Saving Belle (A Category 5 Knights MC Romance Book 2) (6 page)

S
ame as last week
, I follow Belle up to Point Lookout. Now I know where she's headed, so it's a lot easier to keep my distance. I remember roads well, even in new territory.

She may think it's a Sunday like any other, but I'm about to surprise her. The weather forecast isn't so good—the waves are perfect for surfers, but they're not exactly ideal for playtime with a seven year old. That’s where I come in, I've got the perfect remedy. Last night, I sifted through my closet and found the object of some of my fondest childhood memories. It's one of the few I kept. A bad-ass dragon shaped kite.

From a safe distance, I watch Belle and Chris as they stroll around town. They stop at a bookstore first, and exit with a little bag—same as last week. The longer I follow them, the more I realize that this is a weekly ritual. I have a hunch it’s one she probably never departs from. Instead of following them, I grab a sandwich and head to the picnic table down at the beach where they ate last week.

I pop open a can of beer and watch the teenagers ride their longboards over the cresting waves. Growing up in-land, I never really had the chance to learn to surf, or even swim very well, but I'm sure I would've loved it.

From well behind me, I hear a small voice. “Mommy, someone's sitting at our table!” The sound pulls me out of my reverie.

She stoops down, speaking with a gentle, soothing voice. “It's okay, honey. We can sit at another table.”

He whines softly. “But it's
our
table!”

I hear the laugh I love so much from her. “You know, we should put up a little sign to let people know that...” The sentence dies on her lips, unfinished, as I turn to face them.

“There's enough room for three, you know. I'd be happy to share.” I look to Chris, giving my warmest smile.

He takes a quick step toward me, and stops to consider. I can almost see the gears turning in his head. It's hardly conceivable to him that someone else might be at their table. Who knows how long they've been carrying out the exact same routine? I'm an unknown variable, and I've thrown him for a loop—not to mention he's probably been warned to stay away from strangers.

Chris turns back to his mother, his tone both meek and oddly excited. “Can we, mom?”

She's still frozen in place, but manages to give a slow nod. During the few moments it takes them to get to the table and get settled in, I wonder what Belle's choice is going to be. Will she tell her son about our relationship? Maybe she'll pretend she doesn't know me at all.

I give her a little room to make up her mind by introducing myself to him. I hold out my hand to him like I would any grown man. “Hello. My name is Piston.”

He takes my hand and shakes it very seriously, giving a low nod. “I'm Christopher. It's very nice to meet you.”

Well, if nothing else, his grandparents taught him good manners. Still, he seems confused about my name, and as he lets go of my hand, he tilts his head. “Is that really your name?”

Belle turns to him with a soft, but scolding voice. “Chris!”

I wave my hand slightly, looking back to Chris. “It's okay. You're totally right—it's not the name I was given by my parents. A nickname, really.”

Belle hurriedly pulls out the contents of the basket out from under the icepacks, her cheeks flushed and her breathing somewhat erratic.

“So! What's for lunch?” I'm doing my best to act casual, but she seems like she's getting uncomfortable.

“Nothing for you, since I had no idea you'd be here.” Her tone is oddly severe, but I can't tell if she's mad at me or just teasing.

“Do you want me to leave?” I sit up straight, folding my hands over the table. I'm not sure what I'm going to do if she says yes, but I need to give her the out if she wants it. She stares me down hard, then gives a slow, soft nod. Her rejection hurts a lot more than it probably should, but I take it in stride as well as I can. I pick my sandwich up, and with a little wave, I move off to another table at the opposite end of the picnic area.

Belle can't see me anymore, but Chris periodically glances over at me while he talks with his mother. The moment I open my back and begin putting my kite together, his eyes light up. He seems totally mesmerized as he watches me put together the body and tail of the dragon, long as the tables at the very least. I busy myself with the wings, and by the time I finish, Christopher is standing at my side.

“Are you gonna make it fly?” His eyes are wide and fixed on the colorful kite.

“Sure am, buddy.” I tie the string tight at the anchor point. “Wanna help?”

Chris turns to look back to Belle, immediately pleading with her for permission. She relents, but warns him to stay close.

“We could use your help, you know.” I extend the olive branch one last time. I have to be sure. She shrugs, and seems to take it.

“Well, I can't very well let my son play with a
total
stranger, can I?”

“
S
o
, you'd be happy with him as your Sergeant-at-Arms?” I ask Chaser out of the blue as we finish our usual Tuesday prep for Wednesday night church. “I mean, I've asked around, and people who were part of the local chapter when Horse was Prez say that Prince did a damn fine job.”

