Page 8 of Ice

“Social club,” he corrected, the tone harsh this time, sending a jolt of electricity down Bree’s spine as Misty’s warning words echoed in her skull.

“I know the club he belongs to, the rules, the dirty shit they do on the side,” Misty said as they were lounging by the inground pool in her backyard, sipping on cocktails in the baking desert sun. Between the scorching heat and cool of the sweet drinks, Bree was trying to not slip into heatstroke. She’d never thought she’d miss the humidity of a mid-July day in Georgia. “I could ruin him.”

“But?” Bree prodded as the cool fruit-flavored liquors helped chill her for a half a second.

Misty had grown up here, the sun and dry heat as normal to her as breathing. Bree was a year in and wishing her stubborn ass had rented instead of bought her house. She could handle heat, but sitting in an oven for most of the year was unnatural.

“But I like living,” Misty continued with a sigh as she flipped over on the lounge chair and undid her bikini top. “He just got released from Clark County yesterday, and I’m supposed to act as if that’s not an issue when he picks up the kids.”

“The jail?” Bree tried not to judge, but she’d never known anyone who’d gotten more than a speeding ticket. Then again, she didn’t know Misty’s baby daddy. Maybe it was the nonchalant way she acted as if a man getting released was a normal Friday.

“Two weeks.” She let out a little satisfied moan and pulled in her lips. “Locked away with nothing but other men.”

“You know, some people actually go in the pool,” John said as he stepped out onto the patio. “What time is he bringing back the kids?”

“Nine,” Misty said, rolling onto her side and flashing her husband as if Bree wasn’t sitting right next to her. “Ice was late, so I figured he could have the same twelve hours and you could take me out.”

“A club where I’m a ranking member,” he continued.

“Then you have responsibilities, and I need to know you can handle those and two traumatized five-year-olds.”

Bree had to give it to the old lady. She’d seen shit, didn’t give a shit, and had little care for Ice’s bullshit. Either that or she was severely depressed and hoping for an easy way out at the hands of a man who had probably killed before.

“Now, talk to your kids. Let them know you love them. But you tore out of the strip club where you work without thought of car seats or how you were going to get your kids to your home.” Her lips pursed as if she’d sucked a Warhead. “That gives me pause, and we’re not even going to get into the NASCAR-style racing I had to do to keep up with you.”

“I never lost sight of your headlights,” Ice said. “I was handcuffed, accused of killing the mother of my children, and then given a set of numbers for a house.”

“You would have been given the whole address if you wouldn’t have taken off like a bat out of hell.”

“I know the street where Misty lived. All I needed were the numbers.” Ice’s voice raised and echoed through Bree’s home.

The place was massive, with an open floor plan and more space than she needed as a single woman, but she could feel the walls tightening in around her as Jane’s tiny hand slipped into hers. She glanced down at the little girl, who gave a half smile before lightly squeezing.

“It’s okay, Auntie Bree,” she assured.

“I’m fine,” she lied, dropping to a crouch to be eye level with the child. “Mrs. Parker and your daddy are trying to find the right place for you to sleep tonight.”

“I don’t have my Goodnites,” she whispered. “Daddy doesn’t know I need dem cuz I don’t gets to spend the night with him.”

“For accidents?” Bree questioned.

“I have less than Aiddie. Mama says it’s cuz I’m a girl.” She cupped one hand on the side of her mouth to relay a secret. “Really it’s cuz Mama says I can’t stay with Daddy until I don’t need them at all. I want to stay at Daddy’s. I’ve had a whole week of stars, but Mama says I need a whole month.”

“Either way, you both need your overnight undies just in case.”

Jane’s face became solemn as she nodded.

“You have car seats, right?” Bree interrupted the escalating argument that was on a never-ending loop. “Or do you need to buy them?”

“Yeah, in my place, because I do take my kids from time to time.” Ice glared at Mrs. Parker.

“You were going to call someone. Call them; get them to come over here. They can drive your bike back.”

“Ride, they could ride my bike back, but they won’t because they like living,” Ice corrected, an evil grin on his lips. “Fine. That good enough, Mrs. Parker?”

“It’s acceptable,” she said.

Bree sent Jane back into the living room and stepped close to Ice, her body thinking his name was a misnomer because once she was within three feet of him, a familiar heat pooled in the lower half of her body. This wasn’t a club, it was her kitchen, and the last thing this man was thinking about was her.

---