Snake Charmer (Rawkfist MC Book 2)

by Bijou Hunter

  “And to think I was worried about you,” I say, going after her.

  “Don’t run. It’s bad for the baby!” she cries, taking off toward the backyard.

  Poppy is fast, but she’s alone while I have a partner in crime. Donovan runs around the opposite side of the house, blocking her escape. She cries foul when I take away the water pistol and drench her. Of course when Felix and Otto are around, she has them gang up on the rest of us. Now she reaps our wet retribution.

  49 Snake Charmers

  Journey

  The Autumn Harvest Festival occurs in the more upscale Rockwell, meaning they piss away a lot of money to make neighboring communities feel inferior. The town pulls out all the stops with rides, food, and décor. I don’t know if anyone in Tumbling Rock or Rock Top Falls feels less awesome because the Festival has more carved pumpkins than both towns combined. I know my self-esteem remains intact during my first visit.

  Donovan looks embarrassed by the overkill. I nudge him and smile.

  “Let them have their fun. They spend the money and do the work while we enjoy it for free.”

  Grinning, he wraps an arm around my shoulders and glances at Otto. “What do you want to do first?”

  “I don’t care.”

  Otto is sulking today. If Donovan wasn’t around, Otto could enjoy the festival alone with me. Why, oh, why, have I brought along this interloper?

  The kid’s not particularly thrilled about his shorter hair cut either. I decide to mimic Donovan by wrapping an arm around Otto. “This is nice. Three and a half peas in a pod.”

  Otto wants to be angry, but he’s an eight-year-old boy at a colorful festival with rides and a mountain of junk food. I’m surprised he isn’t drooling in excitement.

  “Come with me,” Donovan says to Otto.

  The boy doesn’t move immediately, but Donovan’s stern look causes Otto’s resolve to crumble. They walk to a shooting gallery. I watch Donovan show Otto how to aim the dinky rifle and explain the best way to actually hit the hole since the games are rigged.

  The mother in me doesn’t like how brusque Donovan can be with Otto, but I also notice the boy listens better now. The first few shots he makes go wild, and Donovan helps him steady the rifle. Otto acts like he doesn’t want the assistance, but they’re clearly wagging dicks over who’s the tougher guy.

  By the time the boy wins a little prize and more importantly has gotten Donovan’s approval, Otto is all smiles. He shows me the little plastic action figure he won.

  “You kicked its bum.”

  “She doesn’t want to cuss,” Otto tells Donovan.

  “She’s a good mom that way.”

  Otto thinks about Donovan’s words and takes my hand. “Yeah, she is. Can we get hot dogs?”

  “Did you know what disgusting things they put in hot dogs?” Donovan asks.

  “No,” Otto says, clearly thinking he’s being told we can’t eat hot dogs.

  “Let’s look at the pictures of the gross stuff while we eat the hot dogs.”

  Otto tightens his grip on my hand and pulls me along while they head to the food stand. Donovan looks up on his phone the gross things apparently added to hot dogs. They groan and laugh together, enjoying the idea of eating nasty crap. I roll my eyes at their enjoyment, assuming it’s a guy thing. I might have been a tomboy growing up, but I never craved bugs or rat droppings.

  “I don’t like the name Coral,” Otto says, surprising me by his change in tone. “Or Corinne.”

  “What name do you like?” Donovan asks.

  “Edith.”

  “Why Edith?” I mutter, patting my stomach.

  “Like the singer, Edith Piaf.”

  “Pilaf like the rice?”

  Otto shakes his head. “It’s Piaf,” he says, spelling it for me. “She’s a singer my grandma listens to. Pretty songs in some language. My grandma really likes the singer. Isn’t Edith an old woman name?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “Grandma wanted to use the name Edith when Mom was having Matilda. I remember her saying that.”

  Smiling, I hug him closer. “Edith is a pretty name.”

  “Really?”

  “No, but it’s a special name to you because you love your grandma and she loves you. I think it’s a good name if I have a girl,” I say and then ask Donovan, “Thoughts?”

