GRIT: A Spartan Riders Novel (18 page)

Judging by the fire burning bright in his eyes, Blake didn’t doubt for a single second that the man was gunning for blood. “The crazy bitch isn’t afraid of us,” he informed him, his tone gruff. “Thinks the club is a bunch of pussies.”

“She think we gone soft?” Cricket asked, disbelieving.

“Half the fucking state thinks we’ve gone soft,” Moose said with a chuckle. “Anytime you ain’t spilling blood on the street is a moment of weakness in their eyes.”

Blake’s jaw clenched, the truth irritating him. Once upon a time, when his pops held the gavel, the Spartans had been feared coast to coast. They weren’t much better than Cruiz and his minions, commanding loyalty and respect from anyone who drew breath, but that worldview came with a hefty price. A price Blake didn’t want to spend his life repaying. Living on a knife’s edge day in and day out had a habit of shortening a man’s life-span.

It also had a habit of putting everyone he loved in the cross hairs of his enemies.

Blake had seen the toll it took on his mother to be his father’s old lady. It placed untold strain on their marriage, caused fights, broke her heart in the end, which was probably why she was now off who knew where playing Columbus. Blake never wanted that for his family. He dreamed of quiet, easy days surrounded by his brothers and their kin. He wanted simple, so he’d set out to make it happen.

In ten years’ time, and after a fatal run-in with a rival gang that took his father’s life, thrusting Blake to the head of the table, the Spartan MC became Spartan Riders, reinventing them as a harmless band of brothers who represented comradery rather than bloodshed.

It was everything he’d ever hoped for, but now it looked like they might have to dip their toes back into the dead pool, and Blake was furious. All that hard work dragging them out of the pits, making a better name for the men and the club, only to throw it all away on a piece of shit like Ricky Cruiz.

“Send Jodi a message,” Blake ground out, “but keep your distance. I don’t want to bring the house down unless we absolutely have to.”

Repo nodded, triggering each member around the table to do the same. “You got it, Prez.”

As each man got up to leave, Blake stared across the expanse of scarred oak and couldn’t deny the thread of unease working its way through his nerve endings. This thing between Jodi and Cruiz, Blake and Gabby, was going to come to a head, and when it did, shit was gonna get real ugly real fast, and the forty-five tucked in his holster said he’d better be prepared when it did.

TWENTY-THREE

When Blake arrived home later that afternoon, he’d worn a haunted look in his eyes that left Gabby feeling disturbed. She wondered what he and the other guys had talked about during their meeting to have him looking that way, and she grew increasingly concerned throughout the day as his mood continued to deteriorate. But when she’d tried to ask him about it, he’d brushed her off, reminding her that it was club business—in other words, butt out.

In hopes of sparking a change, Gabby set about trying to lift his spirits. The first thing she did was share the art project she and Ash had been working on all morning. When Ash presented it to him, Blake’s eyes had widened and he seemed at a loss for words.

“You made a scrapbook?” Gabby watched from her corner of the couch as he ran his fingertips down the book’s cover with care.

There was a square cutout in the center, a picture of Blake cradling a newborn Ash in his arms. The way his head was bent down, the smile flirting on his lips, and the adoration in his downcast eyes made Gabby’s heart weep just to look at it, so she convinced Ash to give it center stage.

From Blake’s misty eyes, she guessed it was the perfect choice.

“It was Gabby’s idea,” Ash announced as he climbed into his father’s lap and took possession of the book.

Gabby smiled, thinking of the closeness they’d achieved while working together on the book. She could tell that he really appreciated her ability to share in his life and memories—even those that included Jodi—without a fuss. He’d been a bit nervous to share his enjoyment of seeing picture of himself with his mom, but then she’d made it clear that there was nothing wrong with loving her. After that, he’d warmed right up, and now she could see that Blake was enjoying their efforts. It made her feel as though she had carved a place in their lives for herself, and it felt amazing.

“Was it now?” Blake was saying, casting her a questioning look over Ash’s bent head.

“I found the box of pictures in your closet while I was snooping,” Gabby admitted shamelessly.

Blake’s eyes twinkled. “So you weren’t kidding about that, huh?”

Gabby pressed her hand over her heart. “I never joke about something like that. I take my snooping very seriously. By the way, you need to buy new socks. Yours look like they’ve been long-term victims of an army of moths.”

“Then you should definitely pick some up.”

Gabby’s eyes shot wide. “Me?”

“Of course. That’s what old ladies do for their men. That and a few other things that we’ll have to discuss in private later.”

