Not knowing protocol when we’re on lockdown and not wanting to get him in trouble for disrupting his duties as a prospect, I pause a few feet from him. He is a brother, and I’m an old lady. Not his mom. Not right now. Even if that is a load of crap. Still, I know my place, or at least I think I do. I’m trying.
Hands clasped in front of me, I’m the first to speak. “Do you think you can reach out to yo—Gunz?”
Amused by the way I’ve addressed him, Adam mashes his lips together, and straightens his shoulders before schooling his features and replying, “Mom, I’ll text Dad. Did you forget your phone?”
I sweep a hand down the length of my body. “No proper place for it. Plus, I didn’t think I’d need it today.”
Adam’s head bobs in understanding. He pulls out a phone from his vest to fire off a text.
Looking around for eavesdroppers, I lean in, so nobody else can hear, and whisper, “I don’t know how I’m supposed to address you and stuff… when you’re… ya know…” I point to his official vest. Somewhere beneath all that leather, he’s packing a gun. The men talk about it over dinner sometimes. Apparently, Adam has a decent aim. Not sure a mother wants to hear those things about her son when it pertains to illegal activities. Then again, I’d rather he be safe than sorry.
A smirk lifts the corner of Adam’s full lips, highlighting a dimple I don’t see often. “I am your son.” His blue eyes dance with mirth.
“I know.”
“You can always address me as your son, Mom.”
Alright. Good to know.
“And… Gunz?” I check, still whispering.
“He’s my dad. I’ll worry about what I need to call him and when. You don’t need to worry about that stuff.”
Okay.
Also, good to know.
“Unless I’m in the middle of club business, you can talk to me whenever ya need or want to,” Adam tacks on.
“This isn’t active club business?” Again, I indicate where he’s standing. He escorted the women in here for a reason. He’s standing in the doorway for a reason.
“Not the kind I’m talkin’ about, Mom.”
“Right.” Of course.
Adam reads a message on his phone. “Dad’s on his way inside now.”
“Is he okay?”
“I’m fine, love.” Gunz’s voice carries from the hall, his bootheels scraping the floor with each step. Our son steps to the side to give his dad room to pass. He clasps Adam on the shoulder, sharing a quick moment before he’s in front of me, red-faced and… I glance at his hands as he opens and closes them in tight fists down at his sides. The right one is jacked up. There’s blood on the top of his boots.
“What happened?” I ask, looking up at his face for answers.
Fitting my front to his, his feet on either side of mine, Gunz slides a muscled arm around my waist and brushes his lips across my forehead before kissing me there. “I can’t tell you, love.” His hot breath fans across my skin, making me shiver.
Lookin’ down, I finger the edge of his belt buckle. “Club business. I get it. I watched—”
My biker cuts in with a groan. “Sons of Anarchy,” he deadpans.
Ever the observer, Adam snorts a laugh.
“You don’t have to sound so grumpy about it.” I poke his rock-hard abs.
Emitting the world’s heaviest sigh, Gunz’s body relaxes against mine, his tension deflating like a balloon. He draws tiny circles across my lower back. “I’m not, love. They’re cleanin’ up outside, so we gotta wait here for a few minutes. Big will come get us whenever they’re ready.”
Cleaning up outside. I wanna ask what they’re cleaning up but think better of it. Club business. Not my business.
“But we’re okay?” I need to hear him say it. Over his cotton shirt, I trace the valley of Gunz’s abs with my fingertip.