Legacy - Night Horde SoCal 3

by Sarah Osborn

  FORTY-FOUR

  Tiny leaned on the door of the princess house and tried to figure out how he was supposed to convince the woman in front of him that he loved her. She'd never believed him, not really. There had always been that doubt in her mind, and he had no idea how that was assuaged. But her accusation had cut him to the core. He would never cheat on her, and she should have known that.

  Beth sat on the bed and looked up at him. “You pissed?”

  “You accused me of fucking my brother's ol' lady – your friend – behind your back. Yeah, I'm pissed.”

  “Are you telling me honestly that you don't have feelings for Emma?”

  “Emma is my friend.” He knew this was why she thought he was cheating. Before he'd met Emma it had never occurred to him that he could just be friends with a woman. Even Beth, back before they were together, he'd never considered a friend. She'd been family, just like Amy and his ma. She'd fit neatly in the family box, just as she fit the ol' lady one. Then along had come Samson's tough little witch, who'd won him over with her smart mouth, wicked sense of humor and her innate ability to read him. He sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. “I like her, is all.” He touched the gold band on her finger. “You wear my ink, an' that ring, cuz it was you I wanted to be my ol' lady. That ain't changed.”

  “Am I your old lady because I'm the easy option?”

  “I don't even know what that means, Beth. You're my ol' lady cuz I love you. What other reason would there be?”

  Actions always spoke louder than words, and Tiny didn't know how else to show Beth he loved her. He was pretty sure he wasn't stupid, but he had no idea how to express himself verbally. He did know how to kiss her, though, and knew that she loved when he trailed his tongue along her throat. He pushed his hands under her shirt and squeezed her nipples, gently at first – she loved him to tease her – waiting until she started to moan, before squeezing harder. He pulled away, smirking as Beth whimpered, and began to unbutton the shirt. She was braless, and he immediately began teasing her nipple with his tongue, refusing, even when she began pulling on his hair, to use his teeth.

  Slowly, Tiny began to work his way down her body. How could she ever think he didn't love her? He didn't know how not to. Slowly, he unbuttoned her jeans and pulled the zipper down. She was too perfect not to love. Tiny yanked the jeans and her panties down and turned his attention to her beautiful, sweet-tasting pussy. Before her, he'd never gone down on women – not even Maria – the thought of his mouth being where other men had been had disgusted him. But he couldn't get enough of Beth. He sucked on her clit and growled as she arched her body. She loved this as much as him, and the rush of being able to make her come with his tongue never got old.

  His cock was growing impatient, and so was Beth. She pushed him away and sat with her back against the headboard as he pulled down his jeans and crawled across the bed towards her. She grinned and, getting onto her knees, turned to face the wall. Still teasing, Tiny prolonged his own agony as he slid his fingers between her folds. Beth leaned back against his chest and began playing with her tits. That did it! There was no way his cock would tolerate any more delays, not when her warm wet pussy was just begging to be fucked. He grunted as he pushed himself inside her. “I love you, Beth. Only you.”

  FORTY-FIVE

  They called it The Whapper Method. So named after a long dead brother, who'd made a lucrative living breaking into pharmacies, way back in the Seventies. His technique was simple but effective: smash your way in, get the job done and get your ass out of there before the pigs showed up. It was a technique that worked just as well when raiding a clubhouse as it did for pharmacies, and it was a particular favorite of Samson's. He may not have been as young as he once was, and he certainly wasn't as quick on his feet, but shit, there was something hugely satisfying about smashing your way through the doors and doing as much damage to everyone and everything in sight before anyone knew what had hit them.

  His weapon of choice in situations like this was a trusty baseball bat. The enclosed space made guns impractical and dangerous – there was a good chance of hitting one of your own guys, and the noise meant that the cops were likely to be called before the job was done – and it didn't matter how big someone was, his bat would bring them down.

  He grinned as he destroyed the Dirty Rats SAA's face, then whirled around and ducked as a bike chain missed his head by inches. There really was nothing like a good brawl to make a man feel alive, and maybe next time, this low down, piece of crap club would think twice before allying themselves with the Serpiente.

