At first, I thought that was what I wanted. But as the days run into weeks, I’m not so sure anymore. Sure, I’m still struggling to juggle fatherhood with my obligations to the club. And yeah, it would definitely be a shitload easier if Wren wasn’t in my life.
But the more time I spend with the kid, the more attached I’m growing to her. She’s still not talking, but her personality is starting to come out more. I’m starting to feel protective of her — and more and more, I’m angry as fuck that Jess would just dump her off like that. What kind of mom does that?
A shit mom, that’s what kind. And as fuckin’ inconvenient as it is to all of a sudden be a dad, I don’t want Wren to be with a mom who could do that to her. If Jess showed back up on my doorstep tomorrow and asked for Wren back, I don’t know what I’d do or say.
I’ve been thinking a lot about Jess in the past few days. She was never my girlfriend, or even close to it. I haven’t seen the chick in years. Over four years, I guess, since that’s how old Wren is.
What I remember about her: she didn’t wear panties, and would tell that to anyone who’d listen. She had a thing for anal, and also for nose candy. And Jesus, she had a temper on her.
Between a mom like that, and an outlaw biker for a dad, poor Wren sure as hell wasn’t born under a lucky star.
If Jess showed up on my doorstep tomorrow, what would I do? I ask myself again.
The answer comes to me suddenly. Loud and clear as a bell.
I wouldn’t give her back to Jess.
At least not the version of Jess who dumped her off in the first place. Wren deserves better than that. She deserves someone who’ll do right by her.
Too bad she’s only got me.
Pam sets down our shot glasses and pours the amber liquid into it. Bullet and Striker’s laughing conversation washes over me. For the first time it occurs to me to wonder how the hell Jess found out where I live in the first place. I only fucked her a handful of times, and I never took her home. But if a strung-out crazy bitch like her could find my address, then my house ain’t as secure as it needs to be. I wouldn’t care so much about my own safety. I can handle myself. But it’s a different matter when Wren is there.
I make a mental note to look into installing a security system.
“Drink up, brothers!” Striker announces as we raise our shot glasses. “To Tank unwinding and pulling that stick out of his ass.”
Ignoring him, I toss back the shot.
“Another?” Bullet suggests.
“If it’ll shut you two up,” I growl.
But Striker has turned his attention toward the front door of the bar. “Now, that oughta get you to unwind, if nothing else will!” he mutters, letting out a low whistle.
Bullet looks in the same direction. “Holy shit. Six is lucky I’m a one-woman man. If I was still on the market…”
I swivel around to see what they’re talking about.
Three women have come into the bar. All three of them are dressed up for this Friday night, like they’re going out clubbing later. They’re all fuckin’ knockouts, for sure. But that’s not what hits me right between the eyes.
It’s that the one in the middle is Cady.
Jesus. She’s dressed to kill, in a pair of tight black pants, heels that make her ass look perky and ripe, and a kind of sparkly top under a fitted red leather jacket. Her hair is down loose around her shoulders, and she’s wearing lipstick that matches the jacket, and makeup that emphasizes the shape and color of her eyes. Holy hell. My cock stands instantly at attention, stiffening painfully in my jeans.
My eyes must be focused on her like laser beams, because I guess she senses them on her. Cady turns her head and her gaze meets mine. She blinks a couple of times, rapidly, then raises her hand and gives me a small, self-conscious wave.
Bullet does a double-take. “What the hell? You know her?”
“Yeah. A little.”
The two other women sit down at a table on the far side of the room. Cady takes off her jacket and hangs it on the back of her chair. I’m about to turn back to my drink when I see her murmur something one of her friends. Then, straightening, she turns on her heels and starts walking this way.
Fuck. Me.
“Hi,” she says simply when she gets up to the bar.
“Hey,” I nod. “Good to see you again.”
She lets out a soft snort. “Thanks!” she smirks. “Even though I’m not so sure you mean it.”
I don’t jump to correct her, because I’m not so sure I mean it, either. Cady’s face is flushed, and I think I detect a hint of alcohol on her breath. Looks like these girls are out bar hopping.
