And somehow, I manage to keep from screaming at the sight of the man sitting at my kitchen table.
“Dad!” I squeak. Taking a deep breath to calm my racing heart, I continue in a loud whisper. “What the hell are you doing here? How did you get in? You scared me half to death!”
“Jenna, I need to talk to you,” he says, in a voice I’ve heard before.
It’s the voice he uses when he needs something from me.
“Good God, Dad, you could have just called,” I hiss.
Then I guiltily remember the four voicemails from him that I still haven’t responded to.
“Okay, look,” I sigh. “Let me put Noah down. I’ll be out in a couple minutes.”
Thankfully, Noah’s still asleep in my arms, and my near-panic attack didn’t wake him. I carry him into his bedroom and lay him down on the bed. Pulling the covers over him, I decide that I’ll change him into his jammies later. Then I turn around and prepare to face my father.
When I go back into the main room, he hasn’t moved at all. He’s still sitting there with his elbows on the table and his chin on his fist, staring into space like a hanged man.
When I come over him, he nods vaguely and tells me to have a seat. I pull out one of the mismatch chairs and sit down facing him. “Why are you here, Dad?” I ask, deciding to get right to the point.”
“I need a favor.” There’s no preamble, none of the chatty questions about how I’m doing that he usually likes to pad a conversation with before jumping into the ask. He’s not looking at me, and his eyes look strangely vacant.
Whatever this is, it must be serious. I’m used to Dad playing people’s emotions to get what he wants. But that doesn’t feel like what this is.
“Do you want something to drink?” I ask, standing up. Suddenly I want a few more seconds before I have to hear what’s going on with him.
He tiredly accepts a beer from me, and I pour myself a glass of cheap red wine. When I’ve served both of us, I sit down again and take a deep breath.
“Okay,” I say. “What’s going on?”
“I need you to convince your club to do a deal.”
Whatever I was expecting, it sure as hell wasn’t that.
“What?” I’m dumbfounded. “What deal? Why me?”
“Because you have your brother’s ear. And Casper’s.”
Casper’s…? None of this makes sense. Sure, Dad knows I tend bar at the clubhouse. But why would he assume that Angel would listen to me about anything having to do with club business? And how would Dad know whether I have Cas’s ear specifically?
Before I can ask any of this, though, Dad starts telling me about the deal in question. “Jenna, you know I have a history with the club. That Rock Anthony and I have entered into certain… partnerships… over the years that benefit both the Lords of Carnage and the town of Tanner Springs.”
And especially the mayor of Tanner Springs, I think to myself sarcastically, but I don’t say anything.
“A bit ago, I went to the club asking them for a loan to get me the development deal I’ve been working on south of town,” he continues. For the first time, I notice how ashen my father’s face is. “I thought for sure they’d say yes. I was willing to give them a very advantageous interest rate on the loan, and a damn good return on their investment. And I know for a fact they can use the money.
“But the deal got voted down.” His shoulders sag. “Rumor has it it was a pretty close vote. And that both Angel and Cas voted against me.” He looks at me now, his eyes hopeful. “I want you to convince them it’s in the best interest in the club to do this deal with me.”
Rumor has it… I know he must mean that Rock Anthony told him how the vote went down.
I sit back in my chair, trying to take it all in. My mind is reeling with questions. Why would Angel vote against the deal if our dad wanted it — and if Rock wanted it? And I’m guessing Rock probably does want it, or he wouldn’t have told my dad about all this. What’s wrong with the deal? Why did Cas vote against it? And how would my dad know whether I “have Cas’s ear,” as he puts it?
I thought Cas and I had been pretty careful about keeping what was going on with us a secret. We never let ourselves be seen in any sort of compromising position at the club. It’s not like we’d been on any “dates” out and about in Tanner Springs. Until right now, the only person I thought knew about us was Jewel. But maybe I was wrong. Still, I knew for sure Dad hasn’t seen us together — unless he happened to see me on the back of Cas’s bike at some point?
Whatever’s happening, warning bells are clanging inside my head. I decide to play as dumb as I can.
