“Okay great. I…um…I love to shoot,” she said, but he’d known that. Who wouldn’t love to shoot?
CHAPTER THREE
When they finally pulled up at the non-posted, undisclosed area where he normally did his target practice, he felt more in control than he had all night, and he typically enjoyed this feeling. His need for excitement, like always, had him in the right place at the right time. He parked at the bottom of the hill in the enclosure so that no one would know they were there. It’s not like anyone would have known because there wasn’t anyone around for miles but the Mountain Tribesmen; yet, it was better to be safe than to be sorry. That motto had served him well.
He walked her up to the small cottage-like house that held the ammunition and a few other comforts of home. It took a while to find the key to fit the lock because Jimmy “Lock” Brewster was the keeper of the keys and Rafael didn’t think he’d ever thrown a key away. Every key Lock was in charge of—ever in his life—was on the large key ring. When he finally found the right one, he opened the cold facility, ushered Emma in, and turned on the lights.
Her eyes ate him up in the bright light of the two-room shack, and he saw that she had also put on a jacket when she’d left him. They hadn’t said anything for the last few miles of the trip or the walk up the hill to the cabin. The only thing that could be heard was the dripping of the sink and their footsteps on the wood floor.
He led her over to the wood box in the corner, so she could help him bring a few pieces over to the fireplace. The temperature in the room had to be fixed first, as he didn’t want her to be too cold when he unwrapped and exposed her sexy body. She accepted the wood in her arms and followed him to the fireplace to set it down.
She sighed, and he was coming to figure out that meant she had something to say. “So what led Rafael ‘The Lucky One’ to the life he leads now?” She started talking in her soft sexy voice that he was sure she used to get secrets out of the most hardened of men. Just listening to her soothing tone and sexy timbre, he knew he’d have to be on guard with her. She was dangerous to him. He’d already brought her to a place that was pretty well-guarded within the club, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to get into this too deeply. He wanted pussy, and she looked and acted as if she was willing to give but how much information was he willing to share? Most of his women weren’t talkers; or, if they were, he didn’t pay them enough attention to notice. He wasn’t full of idle chit chat or long answers. A minimalist. He read that once somewhere and thought it sounded like him—putting forth the least amount of effort to get the results he desired.
“It’s a long, boring story, darlin’ and I’m sure we could make much better use of our time,” he said, hoping that would put an end not to only her questions but his desire to answer them. He got her settled on the couch and went to start the fire. It was colder than he thought it would be in the small drafty cabin.
The fireplace was used often, so it was easy to find the kindling and lighter and start a fire. This was one of the things he loved to do—create something from practically nothing. He tucked paper and kindling between the logs and watched the flame lick higher and higher before he got up to get them something to drink. He uncapped the bottles, but one was a bit hard to get off. Yet, he kept working on it.
She cleared her throat a few times, and he wondered what question she was choking on now. “It’s been said that you didn’t know your family and were raised in foster care,” she said in a quiet voice that wasn’t filled with sexy but with real interest.
He stopped and looked at the woman who dared to bring that up. The beer bottle cap made a tickling noise in the background, as it hit the ground. No one talked about that time of his life. He’d made sure of it. It had been speculated upon, and he’d heard people talk about it in soft reverent tones where he couldn’t really hear all they’d said, but he knew what topic had come up. He didn’t talk about that time of his life for a reason, but it wasn’t for the reasons that most people thought. He didn’t mind that his badass persona could keep people from bringing it up. For that, he was supremely satisfied.
“Yeah. What about it?” His voice was gruffer than he wanted it to be, but he really didn’t like to go back there in his mind.
“Nothing. I just heard so much about you growing up. Miss Marlene talked about you all the time.” She threw out that zinger, as if she didn’t realize how much bite it had with it. Yet, she would have had to know that it would surprise him.
He didn’t think he’d be more shocked if she had pulled off a mask and been one of the members of the Reapers, but he had nothing if he didn’t have one of the best poker faces. He wanted to know what she knew, but he didn’t want her to get a drop on him or his foster mother. He proceeded slowly. “What do you know about her?”
“Now, don’t get your gears all in a shift. I can see on your face that you are already putting two and two together and coming out with the wrong answer. I lived with Miss Marlene a few years after you left.” She put her hand out to accept the beer, and he walked over to her and sat on the couch. He leaned back and crossed his legs at the ankle, wanting to appear relaxed even though that was far from the truth.
This was even worse than he put together in his mind about her being one of the Reapers. That would have been easier to face than this…well, as long as he didn’t think about the kiss they’d shared. Kissing a man would be hard to digest, but this was different.
