Page 3 of Guardian

“Come with us,” Rod offered as we reached the bikes. “Have a couple of drinks and stare at the ol’ lady wannabes. Half-naked sluts rubbing up against our cocks sounds like a good way to spend the rest of the day to me.”

“The invite’s solid, but I have to turn it down. I’ve got obligations elsewhere.”

“Not the kid again!” Rod complained for the second time this week. “You’re actually dragging your ass to play games with a kid instead of practically fuckin’ on the dance floor with a willing woman. You’ve grown soft.”

“The kid needs a mentor, and I made a fuckin’ promise,” I growled.

Doc chuckled. “You? A mentor? You look more like a felon than a mentor. Tats everywhere, shaved head, six foot five, and arms as big around as a woman’s waist. You’re more likely to scare the kid than help him.”

“The kid doesn’t give a damn what I look like. It’s irrelevant as long as I’m helping him. And who the hell says men like us can’t be mentors? Maybe some Karens out there assume I’m a felon, but I passed the drug and criminal screens with flying colors.”

I smirked, knowing the criminal record was entirely luck. The Sinners knew how to hide our fuck-ups.

“Irrelevant? You sure picked up some big ass words hanging around at that place,” Rod continued to poke at me, following me to the door.

“Don’t you know what it means, old man?” I shot back.

He bristled, but replied, “I know what it means, asshole. But it wouldn’t seem so irrelevant if they knew what some of those tats mean.”

I stared him in the eyes until he flinched. I was his superior, and he was close to shaky ground.

“The offensive ones are covered by my t-shirt. I’m not a fool,” I said through clenched teeth.

“He’s just a big softie,” Stretch, a thin man who was actually several inches taller than me teased. “can’t help himself. He’s gotta use all that love somewhere, and he ain’t got an ol’ lady.”

I took a menacing step toward him, but Flame intervened. “Leave him the fuck alone! It’s okay to be caring and have machismo at the same time. It makes Sweet a real man, not some prick. Los ninos need more like him. I’m proud of him,” she declared.

I was shocked by her outburst and her solidarity.

I was even more surprised when Ditch added, “If I’d had a mentor like Sweet my life in foster care wouldn’t have sucked so much. He’s doing good. Knock off the razzing shit.”

I gave a thankful nod and then walked out. Though, Rod followed. As I swung my leg over my ride, Rod came up and thumped me on the back. “You know we don’t mean nothin’ bad by it, don’t ya? We’re just having some fun.”

I took a deep breath and released my anger. I honestly knew that the teasing was a way to let off steam and that these guys would always have my back whether they understood what I was doing or not. “I know. I’m not ashamed of what I do.”

“You shouldn’t be.” Rod looked over his shoulder and then leaned close like he had some damned secret to the universe. “But can you tell me exactly how you’ve managed to get Flame not only to notice you but to like you? I can’t get her attention at all. Please don’t say it’s your work with the kid. That’s not me at all.”

I rolled my eyes and answered truthfully, “I don’t have a clue.” Poor Rod. We all knew he had the hots for Flame.

I started my bike, a sign for Rod to back off, and then I rode it out of the compound.

The Friendship Mentors were having a fundraiser at the park.

I parked my bike in the farthest corner of the parking lot to keep its roar from disturbing the children, some of whom had PTSD from traumatic home lives.

I checked to be sure I appeared as normal as possible and discovered I still carried a lethal blade in its sheath at my waist. I removed it and put it in the leather bag where I’d stowed my cut. I applied the locks that kept large and small hands from getting access to my belongings and strode toward the park.

I felt suspicious eyes on me as I searched for Jackson. I didn’t blame the crowd for looking at me that way. If I saw a huge manwith biker tats and a bald head hanging around a park filled with innocent kids, I’d be on alert too.

I didn’t want to cause trouble, so I smiled and nodded, trying to appear harmless. I doubted I was succeeding.

I heard Jackson before I saw him. He was arguing loudly with a pudgy, red-faced boy who was getting in his face while others stood around gawking. I didn’t intervene. It sounded as if Jackson was holding up his end of the argument just fine, and besides, the fight was about me.

I grinned because I knew he was going to win the fight as soon as the other kids caught sight of me.

“Kirk is huge, man! He could take the Rock down with one hand tied behind his back. His biceps are as big around as a bowling ball. He’s got all kinds of tattoos, even on his head. There’s a big snake that winds up his neck and around his ear. It’s awesome!” Jackson described.

I winced when he used my real name. Few people used it anymore, but it was a necessary evil here.

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