No one said shit. What could be said after that? Since Outlaw hadn’t said he’d let him live, Digger threw an imploring look to Walt. If Outlaw knew he was here, more than likely, he’d head this way.
“Neither one of you motherfuckers got shit to fuckin’ say, huh?”
“You’ve said it all,” Walt answered calmly, digging in his jacket pocket for a handkerchief and wiping his brow.
“Maybe, I ain’t.”
Not wanting Outlaw to detect even his smallest movement, Digger held himself still, afraid to blink.
“Megan once told me about these two motherfuckers,” he continued after a tense moment. “A servant parable. One of them motherfuckers owed his master money and the boss told the fuckhead don’t worry about it. Then the motherfucker went out and saw some sorry fuck who owed him money and had him thrown in jail. He wanted his fuckin’ money and decided to get revenge on that poor bastard, forgettin’ entirely what a lucky motherfucker he was cuz his debt got forgave. He might’ve been a lucky motherfucker, but he was a stupid one, too, cuz Bossman found out what he did and not only threw him in jail but had him fuckin’ tortured. He wanted revenge and got fucked himself. That bitch shot Megan. Well, just like that servant motherfucker, she fucked herself, huh? I blew her the fuck away. But for you, Digger? Think of me as the fuckin’ Bossman in this motherfucker. At the fuckin’ least, I’m torturin’ the fuck outta you when I get my fuckin’ hands on your ass.” With that, Outlaw disconnected.
Hands shaking, Digger squeezed his temples, knowing it would take a miracle to change Outlaw’s mind. Knowing, too, the story the man had just related was as close to religious as he’d ever get.
Digger was so fucked.
A tiny breeze floated in the evening air as the sky adapted the pinks, magentas, and oranges of a dawning sunset, the amazing colors so brilliant, they were almost surreal. The house Bunny had grown up in sat amidst desert landscape, surrounded by saguaro cactus, agave, acacia, and creosote. In the distance, Black Mountain stood, a shimmering, majestic mass in the heat.
“The mountain hasn’t changed, Albany,” Virginia said, not unkindly, “not in the last few million years, so there’s no need to stare.”
She had been staring for quite a while, ever since Virginia had escorted her outside after she’d shown Bunny to her old room and left her so Bunny could shower. Now, she had on another pair of sweatpants that Digger had purchased for her, along with another T-shirt from that same shopping spree. Her hair was clean and freshly washed. Basically, she smelled good again, like a woman should.
“Sit.”
Offering her mom a smile, Bunny took a seat on a chaise lounge, still facing the view of the mountain. She used to dream of what it had been like for the first settlers. Certainly, it had been brutal for both the native peoples and the ones who’d come and claimed the land as their own.
She, Gabe, and their parents had visited Massacre Cave once. Even now, chills ran along her spine when she remembered the bullet holes that served as a silent testimony to the bloodshed that had taken place.
Virginia sat at an angle from Bunny, in a chair with a pattern matching the chaise. “You didn’t come to make amends, did you? Not suddenly, after three years of not a word from you.”
“I’m sorry for not contacting you sooner, Mom,” she said quietly. “I didn’t know what to say. I regretted leaving as I did.”
“No, you regretted that I was right,” Virginia retorted. “Which you still haven’t admitted to me.”
“I didn’t know you were right,” Bunny snapped. God, her mom made her so angry. She’d push and prod and grate on a situation until everyone lost control. “Not at the time. Trader didn’t start changing until about a year ago.”
“A year ago or five years ago, I was right to not want you with him.”
“Yes, Mom! You were right. Happy, now? I was wrong and you were right.”
Absolutely no reason for tears to spring to her eyes, but they did. Her temper rising, Bunny swiped them away.
“You turned your back on us, willingly, Albany,” Virginia continued, ramrod straight in her chair. “To go with that piece of shit. Now, you’ve brought another piece of shit with you. A piece of shit that could get your dad killed. Why did you come? What wrong turn brought you and the hell that’s following you to our doorstep? Haven’t you caused me enough grief?”
