EDGE OF REASON

by Barker, Freya

  Taking a deep breath in, and a swig of beer I hope will cool me down a bit, I join her, keeping a safe distance between us. This is the part where I should probably practice my social skills, because she’s right. Time to put my money where my mouth is. I almost messed up a guy last weekend for showing her no respect, but I’m no better myself, walking in the door without so much as a hello before I’m rutting against her like some animal.

  “Any good movies?”

  Her eyes open wide as she swings around to face me. “You wanna watch a movie?”

  “Sure.” I shrug.

  “I thought you wanted to…” She doesn’t need to finish the sentence.

  I twist my body toward her. “Oh, I wanna. All I have to do is think of you and I wanna. All the fucking time. That doesn’t mean it’s all I want.” I see her face soften a little, and set my beer on the table so I have my hands free to grab hers, rubbing my thumbs over her knuckles. “Haven’t seen you for a bit, Little Mama. It’s been a crazy week, like every other goddamn week it seems. I wanted to see you before you take off tomorrow.”

  The soft look is now a smile as she frees a hand and grabs the remote before scooting over and settling in beside me. “Tell me about your crazy week first?” she asks, lifting my arm over her shoulder.

  Normally club business stays in the club, but I know Ouray talks with Luna and I’m sure Kaga does the same with his wife. For the simple reason club business impacts their families. It clearly impacts whatever Jaimie and I’ve got going on, so I only hesitate a second before telling her. I leave out the offer Chains and the Moab Reds put on the table, or the suspicion they’re the ones behind the recent mishaps, but I tell her everything else.

  “What a great idea,” she says, leaning her head against my chest. “It’ll be great for those boys to work together on fixing up some old car or something. Gives them a common purpose, not to mention that it keeps them away from electronics. That’s one thing I worry about when River gets older; there will come a point where I won’t be able to keep the intrusion of gaming and internet away from him,” she rambles.

  I chuckle which has her look up at me. “Babe, the kid’s just one.”

  “It’ll go fast,” she says, her face dead serious, and really fucking cute. I have no choice but to lean down and kiss her.

  One moment she’s sitting beside me, the next she’s on my lap, her legs on either side of me, and her arms wrapped tightly around my neck. My fingers dig into her perfectly padded hips, as her tongue teases and tangles with mine. It’s easy to get lost in her to the point where nothing else exists.

  “James, baby,” I mumble, keeping her hips still when she starts grinding on me. “Take me upstairs.”

  Two minutes later we’re in her bedroom, ripping off clothes in a frenzy. When I see her standing naked in front of the bed, though, I purposely slow down.

  “Fuck, you’re so beautiful.”

  Her eyes get that heavy-lidded look as she backs up to the bed and sits down, beckoning me over by crooking her index finger. The moment I’m close enough to reach, she has one hand on my hip, while fisting my dick with the other. Before I can even think, her perfectly pink mouth slides over the tip.

  It’s like a million charges fire off through my body at once and all I can do is hiss with pleasure. So hot, watching my black cock slide between her lips as her blonde hair falls around her face. When she lifts those blue eyes to me from under her lashes, I know if I don’t stop her now I’m done.

  “I wasn’t done,” she pouts when I pull myself free.

  “I know, but I almost was. You wanna blow me some other time, I’m not gonna stop you, but tonight I wanna come inside you.” I retrieve a condom from my jeans.

  “I’m clean and I’m on the pill,” she says, surprising me in a good way. Only thing better than being inside her is being inside her ungloved.

  “I’ve gotta clean bill.” My voice is almost hoarse.

  She doesn’t say anything, but scoots back on the mattress, dropping her legs open in invitation. She’s as near perfection as I’ve ever seen. Her face an angel’s, ripe full tits and rounded belly, and then those soft, milky-white thighs perfect for cushioning my power when I drive inside her.

  “Shee-it, James, you’re a fucking siren.”

  I wipe the satisfied smile off her face when I set a knee on the mattress, and bend down and press the flat of my tongue to her heat. I lick my way up her body until my hips are wedged between her legs and our eyes are in line. Using one hand I carefully guide myself inside her.

