“It’s common knowledge, Mom,” he says so matter of fact, but I know it’s because Sarah is studying marine biology and he must have picked it up from her. My son is like a sponge, but I guess most kids are at this age. That’s why they say to read to your child during the first five years because that’s when they retain the most information.
I set my spoon into the cardboard bowl and watch Sam go to town at scraping every last bit of his vanilla ice cream from the container. His hair is brown, not as dark as mine, but close. It’s now longish and shaggy as it frames his face. I love it. I love how it swishes around his head when he’s jumping or talking. Once he’s done eating his ice cream, he drops the spoon and bowl on the table and pats his stomach as he smiles at me.
“That was yummy.” His smile deepens the dimple that’s set on his right cheek.
“I’m glad you thought so.”
He nods his head, feet rocking back and forth, antsy now that his focus is no longer on the task of eating his weight in ice cream. I take another bite and watch as his steel blue eyes wander around. My son’s eyes. From the moment he was born his eyes have haunted me. Two simple reminders of something he shares with a man I know nothing about. I know my son doesn’t share my eyes. Mine are brown. I have my mother’s eyes. I know Sam has his eyes.
“Tessa?” I look to my right and see a man approaching us. “I thought that was you.”
Without thinking, I shoot from my chair, grabbing Sam by his arm and pull him to stand. When the man stops, he looks down at Sam. “Wow, I didn’t know you had a son.”
I pull Sam behind me. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”
His body stiffens as something flashes in his eyes. His shoulders relax. “I’m sorry,” he says as he shakes his head. “I didn’t think. I’m Phil, Phil Jansen.” The name doesn’t sound familiar, so I shake my head. “My father was a patient at New Hope. Two years ago. He–he passed away.”
I’ve worked at New Hope for the past four years. There have been a lot of patients during that time. Some have left out the front doors while others have left another way. It’s not always a happy place to be. People die, and when you see family members in the hallways crying, there’s nothing you can do but give them your condolences. I’m not a heartless person. I’m not going to pass them without saying something. I watch as he runs this hand through his hair and then tugs at the ends. The familiarity of it all hits me, and that’s when I remember him. He stood in the hall as the medical staff rushed in, trying to revive his father. I don’t think he was that old. A stroke victim, I believe. He couldn’t catch his breath as the emotion wrack through his body. He was alone, and I felt terrible for him.
“Now I remember.” My grip on my son loosens. “How have you been?”
“Good, thanks. I wanted to thank you, Tessa. You didn’t have to take the time to console me that night. It was rough, harder than I thought it would be. You have a way with people.”
I hold up my hand. “It was nothing. I’m glad I could help.”
He takes a step closer to me, and my anxiety level shoots up. “Mommy,” Sam pulls on my shirt.
I look down at my son. “Right, honey, let’s get going.”
When I look back to Phil, I catch him watching us inquisitively. His eyes harden his lips in a thin tight line. I clear my throat making him shake his head, clearing the fog from his eyes. When he finally meets my stare, he smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. It’s forced.
“I wouldn’t want to keep you.”
“It was nice seeing you, Phil. Take care.” I step past him, and I immediately realize my mistake because as soon as I shoulder past him, I feel his grip on my elbow and freeze.
“Tessa,” he says my name. “If it’s all right with you, I’d like to take you out sometime.”
It takes all my strength to force myself to look at him. I feel the tremors start to roll through my body. When I finally lift my eyes to meet him, his brow is cocked. “So–sorry, Phil. But that’s not possible. I don’t date.” I jerk my elbow from his grasp and carry on my way, making sure that I don’t let go of Sam’s hand.
Tessa
“That’s strange, right?” I ask my friend Crystal as we eat lunch.
Not far from New Hope is a deli where I like to eat once a month. I can’t afford to eat out much more than that, but sometimes I need a break from leftovers and sandwiches.
“Yes, very strange. Are you sure you haven’t seen him since his father passed?”
