Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Kyra pulled the curtain back slightly and saw the lit tip of a cigarette glowing. It arced through the dark and became brighter for a few seconds before dimming again as whatever he was smoking dropped back to his side.
He was waiting.
But he wasn’t the only one.
He waited for her to come out.
She waited for him to leave.
With an annoyed sigh, she dropped the curtain back into place.
He could stand out there until he smoked his last cigarette, or joint, or whatever, then died of dehydration or starvation.
She didn’t care.
The only person she needed to look out for was Ledger.
He was her priority.
And letting Zeke into his life would not be in her son’s best interest. Forget her own. She already got burned once by him and she certainly wasn’t going to let him do it again.
He might be hot, but he was also hot headed.
He might be sexy as fuck, but he was irresponsible.
He might have hips that could move like gentle waves hitting the shore, but…
Damn it. She needed to remain focused on this man’s cons. Not just the fact that he was an ex-con.
He was cocky in high school, and back then she had avoided him like the plague. But she had become close friends with his cousin, Violet, and had known a lot of his family since she swore the Jamisons and Doughertys made up most of the student body.
Once they hit twenty-one, and it was legal for them to drink, Vi talked her into coming to one of the many parties the MC threw.
Of course she went. At that age, she was ready to party and didn’t have a lot of money to do so. So, a free party with music, food, and booze? A no-brainer.
That night she’d had a lot of fun with the bonfire going, the alcohol flowing, and the band, Dirty Deeds, jamming out on stage.
She and Violet danced until they were sweating almost as badly as the pig on the rotating spit.
They sang at the top of their lungs until their voices were hoarse.
Filled their bellies with perfectly roasted pork and all the delicious sides until the waistband on their jeans screamed for mercy.
It had been a total blast.
After that, almost every time the DAMC had a party—which was just about every weekend—she and Vi would go and let loose.
Of course, Vi’s father, Diesel, the former sergeant at arms for the club, was overly protective of her and her two younger sisters, so he preferred she party with the club—despite them being bikers and most of them being alpha assholes—because he knew Vi would be safe among them.
Even if she got drunk off her ass, she’d never be roofied. She wouldn’t be raped or assaulted in any way. She wouldn’t even be harassed.
Not if they wanted to continue breathing. Or, if by chance the offender survived, they’d have to spend the rest of their days breathing through a tracheostomy tube.
And if she got too drunk to drive, there were plenty of people to give her a lift. The club was family to Vi, whether by blood or by bond.
Kyra had always been envious of that fact and was thrilled that she had been included.
Plus, the “bad boy” bikers were sure pretty to look at, even if some of them were a little rough around the edges.
Especially the one who pointed his baby blues in her direction one night. The too-hot-for-his-own-good guy she avoided in high school due to him having a playboy reputation with the “ladies.”
Her phone vibrated with a text.
It couldn’t be Zeke because as soon as the first phone call came through a couple of days ago, she blocked him. Despite having a different number and address from the last time she lived in the area, he somehow now had her new information.
Her guess? His cousin and her former friend. Not really former, but once Kyra left town, she ended contact with her because when it came to Violet, she didn’t come alone. The whole MC came along with her.
Including Zeke.
And she had wanted a clean break.
No, not wanted. Needed.
She missed her friend, and maybe one day they’d reconnect, but she’d be pissed if Vi betrayed her by giving Zeke all her info.
She glanced at her phone and saw it was Glen.
Want me to stop over? I can take you and Ledger out for ice cream.
She peeked around the curtain again.
Was the man not going to give up? Was she going to have to call the police and report a stalker?
After ignoring the pounding on the door earlier, he had moved back out to the public street. Most likely so he couldn’t be accused of trespassing.
But he had to go home sometime.
In all the time she’d spent around bikers, she certainly learned that they were stubborn a hell. Annoyingly so.
Especially the one camped outside her rented apartment. All she needed was for her upstairs neighbors to complain about a sketchy biker hanging around—wearing his colors, no less—to their landlord and she could end up homeless.
Shit. She needed to respond to Glen.
