Devil May Care: Boxed Set (9 page)

He felt the anger building. What else did he have to do for this woman? Or would he just never be good enough for her? What, so he didn’t have a traditional job. Who cared? He made plenty of money doing what he did and he was well respected. How was that not attractive to her? Wasn’t she used to biker guys anyway? She’d been married to one, so how could she be flipping out now? He’d never hurt her. He’d dropped everything to protect her. He was sitting here with her kid eating breakfast.

He shoved another forkful of waffle into his mouth and tried to make eye contact with Fiona. He was pissed about the waffles, too. Stupid thing was so damn good he wanted to moan in pleasure right there, but that would be inappropriate. Still. She was such a good cook. And last night in bed…man. He would do anything for her. She was perfect and kept getting more and more perfect. The anger built more when he thought of her ex. How could dudes be so stupid? He’d always wanted someone like her and here she was. But now he’d done something to upset her. And he just had to figure out exactly what and how to undo it.

“Hey, Sophia, want to help me clean up?” he asked.

Sophia slid down from her chair, holding her plate proudly in her hands. He took it from her and put it in the sink. Then he put in his own plate. Fiona was cleaning the waffle maker, so he put anything else that looked dirty into the sink and filled it with hot water, adding in soap to make it bubbly.

“You don’t have to do that,” Fiona said.

“I want to.” He smiled at her, but she turned away again and resumed wiping all the batter from the little crevices in the waffle maker.

“Sophia, why don’t you go and pick out an outfit?” Fiona said.

“Okay.” Sophia skipped off to her room.

Now was his chance. He put down the plate he was washing and went to her. He stood behind her and slid his arms around her and bent down to kiss her neck. She smelled like strawberries and sugar and he wanted to lick her head to toe.

She jerked her neck away and broke free of his grasp.

“Okay.” He let his hands hit his thighs with an audible slap. “What did I do?”

She walked over to the sink and put the rubber scraper into the soapy water, then picked up where he had left off with the dishes. He went back to the other side of the sink to finish. He didn’t want to leave the job half done. She needed to see that he could and would clean. He would never leave it all to her. He wouldn’t criticize her either. He’d praise her for everything she did, no matter how small.

“I got these, it’s okay. Thanks,” she said.

“Fiona.”

She didn’t look up. She scrubbed a plate and rinsed it off, then placed it in the dish rack.

“Fiona,” he said again, stronger this time.

“Yeah?” She still didn’t look at him.

“What gives?”

“What do you mean? I just have to get these dishes done so I can get ready and get Sophia to the babysitter’s house.”

“Why are you acting like this?”

She put another plate in the rack and refused to look at him. “I’m sorry. This is the life of a single mother. I have a lot to do.”

“That’s not what I mean.” He rinsed the plate he’d been cleaning and walked behind her to add it to the dish rack. He scrubbed faster so he’d get more done. “Why are you suddenly being so cold?”

“I told you. I just have a lot to do, okay?”

She set down another plate and left the room. He heard her talking to Sophia a minute later.

He washed the remaining dishes as fast as he could, then wiped down the counter. He looked around and made sure everything looked neat and clean. He double checked to make sure he had everything he’d brought with him. Phone, wallet. Check. His helmet was by the front door, and he stood by it to wait for her.

She came out of Sophia’s room and went directly into hers, shutting the door behind her. He tapped his foot, trying to get the anger to fade. But when she came out and went into the bathroom, then started the shower, and she’d still refused to look at him or talk to him, he found it difficult to contain his irritation.

Jasper considered storming in there to talk to her. But he knew better. If he went in there and she was all naked and soapy, it would be all over. He’d have to have her right there, and there was little chance she’d be up for that if she couldn’t even look at him. Just the thought of her in there—picturing her body, remembering the feel of her—got Little Jazz all worked up. He had to make an adjustment to keep him in place.

Well, she wasn’t getting out this door without talking to him. Simple as that. Not that he’d force her physically, but this was ridiculous. You didn’t sleep with someone and have half a great morning, then stop talking in an instant and not say why.

The water in the shower shut off. Several minutes later, she came out wrapped in a towel, hair dripping down her back. She glanced over and jumped at the sight of him.

