The Lost Boys MC Series: Books 1-4

by Savannah Rylan

  I hoped I was being a good enough mother to counteract the shitty father she had.

  I closed my eyes as the pizza cooked and heard Keva rushing back down the small hallway. She dove onto the couch and fiddled with the remote until the television turned on. I needed to tell her it wasn’t time for T.V. yet. It wasn’t time to blindly melt our minds with pointless screen time.

  But when I opened my eyes and saw Texas’s house through the small window of my kitchen, my mind rushed somewhere else.

  I looked down at my feet quickly, then turned my back. There was no need to think about him. No need to contemplate Joanne’s words. Getting involved with anyone from the crew again was a strict “no, thank you” after Jett. But even entertaining the idea with my brother’s best friend?

  If I wanted to round out the “not a good mother” checklist, then that was the way to do it.

  Sure, Joanne had a point. And yes, her pronouncements about love and dating were hilarious. But they didn’t apply to me and my situation. They didn’t apply to my life. They didn’t apply to my circumstances or the way things had panned out for me.

  And as much as it hurt to admit, they never would.

  4

  Texas

  I stood there in my kitchen looking at the steaks I had set out. I had them salted and peppered, just like they needed to be. There was no need for fancy marinades or extra spices when it came to such great cuts of meat. But I also had chicken in the fridge as well. I saw this great recipe on the cooking channel as I was flipping through the black-and-white images on the box set in the living room.

  Now, I didn’t know which one to do.

  I walked over to my pantry and swung it open. I had everything I needed for the chicken recipe. The basil. The honey. Apples to chop up and cheese to grate. I had plenty of vegetables to grill up and potatoes to roast. I had the ability to do either one, but I wasn’t sure what I wanted for dinner.

  And just like that, my eyes looked up through my kitchen window and peered over to Ella’s house.

  I wondered what she and Keva were having for dinner. After all, she’d gotten home forty-three minutes ago. I couldn't imagine working all damn day like she did, bending my ass over a cash register, only to come home and cook for a small child. I didn’t know how she did it. Hell, I didn’t know how any single mother did it. Part of me admired Ella for taking on that task.

  But part of me wondered if she was even awake enough to cook.

  My mind fled back to our encounter that morning. Her curves in that damn polyester uniform. Her hair, tumbling down to her shoulders. Pulled back in a half-ponytail that would be perfect for gripping and taking her from behind. And those tits. Holy fuck, I’d bury my face in them. Kiss them. Mark them. Suck on them and lap at them with my tongue until—

  “Get a grip, Texas,” I murmured to myself.

  My eyes fell to the steaks. Three of them, just sitting there. One for me, one for Ella, and one for Keva. Did Ella know how to cook steaks? Would she have the energy to cook them after a day like this? I looked back up through the window and saw Ella sitting at her kitchen table. Her head in her hand. Her back hunched. Her shoulders heaving with a heavy sigh.

  Or possibly tears?

  Unacceptable either way.

  I wanted to stop myself from going over there. Especially since I couldn't stop thinking about her. Naked. Fucking hell, I bet she looked phenomenal, stretch marks and all from having Keva. But the more I peered into the window and saw Ella sitting there, the more I worried that she really wasn’t going to eat.

  What would Keva eat if she didn’t eat?

  I picked up the steaks and put them back in my fridge. I’d come back for them later, if I needed to. My mind swirled with hedonistic thoughts as I made my way across the lawn. I saw myself pressing Ella into the wall. Fucking her until she couldn't breathe. I saw her lips wrapped around my cock that was drenched in her juices. Moaning and licking herself off me in all the ways I knew she—

  “Stop it, Texas. Come on,” I groaned to myself.

  My mind had gotten me into trouble before. It had ruined a great deal of good things for me before. But this would be a whole new level of stupid. Gunning for Stone’s sister would put me in my grave, guaranteed. I was supposed to keep tabs on her. I was supposed to check on her. I was supposed to make sure she was okay.

