Page 3

Dante

Every fucking day, something new to worry about.

The Rough Riders were giving us nothing but shit, trying to patch in an old member of ours, and then pissing about on the edge of our borders, peddling their fucking shite.

They were determined to turn our streets into herds of zombies that could barely remember their name as they were that doped up.

Sometimes a man just wants to chill out, you know? But the minute I kicked my boots off, and cracked open a cold one, my Mam decides she needs me to collect payment from the shops, and my daughter needs help with her homework.

Easy decision. The boots came right back on, and I went to collect payments. No fucking thank you to homework.

I’m too old to be learning that nonsense.

When I went to school, we learned ABC. It was simple.

Now, it’s “ah”, “beh”, “keh,” only to then relearn the capitals at a later date “when they were old enough”.

It’s confusing. I taught Bee ABC; we had it mastered.

I was actually pretty fucking proud of the two of us.

Only for that idiot of a teacher to tell me it was wrong, and Bee had until the end of term to catch up with the class and learn the alphabet.

She knew the fucking alphabet! I refuse to argue with that woman one more time.

They want to teach her the soft letters, they can damn well do it themselves.

Which is why I was now pulling into the Greasy Spoon, my bike roaring beneath me, letting everyone inside know exactly who had arrived.

The Greasy Spoon had been on our books for a few years now.

It was only a ride away from our community, and pretty much every member of the club stopped by here more than a few times a week.

When they started asking questions about the scary guys in leather, we knew it was time to step in and explain who we were before they heard it from anyone else.

Fast forward to a few years later, and they were now paying us for protection, and go out of their way to make us feel welcome.

It's become a sort of mini club house for us, and we stayed loyal to them.

We never sold on their property, we kept to ourselves, and only ended trouble that someone else started.

The Greasy Spoon was located at a service station on the way to the airport, and they had a lot of issues with drunk holiday makers stopping off here before getting on their flight.

But as with anything in this world, our loyalty came at a price, and they knew they’d be fools if they crossed us and saw how quickly we can turn on them.

I pulled into the zone reserved specifically for the Devil’s Disciples, and my eyebrows raised at the fancy car parked out front.

“Afternoon, Dante,” the co-owner, Beth, grinned at me. “Is it that time of the month already?” She breathed, leaning against the bar so her tits pushed upwards.

“Comes around quick, don’t it? Who’s the car belong to?” I asked, gesturing behind me with my thumb.

“Don’t ask,” she said with a roll of her eyes. She leaned further forward and lowered her voice. “What’s it to be this time? Payment as usual?”

“We’ll see,” I said back, probably curter than needed.

I had been fucking Beth on a semi-regular basis in lieu of payment.

Not because I particularly wanted to. She wasn’t much to look at.

It was mainly because I could. It wasn’t as though we needed the money, either.

The Devil’s Disciples had their hands in many different businesses, and we were booming at the minute.

Beth just happened to be a willing partner.

She never said no, and it was a quick-fix stress relief when I couldn’t be bothered working for it and going anywhere more challenging.

“I’d make it worth your while,” she replied, running her hand down my arm. I pulled away before I even realised what I was doing, and the smile fell from her lips. “Can I fix you anything to eat?”

“Just a coffee and make it quick. I’ve got…” my voice trailed off as I spotted her.

She was staring out of the window, her long blonde hair pulled over one of her shoulders.

Her chin was resting on her clenched fist, her elbow on the table, and she had a haunted look on her face.

Every couple of seconds, she would remember and straighten her features.

But it would creep back in moments later.

The young boy at her side got her attention, and she smiled at him, making him laugh as she screwed her nose up at whatever he said.

Then her eyes drifted back to the trees on the other side of the road.

“They’re the ones with the car,” Beth said in a low voice as she slid the coffee over to me. “Fucking nightmares.”

“Posh wankers?” I responded, bringing the cup to my lips.

Beth scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Posh isn’t the word for it. Americans. Absolute pricks.”

“Say no more.”

I raked over the blonde again. She didn’t look like an asshole.

She seemed quite sweet as she sat there in her smart grey dress resting modestly against her knees.

It fitted her perfectly; the arms cutting off at her elbow; the neckline showing the faintest hint of skin.

I could see from a mile away that her tits looked phenomenal in it, even though she was doing her best to hide them.

I caught the way the man opposite her looked at her.

Now he looked like a prick in his fancy, expensive suit, his eyes lingering on her, almost devouring her.

Every time he took a bite of his burger, his gaze darted to her chest.

She didn’t notice, though. She didn’t seem to notice much of anything but the boy next to her.

Son? Nephew? I was going to find out.

She gave him a small smile once more, and I was drawn to the soft, gentle air that hung around her.

She screamed of innocent and sweetness. Almost motherly.

She had a kind and gentle way of soothing the boy’s excitement without even trying, her patience infinite as he pulled on the sleeve of her dress to get her attention.

I heard the boy say “sorry, Dad,” as the man shot him a firm look.

He let go of the girl’s sleeves and cast his eyes down towards the table.