She quickly sent off a response. Ledger isn’t feeling the best, so I put him to bed early. Can we do it another night?
The fib was necessary since she didn’t need Glen to come over and the two men to once again bump heads. Or worse, throw hands.
Her phone vibrated again. Of course! I hope he feels better soon.
Glen was such a good guy. Unlike the one hanging outside her place.
She glanced over her shoulder and listened for Ledger. Since the house was quiet, she closed her eyes and contemplated her next move.
Go watch a movie in bed and hope Zeke was gone in the morning? Or go outside and deal with him? Hopefully, he’d eventually get the hint that she didn’t want him in her life. She thought she made it clear at the fairgrounds. Hell, she thought she made it clear when she left four years ago.
Either way, she decided to check on Ledger first.
When she peered around his bedroom door, she saw him sitting in the middle of his Thomas the Train rug surrounded by colorful Duplo bricks.
She pushed the door open wider. “What are you building, buddy?”
Her heart squeezed when he glanced up and smiled at her. “A twain.”
He looked so damn much like his father. And grandfather. The genes had to be strong in that family to keep producing carbon copies.
“A train? Like the one we rode on the other day?”
He nodded his head like it weighed fifty pounds and it was an effort. “Uh huh.”
“Okay. You can play for a little while longer. I need to go handle something important, then I’ll be back shortly to help you clean up your toys and brush your teeth.”
“Otay, Mommy.”
Well, maybe not exact carbon copies since Ledger wasn’t stubborn. Not yet, anyway.
A second later, his face scrunched up. “You goin’ somewheres?”
“No, I just need to step outside to take care of something.”
“The boogeyman?”
“Close enough,” she muttered under her breath. Louder, she said, “No, a visitor.”
“Gwen?”
“No, buddy. But Glen said he’ll take us out for ice cream soon.”
“I like ice cream!”
“Me, too. Okay, stay in your room until I get back. No matter what.”
“Otay, Mommy.”
She studied her son for a few more seconds before closing the door and heading back to the front of the house. After tucking her feet into the slip-on shoes left by the door, she paused to take a deep, bolstering breath.
Then she set her jaw, pulled open the door, and stepped outside, securing it behind her.
“‘Bout fuckin’ time.”
He’d been perched sideways on his motorcycle with the heels of his biker boots resting on the cement curb and his denim-covered ankles crossed. Even in the dimly lit street, she could feel his intense gaze burning a hole right through her.
He flicked what was left of his cigarette away, then rose to his feet.
She had made sure to keep a good ten feet away from him. Unfortunately, he closed that gap within two strides.
Her skin tingled and her mouth became as arid as the Sahara Desert as she fought the urge to rake her gaze down his body. She wished she could only see him as a complete asshole and nothing more.
Unfortunately, for some reason he had an appeal she couldn’t resist.
He was like catnip to her inner kitty.
Her reaction was stupid and dangerous and she’d already made that mistake once. She couldn’t make it again. She had too much riding on it.
She only wanted what was best for her son, and the cocky man standing before her…was. Not. It.
A man who couldn’t keep his ass out of jail. And not because he was a biker. Simply because he was Zeke. Or, as that patch on his chest declared: Trouble.
“Why are you here?”
“Know why.”
She pretended she didn’t. “I’m not interested in getting back together, Zeke. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Like I told you the other day, I have a son to raise and I need steady in my life, not turmoil.”
“We were always fuckin’ dynamite together, Ky.”
“We sure were. Until that last explosion. The one in which you lit the fuse.”
His jaw shifted. “When the fuckin’ smoke cleared, you were gone. You fuckin’ ran. Apparently, with my kid, too.”
“I wasn’t running. I was being smart, Zeke.”
“Ain’t smart to take a kid away from his father.”
“I never said you’re his father. But even if you were, have you looked in the mirror? Hell, have you looked at your rap sheet? It has to be longer than a CVS receipt.”
“What the fuck,” Zeke grumbled. “Might not be fuckin’ perfect but better than not havin’ a goddamn father at all.”
“Your opinion.”
“Yeah? Well, my opinion should fuckin’ count!”
Someone was getting testy.