Halligan To My Axe (The Heroes of The Dixie Wardens MC Book 2) (7 page)

“How much longer are they going to be on your car?” Kettle asked, eyeing the car with disgust.

I felt the same way. I hated the rental car. Especially after I was used to driving my own car. This car was too bland for my tastes, and didn’t have the get-up-and-go my own car had.

I missed my baby.

I sighed. “I don’t even think they’ve looked at it yet. They said they had some paying customers come in that they had to do first, and then they’d get to mine since mine was an insurance job.”

Although I could understand the reasoning, I hated that they weren’t even looking at it until they felt like it.

It wasn’t my fault that jackass had hit me.

A clunk, thunk, and then a curse came from the side of the car, and we both looked up to see Viddy holding her forehead. “Oww.”

“Your sister just hit her head on the door,” Kettle observed, slightly concerned.

“Yeah,” I agreed. “She does that quite a bit. She doesn’t like to draw attention to it though, so just act like you didn’t notice.”

“Alright,” he agreed reluctantly.

I guessed it went against the grain of my personality not to help those in need, but I knew my twin sister like the back of my hand. I knew that Viddy wouldn’t like help, and she hated calling attention to her weakness.

I’d learned long ago not to even bother with helping her if she had her mind set against help. Which was why I had a scar that ran along the underside of my chin from where my sister threw a vase at my head because I had the nerve to offer to assist Viddy outside for prom our senior year.

“Well, thank you again for dinner. You didn’t have to buy ours, but I appreciate it anyway.” I smiled at Kettle.

Then I noticed how close we were standing. How very,
very
close.

“Kettle?” I breathed.

Kettle’s eyes, those beautiful blue eyes went from my mouth, where they’d been staring, to my eyes, and the sexual awareness that flashed in them fairly electrified my nerve endings.

He leaned in, pressing me slightly against the door of my car, and leaned in until he was only a hairsbreadth away before he said, “Yeah?”

I could feel the hard ridges of his body where he leaned against me, and then the very hard part of him that I was dying to rub against.

Then my fucking asshole sister honked the horn, making us jump apart like we’d had a vat of boiling oil poured over our heads.

“Jesus Christ,” I breathed, pressing my hand against my heart.

Kettle was three feet away from me, his hands linked on the top of his head as he glared daggers at my sister. “Your sisters a...a...”

“Bitch?” I supplied.

Kettle shook my head and smiled. “I was going to say-”

“Asshole?” I cut him off.

“Shit head. I was going to say shit head.” Kettle chuckled as he moved closer to me.

Then the asshole honked the horn again, making both Kettle and I look at each other helplessly.

“Alright, well the queen asshole has spoken,” I shook my head and then opened my car door. “I’ll see you tomorrow. I plan to have groceries.”

“I’m working tomorrow.” Kettle told me.

Was that a hint of sadness in his voice, or was it only me wanting it to be there?

“When are you off next?” I questioned.

“Friday.” He answered.

“I’ll get them then. Maybe you can stay for dinner.” I offered hopefully before dropping down in my seat and slamming the door without listening to his response.

“You just asked your hot firefighter neighbor that belongs to a motorcycle club to dinner. Does this mean you want to bang him? Shine his fire pole? Work his throttle? Ride him like a Harley?” My sister jeered.

I let my hand fly and smacked her across the boobs. “You’re such an ass. I was totally going to get a kiss from him before you had to pull out the asshole and honk the horn.”

“A little bit of mystery goes a long way, sister dearest.”

Indeed it does
, I thought.

What I hadn’t planned on was letting the two months following my bar experience turn me into a raving lunatic that would do just about anything to have the man.

One thing after another came up, and the sexual tension was building so high, I couldn’t handle it. I was willing to do just about anything to have that man. Even if I had to shine his pole while he was on-shift at the station during my conference period.

What is a hero? Someone who does something that has to be done, regardless of the consequences.

-Plaque on the wall at the Benton Fire Station

1 week later

Kettle

I fairly stomped up my front walk.

