I’ve been called a lot of things in my life; an outlaw, a dead end, even a fucking gangbanger. I can’t say any of those people were wrong. Set in my ways, I made choices in my life that lived up to all those labels. At times, I was proud of the train wreck I became and I believed all those people who talked shit about me did it out of envy. They wanted to be me, to walk the streets and turn heads. They wanted to be respected and feared just like me.
It took three pairs of innocent eyes to make me see I had it all wrong.
I was never the envy of anyone and I never will be if I keep living like I do.
Someone else’s children saved me from myself and made me understand that being good to others isn’t such a hardship. It doesn’t make you weak or less of a man. It makes you better. It gives you purpose.
The lines that etch our faces don’t always have to be painful reminders of a hard life. Those lines can stand for the times you never want to forget, the ones you know you’ll carry with you wherever you go.
Times like tonight.
Having a little girl show up on my doorstep asking me to stick around isn’t something I’ll ever fail to remember. Nor will I forget her sister’s tears or the hopeful way she looked at me. Tommy’s dry humor is another thing that will stay with me.
When I think of all those labels I’ve been given, I’ll force myself to remember not everyone sees me the same. There are three people who see deeper into my soul. God forgive me, I know it’s wrong of me but I don’t want to let go.
I tried.
I failed.
And now I’m standing in front of a bar trying to figure out how I’m going to apologize to their mother. Not just for being a coward or even for the lies I told her, but for every past mistake that led me here.
For the truth she doesn’t know.
Deciding to man the fuck up, I drop the kickstand and dismount. Knowing the bar closes in a half hour, I don’t expect to find her busy. When I walk in my eyes scan the room in search for hers. It doesn’t take long to spot her, she’s the prettiest woman in the fucking place and I’m not the only one who notices.
Fucking Brantley notices too.
From the door, I watch him lean over the bar as she refills his glass. He grabs her wrist and I see fucking red. The reasons I came here are forgotten as I stalk through the bar, keeping my eyes glued on Layla. Whatever he says to her in that moment changes her whole face and the fake as fuck smile fades from her lips.
Not giving a fuck, I step behind him and meet Layla’s shocked expression as I grab Brantley by the back of his neck. His arms flail at his sides as I pull him off the stool.
“Lee,” Layla grinds out.
My fingers curl into his skin as I lean close to his ear.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I growl, squeezing his neck harder.
“Police business,” he chokes.
“The last I checked that didn’t involve a fifth of vodka,” I sneer, watching the veins in his forehead begin to bulge. After a few more moments at my mercy, I release him. Grabbing the motherfucker’s shoulders, I spin him around to face me and watch him stumble backward. That’s when I notice the pig isn’t as polished as he usually is and looks unhinged. Normally dressed immaculately, tonight he looks like he took a ride to the bowery. His suit is wrinkled and his shirt is only partially tucked into his slacks. In all the years this motherfucker has been busting my balls, I’ve never seen him not freshly shaved or without a tie.
“You assaulting an officer of the law, Pipe?” he taunts, waving a hand. “You all saw him grab me,” he slurs, wobbling about. “You saw him, sweetheart, didn’t you?” he asks Layla.
“That’s it,” I growl, grabbing his throat. Ignoring the gasps around me and the horror in Layla’s eyes, I drag the filthy pig out of the bar. Once we’re outside, I push him against the wall and wedge my forearm against his neck.
“Let’s get something straight, Brantley. If you want a piece of me be man enough to take it, but don’t fucking come around here sniffing Layla out. I’m not Blackie, I’ll bury you.”
“Fuck you,” he sneers. “You ruined my fucking case.”
Narrowing my eyes, I cock my head.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I reply, not really giving a fuck either. All I want is him away from Layla.
“I know what you did, you son of a bitch. I’m here to tell you that it won’t stop me. You won’t stop me. Come hell or high water I’m going to bring all you fucks down. The Satan’s Knights are done.”
“Yeah, you keep saying that and yet here we are,” I tell him, leaning all my weight on him. “Do what you gotta do, Brantley, but if I ever catch you with Layla again, I’ll cut your dick off and shove it down your mother’s throat.”
“Lee,” Layla shouts behind me. “Stop it!”
Without another word, I shove him against the brick wall before releasing my hold on him. His hands move to his bruised throat as he fights to catch his breath.
Fuck him.
