Rusty Cage (Rawlins Heretics MC Book 1) Read online

  “What happened to Susan?”

  “When Makoa was a month old, she dropped him off for his regular visit. She left a shit-ton of stuff, and I knew she wasn’t coming back for a while. Susan called days later, saying she needed to find herself and figure out why she struggled with happiness. She told her parents she wanted to travel and a baby would slow her down. Her parents asked for primary custody of Makoa, but the court ruled in my favor.”

  “That must have cost a lot of money.”

  “Not really. Family court isn’t too bad, and our club president was supportive. He said a man needs his kids, which was funny since he hated his kids.”

  “Have you heard from Susan in the last nine years?”

  “Every once in a while, she sends a postcard about how her heart soars when she thinks of Makoa.”

  “That’s beautiful,” Ginger mutters.

  “The kids have shitty moms, but they’re happy. Having my mom help raise them obviously made things easier for me. She gives the kids the tenderness they miss by not having a mom around.”

  Ginger holds my gaze, and I notice an odd darkness to her eyes. “You’re a good dad.”

  “Why did you say that in a weird tone?”

  “I’ve seen fathers who were good dads until, you know, they weren’t.”

  “Are you asking if I’m going to mess around with my daughter?” I ask, struggling not to lose my temper.

  “No, but parenthood creeps me out.”

  “It shouldn’t. Most parents don’t hurt their kids.”

  “I know.”

  “Then why are you looking at me that way?”

  “I don’t know,” she says, and I swear she wants to move her chair back to its old spot.

  “Yes, you do.”

  “Fathers creep me out.”

  “I don’t abuse my kids.”

  “I know.”

  Leaning closer, I whisper, “But you keep looking at me like I’m a freak.”

  “Ignore it.”

  “The idea of you thinking I would hurt my kid fucks with my heart. Don’t think that shit.”

  “I don’t want to think it,” she says, now avoiding my gaze. “The thoughts pop into my head.”

  “Then talk yourself out of thinking it.”

  “I will.”

  Scratching at my jaw, I need to punch something. I look around and find not a single viable target. Punching a tree might break my hand, and I really don’t want to explain to my mom how I knowingly busted my knuckles.

  “Oz, I’m sorry. My brain is wired to think the worst of people.”

  “Rewire it.”

  “I said I’d try,” she mutters, clearly losing her temper.

  “You knew I had kids, so why are you just now thinking about that shit?”

  “You looked so sweet when talking about them.”

  Frowning, I stand up for no reason and then sit back down. “So if I was indifferent to my kids, you’d be okay with me?”

  “No, I’d think you were a dick.”

  “There’s no winning with you.”

  “No, so why do you keep chasing me? Is it just the fucking?”

  The word “fucking” seems to echo, and everyone in a mile radius looks our direction. Ginger doesn’t acknowledge those eyes on us. She lives in her own world, and I don’t know why I think I can exist in her fucked-up life.

  “Can we end the date now?” she asks, crossing her arms protectively over what she knows I crave.

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I said so, and I’m the offended party. That means I get to decide.”

  “Fine, but I’m ignoring you.”

  “No, you’re not. I’m all you can think about. My sexy face, my sexy body, my sexy perverted fatherhood.”

  Ginger rolls her eyes. “You wanted to date Ginger Snaps. Well, this is her.”

  “Yeah, but I don’t mess with my kids. I don’t even spank them, though I’m a vicious bastard when it comes to grounding them from video games.”

  I catch just the smallest of smiles at the corner of her full, lickable lips.

  Poking her in the stomach, I smile. “You want me.”

  “That’s been obvious for a while, dummy.”

  “You need to fix your daddy pervert issue, so you can have me.”

  “I’m capable of riding you without thinking about the daddy stuff.”

  I lean closer and murmur, “Riding me is only part of what we can have.”

  “Are we talking rim jobs here because I’m not doing that?”

  “No, but thanks for making my dick hard after you ruined shit with that molesting daddy stuff,” I grumble and tug at the crotch of my jeans.

