Zoe was in the kitchen getting a cup of coffee for Silver, when a happy gurgle behind her caught her attention. She’d left Keira in the far corner, playing with her toys, and this sound was much closer than that. Zoe turned.
“Hey, sweet thing, are you sneaking up –” She froze when she saw Keira walking – on toddly, wobbly little legs, to be sure – but still… walking. “Oh, my God! Keira…”
The baby smiled, paused, wavered as she fought to find her balance, and then carried on around the sofa, determined.
“Zoe?” Silver appeared in the bathroom door, his blond hair wilder than ever and holding a wrench, looking concerned. “What’s up with Keira? Is she OK?”
“C’mere, Silver!” Zoe gestured him over, pointed. “You won’t believe it.”
Silver approached, glanced around the living room corner, and stopped dead. “She’s walking!”
“Yep.” Zoe grinned at Keira, who suddenly plopped backwards onto her diapered bum with a little indignant cry. “Well. Kinda.”
“That was the first time?” Silver watched the baby get to her knees, grasp the sofa to pull herself up, then take a few hesitant steps forward and away. “Ummm… now the second time?”
“Yeah. First time ever. I mean, she’s been standing for a couple of weeks, just holding on to things, you know. But full-on walking alone? Never before this minute.”
“Well, holy shit.” Silver’s handsome face broke into a massive grin. “Way to go, kiddo!”
“She’s growing up on me,” Zoe said wistfully. “I know what people mean now, when they say that it happens so fast.”
“I’ve gotta take your word for it,” Silver said, stroking his lumberjack beard with a massive hand. “Daddyhood is not in my future, sweetheart.”
“Never say never,” she told him wryly. “This little angel showed up in my life pretty suddenly, as you may recall.”
“True enough, Zee. You got me. I guess I may become a Daddy by default, somehow.” He flashed her a grin, his silver eyes shimmering in that cool, sexy way that they had. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll fall for a hot tattooed blonde chick with an adorable kid just learning to walk…”
Zoe threw back her head and laughed. God, how she’d come to adore this man over the past couple of months living in his house. Silver had shown himself to be exactly zero threat – he was quite the opposite, actually. He’d shown up just that morning on short notice to fix the bathroom sink, and the good-natured flirting and teasing had started within seconds of him knocking and strolling on in the door.
Yeah, he was hot and built from karate, and kind and sweet and funny. He was amazing with Keira, and he treated Zoe with the utmost respect, never making her feel like he was in her personal space, even when he was within inches of her. And despite the flirting and saying that he’d fall for a hot blonde with a kid, Silver was like an older brother, in a way, like the way Wolf was to her. Like the way most of the guys were, even after only a couple of months, and Zoe’s initial reticence and reservations.
So, she laughed at Silver’s flirting. Openly and totally relaxed, and in this moment Silver admired her shining beauty yet again, without wanting to make a move in the slightest. It wasn’t like that with Zoe, and he didn’t regret it one bit: he loved her looks, her sass, her work ethic, her fierce dedication to Keira… but he had never contemplated hitting on her.
The truth was that he required strict separation between his women, his work, and the club. Unlike most of his brothers, he never got involved with women who came to Satan’s to drink and dance or waitress, or any of the club pass-arounds like Vixen, or even women who came into the garage where he worked as manager. Silver had lost track of the number of phone numbers that had been slipped under paid invoices, or left on his desk, or simply handed to him with a sexy little wink as the woman had collected her car.
He’d never called any of them. Not once. Not for a date or a quick one-nighter or even a blow-job in Satan’s back rooms. And he never would. He’d learned his lesson about mixing business and pleasure, and God knows, he’d paid one hell of a high price for not knowing the score before he’d gotten mixed up with Anna Evans.
Well. He’d learned. It had been the hard way, but goddammit, he’d learned.
Not that he thought that Zoe would ever do to him what Anna had – but still. Silver was a disciplined man, and he knew full good and well that the key to discipline was consistency, with no exceptions. Silver never allowed himself to think ‘just this once’ or ‘this one time’, because once a rule has been broken, it ceased being a rule, and became a guideline, a mere suggestion for living. And Silver Bennett didn’t live by guidelines, by vague and hazy ‘maybes’. Not anymore.