A moment of awkward silence follows, which Striker eventually breaks.
“Hello, darlin’,” he drawls. “I’m Striker, since my brother here has forgotten his manners. And who might you be?”
“I’m Cady.” She smiles politely. “Pleased to meet you.” She looks from Striker to Bullet, who grins.
“I’m Bullet,” he tells her. “I think we’ve met before. You work at the Downtown Diner, don’t you?”
“Yes!” she laughs. “Actually, I remember you. Cherry pie à la mode, right?”
“Well, damn! Good memory,” Bullet says, impressed.
“Cherry pie is my favorite. I always notice when people order it.” She turns to me and the smile falls from her lips. “How’s Wren?”
My eyes flick to my brothers. Goddamnit. “She’s fine.”
“Wren?” Striker gives me a puzzled frown.
“Long story,” I bite out, shooting a warning look at Cady. “I’ll tell you later.”
I’m saved from making small talk with the three of them when Cady’s two friends come striding up. One is a redhead with ringlet curls. The other has short, black hair cut in kind of a pixie thing.
“This is Brianna and Erika,” Cady says. “Brianna and Erika, this is Striker, Bullet…” she hesitates. “And Tank.”
“Well, hello, ladies. Nice to meet y’all,” Striker smirks.
“I waitress at the Downtown Diner with Cady,” the one with the pixie cut exclaims, with a practiced tilt of her head. “Brianna’s my roommate.”
“What brings this trio of beauties in to grace us with your presence?”
“I want to play darts!” the one called Brianna announces. “I’ve never played before, and Erika said they have dart boards here.”
“Yes, indeed, they do.” Striker nods. “Y’all know how to play darts?”
“Not really,” Erika pipes up. “I mean, you just throw the dart at the board and hope it gets in the middle, right?”
Bullet glances at Striker and chuckles. “There’s a little more to it. But yeah.”
“Will you teach us?” Brianna begs.
“We’d be happy to.” Striker stands up and looks at Bullet. “Won’t we, Bull?”
“Sure thing. Come on.” Bullet lifts his chin toward the back. “Looks like there’s a board open.”
“You coming?” Erika asks Cady.
“In a bit. You go ahead.”
The four of them move away, leaving Cady and me at the bar. Cady slips onto the stool where Striker was sitting.
“What are you drinking?” I ask.
“Gin and tonics,” she says. “At least, that’s what I was drinking at the last bar.”
“You don’t wanna mix drinks, then. It’ll make you sick.” I call to Pam. “Gin and tonic,” I say, pointing at Cady. “On my tab.”
“Thank you,” Cady murmurs. “So, Wren’s okay? Is she talking yet?”
“No,” I admit, “not yet.”
“You haven’t told your friends about her?”
“Haven’t had a chance.”
Cady looks skeptical. “Okay,” she scoffs, but she lets it go.
We sit in awkward silence until Pam sets Cady’s drink in front of her. Cady thanks her and picks it up, taking a drink and then grimacing.
I can’t help but laugh. “Don’t you like gin and tonics?”
“I
liked them fine two drinks ago.” She purses her lips. “They’re good for getting a buzz, but after that the tonic is just… bitter.”
“There’s other ways to get your buzz on.”
“I know. I just… never mind.” Cady shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter, okay? I’m drinking a drink I don’t particularly like. Don’t make a federal case out of it.”
“Okay.” I hold up my hands.
“So, your friends. Striker and Bullet… they seem pretty eager to entertain Erika and Brianna.” She peers at me. “Are they okay guys?”
“Bullet’s taken. He’s not gonna make a move on either one of your friends. Striker, though? He’s likely to try for a threesome.”
Cady sucks in a breath. “Are you serious?”
I shrug. “Only if they’re into it.” I look back toward the dart boards, where both women are hanging off of Striker and laughing, heads thrown back flirtatiously. “And by the looks of it, they might be.”
“What’s with all the nicknames, anyway? Why do you biker guys all have them?”
