Page 26 of Menace

EIGHT

Rider

Staring at the black and white ultrasound image had his heart contracting and sorrow speared like a fiery arrow through his body. He might even have jerked physically the sensation was so real. His son had died before his time, along with his mother, the love of his life. Sorrow and hatred mixed in a hard knot in his gut. He had to breathe deep, several times, before he calmed enough to send Joney, no, Harper, she was Harper now, a message.

Your surprise package is beautiful. I’m with you every step of the way. Love you. R.

It didn’t take long for her to reply.

Thank you. I’m missing you and my squirrel. This crying bullshit is getting me down! I detest crying. Wish I could hug you right now. Love you. H

Grinning he turned his phone off and slid it back into his pocket.

She was going to be fine. He didn’t know anyone who was as soft yet resilient as his best friend. A woman who had survived unimaginable horrors as a child and a teen to become the woman she was today. Sweet and soft to the very core of her being.

The sweet and soft hid a spine of steel.

If the fucker who got her pregnant knew what was good for him he would get a fucking clue and wake his shit up. If he didn’t he would be getting a big fucking surprise. A Rider De Ridder type of surprise delivered with a fist.

The man might be as big as a fucking house, but the bigger they are the harder they fall.

And he would fall. He would be making sure of it.

NINE

Lucky

Shadow Wraiths Bar

Sitting at the bar between Dive and Lure he watched the room in the mirror at the bar-back. Watching the bitch he’d been ordered to seduce. He wanted to puke just thinking about putting his hands on the woman sitting in a booth at the back of their bar with her two friends.

Just looking at her made him feel sick to his stomach.

As if on cue his gut churned, taking a big gulp of his beer he swallowed it down, hoping like hell it would settle his stomach.

It wasn’t that she wasn’t pretty, she was. She was beautiful in actual fact, and in some way reminded him of his Gloria. He shook the thought off, not wanting it in his head. No way could he have the memory of her in his head when he had to do a very unpleasant and dirty job.

The problem he had with the job was that the bitch wasn’t the type of woman he usually fucked.

He almost snorted out loud when the thought slid through his mind.

It was utter bullshit, he didn’t have a type. He fucked them all, dark, light, thin, curvy, tall, short, tits, no tits, ass, and no ass - it never used to matter.

Until it did.

Until a‘tite chatte(little cat) shook up his well-ordered life.

Now he definitely had a type. And it was her, his ice queen.

Not that it did him any good, she wasn’t here. Her life was in Cape Town while his was in Savannah, with his club and his family.

Watching the cartel slut in the mirror he knew there was no way he was going to fuck her. His dick didn’t even stir as he looked her over, it was totally disinterested. In actual fact even though she undeniably had the look of his Gloria he was totally disinterested.

Turning to Dive he tried to explain his problem.

“Fuck brother, I don’t know if I can do this. She’s beautiful and everythin’ but my dick’s not interested. All I can think about is how fuckin’ dirty she is.”

Dive gave him a quick side glance. “Don’t think it’s goin’ to be up to you, bro. She’s comin’ over.”

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