by Sarah Osborn
PART TWO
THE BEGINNING
SEVENTY-SEVEN
Luke didn't often think his mom was right, but on this occasion, he was in full agreement with her. Abi had turned into a monster. He scowled and picked at his thumbnail; she could've gotten married anywhere, but had insisted that she wanted the ceremony to be held at the chapel in the cemetery where his dad and Amy were buried. And what the golden girl wanted, the golden girl got.
Of course, it was raining. Luke didn't remember much about Seattle, he'd been small when they'd left, but he did remember moving to California and how suddenly he'd gotten to play out in the yard a whole lot more. It was cold, too. Fucking Abs. None of them wanted to be there; his mom, at one point, had threatened to boycott the whole thing, and neither Imi or Alice saw any point in having the wedding there. There had been no chance her gutless boyfriend was going to stand up to her. Not that he thought he was being gutless, of course; he'd just laughed and said he didn't care where they got married, and if it made Abi happy, that was good enough for him.
He leaned against the window pane and watched as a Harley pulled up outside the hotel and the reason for his mom's latest outburst dismounted. If Abi had thought that, by not telling his mom that she'd asked Samson to walk her down the aisle until they'd arrived in Seattle, she'd avoid any added conflict, she'd been mistaken. His mom had lost her shit. Luke wasn't sure why she had such a problem with his dad's old friends, but he figured she had her reasons.
It had been a long time since Luke had seen Samson, and his memories of him were vague, but the big biker seemed little changed. Older, sure, and his limp seemed a little more pronounced, but his grin as he picked Abi up and swung her round looked exactly the same. And he didn't look like a man who hadn't cared about them.
~ oOo ~
“This is such a bad idea.”
Lottie didn't bother to answer. With a sigh she opened the closet door and pulled out a dress. “Jesus, Mom, were you tripping when you bought this?”
“Probably. Try it on.”
“With the greatest respect, Mother. Fuck off.”
Emma laughed. “I loved that dress, I forgot I had it. Maybe I should wear it to the wedding.”
“Maybe not.” Lottie continued her search. “It wouldn't kill you to throw some of this stuff away. Ooh this one.” She dropped a tiny sundress bedecked with daisies onto the bed. “I know it's cold out, but if you wear it with leggings, those boots dad bought you – don't worry I'll stop you from falling on your ass – and that suede jacket, you'll look great.”
“I have such a stylish daughter.” Her mom tugged on one of her dreads. “But I'm not wearing the boots. They're for fucking in, not walking.”
“Well, thanks for that image. I'm going to go and get changed. I'm assuming I'm expected to make an effort.”
“It would be nice. I know you didn't want to come, but I could really use some moral support.”
Lottie headed back to her room and began hunting through her own clothes, settling on a short purple shift dress that her mom had made for her years ago. She'd hardly worn it, and it was the nearest thing to respectable that she owned.
She didn't really know Abi or her boyfriend, but she knew that Tiny had been close to her folks. And although Beth didn't speak to either of them, Abi had stayed in touch.
It was hard to imagine her mom falling out with anyone, she was about as friendly as it was possible to be, and when she'd explained that Beth had been convinced that she and Tiny had been having an affair, Lottie had nearly peed herself laughing. She had no recollection of Tiny, but her mom and dad were so in love, it was embarrassing. She pulled the dress over her head and examined her reflection. Yeah, she'd do.
SEVENTY-EIGHT
Well, shit. Tiny and Beth had certainly produced some good-looking kids. Lottie climbed out of her mom's car and gazed at the scattering of people gathered outside the chapel. She recognized Beth from the photographs they had around the house, but she looked older than she'd expected. Maybe it was because her mom still looked so young, or maybe Beth was older than she'd thought. She was still an attractive woman, though, and the reason for her mom's meltdown over having nothing to wear became a little clearer. She leaned on the car and began to roll a cigarette, “So, how are you gonna play this, Mom? Front it out, or lurk?”
