Papa Noel: Holiday RBMC Tonopah, NV

by Nikki Landis

  When I stared into her eyes, my Reaper fought hard to break free. He wanted to claim her for us both. “You’re welcome. Better get this little guy to bed. I’ll help.”

  I shifted and picked up the kid, cradling him close as I followed Bess into his room. She pulled down the covers and I placed him down, amused by the way he mumbled in his sleep about Christmas trees. Bess pulled off his shoes and tucked him, leaning down to kiss his little button nose.

  “Night, Noah. Love you.”

  She left the door cracked as we exited and I fought hard not to pull her into my arms and ravage her mouth before I pushed her up against the wall and took her hard and fast, just like she mentioned at the Urgent Care.

  “There’s something you need to understand about me, sugar. I’m a biker. An old man. I know what I want and what I like. I don’t do soft and gentle when it comes to women. I fuck hard and I like to give as much pleasure as I receive.”

  Bess bit her lip and her thighs clenched together as she leaned against the wall, absorbing my words.

  “I never wanted to take things slow, not since I lost Emma. She was Colter’s mother.”

  Bess blinked. She didn’t interrupt but I could see she was piecing what she knew together with what I was saying.

  “We had Colter young. I was only eighteen and right out of high school. I’ve led a hard life and losing them both fucking killed me. I’m a difficult man. I don’t bullshit or say things I don’t mean. And I don’t hold back. It’s not my way.”

  Bess opened her mouth but shut it again.

  “I want you, sugar. I want to take you into your room and make good on all the promises and sexual need that keeps bouncing back and forth between us. I won’t lie to you when I say I’ve had a lot of women. Sex is just a release for me. When I lost Emma and then Colter, I became a man who locked his heart away. What I feel for you, for Noah, it fuckin’ terrifies me.”

  “Jayce,” she whispered.

  “But since I’ve met you, that’s all changed. I’m feeling things I can’t explain and don’t make sense. There’s a part of me that wants to hold you close and keep you both sheltered. Opening myself up, it’s the scariest thing I’ve done in nearly twenty years. I’m fifty-three, Bess.” Using her real name meant a lot to her. I could see the emotion in her eyes. “There’s got to be over twenty years between us. You’re so young. I don’t know if it’s wise to keep this up.” I ran a hand over my beard and stepped closer. “When I look into your eyes, I see a beautiful woman that needs protection and love. A man that can promise forever. Someone reliable that won’t break two vulnerable hearts. I don’t know if I can be that man, sugar.”

  “And if I think you are?”

  “Fuck, little mama. I want us both to take tonight. No rushing into this. If you still feel the same way when I come over for dinner, then we’ll take this to the next level. If not, I’ll understand.”

  My Reaper didn’t like that compromise at all. He was fighting mad and I had to clench my fists to keep myself in check.

  “Alright.” She gave me a mischievous smile. “Better not change your mind.”

  “I won’t, honey lips. Guarantee that.”

  “Why do you have so many tattoos?”

  This kid never lacked for conversation or questions. Curious and ready to learn every minute of the day. Reminded me far too much of Colter at that age. He was the same scrawny kid that was always following me around and wanting to know shit.

  “I like them,” I answered, giving him a smile. “They look tough.”

  Noah’s eyes grew wide. “Do you need tattoos to be tough?”

  I shook my head. “Nope. But some men use that as an excuse to be mean. You know the difference between tough and mean?”

  Noah shivered in the cold and I wondered if he needed a heavier jacket. Space heater in my garage was giving off a good amount of heat but if you ventured more than about six feet away you felt the bite of the chilly December wind.

  “I think so. Mean is mad and hitting and nothing works to stop it.”

  Interesting. “Well, I suppose that might be true for some.”

  “Tough is like wrestlers, right? They fight but they don’t hurt.”

  Something about the way he said that sent warning bells into my head. “Yeah, pretty close, son.”

  “Then I would like to be tough but not mean. Like you.”

  Fuck. That went straight to my black heart.

