There was still a scab where the tip of the blade had nicked his chest; Mouse ran her finger across it. “I get angry. People...”
“People do stupid, selfish shit, and sometimes they're assholes. Don't mean you can take them all on. Do you really wanna be killed cos some drunken piece of crap leaves some trash on the ground? An' before you start ranting about fucking turtles... think. Jus' pick it up yourself. It ain't rocket science.” Nitro could feel his own anger growing. “I wanna be able to take care of you, Mouse; I wanna love you. How the fuck am I supposed to do that when you don't even care enough about yourself to stay safe?”
“And what if I said I don't want you to take care of me? What if I said that you're a fucking hypocrite? This brother of yours—the one who just died—did he die in his sleep? What about that, huh? What about the crap you're expected to do for the club?” Mouse pushed herself away from him and stood up. “You said yourself you'd lay your life on the line for your brothers, so don't give me all this 'I wanna take care of you' bullshit. You just want a little woman who'll wait at home for you. This is who I am, Nitro. Sometimes I jump first and think later, and sometimes I take unnecessary risks. If you can't handle that, then we might as well call it a day and go our separate ways.”
That had escalated quicker than he thought it would. “Never said I couldn't handle it, punk.”
“Actions speak louder than words, biker boy. You turned tail and ran.”
“And when you needed me, I came back.”
“I didn't ask you to.”
“You won’t want me to go with you to see Digger then, will you. An' while we're on the subject, why do you think he's so fucking eager for us to be together, huh? You don't think that maybe he knows he can't be watching your back anymore, so he's handing over the reins to me?”
“That's a ridiculous thing to say.”
“Is it?” Nitro stood and tugged on a lock of her hair. “I don't pretend to understand what goes through that head of yours, but you ain't fooling me with all this tough talk. You're just a scared little kid, Mouse, an' you need taking care of, whether you like it or not.”
“And you think you're the man for the job?” She made no attempt to hide the derision in her voice. “You gonna be there with me when I go to London to occupy Parliament Square?” Nitro said nothing, and she sneered. “Thought not. Let's not kid ourselves, Nitro. The best we can hope for is an occasional fuck; everything else is impossible.”
“So why did you agree to come to the clubhouse with me?”
“Because I owe you.” Mouse paused. “And because I do like you, and I'd love us to work this out. I just don't think we can.”
She was right. They couldn't work this out, and Nitro knew the smart thing to do was to walk away. Problem was, he'd already tried that, and it hadn't worked out so well. Mouse wasn't like any woman he'd ever known before. She deserved better than the usual bullshit he used to get his own way, and while there was a part of him that would be happy for them to be fuck buddies, he knew that, with her, that was never going to be enough.
It was time for Nitro to break the habits of a lifetime and be honest with her.
“I need you in my life, punk.” He ran a finger across her cheek. “I'm going back to the States in a couple of weeks—just for my brother's funeral, I'll only be gone a few days—when I get back, I want us to look for a place together.” He grinned. “Put those spikes away, an' hear me out. I don't expect you to stay home like a good little housewife, but I am asking you to make some space in your life for me. Can you do that?”
“You want us to live together?”
“Sure. I know you'll have to take time out to save the world, an' I'll have club shit, but yeah, why the hell not? Reckon we can make it work if we both want it bad enough, an' if we can't... well, at least we'll have tried.” He bent and kissed her. “Just think about it, is all I ask.” Nitro could almost see the cogs whirring in her head as she wrapped her mind around what he was saying. “I really do love you, Mouse. It's shit when you're not around.”
~oOo~
She didn't need to think about it. It was a stupid idea.
Mouse looked at her feet—he'd give her the puppy dog eyes, and she'd cave, just like she always did—and took a step back. “It's a bit soon, Nitro. We hardly know each other.”
“Do you love me?”
Ah, the million dollar question. “I dunno. Sometimes I think I do, but...” She shook her head. “It's not real, is it?”
“Sure it is.” He moved closer and pushed her hair away from her face. “Have you ever loved anyone?”
