Roxie

Today would've been my dad's birthday. He'd be fifty-eight. No, fifty-seven. Anger at myself for getting it mixed up erupts in my chest. But he's been dead for six years. Maybe it's better I start forgetting. Thinking that doesn't help much either. And I should stop thinking about all of that altogether, since it's my first day at a new job—my first real job, and the start of my career. Making a good impression is all I need to focus on this morning.

But now I'm already seeing flashes of my father dying in a pool of his own blood on that dark night Lizard attacked us without warning. Seeing my brother Ice smile at me one last time before they killed him too. But he saved me and that's all I should remember!

The past is the past. No sense looking back. It will never be as it was again, and I've gotten used to living on my own.

What I haven't gotten used to is the heat in California, which is still summer-like even though it's already the end of September. I just moved here from Seattle a week ago, and the heat is not agreeing with me. My black hair retains heat, I swear it, and it stays dry and frizzy no matter how much product I put on it. Just thinking about putting on one of the smart pants suits I bought for my new job as a junior high school guidance counselor, makes a sheen of sweat erupt on my forehead, ruining my makeup,

I put on too much makeup anyway, so I wipe it all away, then just apply a little eyeliner and mascara, and pull my long hair back into a high pony tail. I will cut it short again, if this heat doesn't let up, but I've only just managed to grow it out past my shoulders and it feels good to have long hair again. For years, I kept it short and bleached blonde to avoid getting recognized by Lizard. But he hasn't even come close to finding me in the last six years, so I think he's just a part of my past too.

I put on a light flowery dress for my first day of work. It's just barely proper attire, but it buttons up all the way to my neck and hits mid-calf in length, so it will be fine. Besides, I'm sure it'll be another scorching day today and the AC in my car is broken, so I don't care.

I didn't sleep well, kept waking up from nightmares all related to me making a total fool of myself on the first day. But I don't think about any of that on my ride to the junior high. Don't think about anything at all, just keep my windows rolled down and the radio turned up, so I can lose myself in the music.

I remember to turn it down before I reach the school though, because how would it look if the new guidance counselor came to work blasting hard rock music? Not well, at least not on the first day. Maybe not ever. Pleasantville doesn't seem like the type of town where that sort of thing would ever go over well. Granted, I've only been here for a week, but so far all I've seen are white picket fences, quaint little diners, mom and pop shops and people dressed and acting proper like they’re starring in some family-friendly TV show. But I mean to make my home here, and I will. They need a little excitement, and I need a place to belong.

I park across the street from the school entrance, since I don't have access to the employee parking lot yet. The sidewalk in front of the wide gates in the chain-link fence surrounding the junior high school is full of students, some chatting to their friends, others getting dropped off by parents.

I wait for a black pickup truck to pass before crossing the street to enter the school, my heart in my throat and my palms so sweaty I'm afraid to wipe them on my dress, since I’m sure they'll leave stains. The chattering and screeching of the students sounds like a beehive about to explode. What was I thinking choosing this profession? There's so many of them and they're so loud. What if I'm no good as a guidance counselor? What if I get fired on the first day of school?

Pull it together, Roxanne. The thought arrives in my father's voice which just sends my heart racing even faster. But it's sweet too, because it's like he's here with me, even though I'm not sure what he'd say about my new, clean-cut lifestyle. He never finished high school, nor did my brother. I was the only one in my family to graduate. I think he'd like seeing me making something of my life, but all this would be so foreign to him, so far removed from his everyday life as an outlaw MC president. But as it is, I'll never know, so I might as well imagine he'd be proud of me. I worked hard to get here, and I did it all on my own. I’m sure he’d appreciate that.

I smile at a group of students eyeing me with interest, as I let them pass through the gate in front of me.

"You forgot your lunch, Lily!" a man yells behind me, making me freeze, reacting to the unmistakable command in his voice. He sounds calm, but there's no mistaking the hard undertone of a man used to giving orders. It's another reminder of my father that I don't need today—no matter how hard my dad tried, he could never hide his MC president persona completely, not even around our home.

I turn automatically, and the man who goes with that voice is everything it promised he would be. Tall, dark and rough, his dark brown hair almost black, and his three day beard not quite covering the chiseled angles of his jaw, which rests atop a wide neck, which rests atop even wider shoulders and chest, and abs that I'm sure are harder than steel. I stop myself before letting my eyes travel any further down, and clear my throat. But I can't look away, the magnetism he gives off is too strong.

He's wearing a pair of washed-out black jeans just tight enough, a pair of black motorcycle boots, and a red and black checkered shirt with the sleeves cut off under a leather cut with many patches over it. His formidable biceps are covered with tattoos of every size, shape, even color. I haven't seen a biker in years, made it a point not to get near one, if I happened to glimpse him from afar. But I can't take my eyes off this guy.

