“That all being said, I’ve also seen how they have slowly changed a bit. Just a bit, mind you. They’re still violent. And people standing too close can still get hurt.” He peered at her over his eyeglasses. “You’re a bright woman. I’m just worried about you.”
“Thank you, Chad,” she said, and he seemed to notice that she’d dropped the Mr. McTavish. He bristled, but her annoyance made her go on. “I am an adult. My daughters are my first concern, always. But I also know that people taking a look from a distance miss a lot of detail. Only two people really know what’s going on, and that’s me and Knuckles. And I somewhat resent the implication that I don’t know my own mind. I married my high school sweetheart. A wonderful start to a country song. He went away, defended the country, and came back mean.”
McTavish looked properly ashamed.
“He was a good guy. Took great care of me and Grace, never had a lick of trouble until he came home. And I can also tell you this; that biker you have so much contempt for has shown me more kindness than I’ve known since my ex was my high school sweetheart. And his concern for my daughters is almost enough to bring me to tears. He might look out of place in a Sunday sermon or a cocktail party, but I could give a shit. So, while I appreciate your concern, it’s unnecessary. And completely inappropriate for you to even speak to me this way.”
McTavish nodded, scratched the corner of one eye. “Fair enough,” was his stiff reply.
As she headed to her office, she had that niggling guilt over speaking to her superior that way, but she also knew she was in the right. Deputy Troy expressing his concern had seemed…how to put it? Less than an order, she supposed. Coming from the man who was somewhat her boss, she felt as though she was being warned off something. Which overrode the guilt, no contest.
Truth was, the last few weeks were wonderful. In all that time, they’d only been apart for one night when he had to go out of town for “work.” The ease with which he’d fit into their life was somewhat of a surprise, considering how they’d started out. And the peace in her home she had no problem crediting to Knuckles’ male influence.
Grace was feeling no ill effects of her pregnancy yet, other than needing the odd nap when she came home from school. Danielle was dreading the day word got out about the coming baby, but Grace’s strength was humbling. Her daughter, in the span of just a few days, had matured to young adult status. She was researching adoption services, and she was sure she’d found the one she would use. It allowed expectant mothers to meet prospective parents, and Grace was adamant that she approved of the household the baby would be going to. At meals Knuckles would ask, in earnest, how she was feeling, how her day had gone. One afternoon Danielle had to attend a scene in Hazeldale of a sudden death in a home, and it took much longer than anticipated. Knuckles had taken Grace to the doctor’s appointment scheduled that afternoon, and wouldn’t leave the room until Grace shouted at him that she’d be fine. She was annoyed enough that he stayed while she was in the examination room with the doctor.
Oddly, that was a sign they were getting along well.
Annie trucked on, but no surprise there. Every day she raced home to finish her homework before supper, then when Knuckles appeared they’d eat together, then she’d follow him to the garage to work on the bike. Most days Danielle expected he’d rather sit on the couch and watch some TV after the meal, but he always had the next project for them to work on, as though he was teaching a true student.
And every night he was in her bed. There were some nights they went to sleep without making love, but those nights he inevitably would wake her up, urgent with need, and they’d frantically couple in the dark, without making a sound, before falling back asleep holding each other. Personally, Danielle loved when he woke so desperate for her. She suspected that he dreamt of things, dark subjects that he still wouldn’t talk to her about, and the thought that she somehow soothed this panic was satisfying. There was always the concern at the back of her mind that a former addict could just as easily become addicted to a person, or sex, as they became addicted to controlled substances. Maybe she should worry about that, but she just couldn’t bring herself to speak of it.
The ultimate truth was she was falling in love with him. McTavish’s comments aside, she knew where this was headed. She cared about him, and when they were apart she missed him with almost embarrassing intensity.
Part of her was certain he felt the same way, but they’d never spoken of that. They just spent whatever spare time they had together. Relationships might always start out that way, but the very young part of her brain told her it would always be that way.
