Still Standing: Wild West MC Series

by Ashley, Kristen

  I shoved this thought aside and my feelings about it, beat back my urge to run out and grab that butt and put it out, because I had a feeling another fire was imminently going to start, and I needed to douse those flames early.

  And to do so, I kept my smile steady.

  “You must be Kristy and Knuckles,” I greeted in as friendly of a manner as I could muster as they got close.

  “Outta my way, bitch,” Kristy non-greeted back, and she made her demand so by shoving me out of the way and pushing into the house.

  I hit the very solid doorjamb, unfortunately doing this on my bruised shoulder, which made me flinch at the same time blink in shock as Knuckles walked right by me, his eyes sliding over me from head to toe, making me shiver, and this was in a bad way.

  “Fuck, tell me I did not just see you do that,” I heard growled, turned and looked into the house to see Buck in jeans, the top button undone. He was pulling a navy, long-sleeved tee down his cut abs as he stalked down the steps of the landing.

  I stepped in the house and closed the door behind me as Kristy spoke.

  Or, more to the point, shrieked.

  “Gear, Tat, get your asses packed and out to the car!”

  Uh-oh.

  “Clara, ass over here,” Buck clipped, and I didn’t hesitate.

  I moved swiftly.

  Giving Kristy and Knuckles a wide berth, I walked to Buck who was now standing a few feet away from the steps to the landing, feet planted, hands on his hips.

  I moved to stand behind and beside him, wrapping my arms around my middle.

  “Get outta my house,” Buck ordered, but Kristy’s eyes went from him to the landing where Tatie was standing, and her face got red.

  Or, redder.

  “Fuckin’ hell, fuck…in’…hell,” she snapped. “Girl! What am I always tellin’ you? Fuckin’ hell. Look at your fuckin’ face.” Her eyes cut to Buck. “And I’m always tellin’ you, you gotta get a handle on her. You don’t, she’ll find trouble, and fuckin’ look at her, out findin’ fuckin’ trouble under your watch!”

  I turned my head and saw Tatiana looking no less panicked, in fact shrunk into herself.

  Um.

  No.

  Wait.

  That would be, um…

  Hell to the fuck no.

  I looked at Kristy and opened my mouth to speak but Buck got there before me.

  “I said it once, I’ll say it one more time, then I’ll do somethin’ about it. Get…the fuck…outta my…fuckin’ house.”

  “Eat me, asshole,” Kristy shot back.

  Oh dear.

  Buck looked at Knuckles. “She had her warning, now you got yours. Get me?”

  Knuckles crossed his arms on his chest and scowled at Buck.

  Hells bells.

  It was going to be me, even though I really didn’t want it to be, who had to be the voice of reason.

  In order to do this, I stepped forward and spoke.

  “Okay, this is a tense situation and emotional. Understandable that tempers would get frayed. Why don’t we take a second, calm down, and I’ll get everyone coffee?”

  Kristy leaned my way and snapped, “Fuck you, bitch, and you can shove your fuckin’ coffee right up your fuckin’ ass.”

  “That’s it,” Buck bit out and was instantly on the move, and I knew enough not to stop him, but suddenly, we all heard, “Dad, don’t.”

  Gear was there on the landing at the top of the stairs, wearing nothing but his cutoff sweatpants.

  Buck stopped and turned his head to his son.

  “You get her out or I do it,” Buck stated.

  “I’m not leavin’ until my kids’ asses are in the Nova and I’m followin’ them down your drive,” Kristy stated.

  I stepped forward again and spoke to Kristy.

  “Listen, please. I can see you’re angry, but we’ve had a rough weekend, and this isn’t making it any better. Especially for Tatie. Now, I’m asking you, please—”

  “Especially for Tatie,” Kristy mimicked me, her voice pitched high, her face twisted even uglier. “She done a number on you or what? Especially for Tatie. Jesus, that girl is trouble. She was trouble the minute she pushed her way out, squawlin’ the whole fuckin’ time. She acts like she acts, shit is gonna happen. It happened. Practically every teenaged asshole with a dick has hit my daughter here and at home. Now she cries rape? Bullshit.”

