Today, it’s giving me too much time to think, though, and that’s never a good thing. It’s giving me time to allow a slither of ‘what if’ to slide into my brain. What if I threw caution to the wind and just let myself go there with her?
What if I allowed myself the hope of a true family—one outside of my brothers. Like Logan and Beth, Dean and Liv…
It’s hard not to resent both men for having the ideal life, the perfect woman on their arm. I want that too. I want a family. It’s all I’ve ever wanted, but people around me get hurt and I can’t—no, I won’t—do that to Chloe.
I’m just changing out a carburettor in an old Ford when my phone jangles. Wiping greasy hands on my coveralls, I glance at it on the worktop where I left it, and see Jesse’s name flash on the screen.
Not my problem…
Whatever this is, it’s not my problem…
I want to ignore it, but I can’t. I promised him and his sister I’d take care of them, and for all my faults, all my flaws, I’m a man of my word. If you don’t have your word, what do you have?
So, I swipe across the screen and put the handset to my ear.
Before I can say hello, I hear yelling down the line and a commotion.
“Jesse?”
“He’s here,” is all he says, sounding panicked.
Ice settles in my belly. There’s only one ‘he’ it can be—their father. Clearly, my talk with Michael Allen did not work.
“Are you safe?”
“We locked the front door. He’s pounding on it to get in. I called the police, too, but…”
“I’ll be five minutes,” I tell him when he trails off. “Sit tight.”
I don’t bother to strip out of my coveralls. I lock the garage down and get on my bike.
I’m sure I break the land speed world record getting there, but my fear is a huge driver right now. I used some colourful threats when I confronted their father last time, but I’m sure there was no misunderstanding my message—stay away or next time I won’t be so polite.
That he’s ignored it makes my ire grow white-hot.
I don’t like being ignored.
It also worries me what lengths he’ll go to, considering putting the fear of God into him clearly wasn’t enough.
Before I even pull up at the kerbside outside the flat, I can see Allen is pounding on the front door. Knowing Jesse and Chloe are inside, and probably scared out of their minds, has my anger flaring to dangerous levels.
I kick the stand down on my bike, drag my helmet off and am eating up the pavement with my long strides before I’ve even considered what I’m going to do. I don’t think, don’t consider the consequences, I just snag the back of his coat and drag him back from the door. Then I shove him.
It’s a hard push, but his stumble and weave before he hits the deck explains a lot. The man is shit-faced, and not just a little. He’s absolutely stinking drunk.
Michael Allen looks a little like Jesse, but he has more of Chloe’s attributes even though his hair is dark, not red. He’s also clearly let things slide since I last saw him. There’s scruff covering his chin, but it doesn’t look good. It’s straggly and makes his bleary eyes seem more sunken. His clothes are dirty too and rumpled, as if he’s been in them for a few days. I also notice his bruises are still there, although they’ve faded to dirty smudges now.
He looks like he’s had a bad week.
He peers up at me through glazed eyes, and I know the moment he recognises me, clearly the lack of my kutte making things take a little longer, because the colour takes some time to drain from his face. He scoots back a little on his arse, his gaze snapping from side to side as his Adam’s apple bobs.
Good. I hope he is scared.
Fucker.
He deserves his fear. God knows he’s put enough of it into both Jesse and Chloe.
I snag the collar of his jacket and haul him to his feet, which is no easy task. The man is all limbs and wobbly as fuck. Once I have him mostly standing under his own steam, I body slam him against the brick wall next to the front door hard enough to rattle the structure. Definitely hard enough to rattle his teeth in his head.
He lets out an ‘oof’ before his fear-ridden eyes find mine again.
“Don’t!” he gasps as my fist moves towards his gut.
I grab the collar of his jacket once more and tug him inches from me and then hiss in his face, “Give me a reason why I shouldn’t? I fucking warned you what would happen if you came back. Did you forget? Do you need another reminder?”
His weaselly expression dissipates for just a moment.
“He’s my kid. You can’t stop me from seeing my own boy.”
“Your kid?” I growl. “He wasn’t your kid when you were kicking the shit out of him. He wasn’t your kid when you were filling his head full of hate—”
“Weed, stop!” Chloe’s voice cuts through my words like a knife.
I turn a little, so I can glance to the side to see her, but I keep my hand fisted in Allen’s coat—in case he tries something.
Chloe has opened the front door and is standing on the doorstep, her eyes flaring with what I think might be anger. I don’t know if it’s directed at me or her father, but I’ll probably find out. Chloe Allen isn’t exactly shy about sharing her feelings.
“Go back inside, Chloe,” I order.
Jesse is standing a little behind her, just inside the flat’s entrance, his eyes wide, but his expression defiant.
“No.”
“Chloe—”
“I’m not one of your minions. You can’t order me about.” She crosses her arms over her chest and when she speaks again, her voice is softer. “Let him go, Weed.”
I really want to pound Michael Allen’s face in, but I can’t do that in front of his daughter. I let him go with a shove, pushing him back into the brick. He rebounds like a bouncy ball before sagging back against it.
