by Lilly Atlas
Despite himself, Copper laughed. “Yeah, baby girl, there are a few bad words in there. Truth is, princess, I do not know much about your dad. I never met him.”
Beth grunted as she shoved a giant spoonful of ice cream into her mouth. “I wif you were my dad,” she said, mouth full. “Maybe you should mawwy mommy.”
Whose great idea was it to hang out with Beth?
“Yeah, Prez, why don’t you marry her mommy?” Jig stood at the end of their table, a snarky grin on his scarred face.
“Jig!” Beth said. “Want some ice cream?” She held her spoon up to him.
“Thanks, kiddo, I’m okay.” He slipped into the booth next to Beth. She scooted until she was seated right next to him, all flush against his side. Jig tensed for a moment, then relaxed and softened his face. The guy had a daughter and a wife who had been murdered in cold blood about seven years ago. It had taken him ages to be able to stand the sight of Beth, let alone touch her. He’d come a long way, mostly with the help of his woman, Izzy. “So, Cop?”
Copper scowled at his treasurer before shifting his attention to Beth. Of course, now she wasn’t focused on her ice cream, but staring at him intently. “Honey, your mom and I are not going to get married.” He didn’t want to hurt the kiddo’s feelings, but he had to make sure she understood the finality of the situation.
Beth frowned, her little forehead scrunching in displeasure. “But don’t you think she’s pretty?”
Pretty? He thought she was a knockout, sexy as fuck. But he wouldn’t be saying that to the woman’s four-year-old daughter.
“Yeah, Cop,” Jig goaded. “Don’t you think she’s pretty?”
“Yes, Bethy, I think your mommy is very pretty. She’s beautiful.”
Beth beamed. “Like Cinderella. She gets married.”
With a groan, Copper said. “Beth, I’m too old for your momma. She’s a lot younger than I am. So we can’t get married.”
The frown persisted for a moment before disappearing. “Okay,” she said with a nod as she went back to her sugary treat.
Guess that was that. If only all problems were so easy to solve.
Now that Beth was occupied once again, he looked at Jig whose eyes were narrowed and mouth flat.
“You need to get the fu—heck over that sh—stuff, Cop,” Jig said.
“Jigsaw.” Copper made sure Jig couldn’t misunderstand the warning in his tone.
“Screw that, Cop. Get over yourself. She needs a man, she needs you.” Jig grabbed a napkin and handed it to Beth who wiped up a puddle she’d dripped on the table.
“What? You knocked up your woman so now you’re some kinda relationship expert?”
All the teasing left Jig’s eyes. He rubbed a hand over the scar on his face. “No, brother, but I am an expert in regret. What they say is true. Life’s fucking short. And it can be snuffed out way too fast.”
Copper grunted, shifting his gaze to the window. Every few seconds a car drove by. People going on about their lives, dealing with their own problems. Jig’s words hit him hard. He’d wanted Shell for years, both in his life and in his bed. But he’d vowed to himself he’d never act on those feelings.
Sixteen years was not only a lot in number but in life experience. He’d seen and done shit that would gray Shell’s hair. Not that she’d had any kind of easy, charmed life, but still…
She was twenty-four. In ten years, she’d still be in her early thirties, and he’d be fifty. Would she lose interest? These questions were a waste of time. His mind was made up.
Shell would remain a close friend, family. Nothing more.
“What the hell did you track me down for, anyway?” Copper asked.
Jig’s eyes slid to Beth. “You talk to Z this afternoon? He had something to run by you.”
“Nah, haven’t seen him since breakfast.”
With a nod, Jig said, “Okay, ears are too small around here. I’ll get with you after you talk to him.”
Interesting. “I’ll try to catch him later.”
“Yeah, Prez. That looks fu-flipping good. Think I’ll grab some and go surprise my woman. Since I have one and all.”
“You’re so witty,” Copper said, flipping Jig off when Beth was focused on her treat.
“See ya, squirt,” he said to Beth.
“Bye, Jig! I love you!”
Jig ruffled her hair and headed for the counter.
