Texas Tornado

by Lani Lynn Vale

  I watched the calculation in Sebastian’s eyes. How his eyes flicked from me to James, wondering what the connection was and why he was protecting me. Honestly, I’d like to know the last one myself.

  “My father is, what you could say, a fan.” Sebastian explained reluctantly.

  “Daddy goes by his middle name, too.” I supplied.

  James eyes focused on mine, and a smile turned up the corner of his lips, before it disappeared when he focused on something towards the side of my face. His hand rose, and the pad of his thumb traced the apple of my cheek, and I winced.

  “Fuck! What the hell?” I asked, raising my hand up to cup my cheek.

  “Bruised.” He explained, and then his glare turned from the swelling on my cheek to Sebastian. “What the fuck were you thinking letting that happen to your sister?”

  Sebastian held his hands up. “I didn’t know my sister was here. Nor did I know what was happening until it’d already happened. My man was just watching over my back.” He explained.

  He hated explaining. The tick in his jaw highlighted that fact, and I had a feeling that James somehow knew it.

  “Well maybe if you paid attention to your sister a little more instead of going out of your way to ignore her, you’d know more. That, or pick better people to watch you’re back. She was a defenseless woman. You don’t treat women like that. She could’ve been anyone; been there for anything. Look, I have one more fight tonight. Y’all take that time to figure your shit out. And if you hurt her, I’ll kill you. You’ll never see it coming.”

  With that succinctly put statement, he left.

  “Well, the man is sure hot for you. Did he fuck you yet?” Sebastian snapped.

  My eyes went from the empty doorway to Sebastian’s hate filled face.

  He had some massive chip on his shoulder, and I sure wasn’t going to stand here and let him berate me for something I’d never even done. I didn’t even know why he was mad. Hell, I never said one single word about the trashy women he saw. Not one single word about the hoe bag of a woman he got pregnant.

  Then I berated myself, because that hoe bag, Lindsey, was dead. She couldn’t defend her actions anymore, and I had no room to talk. I didn’t have the best track record when it came to men, and I’m sure it bothered Sebastian that I was seeing someone, and he didn’t even get to run a background check on the man.

  “Well?” Sebastian hissed when I took too long to answer.

  “Go fuck yourself.” I said before turning and following the sounds of cheering.

  James was fighting again, except this time it was the bear-man I’d seen fucking that woman earlier. He was easily twice the size of James length and width wise. His hair was a wild mass of snarls around his head, and his beard was tamed by a ponytail holder. It reached down to his chest, and I couldn’t help but think that was a bad idea to give someone a ‘handhold’ when it came to a fight, but who was I to say anything?

  I’d been taken down earlier by some man, and I had no ability to fight back. Hell, I didn’t even know how to fight back, other than throwing a punch when they were distracted. I’d always had my brother there to do it for me. Now, I wasn’t sure what I had.

  Chapter 10

  Are you going to do something, or just stand there and bleed?

  -Tombstone

  James

  Peter’s (Portal to the crowd) fist flew past my head like a fucking wrecking ball, and I pivoted, narrowly dodging his other fist by millimeters. Motherfucker, he was quick. Even quicker than the last time we’d fought. The kid was really learning how to fight. Not that he’d win. I’d been doing this since I was fifteen.

  When I was a kid, I had a lot of pent up aggression. With no father to tell me how to channel it, I started punching an old punching bag that Max’s father had in his tool shed. Not one to be outdone, Max had started, too. Then the fights started happening.

  Briggs, my other best friend, discovered an underground fight club of sorts one weekend when he’d gone to Shreveport, Louisiana to visit his grandparents. It wasn’t until after Briggs’ death, however, that I finally worked up the courage to start fighting.

  Briggs, Max, and I met in middle school during JV football tryouts. We bonded so well because all of us fucking sucked at playing football. We never saw the point of it. We all had a problem with authority, and having football coaches screaming at you because you dropped the football wasn’t something that had interested us at the time.

  So, we became fast friends, doing anything and everything together. That all ended one night when Briggs was in a drunk driving accident.

