“Hey.” His smile faded, and he wiped a stray tear away with his thumb. “What's with the tears?”
Mouse sniffed and forced out a smile. “Hormones.”
“Ah.” He lifted her chin and brushed her lips with his. “Missed you, punk.”
Mouse's arms found their way around his waist. “Missed you too, biker boy.”
~oOo~
“Bollocks!”
Nitro opened one eye. “S'up.”
“I'm in the wrong lane.”
He sighed and opened the other eye. “So move into the right one. It ain't exactly rocket science.”
“I can't, there's too much traffic. Fuck, I'm going to end up on the M25.” She slammed her hand against the steering wheel. “Fuck, shit and arseholes.”
“I'm sure you'll figure it out.”
“Big fucking help you are. Shit, I hate London.”
“What do you want me to say, Mouse? There are road signs and everything. All you have to do is follow them.”
“I'm going to get lost.”
“You're on a motorway. You can't get lost. Just get off at the next exit and get back on in the other direction. Stop being such a fucking drama queen.”
“Why are you being such an arsehole?”
“You make a wrong turn an' this makes me an asshole?” He reached over and turned on the radio. “Jesus, I thought we could at least get home before you started busting my balls.” He cranked up the volume and closed his eyes. “Wake me up when we get home.”
He was being an asshole, and he hated himself for it.
He'd been being an asshole for the last three weeks. Every time Mouse had called, he'd either bitched at her, or cut the conversation short. She'd called when he was asleep, even though he'd told her to call at that time. She'd been fussing too much, although all she'd done was ask how he was. He'd yelled at her for being on the phone too long, or for wanting to know where they were going to live. When she'd worried about how they were going to afford a kid, he'd snapped at her, and when she didn't ask if he was okay, she didn't care. Nitro knew she was making allowances for him, and he wondered how long it would be before she ran out of patience.
Maybe she'd been right. They weren't ready for a kid.
And no kid should have a killer as a father.
Nitro had always been a good shot. He'd spent hours on the range, but had never once considered that he'd have to actually shoot someone. Sure, plenty of his brothers had, and seemed to have no qualms about it—they considered themselves soldiers, and were doing what needed to be done—but he wasn't like them. Hell, he'd never even been hunting before. In that alleyway, he hadn't hesitated. It had been a case of kill or be killed, and if he was honest, it had been one hell of a lucky shot.
His brothers had treated him like a hero. He'd put the Rats out of business and avenged Tiny's death, and for a few days he hadn't much cared about the asshole who'd tried to kill him. Then he'd seen a news report that had shown the guy's wife and kids, and reality had hit him like a brick. The guy had been a prospect, left to guard the clubhouse, and was doing what any of his brothers would have done in the same circumstance. And now he was dead, his wife was a widow, and his kids, fatherless. Just like Beth and her kids.
Since then, he'd been riddled with guilt. No matter how hard he tried to justify what he'd done, it wouldn't leave him. He had no love for the Rats—they were cowardly pieces of lowlife crap—and he doubted that the guy he'd killed was an exception, but he'd had a family who loved him, and would grieve for him.
Then there was Mouse. How was he supposed to be with her now? His little Anarchist, who hated war. Who believed there could be no justification for killing. He was going to have to keep this from her, and for the life of him he didn't know how he was going to manage that.
He felt her hand touch his. “Sorry.”
Nitro linked his fingers with hers. “You've got nothing to apologise for, Mouse. I'm the asshole here.”
~oOo~
Mouse dropped his bag on the floor. “You hungry? I can nip to the Spar and get something, or order a pizza if you prefer.”
Nitro pulled a face. “Get what you want.”
What she wanted was to know what was going on with him. She understood that he was tired and sore, but that didn't explain why he was being so cold with her. He could barely look at her, let alone touch her, and Mouse was completely at a loss. She reached up and touched his cheek. “What I really want is to jump you.”
He jerked his face away. “Kinda tired. I'm gonna try an' get some sleep.”