  My eyes almost roll to the back of my head at the tight, wet heat clamping around me.

  Oh yeah, sheer fucking perfection.

  Jaimie

  I wake up almost on my stomach, a heavy body wrapped around me from behind. The muscular leg draped over one of mine, and a strong arm lodged underneath my torso, render me immobile. The moment I try to move at the sound of River crying, the arm tightens around me.

  “Don’t go,” Trunk grunts sleepily.

  “River’s crying.”

  “I’ll go,” he says, and before I can protest, his weight leaves me.

  By the time I turn over and sit up, he’s already on his way out of the bedroom, his jeans hanging low on his spectacular ass. I have to pinch myself to make sure I’m not dreaming, although the tender feeling between my legs should’ve clued me in.

  Unlike the first time—which was fast and wild—last night was slow, thorough, and delicious. The man drove me to the edge time and time again, only to freeze each time I was about to tip over. It felt like an eternity before he let me come on a keening cry, his own explosive release following right behind.

  I can’t hear crying anymore, but I hear water turned on in the bathroom down the hall. It’s quiet for a while, and I’m about to go investigate, when Trunk walks in with a bright-eyed and bushy-tailed River on his arm wearing nothing but a diaper.

  “Where’s his pj’s?” I ask, noticing the scowl on Trunk’s face.

  “Bathroom,” he grunts, handing a very happy River to me.

  “What are you doing up, buddy? You’re way too happy for…” I check the clock on the nightstand. “…five fifteen in the morning.”

  “He’s happy now. What’d you feed the kid?” Trunk grumbles as he gets back into bed. Wearing his jeans and staying on top of the covers, but still as if he belongs here as he settles against the headboard, stretching his long legs.

  “Feed him? Did he throw up?”

  “Blew up is more like it.”

  “Oh no.” I try hard not to laugh at Trunk’s disgruntled tone. “You should’ve called me.” He grunts something unintelligible, and I feel compelled to lean over and kiss him. “Thank you, honey.”

  “Welcome,” he mumbles, throwing his arm around me and tucking me to his side. River throws his body at Trunk, who catches him with one large hand under his booty. “Easy, Little Man.”

  “Unk!”

  “I’m guessing we’re done sleeping?”

  He looks at me with an eyebrow raised and I press my face into his pec to stifle my snicker.

  _______________

  “You’re up early,” Mom says, when she finds me in the kitchen cooking breakfast for a change.

  “River had a blowout.”

  “Oh no,” she commiserates, tossing her coat on the kitchen chair before looking around. “Where is he?”

  “Coming.” I turn back to the bacon frying in the pan, smiling. Trunk offered to get him dressed in trade for me cooking him breakfast.

  “What do you—Ohh.”

  “Morning, Sandra,” Trunk’s deep rumble has me turn my head. He’s just coming down the stairs, fully dressed—thank God—carrying River on a hip. I watch as he passes the baby off to a surprised Mom’s hands and walks my way. He slips an arm around me from behind and kisses the nape of my neck before resting his chin on my shoulder. “Scrambled, Little Mama.”

  “You’ve got it, honey.”

  I get anoth
er kiss behind my ear before I feel him step away.

  I’m not sure precisely what happened between last night and this morning, but any concerns I may have had, any uncertainty around what is going on, seem to have disappeared.

  Actually, that’s a lie: I know exactly what happened. Trunk happened. After the initial bump last night, he’s proceeded to show me in a variety of ways how invested he is willing to be, and not just in bed.

  When I set the pan of scrambled eggs and the plate of stacked bacon on the table, he is telling Mom about Ezrah.

  “Aiming to go see him tomorrow. I talked to his foster mom and he’s having a bit of a hard time.”

  “Poor kid,” Mom says softly.

  “Hard to believe someone would do that to a little boy,” I contribute, sitting down beside River’s high chair and handing him the toast I cut in strips.

