by Cathryn Cade
He had her… at least for right now. That was fine. He’d help her get home, and then she’d figure out how to deal with this calamity.
Rae had not been on a motorcycle for years—not since the last time she rode behind Mac. That time had been exciting, thrilling even. She'd climbed on and wrapped her arms around him with all the glee of a woman on a powerful machine with her biker man.
This time the glee was notably absent.
Still, when she settled on the cushy leather seat and leaned forward, gripping Mac's leather-clad sides for balance, she felt safe for the first time since she walked out the door and saw her car.
Whatever else she would say about Mac, he was definitely protective of his kids, which meant he would do everything in his power to keep her safe, because she was his son’s mother. And right now, she needed that—she needed to feel it clear to her bones.
Thus, when he revved up the big bike, gave her a look over his shoulder, and called "Hang on tight, mama," she did so. She leaned in close, her chest pressed against his back and wrapped her arms around him.
She did it wearing his helmet, because just like on their first and only other ride together, he handed it to her, then sat and waited while she protested and finally stopped to put the damn thing on.
Again, that was Mac being protective of his son’s mother, she told herself.
They rolled through downtown slowly because of the after-work traffic. Once Mac revved the bike past a line of cars, and they turned right, headed north over the bridge, and swung onto the boulevard that led to her little house.
CHAPTER FORTY
Cooler could see and hear enough of Rae's convo with the cops to know she thought the vandalism on her Chevy was random.
She was wrong.
He'd noticed what maybe the cops hadn't— the gouges on her paint job were initials, carved across the top of her hood and on the driver side door.
B. B. This was the Bad Boyz making a statement.
The little fuckers were letting Rae know that they knew she was Connor's mom, that they knew who she was and where she worked, and that they could get to her anytime, just like they could get to Connor.
Not while Cooler was on this earth, no way, no how.
The Boyz should have done their homework, then they'd know not only who Conner's mom was, but who his dad was, too.
Or, maybe Stick was right, and they’d targeted Con because of who his dad was. Making a move to thumb their noses at the Devil’s Flyers.
Either way, the gang had just placed themselves back square in the Flyers’ sights. No one messed with Flyer family—not and walked away in one piece.
The Boyz were about to find they weren't up against some of their shitty little gangs composed of young misfits like themselves. They were up against an MC with the experience, smarts, and weapons to take them down.
And unlike the cops, the Flyers didn't have to color inside the lines. They’d do what they saw fit to make a statement and make it hard. This time, they’d stomp it so deep into the Boyz’ psyches so that they, and all the other gangs in the Northwest, never forgot.
And should they ever be stupid enough to scuttle back into Eastern Washington again, the Flyers would be there to take them down, again.
It had been a while since the chapter had been involved in serious shit, but Cooler knew that they would be ready. In fact, he'd bet that they would be more than ready to rumble.
Some of the brothers got bored if things were too peaceful.
And if he had to do this completely by himself, he would. Nobody messed with his family.
These were his thoughts as he rode with RaeAnn through the busy rush hour streets of downtown Spokane and up across the bridge, headed to Rae and Connor’s home. Their home for now, anyway.
His eyes narrowed behind his shades as he resolved that one way or another, he was going to get them both out of Spokane and out to the Heights, asap.
There, they'd be surrounded by Flyer family and friends, and most of all, they'd both be where they should have been all along and would've been if he hadn't been so hot-tempered back in the day, reckless with two of the best things that had ever happened to him.
He would’ve stayed right there at Rae’s side for the rest of her pregnancy, birth and beyond, until he wore her down and showed her they belonged together.
Well, that was water under the bridge. From now on he was devoting himself to getting the three of them back under one roof—his.
Con was on board.
Rae was another matter. His little blonde was stubborn, and he knew he had an uphill battle ahead of him to get her back.
That's all right, he was stubborn, too.
And he was one hell of a lot of sneakier than she was.
