His Rose: Liberty Pirates MC

by Brogan Riley

  I chuckle, but deep down I feel more and more amazed at this man. “Yes, I am Martha Rose Connon indeed. My daughter got her first name from me.”

  “She has tiny thorns.”

  “Sometimes.” I walk over to the kitchen and grab a jar.

  As I fill it with the water from the tap, Seke drops into a chair.

  “I can paint your kitchen,” he says.

  “I can paint. Really, I can manage, but thanks anyway.” I put the bouquet into the jar and grab a tea towel to wipe my hands. “I’m ready.” I toss the tea towel onto the windowsill.

  Seke nods as he rises to his feet in one smooth motion and offers me his elbow. I loop my arm through his. We walk out of the house.

  I look up, breathing in the night’s velvet mystery. Stars twinkle in the sky and the spring’s magic wafts through the chilly air.

  I like it here.

  No, I love it here.

  Seke is wonderful.

  I could…

  No, I can’t.

  He’s off limits, and I’m a mom. My kids are my priority.

  Not to mention that I don’t want the god worshipped by all the females of the world. Seke is very gentle, but it’s obvious to me that he fucks hard and fast and trashes even faster. He pulls women, being out of reach at the same time.

  My heart sinks.

  No, stop it. When was the last time you had a drink at the bar? Just try to have fun, Martha Rose.

  Chapter 2

  Seke

  The boys rumble as the sound rolls over the bar like an avalanche. A rock ballad starts playing. Martha arches her thick dark eyebrows. She tips her glass up to her full lips the colour of a ripened raspberry and sips her coke as she roams her eyes over the walls adorned with our photos. The boys grin in them, all of them in the company of our animals. Martha puts the glass back on the round table and scrunches up her nose at the sight of three young women playing snooker with Rain and Flasher.

  I know one of them. Her name is Heidi and she’s twenty-five years old. She has nice natural tits and a good sense of humour. I’ve had her bent over the hood of her car twice. She loves it very dirty and has a tight eager ass. The two other chicks have never been to our bar before, but they look like her girlfriends.

  “Is that like a new fashion trend?” Martha says. “Those girls are wearing lingerie instead of clothes.” She flashes me a smile of pity.

  I like her attitude. She doesn’t care whether she fits in here or not.

  “I prefer elegant women,” I say.

  I prefer them from the moment I met Martha.

  “I’m not going to end up in your bedroom tonight,” she says and smiles at me like she has fun at my expense.

  “Why not?”

  She trails a finger around the top of her glass. “I’m kind of fed up with all the men of the world.”

  “I can’t blame you.”

  She’s honest, and I like it.

  She takes a deep breath. “I’m really grateful but—“

  “You’ll love it here. I promise.”

  She laughs, a melodious warm sound, as her cheeks flush. “My kids already do. They can’t stop burbling about your animals.”

  I put my elbows on the table and take her wrist. Her eyes narrow as I bring her hand up to my lips and plant a kiss on her knuckles.

  “Maybe you could reconsider ending up in my bedroom,” I say.

  I want to fuck her. Why would I not want to fuck her? She’s attractive and nice, curvy in all the right places. A classy woman.

  She raises her finger in a threatening gesture. “No.”

  “I’ll paint the whole house for you.”

  “Really?”

  “I’ll take your kids out to the aqua park.”

  “Well…”

  “I’ll buy you an engagement ring tomorrow.”

  “Liar.”

  “I never lie, Martha Rose.”

  She shudders at the tone of my voice. “You are serious.”

  “Very serious.”

  She rolls her eyes. “I’m nothing special. I’m just a tired single mom.”

  “You’re one of your kind.”

  There’s something irresistible about her and that makes me say things I’ve never said to any other woman before.

  Yes, I must admit I am lonely. Yes, I want to have a wife. Martha is a warm woman with a nice sense of humour and she needs me. It seems like we need each other.

  People sometimes do crazy things in life.