“Once, or at least I thought I did.” Mouse hated talking about her ex, but she knew Nitro wasn't going to let this go, so she took a deep breath and plunged in. “When I was nearly eighteen, I met this guy. He was kind—or so I thought—and I fell for him. Problem was, he wasn't what I thought he was; the man I fell in love with didn't exist. Everything he said, all the promises he made, it was all a lie. He was older than me, and I guess I wanted someone to take care of me. I thought... Fuck, I don't know what I thought. I was a kid, Nitro, and no one had ever cared about me before. I just wanted a normal life, y'know, a house, maybe a cat or a dog. What other people had. What I got was bruises and a fucked-up head. It took me nearly two years to get away from him, and I swore to myself I'd never put myself in that position again.”
“I'm not gonna hurt you, Mouse.”
“I want to believe you. Really, I do. But words... words don't mean much.” Her laugh sounded bitter to her own ears. “You have no idea how many people have made that promise, and, apart from Digger and Mags, every one of them has broken it. So you'll forgive me if I take what you say with a pinch of salt.”
Nitro took her hand and led her back to the sofa. “Sit down.” Mouse sat and waited for him to continue. “I'm an asshole, punk, an' I ain't gonna pretend that I've always treated women as I should've, but I've never raised my hand to any of them.” He ran his thumb across her knuckles. “All I wanna do is make you happy, an' I'll never stand in your way if you wanna leave. Words don't mean shit, I know that, an' it seems to me like you've got good reason not to trust me, but I swear on my patch that I'll never hurt you.” Mouse opened her mouth to speak, and he silenced her with a kiss. “Okay, I'll do my best not to hurt you. How about that?”
“Better,” she conceded. “But I still don't think we should rush into things.”
“Told you, I'm not looking for an answer right now. Just give it some thought.”
It was too early for this. “I'm going back to bed. You coming?”
18
If anything was to confirm Nitro's statement that she was just a scared little kid, this day had been it.
Visiting Digger had been as stressful as the day before. Mouse had taken Nitro and Maggie's advice and stayed away until he was out of theatre and back on the ward, but even with their support, she'd only been able to stay a few minutes before the need to get out into the fresh air overwhelmed her. Her guilt at abandoning her friend had been slightly assuaged by the fact that he'd been awake for the short time she was there, and she knew Maggie would stay by his side. Nitro had insisted she should have been proud of herself for facing her fears, but Mouse couldn't quite manage that. And she knew that if he hadn't have been at her side the entire time, she'd never have even got through the doors.
Perhaps if they hadn't have had a few hours to kill before they went to the clubhouse, her next—far more humiliating—meltdown wouldn't have happened.
Mouse had never paid more than scant attention to her appearance; Nitro might have called her a punk, but in reality, she lived in jeans and tee shirts pretty much all of the time, and it had been a long time since she'd worn anything that didn't either come from a charity shop or army surplus store. Then there was her hair: She honestly couldn't think of anything worse than sitting in a hairdresser's making small talk while being forced to look at her own reflection for god only knew how long. There were a million thing
s she'd rather spend what little cash she had on, and as a result had always cut her own hair when it got to a length that annoyed her.
She'd always been okay with this, right up until the point, when they'd sat in a park sharing a bag of chips, that it had dawned on her that, in his clubhouse, she was going to stick out like a sore thumb. Nitro, because he was, at times, annoyingly astute, had seen through the reasons she'd given for not going, and pushed her for the truth. At least he'd had the decency not to laugh too much when, to her mortification, she'd burst into tears and admitted that she had nothing to wear.
