Out of the Ashes (34 page)

I also needed to be busy. To be alone with my thoughts, wallowing in grief was the last thing I needed. So even though I had desperately wanted to curl up on the sofa with Lexie and watch
Friends
reruns, I had gotten my ass ready for work and Lexie for school. She had missed enough already and needed to be kept busy. I had planned on dropping her off but Killian had been on our doorstep this morning, ready to take her. As much as I hated to admit it, I was glad. He treated her like she was made of glass and seemed to give her the same strength Zane gave me.

She had seemed worried to leave me, but I assured her I would be fine. Obviously since I was unable to get out of the car, I wasn’t. My phone ringing made me jump. I stared at it in my hand, remembering my first day, sitting in the car with all of my doubts. Steve’s encouraging words echoed through my thoughts. I’d never hear his voice on the other side of the phone again. Never get the support and unwavering belief and faith he had in me. The phone stopped ringing. A single tear trailed down my cheek and it hit me. The reality of it all. I’d stopped moving. Stopped running and it had finally caught me. I hadn’t cried. Not at the funeral. Not when Lexie had sung the most beautiful rendition of ”Over the Rainbow” at the burial. Even Zane’s eyes had glistened suspiciously at that. No. I couldn’t. I was focusing on being strong for my kid. So now that I was away from her, now it all hit me, the tears were flowing down my face. I struggled to catch my breath. I didn’t know how long I stayed there sobbing for; it felt like a long time. Then my door was opened.

“Fuck,” a deep voice muttered.

I didn’t register the concern or anything else in the tone, only the familiarity of the arms that scooped me out of the car. I burrowed into Zane’s shoulder, clutching the sides of his cut. The smell of leather, oil and tobacco calmed me slightly.

“Take care of the car,” I heard him bark at someone.

Then he was carrying me. “They’re gone,” I stuttered in between sobs. “I didn’t realize it until now, gone—like never coming back,” I hiccupped, glancing up at him through tear-clouded eyes.

Zane stopped walking and gazed down. “You going to be good on the bike, babe?” he asked softly, nodding toward the curb.

I looked over to see his Harley sitting there and slowly understood his question. The whole time we had been together, I hadn’t been on his bike. The main reason was that up until recently our relationship hadn’t seen us together in the light of day, or even outside the bedroom. Plus, I couldn’t really forbid Lexie to go anywhere near a motorcycle, then ride off into the sunset on the back of one.

Zane seemed content to let me tick this over in my head. He gently set me on my feet, resting his hands at my waist as if to steady me. I moved my gaze from his bike to him. His face was hard and he was observing me with a blank gaze.

“I’ve never been on one before,” I half whispered.

The edges of his eyes softened and he ran a fingertip down my temple. “I’ve got you, babe. All you need to do is hold onto me,” he murmured quietly. I knew for some reason he meant more than with a motorcycle ride.

He gave me one more long, searching look then moved to hop on the motorcycle. I didn’t hesitate. Didn’t even look back into the building that caused my meltdown, just hopped on behind him and let him take me away from it all.

We rode for a long time. It felt like hours. Ocean scenery sped by us, though I didn’t pay much attention. I focused on the hard body I was pressed up against, the vibration from the bike, the feeling of freedom of hurtling along the highway. Every dark thought that polluted my mind fell away until there was nothing but me, Zane, and the road. My head cleared and I felt like I could breathe without choking on sorrow. Zane somehow knew what I needed and gave it to me. I didn’t need words or moping. I just needed him and his bike. We slowed down, turning down a semi-abandoned looking road that ended with a small empty parking lot, overlooking the sea. A lone park bench sat beyond the lot on the top of a gentle slope. I imagined it gave an amazing view of the ocean. After he parked his bike, we sat there for a moment, the roar of the waves replacing the rumble of the bike that I had become accustomed to. Zane swung off, turning to me. He gently undid the helmet that he had buckled on me before we took off and discarded it. His hands went underneath my armpits and he lifted me off the bike as if I was a child. After gently setting me down on my feet, he engulfed my hand in his, leading us towards the seat. We got there with not a word spoken between us. He pulled me down into his lap, continuing the silence. I reveled in the warmth of his arms and the safe feeling they gave me, my eyes watching the ocean.