“They’re called road names. When they get accepted into the MC, they get their patches, and their names.”
“Oh.” She considers that for a second. “What’s your real name?”
“Matt. Matthew. Barrigan.”
“Matthew,” she repeats softly. For some reason, my heart thuds a little harder a little in my chest to hear my name on her lips. “So… why do they call you Tank? Because you’re built like one?” she guesses.
“No. Because I can’t be stopped. I used to be an underground fighter. That’s where I got the name, actually.” I shrug. “It just stuck when I joined the Lords.”
“Underground fighting? Like illegal fighting?” She takes a sip of her drink, grimacing again.
“Yeah.”
“Do you still do that?” She cocks her head.
“Nah, not really. Now I’m just muscle for the club.”
“Oh yeah.” She wrinkles her nose. “Now you just blackmail businesses for money.”
Among other things.
“No. We keep the crime out of Tanner Springs,” I correct her.
“You are the crime,” she protests.
“The hell we are. We keep the harder drugs and the worst of it out. If the Lords weren’t around, someone else would come in and take over. And then it would be worse. A lot worse. Trust me.”
My mind flashes on our club’s RICO problem, and the Death Devils president’s arrest. If the Lords of Carnage don’t stay vigilant and keep our territory safe, what I’m telling Cady could become a reality in Tanner Springs.
“What’s wrong?”
I look at Cady to see her peering at me.
“Nothing. Just… club shit.” I lift my beer, take a drink.
“So… who’s watching Wren tonight?” she asks. “You never said before.”
“You never asked,” I point out. “I have a neighbor taking care of her.”
“A neighbor? You sure you can trust them?”
“I’ve known Tanya for a long time.”
And I’m not attracted to her, like I am to you.
The words are in my head before I realize they’re there.
That’s not why, I argue with myself.
But myself doesn’t answer.
Cady cocks her head at me, and I realize I’ve been sitting here silent for at least fifteen seconds.
“You’re a strange one, Tank,” she murmurs softly.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean…”
“Hey, Cady, come on!” A female voice behind me cuts into the conversation. It’s the chick named Erika. “We’re done with our drink here. And Bri is bored with darts. Time to move on to the next place.”
“We’re doing a progressive bar hop,” Cady explains, turning back to me. “One drink at each place, and then we’re ending up at Erika and Brianna’s apartment when we’re done.”
“You’re drinking and driving?” I ask sharply.
Cady gives me a withering look, and downs the rest of her gin and tonic. “No. They only live a few blocks away from me. We’re on foot.”
“In those heels?”
“I can walk in these just fine, thank you,” she protests.
Cady stands up from the bar stool. But her high heel catches on something and she stumbles forward. I’m up out of my own stool in a heartbeat, and catch her in my arms before she tumbles to the ground.
“Ooh! Quick reflexes!” Erika coos. “I like that in a man.”
“Not so sure you’re so good to walk in these high heels, darlin’,” I rasp. “They sure are pretty to look at, though.”
Cady looks up at me with those big brown eyes of hers. Her face is still a little flushed, but I don’t think it’s from the alcohol. She sucks in a breath and steadies herself on her feet. “Go grab Brianna and head outside,” she says to her friend, her eyes still glued to mine. “I’ll be there in a second.”
Erika walks away. I let go of Cady. But we’re still close enough that I can feel the heat off her skin, and hear her breathing, even above the music.
My cock is fuckin’ throbbing in my pants. Goddamn, suddenly I’d do just about anything to sink myself deep inside her.
Cady is close enough to me that I can hear her breathing. Feel the rise and fall of her tits against my arm.
“I’ll see you around,” she whispers, pulling away.
Then, she’s gone.
Striker and Bullet’s approaching voices shake me out of my thoughts. “You strike out with yours?” Striker asks me as they take their seats again at the bar stools.
“I wasn’t tryin’ to get anywhere with her,” I growl.
Bullet snickers. “Sure you weren’t.”
“What about you fuckers?” I challenge. “Those girls left pretty quick.”