“Dad,” I begin. “Look, I don’t know how I could have any influence in this. I mean, I’ve never talked to Angel about any club stuff. Or Cas.” I spread my hands wide. “I wouldn’t even know how, to be honest. The Lords keep their business between them.”
“You’ve got to try,” he says stubbornly, shaking his head. “I need this deal, Jenna.”
Exasperation starts to well up inside me. “Well, why is this one deal so important?” I counter. “And if it’s such a big deal, why can’t you just go to the club and try to convince them yourself?”
“I already have.” He pulls himself up straight for a second, but then all the fight seems to leave him, and he slumps, defeated-looking, in his chair. “Jenna Lee. I can’t tell you everything. But please.” He looks at me with eyes full of desperation. “My life is in your hands.”
He never calls me Jenna Lee. Or rather, he never calls me that anymore. It was his nickname for me when I was a little girl — too little to realize that the scraps of affection that he gave me were just that: scraps. These days, he only called me Jenna Lee when he wanted to soften me up.
Still, I can’t escape the fact that the look in his eyes is one of sheer terror. It’s not a look that he could fake — and I know his acting skills well, having seen him use them on me and others for years.
My father is scared. Really scared. And right or wrong, he thinks I’m the only one who can help him.
I feel trapped, but there’s no way I can refuse my own father when I see how much this means to him. Sighing, I scoot my chair next to his and give him a brief hug.
“Okay, Dad,” I tell him. “I don’t know if it will work, but I promise. I’ll do my best.”
25
Cas
The next day is Jenna’s day off from work, so I don’t see her until early in the evening, once the club business I have to attend to is taken care of. I call her from the road and ask her what she’s up to. She tells me to come by for dinner, and I turn the bike around and head off in the direction of her place.
When I get there, I park the bike in one of the spaces reserved for the tattoo parlor. Hannah, one of the tattoo artists who also staffs the front desk, waves at me through the window. I raise a finger to her in greeting. The club knows all the people who work at Rebel Ink, since they’re our go-to place to get our ink done. They’ve probably done hundreds of tattoos for us over the years. Almost every tat I’ve got is the artwork of one or another of them.
“Hey, handsome.” Hannah sticks her head out the door of the shop. She’s tall and saucy, with fire-engine red hair and tattoos covering most of her upper body below the neck.
“Hey, gorgeous,” I reply easily.
“Been seeing a lot of you around here lately.” She nods at the stairwell that leads to Jenna’s place. “You got something going on up there?”
I grin at her. “You know I don’t kiss and tell.” Hannah and I fucked once, about a year and a half ago. It’s not common knowledge. She asked me to keep it a secret afterwards because she’d just broken up with Bruno, another tattoo artist at Rebel Ink. Apparently, Bruno was having a little trouble letting go of the relationship. Hannah didn’t want him to find out she was banging other people, lest he get jealous and belligerent.
Hannah steps through the doorway to chat. She winks and glances up toward Jenna’s apartment
. “She’s a cutie-pie, that one. I kinda had my eye on her myself, but it looks like you got there first.”
I laugh. “I don’t think she swings that way, but yeah, I think the ship has sailed on this one.”
Hannah raises her eyebrows. “Oh? Is this serious?”
I lower my voice and lean in. “Like I said, I don’t kiss and tell,” I say, my tone conspiratorial.
“Well, damn, man.” She high-fives me. “It couldn’t happen to a nicer guy. Good for you, dude.” She grins. “Now go get you some!”
I laugh and tell her I’ll be coming in for some ink sometime in the next couple of weeks. Hannah heads back into the shop. I’m just about to climb the stairs to Jenna’s place when I catch a slight movement out of the corner of my eye.
I turn to see that Charlie Hurt. He’s the cheap bastard who owns this place and lives next door. He’s sitting in a broken-down lawn chair in his front yard. Charlie’s peering at me keenly, and I realize he’s been watching my convo with Hannah. When I turn and stare him in the eye, he breaks my gaze and acts like he doesn’t notice me.
