by Anne Malcom
“Right on,” Lexie exclaimed. “I promise you’ll enjoy this.”
She jumped out of her seat and out the door so quickly she didn’t hear him mutter, “Not fuckin’ likely.”
I gathered this statement was not due to my enthusiastic and funny daughter, whom I was pretty sure it was impossible to dislike, but because of me. I was surprised to feel more than a little stab at this. I didn’t get time to ponder it, as I quickly realized it was just me and Zane in the truck and the air had turned charged. I took a deep breath and turned to face him, inwardly flinching at the red hot glare I encountered.
“You don’t have to come in, really. We can catch a cab home, it’s no problem. I really appreciate the ride. We’re good now. Thanks,” I finished lamely.
Zane stared at me, and the glare turned into something else. Something different. Something carnal. Something dangerous. “You want to make it into that movie theatre, babe, you’ll get out of the truck. Right. Fucking. Now!” he growled, his voice rough and gravelly.
I stared at him for a split second before ungracefully scrambling out of the truck, my wits and my hormones scattered.
I expected the SUV to skid off in a cloud of smoke, but to my utter and complete amazement Zane stalked out of it and rounded the hood. He didn’t even glance at me. I continued to stare as he strode towards a grinning Lexie, his mouth a hard line. I frantically tried to understand what the fucking hell—I think that moment needed an f word—just happened. My brain couldn’t catch up. But my ovaries were standing to attention.
“Mom! You actually have to go into the theater in order to see the movie and consume the delicious, delicious snacks,” Lexie called to me, jolting me out of my haze.
I turned to see her and Zane waiting at the entrance, her with a smile, him with a look that made me feel like I had just run over his dog. And insulted his mother. And was responsible for world hunger.
Despite this, I hurried to join him and Lexie, ignoring the pulse between my legs.
“Okay, we’ll have three large popcorns, one bag of M&Ms and some Reese’s Pieces, please,” I said to the guy at the snack counter.
By some miracle, we had time for not only the previews but for snacks also.
“You’re not getting Milk Duds?” Lexie asked from beside me.
I looked at her. “Well, I thought Reese’s were a better choice,” I explained.
“Yes, but Reese’s are hugely similar to M&Ms and I’m not suggesting we rule out either of those—I’m simply saying we need more variety, and we need variety in the form of Milk Duds,” she reasoned.
I nodded. “Duly noted.” I turned to the kid at the counter, who was standing patiently—I think—waiting for us to decide. “Add Milk Duds onto that,” I requested.
“And two diet Cokes,” she added quickly.
I slapped my forehead and turned to her in mock seriousness. “How could I forget the liquid, which of course needs to be diet to balance out all of the calories in our snacks?” I asked.
She patted my shoulder affectionately. “I got your back, Mom.” She turned to Zane, “What do you want to drink, Zane?”
He was staring at us with a strange look on his face. It wasn’t the glower he reserved for me, nor was it the slightly softer version of mad murderer that Lexie was treated to. This was different. The edge of his mouth turned up slightly, and if I didn’t know better I would have thought he was...amused?
“I’m good, Lex,” he answered finally.
I also liked, despite myself, how he called my daughter “Lex.” It was familiar and seemed like his way of expressing affection. I didn’t know why I should like the big, bad, biker from next door to be calling my daughter by affectionate nicknames but I did. I also liked the fact I was standing at the snack counter with the big, bad, and friggin’ hot biker from next door. I chose to forget the fact we were practically holding him hostage and manipulating him with Lexie’s puppy dog stare.
She widened her eyes at him. “You have to have a soda when watching a movie. It’s like a rule. Soda and crazy amounts of sugary snacks. It’s all part of the experience,” she told him, like going to the movies was tantamount to climbing Mt Everest.
The side of his mouth ticked up again, and this time I was sure. It was amusement. Amusement, people! The staunch, hugely scary, muscled biker had a sense of humor, deep down underneath all that muscle and menace.
“Don’t drink soda, kid.”