Naïve. But she couldn’t find the energy to care.
As she was returning to her paperwork her cell rang, and she answered without really looking at the number. “Danielle Prince speaking.”
“I like your work voice.”
Immediately she smiled, leaning back in her chair. “How’d you know I was just thinking about you?”
“You’re always thinking about me.”
“I am.”
“You are. You have such a dirty mind. I’m exhausted just from what you’ve thought of me doing.”
She laughed, her cheeks warming even though she was alone. “You’re so bad.”
“And you wouldn’t want it any other way.”
Shaking her head, she tried to get control of the conversation. “What are you calling for?”
“For this barbecue tonight, you said you wanted to bring something?”
“Yeah. What do they need?”
“A shit-ton of ice. Can you grab about ten bags from that gas station on the way here?”
“Yeah. Is that all?”
“There’s too much fucking food as it is. That’s the only other thing we need.”
“Sure, I can do that.”
“You still nervous?”
Last night she’d stupidly told him the thought of meeting his friends was intimidating. He’d been concerned, even when she assured him once she was there she’d be just fine. Then, of course, he’d offered to run home for a quick fuck to relax her beforehand.
She was wondering if she’d declined that offer too hastily.
“I’m fine. I just had McTavish warn me to be careful with you.”
“Fuck, even McTavish wants to nail you? What are you wearing to work, anyway?”
She laughed at that, too loudly, and covered her mouth. “Jesus, that’s so wrong.”
“You’re not leaving me for him, are you?”
“Nah, I think I’ll stick around for a while longer.”
“You better.”
“Or else you’ll what?”
His chuckle was low, dirty, and pulled at something low in her belly. “Reconversion therapy. Something along the lines of tying you to the bed and many, many orgasms.”
“That sounds horrible.”
“Yeah. So, you better stay in line, Momma.”
His domineering tone was ridiculous, but she also loved it. Something about his playfulness, knowing that it transferred directly to their time in bed, turned her on, no matter where she was. “I’ll try. But how about letting me get back to work?”
“In a second. I’m serious; what are you wearing?”
-oOo-
“Come on, Mom! Jesus, you’ve already landed the guy. Why are you so stressed about what you’re wearing?”
Danielle smiled into her closet, eyes still failing to land on something to wear. With a light tone, she shouted back, “Just get your sister in the car!” But her stomach was actually rolling.
All her clothes were wrong. She had nothing in this closet remotely edgy, it all screamed either “office stooge” or “Mom.”
Why didn’t she go and get something just for this barbecue?
Her favorite jeans were already on, she was halfway there.
“Mom, wear this.” An arm shot into her view from nowhere and Danielle jumped three feet. Grace yanked a shirt off its hanger, holding it up. “This is c
ute. Leave it half-open over that camisole and you’re good.”
Danielle sighed, taking the shirt her daughter had grabbed. It was a black plaid blouse with white and silver running through. The sleeves were half-length, and its shape was tailored. She supposed it was the best she had to offer.
“Okay. Now where are the keys?”
“In my hand. Let’s go!”
“Where is your urgency coming from?” Danielle muttered, buttoning up the three bottom buttons of the shirt. “All these men are too old for you, Grace.”
“Ha ha. It’s not me. Annie’s already in the vehicle, bouncing up and down. I think she’s excited.”
Annie was, indeed, quite stoked. She was sitting next to two large Tupperware containers full of cupcakes she’d insisted on making for Knuckles’ birthday, kicking the back of the driver’s seat while she and Grace buckled up.
They picked up the bags of ice from the store, then pulled up to the curb in front of the clubhouse. Of course, she’d driven past the place before. She knew where it was, but she’d never stepped foot onto the property. No, her sixteen-year-old daughter was the one leading the way through the open chain link gates into the lot. At the back of the space was a motel, with nothing separating them. That was curious. She could only imagine who would stay at a motel that shared any part of its parking lot with a biker clubhouse.
