Chapter Six
It was crazy. It made no sense, but still, he was a Shifter. She meant this in the kindest possible way, but he was a freak of nature. An impossibility. So why should the feelings he inspired in her be anything other than impossible?
As she staggered off the bed and headed to the bathroom, she registered the fact she needed a moment to breath—a moment to take in what had just happened, what she’d just said, what she’d confessed to him.
Giving power over oneself to anyone wasn’t the smartest option. And she’d just given it to an ex-con who had somehow discovered her address, by foul means she could only assume, and who was a complete and utter stranger with a patch and cut from one of the most notorious MCs in the tristate area.
Despite all that, she knew she’d put herself in the hands of the one man who would die to save her, to protect her.
A shudder wracked her frame as she turned on the light in the bathroom. She looked at herself in the mirror then ducked her head at the sight of the tears in her eyes. She’d stopped looking in mirrors, hating the sadness that seemed etched into her very features. She’d started to hate herself for being incapable of moving on.
Beside her toothbrush, Jake’s still stood. His razor was on its plastic bed alongside a set of unused blades. The shaving foam he used was still in the medicine cabinet, as were the last of his meds and his special soap he stored in there to stop her from using it when she’d run out of her own gel.
The bathroom was the only place she’d been able to keep Jake alive. It sounded nuts, didn’t it? She knew it did, but this was the one room where she could keep his things without raising eyebrows. It wasn’t like she got a lot of guests, but the ones who came to visit her were the ones who felt they could ask the probing questions, make sweeping hurtful statements.
If she’d left Jake’s slippers under the armchair where he sat, she knew her mother would have called her out on it when she visited. And if she carried on buying the weird turkey sausages only Jake had ever eaten, she knew her best friend, Mindy, would have asked how she was doing because she knew Christie hated the damned things and the only reason she’d bought them was out of nostalgia.
Outside of this room, her life was fair game to the visitors that came, but here, she could hold on.
With Mundo in her bed, the bed she’d once shared with Jake, in the sheets she’d once slept in with her husband, she knew this charade would have to stop. For the first time since Jake’s passing though, the notion didn’t make her feel like she was suffocating.
She could move on because Mundo was there.
Before Jake, she’d never imagined she was the sort of woman who would live from man to man. And she wasn’t. Not really. Since Jake’s passing, she’d had moments of happiness, had gone on vacation, had laughed with friends, and enjoyed pleasant meals and cookouts with family. She’d lived, but it had been, as she’d told Mundo, a half-life.
He couldn’t come in here, promise her the world, fill her home with Technicolor once more and then renege on that.
MCs were dangerous. The riders were hot—Sons of Anarchy, fictional or not, had proved that to her. And maybe, just maybe, she did like the idea of him being a bad boy, a man who did push the limits of morality, who tested the boundaries society had pigeonholed him in.
Maybe those very aspects of his personality were a breath of fresh air in Christie’s stuffy little life, but the idea of being without him now he was here was abhorrent.
She pushed a hand to her mouth to stem the sob that longed to escape.
He’d been here, what, three hours—and in her life for a little more if she included the surgery she’d performed on him. How could someone she’d known for a length of time she could measure in minutes suddenly feel like he’d overtaken her whole world?
She gulped, scaring herself with her own thoughts. Shaking it off, she reached into the tub and turned on the faucet. Water cascaded out, filling the basin, and she stood there watching the mini-waterfall for a handful of seconds. Pouring bubble bath in, she watched the foam grow with the rising water level and was about to climb in when a knock sounded at the door.
Christie looked back then carefully dipped a foot in the bath. It was a bit hot, but she let herself sink into the water regardless. Once she was covered, she called out, “I’m taking a bath, Mundo. I have unmentionables on my unmentionables.”
As the door opened, she heard him snort. “Considering both unmentionables are mine, I don’t see why I can’t come in.”
She glowered at him. “Are mates not allowed privacy or something?”
He simply cocked a brow, and bold as brass, dick swinging, moved toward the tub and climbed in. She gawked at him and quickly dragged her legs up and back toward her chest to make room for him.