His eyes slide towards Chloe, and all my protective urges surge.
“You so much as breathe in her direction and I’ll break your legs.”
It’s not an idle threat either. I’ll do it.
He blanches and I watch his tongue dip out to wet his bottom lip.
“Chlo, baby, help me out here. Are you going to let this thug talk to your dad like this?”
She stares at him a beat before saying, “If you don’t get gone, I might just let him loose on you. Although, given the bruises have barely healed from last time, you might want to reconsider tussling with him again.”
I don't know why, but a swell of pride goes through me at her words. I’m glad she didn’t just lie down and take whatever crap he dishes her way, that she’s standing up to him.
It would be better if she didn’t have to stand up to him at all, but life doesn’t always go as we plan.
Some people are not meant to be parents. Some people shouldn’t be trusted to look after a goldfish, let alone a human life. I learnt this in my own life, and Jesse and Chloe are learning it in theirs. I wish that didn’t have to be the case. I wish I could shield them from the ugly truth, but I can’t.
The world is a cold, dark place sometimes, and from time to time that darkness touches those who stand in the light.
I’m about to bodily remove Allen from the doorstep when Jesse tries to move around his sister. She at least has the foresight to pull him back—before he gets himself hurt.
“Why do you want to see me anyway?” Jesse demands. “You couldn’t care less about me.”
Allen scowls. “That’s not true.”
Jesse guffaws at this statement, and I don’t blame him. His father hasn’t exactly given him any reason to trust his word.
“So, what is it this time? What do you want from me?”
He lets out an irritated huff and says, “I need money.”
It takes everything I have not to let my fist fly. “And you think you’re getting it off him?” I growl. I want to hurt this man so much, but I won’t do anything in front of Chloe or
Jesse. They don’t deserve to see more anger.
Allen’s gaze snaps to me. “I took care of him for years. I’m owed.”
“You’re his father,” Chloe says before I can speak what is on the tip of my tongue. Her version is more friendly than mine. “You’re supposed to take care of him! God, how was I so blind to how much of an arse you are?”
He growls low in his throat, and twitches, as if he’s going to move.
I glare at him, using my body to protect Chloe and Jesse.
“Try it and I’ll bury you.”
He sags back. “Jesse, I need the money you were paying to me.”
What the hell was he paying him?
I glance at Jesse who shrugs. “I had to give him a cut of my wages to stay in the house.”
“Yeah, and don’t think that stops just because you decided to shack up with your fucking sister.”
The balls on this guy…
I step up to him and he shrinks back. “The bank of Jesse is fucking shutting shop. Permanently,” I snarl.
“How could you?” The hurt tearing through Chloe’s voice gores me and it takes everything I have not to reach out and strangle Allen for causing that. “He’s your son and you’re taking money from him? He doesn’t even earn that much on his apprenticeship, Dad.” When Allen tries to say something, to defend himself, she holds up a hand. “Don’t. Nothing justifies what you’ve done. Nothing. I’m finished with you. Jesse can stay here with me. You’ll leave him alone and if you don’t, I’ll report you to the police for child abuse.”
His face contorts, but his drunken state means he telegraphs his intentions loud and clear as he snarls, “You little—”
I grab him by the throat, the thick muscles on my arm contracting as I hold him in place before he can swing at Chloe. When I slam him against the wall for the second time, I do it hard enough to wind him.
“Try it and you’ll die.”
And I mean that. I will kill him if he touches her.
I have no idea where this protective streak comes from, but I know I won’t let anything harm her—Jesse either. Outside of my brothers and their old ladies, I’ve never felt this about anyone else.
Before he can respond, the sound of sirens hits my ears and two police cars pull up behind my bike. It kills me to do it, but I let Allen go and step back. I don’t fancy spending my weekend in the clink.
Although I would do it if it meant protecting them.
The officers get out in pairs. Too little, too late. Where were they when Allen was pounding on the fucking door?
One of the officers swaggers as he walks, a real fuck you attitude going on, and I want to wipe the smug look off his face as he takes me in. I recognise two of them. One of the downsides of brushing up against the law so much is you get to know the local plod.
I glance at the two police cars, my brow cocking. “I guess you guys are like buses. None come for ages, then two come at once.”
“We were busy on another call. Who called the police?”
“That was me,” Jesse says.
The officer takes him in with a dismissive glance.
“Someone fancy filling us in what’s going on?”
“I asked him to leave,” Chloe says. “He refused.”
One of the officers is staring at me and after a moment, he says, “Noah Williams. I didn’t recognise you without your little vest on.”
I grind my teeth. Don’t engage. Don’t rise to it.
“When a lady asks you to leave, you take your leather-wearing trash arse out of the way.”
“Actually,” Chloe snaps, folding her arms over her chest, “it wasn’t him I was asking to leave. It was him.” She points at Allen. “And are you always so rude to members of the public?”
His eyes skirt towards her and roam over her in a way that has me flexing to punch him. Chloe must sense this, because she grabs my bicep and gives me a hard, firm, and insistent tug.
“Well, aren’t you a pretty little thing. Too pretty for the likes of this reprobate.”
