Burnt (8 page)

I know it’s probably sacrilege being a biker brat, and driving a cage, that’s a car for laymen, but my cage is not a prison like the guys believe they are. My cage is my baby. I drive a fully optioned six speed manual Camaro with nose cone, and twin racing stripes. And yep. It’s Yellow and his racing stripes are black. I’m sure I don’t need to give you more than one guess to figure out that my favourite movie is Transformers, and I may possibly have named my car after Bumblebee. As long as I can remember wanting to drive, so let’s say about six years, I’ve wanted this exact car. Sure, it just happens to be when Bumblebee made his large screen debut in the remake of the Transformer comics, but hey that was totally a coincidence. Not. Declan had taken me to see the movie when it first came out, and I promised myself right then and there that when I started working with uncle Max and made enough money, I would buy myself my very own Bumblebee.

Parking ‘Bee’, I had to shorten it because Bumblebee is just too long sometimes, I walk toward the doors of the nursery where all the little kidlets are going to be let go to roam free I take my position against the half-height brick wall and settle in to wait.

I hate picking Lexi up. I really do. Not because I don’t love to seeing her, and certainly not because of my schedule, let’s be honest, I work for my uncle Max, and he’s wrapped firmly around my pinkie and Lexi has control over the other, so I can take time off easily. Because most of my clients are either members of the club, members of other clubs that get on with Devil’s Spawn MC, or people that find us online booking weeks in advance, I’ve got a good deal of flexibility with my work. They all know the drill. If Lexi needs me, my parents’, or Lou they come first and I’m out of there. No. I hate picking Lexi up because of all the, you’re-a-dirty-no-good-child-stealing-home-wrecking-slut looks I get every time I’m here.

Isabella has spent the past two and a half years since Lexi started nursery as a two-year-old filling these sheep’s minds with the belief that I’m after her husband and child. Also that I spend my time plotting and scheming to turn them against her. It’s interesting when she finds time to do this. Declan is the one that drops Lexi off every day, and he also picks her up on the days my mom can’t. When she found the time to crawl out of whatever hole she comes from to talk to the parents’ of her daughters classmates is beyond me. I’ve never told anyone about the looks, or malicious conversations I overhear when I pick Lexi up. What’s the point? One thing I’ve learned being raised by bikers is people will think what they want, regardless of what type of person you are.

Whatever. As long as it doesn’t affect Lexi I really don’t care what they say about me. I know if I say anything to Declan he’ll almost surely make it seem like there is substance to their rumours by losing his ever-loving-mind. He’ll make a huge scene, ranting about respect, and where he’ll bury their bodies if their shit continues. That would be the worst thing that could happen. Declan sticking up for me would most definitely give them extra ammunition for next time and it won’t change their beliefs either. So I endure because it’s worth it. So worth it when I see Lexi running full-speed at me screeching the whole way.

“Kenny, Kenny. You came!”

Lexi is adorable when she’s excited. She’s so hyper that her poor little body seems to be having a hard time containing all that energy.

“Of course I did poppet. Dad told you I’d be here didn’t he?”

“Wells. I had to see for myself.” She cracks me up. Lexi tries to talk like a big girl. As if she’s all grown up even though she’s not quite five yet. Most of the time she succeeds too. This kid has a better grasp of the English language than half the bikers seven times her age do.

“Well now you see me Princess Lexi. Shall we go do some pretties on Uncle Vic before we head to the store to get stuff for your dessert?”

With a big sloppy cheek kiss and a beaming smile I get an exuberant,

“Oh yes please. Mom never lets me have treats.” Fucking bitch-face Isabella. How hard is it to give this beautiful little girl a treat? Maybe desert once in a while, or even some pretty hair ties if you get a smile like this out of her?

After another two hours torturing Uncle Vic, a quick goodbye to Uncle Max, and an insightful yet at the same time educational trip to the store. I say educational because apparently Lexi knows what condoms are, and it’s insightful because she informs me dad has them in his drawer by his bed. Like lots of them apparently. Good to know. I make it home in time to feed Lexi mac and cheese, it’s her favourite, feed and exercise Abel, and give a stern warning to Monty about what is, and is not appropriate language around Lexi. Exhausted we settle in front of the TV to watch America’s Next Top Model. Lexi’s favourite show this week, and paint our toe nails. Because I wear boots every day, be they Doc Martens, knee highs, biker, or army boots, any kind really I don’t discriminate it’s rude after all, letting Lexi paint my toe nails doesn’t bother me. Not like it would some perfectionist women out there. It usually ends up all over my toes and the coffee table too, but meh what are you gonna do? If it makes Lexi happy that’s all that matters.

