Chapter 28
twenty-eight
DARCY
“Don’t you have a biker empire to run or something?” I tease as Dane nuzzles my neck.
He has me pinned against the hallway of the office, near the freshly patched hole left from his mantrum. Any protests about professionalism at work are fruitless with this man.
Running his hand up thigh with dreamy eyes, he says, “We’re taking our lunch break at home.”
“That’s not for another hour,” I remind him. “Plus I have Gris-Gris.”
He looks back at the doorway, where the Rottweiler is wearing an unapologetic expression after getting his way again.
“Extra long lunch today,” he tries. “And Gris-Gris can go right back across the street with Couyon.”
His teeth on my ear make me shiver, my body quickly coming to life with his attentive hands.
The door to the warehouse opens, and Dane moves to cover us, shooting whomever invaded our intimate moment with a narrowed-eyed look. The door slams shut again without a word spoken as he leans into me. He plays with the charm on my necklace, a tiny gold heart that LaShawna threw in the bag to match this top.
Dane reaches down to glance at the buzzing phone he’s been ignoring, as the door jerks open. Mudbug bellows, “Let’s hit the road Prez.”
In a disbelieving tone, I ask, “You have somewhere to be?”
He grumbles, “Another fucking meeting.”
“And you were just going to blow it off for a nooner?” I chastise.
“It’s only the guy from the zoning commission. He’s got himself into a dander about the warehouse extension.”
With great sarcasm, I remark, “Only zoning. Wow, that’s not important at all.” I duck under the arm pinning me in, and pat his butt. “Go take care of business.”
My attempt to stroll away is unsuccessful when Dane grabs onto my arm and pulls me to him, “One last kiss.” He traces his nose down my neck.
“Fine, but then you have to leave.”
Mudbug’s rant of “Oh for fuck sake,” goes mostly unheard, the door slamming shut behind him with finality.
Without agreeing, Dane yanks me to him with a possessive hand on each hip. A wolf-like hunger flickers in his gaze as he then cups my neck with one palm and leans down. His kiss, just one, is all-consuming.
With a contented sigh, he rests his forehead on mine. “Lots of Mom and Dad alone time tonight.”
“For sure,” I promise.
Leaning down, he whispers, “I may be late. There’s a package at home for you. Wear it to bed, no panties.”
My cheeks turn warm, knowing exactly what he has planned. More than once he’s asked the same of me. It’s always something different he’s bought for me to sleep in, but each time I’ve woken up to an orgasm consuming my body.
Mudbug ducks his head in again, his hand covering his eyes, “I just called to tell him we’re running late. We have ten minutes to get there before he has to leave.”
Dane leaves me breathless and panting in the hallway, a promise of, “tonight” on his lips.
* * *
I’m all warm and fuzzy feeling with Gris-Gris’ chin resting on my toes as I work.
He looks up at me, moping. “Gotta go pee?” I ask. His thick black tail starts to bat loudly against the desk as he stands, already waiting at the door before I’ve reached it.
Passing by, I call out to Keebler, “Walking the dog outside.”
“I’m coming,” he says, standing over a box of some sort of small black rubber parts. He follows behind a split second later, waiting nearby as the dog relieves himself.
A cold chill runs down my spine. There are some voices you’ll recognize anywhere, regardless of how out of place they seem. It’s for that reason that my mother’s disgruntled complaint immediately grabs my attention as it travels from across the road. My sister Renee is wearing her normal pout on her lips as they walk out of the White Dog Towing and Garage main office.
Fuck.
My feet travel quickly across the two lane road, Gris-Gris catching up and Keebler jogging behind. I don’t want them here, intruding on my life.
Before they reach Mom's sedan, I demand, “What the hell are you doing here?”
After more than a year apart, there are no hugs or even welcoming smiles. Just displeasure at dealing with one another.