  I stood in stunned, shocked, furious…no, enraged silence.

  Gear moved forward, and I noticed vaguely his movements were quick and angry as he said, “That’s not fuckin’ true and you know it!”

  I also noticed vaguely that the snake beside me had awoken, and I could sense enough poison emanating from Buck, it was a wonder we all didn’t drop where we stood just inhaling it.

  But me?

  Me?

  I lost my ever-loving mind.

  I lunged forward, and with every ounce of strength I had, I smacked Kristy Hardy Whatever-Her-Name-Was-Now hard across the face.

  Her head jerked to the side and immediately jerked back to straight, her hand to her cheek, her eyes huge and incensed, and she stared at me as I stepped even closer and got in her face.

  “Take that back!” I shouted at the top of my lungs.

  Kristy did not take it back.

  She pounced.

  She might have been a biker babe of a lot longer standing than me.

  But I grew up in foster care.

  Sometimes, it could get rough.

  And sometimes at school, kids could be cruel.

  You didn’t last long unless you learned how to defend yourself.

  It had been a long time, and I was in a robe and nightie, but I knew my way around a catfight.

  And she’d underestimated me, so I had surprise on my side.

  In no time at all, I got her on her back, straddled her chest, my knees in her biceps, incapacitating her arms (and her nails), and I bent into her face.

  “Now, take it back!” I screamed.

  “Fuck you!” she screamed back.

  I wrapped my fingers around her throat and screeched, “Take it back!”

  Suddenly, I was in the air, a strong arm around my middle, and then I was set on my feet. Buck got in front of me and shoved me back farther with a hand in my chest.

  “Jesus, Toots, calm the fuck down,” he ordered.

  I pushed against his hand at my chest and yelled at Kristy, “Take it back!”

  “Kiss my ass!” she yelled in return, getting to her feet at the same time pushing off Knuckles who was trying to help her up.

  Buck gave me a shove, and then he turned.

  I started to move but stilled and stared in complete and utter awe as Buck entered the fray and dealt with Knuckles and Kristy.

  Without delay.

  Kristy was first.

  He grabbed her wrist, dragged her, fighting, to the door, and hurled her out with such force she went flying. She flew into a chair, bounced off it, and landed on the wood on her behind.

  Knuckles went after her, or more accurately, Buck and he met head-on with a low roar.

  Buck was ready and he threw one punch. It connected with a hideous thud against Knuckles’ jaw and Knuckles flew back, stumbled and nearly dropped to the ground. He didn’t because Buck caught him by the throat, lifted and twisted him around and shoved him out the door.

  Knuckles came back at Buck swinging.

  His movements were lumbered, and Buck easily ducked. Knuckles missed.

  Buck came up, grabbed Knuckles’ head in both hands, then, with wondrous eyes, I watched as Buck headbutted him.

  Headbutted him!

  It was glorious!

  Before Knuckles could stagger back, Buck’s torso dipped low, his movements powerful, and he savagely connected with a fist between Knuckles’ legs.

  Knuckles fell to the deck on his knees with a heavy noise, his hands covering his crotch, his low groan painful to hear.

  After that, Buck straightened and point
ed at Kristy.

  “He recovers his junk, you get his ass in your car and get the fuck off my land. I don’t see you until Gear graduates. You don’t see Gear until tonight. That is, if my boy feels like goin’ home. You don’t see Tatie until next Sunday. That is, if she feels like goin’ home.”

  “The judge’ll hear about this,” she shrieked.

  “Do your worst,” Buck fired back, walked in, slammed the door, locked it and then turned to face me.

  Buck and I stood staring at each other, both of us frozen, but only me breathing heavily.

  I felt Gear’s and Tatiana’s presence, but my eyes were glued to Buck.

  Eventually, we heard the cough and roar of a tired, ill-kept engine, and then we heard gravel spew. Finally, we heard Kristy and Knuckles’ car careen down the drive.

  It was, I decided, time to move on to eggs Benedict and cake baking.

