Butcher's Honor (Iron & Blood MC #2)

Chapter 5 - Butcher

I watch Wrath and Crow drag Derek's sorry ass to his car.

Blood still pumps hot through my veins, anger barely contained. If Tommy hadn't been in the house...

"Would you like to come in?" Ruby's soft voice breaks through my violent thoughts. "We need to start a new batch of cookies since the others burned."

I turn to find her standing in the doorway, Tommy clutching her leg but smiling up at me. The kid's resilience amazes me.

"Nah, we should—" I start, but Tommy cuts me off.

"Please, Mr. Joey? You can help put the chocolate chips on top. It's the most important part!"

Wrath and Crow exchange amused glances as they return from their task.

"Yeah, Mr. Joey," Crow teases, emphasizing my newfound title. "Chocolate chips are very important."

I shoot him a warning glare, but Ruby's already opening the door wider.

"Please? It's the least I can do after... everything."

"Boss will understand if you're a little late," Wrath adds with a shit-eating grin. "Especially given the circumstances."

Tommy runs out and grabs my hand, his tiny fingers barely wrapping around three of mine. "I'll show you how to do it right!"

"Fine," I grunt, ignoring my brothers' poorly concealed laughter. "But make it quick."

"Actually," Crow says, backing away, "Wrath and I should go handle our other... appointment." He winks at me. "You've got this covered, Butcher. Take all the time you need."

"Never seen the big bad wolf so domesticated," Wrath stage-whispers to Crow. "Think she's got him under a spell?"

"I can still shoot you both," I remind them pleasantly.

They laugh, mounting their bikes.

"Have fun baking, brother," Crow calls out. "Don't forget the chocolate chips!"

I flip them off behind Tommy's back as they ride away, their laughter carrying on the wind. Bastards won't let me live this down for months.

Inside, Ruby's already pulling out fresh ingredients. The kitchen still smells like burnt cookies and lingering fear, but her hands are steady now as she measures flour.

"You really don't have to stay," she says softly. "I know you must have important things to do."

"Nothing that can't wait." I lean against the counter, watching her work. "Besides, I was promised cookies."

Tommy drags a chair to the counter, climbing up to help.

"Mommy makes the best cookies. Even better than Mrs. Rose next door."

"That so? Better than my mother?" I raise an eyebrow at Ruby, catching her slight blush.

"Tommy's biased," she says, cracking eggs into a bowl. "And very loyal."

"Good trait to have." I watch her cream butter and sugar, her movements precise and practiced. "You bake a lot?"

"It calms me down. After..." She glances at Tommy, who's happily sorting chocolate chips by size. "After bad days."

I understand what she's not saying. "Had a lot of those?"

"Too many." She adds vanilla extract, the sweet smell filling the kitchen. "But maybe fewer now."

Our eyes meet, and something electric passes between us. She looks away first, focusing on her mixing bowl.

"Can you hand me the flour?" she asks.

I reach for the bag, our fingers brushing as I pass it. She jumps slightly at the contact, and flour puffs into the air between us.

"Sorry," we both say at once.

Tommy giggles. "Mommy's turning red again."

"Tommy!" Ruby scolds, but she's fighting a smile.

"Just stating facts," the kid says perfectly innocently, reminding me so much of Crow it's scary.

"You're supposed to be sorting chips, monster," she tells him, but her voice is full of love.

I watch them together, noting how they move around each other with practiced ease and how Tommy anticipates when she needs something before she asks. They're a team, these two…

So why does something in my chest ache watching them?

"You're staring," Ruby says quietly while Tommy counts chips.

"Just thinking."

"About what?"

About how beautiful you are when you're not scared. About how much I want to kill Derek for putting that fear in your eyes. About how fucked I am for even having these thoughts.

"About whether these cookies are worth all the shit my brothers are gonna give me," I say instead.

She laughs, and the sound has me clenching my fists, "I'll make sure they're extra special then."

"Can Mr. Joey put the chips on this batch?" Tommy asks. "I'll teach him the right way."

Before I can protest, I'm being handed a handful of chocolate chips and given very serious instructions about proper placement.

"They have to be pointy side up," Tommy explains. "And you need three on each cookie."

"Pointy side up," I repeat, feeling ridiculous but unable to disappoint that earnest face. "Got it."

Ruby watches us, something soft in her expression that makes me want to look away. I'm not soft. I'm not gentle. Just last night I...

"You're doing it wrong," Tommy interrupts my dark thoughts. "Here, like this."

His small hands guide mine, showing me how to place the chips just so. His complete lack of fear, his easy trust, makes my throat tight.

"Better?" I ask when I place the next one.

"Perfect!" He beams up at me. "You're a fast learner."

"High praise," Ruby comments, sliding another tray toward us. "He made me practice for an hour yesterday."

