And then come to a screeching halt as I register his leather jacket.
My lip curls as I recognize the familiar patches and placement. I’m all the way across the diner, but I don’t have to read them to know what they say.
Lords of Carnage MC.
Ugh.
The Lords of Carnage are a local biker club here in Tanner Springs. They’re an outlaw MC, from what I hear. Tanner Springs and the surrounding area is their territory.
The Downtown Diner is a hangout of the club’s. Groups or pairs of them have stopped in for a meal more than a few times since I started working here — though never this particular one. At least not during my shift.
The Lords eat at the Downtown Diner for free. And there’s a reason for that.
Penny explained it to me during my first week. The Lords run protection for a bunch of businesses in Tanner Springs, and the diner is one of them. Which means that Dick Dawson pays them some amount of money every month, in exchange for which they make sure the diner stays safe from any criminal elements that might be in the area.
That’s the line Penny gave me, anyway.
Not that Penny would know it, but I’m no stranger to what “running protection” means. One of the main reasons I came here to Tanner Springs was to get away from my own family. Particularly my stepfather, and everything surrounding him.
My mother’s decision to marry Vincent Kray was her ticket out of poverty. But it was also our ticket into a world of crime, violence, and ultimately, tragedy. The things through I lived eventually drove me to the decision that anything was better than leading an existence where money and power mattered more than human life.
Which is why I’m here in Tanner Springs: to lead an honest life. But I’m no innocent flower. So I know that most likely, whatever Dick Dawson is paying the Lords of Carnage every month isn’t in exchange for protection from some outside threat.
It’s paying for protection from them.
The Lords are generally decent to the wait staff when they’re here. And they tend to tip well, even though their meals are free. Usually, you can hear them before you see them, since the roar of their Harley engines outside announces their arrival.
I didn’t hear this one drive up, though. He must not have ridden his motorcycle here.
And suddenly, I see why.
As the glass-plated door shuts behind him, I realize he isn’t alone. There’s a child with him. A girl, clutching what looks like a small, gray stuffed animal of some kind.
As I watch, he bends over, says something to her in a low voice, and points.
Then, the two of them head to the booth where Rob Warner had been sitting. In my section.
3
Tank
The waitress who comes over to take our orders is new since the last time I was in here.
She’s young, probably early twenties, and on the short side. Five-two, maybe five-three.
Her long hair is dark blond streaked with lighter strands, pulled back in a ponytail away from her face. She’s got curves for days, even though the shapeless green polo with the Downtown Diner logo she’s wearing doesn’t do her any favors, She moves quickly, efficiently, small and turbo-charged. A touch of makeup is just enough to make her full lips glossy and kissable, and her wide brown eyes even more arresting. Her black yoga pants are tight and clingy in all the right places, in a way that makes my gaze want to slow down and linger on every inch of her.
Saying she’s easy on the eyes is an understatement. The girl’s a bombshell.
She arrives at our booth and sets down a large and a small water on the table in front of Wren and me. Her mouth curves into a closed-mouth smile that looks fake as fuck.
“Welcome to the Downtown Diner,” she says in a syrupy voice that matches the smile. “How y’all doing today?”
I grunt in response. My eyes slide down to her name tag, stopping for a moment to appreciate what I can of the scenery underneath that unfortunate polo shirt.
Cady.
Her glance moves from me to Wren, who’s sitting across from me, her head barely clearing the tabletop. “Would you like a booster seat for her?” she asks me politely.
Would I? Fuck if I know. Though I gotta admit, Wren looks like she could use a boost up. I look over, hoping Wren will give me a clue whether she wants one. But she just stares back at me with those gray eyes. “Sure,” I finally shrug.
The waitress seems to note my hesitation, and for a second her eyes flicker. “I’ll go grab that,” she murmurs. “And maybe something fun to color.”