“Okay.” She forced herself to smile. “Do you need a hand getting undressed?”
“Not an invalid. I can manage.”
As he turned and walked towards the bedroom, the sting of rejection was too familiar. “Okay. I'm going to go back to Bath. It's clear you don't want me here.”
“I do want you here.” He didn't turn around. “I'm just tired is all.”
“Okay.” She dropped onto the hideous sofa and kicked off her shoes. “But you should know that I'm not like you. If you keep pushing me away, I will go, and I won’t come back.”
“That a threat, Mouse?” He still had his back to her.
“No. It's just the way I am.”
Mouse had long since stopped tying to make people love her. The memory of her mother slamming the door in her face when she'd run away from her foster parents, and of her grandmother telling the social worker that she couldn't deal with her anymore, were as fresh as if they'd happened yesterday. She'd never forget her social worker telling her that maybe, if she tried to be nicer, her foster parents would want to adopt her, and she couldn't forget that, no matter how hard she tried, a few weeks later she'd be back at the kids' home, like a rejected pound puppy.
As she grew older, she'd realised that her mum was sick, and her grandmother was old. She understood that her foster carers had never really wanted a kid like her. But by then, the damage had been done. She was unlovable, and sooner or later, people would reject her.
She knew that Nitro was dealing with stuff that had nothing to do with her, but she wasn't sure she was strong enough to stick around while he did it. The bedroom door slammed and she brought her knees up to her chest and hugged them. She'd thought things would be different with him.
~oOo~
Shit. Nitro leaned back against the bedroom door and closed his eyes. What the fuck was he doing? None of this was Mouse's fault, and the last thing he wanted to do was to shut her out. This was his shit, and he was going to have to deal with it, but he couldn't lose Mouse along the way.
He pushed himself away from the door, and pulled it open. “I'm being a dick.”
She looked up and gave the merest hint of a smile. “Yeah, you are.”
“I really am kinda tired and sore. But there's room in the bed for two.” He grinned as Mouse stood up and walked slowly towards him. “An' I probably wouldn't complain if you took advantage of me.”
No one knew better than Nitro that life had a habit of throwing you a curveball every now and then, but if you were lucky, there would be someone there to help you deal. He wasn't sure how he got past what he'd done, but he did know that the little punk, who was currently stripping in record time, would be the reason he tried. He ran his hand across her perfectly flat belly. “You sure you're growing my kid in there?”
Mouse nodded and began to unbutton his shirt. “Don't worry, I'll be as big as a whale in no time.”
“That'll be so cool.” He pushed her hair back and kissed her neck.
“I might stay that way.”
Did she really think he gave a shit about that? He nipped her earlobe. “Obviously if that happens, I'll have to kick your fat ass out, and trade you for a slimmer model.”
She laughed. “Arsehole.”
He pulled his arm out of the sling and cupped her face in his hands. “I love you, Mouse. It don't matter to me what shape you are. As long as you're comfortable in your own skin, I'm good.”
“I love you, too.” She pulled open his shirt and gasped as, for the first time, she saw the scars. “Oh, Nitro.”
The stitches had been out for a week, and everything was healing nicely, but the scars were still fresh and pink. Nitro bent and kissed her. “Chicks dig scars, right?”
Her eyes were glassy when they met his. “You could've been killed. I...” She sobbed as she ran her finger across the weird lump that had formed on his shoulder. “I could've lost you.”
They had spoken every day since he'd been shot, but never once had she asked him what had actually happened. Nitro wasn't sure whether it was because she thought he wouldn't give her a straight answer, or that she really didn't want to know. “But I wasn't, an' I'm still here.”
“Promise me...” She took a deep breath. “Promise me that nothing like this will ever happen again.”
He wanted to. More than anything in the world. But the cut that was folded neatly in his bag meant that he could never guarantee that he wouldn't be asked to put himself in the line of fire again. “You know I can't do that.” He tucked her hair behind her ears. “But this is England, an' people hardly ever get shot here.”
