“Pass me a smoke, lad.” Scot holds his hand out, and I dig my pack back out, handing it over and gesturing for him to pass it around. None of these idiots thought to bring their own, just their drinks. Everybody started staring at me like a fucking kicked puppy when I flicked open my zippo. May as well share, so they stop their silent whining.
Once everyone’s had some nicotine hit their system, the talk continues, and a plan formulates. My girl and kid will be fine, as no one knows about them. Princess lives with Viking and Odin, so she’ll be straight as well. Bronx will be posted up at the bar with Scot’s ol’ lady to offer her some protection in case the Fists stop through at the bar. I’ll keep Bethany and Maverick safe, and if shit hits the fan, I can move them to my room in the club for the time being.
Extending my legs, I roll my ankle around as much as I can in my heavy riding boots. My leg is achy today. Not sure why, but I may need to adjust the leg weights or something. I want it strong but not reinjured. Bad enough it’ll never look the same, but it hurts a lot of the time, too. Nothing a decent double shot of Jack can’t fix, though.
Church comes to an end, and we head back to our clubhouse after sharing a drink with the original Oath Keepers.
I hope to arrive to my death,
late, in love, and a little drunk.
-Atticus
After job hunting, I decide to say screw it and stop by the compound. Nightmare obviously wanted me here for some reason. I don’t know why, but whatever, guess we’ll find out.
Heading into the clubhouse, I see him instantly. How can I not? Anytime he’s in the vicinity, I’m immediately drawn to him. He calls to me on a deeper level, as if his soul is an old friend of mine.
Honey has her hand wrapped around his bicep, and it’s all I can take. Princess was right about it sparking jealousy inside me. I’m not a jealous person either, but Nightmare is my hard limit. No one needs to touch him like she’s doing.
Stopping, I decide it’s best to just leave, rather than hit her again. I don’t know if he enjoys her attention and pretends otherwise, but fuck that. I don’t have time for bullshit, especially when I already have enough grief from him.
I’m a grown-ass woman, and while I like to tangle, I won’t put up with club crap. I’m not an ol’ lady; I don’t have dibs on him, even if it feels as if I should. In reality, he’s not mine. He never was, and he probably never will be.
I barely poked my head in, and, thankfully, no one noticed me. I make my way back to the parking lot full of bikes and my car. It stands out like a neon sign amongst the beautifully painted motorcycles. Especially Nightmare’s. I’ve always loved the glossy black finish. It’s humongous up close, definitely a bike fit for a big man. The best word to describe Night would be imposing, and his bike, no doubt, fits that description as well.
My fingertips trail over his seat, the same place I sat on when he took me with him to see him play at Shorty’s. God, I loved watching him beat on those drums. It was practically sinful, his hair going in every direction, his biceps flexing as sweat beaded on his forehead.Yum.
My anger ignites again as I glance at the carefully airbrushed sandman on the tank. It’s creepy as fuck and fits his name perfectly. He’s the shit that nightmares are made of if you piss him off in the wrong way.
I made a promise that he wouldn’t be the only one around here known as a Nightmare if he crossed me. My actual words were him calling me or insinuating that I was being a bitch, but I’d say this instance counts. It’s the perfect time to teach the man a lesson.
I giggle to myself. It’s probably more like a cackle, a crazy one, but who’s paying attention at this point. My mind’s made up. It’s time to play with my food, my meal being Nightmare.
Pulling my keys free from my purse, I open the small pocket knife I keep on my keyring and bend toward his back tire where no one can see me. Finding the softest spot on the back tire, I press the blade into the thick rubber. It’s no easy feat, but I get it with some pressure. It won’t go flat immediately with the clean slice, but it’ll do the trick with a little time.
Wearing an evil grin, I let out a deep breath. That felt freaking great! Not one to let my handy work go unnoticed, I head for the beautiful white airbrush design and scrape a largeBright in the middle of the sandman.
Fucking piss me off bastard biker, and I’ll show you what crazy is. I could never be his ol’ lady because of shit like this. I’d end up slitting a hoe’s throat for touching him; I’m not patient like Princess is. She gets club life; she belongs here. Me, well, he’d probably strangle me by the time Maverick turned ten years old.
I found a job. It’s nothing special, but it’ll do. Obviously, with my little tantrum here, I’ll need it, too. He’ll want me to pay to have his shit fixed no doubt, but it won’t happen. At least this way he should be pissed enough to make me move out, which is the end goal after all.
Sucks he’s so damn good-looking and enticing, makes it harder to be evil toward him. I would’ve loved it if we could work things out, but he hates me for keeping our son from him. I can’t blame him for feeling that way, but I refuse to be around him twenty-four hours a day, in his arms if he can’t forgive me.
I can hear the air slowly escaping the tire. The sound’s barely there, and if he leaves soon, he won’t notice it right away more than likely. I’d think he’d see the gash in his tank first off and then the tire would be the little kicker following up my handiwork.
Ugh, I hope he doesn’t try riding it like this though. While I want to piss him off and screw with him, I don’t want him to wreck and seriously injure himself. He’s been a decent dad to Mav so far…No, he’s been a great father to our son. I’m a bitch, but he already knows that. He mentioned it earlier. Perhaps I should carvebitchon the other side.
Nah, that may be pushing it. I want him furious, not feeling lethal.
One last glance at my special surprise, and I make the trek back to my car, grinning the entire way.
Welcome to crazy town motherfucker. Next time you’ll remember why I punched the slut in the first place.
For you.
We head out to the parking lot; half of the brothers are planning to hit up Scot’s ol’ ladies bar. I’m done, ready to go have dinner with my family, especially after brushing Honey off all damn afternoon. It seems as if she’s more persistent now that Bethany’s come around and let her presence be known.
It’s getting old fast. I haven’t given her any reason to believe I’d be interested. It’s fucking annoying. I don’t fuck club pussy—never have, never will. They all know this, but a new bitch shows up, and it’s like everyone forgets to leave me the hell alone in the process. Maybe my glare isn’t as menacing now that I’m getting older. Back in the day, one nasty look would send a chick running scared.