by Anne Malcom
Before my inner child got the best of me I said my goodbyes to the women, who all made me promise to get Lexie’s autograph on a bar napkin and to have a cocktail night again soon. As I pushed through the crowd, I could still feel a stare at my back. I did my best to ignore it.
“Mom!” Lexie shouted as soon as I made it to the little room backstage.
She hopped up off the sofa she and the boys were lounging on and bounded over to me.
I hugged her and barely held her for a second before she pulled out of my arms with excitement.
“That was awesome!” she declared loudly. “We totally rocked this place.”
“Hell yeah, we did,” Wyatt interjected from the sofa, where he was lounging casually, looking every inch the rock star wearing all black and almost as much silver as Lexie. How a teenage boy could pull that off I had no idea, but Wyatt did.
“I think I carried your asses. It’ll definitely be me on the cover of Rolling Stone—I’m the best looking,” Sam said with a joking grin.
Lexie poked her tongue out at him. She could totally pull it off, being a teenager and cute and all.
Noah sat quietly with his bottle of water and grinned at his bandmates. Although he was the most reserved off the stage, I think I liked him the most.
“You guys were certainly the best band I’ve ever seen live,” I told them, deciding to omit the fact they were the only band I’d seen live.
“Thanks, Mrs. S,” Sam said, beaming. “We totally appreciate you bringing us here and not getting all parental about the venue and the time. We just gotta rock—you know, no rules,” he said sincerely.
On that note, Clay, the owner opened the door and gave me a look. “Babe,” he muttered quietly.
“Okay, guys, the only reason I’m not getting all ‘parental’ is because we’re blowing this joint in t minus two on the account of the fact your delicate teenage sensibilities are yet to be corrupted by what’s in this bar, and I’m afraid long term exposure could mean danger for your music career and Clay’s reputation. Get your stuff,” I told the group.
Luckily, there were no groans of protest, only a couple of “dopes” and lazy grins. They started to pack up their gear with a speed I didn’t know was possible from teenage boys.
I was slightly surprised to see Clay had moved close to my side.
“Thanks for letting them play. You’ve pretty much made my daughter’s life,” I said with a grin.
He regarded me. “You can thank me by letting me take you to dinner,” he said with his grey eyes dancing.
He wasn’t bad-looking. One would even call him hot. He was slightly taller than me in my heels, and although he wasn’t as built as some of the bikers I knew, the muscles bulging out of his black dress shirt were nothing to sneeze at. Nor was his broad chest. Or his face, which was chiseled, although his nose was slightly crooked. His eyes were light and kind, and he was a bit older; I’d say early forties, if the slight bit of salt in his jet black hair was anything to go by. He wore his age well. Really well.
I chewed my lip. “I’m not sure I should go on a date with the only man in a hundred-mile radius allowing my daughter’s band to play in his club,” I replied. “I mean, it could be a conflict of interest, and who knows if I was only saying yes in order to grease you up to let them play again.” I continued watching the kids pack up.
I felt his heat as he stepped in front of me, obscuring my vision. “Darlin,’ I couldn’t give two shits about your motivations in going out with me. As long as you do.” He gave me a smoldering look. “And trust me, once we got to the dessert portion of the evening, you’d forget all about the ulterior motives,” he said softly. Somehow he managed to utter that statement without sounding like a complete sleazeball.
I swallowed. And despite myself, I felt a sizzle of attraction between us.
“Plus,” he added, glancing over his shoulder. “I’d let them come back, despite your answer—they’re talented kids. Your daughter especially. I’ve seen a lot of bands come in and out of here. I know when they’ve got something.” His eyes sparkled. “I’ve got a friend who’s in the record business. I could get him to come and see them play sometime,” he offered.
I raised my eyebrow suspiciously. “Is this just a ploy to get me to go out with you? Are you bribing me with the future of my daughter’s music career?” I said with mock disgust.
To my surprise, he laughed. It was throaty and easy and great to listen to. It was nice to actually see an attractive man laugh with ease. I had spent weeks trying to make a particular man crack a smile, but nothing. A small part of me wanted to say yes to someone who laughed easy, smiled easy, who easily expressed interest in me.
