Knife & Flesh (The Night Horde SoCal Book 4) (3 page)

BOOK: Knife & Flesh (The Night Horde SoCal Book 4)
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“I did. We read a chapter in a book about the Milky Way, and then I turned on her nightlight and she went to sleep. She’s a cool kid.”

 

Thinking about her little girl, Juliana had to smile. “Yes, she is. Why don’t you have a shirt on?”

 

He looked down at his bare chest as if he’d forgotten. The light caught a ring that ran through his nipple and made it glint. “Um…I guess you don’t remember. My shirt—”

 

“Oh, God. I threw up on you.” She put her hands on her face. “Oh, no. I’m so sorry.”

 

“It’s okay. I got you cleaned up, and I got my kutte cleaned up. The t-shirt is a loss, though. I didn’t have anything else to put on.”

 

Feeling sick and weak, her head pounding, Juliana let her arms slide out from under her, and she lay back on her pillows. “Why are you doing this—taking care of us?”

 

“There wasn’t anybody else. You said there wasn’t anybody to call, and you didn’t want an ambulance. I couldn’t leave you and Lucie alone.”

 

Juliana took a breath and focused on the man in front of her. Her impression in their few previous meetings was that he was kind; this night had done nothing to disabuse her of that understanding.

 

He was handsome, too—not in a matinee-idol way, but in a real way. He had light eyes—she’d never seen him in good enough lighting to know their exact color, but they were light, maybe blue. His hair had grown since he’d first introduced himself—jeez, that was the night she’d won that karaoke thing, almost a year ago. Then, his head had been close-cropped; now he had a head of shaggy, wavy golden hair, getting on the long side. His beard, too, was dark gold and a little long, an inch or two longer than his chin.

 

He was tall, she knew, and lean—she certainly knew that now, looking at his defined chest, sprinkled with golden curls, and his broad shoulders. He sat leaning slightly on his nearest arm, making the muscles there bulge.

 

And his skin was nearly covered with tattoos—down his arms and over his hands, and a big one she couldn’t make out over the left side of his ribs. Around both wrists he had what seemed to be simple black bands of ink. A lot of the others were words, inked as if they’d been typewritten on his skin. In the ray of light from the hallway, she could make out one on his upper arm:
everything was beautiful and nothing hurt
.

 

Something fluttered in her chest, and she felt suddenly emotional. Covering that with a sigh, she looked up to find him watching her, still smiling gently. “You don’t know us,” she said, her voice low. “You didn’t need to do any of this.”

 

“I couldn’t walk away. That’s not who I am.”

 

Emotion swelled inside her again. Maybe it was the blow to her head, which was probably a concussion, making her feel so weepy. Or maybe it was because she’d been so often left alone, except by this man, who owed her nothing. She swallowed what felt like a sharp rock in her throat. “You’re a good people.”

 

That gentle grin grew and made the skin at the outside corners of his eyes crinkle. “I hope so.”

 

They simply looked at each other for a moment, until Juliana’s vision doubled again, and she closed her eyes. A spasm of pain flashed through her head, and she put a hand on her forehead.

 

Then she felt his hand on her again, gently stroking her head until he found a viciously sore spot, and she hissed. She felt the bed shift as he stood up. “You need to rest, Juliana, and I should have gotten you ice earlier, but I’ll do it now. Can I get you anything else? I looked for aspirin, but I felt bad about rooting through boxes too much.”

 

She had half a bottle of Vicodin in one of the bathroom boxes. “I know where something is. I’ll get it.” Tossing the comforter back—she was on her bare mattress and pillows—she sat up and stood in a series of quick, careless movements.

 

And the room rolled so hard it might as well have turned upside down. Her knees folded, and Trick’s arms were around her, catching her before she could fall. Again.

 

At least this time she didn’t yark on him.

 

The room settled, and she became aware of his chest on hers—she was wearing only a bra and a camisole over her panties, what she’d had on under the baggy shirt and jeans she’d been wearing to move. His skin was warm, and his body was contoured and firm.

