Kid: Cerberus MC Book 2 (10 page)

He already thinks I’m some broken kid. The last thing I want is him walking on eggshells around me because he knows that my parents died a much more violent death than the peaceful one I portray when people ask. I do my best to stop the tears from flowing down my cheeks, but it’s futile.

“Fuck,” Kid says softly.

I hang my head and look at my hands. I feel him shift his weight; then he’s beside me, wrapping his arms around me while I sob into his shirt.

My childhood was perfect. Until it wasn’t. Anger, selfishness, and betrayal took my family from me. Thoughtless actions of two people threw me into foster care. Senseless behavior ruined my life.

I wipe my nose with a napkin from the table and gently shove against Kid’s chest. He slides out of the booth and I follow him.

“Excuse me for a minute,” I say as I hurry past him toward the restroom door.

I haven’t cried like that over my parents in a long time. I splash water on my face and try to calm down, certain that it’s my recent loss of Alec that is dredging all of this old stuff up. I clear my throat a hundred times until I can talk without my voice wavering. I wait a few minutes on top of that before heading out to the table. My eyes are red, puffy, and there’s no way to hide the fact that I’m still upset, but I hold my head high and walk back to the table as if I own the place.

I watch Khloe’s back as she shuffles away from me toward the bathroom.

She lied to me about her parents. I could tell in the way her eyes darted, the way her breathing changed. To most people it would be a hard lie to catch. Clearly she’s told it more than a couple of times. The part I can’t figure out is why she felt the need to lie to me.

Is she ashamed of what really happened? The emotion over the loss was real, so I don’t doubt that they’re deceased, but the how is wrong.

Does she feel like she can’t trust me with the truth? That question bothers me more than the first. I have to keep in mind that she’s been in State care for what, at least eight years? People have pretended to care for her for a long time, when in fact, according to her, all they wanted was to collect the check the state provides.

She’s been conditioned over time not to trust anyone. Two things have to happen: I have to get her to trust me. She needs to know that there are people out there who can care about someone without having ulterior motives. Two: I have to get Shadow to look into her history. She may not want to tell me what really happened, but knowing may help me understand her better.

I pull out my phone to shoot off a quick text to Shadow, but I see her coming back to the table. She sits across from me, and the waitress follows after her with our breakfast.

Her demeanor is a drastic contrast to the girl who walked into the diner with me. She’s sullen, closed off, and completely unapproachable.

We eat in near silence. I try to get her to open up with questions about school, and what she feels like her future will look like. She gives one word answers on a few, and just doesn’t answer some at all. She half-assed promised she wouldn’t hurt herself anymore, and last night and this morning, I’d believe that. This girl sitting in front of me, on the other hand, is a different story.

I leave cash on the table for the waitress before we even get a bill. I probably ended up tipping more than she deserved considering her rude, condescending attitude toward Khloe when we first got here. I don’t have the patience to wait for her to bring our ticket though and Khloe needs the open road. A long ride on the bike always helps me clear my head. It brings hope and clarity. I pray it has the same effect on her.

Wordlessly, she tugs the helmet on her head and climbs behind me on the bike. I notice her grip around my waist isn’t as tight this time around. I drive with one hand, using my other to caress her hand on my stomach. I hope she sees it as soothing, which is part of my intentions. The other part is a way to keep her around me. The last thing I need is for her to get lost so far in her head that she gets careless and accidentally falls off, or worse yet, releases me on purpose.

I drive down Main Street, passing the Sam’s Club, Wal-Mart, and Target all lined up in a row; big box retailers have become a necessary evil in a growing town like Farmington. Before long, the department stores and fast food joints fade out and more rural, peaceful landscape lines the road ahead of us.

The motorcycle knows where it’s going before the idea even registers in my head. This is perfect though. Just what she may need, serenity and a place to reflect. I just hope it doesn’t backfire.

I turn off the main road and follow the narrow lanes around Lake Luther. Driving all the way down until the road ends, I park the bike in the driveway of a home way too big for the man that owns it. He built out here for privacy, but his time deployed has rendered neighbors that are going to be closer than he’s going to be comfortable with. He’ll deal with it when he gets back in a few months.

I climb off the bike and help Khloe with her helmet.

I watch as she looks around in awe. The house is massive. It’s two stories, with God knows how many rooms. Built for a family he no longer has.

“Your house?” Khloe says with a shade more brightness to her face than when they left the diner.

I take her hand and lead her to the front door, only releasing it momentarily to find the right key for the lock.

“You met Kincaid?” She nods. “This is his brother Dominic’s house. He’s deployed right now. God willing, he should be home in a few months.”

“He lives here alone?” She asks in awe as she walks through the front door.

“Crazy right?” I tug her to the kitchen and look in the cabinets. He’s been gone for quite some time, but I know he has to have something in here.

“Bingo,” I say enthusiastically pulling an unopened box of crackers from the cabinet.

I grab her hand again and head out back.

“Holy shit,” she says clearing the back porch. This property backs up almost to the water on Lake Luther. The huge lots on either side of Dominic’s house remain empty, giving the back yard a sense of privacy.

We walk toward the water and down the short wooden dock. I sit on the end and begin unlacing my boots, making my intentions clear. Khloe sits beside me, tugs her shoes and socks off, and begins to roll her jeans up her calves.