“Babe, promise you, regardless of whether you go out with me or not, the offer’s still on the table,” he told me, still smiling.
“She’s not fuckin’ going anywhere with you,” a voice growled from behind me. Right behind me. I knew without even having to turn who the owner of that voice was. I could feel his hard torso brushing my back. Any other time I would like to have been in a hot guy sandwich. But not under the watchful eyes of five teenagers.
He was fucked off he even cared. He even felt the rage swirling in his belly at the prospect of Lexie playing in a club, a fuckin’ club. In Hope, no less. Shit swirling with the Lost Knights meant Hope was not a safe place for anyone connected to the Sons. And without even fucking realizing it, he had connected not only Mia, but Lexie to the club. Had he not learned his fucking lesson? Putting someone innocent, someone who deserved a fuck of a lot better, in the line of fire once more? Apparently not. Because if his life depended on it, he couldn’t cut them out of his world. It would have been easier to slice off a limb. His nights with Mia were what he lived for. Spent the whole fuckin’ day actually looking forward to getting inside her tight little body, hearing her throaty voice moan his name. Joke, on the rare times they exchanged words.
Then there was Lexie. Didn’t see the kid often, but he saw her. She had wandered over to his garage, couple of times after school when her mom wasn’t home. She’d chat ‘bout stupid shit, sometimes just watch him. She didn’t press about the guitar shit, seemed to sense he needed time. The fuckin’ sixteen-year-old seemed to understand. Bull found himself looking forward to those visits too. When Lexie would bathe his dim garage in sunshine. When her mom would do the same in his pitch black bedroom. To his pitch black soul. Bull knew what this meant. It meant shit. Big shit.
So that was why he had almost lost his shit when Mia had declared she was letting Lexie play at the club. He had almost taken her over his shoulder when she argued with him. Yanked herself out of his grasp and walked out without a backward glance. Cade had faced a similar argument with his wife. One he had also lost. Which meant Bull was not the only fucker pissed off to be standing in a bar in the middle of enemy territory watching a teenage band play at a club. He was ramped up to furious when Mia had emerged from backstage looking like a fuckin’ sex kitten. Her hair was pulled off her face, tendrils hanging down. She wore a skintight black dress with a low neck, showing off her amazing tits. It went down to past her knees, but hugged every inch of her tight body. The fact she wasn’t showing a ton of leg made her even sexier. As did the high knee-length boots that encased her legs.
Bull clenched his fists as she waded through the crowd, not noticing him as he skulked in the shadows. He nearly pushed off the wall to pummel every fucker that checked out her ass as she walked by. Luckily no one stopped her; if they did, he would have been there in an instant.
“How the fuck do you handle this shit?” he bit out to his brother, who was standing beside him.
Cade raised his eyebrows slightly, not expecting a question. “With great fuckin’ difficulty, brother. Helps knowing that I’ve got a gun in my cut,” he said with full seriousness. “You claiming her?” He nodded to Mia, who was sipping a drink with her nose screwed up.
His girl didn’t drink. She couldn’t hold her alcohol worth a damn. Bull fou
nd this adorable as fuck. Thirty-three and she couldn’t hold her drink.
“Yep,” he said without thinking. The sight of her amongst all of that, without knowing she was completely his was enough to drive him crazy. He knew it was the lesser of two evils, considering he was still battling the demons that screamed at him to let her go. To get on his bike and roar away to let her and Lexie live a normal life. A safe life. Marry some stockbroker who wouldn’t get them killed. But something stopped him. Maybe it was the fact the club was moving away from the shit that got her killed. The fact that the thought of not tasting Mia again made him want to claw his own face off. And there was also some part of him that had an inkling that those girls needed him. His girls.
He was jolted out of his thoughts by a hard clap on his back. Cade was grinning at him.
“Happy for you, brother. You deserve this,” he muttered.
Bull only nodded. He didn’t need to pour his fucking heart out to his best friend. He only needed to figure out a way to live with himself after making this decision.