 

She’d rejected his advances for excellent reasons. She was trying to set her life on a particular path, and a biker was not somebody who belonged on that path. If she didn’t learn the many harsh lessons being with Lucie’s father had offered, then she was an idiot. She owed it to her little girl to find success and stability.

 

Because of Lucie, she didn’t play around, either. She intended to date only men who could offer the things she wanted for herself and her daughter. Stability, not struggle. Happiness, not heartache. So her attraction to a man like Trick—growing by leaps and bounds during this night, while her brain was rattled and her defenses were down—was irrelevant. If he couldn’t be a candidate to join their lives, then he wasn’t a candidate for anything.

 

“You should lie back down.” They were still so close that she could feel his breath as he murmured the words, and she found herself focused on his lips. His mouth, surrounded by that beard, was gorgeous, with a full lower lip that she felt a strong impulse to touch—an impulse she resisted. Barely.

 

She blinked and made her legs steady. “I need to pee. You can’t do that for me, can you?”

 

He chuckled, and she felt it against her chest. “Guess not. Will you let me help you get there?”

 

Insisting she could make it on her own while she still had her hands clenched over his shoulders would have been absurd, so she nodded—carefully, so as not to shake her sore head—and he turned and slid an arm around her waist so that he could escort her to the toilet.

 

As they cleared the doorway into the hall, Juliana turned and looked into her daughter’s new room. It looked different from when she’d last seen it; the bed was fully built and made, with her nightscape comforter and bedding, and even her black tulle canopy draped over the top. All that was missing were the little glow-in-the-dark stars they hung from the tulle to dangle over her while she slept.

 

Trick had done all this. He’d more than tended to her daughter. He’d taken care of her. Of them.

 

Lucie lay curled in her usual tight ball, Mr. Bananas tucked under her chin. On the dresser next to her bed was a little stack of books and her nightlight, sending spinning stars around the room.

 

Her daughter had no patience for pink, or princesses, or any of that. What she liked was science, especially, in the past year or so, astronomy—though dinosaurs and paleontology still got some attention.

 

“I had fun hanging out with her tonight. She’s sharp.” Trick’s voice was right at her ear, low and gentle.

 

“She is. Thank you for…everything. You did so much.”

 

He shrugged and led her to the bathroom. “Like I said, it was fun. I’m glad you’re doing better.”

 

The bathroom setup in this apartment was unusual, but convenient for a space that had to be shared. The tub and toilet were enclosed in a little room, and then outside that, in a space with a doorway but no door, was the sink, in a long counter with cabinets underneath. A plate-glass mirror took up the wall above the counter, and a row of dressing-room bulb lights stretched above that.

 

The bathroom boxes were stacked on the counter. Juliana flipped the switch and then hissed and, by instinct when pain seared her eyes, turned her head into Trick’s chest, away from the light. She felt him hit the switch again, darkening the room, and then his arms were around her.

 

“Do you need the light?”

 

“I need to find the Vicodin bottle. It’s not the only pill bottle.”

 

“If you don’t mind me going through it, tell me which box, and I’ll find it while you pee in the dark. I’ll get some ice, too.”

 

After a moment during which she tried to make her throbbing brain remember if there was anything in the box she wouldn’t want him to see, she gave up and nodded. “Smaller box on top. Thanks.”

 

A few minutes later, she was settled back in bed with a makeshift ice bag made of a towel knotted around a handful of ice cubes. She’d had her Vicodin and a glass of water—the nausea was abating, finally—and Trick pulled the comforter back over her. He was tucking her in, too.

 

“I’m gonna stick around, if that’s okay. I’ll stretch out on your sofa again. I’d like to see you up and about before I go.”

 

She nodded, and it finally occurred to her to wonder at the coincidence of a man she knew—a little—finding her on her kitchen floor. They’d just moved into this apartment that very day. “How are you here? Where did you come from?”

 

He smiled and reached out to push a strand of hair from her eyes. “I live here—upstairs, on the other side. I was getting my mail, and Lucie came out and asked for help.”

 

“That’s crazy, that you were there right then.”

 

“Yeah. Kismet.”

 

She didn’t know about that, but she was too tired to think about it.