“You’re still here?” she asked.

He nodded once. “We need to talk.”

“I have to get ready.”

She went into her bedroom and closed the door again behind her. Okay, enough was enough. He walked over and tried the knob. At least she hadn’t locked it. He opened the door slowly and stuck his head in.

“I’ll be out in a minute,” she said.

He stepped into the room and closed the door. “I figured it’d be better to talk while Sophia is in the other room, not listening.”

She already had pants on and was fastening her bra. Her damp hair was now wrapped in a towel on top of her head. He wanted to grab that towel and her and bend her over right there at her dresser.

She walked away and opened her closet door, then stuck her head in, looking for something.

“You need to tell me why you’re ignoring me all of the sudden,” he said.

“I think you should just go,” she said.

“Fine. After you tell me what the hell is going on. Fiona. You called me sobbing. I came immediately over to make sure you were safe and stayed to protect you through the night. We had some damn amazing sex, cuddled all morning, and even had a great half of breakfast. Then you flipped the switch. What gives?”

Fiona pulled a shirt over her head and finally turned to look at him. She shook her head and turned back to her dresser to find jewelry. “You’re an MC leader.”

“And?”

“And that’s all I need to know about you.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” He crossed his arms in automatic defense. The anger was still right there, ready to burst free. He was good at controlling it. He’d need to hit the gym later, though. Had to punch the bag and lift weights to get the rage out.

“Jasper, I was married to an MC leader for years, and I know what that life is all about. I’m not interested in getting back into that.”

“And what exactly is it all about, then, Fiona? If you know so much.”

She turned to him full on and glared. “I thought you sold drugs here and there. I was willing to make an exception for you, even though I’m done dating criminals. I figured it wasn’t a violent crime, so it wasn’t that big of a deal. But an MC? I’m sure you sell all sorts of stuff. I can’t believe you told Sophia you’re like a store. Yeah, you steal stuff off the store’s trucks.

“Who knows what else you do. Guns? Extortion? Hookers? MCs do all that fun stuff. And the way you got yourself beat up the other day? Just another day in the life of an MC leader. Always fighting. Always.

“Do you know Sam had a personal nurse? He never wanted to go to the hospital and one of his girls had left to get a real job. So he kept her on the books as his personal nurse whenever he or one of his guys got hurt in another fight. Kept her pretty darn busy.

“I should have asked you straight out, and I’m sorry I didn’t. I thought you just had a bike and that was it. Not everyone who has a bike is in an MC. Or leads one. But there is no way I’m going back to that awful lifestyle and exposing my daughter to it. No way. Look what good it’s done me already. I’d rather you just go so I can be done with you and stop having creepy men, who, oh wait—they must be in a rival MC, right?” She laughed humorlessly. “God. How pathetic. Well, I don’t need them after me because of you. If they ask, I’m giving them whatever information I have so that I can keep myself and my daughter safe.”

His jaw ached with the pressure of his teeth grinding together. He waited to speak. If he opened his mouth right now, he might jump across the room and chew her to bits. So he ground his jaw harder and glared at her.

“I never would have called you if I knew,” she continued. “I wouldn’t have even picked you up that night I found you on the road. I would have just called an ambulance or something. And you can be sure that what happened last night would never, ever have happened if I had known the truth about you. I feel sick to my stomach that you were around my daughter.”

He took three long breaths in and released each slowly. He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them. He could see the fear in her eyes. She was likely used to being beat badly for speaking anything close to words like that to her ex. Maybe she was thinking of that right now. Thinking of all the times she’d dared to stand up to Sam and all the ways she’d paid for it. She probably thought if he was so much like Sam, he’d come over there and give her a black eye. But hitting her was the last thing he wanted to do.

“Believe me,” he said through gritted teeth, “if I had known what a judgmental prude you are, I wouldn’t have touched you either.” He spat the words from his mouth like venom.

She swallowed hard and took a step back.