  “I think you are, Booga.” He giggled at the nickname. “You were brave when you had the accident and tough when they put on the cast.”

  “Then I need to get a tattoo.”

  Coughing at his words as I took a sip of beer and it went down the wrong pipe, I had to resist the urge to laugh hard. Bess sure wouldn’t like that.

  “I think you’ll have to wait until you get a little older.”

  “Will you take me?”

  “I want a tattoo, Dad.”

  “You sure? There’s no going back once you’re inked and it’s damn addictive.”

  “Yep. Will you take me?”

  “When?”

  “Now. Today.”

  There wasn’t anything on this earth that I wouldn’t have given him, and Colter knew it. A brother from the club had a cousin with his own tattoo shop. We drove to the location and stepped inside, greeting a few of the staff. Colter pulled a drawing from his jeans and handed it over to the artist who showed us into a room.

  “You sure this is what you want?” I asked, staring at the design on the paper.

  “Yeah, Dad. I’ve been saying it for a long ass time.”

  Kid sure knew how to push my buttons. “Watch it, birthday boy.”

  Colter was sixteen today. What did he want to do? Get a fuckin’ tattoo of the Tasmanian Devil. His favorite cartoon since he was little.

  My son ticked his head in my direction. “Well, pop?”

  “Yeah,” I agreed, shaking my head with humor, “Give him what he wants.”

  Diablo grinned wide. He was a talented artist. Guy liked to get dirty. He was as skilled with ink as he was with carnage and blood. Had a reputation as a tough bastard and someday I was gonna convince him to patch into the club. We could use a brother with his talents.

  “Where you want it, Colter?”

  “My right forearm. Gonna look kickass. Bet Ro likes it too.”

  Diablo snorted and I couldn’t help chuckling. This kid.

  Oh, to be young again and want to impress a sweet piece of ass.

  Diablo began to work, and Colter didn’t make a sound the entire time. Just winced once or twice on the parts where the needle had to go over repeatedly with dark ink. Brave as hell and twice as fearless.

  “All done. Take a look, Colter.”

  Diablo backed away after giving him a final swipe to remove the blood and applying some kind of ointment over the skin. Tattoo was badass and on my son’s arm it was fuckin’ perfect.

  “Fuck. That’s perfect. Isn’t it, Dad?”

  I ignored his language and gazed at his reflection in the mirror. Kid was gonna break hearts. Too damn handsome and intelligent. Book smart like his mama. Street smart like me. One lethal combination.

  When the day came, I’d be proud as hell for him to prospect with the Royal Bastards MC.

  “Sure is, son.”

  “Santa?”

  Blinking, I knew I had done it again.

  A part of me didn’t want to return to reality and the agony that Colter was gone. I didn’t want to breathe through every single minute haunted by the ghost of my son and his memory. Noah’s brown eyes were almost the same shade and it was a special sort of torture to gaze into the innocence within and know that while my son had been cruelly taken away this boy had been abandoned and unloved by his own father.

  No, Bess hadn’t said much. She didn’t have to elaborate for me to put the pieces together.

  My chest ached for both boys and the fact that I could never live up to what this kid in front of me needed. I was
too old, too broken. I kept trying to convince myself that tonight I should just draw the line and walk away. Wasn’t working.

  “You seem upset,” Noah observed, plopping his bottom down on the concrete floor of the garage. “Don’t you want me to get a tattoo?”

  “It’s too cold to sit there and not too comfortable for your arm.” I didn’t answer his question yet and walked over, pulling a folding chair from a nearby shelf. Popping it open, I gestured to the kid. “Sit here closer to the heater. You can use this when you come over. Then you won’t freeze your ass or dangle that arm in the air.”

  Noah sat in the chair and kicked his legs back and forth as they dangled. “This is comfy.”

  I leaned against my workbench and tried to come up with something that wouldn’t sound harsh. “I haven’t set foot in a tattoo parlor in a long time.”

  “Why not?”

  “Someone I cared about,” I nearly choked, “They died a long time ago and loved tattoos too.”