What had followed had been three hours of pure hell as he dragged her around clothes shops, ignoring her arguments that cheap clothes were produced in sweatshops, or that she looked ridiculous in skinny jeans and that she couldn't walk in heels. Eventually, after a lot of arguing, and yes, more tears, they'd found themselves in a sweet little vintage dress shop tucked away in a side street just outside the city centre. Nitro had immediately turned on the charm, and explained Mouse's predicament to the intimidatingly beautiful owner, who'd obviously loved a challenge. The result was a cute little black cocktail dress and beautifully soft, well worn, leather jacket. There was a brief standoff over the shoes with the stupid heels, but as Helen, the owner had explained to Nitro, heels were a bad idea on a bike, and the flowery Docs looked just as cool. She'd even thrown in a thick black hairband, opaque black tights, and Fifties-style sunglasses to complete the look, and while Mouse hadn't been entirely convinced that she looked like a biker chic, she'd had to agree with Nitro when he'd said she looked pretty fucking great.
And now, as she followed Nitro past the rows of bikes towards the imposing clubhouse, Mouse found herself fighting meltdown number three.
Nitro took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “You'll be fine, punk.”
Normally, wild horses wouldn't get her to admit she was afraid of anything, but on this occasion, Mouse figured that honesty was probably the best policy. “Kinda shitting my pants, here.”
Nitro laughed and kissed the top of her head. “Thought you might be. I'll try an' stay close, but if I can't, I'll make sure someone has eyes on you.” He chuckled again as she frowned. “Just so's no one gets fresh is all. It ain't likely, but you're a new face, an' not everyone will know you're mine.”
Oh shit, this was going to suck big hairy balls. “If...”
He kissed her again. “If a patch grabs your ass, it's probably best you say nothing. I know that's gonna sting, but leave it to me to fix, okay? Try to keep any opinions you have to yourself until we get home, an try not to piss anyone off. C'mon, we'll have a drink in the Drip first, an' I promise that if it all gets too much, we'll leave.”
The Drip looked like a run of the mill pub, a little frayed around the edges, and a little too much dark wood and brass to be authentic, but not the dive she'd expected it to be. In fact it hadn't been filled with wall to wall bikers, and considering the fact that it was playing—Jesus—Journey on the jukebox, Mouse would never have thought of it as a biker bar. It did kind of smell like one, though, and the atmosphere was... odd, and really fucking intimidating.
With her hand held tightly in his, Nitro led her to the bar. “Beer?” She would've preferred cider, but her mouth was too dry to speak, so she nodded mutely. “Two beers over here, darlin'”
“Well, hello, Michaela.” Mouse spun around as a large hand landed on her shoulder. “I have to say, lover, you do scrub up nicely.”
“Hi, Biff. Thanks. And please. Call me Mouse.”
“How come you told him your name and you didn't tell me?” Nitro frowned and handed her a bottle of Bud.
“Because he asked, and I was too fucking scared not to tell him. In case you hadn't noticed he's built like a brick shithouse.”
Biff grinned. “Nitro never did get to grips with the whole intimidation thing.” He took the bottle from her hand and waved at the barmaid. “You want a proper drink, lover?”
Mouse shook her head and retrieved her drink. “Nah, this is fine. I like pissy lager.”
Biff chuckled. “Need to have a quiet word with your bloke. Why don't you go an' sit with my old lady over there,” he pointed to the group of women occupying a seat in the window bay. “She's just itching to find out all about you.”
Well whoopie doo. Knowing she really had no choice, she smiled and wandered over to join them. “Hi. Can I join you?”
“Of course, come and sit down.” Josie shuffled along the bench seat to make room. “Ladies, this is Nitro's friend, Mouse. Mouse, this is Kate, Jojo, and Becks. And don't look so worried, we don't bite.”
Mouse wasn't entirely convinced. Unsure of what she was supposed to say, she took a sip of her Bud, and sat in silence as the women continued talking among themselves. Becks, a pretty little redhead, who was by far the youngest of the group, smiled. “Have you and Nitro been together long?”
Mouse shook her head. “Just a few weeks.”
Becks smile grew a a little wider. “I've only been with Loco for six months.” She pointed to a skinny guy who looked old enough to be her father. “I was a bit nervous about coming here at first, but everyone has been really nice. And Loco is such a sweetheart.” As one, the other women rolled their eyes. Seemingly oblivious, Becks continued. “We're going to buy a house soon. Loco says we should get a place in Portishead, I would have preferred to stay in the city, but he's right, we'll get more for our money, there. Loco's really smart, and when we have kids...”
