He wanted to say yes. But Sid hadn’t said the words to him yet that he’d said to her. He said them to her at least once a day now. What she said back was me, too. “I don’t know. Only been together a month.”
Hoosier laughed. “I had Beebs in front of a two-bit preacher in Vegas six weeks after we met. She was wearing the tiniest skirt you ever did see, fishnet stockings and a red lace corset, and all these stupid black rubber bracelets she used to love. We been married forty years, and she’s been all the woman I need all that time. So I’m askin’—is she gonna wear your ink?”
“Yeah. Yeah, she is.” Muse wondered what Sid would think about that.
Hoosier clapped his arm. “Good man. We take care of ours. She’s covered. We’ll work it out.”
“Thanks, Prez.”
“No need, Muse.” With another clap on Muse’s arm, Hoosier continued toward his office. Muse turned and went back to the bar.
Demon had been watching. “That about Sid?”
“Yeah. Keeping her covered. Some bastard punched her and threatened to kill her.”
“What? Who? Why aren’t we teaching the motherfucker a lesson?” Muse cocked his eyebrow, and Demon smiled a little. “I like her. She’s not like the other suits. She’s helping me. Seriously—why aren’t we taking this fucker down?”
“She won’t tell me his name. Sherlock is trying to figure it out, but we don’t have much to go on, and with this Ferguson bullshit going down, he’s had other shit to work on.” He waved his empty glass at the girl and then elbowed Demon. “We okay now?”
While the girl refilled their shots, Demon considered him, his expression flat. “You know what I have on the line going outlaw again. I don’t know why you’d sell me out like that.”
“It’s Carrie. I gotta take care of Carrie. I’m sorry, brother, but I need money. I’m right on the edge of losing her bed. Every month, I’m never sure I can make the payment. I gotta keep her where she is.” He didn’t know what the fuck he’d do now, with the border run gone and all of Ferguson’s business with it. Sell his bikes. That would get him a few months.
With that, his friend became his friend again. “Ah, damn. Sorry. I didn’t think about Carrie. Fuck. Okay, I get it.”
“We’ll keep you clear…” Muse faded out. That might have been true with the border run, but not now. There would be, could be, no staying clear now.
Demon shook his head. “Too late, brother.” He tossed his shot back. Muse did the same.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Although Friday was supposed to be a furlough day, the courts weren’t on furlough, and the Family Court judge didn’t care about Sid’s day off. She had two cases at which she had been called to testify, the first of which was an easy one—she was there to support a reunification of a single mother with her two children. The mother had been committed to a mental health facility after a nearly-successful suicide attempt.
That event was before Sid’s time, but the mother had completed her treatment and been released two weeks earlier, and she had spent those two weeks shoring up her support system and preparing to get her kids back. Her psych report was encouraging to the point of enthusiasm. There was no abuse or neglect in the home, and she had been sure to make her attempt when the kids were away. They’d spent these past months with a family friend. So it was easy to recommend that the family be reunited.
Sid didn’t get a lot of chances to feel really good about her work, but watching that woman drop to her knees after the judge ruled in her favor and wrap her children up in her arms, all three of them crying—that had been a high mark in her short career.
The second case, just after lunch, was the Green family.
After Kevin Green attacked her, Harry had stepped in on the case, not taking it off Sid’s load but helping out, taking over any required interaction with Green. Sid couldn’t decide whether that was cool of her boss, or whether it was another creepy step. If he hadn’t been giving her the willies already, she would have thought it was great. And it wasn’t outside the bounds of his job. On its face, he was intervening in an unstable situation. Or he was being inappropriately chivalrous.
Whatever it was, it had kept Sid from being face to face with the guy for the past week and a half, and she was good with that. He was huge, he was angry, he’d hit her and threatened to kill her. He’d threatened it again when he’d spoken to Harry.
Sid had spoken to his wife, but that hadn’t gone well, either. Although Sid had stopped her husband from continuing to beat her past the point of unconsciousness, she was just as angry at Sid as he was for breaking up her family, and she’d hurled all sorts of violent insults at her.
Today was just a preliminary hearing to determine officially where the children would be while the case to remove them permanently was prepared, and to decide whether the Greens would be allowed any visitation in the interim. Since Kayla and Kevin Green were still living together and Kayla wouldn’t consider any other arrangement, they were unlikely to get visitation at all. Sid was recommending against it.
And she was doing it while Kevin Green glared at her, his fists clenched on the table in front of him. That big ring—silver, some kind of animal head, maybe a lion—glinted at her, and her cheek recollected the hurt. She’d only gotten the stitches out the afternoon before.
The Greens weren’t represented by counsel. When the ADA working the case was finished, Kevin Green stood up and said simply, “You are a lying cunt, and you’ll pay.”
The judge slammed the gavel. “Mr. Green! You are out of order! Do you have a question for the witness?”
Green looked at the judge. “No, sir. She’s lying. I didn’t do it. Any of it.”