“Maybe I didn’t want you to join me, huh?” she snapped as he settled in her too-small bathtub. Hell, it was a tight fit for her, lengthwise. She wasn’t exactly short, but with him in the tub, it was like packing two sardines into a tin because he had to be over six-five.
“You didn’t lock the door,” he said, as though that explained everything.
She rolled her eyes. “I haven’t had to lock the door for a very long time.”
“Well, you don’t have to get used to the reverse. We should never lock the door on one another.”
His surety had her hiding a smile. She was a bit peeved at his blatant intrusion, but at the same time, he’d followed when she’d run away, and what woman didn’t want that?
Heaving a sigh, she pushed her knees against his and stared at the bony joints as she admitted, “Jake never did anything like this.”
“I’m not Jake,” came the gentle retort. “You’ll have to learn me, like I’ll have to learn you.”
Her gaze darted to his. “I don’t want to watch you pee.”
He grinned at that then with an ‘aw shucks’ grin wiped a hand across his jaw. “That’s a real shame, sugar, because I get my kicks when I know my woman’s watching me piss.”
She blew him a raspberry.
“You’re lucky you’re all the way over there and I need a crowbar to get me out of this damn tub.”
“Yeah? Why am I lucky?” she jibed.
“Because that tongue would be mine and we’d be game on.”
Huffing, she folded her arms across her chest and said, “Turn the water off. It’s going to overflow soon.” The water level had risen sharply with his extra weight. When he obeyed, reaching back blindly to switch off the faucet, she murmured, “You’re lucky you’re pretty.”
He guffawed. “This ugly mug isn’t pretty.”
“Isn’t it?” She quirked a brow at him. “Really?”
“Men aren’t pretty,” he denied, sheepishly ducking his chin, but she knew she’d flustered him, and the notion not only amused her but touched her too.
“Well, you’re the exception to the rule, ain’t you?” She clapped a hand to her mouth then mumbled, “Shit. It’s taken me ages to get the Chicago out of my drawl.”
“Don’t look at me. It’s not my fault. I’m Texan, born and bred.”
She wriggled her shoulders. “It just means I’m comfortable with you. Already.” The last word was almost a wail. “This is too much.”
“What is?” he asked, sounding perplexed more than discomfited.
“All this. I revert to that accent when I’m with people I’ve known for years, Mundo.”
“Oh,” he mumbled, then a grin appeared on his chops. Hell, he practically preened. “Good.”
“No, it’s not good,” she denied. “It’s fucking confusing. How can I be comfortable with you when you’re a stranger?”
“I’m a stranger you’ve been looking for for years, Christie. That’s how.” He scrunched his nose. “I wish Mars were here. He’d explain it better than me. He’s a helluva lot older, so he more than knows the score.”
“Who’s Mars?”
“He’s The Nomads’ Prez.”
She felt herself stiffen, realizing she was fighting a duality in her nature. She’d always followed the rules, always been a good girl. She’d never caused a lick of trouble for her parents, had never run away or sneaked out. That part of her was wincing at his conversational tone when it came to a friend who was the President of an MC. He had to be a criminal too, didn’t he? Either that or some kind of outlaw. When weren’t they, for God’s sake?
And yet, the creature who devoured Sons of Anarchy, who went through MC romances like they were going out of fashion and had a thing for Mob romances, Enforcers, and the like was drooling at all this talk.
“Why did you go to jail?”
The conversational gambit was out of the blue and his smile drifted away, replaced with a guilty look. “Fighting.”
“Who did you fight?”
“A cartel soldier.”
“Why?” she continued asking, determined to get to the bottom of his crime. She knew he wanted her to leave well enough alone, but that wasn’t in her nature.
For all her timidity and her wallflower ways, she could be surprisingly dogged. It was a facet of her nature that Jake had always bemoaned.
“It’s a long story.”
“Well, you said it yourself. We need a crowbar to get out of this bath, and the water’s warm… We have all the time in the world.”
Silence drifted between them, and she could see his unease in his eyes. He was ashamed, and though she didn’t like to see that look on his face when she preferred the cheerful ‘the world belongs to me’ cast to his features, she was relieved. He wasn’t a hardened criminal who could find no fault in his actions. That would have been repellent to her.
