The Boy I Grew Up With
Page 20
He was revered here. They loved him, and they watched me because they knew he loved me.
The decision was mine right now. I didn’t know what I wanted myself, so I played it safe.
I forced out a fake laugh. It made me cringe. “I was heading back to Manny’s.”
He nodded, still watching me, still not saying anything. His gaze took on a knowing look, like he was reading inside of me.
“Okay,” he said.
I shot him a look. “What?”
His grin spread, slowly. “What?”
“‘Okay’,” I mocked him. “What’s that mean? ‘Okay’?”
“I’m not saying it in any way. I’m just agreeing with you.”
“Come on.”
“Come on?” His eyes danced, and he lowered his head. “Come on what?”
He was flirting.
I couldn’t hold my grin back. “Okay.” I said it exactly the way he had.
He let out a laugh, reaching for me and pulling me in front of him. He slid his hands through my hair, bringing some of it to cover my face until I couldn’t see anything. “This is how you should wear your hair. It’s very Cousin Itt. You can start a trend, call it Heather’s Itt.”
“Really?” I was eating my own hair, but I couldn’t dim my smile. He had that effect on me.
“Oh yeah.” His voice fell soft, growing intimate, and he leaned down, his hand trailing over my back. “And then I can do this all I want.”
His hand was on my ass. He grabbed a good chunk, but it wasn’t an offensive grab. It was a possessive claim, and I felt his breath on my neck. His lips grazed my skin. He held me close, almost draped over me. I moved into him, my arms sliding up his legs and around his waist. It was an intimate touch. It probably looked uncomfortable as hell from the outside, but they were on the outside. They weren’t standing where I was, and they weren’t feeling how I was feeling with Channing at that moment.
I didn’t want to move back.
He sheltered me, and I felt like everything would work out. All the bad shit would be fixed, and I wouldn’t have to face any of it. But that wasn’t the truth, and I groaned as I stepped away.
His hand left my ass, though he didn’t let me go far. His legs tightened around me, holding me in place, and he closed his arms around my shoulders. He was hugging me, in an almost chaste way. His head rested against mine.
I felt his tension then, and I knew this hug was for him.
He needed me, and momentarily surprised, I stayed there.
I sank back into him.
“Aren’t you two sweet?”
Dex Richter!
The question wasn’t even fully asked before Channing whipped up and jumped down beside me. His body went rigid, and I turned. I knew whose voice that was, and I knew what Channing would want me to do.
He went forward to deal with Richter as I slipped into my vehicle. I was reversing out of there as I counted how many Demons there were with their leader.
Richter motioned to me, but I ignored him, spinning my tires to speed a block away before pulling over.
I called Moose.
“Heather?”
“Channing’s at a gas station in Roussou with Richter.”
There was no hesitation. “Which one?”
“Miller’s.”
“On it. Go to Manny’s.”
“He had four others with him,” I added.
I caught the slight swear before Moose hung up, and though everything in me wanted to go back and stand with my man, I went to Manny’s. That was my home. Dealing with Richter, that’s where Channing ruled.
I went to work and tried not to think about what I’d driven away from.
17
Channing
My jaw could cut steel.
I was goddamn pissed.
Here was Richter, four of his crew behind him. Their Harleys were in my town, and I wanted to pummel his face into the ground. Instead, I asked a question—with a definite chill to my tone.
“You think you can roll up on me and my girl?” I took a step closer. “When I’m with my girl?”
His guys were already standing at attention. That was my first clue Richter was here to mess with me. But at my snap-back, they got into a fighting stance.
The rage stormed in me, thundering loud, and I was tempted to wade in—caution be damned. Heather and my time with Heather were off-limits. That’s a lesson I thought he’d learned long ago. It seemed a reminder session was due.
“Whoa, Monroe.”
I caught the flash of wariness in his eyes before he masked it. I scared him, and that was all I needed to know. That meant he didn’t really have the fortress of men behind him that he acted like he did.
He rolled his shoulders back, trying to grin. His hand went up. “Chill, man. I didn’t know you and Jax were back together.”
The fu…? I was done.
I should’ve waited.
I knew Heather had called.
I should’ve given them time to mobilize, but a switch turned off in my head. I stopped thinking. And all the shit from the past few days rolled up and pooled in my fist.
