by Nicole Fox
I look from my daughter to my sister, raising an eyebrow in question.
“She’s learned a lot in kindergarten, and even more in summer camp,” Cary says, shrugging one shoulder. “Some of it is fairly questionable.”
“Competitive eating is a thing, Dad,” Shannon says, like I’m the dumbest asshole on the planet. “Did you know that the men’s champion ate like seventy-two hot dogs in the Nathan’s contest this year?”
“Oh, really?” I ask. “And you’re considering a career in competitive eating, then? How many did the women’s champion eat?”
“Who cares?” Shannon asks. “Girls can do anything boys can do.”
“She’s also discovering feminism,” Cary adds. “It’s been an interesting few months lately, filled with quite a few discussions about why boys can do this or that but girls can’t. Recently, she’s decided she wants to be president.”
I smirk and reach over to rub my daughter’s head. She leans into my hand almost unconsciously as she continues to work on her breakfast. Cary’s got the television on in the next room, even though I’ve told her a million times that I only get so much time with Shannon each week and when the TV is on, she’s only half interested in anything else.
The news is on, though, and a story pops up about a missing woman. Shannon’s head cocks to the side for a second before she pops up out of her seat and runs into the living room.
I follow her, ready to admonish her for leaving the table without permission, but then I see the image on the screen. Big Bambi eyes. Long blonde hair. Full pink lips. It’s Tanner Williams.
“She’s pretty,” Shannon says, awed. “Who would take such a pretty girl? She looks like a princess, Daddy. Do you think she’s a princess?”
“Yeah,” I say. “I do.”
“You should go save her, then,” she says. “You should go find the bad guys and get her back. You’d be her hero. She’d probably kiss you. You might even want to marry her!”
She’s so excited. Her bright blue eyes are wide and she’s bouncing up and down on her tiptoes. Cary switches off the TV and shoos her back into the kitchen to finish her breakfast. We talk about what she’s actually doing at summer camp and she tells me about books her teacher reads and art projects. She says there’s a boy in her class she doesn’t like, but that she has lots of girl friends and she thinks she might get to have a play date with someone named Sidney. She chatters away and I thank the powers-that-be for taking Cary’s advice to pay for private school instead of sending her to the local public school.
It’s not that public school is bad; it’s just that it’s not as secure. In the school she’s in, the class size is smaller, so teachers have fewer kids to keep track of and there’s a much better security system in place. I’m psychotic about my daughter’s safety and security, and this situation with Tanner Williams is only proving my point about it.
When Shannon asks to be excused, I let her go. I help Cary clean up breakfast.
As we wash dishes, she says, “You know that girl, don’t you?”
I clear my throat. “She’s the daughter of another club president.”
Cary’s movements as she dries the dishes become sharper. She says, “I’m so glad you took a night away from all that drama, David. It’s been too long.”
“Don’t start,” I say. “I work hard.”
“That club is going to leave Shannon an orphan,” Cary says. “Just like club life left us without a father.”
“Enough. That club pays for Shannon’s schooling. It pays for her clothes. It pays for your car.”
“You’re a smart guy,” Cary says. “You could open a legitimate business. You could run for the Senate. You could invent the next big thing. Why the hell are you doing this?”
“I said don’t start,” I growl. “We’re not having this conversation right now.”
“Well, at the least, you should do more of these overnights. Shannon loves it.”
“I love it, too, but things are too volatile right now. I can’t be away like this.”
“She needs you, David.”
“She has me, Cary.”
We stare at each other, impasse making it impossible to find a way out of this argument. It’s not the first time we’ve said these words. Cary lives in a house I bought inside Chained Angels’ territory. I thought I might live in it with my daughter but once thing got more intense with the club, I asked Cary to move in and care for Shannon full time. She argued against it, but eventually I won out. Cary never misses a chance to tell me that she didn’t choose to be a mother, that she’d like to have a life of her own someday.
It’s not that Cary doesn’t love Shannon, she does. But Shannon’s school is inside the territory. Cary works at a hospital inside the territory. The house is inside the territory. Cary says she feels like she lives under a dome and I don’t blame her. I just don’t know how else to protect them. I need them both close. I need them safe.
With Tanner Williams’ face in my mind, I kiss my daughter’s cheek and hold her for a little longer than usual. I hug my sister, too, and tell her to stay close to home.
“Why do I have a bad feeling?” Cary asks me as I step out the front door.
“It’ll be fine,” I say. “Be good.”
Inside, though, I know just what she means.
# # #
Tanner
Griz’s return is what I imagine a tornado to be like. The door opens and he busts in, his large frame filling the doorway before he slams the door behind him.
The calm energy of the room electrifies as he moves around, pulling his shirt over his head. He follows with his boots and pants. I note that he’s wearing the same thing he had on when he left last night.
