Beard Mode (The Dixie Warden Rejects MC Book 1)

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Beard Mode (The Dixie Warden Rejects MC Book 1) Page 5

by Lani Lynn Vale


  “Why didn’t you want to?” she pushed.

  I grinned.

  “I had a best friend—who became my brother when I was nineteen—when my father married his mother. His name is Michael, though he’s called Booth now,” I smiled fondly. “He was—is—my best friend. Booth is expecting his second baby any day now.”

  “Your mother is the nicest person I know,” she murmured. “I was just protective of her, I guess.”

  I grinned.

  “I came to see her quite a bit. Every holiday. Every day off from school. My parents would meet halfway and pass me off.” I pursed my lips. “Why are you acting like you know me?”

  She smiled.

  “That’s because I do…or did.”

  Chapter 5

  Cunt.

  -Coffee Cup

  Imogen

  “What’s going on?” I whispered, walking over to the door.

  “A fight between Aaron and his girl,” my sister, Sunny, murmured as she watched the drama unfold through the peephole of our apartment door.

  “Move over,” I ordered, pushing her so I could get a look as well.

  “What’s going on?” Sunny pushed. “Come on. We need to drill another peephole. Do you think Carl will take our security deposit if we do that? This is the third time this week that this has happened.”

  “She can’t even look him in the eye,” I murmured, taking in the two. “Every time she tries to lift her eyes to his, her face blanches and she looks away. But her words are distracting him.”

  Her words, and her tits, always distracted him. They’d been distracting him for the last week.

  See, there was a story behind Aaron and this girl, Tawny. Tawny and Aaron started kindergarten together and were best friends until Aaron moved away with his father when he was in third grade. Aaron and Tawny had been inseparable each time Aaron came home, and the whole town expected the two to be married.

  But then he’d joined the marines, and Tawny had moved on when he no longer made it home as often as he had been.

  Which had surprised not only all of us, but Aaron as well, when he’d come back for her the day he completed his first tour of duty.

  He’d never been back since.

  Not until a few months ago when he’d shown up out of the blue—across the hall from me.

  Though, by the looks of his apartment, he’d been there a lot longer than a few days.

  “Hey, Aunt Imogen? Aunt Sunny?” Davis called from behind me. “Would it be okay if I go play outside in the playground area?”

  I paused, wondering if it was okay.

  Was it?

  Was he allowed to go outside by himself?

  I didn’t know.

  I really didn’t.

  “Uhhh,” I hesitated.

  “Mom and Dad used to let me do it all the time,” Davis added, knowing I was teetering on the edge of saying no.

  “Yes, I guess that’s okay,” I finally settled on. “But stay where I can see you from the window, and if you go out of the area where you’re allowed to be, you’re coming back up here and you won’t be able to do that ever again.”

  Forgetting Aaron and that woman were in the hallway, I yanked the door open to let Davis pass by, and immediately froze when I saw Aaron running his hand up the back of Tawny’s shirt.

  “There’s a time and place for that,” I snapped. “And in the hallway where little kids are isn’t one of them.”

  Sunny snickered behind me and I turned my glare on her.

  “Davis, remember what I said,” I ordered as he passed by, not even noticing what was going on right in front of him.

  I sure as hell did, though.

  “Hi, Mr. Aaron,” Davis said as he passed.

  “Hi, Davis.”

  Aaron’s voice was laced with humor and I had to resist the urge to smack him.

  Once Davis made it down the stairs, I walked back inside and closed the door, immediately walking to the window and staring outside to make sure he got to the playground okay.

  He did.

  And he was talking animatedly with another kid—one who looked like a hoodlum in his baggy pants and way too big t-shirt.

  He was likely only Davis’ age, but looked a lot rougher around the edges.

  “Hey, Sun,” I called. “Do you know that kid?”

  Sunny came over, thankfully abandoning the peephole, and looked over my shoulder.

  “That’s Kaleb…or Kalen. I can’t remember. He’s the one who lives in the apartment below us with that creepy brother,” she muttered. “The one that has all those tattoos that look like gang signs.”

  I shivered as I thought about the man she was describing.

  The man’s name was Kevin. Such an unassuming name for a man that had the power to scare the crap out of me with just one look.

  “The one with the white eyes?” I looked at her.

  The man I was thinking about had white contact lenses that made the irises of his eyes appear white instead of having color like most people did.

  She shivered herself.

  “That one,” she confirmed.

  Kevin really was creepy, and I knew for a fact that he dealt drugs.

  I watched him outside our apartment every day around five o’clock.

  He’d lean against his old beat up Ford Explorer, and act for all the world like he was just enjoying a lazy rest.

  Not that he could pull that off with the sweat pouring off his face.

  A car would pull up, and he would walk to the car, do a couple of weird fist bumps and a handshake, and then he’d pocket something.

  He’d then do another weird fist bump handshake and the car would take off just as quickly.

  “Maybe I should tell Davis he isn’t allowed to play with that kid anymore,” I muttered. “Do you think it’d piss him off?”

  Sunny started to laugh.

  “I think, with us being his stand-in parents, it doesn’t matter if we piss him off.”