The shop grew silent except for the sounds of Beth devouring her ice cream. As Copper watched Jig stroll out to his bike, he allowed his mind to wander. Even with his verbal blunder that morning, the day had been pretty fucking good. Damn, he couldn’t wait to see Rusty.
He wasn’t entirely sure why he spilled his guts to Shell earlier. It was true, not everyone in the club was a Rusty fan. He could be a dick at times, but couldn’t they all? He’d never told anyone, but Copper felt guilty as fuck when Rusty had been arrested. He’d felt responsible. Had he screwed up raising Rusty? Did growing up in the sometimes volatile MC life screw him up? The guilt stayed with him through the five years Rusty had been incarcerated and never once had he voiced a peep about his feelings.
Until today.
And just the simple response from Shell, just her telling him she had faith he’d done his best lifted some of the weight off his shoulders. Shell’s comment had been sincere. She wasn’t one to blow smoke up his ass. It’d been nice to be able to unpack even a tiny bit of baggage. As much as he trusted his men, and especially those in his exec board, he didn’t confide his personal shit in them. As president, he wanted to portray a confident, controlled, capable man at all times. Until he’d unloaded on Shell, he hadn’t realized how lonely it could sometimes be at the top. Or how good it could feel to have a woman soothe the worries.
Shit, he was losing his fucking mind. Sounding like a total pussy.
“All done!” Beth announced, holding her empty cup for Copper to see. She still munched the cone. “What’s next?”
Copper glanced at his watch. Plan was to give Shell three hours of peace and quiet. “Clubhouse?”
“Yes!” Beth shouted. “Maverick promised to draw on my arm. Like a tattoo. So I can look like him.”
Copper chuckled. “Okay, but nothing crazy. Remember, I’m not trying to get in trouble with your mom.”
“Okay. We’ll just do a little bit of tattoos.”
“Good, princess. Let’s roll out.” If only dealing with all women was this easy.
CHAPTER FIVE
A MISSED SHIFT at work was a major concern in Shell’s paycheck-to-paycheck world. Missing two shifts was one step away from catastrophic. But she was a mother first and foremost, and that meant the occasional sleepless night, sick child, and call-out from work.
And was last night ever one of those sleepless nights. Three days after Copper’s birthday party, Beth had been feverish, restless, and cranky as all get out. She’d woken up fussy nearly every hour on the hour. Shell managed a grand total of two hours sleep then had to placate a sick and very grouchy child all day long. Finally, around four in the afternoon, after two rounds of vomit, three back to back viewings of Frozen, a few battles over Tylenol, and four loads of laundry, the fever broke, and Beth started to feel a little better. She’d passed out at five o’clock and was still out cold over three hours later. With any luck, she wouldn’t make an appearance until morning.
Shell rubbed her eyes and sighed with exhaustion as she stared at the envelope in her hands. As usual, it was full of ten one-hundred dollar bills she needed to feed her daughter and keep a shelter over their heads. Unfortunately, this money was marked for someone else. Someone who was due to collect it any minute because they arrived precisely at eight thirty p.m. the first Monday of every month. The rest of the month would be a tough one of buying dented cans and disappointing her daughter when she couldn’t afford any special activities or treats.
She glanced up from her spot, seated on the steps that led to her small house as a brown sedan pulled into her driveway. Risin
g, she met the driver at his car. It didn’t really make any sense, but she always preferred he stay as far from her actual house as physically possible.
He exited the driver’s side and stood, leaning on the open door. “Got something for me?” he asked as he did every single month. Joe wasn’t a large man, in build or height, but he made up for it with the frostiest stare Shell had ever encountered. Every time she met the steely charcoal gaze, she imagined what would happen if she missed just one payment. It wasn’t a stretch to picture those eyes glaring down at her as she writhed on the ground with broken kneecaps. She bet they wouldn’t even show a flicker of emotion. Just cold calculation and indifference.