Chaser avoids my gaze. He always does when he's not ready with a quick comeback. He stares at the ceiling, as if he might find the answer on one of the wooden support beams.

It's not as if I don't understand his reluctance. Prince is an older guy, well older than both of us, and if he hadn't gone nomad, this chapter would have been his to rule. Chaser's got to feel threatened by that.

I continue, trying to assuage his fears. “I mean, he clearly announced that he doesn't want to be Prez.”

Chaser's always been an ambitious type. He doesn't really understand how I can be happy in my position, but he accepts it. He knows how loyal I am to him, and I make a pretty fine VP if I do say so myself. Still, while he doesn't question my loyalty, he sometimes wonders about my sanity.

I've never really met Prince, but it's pretty plain to see how someone would rather be a Sergeant-at-Arms, rather than any of the more managerial positions. It requires some serious ass-kicking skills. I know I'd never want to be Prez—too much politicking for my tastes.

After a long moment of consideration, Chaser answers with a finality in his tone. “We'll see what the others think tomorrow.”

As if prompted by his answer, Raven knocks at the door. She waits a moment, and when no answer comes, she simply opens it and leans just inside, her eyes coming to me. “Hey, your friend's looking for you. The ah... shapely one, good with kids.” Her bitterness is palpable. I wonder if she'll ever figure out that when you hate the world, it tends to hate you back.

She slips out and closes the door, muttering some curse under her breath.

I turn back to Chaser, and he's immediately in interrogation mode. “Yeah, what's the deal with you two, anyway?”

I'm taken off-guard by his answer. He was so terse and brief only moments before, but now he's more than interested in talking. “Since when have you taken an interest in my sex life, Chaser?” I grin, knowing he caught the sarcasm. We're pretty open about our conquests.

“Since I'm banging the bestie of this girl, and I want her to move in with me. They're roommates, and Holly says she doesn't want to just move out and leave Belle in a tight spot with the rent and bills.”

I shake my head, giving a shrug. “Still not sure what that has to do with me, Chaser.”

“For fuck's sake, do I have to spell it out for you? I want to fuck my girl in
my
bed, and it would really help me out if you hit it off properly with blondie and move her into the compound too.”

I throw my hands up, exasperated. “You really want to have this fuckin' conversation right now? She's apparently outside waiting.”

Chaser's brow lowers. “Look, you know me better than that. I'm not trying to play match-maker. I didn't get all touchy-feely on you overnight or anything. It's just that Holly is busting my chops trying to figure out what the deal is between you and Belle, alright?”

“Why doesn't she ask Belle then? Why you? Hope she doesn't ask me, because I've got
no
idea about what goes on in that woman's mind.”

Chaser stands and claps me hard on the shoulder. “Well, go. Sort the shit out. She's here, hurry up.”

I nod almost absentmindedly as Chaser steers me toward the exit.

I make my way out of the clubhouse and look around for Belle's car. I know it well enough by now, and I find it pretty quickly, parked right next to my building with the driver's side door wide open. Belle's sitting at the wheel, and Side-Light is leaned over with his arm on the top of the car, talking to her about something or other.

I guess he sees the concern on my face as I approach, so he quickly ends the conversation and books it. Before she has a chance to say anything, I ask her loud and clear what the hell she's doing here.

“We need to talk.” She seems unnaturally calm and restrained, like most women right before they totally snap.

“Nah. I don't think I have anything to say to you.” I answer in the same tone, then make my way around the car to walk back to my building.

I hear the door slam shut behind me, and she practically screams at me. “You're nothing but a goddamn coward, Piston!”

My stride abruptly stops, and I turn on my heel to face her and grab her shoulders. “What the
fuck
did you just call me?”

“A
coward
. You're too chickenshit to have a real conversation, like a normal person would!”

“And your idea of a normal conversation is screaming like a fucking banshee?” I loosen my grip on her shoulders slightly.

She stands in front of me slack-jawed, thrown off by my aggression. After a moment, she manages to regain the ability to speak. “Fine.” Her tone is cold, neutral. “Now I wonder why I even thought about justifying my actions, my life, to you.” She tries to pull away, biting her lower lip in an all-too-late attempt to hide the fact that it's quivering.

Seeing her so close to breaking down is too much for me. Disrespected or not, I can't stand the sight of it and pull her in close. “Belle... I'm sorry. Just... come into my office, we'll talk.”