They turned onto Rae's street and rolled slowly to the end of the block. But as he neared the little house, his gut tightened, and his heart thudded faster, adrenaline flooding his system.
Because instead of an empty driveway, or maybe a late model SUV parked there, signaling that one of Conner's friends' moms was now dropping him off, there was a cop car parked in Rae's driveway and another on the street.
"Oh, my God," she cried in his ear. Her hands tightened, her nails digging right through his leathers and shirt and into his ribs. "Oh no, oh no. Something's happened.”
Almost before he got the bike stopped at the end of her drive, she was off.
"Connor! Connor!" she called. "Where's my son?"
Cooler grabbed and held onto her arm long enough to ask the nearest cop, "RaeAnn Denton, homeowner. She good to go inside?"
The cop nodded, and Cooler let her go. She dashed up the walk and into her house.
He swung off his bike and parked it. "I'm her ex, and her son's dad. What went down here?"
The younger of the two cops, a stocky ginger, scowled at cooler. "Can we see some ID?"
The older cop, a heavy-set guy with gray hair that Cooler recognized, held up a hand. "I know him, it's fine."
"Hey, Mike," Cooler said. "Something happen with my boy?"
Mike shook his head once. "He’s okay, Mac. Had an altercation at school late this afternoon—about an hour ago. He has one or two small injuries, but the EMTs okayed him to come home. Since we couldn't reach his mother or you, and she wasn't here yet, we waited."
"Thanks. So he's okay, that's good. I’d like to go in and check on him, if that's okay with you fellas."
Mike winced, looking past Cooler. "Eh, hold on. These guys are gonna want to talk to you."
Cooler turned to look and saw two more cops coming across the lawn. Both wore plain clothes, which for these two bodybuilder types meant jeans and polos. But he could have picked them out for cops if they been wearing tutus. They had the same thousand-yard stare and ready-for-anything body language as Rocker.
"These officers are with our special gangs task force," Mike said. "Officers Pena and Melanick."
The two newcomers nodded.
"You know anything about your son's affiliation with a gang known as the Bad Boyz?" the Hispanic cop asked.
Cooler stiffened. So that's what this trouble was about. Dammit, he should have known. Too much of a coincidence for Rae's car to get marked by the Boyz and then come home to find cops on her lawn.
"I know they've been after him, recruiting-wise," he said. "But they don’t have him, and they're not going to get him, if his mother and I have anything to say about it." Which he sure as hell did.
The cop raised his eyebrows. The other one smiled faintly. "The Boyz don't seem to know that."
"They're the ones who went after him today?" Cooler demanded. "That's what this altercation was? So the Boyz have members in my son's school—that's just great."
"Nobody thinks that's great," the Hispanic cop said. "So we're glad to hear that you are aware of the situation, and working to —"
Cooler held up a hand, palm out. "I'll tell you what we're doing about the situation. Today was my boy's last day at that school. He and his mo
m are moving out to Airway Heights, to live with me. Connor will be going to school out there from now on. And I get, it's not like the Boyz can't figure out where he is, but at least they won't be in school with him. And after school, you can bet that I will know where he is every minute, and who he's with."
He looked at all of them one by one, making eye contact and letting them know he was not messing around. "Now, I'd like to see to my son, so if you fellas need anything more from me, I'm available. I’m a paramedic with the Spokane FD, Station 2, so I'm not hard to find."
He then proceeded to give them his cell phone, address, and work info.
“Also,” he added. “Check in with your uniforms that work the shopping district downtown. Connor’s mama had her car vandalized. They broke the wipers, smeared dog shit, and she doesn’t know this yet, but the initials B B were carved into the paint.”
He watched the cops get what that meant. “Right. You need me, you know where to find me.”
The first thing Cooler saw when he walked in the front door of Rae's little house was Connor on the sofa with his mother right beside him.
Connor was leaning back and doing his best to look cool, like he was a manly man and shit happened, no big deal. But he was pale under his tan, and his mouth was compressed to a nearly invisible line.