A sob escaped Bunny in an anguished, bitter sound. She’d always known she wouldn’t so easily find forgiveness, especially with her mother, but after discovering Bunny’s dad was involved with the club, she’d actually hugged Bunny. It was too much to hope that the gesture had meant bygones were bygones.
The glass door slid open and Bunny turned, swiping frantically at her wet cheeks. Digger sauntered forward as the light from the den angled on them. Ignoring his frown, she popped to her feet. When Walt appeared, Virginia stood, too.
Digger studied her in a way that made her feel wanted, and not so lost and alone. He seemed to have gotten over his earlier anger. “Why you crying?”
“Because she wants an easy forgiveness from me and her father, and she’ll not get it,” Virginia snapped.
When Digger opened his mouth, Bunny raised her hand, placing it on his chest, to forestall whatever he might say. His muscles bunched beneath her fingertips and she knew he’d have his say whether she wanted him to or not.
“Forgiveness?” he gritted. “From Bunny to you?”
“Yes.”
“Virginia, discuss this some other time,” Walt said on a sigh. “Albany’s home, so let’s enjoy the evening with her.”
“She’s here under false pretenses, supposedly wanting forgiveness when she only wanted a place to hide this biker person.”
Her father’s words didn’t move her mother, and Digger stiffened.
“Bitch, it’s you who should beg forgiveness from her, for trying to tell her who to love. All she did was leave to be with her man. You her momma. That mean you sure the fuck went with your man, ‘cause you made her with him. So why the fuck you pissed at her for going with Trader? Nothing she did hurt your motherfucking ass. She only hurt herself. Your bitch-ass not much of a momma for disowning Bunny for fucking nothing.”
“Stop it, Digger!” Bunny demanded, torn between outrage at the way he’d cussed at her mother, amusement at her father’s gaping mouth, and plain despair at how fast the situation had gone downhill. “I don’t care what she did, I won’t let you talk to my mother like that. Let’s just go,” she added.
Digger grabbed her hand. “Yeah. Let’s,” he growled, turning her toward the door and jerking her forward. “‘Cause no motherfucker need a momma like you got.”
“No, wait!” Virginia called in a thick voice.
Bunny halted so abruptly Digger stumbled and he scowled at her.
“I’m not a bitch, Albany,” Virginia said tightly, sailing forward and stopping in front of Bunny. “But he’s mostly right about what he said. I only wanted the best for you and Trader clearly wasn’t that.”
“Next,” Digger bit out in exasperation, “‘Cause I do believe Bunny figured that shit out, so you don’t have to keep fucking rubbing it in her face.”
“You’re a grown woman,” Virginia continued, only acknowledging Digger’s words with a filthy stare. “Being grown doesn’t mean we always make the right choices. I don’t think you did.” Almost defiant, she raised her chin and folded her arms. When Digger remained quiet, she said, “I certainly didn’t make the right decision where you’re concerned.”
“Momma—”
Virginia raised her hand to silence Bunny. “I’m not a bad mother, just an angry one. And so disappointed that you threw your bright future away. But it’s time to let go of that. Look forward instead of backward.” She narrowed her eyes at Walt. “I must if I’m to overlook your father’s deceptions.”
Releasing Digger’s hand and ignoring the flush creeping over Walt’s face, Bunny hugged her mother, breathing a sigh of relief when Virginia
returned it.
“Why don’t we go inside, Albany?” she said. “Get you and Mark something to drink.”
“And eat,” Digger inserted. “I’m fucking starving.”
“Dad, can you make us some cocoa?” Bunny asked, remembering the Dr. Pepper Digger had pulled out. Her mom must’ve relented slightly on the health food and allowed Walt a few gastronomical pleasures.
Walt smiled but nodded. “That all right with you, Digger?”
“Cocoa?” Digger glared at Bunny. “Don’t ever answer for me, Bunny. The only non-alcoholic shit I drink is water. I’m not drinking cocoa. I’ll take more vodka.”
