by Harley Stone
He flashed me a smile. “Good. Now let me do my goddamn job and keep you safe.”
I’d expected Levi to set me up with a place to crash, but his determination to help surprised me. Especially after all the years we’d been apart. My safety was important to him, and that warmed my heart a little. It was nice having someone care.
“Fine. I’ll be a good little damsel,” I promised.
He chuckled. “Considering I was under the impression you were a simple, goody-goody schoolteacher less than twenty-four hours ago, I doubt that very much, but a man can hope.”
I followed him into the kitchen where we were greeted by several bikers who were all dressed like Levi. A spattering of women—some wearing black leather vests like the guys—were woven into the crowd. Everyone was talking when we entered, but Levi smacked a hand on the table, drawing the attention of the room.
“Everyone, this is my cousin, Amelia. Amelia, this is everyone.”
Introductions at their finest. I waved awkwardly to a chorus of hellos and curious looks.
A beefcake seated at the end of the table eyed me suspiciously. He had long blond hair pulled back into a low ponytail and a gorgeous brunette tucked against his side. “You’re Morse’s cousin?” he asked, skewing up his face like he didn’t believe it for a second.
I nodded hesitantly. “Yeah. Why?”
“You seem like a cool chick, and he’s… well, he’s a loser.”
“Don’t mind this clown,” Levi said, shoving the blond forward. “He’s not nearly as funny as he thinks he is.”
Someone waved, and Levi excused himself before drifting off to answer the summons.
“He’s wrong; I’m hilarious,” the beefcake replied with a devious glint in his eyes. He looked like trouble. Not the kind that would land you in jail, but the kind that would have my mom’s prayer circle holding extra sessions. I liked him immediately.
The brunette tucked against his side elbowed him in the ribs before extending her hand out to me. “Hi. I’m Carly. This is my ol’ man, Wasp, and our son, Trent.”
Smiling up at me, an adorable little brown-haired boy took a deep breath and let all his words loose at once. “Last night I had a dream I was fighting with the Avengers and then they became bad guys so I had to beat them up, and then I ran into DJ Marshmallow and he was a bad guy, too, so I punched him in the face until his nose was bleeding.”
Trent was a little younger than my students, but I’d dealt with his kind before. Mostly in the cafeteria or on the playground. He wiggled in his seat, anxiously waiting for my reaction. Kids liked to shock and awe. Just like adults, they also liked to be heard and valued.
“So… you beat up bad guys?” I asked, letting him know I’d paid attention to his tale.
He nodded, still watching me.
I went right in with flattery. “I had no idea I was going to meet a hero today. I would have dressed up.”
His smile widened, and he puffed out his little chest. “Someday I’ll be a superhero.”
“Of course you will, buddy,” Wasp said, ruffling the boy’s hair. “But you gotta drink all that milk first, so you can grow up big and strong.”
Exaggerating every swallow, Trent downed the contents of his glass before plopping it back down on the table. Then, grinning, he flexed his biceps. “My muscles are gonna be big, like Dad’s.” His expression turned thoughtful. “Not my old dad’s, but Wasp’s. He’s the one with the big muscles. Not as big as Havoc’s, but bigger than everyone else’s. Wasp—this dad—works out every other day. Not every day, because you gotta give your body time to rest. He’s my dad now. The judge asked me if I wanted him to be and I said yes, so she signed a paper. Mom made it into a picture and hung it on the wall. Now I have two dads.” He held up two little fingers. “One is in Heaven watching over me and one is here to teach me how to beat up bad guys.”
That was a lot of information to take in. As my brain struggled to make sense of it all, Carly squeezed Trent’s shoulders. “Maybe we don’t need to tell every new person our life story.”
He stared up at her, confusion drawing lines across his forehead. “Why not?”
Wasp chuckled. “Come on buddy, let’s go talk about it while we wash that syrup off your face.” He held out his arms and Trent jumped into them. Standing, Wasp carried the boy out of the kitchen.