  When we’re with done breakfast, it’s Trunk who gets up and clears the table. I ignore Mom’s bulging eyes and focus instead on cleaning egg off my son.

  I feel hands settle on my shoulders.

  “Good eggs, James.”

  I tilt my head up and smile at him. “Thanks, honey, but my mother’s are better.”

  I glance over at Mom, who is looking from me to Trunk. I swear she has stars in her eyes.

  “I’ve gotta head out,” he says, plucking River from his chair. “You gonna behave? Your mama’s gonna give Gramma my number, and you step outta line even once, I’m gonna hear about it, Little Man.”

  River giggles, pumps his little legs, and slaps his hands on Trunk’s face. “Unk!”

  “Just you remember that, boy.” He hands my baby to Mom and grabs my hand. “Walk me out?”

  On the front step he pulls me close, giving me a hard kiss.

  “Call me when you land, and make sure you give your mother my number.”

  “That’s not nece—”

  “Give her my number, James.”

  “Fine.”

  He tugs on a strand of my hair before cupping my face in his hand.

  “Had a good night, Little Mama. Fucking great night.”

  “Me too.”

  Another kiss, this one sweeter, before he turns and starts walking, only to stop again.

  “Call me.”

  CHAPTER 17

  Trunk

  “HOW ARE YOU doing, buddy?”

  Ezrah, who doesn’t seem to want to meet my eyes, looks down as he picks at his nails.

  “Okay,” he finally mumbles, but I get nothing more.

  The boy’s nails are chewed down to the point of bleeding. I look up at Deandra, Ezrah’s foster mom, who looks on in concern. When I got here, she took me aside to let me know the police had been by again, trying to get answers from the boy. Without his cooperation they have nothing to go on, other than it was clearly a hate crime.

  “Ezrah, can you look at me a minute?” I focus on the boy. “I know you’re tired of people asking you questions. Especially cops, am I right?”

  The kid lifts his head slightly and peeks tentatively at me from under dreads that are falling in his eyes. His shoulders give a barely-there shrug. “Pigs,” he mumbles. I hear Deandra inhale sharply in reaction. I throw her a quick glance and a curt shake of my head to ward off the admonishment I’m sure is coming. Her already half-opened mouth snaps shut.

  “When I was a boy, I didn’t think much of the police either. Always on the run from them. Course, they’d be after me for good reason.” Ezrah looks up with curiosity and I take it as encouragement. “I used to hang with a group of kids, we’d get in trouble a lot. Spent most our time running the streets, looking for something to do, and we’d usually find it, or it found us. Weren’t that many of us brothers around, so we were tight. Went at it with anyone lookin’ at us funny.” I see something flicker behind his eyes, and decide to probe a little, purposely letting some of the old familiar street language slip through in an effort to connect. “You got any homies, kid? They gonna wonder where you at?”

  He shakes his head. “Nah. Prolly think I’m dead.”

  “You’re not, though. You’re right here, livin’ and breathin’. Think maybe they’d wanna know?”

  Again he shakes his head, his messy dreads bouncing around his face. “Dey don’t care.”

  It hurts my heart to hear a young boy say that with such conviction, but I get it. I was there once myself. “I used to think that. Wasn’t true, though. Did I tell you about my little sister?” His eyes show surprise, suddenly keenly interested. “She’s three years younger than me. Growing up we were all the other had. You got a brother or sister?”

  He hesitates for a moment, taking in a deep shaky breath. “Sister.”

  Grabbing on to the piece of information like a lifeline, I press. “Younger?”

  “Kiara be four now.”

  I try to keep my cool while I work to keep the trickle of information flowing. “That’s still little. She look like you?”

  He shrugs, staring blindly at some point over my shoulder. “Ah guess. Ain’t seen her for a while.”

  “I bet she misses you.”

  Ezrah’s suddenly blinking at the tears welling in his eyes. “She’ll forget.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “Better for her.” I can almost see the shutters slam down. His eyes return to his hands, fingers restlessly picking at his nails.