“Jesus, that kid can fuckin’ sing,” Brock remarked after Lexie had belted out “Alive” by Pearl Jam.
Cade nodded in agreement. “Never heard a teenager with that much talent. They’re going places.”
Bull gritted his teeth. Fucker was right. Lexie was beyond good. She worked the stage like a natural. Like she’d been on a thousand times. Like the guitar was an extension of her hand. Like she wasn’t only sixteen years old. That band was going places. But Lexie was sixteen; she didn’t need to be going any fucking where for two years.
“What I would do to that tight little body.” Bull’s entire form stiffened at the slurred words muttered from beside him.
“Yeah, baby! Work it!” the voice yelled as Lexie started her second song. The sounds of his leers were drowned out by the crowd and the band. But Bull could fuckin’ hear him. As could Cade and Brock, who were glaring at the drunken fucker leering at Lexie.
Bull saw red. He fingered the gun inside his cut, wanting to shoot the fucker’s dick off for the way his way looking at a sixteen-year-old girl. Mia’s girl.
“Gunshots might ruin the band’s sound,” Brock remarked blandly from beside him.
Bull nodded stiffly. As much as he would love to make him bleed, shooting the bastard would only ruin Lexie’s night. He took a deep breath and moved his hand from his piece. Instead, he moved closer to the man and his equally inebriated friends, moving slightly in front of them. He lifted his arm and jabbed his elbow back so it collided with his nose. Bull was satisfied with the loud crack that followed and the groan of pain as the bastard fell to the floor.
“Hey!” one of his friends started to protest.
Bull narrowed his eyes at him, communicating in one look that he would repay the favor if they tried to defend their fuckwit of a friend. He felt his brothers at his back.
“We would kindly suggest you escort your perverted friend to the nearest exit before we chop his balls off,” Brock said cheerfully.
The men blanched. Even through the alcohol haze, they could see that they weren’t joking. They half dragged their bleeding friend to the door, looking back anxiously.
“Pussies,” Brock muttered before turning back to the stage and sipping his beer.
Bull struggled to contain his anger as he did the same. It helped that five minutes later Lexie’s eyes met his as she belted out her next song, and she grinned from ear to ear. The warmth that spread through him at such a simple smile worried him. The kid acted like he was someone worth smiling at, worth talking to. He wasn’t. He killed people. People that deserved it, definitely. But people who didn’t. Innocents. Wasn’t it his actions that killed the most innocent being to walk this earth? The most beautiful soul. The only thing she did was love him. And he repaid her by getting her killed and defiled in the worst way possible. Bile rose up in his throat at the images that rushed in with those thoughts. Images that hadn’t assaulted him in a while. Images that he thought he was fighting back. Images that almost made him eat his gun two years ago. Now, with the prospect of not one, but two people he cared about getting damaged because of him, he couldn’t take it. Thing was, he couldn’t leave either. He clenched his fists.
With all the poison swirling through his body he hadn’t realized that the band had finished.
“You think we’re going to be able to get them out of here without a fight?” Brock asked Cade casually.
Cade’s face darkened. “Gwen is leaving. Whether she likes it or not. Shouldn’t have even let them come. Shit’s uncertain at the moment. She wants to go and watch a fuckin’ band.” He shook his head tightly, eyes on his pregnant wife who grinned at him and waved.
Brock slapped him on the shoulder before sipping his beer. “Do you let Gwen do anything? Bitch does what she wants and you ain’t got no say. I speak from experience.” He grinned at Amy who blew him a kiss.
Bull was focused on Mia, who paled slightly when meeting his gaze. Good. She should be fuckin’ scared. He was going to tan her ass tonight. Bringing Lexie to a club. Making him fuckin’ care so much. His frown deepened as she hugged the women and pushed her way through the crowd in the opposite direction she should have gone. The women started toward them and Bull struggled not to follow Mia.
“Hey sweetie,” Amy said as she strutted up to Brock with a grin. He tagged her waist as soon as she was in grabbing distance.
“Jesus, Sparky,” he muttered against her mouth.
