by V. Theia
What he noted though, as he did most days now since the boys old ladies were added to the mix was; there were a lot of kids around. On one couch sat the boss holding his new son, Knox. He had a mop of dark hair like the prez. Next to Rider was Z-girl, watching the small toddler on the floor, her hair almost as white as Zara’s in two little pigtails on top of her head, she was playing with a doll in one hand and a replica Harley in the other. He smiled to himself watching that baby girl run over the doll with the bike.
Across from them was Preacher throwing Seb into the air, the kid going nuts laughing. His baby son slept soundly in Ruby’s arms. Now that he thought about it he needed to book a time with her to get a new tattoo soon.
Then there was Gia. It must mean Hawk needed her close for his own peace of mind. It was the VP who was cuddling his quiet daughter in his arms, the pair looking at each other seemed to be having a silent conversation between father and daughter.
Across the room was Winter in the arms of Snake while he stood talking to Lawless and Tag. She was due to give birth soon enough.
This time two years ago there wasn’t one kid in the MC, not little anyway, a few teen hangarounds hoping to get taken on as a prospect one day, but that was about it.
Reaper felt the squeeze deep in his chest. His own kid would have already been coming up five and unless he wanted to fall into the past and drown there he had to push those thoughts aside. He was happy for the guys; happy they all had their slice of good, he even liked the kids. It changed the club, as Rider would say, shit was evolving. Give it twenty-thirty years, he was probably looking at the next in line for the MC gavel in Rider’s arms. Knox had big shoes to fill.
“Okay, ladies. Church.” Announced Rider. All the men stomped off towards their meeting room.
Once behind the double doors, Rider in his prez’s seat, he turned cool eyes to Juicy who hovered where he’d been told to stand. He had both hands in his front pockets, his razor trimmed mohawk scraped back by his fingers. Reaper noted though how shrewd the boy’s eyes were sweeping from the prez to the VP.
“Things go as expected?”
“Clock work, boss. He was happy as a puppy in piss thinking I was coming back to do his spying. I have to report in every night like a damn damsel on a curfew but I’m in. And I feel so damn happy to be part of his gang.”
“He didn’t get suspicious?”
“Sure did, I played to his ego, said a few things he liked about how he deserves the gavel, stuff like that, he lapped it up. But he was too busy kicking his kids asses and some guy who got carried out in a body bag to pay it much attention. I lucked out.”
“Nice work, kid.” Rider praised.
A few more things less important were discussed. Jobs were dished around the table. Reaper had his usual of collecting the money. He didn’t know figures as well as Texas did and months later Rider still hadn’t given the treasurer patch to another member, though he was sure one of them boys would know how to count to ten. It felt like Rider was waiting for Texas to stride back through the door in one of his fancy-ass fat ties and his smooth baby-face to take the task back. Zara did what she could over in the office, less than before, what with having two kids under the age of two on her hips. But it wasn’t enough.
“If we’re done here, I’m gonna take my girls home.” Hawk said gruffly, standing to his feet. Reaper figured the VP didn’t much care if the meeting was finished or not, not when it came to his girls, he was gonna do what he needed to do.
Having Paige’s flavor in his mouth, Reaper could understand that kind of prioritizing. He checked the silver watch at his wrist, a gift from his wife on their first anniversary. To remind you we have soooo much time together, my Judson.
Six hours before it was time to pick Paige up from work.
Too fucking long. And he wouldn’t have time to sit in the diner either as he’d wanted.
Too long before he could roll her to her belly and mount behind her and make her do those sex sounds that sounded like heavens bells ringing.
All this time he’d contained it, kept a tight lid on his feelings, never letting anything sneak out into the daylight and now all that containment was shot to shit, leaving Reaper starved and jittery.
Fuck it. He was already sunk as deep as quicksand, what was a few more inches? He fished out his phone and typed out a message.
Reaper: “You good, baby?”
Paige: I like you calling me that.
Paige: Maybe I need something to call you …
Reaper’s blood turned volcanic, she could call him a downright dirty fucking dog and he’d get hard over it. He knew exactly what he’d kill to hear her call him.
Reaper: “Think it over and tell me tonight.”
Paige: I will. For our date! I’m going on another D A T E with a hot biker.”
He chuckled and it raised eyes around the room. Pins could be heard dropping. Tumbleweed rustled through church. Reaper bunched his brows almost down to his chin.
“See! Freaky as fuck. I preferred it when we didn’t know he was here. Now he’s cackling like Chucky. I’m telling, you, we’re all gonna wake up dead.” Declared Snake.
A chorus of knuckles knocked on the tabletop. “Man, I hate agreeing with Snake.” Complained Arson shaking his shaggy head.
Reaper ignored the laughs and the jokes and secretly smiled to himself.
He’d once felt like an outsider, even long after he’d been accepted into this sacred room with his Renegade Souls patch on the front of his leather cut.
Now though? He felt some of those holes filling in.
He could leave this place, but he’d miss it, he realized. He’d miss the guys and what they’d given to him.
His own brothers back home would fit right in if they ever took to the biker life instead of farming.