Her head buried at my chest, she gives a slight nod.

A
fter picking
up the two beers from the fridge, I ease back into my chair and watch Belle turn hers around to face me.

“Alright, Belle. I'm listening.” I pop open the two bottles and place one in front of her.

She picks it up, staring down at it, her voice so soft I have to lean forward to hear what she's saying.

“I... I have a kid. Of course, you know that.” She takes a small sip of her beer and shakes her head. “I'm not even going to ask you how you found out, because it wouldn't make a bit of difference either way.” Her gaze returns to me, her mouth opening slightly, trying desperately to find what she wants to say. When she does, they spill out fast.

“The thing is, it's a complicated situation. Really complicated. I'll give you the short version. Ever since I left Chris with his grandparents, I saved money to hire a lawyer and get custody. For the last two years, I've done everything he said. I've made it clear that I'm involved in his life, so that if there's some kind of investigation or something, it'll be easy to prove that I spent every Sunday with him. I even take off of work on his birthday, because they let me see him then too.” She stops for a moment, seemingly out of breath.

After a moment, she goes on. “I've done everything,
everything
by the book to make sure my case is absolutely perfect. I need to show whoever's involved that I'm a good mother, that I'll take care of my son.”

I nod and reach for her hand, but she pulls back quickly. “Piston... the lawyer has warned me that I might have a serious fight on my hands. He said that the judge might be tempted to think that it's in Chris's best interest to stay with his grandparents, just like I did. That I might be an unfit mother.”

Having already heard this from Ice's old lady, I simply quietly nod along.

“And... when I think I have it all together and ready to go, you show up.” Her voice is trembling, and she pauses. “You're... you're a biker, Piston. You're the VP of an MC that doesn't exactly have the best reputation with the cops, courts, or... anyone like that. I really, really can't be seen with you … especially when I'm with my son.” The defeat in her voice is evident. “I like you Piston, I... I really do. I think you and I have something special, but you have to understand—if it comes down to choosing between you and Chris, I'm going to choose Chris.”

A smile spreads over my lips and I lean over to embrace her. I pull her close, whispering softly in her ear. “I wouldn't have it any other way, Belle. Your child should always come first. Always.”

She pulls away, staring up at me. Her eyes are misty, seemingly on the verge of breaking down. Did she think I wouldn't understand?

“The problem is, he likes you and all he could talk about all week was 'mommy's friend with the flying dragon' you know? So... yesterday, when I went back to pick him up, his grandmother asked me about you. I lied. I said you were just a nice guy flying a kite on the beach, but I really... really don't think she believed me. I'm almost certain she had us followed all day.”

Her head returns to my chest, and she heaves a heavy sigh, her voice barely above a whisper now. “Now that I have the amount the lawyer wanted, I'm going to ask them for Chris, and I can't be seen with you until everything is finished.”

I hold her tighter, breathing deeply in that diffuse cloud of sweet vanilla. I've never felt this way about someone. Even her son and I bonded almost immediately, and in one afternoon, he'd latched on to me. It's been so long since I had such carefree fun. It was just a chance meeting at a bar, and now I can hardly imagine a life without her—or Christopher, for that matter. Maybe that's why it hurt so bad when she pushed me away and closed herself off when it was time to take him home.

“Sweetheart...” I place a finger under her chin, lifting her head to look into her eyes. “It's going to be alright. I promise. Just have your lawyer serve them the papers, and in two weeks, you'll have Chris at home with you.”

Her brow furrows and her lips turn down sharply as she tries to process what I said. Her eyes widen, panic quickly setting in. “Piston, what did you do?”

“Just a little research on Chris's grandparents.” Her eyes widen further, but the fear seems to be receding. “Let's just say... if I'm your dirty laundry, you're going to look like a babe in the woods if it comes down to me opening their closet and showing off their skeletons, I'm well equipped.”

Her head returns to my chest, her breathing quick and soft. “Please, please, you’re sure? I don’t want to take any chances. I-I’m just so scared to lose him, Piston.”

“It's gonna be alright.” I repeat it again and again, stroking her back and hair until she calms. Once she has, I ask as quietly and gently as I can. “Do you want to stay here with me tonight, Belle?”

“...You're not mad?” Her voice is small, vulnerable, scared like a little girl's, melting my heart completely.

“No, sweetheart. I was hurt, but I was never mad.”

The truth is, I was mad—but not at her.