As she moves away, I let out a sigh, then glance at Wren again. I wish like hell I could go outside for a smoke. Fuck, I have no idea what to do with this kid. I’ve had her for almost a week now, and I still feel like I’m completely out of my depth. It doesn’t help that she hasn’t said one single goddamn word to me since I found her on my doorstep.
I know there’s nothing wrong with her ears. That first night, the poor kid was skittish as anything, jumping in fear at the slightest sound I made. That’s stopped, at least. And I know Wren understands me when I talk. She brushes her teeth when I tell her to, and I’ve gotten her to shake her head or nod when I ask her if she’s hungry or needs to go to the bathroom.
That’s about it, though.
Wren clutches the dirty Snoopy stuffed animal she brings with her everywhere, staring around the room with those wide eyes that silently take in everything around her. That stuffed dog was one of the only things in her backpack the day she showed up at my place, along with a couple changes of clothes, a couple of kids’ DVDs, and a single half-destroyed picture book. She won’t let that damn Snoopy out of her sight, no matter what. The closest she’s come to actually talking was a couple days ago when I tried to convince her to leave it at home. She let out a scream like bloody murder, and squeezed that dog so hard I thought she’d pop its head off.
Seconds later, the waitress named Cady comes back with a booster chair in one hand, and a kids’ placemat and a Styrofoam cup full of crayons in the other. She sets down the booster next to Wren. The little girl climbs into it automatically, like she’s done it many times before. Cady slides the placemat and the crayons in front of her. “Here you go, sweetie,” she croons in a sweet voice.
Wren sets Snoopy down on the table next to her, immediately grabs a crayon, and starts to color.
Fuck. In two minutes, a total stranger has figured out more about this kid than I have in a week of trying.
“Oh! Sorry, I didn’t bring you menus yet.” Cady flashes me an apologetic half-smile.
“Don’t need one,” I mutter. I know the Downtown’s menu like I know my own name. “I’ll just have a bacon cheeseburger and fries.”
“Sure thing.” Cady kneels down so her eyes are level with Wren’s. “Do you know what you want, sweetie?”
Wren doesn’t look up or acknowledge her. She just bites her lower lip and keeps on coloring.
“I can’t get her to tell me what she likes,” I explain grudgingly. “So far, I can get her to eat noodles with butter, and grilled cheese.”
Cady frowns at me, confused.
“Uh, okay…” she murmurs, trailing off uncertainly. Obviously, she’s trying to figure out why I don’t even know what the kid likes to eat, but it’s none of her goddamned business. “How about I put in an order for the kids’ menu grilled cheese, then?” she suggests, blinking.
“Fine.”
“Anything to drink?”
“The water’s fine.”
She turns away. I try to make myself not check out her ass, but it doesn’t work. Damn, those yoga pants aren’t leaving much to the imagination. My cock stirs, but I ignore it, since there’s nothing I can do about it. I grab my water and take a big drink, draining half of it. About thirty seconds later, a teenage kid with hair that looks like he just crawled out of bed brings over a pitcher and refills it. I grunt a thanks.
Since Wren’s not exactly a sparkling conversation partner, I take out my ph
one and fuck around with it while we’re waiting for our food. Every once in a while, I glance up to watch her as she colors, her brow furrowed in deep concentration. The placemat she’s working on is a farmyard scene, with a barn and cows and chickens and shit like that. I notice that instead of coloring all over the place, like most kids her age probably would, Wren stops well short of the borders. She never even once goes outside the lines. It’s almost like she’s afraid to go too far toward the edges.
A few minutes later, Cady arrives with our food. She sets down my burger and fries in front of me, then puts a small plate with a grilled cheese sandwich cut into fingers next to Wren’s placemat. Next to that, she sets a small, juice-sized red plastic glass.
This gets Wren’s attention. She looks up at Cady with questioning eyes.
“Thought I’d give you a little treat,” Cady winks at the little girl. “That’s a chocolate malt.” She nods at me. “I had some extra left over from another customer.”
And then, a fucking miracle occurs.
Wren smiles.
