Rusty Cage (Rawlins Heretics MC Book 1) Page 8

  I’m unconcerned for my safety during the ride. Enjoying the beautiful scenery, I hold onto Oz and trust he has somewhere cool in mind. We pass a few farmhouses and so many fields before driving into lush woods. I look up at the canopy of trees and imagine how gorgeous they’ll be in a few weeks once autumn arrives. I really ought to take the girls for a drive this way so they can take in the view.

  As much as I enjoy the foliage, I’m stunned by the sight of an actual castle. Cayenne mentioned something about one when we were investigating Rawlins, but I assumed she was messing with me. I guess I owe her an apology.

  Oz parks in a small, gravel parking lot and shuts off the engine. I immediately slide off the Harley and take in the sight of the stone walls surrounding the castle. Oz wraps an arm around me and starts walking toward the entrance.

  “Welcome to the Silver Swan. I loved coming here as a kid. Back then, they didn’t have the gift shop or deli. People just brought picnic baskets and ate out back on the ground. Now they have a patio with tables. There’s a playground out back too for kids.”

  “I assume you bring your little ones here.”

  “They love it, and I love it too. I will say you’re the first bangable woman I’ve brought here because the place is special to me.”

  The raw emotion behind Oz’s blunt words steals my breath and nearly sends me running again. Being special to him causes a can of worms to open and spill all over the place.

  What if I can’t live up to what he hopes for me? What if he doesn’t prove as special to me as I am to him? What if we’re on the same page and everything works out? Then what the fuck happens? I can’t live with a man. What about his kids? And his mom? What if he wants more kids? Too much! Red alert! Run away!

  “If you run,” Oz whispers in my ear as people leave the castle and pass us, “I will chase you. My legs are longer, so I will catch you. When I do, tickling will ensue.”

  I lift my gaze to meet his and cock an eyebrow. “When I’m cornered, I always go for dick violence. You should remember that before your fingers unleash their punishment on my stomach.”

  “Is that where you’re ticklish?” he asks and takes out his wallet to pay for the tickets. “I’ll file that info away for later.”

  I grip his hand, needing reassurance and wondering if he’ll provide it. Maybe taking the hint, Oz guides me into the castle without more tickling threats. We walk through the narrow halls winding through the three-story fortress. I’m interested enough in the small rooms and stone walls to stop obsessing over a potential future with Oz and simply enjoy our date.

  We walk up a long narrow stairway and into a room overlooking the back of the property. I stand on a small balcony and admire the view. Oz slides his hand into my jeans back pocket to remind me of how much he’d like to fuck me.

  Then he asks a question he’d only ask if he realizes fucking isn’t happening anytime soon.

  “What’s the deal with Yarrow?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve heard she’s crazy.”

  “Heard where?”

  “People talk.”

  “What people?” I grumble, wanting to punch the gossipy bitch who talked shit about my girl.

  “The other crew at the worksite mentioned that Cayenne warned them to stay far away from Yarrow when she comes around. In fact, she was more worried they’d bother Yarrow than Duffy.”

  “With her, we play the ‘better safe than sorry’ game.”

  “Why exactly?” he pushes.

  Pushing right back, I ask, “What does it matter?”

  “She lives in my town, and I envision a future where my kids meet Duffy, and that means they’ll probably run into Yarrow.”

  “She’s temperamental.”

  “So are you.”

  “It’s personal.”

  “You shared a lot of personal shit with me. I’m only asking you let me know her deal, not her life story.”

  “Fine, but you don’t go around sharing with other people, okay?” When Oz nods, I trust him despite once again ready to bail on this date. “I found Yarrow when she was fifteen. While I wouldn’t say she was feral, that’s the best word to explain her lack of social skills.”

  “What do you mean by ‘found her’?”

  “Her father was a hardcore alcoholic and addict, and he pimped her out to feed his habit. I took Yarrow in and raised her, but I wasn’t capable of fixing what was wrong with her when I can’t fix it in me either.”

  “You seem well adjusted.”