Lexie’s mouth dropped open at this. “I don’t usually drink soda either. With the exception of when I’m at the movies, having a movie night, or at a ballgame. It’s not good for you, but you’ve got to indulge every now and then. It’s good for the soul,” she informed him sagely, as if she was the Yoda of the soda consumption world.
“Dollybird, he doesn’t want soda. Let him be,” I told her, scared the soda pressure might make him explode right here at the snack stand.
She shrugged. “Okay, just get him a bottle of water,” she ordered. I gave her a look. “What? He’ll get thirsty from the popcorn,” she reasoned.
The kid plonked our feast down in front us. I turned back to him. “One more request and I promise, you’ll never have to see us again.” I thought on that. “So you’ll probably be seeing us next week, considering the new Bond movie comes out then.” I paused and thought again. “Actually, we’re pretty regular moviegoers, so you will actually see us again. Probably quite regularly. Just not for a week, at least.” I smiled at him apologetically as he went to get the water.
“And we’ll have the snack situation down pat after a couple of visits,” Lexie added brightly when he returned.
My smile was shocked right off me to see Zane had stepped up, like right in my space. His amused mouth twitch was gone but the furious glare had yet to reappear. He was staring at me with a hard jaw and blank expression. Apart from his eyes; they were blazing, but with what I couldn’t place. And unfortunately, I didn’t have to stare into them for a moment longer, thanks to my new friend the movie theater snack guy.
“That’ll be thirty-eight fifty,” he declared in a bored sounding tone. His eyes didn’t seem so bored as they took in Lexie leaning against the counter, gathering a popcorn and packets of candy bars in her hands.
Her hair was piled atop her head and she was clad in her usual boho chic. She was wearing a chunky sweater that dropped off one shoulder and was cropped. It met with a chiffon floral skirt, which had delicate floral designs and flowed down to her ankles. Slouchy, heeled, tan ankle boots completed the look. She wasn’t your traditional teenage “hot girl,” which was why I had enjoyed the fact that teenage boys were idiots and chased after her scantily clad counterparts. But as she was growing older and blossoming into an impossibly beautiful young woman, I had caught the looks she got. Not just from teenage boys either. Every time a man or boy cast their eyes over her, I wanted to shout at them she’s just a baby, and then I got the strong urge to learn how to shoot a gun.
I jumped slightly, as did Lexie when Zane banged cash down on the counter with a force that made me surprised it didn’t crack. I even peeked to make sure. Once I was satisfied he didn’t damage the fixture, I glanced back up at him.
“Zane, this was our treat, as a thank you. You can’t pay. It makes the ‘thank you’ gesture obsolete,” I informed him quietly.
“I’m payin,’” he grunted, not looking at me. His glare was back. And I wasn’t on the receiving end. Praise the Lord. The very scared looking snack food attendant was on the receiving end. His eyes were no longer roving my daughter. They were now widely regarding the scary biker in front of him. One who I was loath to argue with.
“Okey dokie,” I chimed nervously.
He didn’t look at me. “You and Lex grab us some seats. I’ll get this shit,” he declared, nodding down at the considerable array of things Lexie hadn’t grabbed.
“We can help,” I told him.
He turned his head to me and his gaze set me on fire. “Go and get us some seats, b
abe,” he ordered.
I swallowed, finding it hard to ignore the womb flutter I got from him calling me “babe” for the second time.
I pointed with my thumbs. “I’ll just go and get us some seats.” I snatched the tickets and grabbed Lexie’s hand. “Come on, Lexie.”
As I was dragging Lexie away, we both looked over our shoulders to see Zane having a very intense looking conversation with the snack kid, one who looked like he was about to pee his pants and was nodding furiously.
“What do you think that’s about?” Lexie asked curiously.
I smiled lightly, and was happy in that moment about the little glimmer of naïveté Lexie had left. “Probably just telling him off for not putting enough butter on the popcorn,” I lied. A warm glow settled in my stomach. I knew exactly what he was doing. Protecting my girl’s honor.