“I’m not proud of this, Christie,” he told her, his words following her train of thought. “None of us are. But before Mars was the Prez, we had a real douchebag take control. We found out he murdered the Prez before him to take his place, so that’s how big a bastard he was.
“You have to understand though, we pledge ourselves to the Presidents—not only because they’re the head of the MC but because they’re the head of the Clan. If we don’t do as we’re told, we can be thrown out of the Clan. That means homelessness, unemployment, and then exile too. It’s really hard getting back into a Clan if you’ve been exiled before. You have to prove yourself. If your President is a real jackass, like Jackson was, then breaking rules means the threat of exile is always there. Mars isn’t like that. He’s more diplomatic. He’s a great Prez. I never understood why he didn’t challenge Jackson for the role, but it’s not his choice.”
“I understand, Mundo. You felt like you’d be exiled if you didn’t do as this Jackson said.”
He studied her a second, seeming to analyze the veracity in her words. She meant them, but he wasn’t to know that. Just because it did feel like they’d known one another since forever, didn’t mean it was the case in all things.
After clearing his throat, Mundo carried on. “Jackson got the MC involved in some fucked up shit. Mars and I weren’t happy, and to be fair, most of the Clan wasn’t either. But what choice did we have? We did a couple of the runs, but I couldn’t stand it anymore. I-I have a sister, Cinda, she works for a newspaper. I got in touch with her and asked about for a reporter who could blow the whistle for us. That’s how Mars found his mate; she’s the reporter.”
“Hang on a minute, Mundo. What did you need a whistleblower for?”
He swallowed. “You won’t understand, Christie. Please, don’t make me say it.”
“Did you murder someone, Mundo?” she asked softly, needing to get to the bottom of this. It was important. It chilled her that Mundo could have killed another person, but she had to know the truth. Had to know what these Goddesses of his had matched her up to.
“No. That’s one crime nobody can pin on me. I came close a time or two, I won’t lie, but only in self-defense,” he added hastily. “I’m not a hardcore villain, Christie. When you meet the guys, they’ll tell you. I’m the annoying brat who gets involved where he shouldn’t.”
She could see that. He had that air about him—the perpetual younger brother. It was that youthfulness to him that drew her in like a moth to the flame.
“Jackson got us involved in human trafficking,” he whispered, closing his eyes, and tilting his head forward. She saw the shame on his face, the horror, and she knew he’d shut her out so he couldn’t see her reaction to his revelation.
She couldn’t blame him for it. Was there anything lower than the buying and selling of other people?
“None of us signed up for that. None of us. We move drugs, a bit of hardware, that’s our MO. Never people. We did two runs, and I wasn’t even involved in them, but I felt like such a fucking bastard. I hated it. I couldn’t stop thinking about it, Christie. I hated Jackson, hated him for getting us mixed up in that shit. I had to go to Cinda to see if there was someone she knew who could help. When I got Annette’s card, I went to Mars because he was the only one I knew who could take Jackson on. Like I said, Mars should have been Prez. He’s the strongest and one of the oldest in the Clan. Now he’s Prez and things are different. They’re how they should always have been.
“We got Annette involved, but things went to hell quickly. Jackson had screwed the cartel over, and Annette got shot. Mars went on the rampage, but we broke open the entire mess and saved the last shipment of girls. We got them out.”
“Hang on a minute. I’ve been reading about this in The News World. You were involved in that?”
His nod was grim. “Yeah, and not a minute too soon.”
“Is the MC at war?”
He cocked a brow. “Let me guess, a Sons of Anarchy fan?”
She grimaced. “Maybe.”
His lips twitched, but he simply said, “We cast the blame elsewhere. Look, what we did is wrong, and the club is trying to get back to where we were before Jackson fucked us over. Mars is Prez now, and he runs things differently.”
“Not differently enough if you went to jail over this.”
“I didn’t. It wasn’t Mars’s fault.” He grimaced. “Those cartel soldiers are bastards. I was at one of our local haunts and one was there. I recognized him from the day we got the girls out. I couldn’t help myself. The way they’d stored them—it was like they were meat.” He swallowed, and she knew he was swallowing back bile. What he’d seen had disturbed him at a base level.