  Noah tilted his head. “Is that why you get sad?”

  Was there anything that escaped this kid’s notice? “Yeah.” Didn’t hurt to admit the truth.

  “Then I won’t ask you again. I don’t want to make you sad.”

  “Thanks.”

  Silence stretched between us, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. This kid had an old soul. Something about him was special. He could read people easily and seemed in tune with their emotions in a way I rarely saw with anyone, including adults.

  “You hungry? Thirsty?”

  “Nope. Mama made a big pot of chili mac.”

  Damn. That sounded good. It was growing colder over the last few days. Probably snow soon. The last storm blew over without too much precipitation, but this felt different. My bones nearly ached with the change I could feel coming.

  “Mama said we had a lot, and she was going to give you some. She told me to tell you not to be late.”

  Fuck. She was so perfect. Not a thing I learned about Bess that I didn’t like. That included her son.

  Super weird. Most women annoyed the hell out of me after only a few minutes. In bed, I didn’t mind the noise or chatter. The louder, the better. Cry my name to the fuckin’ rooftops ’cause I knew what the fuck I was doing with a woman’s body.

  With Bess, it was unlike anything I’d ever known. Even with Colter’s mother.

  “Got something I need you to do for me, son.”

  Noah perked up. “Sure!”

  “My dog Savage is getting lonely lately. I’ve been busy. You think if I gave you a spare key you could pop in the house and play with him for a few minutes and make sure he’s got food and water for me? I’ll give you $10 a day.”

  His eyes widened. “Wow! Yeah, I can check on Savage. Can I meet him now?”

  I opened the door to the house and Savage came barreling through, practically knocking the little squeaker over. Noah was laughing hard as Savage covered him in saliva. Dog was completely worthless as any kind of guard.

  “He’s friendly.”

  “Sure is.” I grabbed the spare key off the hook in my kitchen and handed it over to Noah. “Keep is safe. Don’t lose it.”

  “I won’t,” he promised.

  “It’s to the back door which lets you in through the kitchen. Dogfood is in the pantry there.”

  “I won’t forget.”

  Didn’t think he would.

  We walked back outside after a few minutes. That was when I noticed Bess’s voice carried in the wind as she called out for Noah.

  “Better get home, son.”

  “Bye, Santa!” he yelled as he jumped up from the seat and ran from the garage, his little legs pumping fast as he crossed the driveway toward home.

  “Later, kid.”

  “Mercy, you got a minute?”

  He picked up on the second ring and I heard his gruff tone. “Avenger. Everything okay with the sparrow?”

  “Yeah. Need to talk to you though.”

  As soon as I hung up, I planned to text and check in. This was month four since the sparrow relocated to Tonopah. I needed to make sure they were alright before the holidays.

  “What you got?”

  “Club is looking for some new business ventures. Grim wants to meet. Looking to invest in Hope’s Refuge.”

  “I see. Well, looks like fate has plans to help that along. I just dropped a sparrow in Reno.”

  That was convenient. “Can you ride to the Crossroads? It’s right outside of Tonopah.”

  “Text me the address and I’ll see you in a few hours.”

  We hung up and I gave Mercy the info. Grim was thrilled when I passed the message along. Church was postponed until after the meet, so I headed over to grab a beer before Mercy arrived.

  Three hours later he pulled onto the lot and was ushered in by one of the prospects.

  Mercy walked into the chapel and Grim’s eyes widened. It was the only visible clue that the image wasn’t what Grim expected. I hid a snicker since I’d had the same reaction the first time that I bumped into the 6’5” monster of a man who stood in front of us with a knowing grin.

  “Papa, nice to see you,” he rasped. “The only ghost I like to bump into in the light of day.”

  No shit. We were named ghosts for a reason. Not one of us met and we kept our communications strictly business. The situation with me and Mercy was unique and that had everything to do with Murder and Lily.

