Flick (The Black Sentinels MC Book 4)

by Victoria Johns

  “What about Aunty Flick?”

  My nephew was such a protector. He was me decades ago. He wanted everyone he cared about to be safe, loved and seemingly, under one roof.

  “Aunty Flick too.”

  I saw his body relax and breathe easier, it was the first time I’d seen it tension free and not wired to jump into action. “You wanna do me a favor?” He nodded. “It’s time to be a kid. Keep your grades good, watch out for your, sister and be respectful, but other than that, I got this. This here, you and me, is solid and it always will be. I missed out on so much of your life, I’m not going anywhere. You’re not going anywhere, got it?”

  “Got it,” he smiled, a completely different kid than he was an hour ago.

  Standing up, I pulled him from the ground. “Do we need to hug it out?” Ben looked around, horrified at the prospect of all my testosterone-fueled brothers seeing that happen.

  “Uh, no, definitely not, Uncle Beckett.”

  “Right, go play and when you’re in the forest, stay in sight of the house.”

  “Sure.” Ben ran off and I watched until he threw himself in the middle of the chaos exactly the way an eight-year-old should.

  On the back desk, Gears, Wave, and Mac were all sat down supping beer and tucking into a bowl of chips. As I got closer Gears muttered, “Someone’s a natural,” and raised his beer to salute me.

  “Not a clue what I’m doing, day to day, fuck, minute by minute, I’m hanging by a thread.”

  “That goes for Little Miss. Prickly Pants too.” Mac grinned.

  “Rumor has it you’ve already seen to business.”

  I looked at Wave. “And I wonder where that rumor came from. Your old lady has her wires crossed.”

  “You’re not interested? Plenty of brothers who’d jump at a shot,” Gears muttered again, and I groaned causing them all to burst out laughing.

  Wolf appeared. “First prospect report is in.” All the men leaned forward. This information was the difference between a night of hot sex or mopping up hangover puke. “Cocktails are flowing. Tequila is definitely flowing, and Little Miss. Prickly Pants is shitfaced already.”

  “Fuck.”

  “Looks like you’re in for some fun.” This time the salute came from Mac.

  “Puke is not fun, brother.” I grimaced and wondered just how much of a state she was in.

  Fuck.

  Flick sniggered from her current position which was over my shoulder as I carried her to the house. The kids had crashed at Gears’ place, so I’d left them there in a makeshift summer camp and transferred Flick from Gears’ truck to mine, before driving her giggling ass home.

  She was wasted, but then again, so were all the other old ladies.

  “I can see your ass,” she laughed.

  “I can feel yours.” The words just came out, it was too late to pull them back.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. You gonna puke?”

  “Nope. Never.”

  That was surprising.

  I carried her to her room and placed her gently on her bed, just in case she was lying on the puke front.

  I stepped back and looked at her; shit, she was pretty. Reluctantly, I took another step. “Night, Flick.” I said, and headed to grab some Advil and water, she was going to need them in the morning. Before I took the first stair down the case, I heard a thud. Turning on my heel, I pushed her door open. “Christ.” Flick was in a heap in the middle of the floor, one boot half off, the other somehow tangled in her tight-as-fuck pants.

  She was giggling. “I need help.” This, I didn’t need. I stood for a few minutes debating ignoring her and just leaving her to sleep on the floor in a pant-boot-contraption. “Well?”

  I bent down, pulled off the boot, so she could remove her pants and made to leave again. “Why is the bed up there?”

  “Because you’re on the floor.”

  “Oh.” Her head slumped back to the floor with a thud that had to have hurt.

  “Fuck.” I picked her up and managed to trip on the boot she’d removed and left in the middle of the floor. We crashed into the bed, me on top of her, her wide-eyed and smiley, also possibly winded.