“Please leave your Neanderthal-ish attitude out here,” Bunny implored, rolling her eyes and following her parents inside. She didn’t tell Digger that it was better to have her dad prepare anything for them. If Virginia did it, they were likely to end up with a blue algae shake.
“You know you could’ve been named Punxsutawney or Schenectady?” he asked as they walked into the house and headed back toward the kitchen.
“What are you talking about?” Noticing the smirk on Digger’s face, Bunny lifted her eyebrows, surprised at his sense of humor. “My name has a Latin origin, from Albanus, meaning of Alba. St. Alban was Britain’s first martyr, you know? But Mom told me people with this name tend to be creative and stubborn and proud, so that’s why she chose it.”
Digger laughed at her explanation and Bunny punched his shoulder, playfully. “I won’t say anything about the name ‘Digger’, given the reason for it,” she retorted, shoving at him when he continued to laugh.
Catching her hand, he kissed the back of it, and gave her a smoldering look. “Yeah, Digger is my MC name, but I like when you call me Mark. You say it like nobody else." His husky tone caressed the words and he slid his tongue over his lips, securing some loose strands of her hair behind her ear.
Her nipples hardened at his brief touch and the wicked promise heating his eyes. Swallowing, she backed away and scooted around him, needing space.
“May I help you with anything, Dad?” she asked, distracted by Digger catching up to her and heading for the refrigerator to swipe another Dr. Pepper. “You don’t only drink water.”
Pausing, Digger lifted a brow.
“I-I mean, as your non-alcoholic drink. You said only water.”
“I was joking with you, girl,” he said, his amused tone telling her that should’ve been obvious.
“Bunny, see to the salad,” Walt instructed.
“Okay,” she mumbled, squirming past Digger when the rat wouldn’t give her sufficient room to get by.
Once again, her body reacted to him. His nearness. His smile. She insisted they had zero chemistry between them. Until times like this. When she felt an urge to be in his arms and enjoyed the attention he showered upon her.
Never mind that he was as drop-dead gorgeous as his strikingly handsome older brother.
God, she wasn’t that shallow. What was on the inside of Digger counted, too. Maybe, not that shallow, but that doubtful of her ability to choose someone to be in her life, even as a friend. Digger was a biker. Like Trader. He’d held a gun to her head and forced her to come with him. He’d threatened to kill her, basically knowing his words would terrify her. Suppose what was inside of Digger was more rotten than Trader ever was?
“I think that cucumber and tomato washed enough, Bunny,” he said, once more laughing at her.
“Pesticides, you know?” she shot back, her cheeks burning at being caught daydreaming. She hadn’t realized she’d even moved to the sink. “Can’t wash our produce long enough to remove all of them.”
His smirk called bullshit on her explanation.
“That’s why organic is best,” Virginia said, and Bunny inwardly groaned, knowing what was coming. An hour long conversation about the benefits of a vegan diet, sustainable living, and her zero-growth belief.
“Wait a minute,” Digger said when the conversation followed exactly the way Bunny thought it would. “Your ass had two children. Didn’t that contribute to the planet’s overcrowding?”
“I had them before I realized what was happening to the earth by our selfishness,” she said, then patted Bunny’s hand as she passed by her to get to the cupboard containing the dinner plates. “My life wouldn’t be the same without them. Don’t get me wrong.”
Dumping the quartered tomato and sliced cucumber into a bowl, Bunny went to work on the lettuce, tuning her mother out. She’d heard it all before, so had her dad, which was more than likely the reason for his silence.
“Does your mother hate me?” he whispered to her, just as she finished tearing the lettuce into little pieces.
“Why would she hate you, Dad?” As far as she knew, her mom loved her dad.
“Why?” Walt asked in an incredulous voice. “Because of my involvement with that club.”
“You have to talk to her about that. She hasn’t brought it up to me.”
His face crumpled. “She’s angry.”
Knowing her mom? “Probably,” Bunny agreed. “She’ll get over it.”
“And you? Are you angry?”
“No, especially considering why you did it. To keep tabs on me.”
“So just like that, I’m forgiven? You’re not holding that against me?”