“What I'd really like to do is run, but Abi invited us, and your dad will get all sulky if I don't show. I vote we lurk.” Her mom snatched the cigarette from between her fingers and took a long pull. “Beth can hold a grudge like anything, and I don't want to cause a scene. We'll slip in once everyone else is inside.” She took a deep breath as she looked over to the little group. “Shit, Luke looks just like Tiny.”
“I've seen the pictures, Mom. Tiny wasn't that hot.”
“Luke's prettier, but Tiny was a good-looking guy when he wasn't scowling.” Emma smiled. “Which, to be honest, hardly ever happened.”
Lottie retrieved her cigarette and watched as the doors were opened and everyone filed inside. Luke really was hot. Tall and slim, with outstanding cheekbones and wavy black hair that nearly reached his shoulders. “It looks as though everyone's heading inside. C'mon, let's go in. It's freezing out here.”
~ oOo ~
So that was the infamous Emma. Wow, had she always been hot? Luke knew that his mom didn't like her, and would shut Abi down whenever she mentioned her name. He'd never really questioned it up until now, but maybe it was just old fashioned jealousy. Their eyes met briefly and, as she smiled, memories of color and laughter flooded his brain. He'd forgotten just how much fun she'd been. It would've been nice to go over and say hi, but he figured it would be prudent to stay where he was, and he'd only get stupid and tongue-tied if he tried to speak to – he searched his memory – Lottie. Jesus, she was gorgeous. Tall, like her dad, with legs that went on for miles and bright red dreadlocks that fell past her long, slender neck to the middle of her back.
Alice touched his arm and signed, “Stop drooling.”
“I'm not.” He grinned. “Much.”
“Sure you're not. Dude, she is way out of your league.” She slipped her arm through his as they walked into the chapel. “Loser.”
He made a face and led her to their seats. He wasn't a complete loser when it came to women, but his track record wasn't great. As they sat down, he resisted the urge to turn around. Maybe if he had a couple of beers later, he'd risk the wrath of his mother and talk to her. Or lurk in the corner. Lurking was good, he could live with that.
SEVENTY-NINE
“So, how do I look?”
Samson grinned as Abi twirled in front of him. “You look absolutely beautiful, princess. Your dad would have been so proud of you.” He kissed her cheek. “His little girl all grown up and getting married.”
Her smile was a little sad. “I still miss him. Henry is nice and all, but he'll never take the place of Dad.” She sighed. “I wish he was here.”
“Me, too.” He ran his forefinger around the collar of his shirt. “He could've worn this.” 'This' was a slate gray single-breasted suit and white button-down shirt. He'd dealt with rival MCs and spat in the eye of death, but he'd stood no chance against Abigail fucking Taylor, and all his arguments had fallen on deaf ears. Bridezilla had spoken, and her word was law.
“You look great.” Abi grinned and wiped away a tear. “Although, I'm pretty sure it came with a tie.”
“Aw, c'mon, Abs. It's too tight.” Shit, he was whining. She held out a hand and, reluctantly, he pulled the offending item from his pocket and handed it over. “I'm not built for ties.”
Abi deftly knotted the tie and kissed his cheek. “I think you look pretty hot for an old guy. Emma is going to be all over you.” She pulled off his beanie and handed him a hair tie, grinning as he tied his hair back without a word. “Perfect. Now if you're ready, we'd better get moving. I don't want to be late.”
“I hate you.”
“No you don't.” She picked up the bouque
t of daisies, and, with her hand in his, led him outside to the waiting car.
~ oOo ~
Lottie stifled a laugh as her dad walked Abi down the aisle. She didn't think she'd ever seen anyone look quite so uncomfortable. She grinned and blew him a kiss as he glared at her.
Her mom nudged her with her elbow. “I want pictures. Lots and lots of pictures.”
“You got it.”
“He does look hot, though, doesn't he?”
“Nope, he looks like a pissed-off old dude in a suit.” She couldn't stop herself from looking over to where Luke was sitting next to his mom and sisters. “That is hot.”
“If you decide to drag him outside to have your wicked way with him, please make sure he uses a condom – two condoms. I dread to think what the offspring of Samson and Tiny would produce if they bred.”