Rae was holding his hand and apparently trying not to do a total freak-out in front of her son, but not doing a very good job. She was breathing in long, quavering gulps. Her tears had started up again, and she was nearly as pale as Connor.
Both of them looked to Cooler as he walked in.
Connor looked grateful to see his dad.
Rae freaked even more, waving her free hand at him. "He was knifed!" she announced. "In school. A back hallway, by the locker room. It's—it's... I don't even know, it's just so unbelievable."
Cooler walked to them and bent down, first reaching to tousle Connor's blond hair gently. Then he reached to disengage Rae's hand from her son's. "Come here, mama," he said gently. "Give Con a little breathing room, yeah?"
She gave him an injured look. "But I... I just need to touch him," she said, sniffling. "It's not every day your kid is attacked at high school, you know."
Cooler shared a book of wry amusement with his son. "Yeah, babe, and that's a good thing. But you sit here and you can see him better, okay?"
Rae allowed herself to be guided to the sofa across from the one where Connor sat.
Cooler looked to his son. "They give you some painkillers?" he asked.
"Yeah," Connor said, his voice strained. "I'm fine."
No, he wasn't—he was trying to be tough.
"How long ago did they give them to you?"
"I don't know. A while ago."
"Uh-huh, either they haven't kicked in yet, or you need something stronger," Cooler said.
"It was just a couple of Tylenol," Connor said. "They said I needed a prescription for anything stronger.
Cooler nodded. That was standard procedure for first responders.
"I have something in my medicine cabinet," Rae said, erupting off the sofa. "From when I strained my back. I'll go get it. Mac, you can see if it's okay for him to take." She hurried up the carpeted stairs to the second floor, and Cooler surveyed his son. Connor looked a touch more relaxed now that his mom wasn't hanging on him.
"Later," Cooler said quietly, "I need to hear all about what happened. But not right now—now, we let your mom fuss. It'll make her feel better, and you'll feel better when you get some better painkillers."
What a lot of people didn't realize was that taking painkillers when needed was not weak, but intelligent. Nsaids helped with inflammation. And, with less pain, the body could relax and put energy into healing.
Connor started to shrug and winced. "It's okay, I don't mind Mom."
"Where did they get you?" Cooler asked. What he really wanted to do was get his son's shirt off and see for himself, but that could wait. Connor didn't need to be treated like a little kid right now.
Connor pointed at his ribs on his right side and his chest on the left. "Here and here. The EMTs said I was lucky that I'm so fast on my feet. They said both cuts are just shallow, and I don't have any muscle damage or shit like that."
Cooler nodded, outwardly calm though fury burned in his middle. "That's good," he said. "I guess all that soccer is good for more than looking flashy on the field and getting girls, huh?"
Connor smiled crookedly. "Yeah, dad, soccer is good for more than that. And you don't have to treat me like I just lost a leg or some shit, y'know. I can talk about it."
Connor raised his brows and nodded in a gesture of respect. "All right then. Let's hear it. What happened?"
Connor scowled. "Like I already told you, the Boyz have been recruiting at my school.”
Cooler nodded. “Yeah, so those two guys you met—the ones that have been friendly—were they involved today?”
“Yeah. They were pushing me to go along with them this weekend, meet up with the Boyz, and rumble with another gang, or some stupid shit like that. Nothing I was ever in a hundred years gonna get involved in, so I told them to just get lost, stay away from me. Actually—" he gave Cooler a crooked grin. "I told them to kiss my ass. They were pissed, and said some shit, but I thought they’d leave me alone... But then, this afternoon after practice—”
“What time was this?” Cooler interrupted.
“Almost five o’clock, I guess.”
“You try to call me?”
“Not right then, Dad. I’m trying to tell you, I went back to the locker room to shower and change. I’d been talking to coach, so the rest of the team was already gone. When I came out of the locker room, they were waiting for me. Told me they were going to teach me what happens to cocky athletes who talk back to the Boyz. That's when Manuel pulled a knife."
