Hellion (Southern Rebels MC)

He nodded. “Trust me, it’s even weirder when you meet him.” He put the car in gear. “Let’s get over to the shop before Crew gets busy.” He shook his head. “Once he starts on a project, everything else waits.”

“One track mind?”

“Yeah, and he holds one hell of a grudge too,” Noah said, shaking his head. “He’ll go to hell to get justice.” There was a mix of admiration and resignation in his tone.

“Seen it firsthand?”

He finished off his milk before replying, “When he was eighteen, he joined a rival biker gang to flush out the ones who had murdered his friend. It’s where he met his wife actually, but he risked everything to get justice for Deacon.”

“Deacon was the one murdered?”

“Yeah, but he wasn’t actually dead,” Noah explained with a quick frown. “It was complicated. Crew’s wife, Drea, was part of a sting operation and they’d saved Deacon.” He looked at me. “Crew hooked up with Drea and together they took down Monty’s club.”

“Okay,” I said faintly, taking a bite of my donut. “Sorry I asked.”

Noah chuckled. “It’s not as bad as it sounds.”

“Uh huh.”

“It had a happy ending.”

“I guess that’s all that matters,” I replied, my voice rising in question on the last word.

“They have a son, Colt.” There was something in the way he said it, not in envy, but maybe a little wistful, that made me wonder if Noah wanted more. “They’re happy. I do think that’s all that matters in the end.”

“Do you want kids?” I asked abruptly, startling him if the way he jerked the wheel was any indication.

“Do I want kids?” He repeated carefully and I nodded. “I hadn’t realized we’d progressed to that stage in our relationship,” he joked, stalling for time.

“I never understood why people wait to ask questions like that. Why waste time with someone who doesn’t have the same fundamental desires that you do?”

“Do you want kids?” He asked, glancing at me quickly.

“Nope. I asked you first.”

“Yes,” he answered firmly, no hesitation. “I want kids. Plural. More than one.”

“Me too,” I said softly. “I think it’s because I was an only child.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.”

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” I teased, smirking a little when he gave an exasperated sigh. “Now, should we go over politics, religion, or family secrets?”

“We’re here,” Noah announced, turning into the parking lot a little too fast as gravel sprayed behind us. “Let’s get that tire taken care of.” He was out of the car before I could stop laughing, but eventually I managed to crawl out with the box of donuts in hand. A guy came walking up to us, wiping his hands on a dirty rag.

He nodded to Noah, his eyes never leaving me. “Who’s this?”

“Cadence,” I introduced and raised the box of donuts. “We come bearing gifts.”

His gaze swept between us curiously, but he didn’t ask any questions. “I’ll take them.” He fixed his stare on Noah. “Anything?”

Noah shook his head. “I need to see Johnny.” He jerked his head toward the square building next door. “He in?”

“He hasn’t left,” Crew replied, rubbing his jaw. “Go on. I’ll take care of the tire.” He walked over to the tire Noah had propped up next to the car. “She can stay here.” My head tilted at the offer that sounded more like a command, and Noah sent me a questioning glance.

I forced a smile and nodded reassuringly. I wasn’t worried about Crew, but I was very curious about why I wasn’t invited over to see Johnny. “Shouldn’t be long,” Noah promised, before his long stride quickly took him out of earshot.

“You hurt him and I’ll escort you to the state line myself,” Crew stated matter of fact as he started rolling the tire to an open bay. I stood there, equal parts amused and offended. He looked back, “You coming?”

I stomped after him. “What if he hurts me? Why do you assume I would hurt him and not the other way around?”

“I don’t really give a shit about you,” Crew answered honestly, lifting one shoulder when he saw my expression. “Sorry….Cadence, wasn’t it?” I nodded. “It’s just the truth. And he wouldn’t hurt you. He’s Mr. Picket Fences. He’ll ask you to stay.”

“We’re not…it’s not even,” I sputtered, unable to form a coherent response. “You’re jumping the gun,” I finally spit out, swiping my hand sideways. “Getting way ahead of yourself, boy.”

He snorted, giving me a lazy grin. “I bet I’m older than you, and the only one who gets away with calling me boy is Johnny and that’s only because he knows where the bodies are buried.”

I opened my mouth, but the snappy retort I intended didn’t come out. “I’m twenty-one, thank you very much.” He raised a single eyebrow. “Fine, twenty, not that it’s any of your business.”