  “You may believe that, Ezrah, but I’m not sure that’s true.” I wasn’t expecting a response and I don’t get one. Figuring I’ve pushed him as far as he’s willing to go for now, I get up from my seat. “I should be heading back. Do you still have my phone number?” His head barely moves. “Good. If you wanna talk—any time, kid—you call. Don’t care if it’s day or night. And I’ll come back soon for a visit.”

  His head comes up then. “When?”

  “Not sure yet, but how about I give you a call this week?”

  He answers with another shrug, but I’ll take it.

  Deandra walks me to the door and quietly thanks me for coming out, admitting she feels a bit out of her depth with Ezrah. I reassure her she’s doing all she can, and remind her she can call me any time as well, if she thinks I can be of any help.

  The sun sets during my trip back to Durango. I notice driving into the mountains, with the temperatures warming up in recent days, the snow is quickly disappearing. It’s high time to get my bike back on the road. The truck’s an okay ride, but there’s nothing better than feeling that wind hit your face. Except perhaps having Jaimie behind me, holding on tight.

  She called last night from the hotel when they got settled in. We didn’t talk long, she’d been wiped, and today I know they have a lot of stuff going on, so I’ll hold off and call tomorrow before they head back to the airport.

  Driving through town, I quickly give the club a call. I get Paco on the line.

  “Things quiet there?”

  “For the most part. Boys are. Yuma was being an ass earlier, but Ouray set him straight. ”

  “What was that about?”

  “You know he’s got this thing with Red and his old lady?”

  Yes, we all know. I was an unlucky witness last year at a club cookout. Red, the president of the Mesa Riders MC—his wife, Ginger, riding him—and fucking Yuma pounding her ass. Sadly I haven’t been able to bleach that picture from my head.

  “Don’t remind me,” I grumble.

  “Ouray got wind he invited them for a visit this coming week. Chief went ballistic.”

  “Good. Not really a good time for a fucking social call.”

  “Booty call is more like it,” Paco corrects me. “Anyway, he got told. Momma got in on the action, which wasn’t pretty. Anyway, Yuma left, Ouray went across the road, Momma’s gone to bed, and all is quiet.”

  “Gonna head straight home in that case. I’ll probably be by tomorrow.”

  “Yup. Sounds good.”

  As I drive up the mountain, I notice the water is running in Junction Creek where the road cuts close.
Last week it was still frozen. Another sign we may be in for an early spring.

  The house is dark when I pull up. As much as I love it up here, I’m getting tired of coming home to an empty house. Not so I’d want to be back in the clubhouse, but I wouldn’t mind finding Jaimie waiting for me.

  I slap a sandwich together in the kitchen, watch a bit of TV, and after the late news head to bed.

  I’m not sure what wakes me in the middle of the night, but when I turn to look at my alarm clock, I notice a weird glow reflecting off the wall. What the fuck?

  Kicking my feet over the side, I blindly grope around for the jeans I dropped beside the bed before getting in. Quickly pulling them on, I walk to the window where the orange glow is coming from.

  Don’t know why, but I’m not even shocked when I see the fire in my driveway. I’m too fucking enraged to register what it is that’s burning, and focus instead on the man standing in front of the fire, wearing dark clothing, a balaclava covering his face.

  In seconds, I’ve pulled my gun from the nightstand, stuffed my phone in my pocket, and shoved my feet in boots, before storming out the front door.

  “Hey! Fucking piece of shit!”

  The figure doesn’t appear to react when I raise my gun, but when I fire off a round in front of his feet, he turns and runs into the trees on the side of the driveway. I take off after him. He’s fast, but so am I.

  I don’t even notice the cold on my bare torso; the hot rage inside me keeps me warm as I barrel through the underbrush after the motherfucker. From the corner of my eye, I see something coming at me and I quickly turn, but it’s too late.

  The bat hits me to the side of the head and I’m knocked off my feet. The first kick is to my arm and I feel a bone snap as the gun drops uselessly from my hand.

  There are two of them. At least I think it’s two. Hard to tell when you’re on your back, getting worked over by what feels like a handful of bats and ten pairs of steel-toed boots.