"How’d he get a knife on school grounds?" Cooler asked. "I know they got security—metal detectors and shit."
Connor grimaced. "Yeah. But Manuel had one of those little ceramic knives like Mom uses to cut tomatoes and shit. They're sharp as hell—I cut my finger right open the first time I used one. Anyway, Manuel sliced right through my soccer jersey, that's for sure. Now Mom's gonna have to buy me a new one. Like to take the cost out of Manuel or his stupid buddy’s hide."
"You'll need a new soccer jersey, yeah," Cooler said. "But I'm thinking with a different team name on it, you get me?"
Connor's eyes widened. "You mean... me and mom are moving in with you? It's gonna happen? Our plan is working?"
Cooler raised a hand in a shushing motion. "Oh yeah, you are moving. But, your mom doesn't know that yet, so we'll talk about it later."
Connor was nodding, looking better than he had since Cooler walked in. "Yeah, okay," he said. He raised his hand and moved it across in front of his face in the classic zipping the lips move, making Cooler chuckle and shake his head.
His boy might be on the cusp of manhood, but in some ways he was still a kid.
“Don’t zip your lips quite yet,” he advised. “I still want to know why I never got a phone call from you, or the damn school.”
Connor stuck his lip out, looking like the boy he was under the teen swagger. “Check your phone. I texted you, like four times while I was in the nurse’s office, talking to the vice-principal and the cops. Geez, Mom already reamed me a new one for this, then found out her phone was on silent.”
Cooler palmed his phone and then cursed when he saw the missed texts. “Fuck. Me. I’m sorry, son. Got a call from your mama right then and rode downtown to pick her up. Did not even know you tried to catch me.”
“What happened to her?’ Connor muttered, knuckling his eyes in a way that said he was pretending they weren’t wet.
“Car was vandalized. She’s fine, car’ll be fine, after it has some work done.”
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Cooler opened his mouth to apologize again to his son for not being there for him.
But Rae came hurrying back dow
n the stairs, a prescription bottle in her hand. She handed it to Cooler. "Here, check if this is okay to give him."
Cooler read the prescription and nodded. "Yeah, this is fine. Your weights are likely similar, so we'll give him two, as recommended. A glass of water, or sports drink would be better if you have some. Get some sugar and electrolytes in him."
"Do we have sports drinks," she mumbled, already on her way to the kitchen. "With a teenage athlete in the house?"
She hurried away, and Cooler watched her go. His ex had a stellar ass, always had. And he still got the same dirty thrill watching it in motion, along with the rest of her curvy body.
"Hey, Dad?" Connor asked.
Startled, Cooler looked to his son. Connor was digging one thumb into the seam on his track pants, and his gaze was down. But Cooler recognized the look on his face—it was his son's 'You're gonna say no, but I'm gonna ask anyway, just in case' look.
"Yeah?" he answered, watching the teen carefully.
"You think I could... y'know, prospect the Flyers early? Be like a—a junior prospect—I mean, not a full one, 'cause I know I'm not old enough yet, but..." he shrugged, color washing over his tanned cheeks as he gave Cooler a covert look. "Just like wear a cut with your name on it, or something?"
"You want something that says you're Flyer nation?" Cooler nodded. "I get you. We've never had anything like that, but here's the good news—you can tell anyone you want that you and your mom are Flyer family, and that we look after you, 24-7."
Connor scowled. "But I don't wanna be like a little kid, all 'you gotta be nice, or I'll sic my dad on you.' I'm 16, I can look after myself."
Cooler didn't bother to point out that hadn't gone so well for him today. "In a lot of ways, sure you can. But there's not a single thing wrong with depending on the club for protection, either. That's the whole point, son. We're brothers—and that means we do a lot more than wear matching cuts. We ride together, and we're always there for each other—and our families."
Rae was back with a bottle of red sports drink for Connor. She frowned at Cooler. "Maybe you can save the club philosophy lesson for another day. Connor, take the painkillers, and then see if you can nap."