  “Maybe if I call you ‘Daddy’ while I ride your dick, that’ll help with my problem.”

  “No.”

  “What’s wrong, Daddy?” she coos and gives me a sexy wink.

  “No daddy stuff ever for any reason.”

  “Now who has a hang-up?”

  “You’re doing that bitch thing to make me not like you, but no dice, foxy lady,” I say, tapping her nose. “I’m on you like white on rice. Man, am I going to fuck you raw soon.”

  “I feel like we’re going in circles.”

  “No, we’re still focused on how you look at me and wonder if I mess with my kids.”

  “I know you don’t.”

  “But you wonder.”

  “I wonder with every father. I’ve seen too much not to.”

  “Well, I’m a great dad, and there’s no pervert shit.”

  “I know.”

  “Then stop looking at me like you want to call the cops.”

  “I’d never call the cops if I thought you were messing with your kids,” Ginger says and wraps her hand around mine. “I’d hack you to death. It’d be cathartic for me. Less so for you.”

  “If I ever did hurt my kids, you should hack me to death.”

  “Then we’re on the same page.”

  “You’re still giving me a weird look.”

  “Sorry,” she mumbles. “Let me think of something to distract us. Hey, what’s the deal with your kids’ names?”

  “My mother is Hawaiian, so I wanted Hawaiian names for my kids.”

  “Your name isn’t Hawaiian.”

  “My father liked the name, and my mom went along with it because he died and she wanted to honor him.”

  “That’s classy.”

  “Yeah, my mom’s very classy.”

  “I get that Ella didn’t care what you named the baby, but Susan probably wanted to name her baby something less... original.”

  “She said I could choose Makoa’s name because she felt guilty for telling me the baby was dead. Besides, I think she was already planning on running.”

  “Makes sense.”

  “When I knock you up, you’ll have to name the baby something Hawaiian, so it’ll match its siblings’ names.”

  “No to all that,” she says and tries to let go of my hand.

  I seize hers with both of mine. “You’ll be a good mother. I can tell.”

  “No, you can’t. You just want to fuck me, and you don’t like condoms.”

  “I’m telling you on my damn honor that I used condoms with Susan. I just underestimated the sheer power of my swimmers.”

  “You must have put it on wrong.”

  “I know how to put on a condom, Ginger, but I can’t control the ferocity of my sperm. They burst through the rubber and made Makoa.”

  “That’s not how that works.”

  “How would you know? I’m the one with the kids.”

  Ginger laughs loudly, again drawing the attention of people she’s oblivious to. “I’ll put on the condom and double up my birth control. Might bubble wrap my uterus while I’m at it. I’ll keep your swimmers from finding their way.”

  “If they sense your egg, nothing you do will keep them away.”

  “I think I know how to keep safe.”

  “How many romant
ic lovers have you had?”

  “Two. Madden and you.”

  “We aren’t lovers yet.”

  “I still count you as a lover because I’ve thought about you while masturbating.”

  “Shit, my jeans are strangling my dick,” I groan while tugging at my jeans again. “Damn, woman.”

  Ginger smiles at my arousal, but I feel her holding back. She can’t stop seeing me as a man, and men are the enemy. I don’t know how spending a few happy hours together led to us feeling farther apart. What I do know is if Ginger runs, I will never stop chasing.

  ➸ Ginger ☆

  Breathe in. Breathe out. Focus on the beautiful scenery. Check out that happy family. Wait, are those parents abusing their kids? Forget them and look back at Oz. He’s so damn handsome.

  I reach out to run my finger over a scar at the corner of his left eye. His lips curl into a smile, and I know he’s imagining touching me. Sex would be outstanding, but Oz won’t only be my lover. He’s a package deal. So am I. While Oz comes with kids, my baggage is the crazy thoughts racing through my head and making me struggle to catch my breath.