She looked at him and discreetly nudged him with her elbow until he smiled.

It was then I knew. She wasn’t his mother, because it was damn obvious she had never fucked the older guy.

No-one looked at a woman with that much longing and want if they had tasted her previously.

Especially as he kept trying to hide it from her.

It was unrequited. But despite the boy not being hers, she still had a maternal instinct towards him.

The need to protect children even if they weren’t hers.

It was exactly what I had been looking for.

Now that would be a woman who knew the difference between abc and ABC.

Sometimes you can tell a lot about a person just by looking at them – especially when they don’t realise anyone is watching them. The fact that the little boy seemed at ease with her, but cringed whenever his dad looked at him, told me everything I needed to know.

“They been here long?” I said to Beth, leaning over the bar to bring my upper body closer to hers.

“Too long for my liking. They appeared, demanded food pronto, and then haven’t stopped complaining since.”

I grinned at her. “I think we might be too rough for their liking.”

“The fucking Ritz would be too rough for her liking,” she snapped, bobbing her head towards the older of the two women. “Only wants bottled water, only wants Royal Doulton plates. Do I look like the type of woman with Royal Doulton plates?”

“I hope you gave her one of the cracked ones,” I laughed back.

“I’d like to give her a crack. I’d pull out the stick she’s got stuck up her own crack.”

“Charming.”

“You haven’t dealt with them, Dante,” she sighed in exasperation. “She’s a real piece of work.”

“Did you tell them we don’t take too kindly to strangers around here?”

“I doubt she’d listen to be fair. She couldn’t get back to her little family fast enough. They’re all uptight fuckers.”

“Case in point,” I said, my lips twisting as I noticed the older woman pull out a bottle of hand sanitiser and thoroughly douse her hands before she even contemplated picking up her fork.

“They reek of money, too.”

“Yeah, the car sort of gave that away.”

“Apart from that one,” Beth nodded at the blonde. “The younger one. She hasn’t had much to say for herself at all. She’s practically been kissing that window, she’s been staring out of it so much. She only moves when the young lad talks to her, otherwise she’s like a little haunted doll.”

“They her parents?”

“Employers, apparently,” she replied with a shrug. “One of those fancy nannies is my guess. Money always buys nannies. Pretty blonde ones for the daddies.”

“She’d do for me if my wife brought her home,” I laughed as Beth slapped at my arm.

“I’m sure they’ll be off soon. I heard the boy ask when they were going on the plane. No doubt off to Leeds airport going home.”

That got my attention. She wouldn’t be going to the airport, that much was certain.

“They say when?”

“Nope. Didn’t ask, don’t care.”

“Waiter,” the older woman hissed, clicking her fingers in the air.

“You see what I mean? I’ll rip those fingers straight off her fucking hand—” I grabbed her arm as she went to push past me.

“I’ll deal with it, Beth. It’s fine.” I pushed myself off the bar before she could argue and made my way over to them. Not one of them had the decency to even look up at my arrival, and that irked me. Money didn’t buy manners, apparently.

But that wasn’t the way we did things here.

We were a friendly bunch, so long as you were friendly back.

We didn’t take kindly to strangers, that much was true.

Although, that was simply because they came in here, saw the biker décor, and immediately judged us based on some idiotic TV programme they had seen.

They automatically decide we’re less than them because we chose a different lifestyle.

“Everything okay, folks? Beth tells me there’s been a problem or two.” I smiled at the older couple, my hand resting casually on the table. Then my eyes went back to her.

She looked my way for all of a split second, her eyes quickly raking me up and down, before she turned away, disinterested.

I’m not an egotistical man, but I also don’t like being dismissed with such ease. My fingers drummed on the table, but that was the only sign I gave that I was growing annoyed.

She definitely wasn’t going to any fucking airport, I thought to myself, stifling a growl.

“Yeah, listen, if you could just bring the bill. We’re not looking for small town diner chit-chat, thanks.” The man waved me off, a protective look coming over his face as he noticed me looking at her.

“What was that?” I said pleasantly enough, but already planning on which window I was going to smash his head through.

“Bill. This isn’t Gilmore Girls. We’re on the clock here, pal.” He even had the audacity to click his fucking fingers at me.

If I hadn’t been decided before, I certainly fucking was now. I could tell by the way he was looking at her that he wanted to fuck her – but he hadn’t. And now he never would. Even if I had no plans to have her myself, I’d take her just for the satisfaction of him knowing I had her and he didn’t.

“I’ll get right on that for you, pal ,” I said with gritted teeth and pushed off the table.

“See what I mean?” Beth asked with a smirk as I made my way back to her.

“Watch them,” I hissed as I stormed around the counter and into the kitchen, pulling out my phone.

“Everything okay?” My dad answered on the first ring. “Anyone causing a fuss?”

“Nothing I can’t handle. That’s not why I’m calling. I want you to tell mum to make up the guest room. I’m bringing someone home.”

That family would soon learn that I’m not fucking staff. I own the place, and soon enough I’ll own her too.