  As I moved off her, she moved quicker and clasped the back of my head, pulling it to hers, where those still bright-red lips all but fucking attacked me. For a few seconds I adored every moment, I even chased it down, until I remembered who she was, how drunk she was and that we were both co-parenting. A regretted drunken fuck would go against everything I told Ben earlier. “This is a bad idea,” I whispered against her lips.

  “Why? We’re not in your room,” she challenged. For someone wasted her recollection of our arguments was on point.

  “I’m thinking about the after bit, Flick.” I saw as she shut down and conceded. “Don’t be like that, tonight is not a good idea.”

  This was fucking killing me. My cock was hard and heavy, I hadn’t been laid since she’d moved in with the kids, and if I unzipped and moved the scrap of fabric covering her pussy aside, I could be in there. Definitely, a good job I had my pants on. I looked down at her in that ridiculous shirt and stupid designer bra and saw her nipples again, only this time they were hard.

  It was the most exquisite form of torture, but still, I’d just given my word to my nephew that I’d look after him, Lila, and Flick, and fucking her while she was ten sheets to the wind wasn’t going to happen. If I had to put money on it, I’m pretty sure she’d regret it in the morning.

  “You’re going to kiss and run like you did all those fucking years ago, aren’t you?”

  Her voice was sharp and laced with the inevitability she knew was coming.

  “Tonight, it would just complicate the fuck out of everything.”

  Before she just shut down, now she was completed closed off, and the rejection in her face made me wonder if it would’ve been easier just to fuck her to avoid this. This was definitely going to be awkward.

  “Close the door on your way out.” I leaned up and she turned away from me.

  As I shut the bedroom door, I heard the distinct sound of vibrating.

  Her fucking black stallion.

  If she hadn’t killed me enough already, now I had to try to sleep knowing she was taking care of herself.

  This time, I called myself an asshole.

  Flick

  We never spoke about what happened when I’d had way too much tequila, but unfortunately, not enough to pretend I didn’t remember. In the end I just pretended it never happened and he was happy to go along with it. It tinged a brilliant night of girl bonding, giggles, and cocktails. It turned out to be the very best kind of job interview.

  Days and weeks passed, and after a while even I was starting to believe I’d imagined trying to start something with him that night.

  The kids had finally settled, even Ben was happier. I couldn’t put my finger on why, but it was something else that had changed after that night too. Clearly, he and Beckett had a meeting of the minds and things were in a better place. I was pleased for them both.

  Working at the women’s sanctuary was eye opening, I never realized just how many actually suffered. I’d had a normal, healthy childhood, a great relationship with my family and never seen anything like it before, I thought I understood what Tracey and Beckett had been through growing up, but I was wrong. I was only doing office stuff, but after a while, I figured out it was just as important. Without stock management there’d be no food or supplies, without keeping records there was no evidence for the police should the women want to press charges. I was able to offer bits of legal advice, which was simple but effective and more importantly, free. But the very best thing was that it gave those that had children the chance to get some breathing space. Their kids were safe, fed, and entertained while they took some time for self-care. The more I saw of it, the more I felt the relief that Beckett and I were making the co-parenting thing work. Ben and Lila could have been those same kids if they’d ended up in care. Had Tracey had n
ot had the support of my family, this could have been her life.

  The kids went to school, they played. Exactly, how it was supposed to be at their age.

  Beckett and I went to work and co-parented, and co-habited; we were even the perfect family at a club parties, but when it was just to the two of us, it was awkward and uncomfortable. I didn’t know how to be around him and as Beckett seemed happy with the distance, he was less inclined to try than me. We’d get the kids into bed, I’d make some excuse and disappear, he’d watch a game, or head to the club and end up doing God knows what, and it would be Groundhog Day the next day too.

  After just over a month of shy and uneasy avoidance, I’d showered and climbed into bed and was a few chapters deep into a steamy romance novel, when I heard a moan. It was a moan that definitely sounded sexual and caused my blood to fucking boil that he’d brought a woman home. I’d suspected he was seeing to his needs at the club but hated that he was now so desensitized to our situation, and my feelings, that he thought it was fine to do that shit under my nose. I mean, his room was right next to mine and it wasn’t like the walls were hurricane bunker thick.

