That left me being raised by a Vietnam veteran old enough to theoretically be my grandfather. Oh, and occasionally my biker uncle and his wife, Aunt Jean, who’d never had children of their own. There was no one to show me what a good mom was like.
I had an older brother and an older sister from my dad’s first marriage who I’d never met, so I didn’t consider them my siblings. Besides, they were old enough to be my parents and had in no uncertain terms said they weren’t interested in meeting their father’s midlife crisis child.
They were assholes.
Of course, Aunt Jean did her best to be a female influence in my life, but it wasn’t the same. Having the “womanly changes” taught to you over the phone by a woman you knew from infrequent visits was mortifying and confusing. After I’d gotten older, we talked on the phone at least a couple of times a week, but it still wasn’t the same as having a mom.
“Hey.” Strong arms wrapped around me, and my back nestled to his chest. “Raiven, talk to me. What’s wrong?”
“I-I-I don’t know. Everything. It’s just catching up with me,” I stuttered and sobbed. My frame shook, and he held me tight. Every so often he pressed a kiss to the side of my neck, but he stayed silent and was simply there for me.
Finally, I either cried myself out or got my shit together. He’d removed the pan from the stove while I’d cried, so at least the sandwiches weren’t burnt. Almost messing up lunch had me on the verge of crying again.
Jesus Lord, I’m a fucking mess.
“Raiven, do you want to go back to Chicago?” His chest quit moving behind me, so I knew he was holding his breath awaiting my answer.
The last thing I wanted was for him to think I wanted to run back there, so I spun in his arms. He tried to keep me facing away from him, and I knew it was because he didn’t want me to see the expression on his face. There was no way I was not looking him in the eye when I told him my thoughts on what he’d asked, so I firmly turned and met his gaze.
Tormented was the only way I could describe it.
My palms cradled his face; his beard coarse against my skin. “Lock.” Hurt flashed in his eyes so I started again. “Matlock. There is nothing for me in Chicago. I’m not leaving Texas. Thanks to your club, I have a great job, I’m making new friends…, and I’m close to you and that little girl in there.” Through my response, I hiccupped and my breaths shuddered from my crying.
What I didn’t say was that he may not want me around if he found out that I may have a baby growing in me conceived by a monster. The same monster responsible for fucking with Lock’s body and mind after he’d been fucked up by his deployments. The stories Gunny had broken down and told me about while he was gone broke my heart.
Gunny had been trying to show me how strong Matlock was, to show me he was a survivor, but it had made me feel awful for him. No human should witness what he’d witnessed, experience what he’d experienced, both as a soldier and at Stefano’s hands.
“I’m here for you, baby. We’re here for each other. Stronger together.”
His words ripped me apart and he didn’t know it.
If I stayed and it turned out the baby was Stefano’s, he’d have to look at the baby every day. He’d look at it knowing he or she was the product of the man who’d tortured him.
“Bring Me Down”—Puddle of Mud
Seeing Raiven break down last week made me realize I needed to get her in counseling. I’d been so wrapped up in my own shit that I hadn’t stopped to think about everything she’d experienced. I was such a schmuck.
“Lock, Truth. Smoke’s calling emergency church. Five minutes.” I looked over my shoulder from where I was up to my elbows in grease rebuilding an old ’68 shovelhead for a guy who found it rusting away in his grandfather’s barn. Slice was spinning on his heel as soon as he’d made the announcement.
“Fuck, I’m never going to get this shit done,” I grumbled as I wiped my hands on a rag.
Truth laughed as he did the same. “Get used to it.”
Truth was a newly patched member who worked at the bike shop along with Clay, who was a retired member. He had less than eight months as a patch but he seemed like a pretty good guy. They’d desperately needed my help at the shop, and I was happy as fuck to be useful. It was a perfect opportunity to get me the hell out of Iowa, and I’d jumped on it.
Of course, I could’ve done without the detour I took on the way down.
Our chapter was pretty small. We were working on that issue, but shit like that took time. If we went handing patches out, they wouldn’t mean much. Like everything in life, the things you worked for were more precious.