“Jesus, give it a rest.” Jojo raised her hand. “Ignore her, she's still loved up. It'll be a while before cynicism kicks in.”
Becks laughed. “You're not fooling me, I've seen how you and Leo are.”
“Darlin', I've been married to that big fucker for twenty years. Trust me, after three kids, two bike crashes and a three-year prison sentence, there's not a lot of magic left.” Despite her words, Jojo's expression softened as she looked over to the huge biker leaning on the bar. “My mother always told me I should've married an accountant.”
Josie snorted. “Yeah, right. I can just see that.” Mouse had to admit she had a point. Jojo looked every inch a biker old lady, and it was hard to imagine her being anything else.
For a wonderful moment, she thought they'd forgotten about her as talk turned to an upcoming run, but just as Mouse started to relax, Kate met her eye. “What about you, Mouse? Will you be coming?”
Mouse shrugged. “Nitro hasn't said anything about it, so probably not.”
“Oh you have to come.” Becks frowned. “It's a family thing. Old ladies will be expected to be there.”
“I'm not an old lady. Me and Nitro are just... Not sure what we are, but it's too early to call me that.” Desperately, she glanced behind her and tried to catch Nitro's eye. This conversation was starting to head in an uncomfortable direction.
~oOo~
Mouse was looking kind of fidgety. Nitro tried to ignore her and concentrate on Biff's latest lecture about commitment; he'd heard it a hundred times before, and he knew that he'd probably hear it a hundred times more. It wouldn't change anything, of course; he loved the club, and he owed it a lot, but he wasn't going to put it above everything else, because the price of doing that was unacceptably high.
Biff stopped, mid-sentence, and punched him, none too gently, on the arm. “You listening, boy?”
“Yeah. I get it, boss.” Nitro sighed. “Jus' cus I miss church now an' then, don't mean I ain't committed, it jus' means someone else needs me more. When it comes to the wire, I've always been there for the club, you know that.” He drained the last of his beer. “I gotta rescue my ol' lady. We'll finish this later.”
“She's fine.”
“No, she ain't.” He pushed himself away from the bar. “This really ain't her scene. Least I can do is make it easy for her.”
Biff laughed. “Shit, brother. You've got it bad, this time.”
“Yeah, I have. Kinda don't want to fuck it up.”
There was another, more p
ressing reason he wanted to keep Mouse close: Shortly after their arrival, a group of girls had arrived, and were sitting at the back of the pub, and one in particular was giving him cause for concern.
Sure enough, as soon as he left Biff's side, she stood and approached him. “Hi, Nitro. Long time, no see.”
He barely looked in her direction—all his attention was focussed on Mouse. “Go sit down, Scarlet. Told you before, you're barking up the wrong tree.” He tried to sidestep her, but she blocked his path. Nitro didn't want to be cruel, but the silly little bitch had been stalking him for months, and he was beginning to think she was more than a little unstable. “Go find someone else to play with. I'm spoken for.”
“Since when?” Jesus, did she think that pout was cute?
“That really ain't none of your business, darlin', so how about you fuck off an' leave me alone.” As gently as he could, he pushed her to one side. “Go away.”
Mouse had been watching their exchange with interest. She grinned as he approached. “Do I need to give you a stick to beat them off with, biker boy?”
“Probably.” He took her hand and pulled her to her feet. “We'll be heading upstairs to the clubhouse in a few minutes. Wanna go out for a smoke first?”
He was aware of eyes on them as they headed for the door, and he couldn't quite suppress a grin. Mouse looked great, and although she'd probably deny it, was cute as all hell. How he'd ever thought she wasn't his type was now a mystery to him; she was fucking perfect, and they looked great together.
Mouse nudged him with her shoulder. “What's with the smug expression?”
“Reckon I've got every right to look smug, punk. I've got the hottest girl here.”
She rolled her eyes and pushed open the door. “You can't be that drunk, you've only had one beer.”
Itinerant Child Page 15