He didn’t want to go back to that part of his life. Examining it, feeling guilty about it, craving it. It made him think about some of the choices he’d made. He’d grown up hard before going into the foster system, and there were times he wished he could have been with Miss Marlene long before he had. That may have made being a good boy something more attainable, but he’d grown up in the life of his motorcycle club, and the older he got the stronger the call became. The club was in his blood, and he’d always felt it was something he was born to do. He decided to try to keep it light. Then, he could see where she was going with this line of questioning and whether he needed to take her back to her club and cut his losses or if they could move forward to this evening’s planned sexual activities.
“Oh, really? How is she?” He knew his tone belied how much he really wanted the answer to that question. It’d had been a long while since he’d seen his foster mom, but a couple of times a year he thought about her…so much he’d thought of visiting her. That wouldn’t be a good idea because she would know that he’d been into criminal activity—and that was something he knew she didn’t like.
“She’s pretty good, I guess. I haven’t seen her in quite a while either. It’s hard to believe I’m with the man I’d only see in pictures and a few times in passing. Miss Marlene had so many pictures of you all over the house, it was hard to act like I didn’t know who you were when I first saw you.”
“So, why did you ask me what brought me here if you already knew?” Cynicism was the nature of his beast, and for this line of questioning, he wasn’t going to hold back. Was he dumb enough to walk into a set up? He hadn’t felt that in his gut when he met her—or any time up until now—but that didn’t mean his gut wasn’t off. It had never happened to him before. Pretty woman or not, he paid attention to the way each particular person made him feel, and it had done pretty well by him. He was still alive so that was the testimony for that.
“I knew how you grew up and how old you were when you went to live with Miss Marlene, but I don’t know why you left. No one does…especially Miss Marlene. She was always worrying about you and hoping you’d come back.” She watched him closely, and he could tell that she had wanted to question him for a good long while since she was taking what could be a simple and fun experience and running it over with questions.
What was this? A game show? This is your life? He could almost imagine someone coming out with other pieces of his past to wave in front of his face. That would be disastrous because he didn’t want to see any parts of his past. The good or the bad
. He was all about moving on and living in the now. That was the best way to survive, and he knew a shit load about survival.
“Like I always say, I have been everywhere and here is where I landed. Do you still keep in touch with her?” He hadn’t meant to ask but now that he had he really wanted to know. He gave her the little diddy he always said when someone asked him about his past. It was enough to let them know the truth, but just shy of “go fuck yourself.” He just wanted to let the person who asked know that those types of questions weren’t going to be answered kindly and to move on to something else.
“I got into a little trouble when my mom got out of jail, but I was 17 at the time. I picked up and left instead of taking the bit of punishment Miss Marlene would have dished out,” she said.
“Sounds like you regret leaving,” he said.
This was the first time he willingly talked about anything related to foster care, but since this woman had shared a big part of what made his time so great, he made an exception. He owed Marlene his life.
Emma looked over at him with a frown on her face, as if she hadn’t thought of that before. “I guess I do. I can track all the shittiness in my life to that one decision. I’m sure you don’t feel the same way. You’re on top of your game and on top of the world.”
Well, she definitely had him pegged because that was how he felt most of the time. When he’d left his foster mother’s house, there was no malice or harm meant on his part, just a driving desire to get out and do what he knew he had to. Marlene was one of the sweetest women he’d ever known, but he knew the life she was offering him wasn’t the one he was born to lead. However, it would have broken the woman’s heart if she knew what he was doing now.
He knew that Marlene had the power to talk him out of what he wanted to do. At that time, when he was hot headed and 16, he hadn’t wanted to deal with that or with her. Leaving in the middle of the night was the best he could do for both of them. There were times he’d sent money in the mail to assuage the twinge of guilt that he felt when he thought of leaving one of the only people who truly cared about him.
“I like where I am,” he stated carefully. “How did you get hooked up with the Reapers?”
“Like I said, my mother got out of jail and needed my help running drugs to a few people in the neighborhood. That was one of her only sources of income, so I wanted to help out. I did that off and on for a while, but I was still living in foster care. When I finally got busted and went to jail, Miss Marlene came to bail me out; but, she told me that it was the only time she was going to do it. I needed to decide what I wanted to do with my life.”
He listened and could almost hear the soft spoken woman saying that very thing. She didn’t take any shit from anyone and had six-foot-tall linebackers in her home that listened as if they were small children when the four-foot-something woman put her foot down. Thinking back on that, he almost chuckled. However, thinking about Marlene always turned him nostalgic with a small ache in his stomach. Whether that was because he missed the peace that she offered or something else, he wasn’t quite sure.
“I got out and made the decision to return to live with my mother, and it was all downhill from there. Or is that uphill? Whatever way means your life has turned to shit—that was the way it was going. Sometimes I would wake up and remember the smell of pancakes and bacon and almost get excited about it, until I recalled where I was and that I was on my own. There was no hot breakfast when I was living with my mother—unless I was the one buying and making it.”
