Honey to Burn (Sweet & Dirty BBW MC Romance Book 10)

by Cathryn Cade

  "I don't need a nap," Connor said, scowling again as he took the bottle from her. "And maybe you shouldn't interrupt when Dad and me are talking."

  Cooler saw the look of hurt that Rae quickly suppressed. He waited till their son had swallowed two tablets, and then he spoke. "Son, apologize to your mom. You'll speak to her with respect, or I'll know the reason why, you get me?"

  The kid looked at Cooler like he'd smacked him and flushed again. "Sorry, Mom."

  She reached to touch his hair. "It's okay, sweetie. I know you're hurting.

  Maybe so, but Connor's tone was still not okay, not toward his mama. That'd be coming to a screeching halt.

  Rae worked her ass off for their son, spent time with him, ran him around in her rig along with his friends, and clothed him in the latest styles, all outward signs of her love for her only child

  It was time Connor appreciated that.

  Rae looked around distractedly. "You guys are probably hungry, right? I'll see what’s in the fridge."

  "Got a better idea," Cooler said. "You open a bottle of wine, pour yourself a glass. I'll rustle up something for us, or I can order a pizza."

  Connor yawned. "I vote North Riverside Pizza. They deliver."

  Cooler looked to Rae, who nodded. She looked wiped out—still gorgeous, but wiped out. "Okay. Whatever you guys want."

  "Go open that wine, babe," Cooler told her.

  "Okay." She turned and headed into the small kitchen.

  "The Everything pizza?" Cooler asked his son, already thumbing his phone.

  Connor nodded, and yawned again. "Wake me up when it gets here, 'kay?"

  He slumped over against the cushions in the corner of the sofa and closed his eyes. And just like that, he was out.

  "Some things never change," Cooler muttered. He bent and lifted his son's lower legs and feet onto the sofa, and grabbed the soft throw over the back of the sofa to spread over the boy. He tucked the ends in, smoothed the tumbled blond hair, and straightened.

  He looked up to find Rae watching him from the open archway into the kitchen, her face soft. They exchanged a look that only parents understand, laden with all the memories of watching a little boy grow and change, but somehow still remain the same in many ways.

  She moved into the living room, a glass of red wine in her hand.

  "You want a beer?" she asked quietly, sinking onto the sofa across from Connor. "I have a selection in the fridge. I'd offer to get it, but I'm dead on my feet, so you are on your own."

  "I got it," he said. "Thanks."

  He walked into the kitchen, opened the fridge and found a six-pack of assorted local microbrews. That suited him.

  Back in the living room, Cooler sat beside Rae, arm across the back of the sofa between them. He took a long pull on his beer and thought about how best to broach the subject of her and Con moving.

  RaeAnn got there first. "Mac?" she said softly. "I'm so scared. For Connor, mostly. I’ve always felt pretty safe here, but now… I feel like that’s crumbling around us. Like those Boyz can get to us whenever they want. And I don’t understand why they even want to."

  He leaned closer, his hand brushing her shoulder, and kept his voice low. “I’ll tell you, but you gotta promise to keep your cool. Can you do that?”

  She looked even more worried, but she nodded.

  Cooler left his hand on her shoulder. “Okay, then here it is. They want to recruit Con into their gang. They been chatting him up since he got to this new school, bein’ friendly. He thought they were tough guys, but okay, until they let it out that they’re new recruits in the gang. Today, a couple of them came after him hard, and he told ‘em to piss off.”

  “Well, then, why don’t they do that?” she asked him, looking bewildered. “There must be plenty of kids in his school who are foolish enough to want to join a gang—why don’t they leave Con alone?”

  “Because, mama, their logic ain’t your or my logic. We—you, me and Con—ask someone to hang out, they say no or make an excuse, we get it. And we go on to people who do wanna be around us. A gang doesn’t work like that. Con refuses them, it works on their egos. So they strut around and act tough, to show nobody says no to them and gets away with it.”

  She put her hand to her mouth, gazing at their sleeping son. “Is that why they… cut him?”

