3. Chapter Three
Chapter Three
Kaison
“Why you gotta be like that?” I growl at my brother, digging my elbow into his ribs. “You’re scaring her.”
He shoves me off. “If I’m scaring her, what do you think you’ll do?”
I roll my eyes. “I’m being nice.”
“As am I.”
“No, you’re being rude.”
“I’m being honest,” he says, still browsing the menu. I pull it from his hand and slap it on the table. He glares at me.
“Don’t act like you’re getting something different,” I snap.
“I’m back!” I pull my gaze from my brother and bring it back to Cora.
I’ve been wanting to ask the girl out for weeks, as my brother so eloquently made known, but shit’s been so busy that I haven’t had the time. Now that I do, I won’t waste my shot. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a serious interest in a woman, and I have had my eye on her for a while. She’s worked here for a few years, and I’ve seen her here and there, but a few months ago, she really caught my attention. But that was right around the time shit in the club got crazy, and so, that was my priority.
“I can see that,” I say, looking her over.
I especially love the way her cheeks are pink, and it’s not from running around. They were fine before she stepped over here to talk to me. Love that I make her blush. She smiles, tucking her dark hair behind her ear. It’s a little wild, as it usually is when I find her here, working her adorable ass off.
“Are you going to take our order or just stare at my brother?” Snapper asks.
I elbow him in the ribs, this time not going easy. He hisses, glaring at me.
“Stop being rude, asshole.”
When I look back at Cora, she’s pale.
“No, he’s right. I’m sorry. What can I get you?”
Snapper sighs, then rambles off his order of scrambled eggs, lightly toasted rye toast, and well-done bacon. Same shit he gets every time we’re here—or anywhere else that serves breakfast. There was a time he wouldn’t eat breakfast after a certain time in the morning. Said it was no longer breakfast . But after having their lunch too many times, he’s decided eggs can be lunch too.
“And for you?” she says to me, forcing a smile.
I raise my brow at her, waiting for a hint from her to tell me she’s interested or is going to give me her number. Something outside of the pink cheeks. But her professional mask is in place, and so I forget about it. I don’t really have time to date anyone anyway, even if the idea of having someone to go home to is appealing.
Like most things in life, my brother ruined this for me too.
I give her my order, and with a polite smile, she puts it into the computer system and pours us some coffee.
“You’re an asshole,” I say to Snapper as I dump in some sugar into my cup.
“I’m hungry,” he answers, picking up his mug to drink it black. “I came here to eat, not watch you eye-fuck the waitress. And I really don’t wanna watch her getting all hot and bothered by said eye-fucking.”
“I was not eye-fucking her.”
He rolls his eyes. “Coulda fooled me.”
“Maybe you should mind your business.”
“You made it my business by bringing me along. You don’t want me here? Next time come alone.”
I grit my teeth, knowing I’m not going to get the last word with him. I never fucking do. He’s a wise ass of the worst kind. Has an answer for everything. Used to get his ass beat by our father for it, too. Didn’t make a difference to Snapper. Pops firmly believed in spankings for punishment, and I got a few myself. But Snapper got them all the damn time. Sometimes he couldn’t sit down for days. I felt bad sometimes, but after a while, I felt like he was an idiot for not shutting his mouth. To this day, it seems he hasn’t learned his lesson because he still never shuts up .
The other waitress that’s on shift is the one who brings us our food, which annoys the fuck outta me. All Snapper cares about is his food, which he eats as meticulously as he does everything else. I swear the fucker has OCD or some shit but tell him that and he loses his goddamn mind. Saw him punch a guy in the face over joking about it.
I don’t bother waiting for the check when we’re done eating. Both waitresses are busy, and my brother has the patience of a two-year-old. I drop a hundred bill by our plates, get up and leave. No one in their right mind would try taking that money, not only because our town has honest people, but because anyone who steals from the MF loses their hands.