He watched Emma as she talked and couldn’t decide what about her was so attractive. She was fairly plain—except for her rich, thick red hair; but, there was something about her that drew his attention and not just tonight. He’d told her he’d seen her lick him from his head-to-toe mentally the few times their paths had crossed, but it wasn’t like she was the only woman there at the time of the visual molestation, so he’d probably done his share of eye-fucking her, too. They’d been circling each other even then, but usually there was something distracting going on.
“That’s all life is about. Decisions. Hindsight is 20/20, and you can only do the best with the information you have available at that time.” He wanted to get that look off her face. He knew you could only move forward and regretting the past wasn’t going to do her any good.
“You’re right.” She still looked worried; but, at least she agreed with him.
“So, you got caught up in the life of crime. How did you make your way over to this particular club?” He was shocked at how interested he was in learning about her life. It sounded like she had come a long way from where she had been and so had he to some extent. The thought crossed his mind that she possibly was a great actress because she always looked like she was the life of the party, and she never had that haunted look in her eye that some people who were trying to hide something seemed to carry around like a cloak.
She looked over at him with a joking smile that lit up her face. “You seem to be good at asking questions, but you do recall this started because I asked you a similar question.”
“Finish your story and we’ll see what happens.” He was non-committal, but there was something that made him want to tell her a little of how he’d ended up here. However, he really could have just said he was a lucky bastard. That was one of the truest thoughts ever, which is why his name was Lucky, but she knew a little more than the average person and had kept it under her hat as far as he could tell. That should be rewarded somehow, but he wanted to hear more about her first.
“Well, after running drugs every once in a while times got harder and I got older. The people I delivered too wanted the drugs and would give me a bit of money for a few extras.” She looked over to see what he thought—but what could he say? Sex was often used in exchange for many things, and he wasn’t judgmental about things like that. That was her story and her past. The guilt he saw in her eyes told him she’d berated herself more than anyone else could. Hanging out with the people she chose to hang out with, it would have been pretty difficult to remain untouched, especially looking as exotic as she did. He just nodded and waited while he drank his beer, enjoying the expressions and emotions that crossed her face as she told her tale. She was quite animated and that alone would have had him listening to her.
“One of the men I delivered too was pretty big in the organization and took a liking to me. He brought me in the club, and they’ve been taking good care of me ever since.”
He nodded and took another long swallow while she looked on expectantly. His mind was always moving, and he finished his beer, got up, and got another—while deciding which way this was going to go. After he refreshed his beverage, he sauntered back to the couch and sat down. Emma was as quiet as falling snow.
“I’ve always known this was the life for me but being with Marlene made me question that daily. Soon after I turned 17, I was approached by a member of the Mountain Tribesman who explained who I was and what I meant to their organization. I’d never really belonged to anyone anywhere, so that was quite a draw for me at that time. They were generous with their time and information and made me feel like I’d found the family I’d never had,” he said.
He glanced over to see her with wide eyes, as if he was telling her a bedtime story. He decided to continue and said, “If you know Marlene like I do, then you know you don’t tell her something like you met your people and they’re in a motorcycle club and I’m going to join up with them and think that is going to be the end of it. I tried to explain what was going on but she didn’t want to hear it and tried to talk me out of it. It worked until the man returned with a bike, a jacket, and a story about the legacy of the Mountain Tribesman. He asked me if I wanted to join up with them, shook my hand like a man, and the rest is history.” He took another long pull of his drink and thought that should be the end the history lesson.
“Well, it’s good to know that Miss Marlene actually knows where you went. She just doesn’t want you to be hurt.�
�� She looked around the room, but he could tell she was thinking about Marlene.
“Do you talk to her anymore?” He wanted to know what was going on with the woman who had given him some of the best years of his young life—if Emma did know. It would save him some mind space, and he could stop thinking about the elderly woman who could bake like a champion.
“After I made my decision, I didn’t want to go back. She knew what I was doing was wrong, and I knew she wouldn’t approve. The answer to the question is—no I don’t talk to her anymore but I still remember how happy and comfortable her house was and I still remember all those pictures of you.”
CHAPTER FOUR
He was done with this conversation. At least for now, but he felt like she would want to know more later. Women always thought there was going to be a later, and sometimes they were right, but mostly they were wrong. Not that there wasn’t going to be a later; there was always a later, but he was never sure how long he would actually allow them to be around. Women had a very short shelf life when it came to him, and even though he was pretty up front with that information, they still held out that they would be the one to capture his heart. He did well by them, but they didn’t get an extended stay in his bed or his life. There were times he wanted to tell them to give it up—because he wasn’t sure there was a heart in there to capture.
The Don's Baby: A Bad Boy Romance Page 25