  Smiling at his bullshit compliment, I shrug. “I fake it. She doesn’t. That’s the main difference. Yarrow is harmless with kids, though, so don’t worry about her hurting Makoa and Alani. You probably saw how Yarrow follows Duffy around. She’s very protective of her.”

  I stop talking when I think someone is walking into the room. Once I’m certain we’re alone, I continue. “One of the ENC girls back in Little Memphis said Yarrow reminded her of an old abused dog her parents adopted when she was a kid. Saffron said the dog didn’t like people, but would follow her around, sleep by her bed, and keep her safe. No one could mess with Saffron as long as the dog was around. That dog found a purpose for all its anger and fear. Yarrow is that way with Duffy, and she will be that way with your kids,” I say and then add, “But it’s not beyond the realm of possibilities that she might bite you.”

  Oz reaches out and caresses my cheek with his knuckles. “You did a good thing by taking her in.”

  “I probably should have gotten her into the system and let Child Services help her,” I say, remembering the way a bloodied Yarrow looked at me when I found her in a closet.

  Oz notices my mood shift and strokes my jaw. His affection does calm me.

  “I was stubborn back then,” I say, shaking off those bad memories. “I trusted no one outside of the crew, so I figured I knew better than a bureaucrat what someone like Yarrow needed. Except she and I aren’t the same.”

  Oz gives me a weird look, and I shrug. “I went to school, had friends, Christmas presents, trick or treating, and all that normal shit.”

  “And Yarrow didn’t have that.”

  “Our agreement was you’d be the one to share the personal stuff.”

  “Technically, we’re sharing Yarrow’s personal stuff so...”

  “Yeah, yeah, but I want you to share.”

  “Share what?”

  “What was your first sexual experience like? Were you a stud right out of the gate?”

  “My first time was with a teacher.”

  I frown darkly. “Ick.”

  “A lady teacher.”

  “I assumed as much, and I stand by my ‘ick’ statement.”

  “A lot of people hear about a lady teacher and think I was lucky.”

  “I’m sure they do. When I was in sixth grade, some girl was dating a guy in college. The other girls were amazed at her luck. Seriously, besides fucking what does a twenty-year-old man want with a twelve-year-old girl? I don’t care how mature she was. Six graders are so fucking stupid, and any self-respecting adult would need more mental stimuli than a kid can provide.”

  “I was a hunk, though, so the teacher wasn’t interested in my mental capabilities.”

  I smirk at his bragging, but there’s no denying he’s lost some of his swagger since mentioning the teacher. “Of course, you were, and of course, she wasn’t.”

  “I thought she cared about me. Does that sound stupid?” he asks, and I hear a hint of actual uncertainty.

  “No.”

  Oz wraps an arm around me and looks out at the wooded view from behind the castle. “She made it seem like I was special, but I was just her latest toy. I thought it was cool for a while. When my mom found out and put a stop to it, reality hit me hard. Not as hard as my mom hit the teacher though.”

  “Your mom sounds badass.”

  “She is,” he says, grinning proudly. “Now don’t you feel bad for threatening to shoot her?”

  “I never t
hreatened. I only prepared for that possible eventuality.”

  “Sure, sure.”

  “Back to your pervert teacher. How old were you?”

  “Fourteen. She was maybe thirty. Not beautiful but pretty and she didn’t give me shit about sitting in the back so I could stretch out my legs.”

  “How long did she groom you before the sex stuff started?”

  “Do you really want to know?”

  “Not really, but I shared way too much personal crap with you, so we need to even out stuff.”

  “Do we though?”

  “Yes, Oz, for my sanity, we very much do.”

  Grinning, he nuzzles the top of my head. “Fine, if you insist. Well, she started making moves on me, and maybe some other guys, right when the school year began. I don’t know exactly. I was a teenager, so I didn’t pay attention to stuff. Girls were always analyzing shit, and I’d hear them stressing over every little thing, and I’d think they should chill. Except maybe I should have stressed a bit more too. I don’t know, but by the holidays of that year, she’d kissed me and was talking about how I was special to her. It was exciting, for sure.”

