Polly
Iwanted to melt over the motorcycle seat.
How were these the greatest orgasms of my life? Clearly Perry had just really sucked in bed. Poor, poor Bridget.
“That was fantastic,” I moaned.
Abraham grunted as he always did, but instead of just slapping my ass and ordering me back on the bike, I turned around to see him pinching his nose with a hand on the seat.
“What’s wrong?”
“Ah, just a little dizzy. It’ll go away. Just give me a minute.”
“When did you last eat?”
“Not sure. Had a cigarette an hour ago.”
“A cigarette? I asked when you last ate.”
“Had some black coffee at breakfast.”
I huffed.
“Abraham, you are stubborn as a mule. What is this? Low blood sugar? Are you diabetic?”
“Ahh, doc did say I might be pre-diabetic or some shit like that a few years ago. It doesn’t matter.”
I fished around in my backpack and handed him some dark chocolate.
“Here. Eat this. You’ll feel better.”
His rough fingers brushed mine as he tossed two squares into his mouth, and I stood with my arms crossed, watching.
“What are you looking at me like that for? Afraid I’ll drop dead on the ground?”
“You know, there’s a few simple changes you can make that won’t put you in a risk of a diabetic coma.”
When he said nothing, I shrugged.
“Fine, be in a diabetic coma. As the vested member with the most seniority, Fizz will probably get your bike, you know.”
Abraham grunted. “All right, woman. What kind of changes?”
“Just like more fiber and vegetables and complex carbs and stuff like that.”
“What the hell is a complex carb?”
“You know, like a sweet potato! I have a great sweet potato nacho recipe.”
He only grunted, but I was used to his grunts.
“We’ll see. Sounds like rabbit food.”
But I was used to his “we’ll sees” too.
Then he lifted me up on the back of the bike and got out the helmet.
“Feeling better?” I asked.
Another snort was my only answer.
Luckily I was fluent in them.
Fizz happened to be around when we arrived back at the clubhouse and after Abraham had gone without another word out to the Shop, he asked what had happened.
I told him Abraham was just working on his blood sugar and Fizz poured himself a massive cup of iced tea and settled in to gossip.
“It’s my understanding,” Fizz said. “That the Prez has mother issues.”
“Oh?” I asked, trying not to encourage him too much but also desperate to know anything about Abraham.
“His mother left when he was only a teen and it kind of fucked him up.”
“Why did she leave?”
“No one knows.”
“What was his father like?”
“Oh, he was a prime asshole. People think Mangler is a hard man, they should’ve seen his daddy. Bones is hard but fair. His daddy was. . . just a dick.”
Hmmm.
I think it was the success of Uncle and Vladdy that went to my head a bit.
Whatever Vladdy had said must have had an effect, because I noticed both of them seemed marginally more cheerful.
“So how many club bunnies does Legends usually have?” I asked innocently as Mac came in to get a drink. “I can help get the room ready?”
“Couple of dozen,” Mac shrugged. “Prez always keeps it short, though. A couple months at a time, then he makes us get all new ones. And they’re always shared with everyone, too.”
“You’re the first one I’ve ever seen him get possessive about,” Fizz put in.
“Shhh,” I whispered, trying not to glance desperately around even though I flushed with pleasure.
“So you think his mother leaving made him—think he’s a woman hater?” I hissed, hoping desperately that Fizz wouldn’t answer at the top of his lungs.
Abraham passed by on the other side of the garage, and I saw him through the window, hauling two huge tires in his arms, and my god was he ever strong.
There was no one like him.
“Yep. Maybe if there had ever been a trace of her.”
“Oh, really? And no one knows where she went?”
“Not a damn soul. Prez doesn’t know.”
“Has he ever tried to find her?”
“I don’t know. He told me she’d disappeared and he didn’t know how to find her.”
I considered this. “Well, Abraham loathes the internet. I could at least give it a try? Of course I would never contact her without asking him. But at least I could see if I could find any information.”
Fizz agreed.
To solve a mystery that was almost forty years old by now? It might be impossible.
What would I even find at the end of it? It had been a long time and the MC world was dangerous. What if she was dead?
And I couldn’t even admit to myself the truth. . . that I was hoping somehow if I found his mother. . . that he wouldn’t be a woman hater anymore and. . . might even consider a relationship with me.
Argh, what was wrong with me? Abraham had made it very clear he didn’t do relationships? So why was my foolish heart turning this into more than it was?
I was going to ask him before I did any serious sleuthing, of course, but there was no harm, I convinced myself, in just trying a few simple google searches.
And then, I couldn’t help myself.
I kept going, even past when he usually finished work, and so I was flat on my belly on the bed when I heard an angry voice over my shoulder.
“What do you think you’re doing, Polly?”