  “Yeah,” he said, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Just remember, they didn’t hurt him much. Shallow wound, the EMTs cleaned it up good, and we can get him antibiotics if it gives him any trouble. He’s gonna be fine.”

  She looked to him again, her eyes haunted with a look he hated to see there—fear for their boy. "But will he, Mac? I mean, they’ll just come after him again, won’t they?”

  “Yeah. Most likely.”

  She took a shaky breath. “Well, then I... I think you're right," she told him. "I think it would be best if Connor and—and I move."

  He managed—barely—to refrain from saying something stupid, like how he knew she'd see it his way. Nope, he was not gonna step in it, not now.

  He was sure he would eventually, that was his way. But for now, he merely nodded, soberly. "Glad to hear it, babe. I know today's been shit piled on shit for you."

  She wrinkled her nose. "Literally," she mumbled into her wine glass.

  Cooler set his beer aside, and reached over and covered her free hand with his, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Right. And I'm sorry, but there's something else you gotta hear."

  Her eyes widened as they met his. "What?"

  He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "Connor's trouble, and your’s with your rig? No coincidence they both happened today."

  She sucked in a sharp breath. "You mean you think those Boyz trashed my car and tried to knife Connor?"

  "I think they trashed your car in case he didn't get the message the first time," he said. "They were lettin' him know they can get to him and to his mama."

  And she was damn lucky the little shits had chosen to fuck with her car and not with her. Or she might be in the hospital right now, and Mac would be on the streets like fuckin’ Rambo.

  "Oh, my God," she mumbled, her hand trembling in his. "Oh, my God. What will they do next, try to blow up our house?"

  He leaned closer, holding her gaze with his. "Babe, they'll do nothing. Not if you and Connor aren't here anymore."

  She blinked. "Oh," she breathed. "You mean... if we move to the Heights."

  "Right. And not just to the Heights, but in with me. Something you may have forgotten—you and Connor are my family. And that means you're Flyer family... forever and ever, amen. And the club looks after our own. No bunch of little shits with gang ink and bandannas is gonna terrorize my woman and my boy—not and get away with it."

  She gazed at him for a long moment, taking in his words. He watched her gaze drift, then darken. She looked away, and shook her head. "I... I just don't know, Mac. I don't know if I can do that. I was thinking more of renting a house there, or something."

  She didn’t know if she could do ‘that’ as in live with him, share a house and the forced intimacy that would incur? Damn. Well, he guessed he got why. Their sparring over the years had not been conducive to trust. Nor had her ill-timed visit to the club, whenever that had been.

  And he would find out, but not now.

  He was gonna have to play this very carefully. He turned his beer in his hand and studied the label, featuring a full moon over a meadow.

  She lasted for about a minute. "What?" she snapped, although she did it quietly. "I can hear your mind working, Mac Carson."

  "Just don't think you're looking at this the right way," he told her. "Yeah, I'm asking you to bring Connor and come to me. But, babe, it's been sixteen years. You don't think maybe both you and me've done some growin' up since then?"

  That got her to look at him, although she looked doubtful.

  That was okay, he could work with doubtful.

  A total shutdown… he’d still work with it, but it would be one helluva
lot harder.

  Cooler was finishing his third piece of pizza—Northside Pizza was that good—when his phone vibrated in his pocket. He wiped his hands on one of the napkins Rae had set out and palmed his phone.

  He put it to his ear. “Yo, T. You get RaeAnn’s rig?”

  “Got it through the self-service car wash first,” T boomed in his ear. “That dog shit’s nasty, brother.”

  “Yeah, sorry you had to deal with that,” Cooler said. He nodded to Rae, who was watching him with a worried look. “It’s T,” he told her. “He’s got your car, safe and sound.”

  She nodded, looking relieved, although still troubled.

  Cooler gave her a reassuring wink and shoved back his chair, phone still to his ear. “Hold on, T. Gonna take this outside,”

  “You don’t have to do that,” Rae protested.

  Yeah, he did, ‘cause he did not want her to hear what he and T discussed next. He walked through Rae’s small living room, where Connor was still snoring softly on the sofa, and out onto the front porch. The sun was about to disappear behind the houses to the west, long shadows lying on the street and Rae’s tiny front lawn.