At the doors, a young man in a kutte rushed forward to take the three bags Grace was carrying. With a shy smile her daughter pushed her hair behind her ear and just said, “Hi Spaz.”
That’s right, the kid Grace had been hitting on was named Spaz, she remembered Knuckles telling her that, too. Danielle had to admit the guy was cute, and he gave her a respectful head nod and held the door for Grace, then also took two bags of ice from Annie. “I got that, short stuff. Go on ahead.”
Annie giggled.
He nodded to Danielle, carrying the cupcakes, and she returned the chill greeting. “Just through here,” Spaz told her, leading her past the end of a bar into a short hallway.
It was awkward following him, especially since he didn’t talk to her, but when they got to the kitchen his smile was wide and he flipped open a deep freeze. “Here we go,” he said jovially. Then he took the cupcakes and found a spot for them in the busy and the surprisingly large, well-equipped kitchen. When their hands were free he offered her his. “I’m Spaz.”
“Hi, I’m Danielle. Or, Dani.”
“Nice to meet you.” Then he smiled down at Annie, who was sticking close to Danielle’s hip. She knew that shyness wouldn’t last long. “And you must be Annie. I’m told you’re a gear-head.”
“Yeah?” Her little girl looked terribly pleased. “I mean, yes. I’m Annie. Pleased to meet you.”
Spaz chuckled, then nodded to her oldest. “And I remember Grace. How you doing?”
Her daughter turned pink to her ears, but she kept her head high. “I’m good, thanks.”
“Come on through here, guys. Everyone’s meeting up in the hall.”
Back in the room they’d first come into, Danielle scanned the group for Knuckles. It was surprisingly full, and not just with men in kuttes. There were families here, with kids tearing around in groups, getting underfoot as women were setting up a huge buffet line along the wall next to the doors. If the place didn’t smell like old beer and half the people weren’t sporting tattoos and leather, it could have been any family function she’d ever been to.
“There’s a lot of people here,” Grace noted, and Danielle wondered at the loss of her confidence so suddenly.
“Yeah. It’s quite the party,” Danielle agreed, letting her eyes trail over the other women in the room. She couldn’t help it; her nervousness about meeting the club was back. And what she saw didn’t help at all.
It was painfully obvious that she did not fit in. The women she saw looked like they belonged; tight jeans, tight shirts, lots of skin on display. A lot of make-up, a lot of styled hair. She had never fell into the trap of wondering if she was pretty, but standing there right then she did not feel pretty. She felt old and dumpy.
“There’s Knuckles!” Annie shouted, and it brought Danielle out of her dark thoughts. He was approaching them, cutting through the crowd, grinning wide. Just seeing him she felt such relief she could have cried.
Annie ran at him, shrieking “Happy Birthday!” He caught her up in a big hug, lifting her right off her feet, laughing and giving her a big kiss on the cheek.
“Thanks, Curly,” he said, drawing nearer and setting her back on her feet. “Here’s the girl I’ve been looking for,” he said warmly, wrapping his arm around her waist. “Good to see you, Momma.”
Grace made a noise of disgust and Annie rolled her eyes, but in spite of all that and the people milling around, he kissed her right on the mouth, thoroughly enough to make her blush and set her heart racing. When he raised his head, he was smirking again, gave her a squeeze then stepped back. “Come on, I want you to meet Jayce.”
She knew Jayce was the president of the club, and that his two small children were supposed to be there, the oldest of which was a few years younger than Annie. She let him take her hand, then he pulled her through the crowd. Annie grabbed her shirttail as well, and Grace just followed with her head ducked down.
They approached three men, all in kuttes, and her stomach tightened up again. They turned at Knuckles’ “Hey!” She studied them quickly, noting how they did the same to her.
One was a giant mountain of a man with hair to his shoulders and a full beard, not long like Knuckles’ but still full and impressive. He had to be six and a half feet tall, and his smile was warm and genuine as he held out a hand roughly the size of a frozen turkey. “Hi, I’m Tank.”