“Duly noted.” Lottie tore her eyes away from Luke as her dad kissed Abi on the forehead and walked to the back of the chapel, where she and her mom were sitting. “And while we're on the subject, do not try to jump Dad until we get home.”
“It's going to be tricky, but I'll do my best.”
EIGHTY
Abi and her new husband, Paul, were planning a big party for friends and extended family back in California. But for the handful guests who had come to the ceremony in Seattle, there was a buffet and drinks at the hotel they were all staying at. Luke found himself a quiet corner and watched as his mom glared at Samson and Emma as they and Lottie filled their plates. He doubted she'd make a scene, she was too classy for that, but she was far from happy, and it was taking all his stepdad's diplomatic skills to keep her calm. His annoyance at his sister spiked. These people were strangers, and had wanted no part in their lives. Abi's insistence that they were family was a slap in the face for all of them.
Lottie glanced over and grinned as her mom whispered something in her ear. Luke looked away as he felt a blush rising up his throat. Shit, Alice was right, he really was such a loser. He stood and dropped his paper plate into the trash can, and hurried for the door. It was too hot in there, and he needed some fresh air.
“Hey. It's Luke, right?”
“Guh.” Shit, asshole, say something. “Er yeah.” He forced himself to smile as Lottie sat on the low wall next to him. “And you're Lottie. I think I remember you.”
“Really? I don't know how many years it's been since we last saw each other. I would've been a baby.”
“Actually.” He chuckled. “I'm not sure I do. I do remember Genghis, though.”
She smiled a little sadly. “Yeah, Genghis was great.”
“Do you still have a dog?” She was sitting too close, and smelled of something both familiar and elusive. She crossed her legs, and he shifted as his stupid cock woke up. “I don't remember much, but your house always seemed full of animals.”
“Mom and Dad have two. I'd like one, but my apartment's too small.” She grinned. “I did try goldfish, but they kept dying.” Lottie pulled a joint from a tin in her purse. “My folks just keep accumulating animals. Dad keeps saying 'no more,' but he's the worst offender. He bought a parrot from a guy at the club last month. Mom wasn't impressed.”
A memory pushed its way to the forefront of his mind – his dad in a leather vest with a double headed viper on the back, and the rumble of a Harley – Luke frowned as other memories started to clamor for attention. “Is your dad still a Freak?”
“Yeah. He's not really that active anymore, but he still goes on runs and stuff.”
“My dad was a Freak.” Stupid mouth, she knows that. “I don't really remember much about him, and Mom never talks about the club, but I do remember his bike.”
“Tiny had the best bikes. Dad has his old Bobber. He doesn't really ride it – I think it's pretty uncomfortable – I guess he keeps it for sentimental reasons.” She smiled. “He still misses him.”
Luke took the offered joint and took a pull. He hadn't heard anyone call his dad Tiny for years, not since his mom remarried and Spike stopped coming around, and had always thought he'd been forgotten by the club. He passed the joint back to Lottie, carefully avoiding looking at those amazingly long legs. “They were close?”
“God yes.” Lottie laughed. “Dad loved Tiny, so did Mom. She thinks you look like him.” She pulled a face. “You do a bit, but you're a lot less scowly.”
“You remember him?”
She really had a great laugh. “Nope. But there are loads photos of him at home. In fact we've got boxes of his stuff in the garage. Your mom wanted to throw them out, but Spike rescued them, and somehow, they wound up with us.” She flashed him a megawatt smile. “I don't know when you guys are planning on heading back home, but if you have time, I'm sure Dad won't mind you swinging by and checking it out.”
Luke opened his mouth. And then closed it again. They would be leaving for California in the morning, and he knew that Samson's house was way out of town – he couldn't remember how far, but when he was a kid it had felt like they'd driven for days – and he guessed sneaking away wasn't an option. His eyes fell on those legs again. “I'd like to, but we're leaving in the morning.”
EIGHTY-ONE
“Still got that bug up your ass, huh?” Samson leaned on the bar as Beth did her best to pretend she hadn't seen him. “It's been nearly twenty years, Beth. Don't you think it's time to draw a line under this bullshit?”