  “Maybe I could end up in your bedroom,” Martha says, “in order to check you out before you buy that expensive engagement ring.”

  There’s nothing false about her, nothing false about us. We are two people that want each other. Tonight. Tomorrow. Maybe for longer.

  A thread of understanding materialised between us the moment we met. I don’t know, like we were two best friends in our previous lives.

  Martha rises to her feet in one elegant motion and I follow her, holding a hand out for her.

  She chuckles and rolls her eyes once again. I hold her hand in mine and pull her towards the metal spiral staircase. It has a gothic appearance as though it was brought over from a haunted house. We climb the stairs and I lead Martha over to my bedroom.

  The clubhouse is a two-storey Victorian house topped with a gloomy attic. It has five bedrooms, two kitchens, and two bathrooms. The dining room, the living room and the hall were converted into a bar in the very beginning. The small orangery is private, very devastated. Tara hates gardening, but Martha looks like a born gardener.

  Martha

  I enter his bedroom and stop in the middle of the rectangular space below a simple green chandelier. The décor is nice—greens and browns complemented by the creamy whiteness of the walls. A bookcase stuffed with zoology books stands in the corner and a double bed stands by the opposite wall. Long net curtains adorn the sash window and two bottles of vodka stand on the antique desk. A man’s cave.

  “Where’s your dog, Seke?”

  “With Nick.”

  “She’d be jealous, huh?”

  “She’d rip out your throat.”

  I stiffen as a sigh leaves my mouth.

  “I’m joking, Martha.”

  I huff out, my hands collapsing.

  Seke’s arms wrap around me from behind as his mouth touches the nape of my neck. I shudder, my reaction causing him to chuckle.

  “I know how to make friends with scared animals,” he says.

  “Oh, thank you very much.”

  “I love all the animals living in our zoo, Martha Rose.”

  “I’m not one of your animals unfortunately.”

  “But maybe I could learn to love you too.”

  I turn to face him. “You’re wonderful, but it’s just too—“

  He presses his lips against mine. I melt at the heat of our kiss. It’s gentle at first. Slow. He kisses me deeper, parting my lips with his tongue, tasting, exploring.

  I purr into his hot mouth. “I like the idea of how you want to tame me.”

  I like everything about him. He’s perfect.

  It’s just that I can’t fail my kids again.

  “You’re sad,” Seke says, resting his forehead against mine. The smell of leather and woody cologne circles me. “Why is that?”

  “I—“

  “I get it. I’ll paint all the walls in your house, buy the engagement ring, and then we’ll end up in my bedroom.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  Seke

  Alright. Not according to my plan, but she clearly needs more time. I walk her back to her house and kiss her on the cheek by the fence that encircles her garden.

  “I really enjoyed it,” she says.

  “And so did I.”

  I watch her enter the house and ten minutes later, Tara walks out.

  We saunter towards the clubhouse as she loops her arm through mine.

  “The kids are really nice,” Tara says.

  “Martha is nice.”
/>   Tara squeals. “No, you didn’t.”

  “What?”

  “You didn’t fall in love with her?” There’s excitement in her voice. “You did? Talk to me. You did, right?”

  “She’s a nice woman.”

  “You need someone nice. You’re lonely as hell.”

  “Be quiet, you nosey woman.”

  She stops by the antique street lamp and looks up at me. She’s a tiny woman, as tiny as my mother, but got her temper from my father.

  Her eyes slide over my face as one of her thick black eyebrows rises. “She’s a nice woman. You’re lonely.” Her eyes narrow, scrutinizing me. She shakes her head and sighs as if she’s disappointed. “She… you…”

  “What?” I growl.

  “Nothing.” She pulls forward as she drops her head. “You’re a lost case, you know, but we’ll see,” she mumbles to herself.

  “Tara?” I’m kind of pissed off over her remark because it’s none of her business.

  “You’re older and older, Seke.” She sighs. “I just want you to be happy.”

  “I am happy.”

  “Like hell.”

  We walk in silence then enter the bar and I order her to go upstairs to her room.