  On our way home from mudding in the Tally Bottoms, Briggs had just pulled onto Highway 31 when a drunk driver hit him head on. The man had been driving in the wrong direction. Being that Highway 31 was a large highway, Briggs never thought to look the other way as he merged into traffic. That was the biggest mistake of his life.

  Max and I had watched in horror as the two cars collided. The drunk went from eighty miles an hour to nothing in just a few short horror-filled seconds. Briggs’ car folded like a motherfucking accordion. Much the way my face was about to, if I didn’t start paying attention to the fight.

  Shaking off any residual wraiths, I faked a right jab and swung my left in an uppercut. My fist met Peter’s jaw on a brutal upward swing, and he dropped to the floor like a stone.

  Not even panting, I backed away from the fallen man, and stopped just to the edge of the ring, waiting. The unofficial referee dropped to his knee beside Peter and did the count, declaring me the winner by a knock out.

  My rage somewhat appeased by the two fights, I turned my head to check on Shiloh. Much the same as earlier, I couldn’t find her. However, this time I wasn’t scared shitless. I knew her brother wouldn’t let anything happen to her now that he knew she was there.

  I hadn’t realized that ownership of Fields of Punishment had transferred hands. Which was very sloppy of me. Sloppy got people killed, and I had a girl that depended on me to live. I would never let her down.

  “Who’s ready for Shiva!” The Announcer roared, snapping me out of my mental assault of my dumbness.

  The announcer reached his desired effect, and the crowd roared at the name. A small snort came from my opposite side, and I turned, and looked down to see Shiloh sitting on a folding metal chair just behind where I was standing.

  “What?” I semi-yelled at her.

  Before she could reply, I finally heard the whispers.

  ‘Oh, my God! Shiva’s fighting?’

  ‘Holy crap, Shiva never fights.’

  “Shiva’s fucking hot. I can’t believe the VP of The Dixie Wardens MC is fighting. Scope’s gonna get his ass kicked.’

  The whispers continued, and I finally looked to Shiloh.

  “Who the fuck is Shiva?” I asked.

  “That,” she laughed. “Would be my big brother.”

  I started to sing ‘Joy to the world’ in my head. Why? I don’t know. I sing Christmas songs when I’m happy, and right then, I was over the fucking moon. I’ve wanted to kick that little fucker’s ass for over two weeks now. Sam wasn’t the only brother she’d been upset with, and anyone that made a woman like Shiloh cry was ‘cruisin’ for a brusin’’ like my lovely sister always says.

  Rubbing my hands together in glee, I stepped back into the ring.

  Sebastian made his appearance moments later, in jeans only, just like me.

  “No lower body.” Sebastian declared.

  “Okay.” I agreed outwardly. However, inwardly I said, ‘Yeah, right.’

  “You fucked her yet?” Sebastian growled.

  I didn’t reply, nor did I move. Which would’ve been what he wanted. For some reason, I’d pissed him off, and what better way to retaliate than a fight in his own establishment. Fuck me up, get his revenge against something I’d done, and make himself look good in front of his club. Win-win for everybody.

  But me, however.

  “Not yet. Soon, though. Maybe t
onight.”

  He didn’t react either, but the telltale twitch at the corner of his left eye gave away his irritation.

  “My sister sucks at picking out men. She has a track record a mile long of assholes that I had to take care of. Figure I’ll just get rid of you now, and save myself the trouble later.”

  “That right?” I asked him. “Where have you been for the last seven months if you protect her so much?”

  “Busy.” He snarled.

  Oopsey, must’ve hit a nerve with that one.

  We started circling each other, neither one willing to make the first move. The crowd was chanting ‘Shiva’s’ name, urging him to ‘kill that motherfucker!’ and “Don’t hurt the pretty boy’s face.’

  “Is that so?” I laughed. “You and your brother have a lot in common. Sam decided that he didn’t want to have anything to do with her either.”

