It was like how my heart beat.
My lungs bellowed air in and out.
It just was.
Kenzie’s belly didn’t help. It stuck into my back, making the nine-hour trip even more torturous than it already was. I mean, this was my first run, so I wasn’t accustomed to sitting on my bike for that length of time with very few breaks in between.
I wasn’t bitching as this kind of run wasn’t something a prospect usually got to experience, but because Ama never liked going farther than Jonsson, we never really even crossed the borders of the district, so my ass was aching like a bitch, and my back, with Kenzie’s bump sticking into it? Yeah, I was going to be walking like I had something shoved up my butt for a while—and while I totally didn’t agree with kink shaming, there was no way in fuck that was my kink.
When we made it to the last scheduled stop before we’d be approaching Corpus Christi, the city nearest us, I was relieved as all hell to climb off my bike after steadying Kenzie. She stumbled a little, but Saint was there to support her. I wished I hadn’t seen it, but I saw her flinch at his touch, even if it was supposed to be helpful.
She kind of reminded me of a dog who’d been kicked. I just hoped that she wouldn’t flinch for the rest of her life, even if that cunt Hex had taught her to always be wary around other men.
Would time heal that wound?
I didn’t pray, didn’t really believe in God, but for her sake, I prayed she would overcome this, and knew that I’d do anything in my power to make sure she did.
When Saint backed off after helping her, I cut him a look and dipped my chin in thanks. He grunted and asked, “Want something to eat?”
“I’m fucking starving, man.”
He snorted. “You’re always starving.”
My cell buzzed and I dug it out from my pocket. Seeing a text from Ama, I laughed when I saw it was a photo of her eating a cookie. The little minx had made my favorite kind.
Me: You’d better save me one.
Ama: Maybe. Depends on how long it takes you to get here.
Me: You know we’re not supposed to give out locations/distances.
Ama: *shrugs* Sucks to be you then, doesn’t it?
I grunted, then peered at Kenzie who was waddling behind Saint down the sidewalk. It was grim as fuck for a service station. Everything looked like it needed a coat of paint. Either that or a damn good scrub. I mean, I wasn’t the cleanest fucker in the world, but Jesus, this place was the pits.
Scraping a hand over my face, I mumbled, “Fuck’s sake.”
Me: You know that Dagger gave me a list of shit not to do before I went on this run, right?
Ama: He did? Can I read the rules when you get back?
I snorted. Me: No. Since when were you a Prospect?
Ama: Since you became one. You’re my project.
Hiding a laugh as I shuffled down the sidewalk behind my blood sister and a brother who was almost like blood, I typed: I got the whole ‘we know how close you are to Ama’ talk. I.e. they don’t want me to share shit with you.
Ama: That’s because they think I’m a saint.
My lips twitched because, Ama, even if she didn’t know it, was our saint.
Me: Maybe. But we know otherwise, don’t we? ;)
Ama: Okay, I’ll save you one. Seeing as you’re trying to guilt trip me.
She sent another picture, this one had the chocolate chips oozing out from the cookie crumb and onto her hand. My mouth watered at that, but mostly, it was watering at the particularly nice shot I got of her tits.
That was spank bank material right there.
Me: Glad it worked. Gonna go eat now. See you soon.
Ama: If it’s late, I might be at Black Ink.
Me: Why? I frowned down at my phone at her text, and my frown only deepened when she didn’t instantly reply.
Me: Ama? You getting a tattoo? I’d be beyond pissed if I missed out on her getting her first tattoo, especially after she’d laughed at me when I got mine.
Me: Ammmmma?
Ama: What?
Me: Since when do you go to Black Ink?
She usually avoided the place because she had the biggest crush on Ink. I didn’t think she knew we knew, but fuck, there was no hiding from it. Every time I saw her making goo-goo eyes at him, I wanted to ram my fist into his throat.
Ama: Since I’m apprenticing there.
That had me halting on my way to the service stop diner.
Me: Holy fuck. Since when were you apprenticing there?
Ama: It was decided after you left.
Me: I’ve been gone like a day and a half.
Ama: See what happens when you’re gone? You’re always gonna miss shit. Should have stayed here, and if you had, you’d be getting more than one cookie too…
I rolled my eyes. Me: Yeah, yeah.
Ama: :P Speak later, be safe, know I’ll kill you if you get into a crash, I’ll kill you before the crash can, and remember I have cookies I’m not afraid of eating.
I’d like to eat her fucking cookie.
Instead of texting anything like that, something that would probably stun the shit out of her, I just heaved a breath and typed: I’ll be safe. X
For her. I didn’t tell her that, but yeah, I’d be safe for her because I knew she meant every word, and to be honest, I kind of liked that.
Realizing that I was the only one of my brothers not to have made it into the shitty diner attached to the service station, I joined them.
As I opened the door, my boots stuck to the cracked Lino and I headed past the equally cracked red vinyl booths toward the area Saint and Kenzie had taken. At their side was Long John—so named because he refused to go on a run without a pair of Long Johns on, didn’t matter if it was a hundred degrees outside or not—and Crocker, who was addicted to Betty Crocker cake mixes. Yeah, road names weren’t always representative of the mean fuckers out there.
Long John’s work with a knife was pure art. Back in the day, when the MC had taken on plenty of murders for hire, he’d been on Dagger’s crew—knife jobs. Muggings gone wrong. That kind of shit.
Crocker was an apprentice of Bomber Steeler. He’d been the Prez before Wolfe, and he’d died in a ‘skirmish’ with the MC we were currently riding down to the compound with.
Funny how shit changed thanks to a daughter.
As I slinked into the booth, Saint caught my eye. “Ordered you pancakes.”
I pulled a face. “You sure you want to eat here? Looks like they spit in your food.”
Long John grinned at me. “Ain’t nothing wrong with spit.”
“At the risk of sounding like a girl, ‘ew.’”
Kenzie, for the first time since she’d come to me, laughed. Actually fucking laughed. Her nose wrinkled as she murmured, “Well, I am a girl, and I’ll say it for you. Ew, LJ, that’s fucked up.”
He shrugged, but shot her a wink. “I love me some spit.”
She groaned. “Yeah, but a stranger’s? In your food?”
“Prefer a chick’s.”
I blinked at him. “Can’t believe we’re having this conversation.” Rubbing my eyes, I mumbled, “Dude, you’re gross.”
He slapped me on the back. “I’ll remember that when I send you off to do some shit on my behalf. I’ll enjoy the fact you can’t say ‘no’ even more.”
Shooting him the bird, I sank back into the booth and sighed.