My life was loud. I was loud. Lexie and I were always talking, joking, devouring movies, TV shows and food at alarming rates. We were busy. Our lives were full of sound, noises and happiness. When that happiness was shattered a week ago, it was still loud, busy. So Zane giving me the gift of silence. In that moment, it was the most beautiful thing he could have ever done for me.

“How did you know?” I asked finally, my voice croaky. I wanted to know how he knew what I needed. How he knew to give me silence.

Zane’s arms tightened around me. “Had a prospect on you,” he said by way of explanation.

I jolted and my eyes searched his face. Well, I guessed I also needed to know how he knew I was having a mental breakdown in my car outside the hotel. I hadn’t even thought of that.

He was still staring at the ocean. “You had a prospect on me?” I repeated.

He nodded.

“Why?”

He finally looked down at me and I almost flinched. His eyes weren’t hard or angry; they were haunted. Demons I didn’t even know he had were dancing at the surface.

“Need to know you’re safe,” he said simply.

I regarded him. “Why would I be unsafe?” I asked quietly, my stomach dropping at the thought of him finding out the truth. Of why I was running. That I was running at all. Whom I was running from.

He was silent, his jaw turning hard as his eyes left mine again.

I lifted my hand to cup his jaw, moving it so I got his attention. “Zane?” I pressed.

He sighed. “Nothing concrete, just shit with the club,” he bit out. “Highly unlikely to even touch you, but I’m not taking any chances,” he declared firmly.

I relaxed slightly. Yes, “shit with the club” was hardly anything to be relieved about, but knowing Zane wasn’t aware of just how precarious my “safety” was, helped a little.

His eyes sharpened at my relief but I didn’t give him time to inspect it. “Lexie?” I asked, worry creeping in now.

Zane’s jaw turned to granite again. “She’s covered,” he replied.

I nodded, knowing Zane would never endanger her. The fact he had someone on us more than worried me. I chewed my lip as I questioned the dangers of being involved with someone in a motorcycle club. Of the day when those men had sent a soft foreboding down my spine. Zane’s anger when I had told him about it. The concern that lay under that anger. Concern that led him out of our lives for two weeks, thinking he was doing the best thing by us. My mind turned to Amy, to Gwen and her baby girl, her pregnant belly. The men’s adoration of those women. I refused to believe the men who treated their women like they were responsible for their sanity would put them in danger.

“I trust you, to keep us safe,” I whispered finally. I did. With every part of me.

Zane moved me suddenly so I was straddling him. His hands went to my neck, his eyes searching mine. “Didn’t think I’d have this,” he muttered, his hand tightening at my hip. “A fuckin’ beautiful, strong woman. Woman who gave me a family, gave me her trust, not caring about the fact I lived my life in darkness,” he clipped, his voice raw.

My heart clenched at the way he thought of himself. I stroked his face. “You’re the one who’s given me and Lexie everything,” I told him. “You took a heartbroken little girl, and her equally heartbroken mom, and got them through the darkest part of their lives,” I said firmly. “That doesn’t say you’ve got a life lived in darkness. Says you’re a good man who can take two people back to sunshine,” I half whispered, touching his goatee.

His eyes did that thing again where they spoke for him, saw right into me. He squeezed my hips and laid a light kiss on my head. We sat there for a long time, his forehead resting on mine, saying everything without speaking.

One Month Later

“Are you freaking
joking
?” Sam near shouted, pushing out of his chair.

Lexie was grinning ear to ear and shook her head.

“Holy shit!” Wyatt also half yelled. He sheepishly looked at me. “Sorry, Mia.”

I smiled back at him. “I think my delicate parental ears may recover soon from such a cuss out,” I told him sarcastically.

“This is going to do like, freaking wonders for our image,” Sam continued, pacing the room. He stopped and faced his friends on the sofa. “Like the Sons of Templar, the baddest of the bad asses, want us to play at a party.” He put his eyes to the sky. “Huge, dudes.”