“Are you using language like that now?” she sniffs. The lines around Mom’s forehead deepen as her lips turn taut. In a prim voice, she answers, “A family matter has come up that we need to discuss. There’s no telling where you’re living, so I thought I’d stop by your work.”
More like you have no idea how to find me . My stomach is churning already, acid building with each second that passes. I hoped that if I left my parents alone, they’d do the same. My father forbade me from contacting them, but they think they can just stroll into my life? This whole no-contact thing goes two ways. The audacity to acknowledge me when it’s convenient to them.
Something’s changed. There’s worry in my mother’s brow, and Renee isn’t being snarky. The fact she doesn’t even acknowledge her only grandchild, or ask about him stings.
Eyes searching the bikers, some listening more obviously than others, all purposefully surrounding us, Mom says in a sugared voice, “Why don’t we head over to the coffee shop and have a little chat?”
Flinch steps forward, “It’s closed, ma’am. Guess you’ll have to catch up later.”
She glances at the small crowd of bikers slowly circling us and lifts her chin proudly. “I believe this is a family matter,” she says haughtily. Gris-Gris makes a low growl of displeasure and stands directly in front of me. “Whose dog is that? He looks dangerous.”
“Look, lady, we’re being nice on account of you being Darcy’s mama and all, but we ain’t askin’ you again,” Yogi demands. “It’s time for you to get in your car.”
Sounds like my mother was promptly shown the door when she showed up at the towing company offices.
Her eyes go to the circle of men resentfully, but I know the they wouldn’t leave if I asked. They’re all watching with sharp eyes and tightened jaws, hands in fists at their sides, ready to jump in at any second. Sad they feel that way about my mother.
Gris-Gris barks loudly, lunging forward in a warning. I pull him back by his harness and command him to sit. The Rottweiler rests his dark bottom on the pavement, but keeps his front paws ready to spring into action. Gris-Gris staring at my mother confirms he’s a better judge of people than most humans are.
Mom starts to turn at Gris-Gris’ unwelcoming behavior, but no way is she leaving before I know why the hell she’s here. “It’s okay. My mother has something she needs to discuss with me if she’s lowered herself enough to darken our door.”
She shuts her eyes and opens them again, “I’d rather not in present company.” She waves a disapproving hand toward Yogi, who always made me feel welcome, to Flinch, who keeps me safe, to Band-Aid, who was always a helping hand and a listening ear. It’s so condescending, waving away the only people who care about me. If they were clean cut men, Mom’s reaction would be the complete opposite.
Part of me wants to tell her to get bent. A bigger part of me is going to be nervous, not knowing what she wants.
Is it about the money?
From the corner of my eye, I can see Keebler texting someone, and I have zero doubt it’s Dane. The clock is running. Any second now Yogi’s going to look up from his phone with an edict from “Prez” to get rid of them.
I gesture to the open garage bay with my head, in sight of the men, but private enough. I want this over with. “We can talk over there.” I command Gris-Gris to sit and stay, which thankfully he obeys, but grumbles about it.
Mom and Renee’s steps are uncertain as they follow behind me. They probably thought they could get me on their ground, where I’d be more uncomfortable.
Crossing my hands over my chest, I say, “So, talk.”
“Are you aware your father is currently at the Sheriff’s office being questioned?”
Well, that’s a surprise. “Nope, no clue. What did he do?” My father believes he’s above the law. Plus, he’s an all around asshole, so nothing truly will surprise me.
“It’s all a misunderstanding.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t understand how I could help.” Then it clicks. Of course. Is it possible my father is going to face the consequences of his actions? There were quite a few accusations of wrongdoing from my former boss in Arizona, with whom my father did business. At the time, Dad sat me down and had me memorize lie after lie to tell if I was ever questioned. We moved here a few weeks later.
Mom pulls in a deep breath, her graying black hair stacked in a thick granny bun on her head. “The only way anybody can contact you is through that attorney of yours,” she snips.