Once the meeting ended, he walked to grab his jacket, watching Hawk leave with his family, Preacher did the same. Grinder hung around with Capone and Juicy stayed in the office with Rider.
It wasn’t always a bloodbath in the MC world, not like people thought, anyway. They had enemies, a lot of fucking enemies it felt like sometimes and the moment one was stopped another stepped in his shoes.
But days like today, normal, regular workdays, Reaper liked.
It didn’t mean he wasn’t thinking about later for the next few hours.
The thought of his date didn’t leave his mind while he collected money.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
“Even Batman had his psychotic reasons.” - Lawless
He should have gone home to his three thousand square foot two story cabin halfway up the Colorado mountains, secluded from people with just a few bears for company.
Maybe invited Reaper and Arson over for a game of poker like normal guys did.
Lawless should have biked his ass up that mountain and stayed there or even tagged along with Reaper to play scary sidekick while the ghost collected money from their gambling dens. Reaper was a quiet sort so he wouldn’t have to engage in any conversation at all.
Instead, he allowed Zara to invite him and a few of the others home for a cookout.
Because of his mistake he was now fucking unhinged and tweaked inside his blood cells.
It was unwise and multiple times already he told himself to turn the hell around. He had no business being this mad riding like a maniac across town.
Go home, leave her to it. She was a smart cookie, she had Zara’s number, she had her foster-father’s number, she knew how to call 911 for fucks sake, and still his Harley headed into the direction of the Westbank Falls shopping mall.
Maybe he was unhinged after all and it wasn’t just a big har-har joke.
He’d had some dicey times in his life, he could be a fucking nutcase and not even know it.
There was definitely something missing between his brain cells.
In the dark crevices... yeah, nasty little spaces.
His neurons fire
d too fast or something like that.
Just because he was a self-educated psycho didn’t mean he was a smart cookie where it counted.
Case in point with this errand of fucking mercy when he sped up his bike to arrive all the faster, choking the throttle, the beast under his ass rumbled at a speed he could get arrested for—his chest knocking like a fucking drum.
He didn’t want to acknowledge what the noise was he was hearing inside his head… the same thumping clawing along the spongy part in his torso.
It was nothing good.
But he answered to the call, nonetheless.
He’d used an app on his phone to locate her exact spot. An app he’d hidden on her cell phone, not weird at all. Vigilant. It was admirable, really when he thought about it.
Doing a service for the less fortunate.
She was still outside.
Good.
He didn’t want to pound feet inside the mall, those places with their perfume counters and hotdog stands gave him the creeps, it was a Stepford wife mecca for the nice, normal mom brigade who liked to buy blinged-collars for their ugly mutts and push their fat kids around in strollers.
She’s on a date. Zara had chuckled while setting more food down on the round table in the prez’s kitchen a while ago.
His mouth had been full, enjoying the home-cooking as usual. She wasn’t bad, he didn’t mind being a guinea pig to her burned efforts. And only half listening to Tag across the table who was giving dating advice to a sleeping Knox.
She’s on a date, how cute.
Lawless, with a rare moment of surprise had paused mid-bite on his chili cheese steak burrito, the food turning to sawdust in his mouth as his head symbolically exploded all over Zara’s sweet, homely kitchen without a soul noticing.
She’s on a date. It was fine. It was fine. It was a normal thing girls her age did.
It’s what smart girls did.
Just because he hadn’t been smart at her age didn’t mean a thing, it was not a tangible reason for his unusual behavior.
Rider’s old lady thought it was the cutest thing ever. Angela had talked nonstop about it, apparently.
And while he’d listened to all this, the food turned to sawdust in his belly, threatening to rise up and pour over the nice clean table in Rider’s home where a few of the boys sat having the same eats made by the club queen. Zara liked to have an open house policy for the boys, she was coming along with her cooking, and sweet to look at, he stopped by a couple times a week, it wasn’t because he thought their kids were cute and he liked ordering them stuff online.
So what if it he was the favorite uncle, Grinder tried to beat him to the title, but Lawless had told him better luck next time. He didn’t make the rules, the kids just had good taste is all.
She’s on a date.
He was a thirty-fucking-three-year old man. This was wrong in every way he reasoned, and he rarely allowed right and wrong to filter through his gray stuff.
He was a clever man, more so than most and he couldn’t talk himself down off the crazy ledge. He was about to free-fall without a parachute.
He just needed to check she was fine.
Someone had to look out for her, doing fool-hardy shit like going on dates with god knows who. She hadn’t mentioned it to Lawless, probably because she’d known he’d do extensive research on the little dick-swinging pervert.
Well no matter, he only had to listen to Zara and do a few online searches right there at the table on his phone and he had everything he needed.
He was already tracking her cell before Zara got done with her little story she thought was so fucking cute. Cute? Lawless wanted to puke and then murder the little horny punk who probably assumed he was getting lucky tonight.
Not fucking likely, you horny maggot, not if I cut off your dick and feed it to the cats.
He wasn’t dumb, okay.
He knew teenage boys and all they thought about was jerking off and fucking.
And in the next breath he was disgusted that someone as diabolical as he was would be chasing after a pimple-faced little fucker.