  Diving over the bar with a lot less grace than he would have liked, he set his bat to work, destroying every bottle he could see. They wouldn't be drowning their sorrows tonight.

  A shout went out – his brothers were pulling out. The whole thing had lasted less than ten minutes, and the clubhouse had been completely obliterated.

  By the time they arrived back at the Vegas clubhouse, the adrenaline was wearing off, and Samson was already starting to hurt. He made no attempt to disguise his limp as he made his way to the bar, and like a junkie after a hit, he was coming down fast. He gave a rueful grin as Jez passed him a large Jack. “I'm getting way too old for this.”

  “I hear you, brother.” Jez chuckled. “Damned if it don't feel good, though.”

  “Yep. Until you stop. I'm gonna need to sit down. I'm hurting like a motherfucker.” Already the bloodlust had died and been replaced by something much stronger.

  FORTY-SIX

  Samson needed to go home. The pull was stronger than anything he'd ever known, and the need to be with Emma and Lottie filled his waking hours and invaded his dreams. It had been easier when she'd been mad at him – he'd been terrified he'd lose them, of course, but at least all he had to deal with was that and the stony silences. Now his resilient, funny little witch was back, and every time they spoke, the pull grew stronger.

  For a while, it had seemed that De Luca had been successful in reining in the Serpiente, and the tit-for-tat hits had ground to a halt. Then, just as he was preparing to leave, a whorehouse in San Diego had been burned to the ground, leaving two women and the Serpiente VP dead.

  There could be no avoiding war now. The gloves were off, and no Freak was safe. Maybe the smart thing to do would've been to sneak out of town with his tail between his legs and keep a low profile for the rest of his days, but Vegas was being hit hard, and now it looked as though the Serpiente had Bay View set firmly in their sights.

  For over three months, he'd been actively involved in retaliations and preemptive hits with his Vegas brothers. Three long months of blood and bullets. And now a protection run had been ambushed just outside Bay View, and Vince was screaming for vengeance.

  So far, Samson had managed to stay out of Vince's crosshairs. The Bay View President was power hungry and greedy, but he wasn't stupid, and he knew Samson was behind Moretti's death. He couldn't prove it, of course, any more than Samson could prove that he was the instigator behind the initial attacks on the Serpiente. But now, the mother chapter had been attacked, Long John was seriously injured, the Feds were crawling all over the place, and the call had gone out for nomad support. So pushing back his need to be with his family, Samson set out for California.

  Emma had wanted to meet him there, but he was adamant that she and Lottie stay home. Bay View was small and extremely vulnerable. For years, the little town had managed to avoid conflict by virtue of its size and location, but now it was being targeted, and there was nowhere for anyone associated with the club to hide. Tiny had sent Beth and the kids to his ma's, although six people in that tiny house must've been a nightmare, and he'd contemplated suggesting they moved back up to Seattle until things calmed down. He had tentatively broached the subject with Tiny, but his brother had shot that down in flames. He wanted his family close, and was sure they'd be safe in Fillmore. Samson wanted his family close, too. He missed them so much that it actually hurt, but he'd live with the pain, if it meant t
hey were safe.

  It occurred to him, as he let himself into Tiny's house, that he'd never been there when it hadn't been full of kids. They'd only been away for less than two weeks, but already Tiny had tidied all trace of them neatly away. Maybe it was easier for him to deal with them being away if he wasn't being constantly reminded of them, but Samson suspected it was just his brother's need for order.

  He grinned to himself as he wandered over to the fridge for a beer. Emma had told him that Beth had convinced herself that she and Tiny were having an affair, and he'd nearly busted a gut laughing. The fact that her bra and panties never matched would stop his brother in his tracks before they even started. He knew Emma and Tiny were close, and he kind of understood Beth's fears – Emma was hot as hell, after all – but they were poles apart. In fact the only thing they had in common was their deep love and loyalty to their respective partners. He hadn't mentioned it to Tiny, there seemed little point, but he did contemplate talking to Beth. She should have had more faith in her man, and accusing Emma of something like this was downright disrespectful.

