Page 67 of Mad Max

“Bad as who?”

“The other old ladies. You guys get claimed, and then you get all gooey-eyed and crazy-smiled for no reason at all. It’s a bit creepy since you usually all smile at the air. I get that you’re just thinking about your guy, but it’s fucking weird. You look like serial killers or the creepy clowns in those horror movies.” She shudders in response to her words, and I tilt my head in response.

“You don’t like horror movies?”

“No. And before you ask, ain’t into girly rom-coms either. I like action and anime all day, every day. Horror movies stick with you and usually come back to attack your mind the moment you get a break from other shit. I do not need a vision of being dragged into a basement to be chopped up by the cute neighbor who just moved in next door during a walk home from the library. No fucking thank you.”

“If you like action so much, maybe you should actually learn how to protect yourself for once. Can’t always expect Daddy to bail you out,” Kooper says.

My eyes go wide as he walks by the picnic table we’re at. Kitten, who’s sitting with us, grabs Ruby’s arm, holding her down in her seat. Pretty obvious murder is on the club princess’s mind with the look she gives the man who saved her life as he walks away.

“Don’t. You know he’s just looking for a fight. Guy’s pissed that your dad took him off rotation for a while because of the shoulder dislocation. We all know you weren’t the reason for what happened. He’s just bitter and would rather take it out on you than say what he means,” Kitten says quickly, trying harder to hold Ruby down.

“Oh yeah, and what could that asshole possibly mean?” Ruby steams, and I look to Kitten for an explanation. I know some things about Kooper, but it’s not like Mad Max and I talk about the brothers like gossiping biddies. Actually, we don’t do a lot of talking at all.

It’s not uncomfortable silence, but we never need to fill the space. At least I don’t. I might not know everything about my beast, but I feel comfortable in saying I know him enough that if he wanted to talk, he would. I’m sure others think I’m crazy to fall for a guy so fast, but there’s a saying I read once. It was simple: “if you know, you know.” That was it. I’ve never felt anything like I do for Mad Max. Nothing. He basically moved into my place the night we came back from the hospital, and I’m okay with it. There’s no rush to change things. We know we’re it for each other. That we’re each other’s future. I might not fully believe in the greater-good philosophy, but I do believe that if things need to change, they will. Till then, we’re happy. That’s all that matters.

“He likes you,” Kitten says simply.

The laughter that bubbles out of Ruby has almost all the eyes in the room on us. It’s deep and clearly bellyaching, as she’s holding her stomach. It takes a good five minutes for her to stop laughing, wiping away the tears that flow from her eyes.

“Fuck, I needed that. Trust me, Koop doesn’t. He tolerates me. He does as my dad asks, and the only reason why he’s on ‘Ruby duty’ more than the others is because of his background in asset protection. My dad trusts that he can take me on the run and live if need be. That’s it. He trusts the rest of the boys, too, but Koop’s got a background my dad sees as useful in fulfilling his need to have me watched all the damn time.”

I guess that makes sense. But as I look over at Kooper, I also see he’s still staring at Ruby. Not sure protection detail is needed in the Hounds’ compound, but what do I know? I might be able to tell when someone is lying, but that doesn’t mean I can figure out if shady shit is going down or not. But I like these people. And they’re home for Mad Max—and me, too, now, I guess.

I see nothing weird going on at the moment, but I make a note to keep an eye out. It wouldn’t do any good to let my new home down now that I’m a part of it.

Not that they’ll kick me out. At least I don’t think so. I just don’t want Mad Max to worry. He might not realize that I see it, but I know he does. There’s something about him that makes me think he wants to make amends for something. Like he needs to prove himself. And if I can give him the information to do that, then I will. We’re a team. Something I love thinking and saying, as I’ve never had that before.

“God, that was good. I need a beer after that. Thanks, Kitten.”

Ruby bolts, and I just look at Kitten, who shrugs before she leaves and goes to see the guest of the hour.

Mama Bear made a full recovery and is now enjoying the spoils of being a new mama—with zero sleep and all. She says she loves it, but I question that. I’d honestly pick sleep over a tiny human, but that’s just me.

“You give her your gift yet?”

I look up a second before my man takes his seat by me. My man. I’ve never squealed before, but I get an urge to do so every time I think about Mad Max in that aspect.

“I did. But then Chains asked me to give them some space.”

He huffs beside me before taking a sip of his beer. “Told you they might not appreciate the knife set. Give them a few years.”

I nod. We had this conversation before we left to come here, when he saw me wanting to put a gift in his saddlebag. I get that a set of throwing knives isn’t for everyone, and maybe not for any newborn, but the gift registry was already picked over, and I thought a personalized gift was better than nothing. I even had the club’s logo engraved on the hilts. And… I might have gifted myself a set too. What can I say? I really like knives.

Not sure if the best part of all of this is that I get a new knife set or that Mad Max didn’t even blink when I said I was gifting the new Hound sharp objects. He just said the kid wouldn’t be able to hold the weight for a bit. Nothing more.

Love him not judging me for anything. Just like I don’t judge that he got the kid a weight set. Okay, sure, they’re plush and able to be chewed on, but he got the kid weights to bulk up. Another gift that Chains didn’t really seem to appreciate at the moment, but I think he will later. I mean, before the kid gets to kindergarten, he’ll be able to lift another kid if he wants to and also throw a knife and hit a target if needed.

“Gator, take a seat.” Mad Max nods at the guy walking by. I think he’s new. At least I’ve never met him. But I don’t think I’ve met everyone. He’s a new face for sure, and from what I’ve noticed, everyone seems to greet him like he’s been away.

“Thanks, man,” the guy—or kid, as he seems to be younger than most—says as he sits across from us. Maybe even younger than me, but I doubt they have an age requirement in this place. I think it’s more like experience and if they pass a year of bitch duty.

Yeah, been doing some reading up on club life, so sue me. While the club might accept me, quirks and all, I’d rather not say something stupid if I can help it. Not that my man will let anyone laugh at me. He’s already growled or given a few death stares when I’ve made comments that caused some brothers to chuckle.

“Fairy, meet Gator. He’s been out of town on business for the boys for a bit, but he’s back now.”

I take the guy in. Not because he’s got some incredible tats coming up his collar and covering all of his neck and the sides of his shaved head. Or that I know he’s probably got a ton more ink on him under his T-shirt, considering his fingers and arms also sport some cool designs. It’s more because he growls. Never seen anyone do that to my beast. The brothers who talk to him always do so with respect and even a bit of hesitation, it seems. Like they’re afraid he’ll go all mad on them.

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