  “My turn to pick breakfast,” I announced into the noise void left behind when we could no longer hear the car. “Tatie told me so, and I pick eggs Benedict.”

  Buck’s head jerked slightly back.

  Then he asked, “Toots, are you shittin’ me?”

  I shook my head and crossed my arms.

  “No. Your waffles are awesome. Your French toast is ambrosia. But it’s time to branch out.”

  “Babe, you just wrestled on the floor with my kids’ mother,” he reminded me.

  “Yes,” I stated, my eyes slid to a gaping, still-astonished Gear, who was staring at me. “Sorry about that.” I looked behind me at Tatie, who was also gaping, clearly astonished as well and still slightly pale. “Tatie, honey, you too. Sorry.” I turned back to Buck. “But now, I’m hungry.”

  Buck studied me.

  Then he moved, sudden and swift.

  One second, he was standing just inside the door.

  The next, he was at me.

  Not at me.

  He had his arms around me just below my bottom, he hefted me up and swung me around, my calves flying, my torso listing drunkenly.

  He stopped, slid me down his body, and one arm stayed clamped around my waist as the other hand cupped the back of my head firmly, his head bent, and he kissed me, long, hard, and very wet, right in front of his kids.

  When he lifted his head, I was blinking, my stomach was melting, and my fingers were curled deep, holding on to his shoulders.

  “Think you just passed the biker babe initiation, Toots. You’re a full member now,” he declared, smiling down at me huge, his eyes dancing.

  I blinked again, heard Gear laugh, and Tatiana giggle.

  I’d done something to please him greatly, and I didn’t know if this was the fact that I went into smackdown with zero hesitation, my adversary his very-much-a-bitch ex-wife, if I did it in defense of his daughter, or both.

  However, he might declare me a biker babe, but I wasn’t certain I was one.

  Not yet.

  Catfight or not.

  And the proof of that was that I had to decide what a biker babe would do right then.

  I came up with saying, “Right, wonderful, but Buck, that doesn’t make me any less hungry.”

  He shoved my cheek to his chest, his arm around my waist squeezed the breath out of me, and I heard his roar of laughter.

  Both of the kids joined in.

  All right.

  So.

  This was what family was too.

  I didn’t know what to make of that.

  But at least this once, the side I was on came out on top.

  And I was down with that.

  23

  Pretty-Pretty

  I was in my super-sweet Charger on my way into town when my cell went.

  I dug through my purse on the passenger seat, pulled it out and looked at the display.

  It said Tatie Calling.

  Oh dear.

  It had been almost two weeks since the incident.

  We’d baked cake.

  We’d gone shopping, hit Urban Outfitters and Cost Plus World Market, and Tatie had done up her room.

  I was right. Buck had no problem (none whatsoever, in fact he’d said strangely, “It’s about time,” when I asked) loading me down in hundred-dollar bills to spoil his daughter the week after she was sexually assaulted.

  So we’d spruced up her space, and Tatie had a couple new outfits, some new shoes, jewelry and makeup, and a lovely new handbag.

  She’d come into the office with me every day, helping out or sitting on the couch doing homework assignments her teachers sent after Buck called the school.

  During one of these days, we finagled a talk with her, Debbie and the biker babes that went so amazingly well, I was shocked.

  Misery, however, loves company, and Tatie felt a lot less alone knowing that every woman in the room with her had had their fair share of jerks doing seriously jerky things and we all made it to the other side.

  It wasn’t a fun club to belong to, but she now knew she had her club, and in times like those, clubs like that were good things to have.

  Later in the week, Mrs. Jimenez got in her old clunker, drove to Ace and we went out to lunch, Mrs. Jimenez making Tatie smile, Tatie charming Mrs. Jimenez—as charming, I’d learned, was something Tatiana definitely could be.

  Gear had come back on Friday night, and we’d had a good weekend.

  And then Tatie made the decision, because of school, that she needed to go home.

  That hadn’t been so good, and it stayed not good.

  She called me all the time.