“Don’t do that,” he said. “Don’t step back, looking like you’re afraid of me. I know you think I’m just like that asshole, Sam, but I’m not. I’ve never hit a woman and I never would. But to you, we’re all the same, aren’t we? We’re just a bunch of low life bikers hanging out all day throwing fists and robbing stores. Probably think we steal children and put them on the streets, too. Hell, I hear there’s great money in that. Why not?” He shook his head. “You disgust me. How could you judge me like that? After the days we spent together? After last night? You don’t think you saw the real me in all that time? You’re going to stand there and think you’re so much better than me? You’re some perfect little mommy who has it all together and can’t do anything wrong? And I’m a no-good street rat who will bring Little Miss Perfect down. Well, I am so sorry that I tainted your perfect little life and your innocent little bed.”

She glared and wiped tears from her eyes. “Get. Out.” 

He could hear her breath hitching in her chest. She was ready to lose it. He wondered if she got destructive when she was angry. With an ex like hers, probably not. Unless she was the type to act out in the same way she was acted out upon. Some people did things like that. They got beat at home by their dads, then turned around and beat up kids at school or guys at the bar or their wives at home.

She didn’t seem like the violent type though. She was probably only a crier. She’d sit and sob for hours. Well, let her. Yeah, he’d thought she was perfect. And apparently that was the problem. So did she. All the years of abuse had made her righteous toward others. Oh, her husband was so awful, she must be amazing by comparison. No freaking thank you.

How could he have fallen for this crap? Started to have serious feelings for someone who could act like this? Who would judge him like that?

“You don’t know shit,” he hissed at her. “About me or my club.” He spun on his heel and left the room.

In the living room, he snatched his helmet from the ground and made a point of closing the door extra quietly behind him, just to prove he could. See how she judged that.

By the time he got to his bike, his guts were aching. How stupid of him to let her get to him like that. To let her in and make him feel something. This was why he stayed single and liked it that way. No chick around to tangle him up and piss him off. He’d done nothing wrong. She hated him just for being who he was. And that pissed him off more than anything.

He slammed his helmet on his head and jumped on his bike. He hit the gas hard, flying through the streets, weaving between cars. There would be no riding slow today.

If he’d done something stupid, that would be fine. If he’d said something insensitive, dropped a curse word in front of the kid, or was mean to the kid. If he hadn’t come to protect her, if he had been too rough in bed. Anything. That would be okay. He’d fix it. But how could he fix who was? He’d always been this, and this was what he was meant to be. He had never been able to hold a traditional job and didn’t want one. Why work for some ass eight hours a day when he could work just a few hours and make more money? It made no sense. Legal jobs made no sense. Break one or two little laws and the money could pour in. He’d seen both ends of it, and no way was he ever going back to working for the man.

A shame, too, because he could afford to give her a nice life. Get her out of that tiny apartment, let her quit her job and stay home with her kid and maybe make a few new kids with her. He’d always take care of her. He’d treat her special and make she sure knew how important she was to him. She’d be safe and respected. The guys in his club would worship her like his queen. But she didn’t give him the chance to show her any of that. She’d decided he was no good and that was that. Nothing he could do to change it, short of leaving the MC and getting a straight job. And there was no way either of those things were going to happen. She’d have to accept him as he was or not at all. And she’d chosen not at all. Fine. Let her stay in her shoebox being afraid for the rest of her life, judging all men like they were her ex.

As hard as he shouted these thoughts in his mind, he couldn’t deny the ache. His chest, his guts, felt like they would implode. The heavy weight brought him down and he even thought if he sat down and let it happen, he could cry right now. How had she gotten to him so badly so fast?

Little flashes kept coming to him. He’d see her smile and a sting would follow in his heart. Then he’d hear her say, “I feel sick to my stomach that you were around my daughter,” and the rage would tear through him again. And the kid? Sophia? He’d see her, too. The way she’d asked him to help her and to play. How she’d accepted him just fine. She was a cool kid and though he hadn’t thought much about kids in general, he liked her. He even missed her a little and the way she wanted to include him in everything already.

He turned down an empty street, the one he’d been racing to through the twists and turns of traffic, and really opened his bike, the scenery flying by too fast to see. He loved this road. And it was like the cops wouldn’t go there because he never saw them. Never got pulled over or anything on this road. It was exactly what he needed to clear his mind.

But his mind wouldn’t clear. Fiona. God. He wanted to turn around. But he wouldn’t. She might have left for work anyway. Could he go there? Talk to her in the gift shop with people around so she couldn’t get mad? No, that would make her mad. And he didn’t want to discuss his business in public anyway.