He's holding a brown paper bag out to a slender girl with an eagle feather tied into her raven colored hair.

"I don't want it," she says. "You make shitty sandwiches."

He chuckles and the smile almost reaches his dark eyes. I recognize that hard coldness in them. He's seen too many horrible things—probably done a good number of them—and he can't ever unsee that, so he can't smile unguardedly anymore. Just like my father couldn't.

"I know you think that," he says. "So I didn't make this one. Tank made it for you."

The girl shakes her head in an overly exaggerated way. "Even worse. He puts way too much mayo on everything."

"Fine," her dad says and tosses the sandwich back into the car through the open window, digging in his back pocket for his wallet. "I'll give you some money for lunch then."

"I still have what you gave me yesterday, Cross," she says and turns, starts striding toward me.

He watches her walk away with an unreadable expression in his dark, piercing eyes. But the expression becomes quite clear, once he sees me. His gaze takes me in from head to toe, his lips curling up into a grin, the intense lust in his making a shock of desire hotter than flame rip right through my stomach.

I turn away, much too late to hide just how hard I was checking him out too. It's exactly what I was doing. Because he's the first man in over six years that I really want to meet. And exactly the type of guy I've vowed to stay away from forever.

His daughter brushes past me on her way through the gate and I follow her, turning my back on her father. When I reach the entrance to the school I sneak a peak back over my shoulder, but the guy is gone. Which is exactly how it needs to be. The last thing I will ever do is get involved with a biker. I know where that leads and it's no place good. Besides there's probably an ol’ lady to go with his daughter.

I'll find myself a nice, quiet English teacher to marry. Maybe even a librarian. Someone safe. So that our children will also be safe. I just have to find someone who doesn’t bore me to tears. Failing that, I'll just stay alone. I've gotten pretty used to that too. Staying alone would actually be the safest option.

* * *

Cross

Lily's school year is not starting well. Seeing that black-haired beauty by the gate is actually the first good thing that's happened, since I enrolled her last year. By the end of last semester it seemed like Lily finally got into the swing of thigns, but this year she's given me nothing but grief. And this time it's entirely my fault. No, it's the Viper's Bite MC's fault. Or more precisely, Shade's. But he's already paid the ultimate price for his actions, and what was theirs is now ours. There's nothing more I can do to make them pay for abducting Lily and leaving her with nightmares that cause her to wake up screaming almost every night.

What's worse, she's starting to remind me more and more of her mother with her needy sulkiness. Thirteen years ago, Rose Eagle Feather, Lily's mother, was my Indian squaw for while. It didn't last for more than a summer, mostly because she was more batshit crazy than any woman I met before her, or since. There's nothing that woman wouldn't do, and it was a big part of her allure. But I hardly remembered her by the time she brought our daughter to me to take care of from now on about a year ago. A daughter I didn't know I had, because Rose's craziness involved having my child and not telling me about it. Once I got over the shock, I vowed to make it up to Lily for being gone from her life for so long. But she's not letting me do much of that. Hell, she won't even call me Dad. And that prideful stubbornness alone convinces me she's my flesh and blood, even if she didn’t also have my eyes.

Driving her to school every morning, instead of letting her take the bus chips away at my valuable time, as I try to restructure the club to incorporate the massive weapons trafficking operation Viper's Bite MC handed off to us. If I don't get it all done soon, others will try to get in on the action, and then I'll have no choice but go to war. I don't even want to think what being in the middle of a biker gang war will do to Lily. As it is, she'll probably have nightmares for life. There's always a chance I won't survive a war. And then where will she be?

I never feared death until the day I finally accepted that Lily is my daughter, and that I need to take care of her, because I'm all she has. Her no good, crazy mother is off God knows where, doing God knows what, with God knows who, and she hasn't so much as called Lily, since the day she left her with me. It didn't start out that way, but now I hope she never calls at all.

These damn rides down Resolution Hill to the school and back always bring out the thoughtfulness in me, but by the time I reach the metal gate in the wall encircling our HQ, I'm all business again.

The gate starts opening before I even reach it. The brother manning it saw me approach on the cameras, which are a new addition since those ex-Viper's Bite MC assholes and their friends, the Mexicans, busted in to snatch Lily and two of their women right from under our noses. That's the last time I ever take care of another man's woman. Something like that happening is part of the reason why I never found an old lady to settle down with myself. It worked out, and we got all the women back without a scratch on them, but it could have all gone very wrong.