  He grabbed a beer and headed straight upstairs. Tiny would be at work for a couple more hours, and the guest bed was beckoning. Maybe Lottie would be asleep, and he'd get the chance to talk dirty with Emma. His cock woke up at the merest idea and, adjusting himself, he sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled out his cell. “Hey, baby girl.”

  “Hey. You at Tiny's?”

  “Yeah. I've got the place to myself for a while, so I was wondering... what are you wearing?”

  Emma laughed. “A rather fetching sweater that I got from a thrift store last time I was in town, those jeans that you hate cuz they're saggy around the ass, and wool socks cuz we've been out playing in the puddles and I was wearing galoshes.” She laughed again. “Hot, eh?”

  For a moment, he couldn't speak as the image of her splashing through puddles with Lottie and the dog overwhelmed him. His chest tightened. “Emma.” His voice sounded gruff, and he tried clear his throat. “I'm coming home.”

  “When?”

  He stood up. “Now.”

  ~ oOo ~

  Genghis heard him first. The dog was pretty dumb, by all accounts, but he recognized Deke's bike from miles away. Emma's heart beat faster in her chest as the dog bounced at the door like Tigger on amphetamines. It had been two days since he'd announced he was coming home, and they hadn't spoken since then. She'd filled the time baking his favorite cakes and trying to teach Lottie to say 'daddy.' She was worried that their daughter might have forgotten him – she was so young and was going through a weird shy phase, and Deke had been away for a big chunk of her life – Emma knew that it would break his heart if Lottie refused to go to him.

  The rumble of his Harley had now reached her ears, and she opened the front door. “Genghis. Sit.” Genghis sat, whining as the sound of the bike grew louder, and Lottie wriggled in her arms, wanting to cuddle her dog. “You can get down in a minute.” Emma moved her to the other hip. “Daddy's coming home, and he'll want a cuddle first.”

  Genghis reached Deke first and launched himself at him before he'd even swung his leg over the bike. Laughing, he pushed the dog away and, his eyes never leaving hers, dismounted and unclipped his helmet.

  Emma couldn't move. She stood rooted to the spot, terrified that if she took a step, her knees would buckle. He frowned. “Baby Girl?”

  His voice was enough. She closed the space between them and, as he wrapped his arms around her and Lottie, the world became a safe place again.

  ~ oOo ~

  Things were weird between them. They didn't do weird. Emma leaned on the living room doorframe and gazed at her family. Deke sat on the sofa showing Lottie pictures of... Jesus... naked women on Harleys, with Genghis at his feet and the cats on his lap. Everything looked as normal as anything. Not weird at all.

  He became aware of her scrutiny and smiled. “There's room for another.”

  “I have lunch to cook. And I'm not sure tarts on bikes are suitable for toddlers.” Shit. What was wrong with her? Ignoring his frown, she turned and headed back into the kitchen. Why was she so angry all of a sudden?

  Deke put Lottie on the floor and followed her into the kitchen. “What's wrong?”

  “Nothing.” She kept her back firmly to him and began hunting through the fridge.

  “Emma.” His fingers brushed her arm, and her body cried in response. “You gonna talk to me, baby girl?” Emma turned to face him, and he cupped her face in his hands. “Why're you being weird?”

  “I don't know.” He hadn't showered and still smelled of the road. Her hands, of their own accord, pressed against his chest. “I...”

  If kissing were an Olympic sport, Deke would be weighed down with gold medals. Emma had no idea why it was so good, and she was sure she wasn't being subjective. He was an amazing lover who knew her body better than she did, but she could come from his kisses alone. After years – or maybe nanoseconds – he pulled away. “I'm gonna put Lottie in her crib.” She didn't want to let him go, not even to make the short trip upstairs. Emma clutched his beater. She'd never felt like this before. “Emma, baby. I don't want to fuck you with Lottie down here. You gotta let me go, cuz I'm dangerously close to coming in my pants.”