I see red and it’s only Chloe’s hold on me that stops me from kicking his arse. My anger doesn’t stem from the fact he called me a reprobate—on that he’s right. I’m not good enough for her, as much as I wish I was.
I’m pissed that he’s calling her pretty, though. Although pretty is such a pedestrian word for what she is.
“She’s too pretty for you, too, porky.”
“Cute.”
“Jesse, grab me a pen, would you?” she says, her eyes locked on the officer. “I think I’ll report PC Arsehole to his boss.”
Pride flares in me.
The other officer snorts. “Is she your girl, Williams?”
I shouldn’t do it. I shouldn’t say it, but the words spill out before I can stop them. “Well, your mum was busy.”
His face contorts slightly before he manages to get control of his emotions. “That’s public disorder right there.”
“I don’t think so,” Jesse says, and when I glance at him, he’s got his phone pointing in the copper’s direction. “Not unless you want this little exchange uploading to the internet. It’s so easy to go viral these days.”
The other two officers reach us and the first two go quiet.
“All I want is for him to be removed from my property,” Chloe says. “He’s not welcome here.”
Allen holds up his hands. “They’re both my kids. This one is under eighteen. He should be with me at home.”
Jesse snorts. “I’m sixteen, hardly a kid, and you can try to take me there. I’ll just leave.”
One of the officers from the second car says impatiently, “Look, we can’t force him to go with you, so maybe you should go home and let tempers calm down a bit, yeah? We’ll give you a lift, if you’d like.”
It takes a little wrangling from the police to get Allen to agree to leave. I keep myself between Jesse and Chloe, ready to respond if the man tries anything, but eventually sense prevails and he leaves.
“Allen?” I say as the plod start to lead him off. He glances over his shoulder. “Don’t come back here again.”
I put as much threat into my words as I can without outright threatening him.
He seems to understand because he swallows hard.
The plod glance at us before heading back to their cars. We watch them leave.
“You both okay?” I ask.
Chloe stares at me. “Your mum was busy?” I don’t miss the chastising note to her voice. Yeah, maybe that wasn’t the best response to give a man who carries a Taser.
Jesse snorts and I shrug. “He was pissing me off.”
She shakes her head then turns to her brother. “Jess—”
“I know, I know. Make myself scarce, right?”
Grumbling, he heads back inside. I turn to Chloe, my expression questioning.
“You don’t go after my father this time. Promise me.”
I’d give her anything, but I can’t promise her this, because Michael Allen crossed a line I warned him not to cross and he scared Chloe doing it. That I can’t let go.
“I can’t.” The admission kills me.
“Weed! I mean it. You don’t go after him. If you can’t promise that then I don’t want you involved in mine and Jesse’s life.”
Her words burn through me, but I lean into her anyway. “When are you going to get this, Chloe? I’m not letting shit touch you. That includes your old man. I’ll fight him if necessary. Hell, I’ll fight anyone who tries to harm you. I don’t give a fuck who they are.”
“Weed…” Her face softens and I love that it does, but I don’t like what it means.
I’m getting too close. I need to shut this down and close it up.
“This doesn’t change anything. It’s just fact. Your brother works for the Club. That makes him family. No one fucks with our family.”
She can’t hide her disappointment and it cuts me to the core seeing it on her face and knowing I put it there, but I can’t stop from dealing blows.
“And sweetheart, you need to get over the idea of anything between you and me. It’s not happening. Not now, not ever.”
I don’t wait to see her reaction. I know if I do I won’t be able to resist comforting her. I just head for my bike, pull my helmet on and ride off without a backwards glance.
This time, when I visit Michael Allen, I make sure there is no misunderstanding my message.
Chapter Twelve
The blonde woman has been trying to get my attention for the past hour. She’s done everything short of taking her clothes off. As it is her barely-there mini skirt rides up and shows the globes of her arse every time she bends over the pool table.
I don’t know her, but normally, I’d be all over her. She’s the type of no strings attached encounter I usually engage in, but tonight, her flirting is pissing me off. I’m not in the mood for it, and that she’s obviously trying to get my attention is a turn off.
She’s also not a certain redhead…
I don’t want to think it, but it’s true. Chloe Allen has ruined all other women for me, and I don’t know how to switch that off. She’s in my head more than I would like—front and centre stage—and I can’t let go of her. I should. I’m no good for her and Jesse. That Williams’ rage is buried deep in me, lying dormant, waiting for an eruption.
I won’t erupt on her.
“You’re up,” Charlie says as he passes me the pool cue.
We’re playing doubles: me and Charlie against blondie and her friend, a brunette who is barely taking notice of anything outside of King, who is tonight working the bar.
Charlie is a prospect, and a good one at that. The kid does everything he’s told, shows great initiative and has proven himself in times of crisis. He’ll make a great brother when he’s finally patched in.
I take the cue and make my shot, potting a ball in the top left-hand corner. Blondie coos at this, her voice dropping into one of those whiny baby voices. I’ve never really liked that, but I could tolerate it before. Now… now, it just pisses me off. In fact, everything about this woman is pissing me off.
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