  “All right, we can talk,” he told T. Thumb hooked in his jeans pocket, he watched a neighbor walking along the crumbling sidewalk with a rottweiler on the end of a leash. Good dog for this neighborhood.

  “You’re right about the initials,” T said in his ear. “They done a shit job, but they say ‘B B’, all right.”

  “Yeah,” Cooler said. “The Boyz like to tag shit. Bet they’re real whizzes with a can of spray paint, too.”

  “No doubt. Anyways, we got this covered for ya. Tommy G over at Body Works can get the rig in the shop in a couple days, and should only take two or three to get the damage repaired. Gonna cost ya, but he does good work.”

  “No problem,” Cooler said. “He give club rates?”

  “Yep, ‘cause we helped him out when his woman’s ex was stalking her.”

  “That’s good. All right, thanks, brother. I owe you.”

  T’s chuckle rumbled in Cooler’s ear. “I’ll call ya next time I need an owie kissed. Hey, you talk Rae into movin’ out here yet?”

  “I’m workin’ on that,” Cooler said. “Something else happened that’s gonna make it easier. If Moke’s with you, put me on speaker, yeah?”

  “Hey, brah,” Moke’s deep, quiet voice said. “What’s up?”

  Cooler told them about the attack on Connor and his certainty that the Boyz were sending a message to Connor that they could reach him and his mother any time.

  “Well, fuck that noise,” T roared. “We need to mobilize the club, and get your woman and your boy out here now!”

  “Tomorrow’s Saturday,” Moke added more calmly. “We can make it happen. Shelle and me can pick up boxes and meet you there. You know Sara will mobilize the other old ladies, and any of the brothers who aren’t working will be there.”

  Warmth filled Cooler’s chest. “Yeah,” he said. “I know. Thanks—I’ll get back to you on that… hopefully in the next little bit.”

  “Do your thing, brother,” T urged, a grin in his voice. “Talk her around.”

  Cooler grinned. “I will, don’t you worry. Back to you soon.”

  Back in the house, Cooler prowled back into Rae’s little kitchen. She’d covered up the pizza and was fussing around putting dishes in the dishwasher.

  He leaned against the other side of the kitchen island and watched her for a moment.

  Damn, she was pretty. A man could watch her like a campfire, or a waterfall, seeing something new in every movement of her curvy body, every fall of her long blonde hair over her shoulders and back, every glance of her pretty eyes, every moue of those full lips.

  She turned and saw him there, and straightened, wiping her hands on a towel. “Can they fix the damage to my car?”

  “Yep, that’s all underway,” he told her. “They got it cleaned off, and they’re towing it to a body shop in the Heights. Have it back to you in a few days.”

  She nodded, but then sighed, lifting a hand to push her hair back. “That’s nice. At least that’s one thing taken care of.”

  “We’ll get the rest taken care of too,” he said. “Give you my word on that.”

  She shook her head. “Think I need more wine.”

  “Then let’s get you some more of that,” he agreed. Anything to get her settled.

  And come to think of it, he could use another beer.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  September 15th

  The next morning, Mac was in danger of experiencing exactly what he feared, that Rae would sleep on their discussion and change her mind, decide to stay in Spokane, and away from him.

  He'd spent the night on the sofa, with his son and Rae upstairs in their beds. But while Con might be able to sleep on his mom’s sofas, Mac could not get comfortable on either one of them. One was too damn short, the other sagged in the middle and had lumps at intervals. He finally took the pillow and blanket Rae had given him and slept on the carpet.

  Up early, he staggered into the kitchen, cursing under his breath as he stretched to work out the ache in his back.

  By the time Rae traipsed down the stairs, he’d slugged down two cups of strong coffee, a couple of Tylenol, and had some eggs and bacon started.

  She also looked tired, but still pretty as could be in blue jeans, a long-sleeved purple tee and matching fuzzy vest, with her hair bundled back in one of those messy buns that made a man want to pull on that one pin and watch it all fall like silk over his hands.

  She moved into the kitchen for a mug, poured herself a cup of coffee, then stopped, staring at the six pink cardboard boxes stacked on the kitchen island.