The fact that made her breathe a bit easier.
“I’ve never seen anything like it, and I never want to again. It all built up in me, and when I saw that bastard, hanging out like he was the big man, I saw red. I got into a fight. I’m not proud of it, but I’m not ashamed either.” The last was said with venom. “They deserved worse than what I served him. They all deserve to rot in hell.” He let out a long breath, one that seemed to have his whole body rattling, making the water tremble in his wake. “Well?”
“Well, what?” she asked, her tone as cold as her body. She shivered a little because despite the hot water, Mundo’s story had freaked her out.
“What’s your verdict?” There was bitterness to his tone, bitterness on his face.
“What do you want me to say, Mundo?” She sucked in a sharp breath. “Do you want me to say I’m happy that you did what you did—be it the trafficking stuff or beating up that cartel soldier? How can I say I am when it would be a lie?”
“Can you forgive me for it?” His words were quiet, timorous, and they were so opposite the man she’d come to know in these past few hours that she ached.
That boy-next-door vibe of his was quaking in front of her, and Christie found that she didn’t like that. No, she didn’t like that one bit.
“I don’t need to forgive you for it, Mundo,” she told him quietly. “You need to forgive yourself. But, if that’s the life you’re going to lead, if you’re going to keep on being a part of that world, then I don’t know if I can be a part of your world.”
He quickly shook his head. “I swear to you, Mars is a different kind of Prez.”
“But you’re still dealing with illegal stuff, aren’t you?”
He winced. “No more than any other MC. We have legitimate sidelines too, you know.”
“And do you work in them?”
“That’s my major role, but Mars likes me, and he doesn’t think that every word out of my mouth is bullshit, so I’m on the council.”
She traced her finger down the lip of the tub. “What ‘sideline’ do you work in?”
His ears pinkened and he ducked his head sheepishly. “It’s nothing like what you do. I’m a mechanic—but I’m really good at it.”
His earnestness made that ache in her chest deepen. She could sense he was ashamed that he was blue collar, and that wasn’t her intention at all. Her father worked in a plant, and her mother was a receptionist at the local elementary school. Of her siblings, she was the only one with a degree.
She leaned forward to rest her hand on his knee. “I’ll bet you are.” His smile could have lit up the room.
“I love working on the bikes; that’s the major part of the business. But I like the vintage ones, and they’re rare. We don’t get many of those, mostly custom builds. Hank is the head of the shop, but he’s not going to be around for much longer. He’s got COPD, and working in that kind of environment just isn’t good for him. I think Mars will let me take over the running of the place.”
His pride was evident, and she squeezed his knee. “I’m so pleased for you, Mundo.” And she was.
She really, really was.
Maybe this could work. If Mundo’s dealings with the MC weren’t totally illegal, then that side of her nature that was an anal-retentive goody two shoes could breathe easily. Then the other part of her, the side that rebelled, could be content with his naughty ways.
A flush of warmth rushed through her, but it was more languorous than needy. In fact, the difference between now and earlier was astonishing.
She’d felt like she could climb the walls before Mundo had arrived, and now, she truly felt at peace.
“Do you do any of the runs?” she asked, needing to know.
He shrugged. “Only in an emergency. They don’t like to use me,” he admitted.
“Why not?”
“I’m young.”
That had her cocking a brow. “You are? I saw your records. You’re fifty, aren’t you?”
“Decidedly middle-aged for the human world, but not for Shifters. I’m practically an adolescent.” He scrunched his face. “Need another three decades or so for them to start taking me seriously.”
“But they’ll let you run the shop?” she asked carefully, not wanting to disappoint or discourage him but needing to understand.
He nodded, his eagerness making her smile. “I’m really good, Christie. Like really good. I’m already Hank’s right hand man. It only makes sense for me to be the one to take over his position.”
“I can’t believe you’re a baby in your world.” She laughed. “That’s crazy.”
“Less of the baby,” he half-mocked, a twinkle in his eye. “I’m definitely ‘mature.’” That came complete with the finger twitches. “But not mature enough for the more serious side of the business.”
