Page 9 of Providence

I kept my head down, listening to the grumbles of the men, sifting the ones that were just curmudgeonly old fucks from the ones that could cause real issues. But even as I did it, my heart was upstairs.

Solomon was trying to console the sweet butts, some of whom had been at the Club for years and probably thought of us as family. I guess we were in an especially fucked up way, at least when it came to them. But some of them relied on us, for food and booze and a safe place. Ha. An MC Clubhouse as a safe place was a fucking hilarious idea, but still, it was what it was.

Ricky, who ran the strip joint, was even less impressed because Judas had ordered Apocalypse to close temporarily as well. There had been even more disgruntlement about that, but I say it was probably time for Apocalypse to have a deep clean anyway. The dancers could work in their sweats instead of their thongs for a couple of weeks. Have a break from being ogled. Judas was still paying their wages and a bonus gratuity for the tips they’d lose.

This PR hand holding bullshit was something we didn’t have to do. We could have padlocked the doors tomorrow and they’d just have to fucking cope. But Judas tried to lead with an even hand, and I tempered his more violent outbursts. Ricky was still mouthing off angrily, and I slid my eyes to him. If he kept it up, Goliath, whose mood seemed to be swinging from pensive to homicidal, would possum stomp him in the parking lot and give Apocalypse to someone else. We both knew Ricky was just mad because he fucked the dancers in the back room for blow. We weren’t stupid. We knew he did it, but we were a fucking MC, not a nunnery. But it put him on my shit list, so I wouldn’t take any crap from him.

I wandered over to where Judas and Goliath sat, watching everything, still apart. The President and the Enforcer. They could never be friends with the members. Everyone had to respect and fear them in equal parts, and you couldn’t have that if you saw your Pres getting his dick sucked while off his face on coke.

I looked between them, their body language not as toxic as it usually was. Sol and I knew that they had been a couple once. Before Laura.

After Laura, they were still together, but no one would call them a couple any longer. I knew what went on down in the basement. Saw the blood sometimes, the manacles that were tacky with bodily fluids when we hadn’t held anyone down there in months. The raw smell of lust. But I didn’t delude myself that anything that went on with them was romantic. It was a punishment. An act of hate.

I looked at how they held themselves now, still rigidly straight. But G’s eyes weren’t as dead, and Judas’ knees were splayed a little too wide to just account for man-spread. It was like his skin was seeking Goliath’s, and I fought back the smile.

Damn Sera. She was healing us, whether we wanted her to or not.

I wandered toward them, ready to tell them that I was blowing off the party to go upstairs and stare at Sera like a fucking creeper.

Then a gun went off.

Sera.

5

Marco

Everyone I loved was in this room. It held what was left of my humanity. The bikers had just left to hold their Church, and Goliath had threatened to slit my throat if so much as a hair was hurt on either of their heads by the time they got back. I’d laughed. I kind of liked that guy.

Sammie had been nagging me to come back and see his ‘brother’, which made my heart clench awkwardly in my chest.

Then Cara pouted that Sammie had seen Sera and the baby and she hadn’t. But under her tantrum I’d seen the real fear for Sera. They loved her, despite the fact she’d been in their lives for such a short time. I’d found children were like that, especially these kids. They were resilient, but they’d been so starved of love early in their lives that they clung to any show of kindness. I should probably take them to see a kid shrink, but I worried they’d poke too close and I’d lose them. Sammie, who had more emotional intelligence than me already, explained to Cara that Sera was like Sleeping Beauty at the moment, but she’d wake up when she was ready.

Cara was no dummy either, she knew there was more to it, you could tell by the way she shrewdly looked over the prone body in the bed, the way she touched her fingers lightly to Sera’s forehead, stroking the hair away from her face.

She whispered something in her ear, then she looked up at me and smiled. She bounded over to the crib where the baby had been sleeping.

Had been being the operative word. The baby was awake now, its little face screwed up like it was going to cry.

I leaned in and picked up the tiny creature. It had been so long since I’d held a child this small, and even then it hadn’t been regularly. Only when I’d snuck into Cara’s nursery and held her when her mother was too stoned off her ass to notice.

The baby blinked big, violet eyes at me, his face turning pink with baby rage. Shit, maybe he didn’t like me. Maybe he could tell how much blood was on the hands that held him. Sammie eyed him. “He’s hungry.”

He rustled around in the mountain of shopping bags that were by the door, pulling out a bottle and formula. The baby was beginning to whimper softly, and the sound was heartbreakingly meek. Sammie sat down on the rocking chair. “Here, I’ll hold him while you make the bottle,” he ordered, and I quirked an eyebrow because I couldn’t sign with my hands full. He was a bossy little shit when he wanted to be, too much time with a father who was used to getting what he wanted regardless of who he hurt in the process. Sammie wasn’t like that, he had such a good nature, but sometimes the authoritative tone of someone who’d gotten everything at the snap of his finger edged into his voice.

But he was right in this instance so I let it go. I placed the restless baby in his arms gently, and the baby looked up at Sammie like he hung the moon. Huh. Wasn’t he too young to play favorites?

Sammie grinned at me as the baby instantly settled.

Show off,I signed, and he giggled. I loved that sound. His laughter was rare, and I cherished each time I heard it. Cara leaned over the armrest of the chair, and looked down at the baby. She made faces at him, and the baby seemed just as enamored with her as it did with her brother.

Shaking my head, I went into the ensuite bathroom, where someone had put an electric kettle on a the vanity. I rinsed out the bottle and then filled it with equal parts boiled water and cold water. I tested it on my wrist like they did in the movies, and when I was satisfied it was warm but not hot, I went back out to the bedroom.

Cara was softly stroking the baby’s wings. She hadn’t even commented on them, just taken the fact that the baby had wings in her stride like it was an everyday thing. The baby didn’t seem to mind it’s wings being touched, so I didn’t chastise her.

I handed Cara the bottle and shifted the baby back into my arms. When I was happy with the way it was cradled, I grabbed the bottle back from Cara and teased the nipple to his lips. He looked at me confused for a moment, but as soon as a drip of the formula hit his tongue, he seemed to get the idea quickly. He suctioned his mouth around the bottle and sucked. I hummed under my breath, the noise rough.

The baby didn’t seem to mind though. I smiled down at him.Oh yeah, who’s your favorite now, buddy?

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