“He has a cause, and he’d be looking for attention for his cause. That means you’d have to be ready for people to interview you, and you’d have to give the right image.”
A cloud passed over his fair face. “I don’t look like a normal guy.”
That was true. But he didn’t have ink on his neck or face or hands. Or any visible piercings. “He wouldn’t be trying to hide that you’re a biker. I think he’d want to use that. Anyway,” she dug into her messenger bag, which was still slung over her shoulder and across her chest, “here’s his card. Call him. Talk to him. If he can’t help you, he’ll tell you that.”
Demon—Michael—took the card and examined it. Then he lifted his eyes and examined her. “Why are you helping me? I could have hurt you.”
She shrugged. “I read Tucker’s file. I think things should have been done differently.”
“Can I see him?”
“You can. Sundays, ten to six, like before. I already talked to his foster mother. We can do the exchange at the library, like before.”
“Starting this weekend?”
“Starting this weekend.”
“What’s Dakota think about all this? Is she fighting to get him back?”
No one had seen or heard from Tucker’s mother since Sid had removed the boy from her squalid Rialto apartment. Sid was working on finding her, at least to do due diligence. The State couldn’t officially revoke custody without making an effort to notify the parent and give her or him a chance to fight it. She had had a shadow of a thought that the reason Dakota was missing had to do with Demon and his anger. But the question he asked seemed sincere, and Sid had already gotten the impression that his poker face sucked. He wore his emotions right on the surface.
“She’s been missing since last week. We’re looking for her. If you’ve seen her or know where she might be, you should tell me. But you should stay as far away from her as possible.”
“I haven’t seen her since before all this happened. She’s got a friend up in Bakersfield—Ruby. Her stage name’s Blossom. She might be there.”
Sid made a note in her phone. “Stage name? She’s a stripper?”
“Yeah. That’s how Kota met her. She was a stripper, too, before being pregnant with Tucker marked up her belly. Now she’s just a junkie whore. You people had your head straight up your ass to leave him with her. I should’ve just taken him and blitzed out. But I’ve been trying to do this the ‘right’ way. Legit. You know what ‘legit’ is? That’s what people with money and clout call it when they fuck up the people without it.”
His complexion had colored steadily as he’d spoken, in direct correlation with the intensity of his tone. When he stopped, he was bright red, and his fists were clenched and shaking on the arms of the chair. Sid knew fear of him again.
She thought maybe he was right, but she couldn’t say that. Keeping her voice low and calm, she said, “You have to be careful what you say to me, Michael.”
He laughed bitterly, but his color faded. “Yeah. I always have to be careful. Because I’m the bad guy.” He stood. “C’mon. I’ll take you back to Muse.”
She stood, too. “I need to see your house, soon, too. And talk to Bibi and Jerome, too.”
When he laughed this time, there was more humor in it. “You mean Hoosier. Nobody but law calls him Jerome. My house is just a piece of shit trailer. But you can see it. Won’t be the first time some suit poked around in my underwear drawer. Just let me know when. And I’ll ask Bibi to call you.” He turned and headed back down that long corridor.
Sid followed, feeling inexplicably guilty and dirty.
CHAPTER NINE
Muse saw Demon coming down the hallway from the shop, looking agitated. Sid was right behind him, also looking unhappy. Fuck. He should have gone with them, kept Demon calm. But Sid had wanted to talk to him alone.
He’d spent the half hour or so that Sid was in Demon’s hands dodging shit from his brothers for the way he’d brought her into the clubhouse. The guys were, all in all, decent to women, in their way, but fresh pussy got plenty of attention, and not many of the Horde were what a classy woman like Sid would call gentlemen. The bare fact that he’d let her in wouldn’t have been enough to keep their paws off her. So he’d made sure it was known that she was with him.
He’d never done that with any woman before. He wasn’t sure what ‘with him’ meant. But he knew that he wanted to blacken the eyes that had been leering at her, and he wasn’t sure what he would have done if anyone had put hands on her.
And he was happy to see her again tonight, even though he’d woken up in her bed this morning—which had marked twice he’d slept, actually slept, with her. A local girl. He wouldn’t describe himself as the kind of man who had ‘rules’ for his conduct with women, but he was breaking patterns of a lifetime with the little social worker.
Now, he walked to the back of the room and met Demon and Sid. “We good?”
Demon turned and considered Sid. “Yeah. We’re cool. Thanks, Sid.” He held out his hand.
Sid took it and just held it without shaking. “Call Finn. And I’ll be in touch about the rest of it.”
Demon nodded, looked at Muse, and dropped her hand. Then he turned and headed for the bar.
Muse watched him go, feeling a surge of pride in Sid that he had no business feeling. He closed the distance with her and put his hand on her hip. “It’s okay?”