Old lady? Their men? Gabby was flabbergasted. Was he trying to tell her that he’d claimed her? She knew he intended to do so at some point but…well, she still didn’t know how she felt about that just yet. From the way he’d talked about it, it was a position of high esteem, and she just didn’t know if she was there yet. Didn’t know if she trusted him completely, or if she was even interested in becoming an integral part of the club life. After all, she’d seen firsthand what it’d done to Shane. Blake said before that the Spartan Riders kept their noses clean, but for how long, and at what cost? She didn’t imagine that enemies like those they must have had in the past just evaporated because they wanted them to.

Despite all the doubt swirling around in her gray matter, Gabby found herself watching Blake and Ash as they flipped through the pages of the scrapbook with a growing sense of warmth coalescing between her breasts. No matter her reservations, she couldn’t deny that she loved spending time with these two. They were brightening her world in ways she never could have imagined. When she’d ventured into this thing with Blake, she hadn’t anticipated just how powerfully addictive it would be, how much she’d come to like staying in his home, spending time with his son, and overall enjoying herself. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing to be an old lady. After all, she was living in a world that wasn’t her own…
But it could be
, a voice whispered inside her mind,
if she took what Blake was offering
.

“Gabby said that’s Mommy,” Ash said, pointing to a picture. “But that doesn’t look like Mommy. Is it, Daddy?” He twisted around, awaiting an answer.

“Yeah, that’s Mommy, buddy,” Blake said, his voice significantly lower than usual. He seemed almost sad, Gabby observed. An unwanted pang of jealousy twisted her gut, although she knew she had nothing to be jealous of. “She just looks different because she was younger. Time changes people.”

Wasn’t that the truth. She’d spent the last few months of her relationship with Shane wondering what she’d done to piss him off, constantly confused over his extreme shifts in behavior—sweet and giving one day, angry and withdrawn the next, switching to depressed or back to happy at the drop of a hat. Looking back, she could only attribute the emotional fluxes to what he’d been doing behind everyone’s back with the man that eventually impacted both of their lives for the worse.

Blake redirected everyone’s attention, telling the stories behind the rest of the photographs littered across the pages. By the time he reached the final page, the nostalgia hung thick in the air. He closed the book with a satisfied sigh, hugged Ash close, and dropped a kiss to the crown of his head before playfully smacking his behind.

“All right, buddy, time to go get dressed. I wanna take my special people to dinner.”

“McDonald’s?” Ash asked hopefully.

“Someplace where the dress code requires real pants.” Ash pouted. Blake said, “Work with me, buddy. Daddy’s trying to catch a girl. Maybe if we can show Gabby how good we clean up, she’ll stick around.”

Ash’s bright gaze darted toward her and he beamed, making Gabby’s heart clamor, before dashing off to his room to get ready.

“That was low, Mahone, even for you.”

Leaning forward, he placed the scrapbook on the coffee table. When he sat back, he held his arm out, inviting her into his personal space. She went without argument, because she simply enjoyed being close to him.

“You mean using the kid? Nah. We’re each other’s wingman. I teach him how to snag the ladies, and he helps me win them over. It’s a good system.”

“Just how many women have you two schemed into your bed, Mahone?” Gabby asked with a hint of laughter in her voice.

Casting his gaze toward the ceiling, he pursed his lips, pretending to think about it. Gabby feigned indignance and pinched his side.

“The answer is me!”

Belting out a laugh, Blake took possession of her hand, pinning it against his chest. Tilting his head down, he brushed a sweet kiss across her lips. “You’re the only woman, teach,” he murmured, his tone heavy with desire.

When Gabby looked up into his eyes, she went breathless at the intensity lurking on the surface of his.

“I love the way you look at me.” His thumb stroked the back of her captured hand. “I like the way you feel in my arms. You make me want things I shouldn’t, but I can’t help myself. Every time I touch you, I need more.”

She felt the same way about him. Nuzzling the side of his neck, she tucked her face beneath his chin, as much to get closer as to escape the moment long enough to think, otherwise she’d tell him anything he wanted to hear, and she knew exactly what that was.

“So what do you say, you gonna be my old lady or what?”

She laughed if only to lighten the moment. “Such a silver tongue you got on you.”

“Is that a yes?”

The moment dragged out longer than it should before Gabby could get the words out. “I don’t know.”

He didn’t react the way she’d expected. Instead of getting angry or challenging her, Blake simply kissed her hair and brought her with him as he stood. “Let’s get ready. I made reservations for six.”

Surprised, her anxiety spiked as Gabby trailed after him. “Reservations? What should I wear?” Did she need a dress? Heels? She’d only packed enough clothing to get her through a couple days. Unless she wore a work outfit, she had nothing for going to a fancy restaurant.

“What you’re wearing is perfect,” Blake tossed over his shoulder.