She leaned back. “What?” she asked innocently.
Cade had Gwen in a similar clutch, his hand on her belly. Though his gaze wasn’t as teasing. Fucker got high-strung with Gwen pregnant.
Rosie and Lucy joined the party, their faces flushed with an obvious glow from booze.
“How good was Lexie’s band?” Rosie half shouted. No one answered so she poked Bull in the ribs. “Come on, even big macho silent types like yourself have to admit the kid has pipes,” she joked lightheartedly, smiling at him.
He failed to smile back; though she was used to it, Rosie’s smile dimmed slightly at the no doubt furious expression he was wearing. He couldn’t help it. He was pissed as fuck at Mia, at himself, at the fuckin’ world.
Understanding washed over her face. “Mia went backstage to get the kids and take them home,” she said. She pretended to address the whole group but gave him a sideways glance. “Just in case anyone wanted to know where she is,” she added with a mischievous grin in his direction.
With that declaration, Gwen gave him a small smile, ignoring Cade’s glare. He felt uncomfortable with the attention on him so he gave a chin lift to his brothers and headed to find his woman.
Before I could find a way to extract myself from the situation, Zane yanked me to his side, his arm sliding around my neck. I was too surprised even to resist.
Clay’s eyes flared, but otherwise he showed no emotion at Zane’s appearance and the gesture. The gesture that communicated possession.
“Bull,” he nodded.
Zane didn’t say anything; he only glared at Clay, who didn’t seem too worried. Before Zane could commence disemboweling him as his look suggested, a teenage voice broke through.
“Zane!” Lexie exclaimed, a grin on her face as she rushed over to us with her guitar. Her face didn’t even falter when she saw Zane and I in a decidedly intimate position.
“I’m so glad you came! This gig freaking ruled!” she said with a smile.
Zane looked at her a moment, then released me, taking the guitar off Lexie with one hand. His other yanked one of her curls lightly. “You were great, Lex. Got a lot of talent, girl,” he murmured quietly.
Lexie’s entire face lit up at this and she blushed slightly.
“Dude, you’re in the Sons of Templar? That’s like...freakin’ sick.” Sam interrupted the tender moment with teenage boy amazement, staring at Zane.
Zane glanced over at him with a hard glare, much like the one directed at Clay. I decided to interrupt this excha
nge, as I didn’t want him sabotaging Lexie’s future by murdering her bandmate.
“Okay, let’s get out of here, guys. You’ve all got parents to get home to, who I’m sure will think I’ve taken you to a rave if I don’t get you back soon,” I declared, clapping my hands together.
Clay opened the door that led to the parking lot where my car was. This was so they didn’t have to walk in and out of the bar. The boys hustled out first.
Clay gave me a look. “Offer’s still good, babe—call me if you change your mind. Regardless—” his eyes moved to Lexie, “I got her covered.”
The air turned electric with those words, and Zane’s entire frame turned to granite. Clay didn’t even blink. Brave guy. Zane’s gaze flicked to me.
“Take Lexie to the car,” he half barked.
“Zane,” I started to protest.
“To the fuckin’ car, babe,” he gritted out.
I sighed, clutching Lexie’s hand. She had been watching the exchange with wide eyes. “Let’s go to the car, baby girl. Let the men have their...conversation,” I said. I pushed Lexie out first, reaching up to Zane’s ear as I walked past. “And I mean conversation. Not brawl,” I ordered firmly. Zane’s eyes flickered slightly but otherwise he gave me no inkling that he knew I had spoken.
“See you, Clay, thanks again,” I told him nervously, hoping he would still have working fingers to dial and speak to his record exec friend.
He grinned. “Later.”
Crazy bastard.
We finally pulled up to our place after dropping very excited teenage boys off at their respective homes. I was surprised Betty could fit three growing boys who were all legs and muscle into her interior, but she managed. I also had to reassure one set of parents that the whole event was kosher. The other two didn’t seem bothered their sons were at a bar nearing midnight. This worried me slightly.
“Thanks, Mom,” Lexie said quietly as I turned off the car.