So he kept his sex life far, far away from his place of business, and from the club. He travelled quite a bit for the garage, sourcing rare and unique motorcycle parts for custom repair and building jobs, and he usually picked up female company at a bar in another city. It was fleeting and purely physical but still respectful, and Silver was good with that. If he went back that way, he always called the women up. Friends with benefits was his speed, really, and he had a few favored female companions, scattered around five different states.
“What are you laughing at, gorgeous?” he asked Zoe now. “Turning me down again?”
“Yep. Unequivocally.”
“Awwww.” Silver looked heartbroken. “How will I go on? How? How?”
Keira giggled now, and Silver looked down at her, then he bent and scooped her up into his arms. She squirmed happily when his bushy beard tickled her face, and he grinned at her.
“You, little miss, are amazing. Me and Mommy should be celebrating your milestone, huh?”
“Oh!” Zoe said, remembering something. “Well… if you have some time and you like red wine before noon, Willa bought me a bottle before she left…”
“One small glass of red is awesome, sweetheart.” Silver kissed Keira’s nose, then set her down carefully. “Let me just clean things up in the bathroom. Won’t be a sec.”
“Thanks, Silver,” Zoe said. “Great of you to come over at the crack of dawn on a Sunday.”
Silver waved a hand. “Burst pipes have no respect for weekends, sweetheart. And I don’t think of eight a.m. as ‘the crack of dawn’ any day of the week.”
“No?” Zoe headed for the kitchen to find the corkscrew. “Early bird, are you?”
“Sure am. I’m up every morning at five to do karate. I was already post-coffee and -breakfast when you called. It’s cool, Zee.”
“Well – thank you, anyway. I’m not used to having a landlord who takes care of the place.”
“You got one now, so don’t even give it a second thought. You’re family, and family doesn’t live with floods in the bathroom, and end of discussion.”
Zoe nodded, watched Silver head back into the bathroom with a mop, broom and dustpan. Keira started to follow him, and Zoe picked her up.
“I know you’d rather be with the cute guy,” she told her daughter. “But you’re stuck with me until he cleans up, little flower. Now, tell me, is wine at ten forty-two on a Sunday morning a terrible idea? Or the best idea ever?”
Keira gurgled.
“Thought so.” Zoe set Keira in her high chair with a bowl of Cheerios, most of which she promptly spilled on the floor. “Wine it is.”
“So.” Silver emerged from the bathroom, wiping his hands on a towel. “You’re all set, sweetheart. It’s just a patch job for now, but I’ll get a new pipe tomorrow and come back and fix it properly. Tomorrow night OK?”
“Sure.” Zoe picked up Keira again, carried her across the room, handed Silver his wine. “I finish at the parlor at six, but Maria can be here any time before that.”
“Seven is good… its not too late for this one’s bed time?” Silver tickled Keira’s chin, deftly avoiding the drool. “I need about an hour.”
“Nope. She goes down at about eight, then is up again at one or two to eat and party like it’s 1999, before crashing out at maybe three thirty.”
“Man.” Silver shook his head, followed Zoe to the sliding glass door leading to the backyard. “Then she gets up again – when?”
“Usually six. Maybe a bit earlier.”
“Good God,” Silver muttered, sitting down on a wooden deck chair. “Parenthood should come with naps scheduled into your day.”
Zoe laughed, put Keira in her bouncy swing that Silver had installed on the porch. “I wish! Instead I just live off caffeine and a super-positive attitude.” She sat in the other chair, relaxing in the bright sun, enjoying the hint of summer in the air. “Nice morning, huh?”
“The first really warm one.” Silver raised his glass. “Well… to Keira. A little kick-ass badass who takes after her beautiful, strong Mama. May those cute little feet take her on many journeys and adventures, but may they always carry her home again.”
“Oh,” Zoe whispered, surprisingly touched. “Silver… thank you.”
“To Keira,” he repeated. “And fingers crossed your reflexes never fail you, Zee.”
She laughed now, took a drink. “Right? Her crawling around meant growing eyes in the back of my head, now I have to follow her around and stop crashes if possible.”
“Aw. A few falls aren’t a bad thing. Teaches us to get up again.”
“You ain’t wrong, handsome.” Zoe toasted him. “You wise old martial arts magi type, you.”
“Knock it off, blondie,” he growled good-naturedly. “I’m a damn ninja, and no forgetting that, if you please.”