“Ah, I thought you’d like that,” Cady chuckles. She reaches into the black apron at her waist, and pulls out a straw and a long spoon. “Here. You’ll need these to eat it with.”
Wren immediately holds out her hand and grabs the utensils in her tiny fist. She yanks the paper off the straw like an expert, and immediately tucks into the malt. The grilled cheese is completely forgotten for the moment.
A spark of irritation hits me between the eyes. “That ain’t what I ordered.”
“I know. I was doing it to be nice. There’s no charge. Not that there ever is for you guys,” the waitress says pointedly, arching a brow.
Us guys? Oh, the Lords, she means? Huh. Does she have some sort of stick up her ass about the MC eating for free here? Not that it’s any of her business, again. This chick has a bad habit of sticking her nose where it isn’t wanted.
“Nice, my ass,” I growl, remembering too late I’m trying not to swear in front of the kid. “It’s dessert. Which she is now eating before her meal, thanks to you.”
“It’s dairy,” she retorts, narrowing her eyes. “Just like the cheese in the sandwich. Which isn’t exactly the healthiest thing in the world, either, by the way. Besides, it’s not even half a cup of malt, so maybe you should lighten up. And she’s enjoying it, if you haven’t noticed.”
I glance back over at Wren. Cady’s right, she’s completely engrossed in that malt. Instead of using the spoon to shovel the ice cream into her mouth, she sucks some of the creamy goodness up into the straw, then takes it out of the glass and sucks the ice cream into her mouth from the bottom. Over and over she does this, like a ritual. Her hands are getting sticky, and she’s making a hell of a mess. It’s a complete contradiction from her careful coloring job.
But shit, she looks so happy doing it. Happier than I’ve seen her all this week, by a long shot. Looking at her now, I wouldn’t have the heart to take that damn malt away from her, even if it was three times as big.
Plus, this is more of an appetite than the little girl has ever shown in my presence.
“Whatever,” I say crossly. “Just leave it.”
I don’t know why I’m so damn pissed that this waitress overruled me. Or that a complete stranger is already doing better with this kid than I am.
“How old is she, anyway?” Cady asks.
“I dunno,” I shrug. “Four? Five?”
“You don’t…” she trailing off, and gives me an incredulous look. “What’s her name?” she asks sarcastically. “You know that at least, right?”
None of your fucking business. “Wren.”
“Wren.” Cady kneels down again, and smiles. “Gosh, that’s a pretty name. How old are you, Wren?”
She looks up from her malt. Pauses for a second, like she’s trying to decide whether to answer.
Then, finally, holds up four sticky fingers.
“Four. Wow, you’re a big girl.” Cady stands. “She doesn’t talk much,” she observes, giving me a sharp look.
“She doesn’t talk at all.”
“Oh.” For a second, Cady’s face wilts, like she’s afraid she’s stepped her foot in it. I consider letting her keep thinking that.
“It ain’t anything medical. She has a voice,” I tell her, grudgingly.
Cady worries her lip. “She is your daughter, right?”
My daughter.
It’s the first time anyone’s said it out loud. Even I haven’t said it out loud.
Suddenly, I’ve had enough of her prying.
“Not that it’s any of your business,” I growl.
Cady squints at me, suspicion written all over her face. “Just making conversation,” she spits out.
“Yeah? Well go make it somewhere else.”
“Wow.” With an incredulous laugh, she turns on her heel and strides away, tossing her ponytail as she goes.
Good. Fuckin’ finally, I can eat my meal in peace. I grab my bacon cheeseburger and take a big bite. I chew angrily, as nasty thoughts about the know-it-all waitress swirl around in my head. Fuck that bitch. She can judge me all she wants. She doesn’t know anything about me. She doesn’t know that the chick who left Wren at my doorstep is someone I barely even remember. She doesn’t know that until a week ago, I had no idea I even had a kid. I’ve managed to keep this little girl fed and alive for seven goddamn days, and that’s a fucking victory, even though it feels like I’m a huge failure every time I look in Wren’s sad, apprehensive eyes.