She extended her arm, and he snatched the envelope from her over the top of the car door. That small barrier provided a world of comfort. The dome light from Joe’s vehicle illuminated the dark driveway enough for him to withdraw the money and count it out. “One thousand. You’re good.”
“When have I ever not been good?” she asked, voice thick with disgust. Maybe if her temper wasn’t already hanging by a thread after dealing with a cranky four-year-old all day, she’d have thought twice about mouthing off. This entire situation was so infuriating, it took everything in her not to rake her nails down Joe’s face each month. Only reason she typically kept her annoyance in check was the child sleeping inside. She’d be no good to her daughter if Joe worked her over. But tonight, she was short on patience and long on frustration.
“Never,” he said with a sneer. “And that’s why we’ve never had to have the chat. We could change that if you’d like. I like attitude from bitches about as much as I like missed payments.”
Shell wrinkled her forehead. “The chat?”
“Yep,” he said popping the p as he carelessly tossed the money she’d worked so hard for into his car. “The chat about that beautiful little girl you have in there.”
Shell stiffened, and clenched her fists at her sides. “Are you threatening my daughter?”
Joe laughed. “Sure as fuck am, lady. That’s how this shit works. I threaten, you pay. You run your mouth, I threaten some more. You keep tossing attitude my way, I make those threats a reality. Get me?” He winked as though he was having some flirty conversation instead of bullying her into biting her tongue.
“The fuck’s going on here?” Copper’s furious voice sliced through the quiet of the night. She jolted so hard, her heart skipped a beat then shot off like a greyhound.
Shit! What the hell was he doing here?
Her mouth opened and closed but was so dry, she couldn’t get a word out.
How on earth had she missed his arrival? She was beyond screwed.
“Get in the car and fucking go,” she whispered.
Joe just raised an eyebrow.
Shit, shit, shit.
Copper had parked right in front of her house, and he now climbed down from his supersized truck as though it was no bigger than her little Corolla. Then he strode his hulking form toward them looking every bit the dangerous MC president he was with his leather jacket, narrowed eyes, and deadly scowl.
Shell swallowed and wrung her hands. Her heart sped as it usually did in Copper’s presence but for an entirely different reason this time. Shit was about to go south. Maybe she’d get lucky, and Joe would lie out his ass, sparing Shell the epic blowout she and Copper would have when he found out the first of her many secrets.
“Joe?” he asked as he grew close. “The fuck you doing here?”
Of course they knew each other. The club had worked with Joe’s crew back in her father’s days.
“Copper. Been a while,” Joe replied, extending his hand across the top of his car.
Copper just folded his giant forearms across his chest. “Asked you a question.”
“Nothing to get hot about, Copper. Just finishing up some business with Miss Ward, here.” Joe smirked and rested his crossed arms on the roof of his car.
So much for not blabbing. For a moment, Shell had the crazy idea of swiping Joe’s car keys and zooming off in his sedan just to avoid Copper’s ire. It’d never work, though. The man would just be waiting for her when she returned.
“And what business would that be?” Copper’s eyes narrowed more by the second, and his shoulders grew more rigid. He was working up to a serious mad, and Shell had a pretty good idea who was going to be in the direct path of hurricane Copper when it hit.
“The business of debt repayment. Only one I engage in.” Joe slapped his palm on the top of his car twice then slipped into the driver’s seat. “See you around, Copper. Shell,” he said with a lift of his chin, “Pleasure as always. See you next month.”
All she could do was nod and watch as Joe drove off leaving her with one pissed off mountain of a biker.
“Wanna tell me why the enforcer for one of the most notorious drug dealers in the east is hitting you up for money? At night? When you’re home alone with your daughter? And it’s dark as fuck. Christ, what the fuck are you wearing? It’s fucking freezing out here.”
He hadn’t opened his mouth once but spoke through a jaw so tight he’d crack a tooth if he didn’t ease up. God, he looked so solid, so formidable standing there, legs wide, arms crossed, muscles bulging under his leather jacket and dark-wash jeans. If only she could dive into his arms, have him wrap her up and promise it would all be okay. Absorb some of that strength so she could stop pretending she was a pillar herself. But that wasn’t her reality. Her life consisted of managing the very delicate web of secrets and lies she’d been balancing for too many years. And one of those secrets was about to be blasted into the open. There was no way Copper would let this go until he knew every single detail.
