Under Locke

by Zapata, Mariana

  It wasn't until a few hours later that Dex came and sat on the edge of my desk that he confirmed the offer of help. "Lu knows a couple of guys in a riding club close to Dade county. He says he'll call 'em tonight."

  I held up my hand for a high-five. Dex looked from my outstretched hand to my face and back again. I wiggled my fingers. "Don't leave me hanging."

  He shook his head, and friggin' finally slapped his palm against mine weakly.

  Jerk. "I owe him big time," I said.

  He gave me a small, amused smile. "Don't worry about it."

  "I do. That's nice of him. He doesn't have to help us."

  Dex raised both of his eyebrows. "He's sweet on you, and everybody knows he wishes Son was his kid instead of Trip."

  It felt like half the ceiling came crashing down. "Uh, what?" Trip was his son? Trip was Luther's son?

  No, no, no, no, no, no. Hadn't I been making faces and saying mean things about Luther at the bar when I'd been sitting with Trip? I had. Oh god, I had. Remorse flooded my stomach, making it bottom out. I rarely spoke badly about people and the one time I did, I did it in front of his son. Why?

  "What? You didn't know that was his pa?"

  "No!" Oh boy, I couldn't face Trip again. Ever. "I talked shit about how gross it was that Luther messed around with younger girls with Trip, Dex. I feel terrible."

  What did he do? Assure me that it was fine? No, he laughed. Dex tossed his head back and laughed.

  "And he even said that Luther messed around with girls younger than his son. Ugh." I moaned. "I'm such an idiot."

  He laughed even harder, reaching out to pull on my hair. "It's fine, Ritz. Trip wouldn't say shit. It's not like he's crazy about his pa doin' that anyway, but that is funny as hell."

  "They don't even look alike." They didn't. Trip was blonde and tall, and Luther wasn't as tall and he definitely wasn't blonde. And, and, Trip had these really strong, handsome features that his dad just... didn't.

  "Nah. He looks more like his ma," Dex explained slowly. "Why do you think that Lu's lettin' them both be gone so long?"

  It all made complete sense now, and I felt like a major jackass. Never again would I say anything mean about another person out loud, damn it.

  Well, unless it was my dad.

  I groaned at the realization. "I wish I would've figured that out before opening my big mouth."

  Dex smiled, both of his eyes widening as he nodded. "Sometimes it takes everybody a long time to figure out what's in front of 'em, babe."

  Ain't that the truth.

  ~ * ~ *

  "Did you find out what your dad was calling for?" I asked Dex from over a bowl of veggie pad-thai.

  He was digging a cut of chicken from his own bowl, a small crease lining his forehead at the question. "Yeah." He chewed thoughtfully until finally looking at me. We'd originally started sitting on opposite ends of the couch but over time, he'd scooted over to end up on the cushion next to mine. "Ma finally served him with divorce papers."

  I almost spit out the noodles in my mouth. "Hasn't it been a really long time?"

  Dex nodded, the look on his face as incredulous as the one on mine I could only assume. "Fourteen years. I've been tellin' her for fourteen years to lay his ass out but she kept blowin' it off."

  "Why?" It took all of a split second to realize how much of a hypocrite I sounded asking that. Hadn't my own mom stayed married to a man that left her? Yeah, she had.

  He shrugged but it wasn't casual. By the lines of his shoulders, it seemed like there was something about what Debra was doing that genuinely bothered him. "I've been tellin' her since I was a kid to divorce his worthless ass. And all this time she kept spewin' this ridiculous shit about marryin' under the eyes of God and promisin' to stick by him forever." He snorted at his bowl. "Bull fuckin' shit."

  Oh lord. That sounded exactly like my own mom.

  It felt so personal to admit that to him but then again, wasn't he telling me this out of trust? Didn't I owe him the same and more? "My mom used to say the same thing. It drove me crazy. I mean, anybody would've been lucky to be with her, but she was so hung up on my dad. I didn't see a problem with it at first but after a while...after I saw how much it pained her...I didn't get why she wouldn't let go of him. Maybe I’ve blown it out of proportion but I don’t think you leave someone you love because you don’t like having responsibilities."

  Dex nodded slowly, his eyes still down on his plate. "I know, babe. Trust me. I know. If my pa cared about anybody else half as much as he cared about himself, then all of our lives could’ve been a lot easier. Ma knows that but she kept holdin' on to those dumbass beliefs." He snorted. "And she doesn't even go to fuckin' church unless it's Easter or Christmas. It's stupid as shit."

  I wasn't going to disagree with him.

  "I used to think that if my mom would've gotten over my dad maybe she would've... I don't know. I always just thought that her being hung-up on him made her even sicker. But I'm glad your mom is at least doing something about it."

  His face softened just a bit and he sighed. "Me too, babe. Pa's losin' his mind but he doesn't fuckin' get it. He's never gonna get it."

  Another moron member of the Widowmakers. Go figure. Maybe it was just something with the older members?

  I poked Dex in the hard muscle of his thigh. "Let me know if there's anything I can do for her. I can screen her phone calls if she wants." I smiled at him.

