Outlaws’ Single Mom (Property of Outlaw Sons MC #4)

Chapter 1

LASH

“I'm freezing my fucking balls off. If I wanted to deal with this shit I could’ve stayed in Montana.” Jackal rubs his hands fast over the thighs of his jeans to warm his fingers.

A gust of wind sends fallen leaves and street trash skittering over the road.

I tug on the cuffs of my long-sleeved t-shirt, pulling them farther down my hands.

Shit, I wish I’d worn something thicker than just my cut over it.

Gate duty in the cold is brutal. It’s hard to stay warm when there’s nothing to fucking do, and at the right angle, the wind blows straight through our station and cuts to the bone.

“It's November. Did you expect a tropical breeze?” Stiff shrugs, looking smug in his leather jacket with his boots propped up on the top of a box. He twists the lid on the coffee thermos and pours what’s left into his mug, knocking back what must be sludge by this point and probably takes like battery acid.

“Fuck off. It was almost seventy degrees a couple days ago,” I grumble. “Not our fault the weather can’t make up its fucking mind. And you know the rules. Whoever finishes the coffee, has to make a fresh pot.”

He laughs and gives me a half-assed salute. “You wimps want marshmallows in your hot cocoa, too?”

“Yeah. Yeah I fucking do. The whole point of hot chocolate is marshmallows.”

Stiff’s boots hit the ground and he snorts. “I’m not making you fucking hot cho—”

“You were the one that offered,” Jackal points out, looking up. “And Lash is right. Who doesn’t like marshmallows?”

“I was fucking kidding! Where would I even find it?”

“I bet one of the girls has some. Check Bonnie’s old apartment,” I suggest.

Stiff cringes. “No way. Grimm’s crashing up there and he’s an asshole. I don’t know why Prez puts up with his attitude.”

“Same reason I put up with your snarky ass.”

He flips me off, but we all know it’s true.

This life has a way of forging bonds that go way past friendship.

I know I can trust Stiff and Jackal to have my back because it’s been put to the test. We’ve stood shoulder to shoulder and waded through blood together to get where we are.

Whatever happened between Hellfire and Grim hasn’t been enough to erase their history.

“Yeah, well, you’re getting coffee and you’ll fucking like it. I’ll buy the first round later.” Stiff gets up, accidentally smacking my shoulder with the thermos on the way past.

Jackal puts the puzzle book down and narrows his eyes at me once we’re alone.

“What?” I ask.

“What crawled up your ass and died?”

“Oh, fuck off.”

He stares at me, waiting.

I sigh. “It’s not a big deal. I got a call from my little brother. Eric’s getting married.”

“And that’s a bad thing because…?”

“For the last however many years we’ve been doing our best to ignore each other, but now that they’re getting hitched, his fiancée’s decided he should reach out to his family and I’m the best he has left.

” I gesture at myself, head tattoos and all.

“We grew up like feral rats in a meth lab and now he’s a fucking accountant.

What am I supposed to do? Turn up in a rental suit and say ‘How do you do?’ “

Jackal grins. “Shit, I’d pay good money to see that. Can I be your plus one?”

“Oh, man.” I put my hand on his knee and look him deep in the eyes. “I’m so sorry if I’ve been giving you the wrong signals, but you’re not my fucking type.”

He shoves my hand away with a laugh. “I’ll try to contain my disappointment.”

I’ve got no reason to be defensive about my life.

I live how I want, in a place that appreciates me for who I am.

Booze, women, bikes, no punching a clock or sitting at a desk.

The Outlaw Sons gave me a home and a place to belong and figure my shit out when I wasn’t sure it was worth it to keep going.

It’s been so long since I’ve seen my brother.

If he’s looking for normal, I’m fucked, because I don’t even know how to pretend to live in his world anymore.

“Seriously, Lash. It’s not like the world is ending and it’s your last chance to see your fucking brother.

Weddings are just costume parties people throw to celebrate signing a piece of paper.

Make an excuse if you don’t want to deal with it, or take one of the sluts with you and get drunk off your asses on his dime. ”

“Maybe…”

Stiff returns, swinging the thermos. “Who’s getting drunk? Is it too late to get in on it?” He stops and looks out the gate towards the intersection, brows furrowing.

The two of us stand up to check out whatever caught his attention. Down the block, on the other side of the street, Bonnie’s girl, Anne is crouched down looking into an alley. There’s a teenage boy next to her, looking about her age, standing just a little close if you ask me.

She looks anxious, her movements unsure. When she stands, the boy tugs at her arm, but she shakes her head and looks our way. When she sees she has our attention, she raises her hand and waves for us to come over.

Shit. “Let’s go check it out.”

The Outlaw Sons aren't exactly the neighborhood watch. We follow our own code, but for the right price, we’re willing to do a lot of shit that would horrify most upstanding citizens.

Usually we're the ones someone needs a rescue from.

Still, this is our territory and anything that happens around here is our business.

“Hey.” Jackal waves at Savage, one of our VPs, who’s walking across the courtyard with one of the prospects. “Keep an eye on the gates for a sec?”

Savage cocks his head. “Trouble?”

I hesitate. Anne looks worried but she’s not freaking out. “Probably nothing.”

He nods. “Go on. Bones and I can hold down the fort.”

We jog towards Anne, and I can see the exact moment her little friend notices and decides the three of us are way more than he’s ready to deal with. He hightails it the other way before we get to them.

