Barking out a laugh I ask,
“Why’d it take him so long to come back and see you then? He’s got to be what? Twenty-one, twenty-two now?”
Adelyn looks slightly embarrassed as she answers me.
“That might be because after I told him no I kicked him in the balls, and threw him out on his ear. I think he’s a little scared of me to be honest.”
That’s my girl. Fierce, determined, and feisty as hell. The perfect woman for a man like me. Grabbing her hand in mine I pull us out the door locking it behind us, helping her into my truck. I fucking hate driving it, but the weather’s too unpredictable this time of year to take her on my bike. I wouldn’t risk her safety for anything, so endure I will.
The last eight months have seen a few changes, but none of them for the worse. Unless you include Toby walking out on us with no notice a month ago to chase after a woman he’d met at a strip club in Boulder. He’s young, and I know at his age it’s all about your dick, but the least he could’ve done was give me some warning. Because he up and left us in the lurch, Adelyn and I have been working double time to cover all the appointments he had already scheduled and our own. It’s been hard going, but with his pre-existing clientele learning he’s moved on things are slowing down little by little.
The major game changer for us was getting married…
Two weeks after Lexi’s birthday party I dragged Adelyn down to the courthouse in Clearwater, marriage license in hand, and we tied the knot. She wasn’t happy about it when she found out what we were doing there, but like everything else she took it in her stride and gave in to my wishes, eventually.
After a fight that drew a crowd on the step of the courthouse, where because I’m a sucker for this woman I dropped to one knee and proposed to her, Adelyn skipped upstairs and happily said ‘I do’. Her only real issue, what started the fight in the first place, was the reality that we wouldn’t be able to have children together.
What she didn’t know was that I’d been researching alternatives for the past week and a half. As soon as I knew I was going to make Adelyn my wife, I started contacting adoption agencies, and CPS to find out the process to apply as foster parents. It blew my mind when I found out the number of kids in the system that were either removed from their shitty homes, abused, or abandoned. It broke my heart to think of my Angel being one of those kids, just a number in a file, someone to move around as the government hacks saw fit.
When I approached the idea of fostering with her she was surprisingly vehemently opposed to it. I tried to get my head around why she wouldn’t want to help out another kid that might have come from a similar situation to hers, but try as I might I just couldn’t understand her reaction. It wasn’t until she explained that there’d be no way she could foster a child only to have them ripped from her at any moment. She knew damn well she’d bond with whatever child we took in, and it would break her to have to let them go. It left us with the option of adopting, but that’s something we’re both still mulling over. I’m not in my twenties, or thirties anymore, and considering I’d be sixty-five when my kid graduated high school is a scary fucking thought.
Thankfully the roads aren’t icy today making the trip to the shop take less than fifteen minutes. Standing out the front beside the glass window that takes up three quarters of our frontage is a tall, lanky guy holding hands with what looks like a four and about seven year old.
Adelyn jumps out of the truck before I’ve even turned it off running toward the guy with her arms outstretched. Ah, that must be Nick. It hasn’t got any easier seeing other men touch my wife, but I’m getting better at not threatening to kill every one of them. Adelyn says I’m making progress, so that’s got to count for something.
There’s something so sad about the way the guys shoulders are hunched in on himself, the grip he has on the two kids hands, and the concerned expression on his face as he talks to Adelyn. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to work out that there’s something very wrong with this picture.
The kids, and him, are too skinny. They don’t look like they’ve been fed well for weeks, if not months. Their clothes are worn, and not in the way Adelyn’s jeans are, they’re worn in the way that they’ll fall apart with the next gust of wind. Not to mention they aren’t weather appropriate. Both of the little kids are wearing sneakers, but I can see they don’t have socks on seeing as their pants are about two or three inches from covering their ankles. Thin cotton long sleeve shirts are all that separates them from the chill in the air, and the little girl, the one I guess is four is already shivering from cold.
Hopping down from my truck beeping the locks I approach them, immediately noticing the girl shrink behind her older brother. He eyes me warily until Adelyn introduces me as her husband, and owner of the shop, only then does he release the breath he’d been holding and relax a bit.
Holding out my hand I say,
“Hey Nick, heard a lot about you. Good to meet you.”
Shaking my hand weakly he replies,
“You too. Sorry about this, but I didn’t have anyone to watch them and mom’s taken off again, so I had to bring them. I hope it’s cool.” Gesturing to the boy first he says, “This is Cody, and that is Emmaline.”
Crouching to eye level with Cody I hold my hand out again.
“Max. You want to do me a solid big man?” His eyebrows rise to his hairline and he nods his head rapidly. With a chuckle I add, “There’s a lady at the desk inside, her name’s Veronica, how about you take your little sister in, get warm, and see if she’s got any of the chocolate chip cookies I know she hides in her bottom drawer.” He looks hesitant, looking to Nick for guidance. “Tell her Max said to give you three each, okay?”
At Nick’s nod, Cody takes his little sister by the hand leading her into the warmth of the shop. I can see V’s reaction to them through the glass, and I know there’s no way in hell she’ll put up any resistance to sharing her baked goods. Turning my back to the window I clasp Nick’s shoulder declaring,
“Welcome aboard.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Alexis
“I really do deserve more credit for not acting on the evil,
twisted thoughts that go through my mind on a daily basis.”