  “She sings French songs.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I used Google,” he says, showing me his phone.

  “Of course, you did, queef.”

  Donovan grins. “I don’t care what we name the baby. I don’t think names matter that much. Pick what you like.”

  “Well, all right then. I do prefer being the last word on things.”

  Otto smiles at the thought of a sister named Edith. Donovan smiles at the boy’s happy expression. I try to smile too, but I’m a hormonal mess. Between the holiday season and all of our bonding today, I’m nearly in tears.

  I watch the two most important people in my life and imagine us together in a year with a new addition to our family. We’ll return to the Harvest Festival and eat more bad food and play more silly games. Every year, we’ll come back, even when Otto is a teenager too cool to hang out with his parents. Our lives can be that simple. No worries about Becca returning or Otto turning into her.

  We can have whatever we make for ourselves. I decide to believe life will bow to our wishes. Justice dreams big and smiles often. I want the same thing with Donovan and Otto. No rational worries, only blessings and lofty hopes.

  50 Snake Charmers

  Journey

  I remind myself how joining the Rawkfist Motorcycle Club is what Donovan wants. That way, when he smiles at me with a split lip, I don’t go homicidal. Instead, I only caress the shiner he’s sporting on his right eye. He looks like a guy who lost the title match, rather than a dummy that chose to get whooped by old men. I shake my head at the stupidity of the club’s desire to bang up their new recruits.

  “I survived it,” Jared told me earlier, “and so will Donovan.”

  I’d rolled my eyes when he made his announcement. Of course, Donovan would survive. The club couldn’t afford to kill their new recruits. Young men were at a premium, and Court struggled to find these six new idiots, including the dummy I love.

  “Was it fun getting smacked around? Should I start hitting you?” I ask Donovan.

  “They pulled their punches. You probably wouldn’t.”

  I balk at his comment and shake my head. “You’re the father of my unborn child. Of course, I’d pull my punches. No nut shots either.”

  Wrapping his arms around my shoulders, Donovan kisses me. He tightens his hold for a moment, deepening the kiss before remembering we aren’t alone in this manly shack.

  I look around at the dark wood and old Harley pictures decorating The Rock Tavern. If I were a guy, this bar would have my testosterone surging. I spot the bravado in Donovan’s gaze as he holds me against him.

  “I’m proud of you,” I whisper. “Doing what you want and doing it for yourself is a big step. No more following Grandpa’s orders. You as your own man is incredibly sexy.”

  “I’ll never stop putting you first.”

  “Like I’d sit back and let you do that anyway.”

  “You’re why I’m here. Being your man is why I can be my own. Does that make sense?”

  “Sure, why the heck not?”

  Finding a quiet corner, Donovan keeps me blocked with his body while he kisses me something fierce. I want to rip off his shirt and taste his warm flesh. I want to lick his bruises and fuck away his worries.

  Of course, with my father being in the same building, I can’t drop to my knees to get a taste of the erection Donovan is now sporting.

  “You have the most beautiful eyes,” Donovan says, nuzzling my forehead with his lips. “I don’t know if I tell you that enough.”

  “I haven’t been keeping score, but I will from now on.”

  “Smartass.”r />
  “If my dad asks, we got pregnant the old fashioned way. You know, a stork showed up with a baby after watching us have sex.”

  “I’m not telling him a single damn thing that involves his little girl and sex. Now that I’m a dad, I get how he might not take so kindly to someone deflowering his angel.”

  “You’re grossing me out with that angel talk.”

  “His baby girl, so sweet and virginal,” Donovan murmurs, fighting a smile. “A delicate flower is what you are.”

  “Knock it off or I’ll deflower you right here.”

  “Not much of a threat.”

  “You say that now, but wait until my father sees me deflowering you. I suspect you’ll get another beating from an old dude today.”

  “It’s really bugging you, isn’t it?” he asks, tapping his bruised eye.