With neon green toes and a sleeping, very cuddly Lexi laying with her head on my lap, and her legs tucked underneath her, I hear a knock at the door. Please God let it be Declan. Not because I want to see him. Okay. A little bit because I want to see him, but mainly because after my craptastic day today I don’t have the energy to face off with Isabella, queen of the whorebags. Calling out as softly as I can, so as not to wake Lexi, but loud enough to be heard I say,

“Come in. It’s unlocked.” I really don’t want to move her if I don’t have to. I love this time with her, and she’s sleeping so soundly too.

Walking in Declan automatically does what Declan does best. Protect first. Use manners later. If he remembers he has them.

“Fucking hell Kendall. How many times have I got to tell you to lock that fucking door? It’s not safe Babe.” He comes up short on his usual rant. Usually it would last WAY longer. Something shifts across his face. It looks like a mixture of shock, because he called me ‘Babe’ out loud, and love. The look makes me feel warm and tingly inside, and that scares the crap out of me.

Quietly I reply pretending I don’t notice his silence.

“I know Declan I heard you the first and the hundredth time you told me. Do you see this big beasty sleeping at my feet though? He won’t let anyone harm a hair on Lexi’s head. I can promise you that.”

He looks annoyed and it doesn’t take long for his words to catch up with his look “You think I only fucking care about my daughter getting hurt? What about you Kenny? Fuck me. If any-fucking-thing…”

His voice is rising and he’s got that I’m-gonna-go-hulk-on-your-ass look on his face, so I work quickly to diffuse it. I don’t need the entire neighbourhood hearing what he has to say.

“Shhh Dec It’s fine. Abel will protect me too. Monty would probably make so much noise you’d hear him in Texas so he’s the best alarm going around.”

Fuck. Me! Whoops. I think when I realise what I just said. I never slip up. I never call him Dec. I haven’t in done that in the past five years, and going by the look on his face Declan caught it too. His eyes are soft now, and his mouth. Oh God his mouth. When Dec smiles his dimples pop out. Being completely honest, I really want to lick them. Like, I really, really want to. Shit. Damn. Fuck-it-all-to-hell. Why can’t he just keep that smile to himself? I swear it could melt the panties off a nun.

“Sweetheart’.”

It’s an oath. A quite one, but powerful. I need to redirect this ASAP. I seriously don’t need to get into a conversation about our history right now.

“It’s fine. I’m fine. Now what do you want to do with sleeping beauty? She can crash here if you want and you can swing by and collect her in the morning. I still have lunch stuff here from last time and a few sets of clothes I’ve got washed she can wear.”

I started accumulating bits and pieces for Lexi from the time she was one. I’ve updated her car seats as she’s grown. Her wardrobe when she has a growth spurt, and I automatically throw her favourite snacks in the cart when I’m grocery shopping. I even installed a little under bench fridge at work to make sure she has a stock pile of juice boxes when she visits. Mom has done the same thing. Dad just gives me a sad frown. I’m sure he thinks I do all this because of Declan. Uncle Max was more than happy to help me install the fridge, but he probably did it thinking the same thing. Uncle Pipe kissed my head telling me I’m a good woman, and I’m sure thinks I’m a little crazy. Dec’s expression was my favourite by far though. The look of gratitude on his face when he saw me making provisions for his little girl was worth the heartache it cost me to acknowledge it was only for Lexi’s fleeting visits.

“You sure you don’t mind? She’s an early riser sweetheart’?” He slays me. Every time he calls me sweetheart’ in his rough hoarse voice, Declan slays me. His voice resembles sex and sin. Lust and hunger. All rolled into a sexy package that I want to unwrap and devour.

“Yeah Declan I’m sure. She’s good right here.” His eyes turn almost feral with emotion. It’s hard to describe just how stormy his grey eyes get and do them justice.

