Chapter 38
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
TRIXIE
“Is Pippa okay?” I ask Freak anxiously when he returns from the club.
“Hello to you too,” he grins, pulling me in and taking my mouth.
As I melt into him, I realise I’ll never get tired of the way this man can kiss.
Like every time my knees grow weak, and I almost forget what I was asking, or that Ace, who he’d collected from his ma’s and brought home with him, is watching us, and laughing.
Eventually he lets me go. “Pippa’s fine. It takes a lot to faze her. She’ll just stay close to the club for a while.”
“She was so on the ball, Freak. She’d noticed the man and I hadn’t even seen him.”
“It’s her training, babe. She’s always on the lookout for trouble.
Immediately after she came back, she hacked into the café’s CCTV and got a picture of the man.
When I left, she was running him through facial recognition.
If we can id him, we’ll know whether he’s a local or just passing through and happened to notice two pretty women.
And if it’s the latter, then hopefully we’ll all be able to relax and if the former, well, we might need to have words. But Pippa’s got it handled.”
“I want to be Pippa when I grow up.”
He chuckles loudly.
“Hey, Mom,” I turn to Ace, that thrill still inside me when he calls me that, “is dinner ready or can I go play my game?” Freak had moved his gaming consoles from the clubhouse to here.
“Dinner will be about thirty minutes, so don’t get too involved.” He scampers away before I finish speaking.
Freak’s looking at me curiously. “Is that thirty minutes when you have to bustle around in the kitchen, or…”
“It’s half an hour while the lasagne finishes cooking.” Oh, yeah, I can read that gleam in my man’s eyes. I remind him. “But I’m on my period.”
He barks another laugh. “I’m the enforcer, babe. You think I’m afraid of a little blood?” Then he grows serious. “But are you still hurting?”
Surprisingly, I’m not. Whether it’s the painkillers or the stress of the day, my cramps have subsided.
Now I want nothing more than to feel him inside me.
I do place a towel down to protect the bedclothes, and then let my man have his wicked way with me.
A couple of orgasms later, and I’m feeling relaxed.
As Freak cuddles me close, I begin to reflect.
“Are we sure that man was watching Pippa? Or could it have been me?”
“Pippa, for sure,” he answers, his voice rumbling into my ear. “Unless you recognised him as one of Alongi’s men?”
“I wouldn’t know, I only knew a few of his soldato. And of course, there could be new faces now.”
He kisses the top of my head. “I really don’t think he was there for you. There’s no fuckin’ way that motherfucker would think of looking for you in Arizona, let alone here.”
That was my way of thinking. I’m glad he confirmed it. Enjoying the feeling of being in his arms, I close my eyes, thinking I could drift off to sleep… “Oh fuck! The lasagna!”
He chuckles as I leap out of bed, rush into the ensuite to mop up the leakage, then return and quickly pull on my clothes.
“You’re a bad man, Freak,” I point at him.
“But you love me anyway.”
I wait for a beat, just long enough for his eyes to narrow, then admit, “I sure do.”
It’s the kind of evening I’m getting used to, and already love.
We sit down as a family to eat. Then most nights Freak has to leave to get go to Royals, and when he does, I read or watch television, or when Ace is here, attempt to beat him at his games.
Spoiler, I never win. But it’s times like tonight, when Freak doesn’t need to rush off and when we’re all together, that I like the best. We joke, laugh, then Ace goes to bed, and we stay up just long enough to make sure he’s asleep.
Then Freak makes slow lazy love to me. Oh yeah, they’re the very top of my list of favourite things.
Tonight when we’re both fully satisfied, Freak leans over, switches off the light, and pulls me into his arms. Encircled by him, I rest my head on his chest and close my eyes. I know nothing more until the light seeping through the curtains tells me it’s morning. It also shows me I’m alone.
Wearily, I get out of bed, and fasten my robe around me.
Voices reach me from the kitchen, along with the joint aromas of coffee and bacon, enticing me that way.
When I walk in, Freak steps away from the stove and comes over to take my mouth in a not-PG kiss.
Not to be outdone, when he releases me, Ace steps up and briefly lets his lips touch my cheek.
“Morning, Mom,” he says, with a cheeky grin.
“Good morning to you too, kid.” I ruffle his hair.
He steps away, putting distance between us and moans, “Please stop. I’m almost sixteen. I’m not a kid.”
