Page 8 of Never Wed an Outlaw
The next growl leaving my lips was angrier. Made her feel it when we kissed one more time, my fist tugging at her hair, bringing her sweet mouth into mine.
“Goodnight, Hannah. You'll be seeing a whole lot more of me soon.”
“Oh, I hope.”
I backed off the door and watched her leave me with nothing more than another wink, plus the biggest blue balls in the entire world.Fuck.
I needed something to take the edge off. It was still a wedding party, after all, so I headed for the bar, grabbing the closest bottle of Jack I could find.
Didn't crack it open 'til after I rode my bike home. My place wasn't much to look at, just a functional little house on the edge of town, decorated with old Harley posters, Deadly Pistols patches in frames, and a few Civil War relics passed down from my great great grandpa.
I drank deep that night in bed, one hand on my dick. Sucked down a shot for every time she'd almost made meblow, setting me on fire like no woman had since...well, fuck, I couldn't remember.
It had been a long damned time. Almost as long as this club was weighed down with its woes, ever since my old man died and left me to clean up his wreck.
Wokeup the next morning smelling heaven. Eggs...bacon...coffee?
What the fuck?I jerked up, shaking off my hangover, wondering who the hell was in my house cooking up a banquet.
I had one hand on the loaded nine I always kept next to me on my nightstand, ready to switch off the safety, when I heard her singing country to herself. Fuck, it was just Ma, sneaking in early for a breakfast. It had been awhile since the last time she'd done it.
Throwing my legs over the bed, I found a fresh shirt and rolled it on, getting into my jeans. I was still straightening my cut on my shoulders when I walked into the kitchen. Stainless steel caught my reflection, mirroring my patches from a dozen different angles.
Blood red, outlaw black, fiery yellow. Skulls and daggers and pistols everywhere. What I'd earned in sweat and blood, I wore proud, every day of my life I went out on the road or showed up at the businesses I owned.
“Mornin', Dusty,” Ma said, loading a plate of good food for me while I pulled up a chair at the counter. “You look like you just peeled yourself off the road. Too much fun at the wedding last night?”
“Something like that.” I shook my head.
Forty one years old, and I still took barbs from my mother. Sure as hell didn't mind her cooking for me, though. Woman had a knack for making awesome breakfasts, huge sandwiches, and the best damned stroganoff a man ever had out of thin air.
Ma sat down next to me with her plate and coffee cup while I dug into my food. “Cora looked so pretty yesterday, wearing my dress. I'm happy I could loan it to her,” she said.
“Yeah, it did the job. I'm sure she appreciated it, Ma. Lord knows she couldn't have rustled up anything better with Firefly on her ass to get hitched, soon as he found out about the kid.”
Ma looked me up and down, taking a long slurp off her coffee. I swear she had more energy than anybody wearing the patch, a scary spark for a gray haired lady pushing seventy, and still working at the hospital part time when she wasn't fixing up wounds for our boys, or bringing us biscuits and gravy on the weekends.
“Joker's gonna be next,” she said, smiling like she could see straight into the future. “I just have a gut feeling about that boy. He's hurt too much not to snatch up a good woman the minute she walks into his life.”
I swallowed my food and grunted. “Don't hold your breath too long, Ma. He doesn't care about anything except that damned dog and getting payback for Piece.”
She stared down at her plate, slowly taking a bite. “You'll be surprised. I think we'll all be real soon. Weddings in thisclub come fast, like lightning. It was the same for me and your father. Whatever else changes in this club, I don't think that ever will.”
I gave her a long, hard look. She talked about my old man too much for a woman whose marriage went to total shit during the last decade.
Somehow, she loved him through it all. She loved him through his boozing, his gambling, his women. Taking on too many debts and making too many enemies, all the bullshit we're still mopping up together as a crew.
“One thing's for sure – it'll be Joker before it's me,” I said, helping myself to some more bacon to go with my coffee. “Least we'll have a few kids hanging around the family get togethers soon, thanks to Meg and Cora. Only a matter of time before Skinny boy catches up to Firefly in the baby department.”
“Nope.You don't get offthateasy, Daniel Grayson.” She wagged a finger at me and I stopped in mid-step.
Fuck, I hated it when she used my real name. 'Course, she was the only woman entitled to call me anything except Dust, seeing how she gave me birth. Still left a bad taste in my mouth.
I hadn't been called Daniel or Captain Grayson since my time in the Merchant Marines, helping protect America's trade ships from pirates in the Indian Ocean.
Yes,pirates. Merciless motherfuckers who'd hack heads off with dirty machetes, assuming they didn't get you with a rocket propelled grenade first, straight from their speedboats. Good, dangerous practice for coming home toKnoxville and taking over this club, dealing with the Deads, the Torches, and other mean sonsofbitches who had all the Somali pirates' greed and none of their restraint.
“You owe me at least one grandbaby sooner or later. The whole wife and family thing, well, that's your choice,” Ma snapped, draining the last dregs from her mug. “Look at this place!”