And they can keep not contacting me, too. I don’t know anything about pending criminal charges against Dad, but I’m quite happy not being involved. I’m not lying for him. On Monday of this week, just a day and a half after I’d gotten my money back, Dane had me sign a bunch of papers. Some were for the bank itself, but quite a few were to retain an attorney. That was four days ago.
After carrying the burden by myself for so long, I’m quite happy letting Dane be the one who takes care of it all.
“Grab your purse. Your father sent me to bring you to get things straight.”
Yeah, not happening.
Keebler’s voice calls from a few yards away, “Prez says no go. His old lady stays here.”
Mom’s face turns angry, and Renee starts to sulk even more. “I believe I was talking to my daughter,” Mom snaps.
“Sorry, you heard what he said,” I answer with a half-hearted shrug as I start to move away. With exaggerated remorse, I add, “You always said I needed to learn to be more obedient.”
“So you’re going to let Dad go to jail?” Renee shrieks. Knowing her, she’s more worried about the shame of a father in prison than Dad himself.
“Prison,” I correct. “When you’re guilty and stand trial, you get sentenced to prison. Don’t worry, though, it’s his first offense, so the judge should go easy on him.”
“I raised you to put family first,” Mother screams.
Indignant fury combusts in my chest. “When in the past twenty years did you put me first, even once?”
I ignore Renee’s furious screeches as I turn on my heels. Without the club’s interference, they would try to belittle and bully until I bent to their will.
“Please tell Dad that he doesn’t need to send you anymore. I won’t be available.”
My mother's cold voice is a shot straight to the heart. “We raised you better than this. You’ve always been one big disappointment after another.”
“You know, funny enough, Mom, you’ve always disappointed me, too.”
“I can count,” Renee says in a low voice. “It was June when that man called from Houston to demand money from Dad. That was the weekend the whole town was shut down for that funeral. Mom had to come stay with me to get away from it all.”
Cooker’s funeral. Every hotel for miles must have been filled to the max, housing all the Bayou Dogs who attended.
“And?” I ask.
“You have that man thinking the baby’s his,” Renee says with a disapproving shake of the head. “It would be a shame if someone told him little Oliver isn’t his.”
The stupid little twit thinks she knows so much, but doesn’t even have the baby’s name. “You know, I think it’s a great idea. You should definitely do that.” I dare her to walk up to Dane and inform him that Owen isn’t his child. The man practically goes around beating his chest and loudly declaring Owen and I are his property.
I storm off, my mood darker than it’s ever been. I give the guys still waiting outside a glance as I open the door to the storefront. Yogi’s standing with his hands on his hips, and I get my first glimpse of the dangerous biker inside of him. As Mom’s sedan disappears down the road, he gestures to a prospect named Archer with his head to follow. I breathe a sigh of relief when they disappear around the corner to watch Owen at daycare.
A part of me wants to go pick him up. A bigger part of me won’t allow my parents and Renee to disrupt our lives any more than they already have.
Something’s changed deep inside of me. All of the hurt I’ve felt toward my family—the rejection, the feelings of inadequacy, the control they demanded over me—they’ve all turned to a slow smoldering fury.
They thought, after all this time, after everything, I was going to lie to the police for Dad? If he were innocent, that would be one thing, but I saw enough to know what Dad’s been up to, and it’s nothing good.
I text Eleanor to warn her the guys are going to be outside her house. Then one to Yogi to ask him to please stay out of sight of the other parents. I send another to Dane telling him to stay where he is and finish his day’s work.
And then I do exactly that, refusing to allow any more disruption from my parents in the life I’m building.
I read once that the seven stages of grief can apply to any situation…the end of a friendship or a divorce, for example. I feel as if I’ve slowly gone through each one with my parents’ treatment of me. Maybe now that I’ve gotten good and mad, I’ll stop worrying about what my mother will think of what I’m doing, wishing a little bit in my heart that I had a mom.
Today, while so upset at seeing her, I realized it isn’t my mom I’m missing, it’s a mother figure.