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Hunter (The Devil's Dragons Motorcycle Club) by Nikki Wild (14)

Hunter

While Sarah spent some quality time watching cable in the den with her father, I started cleaning up the aftermath of breakfast.

Crisis averted… for now.

I didn’t know Jack to tolerate dissent, and that seemed to go double for his own flesh and blood. It kind of surprised me that he hadn’t just made us leave when she started to lose her temper.

Hell. I didn’t know what more she wanted out of me, though. I’d been on my best damn behavior since stepping back into this house.

Well, as far as old Jack knew

A smile crossed my face. Just thinking about the intensely hot night before made my drained cock twitch in my jeans.

I threw a dirty look downward.

Down, boy.

Keeping myself distracted, I left all the filthy, heavy cookware to soak in the kitchen sink. Done with that, I scrubbed down his stove and wiped off the hard drops of batter from his counter.

I glanced over at the black cookware again as it soaked in the hot bubbles. It hadn’t been much effort for me to move it around, but it had to have weighed a goddamn ton. Hell, even the shelves where he kept half this shit under the counter were bowing beneath the pressure.

Why the hell does he keep such heavy shit around if he has to live with a cane? For God’s sakes, man: invest in stainless steel!

I shrugged to myself.

Whatever.

As I wiped my hands clean on a rag, I noticed that I still had that little apron tied tightly around me. For a second, I considered joining them while still wearing the damn thing, but there’s only so much bruising a man’s pride can take.

Even for the sake of his woman.

I hung it back up in the pantry and grabbed a few cold ones from the fridge. I wandered back towards the den to join them, reminding myself to come back and finish scrubbing the cookware in an hour.

Jack, leaned back in his recliner, didn’t budge an inch as I stepped into the room. As my eyes trailed across Sarah – curled up on the couch end near him, and smiling over at me – I could see that he had some old western flick on.

“Whatcha watching?”

He only grunted.

Oh, good, I thought to myself. Got his laugh in, and now we’re back to this grumbling shit

I walked over and handed Jack a beer.

Begrudgingly, he took the bottle from my grasp and immediately popped the top off in his bare, cupped palm.

“You know that trick, boy?”

“Sure as shit do.”

I set the third bottle down and followed suit with the one still in my other hand, pocketing the bottle cap.

He merely nodded, turning back to the film.

“Here you go, babe–”

Sarah glanced up at me in shock.

I had paused halfway into handing her the open bottle of beer. Goddammit Hunter, you idiot! I growled at myself. How could you be so stupid!

“No thanks,” she shook her head.

“Nonsense,” Jack muttered.

I kept the beer and sat down next to her.

“Sarah’s not much a beer drinker.”

“Bullshit,” Jack grunted, finally pulling his gaze from the television. “I’ve been giving her sips from my drinks since she was in diapers.”

Sarah held her cool, keeping her eyes on the film. “Not right now, but thanks Dad. Maybe later tonight, with dinner…”

The second that I laid eyes on it, Jack grabbed up the spare bottle of beer and popped the top.

“Here,” he grunted. “Stop being a pansy.”

Sarah’s browbeaten face spoke volumes as she turned to the bottle in her father’s stiff hand. With a groan, she took it from him and pressed it to her lips, taking a swig.

I couldn’t believe I’d put her in this position.

“Yeah,” Jack nodded approvingly before he turned back to the movie. “That’s the girl I raised.”

She glanced over searchingly at me.

I understood her expression in an instant.

Without moving another muscle in my body to attract his attention, my eyes quickly flicked from her to Jack, confirming that he was already caught up with his film, and I subtly nodded at her. Sarah quietly pushed the beer from her mouth back into the bottle and took it down from her lips.

“Delicious,” she bitterly commented.

Jack nodded. “Damn right it is.”

He didn’t seem to care what she did with the beer from that point, so she quietly set it down against the hardwood floor and out of sight.

I was still kicking my own ass in my head.

Has this old bastard got me so goddamn on edge that I forgot Sarah can’t fucking have alcohol?

I shook my head at myself.

Two crises in under an hour

No matter what happened, one thing was for sure: I didn’t know how long we were going to last in this goddamn house.

* * *

The worst part of this whole, awkward thing was that I loved me a good western. I’d grown up with only a couple of TV channels, and one of them had a real big thing about playing the classics.

And I could always be found downright glued to the television screen when it was a western.

The grittiness of those heroes – if you could even call some of them that – spoke to me. Those darkly fearless gunslingers were men, real men. They lived by their own code of honor, cleaned up the scraps of society, and always got the girl.

Sometimes, they were just passing through.

Others, they were down on their luck and pushed into a position to make a difference.

Either way, they put down the filth.

They brought order to lawless towns.

It was a thankless, gritty job, but they were all man enough to rise to the challenge, do what nobody else would, and take the goddamn reins.

Guess it’s no wonder that I became so heavily addicted to the life of a renegade biker.

But it took sitting in my oldest enemy’s house, sipping his beer and silently watching a western with him to really make that connection.

Funny, the things you learn from your foes.

I actually recognized this one, from way back when. Hadn’t seen it in years. John Wayne plays an experienced, ruthless rancher taking the lead on driving a huge cattle herd across states for a big payout. But when his irrational and harsh decisions push his crew to mutiny, his adopted son takes over, and John Wayne chases after them with hired guns to take back what he thinks is his.

While the credits rolled, I glanced over at Jack. Jack reminded me more than a little of Wayne’s character, but I wondered if we’d get our own happy little ending out of this one.

Jack reached for his cane and climbed up out of his chair.

Sarah looked over. “Need a hand, Dad?”