She tugged at her lip. “Then, I guess I can’t say anything, can I?”
“Of course you can. You’re my mate. You’re all that matters now, Christie, but not being a part of The Nomads is something I can’t negotiate on. Mars knows that anything illegal is automatically off the cards now that you’re in my life. That’s how it works. Anyone with a mate is on a whole other level because you’re so rare, sweetheart. Not everyone is lucky enough to find theirs, so when one of the brothers does, we kind of look out for them. It’s part of the code.
“Shifters aren’t as uncommon as you might think, but our numbers are in no way as large as humans. We can only get mates pregnant, so a lot of the guys take that into consideration too. Plus, females in general are well respected. We breed so few of them that, in comparison to human males, we practically worship the ground you walk on.”
She snorted at that. “Not sure if that sounds appealing or not.”
He grinned. “Well, you only need me to kiss your heels, don’t you?”
His wink had her laughing out loud. “Your sister must be a rebel like you, eh?”
That comment was apparently astute enough to have him grunting. “Yeah. She was cloistered. All girl children are. The instant she was mature, she went off on her own and started tearing up a new one.” He shrugged. “What can I say? The minute I could get away from my parents, I did the same, so I can’t fault her. Cinda had to put up with them a lot longer than I did. She deserves her rebellion.”
“Will I get to meet her?”
He smiled. “Do you want to?”
“Of course I do. My parents aren’t due for a visit until the end of next month; it’s their turn to travel to me. You can meet them then.”
Mundo shifted, making the water quiver. “I hope they like me.”
“I can’t promise that. My mom doesn’t seem to like anyone, not even me sometimes.” She pulled a face. “She’s always on at me about something, but my friend Mindy tells me that’s because she cares. Daddy is quiet as a mouse, but he’s wonderful. He’d give you his last dollar in a heartbeat if you needed it. He’s just that kind of guy.”
“He sounds like a great man.”
“He is.” Her smile was heartfelt—Christie was most definitely a daddy’s girl.
“What does you mom criticize you about?”
She huffed out a breath. “Can’t you guess?” She let her hands sweep down over her form.
“What? She doesn’t like your body?” He cocked a brow. “Why does it matter to her what you look like? I mean, you’re beautiful, babe, but it’s not like she needs to worry about if men want to screw you, is it?”
She gawked at him and his reasoning, then shook her head. “I’m not sure you understand what I mean.”
“I probably don’t,” he admitted, his tone so cheerful and chipper she felt like rolling her eyes. “You humans have a weird way of looking at shit.”
Well, that was one way of looking at it, she supposed wryly. “She thinks I’m fat. Too fat to find another boyfriend.” She wrinkled her nose. “I have three brothers. Gary is sterile, Jason is gay, and Derek is the biggest douchebag playboy going. She has no grandchildren, and she’s looking at me to be the first one to give them to her.”
“Well, we can see to that,” Mundo told her, his tone and expression close to lascivious as he waggled his eyebrows at her. “But I think your mother’s being very harsh. You’re not fat.”
She ducked her head. “I could lose a few pounds.” Make that twenty.
“What?” he almost shrieked. “No way. Look at you, you’re like something from an oil painting. You’d better not lose any weight, baby. You’re hotter than hell.”
“I am?” she questioned, peering down at the curves she’d always considered too generous, unable to believe that he felt so positive about her luscious form.
She knew Jake had loved her, knew it deep in her very bones, but even he had encouraged her to diet. He’d always been trying to get her to start running or do something active—mostly to make sure she was healthy, but she knew he’d have liked her a little less ‘round.’
“You are,” Mundo told her with flattering quickness. “You’re perfect as you are, and that’s what matters, right? Not what your mother thinks but what I think. Although,” he groused, “Cinda would probably smack me upside the head and say it was what you thought that mattered. But you’re a woman, it’s in your genetic code to hate the way you look.”
She chuckled at that, because hell, he wasn’t wrong.
“Plus, if your mother was worried about you never finding another partner, then she can chill out, can’t she? I’m not going anywhere, babe. And that’s a promise.”