Halligan To My Axe (The Heroes of The Dixie Wardens MC Book 2) (8 page)

I burst out laughing. I could just see her dad storming down to that tattoo parlor in his colors, ripping the apprentice a new one for tattooing a minor. “And what did he have to say about that?”

She smiled wistfully. “He didn’t, really. At first, he was kind of miffed, but eventually he got over it. He was the one that took me for the next couple of them. This one,” she said, indicating a line of script I’d read a million times before. “I got the day he died.”

The writing was simple and said, ‘
Squeeze you to pieces
.’

“What does that mean?” I asked, realizing that it meant a lot to her.

“My mom and dad always said it to each other when they hugged and said goodbye. She’d say, ‘
Squeeze you to pieces’
and he’d reply with,
‘Squeeze you back together
.’ They said it to us every chance they got. And when he died, Viddy and I got it tattooed on us. Mine on my wrist, and hers on her ribs. Her tattoo says ‘Squeeze you back together.’ It was her first and only tattoo.” She said wistfully.

“My mom used to have a saying similar to that. ‘I love you, you who.’” I said just as we arrived at the entrance to our complex.

She smiled widely at me, grabbed my arm, and walked with me hand in hand until we arrived at my bike.

“Do you want to do this again tomorrow night when you get home?” She asked hopefully.

My hand came up involuntarily until it rested just under the line of her jaw. I could feel the fluttering of her pulse, as it beat wildly against my palm, and I barely squashed the urge to jeer in acceptance.

“Sure.” I replied as flippantly as I could manage.

Leaning forward, she went up to her tippy toes before giving me a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then. Be careful at work, do you hear?”

“Yes, ma’am.” I acknowledged as I watched her climb the steps to her apartment.

“Good boy,” she teased as she disappeared inside her apartment.

Oh, if only she knew the thoughts that were pouring through my mind right now, then she wouldn’t be thinking of me as a ‘good’ anything.

***

One month later

Kettle

“What’s up with you today?” Sebastian asked from the station’s kitchen table.

I shut the refrigerator and turned with a bottle of water in my hand. “Nothing.”

It wasn’t nothing, and he and I both fuckin’ knew it.

I was sexually frustrated.

I hadn’t fucked anyone in well over two and a half months now, and everyone kept telling me that I needed to get laid.

Well my fucking dick didn’t want to get laid by just
anyone
.

It wanted to get laid by the hot as hell chemistry teacher next door.

Except one thing after another kept coming up whether it be my job, or her job, or my club, or her sister.

It was as if the universe was conspiring against us.

We hung out, but it was never alone.

Her sister was there. Or my sister. Or someone in the club.

In fact, the last person to interrupt us was the asshole staring at me right that very moment.

“You’re acting like a rabid porcupine. Your temper is legendary and all, but this is an all-new high. Dad wanted me to make sure you got your shit straightened before this weekend when we went on the Toys for Tots ride.”

My jaw clenched. Yet another weekend off I couldn’t spend fucking Adeline.

Not that the charity wasn’t a good reason, but my dick needed some relief, and my hand was getting tired; that was if it even did the job that day. There were times I’d work myself to the brink of coming, and then nothing. Nothing at all happened. It was as if my dick knew what it wanted, and my rough palm just wasn’t getting it done.

The last two months was the definition of deprivation.

My phone buzzed, drawing me out of my wallowing thoughts.

The message flashing on the screen had me seeing red.

Addy
- A kid just grabbed my ass.

“I gotta go somewhere real quick. I’ll be back in twenty.” I gritted through clenched teeth as I headed to my room to grab my keys.

“Where’re you going?” Dallas asked from the recliner in the living room.

“The high school,” I replied as I stopped by the back door for my jacket.

“Mind if I tag along? I need to run by the grocery store for some dinner tonight and pick up a prescription for Baylee.” Sebastian asked from the doorway.

I shrugged. “Sure.”

“We’ll take the engine. Anyone else want to come?” Sebastian asked as I shrugged on my jacket.

“Sure,” Dillon said, as he stood from the recliner and walked with us out the door.