"Kid's got high standards." I find myself smiling despite everything. "Good trait in a quality control manager."

"Is that a job?" Tommy asks excitedly.

"Sure is. Making sure everything's done right, just like you're doing now."

Ruby mouths 'thank you' over Tommy's head as he launches into a detailed explanation of why cookies need quality control. I shrug, uncomfortable with her gratitude.

"Almost done," she announces a few minutes later. "Just need to set the timer."

"How long?" Tommy asks.

"Twelve minutes."

He looks at me hopefully. "Will you stay until they're done? Please?"

I should say no. Should make up an excuse about club business. Should maintain some distance from this dangerous warmth growing in my chest.

"Alright," I hear myself say instead. "But only if I get first pick."

"Deal!" Tommy holds out his hand solemnly, and I shake it, careful to be gentle.

Ruby starts cleaning up, and I find myself helping without being asked. We move around each other in the small kitchen, and I'm hyper-aware of every time we brush against each other, every shared glance, every small smile.

"You're good with him," she says softly while Tommy draws pictures at the table.

"Kids are easier than adults. They don't pretend to be something they're not."

"Is that what I'm doing?" she asks, looking up at me. "Pretending?"

"No." I hold her gaze. "You're one of the most genuine people I've ever met. It's... refreshing."

She steps closer, and I catch the scent of vanilla and something uniquely her.

"Even though I'm probably nothing like the women you usually spend time with?"

"Especially because of that."

The timer dings, making us both jump. Tommy cheers as Ruby pulls out perfectly golden cookies, the chocolate chips still glistening.

"They have to cool," she warns as Tommy reaches for one.

"Just a few minutes," I add, backing her up. "Good things are worth waiting for."

She sets the cookies on a cooling rack, and Tommy watches them like a hawk, periodically asking if they're ready yet. I find myself settling at their small kitchen table, oddly comfortable in this domestic scene that should feel foreign to me.

"Now?" Tommy asks for the fifth time.

Ruby laughs. "Yes, baby. Now they're cool enough."

He grabs three cookies, carefully placing one in front of me and one for his mom before sitting down with his own. I notice he's given me the one with the most perfectly placed chips.

"You have to dip it in milk," he informs me seriously. "That's the rules."

Ruby's already pouring three glasses.

"Can't break the rules," she agrees, her eyes twinkling.

I dip half of the cookie in the milk and then take a bite, and damn if it isn't the best cookie I've ever had. Soft in the middle, slightly crisp on the edges, with chocolate that's still warm enough to melt.

"Good?" Tommy asks anxiously.

"Better than good, kid. You two could sell these."

His face lights up. "Mommy, can we? Can we have a cookie store?"

"Maybe someday," she says, running a hand through his hair.

I notice he's blinking more slowly now, the day's excitement catching up with him.

"We could call it Tommy's Cookies," he continues, words slightly slurred with growing sleepiness. "And Mr. Joey could be our... our quality person..."

His head starts nodding, and Ruby smoothly rises to catch him before he face-plants into his milk.

"Someone's ready for bed," she says softly.

"I'm not tired," he protests weakly, even as he curls into her arms. "Wanna stay with Mr. Joey..."

"I'll come back another time," I promise before I can stop myself. "Maybe we can make more cookies."

He smiles sleepily. "Promise?"

"Promise."

Ruby carries him off to bed, and I should leave. I should get on my bike and ride far away from this dangerous warmth in my chest. Instead, I find myself still sitting there when she returns a few minutes later.

"He's out cold," she says, sitting back down. "Today was... a lot."

"You handled it well. Both of you did."

She picks at her cookie. "I should have seen what Derek was becoming before it got so bad."

"Hey." I reach across the table without thinking, covering her hand with mine. "Don't do that to yourself. You got out. You protected your kid. That's what matters."

She turns her hand under mine, threading our fingers together. "Thank you. Not just for today, but for... everything."

"Ruby..." Her name feels like both a warning and a prayer on my lips.

"I know," she says quickly. "I know you're dangerous. I know you're probably involved in things I don't want to know about. I know I should be scared of you."

"But you're not?"

"No." She meets my eyes steadily. "Maybe that should scare me more than anything else, but it doesn't."

I should pull away. I should tell her all the reasons this is a bad idea. Should remind her that my hands are stained with blood that will never wash clean.

Instead, I find myself asking, "Want another cookie?"

She laughs, soft and real, and doesn't let go of my hand. "Only if you follow the rules and dip it in milk."

So we sit there, eating cookies and murmuring about nothing important, our hands still linked across her small kitchen table. And for just a moment, I let myself pretend I deserve this slice of peace.

But tomorrow... tomorrow I'll remember who I am, what I am. Tomorrow I'll put distance between us, and keep her safe from my world.

Tomorrow. Just not today.