He could maybe call her. Though he’d rather see her face to face and know what expressions she was making. But maybe the phone would be better because he wouldn’t be in her presence to scare her. What could he even say to her, though? Was there a way to convince her he was better than she thought?

Well, he was a criminal. He did steal and sell illegal things and stuff off trucks and the black market. That’s just how business went. No guns, though. Drugs were lucrative enough and guns were a hassle. Too hard to get, too hard to make sure they were clean, too hard to move. Drugs were easier to come by, took seconds to test for purity, and moved faster than they could supply it. He’d only been joking about the hooker thing. They’d never considered dealing in girls. Too much hassle again. You had to train them and hope they didn’t rat on you. Had to keep some level of control over them, and it wasn’t worth it. Plus, after seeing his mom be controlled by his dad all those years, he couldn’t do it. Leo did some of that, but not the Crimson Hawks. Leave that to the Pansy Twisters to deal with. They’d only kill him even faster if he stepped on that territory anyway.

So, there would be no convincing her that he wasn’t a criminal. Though she had mentioned something about violent crimes. And really, his weren’t. He only killed people when he had to, only fought them when it was necessary. He didn’t rob at gun point, the Hawks were strongly forbidden from rape of any kind, and he didn’t do anything else violent. Maybe if he explained all that, she’d come around on the criminal activity. She’d said she was okay with the drug dealing.

Then she’d mentioned the fighting. Well, okay, so they did a fair amount of that. But it was mostly bar fights. Nothing serious. And no one ever pressed charges because you’d only get beaten worse if you did. Besides, that was a pussy way out. Then there was the rival MC stuff. He’d have to take out Leo and his guys, but that was only going down because they’d tried to kill him and would again. That was self-defense. Even in a court of law, he’d be let off for that. In fact, he’d have to make sure it looked like that when they took care of the Rose Blades. That way, if any cops sniffed around, they’d come out okay if it came down to it.

Maybe there was no way she’d be okay with that, but if he assured her that they mostly only fought casually for fun or seriously for self-defense, he could make it seem like they were less violent. Most of them didn’t hit their girls or wives or kids or anything, if he found out they did, he always made sure they knew that it was not okay. He’d send them home bloody and limping, and in one case, on the second warning, he hadn’t sent a guy home at all, but to the hospital. His wife had been awfully grateful. Maybe that story would mean something to her. That the Hawks didn’t stand for mistreating women. They didn’t pick fights often or without good reason. They didn’t do violent crimes usually. What else was there for her to complain about, then?

She’d probably find something. Some reason to hate him. Didn’t they always? The last one complained he wasn’t home enough. The one before said he wasn’t romantic enough. Whatever that even meant. Nothing was ever good enough. Well, the one who went totally crazy on him hadn’t complained. But then she’d gotten into more fights than he had. That was why he was so hooked on Fiona. She was normal, calm, gentle. She was a mom and had been an awesome wife—even if her ex was a total dip shit who couldn’t see that. She could cook and clean and wasn’t afraid to work hard to pay her bills or get up and leave the bad situation of her marriage. She was strong, like his mother.

Crap. That was it, wasn’t it. She completely reminded him of his mother. No wonder he was already falling for her. And his mother would love her like she hadn’t liked any of his other girlfriends. And she came with a built-in grandkid? Practically a guarantee she’d go nuts. His whole family would love her. He pictured her there on holidays or Sunday dinners. How she’d help his mother in the kitchen, how she’d look so pretty sitting beside him at the table, how Sophia would play and make a mess and everyone would think she was so cute.

The ache came back and ripped through him. He needed a plan. Either he’d talk to her, try to win her back, or he’d have to find a way to not think about her and to move on. Maybe he needed a booty call or something to take his mind off her.

He heard the whoop of a siren and glanced behind him.
No. Come on. Not today of all days.
There were never cops on this road. Never. He pulled to the side of the road and put down the kickstand. Then he slid off his helmet and tucked it under his arm. He watched the cop approach.

“Morning,” the officer said. He looked at him through dark sunglasses.