- Pinterest Quote
One year ago…
I’ve never wanted to kick someone’s ass as much as I want to kick Glock’s this very minute. Moving into my own apartment was supposed to be freeing, a way to break out from under my dad’s watchful eye. But here I am being grilled on whether I know how to use the alarm system my apartment came with, do I know my escape routes in case of an emergency, and whether or not I have a steady supply of pepper spray in my purse. Seriously, the man is worse than my dad sometimes, and that’s saying something.
I know Glock worries about me, probably as much as my dad and grandpa’s, but this is over the top, and so far from necessary it isn’t funny. He seems to forget that I’m perfectly capable of taking down a man twice my size, which is funny because he’s the one who taught me how. Firing a gun is second nature to me, I’ve been shooting since I was ten, and I can change the oil, tyre, and brakes on my car, I’m far from helpless.
“Oh my God, enough already. I get it; lock the doors and windows, carry a flash light and pepper spray at all times, arm the alarm when I’m home, and call you if I need anything. I think I got,” I snark at him. It’s not that I don’t appreciate the effort, it’s just that if he repeats the same spiel one more time after the fifty times he already has, I may be forced to castrate him with a blunt spoon. Hmm…there’s a thought.
A waving hand in front of my face breaks me from my surprisingly amusing thoughts.
“Lex, you listening?”
Clearly not. Why did he think he had to wave his hand around?
“Jesus, stop would you. I’m tired I think I just want to go to bed, do you mind if we skip the movie tonight?”
Glock and I have been having popcorn and movie nights since
I was fourteen on Saturday nights. I remember when he asked my dad if it was okay, the look on dad’s face was priceless and confusing at the same time. His jaw dropped open, and it looked like he was going to have a stroke. Being young and naïve, although not as naïve as dad would have like me to be, I didn’t understand his reaction. I was about sixteen when I figured it out, and I’d like to say I was honoured Glock would put me above getting his dick wet, but that would be a lie. I was totally grossed out that he’d be doing that if he wasn’t propped on the couch in my family’s living room stuffing his face.
It hasn’t gone unnoticed by me, or every single woman in Blackwater that Glock’s an extremely attractive man, so it shouldn’t have come as a shock that he would have a line of willing women waiting for him, and it didn’t aside from the ick factor times ten.
At eighteen, when I first met him at age five, he had his dirty blonde hair styled in a faux hawk and sported no facial hair. With age his hair has darkened to more of a light brown with lighter pieces interspersed throughout. He’s stopped wearing it styled, preferring to leave it however it lays when he gets out of bed in the morning, which I have to say is sexy as hell all tousled and flopping over his forehead. The five o’clock shadow he wears so well is now permanent too, and it looks good on him. Really good.
His build hasn’t changed all that much from when he started prospecting to now, fourteen years later, but he did grow another inch and pack on twenty more pounds of muscle rounding him out to six-foot-three, and two hundred and thirty pounds of drool worthy man candy. I suppose working security at Kitty Kat’s will do that to a man. Oh, that and the five bazillion workouts he does a week. Once or twice Glock’s tried to convince me to join him, and although I run five miles six times a week there’s no way in hell I’d be able to keep up with the intensity of his regime.
Glaring in my direction Glock shakes his head, and plants his significant bulk on my sectional.
“Yes, I fucking mind. I helped you cart your shit up four flights of stairs all day, you owe me babe, and you’re gonna pay by feeding me and putting a movie on.” He says with a crooked grin stretching across his face.
“Am I now? I don’t think so hot stuff. You can go buy your own food on the way home, and pick up a movie from the Red Box while you’re at it. I’ll cook for you one day next week, okay?” I say hoping he’ll agree and leave me in peace. I should’ve known better.
“Nice try, Lex, not gonna happen. I’m not moving my ass until you’ve fed me, and I’ve had my fill of whatever ridiculous fucking chick flick you’re gonna torture me with this time, so how about you move your cute little ass and get us something to eat?”
Fuck my life! He’s not leaving, and in all honesty I didn’t actually think he would. As tired as I am, as much as I’d like to crawl into my soft, comfortable bed I can’t say I’m disappointed that he’s staying. I like having Glock around, as annoying as he is, and trust me the man could annoy a saint, he’s my best friend and I don’t know what I’d do without him.
I’ve never been one to enjoy my own company, I suppose it comes from having a steady stream of visitors at home, being my uncles, aunts, and grandparents liked to visit whenever they were passing by, which was often, as in daily. That coupled with two demonic brothers that saw fit to invade my privacy every chance they got meant I was used to noise and chaos at every turn.
Dragging ass to the kitchen I put together a simple meal of mac and cheese with hotdog pieces cut up through it. Its Glock’s favorite making it something I’ve always got handy because he loves it so much. Handing him his plate I plonk down beside him on the sectional after loading the DVD player, and snatching up the remotes.
“Just one tonight, Glock, I really am tired.”