  His pleasure swept through me and the jealously warred with my anger, quickly winning that fight as heat flushed to my private parts.

  Damn him!

  The moaning stopped and I slumped back against the headboard momentarily relieved. Seconds later, the noise I heard this time was still a moan, but it was one of pain like a wounded animal and that hit me, only this time in a different place. This time it suckered me in my gut and before I could stop myself, I went to him.

  The usual light that was cast from his bedside lamp was missing and I knew that was the problem. The light helped chase away the darkness that haunted him, I guessed that after he made an issue of me turning it off last time.

  Very aware of how it ended last time I surprised him, I gently closed the door after I’d entered his room, I didn’t want the kids to see any bad reaction from him. His body was outlined in the moonlight streaming through his windows, Beckett was writhing beneath a tangled bedsheet, his whole frame was so tense, it was a wonder his muscles hadn’t exploded to the point of snapping like a rubber band.

  I tiptoed across the room and clicked on his lamp, hoping it would provide the solution. Some of his relief was instant, his body eased and lost some of the visible tension, but he still didn’t wake up. I couldn’t leave him; It wasn’t that I wanted to help him, I felt compelled to.

  “Ssh,” I soothed like he was a baby and the remaining tension that had him locked in a nightmare eased, I saw it happen and that made me continue with it. I rubbed gentle fingers down his cheek, my own hand shaking, wondering if I’d find myself being throttled again in an instant. He mumbled something about someone and needing forgiveness, then settled. After a few moments, where I stood mesmerized by his beauty, I stepped back, happy that he was calm before I tiptoed back to my own bed, climbed in, and chased away my own dreams.

  Dreams of him.

  The next morning at breakfast, something was different, every time I moved or spoke, he looked at me like I was a puzzle he couldn’t quite piece together.

  “Uncle Beckett, can I go to football tryouts?”

  “Sure.” He grinned and took a mouthful of coffee.

  “I want to be a ballerina,” Lila declared, her mouth full of pancakes. We’d already washed her face, but she was covered in a dusting of icing sugar, so I guess we’d be doing it again.

  “What happened to being a princess?” Beckett enquired.

  “Or an astronaut,” mumbled Ben.

  “Or a unicorn doctor,” I chuckled.

  “I wanna be all of those too!”

  Ben shook his head and poured more syrup on his pancakes while Beckett smiled. “Beautiful, you can be whatever you want. You got a dream, chase it.”

  At his mention of the word dream, I couldn’t help it, I glanced over at him and it was like something had clicked into place.

  “Flick, a word?” He moved out of the kitchen, leaving me under no illusion that he was expecting me to follow. As usual, we stopped at the bottom of the stairs which seemed to be our discussion spot, and when I say discussion, I meant, he talked, demanded, decreed and didn’t relent until I agreed or conceded.

  Beckett looked at me, really looked at me and I stared back waiting for the imminent explosion. “You’re quiet.”

  “No more than usual when I’m corralling the kids for school.”

  He paused again, definitely trying to piece something together and then smoothed his hand over his head. “Want me to get them from school tonight?”

  “Uh… okay. Why?”

  “You gonna talk football with Ben? Kid’s gonna be wired about tryouts and unless you can talk about fumbles, forward passes and field goals, then it’s best I get them.”

  “You’re a sexist asshole.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I know what a damn field goal, forward pass and fumble is.” The minute I finished he smirked, and I knew I’d said the wrong thing. “Don’t even go there. Today is a good day, Beckett, and I can tell you’re going to say something to piss me off.” He smiled at me at me and I realized that he liked sparring with me, only right now, I wasn’t in the mood. “Kids! Teeth need brushing then grab your back packs, let’s hustle.”

  They rushed past us, effectively ending the conversation and saving me from what was going to be an argument before we went our separate ways for the day.

