Bad Boy's Baby: Wicked Angels MC (14 page)

The atmosphere felt like we were all waiting for a bomb to go off. We needed a plan, and fast. But first, we had to take care of Jenny and Phin.

Jenny

After a few days in Tristan’s house, I was about to go crazy. Phin had been just as well behaved as ever, but I felt bad for not telling him what was going on. Then again, how could I? How could I let him know that he and I were the targets of a rival gang, when he didn’t even know that Tristan was his father? I couldn’t, plain and simple. There was no way to tell him anything without telling him everything. And while I loved Phin and knew he was mature for his age, I didn’t think eight was the right age to tell him about something so dire. With any luck, the whole situation would blow over and everything would be fine. At least, that’s what I wanted to think.

Tristan had spent the night out of the house with Rod. I was jealous as I watched them leave, not because I thought he was going to be around other women but just because I desperately wanted to leave myself. After all, it wasn’t fair. Tristan couldn’t just expect me to stay here on house arrest! He wasn’t
that
cruel.

“I want to go to work,” I announced, stepping into the kitchen. Tristan was sitting down at the table with a mug of beer. He barely looked up at me as I crossed the threshold of the room. “It’s been days and I haven’t been outside, Tristan. I’m going nuts.”

“This is all for your safety,” Tristan said. He looked up at me with a solemn expression on his gorgeous, fine-boned face. “Don’t you realize that?”

“Yes,” I said. My cheeks pinked and I had to look away. “I know it is, Tristan. But I’m so bored! And I need to make money. What happens if I lose my job? There isn’t another library in Centreville, and I can’t afford to move.”

At that, Tristan softened a bit. “I’ll send someone with you,” he said. “Hang on, I’m calling Rod.”

I frowned. “He didn’t do a great job of watching me,” I admitted. “Are you sure you shouldn’t ask someone else?”

Tristan rolled his eyes. “You’re so demanding,” he said in a mild, jokey tone, but I blushed hard anyway. “I’ll call the prospect that was over here last night. That okay?”

I thought he was being sarcastic at first and I was about to snap back at him when I realized that he was serious. “I’ll feel safe with him,” I said. And I would, too: the prospect was huge. A big, overweight guy with a bushy beard and sharp eyes. He was right on track to become the newest member of the Wicked Angels, and I felt like he deserved every bit of the fame that would come with that. He was even more intimidating than Rod, although not more so than Tristan.

“Thanks,” I said after Tristan had made the call. “I’m going to get ready for work. Could I do some laundry later? I’ll need more clothes.”

Tristan nodded. “Whatever you want,” he said. “Make yourself at home.”

The atmosphere between us was polite, cordial. There was no trace of the discomfort that had shown itself when I’d confronted him the other day. In fact, he seemed to have forgotten about it. Discomfort flitted through me as I realized how quickly he was able to compartmentalize all of this and get rid of it. I shuddered. Did Tristan think about me? What about the other night, when we’d slept together? It had been explosive and hot, even more than our time together used to be. But if Tristan could make himself forget about it, what was the point? What was I even doing here?

Back in the room I shared with Phin, I looked around. It had been spotless when we’d first settled here, but now the floor was littered with crumbs from Phin’s animal crackers and my shoes. I blushed as I realized it looked like the typical apartment of a single mom. Quickly, I walked around and collected all of the trash on the floor. I wasn’t sure whether or not Tristan had been inside, but at least this way he wouldn’t know what a slob I really was. Until I’d had Phin, I’d been a total clean freak. Tristan had even used to make fun of me because I had a habit of cleaning out his car whenever we were together. But those days were long gone; I couldn’t remember anything I owned that wasn’t covered in sticky gunk or melted candy.

I sighed. It was the price of having a kid, even a kid as smart as Phin. And while I loved him with all my heart, sometimes I felt like I would have been happier without a child. It had turned my life into a perpetual cycle of caring for someone other than myself. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had more than a few hours to myself. Hell, the first time in years was when I’d gone to the bar with Tristan after those creeps had attacked me. And then I’d felt ragingly guilty about all of it, even though I’d been incredibly attracted to him. It was like once I became a mother, I lost my capacity for selfishness and for fun.

The only clean outfit I had left was black jeans and a purple silk blouse. It wasn’t exactly spring-like, but I donned it anyway. I knew the blouse made my chest look even bigger than it really was. Part of me wanted to make Tristan look at me.
You don’t want to acknowledge your feelings for me, fine. Well, you won’t be able to ignore me when I look like this
.

I spent a long time twisting my hair into a Brigitte Bardot updo and putting on cat-eye black liner and red lipstick. By the time I was ready, I looked more like I was going to a nightclub than a library. I knew the customers would gawk. But I didn’t care. Shockingly, this whole mess had made me realize what my priorities in life were. And most of those revolved around Phin and my ability to keep him safe.

“Wow,” Tristan said when I walked back into the kitchen. I pretended not to notice, but secretly I was incredibly pleased that he’d noticed. Maybe he wasn’t as oblivious as I thought.

“I’m out of other clothes,” I said primly. “Are you going to drive me to work?”

Tristan opened his mouth and I could tell he was about to lie. “I wasn’t planning on it,” he said smoothly. “But I think that would be better. I’ll wait at the library with you until the prospect shows up. That way you won’t feel like you’re in trouble.”

I blushed, pleased. “Thanks,” I said. “I appreciate it.”

I waited patiently as Tristan collected his keys and wallet. He handed me a helmet once we walked outside.

“We’re not driving?” I frowned. “What about my hair?”

