speak. “You know what I mean.”
“Not sure I do. What makes you think I've been out?”
“You've got two feet.” Both in her van and here, Nitro had taken his leg off; he didn't need it to get around the small space, and she'd assumed it was a thing.
He grinned. “Needed to get breakfast. And the girl in the store gives me donuts if I'm undone.”
“I'm going to choose to believe you're joking. Please don't correct me.”
He closed the space between them and kissed her. She'd tell him they were done once he'd finished... and they'd eaten. Reluctantly she pushed him away. “The bacon will burn.”
He kissed her again, just the merest brush of his beard on her lips. “Go an' sit down, can't stand people crowding me when I cook.”
There was no dining table, so she sat on the sofa and watched the world go by from the picture window. “What's an American biker doing in Bristol?”
“Half English. Lived in Norwich till I was eleven. When my folks split, my dad went back to the States an' took me with him.”
“Why did you come back?”
“Messy divorce, an' itchy feet.”
Ah. “You have any kids?” Why was she asking him this shit? After today they'd never see each other again.
“Nope.” He broke an egg into a pan. “Jus' two ex wives.”
“Two?”
“Yep. How d'ya like your eggs?”
“Cooked. How old are you, Nitro?”
“Nearly thirty-five, why?”
“You're thirty-five and already have two ex wives?”
“Yep.”
“Because you're an arsehole?”
“Pretty much.” He flipped the eggs. “You really wanna know? Or is this just another excuse to pour scorn onto me?”
“Did you hit either of them?”
“Nope. Do you want ketchup?”
Mouse believed that there were moments in life—tiny insignificant moments that if she blinked she would miss—that would stay locked in her memory forever. Those moments when something in her brain clicked. And more often than not, it was what a person didn't do that had the biggest impact.
Nitro could have responded in any number of ways. But he'd chosen the right one.
“Have you got brown sauce?”
He was grinning like a Cheshire Cat as he handed her the plate. “Never cooked a Full English before.”
She stared at it as her colon began writing its will. “Wow. That's a lot of meat.”
“Yeah, I Americanised it.” He sat next to her. “Gotta admit, I'm surprised you ain't a vegan.”
Mouse shrugged. “I don't eat a lot of meat, and I can't remember when I last bought any. I prefer that the animal it came from had a good life, and you'll not find me in McDonald's, but I eat pretty much anything. I'm not in a position to be fussy.” She took a bite of the bacon. “Oh god, this is divine.”
His grin got even wider. “Leave some room for the donuts.”
“Why do I like you?”
Nitro kissed her temple. “cus I'm fucking awesome.” He poked at the black pudding. “I've never tried this before, do I wanna know what it's made of?”
“Probably not.” She picked up her piece and dropped it onto his plate. “Apparently it tastes nice.”
He squinted at her. “Do I lose man points if I don't try it?”
Mouse really liked Nitro. “Yep. Loads.”
As soon as they'd finished eating, Nitro took the plates and put them in the sink. “I need to head out; got to swing by my brother's place, then I'll take you home. Why don't you grab a quick shower, while I clean up?”
“You want me to come with you?”
Nitro shrugged, “It's on the way to your place, it won’t take long. Go take a shower, I bought some girl stuff.”
The girl stuff smelled of elderflower, apparently. Mouse preferred the clean smell
of Nitro's man stuff if she was honest, but she was touched by the gesture, and the conditioner felt lovely... as was having the shower to herself and, for a moment, she forgot what an arsehole he was.
She really didn't want to meet any of his brothers, but was going to have to suck it up if she wanted a ride home. Hopefully, Nitro would be okay with her waiting with his bike.
When she joined him again, Nitro was stuffing the package he'd got yesterday into a saddlebag. Mouse tried not to think about what the contents were. She'd found herself on the wrong side of the law a few times, but she really didn't want to get arrested for drug running... or worse.
He glanced out of the window. “You're gonna be hot in that parka. There's room for it in here. I've got a leather you can use. It'll swamp you, but it'll be cooler and it'll save your skin if you fall off.”
“Okay.”
He looked surprised, as though he'd expected her to argue. “Okay... Good.” And on edge—that was new. He took his cut from the back of the chair and shrugged it over his shoulders, then took a battered old leather from a hook behind the door. Mouse slipped it on and held out her arms. “I look like a scarecrow.”
Nitro put his hands on her shoulders and kissed her forehead. “You look great. Ready to go?”
~oOo~
Nitro's brother lived on a road of identical-looking houses in what, Mouse supposed, was once a village before it had been swallowed up by urban sprawl. The only thing that set his house apart from the others was the row of bikes parked outside. Any idea that Mouse might have had about waiting outside was shot down in flames as he took her hand and led her to the front door.
“Nitro, I...”
“It's cool, punk.” He rang the doorbell. “Trust me.”
Weirdly, she did.
“Nitro!” The door was opened by an attractive, silver-haired woman who Mouse would've guessed was around fifty. “Oh. Hello, love. I'm Cathy, come on in. They're all out the back.”
“Hi. I'm Mouse. I don't suppose there's somewhere I can dump this jacket? I look like a kid playing dress-up.”
Itinerant Child Page 6