  He snorted. "And hang up on my pa? I'd be all about that, honey."

  I poked him again but this time he caught my finger in his fist. "I’m sure you would.”

  He grinned. "Don't think anybody's ever hung up on him before but me."

  "And you? Has anyone ever hung up on you?" I asked.

  "Nope," Dex answered a little too proudly.

  "There's always a first for everything."

  When his grin grew a little too wide, a hint of lewdness crossing his eyes, I realized the interpretation he chose to pick up on my words and groaned.

  "I know all about that, babe."

  I made a face. "Shut up."

  His laugh was louder than the movie playing on the television, and way more entertaining. "You gonna sleep with me tonight?"

  The thought both scared and excited me, but it probably scared me more. "I don't know." I paused. "I talked to Sonny earlier and he wasn't exactly happy or mad when I told him that I...uhh...you know."

  The jerk raised both his eyebrows. "No clue. What?" he egged on.

  I rolled my eyes. “Are you ignoring his calls, too?"

  Dex shrugged. "I don't need to talk to him to know what he's gonna say. I don't really give a shit what he wants."

  That wasn't exactly surprising and it wasn't the first time he'd said the same thing.

  "We'll deal with it when he gets back," he said. "You gonna sleep in my bed?"

  Relentless. The man was relentless. That weird mix of excitement and fear flooded my stomach again. "I don't know. I kind of feel like I'm in over my head with you. Like I just learned how to swim and you want me to compete in the Olympics, and I don't want to disappoint you. Does that make sense?"

  That handsome face turned serious. "Ritz, I might know what I'm doin' with you when you're in my bed or my office—"

  Oh god. The mental picture of him with someone else in his friggin' office made my heart constrict. At the same time I had the urge to gag.

  "But the rest of this is completely fuckin' new to me. I don't wanna run you off," he admitted.

  I sighed and nodded, but there was something about his words that really stuck for the first time. "Why don't you know what you're doing? I figured you," my heart did that stupid clenching thing again, "get around. And you don't exactly seem like the long-term relationship kind of guy." I wanted to puke at the end of each of my sentences and by some miracle, I didn't. "You're kind of old, Dex. It doesn't make sense."

  "Old?" he coughed. I swear it seemed like his eyebrows managed to climb all the way up to his hairline
in indignation.

  I shrugged.

  "I'm not old."

  Oh boy. Of all the things for him to get hung up on, he got held up by the mention of his age. "Okay, you're not old. You're a spring chicken, whatever. The point is, why don't you have a girlfriend?" After the conversation we'd just had, wondering about a wife would seem preposterous.

  He blinked. It took him so long to answer I thought he'd just ignore the question. He braced a hand on my knee, his skin hot. "I haven't exactly been lonely, honey."

  I'd gotten stabbed. Stabbed by an invisible blade. I'm sure I made a noise that said just that. How immature was that? How pathetic?

  The hand on my knee tightened, and I suddenly had the urge to whack it away. "Well. It's not like I didn't know that." But the verbal confirmation wasn't easy to swallow.

  "Baby," he purred. "I could ask you the same thing.”

  I shrugged. “I didn’t have time.”

  He didn’t believe me. “Bullshit.”

  “I didn’t.” And I didn’t care. In the last fourteen years, I’d only had a brief six month period when I didn’t have something or someone to worry about. It was fourteen years that I was grateful for, but… a break would have been nice. The one and only post-high school boyfriend I had consisted of a handful of last minute dates over the course of a few months. It wasn’t a surprise it didn’t work out between us.

  “Keep tellin’ yourself that but you know that I know the truth. We’re the same, we’re both closed off. I only give a shit about very few things, and you don’t let anybody in because you’re scared. I have shit to do, honey. Why would I wanna waste more than a couple hours of my time?”

  It annoyed the living crap out of me that I wanted to argue that point with him but I couldn’t. Deep down, he had a point. But I wasn’t about to acknowledge it or how he wasted hours of his time. Gag, gag, gag. I grit my teeth instead. “I get it, Dex, the point is, I don’t get why me. We’re like oil and water.”

  He made a tisking sound with his tongue. “You haven't been payin' any attention, have you?"

  I groaned my response, earning a low chuckle.

  He set the bowl in his hands aside and shifted over to drop a knee between my legs, straddling my thigh. Dex plucked the bowl from my hands and set it alongside his. He loomed over me, his gaze and face intent, taking my hand and placing it on his chest. "You gotta open those pretty eyes, baby. You're the only one here." He slipped his hand down the center of my chest, straight down to cup the zipper of my jeans. "And I’m sure your romance books will tell you exactly how I feel about me bein’ here.”

  I'm pretty sure I wheezed.

  "You understand me?" he purred.

  The only thing I understood was that I was on the verge of having a heart attack.

  His mouth touched the side of my neck. "Iris? You understand what I'm sayin'?"

  No. No, I didn't. Not in any way.

  Dex's teeth nipped at the same spot he'd kissed a moment before, making me gasp. "Iris."