Right now the club consisted of Smoke, who was prez; Straight, the VP; Check, the road captain and computer genius; Slice and Truth, who’d been patched within weeks of each other; Styx, the enforcer; and now me. We had a few prospects, but it would be a while before they were patched. The other chapters called us the SSC—single syllable chapter. They thought they were really damn funny, but Smoke said they’d decided to embrace it and run with it.
Clay had been the sec/tres, but when he got T-boned on his bike, it messed up his back and he lost his left leg at the knee. He’d retired when he knew he wouldn’t be able to ride anymore. I didn’t know how he still worked on bikes with a rod in his spine, but he sure as fuck did. Straight was pulling the weight of VP and sec/tres until one of the patches had enough time in. I didn’t want it. I was happy where I was.
I liked order. I hated surprises.
“Let’s get this over with,” Truth said, grabbing his cut from the office. I followed and grabbed mine as well.
“I’ll hold shit down here. You boys get movin’ ’fore y’all get your asses hemmed up,” Clay said as he steadily worked on installing an aftermarket exhaust.
“Thanks, bro. See you in a bit,” Truth replied.
Slice was waiting on us as I threw a leg over my bike. Standing it up, my muscles briefly protested, but I’d never admit it. Hell, I’d been beating the shit out of my body trying to get back to where I was before. Everything was sore but in a good way this time.
As the highest-ranking member, despite recently making the jump to their chapter, they both waited for me to mount up before they did. Once we were all ready, we pulled out and made the short trip to the clubhouse.
It looked like we were the last to arrive. Backing our bikes in at the end of the short row, I shook my head to see Gunny’s bike still there. He’d been like a grouchy mother hen since my ordeal, and I couldn’t convince him I was okay so he’d go home. If I had to guess, I’d say it had more to do with not knowing what Viper’s end game was.
“Hey bro, what’s doin’?”
Speak of the devil. The grin that hit my face at seeing him was shit-eating as hell. “Not much. Getting into the swing of things at the shop. If you could spare a minute from the AC and that cold beer, we could use your hands down there.”
“Jesus, that heat out there reminds me too much of the desert. Are you sure this is where you wanna be? Damn, bro, that shit sucks.” True to form, he grumbled as he tipped back the beer he was holding. “Besides, I’m on vacation.”
“Vacation? You’ve been here, what? Over two months.” A chuckle slipped out.
“Yeah, well, the first month was no vacation.” His somber answer killed my grin.
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault, Lock. Knock it off.” His scowl was so much like Dad’s, I almost laughed again.
“I gotta get into church. You gonna be here when I get out?”
“Well, I won’t be out there until the sun starts to go down.” His lip curled before he took another drink.
Turning on my heel, I saw Smoke standing in the doorway of the conference room. He didn’t look happy either. “Gunny. I want you in here.”
Without waiting for an answer, Smoke turned on his heel and went back in the room. Gunny, Truth, Slice, Styx, and I looked at each other. Shrugging, I tipped my head. “Y
ou heard the prez, let’s go.”
One by one, we shut off our phones, then dropped them in the basket on the table outside the room. Once we were all inside, Styx closed the door. Everyone took their seat.
Cutting right to the chase, Smoke met each of our gazes one by one.
“Viper was seen up in Waco yesterday.” I could tell Smoke hadn’t wanted to pass the news on to me. My jaw clenched as I processed the news. They all knew he’d been a part of my abduction and torture. They also knew about Letty.
Fuck, had that been hard to admit.
I looked Smoke dead in the eye, an angry chill racing down my body.
“You know that if he comes after me or what’s mine again, I’m going to kill him, so you better be prepared. We’ll need cleanup.” I was dead fucking serious.
“Lock, come on, bro. We’re not that kind of club,” Straight, the VP, piped in. He looked frustrated but resigned. Like he knew that was exactly what I’d say.
“Well, if we’re not that kind of club, maybe we should’ve called the cops and let them handle shit after I was captured and motherfucking tortured for damn near a month.” I was pissed as fuck. That piece of shit, stupid motherfucker had been responsible for too much.
