Out of the Ashes (9 page)

I didn’t know how Zane was going to find us in the dark theater and carry an amount of snacks that could have fed a basketball team, but I needn’t have worried. Apparently, biker bad asses could defy the laws of snack carrying and see in the dark, as he approached the aisle we were sitting in with no apparent trouble. After a huge argument between me and my lovely spawn, Lexie had won and deduced Zane would be sitting in the middle because he had all the snacks, and “it only made sense.” She couldn’t seem to understand why I was making such a big deal out of it. I couldn’t exactly tell her the big rough biker hated me for some unknown reason, while he turned me on beyond any point of coherent thought. So I lost the argument.

“We’ve decided you’re in the middle since you’ve got the snacks and this makes the best logistical sense,” she informed Zane on his arrival, standing.

Zane didn’t say a word, and since it was dark I couldn’t see his face clearly. I could however, feel the heat of his stare.

He passed me my drink as he sat down. I restrained a gasp when my fingers brushed his and I felt a jolt at our connection. It felt like a mild electric shock went straight to my downstairs. I didn’t even know that happened in real life. I could see Zane’s entire form stiffen at the contact, so maybe he felt it too. Or maybe he was just repulsed by my touch. Which, by considering how much he seemed to despise me, wasn’t a stretch.

“Zane, since you’re not partaking in the soda portion of the experience, I must insist you indulge heavily in the snacks,” Lexie demanded, opening up the various candy packets. “Now, through a vast amount of trial and error, Mom and I have concocted a perfect chocolate to popcorn ratio,” she explained, expertly pouring the various candies into the popcorn. “The combination of sweet chocolate of various textures and the saltiness of the popcorn...perfection.”

I imagined her touching her fingers to her lips like an Italian does after a good meal, since she made the accompanying sound. I didn’t disagree though; our movie snacks were the shit.

Luckily, the dimming of the lights and the glowing of the screen silenced any further conversation. I expected to finally relax. The darkness of the theater masked any filthy looks directed my way and the need for silence hampered me from saying anything stupid. But as soon as those mother effing lights dimmed, something happened. The air turned charged with so much sexual tension I doubted you could cut it with a chainsaw. I clutched my drink so tightly I worried for a second it might explode everywhere. I tried to move in my seat, but that only seemed to make me more aware of Zane beside me. I could even smell the manly mix of tobacco and his own musky scent. I tried to hold my breath. Not because he smelled bad, but because he smelled so
good.
I then realized I couldn’t hold my breath for two hours, so I let it all out on a loud exhale.

For once in my life, I wished, no prayed, Toretto and his crew would get their mission done and dusted in a jiffy, no funny business.

He was having a bad day. Not that any of his days in the past four years could ever have been classified as
good
. In fact, most could be described as fuckin’ horrific. Like the days he planned his own death. The days he tried to force himself to work up the courage to eat a bullet. Then the days after that, when his best friend made it his mission to make sure he never had that particular meal. So this day couldn’t be classed as the worst, but it was pretty fucking bad. All because of the blonde bitch living across the street from him. The one who haunted his fucking dreams. The one who made his cock get half hard just thinking about her. Listening to her chattering away to her daughter about stupid shit while he changed her tire made him calm. Made his mind silent. His mind was never fuckin’ silent. But there it was, listening to them argue about some fucking actor and stupid fucking movies, it was like they were gone. The demons. Until they weren’t. That was dangerous. Blonde hair, amazing fuckin’ tits, beautiful fuckin’ eyes. Made him forget. He wanted her. But she was good. Innocent. Had a kid. Kid was fuckin’ good. Even more, innocent. Nice. Not even afraid of him. Friendly, acted like she thought he was worth talking to. He didn’t even know why he did it. Gave them his name. The name only a handful of living people knew. The name only one person had called him. The person who was the light of his life until he got her extinguished. He didn’t do good around good people. Nice people. Innocents. Which was why he didn’t talk to them. Didn’t talk to anyone, really. But that day, and every day after it, his mind was on her. Mia. Which distracted him. Thinking ‘bout her. Her tits. Tight little ass. Rosebud mouth that her teeth chewed when she was nervous. Which was when she was around him. He knew it. But she was still funny. Still spoke to him, gazed at him with those ocean blue eyes he couldn’t get out of his fuckin’ head. Therefore, his head was full of shit it shouldn’t be full of.