“Coward,” Stiff says with a low chuckle.

Anne rolls her eyes. “Don’t be mean. I thought it was going to be better at the public school, but all the boys only think it’s cool that I live here until they realize that I’m actually, like, surrounded by bikers. I’m never going to get a boyfriend at this rate.”

I put my hand on her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “You don’t need a boyfriend. You’re a baby.”

She glares at me. “I’m almost fifteen! What were you doing when you were fifteen?”

“I was—” Fuck. I was doing the sort of shit we’d skin that kid alive for trying with Anne. Jackal doesn’t even try to hide his laugh. “Doesn’t matter. What were you looking at over here?”

She glances back into the alley. “I… I thought I heard something. It sounded like someone was hurt.”

My brain flips through all sorts of possibilities, most of them not great. “Okay, get behind the walls. Savage is on the gate.”

Anne nods. With her wavy blonde hair and pretty face, it’s easy to see why a fifteen year old would be willing to risk life and limb to walk her home, but she’s seen too much shit in her short life to be a typical clueless teenager. She knows when it’s safe to push, and when to obey an order.

Stiff and Jackal stand guard at the end of the alley. I put a hand on the butt of my gun as I step into the gloom, ready to pull if I have to.

For a moment I stand there, listening. To my right, something thunks against a rusty garbage container, followed by a soft, unhappy noise, like an injured kitten.

I splay my hand out at my side, quietly indicating to my friends to wait.

I take another step forwards and spot the toe of a tiny sneaker. Shit.

I crouch down low. “It’s alright. I know I might look a little scary, but nobody’s going to hurt you.”

Slowly, a second shoe joins the first, and then a small, dirty face pokes around the side of the container. A boy who can’t be older than four or five is staring at me with wide eyes and messy brown hair. “Are you one of the motorcycle men?” he whispers.

I want to laugh, but I can tell it’s taking every ounce of courage he has to not crawl back into his hiding spot. “Yeah, I guess I am. Where’s your mom, kiddo?”

He crouches down a couple feet in front of me, mimicking my posture, but he hides his face behind his knees. He’s only wearing a thin hoodie with a cartoon dog on the front, and on his back is a small plastic backpack with the same dog. “Work,” he mumbles into his legs.

“Does she know where you are?”

His head shakes in a tiny, silent ‘no’, and he shuffles a little closer without looking up.

Other than freaked out and a little dirty, he looks like someone’s been taking care of him.

His clothes aren’t anything fancy, but they fit and they aren’t falling apart, and he doesn’t have the hollow, desperate look of a kid who doesn’t know where their next meal is coming from.

Someone is going to be looking for this kid if they aren’t already.

I put out my hand, and he lets me tug him to my side. “Come on, let’s figure out what to do with you, okay?” I slip off my cut and wrap it around him, backpack and all.

He lets out a little sigh at the added warmth and looks up. “Aunt Georgia said to find you.”

“She did, huh? Where’s your Aunt, buddy?”

“She said—she said you only look scary.” A tear rolls down his cheek, and he rubs at it with his fist. “But I’m not supposed to talk to strangers.”

We can be plenty scary, but I don’t correct him. There’s a lot of people that have good reason to fear us, but this kid isn’t one of them. “That’s a good rule. I’m Lash. What’s your name?”

“L—Logan.”

“There you go. Now we’re not strangers.” I can tell from his squint that even at his age he doesn’t quite buy my logic, but he’s cold, scared, and for some reason, someone he knows told him to trust us.

“I’m going to pick you up, okay? And take you somewhere warm so we can keep you safe until we can get you back to your family. ”

He nods.

I stand up, and when I reach down, he holds up his arms and lets me swing him up against my chest. Awkwardly, I hold him up with one arm under his butt and the other wrapped around his back.

His scrawny arms go around my neck. I know kids are pretty resilient or they’d never make it through half the shit they get up to, but he feels so small in my arms that I’m afraid I’ll break him without meaning to.

Jackal and Stiff look about as confused as I feel as I carry Logan out of the alley.

“Guys, this is Logan. Logan, these are my friends, Stiff and Jackal.”

Logan buries his face in my shirt, hiding.

“Is there a lost and found for kids?” Stiff asks.

Jackal grunts. “Yeah, the cops. You want to make that call?”

It feels like he’s my responsibility, but I’m a little out of my depth here. “Maybe we could drop him off at a daycare? They’d know what to do, right?”

That gets Logan’s attention. He twists in my arms, panicking. “No! She said stay with you! You said you’d help!”

“Hey, relax little man. We won’t let anything happen to you,” Jackal reassures him.

We can’t just stand around on the sidewalk with a kid.

“We’ll take him to the club. He said his aunt told him to find us but it looks like he got scared and hid.

Maybe one of the guys has a girlfriend and there’s been a mix-up or something.

We're grown fucking men. We can handle a kid for an hour or whatever.” I adjust Logan so I can point towards the club.

“You see down there? That’s where we live. Want to go see a motorcycle?”

For the first time, curiosity overwhelms his fear and he almost smiles. Logan nods. He leans in and whispers in my ear, “Why are your names weird?”

I stifle a laugh. “It's a motorcycle man thing.”

After thinking about it for a second, he nods, like that made total sense.

“Hey Logan, do you like hot chocolate? Uncle Stiff is really good at making it,” I say with a shit eating grin.

Stiff almost trips before he snaps his head my way. Fuck you, he mouths.