Thornhill Road (Love Me Tender)

Chapter Seven

Mustang

He woke in bed alone, and he was not happy about it.

He didn’t even have her number, and that pissed him off even more. It made him the cat and her the mouse. There was only one place he knew he could go to catch her, and he didn’t relish the idea of going back there.

If it were anyone else, he wouldn’t have bothered.

But he’d had his third look, and she blew his damn mind.

He thought about the way she rested her cheek on his shoulder, melting into him as he pushed ninety on the highway, like she’d done it a million times.

Then he remembered how turned on she’d been when they got back. All he had to do was breathe on her, and she was coming. It made him hard just thinking about it.

No way was he done with her. Not by a longshot.

Nevertheless, it was Sunday morning. He needed to get showered and changed before he went to pick up his girl.

He’d deal with Tess later.

Mustang got out of bed, gathered what he needed, then headed down the hall to the communal bathroom to get a shower. He wasn’t in there two minutes before he heard the door open.

“Mustang—that you in there?”

He recognized her voice. Charity, a club sheep. She’d been around for a couple years, hoping to be claimed as someone’s ol’ lady. Pretty as she was, he knew her chances were low. She’d fucked half the guys in the club—including him when she first started hanging around—but now she was used up. Hard for a man to claim a woman after he’d seen her take more than a few brothers’ dicks.

“What do you want, Charity?” Mustang called from the stall.

“Just wondered if you wanted some company is all?”

Tess rushed to the forefront of his mind.

Her dirty blonde hair, more dirty than blonde, that he liked a whole lot out of a clip.

Her gorgeous golden-brown eyes, and that perfect mouth.

He reheard her moan when he’d kissed her beside his hog.

He shook his head, mad all over again he’d woke in bed alone.

“No,” he grumbled in response.

“Alright,” said Charity on a sigh. “Holler when you’re done, I guess. I’m up on bathroom duty.”

He finished his shower, wrapped a towel about his waist, and didn’t holler anything on his way back to his room. Five minutes later, in fresh underwear, a clean shirt, and the jeans he’d worn the night before, he tightened his boots, grabbed his kutte, and was out the door.

He couldn’t help but think of Tess as he started his hog.

When he pulled into his garage only to hop off and climb into his truck, he was actually relieved for the reprieve. He told himself the next time he got on his hog he was going after Tess.

It only took him five minutes to get to Trix’s place. She lived on the second floor of a quadplex. It was old, if not yet rundown, and he knew she could afford better. He paid enough child support. The only reason he didn’t bitch about it was because she was conveniently close to his house. He’d learned the smart thing to do with Trix was pick the right battles, and that wasn’t one of them.

He took the stairs two at a time. When he reached her door, he rapped his knuckles against it and waited. He stood there long enough he was considering another knock when he heard the lock give way. One look at Trix, and he knew she was high.

He didn’t even waste his breath but brushed her aside as he crossed the threshold. He got two steps and saw someone on the couch lighting up a joint. Mustang paused, glared back at Trix, then made his way around to the front of the couch. The man sitting there barely had a chance to register him before Mustang had him on his feet, his shirt balled up in his fist.

Startled, he dropped the joint, and Mustang crushed it with the toe of his boot.

“Hey!” he muttered.

“What the fuck?!” cried Trix.

“I don’t know who the fuck you are, but you’re gonna know me.” Mustang ignored Trix even as she came to stand right next to him. “If I ever catch you smokin’, getting’ high again when my little girl is here, I’ll see to it you don’t inhale without excruciating pain for the rest of your pathetic fuckin’ life. You understand me?”

“What are you doing?” Trix pounded her fists against his shoulders. “You son-of-a-bitch. Let him go!”

Mustang shoved the man back onto the seat, then used his forearm to brush Trix out of his way a second time. She called after him but didn’t follow as he headed for the back of the unit, and he ignored her.

He popped his head into MK’s open door but found her room empty. He saw Trix’s door was closed, and he stomped down the hallway, opening it without delay.

MK was sitting cross-legged on the bed, her attention glued to the television.

At the sound of the door, she turned to see who it was. As soon as it registered, she was on her feet, bouncing up and down with her arms spread wide.

“Daddy!”

Instantly, his anger was assuaged.

“Hey, baby,” he said with a smile.

He ate up the distance between them, and she leapt at him as soon as he was close. He caught her, like she knew he would, and she wrapped her arms around his neck even as she wiggled in excitement.

“Let’s grab your shoes and get out of here. You hungry?”

As he carried her to her bedroom she answered, “Yeah. Can we have pancakes?”

“How ‘bout eggs?”

“Hmmm,” she hummed as they worked together to get her shoes on. “How ‘bout pancakes and eggs? And bacon!”

“Now you’re talkin’.”

On their way out, he took her by the hand and let her walk. When they made it to the living room, Trix looked ready to pounce. Mustang gave her a single glare of warning and she snapped her lips shut.

“Tell mommy bye.”

Without dropping his hand, MK waved. “Bye, mommy.”

“Bye, sweet pea.”

Mustang didn’t bother closing the front door after they’d passed through it. The apartment needed a good airing out. He knew the chances of that happening were low, especially with MK gone.

He was tired of Trix and her mess. He wasn’t a fool. He was well aware she could access harder, more lethal drugs. Hell, the club used to be in the business of helping to smuggle that shit across the border. Weed was child’s play—except for when it came to his child.

He didn’t give a shit what Trix did when MK wasn’t around; but the last thing he wanted was for his little girl to grow up in a house like he did, with a parent constantly inebriated.

When they reached his truck, he lifted her up into the car seat he kept in the back on the passenger side. After she was buckled in, he didn’t move to get behind the wheel. He got her attention so they could have a chat.

“Smells like grass in there, doesn’t it?”

She shrugged. “It always smells like that when mommy’s friend comes over. She makes me stay in her room. But I can watch cartoons!”

Mustang tamped down his anger before he next spoke.

“I need you to listen to me, princess. If it ever smells like that, you call me. You get the phone in the kitchen, you take it to your room, and you call me,” he instructed, speaking of the landline he’d been paying for since MK’s third birthday. He wanted access to his girl, and he didn’t trust Trix. “You ever get scared, and you want daddy to come get you, you call me. You understand?”

“Okay, daddy.”

“What’s my phone number?”

She rattled off the digits he’d drilled into her head, and he nodded.

“And what do you do when it smells like grass?”

“Get the phone to my room and call you.”

“That’s right.”

He pressed a kiss into her hair then finally moved to close her in and take his seat behind the wheel.

He hadn’t forgotten about Tess. She was still there in the back of his mind. Now that he had MK, that’s where she’d have to stay—until Wednesday afternoon, when he mounted his hog.