That didn’t mean she wouldn’t at least try to escape telling him. “I’m not sure that’s any of your business, Copper.” She turned and trudged back up the driveway toward her door.
“Michelle Elizabeth Ward, don’t you dare walk that bite-able ass one more step without answering me.” His deadly voice boomed into the quiet night, so full of menace she probably would have been frightened if he were anyone else. But Copper would never hurt her. Yell at her? Piss her off? Hell yeah, he’d do those things.
But never harm her.
Slowly, she spun on her heel. “Excuse me, Aiden Whatever Gallagher,” she said, jamming her hands on her hips. Did he even have a middle name? Didn’t matter. She loved Copper’s real name and often wished she could call him Aiden all the time. “Who the hell do you think you are coming to my house at night and issuing orders?”
He stalked forward until all snorting and snarling six feet five inches of him towered over her measly five-foot-two frame. Fire blazed in his eyes, but something else too. Worry. He was worried about her. And that concern is what gave her pause and made her wave her arm and say, “Follow me inside. Let’s not give my neighbors any more of a show tonight, huh? At least not until we decide to sell tickets. After today, I could use the money,” she mumbled under her breath.
Copper took his obligations as president of the MC very seriously. And he felt his reach extended to each and every family member of his men. It was why he and the MC had kept in such close contact with her even after her father died and she was no longer officially attached to the club. Last thing she wanted was to add to his heaping pile of responsibility, but fighting him would only make things worse. Eventually, she’d cave, and in the meantime, she’d put him through unnecessary worry and concern.
Wait…did he just call her ass bite-able?
Yeah, that’s what she needed to be focusing on.
Once they were in the house and Copper had locked the deadbolt behind them, she motioned him toward her couch. “Have a seat. I’ll get us a couple of beers. Unless you want coffee.”
He stared at her for a second, as though assessing whether she was going to fall over, then nodded. “Beer works. Thanks, babe.”
She grabbed Copper’s favorite beer from her fridge—yes, she kept it on hand just for him—then took her time uncapping
them. Gave her a minute to gather her thoughts and prepare for the verbal smackdown. “Time to face the music,” she murmured.
When she returned to the small living room, she paused in the doorway and soaked in the sight of the man she’d loved since she was a teenager and had no business wanting.
He dwarfed her two-person loveseat as he always did. Usually, she made a quip about him breaking the thing or hogging all the space, but tonight she couldn’t muster the energy for jokes.
Her options were a recliner or the itty-bitty space left on the loveseat. She started for the recliner, the safer option, but Copper shook his head and pointed to the small space next to him. Since an argument was already on the agenda, she didn’t bother heaping more shit on the pile by defying him, and wedged herself in between the armrest and his solid body, sitting cross-legged and facing him. Immediately, warmth flowed from his thigh into her knees and throughout her entire body.
Why?
Why did he have to have this intoxicating effect on her? Why, even after all these years of unrequited feelings, could she not shake the all-consuming hold he had on her heart?
Copper blew out a long breath and bent his head away from her, cracking his neck. “I’m trying here, Shell. Really fucking trying to understand why that piece of shit was at your house. And I’m trying to do it without losing my shit.” One hand held his beer and the other rested on the armrest, his fingers curling around the edge so hard he just might tear the worn, tan fabric.
He turned his head and met her gaze. When he eyed her like that, like he wanted to slay her dragons, banish her demons, and destroy anything that would cause her a moment of distress, she was utterly and completely lost in his spell. Of course, there was a healthy chance the meaning behind it was all in her mind. Still, it worked.
Shell sighed. “I’ll tell you, Copper,” she said in a small voice as shame washed over her. She was an adult. She should be able to handle her own problems without the club coming to her rescue far too often. They shouldn’t even be aware of her issues.
