Page 17 of Tyrant

“They’re adorable, thanks for showing me.”

“Aren’t they just the best? I swear the good Lord repaid me in kind with those children. It was the least HE could do after giving me some children that tested my heart. One day, things will look a bit different for you, honey, you mark my words. You’ll have a couple little ones running around, and you won’t be having to think back on these hard times, ya’ hear?”

“Yes, ma’am, I hear you.” I nod, willing myself not to tear up. I miss my daughter. Badly.

“Well, I best be getting on down the road; my Jimmy doesn’t like for his supper to be too late. The stubborn old mule still hasn’t figured out how to work the oven to heat his dinner up after all these years. I swear men are just spoiled children but taller and more likely to get their way.” She rolls her eyes, huffing out a dramatic sigh.

“Thank you and drive safely.”

“Aren’t you just the sweetest soul. You have a good night and remember what I said. You see me out and about, don’t you hesitate to stop me for a chat.”

“Oh, ma’am? Is there a library around here?”

“See, I knew you was a good one the moment I pulled up. Have nice girl written all over you, honey. But to answer your question, no, unfortunately our little neck of the woods is too small for the town to consider a library. We just got that quick stop on down the road earlier in the year. They have some magazines, but they’re overpriced, if you ask me.”

“Alright, thank you.” I wave, and she does the same, smiling from ear to ear like we just became best friends when I don’t even know if I’ll be sticking around for longer than a night. She certainly was nicer to me than random people were in the last town I stayed at. It was a while before I met Shannon at the library, and everyone before her was either rude or downright nasty.

The exhaust from a motorcycle rumbles by somewhere, it’s near enough to have me glancing around. I wonder what Tyrant’s doing? If he made it home safely…and if he’s angry that we were married in the state of Nevada.

Glancing at the small silver band with a tiny sparkling chip imbedded on my ring finger, I can’t help butnotwant to take it off. He bought it at the cheesy drive-through chapel we stumbled into, but it already means more to me than the other one I had ever did.

Chapter 11

Tyrant

After I’ve gotten my shit inside the club, have taken a shower, and had a nap, I sit at the bar, glaring at the prospect behind it. He had the goddamn nerve to ask me how my Vegastrip went. I turn to Rogue, all prickly in my irritation. “I swear, have we not taught these assholes anything around here? Like how to keep their mouths shut on shit that isn’t their business?”

Rogue’s brows jump, he sits back, amusement dancing in his gaze. “I think Asphalt was asking to make conversation with your grumpy ass. You can relax, brother.”

I huff out a sigh. I haven’t told him what happened yet either. No one knows, only Havoc. He’s about to call church and when he does, I’ll share.

“Hey, V.P. good to have you back,” Zero’s pale ass greets, as he and Country head out front. I nod, keeping my rudeness to myself. The kid is literally the nicest guy you’ll ever meet. I’d be a real sore jackass to be a dick to him. With the other prospects it doesn’t bother me, but Zero has gone through enough shit in his life not to be extra shitted on by me, so I don’t do it.

“Let’s smoke a J,” Rooster yells across the main room to the others and my serious stare is on him next. He’s always loud as fuck, bad enough he has an obnoxious, long blue mohawk calling attention to him. Then he’s gotta yell shit like that all the time. He needs to spend his time learning to tone it the fuck down. We got too much illegal shit going on in our backyard to have him bringing the cops on site.

“Hey, dick for brains, calm down,” Creed says as he strolls towards the bar, bumping my fist in greeting. He can read me without me saying a word, probably knew with one glance I was ready to toss a chair at Rooster.

“I shouldn’t be here,” I grumble. “Too motherfucking fucked in the head over some shit. I’ll end up punching one of ‘em.”

Rogue and Creed’s brows both raise, waiting for me to elaborate, but I don’t. Asphalt’s smart enough to pretend he doesn’t hear shit, just continues to tidy up the bar and do inventory on club supplies for alcohol and food for the week. Zero takes care of ordering medical and cleaning supplies sincehe’s the one who usually gets stuck with patching us up if shit goes down. The others typically find something to keep busy with or else they’ll get stuck on random details we give them. They hate my ass for always making them help the bitches clean up around here, but in my mind, I don’t see why the club sluts should get stuck with cleaning up after our asses. They’re here to fuck, not be Molly Maid. The prospects don’t suck our dicks, so those assholes can swing a mop time and again, won’t be no skin off my back, and I know the Prez feels the same way.

A hand lands on my shoulder, squeezing. “It’s all good, Tyrant,” Havoc says. “Church, brothers. We have some shit to discuss.” He gestures to the room we have reserved for fully patched members only.

We pass Henley on our way. He’s carrying his guitar, shirtless like usual. The fucker used to be an athlete in his prime until he ripped something in his shoulder swimming and hasn’t been the same since. Now he just smokes weed for the pain and plays his guitar all the time. Poor fucker has some ugly-looking scars on his back from the multiple surgeries he had to have. Even with the doctors cutting into him, it wasn’t enough to get him back in the water.Still too slow, he claims and hasn’t spoken a word about it since. He’s a damn good cook, I’ll give that to him. He says it’s ‘cause hismadretaught him so he wouldn’t go hungry when he was off to college, living the playboy life. I say it’s ‘cause he was a spoiled little shit, but now he’s been left with big boy problems to sort out.

We take our respective chairs around the table once the door’s shut and all the noises from the common area are blocked out. Havoc sits at the head of the table, me to the right. He sighs, and begins with, “Fuck this week.”

We all nod, no doubt dealing with our individual shit. “Seriously, fuck it all to hell,” I mutter.

“Yep, fuck it.” Rogue nods.

“Agreed. Fuck this week and the one before,” Creed grumbles. He sits back in his chair and I meet his stare, curious if I missed something important that he needed my help with while I was in Vegas. I was gone all damn week with how long the ride took.

He offers a subtle shake of his head, and my shoulders relax, knowing he’s straight. I hate ever feeling like my brothers need me for something and I’m not there. I’ve pledged my life to this club, to them, from the start, and I damn well mean it.

“You wanna discuss your issue?” Havoc lays it on me and I figure it’s best to get it out now, rather than fester on it for a while and be a total sour puss toward everyone because my panties are wrinkled over decisions I was stupid enough to make.

I give him a nod, grateful he always has my back. This is no different, I know I can count on him. “I fucked up,” I mutter, staring at the chipped wood on the table under my inked arms. “Went to Vegas, met a bitch, fucked her, and she left.”

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