“Maybe next time you should come alone,” Snapper says again, as he throws his leg over his bike. It’s a Harley Street Glide. Pretty little thing. He’s trying to make a point because he already fucking said this.
“Maybe next time you shut your goddamn mouth,” I say.
I ride with Snapper back to the clubhouse because he has some shit to do for Coyote, but I don’t stay because I have my own stuff to worry about. I’m on my way to Harry’s to tell him he needs to clean his barns out before we do it for him, but when I pass by the town store and notice new graffiti on the side, I pull into the dirt lot and park by the door .
The dust settles as I turn off my bike. I head inside, noting the only people here are Terry and his son, Noah, who’s stocking shelves.
I jerk my head toward the door. “What happened out there?”
Terry shakes his head. “No idea. Opened up this morning, and there it was.”
“You call the sheriff?”
“Sure did. He came by a little bit ago. Took a report and said he’d look into it.”
Look into it, my ass.
“You know what that shit is?” I ask, my anger growing.
Terry hesitates before giving me a stiff nod.
“Have you seen them around?” I ask when he says nothing.
He huffs out a breath before saying, “Last week a few times.”
“And you didn’t call us why ?”
“Thought they were just passing through.”
He’s too cocky for me to believe that’s the truth.
“Passing through to where? Fucking Canada?” I huff out a disbelieving laugh. How the fuck does he want me to keep this place safe if he isn’t telling me what’s going on? “Those Iron pricks don’t belong up this way and you know it. You see them again, you call me right away.”
He holds his hands up. “Look, I don’t want any trouble. With you or them.”
“Then you better do as I say,” I warn.
“Yeah, okay. Sure thing. I’ll call right away next time. ”
“We’re just trying to help this town,” I add, looking over my shoulder to find Noah staring at me. I can’t tell if he’s pissed at me for being rude to his pops or if he’s on my side.
There are plenty of people in this town who want the club to mind their own business or get out and leave them be. Plenty who ignore us. Plenty who love us. It’s a good mix to keep us on our toes.
Terry wishes we would leave them all alone. He doesn’t want to get caught in the middle. Doesn’t want club wars ruining his business. I get it. All the people in this town rely on their businesses to survive. But that’s why the MFMC was started in the first goddamn place. Don’t these morons see this? Hiding shit the IR are doing isn’t helping anything; it’s making it worse. We can’t handle shit we don’t know about. How long have they been coming down this way with Terry looking the other way? They know they can walk all over him, they’re gonna do it. Anything to get one up on us, and if they think they got our townsfolk in their back pocket, we’re fucked.
“You have a good day,” I say as I leave.
Once I’m out the door, I walk around to the side of the small building to snap some photos of the graffiti. The anvil looks like shit, but the hammer is decent. The least they can do if they wanna tag our shit is get someone talented to do it. What a way to represent your club than using a trash artist? They are trash though, so I guess it’s fitting. All they care about is running drugs. I send the photos to Rhino and Coyote so they can handle this shit. I’ve got enough to deal with today.
It takes ten goddamn minutes, an uncountable number of threats, and me putting a dent in Harry’s front door for him to open the thing.
“The fuck is wrong with you?” I shout when he finally pulls it open.
“I thought you were the FBI!” he shouts back, cowering behind his door.
“You fucking kidding me, old man?” I hold my arms out. “Do I look like the fucking FBI?”
The hell is wrong with the people in this fucking town?
“You all look the same!”
Whatever the hell that means…
I was going to tell him he better get his shit cleaned up in the barn before someone blows their head off, but I can already see that shit ain’t gonna happen.
“I ain’t the FBI. But I do know them.” His eyes widen. “They told me if I don’t confiscate all them guns you got in the back, they're gonna come get you.”
Should I feel bad for this? Maybe a little. But do I? No fucking way. Not when I’m saving lives.
“Th-they d-did?” His frail hands shake, and he grips onto the door harder .
The guy is harmless. Has to weigh a hundred pounds soaking wet. Old enough to be my grandfather. But he’s losing his goddamn mind and problems arise because of it. I can’t have that.