  Once I figured out what her and Keva were eating for dinner, I’d go home.

  Hopefully.

  I knocked on her front door but didn’t have to wait for long. The second she swung the door open, shock trickled over her features. She looked me up and down, a sentiment I gladly returned. She was still in her uniform, but her face was red from exertion.

  She was obviously tired.

  “Texas? What are you doing here?” she asked.

  Even her voice sounded exasperated.

  “I wanted to come over and make sure you were okay after this morning,” I said.

  “Yeah, yeah. I’m fi—”

  The beeping of the oven interrupted us, and she quickly left the door. It swung open effortlessly, and I took the liberty of standing in the doorway. I watched her put on oven mitts before she opened up the oven, and that was when Keva came rushing into the kitchen.

  “Pizza’s ready! Pizza’s ready!” she exclaimed.

  Ella grunted as she bent over. I watched as she pulled the pathetic pizza out. It had been in the oven way too long. A basic cheese pizza with crust that was burnt on the bottom. I furrowed my brow as Ella cursed to herself. Keva kept giggling over her excitement, but I was too focused on how crooked Ella’s body seemed to be as she hunched over the stove.

  She slammed it shut with her leg, but not without another grunt of pain.

  Was she really going to give Keva burnt pizza for dinner?

  “Sorry, Texas. I just, um… I think I might have…”

  I took a step into the kitchen, watching as Ella turned around. It was like she was trying to block the pizza from my view. Like she was trying to cover up some sort of sin she had just committed. There were tears in her eyes. The crookedness of her stance denoted a need for rest. My heart went out to her, and I wanted to help somehow.

  Even if it risked being around her more.

  “I just can’t manage anything else tonight. Not even conversation. I’m sorry, it’s just that…”

  “I know. It’s okay,” I said.

  I knew what she meant. She didn’t want to say it in front of her daughter, but I got it. Running into Jett sucked the life out of her.

  Time to fix shit, like I always did.

  “Sit,” I said.

  “What?” Ella asked.

  “Come sit, Mommy!” Keva exclaimed.

  “Keva, sweetie. Why don’t you go watch a little more television?” Ella asked.

  “But the pizza?” Keva asked.

  “How would you like a nice, three-course meal tonight?” I asked.

  “Huh?” Keva asked.

  “What?” Ella asked breathlessly.

  “Do as your mother asks, sweetheart. Go find a movie until we can sort dinner out. The pizza’s burnt, but if you give me a few minutes, I’ll have something else whipped up,” I said.

  Ella looked at me as if I’d grown a third head and Keva slinked off to the living room. I knew she was disappointed, but after I was done in this kitchen, she wouldn't be. I walked over to the stove and filled her tea kettle with water, then I turned on the burner and set it down.

  “What in the world are you doing, Texas?” Ella asked.

  I grinned over my shoulder at her before I moved to the fridge.

  “I’m cooking the three of us dinner. You can’t feed a growing kid burnt pizza for dinner. And you need to eat something,” I said.

  “Texas, you don’t have—”

  “I’m cooking whether you like it or not. Got it?” I asked.

  I looked back at her and watched her nod silently.

  “Good. Now, go get out of your clothes and curl up wit
h Keva. I’ll be done in here in thirty minutes,” I said.

  “Are you sure?” she asked.

  I pulled out some chicken in the back of the fridge along with some other ingredients. Parmesan. Olive oil. Some noodles in the pantry.

  “I’m very sure. I’m going to make chicken pesto pasta with a nice salad, and I’ll whip up this box of brownies you’ve got in here. Sound good?” I asked.

  Ella sighed. “That sounds fantastic.”

  “Good. Go get changed and get in there with Keva. Have some time with your daughter.”

  “Is cooking in the description Stone gave you?”

  I chuckled as I set out all of my ingredients.

  “If he knew I was over here cooking for you two, he’d probably come roaring over to kick my you-know-what,” I said.

