Sanctuary (Freaks MC Book 2) (28 page)

TWENTY-SIX

There could be no doubt that Rex was eager. No matter what task Samson set him, whether it be ridiculous or mundane, the kid carried it out without complaint. But, shit. The spotty little fucker drove him nuts. His long, gangly frame seemed impervious to any training regimen, and muscle stubbornly refused to grow. He couldn't throw a punch for shit, and was a worse shot than his old lady. Samson couldn't see how he could ever be an asset to the club. His only saving grace was that he was a natural on his bike and his instinctive mechanical knowhow. It wasn't going to be enough, though. He ground his teeth together as he watched the young prospect slop water from the overfull bucket onto the clubhouse floor. “Don't leave that puddle there, fuckwit. Mop it up, then when you're done, go get me a burger. An' don't get me that shit from McDonalds. Go to the diner.”

“
Okay, boss. Er boss?”

“
What?”

“
I... I don't have any cash.”

“
I'm sure you'll figure it out.” Samson scowled. “Don't just stand there. Get on it.” Rolling his eyes, he stalked outside and, sitting on the steps, lit a cigarette as he waited for his brothers to arrive.

Today was the Santa Run. Samson fucking hated the Santa Run. While he understood that these high profile charity runs were excellent PR, and it did warm his heart to see the kids receiving their gifts at the local hospitals, this was an open run – anyone with a bike was welcome – followed by an open house at the clubhouse. So what would have been a fun ride out with his brothers, turned into a logistical nightmare and something that, as a nomad, he'd always tried to avoid. He lacked the patience to deal with idiot civilians who rode out maybe once a week and had no idea how to ride in formation.

It would be two hours before they set out for the assembly point, and already he was in a sour mood. He'd yelled at the dog, bitched at Emma, and now the prospect was feeling the sharp end of his temper. If he managed to get through the day without punching someone, he'd call the whole sorry exercise a success. Then, just as he thought nothing could make his mood any blacker, Yaz arrived to set up the tables for the party on their return.

With a sigh, he dragged himself to his feet and wandered over to her SUV. “Need a hand?”

“Yeah. There's a bunch of boxes in the back that need to go in the kitchen.” If she was surprised by his offer of help, she didn't show it. “Are the tables set up?”

“
Not yet. The grunt has just finished mopping the floor. As soon as some of the others get here, we'll get on it.”

She nodded. “Will Emma be here later?”

That had been the plan, but she was pissed, and he didn't blame her. “Should be. She's got a couple of canvases to drop off at the gallery first, but I'm expecting her in about an hour.”

“
Okay. I'll call her and get her to bring some more paper plates. I'm not sure we'll have enough. Bugs thinks there's going to be a good turnout.”

Great. The clubhouse invaded by stupid assholes sticking their stupid noses where they weren’t wanted. He sighed again and followed her back into the clubhouse. The sooner this day was over, the happier he would be.

Yaz turned and looked at him for a moment. “Are you okay, Samson?”

“
What do you care?”
Oh smart move, asshole. The bitch was actually trying to be nice, and you just threw it back in her face. “
Sorry.” He gave a rueful grin. “Old habits die hard. I'm okay. Just be glad when this bullshit day is over.”

She'd been quite a looker, back in the day, before the kids and stress of being an old lady had taken their toll. As she gave him a rare smile, Samson caught a glimpse of the woman she'd once been. “Just try not to hurt anyone.”

“Ain't making no promises.”

“
Well be discreet. Bugs is hoping to recruit some fresh faces.”

“
God help us.” He looked over to the latest hopeful, who was still mopping the floor. “Hey! Move your ass, grunt. Go get me something to eat.”

“
Yes, boss.”

Yaz shook her head. “You never were a patient man.”

Okay, now things were getting weird. Yaz didn't do nice. Deciding that his best option was to just ignore her, he carried the boxes into the kitchen, then, despite the fact that it was cold enough to freeze his balls off, resumed his position on the steps to continue sulking.

~ oOo ~

She'd really hoped that this month... Emma swallowed her disappointment as she washed her hands and headed back into the clubhouse. She knew these things could take time and they hadn't been trying for long. But she really had hoped.

She didn't want to tell Deke. Not today. He had woken up in a foul mood which he'd been determined to share, and she didn't want to make things worse. He'd know, of course. Probably as soon as he looked at her. But maybe if she smiled brightly enough, or laughed loudly enough, they could get through the day without him noticing.

He was leaning on the bar, the perma-scowl still fixed firmly to his face, as Bugs barked out instructions prior to them setting off. She'd actually been looking forward to the day – she'd never been on a run before, and it had sounded like fun – but now she wished she'd decided to stay home.

Deke looked over, and as their eyes met, his expression softened slightly. He pushed himself away from the bar as she approached and lifted her chin. “Am I still in the doghouse?” She shook her head – not quite trusting herself to speak just yet – and he frowned. “Emma?”

She blinked, hating her treacherous eyes for watering.

“
Oh, baby girl.” He pulled her into his arms. “It'll happen.”

“
I know.” She sniffed and laughed a little shakily. “I guess we just have to keep on trying. And trying's fun, right?”

“
I'm a big fan of trying, baby.” He wiped a tear from her cheek with his thumb. “You ready to go?”

“
Yeah. Ready when you are, big man.”

Despite her apprehension, the day had been fun. She'd loved riding, just behind Bugs, with what sounded like hundreds of bikes behind them. And even her determinedly grumpy old man couldn't stop the grin from spreading across his face as they'd walked onto the children's ward, laden with sacks of toys. He'd immediately thrown himself into playing with those kids who were well enough and took time to sit and read with the ones confined to their beds.

