Hellion (Southern Rebels MC)

She smiled and I leaned in to kiss her.

“Hanky Panky!”

My eyes closed as I felt Cadence’s smile against my lips.

“Nico,” she chided. “What have I told you about tattling?”

“Hanky panky,” he squawked again, flapping his wings.

I pulled back with a rueful smile. “I have to go.”

“Be careful,” she whispered, her smile forced as she watched me put on the bulletproof vest. “You’re not the only one who worries.”

Chapter Eight

Cadence

I headed to the kitchen after Noah left, knowing it was pointless to try and go back to sleep. A coffee pot sat on the counter so I started searching for coffee to make a pot. I was about to give up in frustration when Leroy walked in, eyeing me curiously.

“Coffee?” I asked succinctly.

“Don’t got none.” I blinked. “I haven’t bought any since my wife died. Never saw the point. Just drink it at the shop.”

“What if you don’t go to the shop?”

He shrugged. “Then I’m dead and coffee won’t do me no good anyway.”

I didn’t really have anything to say to that but after a quick perusal of the empty countertops and equally empty cabinets, I asked, “When are we going to the shop?”

“Hungry?”

“How can you tell?”

He snorted. “I had kids once. I can tell.” He started rummaging in the fridge. “Eggs and bacon, okay?”

“Yep,” I answered, hopping onto the counter and out of his way. “Kids?” I prompted, my curiosity growing.

“Boy and a girl,” he answered tersely. He opened the freezer, reaching into the very back, and pulling something out with a satisfied grunt. “Here, make yourself useful.” He tossed me a Ziploc bag with square bag in it.

“Coffee,” I squealed happily. “You were holding out on me.”

“Figured it was still back there,” he said simply.

I started the process of brewing the coffee, each step meticulous as I followed the recipe Leroy had finally given me.

Leroy watched me intently for a few minutes. “Who taught you to love coffee?”

“My mom,” I replied as the coffee started to drip.

“What happened to her?” He asked, almost hesitant, and I focused on the steady drip of the coffee as my eyes prickled.

“She was murdered,” I replied, striving to keep my voice even. “Purse snatching.”

“And your people?” I glanced at him questioningly. “You know, dad, siblings, grandparents?” I shook my head. “She never told you?”

I swallowed. “She mentioned something about my father once. That was it.”

“She never mentioned your grandparents?”

I shook my head, my shoulders curving in as I watched the coffee, tempted to fill my mug even though the pot wasn’t finished, anything to get away from the topic of my nonexistent family.

“My daughter left when she was a little older than you. Disappeared.” His words drew my attention, but his gaze was on the bacon in the pan. “I always thought she’d come back one day,” he continued, his voice hollow. “It’s hard not knowing what happened to them,” he paused, his voice catching, “Hard knowing too.” He cleared his throat. “There’s an apron hanging on the door there. Grab it for me.”

I walked to the door, pushing it open and flipping the light on. A worn out apron hung on the back of the door, but it was the photos pinned to a corkboard that drew my attention. A teenage girl standing in front of a familiar car. The same girl with her arm around a guy who could only be her brother. The girl in a cap and gown. Her standing next to Leroy and a smiling woman.

My finger slowly reached toward the picture, touching it gently as it blurred. “Mom.”

Blindly, I grabbed the apron and backed out of the room. I handed it to Leroy. “Coffee’s finished,” he observed and I nodded. “Almost time to eat.”

I poured coffee into two mugs, setting them on the table as Leroy plated the bacon and eggs. He sat down across from me and started to eat. I ate automatically, barely able to process what I’d learned.

“My wife would have been mighty happy to know you.” His words broke the dam and tears started to drip down my face. “I don’t know what brought you here, but I’m mighty grateful.”

“You’re….” I wiped my eyes. “You’re my....” It seemed impossible, but the pictures were my mom. “You’re my –” I couldn’t say it.

“Grandfather.”

I shook my head. “She never said anything about you. Or her brother. Or your wife.”

“Your grandma.” I nodded, swiping at the tears that wouldn’t seem to quit. “And your uncle.”

I looked at him. “I have an uncle?”

His eyes lowered. “Did. He died about a year before your momma,” he stopped and I finished.

“Ran away.”

He nodded, his gaze searching my face. “Do you know why she left?”

“I think,” I hesitated. “I think it was because of me.”

His eyebrows lowered. “Because she was having you?”

I shook my head. “Because she was scared for me.” I pushed my half eaten plate away. “I came here because I thought I needed saving.” I stood up. “But now, I think I just need answers.”