I nod. “I’m gonna do you a favor and take them of your hands.”
He nods shakily, so I turn and head down the steps and make my way to the back of his property, to the broken-down barn that has more holes in the roof than a slice of swiss cheese. When I pull the doors open, the damn things fall off their hinges. I jump back, shaking my head at the rusty nails sticking out of the thing every which way. The fuck is wrong with this guy?
Stepping around the door, I head into the barn, and my jaw drops the fuck open.
It’s like a damn armory in here. No way in fuck I can carry all this shit on my bike. I run a hand down my face, looking up at the bright sky.
The fuck is wrong with the people in this town? I say that too much. Way too fucking much.
I look around, wondering if I can sneak out to get my truck and come back without the old man noticing. Knowing him, he’s probably watching me out the window. With a huff, I go back to the house, bang on his door for another ten minutes, and when he opens it, I let him know I forgot my “equipment” and I’ll be right back. He may not remember any of this, and I’ll have to do this whole charade all over again when I get back, but what the fuck ever .
The sun is going down as I leave Harry’s house. Another day gone. More shit piled on top of the old shit. One of these days, doing all this work will be worth it. That’s what I keep telling myself. I love the club, love my family, but damn, this town is full of a bunch of ungrateful bastards. It’s much better than it used to be, from what I’ve been told, but it still needs a lot of work. Let’s see if Coyote can help with that.
When I come over the hill, I spot a car on the side of the road with the hazards on. Great. Just what I need. Another ungrateful prick to make me wish I was born across the fucking country. It’s my duty to help people in this town, it’s why we do what we do, and most days I love it, but I’m fucking tired today. Being the good civilian I am, I pull over behind it. And don’t you know? For once, luck is on my side.
Cora is wandering around the grassy area, fiddling with her phone. She’s so focused on it, she doesn’t notice me pull up. Hell of a focus she must have, because my bike is loud as fuck.
“You need some help?” I call out after I shut my bike off.
She startles, her phone flying from her hand and landing in the tall grass. When she looks at me, her mouth drops open, and her eyes widen. I chuckle as I get off my bike, putting my helmet on the back. Her eyes stay on me as I walk to her. When I reach her, I look down in the grass for where her phone fell, and when I spot it, I pick it up and offer it to her.
“Bet you wish you had my number now, don’t you?” I say with a smirk.
She shakes her head. I raise a brow .
“I-I just mean it’s not working. I don’t have service out here.” She takes her phone. “Besides, you asked for my number, so that wouldn’t have helped.”
“‘Course it would have. ‘Cause I’d have called you already, meaning you’d have mine.” I give her a full smile.
She grins and ducks her head before looking back up at me and meeting my eyes. I don’t want to pull away, so I don’t. She’s the one who breaks contact, looking down at her phone with a quick shake of her head. I want to reach out and grip her chin, lift her head to keep her looking at me.
“I’ve been trying to call for a ride—”
“I’ll give you a ride.”
Her brows shoot up, and her gaze darts to my bike. “On that thing?”
“I could put you on my back and hoof it, but it’s getting dark and there are bears out here, so I’d rather not.”
She hides her smile by ducking her head again. So shy, and so fucking sweet.
“Where you going?” I ask.
“I need to get home to my father.”
“Say no more.” I hold up my hand, then gesture to my bike.
When we get to the road, I hand her my helmet. She takes it hesitantly.
“What about you?” she asks, holding it awkwardly.
“I’m good. You got someone to come get this?”
“I’ll call someone when I get home.”
“Let me take care of it. ”
“You have a tow truck?” she asks, putting the helmet on and trying to adjust the strap because it’s too loose.
“Here,” I say, stepping to her and fixing it. I feel the warmth of her face on my fingers, and it feels damn good. She’s so small. A tiny little thing. With the helmet on, her head comes to my shoulders. Her body is all woman, though. Curves in all the right places.