I shake my head. “I can’t be sure, but I’m almost positive that I haven’t.” For the twentieth time since we sat down thirty minutes ago, I look around, seeing if he’s there. Watching me. It’s been years since I had this feeling. But since Phil approached me three days ago, I’ve felt it. Eyes on me. Watching me. Whispering. But, of course, Crystal doesn’t know any of that.
“You can’t make more out of it than what it is, or you’re going to make yourself crazy, and that’s never a good thing.”
Crystal and I met in a group for single mothers. She has two girls, one younger than Sam and one older. Her husband left them right after her youngest daughter was born, and she doesn’t know where he is. About a year ago she got a job opportunity in Nevada. It was a no-brainer financially, so she packed up her kids and left.
“Yeah, you’re right.” I flick the salad around on my plate.
“Tessa, when are you going to start dating?”
My eyes shoot up at her question. “I don’t have time.”
“You know that’s not true. You just don’t want to make the time.”
I drop my fork to my plate before sitting back in my chair. “You’re right. I don’t want to make the time. I have Sam, and he’s enough for me.”
“Tessa, I’m not sure what happened to you in your past because Lord knows I’ve tried to ask, and you’ve shot every single question, but it’s not healthy.”
“Please, women go through life without a man all the time.”
“Yeah, they’re called lesbians.” She pushes her plates towards me and folds her arms on the table. Her green eyes flashing with humor. “Is that it? Is that the reason why I’ve never heard or seen you with a man in the past two years that we’ve been friends? Are you gay? Because I have to say, you’re a beautiful, lady, with all that thick chocolate hair, and those onyx eyes. You’re exotic looking, and both men and women would fall to their knees if they had a chance at what you’re offering.”
“Ha,” I laugh, “if it were so easy. And thank you, but no, I’m not gay. I had some bad experiences in my past, and they were so bad that I’ve sworn off men.” I pick up my fork and start to pick through my lunch again.
“So you’ve never been in love? You have a son, you’re in your late twenties, and you’re telling me that you’ve never been in love?”
“No, I’ve never said that.”
“So you have been in love, then? What did he do to hurt you? Cheat on you? Hit you? Is that why you won’t think about dating? Out of fear?”
If she only knew my fear.
I shake my head, biting my lip. “I don’t think he ever knew that I loved him. But he’s not the reason.”
“Sweetie, nothing can be so bad that you’ve sworn off dick. You’re way too young, and that pussy is way too tight for any of that. You need to bite the bullet and get back on that horse. Hell, try it cowgirl style, but whatever you do, just finally ride it.”
Hawk
“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you, it’s not like that with Savannah and me.” Sin barks.
I bring the rubber mallet up and bang out the metal of the fender that I’m currently working on. We’re in the bike shop. The metal building and cold concrete floors are like my second home. The smell of oil and brake cleaner hang in the air. The shop is on the property of our compound. This is the place where the club makes the majority of its money. Sin is one hundred percent committed to this shop. Building bikes are like second nature to him. The club life, not so much.
“You know you’re lying to yourself. You think you’re fooling everyone, but you aren’t. We all fucking see it.” I place the sheet of metal that I’m forming over my knee and slam the mallet against it again.
“You guys don't see shit. I’m helping a friend out.” He pushes away from the bike that’s currently on a small lift. He’s working on the details, the wiring, and last-minute touches before one of our clients come and picks it up. He grabs a screwdriver and pushes his way back towards the bike.
Sin is full of shit. Since the moment he rescued Savannah from her abusive ex-boyfriend he’s been anything but friends with her. I haven’t seen a guy so hung up on a girl since Cut laid eyes on his wife, Lily. There’s going to come a time when he’s honest with himself, and when that happens, it’s going to be him who’s knocked on his ass in disbelief. The entire MC sees how far gone he is for this girl—it’s fucking comical.
“You know, Hawk,” he drops a screwdriver into a metal tray before wiping his hands on a towel, “you sure have a lot to say when it comes to my love life or lack thereof. Is it like what they say, those who can’t, teach? You think you can’t have the happy life. The one woman–”
“Fuck, I don’t want the one woman. Not when I have a clubhouse full of pussy. It’s like a new one for every day of the week.”