“Morning,” Jasper grumbled back. He squinted at him, wishing he also had sunglasses.

“You were going a bit fast there.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. It’s been kind of a day.”

“Well, let me see your license, insurance, and registration.”

Jasper set his helmet down carefully, opened the zippered pouch on his bike, and took out his insurance and registration, then dug into his wallet for his license. As always, he ran through his recent activities, wondering if he could possibly have any warrants. Should he just hop back on his bike and take off? This was not a good time to have a warrant and go to jail. That’d ruin things for sure with Fiona. If they weren’t ruined already.

He handed over his info to the cop and watched him walk away. Jasper pinched the bridge of his nose. How long was this going to take? The sun was already getting hot and beating down on him.

After ages, the cop came back. Jasper’s stomach tightened, waiting.

“Okay, just sign here,” the officer said.

He handed him a pink slip of paper attached to a metal clipboard and a pen. It was only a ticket. He signed on the line.

“You have ten days to pay or dispute it,” the officer said.

Jasper nodded. He had someone who would take care of this for him.

“Any questions?”

“Nope.” Jasper picked his helmet back up.

“Have a good day and slow down. Be safe out there.”

Jasper nodded and slid his helmet on. He started up his bike and drove off, keeping his speed down until the cop passed him. Then he turned around and zoomed off at the same speed he’d been pulled over at.

Didn’t this just make a great day. Alex could probably take care of the ticket. He had family in the local police, but it was still a hassle. Was the whole world out to get him today? His mind drifted back to Fiona and again, the ache was there.

Screw it. Why not make the day as awful as possible? He headed toward the gift shop where Fiona worked. If it went horribly, it would only fit everything else.

As he got closer, he started to feel nervous. That was ridiculous. Why should he feel nervous? Several possible conversation starters went through his mind. Should he just outright try to convince her? Play it cool, like she hadn’t affected him at all? What would work on someone like Fiona? Did he need to do some grand romantic gesture like bring her flowers? Seemed like that would be sweet, but probably not enough.

He zoomed by a flower shop and turned at the next block to circle around. Every little bit helped, right? He needed anything to give him extra brownie points right now. He went inside and looked at the flowers. Roses seemed like too…already in love or something. He spotted some flowers that were colorful and cheery-looking. The sign said chrysanthemums. Sure, whatever they were, they looked good.

“Can I get a bunch of these?” he asked the woman, pointing.

“Any certain arrangement?”

“Uhh…just something bright and happy.”

“Sure.” The woman selected several flowers and put them together in a bundle, then wrapped them with tissue paper. She handed it to him and he gave her cash.

He walked out and tucked the bunch onto the back of his bike, making sure it was secure in his bungees and wouldn’t be damaged. Then he drove slowly through town toward the shop. He turned into the parking lot and sat facing the store.

Fiona was in the large window at the front of the store, setting up an arrangement. She wouldn’t be able to see him where he sat, so he watched her for a while. She placed half a dummy on the floor and turned it so it faced at just the right angle. Then she hung scarves and necklaces on it. At the base of the floor display, she set up other items. A lamp with a decorated shade, an arrangement of silk flowers in a tall vase.

She looked peaceful. Happy. Serene. Some other woman came up behind her and she turned to talk to her, then broke into laughter. God, that smile. He wanted to be the one making her smile like that. He glanced back at the flowers. They seemed small and dull. A pointless gesture. What was he thinking?

She didn’t want him. She wouldn’t find his gesture romantic. She’d never be convinced he wasn’t just another bad boy like her ex. He’d never have her. She’d never be his.

The feeling in his stomach settled into a rock. It felt hard and heavy and weighed him down. He wouldn’t go in there. He wouldn’t make a fool of himself. He just needed to forget her. And she was right about one thing he’d refused to think about. He had brought danger to her and Sophia. That man who’d followed her and put a gun to her head was because of him. It wouldn’t have happened if she hadn’t picked him up on the street and cared for him. She wouldn’t have felt that fear or had to do things like push her couch in front of her door at night to feel safer. He was bringing bad things into her life. He wasn’t making anything better and he was a fool to think she’d ever see something good in him or in them being together. He would only bring her more trouble. He needed to leave her alone. He needed to move on.