  I peered into the living room at Keva, watching her curl up underneath the blanket while a cartoon roared on the screen in front of her. Ella giggled, and it turned my gaze to her. The smile she had lit up her face. No matter how tired she was, she looked completely refreshed when she smiled. Her eyes twinkled. Her face came alive. Her entire body seemed to change, just for a second.

  She was beautiful when she smiled.

  “No, go. Do as I’m asking. Go get out of those work clothes and leave this to me,” I said.

  “Fine, fine. If you're going to twist my arm about it,” she said, giggling.

  I hoped to hear that sound more and more.

  I listened as she backtracked down her hallway and I got to work. I sliced up the chicken really thin and seasoned it well. I boiled the noodles and made my pesto sauce with a little more oomph than usual. I think a bit of spice would help clear out all of that negative shit running around in Ella’s mind. It took me no time to throw it all together. Including the salad. And after tossing the pasta together with the sauce, I set it all off to the side and started whipping up the box of brownies while the oven preheated again.

  I looked in the fridge and saw Ella had a container of caramel sauce. So, I drizzled some over the brownies before plopping them into the oven.

  Ella went and crashed onto the couch with Keva and the two of them started talking. Laughing. Giggling together. The sound made me smile, and it filled my chest with a bright light. I wanted to see Ella happy. Hell, I wanted them both to be happy. It made me sick that Jett was still torturing her. Still looming over her like he was. I remembered the day we kicked him out of the club. It had been one of the best days of my existence. Getting rid of a toxic, bullshit man like him was always a good time. Especially when the threat of death hung over his head. When it came to light what he had really been doing to Ella, I’d never seen Stone more ready for blood to drip across his palms. Despite my want to kill him, too, I actually had to stop Stone from ringing Jett’s neck right then and there.

  The sounds of their laughter convinced me they’d be okay.

  If we could somehow get Jett out of their lives for good.

  5

  Ella

  Texas had been my neighbor for a few days, and I was glad that the weekend had finally rolled around. More and more, I kept glancing over at his place. I kept looking at his front door, wondering if he’d emerge or come over to keep me company again. His dinner had been incredible, and Keva inhaled it faster than she ever would have the pizza I had ruined. Hell, she ate it quicker than any pizza I could have ordered out. The pasta was fantastic, and I actually had Texas leave me the recipe for his pesto sauce.

  Maybe one day, when I had the energy, I’d try my hand at it.

  It was Saturday morning, and the entire time I drank my coffee, I looked at my front lawn. It was overgrown, and really needed to be mowed. I groaned at the thought of it. But if I was going to get it mowed before Keva woke up, then I needed to get it done quickly. She was usually up and out of bed by nine, and I didn’t want to bother Joanne with watching her while I endlessly fought with the old, broken down lawn mower that desperately needed to be replaced.

  I hated that old, stupid thing.

  I changed into some jeans and a t-shirt before walking out to the garage. The damn thing used to be my father’s. They had plans to retire to Hawaii before their lives were taken so pointlessly, and he had “gifted” me a great deal of his old equipment. I had power tools and wrenches to spare for the entire neighborhood, along with a weed whacker I still didn’t know how to use. I was thankful that they had never sold their house. Without it, I had no idea where I would have taken myself and Keva after the divorce. Stone had kept up the house, then insisted I move in after my divorce. I brought the old tools and the old lawn equipment back to its original destination after the divorce was finalized, and I’d made my childhood home the place where I’d raise Keva.

  Even though I was stuck with the ancient, gas guzzling pieces of crap that filled the garage when I was a young girl.

  I rolled it out into the lawn and tugged at the chord. It groaned and heaved, but not once did it start up. I pulled and pulled. I grunted along with it, trying to get the damn thing to start. And after my ninth pull, it finally roared to life. A puff of black smoke came up from the rusted piece of machinery, and I wrinkled my nose.

  No wonder Stone wore a mask with this thing.