  “How long did it go on?”

  “Until right after the new year. I remember that my mom nearly crashed her car on the icy road on her way to school.”

  “How did she find out?”

  “I’d stayed home sick and puked all over myself. When Mom helped me clean up, she noticed hickeys on my thighs. She asked about the girl. The more I wouldn’t tell her, the harder she pushed. I was running a damn fever and finally told her just so she’d let me sleep. I woke up hours later to find out she’d gone to school and punched the teacher. Even though the cops were called, the teacher didn’t press charges against my mom and agreed to be transferred to a school somewhere else. With the teacher out of Rawlins, Mom didn’t press charges either. She didn’t want people knowing our business. Especially not the cops. By the time I was done with the flu, it was all over.”

  “Did you miss the teacher?”

  “Yeah, but I didn’t tell anyone that.”

  I stare up at him and smile. “Thank you for telling me about your pervert teacher.”

  “I haven’t talked about that since... Shit, I don’t think I ever have. Mom asked if I wanted to go to therapy, and I was like, ‘no fucking way.’ Therapy isn’t something people do in Rawlins. The nearest shrink is thirty miles away. I only know that because one of the old ladies for a dead brother was looking for someone to talk to. She ended up moving away since the town had too many bad memories.”

  “Do you ever wish you could leave?”

  “Never.”

  Oz says the word with the determination of a man who plans to grow old and be buried in this neck of the woods. I admire his conviction and love for Rawlins. I want a place where I belong. Though I ruled parts of Little Memphis, nothing about it felt like home. The town was no more than bloodstained territory.

  Now in Rawlins, I dream of building a real home for me and the girls. Duffy will have a stable place to grow up. Soon, Bay and Pepper will have kids too. The town isn’t right yet. Like the townhomes, Rawlins is a work in progress. One day, though, I hope to love the town at least half as much as Oz does.

  ➸ Oz ★

  Ginger and I explore every room of the castle, and I’m relieved she’s so excited. Last night, I stressed she’d think the place was stupid and I’d think she had bad taste. I didn’t want our second date ending with me less obsessed with her.

  Fortunately, I’m more obsessed than ever, and Ginger hasn’t tried running once.

  We finish our tour around the castle at the deli where I order two roast beef sandwiches, drinks, and BBQ chips. We find a table away from the families and spread out our food.

  Ginger smiles at me for a long time. She eats half her sandwich and wraps up the rest.

  “For your kids,” she says and hands me the bag of chips too.

  “You’re good people, Ginger Jones.”

  “Keep those happy thoughts when I ask you my next question.” Ginger laughs at my frowning expression. “Your kids have different moms, right?”

  “Is that a problem?”

  “Why would I care?” she asks and moves her chair closer to mine.

  “Then why ask?”

  “I couldn’t figure how else to ask about your past lovers. After all, I told you all that shit about Madden.”

  “You mean Goofy Hair?”

  “Don’t be insecure about Madden,” she says, patting my hand. “No way did he piss me off as much as you do.”

  “But did he make you soak your panties as much as I do?”

  “Not even a third as much.”

  Smiling, I lean over and kiss her head. “That’s what I thought.”

  “So how long were you with baby mama number one?”

  “Ella was a girl I knew from high school, but she dated some twat for years while I didn’t date anyone. One night at Rusty Cage, I hooked up with her, and we messed around off and on, but we weren’t together.”

  “How come?”

  “She was a loser. Though she had a nasty personality, Ella was hot and available.”

  “And you got her pregnant,” she says in her grumpy tone I hate.

  “That I did. Condoms are so important. Hell, I’m lucky I didn’t lose my dick to a weird vaginal fungus.”

  “She sounds like a charmer.”

  “She got pregnant at some point and said it was her high school boyfriend’s. Then nine months later, she has the kid and calls me up to say the baby isn’t white, so it’s not his and probably mine. So did I want to take a test?”

  “I don’t know much about parenting, but I’m going to give you a little advice anyway. One day when you tell Alani the story of her birth, you’ll probably want to lie your ass off.”