I didn’t know how Zane was going to find us in the dark theater and carry an amount of snacks that could have fed a basketball team, but I needn’t have worried. Apparently, biker bad asses could defy the laws of snack carrying and see in the dark, as he approached the aisle we were sitting in with no apparent trouble. After a huge argument between me and my lovely spawn, Lexie had won and deduced Zane would be sitting in the middle because he had all the snacks, and “it only made sense.” She couldn’t seem to understand why I was making such a big deal out of it. I couldn’t exactly tell her the big rough biker hated me for some unknown reason, while he turned me on beyond any point of coherent thought. So I lost the argument.
“We’ve decided you’re in the middle since you’ve got the snacks and this makes the best logistical sense,” she informed Zane on his arrival, standing.
Zane didn’t say a word, and since it was dark I couldn’t see his face clearly. I could however, feel the heat of his stare.
He passed me my drink as he sat down. I restrained a gasp when my fingers brushed his and I felt a jolt at our connection. It felt like a mild electric shock went straight to my downstairs. I didn’t even know that happened in real life. I could see Zane’s entire form stiffen at the contact, so maybe he felt it too. Or maybe he was just repulsed by my touch. Which, by considering how much he seemed to despise me, wasn’t a stretch.
“Zane, since you’re not partaking in the soda portion of the experience, I must insist you indulge heavily in the snacks,” Lexie demanded, opening up the various candy packets. “Now, through a vast amount of trial and error, Mom and I have concocted a perfect chocolate to popcorn ratio,” she explained, expertly pouring the various candies into the popcorn. “The combination of sweet chocolate of various textures and the saltiness of the popcorn...perfection.”
I imagined her touching her fingers to her lips like an Italian does after a good meal, since she made the accompanying sound. I didn’t disagree though; our movie snacks were the shit.
Luckily, the dimming of the lights and the glowing of the screen silenced any further conversation. I expected to finally relax. The darkness of the theater masked any filthy looks directed my way and the need for silence hampered me from saying anything stupid. But as soon as those mother effing lights dimmed, something happened. The air turned charged with so much sexual tension I doubted you could cut it with a chainsaw. I clutched my drink so tightly I worried for a second it might explode everywhere. I tried to move in my seat, but that only seemed to make me more aware of Zane beside me. I could even smell the manly mix of tobacco and his own musky scent. I tried to hold my breath. Not because he smelled bad, but because he smelled so good. I then realized I couldn’t hold my breath for two hours, so I let it all out on a loud exhale.
For once in my life, I wished, no prayed, Toretto and his crew would get their mission done and dusted in a jiffy, no funny business.
He was having a bad day. Not that any of his days in the past four years could ever have been classified as good. In fact, most could be described as fuckin’ horrific. Like the days he planned his own death. The days he tried to force himself to work up the courage to eat a bullet. Then the days after that, when his best friend made it his mission to make sure he never had that particular meal. So this day couldn’t be classed as the worst, but it was pretty fucking bad. All because of the blonde bitch living across the street from him. The one who haunted his fucking dreams. The one who made his cock get half hard just thinking about her. Listening to her chattering away to her daughter about stupid shit while he changed her tire made him calm. Made his mind silent. His mind was never fuckin’ silent. But there it was, listening to them argue about some fucking actor and stupid fucking movies, it was like they were gone. The demons. Until they weren’t. That was dangerous. Blonde hair, amazing fuckin’ tits, beautiful fuckin’ eyes. Made him forget. He wanted her. But she was good. Innocent. Had a kid. Kid was fuckin’ good. Even more, innocent. Nice. Not even afraid of him. Friendly, acted like she thought he was worth talking to. He didn’t even know why he did it. Gave them his name. The name only a handful of living people knew. The name only one person had called him. The person who was the light of his life until he got her extinguished. He didn’t do good around good people. Nice people. Innocents. Which was why he didn’t talk to them. Didn’t talk to anyone, really. But that day, and every day after it, his mind was on her. Mia. Which distracted him. Thinking ‘bout her. Her tits. Tight little ass. Rosebud mouth that her teeth chewed when she was nervous. Which was when she was around him. He knew it. But she was still funny. Still spoke to him, gazed at him with those ocean blue eyes he couldn’t get out of his fuckin’ head. Therefore, his head was full of shit it shouldn’t be full of.