  I will not have a panic attack on this date. Mainly because there’s nowhere for me to run, and I can’t imagine stealing Oz’s Harley. Well, I can imagine it, but I won’t ditch him at Silver Swan. The man loves the place. No way will I ruin a special place in his heart by creating a shitty memory of my taking his Harley and leaving him to hitch a ride from one of his boys. Or would he call his mom to pick him up? Would she bring his kids? Oh, man, why do I keep thinking of his kids?

  “Chill out,” he says as we walk to the Harley and I consider once again grabbing his keys and running away.

  “I don’t like pineapple on my pizza,” is my savvy reply.

  “Who does?”

  Oz climbs on the bike and waits for me to join him. I look around the Silver Swan and immediately imagine Oz bringing his kids here. Does he hold their hands when they walk into a crowd?

  I’m ready to puke as I climb on behind Oz. I’ve spent my life angry, and that anger kept me strong. While I didn’t scream and lash out twenty-four seven, I embraced the anger to remind me of how it would always protect me.

  With Oz, I’m not angry. I’m raw instead. Where is my anger to protect me now? I look at him and doubt everything. Is he a monster? Am I a monster? Do we belong together or should we stay apart? What do I want in life? Should I have stolen his Harley and pissed him off, so he’d never want me again? Would that middle finger be enough to shake Oz from my scent? The man is a hound dog in more than one way. Unrelenting, he will possess me, but I might be batshit crazy long before he succeeds.

  I hold onto him and hide my face against his back, too troubled by ugly thoughts to enjoy the scenery.

  Nothing with Madden prepared me for Oz. This asshole gives me a dirty look, and I swoon. He says something stupid, and I laugh. Even when he pisses me off, I only become more addicted. I want him to pay attention to me and feel lonely when he’s not around.

  Except when he is around, I think about long ago vile snapshots from my childhood. Not only mine but Yarrow’s too. And Pepper’s and Bay’s. I’ve known too many people with ruined childhoods to not imagine the same for everyone else. Until now, that assumption never did me any harm. Now it’s making me run from the one person I should cling to instead.

  Rather than holding on to Oz, I nearly hurl myself off his Harley before it stops in front of the B&B. To prevent the urge to run screaming from him, I bite down on my lower lip hard enough to draw blood. As soon as the Harley parks at the curb, a starting gun goes off in my head. I dive from the seat and imagine running inside to safety.

  Oz grabs me around the waist before I get two steps away. “Don’t be so predictable,” he murmurs in my ear while wrapping his arms around mine. “Would Ginger Snaps really run away from her problems?”

  “Looks like she would,” I grunt, struggling to break free of his powerful arms. “Let me go, Oz.”

  He slowly releases me, just in time for me to wave off an approaching Yarrow. I don’t know where the hell she was hiding before I noticed her, but she’s holding her spiked bowie knife and looking ready to do damage.

  “Yarrow, stand down,” I say, putting up a hand. “It’s fine.”

  Her gaze never leaves Oz, and I watch her fingers grip the knife tighter. She stops moving toward us. That’s all I’ll get her to do, which makes sense. I’m bleeding from the mouth and clearly freaked out. If one of the other girls were outside, they might be ready to pounce on Oz too.

  I pry my attention away from my damaged charge and focus on Oz. He kills me with his casual smile as if he didn’t have a care in the world. I could use some of his mellowness right now rather than the raging anxiety overwhelming me.

  “I had fun.”

  “You live in Rawlins, Ginger. There’s nowhere to hide from me. Not to mention you think of me every time you masturbate. Yeah, you’re gonna want to get your shit together, so you can find out if I’m as fan-fucking-tastic in bed as you hope,” Oz says and leans forward. “The answer is I’m better, but you’ll never know if you can’t get past your past.”

  “Okay. Now leave.”

  “Say please.”

  “No.”

  “Then I’ll keep standing here with Yarrow ready to attack and you on the verge of... tears maybe? I can’t tell if you want to cry or scream.”

  “Why do I have to choose?” I grumble, feeling foolish.

  “Then say please.”

  My temper awakens, struggling to dominate every other feeling including the panic. “No.”

  “Then I plan to kiss you.”

