Lay It Down: Bastards MC Series Boxed Set (7 page)

He looked at me for a minute. “Good point.” He smiled, holding out his hand again.

I eyed it then him speculatively.

“Trust me,” his voice was low, “it’s better if people think you’re with me.”

“I am with you.” I didn’t take his hand, flexing my toes in the flip-flops I wore. Next time I rode his bike, if there was a next time, I was wearing shoes.

He smiled, reaching for my hand and cupping it in his. “I mean
with me
with me. This can be a rough place.”

A rough place? Awesome. Where’d he bring me? I looked up and down the cobblestone streets, but all I saw was a lot of other couples and groups of friends walking under the streetlights. It didn’t look scary. Everyone seemed to be having fun and in a hurry to get where they were going. But I didn’t pull my hand away. We walked in silence, stopping here and there so I could look into the windows of the little shops that lined the street.

We were looking in the window of a Maine Made store when I heard someone yell. I looked up to see at least ten very large, very intimidating men walking toward us. They looked like quintessential bikers—big, brawly, and scruffy, sporting leather vests or jackets, jeans, and boots. Matty dropped my hand, moving in front of me.

For a minute I just stood there, watching the swarm approach from all different directions.
Oh, my God. We’re getting mugged
. One of the largest came up to Matty. I watched as Matty drew himself up to his full height, puffing out his shoulders as he did. The move made him look almost twice as big as he was. I was impressed. He was almost as daunting as the rest, staring the other man straight in the eye.

I didn’t hear what the big one said to Matty, but his reply was low and vicious. “You looking for a problem, son?” The tone suggested that he wanted the answer to be yes.       

The other man raised his head slightly, moving directly into Matty’s space. “I think I found one.”

The accent said he was from Southie. I’d lived in Boston long enough to know that. I debated grabbing my phone and dialing 9-1-1, but wondered if I should just let Matty handle it. Suddenly, the choice was made.

The other guy grabbed my friend and, to my surprise, pulled him into a hug. “Didn't think I'd see you heah, brotha!”

Matty hugged him back in that manly way men hug, laughing. “How in the hell are you? What are you doing here?”

Matty looked around the group of men, hugging some, shaking hands and offering greetings to others. He obviously knew this band of thugs and was very happy to see them. Suddenly he seemed to remember that I was there and turned back to me, grabbing my hand and pulling me out into the street light.

He smiled. “This is Rocker.” He motioned to the big guy in front of him.

“Rocker? As in you like to go to the local bar and sing your heart out every weekend?” I surveyed Rocker suspiciously. Up close, he really wasn’t that frightening. He couldn’t have been more than a year or two older than me. He was wearing designer jeans over his beat-up boots and a tight black T-shirt under the vest, which showed off his muscles and a full tattoo sleeve down one arm.

He shook his head. “No, ma’am, it’s because—”

I held up a hand, interrupting him. “Did you just call me ma’am?” I looked at Matty. “He just called me ma’am!” I was completely appalled, but Matt, used to my reaction to that word, just smirked and shrugged. I turned back to Rocker. “Do I look old to you?”

Rocker looked taken aback. His whole face fell. “No, ma’a… ugh.” He shook his head again. “Nope.”

I smiled, trying not to laugh. He was just too adorable. I liked him immediately. “Let me guess. They call you Rocker but”—I cast a side glance at Matty—“it’s actually Rock Her.” I leaned a little closer. “Like the ladies, huh?”

Rocker’s face got a little red, and the other men laughed.

I held out my hand. “Joey.”

Rocker took my hand in a nice, firm handshake. I couldn’t help but notice how calloused and cracked his hands were. He either rode a lot, or he worked with his hands.

“Joey?” he asked, glancing back at Matty. I liked the way he said it with his voice raising a little on the “ey.”

I nodded. “Joey. As in the cute little kangaroo.” I winked at him.

Rocker laughed. His eyes traveled over my body. One of the other men made a comment about me being a kangaroo with boxing gloves, and they all laughed.

“It fits. I like it.” He looked back at Matt. “Is she—”

Matty stepped forward, grabbing my hand and lacing our fingers. “Yeah. Something like that.” He stepped closer to me, his legs and body touching mine.

I felt as if I’d just been zapped, electricity running through him into me. I wondered if he felt it too. Is she what?

Before I could ask, one of the other men spoke up. “Hey, Mateo, does she kick like a kangaroo when she—”

That one I understood before he finished, and I cut him off. Turning toward the voice, I smiled. “Hey now!” I held up my hand. “If he tells you that with me standing right here, he’s never going to get to experience it again.”

Matty laughed, shrugging, and leaned in to kiss my forehead. "You are amazing," he whispered. He stood. "Joey, this is Dean." He pointed at the man who had asked the question.

Matty went around the circle of bikers, introducing each. I was surprised by their names. Other than Rocker, Tiny (who was anything but, so I didn't want to know where that nickname came from,) and Hawk, they all had normal names. And none of them were nearly as scary as I had first thought.

Rocker nodded at us, giving me a dazzling smile. “If he gives you any trouble, any at all, you let me know. I’ll take care of him.”

I pointed my free thumb back at Matty. “This guy? Nah, I’ve got this one under control.”

The group laughed.

Rocker smiled again. “I see that. We’re headed to the bah down the street. Wanna come?”

Matty shook his head. “Nope. We’re headed out to dinner for some”—he lowered his voice to a whisper—“us time.” He returned his voice to normal. “You come all the way up for drinks?”

“We had a job.”

“I would’ve come if you’d called.”

Rocker shook his head. “Nah, man, we got this one. I’ll call you tomorrow to fill you in, and I'll see you soon?”