So his day was fucking bad. Hence why he was sitting in the clubhouse bar, pouring his first whisky and it was barely noon. As he had been for the past week.

“Jesus fucking Christ, would you look at that,” Gage, one of his brothers whistled. His head was near pressed to the window, which gave a view of the forecourt. “Sweet as fuck piece just walked in,” he paused. “Fuck, Lucky’s already pounced, the slimy fuck.” He seemed genuinely sad.

Bull inwardly shook his head. Gage was a loose cannon. Days like today he was lighthearted, all about pussy and joking. Then other days, when the occasion called for it, the fucker turned. Something he’d never witnessed. Everything left his eyes; he became cold, ruthless. The joker was gone. A killer remained. He had some serious fuckin’ issues. Issues that Bull thought stemmed from the mangled scars that hid underneath his tattooed arms.

Cade and Brock were lounging on the sofa, uncharacteristically without their women. This was because they had church early this morning. Again, unusual. But shit was going down.

“Jesus,” Brock muttered on a grin. “The last thing we need is that fucker adding another bitch to his collection. He’s juggling too many as it is. Reckon they’re gonna find out, then one bitch’ll go crazy and shoot the fucker if he’s not careful.”

Gage kept watching the window. “Doesn’t look like she’s here for him. Got car trouble by the looks of it.” He shook his head. “Hot as fuck piece, drives a ridiculous girly car like a fuckin’ Beetle.” He said like this was a crime to humanity.

Bull’s head snapped up at this. He knew of only one hot piece driving a Beetle. There was no fucking way he wanted Lucky flirting with her. In a flash, he had slammed his drink down on the bar and headed toward the forecourt. He hadn’t even realized Brock and Cade were in stride with him until he reached the car with Lucky inspecting under the hood. He gave them scowls but then was silent.

When he saw her it happened again. His demons fucking silenced. He immediately hated her for it. For making him feel shit he didn’t fucking understand. For making him want to beat his brother with a socket wrench for smiling at her and calling her darlin.’ And for making him somehow agree to go to the movies with her and the fuckin’ kid just so Lucky didn’t get his ass within a foot of her.

It was torture. Bull had done torture. Both physical and mental. Gotten the shit beaten out of him, made to bleed. He’d damned near laughed in the faces of the pussies that did it. Then there was the mental. The torture that he went through daily. That haunted him both awake and asleep. Took him years, years of constant suffering to be able to control it. She took away that control. Sitting next to Mia, smelling her hair, feeling her fucking squirm in her seat, almost broke through every ounce of control he had. He wanted to lunge on her, taste her mouth, her pussy. Every inch of her. Her daughter was sitting right next to her, for fuck’s sakes. That was the only thing that stopped him.

The kid somehow was breaking through every wall he’d erected to keep him sane. Kept the outside world out. Kept the demons in. Her easy smile, her unguarded chatter. The way she looked at him like he was s
omeone
. He felt protective of her. Fuck, he fuckin’
liked
the kid. So when he saw the pimply fuck ogling her he barely stopped himself from grabbing him by the collar and shoving him headfirst into the popcorn machine. He didn’t. He merely suggested the next time he served Lexie, he keep his eyes on his fuckin’ snacks and nothing else or he’d come to his house and chop his dick off. Too far? Maybe. But like he said…no fucking control.

So that’s why he had to steer clear. Way fucking clear. Out of the goddamned state clear. He needed to make sure he didn’t encounter either of those bitches again. Which was hard when he lived across the fucking street. But he’d do it. For his sanity. For their safety. There wasn’t any way he’d get close to anyone again. He didn’t need more innocent blood on his hands.

When he dropped them off at the club after two hours of torture, he decided it was the last time he would ever see them

“See you later, Zane,” Lexie chirped with a bright grin. “You totally liked it, I can tell. So you’ll come next time as well?”

For some reason he didn’t want to disappoint the kid. “Maybe, Lex,” he lied.

She beamed even brighter if that was possible. “Saaweet, catch you later,” she called, jumping out of the truck.

“Bye, kid,” he muttered.

He struggled to turn his gaze to Mia, who was dangling half out of the truck, an uncertain look on her beautiful face.

Fuck. She was so fuckin’ beautiful he could hardly think straight. Not only that, she was funny. With her daughter, they had an easy relationship, happy. She was a good mom.