  I sit on a bar stool and have a glass of beer with Tank. He looks like an old marine—short silver hair, a perfectly shaved gob, and always, spotless clothes. We talk about the birds and their chicks. I go upstairs after midnight. In my own company. Dakota joins me, but she doesn’t count. She’s my familiar spirit. My mother calls her like that, and she’s always right. I don’t believe in such stuff, but I respect her too much to protest.

  I make myself ready for sleep.

  Dakota and I stretch out our bodies on the bed and I fall asleep.

  I wake up early in the morning and go to town to buy the white paint for Martha’s kitchen. Two hours later, I knock on Martha’s front door. Rose opens it for me and she scrunches up her nose.

  “What do you want?” she asks.

  “I want to paint the walls in your house.”

  Her unearthly grey-green eyes darken and narrow. “Why?”

  “Because they need painting. Will you let me in?”

  “No, I’m not allowed to let strangers in.”

  Yep, the little shit has attitude. Laughter sprouts in my chest.

  “Rose,” Martha growls behind her.

  Rose shudders and runs off. Martha invites me in.

  “Sorry,” she mumbles.

  “Don’t worry. She needs more time, that’s all.”

  Lucas comes up to me to shake hands and the three of us go to the kitchen. I put three tints of paint on the floor. Everything is ready. A few pieces of a cover sheet have been thrown over the furniture and the edges of the ceiling are protected with white tape.

  “You’re a professional,” I say.

  Martha flashes me a timid smile. “What can I say? Every single mom should know how to paint the kitchen.”

  “All the walls have been cleaned with a scrubby sponge?”

  “Yep, and I know how to sand down.”

  “A true professional.”

  She chuckles as I squat down and open one of the tints. The smell of emulsion wafts through the air. Rose walks in and stares at me like I’m her mortal enemy.

  “You want to help, Rose?” I ask, trying to sound friendly.

  “No,” Rose says.

  She moves closer to me and fixes her eyes onto mine. The desperation in her gaze causes my throat to tighten.

  “Rose,” I start. “Listen, kid—“

  She sweeps her foot and kicks the tint. It falls over, spilling the paint over the floor. I fling myself towards it and grab it. I manage to save about one third of the paint.

  “Rose, for Christ’s sake,” Martha explodes as her hands sweep through the air.

  Rose starts crying and runs out of the kitchen.

  Martha steps back, shaking her head.

  “Leave her alone,” I say. “That’s nothing.”

  “Really? She’s behaving like a little monster.”

  “She’s your daughter. Not to mention that everything is new for her.”

  Martha huffs out. “Okay, I’ll clean up the floor.”

  Martha

  We’re working on two opposite walls. It’s fun. Rock music is playing on the radio. Lucas is helping us. Rose is hiding some place secret.

  I’m so angry with her.

  I stopped understanding her behaviour two years ago. Most of the time she’s a sweet girl, but sometimes she does something so unexpected that I’m stunned.

  My glance travels over to Seke. His hair is tied in a high man bun and his face is covered with white spots. He winks at me as he guides Lucas’s hand armed with a small paintbrush.

  The front door creaks open and a few seconds later, Tara walks into the kitchen. A bag is swinging in her hand.

  “Lunch,” she says.

  I like her. She’s warm and helpful. As beautiful as a princess.

  We gather in the living room. I call out to Rose but she doesn’t want to come downstairs.

  “Maybe I could talk to her,” Seke says.

  “She’ll be fine,” I say.

  She needs time. Usually, two, three hours of solitude do the trick.

  “That’s not a problem,” Seke says.

  He grabs a plate, piles it with the food, and goes upstairs. Tara talks to Lucas and I freeze, expecting Rose’s cries and shouts, but nothing happens.

  Seke

  Rose is sitting on the floor in the corner of her bedroom, a book spread on her lap.

  “Hey,” I say as I squat down in front of her.

  “Hey.” It comes out on a sad screech.

  “I’m not mad at you, Rose.”