Freak and I exchange amused glances. Then my man directs me to take a seat at the table, and soon he plates up eggs, bacon and toast. I have to pinch myself that I’m not having a wonderful dream, and that soon I’ll wake up to find myself back at the clubhouse, ready to drag myself out of bed, dress in barely there clothes and cook for the men, while hoping one day the enforcer might notice me.
“Mom? Mom!”
I shake myself. “Sorry, k…Ace. What were you saying?
“I was telling you I’m going with Dad this morning. He’s dropping me off at Short’s house. Trip’s got a new game and wants me to help him play it.” He pauses, then adds, “He spoke to me on the phone himself.”
“He what?” I grin broadly at Freak, who simply nods, realising my question is rhetorical, I’d heard what he said.
Trip’s communication skills are improving, but there are still some things that he finds difficult.
Only last week, Bronwyn had said he didn’t like the phone as he couldn’t see who he was speaking too, but now it seems that’s changed.
The way that child has come on in leaps and bounds is heartwarming.
“I’m sorry if you had plans for us.”
“No, you go, Ace. If Trip’s taken this huge step, it must mean a lot to him.” My heart swells with pride that Ace doesn’t mind helping out a much younger child. From what I’ve seen of the genetics on his mother’s side, that he’s turned out so well, must all be down to Freak.
Another reason, perhaps, to try to have Freak’s baby. Definitely food for thought.
We finish breakfast. Freak picks up his cut – as he’s taking Ace, he won’t wear it in the truck.
Ace does often ride behind him, but not today for some reason.
Then Ace busies about trying to find the shit he wants to take, and, showing he’s a true male, can’t find half of it.
Once I’ve found his phone for him, they’re ready to leave, he comes down the stairs carrying one of his consoles.
Mystery as to why Freak’s taking the truck, solved.
I get a kiss from both, then they go out the front door, leaving me alone.
Instead of the house feeling empty, I’m pleased they’ve both gone.
I hadn’t had a chance to do it yesterday after the trouble at the coffee shop, but today I plan to go into town and organise Ace’s birthday cake.
As I shower, dress and get ready, I wonder whether, having left it this late, I’ll have to go for something plain that they’ve got on hand.
Ideally, I’d like something special, a cake shaped like a laptop. That would suit Ace down to a T.
When I was a club girl, if I’d ever needed transport, I’d had the use of one of the club’s SUVs.
Freak’s said he’s going to get a car for me, but, feeling guilty that he’s spending money on me, I objected and that hasn’t happened yet.
And even if he’d left his truck here, I admit I don’t like driving it, and don’t unless I have to. Like the man himself, it’s huge.
So I call up an Uber. My ride’s only fifteen minutes away. I just have time to slap on a little makeup, then gather my purse, phone, and wallet.
As I go out on the porch to wait, I notice the sky’s grown dark, and is ominously yellow.
The wind blows up, sending dust swirling, so I hurry back to the door to wait inside.
My ride’s a little late, not unexpected.
By the time it arrives, the haboob has passed and the rain’s now coming down in sheets.
I grab my rain jacket, pull up my hood, and run to the car.
Our house is closer to the clubhouse than it is to town.
I give the friendly, but not particularly talkative, driver the bakery's address where I want to be dropped off, then settle back in my seat, planning my morning. After I’ve got the cake organised, I’ll have a look around the shops to see if I can get a present for Ace.
Fuck knows what. The kid doesn’t seem to want for anything.
But, maybe a t-shirt? I’ll have to take a look.
“Sorry, ma’am. It’s going to take a while.”
Snapping out of my reverie, I glance up through the windscreen.
Water is cascading across the road in front of us, far too deep and fast running for anyone but an idiot to attempt to cross.
One of the washes that Arizona is plagued with.
I’m not surprised he’s not attempting to cross it.
The state has a literal stupid motorist’s law that renders insurance invalid if someone attempts to get through the fast-flowing water and fucks up their car.
As the radio is turned up, and my driver settles in to wait, I sit back, a secret smile curving my lips as I think of how Pippa would feel about being held up like this. One of the things you quickly learn in this state is patience.
I spend the time thinking about birthday cakes and presents until the storm ends, the sun comes out, and the wash subsides to a trickle.
The car starts moving again, and it seems no time at all until we’re pulling up outside the bakery. I gather my purse and the coat I no longer need, and prepare to get out.
“That’s strange,” the driver murmurs.
Unsure whether he’s talking to me or not, I ask, politely, “What?”