  That night at dinner, we were your typical Brady Bunch. Ben and Beckett did a play-by-play of the tryouts, and whether I knew anything or not, I knew he was one excited kid. If he didn’t get into the team it would kill him, and I was pretty sure Beckett would in turn, lay waste to the school’s football coach. I helped Lila with a homework project that was supposed to look like an animal she’d created and was expected to talk about in class. Unless its name was Glitter Explosion, I had no idea what was going on, but I figured she did, and such was the imagination and world of make believe that lived inside her, I had no worries that she’d pull it off.

  When the kids had gone to bed, Beckett went for a quick beer at the club with his brothers and then came home to watch a game on the TV. I gave myself a pedicure as it was time to redo my pretty-in-pink nails, and by the time I was finished clearing up, Beckett had gone to sleep for the night.

  In a repeat of last night, Beckett’s moaning and wounded cries began, this time I was more decisive about helping him; I’d succeeded the night before and could do it again. I was just as quiet as I let myself into his bedroom. He was all tangled up and writhing around under the glow of the moon. I bent down clicked the light on and soothed his face like a child.

  He calmed immediately only this time when I turned to leave, I heard, “Stay.” His hand reached out and grabbed my wrist. Looking at his face, I had no idea whether he was asleep or awake, but with the way his chest rose and fell, from his breathing, he was in a deep sleep. He’d been suffering and whatever featured behind his eyelids was bad, I thought about this as I warred with my decision. “Please,” he mumbled after a few seconds, his grip on my wrist clenching tighter. I didn’t reply, I walked to the other side of the bed, smoothed out the bed sheets and climbed in.

  This was a bad idea—a very bad idea. But I was a sucker for a person in pain, and worse than that, I was just a plain sucker for Beckett Hope.

  I curled my body around his, feeling the pain and tension leech from his frame the minute I got close.

  “Closer,” he swallowed, and the only way to achieve that was to spoon him. Shifting up behind him, I shoved my arm under his neck and fixed my front to his back. He was solid muscle, all of him, but still, this close, there was a softness about him that I knew I could become addicted to.

  Beckett smelled amazing, mostly fresh soap with a hint of male-scented shaving cream. Tonight, I’d caught his night terror before the sweating had started, but I could tell it was just a step away. His body was hot, ju
st on the edge of needing to purge itself of the extra heat. I was so close that I felt my own breath bounce back off his neck and shoulders, and as he relaxed almost straight away, I knew my mistake; I’d got my arm trapped underneath his neck and I was going nowhere. My plan to get him to sleep and creep away had been thwarted and I’d done that shit to myself.

  The moonlight cast shadows from the trees across the bedroom wall and I watched the wind twist and turn them in impossible shapes. After a while, even the gentle light from his night lamp wasn’t enough to keep me awake. My eyes became heavy and my body sighed in sheer heaven, this was literally the comfiest it had been in years.

  I woke up at first light, aware of an intense and crazy heat stifling my body. When I opened my eyes, I knew that I’d fucked up. I was still here in his bed and the sun was nearly up.

  Beckett would kill me when he woke up and realized that I’d slept here.

  Very slowly I moved my head and heard the faint snore of someone very content next to me. The sheet had all but been kicked to the bottom of the bed and I was lying, cheek on his chest, arm swung around his middle, my thigh draped firmly and possessively across one of his.

  God! This was perfection.

  We fit.

  This was arguable more electrifying that the kiss he’d given me against the tree trunk all those years ago.

  But I had to leave. I had to go before he woke up and went berserk because I was in his room, and it ruined everything. I didn’t want his inevitable explosion to taint the memory I had of tonight, because it had been the best since I’d come here.

  Edging away, I slowly released the breath I’d held inside me, and stood statue still when his eyelashes fluttered. I paused and watched as they glanced off his cheeks and I got sucked into his beauty.

  This was Beckett Hope, not this Shadow person he’d decided to become.