by Paula Cox
Those were his father’s words and something that the lying, raping scum that was Eric Stiles should heed if he dared to cross his path again. Because Lena would never be his. Not a chance.
Turning the corner, he remembered Aggie Monroe setting the pistol aside. Her crooked teeth curled into a bright smile, and she pushed her flaming red hair behind her ears as she lifted her little boy into her arms.
When my Jackson is older, Mommy’ll teach you how to shoot. No one but no one is ever going to mess with my little man.
He was only ten when she made good on her promise. Taking her son by the hand, Aggie walked him away from the house and set a couple empty beer bottles on a series of stray stumps. And then, in the same way that he had just shown Lena, Aggie advised him to take aim and fire. The little boy’s finger trembled around the trigger, but Aggie rested her palms on his shoulder and ducked down close to his ear. You have nothing to be afraid of. Any boy of mine is a born marksman. I believe in you, Jax.
His lip still quivered, and he briefly released the gun to wipe the sweat from his brow. Looking up into his mother’s eyes, the child expected to see her impatient and frustrated by his failure to fire. But Aggie only smiled softly and caressed his flushed cheek. You can do it, Baby. Trust in your Mama’s words.
And doing just that, Jax remembered planting his feet more firmly into the ground. The beer bottle seemed a million miles away until he narrowed his eyes and fixed his stare on his target. He pushed his finger into the trigger, and started where he stood when the bullet left the chamber. He kept the gun steady as he slammed his eyes shut and turned his head away. But at the sound of the glass shattering and his mother’s thunderous round of applause, the little boy looked up in a state of hopeful shock. Aggie sank to her knees and gently pried the gun from her son’s hands. There it is! I told you you could do it!
She rewarded his efforts with a quick kiss to his cheek, and when Jax excitedly told her he wanted to give it another go, Aggie’s face beamed with pride and she pointed to the remaining bottles. Have at it, little man. Think of how proud your father will be when he comes home.
His mother was as good as her word; Nathan Monroe slapped his son on the back soon after he cracked open a beer under the force of his teeth and spit the bottle top into the sink. That’s my boy, Jax! Can’t wait to hand you the reins one of these days.
Just see to it that that doesn’t happen for a good long while.
He watched his mother wind her arms around the big man’s meaty neck and pull him close for a quick kiss. Neither ever made any bones about showing their feelings under his nose. And he kind of liked that. Nice to be loved and know that as long as they were together, not one bad thing was ever going to happen to him.
“Shit!”
Slammed back to reality by a sharp turn he nearly missed, Jax grinded his bike to a halt and drifted into the skid to keep from wiping out. His breath heaved in his chest as he dismounted slowly and checked the chopper. The smell of burning rubber wafting into his nose brought his eyes to the tires, and he was grateful to find no punctures in the wheels. Ready to climb back on and keep going, he swiftly realized his hands were shaking, and even though he knew he had little to no time to waste, he told himself a few seconds now might make the difference down the road, and he reached into his jacket for his pack of smokes. Striking a match against the heel of his boot, he inhaled deeply and rested his head to the bark of a tree.
Just see to it that that doesn’t happen for a good long while.
Even then, time was not on their side. Supposed to be a simple collection. Not Tom Sullivan that time, but still a derelict who paid or at least spun a story to buy more time. No need to take backup; Nathan Monroe promised his wife he’d be home in time for supper, so she kept the steaks waiting. And waiting.
Looking back, Jax took another drag and hated himself for whining and saying they should just start without him. Aggie was never one to raise her hand to her child, but she did form a fist that came crashing down on the tabletop. Show some respect, boy. Your father does all of this for you. And he deserves to sit down to a proper family dinner.
But it never came. Only the roar of the crew’s choppers, and he remembered his mother flinging the front door open wide as Artie took the lead with slumped shoulders and struggled to speak.
Aggie, I I don’t know how to say this.
But he didn’t have to. His mother quickly connected the dots when she saw the somber faces surrounding her stoop. Somehow she kept her head high as her son tentatively took her hand and listened to the sound of her mother’s voice.
I want him laid out in his leathers. Whatever else you boys had on tap for the next few days is cancelled. You will pay tribute, or I’ll see that each and every one of your posers is patched out.
No one argued, and Aggie’s jaw stayed like steel until her husband was lowered into the ground. Only when they returned to the house alone did she finally collapse into a heap of sobs, and Jax remembered awkwardly placing his arms around her back when she shrugged him off and ran her hands across her face. I’m all right. You didn’t see this. You forget right now, little man.
After that, he forgot a lot of things: her smile, her laugh. Aggie moved through her day-to-day like a corpse above ground, and as the club languished in misdirection, Jax took hold of his father’s gun, planning then to take the reins and set matters straight.
But before he could make the move, Aggie Monroe finally grinned again.
This is Eric Stiles. He gives me his word he’ll keep the club safe for you. And when you’re ready to inherit, Jax, everything will be at your fingertips.