“Get lucky last night?” I ask. It’s a childish thing to say.
“I went to see my daughter,” he answers. His tone is flat. The answer is simple and truthful.
“Oh,” I say lamely. “Well, I feel stupid now.”
“Don’t,” he says. “Most people don’t even know she exists.”
That shuts me up right quick. Why would he tell me he has a daughter? I may not be involved in club business, but I understand how dangerous it is to share information like this. I mean, look at me … obviously someone told that Spike guy that Draven had a daughter, that I visited my mom on Sundays, that I was old enough to claim.
Naked and gorgeous, Griz stomps into the bathroom, fists clenched at his side. I hear the sound of the shower turning on, then the creak of the glass door. I should turn my attention back to my book, but curiosity gets the best of me, so I pad in after him, sitting on the edge of the big soaker tub as he lathers his amazing body in the shower.
“How old is she?” I ask. “Your daughter.”
“Five.”
“Do you have a wife, too?”
“No.”
“Girlfriend?”
“No.”
“Where is your daughter’s mother? Is that who she lives with?”
The shower turns off and he steps out, his tanned body flushed from the hot water, his hair dark as an oil slick, his muscles rippling with tension as water rolls over him. He grabs a towel as I gape.
“Shannon’s mother died during childbirth,” he says.
“Oh,” I say again. I quickly add, “I’m sorry.”
“Why are you sorry?” he asks. “It’s not your fault.”
“Well, I just … I …”
He finishes drying off and wanders back into the bedroom, looking through his closet before pulling on a pair of jeans, a black T-shirt, and the black leather kutte that bears the Chained Angels’ colors. He pulls on his socks and boots, and then follows with a belt, complete with a weapons holster.
He pulls open a safe in the bottom of his closet, from which he draws a handgun. He checks to make sure it’s loaded before slipping it into the holster, following with a knife in the other side, and another knife in his boot.
My stomach practically drops to my feet. Is all of this for
my father and his club?
Griz must see something on my face. He answers my unasked question.
“Your face was all over the news. Spike’s not a careful guy. There’s not a chance in hell your father hasn’t figured out you’re here.”
“What will you do if he comes?”
“I’ll negotiate.”
The amount of weapons on his belt makes me think otherwise, but before I can ask more questions, he’s out the door.
# # #
Griz
I head outside to move my bike. I left it out in front of the house when I arrived, eager to get a sense of the mood of the club after a night away. Now that I’ve showered and made the rounds, I should take it around to the garage.
My motorcycle is like my second child. I could never love it more than I love Shannon, but it comes pretty close. I had this custom Harley made before I ever started the club and while other guys have upgraded and traded, this bike will be my ride as long as it starts up for me. My sweet baby is shiny and black and she rumbles like a satisfied cat. I fire her up and make the short drive back to the garage, where I find some of my guys, including a badly bruised Spike, peering at the security display for the property.
“What’s going on?” I ask as I push my bike into its spot.
“Four guys in Grave Robbers’ colors are standing outside the northwest fence. We saw them drive by about three times, so we were pretty sure they were casing the joint. Looks like they might be thinking about jumping the fence,” my garage supervisor, Tony, says.
“I can go shoot a few warning rounds in the air if you want?” Spike asks. “Give them fair warning to get the fuck off our property?”
I lick my teeth as I stare him down. He’s jittery today, bouncing on his heels, wringing his hands. If he thinks I can’t tell he’s fueled by something besides adrenaline, he’s dumber than I thought.
“Inside the fence or out, they’re already on our property and in our territory,” I say, not breaking eye contact with my dickhead vice president. “Jace, Tony, and Dex, come with me to greet our trespassers. Spike, get the fuck out of my sight and get the guys at the house locked and loaded in case we need backup.”
My guys fall in line with me and we make our way to the northwest edge of the property. It’s always been an area of vulnerability, with the corner of the fencing hiding under plenty of tree cover. I like the privacy, but goddamn if we don’t need to figure out a better way to secure that area.
We actually catch the four guys climbing over. Three are fairly young but one is older, middle aged. None are Draven Williams, and it really surprises me that they only sent four. In fact, I radio for the front gate to keep an eye out, in case this is some distraction meant to allow a larger group through the front gate.
“All clear here, boss,” is the reply.
They’re checking their weapons as we approach and all four have their backs turned to us. Dex holds a shotgun, which he cocks to get their attention. They spin, hands going straight to their weapons, and each man finds a gun trained on him.
“Hands up, boys,” I say. “What are you doing on my property?”
The eldest of the group puts his hands in the air, the others following his lead. He’s probably a head shorter than I am, but stocky. His high-and-tight cut highlights the gray at his temples. I recognize him immediately. This is Kit, Draven’s vice president.