“Unless you’re helping me bleed the lizard, then no,” he glowered at her. His stern eyes met mine and a small, twisted grin crossed his lips. “But I got your prissy boy here to put that apron on, so maybe he can help me take a piss.”

I felt my jaw clench.

“Do you really need another man’s help to take a leak, old timer?”

Sarah cast me an angry look.

Meanwhile, Jack chuckled.

“’Course not.”

Away he hobbled out of the den, heading off towards the bathroom.

“Don’t egg him on,” Sarah grumbled.

“With everything the old bastard’s put me through today so far, he definitely deserves worse potshots than that,” I insisted.

She crossed her arms in defiance. “Don’t fuck this up for us, Hunter. We’re making progress.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

Don’t fuck this up? Seriously? Are you shitting me right now?” I rose up from the couch. “Sarah, I’ve cooked for the man. I’ve cleaned for the man, I’ve watched a goddamn movie with him, sitting here pretending like he didn’t go out of his way to ruin my fucking life. I’ve been doing everything I can to appease him…”

“You can’t expect it to work in under a day,” she frowned at me. “Give it time.”

“Time? How much time?” I was struggling to keep my temper down, reminding myself that this is what Jack wanted. Nothing would please him more than us fighting, and I was determined to not give that to him. “I’m the president of a goddamn MC that’s gearing up to cross state lines and set up camp. How soon is enough, Sarah?”

She pursed her lips angrily.

Before we could continue, there was an angry roar from further into the house.

“What have you done?!”

Sarah and I shared a confused look.

I helped her up out of the couch and followed the sound of the bitter cursing. It led me back to the kitchen, where Jack was grasping at his hair frantically over the hot sink.

“You moron! You idiot! You stupid fucker!

That bitter hatred for this man, the hate that I’d bundled up and caged deep down in my chest, was already rattling against the bars again.

“What are you yapping about?” I growled.

He cast me a filthy look. “You’ve ruined them!

“Ruined what? The cookware?”

I glanced down at sink, filled with his heavy, black pans as they soaked in hot water. The damn things looked fine to me.

“Goddammit…” Sarah muttered from behind.

“What?” I threw my hands up in the air.

She pinched the bridge of her nose, lowering her face away. “Hunter… those are all cast iron.

“So?” I didn’t see what the big deal was.

Jack merely shook his head, glaring at me.

The old bastard was being so goddamn high and mighty, even condescending, that I wanted more than ever before to punch his lights out.

“You can’t soak cast iron, Hunter,” she told me with a bitter chuckle on her breath, “because it’s made with fucking iron. In water, it rusts.”

“Then how the fuck do you clean it?”

“Don’t curse at me,” she snarled.

Carefully, you complete idiot,” Jack snarled at me. “This cast iron belonged to my parents! It’s been in the family for two generations already, and now you’ve gone and ruined it!”

Oh, fuck.

I thought back to all those photos

“Dad, you’re overreacting and we both know it,” Sarah snapped at him. “We’ll dry it off, wipe it all down with oil, and cure it in the oven. It’s not ruined, you’re just trying to scare him.”

That’s when Jack turned on her.

“Don’t you dare undermine me in my own house! If I say it’s ruined, then it’s ruined!” He glared at her. “Or have you forgotten your place?”

Sarah was staring at him one second.

Then she was slapping him the next.

Jack stumbled a foot backwards, holding onto his cane as he placed fingertips against his cheek where she’d hit him.

“My place? Let’s talk about your place. Let’s discuss your place in my life, because you spent half our teenage years keeping us apart…”

She pointed a finger back at me.

“This is the man that I love, Dad. I don’t care what you think about him, or if he’s good enough for your standards! I have always loved him. He has always loved me. And you have robbed me of an entire decade I could have spent with him!”

For the first time in Sarah’s life, Jack listened to her. But I didn’t like what I saw in his eyes as he silently stood still.

“I came back here to show you the man in my life, and I’m sorry that he’s the one you hate, but I wanted you two to put your issues aside. Because guess what, Daddy?” She reached into her pocket and fished out the engagement ring, holding it up in his face.

Jack’s expression completely changed.

I’d never seen him in such despair.

“No matter how hard you’ve tried… no matter everything you’ve done to keep us apart… it’s too late. Hunter isn’t going anywhere. I have spent too many years wondering ‘what if’ and ‘what might have been’, so when lightning struck twice I did what I should have done years ago…”

She put the ring back on her finger and turned to me. “I shouldn’t have hesitated before. That morning, when you and I were separated… those precious few seconds cost me everything. And I’m so fucking sorry.”

I pulled her into my arms, wiping the tears from her eyes. “It cost both of us everything, Sarah. With every passing night since losing you, I grew colder. Angrier. It consumed me.”

Together, we looked at her father.

“We’re engaged, Dad.”

“That’s not all,” I turned to her, sliding a hand along her belly. I pushed past her baggy clothing and lifted her sweater, revealing the swollen baby bump. “If you think that’s a tough pill to swallow, then…”

She finished the sentence.

“We’re expecting a child.”

Silence filled the room. Only faint noises from the distant television set cut through the choking silence in the house.

Sarah frowned. “Say something, Daddy…”

Jack was frozen.

At the tone in her voice, however, the old man slowly snapped out of his stupor.

“You put a child… in my daughter?”

I held my arm tightly around Sarah’s shoulders as I faced him, trying to put myself into his shoes. “Yes, Jack,” I nodded. “Sarah and I are giving you a grandson.”

He swallowed.

After a brief pause, he nodded to himself, then took his cane and hobbled across the room, where he opened a door. Sarah’s father leaned just out of sight for a moment, then closed the door and faced us, leaned against the wall.

He was holding a shotgun up at me.

“Hunter Hargreaves, I am giving you to the count of three to get out of my fucking house.”