Swallowing hard, I avoided memories of the past. They belonged there instead of the present where I’d only be lost in the haunting ache that would consume my every breath.
Savage was standing by his bowl when I entered the house.
“Not now, boy. I’ve got shit to do.”
He whined but I stayed strong. “Nope. Not giving you anything extra. I’ve got enough piles of dogshit out there to clean up.”
Savage lay his head on his paws and stared upward, not blinking as I tried to avoid those chocolate brown eyes that literally melted my cold heart.
“Not gonna work, bud.”
He made a sort of noise like he was sick of me and turned his head, his eyes closing as he took up vigil by the bowl.
“Pouting won’t help.”
The damn dog ignored me as I trudged upstairs and changed clothes, slipping my cut back on before I grabbed my keys and left the house. Straddling my hog, I pulled my leather gloves on and kicked up the stand. My bike roared to life in the garage and I glided down the driveway, pulling smoothly onto the road.
The presence of my Reaper rose to the surface and I let him join in the exhilaration of the open road. The restlessness of the day had kept us both feeling on edge but now it was lost to the wind and the fresh air, followed by miles and miles of empty highway.
My Reaper wasn’t quite as impatient as those of my younger club brothers. He seemed to fit my laidback style of approaching life. We didn’t have quick tempers and we didn’t have a constant need to fuck, punch, or kill. Not that those weren’t present, I just wasn’t impulsive or anxious about any of them.
I fucked when I wanted pussy. Drank when I desired liquor. When the need to be outdoors called out like today, I rode my Harley as far as I wanted to go. I didn’t answer to a single soul on this earth and that was the way I preferred it. Even Gr
im understood that I came and went how I wanted. We shared a bond and an understanding.
I’d been close to our previous pres Keys and Grim’s old man Raptor. Both of my brothers had loved Grim and he’d been primed to take position as pres when he was only twenty. I didn’t mind since I was never destined to lead the club. Fate ensured we each served the Tonopah chapter in our own way. The Devil’s Ride made the choice for every man who patched in.
I didn’t need a specific title to be happy or secure.
Highway 95 was barren as I rode to Hawthorne, enjoying the sunshine and crisp bite of the breeze. At some point I pulled over and had a smoke before returning back to Tonopah. By the time I was nearly home, it dawned on me that I never gave Snooki my grocery order.
I paid that little redhead a hundred dollars every week to pick up and drop off my groceries. I fuckin’ hated shopping. Pissed me off when I had to wait around on other people. No one ever knew what they were doing, and I was usually a man on a mission, grabbing what I needed before I got the fuck out. Snooki took pity on me the last time I blew up to Grim about the line and she offered to go for me if I gave her the info each weekend.
This was the first time I forgot in months. Sighing, I decided to stop and grab a few essentials and send her a list for the rest. I parked my Harley across two spaces toward the back of the lot and hoped no one was dumb enough to hit or scratch my bike. Once inside the store, I realized Sunday was a stupid day to go. Every motherfucker in Nevada was here.
Grumpy as fuck, I snatched the last basket from the ground and stomped toward the dairy aisle. I wanted sandwiches and I only picked up certain cheese slices and deli meat. Yeah, I was a picky old man. Didn’t care. Every aisle was packed, and I had to stand off to the side and wait for people to move the fuck out of my way. You’d think a big biker with a beard, taller than most people wearing a leather vest with the Royal Bastards MC on the patch would get a little respect.
Nope. They scurried to the side when I was walking by them, but most people didn’t move out of my way unless I growled. Not ashamed to admit I’d done it often. Fuck being polite. They didn’t want me losing my shit.
I had a full basket when I turned to go down the last aisle I needed. Alcohol. I planned to grab a case of beer since my fridge was quickly growing empty. When I turned the corner, a little brunette with a long piece of paper in her hand smacked right into my chest. She was looking down instead of paying attention to where she was going. I had the choice of watching her fall backward as she bounced off my chest or drop the basket from my hand and hope nothing broke.
I chose the basket. It landed with a thud as I reached out and snatched her around the waist.
My Reaper rushed forward, and I had to shove him back, caught off guard by the strong and intoxicating pull I felt for the female in my arms. It wasn’t just the fact that she was pretty. Her bright hazel eyes had flecks of gold and green that mesmerized. They held a depth of pain I didn’t often see in others. I couldn’t describe the rest of her features because I was hypnotized by her gaze and the way her curves fit against my body like they were meant to be there. It was the way her spirit flickered like my own, shadowed and tainted by loss that snagged my attention.
Startled, she blinked and then shoved at my chest, stumbling backward. Heat blossomed on her chest above the edge of the dark blue shirt she wore and quickly covered her throat, rising up and spreading into her cheeks. That pink flush did something wicked to my body. I was instantly hard as I wondered if she blushed like that when she was coming. My Reaper wanted to pick her up caveman style and bring her straight home, plunging his tongue into her core to taste the sweetness we could both tell would be addicting and sexy as fuck.
“Excuse me,” she announced, her eyes widening when she lifted her head. “I should have been paying more attention.”
Before I could reply, she spun on her heel and walked fast in the opposite direction as if she couldn’t get far enough away. My Reaper snarled and I sighed aloud, both disappointed and slightly pissed that I was obviously judged by my appearance. Picking up my basket, I headed for the self-checkout. Some shit just wasn’t going to change, and I had to accept that my tattoos, leather, and association with the Royal Bastards were intimidating.
Even so, I felt a twinge of regret that I didn’t get a chance to learn her name.
My hand shook as I loaded the groceries into the back of my Rav4 and closed the hatch.
I used the last gift card today and filled the cart so that I’d have plenty in the freezer to feed Noah until my next paycheck. I’d only been working for a few weeks now and was looking forward to next Friday when I’d get my first eighty hours of straight pay.
Over the last couple of months Noah and I had gotten into a routine. He went to school and I worked. I chose shifts that kept me home with him at night and on the weekends. I didn’t have a babysitter or anyone that I trusted to watch my son in my absence. The only way I felt comfortable leaving him was when I knew he was safe at school.