I nod to Grey as I pass him and he nods back before pushing the button to close the gate behind me.

The intruders blasted a hole right through the west wing wall of our HQ, a grand old mansion, which was a rest and recuperation hospital back in the day before the founder of my MC inherited it and turned into the clubhouse. Sanctuary on the Hill, the hospital was called, and the name stuck. Why wouldn't it? This place has always been a sanctuary to members of Devil's Nightmare MC of which I have been the president for the past seven years. It’s on top of a hill and surrounded by nothing but wilderness for miles. We laxed in our security over the years, since no one even bothered trying to attack us here due to the high wall, the hill and the forest, which is the only reason the Vipers could get in so easily. I only have the fact that the house itself was built to last a century or two to thank that the whole thing didn't go down from the grenades they were throwing like fucking rice at a wedding. The repairs are almost done now though. Pretty soon, the only reminder of that fucking fiasco will be Lily's nightmares.

Predictably, I find my VP Tank in the dining hall.

"You're still eating breakfast?" I ask needlessly, since he's surrounded by food.

He nods, and swallows what he was chewing. "It's the most important meal of the day."

"But it’s not the only meal," I say and toss the paper bag with Lily's lunch into the trashcan by the door.

"Lily didn't want my sandwich?" Tank asks, looking forlornly at the trashcan. "And I used no mayo, because I know how she feels about it."

"You can take it up with her when she comes home," I say.

"I will," he assures me. "With you outlawing all the ladies from HQ, and Lily refusing my cooking, I'll really have no one to pamper soon."

He actually sounds sad as he says it, though in all the years I've known him—and it's been almost forty—I've only ever seen him pampering a woman just long enough for her to spread her legs for him. Besides, just the idea of him wanting to nurture and pamper sounds comical. He didn't get his nickname by chance. He's a head shorter than me, but twice as wide, and it's all muscle. If he runs into you, it pretty much feels like being hit by a tank.

"Once upon a time, this lovely sanctuary was full of women of all shapes and sizes, and all of them were willing to please. And then you decided to send them all away never to return. I miss those times."

"I'm in no mood for your shit this morning," I say, as I see him about to keep going. "Having all those women and booze around wasn't good for Lily. You can still keep partying down at the bar in town anytime you want. I've even built a whole sleeping area there for you."

"It's not the same as the luxurious bedrooms in this place," he complains.

It's been a year, since I forbade the brothers from bringing their women to HQ, but he's still not over it.

"Remember all the parties we used to have here?" he asks. "This was once like our own private Garden of Eden, only with less virgins, but who needs those anyway, they're boring most of the time."

"Lily will stay a virgin until she's at least twenty-five, and certainly while she's living under my roof," I snap.

He holds up his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright, no need to go all protective daddy bear on me. I was just saying—"

"Less talking and more eating, Tank. And once feeding time is over, get the others and meet me in the conference room. We have shit to discuss," I say.

I need to get Lily off my brain to attend to the business at hand, and Tank is not being very helpful today.

"I'm done," he says, and screws the lid onto the large jar of mayo, but leaves the rest as it is for one of the prospects to clean up.

"You know," he says, as he falls in step with me. His tone alone tells me he's not yet ready to drop the conversation we were having. "If your protective tendencies get any worse, we'll have to start telling people you're called Cross not because you killed enough men to fill a couple of graveyards, but because you run your MC like a God damn monastery. You know, as in taking the cross? Your father, the righteous pastor Whittaker, would be proud, I'll say that."

I wonder how many days he'd been working on that line, but it's a passing thought. Tank's my oldest friend in the world, and he can get away with saying things to me that others can't, but if he doesn't shut up about how I choose to run my MC soon, I'll have to make him.

"A full-on biker HQ complete with strippers and whores is no place to raise a twelve year old girl," I say, rounding on him. "Those days are behind us. But you know what, Tank, if you ever find a woman you want to marry, then, by all means, she can stay here with you."

"Yeah, well, I think you just need one to fuck," he counters. "Then maybe you'll loosen up a bit again."

"Get the fuck out of my sight and get the other execs, before you make me do something I'll regret," I say.

He's probably right. I haven't fucked a woman in months, not since I fully accepted my new role as Lily's father and sole caretaker. Maybe Tank's right and I should. It's Lily's chastity I have to protect, not my own. And Lily does need some female company once in a while. But I'll worry about that when our new operation is set up and her nightmares stop.

Tank gives me a sharp look like he's about to keep talking shit, but wisely decides not to push me any further. He leaves to get the others, and I go into the conference room alone, trying to compose myself again, which is even more impossible now that he set me off worrying about finding a step-mom for Lily.