He laughs. “Yeah, I’d like to see you tell that to Kimmie. That’s bitch is so hung up on you, it’s not even funny. The days of new snatch walking about this club are long gone. They’re all stretched out. There ain’t nothing nice about that group of bitches in there.” He points his finger towards the clubhouse.
I turn back around and continue on with forming the metal.
“I’m serious, Hawk. Why are you so hell-bent on pushing me about Savannah?”
“I’m not pushing shit on you, man. But you know you’re your own worst enemy when it comes to your happiness.”
“Fuck, and you’re not? You and I aren’t so different. Neither of us has been in love.”
I drop the piece of metal, making the loud clanging noise ring off the steel of the building. I pick it up and glance Sin’s way. He’s sitting there, not moving a muscle.
“No shit?”
Ignoring him, I take the rubber back to the metal, using the force to ease some of my frustrations.
“Hawk,” he shouts over the banging. “Stop for a minute.”
After a few more passes over the metal, I do as he says, and stop. “What?” I drop the mallet to the floor before placing the metal on the cart in front of me. When I spin around in my stool, he’s smiling.
“When?”
I’ve kept this to myself for fucking years, and there’s no reason to let it out in the open now. “When, what?”
“Don’t fucking do this, man. Just fucking tell me.”
“I don’t know, Sin? My entire life? High school and after? It doesn’t fucking matter now. She’s gone, and I’m pretty sure she isn’t coming back.”
Something flashes in his eyes. He stands up, the stool flies across the floor and slamming into the shelving unit. “Are you fucking serious?” His chest falls in rapid breaths. He takes a step towards me. “You were in love with my sister? Were you fucking her behind my back?”
I shoot to my feet, pissed that he would even think such a fucking thing. “You’re joking, right? You’d think that I’d sleep with your sister? That I would do that to you, to our friendship, to your family? Fuck you man!” I shove my hand into his shoulder, pushing just enough to give me enough room to leave the shop. I don’t need this shit.
“Then who?” he shouts before I get to the door. “Who the hell did you love? Who’s never coming back?”
I turn around, pissed at myself for giving him more of my time after what he just accused me of. “It was Tessa. Tessa Reese, you piece of shit.”
Without another word I turn back around, slamming my fist into the metal of the door as I leave the shop.
Tessa
“Tessa!” Shae, the manager of the bar where I work nights part time, hollers for me from across the room while she’s waving a white towel. I drop the glasses into the wash sink, wiping my hands on the front of my jeans and make my way over. “Look.” She points to the storage closet.
“What the heck,” I mutter as I stand, peering into the closet. On the ground of the dingy closet is a woman who’s hugging the yellow mop bucket, her face resting on the rim. Her legs are sprawled to the side, and she doesn’t have any shoes on. I scan the small space and don’t see a pair either, but her clothes look like they’re where they are supposed to be, so that’s a good sign. Her hair is hanging down and is submerged in the murky water. It’s going to take a lot of washes to get that stench out.
“What should we do with her?” Shae nudges my shoulder.
“I don’t know, but she can’t stay there.”
“And this is where I pull rank. You get her to her feet and find her a ride. I’ll make sure Croy remembers to keep this door locked. That’s all I need is to unknowingly lock a customer in here overnight.” She pats my shoulder and walks off.
I squat down, getting closer to the woman and the stench of the mop bucket. I poke her in her shoulder but don’t get a response, so I push my finger into her shoulder with a firmer shove but still get nothing. She’s completely out. Christ. Placing my hand on my knees, I push myself up. Not knowing what else to do, I grab the woman by her shoulders and pull her into a sitting position. Her wet, matted hair falls into her face. Her mouth slacks open allowing her mop water to trickle into her mouth.
“What the fuck?”
