His Property (Iron Bandits MC)

For his part, Peter had done an excellent job when we came in. He had been awake and alert—a bonus, from my perspective. His big baby blues were so much like his daddy’s that I thought for sure anyone who had known Keith would have automatically recognized his son. Both the woman behind the glass cabinet/counter and the big tattooed hulk of a man, who had been leaning on the counter chatting with her, had taken good long looks at my baby before sharing a surprised, silent communication between themselves. I had thought this was a good sign.

And then they had both looked at me with a load of suspicion and…was that anger? Okaaay. Awesome.

“Can I help you?” The woman’s voice was hard, her words shooting at me staccato.

“I’m here to see Jack Edwards.”

“You don’t have an appointment.” This much I knew.

“No, I don’t. I was hoping he could give me just a few minutes. Is he in?”

“Actually, no, he’s not.” She shot a glare at the big guy. “But he should be.”

The guy shoved his chin out, flared his nostrils, and took in a deep breath. He’d been staring at Peter’s little face, but now looked at me with steel in his eyes.

“He’ll be here. But it might be awhile.” He watched me, as if determining my resolve.

“I’ll wait. His office is in the back, right? I’ll just wait there.” I wanted to get away from these people and their prying eyes. What I had to say had only to do with Jack. Peter was not for public consumption.

Also, I didn’t want my baby out in this space for long. He was still so little, so fragile. My mama-bear protectiveness was up in full steam, and we’d only been in the shop for less than two minutes. No way did I want to be hanging out in front, with its swinging doors, for however long “awhile” might take.

So I powered past these two guardians and marched through the large middle section of the shop—the inking stations. I could see a central door in the back, leading to what had to be Jack’s office. I didn’t hear either of them try to stop me, so I figured everybody was happy with my executive decision.

Bingo; nailed it in one.

Jack’s office was a cramped, ugly mess: overhead fluorescent bar lighting—with the accompanying hum from hell; wood paneling, like your basic 1970s basement; a tall gray metal filing cabinet with papers stacked and unstacked around and on top of it; and a matching desk with fake wood laminate top, likewise covered with paper.

I peered at what was easily visible and saw a lot of spreadsheet tables and tattoo art. Half-buried under all that, there was a keyboard and flat-screen monitor, and a random assortment of paperclips and pencils served as toppings. About the only thing missing was organization.

If the office was any reflection of the man, this was not a good sign. I did the best I could to situate myself comfortably with Peter, using the second chair facing the desk for my load of baby gear. All things considered, we had what we needed for a while, and I settled in to wait.

It took forever. My butt was getting sore, and it was all I could do to keep Peter from fussing every time the tattoo guns fired on. Thankfully, someone had come over soon after we had settled in the office and shut the door behind me, apparently aware that the noises might trigger other, unwelcomed, noises from our direction. So at least there was that barrier, plus some small measure of privacy for me and my little guy.

I took a deep breath and focused back on my baby. No matter what, Peter and I would be okay. We would. We had to be. My baby was a fighter, and had made it this far. We’d get through this, too, one way or another.

I was getting fidgety myself, waiting so long for Jack to show up. I wondered what the issue was. The pixie woman up front had seemed pissed at his absence as well. There was a story there, I was sure. Whatever it was, the man seemed confident that Jack would be showing up at some point, so I resigned myself to bide the time.

But I was getting steamed, myself, even though I knew he had no idea I’d been coming in. Rationally, I had no reason to get so upset. But I was, more and more with each passing minute.

Suddenly, I felt a whoosh at my back, and I could feel a strong presence there. It could only be Jack.

Even though I had yet to lay eyes on this man, his energy radiated in a way that put my whole being on alert. Since Peter was nursing, I forced myself to stay still and calm, but my heart had already started beating faster; this was really, finally, going to happen—now.