  A knock sounded at our door, and I reluctantly peeled my eyes away from the two kids who were still talking animatedly, and walked to the door.

  I don’t know who I expected to see there, but it sure wasn’t Tawny.

  “Uhh,” I hesitated. “Can I help you?”

  “He’s always been mine and you know that, Gen,” Tawny said quietly.

  I blinked.

  “Umm,” I licked my lips. “Okay?”

  Tawny’s eyes narrowed.

  “I made a mistake when I was eighteen, but I won’t be making it again. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t try to pursue anything with Aaron,” she continued.

  Understanding dawned.

  “Listen, Tawny,” I started, but she held up her hand.

  “I am well aware that he finds you attractive. He always has.”

  Tawny and I had been good friends at one point in time, but after a couple of times in high school when Aaron had been visiting, and his eyes had strayed to me for a few seconds too long, Tawny had kicked me to the curb.

  At the time, I hadn’t understood why, but now…well, now it was all too understandable.

  She felt threatened by me.

  Though Aaron didn’t know me, I sure as hell knew him.

  “Tawny,” I said. “I like Aaron but we’re only friends. And if he wants you, I’m sure he’ll let you know.”

  I didn’t say what I really wanted to, though.

  That I would fuck him if I wanted to.

  Not that I would.

  Not when they had something there.

  But the moment I saw there wasn’t, and he gave me the indication that he wanted me, I wouldn’t be against taking him for a ride.

  Which made me sound like a complete whore, but I couldn’t help it.

  I’d had a thing for that man since high school, and it was only worse now that he was older, and his body was so freakin’ amazing.

  “Just make sure you keep
it that way,” she ordered, her lip curling up slightly.

  I sighed.

  “You know, from an old friend, you might want to work with actually looking him in the eye,” I told her. “All you can do is look at his collarbone. If you ever did get him back, you’d have to actually act like you found him attractive.”

  And oh, God, was he attractive.

  Even with the scars—which I most definitely saw each time I looked at him—he was the most handsome man I’d ever laid eyes on, and always had been.

  He used to set my heart to fluttering all through high school while he was there on his breaks, and he did the same thing even now, ten years later.

  “I do look him in the eye,” she lied.

  I snorted, as did Sunny, who’d been listening in on the entire conversation from her perch by the window.

  “Shut up. You don’t know anything. It’s hard,” she snapped.

  “I understand you may think it’s hard, but it’s not,” I informed her. “Those scars…those don’t define who he is. They don’t take away from his masculine beauty. They only add to it. They’re a story. A story that you damn well know likely hurts him.”

  She seemed to slump.

  “I’ll try.”

  Yeah, right.

  I’m not sure what Tawny was trying to accomplish.

  She’d gotten divorced about a year ago, and was obviously back on the prowl for a man who would take care of her.

  A man who would do her bidding, support her, and make her feel pretty like her ex-husband used to do. An ex-husband that I still couldn’t figure out why she left.

  Me, I didn’t want that. I wanted a partner.

  A man that would make me feel pretty but would also accept the same from me in return.

  “Thanks for stopping by,” I lied, starting to close the door.

  Just then, Aaron’s door opened.

  He got one look at Tawny and immediately closed the door again before Tawny could even turn around, making me want to laugh.

  I managed not to do it in her face, luckily, and instead closed the door before I lost the battle with my laughter.

  “That woman is crazy if she thinks he wants anything to do with her,” Sunny murmured.

  I joined her back at the window and asked, “Why do you say that?”

  “Because, while I was watching them in the hallway, he pushed her away about ten times.”

  “They looked pretty cozy when I let Davis out.”

  “Well, you missed the part where she tried to kiss him, on his bad side, and he pushed her away,” Sunny muttered. “Hey, why do you think people wear their pants like that when they just have to hold them up as they walk?”

  I walked to the window and looked at who she was pointing to.

  It was Kevin, the drug dealer.

  “Is it already five o’clock?” I asked, turning around so I could see the clock that hung over our TV.

  “Yep,” Sunny confirmed just as I read the time. “He’s actually kind of late.”

  He was late…by nearly five minutes. And the same cars kept circling the block as they waited for him to come out.

  “I think it’s time to get Davis inside,” I muttered. “I’ll be right back.”

  In the time it took me to get downstairs to Davis, Kevin had already done the fist-bump-handshake-thing with five cars, and I was left wondering if I should start looking for another place to stay.

  But then I laughed, because the reality of the situation was, unless I wanted to live in my shop, I didn’t have any money. Not with having to pay for health insurance, and bills from both my house and my shop.

  Which didn’t include the small things like things Davis needed for school.

  Which sucked. Because I hated living in this neighborhood.

  Hated that this went on underneath my nose.

  Hated that I knew what was going on, but couldn’t do a damn thing to stop it.

  “Davis,” I called, causing both Kaleb/Kalen, Davis, and Kevin to look at me. “Time for dinner!”

  Davis looked at me funny, but luckily he didn’t call me out on the fact that it wasn’t dinner time yet. Nor did I cook.

  “I’ll see you later, Kellen,” Davis muttered.