My fist reflexively clenches. I never liked that creepy fucker.
I shrug it off and head up the stairs to find that the door to Jenna’s apartment is open except for the screen. I tap on it and step inside.
Jenna’s in the kitchen, and gives me a quick wave while she stirs something. Noah is sitting on the floor next to the couch, a small mound of toys sitting beside him. He looks up at me with a wide, innocent grin.
“Hi, Cas!” he cries. “Wanna play cars?”
“Sure, buddy,” I laugh. “Just let me say hi to your mom first.”
I walk over to Jenna, who’s giving me a smile of her own. My pulse quickens, as it always does when she looks at me.
“Hey, you,” she murmurs as I wrap my arms around her.
“Hey, yourself.” I kiss her deeply, our tongues dancing, until I feel my dick start to rise to the occasion. I pull away and detach myself from her before it gets too out of hand. “What’s for dinner? Smells good.”
“Lime chicken,” she tells me. “It’s something I can get Noah to eat, as long as it’s not too ‘lime-y.’ And I hope you’re okay with broccoli. He thinks they look like trees, so he likes them.”
“I’ll eat whatever you’re cooking,” I say, reaching down to cup her ass.
“Fresh,” she murmurs, pretending to swat me away.
I go back into the living area and plop down on the floor next to Noah. “So, what are we playing?” I ask.
He shrugs. “Just cars.” He picks up a small toy motorcycle and holds it out for me to look at. “That’s your bike!” he tells me.
“Wow,” I nod. “It sure does look like my bike.”
“Uncle Angel gave him that,” Jenna calls out from the kitchen, a small note of disapproval in her voice.
“Yeah, Uncle Angel says I can ride with him on his motorcycle someday. When I’m bigger.”
“Over my dead body,” Jenna murmurs.
Noah’s peering at me now, a tiny frown on his face. “Uncle Angel says your name is Ghost,” he declares.
“It’s not my name, exactly. It’s my road name,” I explain. “Kind of like a nickname.”
“Are you a ghost?” he asks me solemnly, his eyes wide.
I grin. “No, I’m not. See?” I hold out my arm and have him feel it. “Solid as a rock. If I was a ghost, you could put your arm right through me.”
“Then why do they call you ghost? If you’re not a ghost?” he says, confused.
“Well, they call your uncle Angel ‘Angel,’” I reason. “Is he an angel?”
In the kitchen, I hear Jenna snort.
“Noooo…” Noah says, frowning as he thinks about this. “He doesn’t have wings.”
“Exactly,” I agree. “Sometimes, people just have silly nicknames. Like how your mom calls you bug. Are you a bug?”
Noah giggles. “No way!”
“Well, there you go,” I nod sagely.
“And you call me buddy!” he crows.
“That’s because it’s a good nickname. And because we’re buddies, right?”
“Yup!” he agrees, nodding his head furiously. I hold out my hand and he slaps it energetically. Just then, Jenna comes out with a stack of plates and silverware for the table. Her face has changed, just a hint, but it’s there: She looks serious. Something’s bothering her.
Wordlessly, I get up and take the plates from her. “You okay?” I ask.
“What? Oh. Yeah. I’m just a little tired is all.” Her gaze flickers away from me. I want to ask more, but I don’t press it.
Jenna turns and goes back into the kitchen. I put the plates and silverware around, then go grab some milk for Noah and a couple beers for us. A few minutes later, we’re seated around the table, talking and eating together. Noah’s telling me all about his new preschool, and how excited he is for Monday to come. Jenna’s looking at him with such pride, but I can tell without even asking that it’s freaking her out a little that her kid is almost old enough for kindergarten.
As I sit there and listen to Noah and watch my beautiful, gorgeous Jenna across the table from me, I think about how anyone who was looking in the window right now would just assume we were a family.
And hell. Maybe we could be.
The thought occurs to me for the first time, and it’s like a lightning bolt at first. Why I don’t shrug it off immediately, I don’t know. But instead, I spend a minute or so just imagining it. Imagining that this is our life, and that I’m Noah’s dad. After all, I could adopt him, right?