“I have nothing to say to you.” There was a coldness in her eyes that had never been there before.
He shrugged and picked up his and Emma's drinks. He'd long since given up trying to build bridges. Beth blamed the club for Tiny's death. She wasn't entirely wrong, and he understood that she wanted nothing to do with the Freaks, but they'd been friends, and her insecurities had destroyed that. “I guess we'd better leave after these drinks. Wouldn't want my ol' lady setting her sights on your husband.”
“Oh, Henry would never be interested in her. He likes his women to have more class.”
His jaw clenched so hard, it actually hurt. “I'm gonna let that go. Wouldn't like to spoil Abi's day. But I'm giving you fair warning, I'm dangerously close to losing my shit.”
“Go right ahead.” Beth arched an eyebrow. “Abi could do with seeing the real you.”
“What happened to you, Beth?”
“I came to my senses.” She turned as her husband approached. “And found a man who really loved me.”
“Everything okay?” Her husband – Henry – tried his best to not look intimidated.
Samson pulled himself up to his full height. “Yep.” He looked over to where Emma was in an animated discussion with their daughter. “Never better.”
Emma frowned as he joined them. “I don't know why you keep on trying.”
Deke put the glasses on a nearby table and rested his hand lightly on her hip. “I'm a friendly guy.”
Lottie rolled her eyes as Emma reached up and kissed him. “It would be nice if you two could keep your hands off each other for more than a few minutes.” She held out her hand. “So, can I have the car keys?”
Deke pulled Emma closer. “What do you want the car for?”
“Your daughter wants to sneak off to our place with Luke.” Emma grinned. “She says she wants to show him Tiny's stuff, but I think she has an ulterior motive.”
He probably should have shot that idea down in flames. The ceasefire between the Taylor and Samson families was fragile at best, and he'd promised Abi that his and Emma's presence would not spoil her day. But he wasn't the unreasonable one, and Beth's attempts to erase history had pissed him off. Luke had every right to know who his dad was. And if Lottie took the car, Emma would have to ride back with him.
He snatched Emma's purse and pulled out the keys. “Make sure he uses a condom.”
EIGHTY-TWO
Stepping through the door into Samson and Emma's kitchen was like being transported back in time. How could he have forgotten the smell of herbs and lingering aroma of freshly baked bread? The color and the chaos?
> A whine brought Luke back to the present and, as Lottie opened the laundry room door, an ancient three-legged Greyhound and what might have been a poodle pushed past her to check him out. Lottie laughed. “Say hi to Attila and Kubla.” She pointed to the poodle. “Attila bites, but it's okay, he doesn't have many teeth left.”
As if to illustrate her point, Attila growled before deciding that Kubla was getting all the attention and wagged his tail. Luke scratched the dogs behind their ears and looked around. The walls were covered in brightly colored wall hangings and family photographs, and the shelves were full of jars and bottles containing what looked liked oils and dried herbs. On the window ledge, fresh herbs competed for space with vases of flowers, and on the bookcase, alongside the myriad of books, were more photographs and shells and colored pebbles. It didn't look like the home of a cold-hearted outlaw and his whore of a wife. He glanced out of the window. “Does your mom still have a goat?”
“Two little ones. And a donkey.” Lottie smiled. Shit, she really was lovely. “Technically, the donkey's mine, but I'm pretty sure Dad would never speak to me again if I tried to take her away.” She opened the fridge and pulled out a couple of beers. “Tiny's stuff is in the garage under the studio. Come and give me a hand bringing the boxes into the house. It's cold out there, and it won't take a minute to light a fire.”
~ oOo ~
There were three boxes of Tiny's stuff. Lottie had no idea what was in them, but as she'd suspected, much of it was Harley manuals and old bike magazines. She sat, cross-legged, in front of the fire as he opened the third and pulled out a smaller box. He lifted the lid and blinked. “Shit, this is Amy's. Why would Mom want to throw this away?”
“Amy?”
“Mom's niece. She died before I was born, and I don't know much about her, but I know Dad looked on her as his own.” He began sorting through the contents, then laid the box to one side and pulled out a picture wrapped in brown paper.
