Hellion (Southern Rebels MC)

“Cadence, listen to me.”

I shook my head.

“Sweetie, I’m not going anywhere, but I need to know you’ll be safe if something should happen to me.” She grabbed my shoulders. “Fear is for the unprepared.”

I closed my eyes, familiar with the often quoted phrase. Mom never assumed I was too young or weak to learn to do something. We were partners in crime and I didn’t want to think about her not being there. “Okay.”

“That’s my girl.” I opened my eyes in time to see her smile at me. “Friendly.” I blinked. “Go to Friendly. You’ll find him there.”

“My father?”

She nodded, biting her lip. “Yes.” She chewed her lip anxiously. “Cash,” she said abruptly. “Cash Hayes.”

“That’s his name?”

She nodded, looking down. “If you ever need help and I’m not there. Go to him. He’ll help you.”

“O-kay,” I said, the whole experience feeling surreal.

“We should go,” she muttered, leaving me standing there with the hose.

“Cash Hayes,” I repeated, positive I would never forget his name.

***

A knock on the door startled me. I glanced at the clock and saw it was past midnight. I rubbed my eyes as I set the book I was reading down. I stumbled on the way to the door, my feet tangling in the too long sleep pants I wore. I banged into the door and let out an oomph.

“You okay?”

I recognized Noah’s voice through the door so I didn’t bother to respond as I unlocked the multiple locks. I yanked the door open to see him staring up at me in concern. “March,” I acknowledged and he grimaced slightly. “You look exhausted.”

“Long day,” he answered, his voice rough. He nodded to the RV. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I saw the light. Just wanted to check on you.”

“I wasn’t sleeping,” I corrected him, tugging on my shirt, finally remembering I wasn’t wearing a bra. “I was reading.”

“I’m glad you came,” he responded, blinking tiredly. “I wasn’t sure.”

One shoulder lifted, “How could I turn down such a friendly invitation?” The barest smile graced full lips as his shoulders rotated like he was about to leave. “Have you eaten?”

My question took him by surprise and I could have kicked myself. I wasn’t the type to invite strange men into the trailer, especially not in the middle of the night, even if it felt like I’d known him forever. Because I didn’t want him to get the wrong impression I hastily tacked on, “You can have my leftovers.”

He studied me for a second, then nodded. He came up the step, and paused, eyeing me, “It’s not cold pizza, is it?”

“Not if I heat it up,” I retorted, startling a faint chuckle from him.

“Touché.”

“It’s lasagna,” I said abruptly, yanking open the tiny fridge door as he came inside. He had to duck slightly once he was inside, reminding me how low the ceilings were. “Watch your head,” I warned him, pointing to the air conditioner unit projecting from the ceiling. He eyed it cautiously before scooting into the booth seat in front of the dining table. His knees stuck out comically, but he didn’t act uncomfortable. I popped the plate of lasagna in the microwave, the hum filling the air as an awkward silence fell between us.

“Bad boys, bad boys. Whatcha gonna do?” My lips pressed together and Noah stared at me as the singing continued. “Whatcha gonna do when they come for you? Bad boys, bad boys.”

The microwave beeped and I spun around, pulling the heated plate from the microwave.

“Bad boys, bad boys. Whatcha gonna do? Whatcha gonna do when they come for you?”

I set the plate in front of Noah with a thump, then got him a fork, praying Nico would stop. Noah opened his mouth, then shut it with a shake of his head, and scooped up a forkful of lasagna.

“PoPo! Run! PoPo!” Nico screeched and Noah choked.

“Hush,” I hissed, waving at Nico in his cage. “Or I will cover you.” He let out an offended squawk, flapping his wings as he gave me his back. “He hates to be covered,” I explained as Noah stared at me. “I wouldn’t actually cover him, but sometimes the threat is enough.”

Noah glanced over his shoulder but Nico’s cage was blocked from his view. “What is it?” He asked and Nico raked his beak across the bars of his cage, making a racket. Noah winced. “Who?” He tried again.

“Nico,” Nico shouted at the same time I said, “My parrot.”

“Okay,” Noah said slowly, glancing down at his plate. “Your lasagna is good.”

“It’s Stouffers,” Nico shouted and I closed my eyes, rubbing my temple as my head started to pound. A low rumble had me opening my eyes as Noah began to laugh. The pounding in my head eased as some of the lines around Noah’s eyes disappeared as he continued to laugh. “Let me out!” Nico shrieked. “Funny bird!”