Flicking his finished smoke aside, Jax mounted his bike and rode hard. From the start, he hadn’t trusted Eric Stiles. Man had to be something of a vulture to swoop in and curry Aggie’s favor. There were others far more worthy of holding down the fort until he came of age. But something that he didn’t see, that he only heard from behind closed doors led his lonely mother to make her choice. He tried to tell himself that at least she was happy, that that was something.
Until she was gone, and he had no idea why.
Crazy thing, Jax. Guess it’s something that she like left you a note.
Jax remembered reading it with watering eyes.
Jackson, this is the best way. Eric can teach you everything else you need to know. I’m done here. Don’t want to do this anymore.
The words were like a punch in the gut, and as Jax raced down a steep incline, he blinked back fresh tears and cringed at the memory of Eric turning him towards his face.
Tough break, Kid. But no sense going all pussy over it. I got your back. I’m your old man now.
What other choice did he have? His father was dead, his mother off for parts unknown because… because why? Did she suddenly get bored? Was Eric too far from everything that she had ever hoped for? But why leave her son?
When he thought of how Eric had dealt with Lena, he knew something wasn’t adding up.
The day grew darker as a turnoff captured his attention. Waverly. During all the years that his mother was gone, rumors still swirled that she was ensconced in the arms of another crew, and Waverly was the blip on the radar that suggested where she might be keeping herself scarce. The stable of the Silver Horses, and Jax held back when he heard the sound of another rider peeling through the nearby trees. Taking cover under the branches, Jax saw a shimmering stallion emblazoned on the back of a large man’s leather. Holding his breath until he was sure the man was far enough away to not catch his scent, Jax followed at a careful distance and felt for his gun. Not that he wanted to shed any blood; he was trying, hoping to make friends with these steeds. But if anyone dared to challenge him, he would take the shot so he could make his way back to Lena.
Gun is no danger to anyone if a body knows how to handle it. No one but the fool who tries to take what isn’t is.
The unfamiliar rider came to a stop before a rundown farmhouse, the man’s bike one of many. The m
an who Jax pursued was met by what had to be a friend, and when Jax saw another silver horse, he knew that he had the right place. Not knowing if his mother were here or not, he still had no choice but to try his luck with these rivals. Sure his father had to be rolling around in his grave, but Jax would still see if he could summon some aid. Like they wouldn’t take on the chance to put Eric and the Black Legion in their place, and Jax advanced with surer steps when something hard and flat crashed into the back of his head. Groaning in pain, Jax lost his gun and tried to face the source of his attack when a fist slammed into his jaw. His arms flailed wildly as he stumbled to the grass, and as he felt his body dragged to some unknown location, his focus fell away, and everything went dark.
Chapter Twenty
Once Jax was gone, Lena tried her hand at the gun again. Even without his strong hands and the feel of his warm breath trailing down her neck, Lena was able to take the shot and send more cans flying. Proud of her efforts, she wished he was there, that he would come back and see what a sure shot she was. Lena thought she heard his bike come to a halt, and she ran towards the front of the house, hoping to see him already on his way back. She wanted to go with him, to be with him always. Biting down on her lip as she waited, her heart sank when the sound of the bike disappeared. Not him. Probably just some weekend warrior trying to get his rocks off, and she retreated back into the house and set the gun aside.
The feel of the empty space weighed down on her heart, and she slowly walked back to the bed. Falling into the rumpled sheets, she brought the linens close to her nose and inhaled more of his lingering scent. Lena curled to her back and imagined that he was still in her arms when the sound of a snapping twig just beyond the window caused her to shoot up straighter and push the sheets aside.
Maybe it was just another deer, maybe something far more sinister. She slipped into her shoes, nothing else but his t-shirt at her back as she retrieved the gun and poked her head out the front door.
Lena saw blades of grass blowing in the breeze, and she squinted at the sight of the sun creeping higher into the sky. Daylight should bring a kind of comfort, but without Jax close, she felt exposed and quickly closed the door, retreating to the sanctuary of an abandoned closed as she huddled with the gun.
His mother. To hear her uncle tell it, it was a fool’s errand if ever there was one. Aggie Monroe? Little redhead couldn’t wait to get someone else between the sheets. And her legs. Some true wife, huh?”
Sure he was five sheets to the wind, and Lena knew, or at least should have known, better to believe anything he said when he got like that. But it wasn’t just Uncle Tom. The word all over Deerfield was that Aggie Monroe got a taste a real man after her husband’s death, and she wanted Eric Stiles to take off at her side and never look back. But soon the word was that Eric kept his mind on the club and a dead man’s son.
The boy’s mother couldn’t be bothered with either, and in a flash she was gone. There were days beside the creek when Lena dared to press the point, but in those moments, Jax’ face grew hard, and the sharp line of his jaw had scared her into silence. She did nothing more than take his hand and rest her head against his shoulder.
“Jax, what didn’t you tell me?” she asked herself. “Why do you think she can help you now?”
