Page 2 of Shiner's Light

“Milo, come on,” I call out, somewhat impatient.

I love the kid. He’s my life, but sometimes I need a break. My ex left him and me a while ago. He doesn’t remember her and thank fuck for that. He doesn’t need to remember the toxic that she left in her wake. Sometimes I wonder what I ever saw in the bitch. Then again, I let my cock lead me where she was concerned.

Sasha was hot. She knew it and used it. Never did she care about anyone or anything but herself. I knocked her up after a couple months. She told me she was on the pill, and like the damn fool I was, I believed her. She had the little packet and shit. I just never checked the inside. She wanted to trap me. She did in a way, but I never married her ass like she wanted. I think that’s why the woman left Milo and me when she did.

When she didn’t get her way, Sasha set the house on fire and left Milo in it while I’d been away. If not for my brothers, Scorn and Torch, I could have lost him. They’d been volunteering that night and saved my kid. Sasha’s yet to be found, and I could give two fucks if she ever is. I’ll kill the bitch if she ever shows her face again.

Since that day, I’ve become a bit more overprotective of him. He’s three and a total handful. But he’s just like his old man—he loves bikes and working with tools.

“I’m coming, Daddy,” Milo shouts, his little feet stomping down the hall from his room. We moved into a three-bedroom house not far from the clubhouse after the fire at work. I used the insurance money to buy it outright. Thank fuck I’d been smart enough to get the insurance when I did. Growing up, I didn’t have shit. I all but lived on the streets. If not for the club, I’d probably have ended up in prison or some shit.

Milo comes into view at the mouth of the hall, and I can’t help the grin that crosses my lips at the sight of him. He’s got his hair styled the way he’s been having the ol’ ladies at the clubhouse doing it for him. He might be three, but the kid is smart as a whip. He learns quickly, and right now, staring at him with his hair spiked in a mohawk makes me want to shake my head.

“You going to daycare like that today?” I ask, taking in the rest of him. Cargo shorts and a DRMC T-shirt, both of which Meadow made for him. His shoes go with the outfit, and I make a mental note to have a talk with my VP’s woman about her decking my kid out the way she is. Then again, she even does it with Blow’s triplets.

“Yeah,” Milo shouts and pumps his hands in the air. “I’m going to be the coolest kid on the playground. That what Meadow said, and Chelswee said so too.”

I snort at my kid’s answer and shake my head. “Well then, let’s get you there.” I hold out my hand and wait for him to come to me.

Once he gets to me, I swing him up in my arms and start toward the door. The moment I open it, I freeze at the sight of the woman holding her hand up, ready to knock.

I’m torn between the emotions coiling inside me, but what gets me more is the sight of her battered, bruised face. I haven’t seen her in years, not since my son was born. Not since everything went down with the fire.

“Shiner,” she whispers my name, and it’s like a sucker punch to my gut.

“What are you doing here, Olive?” I clear my throat and wait for her to answer.

“I . . . I’m sorry, but I need your help,” she says, tears welling in her eyes.

Fuck.

I shouldn’t want to help Olive. I haven’t seen her in years, but her sister, Sasha, is the mother of my son, and she never did me wrong. What she did do was vanish when I needed her the most. Now, she’s back and, from the looks of her, brought trouble straight to my door.

* * *

“Bullshit, Olive, what game are you playing at? Coming here knowing what Sasha did. You’re up to something, and I don’t believe you came here for anything other than to play more fuckin’ games.”

It’s all I can do to keep myself in check and not completely lose it. After the initial shock wore off from seeing her again, rage began to boil in my veins. I ended up bringing her to the clubhouse to deal with her. Granted, a part of me wanted to pull her in my arms and hold her close, but I knew better. She’s just like her bitch of a sister.

“Brother, calm down,” Blow orders, stepping in front of Olive, blocking my sight of her. “Let’s hear her out. You just got to remember she’s not Sasha.”

He’s right, she’s not Sasha. She didn’t leave my kid alone in a house to burn in a fire. She didn’t want to have the abortion that I talked her out of. I’d thought I loved that woman, and all she did was want to kill the child we’d made together. I talked her into going through the pregnancy, and promised I’d be there for her and our son.

Sasha ended up agreeing, but I should have seen it for what it was at the time.

A way to keep me on her hook. I gave her everything she wanted, yet it was never enough.

Olive had been the one to help me with Milo when Sasha refused to do things for her own son. In public, the woman would act as if she was the greatest mother in the world, but behind closed doors, she had nothing to do with the son we created.

“What’s going on here?” Lucky asks, having just gotten to the clubhouse. His question distracts me for a moment from going any further down that road.

I jerk my chin up briefly, though I don’t take my attention off Olive, and watch the way she shifts her gaze in Lucky and Chelsea’s direction. It’s then I realize the two women know each other. But how? My jaw ticks, and my fists clench as Olive’s eyes take on that pleading look, the same one I’ve seen her sister give more than once. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, her breath hitching. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

“Bullshit,” I sneer, my lip curling in disgust.

“Olive,” Chelsea murmurs and starts to take a step toward Olive. However, my brother is smart to keep his woman back by pulling her into his arms. “What happened to you? Why haven’t you been at work?”

“I . . . I. . .”

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