The idea feels totally different than I would have thought it would. There’s a deep tug down in my gut. A deep feeling of longing. Of wanting something more than I’ve wanted anything in a very long time.
The only other time I can remember is when I started prospecting for the Lords. I wanted to be part of something. A brotherhood.
A family.
Now, I find myself wanting a real family. One of my own. With Jenna.
And the scariest thing is?
It doesn’t scare me.
After dinner, I help Jenna with the dishes — which still amazes her, even though I’ve done it before. She hates drying, so I position myself next to her and take the hot plates and silverware from the rinse rack, dry them, and put them away. Noah’s had his bath already, so she hustles him off to brush his teeth, and I sit flipping channels on the tube and wait for her to be done.
At bedtime, Noah specifically asks for me to come in and do story time with him. For a second, I have visions of him expecting me to do different goofy voices for all the characters in his book, and almost say no. But as it turns out, Noah likes to read his own bedtime stories. So I sit there on his tiny-ass bed, trying not to fall off, as he reads me a story about a cat named Pete who goes to the beach. As he’s following along the text with his finger, sounding out all the words, I glance up to see Jenna standing in the doorway. There’s a tiny little smile on her face, and her eyes are soft. I give her a wink and turn back to Noah’s book.
When he’s finished reading, Jenna comes to tuck him in. I give him a fist bump and tell him goodnight. Then I go back out to the living room so the two of them can finish their nightly ritual. Ten minutes later, she comes out and joins me on the couch.
“I never thought I’d see the day when a big, bad motorcycle rider would be listening to a four year-old read Pete the Cat,” she says, snuggling up to me.
“Look, that book is seriously interesting,” I protest. “And when that big wave comes?” I shake my head. “I thought for sure Pete was a goner. Goosebumps.”
Jenna starts laughing so hard she snorts, and then she raises her hand to her mouth in embarrassment and starts laughing even harder.
“Oh, my God!” she finally manages to gasp out as tears stream down her cheeks. “I can’t believe I just snorted!” She erupts into fresh peals and then snorts again. For a second, I’m afraid she’s gonna hyperventilate. But it’s
fucking adorable to see her so helpless with laughter.
I go to the kitchen to grab her a glass of water and give her time to calm herself. When I get back, she’s still tittering and wiping at her eyes. “Oh, my God,” she giggles as she accepts the glass from me. “I haven’t laughed that hard in forever.” She takes a long drink and then closes her eyes for a moment, breathing deeply to catch her breath. “I can’t believe I didn’t wake up Noah.”
I pull her into my lap. “I guess I’m just gonna have to figure out a way to keep you quiet somehow.” My mouth covers hers and Jenna moans softly, pressing her breasts against my chest.
“Stay the night,” she whispers when I break away.
“You sure?” I ask.
“Yes. I’m sure.” Her eyes are shining, and there’s an undercurrent of lust in her voice.
My cock stands at attention. “I can make sure to be up and out of here before Noah wakes up tomorrow,” I rasp.
Jenna bites her lip seductively. “Let’s play that by ear for now.”
I stand up from the couch and carry Jenna into her bedroom. When I’ve undressed her and kissed her all over, I pull her onto me and lower her onto my waiting shaft. I watch as she takes her pleasure, riding as quietly as she can, until finally Jenna shatters around me and I lose control, filling her with my explosion and trying not to shout the house down.
Afterwards, we whisper quietly in the dark.
“You know,” she tells me, “I always had a crush on you. For years, growing up.”
“Seriously?” This is news to me.
She nods. “I was heartbroken that all we had was a fling.”
I’m surprised, and maybe even just a little mad. “You’re the one who left, Jenna. It wasn’t a fling for me. It wouldn’t have been one.” Even as I say the words, I realize they’re true. I remember now how it felt when she left. How pissed I was. I spent the next few weeks getting into fights with anyone I could manage to rile up.
“You shouldn’t have let me go.” Jenna whispers. “You should have made me stay.”
GUNNER: Lords of Carnage MC Page 29