They fell quiet for a minute, just sitting in an easy silence, enjoying the sun, sipping the wine, and watching Keira bounce happily. And Zoe’s mind started to wander, to relax. Maybe to dream, just a little bit.
This was what she’d longed for, that day in Keira’s room, when she’d been staring at the mobile above the brand-new Ikea crib. This warmth and calm and quiet joy. Her baby safe, growing, thriving; a little porch in the backyard dappled in sunlight; a lazy, gorgeous Sunday morning when everything felt right in her little part of the world. Hell, having a smoking hot man there with her was a bonus, but still – having a man there was idyllic. It completed the picture, somehow.
The problem was… Silver wasn’t the right man.
Right away, despite her efforts to not think about this, Zoe’s mind went back two nights. To Friday after work. To Scars’ office.
To him pushing her back on his desk, roughly pulling her jeans down and off, standing between her open, begging thighs.
To his fingers deep inside her quivering, aching, straining body.
To his eyes blazing down at her as she came, then came again for him.
To tasting herself on his lips when he’d kissed her, whispered against her trembling lips that she was the most amazing, delicious little thing he’d ever known.
To how deeply she was starting to feel for him, for exactly the wrong man. No way Scars would be content sitting here with her, watching her baby on a Sunday morning, after being up half the night not having sex, but instead feeding a hungry baby, rocking a crying baby, changing a wet baby.
God, his hands, though. On Friday, they’d been drenched in her sweet release, and he’d loved it. She wondered when he’d washed her honey off, then felt a warm, twisting pang of lust in her pussy when she thought – with complete certainty – that he’d gone home that night still smelling her on him.
Stop it, stop it, stop it.
“So, Zee.”
Thrilled to have a distraction, she wrenched her mind away from the memory of Scars’ massive erection that had been pushing against his jeans. Her mouth watered from wanting to kneel in front of him, to take him in her mouth, to hold his eyes as she worked him to teasing, exhausting completion.
“Yeah?” She gulped her wine. “What’s up?”
“You feel good here?”
She blinked at him. “Ummmm… you mean, your house?”
“Yeah.” Those silver eyes were watching her closely all of a sudden, and she felt puzzled by his intensity. “You like the neighborhood? You feel safe?”
“Yeah. Totally.”
“Nothing weird that you want me to follow up on while I’m here?”
“Weird?” she repeated blankly. “Uh. No. I mean, the idiot students six doors down party most weekends, but besides that… I mean, it’s not like anyone’s parking outside the house, or trying to look through the blinds or anything like that.”
Silver nodded. “You want me to talk to the party animals?”
“Nah, it’s OK. I only hear them because I’m up at two a.m.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure. Thanks anyway.” She paused. “Any reason you’re asking?”
“Just being a good landlord. Single woman raising a kid, living alone – some predator types look for that kind of thing. Just checking in.” Silver stretched his legs in front of him, made a mental note to let Wolf and Scars know that Zoe hadn’t picked up on anything strange around the house. “Instincts are amazing things, Zee. They rarely fail us, even if we don’t know they’re nudging us in a certain direction. When I was over in Iraq, I trusted my instincts more than any intel my unit was ever given.”
“You – what? You were in Iraq?”
“Yeah.” He looked surprised. “Wolf never told you that I was in the military?”
“No. He said you were big into karate, and were great at fixing bikes and building them from scratch. Nothing about being overseas.”
“Ohhhh. Well.” Silver flexed his broad shoulders. “It was only for three years, about twelve years ago. I was just a stupid kid, really, and when I came back to the States, I went straight to work in a garage. Had a bit of a detour in jail for two years, sadly, then landed in The Road Devils and back to garage work.”
“Uh – jail?”
“Yep.” He looked at her, saw her unease. “Nothing violent, Zee, I promise. Not even anything true. An accusation that I couldn’t prove to be false, and so I ended up eating the time. Sometimes… well. Sometimes you’re in the wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong person, and the truth doesn’t change much. You know?”
She nodded, thinking about how Wolf had ended up serving six months for assaulting a police officer, a total bullshit charge, as she knew perfectly well. “I do know.” She hesitated. “But – I think – most of you guys have been in jail at some point, right?”
Silver set down his empty glass. “We’re actually a pretty mixed bunch, sweetheart.”
