Page 89 of Relentles
“That’s easy for you to say. Your kids have two parents, a roof over their heads, food always on the table—”
He winced. “That’s fucked up. Going to bed hungry not something I wish on anybody.”
Tears filled her eyes. Her sniffle horrified him. He didn’t want to upset her. Forget Jo for a second. It was Christmas Eve, and Torie’s son should have a happy ma. Especially today.
Glancing at Jo, who was still asleep, Christopher walked to the counter and snatched tissues from a box, then brought them to Torie and handed them to her.
She dabbed at her cheeks.
“I have some ideas that will help you and your boy.”
Potter crossed his mind again. He’d been affiliated with the club for fourteen years. He was thirty-four years old. He was a man whore, but then so had Christopher been.
“Ain’t too sure right now. We take care of our own. Megan’ll have some ideas and—”
“You consider me one of your own?”
“The club’s,” he clarified. “Under our protection. For the way you take care of my daughter.”
If Potter didn’t work out, maybe he could hire her as Gunner and Jo’s…
Fuck, she didn’t want to nanny his kids. That was an insult to her since she was settled and happy in her job. Bunny had been perfect because she’d needed a position and he’d had one available.
Bunny was happy to live at the house as Megan’s full-time assistant. He doubted Torie would want to move herself and her boy to do the same.
“Your mind’s whirling. What are you thinking?”
“Wild shit, babe.”
She laughed. “Tell me.”
“Just about you helpin’ Megan with Jo and Gunner full-time.”
“You want me to give up my job?”
“Yeah,” he said, thinking out loud. “Your boy wouldn’t want to stay in a house with strangers while you workin’ somewhere else. It would defeat the full-time part anyway.” He thrust his fingers through his hair. “Fuck, between Megan and Bunny, we have thirteen or fourteen lil’ motherfuckers. They got their hands full. So, hire you for Jo and Gunner. Gypsy for these three lil motherfuckers?” He swung his gaze to Torie. “Babe, shit traps scare you?”
“I beg your pardon?” she said faintly.
“Never mind. Jo need you more than those three lil’ motherfuckers and Gypsy wouldn’t last a day with them.” He swung his gaze to her, still calculating numbers in his head. The labs were profitable and his hydrogrows still brought in a mint, both lawfully and illegally. He’d adjusted slightly to the legalization of recreational use with a couple of store fronts. “It’s a lot, babe, and I feel so fuckin’ guilty for thinkin’ about askin’ you to give up your career.”
“Aren’t you a biker?”
He nodded.
“You want my son and me to live at a biker club?”
“Fuck, no! Didn’t you hear me? Megan and me got enough lil’ motherfuckers to fill a hostel. She’d put you and your kid in a nice room in our house.”
“Sounds crowded.”
“Fuck, babe. It is. Eight fuckin’ bedrooms not efucknuff. We’ll make it work. Megan might wanna give you a hundred twenty-five per year per lil’ motherfucker, but I was thinkin’ more along the lines of eighty or ninety.”
“Er, per year, per kid?”
“Yeah. Megan pay extra for extra shit. That’s why I’ma tell her that as your base salary.”
“C-can I see your house?”