“You’ve already had your chance to testify, sir. If you have no questions, then sit down. I’m ready to rule.” He turned to Sid with a smile. “Thank you, Miss…Tu—Tula—Tuladhar?” He’d gotten it right, so Sid nodded. “You may step down.”
Sid went back to the gallery. Green stared at her while she walked to her seat. She stared right back. That was probably stupid, he’d probably take it as a dare, but she couldn’t bring herself to let him think she was afraid of him. She was afraid of him—she was terrified, frankly. But letting him see weakness was impossible. Besides, he might see her fear as some kind of opportunity, anyway.
The judge ruled that the Greens would have no access to their children except during supervised evaluative sessions. Kayla cried. Kevin turned and stared at Sid.
When the hearing was over, the bailiff put himself between the Greens and Sid and escorted them out. Sid watched them go, hoping that they wouldn’t be waiting for her when she left the courthouse. She wished that she’d told Muse that Keanu could stay with her during work, too.
“I’m going to walk you to your car.”
Sid turned at the ADA’s voice. Ramon Castro. He was young and new on the job, like Sid. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”
He smiled and picked up his briefcase, then ushered her down the aisle and out the door. “You have an RO on that guy, right?”
She nodded. Not that a restraining order would actually restrain a guy like that.
She’d gone to the office and picked up a state car before court, so Ramon walked her to a boring sedan with state tags. “You good from here?”
“Yeah. Thanks, Ramon.”
He smiled more broadly, and Sid knew what was coming next. “No problem. Hey—are you free for dinner?”
“I’m sorry, I’m not. I’m seeing someone.” Was that the right way to describe what was happening with Muse? Was she ‘seeing’ him? It seemed a bland way to describe them, especially since they’d gone up the mountain. But boyfriend was wrong. Lover was…weird. ‘Seeing someone’ was the best thing she had to say.
“That’s too bad. Well, have a good weekend, then.” With that same, sweet smile and a sharp little nod, he went on, and she got into her car and locked the doors.
And then just sat there. Fuck, she was so goddamn scared. And tired—
work was wearing her down, and she’d only been doing the job a matter of weeks. Every day, she was more behind, more overwhelmed, and her caseload kept growing. Yesterday, she’d gotten a new case of a six-month-old baby whose mother and grandmother had been killed in a home invasion. Every day, she saw the worst of the world, and maybe once a week, if that, she got to see something good. Why the fuck had she wanted this? Why the fuck had she thought she could do anything to make anything better?
And some humungous rage monster was after her, too.
Her mother had been profoundly disappointed in her for choosing to get her Master of Social Work instead of a Master of Marriage and Family Therapy—or, better yet, her PhD in clinical psychology. Sitting in the courthouse parking lot, locked in her car, her eyes darting to and fro, checking for an angry father who wanted her dead, Sid couldn’t think of one single fucking reason why this was better than sitting in a pretty office talking couples through a bad spell or helping families navigate divorce.
Maybe she’d made a huge mistake.
If she called her mother, she knew Claude would enthusiastically pay for her to go back to school. But fuck, did she ever not want to do that. The toll would be her mother’s smug insistence that she manage every part of Sid’s life. She’d end up married to Parker Sanders or some other handpicked son-in-law inside of a year.
Everything was just too much to deal with, and Sid put her head on the steering wheel and cried.
She’d been at it a while unabated but was finally beginning to get control of herself when somebody knocked at her window. Sid screamed and wrenched her neck turning to see who it was.
Keanu. What the fuck was he doing here? She was working.
“Are you okay?” he called through the closed window.
Her face still wet from her tears, she opened the door and stood up. “What the fuck are you doing here? Have you been following me today? Do you follow me when I’m at work? I told you not to do that!” While she ranted, she hit him in the chest again and again. By the time she was done, he was ducking and flinching as if he had a tic.
“Whoa! I’m sorry! Muse said I…” he didn’t finish, but he didn’t have to. Muse had told her he understood why she couldn’t have a guard at work. And then he’d put a guard on her anyway. Fucker!
Why was she so angry? Hadn’t she wished that Keanu were with her? Well, he was. She wasn’t alone. She could get back to the office, pick up her car, and go home and know that somebody was looking out for her while Muse was on his ‘run’ to Big Bear.
But she was pissed. Muse had lied to her. Managed her. Motherfucker!
“Goddammit, Keanu! Get out of here!” Why had she said that? She didn’t want to be alone.
“I…can’t. Sid, I can’t. I have to do what Muse says. He’s the patch.”
She stopped fighting Keanu. She wouldn’t win, she didn’t even want to win, and she felt stupid for shrieking at him. “Your stupid club is fucked up,” she grumbled. “I’m going back to get my car.”
“Okay. I’ll be right behind you.” He laughed a little. “I’m kinda glad you know. It was hard to keep track of this dumb car from so far away. It’s so boring it’s practically invisible in traffic. The Pepto-mobile is a lot easier to stay on.”