  “But you don’t like me either.”

  Fuck. I’m stunned. “That’s not true.”

  “I wanted a red rose not a white one.”

  My lips curl into a smile. The kid really has attitude.

  “Come downstairs to eat with us and I’ll buy you a red rose.”

  “I don’t want anything from you.”

  “Do you want a kitten?”

  Now, she starts smiling. She tosses the book onto the floor, takes the plate away from my hand and puts it on her lap.

  “I want a ginger kitten,” she says. “Or a black one.”

  “No problem. I can give you even two black kittens, but I need to talk to your mom first.”

  “Can I play with Dakota?”

  “Sure. Dakota loves you.”

  Rose takes in a deep breath as her eye twitches. “She throws things at me when she’s angry with me.”

  “Who, Rose?”

  “My mom.”

  Heat rushes up my chest.

  “She doesn’t like me,” Rose continues. “She says I’m like my dad and she hated him. She loves only Lucas.”

  I feel the anger raging in my chest like a wild fire.

  Chapter 3

  Martha

  Seke walks into the living room. Our glances meet and the coldness of his eyes makes my blood turn into ice.

  “Can we talk, Martha?” he says.

  “Sure,” I say.

  Seke gestures for me to go out of the house. We stand about ten steps ahead of the front door.

  Something is wrong. The hairs on the back of my neck rise.

  “Rose told me something,” Seke says.

  This wonderful thing between us is gone. Every cell of my body can sense the invisible thick wall rising between us, separating us.

  “I know you’ve had a hard life, Martha.”

  “What did she tell you?” I rasp.

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Really?”

  “I want to help you and your kids.”

  Everything crumbles, dries out inside of me. Pain and darkness flood me.

  “I’m not a bad person,” I say.

  “I know.”

  I step back. My throat feels like there’s a poisonous snake
wrapped around my neck. Tears blind me.

  “Martha?”

  “I need a walk.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’m only a human.”

  “I know.”

  He doesn’t know anything. He doesn’t know how toxic my own mother was. A toxic alcoholic monster. My father died of a heart attack, trying to pull her out of the addiction.

  We were poor as church mice. I’d dreamed about going to med school my whole childhood, but I did a part-time IT course at college instead. I wanted to travel all around the world, but I fell in love with a charming drunk instead. My husband had never hit me, had never raised his voice. He just drank alcohol and played in the casino. And cheated on me.

  “I don’t know anything about my own daughter.” My voice is hoarse. Something heavy sits on my chest and strips me of oxygen. I feel hollow and helpless. “I’m trying so hard but she’s only further and further away from me.”

  “She’s different to you.”

  “She’s sometimes so melodramatic. She exaggerates.”

  I know I’ve said too much because Seke’s eyes blaze with anger. He is judging me and I can’t stand it.

  I need to be alone.

  I need to be far away from him.

  I turn around and start running.

  Seke

  Two weeks later.

  The rain grows in strength—almost like Fury personified. The cold drops prick my face like icicles as the wind smacks me as though it had real hands. My glance travels over to Rose and Lucas. They curl up into Tara, their clothes drenched, faces pale.

  The casket sits at the muddy bottom of the grave. Rose starts sobbing, but Lucas doesn’t. His face is like a mask, his eyes like two chasms of confusion. Tara starts crying. I’m numb. I’m grey inside like the gloomy sky threatening to flood us.

  I should have run after Martha. I should have caught her, save her before the truck speeding along the motorway hit her. I killed her. Rose and Lucas are orphans because I did nothing.

  Nikusha gestures for the kids to go with him. His wife and Tara walk them towards the car. I stare at Martha’s casket. Everything shatters, dies inside of me. A glittery veil of rainwater separates me from the whole world.

  I pull forward as two men from the funeral company start throwing soil into the grave. The grim sound of their shovels chases me like a horde of ghosts. I sit on my bike and ride back to the compound. I get drunk with Nikusha at the bar.

  Ten weeks later, Dakota dies of old age. I’m still drunk.