  “Frick yeah, it is. They beat on my man. I want revenge. I want to lock them inside this bar and burn the place to the ground. I want to hear their screams while you deflower me in the car.”

  Smiling, he curls a lock of my hair around his finger. “I’d feel the same way if someone hurt you. I’m also sorry I got you so damn horny. Look at how you can’t stop talking about deflowering.”

  “I wish I brought my vibrator with me,” I taunt. “I’d slip off to the ladies’ room and fix my problem. Huh, I wonder if I can still do it.”

  Donovan’s smile fades. “No way will you get off while I suffer in silence.”

  “You can slip off to the boys’ room.”

  “What are you two talking about?” Jared asks, choosing to pick the absolute worst time to jump into the conversation.

  “Masturbation,” I say, calling him on his bluff. “Thoughts?”

  Jared shrugs. “I’m a fan, but I prefer your mother in my bed more.”

  “You win.”

  “Thought so,” Jared says, giving me a wink. “I’m getting the hang of talking to my girls.”

  “You say that now but wait until Justice gets a little tipsy and starts babbling. No doubt you’ll lose your ability to form words. You can’t even imagine the crap that’ll come out of her mouth.”

  “I can guess.”

  “You really can’t.”

  Jared looks rather curious to find out, and I wouldn’t be surprised to find him ordering Justice a shot of whiskey later.

  “You did good today, cop,” Jared tells Donovan before patting him hard on the shoulder.

  When Donovan grimaces, I wonder if Jared enjoyed pounding on my man.

  “Burn it to the ground,” I mutter, but my father only smiles and walks away.

  “He pulled his punches even more than Court did.”

  Glancing up at Donovan, I study his face to see if he’s lying for my benefit. His smile leaves me convinced.

  “I love my dad,” I whisper.

  Donovan smiles wider and tugs me back into an embrace. Despite his good mood, I know he worries about this new direction in his life. For his entire life, Donovan’s been a follower, keeping his head down and doing what he’s told. Having stepped out from behind his family’s name, he’ll now sink or swim based on his choices rather than those of others.

  51 Snake Charmers

  Donovan

  I love the protective gaze Journey wears when she spots Joe and Ned at the bar. Even wearing a small baby bump, she’s ready to destroy anyone who harms those she loves. I couldn’t have fallen for a better wife and mother than this woman right here.

  Corralling her away from the old men before she accidentally throws something, I end up in a hallway lined with pictures. I spot one with Jared and a very young Court.

  “Jared’s looked the same for decades,” I say, studying the image from probably ten years back.

  “The mustache gives him eternal youth. He’s so handsome. I can see why Christine lost her panties for him when she was young,” she says, running her finger over her father’s stache. “And why she lost them again when we moved back here.”

  Leaving the photo, Journey runs her fingers over the names below the many framed pictures. She pauses on a picture with the words “Chuck Hull” printed.

  “That’s your dad.”

  “Supposed to be. Mom changed her story a lot. Sometimes, she knew he was. Other times, she knew he wasn’t. Occasionally, she said she wasn’t sure who fathered me. I never knew if she was playing games or really couldn’t remember. Never mattered anyway. He didn’t have any interest in me when I was born, and he died before I was old enough to have any interest in him.”

  “How did he die?”

  “Stupid shit. He was driving to Norfolk when a cop tried pulling him over for speeding. Chuck didn’t want to stop and went on a wild chase like he was starring in an action flick. Well, you can imagine how that ended.”

  Journey squints at the picture. “I’m no geneticist, but he sure as hell looks like your dad. The nose, eyes, chin. It’s all right there.”

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  “Sure, it does. Explains why you have a rebel side to you. All of these years, you’ve shoved it aside, but it’s there.”

  I look at the picture of Chuck Hull standing next to the former club president, Daryl Rose. They both died stupid, but I doubt they’d see it that way. Despite appearing stupid or crazy to people like the Mooney family, the men lived the way they wanted.

  “I guess I need to buy a Harley,” I mutter, looking at the man I’d never let myself wonder about.

  “Only if you get a sidecar for me.”