Striker shrugs. “The redhead had her sights set on Bullet, and she was pissed off when he told her he was taken. I suggested a threesome, but that freaked them out, so…”
I can’t help but chuckle at how accurate my guess was. I find myself wishing I could tell Cady. “Nice,” I mutter.
“What can I say?” Striker grins. “I think the dark-haired one would have been down for it. Ah, well.”
“Speakin’ of being taken,” Bullet speaks up, “I better get home after this next beer. Six is having her mom over for dinner tonight. As much as she loves her, that woman can drive a person crazy. She’ll want me around to keep them company.”
“Sounds good,” I mutter. “I’m gonna get goin’ soon, too.”
“Hey, by the way…” Striker frowns, raising a brow at me.
“Yeah?”
“Who’s Wren?”
8
Tank
The days that follow that night at the Lion’s Tap pass in a blur.
Angel keeps me busy as hell with club business: collecting protection money, checking in on businesses that haven’t paid up, shit like that. It’s been a fuckin’ nightmare tryin’ to juggle Wren and take care of club business at the same time.
I managed to wriggle out of telling Striker who Wren was. I made up some noise about how she was a mutual friend of Cady’s and mine, and he let it go. I still haven’t told any of the Lords about her yet, which makes it even harder to figure out child care, since I can’t ask any of the old ladies. And the club girls? Out of the fuckin’ question.
It almost makes me wish I hadn’t been so damn pigheaded about turning down Cady’s offer to watch Wren.
Dammit. Cady…
I still remember how happy and content Wren looked sitting on Cady’s floor, painting. It’s pretty obvious Cady has a way with kids that I don’t, that’s for sure. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing half the time.
At my house, Wren barely even lets go of that stuffed Snoopy, clinging onto it for dear life.
And I still can’t get her to say a goddamn thing to me.
I can hear her talking to herself sometimes in my guest room, which I’ve set up
as good as I can as a kid’s bedroom. She’ll sit there, playing with some of the toys I bought her, and sing little songs to that stuffed dog, in a soft, whispery voice that’s meant only for him to hear.
I try asking her questions sometimes. But she just stares up at me with those wide eyes of hers. At least she doesn’t seem afraid of me anymore. She eats what I put in front of her pretty good. And she lets me pick her up and carry her around without squirming, and she’s okay with me supervising her when she brushes her teeth and shit like that. Yesterday, when I was taking her out to my car, she even wrapped her little hand around my finger without me having to tell her to when we were crossing a parking lot. But still no words.
Cady could probably get her to talk.
The thought comes to me for the hundredth time.
Shit.
I dunno. That woman makes me feel off-kilter. She feels dangerous, somehow. And not because I don’t trust her with Wren.
No, Cady feels risky in an entirely different way.
She looks at me like she’s evaluating me, for one thing. Like she’s still trying to figure out whether I’m just some greaseball biker, or maybe some kind of perv kidnapper or something. Fuck, that’s nothing new. I’m used to civilian assholes making snap judgments about me. I don’t give a flying fuck about other people’s opinions. I do what I want, for my own reasons, and I don’t answer to anyone except my club. I sure as hell don’t answer to some waitress who’s never led a life like mine, and could never understand my circumstances or my decisions.
So, it ain’t being judged that’s anything new to me.
What’s new is, somewhere deep down inside, I actually fuckin’ care a little bit what she thinks.
Which is why I don’t wanna be around her. The last thing I need is some chick thinking she’s got a handle on who I am and trying to change me into something else.
Especially one with a rockin’ hot body.
In spite of the fact that I somehow ended up with a rugrat, I’m not a man who tends to think with my dick. I like women, don’t get me wrong. But I’ve never found them as hard to resist as a lot of guys I know. Men have a tendency to make stupid fuckin’ decisions when there’s a hot piece of ass around. You can see it in their faces when they’re about to lose their minds over some chick who’s playin’ hard to get, or who’s got the magic pussy thing goin’ on. I don’t need a one-way ticket on the Pussy Express. That fuckin’ train only goes one direction.
TANK: Lords of Carnage MC Page 6