Mouse sighed and, slipping her hand into his, led him to the bed. She sat on the edge and unbuckled his belt. “If I asked what happened, would you tell me?”
“If I thought you really wanted to know, I guess.” He pulled down his jeans and sat next to her. “But honestly, all I wanna do is forget it. I ain't some tough guy, hero type, Mouse. It hurt—still hurts—an' I was scared. I just wanna get healed an' move on with my life.”
“If you need to talk about it, I'll listen.”
“I know.” He swung his legs onto the bed and pulled her onto his lap. “But I don't wanna burden you with my crap. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. Not sure I deserve you.”
“Oh, I know you don't.” Mouse grinned as he lay back against the pillows. “I'm assuming, as you're down to two limbs, I'll be doing all the work.”
Nitro groaned as her slim fingers wrapped themselves around his cock. “Yeah, be gentle with me.”
28
“Okay, Michaela.” The midwife smiled. “That's about everything. The hospital will be in touch with a date for your scan, and I'll see you next month.” She picked up a some leaflets from her desk. “There are details of antenatal classes here if you're interested. I recommend you attend at least a couple. Dad is welcome to come along if he likes.”
Mouse looked out of the window to where Nitro was waiting in his van, then stuffed the leaflets into her bag. “Dad's got a lot on his mind at the moment.”
“There's no rush. It's a rolling programme, so you can jump in whenever you like.”
“I'll give it some thought.” Mouse smiled. “And I'll tell Mags you said hi.”
Nitro didn't acknowledge her as she climbed into the passenger seat. He just took off his glasses and shoved his book into the glove compartment.
Mouse pretended not to notice that he'd been on the same page as when she'd got out of the van. “Do you want to stop somewhere for lunch, or eat once we get to Bath?”
He shrugged. “We'll eat at Maggie's. Can't afford to waste money. What did the midwife say?” He winced as he put his hand on the steering wheel.
“Not much, just gave me some leaflets and told me to piss in a bottle next time I came.” She frowned. “Do you want me to drive?”
“If I wanted you to drive, I'd ask.”
“Thought your shoulder might be sore is all.”
“Just get off my case, Mouse.”
“Fine.” Mouse kicked off her shoes and rested her feet on the dashboard. “Be a twat.”
“Not being a twat. And take your fucking feet off the dash.”
Mouse ignored him. He was going to bitch at her no matter what she did, so she figured she might as well give him a reason.
This was how it was now. Sometimes, she'd catch glimpses of the old Nitro, but in the weeks since he'd got home, more often than not he was either morose or biting her head off. His shoulder was still hurting him, and although he had started taking his bike to the clubhouse, long rides were out of the question. Maggie had seemed unconcerned when she'd mentioned it to her—apparently soft tissue damage could take a long time to heal, especially if the patient was a stubborn idiot, who wouldn't admit when he was hurting. And if she was honest, Mouse didn't think that his shoulder was the problem.
He had nightmares, now—at least he did on the rare occasions he actually slept. And when they made love, he didn't want to cuddle afterwards. Mouse had tried to get him to talk to no avail, and if she pushed too hard, he'd shut himself in his garage for hours on end.
She turned her head and stared out of the passenger window. “I'm gonna stay with Mags for a few days. I think we both need some space.”
“Wondered how long it'd be before you bailed.”
“I'm not bailing.” She sighed. “I'm just taking some time out.”
“Gonna do that when the kid's born, huh? Gonna take time out from him, too?” He pulled a pouch of tobacco from his pocket and threw it onto her lap. “Roll me a smoke.”
“Thought you were giving up.”
“Not a lot of point if you an' my kid ain't gonna be living with me.”
Mouse wasn't going to dignify such a stupid comment with an answer, so she rolled it in silence and passed it over to him.
“You not gonna light it for me?”
“Pregnant, arsehole.”
“Yeah, cus one puff is gonna make all the difference.”
“Why are you trying to push my buttons, Nitro?”