“Thanks,” she says in a soft voice, then looks at the bike, biting on her lip. “I’ve never been on one before.”
Well, if that doesn’t make my dick hard…
“That’s a shame,” I say, throwing my leg over and offering her my hand so she doesn’t fall over. “Hop on and hold on tight.”
The way she’s looking at me, I think she’s going to tell me no. Tell me to go fuck myself. But her face splits into a grin and she takes my hand and hops on. Her hands go around my waist, all loose and shit. I grab her wrists and pull them tighter. I look at her over my shoulder.
“When I say tight, I mean tight.”
Her lip is between her teeth and she nods, eyes full of excitement but a little fear, too.
“Where we going?” I ask.
“Redwood Road. Small yellow house by the pond.”
I start up my bike, and off we go. The entire ride, all I can think about is her behind me and how good it feels—how right it feels. I don’t let just anyone ride on my bike with me, and it’s been a long time since anyone’s been in that spot. I like her there, like the way this feels. Not because I’m lonely, but because it feels good with her. Weird, right? Can’t help it though. She’s just… there’s just something about her that feels good. I could get used to this. Having a woman—my woman—riding on my bike with me. Fuck yeah, that sounds good.
The ride takes about twenty minutes, which isn’t close to enough time with her. If she hadn’t said she needed to get to her father, I’d have taken her down all the back roads and made a pit stop. The town is big, but most of it is land and trees. It’s a small town by mindset and population. Everyone knows everyone around here, whether it be by job or name or house or car. The guy who drives the red pickup. Owner of the milk farm. Crazy lady with the crazy son—that’s Martha and Ed, by the way. The kook who’s terrified of the FBI and aliens… Yeah, we’re a lovely bunch over here.
When we get to her house, I pull into the dirt driveway and shut my bike off. I help her to her feet and take the helmet when she offers it to me.
“How was it?” I ask.
She takes a deep breath, glancing at my bike. “Scary.”
I chuckle. “Guess you’ll have to do it again to see if you feel the same way next time.”
Her eyes shine. “Yeah, I guess so.” She holds my gaze again, not talking for a long moment, until she adds, “Thank you for the ride. Really. I have no idea what I would have done…”
I nod, watching as she walks by me and up her front steps. I kinda wanna go after her. Ask her to stay outside …
“Car will be at Pig’s,” I call out after her. She stops on the porch steps, looking at me over her shoulder. “Give them a call tomorrow.”
“I will. Thanks ag—”
“You! You, alien! You can’t come here. You’ll take my boots. Nobody takes my goddamn boots, you hear me? Fucking scallywag fish bait!” An older man comes barreling out the front door so fast the screen door slams against the house, shouting complete nonsense at Cora. Her body stiffens and I’m about to tackle the guy to the goddamn floor so hard he goes through the deck and six feet into the dirt. But a woman comes out after him, dressed in pink scrubs, so I stay where I’m at.
“Mr. Davies, that’s your daughter. Come back inside,” the nurse says gently but firmly. She grabs onto the man’s arm, nudging him back toward the house. He’s still shouting obscenities, and I don’t know if I should stay or go. Does she need help? Is that man really her father? Why’s he acting like that?
I like to think I know most people in town, but I guess most people I know are the ones I deal with. The business owners and people like Martha, Ed, and Harry, who are always surrounded by trouble. The ones who keep to themselves? I have no reason to know them. But someone like this? How don’t I know about this crazy old guy? Seems crazy is what I deal with on a normal basis, and he isn’t far off from Harry, but if he has a nurse who stays with him, I guess I wouldn’t have any run-ins. Maybe this is something medical? Like more medical than just losing his mind?
The nurse finally wrangles the man back inside, and Cora is rooted in place. I’m torn between going to her and leaving. The tightness in her shoulders makes me want to give her a damn hug, and I don’t want to hug nobody. But I don’t do that because everything about her body language tells me she wants me gone. Hell, if that were me, I wouldn’t want an audience either. So I hop on my bike, start it up, and leave.