  “Yeah, no shit,” I say, laughing. “I tell Alani that her mom was sick and had to go away.”

  “Go away where?”

  “Her high school boyfriend moved to Florida, and she chased after him. Last I heard, he was in prison, but I don’t know what happened to her.”

  “Did she ever have visitation?”

  “No. she wanted the other guy’s kid and said she would have gotten an abortion if she thought it was mine. I think the dummy thought having a kid with the asshole would make him stop cheating on her. So, anyway, she had Alani, and I took the test, and she wanted to leave the hospital without the baby, so Child Services got involved. They gave me temporary custody until things were worked out. Before our first court date, Ella took off for Florida, and I eventually got sole custody. Ella made clear she didn’t want Alani, so I don’t expect to ever hear from her again.”

  Ginger shakes her head. “You must have absolutely freaked when she called you out of the blue.”

  “Fuck yeah,” I say, remembering that day and how I nearly didn’t take her call, “but I knew once she said the baby wasn’t white, that it was mine. Ella always said she made an exception for me when it came to fucking non-white guys.”

  “Wow, racist charmer.”

  “Yeah, but she was hot and easy. Since I couldn’t find a real girlfriend, I was really into hot and easy back then.”

  “How come you couldn’t find a real girlfriend? Who wouldn’t want to hook up with this face?” she says, taking my jaw and wiggling it.

  “I think the teacher thing messed me up. I didn’t trust women, but I’m also a mama’s boy, so I trust women too much. It made me misread women. I couldn’t tell who was good and who was bad. Of course, with Ella, it was obvious she sucked. I liked knowing where I stood with her.”

  “Did you enjoying being a dad so much that you decided to go bareback with another winner?”

  “I did like being a dad. Alani was so beautiful that I wanted her to be mine as soon as I saw her at the hospital,” I say, smiling at the thought of the first time I held my baby. “She was so little and had a head full of dark curls.”

  Ginger studies my fac
e. “You really are sweet sometimes.”

  “Yes, I am, but you want to know about Makoa’s mom. It’s not quite as heartwarming as Alani.”

  “Oh, boy,” Ginger says, losing her smile.

  “Susan and I hooked up a lot for like a week. Then she said she wanted to work on herself, which I assumed was code for her being sick of my dick. When I saw her around town, she’d ignore me. Then she showed up at my house, crying about how she was pregnant and went to get an abortion but changed her mind and now wanted me to support her. Of course, I did because I’d had a girl get an abortion before Alani and I always wondered about that baby.”

  “Did it ever occur to you to use condoms with these nutters?”

  “I did with Susan. I usually did with Ella. I can’t remember the first girl.”

  “All right. Continue with your Hallmark story.”

  Smirking at her comment, I think back to those months where I didn’t know if I was having another kid or not. “Susan would go silent and refuse to take my calls. Then she’d call to say she was getting an abortion and hoped I understood. Twice, I thought she had gotten one. For a month in her early second trimester, she said she had an abortion. Then she turned around and said it didn’t take, so she wasn’t going to have another one. Then at seven months, she freaked out after a fight with her best friend, so she planned to go to a clinic in Kansas or something to get a late-term abortion. She hoped I wouldn’t be mad. I couldn’t get hold of her for weeks, so I again assumed she had gotten an abortion. I don’t know where she went during that time.”

  “Did she want to be with you and all that drama was her way of getting your attention?”

  “No, she’s just fucking nuts,” I say, sounding angrier than I intend. “I know she’s mental, but her parents took her to a doctor once and apparently he didn’t find anything wrong. I said she might want to see someone else to help with her mood swings, but she claimed it was only pregnancy hormones.”

  “Did you even want her to have the kid when you saw how damn crazy she was?”

  “Yeah, it was my kid. She showed me ultrasound pictures, and I thought about names. I got attached, but by the time she gave birth, I was exhausted from thinking the kid was dead and then he was alive and then he was dead. I ended up expecting the worst and hoping for the best.”