Gabby looked down at her snug-fitting blue jeans and oversized red plaid top—tied in a knot at her hip—with the white tank top underneath. “Where the hell are you taking me again?”

Standing before the bathroom mirror, slathering toothpaste over his toothbrush, Blake paused to look at her reflection. “Steakhouse. You owe a dime to the swear jar.” He graced her with a foamy, wicked smile before she walked away.

Relieved.

***

The restaurant was perfect—family oriented. Gabby should have known. In all his leather and jean wearing glory, Blake didn’t strike her as the fancy suit-wearing type. And he looked just as scrumptious, if not more so, without the monkey suit. She didn’t know what she’d been thinking.

“How’s your food?”

Gabby looked up, mid-bite, and replied, “Amazing.” And it was. You simply couldn’t go wrong with cheesecake. Especially cheesecake smothered in strawberry filling. Her taste buds had died and gone to heaven.

“In one meal, you’ve managed to undo my number one dinner rule: no dessert before you clean your plate.”

Gabby forked another bite and held it before her lips, staring him down. “Life is all about enjoying the good stuff while you can. I could choke on my mashed potatoes and die never knowing the sweet perfection of this cake, which would be a travesty. Am I right, Ash?”

Following her example, Ash was busy shoveling his own dessert into his mouth—a giant chocolate chip cookie topped with ice cream. Incapable of verbal communication, he nodded vigorously in agreement.

“You’re a bad influence,” Blake admonished, though he failed to hide the glint of amusement in his eyes. “We’ll discuss this later.” As soon as he said it, that amusement she’d observed morphed into a wicked gleam that caused her stomach to flip and her nipples to tighten. Oh, the things he did to her with just a simple look.

As they got deeper into their meal, they made small talk, discussing upcoming projects at work—Blake had to meet with the architect to revise one of the building’s structural design elements, and Gabby had a staff meeting coming up to discuss more plans on how to address bullying within the school. They also discussed the possibility of another party like the one she’d first attended when she met Blake’s friends from the club. She was hesitant about that. For some reason, the gleam in Blake’s eyes made her uneasy, and she suspected he might be using the party as an excuse to out their relationship to everyone. Possibly even use it to pin her down. She was still undecided on whether or not she wanted to become his “old lady.” The antiquated and wholly misogynistic term still rubbed her wrong, but, in theory, she had to admit that she kind of liked the idea of belonging to him that way.

More than anything, they spent their time focused on Ash, learning what he was into, what he liked and disliked—he was very much into one of the girls in the class. Gabby had seen a few hints around the reading time circle to suggest the girl—Marybeth—might share his interest.

She felt the matchmaker inside her stir to life, but forced it back into hibernation, reminding herself that she had no business meddling in the love lives of children.

“If you talk to her, you might be surprised. Some people are just too shy to say what they feel and require the other person to be brave for them.” Gabby watched Ash digest her reasoning. He was a smart kid. She had no doubt what side of the fence he would land on.

“Maybe I can send her a note first.”

“That’s a fine idea.”

“But what if she doesn’t want to be my girlfriend?” he asked her, worry and apprehension causing his head to sag on his shoulders.

“Look, buddy,” Blake’s clear, steady voice brought his head back up, “if there’s nothing else you learn in this life, it’s that the worst anyone can do is say no. If she doesn’t like you, she doesn’t like you. There are plenty of other girls to choose from.”

Again, Ash mulled over his words, thinking them through, before nodding in agreement. “I guess you’re right.”

Catching her eye, Blake twitched a smile and reached for his soda—something Gabby hadn’t expected. She’d thought for sure he’d go for a beer, but when she’d expressed her surprise, he just told her that he never drank and drove.

She’d been so impressed with his mature and thoughtful answer that she’d rose up, bent over the table, and planted a kiss on him right there for all the restaurant to see.

They were preparing to pay the bill when Blake’s brows pinched together and he reached into his pocket for his phone. Checking to see who was calling, he told her, “I gotta take this. Here.” He dropped a stack of cash on the table. “Settle the bill, yeah? I’ll be back in a minute.”

She watched him walk outside as he answered the call. Even from that distance, she could see the stiff set of his shoulders. Her concern grew, but she focused on doing as he’d asked. The money he’d left for her made her eyes widen. It far exceeded what was needed, and she briefly worried at how he’d come by so much. She immediately dismissed the troubling thoughts, deciding that she would give him the benefit of the doubt. Not every man was like Shane. Despite her experiences with men, she knew there were plenty of good apples out there, and she was choosing to believe Blake was one of them until he proved otherwise. Besides, in all likelihood, it was a simple mistake that could be attributed to his dyslexia.