“Kit,” I say. “Couldn’t ring the doorbell like a normal visitor?”
He grins. “Heard you might have something my boss is lookin’ for. Thought we’d peek around and see if we could find it.”
“Sneaking around like that could get you hurt. Not sure how Draven would react to someone scaling his fence, but I think you should be glad you don’t have a bullet lodged in your ass right now.”
“Well, my ass thanks you for being less of a hothead than Draven,” Kit says. He pauses and his eyes flit to me, then to my guys, then back to me. “Where’s the girl, Griz?”
“Why don’t we walk up to the house and have a conversation like gentlemen, rather than talking in riddles out here in the backyard?” I ask.
Dex motions the shotgun to move the guys forward. “Keep your hands up,” he orders. The Grave Robbers’ representatives obey, trudging along ahead of us, our guns to their backs. We make it to the garage and our boots crunch on the gravel drive, the only sound as we near the house.
We stop as we near the front steps. Several of my guys have come out to stand behind me, though Spike is nowhere to be found. I keep my weapon trained on Kit.
“Very disrespectful, what you did today,” I say. “By all accounts, you could all four be dead right now and Draven would have no recourse.”
“Well, Draven could’ve come and shot the front gate down,” Kit says. “He sent us in to be sure she was here, first, instead of starting war for no reason.”
“How benevolent of him,” I say. “Too bad y’all fucked up.”
“The girl, Griz,” Kit says once more. “Where is she?”
“What girl are we talking about?” I ask. “And what’s she to you?”
Kit narrows his eyes, trying to read me. I give him a look that says I’m not in a talkative mood.
Kit’s eyes go wide all of a sudden, his hand instantly going to his weapon. My guys are all a blur as they surround the four Grave Robbers. Kit’s now got a gun pointed at his head in addition to the one Dex points at his chest.
I turn and there’s Spike, holding Tanner with a knife at her throat. His pupils are huge, even though it’s bright and sunny. His face is split into a grin made more maniacal by all of the damage I did. He says, “Come for this little slut? She’s probably got six loads of cum in her by now.”
I turn my head to look at Kit. He tries to look unaffected but I see something there. A slight flinch, his eyes focused on the sheen of Spike’s knife against Tanner’s creamy skin. He cares for her. Maybe it’s just the caring one would have for a friend’s kid, but I don’t think so, because his eyes roam—to her pert breasts, outlined nicely by the form-fitting dress she wears, to the line of her pelvic bone, and down below.
Well, this calls for a different tactic, then.
I stomp up the stairs and grab her by the hair. Spike loosens his grip and steps away. I make eye contact and project every nasty thought I have at him in that moment. He grins at me and I can’t tell if it’s excitement over all this action he’s seeing, or if he’s taunting me. He’s forcing my hand here and he knows it. We showed our cards too quickly by letting them see that the girl is here. Now I need to show strength, or this will not turn our way at all.
I turn my attention to Tanner. “You know this guy?” I ask, jerking my head toward Kit.
She nods, first hesitantly, then more vigorously. “He’s my dad’s second.”
“He climbed over my fence to find you,” I say. “Kind of romantic, isn’t it? The valiant knight come to save the princess from the dragon.”
She sucks in her bottom lip. Her eyes are huge in her beautiful face. She’s got a line of indentation on one cheek, like she might have been sleeping when Spike grabbed her.
I look at Kit. He has his lips pressed into a line, his forehead wrinkling. Concern is all over his face.
“Tanner,” he says.
Tanner looks at him but I can’t read her expression. She closes her eyes.
“You don’t get to say her name,” I say to Kit. “She’s mine now.”
Kit looks at Tanner, back to me, back to Tanner.
“Get on your knees,” I say to her. “You’re going to suck my cock like a good little girl, now.”
Her eyes go wide, but she does as she’s told, slowly making her way to the ground, her bare legs scraping on the concrete. She’s barefooted, I notice for the first time. She’s a natural beauty, with no makeup and a simply ponytail. Somehow, though, she looks like a fucking model and I find that it’s not hard to get aroused at all just by looking at her.
I unzip my pants and pull o
ut my cock, rubbing my hand along its length a few times.
“Open that sweet pink mouth for me, Tanner,” I say. “Show everyone just who you belong to.”
I hold my hand in her hair. She opens her mouth, her eyes focused upward, meeting mine, staying there. She takes me into her mouth, at first tentatively. Her tongue swirls around the head and my cock hardens instantly. She moves her head, slowly increasing her movements.
I nod ever so slightly. “That’s right. Take it balls deep, girl.”
She takes me deeper. I can feel her trying to stop her gag reflex and it makes me wonder if she’s ever had a cock in her mouth before this. Not for the first time, I wonder if she’s got any sexual experience at all.