Carly fondly stared after the duo, watching them turn the corner and disappear before she faced me. “Sorry about that. Amelia, right?”
“Mila,” I corrected. “And please don’t apologize. Trent’s adorable.” I thought about telling her I taught third graders, but decided against it. The less people knew about me, the better.
“Thank you. He’s a handful, but I wouldn’t trade him for the world. Still, navigating his father’s death has been… interesting. It’s so hard to know what to tell Trent, and everything he hears gets passed along. He’s like a little parrot with no filter, horrible timing, and no concept of what’s socially acceptable.”
I gave her my best reassuring smile. “Someone call Webster, because I don’t believe I’ve ever heard a more perfect definition of the word ‘child.’”
She laughed, and the lines of worry disappeared from her forehead. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”
“The sad thing is, I’ve known grown adults who suffer from the same afflictions.”
“Good point.” She shook her head. “I didn’t really grow up with parents, so trying to learn how to be one kinda sucks ass.” Her smile turned self-deprecating. “And I guess Trent isn’t the only over-sharer in the family. Those small-town habits die hard.”
Coming from a tiny community, I understood what she was saying all too well. I too once trusted strangers with information about my hopes and dreams. I hope life didn’t kick Carly in the teeth like it did me. “Where are you from?” I asked.
“Idaho. Seattle’s a nice change. It was kinda crazy at first, but it’s grown on me. At least we’re coming out of the rainy season, so you should actually see some sunshine. The winter months can be brutal. I work as a barista, and we’re always joking about adding Prozac to the coffee so people can cope with the constant gloom. We wouldn’t actually do it,” she hurriedly added, “but after more than a hundred straight days of rain, it gets tempting.”
“No judgment here.” I threw my hands up. “There are way worse things you could put in someone’s coffee.”
She laughed again. “True. Wasp said you’ll be staying at the fire station for a while. Will you be joining us for the ride up to Vancouver?”
“No, unfortunately. I need some time to settle in and get over my jet lag.”
“I get it. Relax, and maybe when we get back, the ladies can all take you out for a drink or something.”
Not likely. Carly seemed nice enough, but I wasn’t here to make friends. Besides, if she ever found out what I did, she’d probably write me off as a slut and never want to talk to me again. I didn’t need that kind of rejection in my life, so it was better to avoid nice girls like Carly all together. “I’d like that,” I lied, having every intention of blowing off her and whatever ladies she was talking about.
Carly beamed me a smile before glancing up at the door and waving excitedly. “Oh, look. Jessica’s here. She used to be my roommate. I swear, the woman is a saint. I’ll introduce you.”
I wasn’t prepared for more introductions, and Levi was nowhere in sight. If I wasn’t starving, I would have pretended to go to the bathroom and slipped back upstairs to my room.
“I’m actually really hungry,” I said, drifting away from the table, toward the food warmers set out on the bar.
“Oh yeah, of course,” Carly said. “Go get yourself a plate, and I’ll introduce you later.”
Grateful for the reprieve, I scurried off.
8
Hound
WHEN IT WAS time for the club to head out on their ride to BC, everyone gathered in the common room. Weaving my way through the cluster of bikers and their women, I
found Wasp wearing his signature amused smirk as he watched his wife and son. Carly was talking to Tap’s mom, a kind black lady who was one hell of a good cook and had been gracing the club with occasional meals. Trent flew a dragon between the legs of surrounding bikers with Tap’s daughter, Hailey, hot on his heels, some kind of sparkly unicorn in her hand.
“I can’t thank you enough for watching Trent,” Carly said, handing a backpack to Tap’s mom. “His clothes, toys, and snacks are in here. I think I remembered everything, but there’s $40 in the inside pocket in case you need to buy something I forgot.”
“Trent will be fine,” the older woman said, taking the bag with a reassuring smile. “He and Hailey play well together, and Tap turned our living room into a giant blanket fort for them. Those two are gonna be livin’ their best lives and won’t even care what is—or isn’t—in that bag. Don’t you worry about him.”
