Page 17 of Inflame Me
“Fuck!” he booms. “I didn’t even know I had a fucking kid, and she’s living like this?” As he begins to pace, I look at the other guys, hoping this shit doesn’t go south, and Dagger can control his shit. “How could Mearna let her live like this?” His fists clench. He is about two seconds from punching a fucking wall.
I move up into his space, getting in his face. Dagger and I have been friends for two decades, and if anyone can handle him, it’s me. “One thing at a time, brother. Let’s get this shit cleaned up.” Even though I see no blood, which surprises the fuck out of me, we still need to douse it in hydrogen peroxide just in case. “Then we get back and find out. No sense in losing your shit when you don’t have all the facts. Got me?”
His nostrils flair, and I prepare myself for the bull that is Dagger. I might as well be wearing a fucking red shirt by the way he’s looking at me.
“Snap out of it,” I roar, and his eyes blink. Fucking hell. “Let’s get this shit done,” I order, seeming to be only one who still has a brain at the moment. The longer we’re here, the more likely it is that someone will see us.
“Fuck me. Let’s do this shit.”
I look over to GT, who is Pops’ kid and Princess’s brother. He carried in the bags of peroxide from his saddlebags.
“Bathroom, kitchen,” he says, heading off to wipe shit down. They say bleach kills everything, but that’s not the case when it comes to blood. The only shit that makes blood untraceable is the good, old hydrogen peroxide you get in the drug store. Works every fucking time.
I move around the space. Tanner has pictures hanging on the cracked walls and a whole dresser lined with them. There are a few of just her and others of her and her mother. I see none with any friends, which seems a bit odd.
“Done yet?” I call out as Becs pulls his handy-dandy light out of his pocket. It’s one of those the cops use to find traces of blood at crime scenes. He’s always been excellent at it. We used to joke all the time that he would go cop on us. He’s got a knack, and for us, it works like magic.
“Yep, we’re good,” GT calls out of the small bedroom.
“Let’s go,” Becs says, putting the things back in his pocket. Thank Christ.
“She kept it pretty well contained to the bathroom, and GT doused it. There was a spot on the bedroom floor, but nowhere else, not even the kitchen,” Becs reports.
Tanner is smarter than I gave her credit for, or she’s just a serious neat freak. Whatever. I’m ready to go home.
When we pull back up to the park, Pops sits there with a shit-eating grin on his face and Cruz and Breaker at his side.
“Done. Let’s go.”
I look over in the direction of the asshole’s house and see smoke billowing up to the sky. Then I turn over my bike, and we head out.
At least that’s one less fucking thing I have to deal with.
MY PHONE BUZZES, and I pull it out of my jeans, seeing Sandra’s name on the screen. Fucking hell. A while back, this bitch went to the cops, saying she saw drugs being sold inside the clubhouse. The cops came out with a warrant on her word and completely trashed the place, destroying almost everything inside, looking for the drugs. They found nothing, but they left us with a torn up mess. I went to Sandra and persuaded her to recant her story. Yeah, I fucked her to do so, but whatever. She went back to the police station and did just that, recanted. When she did, the cops were so pissed they nailed her and threw her ass in jail for lying. She called me to bail her fucking ass out, but that shit wasn’t happening. I’ve avoided her like the fucking plague since.
She must be out now since she’s calling from her cell. I hit ignore on the screen and stuff it back in my pocket. She’s called a half dozen times from jail, and if she keeps this shit up, I’ll go over to her place and take her out tonight. It’s on the to-do list, just not top priority. She’s a fucking liability, and we can’t afford to have those around here.
I GRAB THE wrench before adjusting the carburetor on my bike. I went to my place after getting back last night, but noticed my bike wasn’t sounding right. The first thing I did upon getting to the clubhouse was park my baby in the garage and start working. I thought about coming directly here after the trip, but with as much as Tanner crossed my mind on the drive back, I thought I would go home and get her off my mind. Too bad it didn’t fucking work.
“Hey,” is said softly above me, and I look up to see the most angelic face staring back down at me. Sure, there are bruises and cuts, but none of that shit diminishes her beauty.
“Hey, yourself.” I toss down the wrench and rise to my feet, wiping the grease on a nearby rag.
Tanner stands with her hands in the back pockets of her jeans and flip flops on her feet. Her tight shirt has a huge mouth with a tongue sticking out, and it hugs every one of her curves to perfection. She’s a small, little thing, reminding me of a little sprite. I shake my head at my thoughts.
“Dagger won’t tell me anything,” she says as her eyes connect to mine, almost pleading with me.
“I’m not saying shit, either. It’s taken care of, and that’s all you need to know.” I swear I hear her growl low in her throat, and I have to admit it’s pretty fucking sexy. “What are you out doing?”
She shrugs, her right shoulder hitting her ear. “I had to get out of there for a bit. I needed air.” I wouldn’t doubt that she does.
A phone rings, and Tanner pulls a cell from her back pocket then looks at the display. She doesn’t answer, only hits ignore.
I raise my brow.
“I think it’s the cops,” she explains. “I’m waiting for them to leave a message so I know for sure. It’s my mom’s phone, actually. I’ve been carrying it around.”
“Come on.” I leave the garage, making my way over to the picnic table near the huge playset that was built for the kids. I hop up onto the table, and Tanner’s hot ass follows. She sits not even a foot from me, her elbows resting on her knees. The smell of sweet flowers invades my nostrils, and I suck in deeply.
