“Now both of you get. She’s coming by tonight and I don’t want her and that boy staying at the motel again,” Clay barks with surprising finality.
“Who is this chick Clay? Why’re you going out of your way for her?” I ask.
“My Alice took to her. You’ll see why when you meet her. There’s something there. She needs some kindness, and I have a feeling she hasn’t gotten much of that in a long time from the look of her,” Clay says seriously, his fingers tensing around his mug in frustration.
“You ask a lotta questions for someone who owes me a life debt,” King says in a serious tone. I swear to Christ you can almost hear every single asshole around the table clench as we all still, knowing that tone and it’s never a good thing. King stares down each of us around the table, landing finally on me. I meet his gaze and try to hold it but fuck me that man is intimidating. Looking down into my coffee mug after a moment, I bring it to my lips and take a long drink in an effort to disguise my unease. We all respect the hell outta King, and not a one of us would ever be stupid enough to cross that man.
My mug is barely to my face before King bangs a fist against the table and lets out a deep rolling laugh. The sound startles all of us, none of us expecting that turn and a chorus of nervous chuckles break out around the table as we all settle back into our seats again.
“Fuck, y’all shoulda seen your faces!” King laughs, the fucker. “Seriously though, Sawyer,” he turns his gaze back to me, “I helped you clean up the mess you left behind in Jersey, you owe me a debt,” all I can do is nod.
He’s right, I owe him my life in more ways than one. When I took off, leaving my old life in the dust, I also left my old club. Only, when I left, I was so fucked in the head all I could think about was getting away, running, and I left without a word. Brothers don’t just disappear; Brothers don’t abandon their Club. By the time I got to The Sons, I realized my epic fuck up. I had no choice but to come to King and plead my case. He helped clear my name with my old Club and in return I was busted down to Probie and sent through the ringer. I owe him everything and I know nothing will ever balance that ledger.
“Good. So, get your ass shopping boy,” King says with a chuckle, slapping me on the back.
“On it Prez,” I say with another nod as I push back from the table and head to find Roxy and a couple of the Probies.
“Oh, and Sawyer,” King calls after me, “If she needs anything, you be there.”
“What the fuck,” I growl under my breath as I fight with the plastic bolts of the mobile I’m trying to affix to the crib, stuffed airplanes knocking around my head and annoying the shit out of me. “This shouldn’t be this fuckin’ hard. I’m a mechanic for fuck’s sake!” I’ve spent the last fifteen minutes trying to get this damn thing attached to the crib. It’s either backward, crooked, or slides down the bars every time I think I’m done. How the fuck can they justify making baby shit this difficult?
Granted, I was already pissed off when I started this little project so I’m pretty sure the universe is punishing me for cussing out a teddy bear or some shit. I spent the entire day chasing Roxy around store after store as she picked everything out for Clay’s mystery woman. The Probies hadn’t lasted long, lucky bastards. The first stop had been one of the big box hardware stores where Roxy picked out paint for every wall in the house and sent them off to “make it pretty dammit.” Then I had been the lucky one to drive her around and help her wrangle all the bits and pieces she threw into the carts, work with the store to figure out delivery, and in general try to keep King’s woman from going insane.
Seven hours later here I am cussing out stuffed animals while I set up the kid’s nursery; that stuffed bull is mocking me, I can feel it. This is the one thing I was allowed to pick out. When we got to the store and I saw the airplane themed nursery shit something in me made me pick all of it up and put it in the cart without saying a word. Roxy gave me a look, about to argue with me about the whale sheets she had been holding. I returned her glare with one of my own and she raised a brow at me, tilting her head to the side, I’m sure her evil little mind coming to all kinds of fucked up conclusions.
“Boys like planes,” I growled before I stalked down the aisle away from her. I’m pretty sure I heard her say something like “easy scary.”
I tighten the knob on the back of the mobile and step back, thinking I got the damn thing to stay, but it tilts to one side again. I grumble and curse under my breath at it and fight with the damn thing again. After another couple of minutes, I hear someone clear their throat behind me. I give one last crank on the screws at the back and turn away from the crib. I see Clay standing in the doorway grinning at me, trying to keep from laughing at my antics.
“Don’t even go there,” I grumble at him, bending to pick up the mobile box and shove all the other garbage into it.
“Come on in Darlin’ and ignore the growling brute in the corner. He won’t bite. Sawyer put your fangs away boy. This is Tessa and her little man Evan,” Clay chuckles, waving a short brunette into the room. She steps through the doorway into the room, but my eyes don’t go to her, they go instead to the squirming puddle of human in her arms. I have no idea how to tell how old a kid is but this one is at least big enough to be sitting up on her hip and is pulling at her hair and babbling… so bigger than newborn, smaller than toddler… is there a word for that?
When the woman steps into the room the baby turns and looks around, zoning in on the basket of toys in the corner. His face breaks into a giant toothless grin and he squeals as he tries to dive out of his mom’s arms toward the toys. She gives an awkward laugh and tries to wrestle him back onto her hip as she looks apologetically at me and Clay.
“Why don’t you let the boy play while we finish the tour? Sawyer there'd be happy to stay with him, wouldn’t ya son?” Clay offers, a humorous glint in his eye that says, “smile and watch the baby or you’ll be cleaning the barrack toilet for a month” the old bastard.
His offer knocks me out of my daze, and I offer a short, “sure” and a shrug of assent. The woman eyes me, still wrestling with the baby and making no move to set him down. I take a moment to assess her while she is otherwise occupied. She has a mass of dark chocolate brown hair tied back into a ponytail that curls down her back. Her skin is pale and damn near flawless over her oval face and sweetly pointed chin. She has deep hazel eyes that she hadn’t bothered lining or putting on any of that other shit. Her lips… damn those lips… soft pink, pouty and plump, the kind of lips that could drive a man to distraction. But the part I know will stick with me is the adorably “fun sized” package it all comes in. She’s short, not much over five feet, and curvy in all the right ways. My goddamn kryptonite.
Clay notices the look she’s throwing me and clears his throat, drawing her attention again. “Sawyer is a good man. I would trust him with my life, or that of any of my grandbabies. Evan will be safe with him Darlin’,” he says, motioning behind his back for me to contribute somehow. I offer what I hope is a reassuring face through the lingering bruises, cut cheek, and scabbed over split in my eyebrow.