So his day was fucking bad. Hence why he was sitting in the clubhouse bar, pouring his first whisky and it was barely noon. As he had been for the past week.
“Jesus fucking Christ, would you look at that,” Gage, one of his brothers whistled. His head was near pressed to the window, which gave a view of the forecourt. “Sweet as fuck piece just walked in,” he paused. “Fuck, Lucky’s already pounced, the slimy fuck.” He seemed genuinely sad.
Bull inwardly shook his head. Gage was a loose cannon. Days like today he was lighthearted, all about pussy and joking. Then other days, when the occasion called for it, the fucker turned. Something he’d never witnessed. Everything left his eyes; he became cold, ruthless. The joker was gone. A killer remained. He had some serious fuckin’ issues. Issues that Bull thought stemmed from the mangled scars that hid underneath his tattooed arms.
Cade and Brock were lounging on the sofa, uncharacteristically without their women. This was because they had church early this morning. Again, unusual. But shit was going down.
“Jesus,” Brock muttered on a grin. “The last thing we need is that fucker adding another bitch to his collection. He’s juggling too many as it is. Reckon they’re gonna find out, then one bitch’ll go crazy and shoot the fucker if he’s not careful.”
Gage kept watching the window. “Doesn’t look like she’s here for him. Got car trouble by the looks of it.” He shook his head. “Hot as fuck piece, drives a ridiculous girly car like a fuckin’ Beetle.” He said like this was a crime to humanity.
Bull’s head snapped up at this. He knew of only one hot piece driving a Beetle. There was no fucking way he wanted Lucky flirting with her. In a flash, he had slammed his drink down on the bar and headed toward the forecourt. He hadn’t even realized Brock and Cade were in stride with him until he reached the car with Lucky inspecting under the hood. He gave them scowls but then was silent.
When he saw her it happened again. His demons fucking silenced. He immediately hated her for it. For making him feel shit he didn’t fucking understand. For making him want to beat his brother with a socket wrench for smiling at her and calling her darlin.’ And for making him somehow agree to go to the movies with her and the fuckin’ kid just so Lucky didn’t get his ass within a foot of her.
It was torture. Bull had done torture. Both physical and mental. Gotten the shit beaten out of him, made to bleed. He’d damned near laug
hed in the faces of the pussies that did it. Then there was the mental. The torture that he went through daily. That haunted him both awake and asleep. Took him years, years of constant suffering to be able to control it. She took away that control. Sitting next to Mia, smelling her hair, feeling her fucking squirm in her seat, almost broke through every ounce of control he had. He wanted to lunge on her, taste her mouth, her pussy. Every inch of her. Her daughter was sitting right next to her, for fuck’s sakes. That was the only thing that stopped him.
The kid somehow was breaking through every wall he’d erected to keep him sane. Kept the outside world out. Kept the demons in. Her easy smile, her unguarded chatter. The way she looked at him like he was someone. He felt protective of her. Fuck, he fuckin’ liked the kid. So when he saw the pimply fuck ogling her he barely stopped himself from grabbing him by the collar and shoving him headfirst into the popcorn machine. He didn’t. He merely suggested the next time he served Lexie, he keep his eyes on his fuckin’ snacks and nothing else or he’d come to his house and chop his dick off. Too far? Maybe. But like he said…no fucking control.
So that’s why he had to steer clear. Way fucking clear. Out of the goddamned state clear. He needed to make sure he didn’t encounter either of those bitches again. Which was hard when he lived across the fucking street. But he’d do it. For his sanity. For their safety. There wasn’t any way he’d get close to anyone again. He didn’t need more innocent blood on his hands.
When he dropped them off at the club after two hours of torture, he decided it was the last time he would ever see them
“See you later, Zane,” Lexie chirped with a bright grin. “You totally liked it, I can tell. So you’ll come next time as well?”
For some reason he didn’t want to disappoint the kid. “Maybe, Lex,” he lied.
She beamed even brighter if that was possible. “Saaweet, catch you later,” she called, jumping out of the truck.