Page 81 of One Night with the Biker

“But you’re named after the Good Witch and the heroine. That wouldn’t have changed.”

“Mother had quite the imagination, dear. Elphaba has much more flair than Glinda or Dorothy.” Smiling, she waved to Ainsley. “Come on in, hon. You’ve been through quite the ordeal.”

Ainsley looked at me, but I remained stoic. Her shoulders slumping, she walked up the three steps to where Ma Siller stood. The moment Ainsley reached her, she pulled her into her embrace.

“I got you, Ainsley,” she swore. “From here on out, if anyone wants to get to you, they have to go through me first.” She offered me one last glare, clutched Ainsley’s arm, and guided her into the house.

By the time Ma Siller helped to settle Ainsley in my old bedroom and came to chew my ass out, I’d seated myself at the kitchen table, heard from Bolt that Roman’s house was secured and all cleaned up, and had drunk two beers. I’d just popped the top on my third one when Ma Siller stormed in, slapped the side of my fucking head, and yanked away my goddamn beer.

She set it near the sink, then took a seat at the table. “She doesn’t need your bullshit, Reese Sinclair.”

“You know what’s bullshit? Having a girl I didn’t want carrying my kid.”

“If you didn’t want that possibility, you should’ve covered yourself.You’rethe idiot, so you can’t make her suffer.”

“I’m not making her suffer,” I argued. “I’m safeguarding myself. The twain shall never meet, Ma. She’s Roman Mac’s sister. Someone will always be gunning for her. Either from the Scorpions or the Bastards. Suppose I do fall in love with a dead woman walking? Then what?”

Narrowing her eyes, she tapped her fingers on the table. “You’re a goddamn travesty to that patch.”

I stiffened.

“Hush, or I’ll call Bolt to kick your ass before I get my Colt and shoot it off.” She pointed at me. “I’ll do you one better. You’re a disgrace to men if you can’t protect a slip of a girl. Stop feeling sorry for yourself.”

“Easy for you to say. You’ve never lost your entire fucking family.”

“I’maboutto lose a son,” she snapped. “Keep talking to me with that disrespect and I’ll just have to explain to Bolt why I put a bullet in you.”

I glowered at her. “Ainsley has been nothing but trouble since we met,” I complained.

“Trouble is as trouble does,” she retorted. “You’re quite a troublemaker yourself.”

Scrubbing a hand over my face, I tried to control my emotions and return to the place I’d been before Ainsley leaned her head against me and sobbed as if her heart had broken into a million pieces. I glanced away.

“Fuck her. Her safety shouldn’t matter to me,” I said with resentment. “She’s just having my kid. I don’t even know if we can make a relationship work.”

Sighing, Ma leaned back and folded her arms. “Knew you to be traumatized, not a deadbeat with a load of excuses.”

I still wouldn’t look at her. “Ainsley could’ve been killed in front of my fucking eyes. She made some fucked up, stupid decisions. She doesn’t use her motherfucking brain sometimes.”

When I searched my soul, I realized part of my withdrawal was remembering how Ainsley refused to put me down even to save her own fucking life. On top of that, she talked them into lowering their guns and then attacked as if she had a fucking chance of a fuckhead in hell to survive.

“Well, she gave you the shot you needed, Reese,” Ma Siller rationalized when I explained myself. “More than likely, she was good as dead anyway.”

“She should’ve said I was the worst motherfucker alive!” I pounded my fist on the table, ignoring the sting. “What the fuck is wrong with her? She has no fucking self-preservation. Do you think I can handle her for the rest of my fucking life without going insane?”

“Already there, boyo,” she said with laughter.

Clenching my jaw, I finally looked at her again. Usually, I found her comebacks amusing, but I don’t think I’d recovered from all the emotions running through me. Death was so fucking easy. Kill motherfuckers and it was over. My adrenaline spiked at the power it gave me. Either I calmed myself with bud, booze, or pussy.

Life was hard, caring was brutal, and love was torture.

Ma Siller leaned across the table and covered my hands with her own. They were warm and comforting. More than any other time, my heart cracked open and all my long-buried grief and survivor’s guilt almost overwhelmed me. It was the type of pain I never wanted to experience again, the kind of heartache I never thought Icouldfeel again, even during my months of sorrow over Trinity’s death.

“I don’t love Ainsley,” I said, scorn dripping from my words. My little sister would be about Ainsley’s age now. Probably just as much of a handful. Tears stung my eyes at the thought. “She’s a good fuck who I knocked up. That’s why I haven’t stopped thinking about her.” And because of motherfucking Louisiana. “Love is for pathetic motherfuckers.”

“I know, dear,” Ma Siller said quietly, patting my hand. “Get it out. Ainsley’s alive, son. Battered, bruised, and broken-hearted because of her brother’s treatment and how his friends wanted to kill her. She’s all alone right now. Except for a womannamed Tess, who she wants me to call.” She leaned back. “Go, Reese. Ainsley will be fine with us. You don’t want her? Then, fine and mighty. I’ll make sure Bolt doesn’t tell you about the smallest detail from here on out.”

I blinked. “But—”

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