She smiled up at him. “Yeah. It’s okay.” She looked past him, into the Hall. “Why is everybody staring?”
“This is why.” He pulled her close and kissed her, as hard as he had before, walking her backward until he had her against the wall. At first, she kissed him back, her hands grabbing at the edges of his kutte, pulling him even closer.
But then she pushed him off. “What are you doing? I don’t like an audience. And you didn’t answer my question.”
He found himself at a loss for how to explain. “They’re interested because the way I am with you…here. I’ve never…done that before.”
Her eyes narrowed, like she was getting set to be pissed. “Done what? Claimed me?”
That was probably as good a way to say it as any other, but it sat wrong on him, and he could only shrug. He hated shrugging. It was the gesture of an indecisive pussy. “Yeah. They won’t push up on you now.”
He’d intended that to ease her mind, but for some reason he couldn’t grasp, it pushed her all the way into anger. She shoved him harder, making him step back. “‘Push up on me’? You mean paw at me, right? And now they won’t because you basically pissed on me to mark your territory? Jesus fuck! What the fuck is it with men? Every fucking one of you is such a goddamn asshole. Why can’t you keep your fucking hands to your goddamn selves?!” She shoved him again, and tried to move around him, clearly intent on storming out the front door. He grabbed her arm and held her back.
Once again, they had the attention of the room. Demon in particular was locked on their little scene. Sid was right about one thing—whatever they were doing, they’d done enough of it before a live audience. He pulled her down the hallway toward the dorm rooms.
She fought him, but he was twice her size, so he just ignored her yanking and cussing and dragged her to his room. When he got there, he pushed her against the wall, meaning to hold here there until he could unlock the door.
And then she brought her knee up. If she’d been wearing a different kind of skirt, she’d have dropped him, but the one she wore was snug almost all the way to its hem, which skimmed a couple of inches above her knees.
“Fuck!” she screamed, realizing that she was too bound up to connect with his junk.
But the attempt pissed him the fuck off, and he shoved her hard against the wall. Her hands came up, curled into rigid claws, but he was ready now and got her wrists locked against the wall. Maybe she taught self-defense at the women’s center, but he had some self-defense training, too. And years more real-life experience than she had.
“Wh
at the fuck is your problem?! Don’t ever go for a man that way unless you mean fucking business and know you can get it done! It’s a good way to get yourself killed.”
“I do mean business! Let go! Let me the fuck go!”
“Why? What the fuck is wrong? I just kissed you! Is that out of bounds all of a sudden?”
She settled fractionally. “You didn’t kiss me. You claimed me. Might as well have stamped ‘MINE’ on my ass.”
Why he found that funny just then, he had no idea, but he did, and he grinned. “That comes later, hon. We barely know each other.”
“What?”
“Nothing. Look. Calm down. You know I don’t mean you harm. They don’t either. They’ll treat you with respect.”
“Now. Now they’ll treat me with respect. Because they think I’m yours.”
“They would’ve been good to you either way. We treat women good. But now they won’t try to get with you.” Feeling her ease off a little more, he sighed. “Hon, I don’t know what you expected, but these aren’t the kind of guys who spend time in polite society. I knew you wouldn’t like it. So I fixed it so they’d behave.”
“I can handle myself.”
“In a different skirt, I believe you. In this, pulling that shit, all you’d do is start a brawl.” Part of his brain was replaying the whole scene. She’d been generalizing broadly, and as she calmed down and he could devote more attention to his thoughts, he understood that her snit was about more than him making her off limits. “You got a history of men treating you like shit?”
That history passed through her eyes like a blink, and he knew the answer was yes, even though she only stared up at him without speaking. His reaction to that knowledge was surprisingly strong. “A recent history?”
“It doesn’t matter. I want to go.”
He released her and stepped back. “Okay. But I’d like you to stay.” He needed, at least, to make sure things were right between them—if for no other reason, Demon would kick his ass if she left here angry. But that wasn’t the only reason. He wanted to be right with her.
“Stay? Here?”
That was hopeful-sounding. “Behind that door is my room. It’s not a big room, not fancy, but it’s clean, and it’s got a good bed and a private toilet and shower. Good sheets—I like good sheets. I don’t spend the night here. I gotta get back to my dog. But maybe we could go in there for some privacy and talk.”
Nope. That was the wrong thing to say. He didn’t know why it was wrong, but he could clearly see that it was. She sneered, “Talk. You want to take me into your fuck room while all your ‘brothers’ are watching.” The quotes around the word ‘brothers’ were audible and cutting. “And then you want me to walk out through that room later like a walk of shame. And that’s going to make me feel better, you think.” She laughed, and there was more insult in that sound than he’d felt in long years. “You’re an asshole and an idiot. No, I don’t think I’ll be talking with you in your fuck room. Or anything else.”
“Demon will break my head if you leave here angry.”