  Sebastian came to a stunned stop, and I took advantage of his temporary lack of attention and struck. My fist met his face with a satisfying crunch, and his nose sprayed an arc of blood over the concrete floor.

  Not one to be outdone, Sebastian struck out moments later with a right hook to my face, but I deflected it enough that it only grazed my jaw.

  We traded punches like that for ten more minutes, and finally, the rage that had been present since finding out that Anna would be seeing my daughter started to fade. With each punch, hook, jab, and block, I started to think beyond my rage. That’s when the real fight began.

  ***

  “You have a baby. In a bar.” I joked.

  Shiloh’s eyes regarded me with annoyance before she turned and did another circuit in front of the bar in her brother’s office. The boy sleeping in her arms was much larger than the tiny little infant that we’d seen two years ago.

  “Don’t use Sweet Home Alabama quotes on me. They won’t work.” She growled.

  I was in a good mood for the first time in what felt like two weeks. I’d needed that fight more than anything, and I appreciated Sebastian for giving it to me, even if it wasn’t for the same reasons as I’d had.

  “Where’d Terry go?” Sebastian asked as he shrugged his cut back on as he entered the room.

  Shiloh mumbled something derogatory, but the only thing I’d made out was ‘crazy bitch.’

  “Your lovely sister sent Terry home.” Jordan, the man who’d nearly lost his life earlier when I’d seen him on top of Shiloh, said.

  Jordan was a prospect, and although I know he was doing his job and protecting Sebastian, I didn’t give a fuck. It would take me a long fucking time to think of him in any other way other than hatred.

  Sebastian’s glare returned to his sister, and I barely contained the chuckle that was forming in my chest. I know how that felt. My sister did ‘things for my own good’ all the time, whether I wanted them or not.

  “If you need someone to watch my nephew from now on, please call me. I don’t think it’s good to have the sitter giving a blowjob to some burly man drunk on God knows what, while my nephew is in the same room. Especially when the man is saying, ‘yeah, baby. Suck my fat cock. Get up here and sheathe that hot cunt over my throbbing pork meat.’ I think not.”

  Sebastian’s face turned hard as stone, and then he turned and left the room abruptly. Seconds of silence followed, and then the sound of a large bodied person being dragged kicking and screaming could be heard. Then said man was unceremoniously dumped inside the office.

  “You’re telling me you fucked the help while my kid was in the goddamned room?” Sebastian bellowed.

  My eyes went to Shiloh, and the young toddler in her arms, wondering if the sound of his father’s bellow would wake him, but it didn’t. Which made me wonder what the boy had witnessed, in his young life, to not even to flinch at such a commotion.

  “Awww, man. Johnny was sound asleep.” The man sporting a broken nose, and most likely a broken rib or two, whined.

  “Johnny’s my goddamned kid, not yours. I decide what is and isn’t good for him. If he’s fucking sleeping, then you leave him the fuck alone. Go find someone else to fuck, and make sure it’s not the fucking babysitter, either. I trusted you to watch over him. What the fuck would’ve happened if someone had come in while you were fucking the help. What could you have done with your dick in someone, Torren?”

  Torren’s face went red with embarrassment at his lack of attention.

  “Oh, he found that out first hand when your sister yanked Terry off his cock and threw her out the back door naked. Then came back for Johnny, all the while giving poor Torren the lecture of his life.”

  “Get out of my sight.” Sebastian growled.

  Shiloh started for the exit when Sebastian sighed, superbly exasperated. “Not you, June. Torren, get the fuck out and don’t show yourself for a couple of days.”

  “Yes, sir.” Torren nodded and left.

  “Take a seat James. Shiloh.” Sebastian gestured to the couches across the room.

  I sat down on the loveseat, leaving Shiloh the recliner, but she surprised me by taking a seat next to me, scooting close. Leaving me no choice, I raised my arm and she cuddled into my side before laying her head down, and quite literally, falling asleep.

  Sebastian sat down across from us with a disgusted look on his face. “Do you have to get that close to my sister?”

  “Hey,” I said, shrugging. “This is all her.”