 

 

~oOo~

 

 

“What do you think,
mija
? Where should we put it?” Juliana held up the wall hanging she and Lucie had just made: a stretched canvas, painted midnight blue, with tiny, battery-operated string lights pushed through to make the constellation Libra, Lucie’s zodiac sign.

 

Lucie studied it seriously, her hands on her hips. “Over my books.”

 

“That’s a perfect place. Okay, let’s get the tools.”

 

It was Sunday afternoon, and she was feeling much better. Her head was still sore, but only from the swelling. The horrible headache was gone, and her vision was steady. Her tummy, too. If she turned too quickly, she still got whoopsy, but otherwise, she was doing okay. She hadn’t needed a hospital.

 

Trick had left them after breakfast on Saturday morning, pulling his black leather vest—he’d called it something else, but she couldn’t remember what—over his bare chest. They hadn’t seen or heard from him since. For the best.

 

He’d looked really good. His eyes were blue, she’d been right about that, but they had an unusual ring of gold just rimming his pupils. The way he looked, the way he’d acted, the way he’d taken care of them—all of it had Juliana in a turmoil. She wanted him, she’d been attracted to him since she’d met him, and unless things had changed, she knew he wanted her. But she did not want him in her life. Or Lucie’s life—even though her daughter was crushing, too.

 

She knew who the Night Horde were. They had a strange reputation—everybody knew they were criminals, but hardly anybody seemed to think they were the bad guys. People were afraid of them, but they thought of them when they had trouble they didn’t want the police or a lawyer to take care of. And nobody seemed to know what it was they did that made them criminals. They just
were
.

 

Juliana had an idea, though. Working as a paralegal in a multi-division law firm, she’d heard their name come up occasionally. They were clients of one of the criminal law specialists in her firm. Though she worked in the immigration law division—and was studying to become an immigration attorney herself—the paralegals and secretaries gossiped, and the criminal division had the best gossip. They weren’t supposed to talk about cases or clients, of course, but as long as it stayed in the office, nobody seemed to mind.

 

What she wanted for Lucie, and for herself, was not a criminal. She wanted a man she knew would come home every evening. A man who could be counted on. Who was loving and gentle. Who would take care of them.

 

Her marbles were clearly still a little loose, because she now had a voice in her head that said that Trick was all of those things. But that patch on his back shouted to her that he was not.

 

Besides, it was nuts to be thinking of him like that. She barely knew him. Maybe all he wanted was a tumble. She knew about the Horde’s reputation for women and sex, too. She wasn’t a woman who tumbled. She was a mother.

 

After she hammered anchors into the wall above Lucie’s bookcase and hung the new wall hanging up, she turned it on, flipping a toggle switch she’d screwed to the bottom, and they stood back and appreciated it: bright stars in a midnight sky.

 

“It’s pretty, Mami. That’s Libra. Like me.”

 

“Yep. We did a good job. And I think we’re all moved in now. This is home.” Juliana hated mess and clutter, so as soon as she’d felt able,
before
she’d felt able, really, she’d unpacked everything and found it a home. There were a few decorating things she still had in mind, but for now, they were totally moved in, two days after the truck had pulled away.

 

She didn’t think it was the concussion making her stomach roll at the thought of this move. This apartment wasn’t as nice as the little rented house they’d moved from, but this complex was gated. She hoped that was enough security.

 

Lucie slid her little hand into Juliana’s. “I already have a friend, too. Can we go see Trick? He lives upstairs. He says his house is just like our house but backwards. Like Opposite Day.”

 

Maybe it was security that she had a biker nearby, too. They could be friends. Right? She didn’t need to think about him as somebody to get involved with romantically. They could just be friends. Good friends, even. That would be okay.

 

“We need to go to the market, Lulu, but after that, we can go up and see if he’s home.”

 

“We can buy him a flower for thank you. Like you did for Miss Chrissy.”

 

She grinned at the thought of handing Trick a bouquet of pink Gerbera daisies and baby’s breath. Adjusting her daughter’s ponytail, she said, “Sure,
mija
. A flower for thank you.”

BOOK: Knife & Flesh (The Night Horde SoCal Book 4)
3.52Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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