“Well, it isn’t exactly the baddest of the bad asses that requested your presence,” I cut in, hating to put a damper on the teenage boy freakout. “It’s the wife of said bad ass, but they did allow it,” I added, hoping that wouldn’t totally bum them out.

Sam shook his head, waving his hand. “Doesn’t matter who requested us—we still got the gig.” He turned back to Lexie and the other bandmates. “We need to figure out set lists like, yesterday. No girly shit that makes us seem like pussies.” He eyed Lexie, who rolled her eyes. The talk then went to potential songs and about their “street cred” to which I switched off.

Gwen had asked if I was okay with Lexie and her band playing for her and Cade’s second wedding anniversary party. I had mixed feelings about my daughter playing in a band for a motorcycle club, fearing that ’Bad Mom” label might pop out from somewhere, namely the PTA mothers at her school. I already wasn’t popular. I turned up late, sipping coffee and mostly trying not to fall asleep, despite the coffee. I didn’t even want to be on a freaking PTA anything, but I felt it was some sort of motherly duty.

I had said yes in the end. Namely because I had already been to club gatherings, and apart from the drunken guy that groped me, nothing unsavory had gone down. Well, apart from me getting fucked against the wall that one time, but that was totally consensual. Gwen had assured me this party was a lot more G rated. The club girls, or “sweet butts” as they were called, were banished for the day, and families and kids were replaced. I’m pretty sure she uttered that it was going to be more like a picnic. Not that I guessed any of the bad asses that were going to be there would let such a phrase pass their mouths. Nor would they let such a label be put on any event that happened at their clubhouse. But then again, Cade seemed to relent to anything Gwen had asked him from what I could see.

I had been hanging around the club a lot lately. There was always some sort of gathering, barbecue or dinner that Lexie and I were invited to. Now that I was Zane’s “Old Lady”, I was part of the crew. Not that he acted like Cade and Brock did around their women. He barely touched me when we were at these events, merely watched me from a distance with his eyes burning. Now and then, he’d surprise me when I was walking from the bathroom or to freshen my drink, pressing me up against a wall, a tree, or an abandoned car for a steamy make out session. Then he’d abruptly walk away, leaving me all hot and bothered and confused. I was getting a little hurt by this behavior and would have seriously thought he didn’t feel the same way for me as I did about him, if it wasn’t for the nights. The nights when he would consume my mind, body, and soul with ruthless and beautiful fucking. He then would clutch me tight to his body all night, leaving me sated and exhausted to pass out in the warmth of his arms. He would normally wake me up with his mouth or his dick; either way it wasn’t a bad way to start the day.

The odd morning he’d have breakfast with Lexie and I, cooking for us and ruffling Lexie’s head affectionately. He didn’t say much, mostly just observed and let us bask in the warm glow of his presence. Lexie didn’t blink at this. In fact, she loved it. She and Zane seemed to have a special sort of connection. They played guitar together when he got home, her voice carrying over their soft strums. Despite this, he seemed to be holding back, keeping secrets. There was still trouble behind his eyes, fury that would appear at the strangest of moments, then simmer down behind his blank mask. Then there was something else. Pain. Pain beyond anything I’d ever seen behind anyone’s eyes. It would appear sometimes after he was done fucking me, still inside me, watching me. Or when he was playing with strands of my hair, holding it and staring at it so hard I wondered what could possibly be working in his mind.

I didn’t know what to do. It wasn’t like I wasn’t keeping secrets either. Mine were buried deep, like his. And like I suspected his were, mine would always be there, tearing at the pieces of my broken soul.

“Mia.” A deep voice shocked me out of my inner turmoil. Lucky as well. Dark corners of my mind were not places to linger in. I turned from the kitchen window I had blankly been staring out.

Zane was leaning against the doorway, looking delectable and dangerous in his usual all black. His cut, like always, was over top of his black Henley. His eyes were narrowed at me, searching. “There a reason the little fucks in there,” he jerked his head toward the living room, “were hounding me ‘bout my favorite fuckin’ song?” he clipped with irritation.