  He nodded, watching his sister and son sleep for a few minutes before looking up at me. “Tell me what’s been going on.”

  I decided to ignore the demand in his voice, and gave him a recap of the last eight months.

  “Goddammit. I told my father this wouldn’t work.”

  “What?” I asked, trying to sit forward and forgetting that Shiloh was using me as a bed.

  Leaning back against the couch, I waited patiently while Sebastian debated what he shouldn’t and should divulge.

  When he finally started speaking, I quite literally had no words.

  Nothing in my life could’ve surprised me more than what he said.

  ***

  Shiloh

  “Holy shit.” My mind screamed.

  It’s amazing what you hear when you pretend you’re sleeping.

  Mind blown.

  Chapter 11

  Ladies- if your men don’t know how to fire a weapon, you have a girlfriend.

  -Earl Dibbles, Jr.

  Shiloh

  “Where’re we going?” James asked again, for the fifth time.

  “You’ll see.” I said cryptically.

  We were on the ‘date’ that I’d promised, and I wanted to see him in his element, and the only way I could think of doing that was taking him somewhere I knew he would love.

  When we’d gotten home from Louisiana, I’d decided to sleep over at James’ place since it was so late, and I would’ve been over early for our ‘date’ in the morning anyway. As I was coming outside this morning, I ran into Sam. He’d apologized, for the seventeenth time, and I took pity on him by trying to make conversation.

  I’d asked Sam about the girls, and eventually it’d turned into what James loved doing, and that was how James and I ended up going to the shooting range.

  Of course, him having the Y chromosome automatically made him have to drive. So I’d given him directions on how to get where we were going. Once we’d gotten on the last road, his demeanor had changed, and he knew exactly where we were going before we pulled up to the gates.

  “Sam told me you’d have a code to get in.” I explained when he just looked at me.

  “Yeah, I do.” He agreed.

  Lifting his right butt cheek, he fished out his wallet from his back pocket, dug through it, and the produced a card that had National Rifle Association Member on it. Once he had it swiped and the gate swung open, he pulled his Bronco in through the gates and waited for it to close behind him before starting down the long drive.

  “Where are we going, exactly?” He asked carefully.

  “Well,
I have two reasons for coming here. One,” I said holding up a finger. “Is that I want to practice with my .38. I have a concealed handgun class next weekend, and I don’t want to make a fool of myself. The other, is that Sam said you’d enjoy coming here. He even sent me with a rifle.”

  His eyes shifted to take in the backseat, but looked at me in confusion when he didn’t see anything.

  “I had Cheyenne hide it in the back for me. I didn’t want you to tell me no.” I said cheekily.

  “I would’ve never told you no. It’s just that...” He started to say before trailing off.

  “What?” I asked confused at the emotion I saw in his eyes.

  “I had a friend who died while on a mission with me. He was my spotter. Ever since his death, well, let’s just say I haven’t found incentive to get out here.” He said gruffly.

  Sam had told me that might be the case, and I didn’t tell him that I had his rifle in the back of the truck. Sam had been holding it ever since his mission failed, and Dougie had died. I’d also gotten the story on Dougie, and I was truly heartbroken to hear of it.

  According to Sam, Dougie was James’ spotter. While on a fact-finding mission, they’d been made, and when they were going to the extraction point, Dougie and James had both been hurt. Only Dougie had died, while James had lived. Sam said that ever since, James hasn’t been acting the same.

  I wasn’t sure if James would shoot his rifle, but I figured I would let the option be available if he decided to face his fear.

  “When was the last time you shot your rifle?” I asked curiously, as he came to a stop outside the handgun range.

  I hopped out and went to the back of the truck, waiting patiently for him to take in his surroundings, and then finally open the back hatch with his key.

  “A few years.” He hesitated. “Four to be exact.”

  Four years ago was when Dougie had died. And that broke my heart a little bit.

  “Well, don’t laugh at my target shooting skills.” I said lightly, very aware that his mood was taking him down a dark path that I very much didn’t want him down.