“Nothing that concerns your wrinkle-free faces,” Kami said with a dramatic and dismissive wave of her hand. “You’re too young to understand our suffering.”
Howling with laughter, Eva fell forward, nearly falling off the couch entirely, and I quickly followed suit, collapsing on top of her. The bewildered expression on Tegen’s face only served to provoke more laughter, until I could no longer control myself and I laughed and laughed until my belly positively ached.
**•
Seated at the bar across the room, Jase watched, smiling to himself as Dorothy fell on top of Eva in a fit of laughter. How long had it been since he’d last seen her laugh? He no longer cared that Hawk was the reason she was here, because all that mattered was she was here and she wasn’t avoiding him. In his mind, that was progress.
“Wanna hear somethin’ gross?”
Jase didn’t bother looking toward Cox. “No, I don’t.”
Nobody ever wanted to hear what Cox considered gross. It was usually on a level all its own, too repulsive to be considered simply “gross.”
“Yeah, so, you know that new bitch that’s been hangin’ around lately?”
Jase cut his eyes in Cox’s direction. “Young?” he asked. “Kinda fat?”
Cox nodded. “Yeah, that’s her. Roly-poly little bitch. Fucked her in the ass the other day and, get this, she shit all over me. I’m talkin’, this wasn’t no little mess. This was Niagara fuckin’ Falls pourin’ outta her ass.”
Jase stared at the man, cringing at the visual, wishing he had the ability to un-hear half of what Cox usually said to him. Even so, seeing Cox, a man who was covered from his neck to his toes in mostly violent and crude tattoos, who was pierced nearly everywhere humanly possible, with his eyes wide, both nodding and shaking his head, looking so damn distraught over the ridiculous story, that even in the face of his own disgust, Jase couldn’t help but laugh.
“Brother, that’s fuckin’ disgusting.”
Cox both sighed and shuddered. “Yeah, dude, I know,” he said, then added rather piteously, “but Kami won’t fuck me and if I don’t drain this motherfucker on the regular, I’m gonna fuckin’ die!”
“Goddamn it,” Jase muttered, shaking his head. “Why the fuck are you always tellin’ me this shit?”
Cox turned to face him fully then, his expression suddenly serious. “So you stop staring at Dorothy, wishin’ for shit you lost a long-ass time ago and ain’t never gonna have again.”
Chapter Eight
It was evening by the time Preacher and his men had arrived, and by that time most of the club had cleared out. Only a handful of Horsemen remained, and other than Tegen and me, the women had all gone home to their children.
To my dismay, Preacher had stormed inside the club, covered in snow and looking righteously pissed off. Seeing this and fearing the worst, thinking that something had changed his mind and he was no longer on board for whatever plan Deuce had come up with to get Hawk home safely, my stomach had painfully knotted. So instead of going forth to greet him, I waited in the background with bated breath as Deuce and his boys came out to greet their guests.
“Who the fuck in their right fuckin’ mind puts a fuckin’ motorcycle club in the middle of goddamn Alaska?” Preacher bellowed. “You assholes have to be outta your fuckin’ minds! How much ridin’ time you get around here? Two fuckin’ months a year?”
Cage had laughed, Deuce had glared, and Mick had flipped him off. Several rounds of insults were traded as well as handshakes and slaps on the back, and all the while relief was shuddering from my lungs. Suddenly feeling relaxed enough to do so, I stepped forward to extend my welcome.
“Preacher,” I said, smiling as I held out my hand.
His grin was that of a dirty old man with pleasure on his mind, and as he took my hand, he pulled me into a hug that ended with him taking hold of my backside and squeezing.
“You free tonight, sweetheart?” he whispered in my ear. “Always did love myself a redhead.”
Laughing, I wrestled myself out of his arms. “I’m only two years older than your daughter,” I scolded.
His grin growing, Preacher’s head tilted to one side as he looked me up and down. “Haven’t been with a woman my own age since—”
One of his men, an older man named Tiny who was anything but, slapped him on the back. “Fucker, you ain’t never been with a woman your own age.”
Preacher spread his arms out wide in an apologetic gesture and shrugged. “There you have it.”
Eva’s father was closing in on seventy, and the years of heavy smoking and drinking had begun to take a heavy toll on his once handsome features. His long hair that once had been brown was now a deep shade of gray, the deep grooves lining his face were more pronounced than ever before, but most noticeable was the change in his stature; his now imperfect posture and significant loss of muscle mass gave him an overall appearance of shrinking.
As I studied him, I couldn’t help but be reminded that my own parents were around his age, which made me think of the lie I’d told Christopher. I found myself wondering how they were faring, if they were sick or in need of extra support. Almost immediately, I shook away my thoughts. This wasn’t the time for trips down memory lane that would only further the already excessive load of emotions I was barely keeping in check.
Cage appeared to my right, his heavy arm landing across my shoulders. “Keep those dirty hands of yours off my mom,” he said teasingly. Tegen, who’d materialized on my left, put her hands on her hips and pinned Preacher with a glare. “Seriously,” she hissed. “Don’t fucking touch her.”
Preacher waggled his eyebrows at Cage. “It’s the red hair,” he said, giving Tegen a greasy smile. “Spitfires, all of ’em. Lucky little bastard.”
Before Tegen had the chance to start running her mouth and getting herself into trouble, I looped my arm through hers, shot the men a brilliant smile, and dragged my daughter across the room.
As the men retreated to Deuce’s office, I led her to one of the couches.
“Pigs,” she muttered and dropped down beside me. She made herself comfortable, sprawling out across both the couch and me, and let out an irritated sigh.
I gave her a thorough once-over from her long braids, the thickly rimmed glasses framing her catlike eyes, down her heavily tattooed arms and long, lithe legs to the tips of her tattooed feet that were currently taking up residence on my lap.
As I studied her, with her many and largely colorful tattoos, I couldn’t help but think that she was as colorful as the artwork that covered her body. Tegen was a rainbow of a woman, faults and all. A surge of pride welled up inside me. I’d made this beautiful, colorful, strong woman, and no matter how it had ended between her father and me, no matter that she wasn’t a result of love, I loved her fiercely all the same.
“You look good,” I mused out loud, giving her ankle a light squeeze. “Happy and healthy.”
Cracking an eyelid, she twisted her lips. “Is that a nice way of telling me I look fat?”
“No,” I said with a laugh. Although her once too-thin frame had rounded out rather nicely, she was the furthest thing from fat. “It’s a nice way of telling you your size-four jeans suit you better than a size zero.”
“Six,” she muttered. “I’m a six now. See what that fucker did? Made me fat.”
“Happy,” I said, rubbing her calf affectionately. “Cage makes you happy. Big difference.”
She snorted, looking amused, but her expression quickly shifted and suddenly she pushed herself upright and pulled her legs from my lap.