I couldn’t help it. The image of excited teenage boys—albeit trying to play it cool—asking Zane, of all people, his favorite song made me burst out laughing. Like throw my head back, cackle type laugh. I felt Zane’s arms at my waist and he was watching me as I giggled, moving into his hold. His eyebrow rose in question as to what I could find so funny.

“I could imagine you told them your favorite music was that of your Harley pipes singing from underneath you,” I giggled, wondering if Zane even liked music. My thoughts rested on the slow soulful songs he played with Lexie every now and then.

His hands tightened at my waist. “Only sound I like from underneath me is you screaming when I make you come, Wildcat,” he growled in my ear. His tone and the tickle of his beard at my cheek made my downstairs tingle.

I pulled back slightly. “You can’t do that,” I chastised. “Make me all...tingly when there’re minors in the other room,” I whispered. “Minors whom you cannot call little fucks,” I told him firmly.

“They’re in a band with Lexie. She’s a knockout who’s funny as fuck, and they’re teenage boys. Therefore, they are little fucks,” he half growled.

I rolled my eyes. I was pretty sure Noah was gay, and I knew that Lexie knew that also. None of the other boys did, nor did his macho father. So that was something I wouldn’t tell Zane. The other two had oodles of girlfriends coming and going. Plus there was the small matter of Lexie’s own mini alpha boyfriend. Though not so mini physically. “Have you forgotten Killian?” I asked sweetly. “He would pummel any of those guys if they even
look
at his girl the wrong way,” I told him. “Plus, let’s not forget you glare at them within an inch of their lives whenever you cross their paths,” I teased. I was actually impressed with the courage of the boys, still being in a band with Lexie while they got death stares from not one but two(ish) scary macho guys.

“Killian,” Zane muttered into my neck. “Biggest fuck of all.”

To say things were tense between the two of them was an understatement. I was surprised Zane didn’t sit on our porch in a rocking chair with a shotgun over his lap every time Killian came over. Which was a lot. Almost two months was a long time in teenage relationship years, and Killian and Lexie were going strong. I couldn’t say I liked it, but I had to admit I grudgingly liked Killian and the way he treated my kid. With respect. Like she hung the freaking moon. Plus, he had her home by or before curfew every night and drove her to and from school. My only worry was how intense it was for two kids so young.

“You’ve yet to settle down on the whole ‘I’m gonna kill you’ thing you’ve got with Killian,” I told him. “It’s not going to change anything.”

Zane gave me a hard look.

“Okay,” I said cheerfully. “Next subject. The boys were asking your favorite music because the band is playing at Gwen and Cade’s shindig next week,” I informed him, hoping to move away from dangerous topics.

The stormy look that crossed his face told me that aim was dead in the water. “What the fuck?” he clipped.

I rolled my eyes, pulling out of his firm grasp and going to the fridge to get him a beer. He silently took it when I handed it to him, watching me expectantly. “I don’t know what else you expect me to say. Gwen asked. I said yes. That’s all, folks,” I told him. I frowned. “Do you not think it’s a good idea? Is Lexie not safe there or something?” I asked him quickly.

Zane stepped forward. “Safest fuckin’ place for her,” he bit out.

I relaxed. “Well then, what’s with the ‘tude, dude?” Not that he didn’t always have a stormy look on his attractive face.

He shook his head at my phrase, used to such things from me by now. He did one of his almost smile things and kissed me soundly.

“Um okay, teenage daughter approaching. Cool it with the tongue hockey, peeps,” we heard Lexie call.

Zane immediately released his lips from mine. His hands stayed at my waist.

Lexie was grinning at us both, not in the least traumatized by totally wrecking the mood. “Zane, will you please help us out by letting us know at least one biker appropriate song?” she pleaded with her doe eyes on. “The boys are like, freaking out,” she added.

Zane’s jaw ticked on this and I couldn’t help it, I burst out laughing all over again.

He was happy. No other word for it. Bull was fucking happy. After Mia and Lexie had gotten over the trauma of losing two important people in their lives, their only family, they got back to themselves. Bull was fuckin’ shocked at his girls’ ability to carry on, to smile, joke, be fuckin’ nuts while they still grieved for people who were obviously their world.