“Yeah? What do you mean?”
“Well. I’m ex-military, though really low-ranking. Ice was a SEAL, though, and the twins and Cain are all former Marines.”
“Really?” Zoe asked, thinking that explained their Enforcer roles. “Anyone else ex-army types?”
“Nope. Holt was a bouncer in New York’s worst dive bars, and did some moonlighting on bodyguard duty. Jinx was a lawyer, a public defender. Rebel was a drug dealer from age fourteen, and he knows what the inside of a prison cell looks like, for damn sure. You know that Viking was a doctor. Arrow was a teacher. As far as I know, Saint’s like you, and has always been into tattoo design and artistry. Cowboy was a pro football player.” He shrugged, laughed a bit. “We’re kinda all over the place. Saints and sinners, educated professionals and street thugs. Lots of jail time, I guess, but not everyone has some. Wolf does, and Cole. Dux does, but not Drake. Ice does too.”
She screwed up some courage to ask, “And Scars?”
“Ah, he came to the club young. Barely twenty. Never been anything but a club man, really, and never seen time behind bars. Too smart to get caught, really.”
“A bit like Wolf, then,” she said hollowly. “This is the only life he’s ever properly known.”
“Yeah, that’s true. And the fact is that between the two of them, Wolf and Scars built up the club to what it is today.”
“Since they became President and VP, you mean?”
“Nah, gorgeous. I mean – they joined within five years of each other, and even though they didn’t really work together directly much because Scars was into deliveries pretty early, and Wolf was more about backing up the Enforcers, they independently did great work. Gave the club a good rep because they got jobs done, and they were tough, and they came through every time. They didn’t shirk their duties, and were damn hard workers, no matter what they were told to do. You know? They made the club their family, and that kind of loyalty gets noticed. It gets rewarded.”
“I know that Wolf moved up the ranks quickly.”
“Sure did. Got tapped for management pretty early. Scars too. He was running all club deliveries within five years of prospecting and patching in, and believe me, for a twenty-six-year-old kid, that’s a big goddamn deal. He basically gave the MC financial security and stability, and I don’t think he was in Denver more than a month a year for a while there. He was out dealing with suppliers and clients directly, setting up distribution chains, negotiating prices and partnerships. Because of Scars Innis, I think we can say that The Road Devils have one of the healthiest bottom lines of any MC in the country, and I know that he benefitted personally in terms of cash.”
That startled Zoe. “Wait… you mean that Scars is the one who set up all the Kirk Jensen deals? Not – I don’t know. Not any former Presidents before Wolf?”
“Hell, yeah, sweetheart. That was all him. His idea, his initiative, his network. He’s one hell of a savvy businessman, believe me. Ruthless, money-oriented, cut-throat.” Silver glanced through the sliding porch door to the clock on the wall. “Damn. Gotta motor, Zee, I’m sorry. Thanks for the wine.”
“Sure,” she said automatically, her mind still whirling with the new, disquieting information that Scars was even worse than she’d thought, that his past was even shadier than she’d imagined. “And thank you so much for fixing the sink.”
“No problem, and you know that.”
She stood with him, gave him a hug. Silver grinned at Keira and told her to run Zoe ragged for the rest of the day, if not the rest of her life, and then he was off, leaving Zoe more upset than she thought she would be, or could be, or should be.
And as she gazed at her perfect, beautiful, innocent daughter, a little angel and her personal sunshine and entire reason for living now, Zoe resolved – yet again – to keep the dark, dank shadow of Scars Innis away from Keira, and herself. Out of their lives.
To hell with those amazing hands.
Just then, her cell beeped, and she jumped about four feet in the air. She took it out of her jeans pocket, then smiled at the text from Willa, and the incredible photo of the desert at sunset that she’d attached. Seems that she and Jimmy were having such a good time, they were extending their vacation another week.
She sighed a bit, staring at the image of golden-pink sand and rugged, wild cliffs. Well… at least one of them had their love life together, Zoe thought. Hell, maybe she should flirt a bit with the grocery store guy when she and Keira went shopping that afternoon. And who knew, really? Maybe this time next year, she’d be the one watching an incredible sunset with a good man, maybe on this very back porch. Why not?
‘A good man’ is the key phrase here, Zoe. Not one who goes courting assholes like Kirk Jensen. Not one like that. At all.