I swung—consequences be damned—because this fucker had this coming. I clipped him in the face.
There was a second of silence right after. It was always this way in a fight.
Someone made the first move, expected or not, then silence. For one blissful second.
I loved that moment. I relished it. I breathed it in, because I knew it was all I had before time would slam back into place and the consequences would rush me.
But in that moment right now, as his body fell, I stood over him, and it wasn’t his blood on my hand. It was mine. It was Bren’s. It was my dad’s. It was Heather's.
It was my daughter’s.
Then time rushed back to me, and the moment was gone.
It was time to fight.
His second rushed me, arm in the air.
Wrapping my arms around Richter, I slammed him to the ground, but they were on me.
Four pairs of hands grabbed me, ripping me away before I could really pummel him.
I heard squealing brakes, and before they could start hitting me, two large figures were on them.
Moose took one, threw him to the ground, and started railing.
Congo was next, wrestling their big fucker.
The last two holding me were yanked away, and Richter returned to my line of sight.
He froze, seeing me coming, and started to run.
“Don’t!” I tucked my head and went at him like he was about to score a touchdown, end of the fourth, and he was between me and winning the championship game. That guy was going down, and he knew it.
He stepped back. His hands came up as I grabbed him.
I body-slammed him down and began to pound.
The first hit dazed him, and any fight he might have had was gone. But I was still going. Left, right, left right—I hit him in rapid succession at first, but the longer he stayed still, the more distance I got for my punches. I was rearing all the way up, bringing my fist down from past my shoulder when I heard the first shout.
I couldn’t stop.
He’d threatened Heather before. Bren too. Now he came over and… I wasn’t fighting him for the push I knew he was working on to get into Roussou. I was telling him, in my way, that he needed to stay the fuck away from the ones I loved.
Bren.
Punch.
Heather.
Punch.
My daughter.
Punch.
“Chan!” Moose yelled in my face, pulling at my shoulder.
I swung, pushing him away.
I was free. For a second.
Richter’s face was a bloody mess. I wasn’t even sure where I was hitting. I couldn’t see his eyes or anything. It was one giant mass of oozing blood, and it was getting all over me.
The decision was mine right now. I didn’t know what I wanted myself, so I played it safe.
I forced out a fake laugh. It made me cringe. “I was heading back to Manny’s.”
He nodded, still watching me, still not saying anything. His gaze took on a knowing look, like he was reading inside of me.
“Okay,” he said.
I shot him a look. “What?”
His grin spread, slowly. “What?”
“‘Okay’,” I mocked him. “What’s that mean? ‘Okay’?”
“I’m not saying it in any way. I’m just agreeing with you.”
“Come on.”
“Come on?” His eyes danced, and he lowered his head. “Come on what?”
He was flirting.
I couldn’t hold my grin back. “Okay.” I said it exactly the way he had.
He let out a laugh, reaching for me and pulling me in front of him. He slid his hands through my hair, bringing some of it to cover my face until I couldn’t see anything. “This is how you should wear your hair. It’s very Cousin Itt. You can start a trend, call it Heather’s Itt.”
“Really?” I was eating my own hair, but I couldn’t dim my smile. He had that effect on me.
“Oh yeah.” His voice fell soft, growing intimate, and he leaned down, his hand trailing over my back. “And then I can do this all I want.”
His hand was on my ass. He grabbed a good chunk, but it wasn’t an offensive grab. It was a possessive claim, and I felt his breath on my neck. His lips grazed my skin. He held me close, almost draped over me. I moved into him, my arms sliding up his legs and around his waist. It was an intimate touch. It probably looked uncomfortable as hell from the outside, but they were on the outside. They weren’t standing where I was, and they weren’t feeling how I was feeling with Channing at that moment.
I didn’t want to move back.
He sheltered me, and I felt like everything would work out. All the bad shit would be fixed, and I wouldn’t have to face any of it. But that wasn’t the truth, and I groaned as I stepped away.
His hand left my ass, though he didn’t let me go far. His legs tightened around me, holding me in place, and he closed his arms around my shoulders. He was hugging me, in an almost chaste way. His head rested against mine.
I felt his tension then, and I knew this hug was for him.
He needed me, and momentarily surprised, I stayed there.