Well, that name made sense. His smile eased some of her nerves, and she shook his offered mitt. “Hi. Danielle Prince.”
The next one she recognized, and as he held out a hand she was struggling to put the name to him. “Fritter,” he said easily, with a charming but quirky smile. “Nice to meet you, Danielle.”
His Southern accent added to his charm, and she remembered that this was Sharon Downey’s man. She’d seen him the day she’d assisted on the autopsy of Harlon Gray. “Nice to meet you too,” she said politely.
“You’re very tall,” Annie informed Tank, shaking his hand formally, then offering her hand to Fritter. “Where are you from?”
“I’m from Oklahoma, darlin’. You must be Annie.”
Yep, Knuckles had been telling his friend about her kids. Something about that made her stomach go kinda mushy and warm.
“I am. Is your name really Fritter?”
“Well, my real name is Mark.”
“No one uses their real names around here,” Annie mused, shaking her head.
“Well, I do,” said the third man, offering his hand to Annie first. “I’m Jayce McClune.”
“Is Jayce short for Jason?” she asked skeptically.
“Yep.”
“Close enough,” she declared and shook his hand. “I’m Annie.”
“And I’m Danielle,” she added, holding her hand out, nervous again. This was like meeting Knuckles’ boss. Wasn’t it? “And this is my oldest daughter, Grace.”
All three men shook hands with Grace, who didn’t say a word, just smiled. Catching her shyness, Fritter motioned across the room with a beer bottle. “There’s a few kids over there if you’re bored with us old farts. I think Sharon’s son is around the same age as you, his name’s Brayden.”
“Okay. Mom, is that cool?”
She nodded. “Go ahead. Annie, you want to go to? I think there’s other kids around here, too.”
“Lots of kids,” Jayce confirmed. “I got a son a little bit younger than you, too. And there he is. JJ!”
At the shout a little boy came shoving between her and Grace, a blur of blonde hair that flew right at his father’s legs.
“JJ, this is Annie. You wanna introduce her around?”
JJ eyed up the olde
r girl, then nodded. “Sure. Come with me. I think you’re in Adeel’s class, right?”
Annie nodded.
“He’s here, too. Follow me.”
They took off into the crowd and Danielle had a moment of worry. But this was a contained crowd of people, she suspected. Annie should be fine.
“Thank you,” she said, chancing a smile. “Annie can be a bit shy. She’s usually over it quickly, but that was nice.”
Jayce smiled easily, but there was something to his look that kept her on edge. Just a bit. He wasn’t being rude, but she couldn’t get over the feeling that he maybe didn’t trust her.
Yeah, that was it. There was distrust there.
“So, you’ve only been in Markham since last fall, right?” Fritter asked, taking a swig of beer.
“Right. We moved here in late September.” He seemed easy going, but Jayce kept her uneasy. So, she kept her eyes on Fritter.
“You must have had your oldest daughter young,” he said, bizarrely. “You look more like her sister.”
She couldn’t contain the laugh that brought out. “Wow. That’s smooth.”
Knuckles’ arm came around her waist, pulling her in tight. “Shut up, asshole. Or I’m telling Sharon.”
“She knows I’m charming and can’t help it. She doesn’t get jealous for no reason.”
“Don’t hit on my date.”
She had to smile at Knuckles. “He doesn’t stand a chance,” she assured him.
That brought outright laughter from Tank and Jayce, and Fritter just grinned. “Just wait until I really turn it on,” he promised. “She’ll be in love with me in two minutes.”
“You want me to hit him?” Knuckles asked, close to her ear but loud enough for his friend to hear. “Because I’ll happily hit him. Just say the word.”
At the thought of that she felt a little flutter but she shook her head. “It’s okay. But thank you.”
He quickly kissed her on the lips, and when she turned back to the other three men she noted that their expressions had changed. Most notably, Jayce’s eyes had lost their skeptical sharpness.
Shelter (Red Rebels MC Book 5) Page 29