  Grinning at her, I ask, “Don’t you want to ride bitch on the back?”

  “Nope. I can’t play on my phone if I’m holding on tight and praying not to fall off.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you’d figure it out.”

  Journey places her hands on my cheeks. “I think if the asshole had lived long enough to see you looking so much like him that he’d have wanted to be around for you. I’m not saying he would be a good father, and you’d probably think of him pretty much the way you do now. I still think he would have given it a shot if he’d known you were his. I don’t know what you looked like as a baby, but he’d have seen the resemblance eventually.”

  “I don’t know about that.”

  “The men in this club know you’re his,” she says, glancing around. “They see it the way I do. So did the Mooneys. Everyone had you figured out because of the resemblance. I think even if they weren’t desperate for fresh blood in the club, Joe and Ned would be happy to have Chuck Hull’s son around. You’ve got Rawkfist MC blood running through your veins. I bet your father wouldn’t have been able to deny you, even if he was a fricking feces fricker in every other way.”

  “That was beautiful.”

  “Well, I know how much you love when I say ‘frick,’ so I made sure to say it a lot for my beat up baby.”

  Journey caresses my bruised eye again, and I know she’ll seethe about the beating long after I’ve healed.

  “Journey!” Justice screams from the next room.

  We hurry around the corner to find Justice standing with a smile. “There you are. They said they didn’t know where you were and had no way to contact you. I thought of calling, but this seemed easier.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. I wanted you to know we’re here.”

  Journey rolls her eyes, yet everything about her demeanor improves with her family nearby. She no longer wants to kick old man ass but would rather gossip about kicking old man ass.

  Leaving her with Christine, Justice, and a fake ID flashing Poppy, I walk around to talk to the men I’m expected to consider brothers now.

  I end up with Emmett, who looks to have been hit by a car.

  “Did they take it easy on you? Will you always be coddled?” he asks after putting back a shot of whiskey.

  “I didn’t fight back.”

  “My mama told me to never let anyone push me around. Wasn’t the best advice, but I can’t deny my mama’s wishes.”

  “Don’t call me
coddled again,” I mutter, ignoring his mama talk.

  “Who is that?” Emmett asks, staring across the room. “Never mind.”

  Before I know who he’s talking about, Emmett makes a beeline for Poppy. She leans against the wall, staring upward, fully in bored teenage mode. I hurry after Emmett before he does something he can’t undo. Penis reattachments apparently aren’t easy or cheap.

  “Huh?” she says, staring at Emmett.

  “My name is Emmett.”

  “I had a dog with that name. We put him down when he got too needy.”

  Onto Poppy’s attitude from moment one, Emmett only smiles. “What’s your name?”

  “Poopy Manhater. Feel free to look me up on Facebook.”

  “Emmett,” I say, elbowing him hard. “She’s sixteen.”

  Never even looking at me, the man only rests a hand on the wall next to Poppy and leans forward.

  “For now, you’re sixteen. One day, you’ll be legal, and I’ll make you scream for mercy in my bed.”

  “I don’t speak fluent redneck,” Poppy says without missing a beat, “but I sense you’re saying I have two years to get a restraining order. Oh, and buy a crate of pepper spray. Thanks for the heads up, Hoss.”

  “My dad’s name is Hoss,” he says, finally frowning.

  “My dad’s name is That Guy Who Shoots Rednecks For Fun. It’s kinda long, but his parents were weird that way.”

  Smiling again, Emmett nods. “See you in two years.”

  Poppy frowns at him as he disappears into the crowd. Her gaze finds me, and I think to explain.

  “I’m telling on you,” Poppy says, shaking her index finger at me. “Journey will turn you into cat food, and the cats will eat you and shit you out, and then Hal will eat their shit, and then he’ll shit you out. I’d say as futures go, yours won’t be bright enough to wear shades.”

  “So that cat food thing is common knowledge, huh?”

  Poppy smiles at me before glancing in the direction of Emmett’s voice booming over the loud music.