“I know Kendall. I know she’s perfect right where she is.” Looking at his daughter and then back to me, I pick up where his mind went with my comment.

“I know you do. Help me get her into bed would you? I think my leg is dead. She’s getting so big too fast.” Scooping her effortlessly into his arms is the only time I’m jealous of Lexi I wish it were me he was carrying off to bed. I wish Lexi was tucked safe into her bed here, and Declan was carrying me off to make love to me, but he isn’t, and he never will.

I moved out of my parents’ house about four years ago after apprenticing for Uncle Max for a short six months. Hey, what can I say? I’m an overachiever. He put me on as a full time artist along with himself, and Toby the only other tattooist currently employed by Skin Fusion. Toby’s a gorgeous looking man. About ten years older than me with a blonde faux hawk, gauges in his ears, and bright ocean blue eyes. He stands about six foot tall, and is built like a champion diver. It doesn’t hurt that he has two full sleeves worth of stunning black and grey tattoos either. What can I say? I’m a sucker for beautiful ink and the sexy men who wear it.

After taking me on what can only be described as an EPIC failure of a date, Toby and I decided that we’re better off as friends. Now the date itself wasn’t what epically failed I’ll have you know. I am capable of having dinner and going to a movie with a guy without running him off. It just seems that I’m not capable of having dinner, and going to a movie with a guy without dad, Uncle Max, or Declan running them off afterwards.

The day after our date I came into work and Toby was acting all sorts of strange. Don’t get me wrong, Toby’s an odd guy on the best of days. He pops out with random comments, has the driest sense of humour, and can categorically alienate the female sex with one misplaced joke. That day he was even more strange than usual, and that set my interference radar off. This radar has become a highly honed instrument that goes off whenever one of the men in my life sees fit to meddle in my affair. Needless to say, it goes off often. I spent the morning, and part of the afternoon thinking I’d screwed up somewhere along the line the night before. Thankfully Toby eventually caved, telling me about the three highly informative chats he’d been privy to involving the aforementioned men in my life. It must admit it made me giggle a little when he told me dad basically threatened to staple his lips together after feeding him his cock if he put either of those things anywhere near his baby girl. Not funny I know. Well in all honesty is a little, but seriously who says this shit and gets away with it? My dad that’s who!

Getting back to the point. Being put on at Skin Fusion, Uncle Max’s tattoo shop, full-time gave me the funds I needed to become a part of the living-independently-away-from-mom-and-dad community. I found a cute as hell three bed cottage about five blocks away from my parents’, and three blocks from Declan and Lexi’s house. Originally it wasn’t a consideration that I be that close to especially Declan but, in hindsight it’s worked out for the best.

Over the years that followed my new found freedom I got several job offers from other studios located anywhere from Denver to LA. I never even considered them. Not only do I love Blackwater because it’s where I’ve grown up, but it’s where I thought I’d raise my own family. I’d miss my parents’, Lou and Billy, including my godchild she’s cooking, and the guys at the club. Most of all I’d miss Lexi and Declan. I can’t imagine being more than a ten minute drive away from any of them for longer than the length of a vacation.

Blackwater, Colorado is set in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains. We aren’t classified as a small town, but we certainly aren’t large by anyone’s standards either. With a population of about twelve thousand, we only need; one high school, one grade/middle school, they’re on the same campus, two garages, one of which is owned by Devil’s Spawn MC. It specialises in restoration work, and bike repair. The MC named it ‘Chasers’. They’re an original bunch aren’t they? In town we have a coffee shop, a couple of restaurants, the local Diner Mo’s where one of my other friends Priss, and Lou’s mom work, a strip club, because of course the MC has to be cliché enough to own one of those too. They were even more original when they named it Kitty Kat’s too. Insert sarcasm, lots of it here. There are two hair/beauty salons, one which is run by my very pregnant, sassy bitch of a friend Lou, called Hair-Do. Three bars. Again the cliché remains intact because the MC owns one called Rough Shod. We’ve got a movie theatre, Barkley’s Grocery store, and a couple of cute little boutiques. Combined they all make up our hometown. Don’t forget Skin Fusion though. We are however the only tattoo shop within a half hour drive, so we pick up all the in-town, and some out of town business travelling through. Good for Uncle Max’s bank balance.