He shrugged. “Wasn't aware that I was.”
“Well, you are.” She was so fucking tired of this. The constant bickering and sniping on both sides was wearing her out. Maybe it was her. Maybe she was impossible to love after all. Mouse switched on the radio, and changed the channel.
Nitro leaned over and changed it back.
Mouse reached out and...
“Touch that dial, and you're fucking walking to Bath.”
That was it. She'd had enough. “Pull over. I'm getting out.”
He ignored her and kept on driving.
“I said...”
“I know what you said.” He glanced in his mirror and switched lanes.
“Where are you going? Bath's...”
“I know where Bath is.” He looked over and gave her that grin that she loved so much. “You an' me are going to the seaside.”
She could've given him a long list of why this was a stupid idea. Whatever it was that was going wrong between them wasn't going to be fixed by a bag of fish and chips and a walk on the beach. She could've told him that pretending things were fine wasn't the answer. But Mouse was tired of arguing, so she said nothing as they drove out of the city.
She'd expected him to go to Weston-super-Mare again, but instead he'd headed further south into Devon. For two hours they drove with just the inane chatter of the DJ and god-awful metal to break the silence. Mouse fidgeted in her seat. “Need a wee.”
“We're nearly there.”
“Where are we going?” Mouse squeezed her thighs together as he turned onto a narrow lane. “It had better be close, or I'm gonna wet my knickers.”
“Ilfracombe.” He grinned. “Ten minutes, tops.”
Mouse loved Ilfracombe. She and Digger had spent many a happy afternoon exploring the small seaside town with its narrow streets and steep hills. She wasn't sure that it was Nitro's thing, though. He always bitched if he had to walk anywhere, and apart from a few pubs and cafes, there wasn't really much else to do. “Any particular reason why?”
“Not really. Just remembered you an' Digger talking about it. Figured it'd be a nice place to spend the day.” He turned off the radio. “So, where's a good place to eat?”
Mouse smiled and pointed up to the cliff tops. “Up there.”
~oOo~
Nitro hated walking. Not because he was an amputee—although having a sock
soaked in sweat as they walked through the town and climbed the steep, uneven path was uncomfortable and unpleasant—he hated it because it seemed like the most inefficient and slow way of getting where he wanted to be. Despite this, he hadn't complained as they'd trudged along, laden with stuff Mouse had bought from the little bakery near the harbour. And when she'd led him to the bench at the top of the cliff, he had to admit that it was a great view, and almost worth the effort.
He studied her profile as she rummaged around in the bag and pulled out a pie. He knew that she was reaching the end of her rope, and he didn't blame her. Ol' ladies were expected to stand by their men. They were supposed to stick around, uncomplaining, while the men they loved cheated on them or spent time in the slammer. They weren't expected to walk away when the club took their men away, or when the cops kicked down their doors. He'd seen it time and time again, and he'd seen how these strong women had their fires doused and their identities chipped away, a little at a time.
Mouse wasn't like that. It was one of the things he loved most about her. She owned her vulnerability, and her strong sense of self-preservation meant that she would walk away rather than lose herself. Even if it meant losing the man she loved.
He wasn't sure whether what he was about to tell her would mean the end of them. But he did know that saying nothing would be.
That was why he'd brought her here. He'd wanted one more day. One last chance to make her smile before he broke her heart.
She passed him a pie, and he eyed it suspiciously. “What's this?”
“Homity pie.” She smiled and his gut twisted at the thought that he might never see it again. “Trust me, you'll love it.”
He didn't—it was just a vegetable pie—but he didn't hate it. And if she stayed with him, he'd pretend to love it for the rest of his life.
He loved her so much. His fierce little Anarchist who wanted to save the world. His pocket-sized warrior queen. Nitro watched her as she ate. Her cheeks were pink from the sun and the wind, and her blonde hair almost glowed in the sunlight. There was a childlike quality about her, but she was all woman, and was the strongest person he knew.
Itinerant Child Page 24