  Mercy’s gaze locked on mine. A black heart was tattooed under his right eye and attached to a web that was pulled from the bottom and stretched all the way down his neck where a black widow spider crawled along most of his throat on the same side. Under the left eye were three teardrops for the three men he killed in prison to avenge the woman he loved and lost.

  His barrel-shaped chest was covered in red flannel and a full-length black leather trench coat that brushed the top of the combat boots her wore. Dark jeans covered his thick legs that resembled tree trunks more than limbs. MERCY was tattooed across the knuckles of his right hand while another black widow spider covered his left hand. All of his fingernails were painted black.

  Peeking beneath the jacket were leather shoulder holsters that held at least two weapons. I was betting that coat had multiple pockets that held more concealed within. Completely bald, he wore black sunglasses that were tugged off and shoved into a nearby pocket, exposing the icy blue color of his eyes.

  He wasn’t as big as Mammoth but still one of the most intimidating men I’d ever met.

  “Mercy. Always a pleasure.” He grunted at my words. “Glad you could make it. This is the pres of the Royal Bastards MC. Grim, meet Mercy. The official leader of the ghosts and Hope’s Refuge.”

  Grim held out a hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Mercy.”

  They clasped hands and shook hard as Mercy sauntered forward. “I’ve heard about you and your club too. Interesting thing you all do.”

  Grim cracked a smile. “That’s one way to describe it. Can I get you a drink?”

  “Jameson. Neat.”

  Grim went to the bar on the side of the room and poured a few drinks, handing over the whiskey to Mercy. I tossed back my own and took a seat, watching their interaction with interest.

  “Heard you’re lookin’ to invest.” Mercy didn’t sit down, just stayed put as he slowly savored his drink. “Got to tell you, that’s good to hear.”

  Grim leaned back in his seat after taking a couple of shots. “Glad you’re on board. I’m thinkin’ you know what our Reapers are capable of. We’re added security and we can help keep Hope’s Refuge from financial stress.”

  “Money isn’t usually an issue, but it’s been a rough year. Had more trouble than I can keep up with alone.”

  “Then this is mutually beneficial.”

  “I think so. All that’s left is hammering a few of the details out.”

  Grim smiled. “Then we should get started.”

  “Get the fuck up, bitch.”

  I awakened to the voice I knew and
feared as I was dragged from the safe and warm cocoon of my bed by the hair. My scalp stung as Chet’s fist held on with a tight grip and tugged hard as I tried to fight him off. My feet couldn’t find traction and slipped on the smooth surface as my knees slammed down on the hardwood flooring.

  I cried out as his palm hit my right cheek and the skin burned.

  “Feeling brave tonight, huh?”

  Scrambling away, I held up my hands as if I had any chance of him leaving me alone. The expression on his face was pure fury. I knew the look. It was no surprise and certainly wasn’t anything new. I’d grown accustomed to the hatred that took up permanent residence in those cold blue eyes.

  When I didn’t answer for fear of angering him further, he snarled.

  Chet grabbed my feet and yanked my body backward, flipping me over onto my stomach as I clawed at the wood with my fingernails. It was foolish to try to crawl away. He’d never allow it. My hair was grabbed again, and my head tilted back far enough that I was sure my neck would snap. He smiled with a loathing I couldn’t fathom before my mouth smashed into the wooden floor. I tasted blood and my vision blurred as the impact jarred the bones on my face.

  All I could do was remain rigid as the room spun and I closed my eyes.

  I was vaguely aware of my pajama bottoms and underwear being cruelly yanked away. My own nakedness and exposure. Helplessness. Submission.

  In my mind, I was someplace else. I’d already retreated far into the deep and untouchable area that he couldn’t reach. A special little corner tucked away where no one could find me. My body was being roughly abused but Chet couldn’t touch this one place. My safe haven buried in my thoughts.

  The brutal invasion and subsequent pain hardly registered. Nothing more than a minor horror of which I’d experienced multiple times before tonight. I was thankful that these sexual assaults had been confined to the nighttime hours or when Noah was in school. I didn’t have to worry that my son would see his father hurting his mother like this.