  “No,” I say, pointing at him as if a finger alone will be enough to stop Oz from taking what he wants.

  Oz erases the space between us and sweeps me into his arms. Yarrow starts moving, just as my lips meet his. I throw out my hand to tell her to stop. Oz’s kiss consumes me, stealing away every emotion except primal lust.

  Yarrow doesn’t stab anyone, and Oz finally releases me from his dominating embrace. I stare at him, both hating and loving the way he makes me feel. Oz says nothing before walking backward to his Harley. He holds my gaze, never looking at Yarrow nearby. I can’t break free of his powerful pull until he rides into the early evening.

  “Why are you outside?” I ask Yarrow as I walk inside.

  Following me, she says nothing. Her knife returns to its holster before we reach the front door. Inside, I hear Bay and Pepper talking in the front parlor. Based on the time, I assume Cayenne and Duffy are in the screening room, watching a movie. I don’t know where Clove might be, but I don’t spot her on my way to my bedroom.

  Kicking off my shoes next to the canopy bed in my room, I remove my weapons and wallet from my pockets. I climb onto the decadent bed and lean back against the headboard. Through it all, Yarrow watches me warily.

  I pat the spot next to me, and she immediately crawls onto the bed. Yarrow rests her head on my thigh and stares up at me.

  “Why?” she asks.

  “Some boys are special, and Oz is one of them.”

  Yarrow exhales softly and kicks off her shoes. Lost in our thoughts, she and I remain quiet for nearly an hour. I caress her dark hair and imagine myself doing the same with a child. I can’t help wondering if Oz is sharing a similar moment with his kids. I know in my heart that he’s a good man when it comes to his kids. If only I can put to rest my lifelong distrust of fathers—if not men in general—Oz and I might be perfect together. If only...

  Chapter Eight

  keiki

  ➸ Ginger ☆

  My Harley idles between my legs while I stare down the dirt road leading to Oz’s small, yellow house. I see him outside with two small figures I assume are his kids. Though I consider driving away and letting this thing with Oz die, he notices me. Even from a distance, his gaze hooks my soul and draws me closer. Unable to tell him no, I drive the rest of the way to the house.

  Climbing off th
e bike, I find Oz’s kids hang from his biceps while he lifts them up and down like they’re child-sized weights. He smiles at me, and I think I smile back. My heart is beating so hard that I want to puke. I hear the kids laughing at his antics, and I see the pride in his smoky eyes. They are the picture of a happy family, and that picture isn’t a lie.

  “Don’t run,” Oz says when I stop walking forward.

  “Won’t you get uneven muscles that way?”

  “Naw, I switch them after a few reps.”

  I smile at his expression, but I’m still thinking about bailing. Oz lets down his kids and walks to me.

  “Why are you here?” he asks, cupping my face. “Is it time to tease me again?”

  “Yes.”

  “I tried to run into you at the work site today, but you climbed out of a window and ran away.”

  “Yes, I know. I was there.”

  “Yet here you are.”

  Forcing a smile, I nod. “Yes, I am.”

  “And you still want to run.”

  “Yes, very much so.”

  “But you’re still here,” he says and slides his thumb over my bottom lip.

  “Should you be seducing me in front of your kids?”

  “Human sexuality is normal, Ginger.”

  I roll my eyes and step back. “Well, I better...”

  “Makoa, Alani, this is my friend, Ginger.”

  The kids stop chasing cats long enough to join us. The girl is taller by a few inches, and her wavy, brown hair is darker than her brother’s. They have their father’s gorgeous chocolate brown eyes. I don’t know what the baby mamas look like, but Makoa and Alani clearly take after Oz.

  “Is she your girlfriend?” Alani asks while holding onto Oz’s arm and swaying.

  “Yes, she is.”

  I smile at the little girl and try to feel as comfortable as I do with Duffy.

  “Would you like a Starburst?” I ask, fishing two out from my jacket.

  The kids nod immediately and put out their hands. Once I give them each one, they tell me “thank you” in unison. Yes, this isn’t so bad.