“Where we going first?” Sebastian asked, as he hopped into the passenger seat of the engine.

I hauled myself into the driver’s seat of the engine and started the big beast up.

Our newest acquisition was a 24 foot long by 12-foot wide mammoth monster that was powered by a 600 horsepower 2013 Cummins Diesel engine. The lovely brute was paid for by the citizens of Benton for a cool six hundred thousand dollars. It purred like a kitten and made my heart sing.

And it was worth every fucking penny.

“High school.” I said simply.

They didn’t ask questions, which was the norm for them. They didn’t need to know why, and they trusted me implicitly.

Which had to be done if you were going to put your life on the line with them day in and day out.

The ride to the high school was short.

I parked the engine at the curb along the fire lane of the school, hopped out, and locked the doors behind us.

I didn’t bother to ask if Sebastian and Dillon were going with me. I knew they were. They didn’t miss an opportunity for gossip if they could help it.

Walking into the school made me frown.

I’d gone to Benton High sixteen years ago; it hadn’t changed one single bit.

The doors were still shitty, and a stiff wind could probably blow them down.

The office was beyond the large foyer, being blocked by just one wooden door and surrounded by glass.

“Jesus, it hasn’t changed a bit.” Dillon said, eyeing the colorful green and black banners hanging from the ceiling.

“Go Benton Bengals.” I said dryly and raised my fist.

“Bengals, fight, fight, fight,” Dillon sang loudly, becoming even louder as the sound of his voice echoed off the stone walls.

I rolled my eyes at the imbecile and walked through the office door, closing it firmly behind me.

“Can I help you?”

The woman asking it was the same woman who’d been there all those years ago when I’d attended.

The evil Mrs.Threadgill.

Mrs. Threadgill was the foul biddy who used to write me tardies, and send me home if my shirts had anything ‘provocative’ on them, regardless if they did or not. Hell, I’d been sent home my senior year for a Coke shirt because she’d thought it was promoting drugs.

I’d hated her guts, and I damn well knew she remembered me as soon as she saw me. It was kind of hard to forget a kid that was 6’4 and 200 pounds with the face of an Italian Stallion in my freshman year of high school.

Now I was two forty, but who was counting.

“Mr. Spada, what can I help you with?” Mrs. Threadgill asked coldly after I’d taken too long to answer.

“We’re here for Ms. Sheffield’s chemistry class. Can you tell us where to go?” I asked nicely.

Mrs. Threadgill looked at me as if he’d grown a second head. “You’re,” she sneered. “With the fire department now?”

I smiled widely at her. “For ten years now.” I informed her brightly.

She sniffed and then stood stiffly before walking to the door and opening it.

“I’ll take you. I have to escort Mr. Fairway back to Ms. Sheffield’s class anyway.” She said gesturing to a young boy that was sitting outside the principal’s office.

Of course, the first thing the woman heard was Dillon singing the Benton fight son at the top of his lungs to a crowd of young girls.

“Dallas Berry, that is quite enough.” Mrs. Threadgill reprimanded. “Mr. Fairway, please follow me.”

Dallas, not one to stop when he was told, finished the song despite the old woman’s glare, drawing chuckles from his underage fan club.

“This way,” Mrs. Threadgill snapped before shuffling down the back hall towards the science labs.

The young boy who looked like a little punk dressed in designer clothing seemed like a real winner.

His clothes were about three sizes too big, and he was holding his pants up by the buckle of the belt.

I wanted to pants him.

“Michelle, please tie your hair back or get out of my lab. You probably wouldn’t look so good bald.” Adeline’s voice scolded from behind the chemistry lab’s door.

“But Ms. Sheffield, if I tie it back it gets creases and looks like shit...”

Mrs. Threadgill opened the door so quick I barely saw her move. “Ms. Cox, I suggest you follow Ms. Sheffield’s direction or you won’t get to see the fireman do their demonstration, and if I hear you curse on the school grounds again, I’ll be speaking with your parents.”

Yep, the old goat still had it. She used to use the same line on me sixteen years ago. Worked every time.

“Firemen?” Michelle and Adeline asked in unison.