  Before school, at school, after school. Girls being mean to her, her mother being a screaming bitch.

  It was morning and that had to mean Kristy had started early.

  I engaged my phone and put it to my ear.

  “Hey, baby,” I greeted.

  “Mom’s a complete, fuckin’ bitch,” was Tatiana’s greeting.

  Yes, Kristy had started early.

  I sighed.

  “Tell me,” I invited, and she did, and she was right.

  Kristy was definitely a bitch, and she proved it every day.

  Tatiana finished with, “I’m callin’ Dad. I’m done with this shit. No one likes me in school anyway. It’s been years, but most of my friends are there, not here. I can switch schools, no problem. I wanna live with Dad.”

  “Okay, but you need to get to school now. I’ll talk to him later and have him call you.”

  “No fuckin’ way, I hate it there. I’m ditchin’ today.”

  Right.

  This was very bad.

  She might have acted out, but I’d discovered that grades were important to her.

  And grades were important to her because she was charming, but she was also smart. School smart. Book smart. And smart enough to know, if she got an education, eventually, she’d find it easier to gain independence, and she would be able to get away from her mother.

  Thus, the only reasons she went home were because she was worried her grades would suffer and, “Gear can’t be with them all by himself. He’ll get the lot of it and that’s not cool.”

  Gear getting “the lot of it” further did not make her father happy, or me.

  It wasn’t okay Tatie was facing whatever was happening up there.

  The both of them?

  But, for now…

  “No, Tatie, don’t. Go to school, tough it out. Your dad will call you later.”

  “Fuck that!” she snapped.

  I had learned to pick my battles with Tatie, and addressing her cursing tended not to take priority when assessing the bigger picture.

  Like now.

  “Tatie, sweetie, listen to me. You know the only person you hurt is yourself if you don’t go to school. Learn. Be smart. Try to ignore the stuff around you. I know it’ll be hard, but concentrate on your teachers, your books, your assignments. Each minute that passes is a minute closer to getting away. When you get home, go to your room, avoid your mom, and your dad will call you the first chance he gets. I promise. Listen to me, o
kay?” She was silent so I prompted, “Tat? Okay?”

  “You don’t mind,” she stated bizarrely.

  “Mind what?”

  “That I come and live with you and Dad.”

  I felt my brows draw together. “Of course not. It’s your house, why on earth would I mind?”

  She was silent again, and when she spoke, I had to concentrate to hear her, her voice was so quiet.

  “You’re the shit, Toots. I’ll go to school.”

  On that, I heard her disconnect, and I turned off my phone, feeling that warm sweetness rushing through me.

  I’d tossed the cell aside, and it barely bounced on the seat when it rang again.

  I snatched it back up, keeping my eyes on the road, but I chanced another look at the display.

  It said Buck Calling.

  I took the call and put the phone to my ear.

  “Hi,” I greeted.

  “Where the fuck are you?” he replied, sounding gruff and sleepy.

  And annoyed.

  I blinked at the road.

  A week ago, he gave the all clear for me to move around without a bodyguard. He told me that Esposito was firmly out of the picture (and fortunately, he didn’t go into detail about that, but I got the gist) and my “shit was cool.”

  I was relieved.

  I hadn’t really noticed it, but it was nice to be able to get in the car and go to the grocery store or pop out to get donuts for the boys without an escort.

  Life felt normal again.

  That was, normal for a biker babe.

  “Didn’t you see my note?” I asked.

  “Yeah, Toots, saw it, can read, so I read it. But, deal is, you wake me, you go down on me, I go down on you, or both, I fuck you, and we go to work together.”

  This was the deal, though I hadn’t exactly signed a contract, just fallen into a rather enjoyable habit.

  “You got home late last night.”

  He had. It was poker night with the boys at the Dive.

  These were not scheduled, they were haphazard. He’d had a couple of them before.

  And last night was one.

  “Yeah, so?” he replied.

  “Very late.”

  “Right. So?”

  “Very, very late.”

  “Clara,” he growled his warning.

  “I thought you’d want to sleep in.”