Wasp seemed to realize I was standing there. His smirk fell as he looked me over, no doubt checking for signs I was using again. “You good?” he asked.
As my club sponsor, Wasp had every right to be concerned. I’d met him while we were in the Navy, and as people, we couldn’t have been more different. I took my career seriously and had every intention of being a lifer, and it was obvious as hell that clown was just passing through. Regardless, he was one hell of a good guy, and we became friends one night over a bottle of Captain Morgan and a game of darts. He’d kept in touch after separating from the service, even mentioning the biker club for veterans he’d joined. I had no plans to leave the service and didn’t even consider his invitation at the time. But then life kicked me in the spine, and I found myself living on the streets in Vegas with nowhere to go. I couldn’t remember much about the club Wasp had mentioned, other than it was located in Seattle. With no way to reach him and not a goddamn thing to lose, I scraped together the bus fare and took my sorry ass north.
By the time I crawled onto the club’s doorstep, I was fucked up seven ways to Sunday. Morphine was practically seeping out of my pores and I couldn’t remember who I was or what I was doing. All I knew, was that I had to find Wasp. Some little seed of hope inside me refused to die until I did. Wasp should have taken one look at me and told me to get lost, but instead, he’d carted me off to a rehab facility. Already going above and beyond anyone’s expectations, he had every right to leave me in there and write me off, but he was still the good man I remembered. He kept coming around, encouraging me to stay clean so I could join the club.
Despite my fucked-up state, the Dead Presidents still wanted me.
“No man left behind,” Wasp told me when I asked him why they gave a damn. “These guys are out of the service, but they’re still goddamn lifers.” Shaking his head, he let out a chuckle. “They remind me of someone I once knew.”
I understood he meant me, but I was so far removed from the man I once was, I couldn’t agree.
“Your noble ass will fit right in,” he promised.
Noble. Right. Considering how far I’d fallen, the adjective was almost laughable. I didn’t understand why they valued me, but I sure as hell appreciated their mercy. As my sponsor, Wasp had put himself on the hook for my sobriety. No one had ever stuck their neck out for me like that, and I was determined not to let him down.
The same eyes that stared confidently at me as I emerged from rehab, now watched me to make sure I was still holding up my end of the bargain.
“I’m good,” I assured him. “Better than good, in fact. Morse hooked me up with a job.”
Wasp nodded. “I heard. Congratulations, brother. It sucks that you’re a geek and all, but at least that brain of yours is employable somewhere.” He cocked a smile to let me know he was screwing with me.
I laughed. “Not all of us can be crazy-ass grease monkeys.”
Wasp ran the motorcycle division of the club’s auto repair shop. Knowing I’d needed a job, he’d wracked his brain for something I could do at the shop, but they already had a damn good receptionist and that was the only job I was remotely qualified for. Even if I’d known everything there was to know about engines, my body was in no shape to be bent over working on them for hours on end. I hated being so damn limited in what I could do, but my frustration didn’t increase my capabilities.
“At least now I can help Morse keep your website and system from getting hacked.”
“Just be sure to step out from behind that computer and go for a soul-cleansing ride every once in a while. You don’t want to end up without a fuckin’ sense of humor like this asshole right here.”
Morse was walking by and Wasp clapped him on the shoulder, making it clear which ‘asshole’ he meant.
“Can you believe this dickhead?” Morse asked me, pointing toward Wasp. “Good thing your wife and kid are here, pretty boy, or I’d take you out back and teach you some manners.”
Morse wasn’t a small man, but there was no way in hell he could take Wasp. Doubling over at the ridiculous threat, Wasp laughed himself silly, proving himself wrong. Morse had a great sense of humor, he was just usually too busy to show it.
“Let’s ride,” Link shouted, his booming voice cutting through the chatter.
Conversations tapered off as everyone headed outside to the parking lot. One of the old guard—a brother by the name of Tank—said a quick prayer for road safety before about two dozen bikers mounted up. A handful of women climbed on the backs of bikes, but most of the brothers rode alone.