  “What on earth are all those?” she asked, her voice still husky from sleep.

  Mac smiled to himself. “Oh, I had a hankering for donuts. Couldn’t decide what to buy, and I didn’t know which you liked, so… I bought a bunch. They’re great—I’ve had two.”

  He’d eaten a maple bar and a bear-claw while he cooked the bacon.

  She stared at the stack of boxes, then sighed. “You know what, whatever. Any maple bars?”

  “Uh, yeah. They’re the best kind.”

  She selected one, put it on a small plate, and took it to the small table. Then she sat, sipping her coffee and staring out the kitchen window at her tiny backyard.

  "Mac… I can't do it," she said, shaking her head. "I–I just can't."

  Her head down, she took a drink of coffee. He watched her wince slightly as the hot brew burned her tongue.

  Yeah, he thought, crankily. That'll teach ya. Messing with his plans again.

  Buried somewhere in her soft, sweet, caramel goodness was a hard nugget of stubbornness, got that from her mama, he was sure.

  Not that he held this against her—a woman raising her son half time while working full time needed a strong will. He just wished she hadn't picked now to show it.

  But, he thought, with renewed cheer, she was stubborn, but he could out-stubborn the best of them. And he was one hell of a lot sneakier.

  Did he mind backing her into a corner if he had to, for her own good? Oh, hell no.

  He checked the time on his phone and smiled to himself behind his own cup of java. He could hear the sound of big trucks outside in the street, which meant her doorbell ought to be ringing just... about... now.

  Ding dong. Rae startled, and coffee sloshed in her cup. He winced and moved around the island to take the cup from her and set it safely on the table.

  "You want to get that door, babe?" he asked. "I'll just cook us some eggs.”

  Ding-dong.

  Her eyes narrowed and she gave him a look of deep suspicion as she rose.

  "Mac Carson," she said. "What have you done?"

  He switched directions. "Second thought, I'll get the door."

  "You wait just a darn minute!" she called after him. Ignoring her, he jogged to the front door and opened it.

  "
Good morning, brother," T-bear bellowed, filling Rae's front doorway with his huge body and exuberance. Cooler loved the guy, but he was like having a giant six year old around at times.

  Now was one of the times when that was a good thing. They were gonna need his sheer exuberance to get Rae over this hump.

  Manda, T's cute and sweet old lady, peeked out from behind the big ginger. "Good morning, Cooler," she said cheerily. "Are RaeAnn and Connor all ready to move?"

  Rae came into the living room at this point—Cooler could feel her presence behind him. Like a little storm deciding whether to rain or zap thunder and lightning.

  "Uh… we’re workin’ on that,” he said, giving Manda and T a warning grimace.

  Manda’s eyes widened, and she slipped behind T. Good move—Cooler kinda wished he could do the same as Rae snapped him in the small of his back with a kitchen towel.

  “Ow!” he flinched. Should’ve put his cut on this morning.

  "I knew it," she muttered behind him. "I knew you’d do something like this you—you sneaky biker jerk."

  Then her voice stretched and warmed as if she was smiling. "Good morning," she said to T-Bear.

  "You bet it's a good morning," T bellowed, grinning down at Rae. He had either missed Cooler’s warning look or decided to ignore it. Either was just as likely for the big guy.

  T rubbed his ham-sized hands together. "We're here to get you and your boy moved in with our Flyer family. That's always good news. Right where you and Connor belong. Gonna be a great day for all of us."

  Rae poked a sharp fingernail in the center of Cooler's back, and damnit, it hurt nearly as much as the towel flick.

  "Can I talk to you in the kitchen for a minute?" she asked in that sweet voice women use when what they really mean is that if a man won't comply, they're gonna lose it.

  "What?" demanded a new voice.

  Rav, tall and broad shouldered, stood to one side of T. "You mean you ain't even talked her into it yet?" The Southerner shook his head "Brother, not sure you know much about women."

  "Why, that's just what I was thinking," said Rae sweetly. "But don't let me keep you all standing on the doorstep. Everyone, come in, please."