Page 86 of Resurfaced Passion

She’s on a date.It was fine. It wasfine. It was a normal thing girls her age did.

It’s what smart girls did.

Just because he hadn’t been smart at her age didn’t mean a thing, it was not a tangible reason for his unusual behavior.

Rider’s old lady thought it was the cutest thing ever. Angela had talked nonstop about it,apparently.

And while he’d listened to all this, the food turned to sawdust in his belly, threatening to rise up and pour over the nice clean table in Rider’s home where a few of the boys sat having the same eats made by the club queen. Zara liked to have an open house policy for the boys, she was coming along with her cooking, and sweet to look at, he stopped by a couple times a week, it wasn’t because he thought their kids were cute and he liked ordering them stuff online.

So what if it he was the favorite uncle, Grinder tried to beat him to the title, but Lawless had told him better luck next time. He didn’t make the rules, the kids just had good taste is all.

She’s on a date.

He was a thirty-fucking-three-year old man. This was wrong in every way he reasoned, and he rarely allowed right and wrong to filter through his gray stuff.

He was a clever man, more so than most and he couldn’t talk himself down off the crazy ledge. He was about to free-fall without a parachute.

He just needed to check she was fine.

Someone had to look out for her, doing fool-hardy shit like going on dates with god knows who. She hadn’t mentioned it to Lawless, probably because she’d known he’d do extensive research on the little dick-swinging pervert.

Well no matter, he only had to listen to Zara and do a few online searches right there at the table on his phone and he had everything he needed.

He was already tracking her cell before Zara got done with her little story she thought was so fucking cute.Cute? Lawless wanted to puke and then murder the little horny punk who probably assumed he was getting lucky tonight.

Not fucking likely, you horny maggot, not if I cut off your dick and feed it to the cats.

He wasn’t dumb, okay.

He knew teenage boys and all they thought about was jerking off and fucking.

And in the next breath he was disgusted that someone as diabolical as he was would be chasing after a pimple-faced little fucker.

He deserved to kill the boy just tofeel better.

A few swipes on his app, he had her location, he’d told Rider he was cutting out, and he’d gone without much fanfare. Now, as he stepped off his bike, people milling around lugging more bags than they needed, what the fuck were they buying? He wondered for about a second before he didn’t care to know.

He looked like death on a shopping trip for a new coffin.

Leave her be. The more logical side of his brain advised.She’s fine, she’s not in danger, it said.

Fuck you, he told himself. He’d see for himself. For no other reason than the kid didn’t need any more bad shit coming her way, she was too young, with the quota of badness behind her when she’d witnessed the murder of her parents, she still dealt with that fallout.

Some randy bonehead with greedy hands all over was not gonna add to her trauma by forcing her into shit she was not ready for.

That was what he told himself.

The lies of demonic men.

He could pretty it up as much as he wanted to.

Tie a fucking bow if he felt like it.

Say it was magnanimous, selfless, a care to one less fortunate.

It still amounted to the same bloody lies.

But as he strode forward, slipping through the throng of people, his black leather coat concealing at last count three flick knives strapped around his waist, ignoring their startled looks. He was a tall man, what did they want him to do, stoop down to their level just to fit in? Fuck off. He stared at a dude who dared look at him.

---