  Kellen. That was the kid’s name.

  “Later,” Kellen called.

  The way both Kevin and Kellen watched us as we walked away, though, made me certain that they knew it wasn’t dinner time, either.

  Chapter 6

  I will totally judge you on your choice of breakfast cereal. What kind of weirdo doesn’t like their mornings filled with frosted goodness?

  -Imogen’s secret thoughts

  Aaron

  “That’s ridiculous,” my co-worker and fellow guard, Cashius Carruthers, grumbled. “I don’t even think they should get access to the kitchen. What the fuck are they going to do anyway? Half of them can’t even lift the freakin’ knife off the counter.”

  “I agree,” I commiserated. “But it’s not like I can do anything here to change what’s already going into effect.”

  “And you’re leaving,” Cash grumbled.

  I was.

  I was starting at the fire department in Mooresville part-time on Monday.

  Today was my last day and I was glad.

  This place was downright depressing.

  The city itself was okay. Small, and it felt like it was stuck back in the eighties, but it was still okay. It still wasn’t Kilgore.

  But the damn city revolved around the freakin’ prison.

  “I’ll be back for odd shifts until I get full-time at the station,” I informed him.

  Maybe for two weeks anyway.

  Once I was on full-time, which they promised would be within a couple weeks after the current firefighter who was retiring finished out his mandatory two-weeks notice, then I’d be slipping into his position.

  I’d be working twenty-four hour shifts, every three days, and I couldn’t fucking wait.

  When the accident happened that burned the left side of my body, I’d lost the ability to fully extend and contract my fingers, elbow and knee for a while. I also had limited mobility where turning my head was concerned.

  It’d taken me almost six months of therapy to get full range of motion back, and now I felt comfortable putting my body at someone’s back who might need my help to survive.

  “Well, I hope you have a good night, man,” Carruthers continued. “The cake was good.”

  I snorted.

  The cake was nonexistent, and he knew it.

  The turnaround for employees at the prison was high.

  No one blinked an eye if someone left.

  In my time here, over ten employees had come and gone.

  Carruthers had come three months ago, and likely would leave before the month was out if his talk tonight had been truthful.

  “Catch you later,” I muttered as I hefted my box. “Maybe for a beer at Druids.”

  Carruthers’ eyes lit.

  “Druids, huh?” he snorted. “I’ve never been to a biker bar.”

  Carruthers was also gay.

  I didn’t swing that way and never would.

  But that didn’t stop him from trying.

  “Druids isn’t completely a biker bar,” I told him. “Come on Friday, and I’ll introduce you.”

  Carruthers gave me a semi-salute, and I grinned before exiting the building.

  Once I made it to my bike, I started stuffing my saddle bags with all of my belongings, happy when I realized it would all fit.

  What I wasn’t happy about, though, was the fucking spray-painted white gang sign that was on my seat.

  “Mother. Fucker,” I growled the moment I saw it.

  How I hadn’t caught it before was a miracle.

  Now that I was looking at it, it was unmistakable.

  I was just about to run back inside when the distinct sound of gunfire filled the air.
>
  Automatically, I crouched down low, my eyes scanning the area as I took everything in at once.

  The prison was located in the heart of the town, though that wasn’t intentional at the time.

  The prison had been here first, and then all the other places followed it.

  On one side of the road was a gas station with about four people filling up their vehicles. All of which were staring around, wide-eyed, as they tried to figure out what that sound was.

  Most of them likely thought it was fireworks since it was the day before the Fourth of July, but they’d be wrong.

  There was a distinct difference in sound when it came to a gunshot and fireworks.

  Those that didn’t regularly hear the sound of gunfire likely wouldn’t be able to make that distinction in the middle of the city, a place where one shouldn’t be hearing gunfire.

  Me…well, I knew.

  Across the street from the gas station was the elementary school—which, thank God, was out for the summer.

  To the left of the prison stood the strip mall where about five buildings stood.

  People were milling around that like nothing was amiss.

  To the right of the prison was Druids.

  At least there, people were paying attention.

  Druids was owned by the club, and most all of the workers at Druids were working there part-time. Their day jobs consisted of cops, firefighters, a few businessmen, a nurse, a doctor, a teacher and a bladesmith.

  The two outside were Truth and Tommy Tom. Truth was the bladesmith/teacher, while Tommy Tom was the doctor.

  They were both crouched down much like me, staring around, trying to get a gauge on where the hell the gunshot had come from.

  Then the barking started, causing me to turn in the direction of the barking.

  That’s when I saw it.

  A Caucasian male about 18-25 years old, five-foot-eleven-inches and about two hundred pounds, was running up the sidewalk trying to shove something back into his pants that were falling down around his knees.

  Tattoos or some sort of Roman numerals ran up and down the length of his arms. His face was also sporting ink, and I grimaced before I took off from behind my cover.

  The barking continued, and I wondered if maybe the dog was struck with the bullet, but I kept my eyes on the man.

  Walking quickly, I stepped right out in front of him, causing him to hit me with the full force of his body. He pitched over my extended leg and fell into a heap on the ground, staring up at me in stunned silence.

 

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