“That sounds like a personal problem to me.” She turned and headed toward the Hall, where their audience was still waiting, rapt. He let her go. She stopped and said something to Demon on the way by; Demon turned and glared at him, then nodded.
Well, shit.
~oOo~
A few hours later, she opened her front door, wearing a pair of knit shorts and another little beater. He was distracted from the dainty pebbles of her nipples by the gun in her hand. But as he watched, her expression changed from hostility to shock. “Fuck, Muse.”
He’d have smiled if his mouth would have worked well enough. “I told you he’d break my head.”
“But I told him I was okay with him.”
“You think I can come in, hon?” He needed to sit down. Demon didn’t look great, either, but Muse had definitely lost the fight.
“Why?”
“Because we need to talk, and you didn’t want to do it at the clubhouse.”
She crossed her arms, still holding the gun. “I still don’t want to talk.”
“You got an ice pack, then?”
“I thought you had a dog to take care of.”
“Had my neighbor take care of him.” He was neglecting Cliff a little the past couple of days, and he needed to get that under control. But he wanted to work out whatever there was to work out here. “Sid. Come on. I don’t know why I pissed you off so much with a kiss. And I really need to sit. I think he sprang a couple of ribs.”
She smiled a little, but he forgave her for that because he could feel her thawing. “He really beat the shit out of you, didn’t he?”
“I’ve had worse, but yeah. Are you gonna help me?”
“You came to me? But I’m the reason he…did that. Aren’t you pissed?”
“Confused. And sore. Hon, if you need me to beg, I’m begging. At least come out here, and we can sit on your porch.” He leaned against the door frame. Fuck, he hurt. Age was starting to gain on him a little, he supposed. Not that forty-two was old.
She let out a long, audible breath. “No, you can come in. For an ice pack.”
He followed her in. He was about to walk on through and follow her into the kitchen, but he remembered her thing about shoes, so he stopped and tried to toe his boots off. He couldn’t balance well enough, so he sat down, ignoring her little smirk, and got them off.
When he managed to get back onto his feet, she was smirking again. “I’d’ve let you keep them on tonight. Extenuating circumstances.”
“You’re enjoying this just a little too much, hon. Not sure I deserve that.”
“I am. Don’t ever manhandle me again.”
The word ‘again’ suggested that they were, or would soon be, through whatever the fuck this was. But he wasn’t going to agree not to take charge when he needed to. Thankfully, he was saved from answering her when she turned and continued on to the kitchen.
She put her gun on the counter and opened her freezer. “Sit.” He did, and she dumped some ice into a dish towel and wrapped it up. One of the girls had cleaned him up just after he got out of the ring, but he was still a mess, his lip split and swollen, and his left eye only opening about halfway, if that. He took the makeshift icepack from her and held it to his face, eye first. His torso was probably colorful as fuck. Demon was all about the battering-ram body blow. Time was, though, he’d have taken the pup down.
“You want some Jack?”
“Yeah. Thanks.” While she poured them both a couple of fingers, he asked, “What happened today that had you so tuned up? Had to be more than what I did.”
“It’s not important.”
“Sid, it’s important.”
“Because you say so? I don’t think so.”
He reminded himself that he liked this about her. He liked that she stood up for herself. Maybe some times more than others. Not so much just now. “Because it got me beat up. I’d like to know what bus I stepped in front of.”
She walked over, holding one glass out and sipping from the other. He took it and drank it down in a swallow, wincing against the sting of the alcohol on his mouth, and then again at the sting from the way his face contracted at the first wince. Talk about your lose-lose situations.
“Why did Demon hurt you even though I told him we were okay? Should I be worried about his temper?”
That wasn’t an answer to his question, but he went with it. “No. He would never hurt his son. We fought in the ring, fair and square. Because I put his situation with Tucker at risk. Or he thought so, anyway. I still don’t know why you lost your shit.”
She huffed. “I didn’t ‘lose my shit.’ I defended myself.”
“From me. But I’m not a threat.”
“We disagree on that point.”
“Do we? You’re threatened? Honestly?”
Her answer wasn’t immediately forthcoming. In fact, he had so long to wait, sitting there while she stared at him, that he found
himself listening to the random sounds of her house—a clock ticking somewhere, the creak of the house settling, a car passing by on the street. A dog barking in a yard nearby. Finally, she said, “No. I’m not threatened.”
“Then tell me what the fuck.”
She finished her Jack, grimacing as it went down in bigger swallows than before. “My boss is a little creepy. I’ve got it handled, but I guess I was still feeling pissed about it. Not saying I overreacted, but maybe I was a little bit more sensitive than usual.”
“Creepy how? What’s ‘it’?” He could handle a little rat fuck bureaucrat and make sure he minded his manners.
Strength & Courage (The Night Horde SoCal Book 1) Page 12