As she sat playing Barbie with some of the shyer girls, she'd surreptitiously watched as the few Freaks and old ladies who'd been allowed onto the wards played with the kids. This may have been a PR exercise, and a hugely successful one – these kids would have lasting memories of the big bikers goofing around and making them laugh – but every one of those big, bad outlaws had had 'something in their eye' at some point. She'd had to swallow a lump in her throat, more than once, and the sight of Spike with tears in his eyes as he'd listened to a tiny boy's mom telling him about her son's condition had almost floored her.

Even at the party afterwards, she'd enjoyed herself, despite Deke's bad mood. While he stood at the bar, growling at civilians, Emma sat with Bella, cuddling her latest grandchild and gossiping with the other old ladies.

Finally, deciding he'd had enough, Deke had marched over and told her that they were
leaving. Emma hadn't argued. Like a good old lady, she'd followed her man outside as he led her to her car, and followed his bike back to their little house.

~ oOo ~

Just as Deke rarely went into her studio, Emma stayed away from his garage. It wasn't something they had discussed or demanded, but they both understood the other's need for some personal space.

He'd been completely overwhelmed by her willingness to give up part of the yard and her sun room so he could have this, and had vowed to return the favor. Which was why now, instead of working on the bike in the corner, her was fixing up a new car for her. It wasn't big or fancy – she would hate that – just another little VW to replace her old unreliable one.

The cats, Buell and Dyna, were sleeping on the back seat as he worked, and JJ Cale was playing softly on the radio. Deke grinned as he turned over the engine and the shitty little car sprung into life.

It had been a steep learning curve for him – for both of them, really – he soon discovered that living full time with someone was completely different from spending the odd night with them. He had thought he understood women and quickly learned how wrong he was.

First off there was the crying. Women cried. He knew that. They got sad and they cried, it made perfect sense. Now, though, he knew they also cried when they got angry, or were happy. Or because they don’t fucking know why, okay?

Then there was the word ‘fine.’ Shit, he hated that word. Fine did not mean. “Yep, everything is dandy, you just carry on doing whatever it is you’re doing because I’m as happy as anything.” Oh no. ‘Fine’ meant, “you are in deep shit, buddy, and I’m not going to tell you why, cuz that would be way too easy. Oh no, I’m gonna let you figure it out all on your own.” Even after all this time he was still tying to work that one out. He’d asked Tiny, who had laughed and told him the best thing he could do in situations like that was to jump on his Harley and get as far away as possible. Hopefully when he got back she wouldn’t be ‘fine’ anymore, and they could carry on as usual. It wasn’t the best advice, but as he hadn’t been able to come up with a better alternative, he tended to follow it.

Some things he had managed to figure out. “I don’t want to talk about it” meant. “I do want to talk, and probably yell about it, and I expect you to sit and listen with your mouth shut and not come up with solutions for everything.” It had been such a relief when he realized that that was all he had to do, and when she had finished yelling, all he had to do was hug her. She would then tell him how wonderful and understanding he was and reward him with great sex.

He had learned that his normally laidback, easygoing old lady had an evil twin. Once a month for about two days, she would appear, angry, overemotional and generally spitting venom. It was times like these when he was glad he was a Freak, and suddenly understood why men from all walks of life had hobbies. They didn’t go fishing because they enjoyed sitting on a riverbank in the pouring rain, or play golf for the exercise. Oh no. They did it to escape their old ladies’ evil twins.

It hadn’t been all hard, though, and he’d learned things about himself too. He discovered that he enjoyed cooking. Nothing fancy - omelet or maybe a chili – but it gave him a kick to be able to cook dinner for her after she’d had a long day in the studio.

He'd quit his job at the strip joint and was now building bikes full time. The money wasn’t great, but he was enjoying it, and in his free time, if he wasn’t on a run, he liked nothing more than to cuddle up with his girl and watch crap on the TV.

In fact, for someone who had avoided it for his entire adult life, settling down to a life of domesticity had been remarkably easy.

He’d been a little concerned that she still wasn't pregnant – despite them fucking like bunnies at every opportunity – and had suggested he go for tests. Maybe he was firing blanks or something. Emma, of course, was her usual pragmatic self and had told him not to. They were happy as they were, just the two of them. And while a baby would be perfect, there was no point in getting all bent out of shape if it didn’t happen. Sometimes these things took time, and sometimes it never happened at all. Either way, she was happy with her life just the way it was.

He wasn't sure how true that was. He knew she got a little sad sometimes, but she'd quickly pick herself up. And as long as his little witch was okay, so was he.

~ oOo ~

Emma shooed the chickens into their house and glanced over to the wooden garage. Deke had been holed up in there all day, determined to fix up the car he'd bought for her. She reached down and scratched Genghis behind the ear. “Go get your dad, boy.” The dog cocked his head and sat down. “Dumbass.” She laughed. “I'll get him myself, then.”

He was buried deep in the engine of the little car with a cat perched on his shoulder, nibbling his ear. Turning as she opened the door, he gave her that panty-dropping grin that had won her over all those years ago. “Hey, baby girl. I'm just about done here.” He straightened up and, lifting the kitten off his shoulder, set him on the ground. “How about I get cleaned up, then we go for a ride?”

Sitting behind him on his big black Dyna was the best feeling in the world. Emma grinned as his muscles flexed under her hands.

She never would have believed it was possible to be this happy. Of course their relationship wasn’t perfect, and there were times when he drove her nuts. Coming home and finding engine parts in the kitchen sink was never going to go down well, neither was him spending hours riding with his brothers instead of helping her tidy the yard. But these were tiny things and he was trying.

She knew there were times when he needed to just ride, and she’d be lying if she hadn’t had moments of anxiety when she watched him send off his nomad brothers after a brief visit. But he'd reassured her that it was here that he wanted to be, and she believed him.