  FORTY-SEVEN

  It wasn't enough. Even as she cried out and her body arched at his touch, she knew that no matter how good their homecoming fucks were, Emma couldn't keep holding things together when they were apart. But, God, his cock felt so good, and she loved him so much. A sob escaped and she dragged her nails down his back.

  She'd hoped that this would be what it took to reconnect them, but she'd been wrong. Deke had always said that being an old lady would change her, but she hadn't expected it to feel like this.

  He came with a grunt, and as soon as he'd rolled off her, Emma sat up. She could hear Lottie babbling away to Genghis in the bedroom. “Lottie needs her lunch. I don't want to disrupt her routine.”

  “Since when did she have a routine?” Ignoring her frown, he sat up and lit a cigarette.

  “Since I became a single parent.”

  His jaw clenched. “Low blow, Emma.”

  Emma shrugged and swung her legs over the side of the bed. “Don't make it any less true.”

  The grip on her arm didn't hurt, but it was firm enough to remind her just how powerful he was. “You don't get to hit me with shit like that, then walk away.”

  “I don't get to do a lot of things, Deke.” She tried to pull away, and his grip got tighter. “You're hurting me.”

  He released her, and his arm dropped to his side. “What don't you get to do?”

  “It doesn't matter.” She stood and began to collect her clothes from the floor. “You don't want to hear it, anyways.”

  As he stood, she noticed, for the first time, a huge but faded bruise across his ribs. “Shit, Deke.”

  He shrugged off her concern. “What don't you get to do?” They were both naked. Emma could feel the heat from his body as he closed the distance between them. She didn't want to touch him, but her hand wasn't listening, and her fingers traced the bruise, then moved to a small, jagged scar under his collar bone. His muscle twitched at her touch. “Talk to me, Emma.”

  She shook her head and began to dress. “I have things to do.” She didn't want to look at him, or touch him. And she sure as shit didn't want to talk. This time he let her go. Emma lifted Lottie from her crib and headed for the kitchen. She knew that she was pissing him off – she was pissing herself off – but until she was absolutely sure about what it was she wanted to say, she figured it was better to say nothing at all.

  She'd missed him so much. All she'd wanted was to feel his arms around her. Every time they'd spoken, she'd fought the urge to beg him to come home. And now that he was, all she wanted was to put as much distance between them as possible. She sat Lottie in her high chair and began slicing vegetables, still trying to figure out what was going on in her head.

  “Emma.” His fa
ce was etched with the kind of weariness that didn't get fixed by a good night's sleep, and although, as he crossed the kitchen, there was no discernible limp, he was holding himself as though he was in pain. “Don't be like this.” Her heart contracted as his eyes met hers and he smiled. “I really need my little witch right now.”

  There was a voice in her head – it had probably always been there – a nasty little thing that would whisper in her ear, reminding her of every broken promise, berating her each time she backed down or compromised. Even when she was happy, it was there, pointing out that, sooner or later, he'd fuck up again. And now, as she wrapped her arms around his waist, it was screaming so loud, it almost deafened her.

  ~ oOo ~

  He'd had it all mapped out in his head: Emma was going to throw herself into his arms, then she'd weave her magic and put him back together again. She might be kinda mad for a while, but they'd work it out, because that was what they did.

  He knew Emma inside out, and because he did, he knew that when she closed herself off like this, it was because she was scared, and because he didn't know what she was scared of, that scared him, too.

  As he stood in the kitchen, with his arms wrapped around her. Deke felt more vulnerable than he'd ever felt in his life before. He lifted her chin with his finger and kissed her, then reluctantly pushed her away. “I'm gonna take a shower. How about you call Felix, see if he'll have Lottie for the night. I think you an' me need some time alone.”

  ~ oOo ~

  While Felix had agreed to come and collect Lottie and the dog for the night, it didn't mean he was happy about it, and he had treated Deke with a disdain that can only come from a best friend. Deke had ignored it, of course, but Emma feared that one day, her friend would cross the line and find himself getting hurt.

  As soon as they were alone, she led him into the living room and sat down in front of the fire. “It's all fucked up, isn't it?”