Page 17 of Sparrow

“Mom?” she prodded.

Finally, she met her daughter’s eyes, and the fake smile on Dixie’s face didn’t meet her eyes. Reaching out, she stroked Sparrow’s cheek. “My baby’s growing up.”

Pop! Pop!

The sound of gunshots boomed over the music, and the clubhouse jointly jolted, looking around for the source. Dixie had jumped, putting herself in front of Sparrow. The reflexive protective action wasn’t lost on her. No one fell to the ground. From what Sparrow could tell, no one had a gun drawn. Unfortunately, the sound was familiar, too familiar. With it came the numbness she’d felt that day.

“Must have been a car backfiring,” someone said through nervous laughter. While there were murmurs of agreement, not one person in their right mind truly believed that. It sounded good and would put some idiot’s mind at ease, but they all knew what it had been.

Sparrow, definitely, wasn’t convinced. Sure, to someone who hadn’t been around gunfire a lot, a car backfire sounded like a gunshot. But someone who had lost her father in a gunfight knew the difference. Someone shot a gun. Something just went down.

The door to church opened, and a high-pitched whistle got everyone’s attention. With the lack of conversation, the music seemed to grow louder.

“Prospects!” Pipes boomed. “Inside.” He gestured to the room behind him. “Everyone else, get the fuck out. The Spoke’s gonna have a drink special tonight. Tell ’em Odin’s Fury is footing the bill for an open bar.”

Odin’s Fury?

Sparrow felt the color drain from her face. Odin’s Fury. She’d never forget that name. The rockers were etched in her memory. The colors, the profile of the Viking god, she could practically draw it in her sleep if she tried. What the fuck did the Riders have to do with Odin’s Fury?

Pipes locked eyes with her. Unable to move from her seat out of shock, on multiple levels, she watched as he stalked toward her, all anger and rage dancing in his eyes. They hadn’t denied him, had they? Jesus. That better not be the cause for the gunshots.

Her man was unpredictable as hell when he used. She didn’t know how much he’d snorted before he got home, but he’d done a lot before they got there. He had to be out of his damn mind. She must have been right there with him since here she was, willing to be his woman.

Dixie shuffled off after kissing her on the temple. She didn’t watch where her mother went, her attention was too focused on the guy who planned to be her Ol’ Man.

Her body stiffened when he stopped in front of her stool. His hard expression softened when he cupped her cheek, tilting her head to look up at him. For a brief moment, the old Pipes looked back at her, and her heart melted. He was still in there.

“It didn’t happen tonight,” he said when he put his forehead against hers.

For some reason, relief washed over her as a weight lifted off her shoulders. She reached up and rested her hands in the crook of his elbows. She knew better than to express it.

“Some shit came up. We’re patching over tonight. I didn’t know.”

Blinking Sparrow pulled back. “What? Patching over?”

He rested his hands on her hips and nodded. “Yeah. Seems Prez has been in talks with Odin’s Fury’s president. The Roughneck Riders are no more,” he said as he pulled her against his chest.

No more. The Roughneck Riders were no more. Her father’s club was no more. It was gone. The sinking feeling in her gut made her want to vomit. Her last connection to her father was gone.

When his chin rested on the top of her head, the coarse hair of his beard brushed against her scalp, bringing her back to the present.

“You’ll still be my Ol’ Lady, though,” he assured her. “I just gotta wait till tomorrow’s church to claim you. We got stuff to do tonight.”

Pulling her back, he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead before looking into her eyes. “I don’t think I’ll be home tonight. Catch a ride with your mom to The Spoke, okay?”

Studying his face, she noted his bloodshot eyes and the beads of sweat at his hairline. At least this way he wouldn’t be riding home all messed up. Even better, she wouldn’t be on the back of his bike praying for her life. They’d both live to fight another day.

“Okay,” she agreed.

He gave her a brief kiss before he stepped back. Everyone who had been enjoying the booze and party at the clubhouse meandered toward the door. When she spotted her mother joining the crowd, she slid off the stool.

From her pocket came another piece of candy on a stick. Her man may be addicted to snorting meth, butshewas addicted to sugar. Everyone had problems. Some were just worse than others. Once unwrapped, she spat the stale gum out from her last one into the wrapper and tossed it in the trash. She popped the new one into her mouth and headed toward the door. Sucking her lollipop, she caught up to Dixie.

“Give me a ride?” she asked.

“You’re not celebrating tonight?” her mom asked curiously.

Sparrow shrugged. “Seems club business got in the way.” Turning the corners of her mouth down and dipping her chin, she did her best to project an appearance of disappointment. That’s what she was supposed to feel, right?

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