She just scoffed and got back in. At least the anger had cleared away her weepy weakness.
But ooh, Muse was going to hear about this bullshit.
~oOo~
She was in her kitchen, listening to Smashing Pumpkins and unloading the dishwasher, when Muse showed up. She’d made Keanu sit on the front porch in the November chill, mainly out of spite. When she heard the front door open, it was still pretty early, so she expected it to be the Prospect, looking for more coffee. She went to the kitchen doorway just as Muse arrived at the same spot.
He took her face in his hands right away. When she tried to pull back and get her mad going again, he held on. “Tell me you love me,” he growled.
“What? Muse, we have to talk—”
“I know,” he cut her off. “The Prospect says you’re pissed. We’ll talk. Tell me you love me.”
“I do.” She did. She really did. But those words were cheap when used too much, and even when they were dear, they presaged all kinds of changes she wasn’t ready for. She didn’t want to be pushed behind a man, and she wasn’t sure Muse would let her be side by side with him. He was pushy. And he’d pulled that shit with Keanu. She wouldn’t be managed. She wanted to be a partner, not a possession, and she wasn’t even sure a partnership was possible with anyone, let alone a man like Muse. They had to work that out before she could be sure what was next with them.
“Say the words, Sid.”
“There are things we—”
“Shut up and say the words.” His hands tensed more around her face as he spoke. “If you love me, say the words.”
Part of her wanted to retort that she couldn’t both shut up and say the words. But a light in his eyes said that this was important, that he needed what he was asking for. Sid had a strong sense that something big had happened to him today. Something wrong. Something that made him vulnerable.
“I love you. We need to talk, but I do love you.”
“I love you,” he said, and his mouth came down hard on hers.
Since she’d told him the story of what had happened in college, Muse had been different with her during sex. He’d never been exactly rough, but he’d been wild and raw before. After their talk at the Arrow Grill, he’d been more careful, gentler. She’d called him on the change, because she loved the way they’d been fucking, and she didn’t need to be handled with care. She just needed not to get fucked from behind. End of issue. But even after she’d told him to lighten up, she could feel a difference in him.
But now he was kissing her with a vigor that took her breath from her. They needed to talk. There were things they needed to get straight. But when he pushed his tongue into her mouth and his hands slid from her face around to clench in her hair, all she wanted to do was get naked.
He broke away from her mouth and latched onto her neck “Muse!” she gasped. “Talk to me.”
“We’ll talk, hon,” he groaned. “We will. I need to fuck you first.” His hands moved from her hair down her back, pulling the strands still tangled with his fingers. He slid into the back of her jeans and grasped her ass.
“I know. But talk to me.”
He stopped and pulled back to look down into her eyes. Wit supplanted confusion as he understood what she wanted. He grinned. “I want to fuck you. I want to put my cock inside you and feel your silky, wet pussy grip me. I want to hook your gorgeous legs over my shoulders and shove into you so hard you can’t breathe.” He bent close, hovering over her mouth. “That what you want, baby?”
Every word he’d spoken had made her insides quiver and reach. Muse didn’t talk all that much normally, but he was positively eloquent when it came to dirty talk. “Oh, fuck yes,” she breathed. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him every bit as hard as he’d kissed her.
While their mouths devoured each other, Muse moved his hands to the front of Sid’s jeans and opened them, pushing one hand into her underwear and between her legs. When his fingers slid into her wet slit, he grunted harshly and slammed his hips into hers, pressing her tightly to the wall just outside her kitchen. He stayed on her clit, the pressure hard and direct, intense almost to the point of pain—almost, but not quite—and her hips and legs jumped spastically, beyond her control.
Without backing off her mouth, Muse gritted, “Come, baby. Wet my hand.” He changed the way his finger moved on her, and the blunt edge of his short nail just grazed the swollen nub of her clit. She screamed, and her legs gave out. Muse held her with his arm around her waist while the climax had her clamped in its teeth.
“Aw, yeah. That’s fucking beautiful,” he murmured, his mouth in her hair now.
As soon as she had come down enough to relax, he swept her up in his arms and took her down the short h
allway to her bedroom. He laid her on her bed and yanked her jeans and underwear off, tossing them in a heap to the floor. Then he stripped out of his own clothes, laying his folded kutte on her dresser, then casting the rest of his clothes wherever. She pulled her sweatshirt off. She hadn’t been wearing a bra.
She kept a box of condoms in her dresser now, and after he set his rings on the top, he opened the drawer and grabbed one. Sid watched him, taking in his beautiful, perfectly cut body. He was like a piece of living art, muscle from his feet to his neck, his face handsome and full of character. The actual art, his tattoos, were just the glaze on perfection.
He turned to the bed, smiling his wry smile, and came onto the mattress on his knees, between her legs. She lifted her hips at him, but he didn’t take the invitation. Instead, he put his hands on her breasts, tweaking her nipples between his thumbs and the sides of his index fingers.
Strength & Courage (The Night Horde SoCal Book 1) Page 19