His mother should have swallowed his ass.
Cracking my knuckles, I take a step back and glance at Layla.
“You good?” I question, watching her eyes widen at me.
Good, she’s fine. She just thinks I’m a fucking lunatic. I can live with that.
“You look like a smart woman,” Brantley says hoarsely. “Don’t disappoint me,” he adds, trying his best to compose himself. “It would be a shame if you ended up like the rest of them.”
“Get the fuck out of here,” I roar, lunging for him once more. Layla is quick, pushing herself in front of me.
“Quit it,” she hollers as Brantley brushes past us. I keep my eyes trained on him, watching as he walks into the parking lot and eventually out of sight. Something is off with him, I feel it and I always trust my gut. It has saved my ass more times than I can count.
I feel Layla’s hands on my chest, shoving me back, and it forces me to divert my eyes to her. Angry as hell and sexy as fuck, she glares back at me.
“Who do you think you are coming in here and causing a scene?” she yells.
“What did that motherfucker say to you?” I question, ignoring her tantrum and angering her more. A hard-on isn’t something I need right now and I try not to stare at her mouth, reminding myself Brantley is a fucking weasel.
“I’m a grown woman who can handle myself just fine. I am not your concern,” she fires back with irritation.
I don’t like it.
And I sure as fuck don’t like being told she isn’t my concern.
Leaning into her, I lay out the truth.
“Had my dick in you, yeah?” I growl, lifting her chin as I peer back at her. “That’s all the right I need.”
That’s a fucking fact.
The only one she ever needs to know.
“The fuck it is,” she spits. “You gave up your rights or did you forget that?”
“I changed my mind,” I say simply, dropping my hand from her face. “I want them back,” I add, crossing my arms against my chest. “Now, tell me what Brantley said or I’m going to go back inside that bar and ask everyone you served what they heard.”
“I don’t take kindly to threats.”
“Not going to ask you again, killer.”
Running her fingers through her hair, she looks away.
“I don’t want to have this conversation here, Lee,” she says finally.
“Fine, tell your friend you’re done for the night and let’s go home.”
Her head snaps back and she stares at me.
“You’re an asshole,” she murmurs.
“We know this already, Layla. Let’s go,” I reiterate, losing my patience. Pulling out my smokes, I watch her turn her back to me and stalk toward the bar. Two cigarettes and ten minutes later, she emerges ignoring me all the way to her car.
She hasn’t got a clue that I get off on this shit, that I’m hard as a rock watching her slam the door. No, Layla doesn’t know she’s fucking driving me crazy and I want to fuck her until she can’t breathe. I almost want it more than I want to crucify Brantley.
Almost.
Following her back home is a new experience and I learn Layla is a shitty driver. She hits every bump, drives ten miles below the speed limit and rides the brake like someone’s ninety-year-old grandma. It’s either that or she’s fucking with me. I can’t be so sure. When we finally make it home, she pulls into her driveway and slams her door, making it clear this isn’t going to be easy.
I grab her hand as she starts for the walkway and pull her toward my house.
“My kids…” She seethes.
“Are fine.”
“How would you know?”
“I was with them before I came to the bar. The girls are sleeping and Tommy is probably sitting in front of the television with that fucking game of his,” I inform her, leading her up the stairs. Stunned, she shuts her mouth and doesn’t say another word until we’re in my living room.
“We can talk or we can fuck, you’re call,” I tell her as I fall back on the couch. “But if we fuck first don’t think that gets you out of telling me what that dick said to you.”
“Why do you hate him so much?”
“I’ve got my reasons.”
“Well then you better start talking because I’m not leaving without answers,” she says sternly. Standing by the window, she glances down at the cardboard box I haven’t touched since I placed Oksana’s shoes inside. “Is it true?” she whispers.
“Is what true?”
She lifts one shoe out of the box and turns to me.
“Brantley said there was an explosion at the Satan’s Knight clubhouse and that’s how your wife died. Is it true?”
I ignore the anger pulsing through my veins and nod a reply. Brantley shouldn’t have been the one to tell her the truth, but I can’t put that on him. I had every opportunity to come clean and I avoided it like the plague.
Now it was time to lay all my cards on the table and hope she’s crazy enough to ride it out with me. It’s time to give Layla the choice she deserves.
But first I have one last truth to tell.
“You should sit,” I tell her.
It's time introduce Layla to Pipe.