  I waved as Joanne as she came out onto her porch with her morning cup of tea. I pushed the lawn mower up and down the lawn, sputtering as grass came up and flew into my face. I coughed. I waved it away with my hand. I pulled my shirt up over my nose in an attempt to breathe something that wasn’t dirt and the smell of hacked-away grass.

  “Grandma Jonanne! Grandma Jonanne!”

  I paused my mowing and saw Keva dash out of the house. I rushed to intercept her before she got to the road, but Joanne was there to greet her. I swear, I had no idea how a woman her age moved the way she did, but she scooped my daughter into her arms and waved me off. I sighed with relief as Keva clung to her, smiling and still rubbing her eyes from waking up.

  And pretty soon, my daughter played with one of the many toys she had across the street.

  I went back to mowing the lawn but looked up every now and again to see my daughter playing with a fire truck. Every week, she wanted to be something different. She imagined herself as a different adult every time. Last week, she wanted to be a doctor. The week before that, a unicorn. The week before that, a princess.

  And this week, she wanted to be a fireman.

  I couldn't wait to see what she wanted to be next week.

  I turned the lawn mower around and was met with the wide eyes of Texas. He stood there on his porch, a morning beer in his hand and a startled look on his face. My eyes roamed his body as he set his beer down. As his long, strong legs stepped off the porch and made their way for me. His pants were tight against his body. Against his crotch. His shirt was practically painted on him, giving me a wonderful glance of the muscles that were hidden underneath.

  My eyes rose to his as he approached me, then his hand came down onto the handle of the lawn mower.

  “I’m going to take this over for you,” he said.

  I furrowed my brow as I revved the engine of the mower down.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I’m going to finish this up,” he said.

  “I’m more than capable of mowing my own lawn, Texas.”

  “Doesn’t matter. I’m mowing it for you.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  In a pointless struggle, he ended up wrestling the mower away from me. And for a brief moment, I thought about taking it back from him. I stepped back, a scoff falling from my lips as I made my way back to the driveway. Fine. Whatever. If the stupid jerk wanted to do my work for me, then I’d let him. I pulled the t-shirt down from my face, realizing just how idiotic I looked trying to fight with him with the fabric over my nose.

  And as he began the path I had carved out over the grass, I started across the street for my daughter and Miss Joanne.

  “Well, the view from my front porch just got a whole lot better,” she sa
id.

  “You really need to tuck it in around my daughter,” I said.

  “Well, then turn around and I will.”

  I sat in a rocking chair next to Joanne and quickly understood what she was talking about. I rose my eyes to take in Texas. The rugged, chiseled man who shredded his shirt on my front lawn. And holy hell, the man looked amazing. He slung the black t-shirt over his shoulder and gripped the mower, and I swear I saw every single muscle in his torso ripple with his movements. The etched lines of his back made me lick my lips. When he turned the mower around, I caught a full view of the thick rings around his abs. His chest was swollen with strength. His arms were boulders that poured into meaty mounds of flesh on top of his shoulders. His jeans sat low on his hips, exposing lines I would have begged to trace with my fingertips. With my body.

  With my tongue.

  “Well, it’s also getting pretty hot out here,” I said.

  “Uh huh,” Joanne said cheekily.

  “That sun is already high in the sky.”

  “Oh, yeah. High in the sky, all right.”

  “Joanne,” I warned.

  “I’m old, but I’m not dead. I know a good-looking man when I see one. And Mr. Motorcycle over there is very nice looking,” she said, grinning.

  I sighed as I shook my head.

  “When are you going to hop on that fine—”

  “Joanne!” I exclaimed.

  “Mommy, can I go get a snack inside?” Keva asked.

  “Of course, you can,” I said.

  “There are apples in the fridge for you, sweetie,” Joanne said.

  “Can I have two?” Keva asked.

  “When you finish your first one, yes,” I said.

  And once my daughter scurried into the house, Joanne turned her gaze to me.

  “Really. When are you going to hop on that fine slice of ass?” she asked.