The Harleys roared to life. Our road captain, Frog, took over command. He signaled, and the first pair of bikes peeled off from the group and headed out of the lot. Pair after pair of bikers followed, forming straight, evenly spaced lines, looking and sounding impressive as hell. Between their military precision and their badass appearance, they were fucking awe-inspiring. More than anything, I wanted to join them, and it made me feel like shit that I couldn’t.
“That’s something else,” Mila said, joining me as I watched the last of the bikes file out.
Like before, her presence put my entire body on alert. Turning to study her profile as she kept her gaze on the road, I got the chance to really take her in. Wearing a fitted pink blouse that hung barely beneath her ass and dark grey leggings tucked into black boots she looked comfortable, but still sexy as hell. Her shiny brown hair was up in a messy bun with a few loose curls framing her face. God, she was gorgeous. I thought about tucking one tendril behind her ear just for an excuse touch her, but stopped myself. This girl was way out of my league, and I didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. I’d been so captivated by the bikes I hadn’t even seen her approach, but now I couldn’t take my eyes off her.
Turning, she met my gaze, her expression curious, waiting for my response. It took me a moment to remember what she’d said.
“That’s something else.” Right.
“Yeah.” I sounded like a goddamn idiot. Clearing my throat, I tried again. “Yes.” I wracked my brain for something witty or intelligent to add but came up blank. My brain might be employable, but it was worthless in the presence of a beautiful woman.
“Why aren’t you riding with them?” she asked.
Instinct made me want to lie, to feed her some bullshit line about how someone had to stay behind and protect the women and children. But lying was my mom’s thing, and I wanted nothing to do with it. So, I ducked my head and admitted the humiliating truth. “Can’t.”
A question formed on Mila’s lips.
Not wanting to discuss the matter where everyone could hear, I drifted back toward the fire station, gesturing for her to follow. We skirted the common area and stepped into the kitchen. Since breakfast had already been served and put away, the room was empty. Mila watched me expectantly as I led her to one of the commercial-sized refrigerators and offered her a water before grabbing my own. She leaned against a countertop, while I paced the space, trying to figure out how much to tell her.
“I can’t ride long distances,” I finally revealed, hoping she’d accept my answe
r without digging further.
“Why not?” she asked, shattering all hope she’d accept the short answer.
“Back injury.”
She watched me, clearly waiting for more.
Telling her I was in constant pain would make me sound like a pussy, so I left out that unfortunate detail and focused on the answers that would bring more clarity to the situation. “Sometimes it flares up and it’s… debilitating.” A bit of an understatement, but at least it wasn’t a lie. “If I’m local, I can always pull over to the side of the road and have someone pick me up, but that doesn’t work so well for long rides.”
Since the Dead Presidents left no man behind, if I got stranded along the way, I’d hold them up and make them miss the wedding. They’d invited me to come along, but indulging in my desire to be included wasn’t worth the risk. Besides, even without any flare ups, I had no idea how well I’d do on a 150-mile ride.
“Oh.”
I tried to gauge her reaction, but her expression didn’t reveal shit. She seemed careful to keep her opinions about my condition on lockdown, but at least her eyes didn’t fill with pity.
Still, the whole conversation was hella emasculating. Needing to preserve my goddamn balls, I changed the subject. “Morse told me you might need to go out and get a few things. Said he doesn’t want you going anywhere alone. My schedule is clear, and I’ll be more than happy to take you wherever you need to go.”
She flashed me a shy smile. “Thanks, but I don’t want to be a bother. I’m sure whatever I need to do can wait until Levi gets back.”
“Trust me, I don’t have anything else going on in my life. It’ll give me an excuse to get out of here for a while. I’ll be around the fire station, but let’s exchange numbers so you won’t have any trouble finding me.” There were probably smoother ways to ask for her number, but hell if I knew any.
Nibbling on her bottom lip, she dug through her purse and retrieved her phone. As she stared at the screen, her brows drew together and something that looked a lot like fear flashed in her eyes.