“We don’t call the fucking cops,” Smoke growled out.
“Exactly. So like I said. You better dig through your contacts for a cleaning crew or whatever we need, because he is a dead man. If you don’t want the club to be part of this, I’ll turn in my cut and I’ll deal with it on my own.” There was no changing my mind. The hatred I had for Viper was bone deep.
Smoke’s jaw clenched, and they all exchanged looks. My eyes never left my president as I waited for the decision he’d make.
Regret flashed across his face, and I knew he was going to tell me I’d have to do what I had to do. The last thing I really wanted was to leave the Demented Sons, but I wouldn’t take Viper’s shit standing down. I’d been pushed beyond my limits as a human and a man by him.
Color me shocked as hell when Smoke put it to the vote.
“All in favor of dealing with Viper by whatever means are necessary, say aye.” There was an immediate chorus of “ayes.”
“All against, say nay.” Dead silence. My heart stuttered.
Though he said it under his breath, his whispered, “Fuck,” might as well have been shouted. I wasn’t sure what he was expecting. Every single one of us was prior service. Combat veterans at that. We were fighters, not ones to lie down and take shit.
Every one of them would have my back. If it came down to me reporting it was in self-defense because we couldn’t keep it hushed up and covered up, they’d have my back. I hated to pull them into my fight, but I had a feeling he wouldn’t stop with only me. He wanted my entire club gone.
Not happening.
Now that I was back to work, Raiven was working full days. Presley stayed at the clubhouse with Mattie because it was safer there than in a daycare. At least, that was my opinion and the opinion of my brothers.
Since I had my bike now, I told Raiven to drive my truck. She would drop Presley off on her way to the shop and pick her up on her way home. She wanted to get her own vehicle, but I had to admit I really liked the way she looked driving my truck.
The truck was parked in the driveway when I rode up after work. Despite being fine on my own for the past year, I loved having my two girls to come home to. It was impossible to keep the grin off my face as I got off my bike and walked into the chaos that was our life.
“Hurry! Hurry!” Raiven tossed her purse with the pile of mail across the table and was running down the hall after Presley.
“Everything okay?” I called. I was hoping Presley wasn’t sick.
“I go pee-pee, Daddy!” The shout echoed down the hall from the bathroom.
“Good girl!” Grin returning to its place, I picked up the mail to sort through it.
Nothing but junk. Good. No bills.
The toilet flushed, water ran, then Presley’s feet slapped on the hardwood floor. She barreled into me, and I hugged her. “Hey, beautiful girl. No accidents today?”
“Nope! Look! I gots big gewl panties on!” She whipped up her shirt and reached down to pull the waistband of the padded underwear out.
Chuckling, I looked up as I caught Raiven come around the corner. A pained expression on her face had my happiness fading.
“Oh thank God. Can you watch her? I have to pis-pee so bad!” Before I’d had chance to say of course, she was gone.
Deciding I would grill, I took the steaks out of the freezer and put them in the microwave on defrost. When I turned around, Presley was digging in Raiven’s purse.
“Hey! Get out of there!” I chastised my daughter, making her jump, which in turn caused Raiven’s bag to tumble to the floor. The contents scattered.
“Dammit.”
“Daddy! You said a bad wood!” The little shit had the nerve to scowl at me with her little fists propped on her hips.
Crouching down, I started gathering up Raiven’s belongings. “Don’t you get mouthy. You know better than to mess with other people’s things.” I pointed an accusing finger at her sassiness.
“Her said I cood put on some wiptick!” She pouted like a pro as I rolled my eyes and stuffed things back in the massive bag the woman called a purse.
Reaching for the few things that had fallen under the table, I saw a black-and-white printed-out piece of paper that looked eerily like an ultrasound image. Brow furrowed, I picked it up and studied it.
What the hell does she have this for?
Then I read all the info on it. Her name at the top, Raiven Knight, might as well have been in bright, flashing neon. Noting the dates, my stomach bottomed out.