Bunny set the bowl aside, grabbed a dish towel, and then slung it over her shoulder. “I hold absolutely nothing against you. I swear. I’m happy to be here. Happy to have us begin to heal and be a family again.”
“See, Albany?” Her mom’s voice interrupted any response her father might’ve had. “Mark doesn’t want children, either.”
“What?” she responded, going still, the news so disappointing her breath caught. Why that bothered her so much, she wasn’t sure. She’d just have to get a grip on her emotions. And, maybe, will Marcus Banks to stop being so charming and flirty. “Kids are great,” she said, her limbs finally unfreezing and allowing her to move.
“You’re a chick. Most chicks think kids are great,” he grumbled.
“I want a baby,” she said quietly.
“A ring comes first,” Virginia chastised, ignoring the sweeping look Digger gave her, his gaze meeting hers before drifting to her mouth down to her breasts and, finally, studying her belly.
“I been thinking about everything, Bunny.” Digger shifted his weight. “You want to go back to the MC? If you do, I’ll send you back.”
“Yes,” she said without hesitation. “If I’m still allowed since I’m no longer tied to Trader.” And she needed to proceed with caution where Digger was concerned. Even if she jumped head-first into bed with him, he was out bad. Being with him would do more harm than good where the club was concerned.
Disappointment slid across his face before he masked it with a careless smile. “You tied to Meggie. That shit better than ever being tied to another swinging dick at the club.”
Virginia clucked in disapproval, but Bunny ignored her. She should’ve been happy that he was finally allowing her the chance to return, but she wished he’d come with her, although she knew why he couldn’t. He still hadn’t gotten through to Outlaw, not that he’d tried. So far, he’d been running with no clear timeframe for that to change. She suspected when he finally did, it would be in typical style. On the spur of the moment.
“What’s going to happen to you?”
“I’m leaving in the morning,” he said, glancing away. “I need to find my old man before he cause more trouble. Since you don’t want to be Bonnie to my Clyde, I’ll leave you here with your folks. Walt and Outlaw will set everything up and get you back to Hortensia.”
Woodenly, she walked to the seat and dropped into it, staring at Digger. She’d be safe with her parents until travel arrangements were made, but what about Digger? He’d seen to her safety and he’d gotten Little Man back to his parents. Most important, he wasn’t going to use her as insurance against Outlaw, despite his claim otherwise.
That, along with the fact that Digger had
looked after CJ should account for something with Outlaw. Digger didn’t need to search for Sharper alone. He needed the weight of the club behind him. He stood a much better chance of survival by siding with the Death Dwellers in his stand against his father. Maybe, she could talk to Outlaw on Digger’s behalf. He’d listen to her. Wouldn’t he?
He stepped forward and urged her to reseat herself with a firm hand on her shoulder. “You made the right decision since you not well yet. You might need a doctor or somebody who know fucking medicine.”
“What do you mean, she isn’t well yet?” Virginia asked, hands on hips, before Bunny could backtrack and tell Digger she wanted to accompany him back to the club. “Are you sick, Albany?”
She struggled to find the words to answer her mother and to tell Digger she’d stay with him. She wanted to stay with Digger. Somewhere along the way from Oregon to Arizona, she’d lost her mind. Otherwise, she’d been jumping for joy that he was releasing her instead of worrying about not being his buffer when he confronted Outlaw.
“Are you sick?” her mother repeated sharply.
“Um, I-I…”
“Tell her, girl,” Digger encouraged, unperturbed by her irritated look. “Everything.”
“Do I need a drink to hear this?” Walt set a mug of steaming cocoa in front of Bunny and handed the other one to Digger. “This doesn’t sound good.”
Nervous, Bunny spooned some of the hot drink and blew on it to cool it down before slurping it into her mouth. And promptly spitting it back out just as Digger yelled, “What the fuck is this?”
“Sunflower milk with vegan dark chocolate cocoa,” Virginia answered. “Why?”
Bunny gagged again. “Oh my God, that cocoa is awful. How could you ruin your delicious recipe with sunflower milk, Dad?”
Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books Page 255