Never Have an Outlaw's Baby (Deadly Pistols MC #3)(50)

Whatever the hell it looked like, I knew better.

“Yeah, we are,” I told her, reaching into my pocket for my keys. “Take this shit and drive my truck home. I'll stuff myself in next to Bingo.”

“Huh?” she said, looking at the mess of keys hanging in her hand. Her nose wrinkled up a second later, probably a sign she could smell the whiskey on my breathe. “Jesus Christ, Joker, are you drunk?”

“Not yet. Got about three more minutes before it really f*cks me up.”

“I can't believe this,” she said, shaking her head. Didn't stop her from standing up, tucking Alex's head against her shoulder, and walking out.

“Come on, boy,” I reattached Bingo's leash and led him out with us, walking behind her.

Thank f*ck he listened like a champ, jumping up on the passenger seat when I patted it. I squeezed into the back, feeling the big dog's breath hitting me in the face.

“I've never driven a vehicle like this before,” she said, strapping Alex into his kiddie seat, new frustration in her eyes.

“You'll manage. There ain't nothing to it. You know how to get back to my place, right?” I pulled out my phone, tapped a few keys, and passed it to her. “Use the GPS. It'll have us home in no time.”

She started her up as I slumped down in my seat, next to the dog. Woman drove like a f*ckin' grandma the whole way, leaving me plenty of time to watch the wide blue summer sky spinning through the window.

Maybe half that inertia came from inside me, the booze and raw feeling screwing up my guts.

The other half...f*ck, Prez was right. Not that I'd ever admit it to his face.

This had to be the last goddamned day I ever let myself go off the rails, processing all this shit. I had about forty-eight hours to sober up, get my head straight, and prepare for war.



*

Back at the apartment, I crashed on the couch, sleeping off my imminent hangover.

There wasn't any worry about work today. The club wouldn't be taking many cars or bikes in the shops, handing over the ones we got to the hangarounds who knew about auto shit.

Most of my dollars came from the club's shared profits every brother got a piece of. I'd been saving for a down payment on a cabin or a house forever.

Money wasn't the worry. Un-f*cking my head, on the other hand...

Slept like the f*ckin' dead. My brain must've needed it after short-circuiting, full of whiskey, hate, confusion.

When I woke up, Bingo was rubbing his muzzle on my hand, draped over the side. “Shit,” I swore, sitting up, scratching his head.

A spicy, garlicky pizza's smell hung thick in the air. I let my eyes focus, toward the little table next to the kitchen, where Summer had Alex in a new booster seat. One that couldn't have shown up here unless she'd gone out to get it.

I sprang up, ignoring the last pain banging at my temples. Fuck. She hadn't f*ckin' listened.

“Thought you'd sleep through the night,” she said, spooning some applesauce into Alex's mouth.

I pulled out a chair and sat down, resisting the urge to stuff pizza into my hungry, dry mouth. “Babe, you go out again alone while you're under my protection, and we've got a big goddamned problem. You hear me?”

“No, I don't, Jackson. Didn't know what to do either, when I needed things for our son and you were...well, out of commission.”

Fuck her smart mouth. But f*ck me for having no argument against it, because I'd been laid up, all thanks to my own stupid, impulsive ass.

“Won't happen again. Not after today.”

“Mm-hmm.” She batted her long lashes skeptically and smiled at the kid, blotting at his mouth. “It's nothing new, Jackson. Really. It's just been Alex and me for the last three years. Alone.”

“You weren't stalked by f*ckers who'd slit your throat at the first f*ckin' chance,” I growled, stopping myself at the last second from slamming my fist on the table. Didn't want to startle my son. “Put him down for a nap. We need to talk. Looks like there's some shit I've still gotta drill into your head, Summertime, because right now you're pretty damned clueless.”

Bingo perked up in the corner, laying his ears flat against his head. Damned dog had a sixth sense for bad voodoo in the air.

“He usually doesn't lay down for another hour. I still have to give him a bath.” She looked at me defiantly, her pupils expanding in the deep, green seas around them. “But since I got him a new play pen while I was out, I'll listen. Put him down early, just this once.”

Without another word, she rose, walking into the bedroom. I heard her humming softly to the kid before she shut the door gently behind her, and walked back out with her arms folded.

“Seriously, Joker, why do you have to be such an ass?”

I wanted to lay the f*ck into her. Shut her up with my lips on hers, press her so hard into the f*ckin' wall I put a Summer-shaped silhouette through the damned drywall.

“Same reason you're wandering around, pretending like you ain't f*cked when the Deads come around. Christ, Summer, even if you don't give a shit about getting yourself killed – you won't drag my kid into it!”

I stepped up, grabbed her, let her twist around in my arms 'til our faces were only inches apart. “Let me go!”