Matt nodded and said his good-byes to the group as they left.

Rocker turned around and gave me one last smile. “It was nice to meet you, Little Kangaroo.”

I laughed. “You too, Rocker. You too.”

7

The tavern Matty took me to wasn’t very far down the road, but there was a line out the door. I was surprised when the bouncer let us in, acting as if he knew Matty. A lot of people down here seemed to know my friend. I was starving by the time Matty got us seats and food in the dining section. The bar was open at full swing, and through the window-sized holes in the walls, we could see the dance floor. Matty explained that the tavern used to be two separate businesses, in two separate buildings, neither with enough space. So they combined. It seemed to be working for them. The bar was so crowded I couldn’t see an inch of empty space, and every seat in the dining room was full. I looked around at all the people standing, thankful Matty was able to get us in.

“How do you know the bouncer?” I asked.

Matty looked up, eyebrows arched. “What bouncer? Here?”

I nodded.

He shrugged. “I don’t.”

“How’d we get in?”

He smiled. “I told him we had reservations.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at his sheepish look.

Then he looked serious. “Are we gonna talk about it?”

I shook my head.
Nope. Not now at least.
“Tell me about Rocker.”

“There’s nothing to tell really.”

It was my turn to arch my eyebrows.

“Fine.” Matty gave a small exasperated sigh. “I was in the youth center with him.” He paused dramatically, as if waiting for his words to sink in and for me to run away screaming in fear.

I rolled my eyes at his flair. It was no secret he’d been in a lot of trouble as a kid. He’d told me he had spent the later part of his teen years in Long Creek, a detention center for criminal teens.

"Oh! What did he do? Or can you not tell me?" I lowered my voice so the couple at the table next to us couldn't hear.

Matty met my eyes and shrugged. "It's really his story to tell."

I wasn't surprised. After all these years, he still wouldn't tell me the specifics that had led to him being there, as if it was some terrible thing that would make me run away. But Matty's past made me sad, not scared. Every once in a while he would let something slip, so I was able to piece together that he’d had a pretty rough time before becoming an adult.

I nodded, and he continued. “He was my best friend and had my back through a lot of shit. We went through hell and back together. After we got out—I mean for the last time—we moved to Boston together.”

“You moved to Boston with Rob.” I’d heard the stories enough. Rob Doyle and Matty had been close, like brothers, and even had matching tattoos. They’d gotten into even more trouble in Beantown. He hadn’t talked about Rocker before though.

Matty beamed at me. “I forgot I told you that. Yeah, Rob is Rocker.”

I gaped at him. Nothing about the man I met earlier matched the Rob I had imagined. From the way Matty had talked about him, I’d pictured the Hulk. Someone large, destructive, and always angry, but could turn, in an instant, into Bruce Banner and be calm and collected. Rob, or so I'd gathered from the brief mentions of him, was bad news. Matty had had to bail him out of jail more than once. I’d pictured a monster who could put on a good show, not a good guy who could be a monster. Rocker had seemed genuinely nice and funny.

“But… Rocker is freaking hot!”

Matty choked. I stood and pounded him on the back.

When his coughing stopped, he glared at me. “Really?”

I shrugged. He was.

"Since when do you think the tattooed guy on a Harley is hot? You don't like the bad guy."

Since you.
I blushed.

Seeing my embarrassment, he winked at me. “I’m sure his wife would agree with you.”

I glared at him.

He smiled slowly. “Sorry. Too soon?”

“Are you trying to tell me something?”

He shook his head. “Nope. You don’t want to talk about it.”

“Well, we kind of have to now, don’t we?” I snapped. “Fine.” I set down my fork. “Why are you here with me when you told your fiancée”—I spat the word at him—“you were sick of my drama? Why aren’t you home celebrating with her?”

His eyes flashed at me. “Why are you here with me instead of with Billy?”

I’d half expected him to deny the drama comment and the fact he’d mentioned Will was a surprise.

“Because it’s your night,” I snapped back.

He leaned over the table. “Then why did you run away?”

“Ha! Did you want me to stay after Taylor made it perfectly clear I wasn’t welcome in her house?”

“Yeah, actually, I did. It isn’t her house. It’s mine.”

“Actually, Matt, it’s her house now too. You fucking proposed and didn’t tell me!” I was seething, but until that minute, I didn’t realize how upset I was about that fact.

“You told me I should do it!” he shot back, gripping the edge of the table. “I asked you if there was any reason I shouldn’t and you said there wasn’t! Regretting that now?”

“She’s a fucking hag. That should be reason enough to run away. But no, you decided to marry her. Then you tell her why my marriage is falling apart and agree to stay away from my drama? Do you know how fucking laughable that is? My drama? Coming from the woman who threw a fit because you didn’t remember her shoe size? Why in the fuck would you tell her that shit? I told you because I trusted you!”

“Taylor and I never had that conversation, but you’d know that if you had stayed for another five minutes. You ran away before I could explain.”

I took a deep breath, still angry but not sure what to say. I felt like an ass because I was sure he was telling me the truth. And it was just like Taylor to do what she could to cause trouble between Matty and me. “That’s the woman you’re going to marry? One who blatantly lies? I doubt it’s the first time, but somehow you overlooked it and proposed anyway!”

“Is that really why you don’t want me to marry her, Jo? Because she lied?” He was seething now; I’d never seen him so angry with me.

I knew what he was hinting at and realized that Taylor had meant that both she and Matty knew how I felt. “No! I don’t want you to marry her because I knew this would happen! She hates me”—I glared at him again—“and there is no way she’s going to be happy until I’m out of your life forever. I’ve always told you everything—that’s what we do—and now I can’t tell you anything because you’ll run right back to her.”