Hellion (Southern Rebels MC)

“Cadence,” I answered, looking down as I unwrapped the silverware.

There was silence for a long second. “Does Cadence have a last name?” Cord asked dryly.

“Morgan,” I answered briefly, glancing up to give him a squinty look. “Any more questions?”

“A few,” he drawled, leaning against the worn vinyl. “That a problem?”

A tight smile flashed across my lips. “Not if you return the favor.”

Tori ducked her head, but not before I saw her grin.

Cord’s eyes narrowed. “We’ll see.” He turned to Noah. “Weren’t there some Morgans out on 17? One of the boys went to prison if I remember correctly.”

“I’m sure they’re no relation,” Noah replied, rubbing a hand over his mouth. “They were all boys.”

Cord glanced back at me. “Morgan ain’t your daddy’s name?”

“Nope.”

“You’re not all that forthcoming,” he mentioned and Tori rolled her eyes.

I chuckled. “I have a feeling you aren’t either.”

A snort escaped Noah and Cord glared at him. “You could be supportive. I’m doing this for you.”

Noah shook his head. “No, you aren’t. You don’t get to blame me. You’re not doing this for me.” He scooted out of the seat. “You can excuse me. I’m going to go stand in the corner until Cord’s finished.”

“Fucker,” Cord muttered, shaking his head in mock disappointment. He stared at me a little more intently. “You must be special.”

I turned my head slightly, not sure I understood what he meant.

“What do you do?” Cord asked and Noah paused, hovering next to the table.

He gave me a guilty look. “I kinda want to hear this,” he admitted as Tori propped her chin on her fist, her gaze bouncing between the three of us in amusement.

I grabbed Noah’s shirt, tugging him back on the bench. “It’s fine,” I assured him, then looked at Cord. “Fire away.”

“How old are you? Where you from? Who’s your Momma? What school did you go to? What brings you to Friendly?” He asked, the questions come faster than I could blink. He stopped and I opened my mouth to answer when he threw in another one. “What are your intentions toward my boy?” He tilted his head toward Noah, leaving no doubt what he meant.

“Coding, twenty, everywhere, Moira, homeschooled mostly, my Dad.” I glanced at Noah, then met Cord’s eyes. “Make him fall madly in love with me, break his heart, and skip town.”

Cord’s lips parted, his eyes saying he wasn’t sure what to do with my answers, when a woman walked up, Lydia stitched on the upper right corner of her work uniform, and asked, “What do you boys want this evening?”

“Cobbler,” I answered, breaking Cord’s gaze to smile politely. “Please.”

She gave me a faint smile in return. “Coffee?”

“No,” Noah answered at the same time, I said, “Absolutely.”

She laughed, glancing at Noah, as she replied, “Finally. You got a live one.”

I slid a sideways glance toward Noah, but didn’t comment.

“Well, what do you want, flyboy?”

“The usual,” Cord said shortly, still staring at me. Tori shot an elbow into his side and he glanced at Lydia. “Please,” he added begrudgingly.

She shook her head at him. “You always were the most unpleasant Hayes boy.”

“I want a strawberry milkshake, the foot long hotdog, onion rings, an ice cream sundae, and an order of fried pickles,” Tori interjected then got defensive when we all turned to look at her. “What? I’m hungry.”

“This morning you said your stomach was bothering you,” Cord said gruffly. “Now I see why.”

Tori blanched. “Why?”

“Because you eat all of that crap before you go to bed,” he retorted with a shake of his head. “I thought you said you wanted to cut out processed foods?”

“I changed my mind,” she sniffed, and looking at me, she added, “The only time he ever listens is when I don’t want him to.”

Noah hastily interjected, “I’ll take a big piece of that cobbler as well, Lydia.”

“Fine,” she said curtly, glancing around the booth at us. “Y’all something, you know that?” She muttered, shaking her head as walked off.

“Coding?” Tori questioned, nodding at me. “That sounds interesting.”

“It’s probably boring compared to being a tattoo artist.”

Tori shrugged. “Mostly I spend my day trying to talk people out of bad tattoos.” She shuddered. “Had to talk a guy out of getting his girlfriend’s face tattooed on his,” she stopped, pursing her lips. “You know what? Never mind. I don’t want to lose my appetite.”

“You code for a living? For who?” Cord prodded, causing Noah to give him an exasperated look. “I’m doing this for you,” Cord repeated, flicking a straw wrapper at him.

“Again, I didn’t ask you to,” Noah replied pointedly.

“You didn’t,” Cord agreed. “But Johnny did.”

“The Johnny from the phone?” I questioned and Noah nodded. “It seems like something he’d do.”

“It is,” Tori confirmed. “He’ll have you followed. Johnny doesn’t like newcomers.”

“Sounds like a helluva guy,” I replied, my voice dripping sarcasm. “But to answer your question, I mostly do websites. Build software programs. Custom stuff for individuals or businesses. I can work anywhere there’s an internet connection so it suits my life.”