I’d had a bad day at work, Sebastian had been a royal dick all day, and my father had called.

For the first time in years.

Then I read the note on my door and wanted to curse.

Sorry I missed you.
Maybe you can come for dinner this week. I even bought extra for tonight. You owe me 17 bags, Mister!

She’d had to carry seventeen bags up her stairs and all because my boss and VP, Sebastian, had needed ‘a day to himself.’ Normally, I had no problem pulling a shift if he needed me to, but today, of all days, had been a total clusterfuck.

The next morning, I’d gone to knock on her door after my morning workout to find her gone. She’d mentioned some sort of school testing to me in passing, and needing to go in early for them, but that also meant I couldn’t see her until next week since I worked this weekend.

Thinking she needed to have my cell phone number so we could get in touch, I ran back to my house, found an old receipt, and scribbled my number down with a Sharpie before finding a tack and pinning it to her door.

Text me. Sorry I missed carrying your bags. 665-0021 –K.

Two weeks later

Texts between Adeline and Kettle

Addy
- I had a good time last night. Even if that kid did puke on me.

Kettle
- Sorry about that. Probably shouldn’t have given him so much ice cream.

Addy
- That’s okay. I live next door to you. It was an easy fix.

Kettle
- Still gross as hell. Dinner Friday?

Addy
- Absolutely.

Two days later

Addy
- I can’t make it. I was volunteered to chaperone the homecoming dance. Rain check?

Kettle
- :P

Addy
- Very mature.

Two hours later

Kettle
- How’s the dance?

Addy
- I broke up a drug deal in the boy’s bathroom. Then they threatened to ‘fuck me up’ and they were arrested. Fun stuff.

Kettle
-Are you okay?

Three hours later

Kettle
- You never answered me.

Addy
- Fine. Pissed. I don’t like talking to the cops. Saw Trance though. :)

Kettle
- He told me. Said they had to bring Radar up there to sniff some lockers.

Addy
- The Dog? He was the shit. He also ate my cake.

Kettle
- Yeah, Trance told me that, too. I’ll buy you some more next time I see you.

A week and a half later

Addy
- I could really use that cake today.

Kettle
- Why? What’s wrong?

Addy
- They had some layoffs today. Luckily, I’m the one with the highest education here. Otherwise, it would’ve been sayonara Adeline. The seniority bitches are giving me the evil eye.

Kettle
- Tell them you have a boyfriend that’ll kick their ass.

Addy
- Do I?

Kettle
- Do you want to?

Three weeks later

Addy
- I’ve been thinking, and the answer is yes.

Kettle
- To what?

Addy
- To that question you asked me a few weeks ago.

Kettle
- If you were a virgin?

Addy
- No.

Kettle
- No, you’re not, or no, that’s not the question you had in mind?

Addy
- Yes and no.

Kettle
- I’m confused.

Addy
- You should be.

Finally getting frustrated, I picked up my phone and hit Adeline’s number.

It rang all of two times before she answered in a flurry.

“Hello?” She said breathily.

“Hey,” I said. “What are you doing?”

Why was she panting?

“Hey!” She said excitedly. “I was just about to go on a walk. Do you want to go with me?”

Looking over at the clock to gauge how much time I had left before work, I decided to take her up on her offer. I had nearly an hour and a half, and if I put my uniform on, all I would have to do was get on my bike and leave within fifteen minutes to the start of my shift.

“Yeah, I’d love to.” I rumbled. “Just give me ten minutes to get my shit together, and I’ll meet you downstairs. Or you can come over to me. That okay?”

“Yes, I’ll be there in just a few minutes. Just have to put Monty up.” She said before hanging up.

I was just putting my uniform in my duffel bag and zipping it up when a knock sounded on my front door.

“Hey,” I said brightly when I found her on my front porch.

She smiled exuberantly at me before coming inside and closing the door behind her. “You want a water?” I asked, trying not to notice the shortness of her shorts.

