Making Her His (Beating the Biker 1)

“What? After what you two have done? Bull fuckin’ shit!”

“Anthony!” protested his mother.

“You talk to him, Marie,” snapped his father. His face twisted in scowl as he pushed his way past Saks, his body taut. Insufferably, his father often handed off heavy emotional scenes to his wife. But today Saks couldn’t agree with him more. If the old man stayed a single minute longer, Saks might hit him.

“Come, Anthony,” his mother said. “Come have another cannoli.”

“I don’t want another cannoli! What I want is an explanation.”

His mother’s eyes peered up at him in appeal, and tears formed along the edges.

Saks sighed. His mother had always claimed a soft spot in his heart, and he’d never gotten angry with her in his entire adult life. “Okay, okay. I’ll have another cannoli.”

Marie Parks wiped at her eyes with her sleeve. “Come to the kitchen,” she said, casting a knowing gaze toward the stairs where Terri was eavesdropping.

Saks followed his mother to the kitchen, though his whole meal was roiling in his stomach. She motioned for him to sit at the long table which sat center in the long room. Bright white cabinets lined the kitchen on either side. Black granite counter tops and gray marble tile set off the upper cabinets, with plain glass windows from the more utilitarian bottom cabinets. His mother quickly filled another cannoli and set it before her son. She nodded her head toward the confection and waited until he took a bite to speak.

“We worry about you with that motorcycle club of yours.”

She’s a devious woman, thought Saks. There was no way to reply while he navigated a mouthful of cream and crunchy outer shell. And it was too good not to eat.

“I had always hoped you’d enter the priesthood. It was a stupid hope, I suppose, but considering the family... Well, you’ve always been a good boy.”

“Thanks, Ma,” he got out around a mouthful of sweetened ricotta cheese.

“But now you’re hanging out with people who aren’t worthy of you, Anthony. And if... well, if you aren’t a priest you might as well work more with the family.”

“Gee, Mom, way to dance around our family’s criminal involvement. Priest or life of crime. No in between, eh?”

“We have legitimate businesses, too. Uncle Vits thought you might work in one of those.”

“I have a job, Ma.”

“With the nephew of a Mexican drug lord.”

“Luke isn’t like that, Ma. He wants nothing to do with his uncle.”

“Yet Icherra showed up here, causing trouble.”

“And what do you know, Ma? You always told me that dad doesn’t talk to you about business.”

“He tells me what I need to know. And I don’t like one bit that Icherra’s associates kidnapped you.”

“Now, Ma, that’s not true at all.”

“Oh, so you weren’t kidnapped?”

“I was...” Saks admitted. “But Luke got me out.”

“That’s the least he could do.”

“The Rojos aren’t involved with Icherra.”

“Wake up, Anthony! Dogs always sniff around money.”

“Ma, I love you, but both you and Dad are out of line. I’m not marrying a Serafina woman to smooth over whatever troubles Uncle Vits stirred up with them. And I want nothing to do with any of the family’s businesses, legit or not.” He stood and put on his leather jacket. When he turned back, his mother had a wooden spoon in her hand and shook it at Saks.

“You’ll at least meet with the Serafina girl. Uncle Vits went to a lot of trouble to set this up, and you will satisfy the family honor.” His mother, at least a head shorter than him, looked at him with such fierceness he shuddered. Even his father didn’t elicit the fear that Marie Parks did when she angry.