I sank back into him.
“Aren’t you two sweet?”
Dex Richter!
The question wasn’t even fully asked before Channing whipped up and jumped down beside me. His body went rigid, and I turned. I knew whose voice that was, and I knew what Channing would want me to do.
He went forward to deal with Richter as I slipped into my vehicle. I was reversing out of there as I counted how many Demons there were with their leader.
Richter motioned to me, but I ignored him, spinning my tires to speed a block away before pulling over.
I called Moose.
“Heather?”
“Channing’s at a gas station in Roussou with Richter.”
There was no hesitation. “Which one?”
“Miller’s.”
“On it. Go to Manny’s.”
“He had four others with him,” I added.
I caught the slight swear before Moose hung up, and though everything in me wanted to go back and stand with my man, I went to Manny’s. That was my home. Dealing with Richter, that’s where Channing ruled.
I went to work and tried not to think about what I’d driven away from.
17
Channing
My jaw could cut steel.
I was goddamn pissed.
Here was Richter, four of his crew behind him. Their Harleys were in my town, and I wanted to pummel his face into the ground. Instead, I asked a question—with a definite chill to my tone.
“You think you can roll up on me and my girl?” I took a step closer. “When I’m with my girl?”
His guys were already standing at attention. That was my first clue Richter was here to mess with me. But at my snap-back, they got into a fighting stance.
The rage stormed in me, thundering loud, and I was tempted to wade in—caution be damned. Heather and my time with Heather were off-limits. That’s a lesson I thought he’d learned long ago. It seemed a reminder session was due.
“Whoa, Monroe.”
I caught the flash of wariness in his eyes before he masked it. I scared him, and that was all I needed to know. That meant he didn’t really have the fortress of men behind him that he acted like he did.
He rolled his shoulders back, trying to grin. His hand went up. “Chill, man. I didn’t know you and Jax were back together.”
The fu…? I was done.
I should’ve waited.
I knew Heather had called.
I should’ve given them time to mobilize, but a switch turned off in my head. I stopped thinking. And all the shit from the past few days rolled up and pooled in my fist.
I swung—consequences be damned—because this fucker had this coming. I clipped him in the face.
There was a second of silence right after. It was always this way in a fight.
Someone made the first move, expected or not, then silence. For one blissful second.
I loved that moment. I relished it. I breathed it in, because I knew it was all I had before time would slam back into place and the consequences would rush me.
But in that moment right now, as his body fell, I stood over him, and it wasn’t his blood on my hand. It was mine. It was Bren’s. It was my dad’s. It was Heather's.
It was my daughter’s.
Then time rushed back to me, and the moment was gone.
It was time to fight.
His second rushed me, arm in the air.
Wrapping my arms around Richter, I slammed him to the ground, but they were on me.
Four pairs of hands grabbed me, ripping me away before I could really pummel him.
I heard squealing brakes, and before they could start hitting me, two large figures were on them.
Moose took one, threw him to the ground, and started railing.
Congo was next, wrestling their big fucker.
The last two holding me were yanked away, and Richter returned to my line of sight.
He froze, seeing me coming, and started to run.
“Don’t!” I tucked my head and went at him like he was about to score a touchdown, end of the fourth, and he was between me and winning the championship game. That guy was going down, and he knew it.
He stepped back. His hands came up as I grabbed him.
I body-slammed him down and began to pound.
The first hit dazed him, and any fight he might have had was gone. But I was still going. Left, right, left right—I hit him in rapid succession at first, but the longer he stayed still, the more distance I got for my punches. I was rearing all the way up, bringing my fist down from past my shoulder when I heard the first shout.
I couldn’t stop.
He’d threatened Heather before. Bren too. Now he came over and… I wasn’t fighting him for the push I knew he was working on to get into Roussou. I was telling him, in my way, that he needed to stay the fuck away from the ones I loved.
Bren.
Punch.
Heather.
Punch.
My daughter.
Punch.
“Chan!” Moose yelled in my face, pulling at my shoulder.
I swung, pushing him away.
I was free. For a second.
Richter’s face was a bloody mess. I wasn’t even sure where I was hitting. I couldn’t see his eyes or anything. It was one giant mass of oozing blood, and it was getting all over me.