He deserved to kill the boy just to feel better.
A few swipes on his app, he had her location, he’d told Rider he was cutting out, and he’d gone without much fanfare. Now, as he stepped off his bike, people milling around lugging more bags than they needed, what the fuck were they buying? He wondered for about a second before he didn’t care to know.
He looked like death on a shopping trip for a new coffin.
Leave her be. The more logical side of his brain advised. She’s fine, she’s not in danger, it said.
Fuck you, he told himself. He’d see for himself. For no other reason than the kid didn’t need any more bad shit coming her way, she was too young, with the quota of badness behind her when she’d witnessed the murder of her parents, she still dealt with that fallout.
Some randy bonehead with greedy hands all over was not gonna add to her trauma by forcing her into shit she was not ready for.
That was what he told himself.
The lies of demonic men.
He could pretty it up as much as he wanted to.
Tie a fucking bow if he felt like it.
Say it was magnanimous, selfless, a care to one less fortunate.
It still amounted to the same bloody lies.
But as he strode forward, slipping through the throng of people, his black leather coat concealing at last count three flick knives strapped around his waist, ignoring their startled looks. He was a tall man, what did they want him to do, stoop down to their level just to fit in? Fuck off. He stared at a dude who dared look at him.
Lawless checked the cell phone location one more time and kept on walking.
Ignoring inquisitive stares. He had no patience for the bad fish today.
Nerves jangling like symbols, his temper amped up more than usual.
Even when he killed he wasn’t this juiced.
He saw her standing by a concrete pillar and for a second his footing faltered with unease and paranoia niggling away at the back of his skull.
He’d looked out for the kid … against his better judgement for a while now. Not like he had a choice in the matter, she’d tagged him like a limpet that first night they’d dragged her and Zara out of hell.
Angela had grown from a mouthy kid into a mouthy brat over the last few years. A smart one, she was gonna rival him one day, he knew it. She soaked up knowledge like a sponge. Already he’d built her two computers to aid her studies.
A mouthy brat was better than being a depressive kid she could have been.
She lived with a good family, went to a good school, had food in her belly, rules and regulations to keep the brat on course for getting into a worthy college.
An allowance Lawless might drop into her account from time to time so she could buy books or save towards her first car.
Someone needed to look out for the girl.
He was doing more than he should, but whose fucking business was that anyway?
Lawless kept right on walking, his crystal blue eyes narrowed when a boy joined her and handed over tickets, he was presuming.
The boy was seventeen-eighteen-soon to be dead.
Not what Lawless had expected but still, lanky little dirtbag, with his shirt tucked into his tan pants, expensive sneakers on his feet and wearing eyeglasses with his hair combed to one side. Shithead looked like he’d crawled out of a geek convention ten minutes ago, but Lawless knew boys his age, thinking with only one thing and it wasn’t the brain in his head, nah it was the tiny pecker between the legs doing all the boy’s decision making.
His scowl grew darker and not because he noticed what Angela was wearing. He made a mental note to tell Zara to advise the kid on clothes that were not so skintight or showing off parts of her belly. Angela had grown a lot in the last year, she must be at least five eight now. Boys were gonna notice her slender figure and long Pocahontas style hair down to her butt.
Not that he blamed a chick in any way for how she looked. Boys were complete one-way thinking fucktards, but he didn’t want randy bastards looking at her…making her upset. Yeah, let’s stick with that.
He could picture gouging out eyes and keeping them as trophies.
She saw him first and her face blanched out like flour, she stalled still as a statue, eyes wide, but Lawless was all stare for the boy at her side who dared to hold her fucking hand.
Her fucking hand. His belly was sloshing from side to side.
Keep it together, you don’t know he’s a pervert yet. He was at a public shopping mall, there was no way he could get away with killing a kid here.
But he knew places.
Oh, yeah. He could take this little bastard there and deal with the problem in two minutes, he’d even be humane and do it quickly. The RS had a slaughterhouse on site for this purpose. Maybe not killing a kid. Semantics.
Lawless wasn’t heartless.
Yeah, he was. Stone cold. This kid was about to find out how cold.
“Law! Hey! What are you doing here?” Her voice squeaked, tinged with embarrassment, she dropped the boy’s hand. Good girl. He gave Angela a cursory once over, making sure she was untouched, unharmed and still put together. If only she had a little bruise, a hangnail, a hair out of place, he would have hung the boy from an electrical pole.
“Who’s this?” The boy stuttered and didn’t that just crank Lawless’ nut sack.
He moved his feet until he was soaring over the boy.
“Who the fuck I am is none of your concern, Joshua Muller. You’re gonna answer me a question and if I don’t get the answer I want, then I’ll be paying a visit to your daddy, John Muller, over on Fadler Drive, number 2412, yeah? Thought so.”
Wasn’t life terrific being a world class hacker?
The boy visibly gulped and tried to take a step back, but his spine hit the pillar.
“Law! Oh my god, what are you doing?” Angela protested. “Ignore him, Josh, he doesn’t mean it. My god, you’re embarrassing me!”
Lawless ignored her and curled his lip. “She has a curfew; do you know what time it is?”
