Page 59 of Paladin's Hell

My palm starts to itch. The type which can only be relieved by slapping it hard against a person’s face.

I’m just starting to raise my arm, when he adds with a smirk, “Fuck knows why someone would call a cat, Bitch. Though it suits her. Was about what I called her when I tried to carry her out of the room.” He pulls up his sleeve to expose deep scratches.

“Pal!” I admonish him, giving a snort of highly relieved laughter.

He bumps his hip against mine. “Yeah, if your door’s not locked, Bitch jumps on the handle and opens it apparently.”

A cat called Bitch. I’ve heard it all now.

Paladin raises his beer to his mouth, I watch as he chugs it down, muscles rippling in his throat as he swallows. A sight I’ve seen a million times before. The familiarity of it touches something inside me. I’ve been with strangers a couple of days, now I feel more relaxed than I have since I arrived in this strange town. I wave over to the stools either side of the counter.

Watching him carefully, I lower my voice and ask, “How you really doing, Pal?”

He gazes at me just as intently, then slowly shakes his head. “Harder here than I expected. Nowhere near learning the dynamics yet. They might be Satan’s Devils, but there’s a world of difference between the men here, and the brothers we left in Tucson.”

I’m no psychologist, but I pick up on the words ‘men’ and ‘brothers’. It betrays he doesn’t think of them as family yet. That’s what I’ve caused him to leave behind. His two hands are placed on the counter; I reach over and cover one with my own. “I’m sorry, Pal.”

His eyes flare, “What are you sorry for?”

“Tearing you away from the one family you’ve known.” Over the years we’ve spent time talking. I know he was brought up in a foster home, just another body so his foster parents could get the money. He says there was no abuse, but there was. I know as well as him how hard it is for a kid with no one to support them. But it was different for me, while Mom had been distant, I’d always had Ella. Pal had had no one, until he joined the Devils.

“Babe. It’s not your fault, and,” he looks so earnest, I have to believe him, “wherever you are is where I want to be.”

With that statement, he washes away my resentment that he hadn’t made time for me before now. It hadn’t been his fault. “Hate that I can’t see so much of you.”

“Me too, Doll. Me too.” He looks down at where my hand still lies, turning his over and squeezing his fingers around mine. “At the moment I’m finding my place, got no routine to talk of. I’ve got to pull my weight here, still hard discovering how best to do that. But I’ll get something sorted.” His lips press together, then his whole expression changes and he gives me a sneaky smile. “Got something on order. Should be arriving tomorrow. Think it’s something you’ll like.”

I tilt my head.

He doesn’t disappoint me. “A double seat with a sissy bar.”

My eyes gleam. “You going to take someone on the back of your bike?”

“Didn’t get it for anything else.” He smirks.

“Got anyone in mind?”

My stomach churns with excitement when he answers, “Sure have. And stop playing games, Jay. You know there’s only ever going to be one girl on the back of my bike.”

I have to remember that means something to him. Now it’s my turn to look down at our joined hands. “Pal, I…”

“Jay. Not asking you to commit to anything. Told you that before. But I know I want you riding up behind me. Not going to push you for anything more.”

I’ve got butterflies in my stomach, but my internal analysis doesn’t help me understand why. Is it the thought of riding on his bike? Or, the realisation of how significant that is to a biker.

“Pal, you won’t take anyone else, will you?”

“Thought I just told you that.” He looks exasperated. “You can trust me Jay. I know it was easier back in Tucson. Here, apart, it’s harder. But there’s never going to be anyone else riding behind me. And I won’t be going with the whores. I promise you that, babe.”

As he stares at me so earnestly, I have to believe him. Perversely, I begin to feel guilty. “But is that fair, Pal? I’m making you wait, when I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready.”

“Haven’t I told you before? I don’t care how long it takes, and if it never happens, I’ll deal with it.” His brow scrunches. “Seeing you with another man wouldn’t be easy, but I’d step away, Jay. I just want you to be happy. Fuck knows, you deserve that.”

What I don’t deserve is him. “Pal, I might never be ready for you or any other.”

He stretches out his hand across the counter, laying it gently against my cheek. I lean into his touch. “I think you will, Doll. But we’ll take things slowly. No need to twist the throttle just because we’ve got more freedom now.”

I don’t disillusion him, but with Moira as my babysitter, I’ve doubts I’ve got much more liberty than I had in Tucson. As I watch him drain his beer, a thought comes to me. We’d started off as teenagers having fun, him nineteen, me five years younger. We joked, laughed, played pool. Swam in the pool back in Tucson. Gradually he became my confidant. Without me noticing, our relationship has been gradually changing. Perhaps if I just let it run its natural course, we’ll either end up together or, he’ll give up waiting. But either way he’s right. No reason to speed up now. We don’t need to take advantage of our new situation.

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