Coal (Regulators MC 3)

My mind turns with the possibilities as I make my way to the address she gave me. As soon as I pull into the seedy-looking apartment complex, the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Someone’s watching me.

It’s not hard to guess why. Just because the Regulators MC doesn’t have any beef with the local gangs, doesn’t mean we get along. A place like this? There’s bound to be more than one gang member staying here.

I ignore the internal warning as I ride my bike back to the building with 222 on it. Once I find it, I park my bike and hurry inside, running up the three floors of stairs to the third floor, and then knock on the apartment door that says 3B.

It doesn’t take long for the knob to turn, and then I’m looking at the same woman I saw only yesterday. Except for now, she’s black, blue, and purple with bruises. One eye is swollen shut, she has a busted lip, and there are finger marks around her neck. Somebody did one fuck of a number on Precious.

Her busted bottom lip trembles as she waves me inside. Normally, I would say no. Precious knows I have rules about our interactions. The biggest one is not going to their homes. My release for the women I fuck is a business transaction. I don’t like being anywhere around the women’s personal spaces. I always use a hotel room to meet up with them. This time is different, though, and nothing can bring that fact home more solidly than the little face that’s peering up at me from behind the couch in the small living room.

The kid has big brown eyes, just like Precious’s, and it hurts something inside my chest to see them all watered up in fear.

Turning away from the kid, I look at his mother. “What’s going on here, Precious?”

She runs a hand through her hair and sighs. “Can you find someplace for us to get away to? I can’t live like this anymore, Coal. Anthony—”

“Who’s Anthony?” I cut her off.

An embarrassed gleam comes over her eyes, but she tenses and sets her jaw in a stubborn frown. “He’s my”—she looks over at the little boy for a second, then back at me—“boss,” she says slowly, letting me read between the lines.

Anthony is her pimp.

“Okay, what about Anthony?” I encourage.

Waving a hand through the air, she blows out a frustrated breath. “He came around today and did this because he said I didn’t give him enough money. I can’t feed my baby and give him the money he wants, Coal. So, what does he do?” She points at her face. “This.”

Now her eyes are tearing up as she watches me for a reaction. I give her none, but not because I’m an uncaring fuck. I’m thinking.

Precious has put herself in a bad situation and needs to get out. Where can I take her and the kid?

She must take my silence as being written off, because the stubborn woman gets mad and starts ranting.

“If you don’t want to help, fine. I know there’s not supposed to be anything personal between us, but you said I could call if I was ever in trouble.” She starts walking toward her front door, when I reach over and grab her hand to stop her.

“Cool your jets, woman. I’m not ignoring you; I’m thinking.”

Why do women always want to jump into action? Some things require thought, planning, and more time to settle in a man’s brain than two minutes.

Suddenly, I feel a little fist punch me just above the knee. I look down to see the little boy, maybe four years old, in nothing but a pair of basketball shorts, glaring at me.

“Don’t hurt my mama,” he says fiercely.

Fuck, but the sight of that little man trying to protect his mother does something to the black organ that I call my heart.

Before I can say a word, Precious reaches forward and scoops him up in her arms, holding him close to her body as if trying to protect him.

“He didn’t mean it,” she blurts frantically.

The sight of her so fucking scared for her son makes me want to be sick. I would never hurt a child without reason … meaning it was life or death. Hell, I’m still trying to make up for the one woman and child I inadvertently hurt when I was young and dumb. It’s marked me in a way that can’t ever heal.

Looking at the little boy with determination in his eyes, I tell him the truth. “Not gonna hurt your mom, little man, or you for that matter. You need to go pack a bag because I’m getting you and your mom out of here.”

The little boy perks up at that. “We goin’ on a trip?” he asks excitedly.