Page 5 of Viper's Single Mom
Heat flashed in her expression before she shut it down. The school bus rumbled down the street, saving her from responding.
A tiny blonde tornado bounced off the bus, backpack huge on her small frame. She saw me and froze.
"Mama?"
"It's okay, baby. This is Mr. Viper. He's... a friend."
The kid studied me from behind her mother's legs. "He's big."
I crouched down, making myself smaller. Kids either loved me or ran screaming. This one had probably seen enough from her father to fear large men.
"You must be Izzy. Your mom tells me you're six."
She nodded solemnly. "Six and three quarters."
"That's a very important age. I bet you're in first grade."
"Ms. Patterson's class." She edged out slightly. “Are you a biker?”
"I am."
"Like in the books? With the loud motorcycles?"
"Exactly like that."
She considered this. "Can I see your motorcycle?"
Smart kid, asking permission. "If your mom says it's okay."
She turned to Tara. Mother and daughter, under my protection now whether they knew it or not.
"From the sidewalk. No touching," Tara agreed.
I walked with Izzy to my bike, answering her rapid-fire questions. Bright kid, curious, not as broken as she could've been. Her mother had protected her well.
"What's that?" She pointed at my cut.
"Shows I'm part of a club."
"Like a uniform?"
"Exactly like a uniform."
"Mama wears a uniform at the diner. Do you have a job?"
"I fix motorcycles."
"That's cool." She looked at her mom. "Isn't that cool, Mama?"
The gratitude in Tara's expression, the surprise that her daughter was talking to a strange man without fear—worth every violent thing I'd ever done if it meant keeping that look on her face.
I mounted up, giving Izzy a two-finger salute that made her giggle. "Someone will be by later to check the locks. Answer the door."
The ride back to the clubhouse gave me time to think. To plan. Harrison Clarke had made a fatal mistake coming after them. He just didn't know it yet.
Wraith had progressed to his laptop I noticed when I walked in. He was about the only member of the club that knew how to work the damn things.
"Harrison Clarke, thirty-eight, senior partner at Clarke, Morris, and Associates. Specializes in criminal defense, lots of organized crime connections. Divorced, filed eight months ago citing abandonment." He looked up. "She filed first. Three police reports for domestic violence, all dropped."