She was wearing really short, and by really short, I mean, I could see her ass cheeks short, gray knit shorts. Her top resembled what used to be a t-shirt that had the sleeves cut off with what resembled a butcher knife. The shirt said “Lone Star Saturday Night” on it with a bear smoking a cigar underneath it. The armholes of the shirt weren’t actually armholes, but more like large...slits. I could see the black sports bra she was wearing, as well as the tattoo’s that ran down both of her sides.

She nodded. “Yes please.”

A couple of minutes later we were walking up the sidewalk that ran along the road beside our apartment. We lived in what amounted to a large circular subdivision of apartments. It was a large loop about a mile and a half all the way around.

We took a left once we reached the end of the parking lot, and I finally scrounged up the nerve to ask about something I’d wanted to know for a while now.

“So, tell me about your...pets.” I said hesitantly.

She looked at me sharply and smiled a little hesitantly.

“I thought you guessed. I wasn’t really trying to keep it secret.” She said dryly.

I shrugged. “I can guess for the most part, but I would love some confirmation. My imagination runs away from me sometimes.”

She giggled. Fucking giggled, bringing my attention from the road in front of us to her mouth.

“There’s not really much to say. It’s exactly like what you heard on the news I’m sure. I worked at Evan’s Pharmaceuticals for a little over seven months. There were quite a few things that were bothering me while I worked there, but the ‘testing on animals’ thing really took the cake. I broke them out, loaded them into a rented UHAUL trailer and then came back home. That’s why I had to move from my old place in the Hills.” She explained.

I nodded. “You didn’t want them to know where you lived.”

She nodded enthusiastically. “Exactly. I just couldn’t live with myself if I allowed that. But I’d been having problems with them before that. It was weird. One time I’d stayed a little late, and I ran into a man coming into my lab that I’d never seen before. We were assigned small labs of our own where we tested the products to make sure we abided by the state regulations. He’d been surprised to see me there so late, and I never saw him again, but I knew instantly he wasn’t supposed to be there. The next day was when I started keeping count on all my supplies. The weird thing was, was that I started losing my tools, not the drugs. Beakers here. Large glass vials there. I’d started getting suspicious right along the time I left.”

I looked over at her face before returning my attention to the bike rider who was headed our way before replying. “That’s weird. But a lot of people that make their own drugs steal things like that so they don’t draw attention from the feds. Did you ever do a full inventory?”

“No,” she shook her head. “I was going to, but then when I wandered out of my area of the building and found the animals; well, let’s just say I didn’t take it very well.”

I rolled my eyes. “No, I probably wouldn’t have either.”

We walked in silence, watching the neighborhood kids play a bout of kick the can, laughing at their antics as they pushed and shoved to get the runner out.

“I used to play that when I was little. Gosh, I didn’t think kids got out to play like that anymore.” Adeline observed.

“I never got to do anything like that. I would’ve killed for a neighborhood like this when I was growing up. Well, when I wasn’t sick, that is.” I said.

“You were sick when you were a kid?” She asked sharply, startling me out of my observation of the kids.

That’s when I realized what I’d just said. Fuck. Would she look at me differently when she knew how sick I once was? I didn’t really want to ruin what was left of our walk on things that neither she, nor I, could change.

“When did you get your first tattoo?” I asked, changing the subject, and hoping that she went along with that subject change.

I saw her eye me speculatively out my peripheral vision for long moments before deciding to answer me. “When I was sixteen. My sister bet me thirty dollars to do it, banking on me chickening out. Thirty dollars was a lot of money to a teenager whose father refused to give them money because he thought they’d spend it on frivolous stuff. So I got this one.” She said, pointing at her wrist. “Walked up the tattoo parlor and asked for a sugar skull on my wrist, and the woman gave it to me that day, not even asking me if I was eighteen. Little did I know that the woman was an apprentice and was super excited to get anyone to work on besides fake skin. Should have found out how much it was beforehand, though, because otherwise I would’ve never done it. Cost me two hundred bucks, and I had to call my dad down to the shop to pay for it.”