Croy comes up behind me, placing his hand on my waist. Usually, when a man puts his hands on me, I instinctively pull away, but I’ve known Croy since the first week I ended up in Los Angeles. I was scared and alone in a city where the only person I knew was an estranged cousin. She was my last chance. My only hope, really. She was the only one I could turn to after I ran from New Mexico. Her boyfriend at the time was Croy. Their relationship didn’t last, but our friendship did.
“Shae told me to get her out of here and get her a ride, but she won’t wake up.” I bend down again and reach for a white cleaning towel. I take the cloth and use it to push her hair from her face. “I can’t get her to wake up, let alone get her out of here.”
“Throw some water on the bitch’s face.”
At almost forty, you’d think Croy would be past the crudeness, but not a chance. For the past seven years that I’ve known him, he’s still as rough around the edges as ever. I think that’s why I’ve been drawn to him. He reminds me of the comfort of the hometown that I had before it all changed.
“I’m not doing that.”
I look at him over my shoulder. He’s standing with both arms resting on the door frame—six feet of pure muscle, but not in the bulking, steroid kind of way. No, not Croy. Croy doesn’t believe in taking shortcuts in life. He works hard for that body, and now that he’s knocking on the door of forty, he works twice as hard. His blonde eyebrows are adorned with three metal loops in each brow, and the natural blonde of his hair is highlighted with streaks of platinum blonde that I have to keep up on every three weeks. Dark lashes, very unusual for his light coloring, frame his sky blue eyes. He’s wearing his uniform of white T-shirt, black leather vest, jeans, and boots. Don’t tell him that I think so, but he reminds me of Billy Idol back in the day.
“Well, you might be tall, T, but you’re not strong, and there’s no way you’ll be able to lift her dead weight. You need her to help you.”
“Or you can,” I grunt as I try to do what he just told me I couldn’t and pull her up by myself.
“You’re gonna drop the bitch, then Shae and I are going to get sued, and it’s gonna be your ass.”
“Then help me,” I say through gritted teeth. He’s right though, there’s no way I can pick her up on my own.
“Christ woman.” He drops his arms from the door frame takes one step towards me. “She fucking stinks.” He
adjusts her from my arms to his.
“That’s because she has mop hair.”
“I don’t think that’s the only reason. She smells like she’s been on a bender.” With his arms hooked under each one of hers, he drags her from the storage closet to the now lit bar room.
Shae is behind the bar, wiping the wooden surface. There are a lot of bars that litter the streets of Los Angeles, but Eclipse is probably one of the more successful. Shae and Croy have owned this bar since their father passed it down to them about fifteen years ago. Their father was an artist, and in the city of Los Angeles, that wasn’t a novelty. Luckily, he found his niche and started up a small bar in an industrial area of the city. He was able to spotlight his artwork around the bar while slinging drinks and cooking up some killer eats. Years of success allowed him to build up and out, bringing Eclipse to what it is today–a two-story, brick, and iron building with a forties type feel. Celebrities of the past liked the artsy feel of the atmosphere, and once word got out that the who’s who of L.A. were dining in the industrial part of the city, Eclipse became known. Today, the young starlets of Hollywood don’t venture out this way too often, but the appeal of the bar still holds to many tourists and residents of the city.
“Hey, Tessa, the plan wasn’t to bring her in here. I wanted her to leave through the back.”
“Shae, she can’t leave anyway if she’s still unconscious,” Croy calls out to his sister as he all but tosses the woman into a booth by the front door.
“I’m not playing babysitter to some hooker who can’t hold her liquor.”
Shae, five years younger than her brother, is the hard ass between the two. She doesn’t let much slide, and because of it, we don’t have many issues. She runs this ship like a well-oiled machine, and I know having this woman still here is tweaking her tits, and not in a good way.
“I’ll get her out, as soon–”
A low moan has me stopping my words as the woman’s head starts to roll back and forth on her shoulders. “What the fuck?” she groans as her mascara smeared eyes flutter open.
Hawk_Devil's Fury Book 3 Page 2