“You always look better with messy hair,” Tristan said. He grinned and winked at me and I felt my stomach do a flip-flop of nervousness. “At least I think so, Jenny.”

The way he said my name made me feel like melting. I didn’t protest, but when Tristan wasn’t looking I tried to smooth my hair under the helmet so it wouldn’t look flat when we got to the library. They didn’t know I was coming in that day—I’d called about a leave of absence—and for a moment, I felt a touch of self-consciousness.

I wrapped my arms around Tristan’s waist and snuggled close, burying my face in the back of his neck as he peeled out of his long driveway. He drove faster than he needed to, and I felt a thrill soar through me as he tilted his bike to the side for a dangerous turn. Clinging to him, I kept inhaling his scent of leather and sandalwood. It was incredibly arousing, and I could feel the area between my legs getting moist after only a few seconds on the back of his bike. Tristan’s strong muscles flexed as he expertly navigated the bike around the back roads of Centreville. It was warmer than it had been, and the sun was peeking through the tops of the tall trees. For a moment, I was struck by the beauty of the town. When I realized where Tristan was taking me, I felt my heart sink.

“What are we doing here?” I yelled loudly into his ear. “This isn’t the way to the library!”

Tristan’s chest vibrated and I felt him chuckling under my tight grip. “Thought we’d take a scenic detour,” he called back loudly. “You don’t mind seeing the old homestead, do you?”

I closed my eyes and rested my face against Tristan’s shoulder. He was driving through the toniest part of town, where my parents lived. I hadn’t been back to their house since they’d thrown me out, and I was in no mood to see them now. As we roared past their house, I expected to feel a horrible sense of sadness rushing through my body. But instead I felt triumphant, free. There was something powerful about racing past these expensive houses on the back of a motorcycle, free and open and letting my hair get tangled and soar behind me in the breeze.

When we passed Mummy and Daddy’s house, I stared at the big black iron gate that had kept men like Tristan out, unsuccessfully. It had always been a gorgeous house—a big brick Tudor—but suddenly it looked like a prison to me. It didn’t look like a happy place to raise a family, or even to live. It seemed like the people who lived behind the walls were more terrified than ever of being attacked by the commoners. I had to laugh; it was exactly the kind of thing that Daddy was afraid of. But that’s what he and Mummy were: rich white people hiding from the real problems of the world. When I was growing up, they hadn’t always seemed so tone-deaf. But Mummy made ridiculous comments all the time, like “Why do people complain so much about not being able to afford an apartment? Why don’t they just buy a condo?”

I shuddered, remembering a Hispanic family that had moved in down the block. They’d only made it six months. They were moneyed, just like us, but foreign. So not like us. Even though they all spoke impeccable English, Mummy had campaigned to get them removed from our street. She finally took it up with her garden club, and they shunned the wife in the family until they finally admitted defeat and moved to the ethnic section of Centreville. I burned with shame thinking about how I’d avoided the daughter of the family whenever I saw her in school. I never found out whether or not the family had hated us as much as Mummy and Daddy had hated them, but I had a feeling they probably would have been a little more generous.

Mummy and Daddy were definitely relics of a by-gone era. The sad thing was that they’d never realized it themselves. They were doomed to see their influence wane and eventually disappear. Maybe I really was lucky for getting out and seeing the world as it actually exists. I couldn’t think of my parents without feeling regret, but as I got older, less and less of that regret was reserved for me. Rather, I pitied them for being so sheltered and provincial.

Even though it was liberating to realize that I didn’t miss being around Mummy and Daddy, it still made me sad to remember the driveway was the last place I’d seen Tristan, until now. We’d parted on bad terms, the night of my birthday. I’d felt like a coward and a freak. I didn’t think that I’d ever see him again.

And for the longest time, I’d been right about that.

Pressing my face into the back of his leather jacket, I couldn’t believe that Tristan and I were together again. Well, not together. Not boyfriend and girlfriend. We didn’t walk around with our hands slipped in each other’s pockets, and we didn’t kiss every time he drove under a bridge. But looking at him I felt the same passionate tug that I’d always felt. His messy brown hair, his dark blue eyes. They were so gorgeous, so haunting. They spoke of an intelligent, lonely man. They spoke of a man who would do anything to protect what he loved.

As we pulled up in front of the library, I felt some of my resolve weaken. After all, until pretty recently, I’d been one of those assholes living in the big houses behind even bigger iron gates. What if Tristan had driven past there to remind of who I was, to remind me that we were from totally different places in life?

It wasn’t a nice thought.

“Alright,” Tristan said when I handed him back the helmet. I watched as he turned his bike off and stood up and stretched. “You wanna hang outside until the prospect shows up?”

I looked around nervously. Even though I’d been working at the Centreville library for years without incident, now I could only see Randy and Steve approaching me as I stepped into the parking lot. I shuddered. The memory of their grubby hands on my skin and their foul breath wasn’t so easy to dismiss. Even with Tristan next to me, I worried they would come back. After all, they hadn’t listened to him the first time. Why would they heed his second warning?

“Sure,” I said. “There’s a bench over here.” I led Tristan over to a small garden at the side of the library. I’d planted some herbs with the other librarians last summer, and we gave them away to all of the patrons who liked to cook. It had helped work feel more like home. Even though I didn’t think I’d ever have a big family, I liked my coworkers at the library. They were all quiet, like me. I wondered what their personal lives were like, but I appreciated that we didn’t gossip about that stuff at work. A couple of them had raised their eyebrows when they’d heard my last name was Foster—Daddy’s wealth had made our family locally famous—but no one had ever asked me, and now I was pretty sure that no one assumed we were related.