“That’s a lot of house for an Army man,” she says placing her shoes behind her on the dock.

“He’s a Marine,” I correct.

She chuckles lightly and I love the sound of it, especially after such a dismal morning.

“Even stranger,” she says smiling at me.

“How so?” I know what most people would think. A Marine being able to afford a house like this is crazy, but they have no idea the type of side work he does when he’s on leave. She has no clue the type of money we make on the missions that are sent our way.

“
M
uscles
A
re
R
equired;
I
ntelligence
N
ot-
E
xpected.”

I laugh louder than she expected telling from the way she jerks her head back suddenly. I haven’t heard that acronym breakdown since I left Fallujah.

“That’s funny,” I say once my laughter dies down.

She shrugs playfully. “Not everyone can be in the Army I guess.”

“A shit-talkin’ civilian. I love it.” I tap my shoulder against hers and slide my feet into the cool water. “
A
in’t
R
eal
M
arines
Y
et.” I throw back at her.

She grins again. “Like I said,
I
ntelligence
N
ot-
E
xpected. Don’t get your panties in a bunch. You’re an ex-Marine, not still in the service.”

“Former Marine,” I correct.

“Same diff,” she says playfully.

“I assure you it’s not.” I open the box of crackers and hand her a sleeve. The sound of the rustling package must have alerted our afternoon friends. The ducks are surrounding our feet before I can get my sleeve of crackers open.

We feed the ducks silently for a few minutes. I can practically feel the stress breaking away from her as she watches them eat.

“I don’t have any other clothes,” she says from out of the blue.

“Where are your things?” I feel like complete shit for not even realizing until this moment that she’s wearing the same clothes I handed to her in the hospital.

“I left everything I had at Alec’s apartment.” She lowers her head shamefully. “I hadn’t planned on needing anything after that day.”

There it is. The proverbial elephant in the room.

“We can swing by later and get them.” That’s easy enough.

She shakes her head no. “His parents were cleaning the apartment out the day after the memorial. I’m sure they’ve trashed my things.”

“We’ll work it out,” I promise handing her another sleeve of crackers to replace her now empty pack.

She accepts it with a soft “thank you.”

“How did you know I wouldn’t just turn around and leave the clubhouse after I left the hospital? Or hang myself in the shower the second you left me in the room?”

I look at her, reaching up and tucking a strand of her unruly hair behind her ear before cupping her face in my hand.

“You flinched when I brought my knife up to your wrist in the hospital. If you were suicidal at that moment, you wouldn’t have pulled away from the blade. You would’ve welcomed it.”

I pull her against my chest, relishing the feel of her against me as she places her head on my shoulder. I knew she wasn’t suicidal then, but after the way she acted at the diner and how quickly she closed in on herself, I don’t have the same faith now.

What is it about this man that is so incredibly soothing that I can just fall asleep so easily around him? What seemed like only minutes ago, we were talking, and now I find myself practically sprawled out on the end of the dock with my head resting in his lap. He’s stroking my hair, and I treasure the moment, the gentleness of his touch, the unrepentant way he touches me as if he has every right and makes no excuses for it.

It is so peaceful out here, like the rest of the world just fades away until nothing else exists but the two of us and the soft sounds of the water lapping away at the shore. Opening my eyes, I notice the sun has begun its downward arc, so I know it’s after noon. I’d been lying on him, sleeping for a while.

I shift my weight and lift my head from his lap.

“Hey,” I whisper hoarsely.

I’d love nothing more to stay in this moment, a small pinpoint in time when my heart isn’t shattered for Alec, where my parents are still alive, and where my life hasn’t been chaos for the last almost nine years. I know we can’t. I’m sure Kid has other things to do than babysit me.

He smiles back at me with a look of total contentment in his eyes.

“We need to go,” he says grabbing his boots and beginning to pull them on.

“Yeah,” I say grabbing my own shoes. “I was just thinking you have better things to do with your time.”

He stops tying his boots and cups my chin gently but insistently.

“Right here. Right now.
With you
. Is exactly where I want to be.”

His eyes dart from my eyes to my mouth and back again. Despite the warm summer sun washing over us through a break in the trees, a shiver snakes down my back. This man is electric.

“Kiss me,” I say all but begging.

Just like he did last night, only with less hesitation, he leans forward and ever so softly brushes his lips against mine.

Warmth engulfs me as he pulls away and caresses my cheek with the pad of his thumb.

“So fucking beautiful,” he says almost reverently.

I lift my hand to cover his. He notices my engagement ring, and his face falls slightly before he can stop it. Clearing his throat, he pulls away and finishes tying his boots.

“I meant we need to go because the whole time you were napping, your stomach was growling. You were upset when you came back to the table at the diner, and you just pushed your food around on your plate. You must be starved.”

He’s talking quickly, feeding me information and more than likely hoping I will forget the semi-intimate moment we just shared. I know he's being considerate. He sees the ring. He sees how upset I get over Alec, but he’s in the dark about our relationship. I need to explain to him what Alec and I had. I know it will be brutally painful for me, but I don’t want him backing away from me because he thinks I’m a grieving fiancée. I’m grieving yes, but just not in the capacity he thinks.