Lena lingered in the closet for long minutes, but when the house stayed silent around her, she remembered that Jax wanted her safe and sure. And if he came back to find her cowering in a closet, he would kick himself for leaving. And Lena wanted to savor the sight of his return.
She kept the gun in her hands and left the house. Moving around the perimeter, she saw nothing but an endless expanse of grass, and she felt grateful for the lack of trees. Better to see anyone who might sneak up. But it still made her something of an open target just waiting for the next shoe to fall.
Stop it! He’s coming back. He won’t leave me now.
Clinging to that hope, Lena returned to the sheets and slowly set the gun down at the edge of the bed. If, when, he returned, she would want to feel him inside her again, his fingers surrounding her sides. And he would be tired. Probably filthy from the road. She imagined dragging him back to the shower and scrubbing the grime from his flesh, stopping only to kiss his cock and stroke him to a place where he would have no choice but to lift her from the shower floor with damp, rippling arms and bring her back to the bed. He would smile when he saw how she had prepared the place for his return, and as she folded the sheets around the corners of the mattress, Lena pressed her hands between her legs and sank back to the bed at the memory of his cock.
Lena’s stoke was slow, softer compared to the feel of him finding and claiming her cunt. But still she could almost see his eyes when she pushed deeper, and as her hips rocked against the power of her own hand, Lena arched her back and sighed at the feel of her body releasing. It was impossible; how could she want this so much after what Eric had put her through? But it was so very different with Jax. Hot to be sure, but also tender and caring, his hands gentle even as he marked her as his own. The sentence seemed long, but she felt sure that she would wait forever.
Slipping into sleep, Lena saw him come back, full of tales of triumph and assurances that they only had to make one more hard ride. In her dreams, he spoke of an even safer house and told her that nothing would ever come between them again. She felt his lips crushing into hers, and Lena saw no need to dress further as he led her away from the house. A veritable cavalry was suddenly at her eyes and their disposal, and Lena smiled into his neck when another roar hit the hair and turned her blood cold.
No… no it can’t be…
Eric Stiles dismounted and felled Jax with a single blow before he pulled her protesting body close to his chest. I’ll take her now. Want to have some more fun with her.
Lena started from her sleep with a sharp scream, and he eyes moved around the room. She took little comfort in the realization that she was still alone, but she fell to the gun again and curled her finger around the trigger. “I won’t let you touch me again,” she hissed under her breath. “Never.”
She set the gun aside for all of a second, her eyes fixed on the window until the moment when her gaze was covered by his shirt lifting up over her face. Shuddering around the space of her nakedness, Lena started to dress when she thought better of it. I need him at my back. Even without him, I like living in his skin.
Stepping through the silence and the smell of the barely-touched oatmeal, Lena started to fall back into the memory of his hands when a shadow passed across her face. Maybe nothing, maybe just a wild animal seeking shelter as the day started to turn to night. But Eric Stiles was his own brand of beast, and Lena was ready to face him head on when she stepped to the porch and took aim.
Only the wind seemed to move around her body, up her legs, and yet she still turned at the sound of something moving just a few feet away. She would ask questions later and fire hard. “Oh no…”
A tiny skunk scampered away on stubby legs in the wake of her shot and, despite the stench, Lena was grateful for the lack of spray. She still wished she had looked harder before flying off the figurative handle. What if it had been Jax, crawling back on his belly in an effort to get back to her side? She told herself she had to be far more careful with her trigger finger as she headed back to the house and locked the door behind her. He’s fine. I’m fine. I promised him that I’d wait. I…
She cleaned up their unfinished breakfast and dried her hands with a towel as soon as the dishes were set aside. Sitting at the table, Lena gripped the edge and kept her gaze on the gun. She wouldn’t be so quick to fire again. She would wait until he was back and ready to take her into his arms again. Then there would be no need for any bullet.
It felt so long without him; it seemed even longer, and when she finally raced back to the gun and felt the steel in her hand. Keeping the pistol close to her thigh, she heard a single motor creeping up the lane. It’s him! It has to be him!
Lena set the gun aside and mo
ved to take him into her arms. She nearly felt her lips crashing into his cheeks and danced towards an approaching bike when her eyes narrowed at the sight of a hulking figure moving through the shadows. Big and broad, but not Jax. Whishing she had kept the gun closer, she hurried back to the house and picked up the pistol.
“I’m going to be here for him,” she said. “No way I’m just taking off without one word why.”
Returning to the porch, Lena took aim. Ready to fire at the first sight of any harm, she watched with carful eyes as a big man left his bike. His shoulders swirled closer as he stepped forward, and Lena kept her gaze on the target.
Chapter Twenty-One
Jax tried to speak, but only a slurred groan left his lips as he was half-carried, half dragged towards the unfamiliar house. He heard strange voices in the distance questioning his presence. But the words were not for him. Only for the giant bringing him deeper into the unknown.