I smiled widely as I followed Mrs. Threadgill into the room that also hadn’t changed in sixteen years. Jesus, it was like being in a time warp.

“Ahh, our guest speakers are here early. Michelle, please allow Shane his seat back so we can discuss some fire safety. Mr. Spada, please introduce yourself.” Adeline said gleefully.

I rolled my eyes. This wasn’t my first rodeo.

Therefore, I had no problem spewing out the usual spiel I gave to the five to eight year olds, bringing Dillon and Sebastian in while I was at it.

After about fifteen minutes of speaking, I finally stopped and waited. “Any questions?”

Of course, Adeline had one. “How do you put out a chemical fire?”

Her eyes were practically dancing with happiness, which made me want to gather her up into my arms and hug the shit out of her.

We hadn’t seen each other in well over a week, although my phone bill would definitely be hurting from all the text messages we’ve been sending over the last two months. I’d been called into work twice on the days we’d planned to hang out due to the flu going around.

“It depends. What kind of chemical is it?”

After going on to explain what we did during certain situations, Sebastian finally broke up our verbal foreplay by asking if there were any other questions.

We of course got the usual questions.

Do you have a Dalmatian at the station?-No.

How much water does it take to put out a fire? –A lot.

Do we have a fire pole? –Yes.

Do you slide down the fire pole? –Duh. Yes.

Whose hose is the biggest. –Mine.

That last one was whimpered by Adeline into my ear, which I promptly answered with nothing but the truth.

“You had me ready to beat some teenage ass. Was it that Fairway kid?” I asked her, scrutinizing the boy who was trying to look anywhere but at me while Sebastian and Dallas answered more questions.

“Yes,” she agreed. “He was sent to the principal’s office, which in my opinion is more than enough of a punishment right there.” She shuddered, eyeing Mrs. Threadgill who hadn’t left yet.

“Doubt it. That woman used to be like a junkyard dog in my days. She’s gone soft in her old age.” I laughed quietly.

“I didn’t know you went here.” She asked confused.

“Yeah, I was home schooled until I was in junior high, and then my mom decided I needed to get out and experience high school and meet new people, so he enrolled me in my freshman year.” I hedged.

The reason I was home schooled was because I had zero immune system. I’d had Leukemia when I was a young child, and battled it for a year when I was nine years old. After that, I was a very sickly child who could barely walk out of the house without catching a cold.

Then, when I was twelve, I suddenly kicked all the colds and sicknesses, and was able to actually be a child.

I begged my father over and over again to let me go to school, and when I was fourteen, he’d relented. Mostly because he was tired of hiring tutors to come to the house to teach me the stuff. He had better things for me to do than sit on my ass all day. He didn’t want my mother to be teaching me either. Her role was mainly to play his perfect little house wife and attend brunches, and show her face in the community.

But Adeline didn’t need to know all that.

When people realized that I’d had cancer as a child, they looked at me differently. With pity and something else I could never identify, and I hated the way it changed the way they treated me. I didn’t want to see that change in Adeline, although she’d probably understand more than most where I was coming from.

“Well that’s good that you got to go to public school so you didn’t miss everything. Were you a basketball player?” She asked eyeing my large frame.

I hadn’t realized that the class was done with their questions until one of the kids that sat in the back piped in. “Nah, Ms. S, I bet he was a defensive lineman. Look at the size of the man’s arms.”

Little did they know that I was the size of a beanpole in school. “Actually, I was on the debate team and played the violin in band.”

You know those moments when something crashes to the ground in the middle of a crowd, and there’s silence for a few heart stopping moments as the people process that sound?
Yeah
.

Of course, it had to come from my own boss and best friend. “You were on the debate team?” He laughed.

My eyes narrowed on my friend. “What’s so wrong with that?” I blasted as I crossed my arms over my chest.

He held his hands up in surrender before backing up a few steps. “Nothing man. It just makes so much more sense now.”

I wasn’t sure if I should take that as a compliment or an insult, but I chose to take it as a compliment and let it go.

“Do you play violin anymore?” A skinny boy asked hesitantly from the middle of the room.