I shovel fries in my mouth and glower at my plate until I’m not hungry anymore. Wren has slowed down on the malt now, and picks up a grilled cheese finger. She takes a bite, chews and swallows. Then, blinking, she puts an experimental dip of the sandwich in the malt, pulls it out, and takes a bite.
“Gross,” I can’t help but say. “Is that any good?”
She meets my eyes, looking a little like she’s afraid I’m gonna yell at her. She waits a beat, and then slowly, tentatively, she dips the sandwich in the ice cream a second time.
“Huh,” I remark. “I guess it is.”
Just then, Cady comes walking back toward our table. Penny, another waitress, is trailing behind her. I like Penny. She’s been working here forever. She’s a nice woman.
“Hey, Tank,” Penny calls out in her cheerful voice as she approaches. “Ain’t seen you in here in a while.”
“Good to see you, Pen.”
“Who’s this charmer?” Penny smiles broadly down at the little girl.
“This is Wren,” I reply.
“Well, hello, Wren! How are you today?” Penny chirps.
Wren swallows her mouthful of sandwich, then ducks her head.
“She ain’t much of a talker,” I explain.
“She yours?” Penny asks. “I didn’t know you had a kid.”
Cady is watching the three of us from a couple of feet away, not saying a word. With a flash of anger, I realize she brought Penny over to check us out. The last goddamn thing I need right now is to have this nosy chick call the cops on me or something. Luckily, Penny knows me pretty well.
I avoid the question. “I’m watchin’ her for a while,” I say instead.
Penny nods. “She’s a cutie-pie.” She glances back at Cady, and I see a look pass between them. “How’s your food?”
“Good,” I answer. “Wren here seems to think grilled cheese dipped in chocolate malt is a winning combo.”
Penny cracks a smile. “That is a good one.” She reaches over to pick up one of my fries, dips it in the malt, then hands it to a wide-eyed Wren. “Fries and ice cream are good, too. Here, try it.”
Wren accepts the fry and takes a bite.
“See what I mean?” Penny asks.
Wren nods. Her tiny smile returns as she dips the fry into the malt again.
“That’s just straight-up weird,” I say under my breath.
“Well, you holler if you need anything else,” Penny grins. “Otherwise, Cady’s got you covered.”
The three of us watch as she hustles away.
“I guess I passed your little test,” I say dryly.
Cady purses her lips and looks away, reddening. “I didn’t mean… it just looks a little off, is all,” she admits softly. “I just wanted to make sure everything was okay.”
In spite of myself, I have to admit to myself she was just trying to look out for Wren, to make sure she wasn’t in any danger or something. Hell, it was probably the right thing to do. From the outside, this whole situation probably does look pretty weird.
“It’s fine,” I grumble. “Don’t worry about it.”
“She hesitates a second. “So… is she yours?”
I want to tell her to fuck off with that nosy-ass shit, but make myself calm down.
“Apparently,” I mutter. “That’s what her mother tells me, anyway.”
Cady’s cheeks have flushed a pretty shade of pink. She looks suddenly uncertain. Maybe even embarrassed.
Shit, she sure is pretty.
My eyes travel over her body, sliding over the figure-concealing polo, noticing the rise and fall of her breasts as she breathes. There’s something soft and tough about her at the same time. Something that makes me wanna get a little closer. Find out what she’s like when she’s not in this waitress uniform. Maybe find out what she’s like when she’s not wearing anything at all.
My cock tightens in my jeans for the second time since I walked into the Downtown Diner today.
I’m trying to think of what to say next, when a buzz in my pocket tells me I’ve got a text. I pull out my phone to see a message from Beast, the VP of my club.
An urgent one.
“Shit,” I hiss before I can remember not to swear in front of the kid. I run my hand across my face, and then back through my long hair.
“Something wrong?” Cady frowns.
I sigh, trying to think about how the hell I’m gonna deal with this.
TANK: Lords of Carnage MC Page 2