No. No way.
Counting back, I knew it was possible.
Like a sucker punch, the image damn near bowled me over. Shock, disbelief, and a little splash of betrayal hit me. Unsure what to do about it, I set it on the table, finished grabbing the last of her things, and put her purse back where it was.
Once I was capable, I stood. Slowly, methodically, I walked to the refrigerator. Grabbing a magnet from the pizza place down the road, I stuck the images right to the middle of the door.
Unable to process everything in that moment without losing my shit, I grabbed the steaks from the microwave. My jaw wouldn’t unclench, and my heart was flip-flopping so hard it was rattling my rib cage.
“Daddy! Wisten, Daddy!” Blinking down at my little termagant, I cleared my head enough to acknowledge her.
“What, Presley?”
“I wanna wear some wiptick!” She gave me an exasperated look.
“Go talk to Raiven.” I wasn’t digging in that purse for diddly shit. God knew what else was in there that I hadn’t paid attention to. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.
In a huff, she stomped off to find Raiven, who still hadn’t come out of the bathroom.
Had she seen me find the ultrasound and I hadn’t noticed her? Was she hiding from me now?
Snatching the new grilling utensils I’d bought, I stormed outside. A million things were roiling in my guts and mind. Facing Raiven at that second wasn’t a good idea.
For one, I wasn’t sure I wanted to be a dad again. Then again, I hadn’t hesitated to fuck her raw every single time since we’d moved into the house. I wasn’t stupid. I knew how babies were made. So that told me, deep down I did want her to be pregnant with my kid.
That clear realization rocked my world.
It meant that not only did I want to claim her as mine by putting my patch on her back, it meant I wanted her permanently. Except if I was honest with myself, I’d had those thoughts in my head for a while. Despite the brief period of time we’d known each other, she made me feel whole. In fact, visions of her swollen with my kid for all the world to see set off some serious caveman reactions in me.
Jesus. One raven-haired vixen I hadn’t seen coming had fucked up every priority and plan I’d had for my life. Upon furt
her self-examination, that didn’t upset me either.
The only thing that upset me was the fact that she hadn’t even mentioned a word to me about thinking she might be pregnant. Yet she’d obviously had a doctor’s appointment and an ultrasound. None of which I’d known anything about.
Then another thought hit me like a Mack truck.
What if it wasn’t mine?
“No More Tears”—Ozzy Osbourne
“Pwincess Waiven?” The little voice carried through the door as I brushed my teeth.
Spitting the foam from my mouth, I rinsed.
Fuck. Puking in the afternoon was a first. Usually, it was only first thing in the morning. Except today, Presley had brought Play-Doh home with her, courtesy of her “uncle” Smoke. I wanted to beat his smirking ass when I picked her up and saw what he’d bought her.
Well, true to Presley’s lovable but turd-ish self, she didn’t listen when I told her not to open it in the truck. The smell hit me, and my stomach revolted. I’d held it as long as I could, but as soon as she’d gone to the bathroom and Lock had her, I beelined for the toilet.
I’d actually peed myself as I puked. It was mortifying. Thankfully, I had a pair of leggings in the bathroom that I’d been drip-drying on the shower curtain rod. After a baby wipe clean-up, I tugged the leggings on.
They were actually so much more comfortable than my jean shorts were.
“Yeah, Presley?”
“I wanna wear wiptick. Daddy say I no get in you puss wiffout you.” Juvenile though it may have been, I giggled a little at how her words came out. My mind quickly snapped to the dirty thoughts that brought to my head. Well, your dad doesn’t have a problem with getting in my puss.
“I’m coming.” Trying not to laugh at my twisted humor, I rinsed my shorts and underwear out, then opened the door to find the pint-sized princess looking like a storm cloud. Exactly like her father did when he was angry.
“Come on, I’ll help you,” I chuckled as I made a pit-stop at the washer in the hall closet, setting it on a quick load with the few things that were already in there.
Lock and Load: A Demented Sons MC Texas Novel Page 19