Often we’ll stay up until the sun rises watching movie after movie, eventually falling asleep on the couch, but tonight while I’m happy to have him here isn’t one of those nights.
“Sure, Lex. Just say the word and I’m out.” He says around a mouthful of food. I highly doubt it, but a girl can dream right?
Half an hour later I can feel myself drifting off to sleep, as I do I hear,
“Sleep, babe. I’ll be here when you wake up.” And at his words I do exactly that.
Present Day…
I’m going to kill him. In the past fourteen years of friendship I’ve considered it before, no less than a hundred or so times, but this time I’m actually going to follow through with it.
I mistakenly thought, after turning nineteen last week, Glock would ease up on the babysitter duties, and act more like a friend instead of my personal bodyguard, I thought wrong. Not that he hasn’t been my friend, my best friend, for years, but lately he’s been taking his self-imposed protector role to extremes. Not even my dad, or grandpa Pipe would try some of the shit he’s done, they wouldn’t dare. Seven dates in as many months he’s sabotaged, or managed to intrude on, effectively running the guy off mind you, equals a seriously pissed off Alexis, making me well and truly done with his shit. As in, D.O.N.E. done.
At first I thought it was sweet, sort of, in an overprotective big brother kind of way, but that was when I was fifteen not a legal adult. By seventeen it was annoying, but I could still understand his need to make sure I was safe. Now? Now I’m fucking pissed. Not only does the way he’s behaving signal he doesn’t think I can take care of myself, but it also makes him look like the world’s biggest asshole. I’m not denying that he can be, and this is one of those times but deep down, and most of the time Glock is the sweetest man I’ve ever met. Which is probably why his juvenile pranks, standover tactics, and intimidation of any man that comes to pick me up has frustrated me so much.
Thirty-three years old and Glock has nothing better to do than show up at my apartment at eight-o’clock at night, banging on the door like a lunatic, I find that hard to believe. I know for a fact he’s got many, many better things to do, or should I say people to do? Honestly Glock showing up wouldn’t have been such a big deal if my date, Jeremy, hadn’t shown up five minutes after him being treated to the Glock show in vivid technicolour, and Dolby surround sound.
In the past when I’ve needed him Glock’s been there in an instant, dropping whatever he’s doing, coming to my rescue on his shiny black and chrome steed. I feel horrible saying this, but at the moment I wish he’d just go away, leave me alone, let me breathe. There have been times over the years, more frequently since I was sixteen that I’ve questioned if what I really feel for Glock is love. It shouldn’t come as a surprise I love the pig-headed, stubborn, alpha-male. He’s been the one constant in my life that I couldn’t imagine living without.
I love my parents, I love my siblings, and I adore my huge extended family, but without Glock everything looks a little duller, a lot more lifeless. But everyone has a breaking point, and I’ve reached mine. Even though I have finally come to terms with being in love with my best friend, and can admit it to myself, this took a long time, I’ve finally had enough. Enough of the double standards, the way he feels he has to hide parts of himself from me because I’m too young to understand. Enough of the way he makes me feel two feet tall when he’s out with one of the many women he’s dating this week, and blatantly ignores me. And definitely enough of being in love with a man that will never see me as an adult, a woman capable of taking care of herself and making her own decisions. All-in-all I’ve just had e-fucking-nough.
Turning to where he’s reclined on my couch, his booted feet resting on my coffee table, and the trademark smirk he’s so good at on his face, I scowl at him. Jesus. Could he be more annoying?
“What in the hell are you doing here? You need to get your ass up, and get out Glock, now.”
I watch his nostrils flare, and his hands clench into fists.
“You cannot be pissed I ran that asshole off, he was a fucking douchebag. Where the fuck do you keeping finding these fuckwits anyway, J.C. Penney? You’re better than those posers, Lex.”
“They’re douchebags
?” I ask with a raised brow. He’s smart enough to keep his mouth shut for now though, not taking the risk answering my rhetorical question. “That’s rich when the biggest asshole in the room at the moment is you. My dating situation is none of your goddamned business. Now like I said, you need to get up, and leave we’re done for tonight. I can’t even look at you I’m so pissed right now.”
Striding toward the door planning to open it and usher him out as fast as I can, I’m stopped short he grabs hold of my upper arm, bringing me to an abrupt halt.
“Come on Lex, you didn’t seriously want to date that loser did you?” Glock says in his low gravelly voice.
I honestly can’t answer him, because I don’t know. I didn’t even get the chance to get to know Jeremy to know if I wanted to pursue anything with him, or even a second date for that matter. Facing Glock, meeting his beautiful clear blue eyes I reply,
“I would have liked the chance to find out for myself. You can’t keep doing this all the time, Glock. You’re my best friend not my dad. You can’t show up every time I’ve got a date and scare them off, or turn up at the restaurant, take a seat at our table, and help yourself to my date’s beer. That shit has to stop.” I make a decision I’m sure I’m going to regret, but it’s necessary and I’m sick of being his doormat letting him get away with everything, so with that in mind I add, “If it doesn’t stop we’re not going to be able to be friends anymore.”
Captive: A Devil's Spawn MC Novel Page 26