  I nodded, shaky and quickly. "Yeah, I hear you."

  He hummed. "But do you understand?" Ohmigod. I could feel that hum all the way to my underwear. "You get it?"

  I had to shake my head because the words wouldn’t come.

  His nostrils flared. “First time in my life, I think I hate the fact you knew how to suck my dick,” he breathed. “Got this urge to kill whatever guy taught you how to give a blowjob. The fuckin’ idea of you kissin’ somebody else makes me wanna dig a knife into my eye. Let me tell you, babe, never in my life have a given a single fuck about any of that. You get it?” His palm pressed into my jeans harder. Then he laid the atomic bomb on my very existence. "You are not a waste of time to me."

  Holy shit. Holy friggin' shit.

  "Say it," he murmured into my neck.

  “Say what?”

  “Say you get it.”

  I said it. Without a second thought even though a huge part of me was terrified. I said the three words because nothing and no one in the world had ever made me feel so grounded, so assured that I wouldn’t be forgotten or left behind. I mean, I know most things were out of a person’s control, but Dex happened to be the most controlling and overbearing man I’d ever met.

  And a part of me recognized that I should run. That if I gave this man an inch, he’d take a mile. That if I agreed to this, it’d be the beginning of the end.

  In his words, I didn’t give a single shit. I said them anyway.

  "I get it."

  He looked at me with those dark blue eyes as if he was waiting for me to admit something more. Something incriminating, vulnerable and maybe even painful, but I couldn't come up with anything that could be more of any of those things. It wasn't until later, after he promised that he really wouldn't do anything if I slept next to him, that I thought more about it.

  I didn't really let anyone in. Ever. After my dad left, and I got sick, and my mom got sick, and... there was always something, something bigger that snowballed from the size of a raindrop into the size of a softball that made me more and more reserved around others. Even with Lanie, I still didn't fully embrace our friendship. How long had it been since I'd spoken to her? Months? If we were best friends, that shouldn't have happened, right?

  Yet the idea of not talking to Sonny on a regular basis, or laughing at Slim and Blake's antics, or just anything relating to Dex made me sad. It made me yearn for that easy familiarity. I finally had people that I trusted. So couldn't that be the same thing with the man that shared so many of the same hang-ups I did?

  I rolled onto my back in bed next to Dex and looked at him.

  He was face-up, one hand tucked under his head and the other was on his bare chest, just to the side of one of the loops that pierced his nipple. He was so damn good looking with all that ink that darkened those sinewy muscles and skin, it was unreal. If I’d seen him on the street back in Florida, I probably would have kept to the edge of the sidewalk. Well, I would have done that while eye-screwing the crap out of him.

  I'd never been a big fan of that saying, "Everything happens for a reason," but maybe, sometimes, every once in a while, things coalesced into a complex, intangible reason. With tattoos and piercings and bad words and unfailing loyalty topped with a temper.

  And in its own imperfect way, it couldn't have been any better.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  "I think one of us needs to stage an intervention."

  I looked over at Slim as I wiped off the frames by the reception desk and tipped my chin up. "For who?"

  The soulless ginger—Blake’s words, not mine—widened his eyes like I was dumb not to know. "Blake, Ris."

  "Oh." I went up on my tip-toes and looked around the shop.

  The bald man wasn't in the main room, luckily. He had been acting weird. Extremely weird. The day before, he'd spoken maybe five words to all of us, which was completely unlike him. Today had been even worse. He was remote and even someone who didn't know him could sense the desperation pouring out from him.

  We'd all tried to give him his space but earlier in the evening, Slim had walked over to me and said he was pretty positive he'd heard Blake crying in the restroom. "I think something's going on with his son," he claimed. "There's nothing else that would make him sour up so much."

  His son. The same son that had been in and out of the hospital since before Houston. I had a terrible feeling that it was Seth, also known as Blake Junior, giving his dad so much anxiety. The poor kid was too young to get into real trouble. There was only one thing that would make a grown adult—a parent, a loved one—cry.

  Illness.

  Shit.

  I hoped more than anything that it wasn't the case but it'd be naive to think otherwise. Or maybe I was just that pessimistic.

  I blew out a breath. "What do you think we should do?"

  He looked pensive for a moment before scrunching up his nose in a way that made his lightning bolt tattoo move. "Let's take him out. You think Dex will be up for
it?"

  "Maybe." How the heck should I know for sure?

  It turned out that Dex was up for it. Right before setting the alarm to the shop, I heard him invite Blake out to Mayhem.

  "Not tonight, man. I'm not up for it," was Dumbo's creaky, hoarse answer.

  Blake saying no to a drink? Unheard of.

  "C'mon," Dex argued back. "My treat."

  It took a little more coaxing but eventually, like the freeloader he was, Blake finally agreed. We met up at Mayhem a few minutes later, piling into the same booth we'd used on our last trip to the bar what seemed like forever ago. This time, there were more people—Widows, men who weren't members of the MC, and other random clients. I waved at the handful I recognized and slid into the booth beside Slim, with Dex following after, slinging an arm over the back of the seat.